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erule · 3 years

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The frat party | t.h.

Title: The frat party

Pairing: Frat boy!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1859

Warnings: OC Elizabeth (Lizzie), fake dating/relationship trope, language, fluff

Summary: Tom and the reader met at a frat party, but a year later they broke up because of some reason. Now, rumor has it that the reader is dating one of Tom’s friends and he gets jealous.

A/N: Hello hello, enjoy the new chapter! Sorry for the waiting, guys, but I hope that I made it up to you. Just let me know your thoughts about this chapter!

If you wanna be tagged in my Tom Holland fics, just let me know in my ask box! You can also find me on AO3 and Wattpad. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer!

Taglist: @webmeupspiderdaddy

Read chapter 1 here!

Main Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

Peter Parker Masterlist

Story under the cut!

Chapter 2

Rumor has it

“So, guys, rumor has it that…”

“Stop!” Tom exclaimed, interrupting Harrison. “Everytime you say that sentence, something hurts me and I really wanna miss that opportunity today. I’m already angry at myself because of what happened with Oliver,” he said, lighting a cigarette while sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Smoking makes you even more annoying than usual, Tom,” Harrison said. Tom sighed.

“Oliver makes me like that. He’s still flirting with Y/N, even if he should know by now that she’s mine. I mean, she will be mine again. My girl,” he said, with a soft smile on his face. “Ouch”.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Tom answered, brushing his bottom lip where Oliver hurt him.

Jacob suddenly opened the door, a big smile on his face. Tom and Harrison looked at him with suspicion.

“What happened, Jacob?” Harrison asked.

“So, rumor has it that…”

“Oh, fuck me,” Tom sighed, laying his back on the bed. Harrison chuckled.

“I was saying: rumor has it, that there will be a huge frat party at the end of the year to celebrate the older students like us, that will graduate soon and Lizzie asked me to come with her,” he said, happily.

“Lizzie as in Elizabeth? Y/N’s friend?” Tom asked and Jacob nodded.

“She looked a lot like Y/N last year, I thought they were twins. Now she has changed her hair color, at least,” Harrison said.

“The most important things is that she likes me!” Jacob exclaimed. “Be happy for me just once, guys. I deserve it”.

“You’re right Jacob, you do,” Tom said, giving him a pat on his back.

Somebody knocked at the door. Harrison went to open it and found someone who Tom would have been very glad to see. In fact, he jumped from the bed instantly, throwing the unlit cigarette in the trash.

“Hey darling, what are you doing here?”

You sighed, looking at him.

“I have an unseemly proposal for you and you can’t say no”.

“A fake relationship?”

After Tom had sent his friends away, you sat down on his bed in front of him to discuss about the details.

“Look, I didn’t want to do this, but Oliver’s still flirting with me and I have to cut this. He would leave me alone only if he’d see that we’re back together, I’m sure of it. Also, you literally proposed this to me last time, so… Wow, that’s really unpleasant. It must hurt,” you said suddenly, staring at his lip. You moved a hand to reach the wound, but then you stopped. You gazed at him. “Can I?”

Tom nodded. So you brushed it with your fingertip, thinking about how much it costed him to protect you even after your break up. How much it hurt. You swallowed, melancholy threatening to eat you alive. He had closed his eyes for a second. A very long second. Like you at the party. Maybe standing this close to him wasn’t a good idea.

“Y/N…”

“So, what do you think?” You asked, withdrawing your arm.

Tom shrugged.

“I agree,” he said.

“Just like that? You don’t want something in return?”

“As you said, I suggested it in the first place, so I totally agree with it,” he said. Then, he got dangerously close to you, so close that you thought he wanted to kiss you on the lips – and, in fact, he smirked –, but he didn’t. He left you a light kiss on your cheek instead, before whispering these words in your ear: “I’m gonna get you back, Y/N. One way or another,”

You ran away from there like a wolf was chasing you to eat you.

