#or that i wasn’t worth keeping around... idk i’m always expecting the worse which is so unfair to the other person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ifmywishescametrue · 3 years ago

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i don't know if you're still taking prompts (so please ignore this if you aren't) but i cant stop thinking about your recent buckytony fic (and how much i love breaking up and making up as a trope) - so i was wondering if you'd be up for doing smth else w that trope for buckytony?? maybe they re-unite at a mutual friend's wedding?? and it brings up emotions about their almost wedding?? idk i just really love breaking up and making up as a trope and i really love your writing :))

thank you!! I'm very much up for doing another buckytony break up/make up, plus you deserve nice things for finishing law school - congrats on that!🎉🎉hope you like this one 😊

There's a ring on Bucky's finger.

It's the first thing Tony notices when he walks into the bar for Natasha and Sharon's joint bachelorette party. He stands there in the doorway, frozen and staring until someone clears their throat pointedly behind him, and he mumbles an apology as he moves out of the way.

He thinks about turning around and not coming back, just ditching the event entirely and maybe even the wedding tomorrow, but he tosses the ridiculous thought the second it comes. He promised Sharon when she asked him to be her man of honor that he could handle Bucky being Nat's. Living on the other side of the country afforded him to miss the rest of the events and planning along the way, and he could deal with one day of being cordial to his ex, even if the day comes with walking down an aisle together.

But now there's a ring on Bucky's finger.

The silver catches the light, and it's on prominent display with his left hand wrapped around a beer bottle. It shouldn't be possible for him to have moved on that quickly. Eight months shouldn't be long enough to bury three years of memories. Three years of hopes and dreams and plans for a future built together. Years of love so blindingly intense that it burrowed into Tony's soul to make a home and refused to be evicted just because it was supposed to be over.

Tony wonders what the timeline is. Did he find someone new while Tony was still just beginning to pick up his own scattered pieces? A first date for him while Tony was barely getting out of bed. When was it that he replaced Tony as the last person to have his heart? And how did he find forever in someone else so soon after losing the one he used to call his soulmate?

Natasha notices him first, still hovering near the entrance, and she raises a single eyebrow that calls him a coward. He rolls his eyes at the accusation, though it's accurate. She elbows Sharon to catch her attention, and before he knows it the entire small group is turning their heads his way, giving him no choice but to join them.

It's less bachelorette party and more pre-wedding celebration with the crowd they've gathered, all mutual friends of both brides with no regards for gender traditions that usually come with this night. Tony used to fit in well with them all, back when gatherings like this were just a typical Friday night. But he made himself an outsider between the move to California and the breakup with Bucky. All he has now with most of them is a dead group chat that hasn't been used in months. He wonders which one of them made the new one without him in it.

Sharon is the first to pull him into a hug, then Natasha follows suit. He gets a nod from Sam, a wave from Clint, and what might pass as a smile from Steve. Bucky stares so intensely that Tony can feel his eyes with his back turned, but when Tony looks his way, he pretends to be interested in the floor.

He had a plan before the ring threw him off. Step one should have been the entrance. Head held high, shoulders square, perfect outfit that shows everything off and compliments the Malibu tan he has now. Step two should be nonchalance. A light hearted greeting to everyone, accompanied by an easy grin and relaxed body language, and catching up with subtle brags slipped in. Show them all that he's doing better than he ever was, sitting on top of the world these days, even if most of the time it feels like he's barely above rock bottom.

Step three in his ideal scenario involved Bucky breaking down and begging to get him back. Some versions even had him on his knees for it, with tears running down his face. Others required it to be raining outside, and the cloudless sky ruined that before the ring on Bucky's finger did.

With steps one and three out the window, he tries to salvage step two.

“Hey,” Tony starts, a little too loud. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries again, “Hey, Bucky. It's good to see you.”

Bucky nods, a strained, jerky motion. “Yeah, you too. How, uh, how have you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually. Company just had its highest sales quarter yet, so it’s been a little crazy around there, but good.”

“Good,” Bucky repeats, and there’s a long awkward pause.

“And what about you?” Tony asks, and then because he can’t help himself, he adds, “I see you got engaged. Or, hell, I guess it could be married, even.”

Bucky freezes with parted lips and wide eyes for the briefest of moments, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to know about it or bring it up, and his eyes shift to the ring on his hand and stay there.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Engaged. Last week.”

Tony ignores the ache in his chest and plasters on a smile like he’s happy for him. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Steve introduced us. They work together.”

“So he’s at the museum then? I thought you used to say that you hated all those stuffy guys and Steve was the only one worth knowing.”

Bucky smiles, a fond thing that widens the crack in Tony’s heart. “Yeah, well, I guess I was wrong. Felix is a great guy.”

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid name that probably matches a stupid, punchable face.

Some masochist thing pulls at him to make him keep digging for more information, a twisted need to know even as each word pushes the knife in deeper. He aims for casual, leaning back against one of the high top tables as he asks, “So how long have you been together?”

“Just a couple of months. Kind of fast, I know, but when you’re sure about something, it doesn’t really matter, right? Why waste time waiting?”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, a little flatter than he intends. “So why isn’t he here tonight? Hope it wasn’t to spare my feelings, because it’s really not necessary.”

Bucky falters, “It’s not? You, uh, you’re dating someone, then?”

Tony nods, and he wishes he had grabbed a drink before this so he could hide behind it as he lies through his teeth. “Only a few weeks, though. A little too early to be a wedding date, but I’m sure your guy will be there tomorrow right?”

“Oh, um, yeah, definitely. Why wouldn’t he be, right? There’s no reason I can think of,” Bucky says, stumbling around it. “But tell me more about your thing. Your person. How’s that going?”

Tony shrugs, and he finally pulls off that easy smile he’s been trying for. “Well, it’s not get engaged in a couple of months good, but it’s been really great. We’re taking it slow. Trying not to rush anything and just get to know each other first. I think it could really be something, though.”

“That’s good,” Bucky mumbles. “You deserve something good.”

He isn’t meeting Tony’s eyes anymore, almost like he’s upset that Tony moved on, and the vindictive part of Tony wants to be happy about it, but another part wants to be angry because it isn’t fair. It’s not fair to act like Tony should stay stuck in time, forever longing for him when he already moved on with someone else first. It’s hypocritical and selfish, even if Tony is lying about there being anyone else.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tony says, pushing down every feeling. “Should catch up with everyone else, too, while I’m at it. I’ll talk to you later.”

He heads over to the bar and isn’t surprised when Sharon joins him a moment later, right after he orders a double shot of whiskey. She puts an arm around his shoulder and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tony laughs, running a hand through his hair. “My ex is engaged to somebody else and apparently doing really fucking well. Meanwhile, I’m making up fake boyfriends that I’m taking it slow with, because last week I went on my first real date in eight months and cried in the bathroom in the middle of it. And then, at the end of the night, he literally told me to my face that he didn’t think a second date was a good idea. We weren’t even talking about it, Sharon. He said it unprompted when we were still ten minutes from his apartment, and I was driving.”

Sharon nods slowly as she processes the rant. “He told you he got engaged?”

“Yeah, thanks for not telling me, by the way. It was really fun to get blindsided by it.”

She ignores the complaint to ask, “What else did he tell you, exactly?”

“Oh, just the whole line about how you know when you know, and Felix is such a great guy, and all that bullshit.”

“Felix,” Sharon repeats.

Tony knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another. “Please tell me he’s not better looking than me. Tell me it’s a downgrade. Don’t lie, because I know I have to meet him tomorrow, but please give me something that will make this better.”

“Well, I can guarantee he’s not as attractive as you. But he’s a little too perfect, you know? Like how could this guy possibly be real, he’s so unbelievably perfect,” Sharon says.

“I told you to make me feel better, not worse.”

Sharon shakes her head with a smile, the arm around him tightening into an approximation of hug. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t think they’re going to last. He’s kind of flaky, too. Always cancelling at the last minute and all that. Bet he won’t even show tomorrow.”

The amusement on her face that she’s failing to hide confuses him. He’s starting to feel bad, though, for making the night about him when it should be about her and Nat.

Resolving not to dwell on it anymore, he squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, “Alright, enough sad drinking, and definitely enough about me. We’re celebrating you and Nat and a lifetime of sickeningly wonderful happiness for both of you.”

Sharon grins, “Hell yeah, we are.”

“Shots?”

“Is that even a question?”

_____________

He wakes up with a headache and hazy memories. Shots of tequila that turned into shots of vodka when Nat got involved, then Clint’s terrible suggestion to try a shot of every liquor they had to offer. He vaguely remembers the round of toasts and drunken impromptu speeches from everyone, locking eyes with Bucky and failing to look away on both their parts. There’s a blur of wandering hands and heated, messy kisses. A bathroom stall turned into a cab ride which turned into his hotel room. He knows what he’ll find next to him when he opens his eyes, and guilt comes in full force.

“I know you’re awake,” Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep. It used to be Tony’s favorite sound in the world. “And I know we’re both sorry about what happened, but pretending to be asleep isn’t fixing nothin’.”

Tony shifts over to his back, and if there was any question before about what happened between them, the all too familiar ache in his body would answer it. He stares up at the ceiling to avoid the acres of bare skin on display next to him.

“You should probably leave,” Tony says to the walls. “I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”

“I doubt it.”

Tony puts an arm over his eyes, partly to block out the light that makes them ache and partly to hide his face. “Just go, okay? It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again, and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Was it a mistake?” Bucky asks. “It didn��t feel like one to me.”

He doesn’t answer, and it’s soft and broken when Bucky says his name. Too much for him to handle.

Tony pushes back the blankets and searches for Bucky’s clothes in the mess they’ve made. He finds the shirt first and throws it at him. “You’re engaged, which means it was a mistake.”

His boxers are on the back of the couch, jeans right in front of the door, and they join the pile on Bucky’s lap. “You promised the rest of your life to somebody else, and I’m pretty sure fidelity is supposed to go with that.”

He tosses a shoe in the general direction of the bed, and it hits the nightstand with a loud thud. The second shoe is still in his hand when Bucky gets up and walks over to him, taking it and letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes hold a level of intensity that Tony has spent months dreaming about, and Tony couldn’t look away or move from this spot even if he tried.

“Felix isn’t real,” Bucky says. “I made him up when you asked, because I didn’t want to tell you the truth that I haven’t moved on in the slightest. That I’m so pathetic that I’ve spent the last eight months wearing an engagement ring that I bought for a guy who doesn’t love me anymore because I don’t know how to let him go.”

Tony stops breathing. “What?”

Bucky slides the ring from his finger, holding it between them so Tony can see the inscription. Always yours. He can’t remember the last time he heard the words get spoken.

“When?” Tony asks hoarsely. “When did you get that and why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“About a year ago,” Bucky says, slipping it back on his own finger. He sits back on the edge of the bed and stares down at it, twisting it around. “I thought about doing it on your birthday, but Nat and Sharon had just gotten engaged the week before and I didn’t want to take anything away from them. You were working a lot of late nights after that, and I thought it would be better to wait until things slowed down. You were so tired all the time, and you deserved a better proposal than when you’re falling asleep in the middle of dinner. It never slowed down, though. And then you got that big promotion and somehow we fell apart instead. If I’m honest, I still don’t really know how. One minute I’m getting ready to come with you, and the next you’re telling me not to bother.”

Tony sits down next to him, shoulders touching, and he pulls Bucky’s left hand into his. “You didn’t really want to go.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky says, but Tony shakes his head.

“All you talked about was how much you would miss New York. How much you’d miss your friends and your family and your job. Every day, everywhere we went. Even the fucking hot dog stands got sonnets about them. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out that you weren’t exactly looking forward to leaving.”

“I still would have gone for you,” Bucky argues. “I told you I would go anywhere with you, if it was what you wanted.”

“And then what? You move with me, and you’re miserable all the time, because my job never slows down so I’m still not around as much as you want, except now it’s compounded because you’re in a city that you hate with no one else that you know. You resent me for making you go, and the outcome is the same in the end either way.”

“Or I move with you, and I finally ask you to marry me like I’ve wanted to since almost the day we met. I find new friends and a new job, and even if it’s not perfect, it’s still worth it because at the end of the day I have a husband coming home to me.”

Tony runs his thumb over the ring and murmurs, “I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think I could do that for you anymore.”

Bucky cups his cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but baby, you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tony laughs.

“You’re my idiot, if that helps.”

Tony smiles, still fragile but growing more hopeful. “Am I?”

“Always have been,” Bucky says. “Always will be if you stop assuming I’m going to leave you all the time. Let me decide for myself what I’m willing to sacrifice for us.”

Tony nods slowly, then says, “I’m sorry for ending it like that.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to.”

Tony climbs into his lap, circling his arms around his neck, and Bucky pulls him in closer with his hands on Tony’s hips. The ring is strange to feel against his skin, but also completely right. He wants it to stay there and to mean what it was always supposed to. Wants one of his own to match.

“We can fix it, right? We can be us again?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, and Tony’s heart sinks for just a moment. “Is your boyfriend as real as my fiancé?”

Tony laughs again in relief, “Yeah, they’d be a good pair.”

“I knew you had to be lying. You’ve never taken it slow in your life,” Bucky grins.

“Do you want me to start now?”

Bucky flips them over in one fluid motion, and he kisses up his throat as he murmurs, “Absolutely not.”

#my writing #my fic #winteriron #buckytony #winteriron fic #prompt fill #ad1thi

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wehatejulietsimms · 3 years ago

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A/N: i'm gonna respond to this in sections bc it's quite long so bare with me.

Howdy y’all, 🤠 again. Yes, I didn’t in fact die. I’m sorry though that I kept getting sidetracked and couldn’t submit this until now, my boss decided to keep dumping her work into my lap. So I just wanna preface this by stating that I’m going to try and say what I want to as coherent as possible, but I have pretty severe ADHD so I’m not always as easy to understand as I think I am in my head, and I often go off on tangents, over explain things and circle back to topics randomly without realizing. Im basically going to go over their relationship over the years as I said previously (I’m not gonna go into detail about every single scandal and shitty thing Juliet did over the years, because we’d be here all year. so I figure I won’t cover them here, but rather let people ask specific questions if they want to. Remember, I was present for pretty much everything so feel free to ask.😊), but I’m also going to do kind of a mini deep dive into Andy’s behavior and actions (because although the snakes will hit you with every excuse in the book, and tell you that you’re looking too far into things and that it doesn’t matter, it does. The way a person acts in general and towards people around them is very relevant when talking about someone’s health, happiness, and well-being.) To start off, let’s take it all the way back to the time before Juliet’s reign of terror, when Andy and Scout were still together. In all honesty from what I saw of them together (and I saw pretty much everything they posted, I’m only a year younger than Andy, and I was quite into him when he was on MySpace and such, and I always watched anything with him and Scout together because they were fucking adorable lol) they had a really healthy relationship. Not once did I get weird vibes from them. The way Andy acted toward and with Scout, you could tell they really loved each other and were happy together. They had nothing to prove. It just was normal. (For any of you who are younger, or didn’t come into the picture until Andy was already post-scout and would like to see some videos of them together, you could generally search on YouTube for it, but also there’s a specific channel on there called like bring the milk tea or something that has videos of old Andy blogs and also Andy and scout on stickam and such. Worth a look if you’re curious) They weren’t constantly all over each other like possessive pack dogs *ahem Juliet ahem* and whenever Andy mentioned scout he didn’t need to shower her in compliments. They both seemed very secure in both themselves and the relationship. Super cute. Initially when they broke up it seemed quite odd. I didn’t really expect it. It got even weirder when he states that he and Juliet are together. It didn’t feel like they fit together at all (and no I’m not talking about from a fame or success perspective. At least not yet lol) As I’ve said I got bad vibes from Juliet right from the get go. Andy already seemed to be acting not like himself. (Also snakeys have argued that it’s just that he’s more mature now and that’s why he acts nervous and constantly looks Ike he wants to die. 🙄 maturity doesn’t mean losing your fucking personality and being unhappy most of the time. Jesus Christ.) it seemed like they got possessive of each other and constantly needed to show people how in love they were. Pictures, videos, and fucking public love paragraphs to show they are, in fact, in a super real relationship and they love each other. It also felt like Andy’s family was in on this whole weird charade.They (Chris honestly) started to defend her degenerate behavior and attack anyone who had even a whisper of negative things to say about her or their relationship. It was like watching a group of awkward, pretty mediocre actors put on a play about them being together. (I’ve hit the text limit now, but there will be more that I will write just after I submit this one though, fear not haha. N, you can either post this now or wait until I submit the rest, it’s up to you.) 1 / ? -🤠

A/N: i was here for a lot of it as well so i do remember some of this. although i did join the fandom shortly after him and juliet got together (i joined like around the time she was on the voice) i literally remember hoping that him and scout would get back together bc juliet just rubbed me the wrong way and i didn't know why at the time. & side note i actually do recommend people go look at old videos of andy and scout they were really adorable. there is this one video of them singing (i think a carrie underwood song lol) in the car and it's really cute. but yeah just bc he's older doesn't mean his whole entire personality changes. you can be any age and act however you want. i could even use jenna marbles & julien solomita (a youtube couple) as an example, they've been together for i think like 8 or 9 years and are about the same age as A&J (julien being around andy's age & jenna around juliet's age) & although they can have mature adult conversations and all of that, they still act like idiots and joke around together. neither of them look uncomfortable or are afraid of saying certain things like andy is around juliet. so andy aging doesn't mean shit in regards to his personality doing a 180.

🤠okay, so part two here we go. (Also I apologize if I get the chronological order of anything I talk about incorrect, I’m a bit scattered sometimes and the next ask I make will be the one where I talk about the domestic abuse and I tend to get quite heated, which only makes my brain function worse lol) so the point at which Andy was trying to get fans to go vote for/ support Juliet when she was on the voice seemed really fishy. I’m all for supporting the work of the people you love, but it’s kinda strange how hard Andy was pushing this at the time. Too hard in my opinion. I’m obviously aware that it was helpful in the end and he more or less got what he was asking for. But it was like he absolutely needed people to vote for her. As if he would get in trouble if they didn’t. So around 2012 or 2013 it felt like things really went down the shitter from there and just got progressively worse. (I never knew why for the longest time, but after they revealed that Vegas wedding that happened in about that time frame, it made a lot of sense.) Andy’s behavior began to change towards his fans. There are a lot of accounts of this happening from fans themselves and a lot of people said that 1. It was worse with Juliet around, and 2. a lot of the time it would happen towards females especially. ( I think more towards the “pretty” fans but don’t count me on that, I don’t know for sure.) This was completely night and day. Especially coming from the same man who used to always defend his fans and once stated something along the lines of he would never have a crazy or awkward fan story because he loves and is grateful for all of his fans and he won’t get upset if they’re just really excited. I would understand if these fans crossed the line in some way (like the later incident of fans finding his address and harassing them, which is unacceptable no matter who the people are) but from most if not all of the fan stories I’ve heard, they didn’t. They were being respectful and didn’t do anything to warrant this happening to them besides showing up. Which brings me to my next point, a lot of these negative experiences were caused by Juliet. Either she was the one being mean to people, she was causing Andy to be mean to people on her behalf, or her presence was upsetting Andy to the point that he was angry and started being rude and irritable. What scares me the most are the accounts of Andy having a whole Jekyll and Hyde thing, depending on weather or not Juliet was present. Happy when he’s free of her and miserable when he isn’t. In videos of him where Juliet is behind the camera he always seems nervous and strange. Like he’s afraid to mess up. That’s fucking alarming to say the least. You would think that the last thing one would want to do if another person brings them this much anger, stress, and anxiety, the LAST thing they would want to do is fucking marry them. Right? He literally started barely smiling at one point and really doesn’t anymore. I mean for Christ’s sake look at his wedding photos. What’s suppose to be one of the happiest moments of your life and to quote another anon with a different ask, he looks like he’s being dragged to the gallows. (And I get really fucking Angry honestly when snakeys tries to pass it off as “oh he’s awkward he doesn’t know how to smile” or “omg he’s being dramatic for the aesthetics” in some pictures, yes. But why the fuck would you look like that in pictures with the “love of your life” who you now regularly write cringy paragraphs publicly professing your love and complete adoration for? Andy knows how to smile genuinely. Ffs he used to. He smiled genuinely when he was a kid, he smiled genuinely with scout, and he smiled genuinely when Juliet wasn’t around. He doesn’t smile when she is there, and if he does, it is pretty much always visibly fake.) So I may backtrack a little later, but right now I want to talk about the fact that Juliet IS an abuser. More specifically, the plane incident. (Word limit. TBC.) 2 / ? -🤠

A/N: yes. 100%. when it comes to the wedding photos i will never understand people (specifically snakeys) writing off his behavior as him "just being dramatic for the aesthetics". is that something he would do in photoshoots? yeah. is it something he may do on stage? sure. something he would do in an interview? maybe. but candid shots of him on one of the "happiest days of his life"? wtf no. & idk why people think that.

🤠 Just before I start, again, with the pictures, I really don’t think that Andy is enough of a self absorbed egotistical dick that he would actually sit there and put on the whole “miserable tough guy” act in every fucking photo he takes. Ah yes, the infamous plane incident. So straight up, Juliet exposed herself as an abuser, and brought out every bullshit excuse in the book (and made Andy go along with them) to try to cover it up. 1. She was drunk. Honestly this is total bullshit. I say this same thing when people defend cheating or any other degenerate behavior with the excuse of intoxication and I will say it now. Being drunk does not make you a different fucking person. It does not change the thoughts in your head. What it does do is impair your ability to make decisions and judgement skills in general. It’s the same reason why people drive drunk. It’s routine. Its what they would normally do. And because they’re drunk, they can’t see any reason why they shouldn’t do that. Juliet gets drunk, she and Andy fight, she wants to hit him, and because she’s drunk she doesn’t think that she shouldn’t fucking put her hands on him. 2. She hit him in “self defense” and he broke her ribs.(There’s several points I have debunking this) first of all let’s get this out of the way, no one on that plane (including the very real witness who just so happened to be an adult film actress (I think?) who you so love to discount because of it) saw him strike her or even touch her at any time. Two, you are in fucking airplane seats sitting right the fuck next to each other with an armrest in between. It would be pretty fucking hard to break your ribs unless they were made of actual glass, or Andy’s real name is Bruce fucking banner. Bones are surprisingly strong and I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that it’d be damn near impossible for him to do that to you, which brings me to three, if he had broken your ribs you would not be fucking standing up, thrashing around, whining like a little bitch, and oh by the way, continuing to abuse your husband for the second time on that flight. Four, you had a miscarriage. (When I was trying to conceive with my husband it was very difficult. I had two miscarriages before I finally had my son. I’m fully aware of how devastating having one is.) which is why if you are not lying (which I fully believe that Juliet would stoop that low just to get sympathy, especially with this big of a scandal. But I don’t actually have proof of this so I will say that it is just speculation on my part) I don’t fucking care. I am not unsympathetic to her if this did actually happen as I said, however, You do not get to make any excuse for putting your hands on another person out of anger. Ever. I don’t care who you are, I don’t care what kind of stress you are under, I don’t care if you are inebriated in any way and I sure as hell don’t care what the fuck you have between your legs. You do not hurt anyone. Point blank period. Five. You are a woman, you can’t hurt him. This one, actually enrages me. We all know your crusty ass pulled this one out (and threw around trump supporters a few times for good measure) because you know damn well how society and the media views and deals with abusive women. Women can abuse. Women who are shorter or weaker than their target can abuse. The fact that there are people who either don’t know that or don’t agree with that is absolutely baffling. Six. The same (I believe) porn actress. Literally saw you beating your own face with the restraints you had to be put in (which by the way flight attendants only ever use restraints as an absolute last resort when someone becomes a danger to the others on board, so she had to be acting absolutely deranged) to give yourself a bloody nose to claim Andy hit you. Then you proceed to act like a child and tell Andy to call your fucking dad. (Which kinda proves that whole Scientology thing honestly) what in the hell. I stg as long as I am breathing I will never let this go. This is actual fucking domestic abuse. (Word limit TBC.) 3 / ? -🤠

A/N: yeah her hitting him "bc she was drunk" was never a good excuse not only for the reasons you mentioned but, also bc let's be real at no point are you ever going to get served enough alcohol on a plane to make you that drunk i don't care what anyone says. also when it comes to the excuse of him "breaking her ribs" does she forget that andy actually did break his ribs a while ago? i think she even visited him when he was recovering so she should know what kind of pain he was in. & if he actually broke her ribs, there's no way she would have even been able to stand bc i know andy sure wasn't able to. he said it was one of the most painful things he's experienced. (i don't think i need to comment on the rest of this. it would just be redundant. you hit the nail on the head with that.)

