#if you knew the specifics of what I was writing about you would COMMIT ARSON | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brick-a-doodle-do · 2 years ago

Note

BRICK! YOUR TURN!!!!!!!!!! HAVE MANY QUESTIONS!

You do not have to answer them all

I definitely didn't steal some of your questions because you ask really good questions and my brain struggled to think of any new ones...

favourite dsmp era?

what song do you think will be #1 on your spotify wrapped?

the reason you got into g/t?

favourite season?

chocolate or vanilla?

top 3 dsmp members (yes I'll make you pick 3 >:D)

a trope you wish came up more in gt/non g/t

favourite trope outside of gt

if you had a choice of a date, would you go to a restaurant or a movie?

favourite Broadway show (this is an essential question Brick)

do you believe in star signs and if they're accurate?

favourite head cannon you've come up with (gimme, gimmie, gimmie)

favourite c! ship? (any fandom and what one)

drawing or writing?

digital or traditional drawing?

acyrlic paint or water colour?

are you left handed or right handed? ambidextrous?

what's your or fav eye colour

first dsmp cc you watched?

Do you have YouTube Premium, or do you value money?

t!george & g!dream or g!george & t!dream?

favourite au in this fandom? If I don't get a link, Imma be sad.

If you could meet only one dsmp member irl, who would you meet?

thoughts on the people trying to speak to you about your cars extended warranty?

all time fav movie?

what's something you wished you received more of on your blog?

are you mad at me for poaching your questions?

and finally, have you ever had a secret account? (for any platform)

M A N Y W O R D S . . .

LOVE YOU GORGEOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG HI THANK YOU ILYSM !!!!!!

i will answer them all because you answered them all, it's only fair :D

pff that's totally fine, i was hoping you would cause some of these i have the answer for locked and loaded dsjfhgdnf

POGTOPIA!!! (AS OF RIGHT NOW) and I mean the pogtopia where techno and tommy are bonding, dream is teaming up with them to fight wars, tommy and sapnap and sam are making drugs, c!quackity hasn't gone all serious yet (i still love when he is don't get me wrong, you can't ever get a bad c!quackity), niki's helping commit arson and destroy a tower, like that shit is good and something i really enjoy. but pogtopia is on thin ice rn because of fucking pogtopia!wilbur, like i'm so pissed at him right now, leave tommy alone so he can bond with his friends :( ANSHDNF SORRY FOR THAT RAMBLE

oh gosh there's so many songs that i've listened to on repeat, i have a tendency to do that for certain events, no clue why,,,, but i think it'll probably be out of my league or the masochism tango. or some broadway song---i hope it's not the story of the phantom istg

dsmp, ngl. i've always liked that whole mini thing and didn't really know it was g/t (like you) but once i did, the first thing that popped up while scrolling this app on the g/t tag was dsmp g/t, and i think that's pretty funny because at the time i knew what the dsmp was but wasn't particularly interested in it, and i joined the fandom as soon as i saw those g/t posts. both fandoms helped each other lmaoo

fall primarily, but summer vibes can be nice

quackity, wilbur and george, they're my beloveds and i'll hold them close C: (in no specific order..)

i require more spider-man!tommy aus, i love them dearly. but as for tropes i kind of wish that there were more immortality fics without a happy ending. (spoilers for passerine and his curse of binding), pass!techno got to finish his life and hcob tommy got to live past 16, like that's a good ending (and let's be honest i sobbed at "there, nestled among the pink strands, delicate as a bird’s wing, was a single gray hair" but STILL for g/t, i want a fic where there's a colony in a craft store, because imagine the possibilities!!!! there's mini furniture in there, tons of things to make more furniture, and no matter how much they take, the store still gets to restock, because who would think a rat would take crafting supplies?

i'd probably go to a restaurant, but not a fancy one, because i really don't think that going to a movie theatre is all that romantic,,,

HAMILTON!! heathers is close behind, then probably rent and six :D

i kind of do, i can't say that i don't because yk there's no proof that they don't and there's a lot of things that make me think they do,,

ohhhh i don't think of headcannons ever,,, so i'm going to resort to using my own aus and my own worldbuilding session to give you this: curiosity!wilbur, after the two of them get out (:0), wilbur is extremely paranoid of doors, like he leaves the door to everyone's room cracked open, and hates leaving the house or going into it. the first time he went to tommy's house, it took techno dragging him in by the collar to get him inside, to which he was not happy,,

if it has to be a canon ship, then probably schlatt & quackity (at least i think it was canon) but again that's really based on lore so maybe karlnapity,,, anyway um for fanon, tnt duo is always >>> (can you tell i like quackity? lmao) and i in no way want them to get together, i just want that awkward romance, the whole thing with wilbur being for it and quackity being entirely unamused, i love that

writing, can't draw for the life of me lmao

traditional if i don't have a stylus

probably acrylic

i'm left handed!! :D

my eyes are brown and i like maroon-y eyes (looking at you wilbur, quackity, and george)

i actually have no fucking clue, i've been trying to remember for a good half a year now. i'm going to go see if i can find it and update you,,,,, okay nope i can't find it. but it's gotta be ranboo, there's no way it's not---i watched him so early, he's the first cc i followed on twitch AND the first cc i subbed to on youtube so it's gotta be him. i can very briefly recall watching something that looked a lot like lore (or at least they were on the server) and it was when i was searching up dsmp content, and i've narrowed that video down to one of three people: tommy, george, or one of those dsmp channels that follows lore. not sure which it was, don't think i ever will :'D

i value money, i'm not sure why someone would ever want youtube premium

ooooh that's a hard one, i think i'm going to say t!george and g!dream, the classic. but that's not to say that i don't love a t!dream

ooohohohoh okay hmm a classic answer would be tiny streamer au by @.corysmiles because who doesn't like a good ol' classic au? :D hmm close to that is supervillain and super...tiny? also by cory cause the interaction between tommy & wilbur in chapter two is just JSHGDNF /pos AND OH I FORGOT SUPERMARKET AU!! THAT FUCKING THING IS SUCH /VPOS IT'S JUST THE BEST THING TO EVER EXIST!! and lastly giant foster au. all basic answers because my g/t interest stays confined to tumblr and only this circle of creators lmaoo

honestly i really wouldn't want to meet any of them cuz idk social things but probably quackity, he seems genuinely so sweet, then maybe tommy? i think he'd be really easy to talk to :D

...............

ooh that's so difficult!!! :( but i think it's going to be the fear street trilogy, and if you want a specific movie, then fear street: 1978 (the second one) cause C'MON ITS SO GOOD!! and IT is always top tier for me despite the movie being shit,,,,

honestly i don't rlly know, because i get asks both when i'm asking and i'm not asking, and i think i get a pretty good amount of attention on my fics, there's not really a thing i would change :D because my goal was 100 followers and now i've achieved that, so i'm just kinda vibing here now,,

no i'd never be mad at you, these questions are lovely :D

*looks at this account* okay but seriously speaking, no one irl knows of this account,, and as for secret to this community, i did have a sideblog for a bit to interact with another one of my interests but i decided to get rid of it C:

BECKY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE!!!! I LOVE ANSWERING QUESTIONS >:DDD

#brickquiries #beckyu #THANK YOUUUU #talking brick

3 notes · View notes

yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

Text

Jon & Sasha Arson fic

Little fragment of an idea that never went anywhere. No reason for it. Just thought it would be funny. I was right. Rest under the cut.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

*******

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Arson was attributable to a bookshelf of Leitners, humming strange songs and spewing toxic energy into the air in rhythmic hissing motions. The Leitners were attributable to Artifact Storage, a testament to mankind’s hubris and a modern-day tower of Babel where a group of underpaid academics found themselves stress testing kevlar and fire suppression systems each day. Artifact Storage was attributable to the Magnus Institute, where Jon had managed to land a job after three months of desolate post-graduate unemployment. And the Magnus Institute was attributable to - well, probably Jonah Magnus, but Jon found that it was likely a bit of a reach to blame a long dead Regency gentleman for all of his problems.

