#listen to this person you don't know that well complain

[cripplecharacters]

I've been writing an important secondary character who is deaf. For the most part I'm quite confident with this. I mention sign language in nearly every scene where he's present (I don't want to overdo it so I use other dialogue tags as well, avoiding any that would be exclusively vocal) and there are other deaf characters present in the story. It's fantasy, so there's magic. at one point, this deaf character is going through a number of rites and rituals in preparation for a very important ceremony, as he is inheriting his deceased grandfather's leadership position. One of these rites requires him to use magic to enhance his senses before a hunt, mostly to increase his spiritual sensitivity.

I know most deaf people are not 100% total silence deaf, and for the sake of my magic system it's easier for him to enhance all his senses at once, so what little hearing he does have is also enhanced. the effect is temporary, and it does not change anything about his natural abilities, so he's still deaf. It's kind of like he just put on intangible aids over all his senses, making everything sharper, making his brain process the sensory information faster and in more detail. I thought I had described it well, so it would be clear that he's still deaf but more aware of the little sounds he can hear. but some people in my writing group apparently read this as if he was temporarily no longer deaf.

I don't know how much of this is a problem of my own description, and how much is just them not paying attention (one of them keeps forgetting this character is deaf at all, despite how often I mention sign language in the narrative, and the other can't even track the differences between my elves and my bird people, despite the fact that they've seen all my art and the elves are not even remotely bird-like.)

I'd like some feedback so I can fix this passage on revision and make it more clear. here's the excerpt where the deaf character complains about the enhanced hearing: (sign language had already been mentioned a few times in paragraphs before this scene, but maybe I should add more descriptions of hand gestures? I don't have a specific sign language to reference, since it's a fantasy)

“Do you know the worst thing about enhanced senses? It affects my ears too.” He bared his teeth slightly and huffed. “I usually only hear a few deep sounds, faintly. I feel the vibration of my own voice. But now it’s all a little sharper and I find it disorienting.” “Why did you enhance your senses if you hate it so much?” Morianon laughed but his brow furrowed sympathetically. “Because it also enhances my spiritual senses,” K’arik explained, “so I need it to do this hunt correctly, as part of the rituals. Can’t pick and choose which senses get a boost, you know? The magic gets unstable if you spend time nitpicking.”

Hi!

Overall this sounds pretty good. I'd say if the enhancement only enhances sounds he can hear unaided or enhances sounds over a variety of pitches without bringing him to full hearing levels, that mimics the experience of hearing assistive devices. Additionally if it doesn't eliminate the processing difficulties and overstimulation that come with hearing and listening as a deaf person, that adds to the accuracy.

I would avoid sharpening the sound quality or processing abilities in his case--for someone fully hearing, they have the necessary skills to better process auditory information. For a deaf person, more sound is just more overwhelming information.

To me it doesn't sound like you're erasing his deafness--I'm curious what your writing group thinks hearing aids or CIs do. I don't think you need any more description of sign language than what you have, and it's fine to use "said" and similar dialogue tags.

Overall this sounds like a really great Deaf character! :) [smile face]

Mod Rock

[rusalka52]

Tell me I'm pretty

part 1 || part 2

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

summary: You have to deal with the aftermath of last night's concert and Sirius is being a dick about it. The universe also seems to hate you.

cw: bully (???) Sirius

3.4k words

A/N: This was meant to be 2 parter initially but I think it will end up being at least 4 parts! I tried to stick as close to their canon personalities as I could so that is why the Marauders are being assholes here lmfao. I hope everyone is enjoying this so far and don't forget to like, reblog, shout the update in the town's square etc. etc. !!!

Once Dorcas shoves you through the bathroom you’re met with the mess you left all over the marble top counters the night before. Black eyeshadow smudged in the sink, Barty’s black nail polish smeared on the mirror, the hair straightener inside the shower, your mascara, foundation and three of your brushes scattered on the floor and counters. Your eyes shift to the mirror to check your reflection and instead of seeing your own face staring back at you there is a post-it note stuck on the surface.

“You better clean all of this up!

-Dora & Cas :p”

You rip the note off the mirror, crumple it and toss it in the trash. You’ll clean it up later. As your eyes focus on your reflection you notice your smeared lipstick and smudged eyeshadow, you should’ve bothered to remove your makeup last night instead of just flopping on your bed and passing out. After washing your face and doing your skincare routine, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You start inspecting your neck for any marks. The left side of your neck is clear and as you turn your head on the right, pulling down your pyjama shirt slightly you gasp. No… surely not you have you to be imagining it. You attempt to rub the hickey off your neck hoping that it’s somehow makeup but no such luck. Thankfully the mark will be covered up by the collar of your school uniform but that doesn’t matter, you’ll know that it’s there. And, of course, he will know as well, which makes it a hundred times worse.

After you do your makeup, remove your pyjamas and put on the Slytherin girl’s uniform you look at yourself in the mirror once more. Maybe he’s right. The uniform does look a bit too prudish. No! You can’t let him get in your head this much, he’s just a stupid, horny boy who doesn't know what he’s saying.

As you open the bathroom door to the empty dorm room you walk down the stairs towards the common room where you meet Dorcas and Pandora, chatting on the couch. Their eyes focus on you, looking you up and down as if they’re scanning you for any clues as to why you were acting so weird.

“Did you roll up your skirt?” Pandora asks, holding back a laugh. You blush and briskly walk away towards the door.

“No, my legs just got longer.” You mumble with a huff as the two girls follow you out of the dungeon and head towards the Great Hall, laughing loudly behind you.

Once you reach the Great Hall for breakfast you walk immediately towards the Slytherin table not even bothering to glance over to the Gryffindors.

The moment you sit down you start shoveling scrambled eggs on your plate. You almost don’t notice Regulus plopping down next to you until he speaks.

“Why is Potter telling everyone that will listen that you snogged my brother last night?” You snap your head towards him and your fork falls out of your hand and clatters against the plate.

“What?! Where did you hear that?” You hoped that you sounded nonchalant but your widened eyes and skittish movements betray your true feelings. Regulus raises his eyebrow quizzically.

“Umm, Potter was telling some of the Gryffindor students while we were practicing this morning and I overheard. Had to share the field with these barbarians. Again.” He complains. “Anyway, I’m sure he was just imagining things… right?” He has now turned his attention fully on you.

“Reggie… Please don’t hate me…” You reply quietly looking back at your plate once again.

“No… I can’t believe that you, of all people here, woul-” What was surely about to be a strict chastisement was interrupted by a smack on the back of your head.

“Oi, dickhead, you ditched me last night!” Barty yells in your ear, sitting down in the seat next to you. By now nearly everyone at the Slytherin table was staring at you.

“What are you on about, Barty? We returned back to the castle together, you liar! Or were you so drunk that you can’t even remember who carried you to your common room!” You turn to look at him exasperated, shifting your annoyance at the situation to your brunette friend.

“Oh yeah? Well what about the 30 minutes you spent in the bathroom with Black?” He fires back.

“It wasn’t even 30 minutes and shouldn’t you be at the Ravenclaw table? This isn’t even your house!” You shove him away, attempting to deflect from the matter at hand and he blows a raspberry as he heads to his table.

“SO YOU DID SNOG HIM?” Regulus whisper-yells at you with a disgusted look on his face and you bury your head in your hands.

~

“No way you actually lost your wand, mate, you really need to focus more.” Remus shakes his head, lightly chastising his friend for his forgetfulness.

“Well, Rem, I didn’t exactly lose it per se.” Sirius tells the group of boys, pride evident in his voice. James just grins, he didn’t get a chance to blab to the other Marauders about what happened the night before since he had to run to Quidditch practice early that morning and he was on the edge of his seat ready to tell everyone.

“Let’s just say that I know very well where it is. Or, dare I say, with whom it is.” He says looking directly at you from across the Great Hall. Peter and Remus follow his gaze turning 180° in their seats, making it painfully obvious that they’re staring.