🤠 I don’t care if it happened just that one time ore more likely is an everyday occurrence. Abuse is abuse and should never be tolerated. Kind of getting away from the plane thing. Andy always seems, as it’s been said on here before, afraid to mess up. Like he might mess up, and make her mad. A common behavioral pattern in abuse victims. He also at this point and for a decent amount of time before, doesn’t seem like he loves her anymore. Like he keeps up appearances and pretends, but it’s like it’s a job he’s forced to do. He’s tired and burnt out but was probably manipulated into staying and juliet is probably clinging for dear life. Also I don’t know if I’m the only one who thinks this, but I swear, the veganism and sobering up was just a cover up, most likely formed by either Juliet herself or her fucked up family, after the plane incident to hide their tracks and regain some public favor (because you know, if you advocate for animal rights then you can’t abuse your husband 🙃) Andy never gave a shit before though. Even though it was unhealthy he loved to drink and smoke and was very outspoken about that. And he used to never give a fuck about eating meat or consuming animal products like leather. I mean they’re still selling leather goods ffs. I would get having minor fuck ups because you don’t know any better, but it’s fucking leather. And now Andy is unhealthy and miserable as ever, but the culprit is malnourishment and Juliet rather than cigs, alcohol, and Juliet. My final thoughts: I do definitely believe in the Scientology theory, but if not that than I definitely believe that Andy was and is being manipulated for his fame. On several occasions it really looked like they broke up, including the time when they did, and then said it was a joke. It really doesn’t feel normal. Also, Juliet doesn’t really care about Andy that much. She never wears her wedding ring, she sells all their shit, including sentimental items, and now that she’s gained more popularity from being with him, suddenly doesn’t want to put him in her bio or write him the same creepy ass paragraphs or anything. It’s fucked up how shes so keen to say she did it all herself when really she’s been riding dick for fame since before she even met Andy. It also always kinda seemed to me that Amy was kind of uncomfortable around Juliet. We all know that Chris loves to kiss her ass night and day (most likely to do with the Scientology thing “if” it’s true), but Juliet and Amy always seemed to have a weird relationship like it was tense and forced. Also I just want to mention the time that Juliet talked about screaming at the woman over what I believe was a game night and brushed it off as being competitive and no one gave damn. Fucked up. To finish off this already way too long little series, I think Andy is a very vulnerable insecure person who got manipulated by several people (not just Juliet) some of whom he probably really trusted, and they helped to get him in Juliet’s (equally if not more insecure) hands so she could hurt him as she pleases. I truly hope that even now both he, and his parents (even though Chris really grinds my gears) can get out of this whole shit show, relatively unscathed. I know this is probably pretty unlikely, but hope springs eternal I guess. As I said feel free to ask any questions you may have and I will try to answer them best I can. Thank you for reading. 4 / 4 -🤠

A/N: yet again you hit the nail on the head with this part so i don't need to comment too much. other than the fact that i do agree that juliet and amy's relationship does seem weird.

#submission #anonymous

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blush-and-books · 4 years ago

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Hi! I wasn’t sure if you were still taking requests but could you do #22 for Juke? Make it angsty if you want I’m in that type of mood today 😂

From this prompt list: Kissing someone’s cuts/bruises/scratches etc. High school AU, Luke is ~edgy~, Julie is the best friend in the whole world and he has every reason to be in love with her (which he is). IDK if you’re still in an angsty mood but I made it angsty. I also went off with this one because I was having too much fun. Thank you <333

“Guys, please don’t tell Julie.”

It was early in the morning before school, and Luke was hunched over one of the dirty sinks in the bathroom while trying to nurse his bloody nose. Alex was twirling one of his drumsticks between his fingers in a nervous habit, and Reggie was propped up against one of the stall dividers.

Luke’s face was bruised and bloody from both his nose and his own scraped knuckles that keep brushing against his cheek on accident.

“She’ll find out,” Alex sighs, and Luke glares at him through the mirror. “Fuck, Bobby will probably be bragging about it,” Reggie adds.

Luke, Reggie, and Alex had been planning on going into the music room before school to quickly test out some new material that they had been working on with Julie for their rehearsal after school that day. Normally, the music teacher lets them go into a practice room and mess around, but this morning, their teacher was distracted: By Bobby Wilson.

AKA their ex-bandmate.

Who they had found with the music teacher, hunched over a computer, playing a recording he had made of a song with eerily familiar lyrics.

He had recorded songs that Luke wrote when they were all still in a band. And he was showing them off to their music teacher as his own.

Their music teacher was singing Bobby’s praises, telling him how proud she was that he was developing a career, and then she excused herself to go make some sheet music copies for one of her classes -- and that is when Luke made his entrance.

Long story short: Bobby had a black eye and some cuts on his face from Luke’s rings, and Luke had a bloody nose, some busted knuckles, and a bruise blossoming on his cheek.

And the last thing he wanted was Julie, his best friend, finding out. She would be so mad.

“Well then just let me handle it, please,” Luke spits. “Don’t go running to her saying ‘Luke and Bobby beat each other up-��”

The door to the boys bathroom flings open -- and an angry girl with dark, curly hair storms in.

Julie Molina.

While, under any other circumstances, Luke’s day would be made just by seeing her -- he knows it’s about to get a lot worse.

“Lucas Michael Patterson, you better have a fucking valid reason for getting your ass kicked or I swear to God-”

“Julie-”

“Bobby? Seriously? I thought you decided he wasn’t worth your time?”

“If you’ll just let me explain-”

“Maybe we should go,” Reggie cuts in. Luke rounds on him.

“You-” He points at Reggie, then Alex, “you two weren’t supposed to tell her.”

Julie speaks up again.

“You told them to hide this from me?” “I texted her SOS as soon as we broke you and Bobby up,” Alex explains, avoiding Luke’s eyes. “Sorry. We thought she would know a little more about first aid then we do.”

Reggie walks over to the door, and Alex follows him before Luke can tear into them more.

“Thanks, Julie,” Reggie says right before grabbing Alex’s wrist and pulling him out of the room. Luke is left alone with Julie -- and Angry Julie is not a fun Julie to be around.

“Jules, I-”

“Save it.”

She puts her backpack on the floor and surprisingly pulls out a bag of bandages and a container of rubbing alcohol. A small package of tissues follows, which she instantly passes to him to hold to his nose.

Relief fills him. They’re the soft kind -- not the sandpaper stuff that the school keeps in the bathrooms.

“Thanks for… Doing all this,” he mumbles, voice nasally. Guilt pangs at his chest when her scowl deepens and she still won’t meet his eyes.

“Well, I knew you wouldn’t have gone to the nurse, and someone needs to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

She’s right. The nurse means admitting he got into a fight to a school employee, admitting he got into a fight to a school employee means suspension, and suspension means an upcoming raging argument with his parents.

He’s filled with a burning warmth when she suddenly grabs his hand -- still not making eye contact with him. His knuckles are pretty torn up, and Julie starts to remove his rings one by one.

Luke’s heart breaks a little at how much he wants to lean into her while watching her do it. He wants her to do this again, preferably when she’s not mad at him, preferably in his room or in the studio while they write songs.

“Now,” Julie finally speaks up and breaks his trance of distraction. “What happened?”

As he inhales a deep breath, he slowly removes the tissue from his nose, which has minimized it’s bleeding.

“Well-”

Luke’s cut off by a stream of cleansing alcohol running over his cuts and stinging every square millimeter of space.

“Fuck! Ow!” Julie’s face remains expressionless as Luke tries to pull his hand away, but she keeps it firm in his grip. His breathing gets heavier as he tries to face the pain. “Okay, I know I fucked up, I’m sorry. I deserved that. Let me explain.”

Another drop of the alcohol splashes on his knuckles. As he hisses, Julie gives him an expectant look.

“I’m waiting, Patterson.”

With a few more deep breaths, Luke starts.

“We found out that Bobby recorded our songs. My songs. Songs that were supposed to go to Sunset Curve, and he stole them, and recorded them, and played them for Ms. Harrison.” Julie’s grip tightens on his fingers. He hopes she understands his anger. “And she was just so happy about it, and was giving him all these compliments, and… When she left, I confronted him, and he was being a dick, and I just… Got mad.”

Julie finishes pressing a towel to his knuckles to wipe away some of the blood, and begins to softly wrap a bandage around his hand. Her touch is more gentle than it was a minute ago.

“Who threw the first punch?”

Luke sighs.

“I did.” The bandage is tugged tightly around his knuckles. “He said that I’ll never have a band ‘with that Julie girl’ that’s worth anything close to what Sunset Curve was, and that he was making a success out of what wouldn’t have been.”

The bandage loosens.

“I’m sorry that Bobby is a song-stealing asshole,” Julie finally says, finishing up the bandage on his right hand. Now, time for his left, so he turns fully towards her and lifts the hand towards her to take. His heart flutters when her fingers wrap around his, but it’s quickly killed by the pierce of the rubbing alcohol. “But you know you shouldn’t resort to violence. You should be the bigger person.”

“Being the bigger person doesn’t exist when you’re a teenage boy,” Luke retorts, only to be defeated by a strong pour of the alcohol once again. “But you’re right. I know you’re right.”

“As I always am.”

Well, he can’t argue with that one.

“As you always are.”

Finally, Luke catches a small smirk on his best friend’s face, which fills him with relief. Temporarily, his attention is taken off of his burning knuckles as she calmly finishes wiping away the blood and beginning to wrap a bandage around his left hand.

“At least tell me you kicked his ass,” she says, out of the blew. “I want to know it was worth it.”

Even in the current situation, Luke grins wider than he has all day. Julie never fails to bring it out of him.

“I mean, not to brag, but he definitely looks worse.” Julie looks up at him, clearly wanting a full description of the other party’s injuries. “His knuckles are trashed too, but I got in a black eye and my rings tore him up pretty good. He looks like he got attacked by a raccoon.”

“As he should,” she thinks aloud. Luke nods vigorously in agreement.

They stand in silence under the aggressively fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, and Luke spends the next thirty seconds just staring at Julie like a lovesick idiot. She looks tired (like all of them do, every morning -- they’re teenagers for God’s sake), but her hair is down and curly and beautiful, and her sweatshirt looks beyond cozy.

Suddenly, Julie lifts Luke’s mummified left hand to her lips and presses a light, slow kiss to it. Followed by another one.

And then, she finally looks up at him through her long eyelashes, which takes his breath away completely. Her feet shuffle a small step closer to him, and for a moment he panics that she’s going to kiss him, or he’ll lose his self control and kiss her, but what she does instead makes his heart pound just the same:

She lifts herself onto her tiptoes and kisses the oval-shaped bruise painted across his cheekbone.

His hand, with a mind of its own, comes up to cup the back of her neck and keep her as close as possible, which she doesn’t fight. Instead, she brushes her nose against his, and today just went from being the worst day ever to the best day ever, and-

The school bell rings.

Julie pulls away.

Hastily, she’s tucking her medical supplies back into her bag, and avoiding his eyes once again.

“Try not to get in another fight, please,” she sends him an awkward smile as she zips her backpack, “I only brought the two bandages.” And before he can even blink, she’s gone.

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simp-for-mha-men · 4 years ago

Text

𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟 (𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕒 𝕒𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣)

Request by @hermionie-is-my-queen: Hey! Not necessarily a request, and kind of a scenario proposal: but imagine aizawa and reader adopted a cat a while back together, and the cat gets sick, or has to be put down, and it’s just some comforting fluff? Idk if this falls into the category of no angst so if it does instead maybe visiting a shelter to adopt a new kitty? Tysm anyway! Soft aizawa and soft kitties are my fav

A/N: Yes, yes, and yes! I am so in love with this whole idea. I took a little bit of inspiration from the English voice actor’s Tik Tok and from where I live for this one. School just started back up, too, so I’ll now be taking a bit longer to reply to requests. Sorry! Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it!

Genre: fluffy times with a rescue cat and your boyfriend, angst in the first half due to animal death 🌧️💜

Word count: 2.7k

♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥

It had only been a month. One month ago, you lost your precious siamese cat, Willow. Your boyfriend, Shouta Aizawa, had given her to you once you moved into your first apartment together. She was a gift that kept on giving, whether it was hairballs or purrs. She kept you company through the day while your boyfriend was teaching his students, and you both would welcome him home with kisses and cuddles every day.

Aizawa loved Willow just as much as you did. You were both the lights in his life, and without you, he would feel incomplete. After the worst days at U.A., he could come home and feel at peace due to the loves of his life. It tore him up inside that Willow was gone, but he knew the loss broke you apart even worse than it did him.

He adopted Willow when she was 11. The shelter he went to, usually just to browse, was going to put her down just because of her age. Aizawa formed a bond when he looked into her ocean blue eyes. He knew that she would be perfect not only for him but for you as well. In a matter of minutes, the adoption papers were signed and finalized. A beautiful forest green bow was placed around her neck, and she was on her way to meet the better half of her new owner. The three of you were inseparable when home. Midnight cuddles and afternoon snacks were always a favorite among your little family. Despite you and Aizawa never talking about kids in your future, you felt like Willow was your daughter. It was true perfection and bliss. Sadly, it couldn’t last forever.

When Willow turned 13, she started acting strange. She began hiding around the house more, throwing up whenever she ate, and losing an excessive amount of weight. You decided a check-up was in order, and Aizawa whole-heartedly agreed. Praying for a fluke incident was what you did, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t going to be the case no matter how much you wished it to be. Her vet told you both that she had cancer and wouldn’t live much longer. This caused your world to come spiraling down.

How someone handles the five stages of grief depends on the person. For you, Willow was absolutely fine. You were in absolute denial. Over the two years you and Aizawa raised her, she was always healthy. There was absolutely no way that she could have cancer. Healthy cats don’t get cancer, right? You went about your life with Willow as if everything was normal. Aizawa tried to knock some sense into you, but you blocked it out. A week later, a certain piece of information triggered the second stage of grief.

Aizawa told you that he would be staying home to take care of Willow with you, since she was living her final weeks. Saying you were furious would be an understatement. You took your boyfriend onto the balcony and yelled at him for 15 minutes about how Willow was completely normal. You told him that everything was fine and that she would live longer than what the vet said. Seeing you were too stubborn to change, Aizawa refused talking to you about the matter but still took those extra days off. It lasted like this another week before another trip to the vet.

Once you got home that night, you found yourself on your knees next to the bed. You were praying to whatever deity was in the sky or under the ground to save Willow. You didn’t know if bargaining with the immortal was a sane idea, but you had entered the third stage. Aizawa watched you do this every hour of the day, it seemed. He heard you muttering to yourself in your sleep, begging for Willow’s safety. None of this worked, though. Two weeks after the visit, Willow was back at the vet to be put down for good.

The last month had gone by agonizingly slow. Your boyfriend was back at work, leaving you alone to your own devices. The depression had been the longest stage. You wondered to yourself if you would ever get to the acceptance part of the five stages. Nothing you did to try and clear your mind worked. You tried to write, draw, sing, and dance, but nothing seemed successful. Most days, you were confined to your side of your shared bed, sobbing your eyes out until they looked unusually red and puffy.

Losing an animal shouldn’t hurt this much. You had a cat when you were younger, and when she was put down, you were only upset for a week before understanding it was time to move on. Why did losing Willow hurt so much. The question plagued you day and night. You racked your brain trying to figure out why this pain wouldn’t subside. Why did it sting so badly? Why did the tears keep falling?

When you were starting dinner one evening, your boyfriend came home. He seemed to be in a good mood, which was strange for someone like him. He came around, gave you a quick peck on the cheek, and leaned against the counter next to the stove.

“How was your day, babe?” you asked, mustering up as much fake happiness as possible.

You flashed your lover a quick smile, hoping it hid the pain better than you thought it did. However, you had been dating this man for 3 years. He knew you all too well. Willow’s death had affected you so much, which caused him to mull over it for longer than expected. An animal’s death was, of course, sad, but people usually got over it quickly. Why was it taking you longer?

“Are you alright?” your boyfriend questioned, placing a hand on your upper arm.

Sighing, you answered, “Of course I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

You both began a waltz to avoid each other. You stood on the opposite side of the island, setting the places on the table for the both of you to eat. Right as Aizawa met you, you sauntered off back to the stove to turn off the burner. It went on like this for much longer while your words went at each other.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“(y/n)...you’re not.”

“Just shut up, ok?”

“Listen to me...”

“SHUT UP!”

Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning struck outside. The deafening boom from the sky sounded next. In a matter of seconds, a downpour began outside and inside the apartment. Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears. Aizawa froze, giving you time to finally realize why Willow’s death meant so much to you. It was right in front of you the whole time, but your ignorance caused blindness. Just as your boyfriend began to approach you, the tears and truth spilled over.

“She was like our baby,” you began. “Once I moved in with you, I was so scared that you would break up with me. Willow brought us together. No matter what had happened on a bad day, she would fix us back up. It’s like I lost a part of our relationship, Shouta.”

Aizawa was shocked to say the least. In actuality, Aizawa was completely caught off by your statement. He never knew you felt this way about Willow. He knew you had developed a close bond with the feline, but he should’ve noticed sooner the parental role you took for her. He felt like a terrible boyfriend. He felt like he should’ve found a way to keep Willow alive longer. He felt like her death was his fault.

“(y/n), I’m sorry I should’ve--”

“Meow.”

Both of you came to your senses. Did you really just hear a meow? Had Willow come out of her grave to come back to you both? Aizawa looked at you, causing your tears to stop for a moment. Another flash of lightning struck, followed by the familiar thunder. Then, you heard it again.

“Meeeeow.”

Your brain was going crazy. You were already running on endorphins due to the sudden outburst you had at your lover. Now, you felt your fight or flight responses kick in. There’s no way there was a cat at your apartment. Sure, you lived in an area where an animal could get lost, but a stray cat would never be near your complex.

“Meow.”

Taking a deep breath in, you tried to calm your nerves. Silently cursing your boyfriend’s senses, you heard him shuffling over to you. He placed his hands on your hips and kissed your forehead. Aizawa felt guilty. He knew that a cat wouldn’t be outside in this weather, especially if it was a stray. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. His guilty conscience was in full force, or maybe it wasn’t?

“Meeeeow.”

“Ok,” you said, slowly tilting your head up to meet your boyfriend’s gaze. “Please tell me you’re hearing the meowing, too.”

“It’s real?” Aizawa asked, gazing at you with confused eyes.

Shaking your head, you slithered out of his arms. Despite your mind telling you this was a bad idea, you decided to stick with your sudden plan. You were going to check outside. You didn’t know what you would find, but it was worth the risk. Wherever this cat was, you had to find it. You weren’t doing this for you, however, but for Willow.

Placing your hand on the front door knob, you unlocked it and slowly opened it just a little bit. That’s when you saw it. A beautiful tabby cat sat on your front mat, meowing to its heart’s content. It was drenched, laying against the door in search of some warmth. The poor little angel was shivering, but it looked up upon sensing your presence.

“Well, hello there,” you greeted, opening the door wider.

“Meeeeow.”

You bent down and sat on your knees, cooing the little creature forward. Taking your invitation, it sauntered over to you. Once your hand made contact with its back, the cat began rubbing its wet body all over your leg. Laughing slightly, you turned to look at Aizawa.

He was staring at you with true adoration in his eyes. He knew from the moment he met you that you were the one, but this tender moment between you and a stray cat solidified that even more. It was perfect. You were perfect. Despite the past month, he realized what this new stray would mean to you immediately. Willow sent him or her as a gift from heaven. That much had to be true. It was her way of saying that everything would be alright.

“I’ll get some food and water for the little one,” Aizawa said, walking over to first close the door.

“Make sure to get a towel first,” you replied. “I don’t want this poor baby getting sick from being to cold. Right, sweetie?”

The cat gazed at you with thankfulness in its eyes. You felt much different than you had just a few minutes ago. You were no longer sad about Willow. Instead, you were happy her pain had ended when it did, even if it wasn’t in the best way. Somehow, this little stray just happened to choose your doorstep. Your heart was starting to feel whole again. That’s how you came to a simple conclusion: this was fate. The stage of acceptance was finally in your sight.

You and Aizawa resumed your waltz around the kitchen, but this time, things were much different. It felt like the day Aizawa first brought Willow home. You immediately took on the role of the parent, watching your new friend’s every move to make sure it didn’t hurt itself. Once Aizawa brought you a towel, you sat on the couch and began drying off the cat. You discovered during this that you had found an adorable little boy, proud and frisky from his recent adventure.

Aizawa set the food and water out, luring the tabby out of your lap and to the kitchen. He lapped everything greedily, only further confirming that this was indeed a stray. Walking over to your boyfriend, you stopped once you reached his side.

“I’m sorry,” you began, lacing your fingers with his.

“Oh, don’t be,” he replied, smoothly changing the position you both were in so he could snuggle your neck. “I should’ve taken off time from work and been there for you. It was wrong of me to think our lives would go back to normal.”

“But, still..”

“(y/n)...just let me hold you.”

You did what he asked. You let him wrap his arms around you as you both watched your new boy. Unspoken between the two of you was what was going to happen with your newfound cat: you were going to keep him. Of course, he would need to pay for his shots, a proper bath, and new amenities, but that was a thing for the future. Aizawa knew you would bring it up tomorrow morning, worrying about it profusely, and you knew Aizawa would tell you to stop worrying so much, peppering your face in kisses as a distraction.

Once the cat was finished eating, he walked over and began rubbing himself against Aizawa’s leg. Realizing he needed to be warmed up, you reached down and picked him up. He clearly enjoyed being showered in attention and didn’t pull away when you both began talking to him.

“What do you think?” Aizawa questioned.

You knew what he was talking about: his name. Despite only finding this cat outside of your doorstep 20 minutes ago, you both knew this was his new forever home. The name was an important part of claiming a pet, which you made sure to educate Aizawa about before naming Willow. This, however, wasn’t a tough decision like Willow’s name.

“I was thinking Thunder,” you replied softly, gazing into your lover’s eyes.

He hummed in response, alerting you that he liked that name. You purposely chose that name due to the circumstances you found him in, but you also had an ulterior motive. You eventually wanted to get another cat and name it Lightning. Why? Easy answer: why not?

Suddenly, your boyfriend let go of your waist. Turning around, you noticed he began walking off to the bedroom. It was only 7:30, but, of course, your lover was already exhausted. That was one of the qualities you loved about him, though. He could always fall asleep easily.

“You didn’t eat dinner,” you called after him.

“I know,” he replied in a low voice, “but wouldn’t you rather fall asleep with the man you love?”

His words made you blush, but he wasn’t wrong. With Thunder in your arms and dinner long forgotten, you made your way over to your bedroom. Upon entering, you saw your boyfriend was already laying down and waiting for you to join him. You placed Thunder on the bed and went to lay down next to your lover. He placed his arms around you, making you fell safe and secure before someone interrupted you both.

Thunder began slowly crawling up to lie in between you. Chuckling, Aizawa left a little bit of room between your bodies for your new baby to curl up between you both. It felt natural. It felt like home again. It was just you, your boyfriend, and your cat. Willow, you could tell, was smiling down from heaven. You knew she could be fully at peace now knowing you were happy.

“I love you so much,” you mumbled to your boyfriend, allowing your eyes to close.

“I love you, too, kitten,” Aizawa replied, drifting off to sleep and allowing your breaths to match one another.

This was home. This was family. This was perfection for the both of you. Now, Aizawa went to bed with a single question on his mind. It was quite simple but also heavy. When was he going to place that wonderful ring on your finger?

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha imagines #mha aizawa #mha fic #mha scenarios #mha x reader #mha #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa headcanons #shoto aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #bnha aizawa

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iamanartichoke · 4 years ago

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In which I react to the trailer, bit by bit, because why not?

This post is long and image-heavy; sorry, dashboard.