Jon needed this job. London was expensive and so were funerals, and he couldn’t keep living on life insurance forever. It was even a good job, with decent pay and the exact kind of limp, half-hearted academia that the private sector promised disillusioned English mastery holders. His coworkers were nice - well, Tim was nice, everybody else seemed to hate him for the same reason that everybody else hated him, likely intimidated by how smart he was - and the commute was short. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. Spiritually, metaphysically, and literally.

Which was why he should stop staring at this piece of paper. The follow-up research to a statement given by some idiot unlucky enough to cross paths with what was certainly a Leitner.

‘ORIGINATION OF PHENOMENA ISOLATED’, the page read out professionally, yet chipperly, like a young woman in a new office job. ‘ITEM QUARANTINED WITHIN ARTIFACT STORAGE (46B.1)’.

Hm.

Jon pushed down on the floor, rolling himself a meter to the left.

“Say, er, Mr. Stoker.”

Tim “I’m only four years older than you, please call me Tim” Stoker, who had been thumping away on his cheap plastic keyboard either writing up a report or messaging someone on one of those infernal casual sex websites, pulled down his headphones and blinked at Jon owlishly, before splitting his face into a grin. Jon could practically hear the David Attenborough-style narration within his mind: ‘After long weeks leaving out food for the wild Simothan, the feral yet gentle animal approaches the researcher of his own volition. A win for scientists everywhere.’

“Yes, Jon?” Tim asked, in an uncanny yet hopefully unintentional RP drawl.

“What’s Artifact Storage?”

“God, I wish I was you,” Tim said feelingly. But he nodded sagely anyway, milking his ‘wise senpai’ thing for all it was worth. Jon could practically feel Tim calling himself a senpai. It was kind of embarrassing. “You know the shady room locked deep within the basement that exudes a terrible aura of malice and hatred towards you specifically?”

“The gender neutral bathroom?” Jon asked, confused.

“No, the one that always smells somewhat of blood. You hear screams sometimes?”

“The Archives!”

“Yes, but no! It’s Artifact Storage. If the researchers dig up any creepy shit from a statement, or if a statement giver brings in something that melts the metal detector, then we dump it in Artifact Storage and let those miserable fucks take care of it.”

“Is it more of a containment facility, or would you say that they conduct experiments?”

But Tim just shrugged. “My source down there tells me that they do some experiments to justify their budget, but it’s mostly unscientific. Poke this and I’ll give you twenty quid, that kind of thing. They say that if you really want a sick day, all you have to do is touch a mysterious rock and whisper your mother’s name -”

“Fantastic, thank you for your help, must go back to filling now,” Jon said quickly, skittering back to his own desk. He tried to distract himself from the terrifying thought of the basement full of supernatural nuclear bombs underneath his feet by trying to remember his mother’s name, but he was stuck on if it was Marjorie or Margaret. Mary Anne?

Maybe Tim’s personal Meerkat Manor series of Jon’s life had paid off - Sims Shack? - more than Jon would like, because Tim squinted at Jon in an unsettlingly familiar way. As if he knew exactly what Jon was thinking about the literature of mass destruction, and he really wanted Jon to be thinking literally anything else.

“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you, Jon,” Tim warned, sounding a little like a horror movie trailer. “Bushy tailed college grads who go down there don’t come out the same as they went in.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mr. Stoker.”

“For the love of christ call me Tim!”

It really was a pity - Jon had actually liked this job.

*******

It was remarkably easy to commit arson in central London.

Jon had done it once or twice. Three times, actually, although when you think about it arson was a criminal charge and only truly existed so long as someone was charged with it, so technically you could say that Jon had done arson zero times. In his defense, you try making it through Oxford without doing anything embarrassing. 90% of your time was in class or schoolwork and 10% of it was being hazed. At least Jon hadn’t fucked any pigs.

Jon hit up the usual stores, and stashed the usual implements in his rucksack. It was a careful week after his conversation with Tim, as he couldn’t afford for the older man to connect the dots. He made a show of going home at a timely five pm, startling everybody around him, and paced in a tight circle around his flat until he gave up and watched mindless telly until the clock struck midnight.

He took a cab to the park a few blocks down from the Institute, and walked the rest of the way. It was a cool, dim night in London, and the foot-traffic had slowed down to a steady trickle of young people in tight clothing. Jon pulled down his baseball cap on his head, fished a key out from his pocket given to him by a helpful and friendly janitor, and took a back entrance into the Institute.

Said helpful and friendly janitor, whose allegiance had been won because Jon was a “nice young lad” and “I always wanted to burn down the place myself, I’m happy to see the next generation give it a go” had helpfully told Jon that there were no security cameras inside the Institute. A grievous oversight, but good luck for Jon tonight. He took the stairs down to the basement, zipping his jacket up tight against the inescapable chill, and pushed his hat further down his head as he navigated his way towards Artifact Storage.

He unlocked the door with the janitor’s key, hands shaking, and slipped inside into the dusky and unlit room.

It was pitch-black, and Jon quickly fished a torch out of his backpack. He flipped it on, letting it slowly scan the room. It was the lobby into Artifact Storage, familiar from his stake-out missions: you walked in, met the bored woman behind the desk, checked in or checked out what you wanted, and if you needed to go inside she would press the button that unlocked the heavy climate-controlled door and let you into the hallway inside. The only other door in the lobby was to the office of the Director of Artifact Storage, a terrifying short and squat woman with silver hair pulled into a bun.

Jon leaned over the counter and jammed the button, holding his breath until he heard the door click open. He quickly twisted the handle, swung the heavy door out, and slipped inside, taking care to grab one of the chairs in the lobby and prop it open. Quick escapes were necessary.

He was in.

The torch lit up a map taped up to the wall, and Jon squinted at it. Section A, Section B, Section C...he remembered the classification from the document he read a week ago, and slowly walked down the hallway until he found the heavy climate controlled door marked ‘SECTION B’. He carefully wrenched it open, taking care to grab a rolling cart and using it to prop the door open, before stepping inside. He fished the canister of gasoline and the lighter out of his backpack, giving the gasoline a good shake.

It was a library. Small, and instead of shelves there were long metal racks with filing boxes stretching long into the darkness, but Jon knew a library when he saw one. Each box had a clipboard attached to it, and most boxes had very large and terrifying stickers on them painted sickly yellow or dangerous red.

The only thing in the library that wasn’t a filing rack was a battered and beat couch. And the only person in the room besides Jon was a woman, blinking up at Jon blearily from where she had been passed out on the couch.

“Er,” Jon said.

The woman sat up, squinting at Jon’s torchlight until he guiltily aimed it just to her left. She had a wild mane of curly brown hair, and was wearing a pencil skirt and ruffled burgundy blouse. A blazer was folded at one end of the couch, clearly being used as a pillow, and she looked strongly as if Jon had just woken her up from a very nice nap.

“Whuh,” the sleepy woman said.

“My mistake,” Jon said, “this isn’t the loo. Go back to bed, this is - er, a very bad dream, goodnight.”

“Whutuhiseet,” the woman slurred.

“It’s - very late, go back to bed.”

“Alright,” the woman said, falling back on the couch. After a second, her snores echoed through the room again.