***

You were looking at Zendaya, hands clasped in prayer, begging her to help you. You and Tom had decided to go out as in a date in order to convince Oliver that the two of you were, in fact, back together. Lizzie was already somewhere with Jacob, so you had just Zendaya left to pick the outfit for the evening. She didn’t like that kind of stuff, mostly because because didn’t agree to your plan, but you were too desperate to let it go. She would have helped you at the end. Well, that was your hope anyway.

“Please, Z,” you basically begged her.

She rolled her eyes, arms crossed, but then she nodded. You tried to give her a kiss, but she moved away.

“You know what? This will be a dumb outfit for a dumb plan,” she said, while opening your closet.

“Z, I just…”

“You know why? Because the second, the second, Tom will try to kiss you, you’ll fall for it. Again”.

“I thought that he was your friend too,” you said, showing her a dress, but she shaked her head.

“He is, but I don’t know if he’s the right pick for you. I don’t condone what you did to him,” she said and you gulped, “but he’s not exactly an angel either. He ruined a lot of relationships even before he met you. That’s who he is,” she continued.

You sat on the edge of the bed, while she was looking for something that you could wear.

“Maybe he’s not like that anymore. People grow up, Z,” you said.

“Oh, yeah? Have you?” She asked you, turning around. You swallowed. “That’s what I thought. Don’t come to me when he’ll screw things up again. Or when you will” she stated, then she showed you the outfit. You looked at it with a sparkle in your eyes. “We have found it”.

You showered, wore the outfit and prepared in less than an hour. You were trying to wear your shoes, when Zendaya opened the door to Tom. He was wearing a white T-shirt with a red flannel on it and some ripped jeans. You waved at him, while grabbing your bag. You told Zendaya not to wait for you and then you smiled at Tom, ready to go.

“Are you still smoking?”

“Sometimes,” he answered. “Where’s Oliver tonight?”

“He posted on Instagram an hour ago, so I assume that he’s still with Jacob and Lizzie somewhere in the campus,” you said, looking at your phone.

“Well, so we have some time,” he said with a smirk. He took your hand and you felt shivers running down your spine.

“What are you doing, Tom?”

“Come on darling, if we have to pretend, then we have to make it believable. What’s worse than seeing the girl you like having fun with someone else?” He asked and you noticed a lightning passing through his eyes.

Then, without even realizing it, you found yourself running with Tom all over the campus. That alone made you laugh, because you felt like a little girl. If you had to describe Tom in one word, you would have said he was light. Not because it was always sunny, but because of the way it managed to get you out of the darkness you found yourself in sometimes. He pulled you out of the darkness and made you feel alive, everytime. He was the only one who could do it. Sometimes you wondered why you gave up on him, in fact. Because you had given up on the light, you, who often felt like a full moon in a dark and gloomy sky. He brought you in a part of the campus that seemed a minigolf. Maybe he and his friends had created it, since Tom loved playing golf very much. He gave you a golf club, urging you to try your hand at it.

“I’m not a good player, Tom,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’m still chasing you, right? So I wouldn’t say so,” he replied, leaving you speechless. “I was joking. Come on, let me show you,” he said.

It seemed so cliché, letting him touch you, teaching you to play, celebrate with him every victory of yours… You could have had it, a year ago. That. Tom. All yours. But you gave up on everything. It was your biggest mistake.

“Tom, it’s time. I think that we should go back. Oliver and the others could be coming to their rooms right now,” you said. Tom seemed a bit sad at your words, but only for a moment. It was hard to see an emotion flash on his face.

He nodded.

“Whatever you want, darling,” he said.

You wanted to say something else, but you closed your mouth before you could actually do it. The two of you came back and fortunately, you found Oliver with Lizzie and Jacob still hanging out. You caught Jacob attention and waved him, while Tom was smooth to hold your hand. You turned around in order to tell him something, but he was quick. One second later, her was kissing you and there was something in your stomach, like a knot, that slowly loosened its grip. You felt a weird sensation, a sort of relief. You could feel Oliver’s eyes trying to burn Tom’s skin, Jacob saying Let’s go and your blood boiling in your veins like lava.