“You’re joking…” Peter turns back to look at him, mouth agape in shock.

“Oh Pete, you know I am always… serious!” James can’t help but burst out laughing at his friend’s lame and overused joke.

The group of boys didn’t really know you that well. They did notice you hanging out with Regulus and with the girl Marlene told them she was going out with, but that’s all they knew about you concretely, the rest were all just assumptions. That you were a blood purist, a pompous and pretentious Slytherin that didn’t care about anyone but herself etc. etc. so when Sirius told them that he managed to find you of all people at a concert and get you to kiss him they were justifiably shocked. Remus, however, had gotten the chance to work with you on a potions project and got to know you a bit during your 4th year. Admittedly, it has been nearly three years since the last time you two interacted properly but he recalls you being really well-mannered, polite and helpful throughout the duration of the project. You both talked about shared hobbies you had, such as reading and listening to music, your plans for the winter holidays, what you had asked Santa to bring you for Christmas and so on. He really didn’t get the “mean blood-purist” vibes from you, but you could never be sure in a time like this, so he didn't dare speak up against his friends. The only time he remembers you being slightly mean and upset was when Sirius and James came up to your table in the library while you were in the midst of completing the assignment, closed the book you were reading in your face, hissed at you, mocking your house, and whisked Remus away to go partake in whatever shenanigan they had come up with that time. Your eye roll and huff was definitely warranted in that situation, he thought.

~

You made sure to keep Sirius’ wand securely and secretly stored in your bag. You planned on giving it to him after breakfast in the school corridors, there was no way you would approach him in front of everyone! You glance over at the Gryffindor table towards the “Marauders”, a dimwitted and ridiculous name for a dimwitted and ridiculous bunch, you thought. As luck would have it, Sirius was already looking your way, making sure to throw in a quick wink before continuing his conversation with Potter. You look back down at your miserable scrambled eggs, you lost your appetite now.

After a bit you notice the Gryffindor boys exit the Great Hall and you wait a few minutes before following behind them, making up some excuse to your friends that you wanted to finish an assignment. Someone as perceptive as Regulus of course connected the dots that you were following his brother immediately and he just shook his head, going back to drinking his tea. He doesn’t have the time or the energy to deal with this.

Once you spotted the boys heading towards the exit of the castle, most likely going to the Black Lake to study or chat, you made your way to them more briskly. Once you were within ear shot you cleared your throat.

“Excuse me, Black.” You said keeping your voice firm. They all turn to face you and James and Sirius step forward, leaving the other boys behind them, no doubt a silly intimidation tactic.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little snake, what can I help you with, love?” He says, smirking down at you, not that he is much taller than you. This boy was truly absurd, not even twenty-four hours ago he was whimpering and begging you to kiss him and call him pretty and now he was trying to intimidate you. You could have laughed in his face if it weren't for all the other nosy students who had paused their conversations and turned their attention to the exchange happening in the middle of the corridor.

“Can we talk, privately please?” You whisper trying to keep your conversation away from prying eyes and ears.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of my mates.”

“Merlin Sirius, don’t make a scene! You already know what this is about.” You roll your eyes.

“Look, love, I’m not really interested in you, alright?” He says loud enough for the students in your vicinity to hear. You widen your eyes and your mouth hangs open as Potter laughs next to him. You can’t believe the gall of him. What an unbelievable twat! You ought to break his wand in half but that would get you into trouble so instead you take a deep breath trying to stay calm. You don’t need to stoop down on his level.

You step closer to him, so close you’re almost chest to chest, you reach into your bag and discreetly pull out his wand. You shove it in his chest and mumble so only he can hear “Don’t do this shit again, it’s not funny.”

Instead of grabbing his wand and letting you be, he reaches up and firmly grips your hand that’s holding the wand against his chest, pulling you even closer than before.

“Oh sweetheart! Thank you so much for bringing me back my wand after last night, I really appreciate it!” He exclaims in a loud voice so everyone in the corridor can hear. He successfully managed to humiliate you. You attempt to pull away as you hear the other students starting to whisper and James sniggering behind him, but his grip on your wrist is too strong. His other arm reaches up to your collar pulling it aside slightly so that only he could see the bruise that had formed on your neck. His eyes flicker from your hickey and they meet your eyes as his smirk deepens. He finally releases your arm, pushing you back lightly and he walks away.

“You’re a dickhead, Black!” You call out as you stomp away in the opposite direction, ignoring the heat rising to your neck and face.

~

The next day, a Sunday, you decided to ignore everything that had happened in the past two days. You had homework and classes and exams to focus on, not some boy that doesn’t know how to behave.

After rising from bed at noon, ignoring the questions shot your way from your dorm mates and their probing to clean up the mess in the bathroom, you get dressed and make your way towards the library. Now that is a place where the “Marauders”, save for Remus of course, wouldn't be caught dead in. You find an empty table in the back of the library near the windows, lay out your things and begin studying. It could not have been more than ten minutes of revision when you hear someone call out your name. You look up from your Charms assignment to see Sirius Black approach you while shoving a bit of tattered parchment paper in his bag. How did he even find you back here…

You watch him with a neutral expression plastered on your face as he sits directly in front you.

“What do you want?”

“Godric, I just want to study!” He says, obviously mocking you. “Can’t a boy focus on his schoolwork?”

“Well, go sit somewhere else.”

“No. Last time I checked you don't own any seat in the library.” He teases, opening his Transfiguration textbook. You roll your eyes and sigh. Had you not already started working you would have packed up and changed seats, not like that would have any effect, as he would have surely followed behind you. You decide to ignore him for the time being, seeing as he was quiet and genuinely working on his assignment, save for the occasional holes being burned at the top of your head whenever he’d stare at you, attempting to catch a glimpse of your face.

After a couple minutes of working silently you feel a kick under the table. You won’t give him the satisfaction of eliciting a reaction from you. Three seconds go by when he kicks you again. Harder. You drop your quill.

“What?!” you whisper-yell, not wanting to alert Madam Pince.

“Next Saturday, Hogsmeade, you and me. It’s a date”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling.”

“Then no.” You ignore the hurt that flashes in his eyes, you must be imagining things.

“Okay, then I’m asking.” He is starting to sound desperate again. A complete juxtaposition from how he behaved yesterday in the corridors.

“The answer is still no, you’re a twat.” You return to your essay.

“Please, I swear I am being genuine with the date” He lowers his head, keeping his eyes firm on you, trying to get you to look at him. “And I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. I panicked.” He whispers the last part reaching out to gently hold your hands, obviously not wanting anyone to hear him apologising lest his punk-rock persona be spoiled.

You rip your hands away from his, quite harshly, and start packing your things. You’ll study in your dorm. It’s obvious that he’s not being… well, serious with this “date”. If you do end up going and he spots any of his dumb friends out you’re certain that he will go back to his regular antics and making you the butt of all their jokes. Or, Merlin forbid, ditch you to go get drinks at the Three Broomsticks. There was absolutely no way you were going on this date!

~

“Mate,” Sirius says as he opens the door to his own dorm, “she said no!” He flops face first on Peter’s bed since it was the only clean one in the entire room.

“Well, what did you expect, Sirius? After the way you talked to her yesterday…” Remus replies not even bothering to lift his head from his homework.

“Give the boy a break he’s had his heart broken by a cruel and unjust girl! Who’s side are you on Moony?” James questions him.

“Yeah, Moony!” Sirius echoes, muffled from the pillows he’s buried his face in. “I even apologised!” He whines.

“I’m sure you’d know all about heartbreak, wouldn’t you, James?” Remus muses with a giggle.

“Oi shut up!” James exclaims tossing a crumpled paper ball on Remus' head.

“Why don’t you try asking her again tomorrow?” Peter asks the boy that’s still laying on his bed.