Jon very slowly crept backwards. Actually, on second thought, his mission could wait for tomorrow. Bit of a cock block, this, but that was alright -

“Hey! Who are you!”

Jon, hand on the handle of the door, squeaked and turned around.

The woman was back up again, and this time she seemed actually awake. She was frowning mightily at Jon, and was already sliding off the couch in stocking feet to glare at him. Jon was aware that he did not look like an innocent person in these events. The gasoline did not help.

The woman’s eyes trailed to the gasoline, then widened. Jon ineffectually tried to hide it behind his back.

“You’re trying to burn down Artifact Storage!” the woman accused, somewhat fairly.

“Not all of Artifact Storage,” Jon said guiltily, “just the Leitners.”

The woman stared at him further, as if she was a special guest on Tim’s Sims Shack nature documentary.

“Why,” the woman said slowly, “would you want to do that?”

Despite himself, Jon found himself puffing up in indignation. “They’re evil, nasty little books that shouldn’t exist. Forget studying and - and containing them, we should be making sure no more of them ever disgrace the world again. We should be burning every one we see. They’re pure evil given literary form, they are a disgrace to books and libraries, and if I ever met Leitner myself I would beat him to death with a rusty pipe for subjecting me to his fucked up books.”

The woman stared at him.

Finally, she said, “I’m Sasha James. Want some help?”

“I - er, wouldn’t that get you in trouble, Ms. James?”

“I like this job but I hate Leitner and his fucked up books more,” Sasha said gravely.

Jon, having found a kindred spirit, held out the lighter.

Sasha James took it, a wide grin splitting her face.

*********

Jon didn’t remember much else of that night.

There was definitely arson involved - or, seeing as they hadn’t gotten caught, just some good old-fashioned fire starting. He had the sense that they had both been so giddy with adrenaline that they had immediately joined the raging uni students in the late night bars, toasting their success in toasting. There had probably been quite a bit of alcohol.

When he woke up the next morning, it was in his narrow and uncomfortable bed, face to face with an unfamiliar snoring woman. For a second, two, Jon was briefly convinced that he had done something so drastically out of character it meant that a fucked up book had body swapped him with Tim. Bodyswapping was more likely than him having casual sex.

Then Jon remembered the arson, and he exhaled in relief as his life made sense again.

“Ms. James,” Jon whispered, poking her in the arm. She snuffled and muttered something. Jon poked her harder. “Ms. James, we have work.”

Sasha turned around, turning her back to him and pulling up the blankets. “Go back to bed, Tim.”

Ti - oh god. Jon felt like he was in a CW drama. This was why he didn’t interact with people, far too much likelihood that he would accidentally end up interacting with somebody who had sex.

“Ms. James,” Jon hissed, extremely embarrassed, “you have to get up!”

“Mergh mergh fuck off,” Sasha James said.

Jon, like a true gentleman and hero, got up and made them both strong tea. He squinted at Sasha, recalling everything he knew about her (slept a lot, liked arson, hated Jurgen Leitner) before digging out some instant coffee and making some of that too. Finally, after shoving a hot cup of sludgey black liquid at the woman, she grabbed the cup and chugged it until she was able to sit up and open her eyes.

She blinked at Jon, who was already picking his hair in an attempt to get ready for work. He could clearly see the thoughts ‘you aren’t Tim’ run through her brain. Hah! He could be the narrator of the nature documentary for once!

“Uh,” Sasha James said, “I’m sorry, did we…?”

“Commit arson? Yes.” Jon paused a beat. “But as I don’t believe we were caught, call it an indoor campfire.”

Sasha James drank more of her coffee. Jon grabbed his clothing and disappeared into the loo to get changed.

When he re-entered his bedroom, she snapped her fingers at him. “Right! We got pissed after! Good times, mate!”

“I have to assume,” Jon said politely. He was doing his very best to be very polite, because Jon knew he was rude and didn’t want his new coworkers to know that until his probation period was over. Maybe he should have waited until after his probation period for the arson? Would it look bad on his annual review? “Do you need to borrow some clothing? I think we’re about the same size.” Oh, no, was that rude to say to a woman?

Sasha James squinted at him. “It’s like you’re not hungover at all. How old are you?”

“Twenty five?” Be polite, Jon! “And you’re...thirty seven?”

“I’m thirty one, asshole!”

Oh no. Women hated it when you called them old. “You don’t look a day over twenty seven!” Jon cried, panicked.

“Have you met a woman?”

“I had a grandmother?”

“I’m going back to bed,” Sasha James said.

Unfortunately, Jon knew that it would be very suspicious if they both skipped, so he forced Sasha into one of his suits that...looked much nicer on her than him, but whatever, and hustled them both to work. Now that the adrenaline had worn away and the sense of purpose in his holy mission had burned up with the cleansing flames, Jon found himself biting his nails in agony in the Underground.

They had to know. Someone must have caught them. Maybe there were secret CCTVs in the Institute. Maybe Sasha was going to rat him out - but she had helped, so wouldn’t she just be ratting out herself? Was she a double agent? Mr. Bouchard was never going to forgive him, no matter how nice he was and how much he seemed to like Jon to the point where he rather wished someone had given him the ‘Stranger Danger’ speech as a child so he would know what to do. Jon was going to go to jail, or worse - get fired.

Sasha, cooly sipping her coffee and looking somewhat fly in sunglasses and his suit, did not seem disturbed by any of this. Jon’s rapidly spiralling panic attack must have been obvious, because she casually flicked a finger on his forehead. Jon yelped with pain.

“Take it easy, mate. If they catch us, I’ll just say that the books made us do it.”

Jon scowled at her, rubbing his smarting forehead. “The books?”

“Sure.” She waved her fingers spookily as the Underground rattled forward into the heart of London. “Brainwashed us to do their evil bidding of -”

“Destroying them?”

“There’s a lot of arson Leitners,” Sasha James said sagely. “Trust me, this is just a normal day in Artifact Storage.” She clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, and Jon fought a blush. “Don’t worry. We performed a public service, kiddo. St. Peter’s gonna give us a medal when we get to the pearly gates.”

“I’m an adult,” Jon said, scandalized. He had gray hair!

“Well, I guess, but I don’t know your name, so…”

Jon squinted at her. She squinted at him back.

“You’re thinking that if you don’t give me your name I can’t rat you out to the feds,” Sasha said flatly.

Jon pursed his lips.

Finally, he settled on, “You don’t rat me out to the feds and I won’t tell them that you’re in an illicit relationship with Mr. Stoker.”

“Mr. - how did - what!”

“It’s Jonathan Sims,” Jon said gruffly, crossing his arms. He was slightly hungover and his nerve were jittery and he had set fire to his workplace the previous night, but somehow Jon thought that his heart was jackrabbiting in his chest for a different reason. Somehow Jon felt as if his heart couldn’t stop thumping behind his sternum because Sasha James was staring at him, head cocked, as if he was a mystery she was interested in finding out. “That’s my name.”

Sasha James stared at him, as if surprised, before her face broke into a wide and happy smile. Jon hunched his shoulders up, embarrassed, faintly aware he was blushing. “It’s nice to meet you, Jonathan!” Then she grabbed him by the collar, shaking him slightly. “And there is nothing illicit about me and Tim, and there is nothing between me and Tim at all, we are just friends, so get that out of your little head -”

The train rattled on towards the Magnus Institute, and towards the slight smell of smoke in the air.

*******

Sasha: are you coming 2 the pub w/us 2nite?

Sasha: come onnn you should comeee don’t feel awkwardddd

Sasha: I know you hate a) group settings b) drunk people c) Tim in a group d) drunk Tim and e) Tim drunk in a group but that’s no reason not to come!