When Tom broke the kiss, he ran his thumb over your lips, looking at them with a sort of melancholy. Fake relationships are a beautiful dream, but waking up is from them a nightmare.

“Tom…”

“I think that he got the message,” he said, taking a step back from you. He lit a cigarette, clenching his jaw.

“This is not a joke to me, Tom. It’s not something I’m doing just for him,” you said.

“No? Then explain what all of this is to me, darling,” he replied, throwing out some smoke like it was his anger.

“Yeah,” you said, but then you bit your inner cheek.

“What’s stopping you, Y/N? What are you hiding from me?” He asked, scanning your face. “Are you ashamed of something? Maybe it’s what you did, you know, the whole cheatingthing… or maybe it’s admitting that you still have feelings for me that brings you shame”.

“No, I’m not ashamed,” you said, determined.

“Then talk to me, darling. What’s happening?”

“I can’t tell you, Tom, I’m sorry,” you said, looking around. It was like you needed some air, even if you were outside. That secret didn’t make you breath anymore.

“What? That you liked throwing all away? That he didn’t make you feel like I did? That you weren’t done playing with me? Just tell me something, Y/N, anything would be better than this fucking silence,” he said, raising his voice.

“I didn’t cheat on you!” You yelled. Tom’s eyes grew wide. Everything around you two seemed now quiet, motionless. You covered your mouth with your hands, maybe to erase what you just said. “Fuck”.

Tom stared at you for a good couple of minutes. He looked at your tired and tearful eyes, perhaps thinking whether to believe you or not, then he did something unexpected: he put out his cigarette. He walked over to you, raking your face in his hands and looked into your eyes, this time more intensely. He looked tired and incredibly older.

“Now you’re gonna tell me everything, darling”.

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washymylifeaway · 4 years

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Haikyuu fanfic recs for ones I liked hehe

EDIT: I made a pt 2

Anyway, as the title suggests, I am recommending some fanfics for popular(ish) ships that I personally really enjoyed! I’m only doing one or two fics per ship (which in hindsight is KILLING me so I’m just putting the first fics I find and am like I really liked that one LOL) because I wanted to do a shorter fic rec list (tho watch this become super long LOL). I also may or may not be procrastinating finishing a couple other long posts, so there’s that hehe. For the (kinda but not really) public consensus for best fics per ship (by kudo count) check out some of my other posts. Also I’m putting some ships I don’t actually read much of (OOPS LOL) so if you think that there’s a fic that fits my type (if I even have a consistent type) better, pls tell me LOL. Otherwise, pls continue heh :)

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading to make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) and stay healthy!

IwaOI:

The Loyalty of a Traitor by DeathBelle (E) 76.9k // ok so does me liking this fic make me basic cause I feel basic LOL. I really love mafia fics, and the way the story line developed was SO good, like IN LOVE with this story. This is a fic where you should read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY before diving in, but if the length scares you, don’t be. It’s so easy to fall in and get lost in the writing!

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu (chanyeol) (T) 66.3k // again, basic? Probably LOL but it’s good so I have no shame ;) Again, pls don’t let the word count scare you (cause it scared me LOL), you get really into it after like 2 paragraphs, so just make sure you have enough time to finish hehe.

KuroKen:

Thicker Than Blood by kylar (M) 91.4k // are you surprised that there is another mafia one? You really shouldn’t be LOL. Anyway, I’ll just be here pushing my mafia fanfic agenda while you read this monster of a fic hehe :) Definitely read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY because there is some very sensitive topics involved! I also adore the oibokuroo friendship headcannon, so more reasons to read, right?

Liked, Commented and Subscribed by Royal Society of Pandas (Abarcelos) (T) 45.7k // this fic is SO funny omg. I read it and I had to stop so many times just to laugh because I could not stop sometimes LOL. However, there IS angst towards the end, it gets resolved, but it’s still there... But honestly, it just adds such depth and flavor to the fic, so pls read it!