So first of all, the line that keeps running through my head is a line from a fic AU - Have Tesseract, Will Travel by WinterDusk - wherein Alternate Timeline Loki catches up with Post-Endgame Thor. It’s a glorious series and everyone should go read it right now.

“The Tesseract skids to a stop at Loki’s feet. Loki, not being entirely stupid, picks it up.”

It’s such a good line that it should be, like, a narrative voiceover or something. But anyway.

I have to say, I love seeing Loki’s “old” armour again, as opposed to what he was wearing in Ragnarok/IW (and what he died in, sorry, what?). His hair is definitely doing something inconsistent, but I’m not terribly bothered by it. (I’m glad his hair looks natural and a bit chaotic, as opposed to the stiff, awkward wigs.) And he’s landed in a desert - so, where has he ended up? On Earth? On another planet? Another galaxy? I guess we’ll find out.

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me.”

I think it’s interesting that Loki assumes that they’re going to try to kill him. He doesn’t look afraid, he doesn’t look surprised, just resigned: You’re going to kill me. I think it makes sense that this would be his reaction, in that he can’t fucking catch a break and he knows it. I’m interested to see how they managed to overpower him enough to get that collar around his neck, which I’m assuming is something that suppresses his magic. A fight scene?

Another note: the scar on his forehead has already healed up; depending on how quickly he heals, this could be a few days or a few weeks after the opening shot. Either he wasn’t captured right away, or he’s been sitting in a cell for awhile before they deign to bring him elsewhere.

Also, I didn’t recognize Owen Wilson right away. He looks like a kinda weird combination of Howard Stark and General Ross, lmao.

Idk about the “you love to talk” line bc Loki doesn’t really like to talk - but, it’s also fair to say that the assumption could be made if one was basing his understanding of Loki on what we saw in Avengers (similar to how Tony says Loki’s a “full-tilt diva,” it doesn’t make it true, just makes it someone else’s perception).

I really like Loki’s “wtf” expression when he looks at Owen Wilson, though.

Friendly reminder that Loki is the protagonist in his series, which means he’s probably going to going up against whatever big bad this is. Which means we get to see him in the context of being the one the audience is rooting for, instead of the villain.

I think Loki looks the most beautiful here. Look at that face, that tiny little smirk, that luscious hair. Aw yisss. More of this Loki please (for aesthetic purposes).

I like his expression here; reminds me a bit of when he’s brought in front of Odin in TDW, but a bit more uncertain - as if he’s thinking, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m not going to let you know that I’m concerned. If that makes sense.

I also dig the music.

I wonder if they’re showing Loki possible futures (considering he’s now created a new timeline) or if it’s strictly Loki-Prime’s life, and if it’s the latter, I am super curious to see how he reacts to the loss of Asgard and the subsequent run-in with Thanos. I hope he does not get shown his death because, butter-knife-stupidity aside, it was so brutal that showing it to him would just be cruel, I would think.

This shot is interesting to me bc it’s from Loki’s POV - it’s what Loki sees when he realizes he’s surrounded. So where are these images coming from, anyway? Maybe the collar isn’t a magic thing, maybe it gives them the ability to see inside of Loki’s mind - or, to at least pull images from it. Idk. I like how Loki is still not showing much emotion, though; he’s just sitting there, arms folded, like okay, sure.

Until here. What does Loki see that makes him close his eyes and turn away? He looks annoyed, he looks exhausted, he looks fed up. My first thought was that he was turning away at the shot of the Avengers - the reminder that he lost, or that he failed. Maybe Owen Wilson was saying something taunting about it. But really, it could be anything. It’s a really interesting moment, though, because it’s a genuine reaction from Loki and I’m hoping that it implies he feels some kind of way about New York and perhaps will talk about it - like that he lost on purpose, or he’ll mention Thanos, or something. Again, Loki being the protagonist means that there’s a ton of potential for really getting Loki’s side of things, and if they’re going through his memories, then we might get to see Loki talk about those memories.

This looks like Loki’s gone from being the TVA’s prisoner to working for them, which is interesting, but not entirely unexpected, if we’re to assume that the TVA’s interests lie in defeating the hooded big bad from before and they need Loki to do it. I’m also curious if they never intended to capture him long-term at all but, in fact, sought him out because of his magic/skills/etc in order to help them. That would also make sense - that it’s more of a recruiting thing than a punishment thing - considering that Loki isn’t even the one who fucked up the timeline to begin with and that the Avengers are the ones responsible for that.

We love a flippy-knife Loki, don’t we?

Post-apocalyptic future? Potential of what could have happened if Loki (and, by extension, Thanos) had won? Or an alternate timeline altogether? I have no idea. Loki looks so smol though, all alone in the ruins.

I really hope this is a wig and Loki didn’t cut his hair, bc this just looks like Tom with short black hair, lmao. Like the Night Manager with a Loki smirk. It’s not bad, I just don’t care for it. I wonder how Asgard will react when Loki shows up looking like that.

Action shots! Loki doing stuff! Fighting! Random twirly girl! I’m here for all of the action sequences and I’m not sorry.

Imagine being that girl. Hoo.

Everyone was talking about Sam jumping out of the plane without a parachute and haha, another one like Steve, but just look at Loki’s bad ass soaring through the clouds. Also, I am a loser, but the one inconsistency in the “Loki is DB Cooper” theory - for me - is that I thought it was night time and raining when DB jumped. But, that’s just me.

Also, has Loki always pronounced Heimdall like that? HeimDAAALL, like with a hard A? Or is that also just me?

And there’s the Bifrost, pulling short-haired DB Cooper Loki to Asgard.

(That little window for the Falcon trailer came up and I couldn’t minimize it, sorry.)

I have no idea what is going on here, but I have to say, that gravelly come on! What did you expect? is all kinds of pleasing to me. I have always loved Tom’s deep Loki voice. I am assuming this is something from the comics or that it’s an alternate reality Loki or something like that, but again, context matters and this was really the only part of the trailer that (the first time) made me go, uh can we not? Who knows.

And there we are. My honest opinion is that, while some of it seems questionable, it overall seems kind of promising to me? I think that if you read between the lines, so to speak, and pick up on all of Loki’s little tells and micro-expressions, what we’ll probably end up seeing is a combination of Thor 1/TDW Loki with a side of Avengers and some Ragnarok-flavored sprinkles. I also think that the trailer has probably sliced up and served the juiciest bits to appeal not just to Loki’s core fanbase but to the Ragnarok fans and to the casual MCU fans who may want to tune in for fun.

Again, we’re getting approximately two full-length movies worth of a story in which Loki is the protagonist. And I’ll just say it: my initial overall reaction was that I liked it. I’m apprehensive, but I’m hopeful. Look at it this way: nothing in this series will be worse than what we already had to endure in Infinity War.

So, yeah. We’ll see what happens, but I think it’ll be okay and, even if it’s not? Well, on the bright side, there’s more footage and content to inspire brilliant fanworks (fics, music vids, art, etc), which is just the new life that needs to be breathed into the Loki fandom right now. In my opinion.

#plus can i just say #i am SO GLAD #there was no kiss in the trailer #if there was romance in the story - or if romance was a big part of the story - i'm sure they'd have played that up #by showing loki kissing someone in the trailer #the lack of it leaves me hopeful that a love interest #is not a priority #loki on the small screen #is my new tv show tag #i am creative #loki series positivity #loki pokey artichokey #long post #image heavy post #sorry

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mysticeyeliner · 3 years ago

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SA Fanfiction! Ilse getting help to heal from her friends! Part 1

Chapters 1-3, 2,921 words

IDK how to name fics lol but this gets it across. I’ve never posted fics before but I wanted to share this

Tw: Rape mentions, Abuse mentions, Alcoholism and drug addiction

Also includes homelessness, running away

"...Ilse?" Ilse glanced up from her spot in the dirt, seeing Anna standing with Moritz. They looked concerned. "Are you alright?" Anna asked. "I'm- I'm fine. Just hanging out before I leave again." "In the dirt?" Moritz asked. She ran her hands through the clover patch on the ground. "Picking flowers,' she said with a smile. "Can...Ilse, can you come with us for a moment? Moritz beckoned to her. She stood, concerned but too curious to say no. She really only paused to think. So maybe it was in a shadowed alley between two houses, but she hadn't been doing anything. Anna took her hand and smiled. She started swinging it like they were still young girls. Hell, Anna still had the same bows in her hair. They stepped up into her house, which always smelled of tea and fresh flowers. Moritz pulled out chairs from the table while Anna closed the door. Ilse suspiciously sat down and averted her eyes to the blue and pink embroidery of the tablecloth. "Can I make us all some tea?' Anna asked, already pulling out a jar of rose petals from a cabinet. That was the fancy stuff her mother always made when she had guests over, sometimes while they all played outside and only half tried to be quiet. Moritz nodded, and Anna began the rose tea. "We wanted to talk to you. About some stuff," he said. "What stuff? Are you planning something?" Ilse asked. "No, it's...you. We're worried about you. You haven't done anything wrong, but you're not Okay. I don't know what exactly you've been through, but the way you act, the things you say and do...it's not like the Ilse we know. We love you. But Priapia, being away from home...you're too lonely and you have trauma and addiction. I just, we want you to talk to us." Anna came around holding three steaming teacups in her fingers and a bowl of sugar. "We don't hate you, please don't think that, we just know somethings wrong. We're your friends. Please." Ilse stirred her fingers around in her pocket, brushing against the clovers she stuffed in it. "I- I don't know what to...to say." "Then drink." Anna passed her a teacup with marigolds painted on the base. Ilse took a sip, letting the warmth flood through her chest. Anna watched her, stirring several teaspoons of sugar into her own drink. "Martha got beaten. A lot." She looked down into her cup. "I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you thqat, but it's true. She hid it from us. I'll never understand why, but eventually Wendla up and reported her papa. Martha doesn't get hit anymore." Ilse had guessed. She'd seen it, in the long clothing she wore, her demeanor. it was the same as Ilse's own. Thank goodness it was over. "My father isn't a good one either. Nothing compared to what Martha went through, but...still. You're not alone, Ilse. Other people can understand your pain. You have no one to talk to back in that artists' colony, but we're here with you now." Ilse swallowed. She didn't prepare for this. Anna drank some tea, then stood up from her chair and positioned one behind Ilse. "Can you tell us what's happening?" "I- I don't want to burden you- I mean. I don't believe you really want to help me." Ilse's voice cracked. "Oh, we do, trust me," Moritz smiled. "This is all we want to do today. You're not burdening us, I promise we want to be here, listening to and helping you." Anna started gently pulling her fingers through Ilse's hair. About half of them caught on tangles that Ilse rarely bothered to brush out herself. Anna got to work, gently unknotting them. "It's..it's a Lot. I'm used to it by now. The drinking, the smoking..." "Is that all there is?" Anna asked. Ilse brushed her sleeve against her nose. "No." She squeezed her eyes shut. Moritz gently grabbed her hand. "I- I wish I could say I'm used to the violation. The..." She opened her eyes. "But sometimes, all the time, I'm not. Sometimes they start pulling me back to their beds and I'm too drunk to know better, or only enough to know what will happen if I resist. Sometimes they just push me against their walls and there's nothing I can do. Once, the first time, I tried to hit him back, and I ended up with a black eye sleeping out in the freezing cold for two nights. It's a miracle no one killed me then or worse. But every time, I can't stop wondering if I deserve it, thinking maybe it was on purpose. Maybe I wanted it and there's just something sickly wrong with me. Like it's all my fault and I can't blame anyone but myself." A tear fell. "Ilse," Anna said gently. "I know that's not true. I know who you are. You would never. It's those men, they're sick. You're, Lord, you're only fifteen. You were, what, thirteen then?" Ilse nodded. Moritz handed her her teacup. "Wendla was raped. I wish it wasn't true, but it is. She never asked for that. She didn't know what was happening. But I see her ask herself every day if she wanted it. From what I hear, it wasn't clear. But I really don't think she consented to that. No victim deserves to doubt themselves every day, no one deserves to ask if they secrelty desired trauma. But I think, maybe they all do. Look, Wendla is kind and young and caring. She would never ask for that." Anna said, "And you're wild and hopeful and just trying to be free and safe. Please, try and believe us, you didn't deserve that, no matter what you did." Ilse started crying. Moritz reached out and she grabbed him in a hug. He held on tight to her. "You're our friend. We never want you to be hurt again." "That's what they'll do when I go back," she sobbed. "They'll beat me too. They'll get me drunk and make me pose naked and get me high and there's nothing I can do about it." "Stay with us tonight," Anna said, putting a hand on Ilse's knee. "I'll keep you safe in my sister's old bedroom. Or you can come into mine, if you'd like." "They're expecting me back. They won't like it if I'm not." "They won't find you. I promise, Ilse. You never have to go back there," Moritz said. Ilse put her cup down. "I don't deserve your protection." "Yes you do. And it would mean the world to me if you just spent the night here." She looked Anna in the eyes. Ilse couldn't understand every emotion she felt. Still, she told her yes. ====== Ilse stood in Anna's washroom, washing her face off and looking in the mirror. Not the worst she'd seen herself. And at least her hair looked nicer. She felt the heavy prescence in her boot and pulled it out. A flask mostly filled with liquor. She couldn't keep doing this. She always told herself she wasn't a drunk, she couldn't be, but the flask would beg to differ. God, she didn't know if she could get over this. "Ilse?" A call from down the stairs. She set the flask on the counter and went to see Moritz. "I'm gonna go now. I'll be back tomorrow?" She smiled and hugged him. "Of course. And, I'm sorry about your dad. Is there anything I can do?" He grimaced and shook his head no. Then he squeezed her hand and said, "Don't let Anna put bows in your hair. She's tempting, but it isn't worth it." He shuddered. Both girls waved him goodbye. As soon as Moritz closed the door, Ilse said, "He's the next project, right?" "I don't think of you as a project, Ilse. But, I'm not sure there's much I can do to help him. He just failed school, he doesn't have many places to go..." "Christ, I forgot about that. I with I could help him." "He's doing okay. Better than you have been. Now come here." Anna beckoned for her to sit on the rug in the living room with her. She held a notepad and a pencil. "Mama gets home in an hour. We can have supper then. But what do you want to do after that?" "...Do we need to do much?" "Yes! I'm here to make you feel better, so we're gonna talk some, especially with Moritz again tomorrow, maybe Wendla, but for now? It's sleepover time." Ilse groaned that she had been pulled into this. But Anna played the mother half the times they played house as kids, so at least her stay would be comfortable. "Wanna come to my room?" Anna asked. "Sure." Ilse followed her up the stairs to a room with pink curtains and a bed covered in stuffed animals. "Oh, is this Soby?" she asked, picking up an old pink bunny. "I still sleep with him every night," Anna said proudly. She carefully moved every animal off the bed onto her floor. "Do you want to sleep here tonight, with me? I have plenty of blankets." Ilse was hesitant. "I don't want to intrude." "Please! I want to make sure you feel safe." She began smoothing her sheets out. Ilse moved to look out her window for a minute. "They're not going to find you, Ilse. And they won't be mad at you. As long as you never go back, that is." Ilse sighed and pressed her head against the glass. What was she going to do? "They don't deserve you. For anything. No one does, really." Anna came up and put a gentle hand on Ilse's shoulder. "I'm honored to have you as my guest, Miss." She swept into a curtsy. "For now, the best you can do is just stay here for the night. And a good long sleep in my very comfy bed will help you." "Okay," Ilse breathed. She walked over and picked up Soby, staring into her stitched on eyes. "For now, if you're not too tired..." Anna opened the door to her closet. Inside were numerous dresses with ruffles and bows. She grinned evilly at Ilse. "Noooo!" Ilse ran from her as Anna pulled a purple dress from inside and chased after her. --- Ilse was caught and turned into a doll for Anna. She was grumpily adorned in the purple dress, which had flower details on its sleeves, much like everything here. But before Anna could start on the rest of her, Anna's mother got home. "Oh! Mama, Ilse's staying here for the night. We're having a sleepover." Ilse emerged in her pouffy dress with an exaggerated frown. "Be nice to that poor girl." Frau Wheelan shook her head and started cooking supper. "She doesn't need to know why," Anna said softly, taking Ilse's hand. "But in the meantime..." Anna lifted part of Ilse's hair. Ilse dashed away from her saying no with a smile. Frau Wheelan called her daughter down to help with dinner. Ilse looked down at this princess dress again and craved a hit. No. No, she couldn't think like that. She had to stop. Soon enough it was suppertime. "Go clean your hands!" Anna's mother told them both. Ilse helped set the table while Anna went up to the washroom. "Ilse, it's been a while since I've seen you, dear." "Yeah, I haven't been up to much. It's lovely to see you, though." Her mother smiled and went to bring the food out. Anna came out of the washroom looking a little uncomfortable, sad maybe. Ilse was going to ask about it, but Anna saw food and her face lit up. "Let's eat!" Frau Wheelan declared. ===== They had pieces of seasoned chicken to eat. Despite disliking this dress, Ilse was sure to not drop anything on it. "Ilse, where have you been all this time?" Frau Wheelan asked. "Um...I'm living with some artists. Splitting rent." "Oh! Do you paint?" "I do." Ilse blushed. "And how's life treating you?" Ilse turned even redder. "Mama, can we not shower her in questions? Tell me how I should do her hair with this gown." "Please, she looks miserable...but some bows wouldn't hurt..." "Ooh, can we make hot chocolate after dinner? I wanna put on fuzzy socks and tell stories by the fire before bed." "Of course. Just make sure to go to bed at a reasonable hour." When they cleared their plates and Anna and her mother put dishes away (Ilse was quickly dismissed from the task) and Frau Wheelan went to go read, Anna went to the washroom again and came down to talk to Ilse. "Sorry she asked all that. You definitely don't need to give her details. She's just excited to see you." "It's okay. I'd be curious too." Ilse glanced at a clock. "Ilse, be honest with me...is this yours?" Ilse turned and saw Anna pull out the flask. Which she has left in the washroom. "Um..." Her silence said enough. Anna's voice got sad and quiet. "Look, I'm not trying to judge you. i just need to know how often you do this. How often you drink. Is it a serious problem? Do you need it?" "I...I wish I could say that wasn't mine. I don't want to be a drunk. I just, I'm so used to it...to always being a little inebriated...it makes it harder to feel the pain." "Are you wounded? Is that the pain?" "No." Ilse looked down sadly. "Okay. I'm here to help you. With everything. Any problem you have." "I have a lot. I'm not sure you want to get involved." "You're my friend. I'm always gonna be here for you." Anna touched Ilse's face. "If it makes you feel better, you can help me in return by letting me style your hair." --- Two braided pigtails later, Anna and Ilse were sitting around Anna's fireplace drinking hot chocolate. Ilse had socks on her feet for the first time in years, covering the blisters she was always getting. "No one's cared for me so well in a while." "Well, they should. You deserve it. You've always deserved it. Just wait until I make you take a bubble bath." It had been many years since she'd had one of those. "Wendla is hopefully coming tomorrow. Maybe Martha too. We can talk and figure something out for you. You don't need to go back there." "...I left my paint back there." "I'll buy new paints for you. I have some here. They're old, from a phase, but they should work in the meantime." Ilse smiled. "Thank you. It means a lot." "Of course. And might I just say, you look lovely." "Not my style, but thank you." "We'll all get you clothes you like. That show who you are. Until we figure that out, you can use mine. Your green dress needs a lot of cleaning anyway." "It's fine." "You sat in the dirt in it today." Ilse got closer to Anna until they shared a blanket. "We can go to bed whenever you want, okay? I'm pretty blind to other people's fatigue." Ilse nodded and continued watching the fire. ---- Anna offered her a light blue nightgown, this one without any embellishments. Ilse changed in the washroom, watching herself in the mirror. She hadn't seen herself look this nice- this well-treated- in years. Since even before she left for Priapia. Her brushed, styled hair and not-cheap dress just for sleeping in, her stomach filled from eating right... This didn't feel like her anymore. Maybe the old version of her wasn't right, and she was meant to be a dirty teenage artist who spent her nights between the beds of men and women that she would have to treat with respect the next day. "There's a spare toothbrush and paste in the drawer!" Anna called. A commodity she didn't have for the last two years. The paste tasted weird in her mouth, but, knowing she was doing something good for herself, cleaning herself, it meant something. A small change. A good change. She washed her face again and came back to Anna's room. It had electric lights as well as candle jars with flickering painted roses on them. Anna sat on her bed, adorned in a pink nightgown with plenty of bows. "I got you a glass of water," she said with a yawn. "Now come on in here." Anna turned out her lights, leaving the candles glowing. Ilse followed her, sitting on the cushy bed, facing the door. Faint moonlight shone through the window. Anna pulled out a sleep mask and placed it on her own head. "I'll tuck you in." Ilse slid under the soft covers and layed her head back. These pillows were better quality than she was used to. Anna reached over and pulled the covers up to Ilse's shoulders, then tucked herself in right next to her and pulled the mask down. "Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning," Anna yawned again. "See you," Ilse whispered. A glowing bedroom, goodnights, precious quiet. Someone softly falling sleep next to her, who wouldn't do anything to her. She missed it. Still, she needed something else. Ilse sat up and grabbed Soby with her fingertips, pulling her up by the ears. The soft bunny felt nice in her arms. She tucked herself back in and snuggled the bunny until she slept.

#big text tw #rape mention tw #abuse mention tw #alcoholism tw #drug addiction tw #fanfiction #my fics #spring awakening #Ilse neumann #sa #anna wheelan #moritz stiefel #I haven't worked on this in a few days so I hope it's good #also I have designs of the dresses but it includes one from the wip chapter so im not sharing it yet

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years ago

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Ok so Camille’s an asshole on that we can all agree, but I’m really tired of people in the fandom acting like she’s just your typical annoying ex and she makes poor uwu Alec feel insecure cause fuck that. Camille was 100% abusive and manipulative but I also think she was sexually abusive too I mean seeing what she did to Simon and kissing Magnus without his consent even though he was clearly uncomfortable, consent doesn’t really seem to be an issue for her-

I feel like she definitely manipulated his fear of loneliness and not being good enough, to suit her needs. Like Magnus isn’t in the mood for sex or it’s especially triggering on a certain day, either way he’s not up for it but Camille makes him do it anyway. She threatens to leave or go find someone else who can fulfill her needs or take care of her when Magnus won’t, ‘I mean does he even love her when he won’t do this one simple thing for her?’