Sasha: Tim is physiologically incapable of not adopting men 3-5 years younger than him it’s in his blood you can’t escape his affection

Sasha: or at least I find it funny so I’m not letting you

Sasha: Jonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Jon: Yes I’ll come, I need to talk to both of you.

Sasha: WAHOO

Sasha: wait

Sasha: really?

Sasha: did you commit ars*on again

Sasha: wait if you did don’t tell me the courts can request text transcripts

Jon: No, I just need your advice on an urgent matter.

Sasha: do you need to be drunk to do it

Jon: ...maybe.

Jon: ....Mr. Bouchard offered me the Head Archivist Job?

Jon: Which is stupid because I’ve worked here for barely four years and you’ve worked here for about ten years I think. And you’ve published five papers in parapsychological research. I know I helped you figure out that this place is a weird trauma mill but it was really mostly you. It’s completely ridiculous to promote me and I’m afraid it’s favoritism. For potentially heinous ends? This feels awful because it’s such an honor but I would never stop feeling stressed and guilty because I know so many more people (like you) are so much more qualified. Or qualified at all.

Sasha: holy shit

Sasha: ...do you remember the speech I gave you on stranger danger?

Jon: I’m afraid to mention this to Tim because he might beat up Mr. Bouchard for both my honor and yours.

Sasha: Jesus at this point I don’t even want a fucking job anymore. What bullshit. I’m never going to get promoted and I just need to accept that. This isn’t your fault, Jon, seriously, thank you for telling me.

Sasha: we can talk about this at the pub

Sasha: in private. Off the radar.

Jon: Looking forward to it :)

Jon: did I use the emoticon right?

Sasha: Yes, Jon, you did everything right.

#tma #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #sasha james-centric #this is an implied fix-it everybody lives fic #crack #comedy #absolutely nothing sad? in a MEG FIC?#sasha james #tim stoker #jon is based off me at a new job anxiously calling everyone 'mr'#rest assured sasha is trans but it just never came up #my writing

182 notes · View notes

a-dragons-journal · 4 years ago

Text

My Experiences of Nonhumanity

I get asked about “what makes you/people in general feel you’re/they’re otherkin” a lot, and while the answer is far from simple and my experiences are anything but universal, I figure it deserves a write-up once in a while. A friend asked about it a couple nights ago, so I wrote up a huge long message on Discord, and decided to rewrite it into a Tumblr post for posterity. This’ll be a long one, folks; hit J on desktop to skip.

It’s worth noting ahead of time: none of these things are required to be otherkin, and none of them automatically mean you’re otherkin. In fact, most of them are little more than mildly “weird” quirks when they occur in isolation, and only start to push outside the range of “normal human experiences” when many of them occur together. You can’t look at someone (including yourself) and say “they like collecting things, they must be dragonkin!” It’s not that simple. You have to take the individual as a whole even as you examine each specific experience in more detail - don’t lose the forest while you’re studying the trees. This is just a description of my personal experiences.

Shifts

- Phantom shifts/supernumerary phantom limbs: Probably the most obvious thing and the hardest to brush off, although I still managed to do so for years. Phantom shifts, aka supernumerary phantom limbs, are the experience of feeling limbs or body parts that do not and never have physically existed. In my case, the most common phantom limbs to show up are my wings and tail; other body parts, such as digitigrade legs, horns, snout, and paws/talons, also make appearances less frequently. While my phantom limbs almost never attempt to replicate tactile sensations/interactions with the physical world, they’re often defined by very vivid proprioception (ability to tell where your body is in space, mainly via muscle stretch receptors), and I can tell where each part of the limb is at any given time - it’s not just a shapeless sense of “weight,” or it wouldn’t be phantom limbs. I can also move them at will, typically. My phantom shifts are typically spontaneous and involuntary, but they’ve been induced artificially a couple different ways as well, though I can’t typically do it at will.

- Sensory shifts: Still not something I’m totally sure I experience, but there are definitely times my sense of smell becomes insanely strong compared to usual even for me, which fits the definition of a sensory shift.

- Astral shifts: While I’m far from an adept astral traveler, when visualizing “traveling” within my own mindscape, I shift form fluidly between human and dragon - although I almost always have wings at the very least.

- Cameo shifts: Mentioned only because it’s relevant to my phantom shifts. I realized at some point that the reason I get cameo shifts of canine/feline ears sometimes is because they usually show up when they’re pricking/flattening to express emotion, and the muscles that move to do that action are basically the same as the ones that do those actions with the crest that runs down my neck, and because of my obsession with cats/dogs/horses as a young child and because that’s not a particularly strong phantom shift for me usually, I connected the dots a little wrong and created a false association.

- Self-image: This isn’t technically a shift, but it’s going here anyway because it doesn’t really fit in any other section either. My body image/self-image is weird. I know, consciously, what I physically look like. However, my instinctive self-image is... hmm. What I “expect” to see doesn’t always match up with what’s actually there when I look in the mirror. Teeth are a huge point of fixation for me for some reason; I always expect them to be larger, sharper, stronger. I expect my neck to be longer, my face to be... different. I expect scales in places. I expect claws. Even knowing consciously that of course it won’t be there, it’s still strange sometimes that it’s not. There’s sometimes some mild disconnect when I see myself. (Sometimes not. But sometimes.)

Homesickness

(Or, the sense of missing something you’ve never had - not of “I want/want to be [x], and it makes me sad/upset that I don’t have/am not that,” but of “I should have/be [x], and it is fundamentally wrong that I do/am not.”)

- Flight: I have always wanted to fly, and for a long time I thought everyone ached for the sky the same way I did. Most people don’t, as it turns out. Yes, everyone’s fantasized about flying, but most people don’t feel bones-deep, crushing, physical pain in their chest thinking about it. Most people don’t lift up onto their toes instinctively straining for the sky. I’ve felt that aching longing for it for as long as I can remember.

- Connection to dragons: For as long as I can remember knowing about dragons, I loved the idea of them and even when I was very young, when I’d only really been exposed to media where they were the great evil for the hero to defeat and received no more character development than “evil, destructive, fire-breathing beast,” I was always on the dragon’s side and wanted to learn more about them. That hasn’t faded. I’ll watch an absolutely terrible movie or TV show that I otherwise loathe if it has good enough animation and sound design on the dragons. (Looking at you, Game of Thrones.*) I would commit arson to see one of those Isle-style dragon survival games actually go through and finish production. (Holding out hope for the Dragon Game Project on YouTube; go check them out if you haven’t already.) I’ve also used dragons to represent myself for pretty much as long as I’ve had an online presence - years before I ever heard of otherkin, I was calling myself Dragonheart.

- Dragon-like creatures: Snakes, crocodilians, and dinosaurs all fall into this category - all of them give me a similar heart-and-breathing-pick-up, aching familiarity to dragons. They’re not perfect, but in a snake’s scales and a crocodile’s bellows and a dinosaur’s spectacular reptilian size I see echoes of us and I have always loved them with a passion, even before I quite knew why.

- Dragon/”monster” noises: Sound generators, creature sound design, real animal noises, etc. that are meant to be monstrous and that most people find unsettling or even frightening, I find comforting and relaxing. Alligator bellows, “monster noise” soundscapes, etc. all apply here.

* No shade on anyone who likes Game of Thrones, I’m just not a fan. :P

Behaviors/Instincts/Urges

- Hoarding: I’m still not sure how much of the crystal thing is "monkey brain say Shiney Colorful," how much is a witch thing, and how much is a dragon thing, but some of it is a dragon thing.