BokuAka:

bang! now we're even by Authoress (M) 11.9k // so I’ll be honest, I don’t read a lot of BokuAka (...oops?) and so I wouldn’t consider myself as the best person to be recommending fics for this ship (in general too LOL).... ANyway, I love myself some good spy AUs (was gonna put that IwaOi spy AU but the LIMIT), and Akaashi in a dress? Like the tags might state, what more do you need? The characters are done beautifully, and the story development is SO good, so I give you all my humble BokuAka rec.

Crisis Converted by valiantarmor (M) 60k // man do I really love fighting in my fics LOL. This was super good and the plot itself kept me really engaged (what a twist omg). It does talk a bit about mental health issues, but it’s done so well, and they really did this AU justice!

DaiSuga:

How to Manage by SuggestiveScribe (E) 39.3k // ok so yea yea we established, I’m basic, BUT can you blame me? This might’ve been one of the first DaiSuga’s I’ve read and I have no regrets. Literally, this fic series is one of my favorites, so OF COURSE I had to add it somewhere :D Honestly, I don’t even think you need to read the first one to understand what’s going on, but I would just cause it has some funny DaiSuga moments too ;) This is explicit for PWP, so proceed with caution~~

Add New Contact by booksong (G) 8.5k // this one! It’s so cute and poor Daichi LOL. He really out here doing the most,,, Anyway, we love tech Suga, and a nice dash of snarky tsukki (LOL is he salt, yes yes he is). It’s very fluff and pine, so if you want to read Daichi having gay panic like 24/7, go right ahead LOL.

SakuAtsu:

Burden of Blame by DeathBelle (E) 91.2k // ummmm, haha what, another mafia AU? Me, predictable? Noooo, never..... Anyway, this one was so freakin’ good like, love it so much! It’s one of my favorite mafia AU fics, and I love the story line progression. Poor Atsumu being dragged into this mess, but it’s okay because THEY are IN LOVE. Honestly, this fic is Atsumu best boy like he is the best boy. BEST BOY.

Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (T) 20.9k // I ignored all of the other fics I LOVE in this ship (like the pain I’m in rn), but I love this fic with my whole heart. Like I have reread this fic multiple multiple times because I love it so much (tho I might’ve skipped the angst a couple of times cause I didn’t want the pain okay?). I keep coming back, and the second fic in this series is SO funny and cute and I love it here. Please read it, it’s so FREAKING good, angst and ALL.

KyouHaba:

Team Mom by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead (T) 2.7k // so as I was going through this tag (because that’s what I do LOL), I remembered this fic and I love it. Like yes Yahaba is the fear factor and yes Kyoutani is the DAD. I really like the team dynamics in this one, and the first years make me laugh pls.

Camellias by kiyala (T) 1.9k // IK you’re all like, you’re missing such great fics, like no I’m not I just made myself hate myself by limiting fics to two per,,, I love this fic and when I starting looking for this ship, it was the first one I thought of hehe. I really love magic and their interactions are so cute and the PLANTS ARE DOING THE MOST. Pls read both in the series, cause domestic KyouHaba is best KyouHaba ngl LOL. I love the plants, and if you read the second one, someone tell the trees to stop bullying Yahaba.

MatsuHana:

This gets annoying fast, Makki by Ink_stained_quills (G) 2.3k // IM IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC PLS I COULD NOT STOP CRYING TEARS OF LAUGHTER. This AU needs more fics PLEASE. It was SO freakin’ funny and the other teams KILLED ME. Like how they all approached the problem differently and how some of them (KUROO) asked for help LOL. Please this is so freaking funny go read it.

boiled frogs by reginagalaxia (E) 91.5k // I told myself I was gonna put my most angsty fics on another post (which I will for my other favorite MatsuHana angst fic which I love), but this fic. Omg I saw it and I was like I have to. Literally I have to. I hate angst, but read it. It, the, plot, omg, I jjfnsfknalkjdnf ljksan. Like I’m not sure you understand. This fic. asjfjfsadnldjb. I never thought I could hate a character SO MUCH,,,, like SO MUCH. READ TAGS, WARNINGS, AND SUMMARIES because some serious stuff really goes down. Bless Iwa-chan.