So he just lets her do what she wants, even if he’s having a full blown panic attack Camille doesn’t care or she’ll just leave insulting him saying she can’t deal with this right now and leaving Magnus with no idea when or if she’ll be back. So the next time she asks he hesitates less or initiates it more even when he’s not in the mood so she won’t leave and yeah I have a lot of emotions relating to this. and now I’m thinking about how it’ll affect his future relationships, not even talking about Alec but other people - I have this headcanon where when he got away from Camille and is healing, him ragnor and Catarina live together in ragnors cottage or somewhere away from people for awhile so Magnus can slowly heal and focus on himself and unlearn Camille’s abuse with the help of his family

But despite what this fandom says Magnus has always been a helper and a selfless person to the point of self destruction. He’s unable to prioritise his own health and he wouldn’t be able to slow down and feel the full force of the abuse he experienced cause he feels like he’ll fall apart if he does and ‘no one wants a pathetic crybaby who breaks down when someone moves their hand too fast in his direction it wasn’t even that bad he’s just exaggerating like he always does this is why Camille doesn’t love him back’ (the ‘’ parts were meant to be strikethrough to signify Magnus’ inner thoughts but that doesn’t work on asks)

And he’s scared to get in another relationship cause he doesn’t think he’d be able to speak up for himself if they turned violent or controlling, he’s scared that if they did he’d just let them so he closes himself off from people puts these walls around him and a bright smile on his face that doesn’t let anyone think there’s anything wrong. And theres so much pain going on in the world ‘they have it much worse than him anyway’ and Magnus tries to help the best he can as he always does and he’s always there for people to lean on without any reciprocation and he’s so emotionally and physically tired and he’s not sure how much longer he can take it, almost considers going back to blackfairs bridge ‘really he’d be doing the world a favour’ but theres too many bad memories and he promised his family he would try so he holds on and then he finds Raphael and that obviously doesn’t fix everything but- I was going to continue this but it’s two am in my country and honesty it’s too long already😅 sorry for the rant it’s just a lot of emotions. Im so tired of the ‘Camille’s an annoying ex who keeps getting in the way of my favourite gay ship😠’ metas and needed to let out some feelings before I explode from my hate for Camille

UGH ANON HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE NOT ONLY A GENIUS BUT ALSO MY NEW BEST FRIEND, AN INTELLECTUAL, AND COMPLETELY RIGHT. YOU ARE SO CORRECT!!! idk if uve read my other post that i posted while i was waiting for you but we no longer have the same hat we are SHARING the hat!! i can't believe i got this ask right after i had just made that long ass rant and was in so much need to talk about this like ugh are you my guardian angel. i love you more than anyone else ive ever met

ok ok ok coherent thoughts ok i can do this. first of all THE SALT how does it feel to have vision and coherency. ppl writing camille as just an annoying ex or a bad ex or even as like "oh they both made mistakes and it ended up terrible" drives me UP THE WALL. camille was explicitly abusive, so much so that magnus CANONICALLY WAS UNABLE TO ALLOW PEOPLE TO GET CLOSE TO HIM FOR ALMOST A CENTURY. and she was shown to be abusive, both in the physical sense as you have reminded us so brilliantly and in the sense that her whole "choose me" speech? like she doesn't have to literally say the words "no one but me would ever love you" for that to be exactly what she's saying. she's obviously playing with his insecurities and putting him down while presenting her as his savior, it's CLASSIC ABUSE. she was written as such a perfect to-the-book abuser that it honestly shocks me like they did that really all they ticked all the boxes. the way she immediately launched to talk about alec's mortality too, the way she was obviously trying to make them fight and draw them apart - it wasn't a jealousy thing, it is just that she's abusive and she wants him isolated so she can toy with him and manipulate him

EVEN SALTIER WHEN THEY MAKE IT ABOUT ALEC BEING INSECURE LIKE. especially because canonically he literally watched camille kiss magnus and didn't care, which was sexy of him because i was dreading some jealousy drama or something but instead he was just like. obviously she did it to hurt you. i only care in the sense that she's a fucking bitch. we stan!

as for how she treated him! oof i think the same thing with the same words dioajdsaoij it always circled back to "why can't you do this for me?" in and outside of sex - i mentioned that in a conversation in the comments of my other post but i think that with camille the sexual abuse was really just an extension of the regular abuse, so they bleed together and are not really separable in that sense. at every turn, he had to prove his worth, and she used his fear of loneliness both in the sense that she amplified it and made it seem like the only way to not be lonely was to be with her, and that she gave him just enough for him not to feel desperately lonely so she could string him along. not to mention, they both always go back to how magnus supposedly "owes" her, and yes, it's because of the bridge, of course, but there's also that underlying tone of "because she put up with him and gave him affection when no one else would". even when what she did was nowhere close to real affection. so it's both the bridge and the after. she could have saved him and left, but she stayed. that's why he feels he owes her, and she will absolutely use it

AND UR SO RIGHT ABOUT MAGNUS BEING UNABLE TO PRIORITIZE HIS OWN HEALTH UGH UGH UGH UGH like he has no choice for a while because she left him fucking broken and seeing the way she treats him and the amount of shit he puts up with i can only imagine how far she had to go for him to reach a breaking point and leave her for real. but as soon as he could pretend to have himself together he just threw himself out there. and i believe that he felt guilty for having catarina and ragnor take care of him when he abandoned them because of camille - obviously that's not what happened, she manipulated him into staying away from them, made his life hell whenever he wanted to hang out with them until he no longer had the energy to put up a fight to keep in contact with the people he loves, but it's what he feels that happened, and most likely what camille herself eventually started to tell him happened once they had been pulled away enough. ("you're gonna leave me? and go back to who? your little friends who tried to pit you against me from day one? they're just gonna say 'i told you so', magnus. and why would they take you back when you left them before? when was the last time you even saw them? you chose this, you chose me, and now you're gonna come back to them and expect them to welcome you with open arms? you selfish little prick")

AND RAPHAEL!!! raphael was so important, honestly, we say that magnus didn't let anyone into his heart but obviously raphael was the exception and EXTREMELY important for his healing. it's a complicated relationship because he's sort of a father figure for rapha, and as such, he doesn't allow himself to be completely vulnerable around him, because that's not "his role". but! he was the first person whom magnus let in. and they obviously know each other deeply ("i hate to see you like this" even though magnus looked completely put together to the outside eye) and are plenty affectionate ("sweet boy", the hugs, the way rapha talked about magnus with so much love and awe in his eyes and voice) and trusting (the way raphael went to magnus' loft, not his own damn clan, when he was tortured...). i know this fandom likes to pretend that they pretend to hate each other but NO THEY DON'T they are openly caring and loving with each other fucking fight me on this

anyway, my point is that raphael was the first person he allowed himself to trust, and of course, part of that is simply because raphael was vulnerable and in need and like you said he can't just stay still when he sees someone struggling. but to care for raphael eventually had to mean to open up to him and when he welcomed raphael in, he gained a new member to his family. raphael is his kid. that's no small thing. their bond goes deep and it's extremely important because again, after camille magnus wouldn't allow people to get close to his heart, because he was scared of how they could use that against him. raphael was his first, and the only reason magnus was able to open himself up for romantic love again (which was an extra step, not because romantic love is more important or deeper, but because it's specifically the kind of love that camille used against him, and thus it makes him even more scared) was because he had already been relearning trust and platonic love with rapha

rapha did him good!!! there's a reason he calls him "sweet boy" okay. and rapha cares about him and he NOTICES WHEN HE'S IN A BAD SHAPE EVEN THROUGH ALL OF MAGNUS' WALLS and he specifically didn't want magnus involved with the camille drama even when it had obviously gotten out of hand because he wanted to keep him safe and away from her!!! i want to be shot in the face!!! they love each other so much! fuck!

and also that implies that raphael knows about camille which means he might be the first person who met magnus post-camille and heard the story, which means that he might be (and probably is) the first person who was never involved that magnus opened up about this to. if that ain't some powerful and important shit i don't know what is. because part of abuse is that you can't talk about it - there's this sense of shame and guilt both from staying and from not staying more, especially because magnus canonically still feels like he owes her... aaaaa

this answer is all over the place im sorry but my point is you are correct, camille is a textbook abuser not just a shitty ex, she fucked up his head and made him unable to open up for a long time, and the first person that helped him break those walls was raphael and they LOVE EACH OTHER VERY MUCH AND DEEPLY thank you for your attention

#magnus bane #shadowhunters #sh #meta #magnus bane meta #camille belcourt is an abuser #long post #ask #anonymous #camille's trash party #brotp: i'll do whatever it takes to protect them

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ghost-in-the-stalls · 4 years ago

Note

What are ur tilda hcs?

Okay im finally gonna answer this!! Thank you so much for asking!!! I love receiving asks and I love sharing my headcanons. Sorry again it's so late ❤❤❤

This isn't gonna be nearly as well worded and eloquent as I originally planned. The first time I wrote it it basically became a drabble about her life. And then I lost that whole draft. Lmao

I just don't have it in me to recreate that whole thing again but I still wanna share my headcanons about her because I do have a lot!

I also wanna say this is in no way to like... excuse her behavior or try and redeem her. She was a terrible person. But people aren't born terrible. And I like taking 2 dimensional fictional women and making them make sense. So this isn't to excuse but instead to explain? I guess?

cw for all the shit you expect with the minyards by now, but specifically drug addiction and statutory rape. Also this is LONG so its going under a cut.

So first of all, I imagine her and Luther as being half siblings. Their father was a preacher or something- someone with a big role in their church's community and a big reputation of being a reliable, wise, holy man.

When Luther was maybe around 3 years old, there was this teenage girl in the congregation who would often come to Mr. Hemmick for advice, guidance, comfort, etc. She didn't quite fit in in school, wasn't great at academics and struggled to keep up with her siblings achievements, and was overall going through a lot of the turmoil thats unfortunately common for teenagers.

So she, like many people in the congregation, went to Mr Hemmick for guidance and ended up seeing a lot of him. She felt listened to and believed in with him. She felt like he treated her as more mature than the way her family treated her. She trusted him. He abused that.

If you asked her at the time, she would have said it was consensual between them. But she was 16. And when she became pregnant, he turned on her REAL fast lemme tell you. He made her promise not to tell anyone that he was the father, and he only told his wife. And of course, when he told his wife, he talked at length about how this 16 year old girl tempted him to sin; how he regretted it and only hoped she could learn to truly find God.

So he took the child in upon being born as a way to "attone" for what he'd done, but the whole community (not knowing he was the father) just saw it as an act of good will. And of course he'd tout off a lot in his sermons about how he'd be able to give the baby a much better, holier lifestyle than a teenager who turned her back on god by having sex.

So he and his wife end up raising Tilda from birth, but they make sure she knows from the beginning the circumstances of her birth. They drill it into her that her mother was a dirty sinner and that she herself is tainted as a result. She is raised always feeling like she needs to be twice as good to even be considered half as good as her brother in her parents eyes.

Naturally, she stops trying pretty early. In middle school, I imaging her being one of those bullies. The really nasty ones who get violent at their victims for even looking at them wrong. Idk about anyone else, but in my schools growing up the fights between the girls were always way bloodier than the ones between the guys. And I imagine those as the types of fights she got in- especially when one of her victims decides to stand up for themselves by throwing her own baggage back in her face.

By high school, she was thoroughly committed to the role of problem child. She would do everything she could to upset her family and get herself into shit. She'd do drugs, skip classes, show up to school drunk, stay out late, etc. In addition to all this, she would purposefully find whatever guy seemed like the most trouble and take him home. Whether this was the school drug dealer, a boy who got expelled for some rough shit, or college boys who caught her eye at parties.

So she's basically dug this hole for herself where she's committed to actually being the child of sin that her family has always seen her as anyway. The few people who tried to reach out to her wouldn't get far. She would push and push at them to see how far she could stretch their patience (to see how long it took them to give up on her like everyone else).

She even had one teacher who never did give up on her. But she outright told Tilda that she can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. Those words would ring in Tildas ears for years to come, even if she never found it in herself to put the concept into action.

So eventually she'd graduate- just barely because she rarely put in effort in school- and she'd be left to suddenly have to find a place in the world when she previously never even thought she'd have a future. She started batting heads with her family even more (which no one thought was possible at that point) but it became less antagonistic on her end. She was still a shit stirrer, don't get me wrong. But she was getting tired. The fights were less about her being intentionally aggrevating and aggressive and more about her continuously being unable to live up to their expectations.

Luther already had a promising job as a cop at this point, meanwhile she was still living at home and bouncing between jobs that barely kept her afloat and boyfriends that barely made her feel worth something. She'd gotten into drugs in high school, and the habit only got worse now that she was out. It was the only thing that made her feel something other than misery or numbness. She could lose herself in the drugs and the boyfriends and the late nights out. She would come home to see her parents less and less and would speak to them only when absolutely necessary.

Eventually Mr. Hemmick died fairly young (heart attack or something equally as tragic. Whatever I dont care about him enough to pick the details) and his wife followed soon after by suicide. The house was left to Luther, who moved back in immediately and said there'd be changes in the household. He basically told Tilda to quit the drugs and go back to church if she wanted to stay in the house. He also had other rules like keeping a job, dumping her current boyfriend, giving her a curfew, etc.

So she left. She took her shitty beat up car an ex had fixed up for her and headed to California. A friend from high school lived out that way, so that's where she headed.

During this period in her life the drugs got a lot worse. This is also when she realized that she had become addicted. Mainly this is because, even after being away from her family and having freedom, she was still miserable. She didn't know how to get through a day sober. The constant variation between numbness and misery was too much to bare, but she wasn't ready to help herself. She wasn't ready to commit to her own healing and health.

She was in and out of therapy and rehab as quickly as she'd change jobs and partners. She wouldn't commit, and as soon as she had an out she'd take it. Had to miss an appointment for scheduling? Didn't make it back to the shelter in time to claim her bed for the night? Forgot to call back one of the few people who tried to reach out? No going back.

This is my main thing with Tilda. She was a shitty person who had a shitty life. But she never found the strength and commitment in herself to put in the work to be better. She instead let herself fall further and further down the hole because it was easier than pulling herself out. Because part of her still believed deep down that she had succeeded in living up to her birthright- that she wasn't deserving of ever healing or being better.

It was in one of these rehab facilities that she met the twins' father (and this part is absolutely inspired by Luke and Joey from the haunting of hill house). He was a guy with a similar past to hers- always sure he was meant to be bad so he committed to the role and never learned to commit to anything else. The difference between them, though, was that he was ready to get better.

They became fast friends and leaned on one another a bit while in rehab. She didn't see him as anything other than a friend, but he unfortunately became set on this idea that they would heal and move forward together. She knew he had feelings for her and enabled him (she didn't love him back but had never actually felt cared for like this before). He believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself, which was a lot. Unfortunately for him, he also ended up being more committed to her healing than she was. When she eventually started spiraling again, all other feelings for him were overshadowed by the part of her that just saw an opportunity.

She took advantage of him. She slept with him, took his money while he was sleeping, and bailed to get high and never see him again. Now I'm not gonna say she was just a devil who entered this poor man's life. He saw her more as a potential for an ideal life than a person. He was more in love with the dream he had of them getting better and starting a life together than he was actually in love with her and who she was as a person. Bad match all around.

So she never saw or heard from him again. When she found out she was pregnant, she went home to Luther and his wife and son. She didn't tell him right away that she was pregnant. Instead, she pretended she was just finally ready to commit to God and turn her life around. She played the part alright for a while, went to church with them and got sober and everything, but tried to leave and move into a women's shelter when she started showing. Luther found out and brought her home.

At first he was actually super supportive- mainly because he just genuinely thought she wanted to find God and stop "living in sin". But when she finally told him she didn't plan to keep the child, he turned on her.

We know the story from there. Personally I think the night that she stole the money and ran as her point of no return. Years down the line, when she knew she was being a terrible mother and person, she'd remember that night. And she'd think to herself how this is who she was always meant to be. How she doesnt deserve to be any better than how she is. And she'd dig the hole deeper.

-----

So yeah thats my take on Tilda Minyard. Sorry it was so long. I like the idea of giving depth and complexity to female characters- even the bad guys and the ones I don't like. I have a similar lengthy life concept for Mary Hatford as well, but it isn’t nearly as long. If anyone is curious lol

Thanks again for asking!

#aftg #aftg meta #tilda minyard #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #twinyards #tfc #give female characters depth and complexity 2k21 #my writing

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whynoteswhispered · 4 years ago

Text

Tales of a Loved Ninja (pt 1)

Idk; I’ve been in such a Jiraiya mood recently that this was bound to happen.

(Very fluffy, uhhh idk)

word count: 4,930 (oops)

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The warm sun beamed on to your skin as you walked down the path to Icharuku. You couldn’t help but emptily smile at each person you came by; waving and speaking to most as they passed by.

Minato didn’t allow you much time for lunch, so grabbing ramen to go was the most reasonable way to go – plus you had a phone call to make before lunch was over.

“(y/n) Sensei.” You felt a hand tap the back of your shoulder. Swiftly turning around, you looked down to see Kakashi. Every time you saw him you couldn’t help but feel proud; you had watched him grow into an incredible shinobi – and though against your wishes, he made a great ANBU member as well.

“Hey, Kashi!” You patted the top of his head - watching the small amount of cheek above his mask turn red.

“Can I eat ramen with you today?” He reached up to the counter grabbing his to-go bowl of ramen, and then swiftly turned back to you.

You heard your name called as well so you quickly grabbed your container, looking over at the clock to see how much longer you had on lunch.

Fifteen minutes. It took at least five minutes to walk back to the academy which then only gave you ten minutes on the phone; if he answers.

“Sensei?” Kakashi was waving his hands in front of your face, you finally snapped back to reality and smiled at him, “So?” he questioned.

“You know I have to make a phone call; you can hang out in my classroom while I make that call if you would like.” You turned around and started the trek back to the academy, you could hear Kakashi’s feet trek quietly behind you.

“He isn’t worth your worry.” You kept your eyes forward – this wasn’t the first time he’s tried to start an argument over him.

“Kashi, don’t you think it’s wildly inappropriate for you to meddle into my personal life?” Sadly, you knew the answer to this – he cared about you as if the two of you were family.

“Don’t you think it’s wildly inappropriate to be throwing yourself at someone who is nearly double your age.” His voice was annoyed; making fun of you with each word that came out of his mouth.

Was it wildly inappropriate? You didn’t think so. Sure there was a large age difference, but meeting Jiraiya was one of the best things that had happened to you.

“How has ANBU been?” You switched the subject, knowing that there was no winning the conversation about Jiriaya “Are you still having nightmares?”

“Shh,” He hushed you; you could hear the embarrassment in his voice. “ANBU has been fine; yes, the nightmares still happen.” His voice was defeated. He sounded as though he was an old man who had lost everything, instead he was just fifteen and had lost everything.

“Kashi,” you turned around meeting his glance, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “I can talk to Minato about letting you out. You have to take care of yourself too.”

He shook his head, “I’m fine (y/n) Sensei.”

“You haven’t been acting fine.” You turned back towards the academy, “Guy came and spoke to me the other day – Kashi, he’s worried about you. He says you’re reading books about honorable death, that you won’t speak to any of them, and that you just aren’t acting like yourself.”

You had been worried about him for a few years now, but he never let you talk to him about his problems. He always acted like everything was fine; but you could see the subtle differences: the bags under his eyes, the way he would throw himself in front of danger regardless of circumstances, you’ve caught him crying to himself several times. He didn’t tell you about the nightmares until you went to check on him one day and walked in on him washing his hands and sobbing over the sink; saying Rin’s name repeatedly, staring at his hands as if he was witnessing that moment happening on repeat. After that, Kakashi opened up to you a bit – and you checked on him more often, buying him groceries and occasionally bringing him dinner to ensure he was eating.

When Minato told you he was going to suggest ANBU to Kakashi you begged Minato to listen to your concerns, but as his Sensei he thought what he was doing was the best way for Kakashi to deal with the death of his teammates. The following months after he joined you watched him break down further and further; he is a mere shell of the person he was just a few years prior.

“I could be doing better.” Kakashi’s words shocked you, but you kept your eyes forward knowing that looking back at him would likely embarrass him. “I just, I can’t shake it (y/n) Sensei. Every time I close my eyes I see Rin’s face looking back at me in shock? Anger? I could never understand the emotion she gave me and it haunts me in every passing moment. I deserve it though, I killed her. I couldn’t keep my promise to Obito – I couldn’t keep her safe.”

Everything in you wanted you to turn around and hug him; to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. “Kashi, it wasn’t your fault. No one blames you for that incident. Not even Obito would see it as your fault.”

You could hear him start to sniffle, but you were certain he was holding back tears – regardless of how broken he was, he was still one of the strongest shinobi you had been around

“I, I know.” He stumbled over his words, letting out a large exhale once he finished speaking.

You opened the door into the academy, letting Kakashi walk in front of you.

As soon as he got in front of you, you placed your hand atop his head, rustling his hair.

“You can always talk to me; my door is always open – you know that.” You patted his head as the two of you began to ascend the stairs. “And if you don’t want to talk to that’s fine as well – but just know you aren’t alone, okay?”

Kakashi stopped outside of your door, turning around to meet your eyes; through his mask, you could see a small smile coming across his face. “Thank you (y/n) Sensei.”

“Mhm.” You nodded, unlocking the door so he could immediately run in to sit on the beanbag beside your desk.

Looking over at the clock you realized that you only had about five minutes left of lunch to call Jiriaya and eat. You couldn’t help but look over at Kakashi and wonder if he would be okay for those five minutes. Even though he gave you a hard time, you knew he enjoyed seeing you happy. He was like a younger brother to you, and he looked to you as an older sister.

“Do you mind?” You pointed towards your closet; which is where the phone was kept, “He hasn’t answered in the last few days – so I at least want to attempt to check on him.” You gave him a slight smile – waiting for him to inevitably roll his eyes at you.

“Go ahead.” And as you started walking towards the closet you watched him roll his eyes at you just slightly; you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

The closet was small but you had found comfort in its existence when you started to call Jiraiya during lunch. He would forever be considered a Legendary Sannin of the Leaf, but he was rarely ever in the village itself. Most people speculated what he was up to; but you knew the truth – that he was constantly watching and keeping track of Orichumaru’s movements and writing. He also tended to drink a bit too much when he was out, but you couldn’t blame him considering all he puts on himself.

You grabbed the phone and began dialing the only number you had memorized. Placing the phone up to your ear, you took a deep breath in – fully expecting him to not answer once again. And though you knew he was safe, it was hard not to worry about him when you never got to see him.

You listened to the phone ring. Once, twice, three times; you were almost certain that he was probably once again too busy to answer. Then you heard the click of the phone.

“Jiraiya?” You questioned.

“Hey (y/n).” You immediately felt a smile come across your face; you hadn’t heard his voice in several weeks – you only told Kakashi a few days so that he wouldn’t worry for you.

“Where are you? Are you okay??” You couldn’t help but immediately overload him with questions. The feeling of tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes made you immediately wipe them away, knowing if Kakashi heard you crying he would only think the worse.

“I’m fine, but hmmm where am I? That’s a good question, isn’t it? Want to take a guess?” His tone was playful; oh how you had missed his voice.

“Are you in the Sand village?” You knew you had no option but to play the game with him or he wouldn’t tell you.

“Think closer.” His voice was giddier this time.

Closer? “Are you in the Land of Fire?” You didn’t want to be hopeful, but you couldn’t help but hope that he would be swinging through for a visit.

“I’m in the office.”

“The office?” Your mind began to run at max speed. Did he mean the Hokage office?

“Mhm, the office.” You could hear him let out a light chuckle.

Without thinking you immediately hung up the phone, nearly dropping it from excitement. As you opened the door, Kakashi’s eyes immediately turned to you; curiosity filling his eyes.

“He’s back?” He questioned as you placed your ramen on the desk.

Turning to answer him, you couldn’t help but let a huge smile spread across your face. “Yes, he’s with Minato.”

“And you’re going? Isn’t lunch almost over?” he went back to eating his ramen; he knew your answer before he even asked it.

“I don’t have a class after lunch and I’ll be back before the next class; you can hang out in here if you want.” You started to turn towards the door but stopped yourself, “Will you be okay? I can stay if I need to?” You loved Jiraiya and had no idea how long he would be in the village, but Kakashi needed someone to be there for him and you couldn’t take that away from him.

You immediately felt your heart warm as you watched a smile spread across his face, his eyes never leaving his bowl of ramen. “I wouldn’t stop you from seeing him; even if I don’t like him. But if you aren’t back by the time your class gets here I’m going to make them go to the training grounds.”

“Okay Kashi, you can torture my students if I’m not back in time.” You let out a laugh as you started to make your way out the door. “You’re sure you’re okay?” you couldn’t help but question him again.

“You better get going before I change my mind.” He threw his hand in the air, gesturing for you to leave.

As soon as you stepped out of the classroom, your pace quickened tremendously. You couldn’t help but nearly run out of the academy.

It had been nearly a year since Jiraiya had been in the village; and you had only been talking to him for a few weeks at that point. You had met him at a bar after the Chunin exams; he hit on you instantly. But you weren’t interested – at least not interested in what he was interested in. Both of you drank quite a few drinks, and he attempted to invite you back to his place but you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. You’ll never forget his face when you did that; he looked shocked as if he had never been turned down in his life. Before leaving the bar you gave him your phone number and told him to call you the next morning if he was still interested. To your surprise, he called you shortly after you woke up the next morning. The most shocking part was that the phone call wasn’t awkward – it felt as though you were talking to a friend you had had your entire life. You both laughed and told jokes, he talked about Orichumaru and you talked about the death of your parents; it was like talking to someone who understood everything even if they hadn’t been through it. He listened when you talked, and you hadn’t had someone listen to you in what had felt like years. The two of you stayed talking on the phone for hours, it was dark outside before the two of you decided it was time to hang up but before that Jiraiya initiated setting up a date to Icharuku.

You couldn’t help but feel your smile growing bigger with each passing step towards the Hokage building.