“If I just keep asking her, she’ll keep saying no, and I’ll end up like Prongs! No, I need to try a different approach…”

~

Your Monday begins like any other. You wake up at 7 and head to breakfast at 8. Then your first period of the day starts; Transfiguration with professor McGonagall and the Gryffindors. And you haven’t done your essay. Again. Last week you didn’t have time to finish it due to all the projects and exams assigned by other professors but this week you truly forgot about it. You did all the other assignments, just not the essay. You were surely going to get house points deducted and maybe even detention if the universe hates you.

The moment the bell rings professor McGonagall transforms back into her human form.

“Come on students, get out your assignments and textbooks, there is no time to be wasted, we are already behind schedule by one whole unit!” She exclaims as she starts walking down each row collecting the students' assignments.

“Miss, weren’t you supposed to hand in last week's overdue essay as well?” She stops right in front of your desk looking down at you with her piercing green eyes. You hesitate to look up at her, already growing anxious. Once your eyes meet hers you gulp.

“Professor, I am truly so sorry, I genuinely forgot to complete it. Please forgive me and I promise to bring it in next week.” You plead with her, fidgeting with your nails and biting the skin on your lips, nearly making it bleed.

“Miss, this is the second week in a row you haven’t turned in your essay. I have been far too lenient with all of you!” She states looking at all the students.

“5 points from Slytherin, and I’ll see you on Saturday, miss.”

“But it’s a Hogsmeade we-” She silences your protest immediately with a sharp look and heat rises to your cheeks and ears in embarrassment.

“Now, if anyone else has not done his or her assignment they will join her in detention next Saturday. No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’ there is no time for that!” She states, scanning the room. Suddenly, from the upper left corner of the classroom a student raises his hand.

“Minnie, I haven’t done the homework either!” Of course it was Sirius. You could’ve sworn, however, that you saw him doing his Transfiguration homework yesterday at the library.

“Mr. Black!” McGonagall exclaims. “5 points from Gryffindor for that wretched nickname you keep using, and, of course, detention for you as well on Saturday. You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves. The rest of you hand in your assignments at the end of the lesson, I have already lost enough class time dealing with these two babbling idiots, I will not waste anymore!” She returns back to her desk and you sink lower into your seat in humiliation, making eye contact with Sirius behind you, who just smirks in pride.

“Padfoot, why did you do that? You have your essay right here.” James mumbles in his friend's ear hoping that McGonagall doesn’t hear him and removes even more points.

“James! Shhh! You’ll spoil my plan.” Sirius shushes his friend. James furrows his eyebrows not understanding and Sirius shakes his head.

“If we get detention together on Saturday, that’s basically a date, since we’ll spend time together and she will have to talk to me!” Sirius reiterates. “Merlin, no wonder you’ve barely made progress with Lily after six years, you really don’t think things through, mate!” He says, teasing his friend.

A deep thoughtful look crosses James’ face. “Huh…”

~

The lesson went by painfully slowly and you thank Salazar when the bell rings, signifying the end of class. You gather your things and walk out the classroom already forgetting the stunt Black pulled an hour or so ago.

“See you on Saturday, love, it’s a date.” Sirius whispers in your ear. Speak of the devil. You snap your head towards him and he makes sure to wink at you from over his shoulder as he heads towards the Charms classroom. You groan. You were dreading Saturday.

tags: @gastroentred @beekeepingageissome @is-it-better-to-speak-or-todie

Likes and reblogs help a lot! If anyone wants to be added to tag list for the third part just let me know!!

Requests: open :D

[electricboogaloosstuff]

Fun fact ! Sometimes, you will be a little uncomfortable. That's ok, that's normal. Sometimes something will be hard to achieve, or someone will be annoying or a situation will be awkward. It's of the upmost importance that you understand that this is normal. You will have to use some of your personnal reserve to help a friend. You have to do it. Don't trust the therapy speak on social media. Life is effort and reward, and you HAVE to do the efforts part. I promise it's worth it.

[bonefall]

i'm ngl depicting thunder's prosthetic as a burden is pretty uncomfortable even if it is something some amputees experience because like. there's a huge stigma around prosthetics already you know? it's like having a parent forcibly strap a child into a wheelchair when they don't need it and having a horrible experience with it and that being your only character in a wheelchair. some full-time wheelchair users do resent their wheelchairs but when that's the only time you're bringing it up at all it feels like you're playing into our society's perception of wheelchairs and mobility aids in general as useless and best and divine punishment at worst. idk do let me know if i'm wording this wrong because i really do love better bones! it's just that this detail is... strange.

I mean, I'm open to feedback if that's not something I should do-- but I do actually have other characters in prosthetics and mobility aids! A lot of them! Thunderstar's actually the only one who ends up rejecting his own, because I also wanted to depict that it's bad to force a device onto someone who does not want one.

Especially in circumstances like Thunder Storm's, where that sort of device would be actively unhelpful for his lifestyle. It might help in open field environments like moorland, but then I got more feedback and realized that it would just make a lot of unwanted noise in a forest (since cats have carpal whiskers to help them figure out where to place their paws). Then I figured it was a good way to show how BB!Clear Sky doesn't actually listen to his son's needs and acts differently when he's not "grateful" enough for his gift.

But he's far and away from the only one with a mobility aid or prosthetic!

I haven't figured out Frog entirely yet, but he's going to be the first cat with a "wheelchair" type device, to set up a long line of cats through the generations improving on it (Probably not much more than a reinforced canvas or durable leather, as this was the age of very early flax processing)

Wildfur's the next in the big advancements, even making the Great Journey in his own and getting a side story based around Littlecloud and Cinderpelt collaborating over this

The device is then improved upon by Jessy for Briarlight, giving her a level of independence and confidence that she needs to finally cut her mom out until she learns how to behave

Deadfoot has a brace for his front paw because the joint is loose (it was based on a friend's carpel tunnel bracelet) which is affectionately referred to as The Bonker; his name is also now an Honor Title (Old name: Hoprunner) for inventing a battle move by distracting with his good paw, and then SLAMMING his other limb down hard on his opponent. It's called "deadfooting."

I think mobility devices are super important, usually massively improve quality of life, and I just enjoy designing them, so the choice to portray Thunder Storm's as negative was a very deliberate one that I did in response to what I thought was a desire in representation. Even the fact it's a hind-leg prosthetic was thought out, since those have a much higher satisfaction rate in humans than hand prosthetics, but in a cat would probably be the opposite.

Still, I'm not missing a limb, so now with all of that context presented, do you still think the same thing? Should I just add even more limb prosthetics to make the ratio of satisfied prosthetic users vs Thunder Storm even steeper?

Sunlit Frost is actually going to have a bite on his good paw go septic (the other side has permanent damage from the fire). I could have that paw get amputated and have Thunderstar "return the favor" for how Sunlit Frost created the prosthetic he rejected by helping him build his own. A pawsthetic, if you will

OR would it be better to just remove the subplot of Thunder Storm grappling with/rejecting a prosthetic that is unfitting for him entirely, and have all prosthetics be 100% treated as positive in the narrative?

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[giantkillerjack]

ur post about queerbaiting and the dismissal of people in fandom to critical analysis is so incredibly true thank you. i feel like marcille's writing in the anime has been super misogynistic a lot of the time and every time i bring this up all anyone wants to say is "well maybe this isn't for you! and you shouldn't watch the show!" like. i don't think this is about taste lmao, i am analyzing the text in front of me and coming to conclusions about the craft of it.

[This is in reference to this post]

YES!!! THANK YOU!!!!!

It is so so frustrating!!!!