SunaOsa:

Accidentally in Love by pancake_surprise (T) 19.6k // JOSE CUERVO strikes. I love this fic and all the chaos in it. The way they were supposed to be the responsible couple (of friends LOL),,, sike. This one is only a slight angst and it’s mostly love and fun :) Also technically this is no longer the first fic in the series, but I’m still putting this one cause the other one is SakuAtsu orientated hehe :)

Spring Secrets by DeathBelle (T) 3.8k // Seasons might be one of my favorite (as all things also seem to be) series of all times. I don’t like rerecommending fics I’ve already said to read, which is why I’m not yelling at you to go read a certain other fic (which is my life and blood). Anyway, this fic series is all fluff barely angst (maybe that’s why I like it) but it’s so freakin good pls read it all ahhhhhh.

Komori/Suna (what is their ship name):

I wish to live in a world by hatsuna (T) 24.8k // ok ngl this fic was so sad and relatable? Like I was like wtf why are you making me cry rn even though like I shouldn’t be? My heart? Pain. (Hotel? Trivago.) Technically, this is END GAME but the main pairing is kinda SakuAtsu???? Something of the sort, but also their relationship (Komori and Sakusa) is written so well and idk guys I think you need to read this fic rn.

Ah the two fic limit hurt me, but fear not I am making ship specific rec posts (LOL I’m so dramatic), so if you wanted more of a ship,,,, its a coming hehe. And yes I did say I’m making an angsty fic rec post, but we’ll see if it gets finished before I side-track with posts like these LOL.

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toroikawa · 3 years

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Haikyuu!! fic rec 3

I'm back back back again! I made up another fic rec with my fav ships and big name fics which I hope will make you smile. Please stay happy and healthy <3.

Part I & Part II

Bokuaka

Character Development by silvercistern (T / 75k) - I gave it the Best Summer fic of 2017 award. "That’s some kinda gratitude. What happened to my painfully polite little brother? I get the ideal guy to take you to prom, and you act like he's not even here!"

"I doubt I’d let him take me to the hospital if I were bleeding to death."

In blackwater woods by snowlighters (T / 4k) - at their last match during nationals, akaashi breaks his promise.

Undeniably Special by togekissies (G / 2k) - When Keiji looks at his team, the corners of his mouth start to turn upward. He looks at Bokuto and thinks, I’m going to make this into a team that supports you.

Year round love by masi (G/ 3k) - In his first year of university, Bokuto realizes that he really adores Akaashi.

Iwaoi

The Courtship Ritual of The Hercules Beetle by kittebasu (T / 66k) - Who hasn't read this one?. Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

Trial by fire by bluu (E / 76k) - Iwaizumi is a young, bright-eyed criminal prosecutor fresh out of law school. After half a year of trying misdemeanor cases and learning the art of argument through his mentor, Ushijima Wakatoshi, he finally gets his first felony case: a murder of an affluent CEO by his son, Daishou Suguru.

Matsuhana

A Bouquet of flours by guyfierimpreg (G / 5k) - “Is that a flour sack in a diaper,” Iwaizumi deadpanned, looking at the offending thing with a Look saved only for dealing with Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

boiled frogs by reginagalaxia (E / 91k) - They've always been really close friends, but Hanamaki begins to question how close when Matsukawa begins dating someone else - someone else that doesn't treat him well. When he suspects that Matsukawa may be in an abusive relationship, Hanamaki realizes that opening his best friend's eyes to his situation may be harder than he had ever anticipated.