- Territorial/possessive nature: I can get... extremely territorial over my stuff and my home. This can extend right into being ridiculously protective of my people too, although I do try to rein that in to a reasonable amount. This also extends into games like Capture the Flag, because put me on defending the border during middle and high school and I got frighteningly territorial. (Fun fact, this extends to spiritual protection stuff and it has almost gotten me in trouble a few times on that front.) The other main side effect is my brain trying to claim completely inappropriate things as “mine,” like every piano I have ever touched or, that one time, the entire city of Portland.

- Prey drive: Going on a walk in the woods with me will always be an exercise in stopping every twenty seconds because I heard a small animal move in the brush and froze instinctively to track it. Prey drive ranges from "okay I can indulge this enough to track-stalk-chase without actually intending to catch-kill-eat" to "this is entirely inappropriate and needs to Stop Right Now" depending on the day and the situation - sometimes it’s fairly low-key and innocent, but sometimes it's also being confronted with the sudden and completely serious/genuine thought of grabbing someone or something by the neck/around the body with your jaws and hunt-prey-kill-devour when it's completely inappropriate and kind of disturbing or even sickening. It’s one of the more annoying things, although it’s not like it’s severe enough that I’m an actual danger to anyone - it’s just a gut thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level without significant problems. This also bleeds into games (I get... maybe a little overenthusiastic during tag) and even watching TV shows or gaming videos - most of the time at least part of me is rooting for the hunter because I relate to them as a fellow predator, even if the audience is supposed to be rooting for the prey - I mean, protagonists.

- Basking/heat-seeking: Probably only partially a dragon thing, but despite the fact that I hate heat in general, radiant/sun heat and heat from a heated surface are both fantastic feelings provided the ambient air temperature isn't too high. I'm guessing this is at least partially a reptile brain thing.

- Height-seeking: Give me a chance to climb up on top of something - a rock, a cliff, a chair, a table, a bunk bed - and look out over everything else, and I'll take it in an instant. Getting to climb up on the roof is the best thing that's happened to me this entire quarantine.

- Flight instinct: Being mildly leery of cliffs not because I am afraid of falling, because I'm really not, but because there's always some part of my brain that goes "jump, fly, this is a perfect takeoff spot" and I have to squash that before I do something particularly stupid. This manifests in other ways, but that's the most dramatic (and annoying) one. This is also one of the things I noticed as definitively not normal long before my awakening. (The Grand Canyon was fun.) Similarly to the prey drive thing, it's not like I'm actually in danger of throwing myself off cliffs, it’s just - there's a not-insignificant part of my brain that thinks "hey we should go run and jump off and take a quick flight," in the same way I might also casually think "hey I should stroll across to the corner store for a bag of chips" before I consciously decide whether or not to do that. It’s the exact same type of thought process, despite the fact that one of those things is something I might do on any given school day, and the other is, you know, physically impossible.

- Combat instincts: I get in a fight and my pure instinct is to bite or claw, not kick or punch or whatever it is humans do instinctively. I have those reflexes now courtesy of Krav, but I had to train them in - if you’d thrown me into a fight before, I absolutely would have resorted to claws/nails and teeth immediately (and I still will, when pressed into a corner). Sometimes, unfortunately, this goes off completely unwarranted, either in an anger situation that does not deserve a physical response, or for no apparent reason whatsoever. It's one of the more problematic things, but once again - it’s not like it’s a compulsion, just a gut-emotion thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level.

- Scent focus: Who knows how much of this is environmental influence and how much is instinctive, but I always have and still do focus on scent more than most humans seem to. I can identify people by scent, I seem to pay more attention to it than most people do. I also seem less bothered by natural body smells than most people do, but considering the responses when I asked around in the otherkin community once about that, unclear whether or not that's connected.

- Nonhuman noises: I make just a bunch of weird nonhuman noises, and always have. Growls, hisses, croons, hurrs, throat-clicks, chirps, etc. I've never met any human who does them instinctively like I do except my half-sister (whom I didn’t meet until a couple years ago), and she was just as surprised to hear me do it as I was surprised to hear her do it.

- Affection: Face-rubbing, light head-bonking against someone’s shoulder/body/head, and love nips/bites are all perfectly acceptable ways to show platonic affection, to dragon brain. Human society disagrees. The instinct to do these things is so strong that I definitely do give into the first two with people I’m close with, and I have physically had to catch and restrain myself when I was about to unthinkingly bite/nip someone’s skin because I wasn’t paying enough attention.

- Movement: Moving on all fours just feels better than moving on two legs, even though it’s objectively physically uncomfortable because humans aren’t built for that. I also have the instinctive want to be a lot more flexible than I’m capable of being, in ways I’m not capable of being - curling all the way around something or someone to squeeze them tight in the coil of my body, turning my head a hundred eighty degrees because my neck Should Be Longer.

- Expression: Baring one’s teeth when frustrated, irritated, or angry is not a particularly human instinct. I realize it’s something a lot of primates do do, but. *gestures at society* Humans ain’t one of them, at least not anymore. Even in Krav Maga, which is a self-defense style that focuses on being vicious and “dirty fighting” to survive a real street fight, every single time I have a new partner (and most times I have a partner I’ve worked with before) and I get tired enough to get snarly, they respond with some variation of “god that’s scary”. See also: gesturing at things with my nose because it should be long enough to make that a much more dramatic gesture than it ends up being.

- Den/lair/small spaces: I never feel safer than when curled up in a tiny alcove just big enough to comfortably fit my body curled up into it. The only position I’ll prioritize over it is getting up onto a high space.

Past Life Work

Unlike every other bullet point on this list, most of these didn’t apply until I started actively seeking them out, because, you know. Past life memories are like that.

- Past life regressions: I’ve got a tag for these, but tl;dr I take anything I learn from a past life regression or similar meditation/visualization with a whole spoonful of salt, forget “a grain,” because I know for a fact my brain is very good at making stuff up with these types of exercises. Unfortunately, they’re the only way to get information on certain things, like appearance.

- Tarot: Got a tag for that too. I use tarot to ask questions and confirm or reject suspicions.

- Spontaneous memories: I don’t have many, but they’re clear as day when they do appear. I don’t count something as a “true” memory unless it includes senses I can’t reproduce through imagination - smell and touch, mainly. Mostly these are quick flashbulbs, nothing cinematic or anything like that.

- Noemata: Again, I don’t have much in the way of noemata, but what I do have is persistent and consistent. I know things about my wing shape and flight style despite not having really experienced that in detail during past life regressions. That particular set of noemata has been confirmed to fit with real-world physics and bat wing shapes (the closest wing type to mine that exists or has existed on Earth).

#think that about sums it up #otherkin #dragonkin #this got real long #long post #journaling #rani talks #feel free to reblog if you like

120 notes · View notes

ninjaaa-go · 5 years ago

Note

I took NyQuil instead of DayQuil and am about to pass out Seamista

This one was really fun to write! I hope you enjoy!

——————

When Mermista woke up at four in the morning with a stuffed up nose, a headache, and broken out in a cold sweat, she knew it was not, under any circumstance, going to be a good day.

But, she wasn’t about to get up and do anything about. Not at four in the morning. It was too early to feel like crap, too early to really feel like anything aside from exhausted and annoyed at having been woken up. With a groan, she buried her head under a pillow and tried to fall back asleep, sore throat and headache and all. Though, there was measurably more tossing and turning than actual sleeping. One moment it was too cold, blankets tugged up to her chin, and the next Mermista was kicking them down with a vengeance. She swore whatever wretched cold this happened to be was coming after her sleep specifically, and anything that got between her and sleep was a serious horror she was never in the mood to deal with.