You had never been to Icharuku before Jiraiya took you; ramen just wasn’t something you ever thought about when looking for restaurants to eat at – plus your parents weren’t the biggest ramen fans so it wasn’t something you were used to eating.

As soon as you got to Icharuku, Jiraiya was waiting outside the curtain for you. As soon as his eyes met yours, his face filled with a smile. The two of you went in and ordered ramen; you let him pick out what you were going to eat since you had no clue what to order – and it did not disappoint. The two of you drank and ate ramen as you talked just as you did the day prior on the phone; this time with more emotion. The booth filled with the noise of the two of you laughing for hours. He walked you home that night; he never tried to do anything funny – he stopped outside your apartment door and kissed the top of your head. As soon as you unlocked your door he began to descend back down the stairwell.

You opened the door and began to sprint up the stairs to get to the Hokage office. Several visitors gave you awkward glances as you passed by them with a huge smile spread across your face.

There were two ANBU members stationed outside of the office, but they didn’t even give you a second glance as you walked up to the door. Without much thought, you pushed the doors open without even knocking. As soon as the doors creaked open, your eyes met Jiraiya’s and you couldn’t help but move quickly. You could feel Minato watching you, but not an ounce of you cared. You opened your arms and threw yourself around him as soon as he got in touching distance.

In a blur, the two of you fell backward onto the ground – Jiraiya immediately holding you tightly to ensure you wouldn’t get hurt.

You both busted out laughing; you could even hear Minato let out a chuckle.

“I’m sorry.” You said softly as you pushed your head deep into his shoulders; his arms pulling you tightly against him.

“You know, Minato and I could’ve been talking about information that you didn’t need to hear.” You could hear the teasing tone in his voice.

You pushed yourself up so that you could look at him, his hand immediately moving up to your face to push the hair away from your eyes. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.” You hadn’t thought much when coming in, your only thought was seeing Jiraiya.

“You know you’re kind of cute when you miss me.” His arms wrapped around you again, pulling you tight against him once again.

Before he left, the two of you held each other for hours in bed; talking about how you were going to stay in contact, you listened to his worries for the missions he was out to complete, he listened to your worries about him going out on missions by himself. Though the two of you mostly just stayed silent – enjoying each other’s presence while you could. When you dozed off in his arms, you woke up to him having already left. A note rested upon the pillow where his head was laid up hours prior.

You could feel the tears well up against your eyes; you hadn’t realized how much you had needed this hug.

“Jiraiya.” Minato’s soft voice echoed through the room.

Jiraiya laughed as he picked you up off of him; placing you back on to the ground as he stood up to address Minato.

“Sorry Minato.” Jiraiya smiled at him. “Am I good to leave?”

You began to stand up and Minato laughed, “Get out of here you two; what has it been a little over a year?” you shook your head. “Go.” He gestured towards the door and Jiraiya immediately grabbed your hand in his, nearly tugging you behind him.

“You’re still coming over later though, right? I’ve already told Kushina the two of you would be there for dinner.” You looked back at Minato who was smiling ear-to-ear at the two of you.

“We will be there.” Jiraiya never turned around, instead he kept tugging you forward out the door; Minato waved at you as made your way through the door.

You managed to find your pace in his, and instead of being tugged behind him, you were happily walking in stride with him. His large hand completely wrapped around yours; his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of your hand as the two of you walked down the stairs.

“I missed hearing your voice.” As you made your way to the bottom of the stairs he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in towards him. The people around you watched the two of you; it wasn’t as if people didn’t know who Jiraiya was – he was a hero of the village, and people knew who you were because you were a teacher at the academy; most though weren’t aware of your relationship.

You could feel the judgment through most people’s eyes; it was to be expected. Jiraiya had himself sold around the village as a pervert and you were sure most people were likely imagining that you were just his next prey. But honestly, he had never made those types of advances towards you – you set up boundaries and he respected them. He would occasionally make a dirty joke, but it was nothing more than a way to make you laugh.

“You were the one who wasn’t answering the phone.” You gripped his hand tighter. Those few weeks without hearing from him were rough; you could only imagine the terrible things that could’ve possibly happened to him – but you kept your hopes up, thinking if something had happened to him that the village would eventually find out.

He pulled your hand into the air, spinning you in a circle and pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry.” His hands moved from yours and he placed them gently against your face, pulling you towards him.

You could feel your heart rate accelerate as he guided your face to his; his lips opened slightly and you couldn’t help but smile as your lips crashed onto his.

Before he left you hadn’t even kissed him yet; your relationship wasn’t much of a physical one. He was used to one-night stands and he didn’t want your relationship to be the same as the others.

His cologne lingered on you; the smell of oak and musk; as he slowly released his hands from your face, letting his lips fall off of yours. As you met his eyes you could see a smile spread across his face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time now.” He pulled you back under his arm, your face turning red with embarrassment as you notice the several onlookers the two of you had.

“How long are you here for?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him; the rush of euphoria that you experienced from your lips meeting his vanished and was replaced with panic – this could be his only day in the village.

“I’m back for a while.” He looks over at you, wiping the singular tear that you weren’t able to keep held in, “Minato needs me here for some things, so don’t worry about me leaving quite yet.”

The two of you continued walking hand-in-hand until you got to the riverfront. Jiraiya took his time stretching and then sat beside you on the grass; watching the currents in the water.

“I can’t stay out here for long, I have to get back to my class- “

He cut you off before you were even able to finish your thought, “Don’t worry about your class – Minato got it covered for you.” He laid back onto the grass, stretching his arms behind you and staring up at the clouds moving through the sky.

“Sorry again for interrupting in the office earlier; I just, I wasn’t thinking.” You shook your head in frustration at yourself when you heard Jiraiya chuckle behind you. His large hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you down to lie beside him.

“(y/n), Minato knew as soon as I answered your phone call that our conversation was over; really, he knew as soon as your lunch break started that our conversation was as good as over.” You couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Wait,” it finally hit you that Minato knew of your relationship – “did you tell Minato?”

Jiraiya cocked his head slightly to look at you, his face calm. “Well, I knew you would be calling me; and considering I was there on official orders I felt it was best to let him know. I wouldn’t worry about him though, he’s just happy to see me happy.” His hand found yours, his fingers interlacing with yours. “Should it be a secret that we are together?” he seemed to be slightly upset at the idea of this.

“I, I just haven’t told anyone.” You pondered this thought for a moment, “Well, expect for Kakashi.”

“White Fang’s kid?” Jiraiya perched himself up a bit; curiosity was written across his face.

“Mhm,” You smiled as you let your gaze leave him and you returned to looking at the clouds. “I’ve watched over him since he died; he’s like a brother to me. He eats in my classroom nearly every day so he’s known since the beginning.” Laughing, you couldn’t help but continue, “He doesn’t like you much though, especially with your reputation.” Jiraiya knew you were only joking; though he did have quite a reputation in the village.

“Ahh, I see.” You could hear him lie back on the grass, “How is he after the incident with Rin?”

You were taken aback by this question. He was rarely in the village, and though that incident was quite horrific you didn’t imagine that he had heard about it. “He, uh –” You tried to think of a way to answer this question without completely disrespecting Kakashi, “He’s as good as you could be after losing one teammate and accidentally killing the other.”

“So, not too good?”

“No, not so great at all.” You pondered if you should drop the conversation, but you had at least one more thing you wanted to bring up, “Minato put him in ANBU after Rin.”

“Yeah, I recall him telling me about that.” You could tell by the tone of his voice that he must have also disagreed with that decision.

“It’s made him worse; they call him ‘Cold-Blooded Kakashi,’ he won’t talk to anyone, well except me – but I have to force it out of him most of the time. But, he won’t leave ANBU.” You could only hope that Kakashi was okay; you had left him in your classroom – but hopefully, he had left and gone on home. Maybe Kushina would have leftovers you could take him.

“I can’t do anything about what Minato does, even if I was his Sensei, he won’t listen to me – especially when it comes to his team. He’s gone through the same losses as Kakashi; he didn’t take any of those events easily. I’m sure he imagines himself in Kakashi’s position, and for him maybe ANBU sounded like the best healing mechanism.” He paused for a moment, “I’m sorry I can’t help him (y/n).”

You shook your head, “It’s fine; I didn’t expect you to able to, but I had to at least try.” His hand tightened around yours.

“I could talk to him though; I won’t tell him I know anything – “

You cut him off before he could even go any further with that thought, “No, you can’t do that. He would immediately know I told you something. He’s incredibly smart; I would go as far as to say that he’s the best shinobi the Leaf has ever had.”

That piqued his interest, he sat up beside you, watching your face. “The best shinobi of the Leaf, huh?”

“Maybe I’m biased, but I’m almost certain Minato would agree.”

Jiraiya laughed, shaking his head in agreement. “I would say I know for certain he agrees.”

The two of you stay by the riverfront for hours; talking about the past year as if you hadn’t talked on the phone for a good majority of it. He told you that he finished his book; Tales of a Gutsy Ninja. He didn’t have a copy on him, but he promised he would give one to you. You told him about your class this year. You had told him about Shisui Uchiha; the most promising student you had. He was years above his class; he would likely be allowed to graduate early if he kept at the pace he was going. You both couldn’t help but get lost in conversation with each other. He continued, telling you about what it was like training Minato, he brought up the three kids he taught from Amegakure; Konan, Nagato, and Yahiko. He talked about them frequently, even during your phone calls. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing and if they were still alive; surviving the war-stricken land. Jiraiya talked about them as if they were his children; it made you upset that he wouldn’t go visit them.

“When need to get going,” he stood up beside you, offering his hand to aid in helping you up. He lifted you from the ground with ease. “Kushina will get upset if we are late.” He patted down his legs to remove the dirt that was spread across them; you did the same to yourself.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I go?” you reached out for his hand; you didn’t want to be a burden on Minato and Kushina.

“Trust me (y/n), if you didn’t show up Kushina would not be pleasant to deal with – plus, she’s excited to have another woman to share the evening with since it’s normally just myself.” He grabbed onto your hand.

You shook your head, still nervous at the idea.

The two of you walked as the sky began to turn orange and the sun began to make its descent for the evening. The air was brisk, but Jiraiya kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders; laughing and making jokes through the entire walk.

As you arrived at the walk path to their door, you could feel your heart rate quicken; but as if he could tell, he wrapped his hand tightly around yours, squeezing it with comfort.

This was the first time the two of you were going out as a couple – at least a known couple; your first outing had to of course be at the Hokage’s residence.

“It’ll be fun.” Jiraiya pulled you along with him, stopping at the door, he turned to you and kissed the top of your head.

His knuckles hit the door with several loud strikes and you could hear Kushina yell at Minato to go answer the door; within seconds you could hear the door being unlocked. Minato immediately glanced over at you, as if to ensure that you had indeed come with Jiraiya; a smile spread across his face.

“Hi!” he opened the door up for the door of you, “Come on in!” he exclaimed.

You took a deep breath; hand still wrapped tightly in Jiraiya’s. The two of you followed in-behind Minato, who seemed happier than normal – which was saying something considering how bubbly his personality was.

As soon as you made it into their living area, you could hear Kushina moving around in the kitchen.

“I’ll be there in a moment!” She exclaimed as you heard the sounds of dishes being tossed about.

Jiraiya had let go of your hand to walk over to Minato; the two of them deep in conversation. Both of them with smiles spread across their faces; Minato occasionally blushing. You could only begin to imagine the things that Jiraiya could be saying to him.

“Oh!” you looked up to see Jiraiya staring at the doorway; your eyes naturally following his.

“Oh!” You couldn’t help but let out a sound a surprise.

Kushina was standing in the doorway; her belly round with child and her face bright with joy.

#naruto #jiraiya #jiraiya x reader #minato namikaze #minato x kushina #fanfic #this is on wattpad and ao3 but like here you go #kakashi

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citrineghost · 4 years ago

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Humans Are Historically Known for Being Terrible

Hi I’m here with an opinion today. Let’s see how many words it will take for me to adequately get it across on this very fine 15th of January

I personally believe canceling things from the past* is fruitless, pointless, and accomplishes about as much as censorship does

*We aren’t talking about shit like nazi Germany, let me elaborate further

So, as I occasionally do, I have seen a post on my dash today criticizing something historical that people are ‘problematically partaking in.’ That thing today was the wellerman sea shanty due to its ties with colonialism, slavery, and so forth.

I’m not going to dive into this specific example, because I don’t know enough of the details and am not interested in going to find them out because I’m not planning to defend it or its history, so there’s no point. I learned what I needed to know from said callout post and it’s enough to work with.

To me, it is important that we remember that people, in general, have been historically pretty terrible.

There’s colonialism, there’s slavery (of all kinds, including chattel), there’s thievery, murder, genocide, sexism, the murdering of queers. There’s lying, manipulation, propaganda, and so many more things that I couldn’t possibly list them all. I’m not saying that everyone was equally shitty. I am aware that, especially in the most recent couple hundred years, white people, especially Western Europeans and Americans, have been pretty Shite.

Am I excusing them for their actions? Absolutely not. I think it is always important to bear in mind the way they played a part in cultures’ growth, death, and, ultimately, development from one year to the next.

The reason I’m pointing this out is because the result of people being historically shitty is that most, if not all, of our historical content, our history, is steeped in horse manure.

There is not one thing you can enjoy from centuries - even decades - passed that is not here because of something inhumane, unjust, or otherwise terrible.

The only thing keeping us from canceling every other historical thing that we enjoy is our lack of awareness of how each thing ties into the whole mess.

So, we’ve learned that wellerman was sung by slavers and thieves and colonialists. What about that nice little folk song from uh, idk, Ireland or something? Let’s take this metaphorical song and ask the question, “who wrote it?” The truth is, for many folk songs, we just don’t know. There is a very very good chance that 90+ percent of nice, soft folk songs about lying in the grass or feeding chickens or baking bread for your spouse were written by racists, sexists, abusers, homophobes, and so forth.

Does that make it wrong to enjoy that song about lying in the grass and looking at the stars? I don’t think so. No one is profiting off of you listening to it, regardless of who wrote it. It’s hundreds of years old. Do you even know the name of who wrote it?

Remembering that times were different may not absolve something of its wrongdoing, but it does provide us context.

We have to allow ourselves to admit that most, if not all, historical things, came from or benefitted from atrocities or injustices that we would not stand for today. That’s just how human progression works. Frankly, if people 200 years from now don’t look at US, CURRENTLY, and think we’re terrible assholes, I am actually very concerned by that.

The nature of humanity is to get better and better over time and to build a world and a society where we don’t feel the need to be controlled by greed or to consume unethically. The problem is, it takes time. It takes lots and lots of time. Would it take less time if certain people weren’t terrible, terrible people? Yes it would. But they are, and so it doesn’t.

The fact is, human progression and improvement will never reach its end because, as things improve, our perception of our past actions will change as well and we will begin to realize that what we were doing wasn’t acceptable and is no longer necessary nor excusable.

Hate Jeff Bezos? Look around and see that 90% of people still buy from Amazon, because it provides the only affordable source of many products for people who don’t make enough money under capitalism to buy from a small business.

Hate Bill Gates? How many of us are willing to switch to Linux to quit using Microsoft? Speaking of Microsoft, they own Minecraft. Do we stop playing Minecraft?

Think Steve Jobs is a terrible person? Why are people still buying iphones, ipads, and macs? Why don’t we stop buying those so that he and current CEO, Tim Cook, quit making billions of dollars?

These are just a tiny amount of examples, using big names. We also must consider, if you have 100 books on your bookshelf, how many of the writers of those books are racists, homophobes, sexists, or abusers? I guarantee you it’s a non-zero answer. The thing is, an author who’s relatively nobody is not someone who gets canceled. No one knows anything about them but that they wrote a neat work of fiction and it’s a good book.

The question is, should we be expected to quit buying, consuming, and enjoying things made by problematic people?

In some cases, the answer should be yes. If someone is currently profiting massively from people consuming their media or products and people are ignoring their atrocities, that person could end u making millions or billions of dollars despite being terrible, which is something that undoubtedly affects all of us, economically.

In the other cases, the answer should be, do you want to? If you’re not comfortable with something, you should, of course, stop consuming it. If you can ignore the thing, you might not need to bother. And, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re excusing it.

If we look at all of humanity, even in the present day, mathematically speaking, 50% of people are more bigoted and terrible than the rest. There’s no other way for it to be. Less than 50% would be a mathematical fallacy. Does that mean we only consume content from the better 50%? Does that mean we rigorously research producers and creators and their personal lives only to decide it’s not worth the risk of ‘contributing’ because they have no trace online except for a private Facebook account? Is them having a Facebook account enough of a ‘sin’ that it’s not worth it to buy their book?

This brings us to the censorship point

If you know your history, you know that censorship is a nasty thing. When one person decides who or what is unethical to consume from, they sometimes seek to get rid of that thing so that no one has a choice - so that no one is Allowed to consume that thing.

This has led to book burning, the destroying of decades and centuries of research about sexuality and gender. It’s destroyed religious texts. It’s destroyed content created by women that painted any single man in a bad light. It’s destroyed progression.

“But I only want to get rid of the bad thing that everyone agrees is bad!”

It doesn’t matter. If you open the door to censorship for yourself, those who wish to use it for worse reasons will become just as justified, in their own eyes, to do the same. You’ll have Christians saying it’s okay to get rid of gay content because it’s objectively wrong according to the bible. You’ll have conservative parents burning books with complicated topics like abuse and assault because they don’t want their children to have access to anything controversial or complex like that.

You cannot open the door to censorship for one group without opening that door for everyone. And that is why we do not censor things.

The question then becomes, but what of the people consuming that media? Even if it’s not censored, consuming it still makes someone bad, right?

Not necessarily. People consume problematic stuff all the time - things considered objectively bad. However, people don’t always consume said media because they support it being normalized in the real world. For example, fanfiction or books with rape in them may be something a victim reads to cope with their own past or present. A book with abuse depicted may actually make a young teen aware that what they’re going through is abuse. Content largely seen as ‘problematic’ can often play a part in solving the problem it portrays.

Then there’s historical, problematic media. Now, this is an area where I feel things have actually been OVER complicated.

Because everything historical has some tie to injustice, there is no ethical way to consume it.

There is no ethical consumption under passed time.

So, how do we judge whether something should or shouldn’t be consumed? It is my opinion that something historical should stop being consumed and become shunned when its meaning is well-known enough and its message is still pervasive enough that it is actively causing problems.

For example, we generally try not to consume content when it is made by someone who is a known nazi. This is because nazis are still a problem in our society, presently. We have antisemitism all over the place. Therefore, we cannot let the message become that it is okay to be a nazi by way of us treating nazis like normal people and allowing them to succeed in society without consequence.

However, there are certain problems that are no longer particularly prevalent or which are agreed to be terrible on a large enough scale that consuming the content does not necessarily imply you believe it is okay. For example, if you look at literally any media from the 1800s or which is placed in the 1800s, you will see a lot of casual sexism and gender roles. Should we despise that time period because sexism was readily available at every turn? Should we refuse to enjoy 19th century fashion or culture because it had problems? I think not. I think it would be pointless to refuse to consume, read about, or otherwise engage with the 19th century. It wouldn’t change the past and it isn’t going to somehow undo the progress we’ve made on women’s rights.

As a matter of fact, if someone merely suggested that perhaps the people of the 19th century were right for forcing women to wear long dresses and darn socks all day, they would be laughed into oblivion and called a shitty, sexist incel (which would be correct).

Does enjoying media from or placed in the 19th century mean you support sexism? I certainly hope not, since I enjoy it very much and know a lot of progressive people, women especially, who do enjoy that kind of thing. It is common sense enough, at this point in time, that people don’t generally believe that the sexism of the 1800s was acceptable. I am not going to see someone watching a period drama and assume they desire for our present-day social laws to be like what’s portrayed. That would be a ridiculous assumption. However, I could not assume the same about someone I saw watching openly antisemitic content. I would quickly wonder if they’re an antisemite/nazi/white supremacist.

So, what about that one thing I heard had a sordid past?

Listen, if we’re being honest here, most things from history have a sordid past. Sea shanties? You bet. But then when we talk of sea shanties being steeped in colonialism, we have to look at the bigger picture. What about pirates? Pirates were, by and large, a huge contributor to slavery, theft, colonialism, and murder. Does that mean enjoying media with pirates is glorifying or contributing to slavery, theft, colonialism, and murder?

(I’m about to talk a lot about pirates but this can be applied to anything that was historically bad but is no longer prevalent)

Pirates of the Caribbean is only a movie, but pirates did once exist and they did kill people. They did raid ships of merchants and tradesmen and they killed them and stole their goods. They took many good men from their families and even killed working children aboard the ships. Does that make enjoying pirates in media a contributor to these things? No. It doesn’t. We are looking at a dramatised, cleaned up version of the original piracy. I think most people are aware that pirates, in the real world, are bad and harmful and should not be supported. That doesn’t make pirate media any less fun in theory, and under our own terms.

Then we arrive at our perception - because most of this does come down to perception. When you watch pirate media, should you enjoy that, are you able to divorce yourself from their actual history enough to enjoy the media? If you can, you might enjoy it a lot. If you can’t watch a movie about pirates without thinking the entire time about how terrible they were and how much damage they did, then pirate media just isn’t right for you. But, it doesn’t mean you should attempt to take it away from others. Your opinion and perception of pirate media is not the global perception.

I have to ask, do you think others view it the same way you do?

When you read that question, you may be wondering what exactly I mean. What I’m asking is, do you believe others view that media with the same “clarity” that you do? Do you believe they understand the atrocity of real pirates and Feel that the entire time they watch the media and still enjoy it anyway?

Perhaps that’s why your response to someone enjoying something you feel guilty partaking in is, “these people all must not care about the real-world damage pirates did. The fact that they can watch this (despite sitting here and feeling the same things I do) makes me sick.”

However, if that is the case, you must remember that for a lot of people, the awareness of real world consequence is suspended during dramatised depictions of it. It doesn’t mean they have forgotten about the real-world consequences of piracy or that they don’t know it at all. It just means they are choosing not to think about it in that light while consuming media.

There is also the assumption that people must not know about something when partaking in it. You may think, “How can they enjoy this media? They wouldn’t be able to stomach it if they realized what really happened with pirates.”

In many instances, you would be correct. A lot of people are ignorant to what pirates have done in the real world. If you told every ignorant person the truth, maybe 5% of them would then become turned off by pirate media, and the other 95% would keep the truth in mind and then divorce themselves from it to continue enjoying said media.

There are realities that it is safe to divorce yourself from, and there are those that are not.

Is allowing yourself to enjoy dramatizations of pirates making you ignorant to present day conditions? Not largely. There are still pirates today, but not nearly enough for the average Joe to need to take them seriously. Those who need to know about them and do something to stop them are aware.

However, it is not safe to divorce yourself from, for instance, the holocaust. Divorcing yourself from the holocaust and seeing it as merely a dramatic setting with dramatic events and not a present-day real-world problem is exactly the kind of thing that leads to young teens being sucked in by white supremacy and naziism as well as what leads to many average conservatives believing the rise in white supremacy isn’t actually real or is not a big deal. They have distanced themselves so far from the real-world atrocity of the holocaust that they have forgotten it was real and that real people, like them, were contributors. They don’t want to believe that everyday people had any power in it and that it was tiny acts of willful ignorance that made concentration camps so successful.

All in all, there is a different answer for everything we consume.

Want to know if something you’re consuming is okay to consume? Ask yourself: is this produced by someone who is contributing to present-day conditions? If the answer is yes, quit consuming it. If the answer is no, ask yourself, does this media make me uncomfortable because I’m aware of its roots? If the answer is yes, stop consuming it. If the answer is no, it’s probably fine. You are most likely not doing any damage, so long as you are aware of what is wrong with the content and are not using it as grounds to perpetuate harm.

If, when thinking about something problematic in an old piece of media, you cringe? You’re on the right track. If you feel inclined to make excuses for it or justify the wrong in it, it’s time to step away and reevaluate why you feel the need to do so. If you’re doing so because you feel guilty for consuming it, you need to realize that it is actually more harmful to make excuses for the wrong in order to justify your consumption than it is to admit, “Yeah, this media is problematic and contains a lot of sexism, but I still enjoy it for its other qualities.” It is better to admit that you enjoy something problematic than to spread the message that what is happening in it is okay.