It's like being at a restaurant and being served a bunch of delicious appetizers, but then one of the bread appetizers is literally just a plate of crumbs; and then when you're like, "Hey, uhh, why are we being served literal crumbs?", a bunch of the other folks eating at the restaurant are like,

"WELL HOW ABOUT YOU JUST DON'T EAT HERE THEN??!? YOU MUST NOT BE THAT HUNGRY, SO JUST FIND ANOTHER RESTAURANT AND DON'T EAT WITH US!!"

And maybe they say it politely, but "Aw, sorry, maybe this restaurant just isn't for you 💖" is just trading out an aggressive dismissive tone for a patronizing dismissive tone. It's the same message.

And it's like! I was honestly happy to move on from the crumbs once my complaint was acknowledged because the meal overall is still delicious, but then all these folks got SUPER WEIRD AND DEFENSIVE ABOUT IT, so now I find myself double-checking all the other dishes -- and, actually, you know what those eggs DO look a Iittle misogynistic undercooked!!!!

[medicinemane]

.

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

Fighting the Cain instinct so fucking hard rn.

[girlivealwaysbean]

sometimes i miss talking to that one person who didn't NEVER turned it into a competition about who has it worse and never told me well atleast you have [x]

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[astonmartinii]

day eight: is it new years yet? | franco colapinto social media au

pairing: franco colapinto x fem albon!reader

christmas day has come and gone and lovers have the agonising wait until new years to reunite (ie complaining a lot)

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

francocolapinto

liked by olliebearman, alexalbon and 828,056 others

tagged: yourusername

francocolapinto: will someone bring my wife back from the war

view all comments

user1: i need this kind of man in my life please

user2: i just know he's wearing that shirt completely unironically

user3: i need him to wear it in the paddock please

alexalbon: "the war" being her family's home for christmas

francocolapinto: well yes! why would she want to spend time with YOU when she could spend time with ME

alexalbon: she's not being held hostage she can leave if she wants to

francocolapinto: you're using the pets to your advantage

francocolapinto: DISGUSTING

alexalbon: excuse me?

francocolapinto: free her! and let her bring stan too!

alexalbon: you know what? it's christmas so i won't be entertaining this absolute nonsense

francocolapinto: my love for your sister is not nonsense alex, i am hurt by these accusations

alexalbon: FUCK OFF

user4: oh alex and franco bickering you are so personal to me

user5: i don't know how i'm going to deal with franco not being on the grid next year

yourusername: trust and believe sis, he'll in that paddock no matter what

user6: thank you for your service queen

alexalbon: if you must i guess

yourusername: missing you more baby

francocolapinto: actually not possible

yourusername: you could always come here ...

francocolapinto: and miss out on the sun on christmas?

francocolapinto: and have to hang out with alex ????

alexalbon: i am SICK of you pretending i'm not an absolute hoot

francocolapinto: i'll agree this one time and that's only because you share genetics with y/n so i must assume you must have some of her qualities

alexalbon: what the hell, sure

yourusername

liked by landonorris, francocolapinto and 341,984 others

tagged: alexalbon

yourusername: is it new years yet?

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user9: personally if i had that many cute pets i would not be complaining about going home for christmas

user10: real

albon_pets: that's exactly our points !!

francocolapinto: but not as cute as franco!

user11: did you forget to log into your burner account?

francocolapinto: no i just have a very secure view of myself

yourusername: therapists are AFRAID of him

user12: have we considered they do miss each other but are really on a covert mission to subliminally force us to listen to sabrina carpenter's ep fruitcake

yourusername: it is a banger i will say that

alexalbon: our family are NOT ANNOYING THIS IS A LIE

alexalbon: the song is good tho

landonorris: speaking of sabrina carpenter, do you wanna try out some freaky positions while you're back in england @yourusername ?

francocolapinto: i will tear you limb from limb and then drag you around silverstone attached to my williams like cans from a wedding car

user13: that's so romantic 🥰

landonorris: MURDER IS ROMANTIC?

francocolapinto: stop flirting with my girlfriend or i will invent a crime worse than murder

landonorris: it's a JOKE ????

francocolapinto: i am not laughing.

yourusername: he's so protective hehehehe

landonorris: so you're willing to let franco murder your friend of over TEN YEARS ?

yourusername: he can do no wrong in my eyes

landonorris: ALEX?

alexalbon: firstly, you bought this upon yourself. secondly, franco actually got me a really cool christmas present so he is above you on my friendship pyramid now

francocolapinto: no one can resist franco xx

user14: this comment section is a fucking mess

user15: and i wouldn't change it for the world

francocolapinto: counting down the days xxx

yourusername: i'm so excited i can't stop talking about it

albon_pets: this is true, she's even talking to the cats about it

alexalbon

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 409,302 others

tagged: lilymunhe & yourusername

alexalbon: despite popular belief, my sister does actually love me (or she at least loves the animals)

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user16: they're such a cute lil family

user17: and with the introduction of franco's face card they will be unstoppable

georgerussell63: with the absolutely blasphemous speculation in these comment sections i would like to lodge a formal complaint concerning the fact that i have never been invited to an albon christmas

francocolapinto: not cute enough

georgerussell63: i can go toe to toe with you franco

yourusername: lying is a sin george

georgerussell63: what happened to the y/n i once knew ...

yourusername: listen george if you want the invite you gotta marry in to the family, and since both alex and i are taken it looks like your best bet is one of the cats

georgerussell63: that would be beastiality

yourusername: not my problem

alexalbon: please don't fuck one of my cats george

georgerussell63: SHUT UP !!! i merely wanted some recognition for my importance to the albon family but alas you are all IDIOTS. DID OUR HOMOEROTIC SHARED THROAT INFECTION MEAN NOTHING ALEX

alexalbon: i don't really know what you want me to say here?

user18: george has been off his rocker since qatar i fear

yourusername: it's been much longer than that lol

francocolapinto: she'll never love you more than she loves me

alexalbon: considering you two are in a romantic relationship i would hope so

yourusername: oh girlies we should get this all out now before franco gets here and before we camp out in the williams garage all season

alexalbon: i must ask do you have to be there all season?

yourusername: we're scheming

francocolapinto: james can't resist my puppy dog eyes for that long

yourusername: count your days @carlossainz55

carlossainz55: excuse me ??

francocolapinto: you heard her !!!

carlossainz55: @alexalbon is it going to be like this all season?

yourusername: not if we have anything to do with it

carlossainz55: so just for a few races

francocolapinto: no dipshit we're going to steal your seat

user19: i love when a couple really come together to maxmise their joint slay

francocolapinto

liked by yourusername, olliebearman and 823,019 others

francocolapinto: i hate the time warp between christmas and new years so much what do you mean i actually want to be playing trivial pursuit with alex :(

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user21: why does he have a bunny?

user22: it's best not to ask questions about franco really

user23: i want to know but also i think for my sanity it's best i don't

alexalbon: everyone goes on about the 'franco charm' but really it's all about the alex charisma

francocolapinto: whatever, you can have this one, but know you'll never truly be me

alexalbon: was the half compliment in the caption the yearly compliment for 2024

francocolapinto: yeah so savour it

alexalbon: you're so kind franco

francocolapinto: i know 🫶

alexalbon: i was being sarcastic

francocolapinto: compliment is a compliment

user24: franco is the type to be called pretty dumb and just hear pretty

user25: he wouldn't be wrong

yourusername: i've been holding down the fort while i can but this dumbass has clearly done some reading in his spare time

francocolapinto: no one is as smart as you amor i have no worries

user26: is this game of trivial pursuit lasting days?

landonorris: there is no way you're the trivial pursuit champion ???

yourusername: i've won for the last five years running, why wouldn't i be?

francocolapinto: choose your words carefully lando... i'll be on british soil before you know it

landonorris: why is it just me you're going after the whole twitch gc agree

charles_leclerc: not sure what you're on about here lando

georgerussell63: i've always been impressed by y/n's trivial pursuit skills

alexalbon: i love her so much i let her win

francocolapinto: @landnorris consider this a warning

landonorris: how did i end up with the threats again?

user27: franco does not play omg

yourusername: he's the biggest loverboy eva

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, alexalbon and 603,029 others

tagged: francocolapinto & alexalbon

yourusername: reunited and it feels so good !