Sakuatsu

Burden of Blame by DeathBelle (E / 91k) - Atsumu has a long history of pissing people off, but this time he’s gone too far. Someone wants him dead, and although he doesn’t know who or why, it becomes clear very quickly that both he and Osamu are in danger.

curse breaking by allicanseeispink (T / 9k) - Nearing the fourth hour of the silent treatment, Kiyoomi’s already frayed nerves began to whittle down to their last fibers. Today, it was raining. A proper Tokyo monsoon tantrum just shy of a full-blown typhoon that left puddles on sidewalks and fell from an angle so wicked it eluded umbrellas. It was raining and they haven’t spoken in almost four hours.

let's get physical by rosegoldwriting (T / 4k) - Cheesy. “Yer beautiful,” Atsumu says. “And you’re 73.3 kilograms,” Sakusa responds with an eye roll.

liminal spaces by hatsuna (T / 25k) - Fuck you, Atsumu thinks, pointing at the pixelated Sakusa in the team photo on his bedside table.

Terminal Curiosity by favspacetwink, moonlumie (E / 111k) - If the series were a song, they'd be a BANGer (pun included). BDSM AU featuring Experienced Dom Sakusa and Kink Newbie Atsumu. Post-time skip & loosely canon compliant.

you make my heart burn by myhopeisjhope (G / 11k) - “What’s up with that awful expression?” Atsumu asked. He leaned against the counter with his hip, looking directly at Kiyoomi, his regular fox-line grin plastered on his face.“What’s up with that awful hair?” Kiyoomi shot back.

Osasuna

An Inconvenient Espionage by DeathBelle (E / 26k) - Osamu and Atsumu have fucked up one too many times, and in an attempt to tame the Miya Chaos, Kita assigns them to different partners.

miya atsumu's private investigation into touch, change, and the rin voice by rosegoldwriting (T / 3k) - For some reason, his brother, the least touchy person Atsumu knows, has been all over Suna Rintarou since the end of the regular season. Atsumu would like to know why.

The Loss We Learned by DeathBelle (T / 41k) - When Suna and Osamu broke up, it wasn’t on good terms. The end was bitter, and Suna has tried his best to forget about the breakup - and about Osamu - over the past five years.

Other

In Orbit by neonghxst (T / 27k) - turtleneck atsumu, that’s all you need to know. It's easy to see why constellations are named after people, for you shine as brightly as any star I've seen.

Msby black jackals online! by mooshys (T / 56k) - listen everybody, if you’re looking for a platonic environment full of entertainment: this is your place. As the MSBY Black Jackals' on site social media manager, you're often stuck dealing with the boys of the team. You're their go to person when it comes to what they post online. And a lot of the stuff they want to post is just flat out ridiculous.

Shiratorizawa anctics by mooshys (T / 57k) - A collection of stories involving the manager and the rest of the Shiratorizawa team.

#bokuaka #sakuatsu #iwaoi #osasuna #haikyuu fic recs #hq!! fic #my post

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narrators-journal · 3 years

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A small alteration

So! This part is the...second or third to last part, so we’re getting to the end bois. After this, I’ll likely die, or at least not post daily like I have been, so if you guys want more content after this, remember to send in an ask for me to answer! Request stuff, ask me questions, joke around with me, whatever yall want. It’ll hold this blog over until I finish this second fic and can start posting/editting it here!

cw: lightly goes into detail on torture, hisoka, that’s about it I think!

Previous part: here

First part: here

Thankfully, Hisoka didn't stop by after his phone call, but Illumi still took no chances when he went onto jobs. Along with Milluki using the spy cameras Illumi had placed earlier, the long haired assassin made sure at least three butlers were keeping an eye on you whenever he couldn't.

That precaution kept you far away from the blood hungry magician for a week, much to Illumi's relief. Hisoka was a pest, a thorn in Illumi's side through and through, so the last thing the assassin wanted was for him to meet his future wife. Especially now, when you were just too desperate for human contact, and he couldn't risk you getting attacked or manipulated by Hisoka and forcing the assassin to kill such a useful nen user. Or worse, risk you meeting him and growing to love the magician instead of him, so he was dead set on never letting you two meet.