Some of you may be thinking, “Or, just stop consuming problematic media.”

I think in many cases, especially recent media, where your consumption has an effect on production, this is true. However, for media that is no longer being produced, I will remind you that most things have something wrong with them - yes, even pretty recent stuff.

Supernatural kills off women constantly, queerbaited the fuck out of its viewers, and sent a huge character to fucking mega hell for confessing his love.

Scrubs has no end to its sexism, transphobic and homophobic slur usage, and other problematic content.

V for Vendetta glorifies and shines a heroic light on a character who kidnaps and tortures a woman for what appeared to have been weeks or months so that she would be forced to understand his trauma and “no longer be afraid.”

Star Wars has incest, the producers/directors abused Carrie Fisher and sexualized her as a young teen, and probably a lot more that I’m not aware of because I haven’t seen the movies nor read the books.

I don’t even need to start on shows like Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, Community, That 70s Show, and so many more. Almost every popular piece of media has something worth canceling in it. There is no point trying to curate your media consumption to only unproblematic content, because it simply can’t be done.

Curate where it makes a difference. Sigh heavily the rest of the time. Make yourself aware what and how things are problematic. Put critical thought into how your consumption is capable of supporting or perpetuating a problem and how it is not. Make informed decisions.

Do not feel guilty if you are unable to flawlessly live up to the standards of purity culture. None of us can - not really.

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majorshiraharu · 4 years ago

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Personal Ramble - Feel free to ignore

Honestly, didn’t have the best day, despite not getting out of bed till like 1pm I still had to join in on lunch. I also had to eat a type of German apple desert so my throat was swollen for over an hour and I’ve just felt sick the rest of the day. I’m allergic to most fruits, but my mom gets extremely angry if I don’t eat what she makes, so I just take allergy meds and gotta eat it anyway because I don’t want to be yelled at.

And when we were supposed to say what we were thankful for, my mom said the years she had with me before I got ill, so yeah, it sucked. She couldn’t even go one day without putting me down, not even for a holiday.... ugh.

Anyway, on a happier note, I’m thankful for everyone here. When I joined tumblr a few months back, I never thought I’d find so many amazing, talented, supportive and loving people. The support on here is really special and I’m thankful to be just a small part of it. I wish I had more energy, so I could interact with everyone, because I love you all and I want you to know that. <(’.’<)

I’m thankful for my dad and brother because without their support I wouldn’t have a place to live, medical care or anything. And I’m thankful for my best friend who has always been there for me, even if I didn’t talk much. She got diagnosed with cancer a year after I got ill and both of us were still young and going to college. Sharing those experiences around the same time and having it affect our lives so similarly was strange, but also comforting to know I wasn’t alone.

Last but not least, I’m thankful for the people I’ve been able to help in any way, or bring joy to this year. It means a lot to know that there are people I’ve had a positive impact on, especially during 2020.

This is a little more personal and sad at times, so warning about sad stuff and me talking about shitty people in my life, but I wanted to share this. Also, it let me have a good cry about the things I keep trying to repress. I made sure to end it on a cheerful note though because tldr; this blog has made me genuinely happy and gave me a purpose, which is not something I have really ever had.

All my life I’ve struggled with being able to accept any good things I did, I never felt like I was enough. I never enjoyed things because I always felt like I needed to do everything perfectly and if I didn’t, it was a personal failure, it really tore apart my mental health and how I viewed myself.

So I was really scared to share my writing or art, they’ve always been a passion, but between teachers and my mom I always felt like I wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t write an essay for college projects without crying because I misspelled words so often, I cried in classes when I couldn’t read the questions on a test or if I couldn’t understand them. Even though I got really good grades I didn’t think I was smart, I always thought I was dumb, I thought I didn’t deserve those grades, and I felt like a fraud. But the reason I had those grades was because I overworked myself to get them, I was a perfectionist; I put everything I had into getting a good grade. Even if I got 100% on a test, if the teacher marked somewhere that I could have written something better or that my answer wasn’t exactly what they wanted it broke me.

I wish I could explain how much it means to have people say that they liked what I did and slowly I’ve accepted that even if my work isn’t perfect; it doesn’t need to be for it to make someone happy. That’s never something I thought would happen. Sometimes I still feel like I don’t deserve it or I get impostor syndrome, but I’m working hard on improving myself, even if people can’t see it. I hate that it takes so long to work through all my baggage, and I question if it’s worth it because I still don’t see a value in myself. But I see a value in other people, so I work on improving myself for them, I want to be better for them. I know that’s not the best mindset and that we should do things for ourselves, but it’s the only thing I have right now.

I’ve almost died four times due to complications from my crohn’s. One of those times I was actually revived, and I don’t know how to explain it, but I guess in some people it pushes them to do more with their life. But for me it felt like my life was gone, I felt empty. Everything I worked all my life for was over and just being 17 at the time I didn’t know how to move on after that. All my friends were still going on with their lives, they finished college, some got married, and even my best friend who has cancer was able to go back to college and now started her own business. People expected I would go back to college or get a job, and some said if I couldn’t work I should at least get married to “a nice guy” :/ Because I was struggling so much I ended up being left behind by a lot of people, which hurt me even more. I know I wasn’t the most pleasant to be around; I was really depressed and had no energy left to hide it, I often got angry or just cried over stupid things. I hated it when people told me what to eat or do for my health; I hated it when people touched me because it’s triggering, and when people did those things I’d either have a panic attack or I’d get angry at them. The adults that I’ve known all my life blamed me for not moving on. Family and family friends either said hurtful things or stopped talking to me because I never had anything good to talk about, and I was “miserable to be around”.

They thought I was a waste of their time; they blamed me for having crohn’s even though it’s not at all my fault; they blamed me for ruining my parent's marriage, costing them so much money, and even when my dad got cancer a lot of people blamed me. They said all the stress I caused made him get it. Even after all these years they still say all this shit. My mom reminds me every day that she blames me for everything and that my health problems ruined her life, (like how the hell do you think I feel ma) but then she also says my health problems aren’t real and I just need to imagine that I’m healthy again. She also insists that I need to fix the relationship I have with her, despite her being the one that ruined it when she told me after I got diagnosed that I wasn’t her daughter anymore. Also, somehow she’s mad at me for still holding a grudge against her for that, and also the other times she said something much worse to me, like she expects me to forgive her, and she’ll also tell me I have to forgive myself. I’m not the one who was a garbage person and idk you’d think that adults, let alone your own mother, would be better than this...

Sorry for this random dump of my emotions and life problems, it’s a bad habit. I’m not good at sharing this one on one with people because it makes me anxious. And I don’t share it with people I know in real life because most of them are family friends and don’t know how to keep personal stuff a secret. I’m lucky enough to have access to getting mental health counseling, and that it has helped me some, it’s just a lot to go through.

Thank you again for your support and treating me like an actual person that deserves to be happy. This blog makes me feel like I have a purpose again and that this time it’s something I can take my time on and have fun with. And I have a goal, something to look forward to. One day I’d like to write a book. I’d like to write a book that’s based on my life, idk like some silly teenage novel or something xD I went through so much, and I guess I want to find a good reason for all the bad, I want to turn the horrible stuff into something that’s not a negative.

I love you all <3 I hope everyone is healthy and safe, if anyone ever needs someone to talk to my dm’s and asks are always open. I’m better at offering help than I am at accepting it xD also a habit I need to work on lol and if you read through all of this, idk why, but ty and sorry it was so long.

#personal #real talk #oversharing again because I'm the big dumb #delete later #love you all so much and i'm so thankful for being part of this community <3

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foxtophat · 4 years ago

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MERRY CHRISTMAS IN JANUARY EVERYONE yeah i know ~nothing is fixed~ but whatever, fuck you, have some fanfic

so anyway i’ve been planning this for a while, i’m kinda shocked tho b/c i finished writing it in like less than 3 days??? (aside from editing) usually it takes me longer to at least figure out how to wrap things up, but at least this one was easy money. i’m sure none of the other ones will be so kind to me

this one takes place a month or so after the last one; it’s set in spring 2028 (omfg finally on a new year!!!!) and it has a little something to do with carmina finally getting some chickens!!!! one thing about new dawn that i think was really lacking is the explanation of how life... restarted before the highwaymen. i definitely remember a few houses having chicken coops, too, so i know i’m not crazy putting these feathered friends in. to me, chickens are the most sensible post-apocalyptic pet outside of a dog; easy to care for, provide food while alive AND after death, and they can reproduce easily enough if you’ve got a rooster on hand. i can imagine a family making quite a life for themselves as a poultry farm in the apocalypse!

ugh idk what else to say so i’ll just say it: thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos on this series. i am so stoked to know that my self-indulgent trash is delicious to more than just my possum ass! i’ve had a lot of fun worldbuilding in ubisoft’s playground, and i hope to continue doing more fun stuff that other people will enjoy too!!!

with all that said, i hope you enjoy the fic :) i’ll put it below the cut for you if you don’t wanna leave tumblr, but ao3 looks so much better. anyway, thank you and have a great jan 20th!!!!

Winter melts away the same way it does every year, leaving in its path wet dirt and green buds of spring growth. John, nursing what's likely the last cup of coffee they can wring from this batch of grounds, stares out over the back yard and idly marvels at how quickly the snow had disappeared. Montana had been his first experience with white winters; even though he's gotten used to the changing seasons in theory, though, he can't help but be distracted by it year after year.

Across the yard, situated just in sight by the hangar, John can plainly see Carmina's new chickens looking for breakfast. They're the newest addition to the homestead, but so far John has only had to watch from afar as the Ryes worked to adjust them to their new home. He's not sure who's raising chickens out here, but at least they were willing to barter. Fresh eggs are going to mean a lot more than the dwindling supplies out of Jacob's cache.

The misty-gray of early morning has almost evaporated in the rising sunlight, and still the chickens haven't been fed. John watches them from where he stands, their frustration leading to subdued crows as they scratch at the dirt. He doesn't know who's noisier — them, or Nick and Kim arguing at the table behind him. Thank Christ the wet end of winter is over; John doesn't think he can tolerate much more of their married nagging. On some level, he's glad they don't make a habit of yelling at him instead of each other, but Jesus, he can't wait for them to both get some space from one another.

"This is why we said we weren't gonna do pets, remember?" Nick says. "Because if she got a pet, we would end up taking care of it. Remember?"

"Yes, Nick, I remember."

"Yeah, and here we are!"

Kim sighs. John doesn't have to look to see the exasperated eye-roll that comes with it. "It wasn't me who kept her up late last night! Which one of us was egging her on when she should have been asleep?"

This is exactly why John has never owned a pet. They're more trouble than they're worth, and the only thing they seem to be good for is teaching shitty life lessons to kids who don't care enough to learn. The only good thing about the chickens is that they provide something in return other than obnoxious crowing.

Carmina thumps around upstairs. John isn't looking forward to having to listen to Kim lecture her on responsibility, but he's not thrilled to listen to much more of this bickering, either. If his choices are to stay inside and fester or go out into the first nice day of the year — well, that's not much of a choice, is it?

"Fine," John sighs before either of the Ryes can set their sights on him, "I'll do it."

"Nobody's asking you to do it," Kim replies. "It's Carmina's responsibility."

John shakes his head. "Of course it is. Where's the feed?"

Nick points out a white plastic container sitting on the pass-through to the kitchen. "Not gonna wait for us to boss you around?" he asks.

John picks up the container and rattles it to make sure it's full. "I'm streamlining the process," he replies. "Unless you enjoy giving me orders."

Sure enough, implying Nick might like being a bossy piece of shit is enough to get him to shut up. He sighs with a deep frown at John, who ignores him as he heads out to the coop. It's a petty satisfaction to take the rug out from under Nick's feet, but John's not above it. Not by a long shot.

Some of it might be compensating for the disintegrating peace that had come with winter. Before the blizzard set in, they'd had enough on their collective plates as they prepared for the worst of the season. Afterward, the snow had prevented them from doing much more than what was necessary to survive, and the resulting downtime had settled like a comfortable blanket. Even now, with a few weeks of grating interpersonal interactions, John feels more focused, more rested than he can ever remember feeling. Living underground for eight years, he'd naively thought that he'd gotten enough rest to last him a lifetime — but he'd been strung out on Bliss and trying not to suffocate, and he hadn't known what he was doing. He's starting to suspect that the Bliss might've had a worse effect on him than the myriad other drugs he'd ingested. Hell, he's not sure he's clean even now — but he's managing, and that's what matters.

It's only once he's halfway across the yard that John realizes Kim forgot to argue about him going off on his own. Sure, he's only going as far as the hangar, but it's become something of a pleasantry she uses whenever John pretends to have the freedom to go where he pleases. Her irritation at Carmina and Nick probably made her forget. She's gotten so used to trusting John that she's finally found other things to take up her attention.

Weirdly enough, the casual disregard for his potential backslide irritates him. It really shouldn't. He should be thrilled that he can finally disappear from view for an hour without somebody calling out a search party. He's more than earned it, he thinks, but their trust highlights their naivety. Luckily for them, John means it when he says he's changed — but it's a line they're going to hear time and again from people far less genuine than he's been. They're so willing to help everyone and anyone that they don't even realize how much of a target they're making themselves. John's had to hold his tongue whenever Nick gives free supplies to shifty-eyed tweakers who are "just passing through," and while he trusts Kim not to let anyone obviously suspicious into the house, he doesn't trust her to recognize a cunning liar.

The last thing John needs is for the Ryes to put their trust in the wrong reformed psychopath. At least he's capable of picking up their slack. After all, John has his time at law school and years of psychological abuse under his belt — plenty of real-world experience dealing with unrepentant garbage. He'll notice it when somebody cases the hangar or acts too erratically, and hopefully the Ryes will listen to him if he gets the nerve to voice his concerns.

Not for the first time since summer, John is struck with a newfound respect for Jacob and the role he'd inhabited in the Project. It used to be his job to look out for insurrectionists, and he'd taken on that burden even when John and Joseph would openly dismiss his concerns. John can't imagine how many fires Jacob must've put out while the rest of the family was distracted by the Bliss. Looking back on it now, it's honestly a surprise they maintained their operation as long as they did, considering only one of the four of them was ever sober.

The chickens are hopping at his arrival, scuttling around the dirt and crowing as John reaches the pen. They don't notice him so much as the bin he rattles on approach, full of vegetable cuttings and strange white worms that come out whenever it rains. John doesn't mind one lick — he's never been much of an animal person, and he certainly doesn't care if Carmina's so-called pets notice his existence. Of course, knowing Carmina, she's going to use this as an excuse to shift breakfast duty to John full-time, and John won't have much of a say in the matter.

Well, that's not strictly true, but if Carmina asked, he knows he would do it, if only to give his day more structure. Truthfully, he's grown to depend on routine, when before it was impossible to keep to a schedule that didn't involve other people's expectations of him. There's probably a metaphor to be made about trains on and off the tracks, but John has never been particularly interested in locomotives.

John shakes the dead bugs and scraps out into the pen, watching the hens as they race to be the first to eat. They're perfectly happy now that they've been fed, cooing and clucking as they peck the dirt. They certainly seem content with safety and food — not entirely unlike the survivors living day-to-day in the town and beyond. Sure, John might not always be satisfied by bare sustenance, and one day he'll chafe under the grind of surviving week to week, but for now, he might as well be a dumb chicken crowing in the morning sun.

He throws some more feed into the pen, watching the three hens waddle after their meal. One of them lingers by the fence, freezing for a moment as her head swivels back and forth. She pecks at the dirt away from the feed before hustling after her two companions. John watches as she stops again; when he tosses a few worms in her direction, she pecks briefly at them before lifting her head to survey her surroundings.

The primal sensation of something being wrong nearly overtakes John's reasoning, before he manages to remind himself that a chicken's predators aren't exactly his to worry about. Still, he rattles the container to bring the hens scuttling towards him; all three are easily distracted by food now, but John can't shake the feeling that he'd missed something they hadn't. A fox, maybe? A snake? Anything could be lurking in the woods on the other side of the wash. Not a whole lot that could hurt him , of course, but he's not about to be blamed for Carmina's chickens being eaten by a wild dog.

The fence-line is... nebulous past the hangar, sure, but John's positive Kim doesn't consider the rest of the old airport off-limits. Then again, she might be in the mood to lecture him once she gets through with Carmina. It's a risk he's not sure he's willing to take.

Two chickens continue to eat as one keeps watch, their heads bobbing up and down as they switch off. Their unease mirrors his own, and John can imagine Faith giggling at him for being swayed by some dumb birds.

"Very well, ladies," he sighs, shaking the remainder of their breakfast onto the ground. "Don't let them say I don't care."

The chickens don't give three shits about John's motivations, of course; they watch him go, pecking at the food with increasing carelessness as the distance grows. John rolls his eyes at their sudden fearlessness, half-convinced to let whatever animal is lurking eat them out of spite.

There's a wide swath of dirt behind the hangar, separating it from the mostly-overgrown remnants of Rye Aviation that couldn't be saved. John can see the edge of the chicken pen from here, but the hangar is blocking him from the house. Even though he knows the Ryes trust him not to run off, he still feels distinctly uneasy going somewhere where they can't see him. At this point, Nick would probably only tease him for it, but John's not about to linger out here and risk turning Kim's irritation on himself.

To the right of the derelict hangars is a sparse wedge of trees that have grown in uninterrupted. John knows there's a path cut between the trunks, one he'd made himself while hauling the tire-planters for Kim last year, and there's a long stretch of unused runway beyond it. It isn't a great place for anything bigger than a fox to lurk in. That doesn't explain the feeling of being watched that comes over him as he stops halfway across the empty dirt lot; he looks around, but there's no place for anything to hide out here. The overgrowth on the old hangars can't be more than two feet high, and the bushes in the copse are brambly and sparse. The only place anything could hide would be in the trees, which is why John approaches them with more caution than they're worth.

The thinned underbrush is easy to explore, but John goes carefully as he picks through the trees and bushes. He doesn't know exactly what he's looking for — some sign of predators, whatever those might be — but he doesn't find much. There are some hoof-prints clear in the dirt, curving sharply away from the Rye homestead and back out to the airstrip, which tells John that the goddamn deer are back, probably looking to eat their hard-grown crops. Other than that, there's no sign of anything that might be stalking the hen-house. The ground is still somewhat soft from the rain a few nights ago, but it barely takes the imprint of John's boots as he explores the small grove.

That's why it's such a shock to see the tread of a narrow boot in the dirt by the trunk of one of the trees, well off the beaten path. It's an old print, he thinks — but he doesn't remember the last time any one of them had been out this way. Certainly not since the last time it rained.

An electric shock conducts itself down his spine. Somebody had been out here, hiding here in the trees, and it's only been two, three days since the last rain. John turns, and from his vantage point, he can clearly see the coop and the back of the hangar, but not the house. For that, he'd have to move out of the trees, into direct view of the porch.

It has to be Grace's boot. She's the only one he could imagine creeping around the property with good intentions. But even that explanation doesn't settle the anxious flip of his stomach; he tries not to let it show as he marches from the trees, intent on dragging Nick over and proving to him once and for all that they need to be more goddamn careful about who they let around the property. Somebody is going to want the copper fixtures they've salvaged, even if there's nobody to sell the metal to these days.

John gets halfway back to the coop when he catches something in his peripheral vision. Terrible, primal terror grips him as he fixes his gaze on the trick of the light that had scared him, ready to catch Grace peering at him over the abandoned hangars, or maybe a pack of wild dogs. What he sees instead turns his blood to ice, caught like a deer in headlights as the low-hanging shrubbery and thick vines shift and part for a rising mass of dark brown fur. The shape that rises from the underbrush is a tall, dark smudge against the blue sky, and John nearly swallows his tongue when he sees its face — or the horrifying absence of one, replaced with white, flaking skin and two huge, empty eye-sockets that are fixed on John's position.

It doesn't move. Neither does John, frozen to the spot as the chickens begin to crow and fuss. He can't fathom what he's looking at — a bear, a person, a fucking mutant? — but whatever it is, he suspects it's infected with Bliss. Who knows how many angels ended up underground after the Collapse? What might've happened to them in the years since? All John knows about them is that they're dangerous to everybody but Faith, and Faith died a decade ago. If this is an angel — God, there'll be no stopping it. And if it isn't — then what the hell is it ?

There's no way for John to get from here to the house without the thing chasing him. The hangar is blocking his brutal oncoming murder from the two people who might actually be able to do something about it. He doesn't have to look to know the distance from here to the house is insurmountable.

The creature lifts its arm, and the situation that couldn't get any worse takes an even more horrifying turn as it reveals its weapon of choice: a crudely fashioned bow, the same kind of handmade weaponry that Joseph's followers have been seen with.

All at once, Nick's voice is ringing in John's ears, warning him of what's going to happen if this gargoyle takes him away. The things John hadn't considered before — the Ryes' reputation, Carmina's safety, the hard-won trust John's gained from the survivors — it's all in jeopardy. The situation barrels into him all at once — the realization that whatever Joseph did to create this thing , he won't hesitate to turn on John.

He tries to shout a warning, but his breath is caught in his throat. Faith's voice, faint on the breeze, laughs and whispers sing-song into his ear:

They've found you!

The monster barrels down the slope of the hill as if prodded into action by a hot poker. Its gait is wide, bringing it towards John at speeds impossible to outrun. This time, John's shout comes out clear as a bell, panic screaming through him as he turns and bolts for the house. He nearly clips himself on the pen as he hangs a sharp right turn, the porch coming into full sight —

Something snags the back of John's shirt, and his momentum briefly chokes him. A thick arm bears down across his neck before he can rip free, the creature grunting in exertion as it yanks him backward. John feels his boots scrape on the dirt as he's dragged towards the trees, away from the safety that's plain in sight.

Animal instinct kicks in. John gnashes his teeth but there's nothing to bite, so he kicks out his feet instead, first in front of him and then harshly backward until he can hook his shin behind his assailant's and trip them both to the ground. The creature goes down with a surprised grunt; John does his best to roll away, only to be yanked back by his hair. He's distantly aware that he's spitting like a cat in a sack, clawing and biting, the two of them rolling in the dirt as John screams profanities and heresy at the monster trying to pin him down, anything to convince the universe to take mercy on him for once in his fucking life!

The creature manages to grab him by the shoulder, throwing him into the dirt before backhanding him violently across the face. It's enough to daze him; for one horrible second, he's unable to do anything as the monster begins to drag him across the dirt by the legs.

There's a commotion coming from the house. For a split second, the creature looks up, and John realizes his opening at the same time the monster realizes its mistake. It looks down just in time for John to kick it square in its barky, hollow-eyed face, sending a split down the wooden facade.

" John !"

The monster reels backward as if burned, grabbing at the mask as it falls away. John catches sight of a single dark, wild eye behind the broken wood before he kicks out again, sending both boots into his assailant's chest. As soon as the creature staggers back, John bolts, scrambling towards Kim as she races toward him with the rifle drawn. Nick is hot behind her; he grabs John's shoulder and drags him partway back to the house. John doesn't need the escort, and so Nick quickly leaves him to scramble up the porch as he goes after his wife.

John gets all the way to the stairs inside before he realizes there's no safe place to hide. He'd found out this winter just how flimsy the prisoner story had been; if somebody wants to take him, all they have to do is climb onto the roof and jimmy the lock on the nearest window. Whether it's through the broken window in his room or a gap in the roof leading to the attic, the Project will find him. He can't possibly outrun them forever. He'd be stupid to even try. God, he'd been a fool for thinking Joseph wouldn't send someone looking for him, that he wouldn't want to snatch John back from the clutches of apostasy. There's no way Joseph will leave a loose end like him untied.

John sinks to the bottom steps in his mounting despair, only to realize for a second time that he's being watched. The realization is less of a shock as Carmina peers at him around the kitchen archway; she jumps at the distant rapport of gunfire, staring owl-eyed at John as though she expects him to do something.

"Stay down," John hisses, setting an example as he keeps low on his way into the kitchen.

"What happened?" Carmina asks, frantic, "Is mom gonna be okay?"

"Yes," John replies, although he can't possibly know that for sure. He waits a beat, listening for more gunshots, then carefully lifts his head to check out the window when none come. He lets out the breath he'd been holding when he sees Nick standing with his hands on his hips, staring at Kim further down the yard. Whatever the danger had been, it's not pressing enough to warrant immediate action.