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user28: i have never felt jealousy like this

user29: hey siri play that should be me by justin bieber

user30: you're telling me i gotta live and people like y/n get to have an f1 driver brother AND franco colapinto as her new years kiss ???

francocolapinto: longest ten days of my LIFE

yourusername: you can't get rid of me now

francocolapinto: good! i need my fix of y/n :3

francocolapinto: i'm addicted to you

yourusername: you're addicted? they're tryna make me go to rehab

francocolapinto: but i said

yourusername: no

francocolapinto: no !

user31: are these motherfuckers quoting amy winehouse ???

alexalbon: worse, they're actually singing it to each other right now

user32: WHAT? show it to me rachel....

georgerussell63: wait he came to england ????

francocolapinto: yes! you're no longer the hottest f1 driver in the country - i'm so sorry!

georgerussell63: @alexalbon please tell me this little menace is not crashing your festivities?

alexalbon: well technically ... franco is family so he's got more of a right to an invite than you ...

francocolapinto: snooze you lose georgie boy

georgerussell63: you need better taste y/n

yourusername: wanna say that again

alexalbon: oh george ...

georgerussell63: you need better taste y/n

landonorris: oop.

yourusername: I DON'T CARE IF IT'S MEANT TO BE NEW YEAR NEW ME, IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL THERE WILL BE NO 2025 FOR YOU RUSSELL

francocolapinto: that's so fucking hot

yourusername: i love you <3

francocolapinto: i love you more

kimiantonelli: do i have a teammate for next year or?

fin.

note: amazing news!!! the vets found that my cat was too healthy to be put down so he lives to slay another day. hope you enjoy this celebratory franco fic, my first for him i think? (can you tell i need to update my masterlist?)

[majinbangus]

i m s o s o r r y, b u t i c a n n o t s t o p. remember when ghost and soap interrogate milena and soap is all 'not my style. he might' & 'last call, or he takes over'? yeah, that's him holding ghost's leash before he sics him on someone. and now he's teaching you how to do it too :) -> more here

Obviously, he's not your typical 'dog', but Ghost fulfills the role easy enough. So far, he's shown all the qualities Soap wanted your guard dog to have. Calm. Alert. Protective. You suppose you can't complain. Even when he's not doing his guard dog duties, he still sticks close to your side like one, ready at a moments notice. Ghost takes his role as your protector very seriously.

Maybe a little too seriously.

You don't realize until someone looks at you funny that that's enough to get Ghost's hackles rising. But since that incident, Soap has made sure to teach you the commands, considering Ghost was yours to handle. There's certainly an adjustment period, and it takes some getting used to, but you soon learn how to utilize those commands.

You're out on a walk and tell him to heel? He heels.

The next time someone looks at you funny and you tell him to leave it? He leaves it.

If a person is trying to hurt you and you tell him to attack? He attacks.

Simple enough. Be clear and firm, and Ghost will listen.

"But don't forget the most important thing, sweetheart."

You tilt your head at Soap like a confused puppy. "What's that?"

He winks at you as if he knows something you don't. "Always remember to give your dog a reward and lots of love for his hard work."

It's not until later, do you fully realize what he meant until Ghost is gripping your jaw tightly and licking into your mouth, taking his well-earned treat.

How could you forget that dogs love to kiss?

[acid-ixx]

brutus: both arms cradle you now (villain au concept)

ft. yandere! harley quinn (brief mentions of the poison ivy and catwoman) x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

"so, you're saying you hate the batman, for personal reasons, cupcake?"

you've never expected to have a therapy session with one of your mentors who took you in.

harley quinn, the girl who took you into her abode right after she found you bloodied and laying in a crimson bath of your own one faithful night; death your only comfort.

she, alongside her other company, are well-known people within gotham's criminal gallery. she's known to be obsessed with her ex back then, chasing after his toxic love despite hers being consistently thrown away, she's been seen fighting, or even sometimes helping your father when he's wearing the cowl just to find the joker, she dons clown makeup and displays athletic talent for combat—

she's not the type you'd expect to be well-versed with a person's mental health, with her playful attitude and bouncy steps, but with the way she notices your uncomfortable body language whenever you stumble upon the bat, or how you simmer in silent rage watching him care for his vigilante partners during times they get injured; you'd have to admit she's more than qualified to ask you sensitive questions nobody ought to ask a violent criminal like you.

you don't know it, but you share far more similarities with the girl than you thought; chasing after love never once reciprocated, she has every right to know what makes you so triggered seeing the vigilante every damn time he's within the vicinity.

she has every right because she's the one who saved you when you thought your life would be all over.

when you believed that that day would be the time your soul would leave your body, you'd suddenly awoke to her gentle coos and her retelling her company on how she stumbled upon you. and another woman's palms are on your heated forehead, an unnatural shade of green, yet she helps swipes away your hair for your head as she listens intently to harley's story; she gazes at you just as softly as the other. she's seated right beside a familiar face, too, with cropped, jet-black hair and cat-eyes. it was her expensive duvet that you lay on.

it was there that they coddled you collectively.

they've been your saviors then, and your mentors ever since. it's what you've never asked for, to be cared for by criminals who fought on the opposite side from your fathers, but you've been craving affection your entire life that you'd never once complain about.

now, in the same apartment, her question lingers in the back of your head, you feel goosebumps rise on the topmost layer of your skin, and your heartbeats hasten against the cage of your chest.

despite that, she merely looks over at you, her eyes held a calculating gaze. it's not exactly nerve-wracking like batman's whenever you had your occasional encounters with him, but you can tell she's psychoanalyzing every aspect of your being.

like a therapist for most, but to you, she does so because you know she cares.

gone was the ditzy smile she likes to wear on her playful lips, or the active, bouncy lilt she has whenever she sits upon the swivel chair to talk to you. she stares at you, with piercing blue eyes and furrowed brows, nitpicking every reaction you conjure.

it seems like now's the time she wants to open up with such a sensitive topics.

especially right after the incident where you cried after watching batman speak to the youngest robin, with the sweetest, most poisonous tone you've ever heard from the man. it makes you want to vomit watching it, makes you wish to shrivel outside-in your costume and burn until you're mere embers.

you ask yourself, 'do i hate him?'

truth is...

god, you wish you do. but you're different now.

you have new people to care for you, now and you'd rather throw away that heart wrenching life you had back in the past. batman is nobody to you now, you wish you could lead yourself to believe that he was just your usual opponent, nothing more, nothing less.

yet you merely shift on your cushioned seat, ignoring the blaring telltale signs in your head to stay silent, and reply to her albeit the unsureness in your tone. your words taste bitter, sour, salty, and no way sweet. every unpleasant flavor swirls in your tongue in a cacophony of emotions; and you wish to cry the longer you speak, tongue-tied and wishing to will away the ache in your chest.

"i don't hate him, harley, at least not anymore... it's different, i don't know what to feel about him. maybe it's rage, maybe i want to exact petty revenge on him because of my past with him. don't know. it's all complicated..."