Eventually, though, Mermista woke up to sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains and stinging at her eyes. So, she figured she must have dozed off eventually. Even if she somehow managed to feel worse than the first time she woke up. It was only the ungodly bright sunshine that made her wrench back the sheets and actually get up, only to stumble across the room and pull the curtains shut. All but falling back into bed once the room was set back in darkness, as it should be, Mermista was fully prepared to sleep through the rest of the day and hope that by the time she woke up again, she didn’t feel like she had been hit by a truck anymore. A long shot, but a girl could dream.

In any case, she almost did just that, but the nagging feeling that she was forgetting something kept her up. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Mermista tried to ward off the headache blooming behind her eyes and brush off the weird feeling. It was a Saturday, and that meant not leaving the house unless there was a fire or a tornado or something. Saturday’s were for coffee and youtube in the morning, magazines and sweatpants in the afternoon, and popcorn and mystery flicks at night. Or maybe, if she was feeling particularly adventurous, a trip to the beach or aquarium to relax the day away.

But, lately, Saturday’s had meant Seahawk. And that was what she was forgetting. Seahawk. Right. She had a date with him planned.

Forcing herself to roll over and check the time—still before she was supposed to leave, thank god—she reached for her phone. She typed out a quick text, just to tell him she was sick and not coming, before dropping it to the blankets beside her.

There, that was everything. Though, with little luck passing out for the rest of the day, Mermista counted the minutes ticking by until she decided it would be better to just get up and do something, even if that something was just lounging on the couch. Getting up, she made a halfhearted attempt at breakfast, just a banana that was already sitting half-ripe on the counter, and retreated to the couch to scroll social media. Not before grabbing an entire box of tissues, though.

As the minutes rolled by into an hour, the lack of response from Seahawk was starting to nag at her. Normally, he jumped at the chance to talk to her, text her, whatever, usually with way too many smiles and hearts and things. And, though she would rather die than admit it, maybe it was kind of endearing. And maybe she kind of missed it when he didn’t get back to her. And, just maybe, she might have been a little worried about him. Which, in hind sight, was stupid, because she was the one surrounded by tissues and fighting with the blanket she dragged out from off her bed. He was fine, probably off looking for buried treasure at the beach—because, yes, he actually did that—or committing arson on someone’s boat—because, yes, he actually did that, too.

Swallowing the last of her water, though it felt more like shards of glass with her throat acting up, Mermista set the cup down harder than she probably needed to, somehow annoyed with Seahawk when he wasn’t even there. But, really, she was annoyed with herself for thinking about him, worrying about him. That so wasn’t her style, and she was not about to let him turn her into someone who was all sappy and lovestruck. Even if she did sort of like him.

She did her best to shove the thought from her mind, instead pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping the blanket tighter around her legs. She just had to get rid of this cold, then she could find Seahawk and tell him off for ignoring her texts.

Sometime around lunch, or like half past three, which may as well have been lunch to Mermista, she detangled herself from her blankets and pillows and braved the natural light in the kitchen for some food. Though, first, she rummaged around for something to take the edge off the cold, pulling out whatever cold meds she could find. With a quick glance at the box, she took one pill out of the blister pack and swallowed it, grabbing a glass of water at the sink. And, without much more thought to it, she went about trying to find something for lunch. Soup sounded like too much effort, considering she didn’t have any of the canned variety, and her fridge was looking kind of barren. There was a box of leftover Chinese takeout, though, and she figured that would do.

Warmed up, it tasted decent enough, even if she was sniffling between every other bite. But, it was halfway through picking at less than sticky rice with her chopsticks that Mermista crashed hard. All of a sudden, the tv background noise she had on seemed blurred and fuzzy, and it was way too much of an effort just to keep her eyes open. Even if she’d been kind of sick and out of it all morning, this was a whole new level of wiped out, and Mermista was not thrilled. She was about to curse her stupid cold when a thought dawned on her. Climbing over the back of the couch to peer into the kitchen, she caught sight of the box still lying open on the counter. And, sure enough, NyQuil was written across the front, mocking her. Great. She’d taken that by mistaken instead of taking the extra second to look for the box that listed non-drowsy as one of the effects and not just skimming for all the usual cold busting stuff.

Swearing under her breath, Mermista crumpled back to the couch, what was left of her food effectively forgotten. And that was when the doorbell rang. Resolved to just ignore it, she buried her head under a pillow, attempting to block out the sound when it rang a second time. Then it rang again. And again. And again until whoever was at the door decided they just weren’t going to stop until she dragged herself up from the couch and answered it. Well, too bad for them but she was absolutely not in the mood to deal with some obnoxious salesman or whatever.

And then her phone started ringing too, and that wouldn’t stop either. It was only after the third time through her ringtone that Mermista actually picked up her phone and glared at the screen with all the venom she could muster. It was Seahawk’s name that flashed back at her, just as insistent as he ever was. Suddenly, with that, all the pieces clicked together. That was why he hadn’t answered her texts. Instead, he just came straight to her door, not willing to take no for an answer. And lucky for him, all the noise from the doorbell and her phone both ringing off the hook was enough to pry her away from the couch, if only so she could tell him to knock it off.

Across the apartment, she pulled the door open, and all the cacophony finally stopped. Instead, Seahawk met her with the biggest grin, shoving a bag of all sorts of convenience store junk into her hand. There was everything from bottled coffee and magazines to medicine—the non-drowsy kind, because apparently Seahawk actually paid attention to that sort of thing—and cold compresses. Before she could even say anything, he pressed a cold sports drink into her other hand, easily inviting himself in and shutting the door behind him. Mermista was still processing, or more like falling asleep on her feet, when Seahawk turned back to her.

Without so much as a hello, he launched into a speech with all his usual theatrics.

“I just couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering here all alone,” he started, like she might have been tortured in a jail cell or something instead of stuck at home with a cold. “So, like any good boyfriend would do, I brought every necessity you might possibly be in need of. And, of course, my company, which is arguably more valuable than anything else.”

Self important remark aside, if she wasn’t so tired, Mermista might have pointed out that what he did was way above any normal person’s response. The only thing she usually got from people if they knew she was sick was a get well text, not half a convenience store. Instead of mentioning that, though, she just ran a hand back through her hair, pushing the messy strands away from her face. Right, she was still in the tank top and knit shorts she had slept in, having forgone her usual clothes and hairstyle. Some kind of heat rose to her cheeks at that realization, and she busied herself with cracking open the sports drink, taking a sip of it.

Though, when she didn’t offer any kind of response, exasperated or otherwise, something in Seahawk’s expression shifted. He looked... worried, almost? Since when did Seahawk worry about anything? He was more the type to drift from place to place, finding trouble but always happy go lucky and good natured.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, all low and quiet without any of his usual bravado. And if Mermista got kind of misty eyed at how sweet and genuine that was, it was all the fever’s fault.

Though, clearing her throat, blinking away the wave of emotion, she just tried to explain everything in a way that made it clear she wasn’t dying or anything. Because, with how hard it was getting to stay awake and on her feet, she figured she kind of gave that impression.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. I just accidentally took NyQuil instead of DayQuil and I’m seriously about to pass out,” she offered, yawning just after she got the words out.

As soon as he heard, Seahawk looked immensely relieved, then brightened up. “Oh, is that it?” he questioned mildly. “In that case, I won’t bug you. You should just sleep,” he said. Yet, he made no move to leave like Mermista had been expecting. Instead, he just kicked off his shoes and wandered farther into her apartment, leaving her standing in the entryway, a little bewildered. Though, when he made it clear he had no plans of turning around, she just followed him in, dropping the bag of stuff he had brought somewhere along the way. The drink, though, she kept.