So, instead of risking it, he made sure to keep you as secret as possible, at most giving vague answers to keep the violent hunter at bay when he found him on jobs or something and asked, but confirming or denying little to nothing. Aside from that, Illumi also let the man help him on missions a bit more, both because the assassin could hide things better than his butlers when questioned, and because, though annoying, the vibrantly colored man offered some sort of entertainment on otherwise painfully boring jobs like assassinating businessmen, ex-lovers, or runaway spouses. Though, Hisoka simply popped up sometimes too, either being in the right place at the right time to join on kills, or somehow seeking Illumi out, like a risky, aggravating jack-in-the-box. That habit had gotten him a trip to the Zoldyck basement and torture rooms recently, though it was also a reason Illumi humored the magician when he got bored and asked for help more.

"Please make this simple and tell me where you put the money taken from Mr. Mori." Illumi told his target, a rather pretty young woman he'd been tasked to interrogate, torture, and kill by her ex-sugar daddy. "Is she under-aged, is that why you won't tell me about her?" Hisoka asked, sitting on the table of menacing torture tools in a dungeon of the Zoldyck estate, having talked the assassin into letting him out to help in this little chat. Illumi was beginning to regret his decision to humor the magician though. The tall assassin glared at the other man for his interruption, only getting an innocent smile in return, "No, she is not under-aged." He said curtly, and his companion snickered, "Well, when can I meet her? I'm dying to know what type of woman a Zoldyck lusts after~" "Never." Hisoka pouted at his flat refusal, but the assassin simply returned to questioning his captive, only turning back to the pink-haired man to grab some pliers from the table, "Now, I will ask this once more, if I don't get an answer I'll tear out your finger nails until I do. Where is your ex's money?" he warned the woman, who was sobbing and pleading to be freed from the cold, dark room. When she didn't answer his question though, he kept true to his word, gripping one of her nails with the pliers and pulling until it came away from the nail bed. The monotone assassin continued pulling out his target's crimson-painted fingernails while she tried to lie and say she had no idea where his client's money was. No matter, when he ran out of fingernails, he could always move to toenails or teeth.