"Seriously," Carmina whines, as if that could hide her fear. "What was it? Was it a bear? Grace says there are bears in the woods but I've never seen —"

John sinks to the ground, his mind reeling even as the panic passes, leaving him numb. "It wasn't a bear."

Carmina chews on her lower lip, looking up towards the window as though she might try looking for herself. "Are the chickens okay?" she asks.

"They're fine," he sighs. He pushes his hair from his face, only to realize that his hands have started to tremble with run-off adrenaline.

"Are... you okay?" she asks, frowning as though she can't decide whether or not his wellbeing is her problem to deal with.

Goodwill must be genetic, John laments. "I'm fine," he tells her. She gives his shaking hands a hard look; he sighs and reiterates, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not," Carmina huffs. Apparently, Nick's attempts to teach Carmina how to bluff haven't worked out.

John is saved from needing to reassure her as Nick abruptly appears in the kitchen arch, out of breath and red-faced. His shock gives way to relief at the sight of the two of them huddled by the counter. He's out of breath and visibly bewildered.

"Shit, John, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, although he doubts Nick will believe it any more than Carmina had. His foot jogs uselessly against the floor. "Kim — did she...?"

Nick shakes his head. "She tried," he says, "But it was too fast. What the fuck was it ?"

"Somebody from the Project."

"No shit. But — look, it wasn't an angel , was it?"

John shakes his head. "I don't know."

Kim storms into view, making her way to the pass-through from the living room side. She sets the rifle down on the counter, catching John's eye with a glare. John hurries to explain himself, as if he could possibly apologize for bringing the cult back to her doorstep.

"I was checking for foxes," he tells her, "I didn't think it — if I'd known what it was, I wouldn't have gone on my own."

Despite the fury in her eyes and the hard edge to her voice, Kim seems to mean it when she replies, "As long as nobody's hurt."

But the damage is done, and John can't help but babble on uselessly. "I wasn't looking in the right place. But I shouted as soon as I saw it. I just — couldn't outrun it. I wasn't fast enough. And I wasn't — it was stronger than I expected, stronger than..." Even he can hear the panic edging into his voice, cutting himself off with one last worried question. "Do you think it's gone?"

"It better be, if it knows what's good for it," Kim replies. "Are you sure you're okay?"

At any other time, John would be irritated to have to reassure every single Rye individually that he isn't in the throes of a panic attack. Right now, he's only grateful to realize that Kim doesn't blame him for the thing's appearance.

"I am," he says. "Thank you."

Nick groans, covering his eyes with one hand as he leans against the counter. "So much for it being safe to go out alone. Damn it, we got too comfortable."

" I got too comfortable," John says. "It wouldn't have cared about either of you."

"What about the chickens?" Carmina asks, "Are they safe there?"

Kim crosses her arms. "What I want to know is what the hell the Project is doing out here."

Her question is the only one John has any insight into, although he doesn't know how realistic his theory is. "They might be hunting deer," he says. "The only thing I saw, other than — than that , were deer tracks."

"All the way out here?" Kim asks skeptically.

"The hunting can't be any good in that swamp they're hiding in," Nick points out, frowning as he considers the idea. "And there are more survivors around the river these days. I'd bet that'd make for slim pickings."

"I doubt we'd even know they come out this far if I hadn't been the one out there. At least we've confirmed they're actively searching for resources beyond their compound — and they're relying on traditional methods to do so. Most likely because the armory was destroyed."

"Thank God for the Deputy," Nick sighs. "Okay. We're just gonna have to... I dunno, be willing to shoot, I guess." He doesn't sound so sure about it, and he quickly softens the intention. "At least a couple more warning shots. Once they remember guns outstrip arrows every way but sustainability, they'll probably keep back."

"We can push the fence-line out, too," Kim says. "It won't necessarily stop them, but at least it'll give them a line to cross. They're not cavemen — they remember property laws and how those get enforced around here."

"We'll have to start checking the traps more often. They might be living like bloodthirsty Mennonites right now, but that doesn't mean they aren't willing to steal to survive."

"They'll justify it one way or another," John sighs.

"So I guess we don't have to move the chickens after all," Nick says, "So long as we establish a perimeter. Sound good, Carmina?"

Carmina must have slipped out at some point during the conversation because she's nowhere to be found in the kitchen. Nick glances over John's head and out the window, swearing loudly.

"What the hell is she doing out there?"

John gets to his feet as Nick and Kim take off. He watches them through the window as they chase after Carmina, who's stopped to look around partway towards the coop. Either she's dumber than she seems, or she's inherited both of her parents' reckless streaks. Either way, she's going to leave herself open the same way John had. She's too confident that nobody wants to hurt her. The only way John knows how to teach that lesson, though, is not one that Kim or Nick would approve of — and so he sidelines his worries in favor of sticking with whoever is more armed than he is.

By the time John comes outside, Kim is knee-deep in the middle of a heated lecture about safety and responsibility. Carmina scowls at her feet, her face turning red as she's scolded. John ignores them, passing them by in favor of catching up with Nick, who's come to a stop a few yards past the coop. He's staring out into the unoccupied land — land that used to be his property, once. Now Nick is as much a stranger here as John is.

"Check it out," Nick says, holding out a thin, white-barked piece of wood. John takes it and recognizes it immediately as part of the mask he'd broken in two. The hole for the eye is a roughly cut gouge in the soft wood, and the bark flakes as he wipes his thumb across it.

"I hadn't even considered a mask," John admits. "I thought it was a monster."

"You and me both," Nick replies. He heaves a sigh. "Still waiting for the mutants to crawl out of the sewers, I guess. But I think we can handle a couple of jackasses with arrows."

John squints across the clearing, as if maybe his assailant has hung around waiting for them to reappear. "Next time, it might be Joseph," he points out grimly. "That hunter recognized me immediately. They'll tell him I'm here, and he'll want to find me."

"Come on. Like Joseph's gonna risk crossing enemy territory on foot. I'd be more worried about those goddamn hunting parties you used to send out."

John unconsciously reaches up to rub his throat. "Yeah," he says. "You're right. One of them clearly wasn't enough, but if Joseph decides I'm worthwhile, they'll come as a pack. If he's still manufacturing Bliss somehow, it would be easy to subdue me. And then..."

He's surprised out of his would-be reverie as Nick slaps his shoulder with a heavy hand. "We're not gonna let that happen," he says. "As long as you put up the same fight you did today, Kim and I are gonna come running."

Despite the reality of hidden archers and surprise ambushes, John allows himself to be reassured by the sentiment. At the very least, he pretends for Nick's sake. "I suppose you two were quick to the rescue," he drawls. "But if they get me to the tree-line, I'd rather you just put me down before I get dragged all the way back to the compound."

Nick chuckles. "We'll try to avoid that for now."

Looking over his shoulder, John catches Kim crouched down in front of Carmina, hands on her shoulders. Whatever she's saying, it's too quiet for John to hear, but Carmina's sniffles are a loud precursor to a lot of tears.

"I guess she believed you when you said the Project wouldn't care about us," Nick sighs. "At this rate, we're gonna have to put a bell on her."

"I could tell her about the child soldiers from the summer camp, if that would prove the gravity of the situation."

Just the mention of it makes Nick look a little queasy, and John immediately regrets bringing it up. "I don't want to scare her that badly," Nick says. "She's a good kid, she means well. She just needs to stop going off half-cocked, is all." He rubs his hand across his forehead and complains, "I thought we taught her to be smarter than this."

"She's still your kid," John says. Nick gives him a sour look, but it's the truth no matter how bitter Nick might feel about it. "You can't expect her to be utterly obedient, given her genetics."

"I guess ." He sighs, shaking his head. "At any rate, it's time we stop sugar-coating the cult for her benefit. She's obviously not taking it seriously."

John looks again and sees Kim embracing Carmina tightly. He can't help but worry about what might happen if the hunters come back. When he'd been with the Project, he'd understood Joseph's motivations — at least superficially — but now he's completely in the dark. They used to fill their ranks with abducted children and their desperate parents. He has no idea if Joseph is in a position to expand his flock, but if he is... John does not doubt that they'll start with the young and impressionable. Carmina, being young but not as impressionable as they'd like, probably wouldn't make it back to the compound before she got herself killed. He can't imagine anyone having enough patience to break her.

"You... uh, think we should be worried?" Nick asks after a brief stretch of silence.

"Not yet," John replies grimly. After all, the Ryes have a bargaining chip like no other, in case their daughter is ever taken. John can see to it that she's left alone, but it will only work once — and after that, who knows which brother will be sending hunters after her.

"Good thing we got ourselves a couple of extra guns," Nick says. "You and her are gonna have to start carrying pretty much everywhere."

"I'm sure people will love that."

"Fuck people, man, did you see the size of that fucking guy?"

John can't help a wry smile. "They weren't so big. If I were a couple of years younger, I would have taken them."

"Yeah, sure. "

The lecture must be over with for now, as Carmina's attention has turned back to her chickens. Kim watches her from a distance; John can't read her expression from here, but her posture is tense and defensive. John can't blame her — he doesn't have a parental bone in his body, but the stress of raising a child in these conditions isn't lost on him. Trying to instill a sense of fear into somebody who lived their formative years without a threat in sight can't be easy. Doubly so, considering Carmina can no doubt outgun the rudimentary weaponry the Project is utilizing. Hell, maybe they really are only a threat to him. Maybe it doesn't matter if Carmina sneaks out of the house.

"She won't leave unnoticed again," John decides, because it's the only promise he can genuinely keep.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna eat those words when she's a teenager."

"I'd hope she would be smart enough to bring back up by then."

"Me too." Nick exhales loudly enough to get Kim's attention, stretching one arm over his chest, then the other. "Well, I guess we better get started if we want to have anything to show for it by nightfall."

Even so, it takes Nick another moment before he brings himself to move. John lingers behind, unable to help himself as he eyes the trees distrustfully. There's nothing saying that hunter isn't still out there, watching them from a safe distance. If Jacob had a hand in training them, it's unlikely that John will ever see them coming again. He's likely lost the one chance at a level playing field, and he hadn't even realized it was something he could lose.

Fuck it. It doesn't matter. John has adapted time and again to every disaster in his life, and there's something to be said for the person who he's become. If this is the next catastrophe that he'll have to weather, then so be it. If he isn't capable of dealing with Joseph by now, then it's likely he never will be — and if that turns out to be the case, he can only hope that Kim is as quick on the trigger as she seemed to be today.

#far cry new dawn #fcnd #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #carmina rye #far cry fanfic #my fic #ugh tagging sucks on this site #mercyverse

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gimmeyoon · 5 years ago

Text

Say My Name

↳ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader | Mentions of Hoseok x Reader

↳ Setting: Beetlejuice AU

↳ Word Count: 6.4k

↳ Warnings: death, dirty talk, degradation, exhibition kink, lingerie kink, oral (f & m), unprotected sex (but it’s ghost sex and ghost’s don’t have little ghost babies or stds, unlike you, you alive human. It’s a present, wrap it).

❝So, you died. You’ve come to terms with it; watching over your boyfriend as you’re stuck haunting the apartment you used to live in. But now, he’s bringing new girls around, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t scare them off and you can’t leave. Time to call the ghost with the most for a little bio-exorcism, baby.❞

Alternatively: ❝ You, your “no respect for the dead” boyfriend, and the ghost with the most: a hauntingly good time.❞

↳ A/N: This beautiful header would not be possible without the goddess @/kinktae. My version was so ugly, on god. (Also clearly I made it before I was gimmeyoon and Idk where the original is so I’ll just suffer)

Also yes, this is a Halloween fic two days after Halloween let’s pretend this never happened and this was posted when it should have been uwu

You're dead.

It's not as strange or as extravagant as some people might think. It's mostly spending every second of your day in your apartment. An introvert's dream.

You're pretty sure every college student has joked about being hit by a campus bus to either get out of your finals, have your tuition paid, or whatever other inconvenience one could imagine poor driving and forgetting to look both ways could help remedy.

Except it didn't really fix anything, and you weren't asking for it. It just happened and you died.

It wasn't worth it.

But you’re dead now, and that’s just life, or you guess death.

Pros of being dead: you know thanks to your haunting situation, that your boyfriend Hoseok got all ‘As’ for the first-time last semester.

The haunting situation is something you hadn't expected. You're not sure you would call yourself a skeptic, but you certainly didn't imagine people were tied to their homes for decades with no where else to go. You suppose it's nice that you get to watch over Hoseok, but it's not like he'll be here forever.

He was so sad at first, it broke your heart. But he’s healing, and every day you try to leave him little promises that you’re still there like spraying your perfume in your room so that he smells you when he wakes up in the morning or by helping him keep the place clean. He hasn’t noticed really any of it, which you think is strange, since he must realize he doesn’t clean enough for the place to look like this.

That’s your life now, literally Hoseok’s maid. There’s nothing else you can do. You tried leaving the apartment once, and you were met with a creature you’ve never seen before and hope to never see again. It was otherworldly, that's all you can really say to describe it. You suppose you are too now.

You’re not sure if you can die again, probably not, but if you could, that thing would be the cause.

Hoseok turns off the light in the hallway as he walks back into your bedroom. He always looked so cute when he was sleepy; his hair ruffled and a small smile on his face. He crawls into his side of the bed, something that makes your heart fond. He still leaves space for you.

You lay down beside him, as you do every night. You turn to look at him, and for a moment it seems like he’s looking back at you. But he’s not. He never is.

And as he closes his eyes, you place a kiss to his forehead that has him swatting as if there is a bug when you pull away.

“Good night, Hoseok,” you said. “I love you.”

You remember what it was like when he used to say it back. It made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

One single pound against the door to your apartment has you jumping out of your skin. You remind yourself that you're dead as you pick up the heaviest object closest to you. It doesn't make your heart beat any slower.

You slowly make your way towards the door, as you hear it unlocking, and when it swings open, Hoseok appears oh.

You sigh in relief as you set the book you had grabbed down; not so sure it would have protected you anyways. Also, not so sure you needed protecting. So far, all the secrets to being dead were in a very dense book that you kept hidden from Hoseok in a box of your things that he had put in the back of your closet.

“Oh, Hoseok,” you said, a light laugh falling from your lips. “I was so worried.”

And then you see her. And before you can truly process what is happening, the thud happens again as he pushes her against the closed-again door.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as a hand comes up to cover your eyes. “This is not happening.”

You repeat this as you walk away from the entrance of the apartment to the kitchen. You consider looking for a knife, figuring a floating weapon would probably send the message you were looking to communicate, but a pull in your heart told you otherwise.

Hoseok deserved to be happy. He deserved to move on, even though you were pretty sure the mourning period for dead-too-soon girlfriend and supposed love of your life was not over yet. Regardless, Hoseok deserved to be happy.

You almost convince yourself that.

But god damn it, you deserve to be happy too.

Whatever Hoseok is doing, has that girl moaning obnoxiously loud, and if you have to hear that all night, you’ll go back to that creature in that wasteland and perish. It would probably be less painful than this. There's no way it could be worse.

You hear the bedroom door click shut, and your body relaxes a little. You didn’t realize how tense you were until now. You move out in the living room, laying your head on one decorative pillow and pressing another over your exposed ear. If you’re lucky, it’ll be over quickly, and you can pretend this never happened.

The TV turns on in front of you and you curse assuming you’ve laid down on the remote, but then you see it on the table.

You sit up quickly, your eyes glued to the advertisement before you.

"Do you have a human infestation that's making the afterlife, hell?" A man asks. He's sitting at a desk like he's a lawyer in one of those personal injury commercials, except you've never seen a lawyer with green hair like him. Regardless, you suppose it makes sense considering your heart has been seriously injured tonight.

"Do you just want to spend your after-days in peace just as you were promised on Earth, but the living keep getting in the way? If you answered yes to either of these questions, then I'm the man to call. The world's leading bio-exorcist, I'll make sure those that are ruining your retirement from life get what they deserve. Just say my name three time."

"Bio-exorcist?" you repeated, the word even feeling fake in your mouth. There was no way that was real.

"New family move into your home? Landlord trying to remodel? Boyfriend sleeping around?" He seemed to lean forward and meet your eyes as he said that, as if he not only knew that was your exact situation but could also see you.

It's enough to have you grabbing the remote quickly and turning the TV off. You take a few moments to calm down before lying back on the couch and closing your eyes.

Of all the weird things about being dead, that might just be the weirdest.

She left early the next morning and instead of your usual kind ways of reminding Hoseok you were still around, you settled on minor inconveniences.

When he was watching basketball later that day, you kept changing the channel. When he made Ramen for dinner, you made it cold before he could even take his first bite. When he went to bed that night, you kept dropping things, so that he got too nervous to sleep.

It was the only way you were able to say, 'I'm here, motherfucker, cut it out.'

You were lucky your boyfriend was a scaredy. It wasn’t difficult to scare him.

But as before, he doesn't think too much of it. Hoseok was easy to scare but a skeptic apparently. You considered cutting his hair in his sleep, how else would he explain that, but as you brushed his light brown hair away from his forehead. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

He had grown it out a little since you'd died, and you liked how it looked. You had been worried it was because he was too sad to go to the barber. You weren't 100% sure that wasn't the case, but he took care of it, and it was the first time in a while he had styled his hair with his forehead showing.

It was nice but you sometimes wished you could just tell him you liked it. If only he could know that you thought he looked good that way.

He has another girl over the next weekend and you consider cutting his hair anyways.

The worst part is you mumble a thank you when you realize she's quieter than the last girl. You hate yourself for even thinking that. You hate that there's a situation where you would.

You’re in the living room again, reading your guide to being dead, when the newspaper falls from the table. You flinch at the movement, and for a moment wonder if there's a ghost in this apartment.

The next moment you're laughing lightly because of course there is.

You pick it up, still laughing to yourself, when something catches your eye. It's opened to an ad, and it's the same man from the TV ad a week ago. He's definitely the same man, green hair slicked back and strikingly handsome, but this time he wears a black and white striped suit. The ad reads the same as the commercial the other day, he's the world's best bio-exorcist and he can get rid of your human infestation. His name is written in big letters behind his smiling face, 'Beetlejuice.'

You're a little offended that he would refer to Hoseok as an infestation.

Another weekend later it's another girl. You're beginning to think it's all too much.

According to the book you’re stuck here for the next 125 years, and you’re not really in the mood to listen to Hoseok fuck whoever he pleases for the rest of his lease. God forbid he re-up it and stays another year.

If there is a god. You're not so sure even though you suppose you're the leading expert on this now. Is this Hell? It couldn't be heaven. There was never any briefing on the whole god thing when you died. Maybe it's in that god-forsaken book. God-forsaken, that's how you feel.

You say it without thinking the first time, just considering your options. “Beetlejuice.”

The second time you say it you get a little thrill at the thought of that girl running out of the apartment terrified. “Beetlejuice.”

The third time you hesitate for a moment. Hoseok does deserve to be happy. But then he moans, and you think he should rot. “Beetlejuice!”

He appears before you in a flash of light, that as you falling back in shock onto the couch. You're not sure what you thought incantation would do, He’s not what you expected, much more casual than his lawyer-like commercials, wearing an oversized hoodie, skinny jeans, and sneakers. He would fit in on your college campus well, especially with his green hair.

“Beetlejuice?” you ask, gaping up at him.

“You rang?” he smiled. “God, nothing gets me off quite like a beautiful woman who can’t stop saying my name. Feel free to call me Seokjin from now on. I’d say we’re friends at this point, I mean look at us, who would have thought?”

You sit there in silence just staring at him and letting the situation sink in. He came out of no where and said that.

“Oh good, I called a pervert into my apartment.”

“I believe you called the world’s leading bio-exorcist," he said, rolling his eyes.

“Why does it sound like you’re the world’s only bio-exorcist.”

He laughed at this throwing an arm over your shoulder. "You know, I get that a lot?"

"You certainly don’t look like the world’s leading anything."

“What not dressed for the job?” he frowned as he shook his head. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and he was wearing the black and white striped suit from the print ad. “What about now?”

“Great,” you deadpanned.

"Now, what seems to be the matter at hand?"

As if on cue, Hoseok moans from the bedroom.

"Got some noisy house guests?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

"My boyfriend has no respect for the dead," you replied, staring intensely at the bedroom door.

"Oh, love," he said. "what's it good for besides heart break?"

You didn't answer him, your attention captured by the activities in the other room. It almost physically hurt, as if the sound could slap you across the face.

"Listen, kid," he said, snapping his fingers and bringing your attention back to him. "I can help you fix this problem, but I'm going to need something else in return."

"What do you need?" you asked, a bit skeptically. His ads never said anything about that and you sort of doubted that it was going to be a fair price. Maybe it was the suit that made you suspicious, the green hair, or maybe it was his general aura. It was probably all three together.

"I'm what some might call, on the run," he said. "I was cursed into this horrible, dead end job, seriously no areas for advancement, just serving the dead for the rest of my life, and I couldn't take it anymore. So I left, but that made me a wanted man. If you want me to scratch your back, even though it is a wonderful back," he said, his eyes drifting to your ass and staying there for longer than you would like, "then I'll need you to scratch mine."

"Sounds horrifying," you said, glaring at him.

"Don't knock it until you try it, kid."

"What do you need from me," you said, curtly.

"To break the curse, I need to marry a living person. We'll get your boy out of here, get someone new to move in, you be my wing woman and then bada bing bada boom we've got a broken curse and human infestation taken care of."

"What person in their right mind would marry a ghost?"

Seokjin winks at you. "The ghost with the most baby, any guy or gal would be so lucky."

“What’s he afraid of?” Seokjin asks later as the two of you stand over Hoseok as he sleeps.

“Everything,” you replied.

“Everything? Then why do you need my help?”

“He’s not paying attention to anything I do I guess.”

“Common problem in relationships. The chick just talk talk talks and the guy never listens.”

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

“An ass with a great ass,” he responds, turning his butt towards you and pulling your hand towards him.

“Rot,” you respond, as you tear your hand from him before it touches it.

“Somewhere I am, or I guess I probably already have.”

“Yeah? How long have you been dead?”

“700 years?” he says, looking off into the distance.

“Jesus,” you said, shaking your head, eyes wide at the thought.

“No, Seokjin. Jesus died nearly 2,000 years ago.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, Beetlejuice.”

“Stop,” he warned, his face growing dark and serious. “Call me Beetlejuice again, and I’ll eat your boyfriend.”

“Can you eat him?” you asked warily, moving in between Hoseok and Seokjin.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Who’s going stop me?”

“The laws of physics.”

“If you can touch him you can eat him,” Seokjin said, placing a hand on Hoseok’s face, causing the latter to stir in his sleep.

“Put that on a t-shirt.”

“Done,” Seokjin said, snapping his fingers.

You looked down to find a black t-shirt now adorning your body with the aforementioned phrase across from it.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t be a civil servant. You should be in the t-shirt game,” you said before turning to walk to the kitchen.

"Bio-exorcist by day," he said, his hands accenting his words dramatically as he followed you, "t-shirt entrepreneur by night," he seemed to consider it for a moment. "I like the way you think, kid."

Seokjin pauses for a moment, just looking back at you as if he is trying to get a better sense of you.

"If he’s scared of everything," Seokjin said. "Then this should be easy, but personally I think we should have fun with it. I mean, if I’m not scaring I’m not caring, you know?”

"I know you're the expert," you said, raising your eyebrows in scrutiny. "but I don’t want to scare him too much. I mean I love him."

"Listen babe, this isn’t about love it’s about respect and he’s not giving you that, Aretha Franklin style."

"Please don’t sing."

Of course he does his rendition of the song, accompanied by some minor choreography that makes you wonder if he’s done this before. He's actually a good singer though his future as a choreographer isn't looking good. It’s a little too on-the-nose dance wise.

"What is your plan?" you asked cutting him off in the second verse of the song.

"Well the way I see it we have a few options. Personally this wouldn't be the first time I turn into a gigantic snake and I’m guessing he’s afraid of snakes."

"You’re right about the snakes," you said hopping up to sit on the counter, "and that’s exactly why I can’t let you turn into a gigantic one."