"if it's not hatred, then it's something else, no? you feel something deep within for him, don'tcha, sweetheart? you can't lie to me, you're hurt, and scarred, because of him and his other vigilante partners, i can tell."

she replies, quicker than you do, with empathy and comfort laced in every syllable of her words, and you're taken aback at the kindness and understanding. your eyes flutter away from her worried ones, and you look down to your clenched palms and feel the callouses from all the harsh training you've conditioned yourself to endure, dismissing the way she stands from her chair to walk over to you.

hurt... that's true. you're hurt, and all the emotional scars that lay within you are still open, bleeding, and it aches deeply. every time you build new memories with these people, the pain of the past overpowers whatever improvement you make in life; as if it's haunting and taunting you.

when she kneels down to the level of your lap, just right beneath your vision so you could see her beyond the layers of hair that cover your watery eyes, you see her soft gaze and find her dainty fingers holding your palms, ones you didn't notice dig nails deep into skin until the rivulets of blood escape.

when she squeezes your hands, you follow along the patterns of inhaling and exhaling through her squeezing, a silent session with her to help you calm down from your foreboding emotions; your hastened breaths and brimming tears. you've been so used to ignoring all your emotions that you forget what panic attacks felt like in so long, not until you discover that you've been having small bouts of it every day; not until you realize how it's always your mentors comforting you through every one of your silent sufferings instead of ridiculing you for it.

"calm down, cupcake... i just wanted to know why, so i, alongside the girls, could help you through your emotions. what type of mentors are we if we can't help you, no? you've been so tense lately, we couldn't even see your cute, little smile these days. so don't forget you're still allowed to cry, sweetie... let all your emotions out, 'kay?"

she speaks, with a gentle timbre in her voice, and you allow her to embrace your form, one you didn't realize was shivering until now. yet you still bury your head further into her body without shame and allow yourself respite for once; allow yourself autonomy to be controlled by repressed pain and sorrow you've tried to bury deep into the marrows of your bones and the cages of your heart.

and now you realize why, why you're all crying all the same like last time, and you simply cry for longer at the realization.

because what contrasts with love, was indifference, and never hatred. you once loved batman, bruce, with all your heart because you're his kid, and your momma taught you to love without any expectations. but he sees you with indifference, with nothingness. no care, no emotions or opinions about you, unlike harley's who holds you in her arms and comforts you throughout your lengthened crying.

he doesn't even look at you. the thought bothers you more than ever.

"it's— you're right," you whisper through your hiccups, burying your head further on her stomach as her right hand plays with the strands of your hair, scratching your scalp in a comfortable pattern. she hums as a reply, and allows you to continue.

"i'm hurt, harley... it's so painful just thinking... thinking about how much i'm in pain because of him... but he's, he's—"

"shh, you don't have to force yourself to open up anymore, sweetheart."

when she releases her hold on you, you let out an embarrassingly loud cry, hands swiftly trying to pull her back to embrace you; too desperate to let go, too paranoid that this is all a dream, you wish to sink into her warmth forever.

but she holds you back, just as quickly with her warm palms at your wet cheeks, and looks at you. like you're her savior, her peace, and her everything.

her next sentences satiate the foreboding hunger in your heart, one too starved, one that craved and wished to take what it never have.

she feeds you with love and affection too sweet that it rids the bitter taste in the back of your throat and the bile that slowly rises every time you reminisce.

"i get'cha, sweetie. you wanted something from him you can never have, and when he didn't give you that, it destroyed you entirely you felt like you can never pick yourself right back. been there, done that—"

"—but look at where we're both at now! living the best of our lives, doing fun, risky heists and making ourselves happy with what we think is good for us, no? you get where i'm getting at, right?"

you don't. you feel like melting into her hands and never leaving. she gives and you take, take, and take everything she offers you.

and she knows you don't understand, so she continues rambling knowing you'd grasp into every word she says, not once breaking eye contact with you. she stares fondly, you gaze back reluctantly, unaccustomed to the affection your mentors shower you with. but you don't pull back, she becomes sad and sulky when you do.

you want her to be happy.

"sweetheart, i'm telling you the past is past! get him away from your mind and throw all the thoughts about him away! if you were nothing to him, then he should be nothing to you, easy as pie."

"you deserve better people in your life, like me, and pam, and selina. i can tell you're rough around the edges but that doesn't mean you should strip yourself away from any privilege to be cared for and loved for by people who love you as much as you love them. he's nothing to you now, alright? it's painful, but you can move on from him. i trust you can— you know why?"

harley questions you, with all the confidence in her tone, taking your head to lay it on her body again, positioning it so you could hear the buzz heartbeat, you bury yourself deeper into her warm body and nuzzle into fabric. your heart hastens, but it wasn't panic, it wasn't even fear or hurt, but a drive and motivation that burns deep inside of you; that this is what you always wanted, and needed to protect, and what she generously provided.

all her words echo through your head like it's the truth, your holy grail.

"you have us now, sweetheart. to love, to guide, and to protect you. we're everything you need now."

and you believe her like she's god.

just this once, you do. you're allowed to hope, to dream, and to finally feel special. to be embraced like the fantasies you had in the past, to be held and comforted through every gut wrenching experience, just as she does, now.

for once, you allow yourself to be loved, even if it means it's by the same hands that stain itself with blood, all shed in the glory of your name.

a/n: happy halloween! i was laying in bed and suddenly had thoughts about this. i don't like this drabble at all ngl erm 😭 this post is related to events prior to the out for blood chapter (idk if i should make it canon to the plot or not) and what i said in this fanart post. despite this not being my favorite piece of work, i like writing about other charactersn too though, especially when they're so soft to the mc. so yeah! if you guys like more of this, please do comment since idk what to feel about this.

[cryptidghostgirl]

The Love (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Warnings: I don't think there are any but correct me if I'm wrong.

Word Count: 1,323

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Y'all, I'm lowkey dying from the requests. I'm sorry for the last five or so taking so long, I just need a little break and mix in some of my own ideas if that is okay.

Alastor was drinking at the bar with Husk, Charlie, and Angel. The day had been a lot, seeing Mimzy was always a lot. Yes she was trouble, but Alastor loved her. He loved her for the same reason he was trying to drink himself stupid at the bar. He loved her because she reminded him of Y/n. Mimzy had been her friend first, after all.

He sat off to the side in his own little world while Angel and Charlie chatted and Husk obediently poured the drinks. Normally, Husk would have joined the pair in the mindless, mundane chatter but after the events of the day, Alastor's presence kept him silent.

"No way!" Charlie exclaimed.

She and Angel were talking about some TV show they both watched or another. A mind numbingly boring background noise but, Alastor wasn't complaining.

"Yes! They are one hundred percent perfect for each other." Angel replied animatedly.

"Literally how. Name one thing that shows they have good chemistry."

"Uh, they’re constantly at each other's throats? If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't know what love is."

Husk let out a short, sharp laugh as he topped off Angel's drink.

"Oh yeah? Well then, Princess, what do you think love is."

Charlie sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter as a dreamy look spread across her face.

"Love is... love is when you would do anything for the person. It's when they're your guiding star, your... your prayers answered."

"Uh, no? Love is when you want to literally kill the person but like, in a good way."

"Angel, what does that even mean." Charlie laughed.

"It means... it means there is passion. That spark everyone always talks about? It's violence."

"Hey Al!" Charlie suddenly called, leaning back in her seat to peer at Alastor behind Angel's back, "Who's right, me or Angel?"

Alastor looked up from his glass.

"I hate to say it, but neither of you are correct." he sighed in irritation at having been disturbed, "Love is neither a constant fight nor a blind devotion, though it contains aspects of both."

"Like you know anything about love, mister fancy talk creepy voice." Angel scoffed, turning to face Alastor as well now.

"Actually, I do."

Charlie's face lit up. She practically vibrated with anticipation.

"Alastor! You've been in love!?"

Normally, on a night like this, he'd be alone. He'd be careful to be alone, or at least have Husk as his only company. When he told Husk to shut up and pour, he listened. Other people, not so much.

"Yes."

Charlie had stars in her eyes. She inched closer to him.

"Are you gonna spill?" Angel asked after a moment.

"It was a long time ago."

Alastor took a long sip from his glass.

"Do you... do you not remember it?" Charlie asked, her excited smile slipping slightly at the notion

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the long day, Lucifer, Mimzy, Husk. Those shark demons. Maybe it was just that secretly all along, he had wanted someone to talk to. He watched the liquor in his glass as he swirled it gently.