“Seriously, what are you doing? I thought you were supposed to be leaving me alone,” Mermista said. With all the confidence of someone who owned the place, Seahawk had made himself at home at the opposite end of the couch from all of the crap Mermista had kept piled up beside her all day. Chopsticks, tissues, a phone charger, to name a few, all thrown on top of the queen sized blanket. God, she really knew how to make an impression. Though, at least, she hadn’t been expecting anyone over. In any case, Seahawk was the one in the wrong here, already lounging with his jacket thrown off over the arm.

“I said I wouldn’t bother you. I won’t,” he assured, though Mermista had her doubts. “But, I couldn’t possibly leave my princess in her hour of need,” he declared with a sweeping gesture.

“Right,” Mermista replied with a halfhearted roll of her eyes. Still, she settled back in her spot on the couch, keeping her legs bent up just enough to give Seahawk some room. Unlike him, she did actually have some understanding of what personal space meant.

Though, once she got comfortable, she realized this was what she had been missing all day. That low current of unease nagging at her, it was gone now. And all it took was a dorky smile from a certain space invading, self proclaimed pirate. Even if that fact in itself was irritating, right now, Mermista was thankful for it. Because, eyes falling shut, she thought she could finally get some peaceful sleep. Hearing him shift ever so slightly on the couch, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, it was all comforting somehow.

So, maybe she was just a little too much in love.

But, today, she was sick and tired and allowed just a little indulgence. When she woke up, she could go back to being prickly and try to salvage her image. That, though, was a problem for later Mermista.

#seamista #she ra #spop #seahawk #mermista #fanfic #my writing

22 notes · View notes

tarmairons · 6 years ago

Text

re: that last hp ask i got

i know i said i wouldn’t be cross-posting my bellamort/dark au/riddle fam headcanons from twitter but i’ve decided to post a lengthy updated masterpost here after all so ENJOY bon apetit

1. see the thing is that 90% of my hcs can’t be described with words bc they’re just.. feelings.. aesthetics.. vibes.. vague scenarios that make me feel some sort of way… the dark au has a certain Feel and i just stick a bunch of domestic concepts in there and shake it all up and that’s it shshsh

2. disclaimer: im like 75% sure my self indulgent ramblings won’t make sense so sorry about that

3. i was fully serious that one time i said on twitter that voldemort’s no.1 priority after taking over the wizarding world was doing sth about his snace (snake face) so yeah. first things first he’s not as fugly in the dark au. as mentioned previously he just looks like mr. ralph and probably wears ornate haute couture power suits

4. the public doesn’t actually know who the augurey is for YEARS… they know whoever it is is voldemort’s second in command and sure there’s rumors that he has an heir but nobody knows it’s delphi. this way she doesn’t have to be reclusive and hide away, she just lives her life, studies and trains, masters the art of dark magic, hangs around town etc, and no one suspects anything bc who would think this tiny super friendly innocent looking girl is the dark lord’s kid — her identity isn’t revealed until she’s deemed Ready to publicly take up her position. and when she is revealed it’s a Big Moment bc she’s a drama queen and lives for attention

5. delphi is taller than bellatrix

6. speaking of bellatrix. she’s presumed dead after the battle of hogwarts which turns out to be a cool bonus for the dark side. any leftover resistance? she’ll take care of that and they’ll never see her coming. tbh this seems a lot cooler in my head bc movie bellatrix would not be stealthy enough to stay hidden for years she would probs trip over something and accidentally commit arson within a few days. but yeah sneaky assassin sounds sexy. plus to be super honest i imagine bella is a teensy bit more collected than in the films... no shade at helena y’all know i would die for her but there are in fact things i would change about her bella. so yeah for a while the only people who know she’s alive aside from her immediate family are probs rod and the malfoys

7. hm so. the malfoys…. much to think about. narcissa did lie to voldemort’s face during the battle so logically he should have killed her the moment he realized she knew harry was alive all along. but this is a soft dark au so let’s pretend bellatrix was like hey dude don’t kill my sister maybe and voldemort was like k. i mean no harm done, harry potter is properly dead in this universe after all

8. but seriously tho. the only reason voldemort didn’t yeet narcissa into a wall was for bella’s sake. he’s nice like that, he probably promised her at one point that he wouldn’t violently murder her family. peak romance

9. delphi is surprisingly close with both her parents although with voldemort it’s more of a mentor-student relationship than a parent-child one bc he’s Like That. growing up it was always bella who insisted they treat delphi more like a child and less like a weapon and voldemort wasn’t always happy about that bc he’s emotionally constipated and also never had a childhood. also he’s, like, evil. so yes, reminding voldemort that delphi was her daughter too sometimes got bella in trouble bc we all know of voldemort’s superiority issues. but no bella didn’t stop insisting that delphi deserved an actual childhood and in the end they compromised like functional adults and delphi turned out pretty well for someone raised by 2 of the most terrifying people alive

10. but yeah that’s not to say voldemort and kid delphi never had soft moments. they did. he even picked her up every once in a while. everyone was surprised, bella most of all. she probably cried in the bathroom later bc the softness overwhelmed her. i’m not sure if i mean that in a sarcastic shitpost kind of way or if she was really moved to tears. y’all decide for yourselves

11. delphi looks very very much like bella but she has tom riddley eyes.. so dark they’re nearly black. and soulless. maybe they even flash red when she’s enraged. and she has very aristocratic very controlled tom riddley mannerisms. it’s not until you piss her off and she goes off the rails that the bella side of her personality kicks in

12. delphi gets along really well with the malfoys (except lucius. she thinks he’s pathetic and likes to tease him. in a friendly way but it’s still harsh. she gets that from her mom) esp scorp. scorp thinks this makes him cool at school bc he gets to fist bump the augurey and not get murdered for it

13. speaking of hogwarts. umbridge is scared shitless of delphi and it’s always a school-wide spectacle when the augurey drops by unexpectedly on official business and umbridge starts stuttering and quivering. scorp sometimes makes a point to approach umbridge and delphi when they’re talking and act all chummy-chummy with his cousin just to make himself look powerful and Cool in front of umbridge and the other students

14. i still don’t know whether voldemort would call delphi ‘delphini’ or just ‘delphi’… i imagine he’s a strict stick-up-his-ass kinda father but who knows. he does call bellatrix ‘bella’ but that’s different i guess

15. but THEN AGAIN he does have a gigantic soft spot for delphi too. maybe he slips up every so often and calls her delphi. i’m literally making this shit up as i go along i’m just smashing my mf keyboard and occasionally glancing at my messy hcs notebook. I TOLD YALL i don’t have solid hcs i just have VIBES and AESTHETICS. the only way you’ll get specific hcs out of me is if you ask very specific questions

16. weirdest brotp is delphi and rodolphus. nobody knows where that came from but they get along so well and it confuses everybody

17. we been knew that bella is batshit crazy and criminally insane or whatever but against all odds she is a surprisingly good mother. she’s always been soft for family (narcissa etc) so it makes sense that she would legit die for delphi. they have this super casual bantery relationship YALL GET ME bella is so proud of delphi she’s literally that “my little baby off to destroy people” meme!!! honestly mother-daughter relationships are my goddamn weakness i would die for the two of them

18. delphi has a gf (underdeveloped oc time!) who, for the longest time, doesn’t know who she is dating bc delphi is obviously not allowed to say. she finds out the truth eventually and she is properly freaked out for a very very long time. and since all of these hcs are stupidly soft we’re just gonna keep making them softer: the gf is terrified of delphi’s parents at first (obvs) but they’re both extremely fond of her (well, bella is, voldemort probs doesn’t care all that much about who delphi is dating so long as she’s not of subpar blood status or secretly spying for the opposition ya know. as long as delphi trusts her he does too)