"What’s the fun in that?" he asked. "Do you want him to leave this apartment and stop fucking random women in front of you or did you just call me for a good time? Frankly it’s not a good time without my gigantic snake," he said winking at the end which caused you to roll your eyes and scoff.

You stared back at him unamused. "Think of something less scary but still scary enough to have him move out."

"Toots, you’re putting me in a difficult situation," he said leaning back against the counter. "Just leave it the expert."

"If you’re an expert you should be able to come up with a different plan."

He smiled at this, though his gaze looked angry. "You drive a hard bargain," he said, laughing with little humor. "How do you feel about light possession?"

"I don’t even know what that means," you said, your eyes wide. "How can you lightly possess someone?"

"When you’re as good as me, you can do just about anything."

"Sounds fake," you said, hopping down from the counter and moving back into the living room. "lets rule out any type of possession."

"You’re really grabbing me by the balls and not in the way I like," he said following you into the living room and flopping down on the couch.

"Does it look like I care what you like?"

"Hey you’re the one who called me?" he said, looking at you accusatorially.

"No one ever said I always make good decisions," you said, looking for the newspaper that had his ad in it. "How can I send you back?"

"Hey let’s not act rationally," he said jumping up from the couch and walking quickly to you.

"Don’t you mean rashly?" you asked, looking up at him for only a moment before looking for the paper again.

"I said what I said and I meant it."

"Come up with a good plan now," you said, giving up on finding the paper. "Or I’ll figure out how to send you back."

"Fine, you’re really pulling my arm but what about this? I’m thinking classic haunting," he said, setting the stage with his movements. "I’m talking blood dripping down the walls, things falling off shelves, 'redrum' written on the mirror and the works. He’ll be running quicker than you can say 'boo.'"

"I like that plan because it seems to include no potential physical harm."

"I thought you might," he smirked.

"So when do we do it," you asked.

"Once he’s alone with nothing to distract him or try and explain it away."

That time comes the next afternoon as you and Seokjin stand behind Hoseok as he sat on the couch. You and Seokjin's arms brush against each other and you immediately push him away. Seokjin looks over at you with minor annoyance on his face.

"This is pretty lame, so if anyone asks, I was not a part of this," he said.

"Don’t worry," you said. "I don’t think all I ever see anyone as I'm dead now but even if I did, you don't have to worry. I wouldn’t want to be associated with you."

"Promise?" he asked, batting his eyelashes as if you had just said the nicest thing.

"Swear on my death."

Seokjin nods his head, before turning to look down at Hoseok. "Now," he said, before disappearing before your very eyes.

It even sends a chill up your spine, so you almost feel bad for what all of this is going to do to Hoseok. You pull the lipstick out of your pocket. You had grabbed it earlier from the box of your things in the back of the closet. A small part of you wished he would recognize the color and realize you were here with him. A larger part of you knew that would never happen.

You walk to the mirror at the entrance of the apartment and write 'redrum' in the scariest font you can manage with the lipstick.

You feel something drip on you as your writing and look up to find Seokjin has already started the blood effect wherever he's gone off to.

You make your way to the TV, rubbing the blood on your jeans as you move, and for a moment just stand in between Hoseok and the device. You think of the few times you've done it before, where Hoseok has whined and asked you to move out of the way so he could keep watching the game or whatever it was that was on.

Now he looks right through you. He has no idea you're even there. It still stings as much as it first did. You turn away from him to write on the TV screen. You touch the lipstick to the screen just as Hoseok cures behind you.

"What the fuck?" he said, standing up from the couch and moving to the entry way of the apartment.

You almost feel giddy as he looks up at the blood staining the walls.

"I can't fucking believe it," he said, shaking his head. "This fucking landlord."

Hoseok ran his hands over his face in exasperation before pulling his phone out and taking some pictures of the blood, not even seeming to notice the writing on the mirror. Just then Seokjin pushed all of his textbooks off of the table, but Hoseok didn't even flinch.

"Hey," Hoseok said his phone to his ear. "Yeah, the pipes burst again, and I really need you to fix it this time," he huffed at whatever was said on the other line. "No, I know you said you fixed, but I'm telling you there's shit coming down my walls again."

"If that's what his shit looks like," Seokjin said as he reappeared beside you, causing you to gasp and flinch in shock, "then he seriously has a problem and needs to get it checked out."

"I don't understand," you said, motioning to Hoseok grabbing his jacket and heading out of the apartment. "He didn't even see the word on the mirror. I mean this is the shit that has people running out of the building in terror in movies." "The living have no respect for the dead," Seokjin shrugged. "Not to mention your plan sucked."

"This was your plan," you reminded him.

"I told you it wasn’t enough."

"You are the worst," you yelled as you made your way to the bedroom. "I swear to god, you have been nothing but a headache since you got here. You're not the world's leading bio-exorcist your the world's leading pain in the ass."

"Oh I'd love to be a pain in you ass," he said following behind you. "Say the word, and I'll lube up."

"If you weren't already dead I would murder you."

"The feeling is mutual," he said, stepping closer to you. "Do you know what I think?"

"I don't care whatever it is."

"I think you don't actually want your boy to leave," he stepped closer again, causing you to step back. "I think you want him to finally notice you. You want him to realize you're here and stop fucking those other girls."

"Wow, did you get a PhD in stating the obvious? Of course I want the man I love to realize I’m still here. I love him, you asshole."

"Then why did you call a bio-exorcist?" he asked, backing you into the wall. "You're wasting my time."

"Because nothing I do makes him notice me," you said, fighting the urge to spit in his face.

"I don't think you're trying hard enough," he said, just as the door to the apartment opened again. "Why don't I help you?" he said, leaning in so that his face was mere centimeters from yours. "Have you tried some good old-fashioned ghost moaning?"

Your breath catches in your throat as whatever insult you had prepared dies on your tongue. You loathe Seokjin, but the idea of getting back at Hoseok has you contemplating his suggestion.

"Hm," Seokjin mused as you didn't respond. "Ghost got your tongue?"

"Shut up, and put it to good use," you said, leaning in the rest of the way and pulling him into a hungry kiss.

Seokjin kisses down the length of your body, working quickly on your pants as soon as he reaches the waist band. You step out of your pants and despite his previous pace, he stops to look at your underwear, a frown on his face. He looks up at you slowly.

"I'm going to need to fix that," he said, before snapping his fingers.

"If you gave me a dick, I'll actually feed you to the snake thing I ran into the other day," you said hurriedly as you looked down.

Seokjin laughed loudly as he pulled on your arm to move you to the bed. He had replaced your underwear, switching out the cotton panties for a strappy red lace number, that you would never consider buying.

"You like lingerie," you said under your breath, lying down and looking up at the ceiling as your racing heart calmed down.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, crawling back on top of you.

"I'm having ghost sex," you said, laughing a little bit at the end.

"Great ghost sex," he winked, before helping you take your shirt off as well. He replaced your bra as well, the crimson matching set striking compared to what you normally wore.

"Beautiful," he mumbled, kissing your breast over the bra, before looking at you with a devilish grin. "How long until Hoseok comes into the bedroom?"

"We'll find out sooner or later," you mumbled as he kissed the band of your panties.

"Do you think it'll be before the first time you cum?" he asked, kissing your clit through the panties. "Or do you think it'll be before the second time?"

"Definitely before the third," you said, causing Seokjin to laugh.

"Greedy slut," he said, before sucking at your clit, the barrier of the panties causing you to whine for more.

"Pervert," you breathed as he gripped tightly to his hips. "You'd love to watch me get off three times."

"You know," he said, his finger sliding under the band of you underwear. "You really annoy me."

"The feeling is mutual," you said, lightly pushing his head back towards your core. "Scratch my back and I'll scratch your's."

"You drive a hard bargain," he winked before pulling the lingerie off of your body. He sat it down beside you instead of throwing it on the ground and you considered teasing the delicate way he treated it, but just as you formulated your remark, he liked a strip up your cunt, having you sigh in satisfaction.

You're not surprised that he teases you, giving your clit the attention it wants, only to take it away again, laughing lightly against you. He takes pleasure in your moans, his hands gripping more tightly at your hips every time you get lost in the pleasure. It seems to ground you in the moment.

You're close to reaching your high when you hear the door open and look over to see Hoseok entering the room.

Seokjin stops his movements and looks up, causing you to whine lightly.

"Before the first time," he shrugged, before looking at you with a smirk. "Louder," he said before burying his head between your legs again.

He harshly sucked your clit into his mouth, and you didn't hold back the moan that started in the pit of you chest. Hoseok is unaware of your presence, but your knowledge of his has each movement of Seokjin's tongue feeling better and better.

You never knew you would like this, but as you think about every girl you heard in this room you feel desire grow in the pit of your stomach. Your reaching your peak quickly, your hands winding into Seokjin's hair as you cum hard on his tongue.

You're panting when Seokjin comes back up a smirk on his face. "Scratch mine," he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

You roll your eyes in response, but your hands come up to undo his belt. The two of you work to rid him of his jeans and you can only scoff in response when Seokjin props himself up against the headboard of the bed, his arms crossed behind his head.

"Can you make him see us?" you whispered, a bit embarrassed by the question.

Seokjin looked over at Hoseok and shrugged. "Maybe. If I turned into a cyclops he would probably notice us, but he could see us right now if he paid attention to the strange and unusual."

"Yes, that's exactly how I'd describe fucking you." "Less talk," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"Mhm," you hummed as you ran your hands up his thighs. You kiss his cock lightly over his boxer briefs, before hooking your fingers into the band and pulling them down. You must gape slightly at the size of his dick, because Seokjin laughs lightly. When you look up at him he seems pretty proud of himself.

"I said it was a gigantic snake."

"Choke," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Say please, and I will," he winked, looking down at your throat.

You rolled your eyes, as you took his cock in your hand, to which Seokjin took a sharp breath.

"Interesting," you said, looking up at him with a wink. "It looks like you're the one who should be saying please." "Listen, babe, I'm not about begging."

You chuckled lightly, before licking up the length of his cock. You took the tip into your mouth, sucking lightly, and then taking him in deeper.

Seokjin moans loudly and you wonder partly if you're actually doing that good of a job or if he's trying to catch Hoseok's attention.You can't watch your boyfriend from this angle, so instead you imagine what he's doing. The thought that he could be standing shocked behind you, too caught off guard to do anything but watch has your pussy clenching around nothing and desire building in your core again.

"Fuck," Seokjin said. "Swallow."

And you do, swallowing around him before he comes and after, pulling your mouth off of him as he smiles with his eyes closed.

"Watch this," he said, looking back at you and winking, before he snapped his fingers. He's hard again instantly, which is a little unsettling and the grimace on your face must communicate as such.

"I never thought it was fair girls could just cum again if they wanted to."

"Really?" you said, as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him so you were straddling his lap. "I never thought it was fair guys came practically every time we had sex and I was lucky to come 1/4 of the time."

"Very unfair," Seokjin said, nodding his head. "I've always recognized the power of the female orgasm." "Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you're horribly mean to me."

"Poor baby," you said, lining yourself up above his cock. "The girl that just sucked your dick makes fun of you."

"I liked it better when you had a dick in your mouth and couldn't talk."

"I liked it better when you were too fucked out to say something gross." "Then let's get to it," he said, his hands gripping at your ass as you sank down on him.

The stretch has you moaning, and despite your abhorrence that he was right, Seokjin does have a big dick and the way it fills you is delicious. He gives you a moment to adjust before his hands are helping you ride him, his mouth moving to suck at your neck.

When he pulls away he doesn't look at you, but behind you.

"You want him to see? Be too loud for him to ignore," he said, looking back at you. "Show him how mad he made you. Show him what he's missing. Show him two people can play his game."

You moan in response, turning your body to see Hoseok. He's sitting at his desk, likely doing school work, none the wiser that two dead people are fucking in his bed. He briefly turns towards the bed, his eyes seeming to fall on your body just as Seokjin moves again to suck at the other side of your neck.

"Maybe if he sees us we can both fuck you," Seokjin said before biting at your ear. "Would you like that?"

"Seokjin,” you moan.

“You want to remind him how good you take dick.”

“Seokjin,” you moan just as he thrusts deeper into you. “Seokjin.”

"You act like a prude," Seokjin said, moaning as he thrusts up into you. "But you're really a slut aren't you? You'd do anything to get back at him."

"Yes," you moaned, turning back to Seokjin. "Fuck me so good he can't ignore us," you said.

"What do you think I've been trying to do," Seokjin grunted, thrusting up into you again.

You're reaching your high a few thrusts later, moaning louder than you ever have as Seokjin cums inside of you at the same time.

The two of you are panting, lying chest to chest on the bed as you ground yourself back in reality. When you roll off of him you look over to see Hoseok still studying.

You feel better knowing you weren't powerless in this situation, that you too could move on, but something in you wishes he had opened his eyes and seen it. Some untapped kink you didn't even know existed until Seokjin came into your death.

The new plan might involve some physical injury. You've made Seokjin promise that he wouldn't, but frankly everything about Seokjin materializing as the girl from The Grudge sounds like someone's getting hurt, and probably not Seokjin. Hoseok is dancing through the hallway to the kitchen when Seokjin appears at the end of it. Or rather, the little nightmare girl he's pretending to be.

Hoseok doesn't notice at first, he's looking down at his feet as follows the melody of the song, but when he finally looks up, all of the color drains from his face and he stops in his tracks.

He blinks his eyes rapidly, as if he has something in his eyes rather than the physical embodiment of evil being a few feet from him, but soon his body catches up with his mind and he's running from the house.

He screams as he runs and you flinch when he almost trips over one of his shoes, that you have the sneaking suspicion Seokjin placed in his way.

He doesn't come back, or at least not alone. Yoongi and Namjoon, his friends from school, come back with him to help him get his stuff and move out. A couple of times Yoongi teases Hoseok for being afraid of this place, because it's the least haunted apartment he's ever been in. Namjoon scolds him and points to the box in the back of the closet with your name on it.

You've already gone through it and taken out anything you want to keep yourself. It was mostly just a few pictures of the two of you and your favorite lipstick that you never put back. You hid them in the couch cushions and hoped that they didn't check for lose change or anything.

A few months pass and no one moves in. Seokjin thinks rumors probably spread after Hoseok ran from the place screaming so no one wants to move in.

You figure he's right, because you certainly wouldn't want to.

It's strange how the two of you start to move and live comfortably around each other, though it is unfair that Seokjin can leave. He usually spends all day with the living and comes back to tell you something interesting he learned.

You feel even more like a housewife than you did with Hoseok. At least now you get to hear about your hard-working "husbands" day.

It’s half a year later when someone finally comes to tour the apartment. You and Seokjin are making out on the bed when you hear the landlord enter and soon Seokjin is tearing his lips from your breast and looking in the direction of the entrance.

"Finger's crossed they can see dead people," he said winking at you.

"Apartment tour and a show," you laughed, pushing him off of you.

The two of you make your way to the living room to see who would be so lucky to call Seokjin their future husband potentially. You almost fall on the floor with laughter as she comes into view.

Standing in he living room with your ex-landlord is a woman who must be nearly 80 years old.

“What?" Seokjin asks, over your laughter.

“I don’t know how much longer your future bride will be living.

“How horrible of you? Where are your manners? That is my wife!”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you said, waving your hand at him. "I don't mean to be ageist, I just know your little pervert brain did not have this in mind."

"Please don't call me a pervert in front of my wife," he said, pushing you to the side. "I think you're just jealous?"

"Of who?" you asked, laughing harder. "You? Or the woman you're going to try and convince to marry a dead man?"

"If you want to marry me, just say so," he smirked.

"Not even if you were the last dead man in this apartment."

#seokjin smut #bts smut #sekojin x reader #jin smut #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #bts writing #magicshopnet

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evanstanhoney · 5 years ago

Text

Meds.

a/n: a few things. I hardly ever write non-au Shawn because...well idk why but I felt like it was necessary with this. Also, this is probably the most personal thing I will ever post here. Bipolar disorder is a fucking asshole and even if you don’t suffer from it I hope you can enjoy this anyway!

summary: you think you're doing okay, but eventually the facade shatters and shawn is there to help you pick up the pieces

⚠️warnings: mentions/insinuations of anxiety and depression/bipolar disorder

word count: 1.9k

Things were always a little harder when he was away. It was necessary and you understood that. You never wanted to be the clingy girlfriend that couldn’t function without their significant other within arms reach, but it was still hard. There were phone calls and text messages and Facetimes scheduled even a few trips planned within the months he was away. But it was still pretty rough.

This time was different though.

You’re not sure what it was if you had more things to distract yourself with or the fact that you had one trip more planned to fly out to see him than your usual, but you were feeling much better. The first few days of him being away were usually pretty rough, rougher than they should be. It’s just that you would always get so used to having him around so often that when he wasn’t there it was strange. But now? Going on day one without him with you, it felt like nothing had changed.

“Shawn!” you smile into the phone answering on the first ring.

“Hey Honey, how are you?”

“Good! I’m good, I got a bunch done today. Finally.”

“Yeah? That's good. I miss you already. It was weird not being kicked awake this morning.” He jokes and you can hear that smirk on his face. You were a mover in your sleep and he had gotten used to waking up at all hours of the night to you rolling around in the sheets taking the covers with you.

“I miss you too. But you're having fun right?”

“Yeah, yeah I -” He wasn’t expecting this from you. Usually, that first phone call after he’d left was a somber one. Of course, you would try your best conceal it from him but he could always hear how hurt you were. But you sounded...fine. Happy even. And as fucked up as it sounds, the happiness in your voice made his heart twist a bit in his chest. Because it wasn’t just happy he could hear, it was euphoria. You rambled on more about your day, and you slipped in a few ‘I wish you were here’s’ before he interrupted you mid-sentence.

“Honey.”

“Yeah?” you asked through a smile.

“Are you - have you been taking your meds?” The line goes quiet for what feels like a whole minute and he has his answer right there.

“That’s none of your business.” you snap, voice laced with venom. You don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but you were also pissed.

“Honey -”

“Why would you even ask me that?”

He curses himself running a hand through his hair. He really didn’t have a right to ask. It was your business but that didn’t stop his worrying. And by the sounds of it, he had every right to worry.

“I just want you to be okay baby, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m doing fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“I didn’t mean to -”

“Goodnight Shawn.” You hung up the phone after that before he even got the chance to apologize.

....

The next time you spoke it was like that first phone call had never happened. And you were more than okay with that because this time you were far from okay. This time you found yourself with your arms wrapped around your knees while you sat on your bathroom floor, in the dark and the only thing you can feel the cool tiles against your skin.

“Shawn,” you say into the phone, voice cracking. You didn’t even try to hide it, you were too much of a wreck to care, and you didn’t even know why. A few days ago you were fine, and things were looking good considering Shawn being away for the first time in a while, but then all of a sudden you were hit by a wave of something you couldn’t quite explain, but it left a hole in your chest, and it made it hard to breathe, everything just went dark. You had convinced yourself that everything was just...wrong. You were a fuck-up, Shawn didn’t love you, and there was just no point in anything anymore. You felt guilty about calling, but you just needed to hear his voice, as shitty as you felt, as much as you had convinced yourself that he hated you, you just wanted to hear his voice.

“Honey.” He sighs into the phone, and you can hear hum excuse himself, the noise in the background getting quieter. He looks down at his phone and checks the time, “Baby its three in the morning there, you should be in bed.”

“I know I just. Do you love me?” you sniffle, whipping at your eyes.

“Of course I do.”

“Even though I’m fucked up?”

“Honey. Your not- there’s nothing wrong with you.” He says softly. He’s had this conversation with you only a few times, and each time it broke his heart. He knew that when you were in one of these moods when you were stuck in your head there was nothing that he could do to get you out of it. All he could do was comfort you the best way that he could until whatever it was you were feeling just faded away. And being thousands of miles away this time, made everything thousand times worse.

“Yes, there is Shawn. I’m fucking broken and I’m a mess.” you hiccup into the phone, and suddenly it becomes harder to breathe. “I’m sorry you have to deal with my shit, Shawn. I’m so so so sorry.”

“Hey, I need you to breathe for me, okay?”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Hey, listen to me. You’re okay, yeah? We’re alright.” He takes a few deep breaths instructing you to follow along with him and you do, eventually being able to breathe again on your own.

“There you go.” He says finally hearing your breathing go back to normal and he relaxes a bit himself.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the phone. You feel calmer, but the tears still haven’t stopped.

“No, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” he assures, “Can you do something for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Make yourself a cup of tea and go put your blanket in the dryer for a minute. You know the one?”

“Yeah.” you sniff

“Go put it in the dryer for a few minutes and then try to get some sleep, okay?” It was something that he did for you the first time he’d seen you this upset. Put a blanket in the dryer to warm it up and wrapped it around you. Something about it grounded you and made you feel safe. You’d done it a few times yourself when he was away, and you were particularly lonely. It always managed to calm you down.

“I want to talk to you though.” you pout into the phone, hoping that it’ll convince him to stay on the line with you. And as much as he wants to, he knows that you just need to sleep it off for a while.

“I know you do but you need sleep more baby. You can call me as soon as you wake up. I’ll answer on the first ring I promise.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.” He says into the phone with more conviction than he ever has.

“I love you too.”

You hang up and his heartbreaks. He feels so helpless. He wants to help you but he knows that there's nothing that he can do. Your in a battle with your own mind and all he can do is tell you that he’s there for you and hope that your taking care of yourself. And by the conversations, you’ve had the last few days. He knows that your not. You're not taking your meds. And he can't do anything about it.

.....

The following week he finally has a few days off in his schedule and he’s booking tickets immediately flying home to you. It wasn’t planned, and it would only be for three days, two if you take travel into account and to most people the trip wouldn’t be worth it, but he needed to get to you even if it were just for a few days.

“Honey can we talk.” He asks from his spot on the couch. You finished fidgeting with the Blue-ray player, turning to him with a smile.

“Yeah.”

He extends his hand out to you and which you gladly accept. He pulls you into his side, and you instinctively lay your head on his shoulder, lacing your fingers together. He doesn’t even know how to begin the conversation, too afraid it’ll end in a fight. But he doesn’t know what else he can do, he can’t stand to see you hurting like you have been, even though he knows you’ve been putting on a brave face, he can see the cracks and he just wants to help put you back together again.

“I know that it’s none of my business, and I don’t have a right but -”

“I’m okay Shawn,” you whisper.

“Baby you called me at 3 o’clock in the morning in tears.” you look down at your fingers intertwined with his. “I know you're not taking your meds. And I know it’s none of my business, but honey you’re not okay.”

“I was doing fine though.”

“I know you were.” He sighs placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, “But that doesn’t mean you can stop taking them. They’re there to help.”

“I just don’t want to have to take pills to be normal. I’m tired of being the crazy girlfriend.” It was a thought you had often, feeling guilty that Shawn had to deal with your ‘meltdowns’ every so often. Hating that you had to take pills to be able to function like he could. Wishing that your brain would just….work. That it didn’t play tricks on you, and that you just could be happy without it meaning that something was possibly wrong.

“Hey, you're not crazy. Don’t say that. You’re just wired differently that's all.” You don’t say anything, just not and nuzzle in closer to him. “I love you, Honey. No matter what.”

“I love you too.”

.....

After your talk you decided it was best you start back on your medication, and after a week, your back to your normal self. Well, stable self. It’s strange, at first. Looking back and realizing just how bad off you were without them, and part of you is worried that something else will happen that will trigger something again. But you were doing better, and for now, that was okay. You had to keep reminding yourself that it was one day at a time.

Shawn had arranged for you to fly out to stay with him for a few shows, it was tricky with work, and you had to send a few schmoozy emails to your professors to get them to excuse you, but it was worth it. You needed it. He needed it. After what happened, he just wanted to be near you, to make sure you were okay, and yeah it may have been wrong, to want to keep an eye on you, but he didn’t know what else to do. And well, you loved seeing him on stage, nothing made you happier than watching the smile on his face while he performed.

“You were amazing up there tonight babe. As always.” You say snuggling up to him in bed, laying your head on his chest.

“Thank you.” He chuckles, laying a kiss to your forehead. There’s a moment of comfortable silence between you for a moment before he decides to speak up again, “How you feeling?”

“Perfect.” you sigh placing a kiss to his chest, “Just perfect.”

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#my writing #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes prompts #shawn mendes concepts #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes aus #tw: anxiety

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