"It was a long time ago, but I still remember it." his smile softened as he spoke, "It's strange. I remember her laughter, her little quixotic tendencies. I remember the way her eyes would light up when she smiled and the way her perfume smelled. I know her favorite author, the way she took her coffee, the way she folded her clothes but, I can't seem to ever see her face anymore. I..."

He trailed off, taking a breath.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Charlie quickly said, not wanting to make Alastor uncomfortable.

Alastor shook his head.

"I've spent years not talking about her. Maybe... maybe something else would be nice."

"So, how'd you guys meet?" Charlie immediately asked.

Alastor looked up at her and let out a light chuckle. He felt like he was human again for a moment. It was odd.

"I don't know if you know this about me, but I was a radio broadcaster back when I was alive. A rather famous one at that, in New Orleans at any rate. Her family ran a restaurant near the studio that I went to get lunch at from time to time. She worked there as a server."

"And she loved you?" Angel asked, "Like, you weren't just delusional?"

"I was quite the lady's man back in my day."

"Uh-huh." Angel doubtfully replied, "Sure."

"Oh hush, Angel." Charlie shoved the spider demon slightly, "Tell us more! What was she like? Did you ever get together or were you just friends? Gah! I wanna know everything!"

"She was..." Alastor's gaze fell back to his glass, "you remind me of her in a way. She was so idealistic, so driven. So... bubbly. She worked hard and she cared deeply. I don't know how I swung her, despite my charms. We were friends for about a year. The whole time, I was trying to work up the courage to ask her out but she ended up being the one to ask me. We got married when we were in our mid twenties. I only had a few years with her as my wife before I died."

Unbidden ideas darkened the edges of his mind. Y/n had always been so good, so sweet. Alastor had no idea if she had ever learned of his... escapades. He figured she must know, considering the manner in which he died but it was a horrifying thought. He was grateful when Charlie spoke again, pulling his mind back to the present.

"Thats so cute!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands as she looked between Alastor and Angel, searching for similar excitement.

"Can we meet this alleged doll of yours?" Angel asked, "Cause I am really not believing any of this bullshit your spouting."

Charlie gasped, suddenly struck by inspiration.

"Do you think she would want to be redeemed?"

"Oh dear," Alastor shook his head, meeting Charlie's eyes, "she's not here."

"Then wh-"

"She's in heaven?" Angel exclaimed, "You married someone who ended up in heaven?"

"Either that or she's over a hundred years old and still on earth." Alastor weakly joked.

"I'm sorry."

Alastor shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

"No!" Charlie insisted, "You'll... you'll never get to see her again! That's so sad!"

"And here I thought you were trying to get us redeemed." Angel scoffed.

Charlie turned to him.

"I'm trying to get you redeemed cause you're a guest. Alastor isn't a guest."

"Right you are, my dear."

"But you could do that." Charlie said turning back to Alastor, "Angel's right, if you were a guest you could be redeemed. You could see her again!"

Alastor smiled kindly at the excited demon. He patted her back.

"I'm afraid I don't think that's an option."

"But why not!" Charlie insisted, "Anyone can be redeemed, Alastor."

"That's not the issue, my dear." he sighed, "I did some things on earth that she would most certainly view as... unfavorable shall we say? Things she most certainly learned of after my death."

"You're not even gonna give it a shot?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, come on Alastor. Let us help you. You never know how it could turn out!"

"It's alright. I have the time we spent together, the memories. I don't want to taint that." he slowly, unconsciously, raised a hand to his chest, his palm over his heart, "The love is still there, thats what matters."

The quartet fell silent as Husk poured Alastor another drink. Alastor sighed, grabbing the glass and examining it carefully, but not taking a sip.

"What was her name?" Charlie asked, her voice small and her smile long gone.

"Y/n."

It had been years since he'd said it out loud. His tongue relished every syllable.

"Her name was Y/n."

[iceunhie]

latibule.

premise. in which all too many intrusions come in the form of one particular shadow guard. (or, moze always looks to you to patch him up. inexplicably, you let him do so anyway.)

warnings: gn!reader, pining moze but he's too edgy to know, one kimi ni todoke inspired (?) scene, treating injuries, banter (obviously), probably ooc, feixiao cameo, based off of the new quest, kinda mid writing

notes: not proofread i have no excuse i just like him okay???? inspired by @luvether's mozeqiu/reader fic (i love ur works ☹️) ty @lowkeyren for the chinese help!

“You're here again, Moze.”

In the wee hours between 1AM to 3AM, it has become a daily occurence for you to tend to Moze's injuries.

He nods. “I'm here.”

Despite having a perfectly (super) capable healer who attends to even the Lady General personally at her behest, you do not know why Moze always ends up at your window of all things during the ungodly hours of the moon's turn, complete with stupid, easily treatable cuts all across his body.

As General Feixiao's Representative Proxy, such work is not your forte—and rarely do you ever employ your few practiced arts in healing; the result often clumsy and sloppy, just enough to treat the few cuts Moze sports.

Still, it has since become routine to patch Moze up, and despite your insistence that he take care of himself more, the ashy haired man never listens, instead ending up at your home. You wonder if he does this on purpose.

Next time, you think, you're never going to open the windowsill for him again.

You open the windowsill further to let him in. Hypocrite, your mind echoes unhelpfully. Great, you must be losing your mind.

“Got into trouble again, hm?”

His expression tells you that whoever he fought wasn't all that—show-off—internally, you roll your eyes. “...Will you patch me up?”

No, your mind tells you, the words are at the tip of your tongue; you're always sneaking in here at night, and making me go through all this trouble.

(Your actions betray a different tune altogether.)

You don't know when Moze started to make you his personal healer despite Jiaoqiu in the vicinity; a moment of worry led to one thing, and now here you are, Moze's budget Jiaoqiu at home. The thought makes you laugh to yourself. Compared to the foxian, your skills could be described as subpar at best.

(Complaining to your own Lady General was no use. Incredulously, Feixiao believed that it was because—

“You're special.” Feixiao says with a grin. “Is it not obvious that it is because he wishes to see you?”

“What?” Looking at her, your voice is a tired drawl of resignation. “....My Lady, it seems your recent exposure to the Luofu's romance novels have dulled your judgement. Shall I call for Jiaoqiu?”

“Wha- Hey, don't call me senile!” Your Lady General deadpans, “Anyway, I'm telling you, Moze likes you!”)

“Why is it always me?” you grumble under your breath, though it doesn't escape Moze's ears.

It's good that you don't expect an answer; if Moze had to be honest, he doesn't know why he always goes to you either.

“Why wouldn't it be you?” Moze says, not missing a beat.

Your cheeks warm, the heat crawling up your neck from his audacious words. Jeez, he really doesn't know his effect on people, did he?

“...Not to mention, Jiaoqiu is asleep.”

Never mind. “Know the shame.”

“I don't wish to disturb Jiaoqiu as well.”

“Oh, so you see it fit to bother me but don't bother with Jiao-gege?”

“You'll live.” Moze blinks. Frowns. “Wait, did you just call him... gege?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, what about it?”

“Since when were you two so close?”

“Mm, since a certain guard stops by my home at twilight hour?”

“....”

Sighing, your hands are nimble against the bandages, looping the white cloth in your palm and dabbing at the corners of Moze's face, gentle. Up close, his face is all sharp edges and harsh lines. Whether he notices how you gulp when you approach closer, swiping the cloth along his lower lip, he holds his tongue, for fear of disturbing whatever it was, permeating between the two of you like a thick haze, afraid of destroying the peaceful silence.

He watches, instead, as you scrub away the little bit of blood on his cheek.

You're talking; something about him being too reckless, taking care of himself more, yet he finds that he can't catch a word of what you're saying, focusing only on one thing.

Your hands are warm.