19. no but really voldemort trusts delphi and bella implicitly. with delphi it’s bc he raised her and he trusts her to be loyal bc she knows no other way, she was meant to be an extension of his power etc. but with bella it’s something he learns over time, to trust her judgement bc despite her many many flaws she’s very perceptive and usually right

20. voldemort probably makes more horcruxes. still haven’t decided how this ties in with the fact that he’s now safely immortal again and neither delphi nor bella are. who knows maybe they all do the do and split their souls. much to think about. feel free to send ur thots and ideas my way

21. ya know im basic and always on my bellamort bs and therefore: as the years go by voldemort warms up to bella. not that he wasn’t already extremely fond of her before but he kicks it up a notch. i mean, he’s already taken over the world so it’s high time to start experimenting with other wilder things like Feelings. 80/90 years old isn’t too late to experience Love or whatever. might as well wake up one day and realize you’re completely and utterly in love with the woman you’ve spent the last 50+ years with whew. LIKE to be fair bella knows him better than anyone — they understand each other, they’re familiar with each other’s likes, dislikes, mannerisms, nervous tics etc etc. let’s be real it freaked voldemort out at first, being vulnerable to any degree (not that he let it show) but it just became so easy to tell her things that it became a natural thing to do. and obvs he trusts her to keep everything between them and never judge him for anything so that’s sweet

22. y’all keep asking me for domestic hcs but what can i possibly say?? imagine literally any domestic scenario ever and just think bellamort and i’ve probably imagined that same scenario before. except its sexier bc the world is dark and evil and they live in a dark gloomy super fancy manor. so we have these 2 goths right but they’re in love but in that casual familiar way YALL GET ME and sometimes they even drink coffee together in the mornings or like. do that thing where Person A returns from work late at night and its dark and raining and Person B is already home just chilling and they don’t even have to talk they just go about their nighttime routine but it’s soft and familiar and COMFORTABLE. i clearly dont have enough softness in my life i just. love domestic scenarios bye

23. i forgot everything else i wanted to write bc i got distracted by domesticity. im also thinking about how voldemort absolutely despises the thought of any pda but he’ll take bella by the wrist in public every so often when he wants to get her attention, or like. put his hand on her back. small things but oh so soft

24. hhhh okay i have a LOT to say about the power fam’s fashion choices but it’s hard to explain without pictures. i have a wholeass ppt presentation but i’m not about to upload 20+ slides to tumblr. but i seriously was not kidding when i said voldemort wears fancy suits and yes i have references. meanwhile delphi is a fan of feathers but mostly goes with lowkey military-style outfits.. she’s practical yet ostentatious. bella sticks to a conservative yet undeniably sexy selection of evil looking dresses.. i should make all of these into pinterest boards hmm

25. controversial opinion but i think delphi knows she and voldemort are half bloods. so does bella but that’s a whole other story, she been knew. anyhow yeah delphi was told the truth bc it was better for her to find out from the source rather than hear rumors from the opposition and begin to distrust the foundations of voldemort’s whole empire and voldemort himself

26. i used to absolutely hate fics where bella would eventually call voldemort by his name but now im like FUCK THAT we don’t do guilty pleasures anymore we just stan ridiculous things and that’s that. one day voldemort had a Thought (shocking, i know) and was like. Hm so we have a wholeass child and we’re basically married maybe bella shouldn’t have to call me My Lord for the rest of her life. BUT ONLY IN PRIVATE. THATS BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM it’s nobody’s business. It Is Nobody’s Business

27. speaking of marriage. bella and rod got divorced a few years after the battle. it was just a formality tho let’s be real. they remained very close friends tho!!!!!!!! i think that’s an unpopular opinion among bellamort stans but i genuinely believe bella and rod were always close the way best friends or family are ya know. rod really loves bella but as long as she’s happy he’s happy even if it means her fucking the dark lord on the reg or whatever

28. going back to #6 — when the public finally finds out that bella’s alive they obviously start to wonder about her and voldemort and connect the dots re: delphi etc but nobody ever gets any concrete answers bc there’s never any public pda.. any sort of affection is limited to when it’s just the two of them. and obviously it’s not like voldemort gossips about his private life in tabloid interviews or whatnot. ALSO the whole Bella Is Alive reveal isn’t nearly as dramatic as delphi’s big moment.. it’s more discreet and insidious in that way it implies that she was there hiding in plain sight all along. and if the ministry can keep sth this big a secret, what else are they hiding.. ah classic intimidation tactics of an authoritarian regime

29. i dont think this is ever stated in the CC but in terms of politics and bureaucracy i imagine voldemort has a fancy office in the ministry and spends 99% of his time there and rarely spends any time out and about. he’s almost never seen by anyone, rarely attends events etc. delphi’s the one who handles the day to day shit in the wizarding world. she’s like.. the public relations manager.. between the public and voldemort

30. bella is of similar status within the ministry but that’s just bc people are scared shitless of her. she doesn’t actually hold any political power and she most certainly does not want to, that is not her area of expertise at all

31. delphi is dangerously powerful and i think that’s really sexy of her

32. re: #21 it’s like. as voldemort warms up to bella, she in turn chillaxes a bit with the whole blind devotion thing and becomes bolder with him like. she’ll outright question his decisions or tell him what he should do, make judgement calls etc. and it becomes a regular thing.. turns into this casual companionship ya feel.. i won’t say they become equals bc that’s just unrealistic but he certainly stops treating her like his inferior. he recognizes her value and i daresay her authority and stops treating her like shit all the time Wow Romance Is Alive!! (this sounds like some sort of “douche fuckboi changes for his poor mistreated love interest” schtick but it’s really not that bc they’re both monstrous people who do not deserve any pity so jot that down. they’re horrible and they deserve each other and they eventually do make it work and i am so so happy for them)

33. it is never outright stated that voldemort can’t love. jkr has said that he doesn’t understand love and that it’s just symbolism!!! that he’s the child of a loveless union and grew up without knowing love!!! BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE PHYSICALLY CANNOT LOVE thanks for coming 2 my ted talk. i wasn’t aware of this until a few months ago and i was thrilled to find out my soft hcs are not entirely ooc after all

34. THE POINT IS. THEY ARE A SEMI-FUNCTIONAL FAMILY and i just really love soft domestic scenarios so sorry jkr but the dark au is the only canon now and it belongs to me. everybody has feelings and everything is soft. i’d like to pitch an idea for a kuwtk style reality show but it’s these 3 sociopaths under one roof navigating family life and wizarding world politics

35. to finish i’d like to apologize for downplaying the fact that all 3 of the people i woobified in this post are psychotic murderers and tyrants etc

—— i’ll be updating this if/when i remember anything i forgot AND ALSO send me ur thoughts and comments and constructive criticism etc pls pls pls

—— follow me on twitter and also curiouscat bc i get a scary amount of q’s about voldemort’s sex life thank you and goodbye

edits:

36. in this household we stan dark haired delphi. no i will not be taking any criticism regarding this particular fact

37. bella and voldemort never get married. obviously, because that’s a disgustingly romantic and pointless thing to do. it’s sentimental and unnecessary (well, voldemort thinks so, bella might just disagree but she’s not about to force his hand) BUT that’s not to say they’re not basically an old married couple anyway. AND as much as voldemort thinks love is weakness or whatever he knows this, that they’re about as close as two people can get. SO if he just so happens to gift her a ring.. well it’s a purely symbolic gesture but the implication is definitely there

38. it’s the horcrux ring. he trusts her that much. m y h e a r t

#hp #harry potter #bellamort

35 notes · View notes