Heat creeps up to his neck like coiling vines, twisting his stomach, all because of you. Moze's heart thrums, breath stolen away—you're so close, it's unbearable—and he fights to keep himself even remotely neutral. All because of you.

“Moze?”

What are you doing to him? Why does he always come back to you? Is he sick?

“You're burning up.” You press your hand against his neck; and funnily enough, the thought of leaning into your touch crosses Moze's mind—it's maddening how much he wants to do so.

Blinking once, Moze looks to find you pulling away, and before he can think of it, his fingers wrap around your wrist in an iron grip, carefully maintained distance discarded.

“...?”

“Ah, wait, it's fine— Just—” don't pull away.

What?

Moze coughs. “Just continue.”

The night's breeze flows throughout your home; the chuang kou is wide open, with Moze looking less like General Feixiao's most trusted aide and more akin to an obedient dog. It's humiliation, Moze thinks—but when it was you, his dignity could be in tatters for all he cares.

Your eyes soften, just a bit, “If you say so.”

Inexplicably, relief assaults Moze's senses like a balm to his soul. Because the idea of being perceived, heard—by you—affects him in a dizzying, confounding way, and he knows not how to cure such an ailment whose only cure is your presence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's why he can never stop returning to you. Let you think him a fool, an idiot—so as long as he ends up at your window, by your side, it's a small price to pay.

“Okay.” he affirms, loosening his grip, (never you, though) finally letting you finish patching him up as you plaster what remains of the white bandages upon his face.

Noticeably, he doesn't let go of your hand.

“Okay.” you echo, and finally, you're finished with your work. The sight of Moze all bandaged up perfectly and finally getting to sleep makes you happier than you should be, the prospect of sleep way too enticing.

“There, all done. Take care of yourself better next time, 'kay?”

He hums, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you will?”

“Yes.” Moze looks at you, and he looks at you like it would be a sin of the greatest kind to take his eyes of off you; holding your presence in his irises, emulating you deeply onto his pupils, his tendons and his limbs. “I will.”

(How could he ever not listen to you?)

You release him, much to Moze's reluctance—opening the closed chuang kou. The night breeze welcomes Moze, kissing his skin, with the colors of the rising sun beginning to rise, vibrancy in the darkness of the inky night.

“...Moze?” you call, in the corner of your eye, seeing him already putting a foot on the rooftop.

“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....” you mumble, glad that your back is turned from him, lest he sees the heat dusting your cheeks. You know Moze has probably left, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Well, you'll bring it up another time, then. Something tells you he'll listen, this time.

This time, you don't ignore the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....”

In the darkened corner of shadow, a figure slumps disgracefully with a loud thud. Using a hand to grip the side of the wall, nothing can compare to the burning heat crawling up Moze's skin, positively flushed.

Moze puts a hand to his face, slumping further to a near kneel.

It's warm—just like the ghostly feeling of your hands upon his skin minutes prior.

Maybe he'll take you up on your offer.)

a/n: sorry for the long sporadic activity :,D this is what a chuang kou looks like btw

[woso-dreamzzz]

Head In The Clouds: Christmas

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Mcdreamy

"No! Don't touch!"

Irene yelps as a wooden spatula slams onto her knuckles.

"I just-"

"No!" You insist, waving the spatula around again in warning. "This is my kitchen! Don't touch!"

"I can help!"

"No! Go!"

Irene looks like she wants to argue more but you raise the spatula again and she puts her hands up in a placating manner as she backs away onto the sofa.

Marta holds out a tray of tiny sausages to her. "You got kicked out of the kitchen too?"

"I was just trying to help."

Marta shrugs. "You know what she's like. Nothing comes between her and cooking."

"I swear she's been cooking for ages," Irene complains," She was up early too, I just know it."

"You can't prove it though," Patri says smugly, snatching some food for herself and munching away," Plausible deniability and all that."

"She needs a break."

"Don't bring that up with her," Frido says as she takes a seat on the arm of the sofa," You know she'd spend hours in that kitchen if she could. That's what we get for agreeing to dinner with a kid who's parents are chefs."

"No touching!" You yell from the kitchen and the little group cranes their hands to see your waving that spatula around in Alexia's face.

"I was just-"

"No! You're ruining! You're not allowed to touch! It's against the rules!"

"What rules?"

"My rules! The rules of my kitchen! That you are standing in!"

"Come on, just let me-"

"No!"

Irene smothers a laugh as you stamp your foot.

"You can fill up drinks or you can go away."

Keira laughs from the cosy armchair. "I'd listen to her, Ale! You're not going to get the best food if you distract her."

Alexia grumpily wedges herself onto the already over-full sofa. "I'm just trying to help. She's making this dinner for the whole team. I don't want her to get overwhelmed."

Keira rolls her eyes. "Her parents literally have Michelin stars. She grew up in the kitchen of world famous restaurants. I doubt doing a bit of cooking at home is going to overwhelm her."

Just as she finishes speaking, ten different timers ring out through the air, one after another, and Keira winces.

"I'm sure that's on purpose," She says as Alexia levels her a pointed look.

To be fair to you, you're not overwhelmed in the slightest and Alexia can see the moment the instinct takes over you like it does on the pitch, when everything around you completely disappears apart from what is directly in front of you.

Most of the time, it ends with a goal.

But here and now, it ends with the biggest spread of food she's ever seen cooked by one person before.

It's truly impressive what you've managed to produce for everyone, a buffet style meal that the whole team can pick and choose what they want from and still come back for seconds.

"You shouldn't eat too much," You say as you settle into your seat between Irene and Ingrid," Because I've got dessert as well. It's my Nana's recipe and I'd like you all to try it."

"We'll make sure to save room," Mapi promises as she reaches over the table to wrestle the stuffing away from Patri's clingy hands.

You beam at her. It's a wide smile, the same smile you get when you score a goal out of nowhere - making triumph out of nothing as you so often do after a pass that no one expects you to turn into an assist.

A big meal like this isn't a strange thing in your family back home. Your brothers are very busy people and your parents spend most of their time prepping for the dinner service of their restaurant every night.

But Christmas meant the whole family got together again. With your brothers mainly based in the Netherlands, you didn't see them as often until you and your parents were at arrivals at Heathrow Airport and the three of them came in after baggage claim.

With the family together again, it meant making a feast of a meal for Christmas with everyone in the kitchen, working around each other fluidly like your parents had taught you when you were little.

It felt nice to share this kind of meal with your teammates even after you came to the conclusion that none of them worked particularly fluidly in your kitchen and then had to get banned for your own peace of mind.

It filled you with pride to have your teammates eating and enjoying your food to such a degree that even the older, more responsible players like Marta and Alexia and Irene asked if you could box up some of the meal so they could eat some for leftovers the next day.

"You know," Alexia says when you finally allow her into your kitchen, if only to help you wash up," If you want to stay in Spain for Christmas, I can take you home with me. My family would love the food you cook."

"Don't joke around with stuff like that," Irene teases, dragging the drying up cloth over the plate that Mapi had just finished cleaning," Because if she's coming home with anyone for Christmas, it'll be me."

"I can't," You say simply as you put the lid on another portion of leftovers, this time for Salma," Because I've got to go home. My parents are closing the restaurant a couple of days early so we can pick up my brothers from the airport and I can't miss that."

"Well-"

"And I have to be home so my girlfriend can call and read me poetry on Christmas Eve. It's tradition."

"That's..." Irene clears her throat. "That's really sweet."

"And she always reads to me in French because she knows I'm trying to learn for her. So, I can't stay here because then I won't see my brothers and before my girlfriend reads me poetry, she likes seeing my pets at home and I can't show her my pets if I'm here."

Alexia laughs and you furrow your brows in confusion.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Alexia says, throwing an arm around your shoulder and squeezing you like she does when you score a goal," You're such a sweetheart, y/n. Don't ever change."