Hisoka held a metal bowl that Illumi put the dislocated fingernails in, adding a soft clattering noise to the soundtrack of the woman's sobs, screams, and the lazy buzz of the one lantern that hung from the stone wall until he stood up in the partially lit cell to get another tool from the table. "mmm, she seems quite fun to torture~" Hisoka observed, getting a twisted grin across his face as he looked down at the restrained woman, "She's unbearably loud," Illumi sighed, looking around on the table of tools until he found a rather simple salt shaker, ignoring when Hisoka leaned a bit too close, "Y'know, I bet I could get your girlfriend to be just as loud~" he hummed, and something inside of Illumi seemed to snap for a moment. His aloof air instantly changed to palpable malice and he whirled around on the magician, punching him in the face hard enough to send him sprawling across the cold stone floor. The assassin didn't even give him a chance to react once he landed though, in a flash he was on top of him, holding him down by his throat while his knee pressed down on his ribs, "if you so much as look at my wife, Hisoka, I will fucking kill you before your heart gives another beat." he snarled, tightening his grip on the man's neck until he was gasping and wheezing for air. The pink-haired man gave a nod, a smirk tugging at his lips still, but the feral murderer didn't let him breath until that coy look finally left and he saw panic replace Hisoka's usual mischievous glint in his gold eyes. When Illumi did finally let him up, the magician was gulping down air and glaring at him instead of his usual knowing, coy glance, "Jesus Christ Illumi, learn to take a joke. You know my humor can be perverted, there was no need to nearly kill me!" he snapped, the magician's flirty act falling away, but Illumi didn't respond, he simply checked on the woman he'd been tasked to torture. Sadly though, she was now dead from the amount of malevolence in his nen, "Great, because of your 'joke' my job just got harder." Illumi said, his voice back to being cold, "That wasn't my fault, you were the one who didn't just use one of your needles on her to begin with." he pointed out testily, getting glared at by the man, "The client wanted me to specifically torture her, my needles would have been redundant and not what the client asked for. Of course, I didn't know you were going to be this annoying, or else I would've gotten the information from her at the start." he hummed, and while his voice stayed flat and his face stayed rather aloof, Illumi was boiling with wrath on the inside. Being a pest was one thing, but now Hisoka had actually crossed an important line. So, Illumi simply found the woman's phone in her purse and than called in some butlers. He gave one the cellphone, sending it to Milluki to make use of himself and scour through, than he turned to Hisoka, who was standing in a dark corner across the small cell glaring at them, mostly Illumi. "Now, I will say this nicely only once," the man said, though his words held no kindness, "please return to your cell with the butlers without a fight, or else I will be forced to call my family and drag you back." The two men stood there for a moment in a heavy silence that seemed to bring down the temperature of the already cold cell further. Illumi wasn't very expressive, he purposely added inflections and overt body language to himself when speaking to you, but Hisoka didn't get that sort of kindness, he simply got stared down by bottomless eyes and a deadpan assassin he knew very well was competent enough to stand up to him. So, he simply grinned a predatory grin at the long haired murderer, "Fine, I'll go back to my cell peacefully," he relented, putting his hands up with a mischievous smirk. One of these days Morrow, I'm going to finally kill you. Illumi thought as at least three butlers escorted the magician back to where he'd been held, but he didn't say or show the annoyance as they passed. "Oh, and Illumi, dear? Do tell (y/n) hello for me~" Illumi's aura became malevolent again at that, but the butlers and flamboyant pain in the ass were able to avoid dying from it thanks to their training. Instead, all it did was let slip just how fart Hisoka was under Illumi's skin, making the hunter laugh as he was herded away down the dark hallway, leaving the assassin to simmer in his temper before stalking out of the basement. His first stop once upstairs was Milluki's bedroom. "How did Hisoka find out anything about (y/n)?" he asked, his voice's flat, monotonous tone coming off as more menacing when paired with how he slammed his brother's face into his trash-littered desk, "I don't know! Why are you asking me?" the pudgy man hissed out, barring his teeth at his older sibling when he tightened his grip on his hair, "You are the only person on this mountain aside from Mother who knows about (y/n), and unlike mother, you are the type to tell that bastard about her for a cookie." he pointed out, and Milluki couldn't argue, he did have pretty flippant loyalties when it came to secrets like this. "Alright, fine, but I promise I didn't. I haven't been in the basement since Hisoka got here." he explained, and after a moment of harsh scrutiny, Illumi let him go and left his nasty, anime-littered room. The tall man then went to his wing of the home, thinking of what to do now. Hisoka knowing (y/n)'s name is bad. If he can figure it out, more people could. He mused, a wave of possessive anxiety washing away his rage for the time being. I can't leave her alone anymore. He finally decided as he reached his rooms and turned around to instead find his mother.

#Yandere Illumi #x reader #Illumi zoldyck #hisoka #yandere #hxh #illumi x reader #fanfiction #quotev #hunter x hunter #part 10

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mskatesharma · 4 years

Note

Hey sorry to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could rec some good sources on learning more about Indian Culture/history/customs. Movies books anything really. I have looked online but well, I always take things on the internet with several grains of salt. And considering I know very little on it, I can't say how reliable the information is. I would like to incorporate elements of Kate being Indian when writing about Kate (and Kate and Anthony) going forward and I want to do it in as respectful and accurate a way as I can. For example, I had a thought of Anthony seeing Kate and her fam celebrate Holi and falling in love with how happy and carefree she is and brushing some paint off her cheek before she dunks some pigment onto him or something 1/2

But considering I've never celebrated Holi or seen it celebrated before I don't think I'd do a good job to write it... I know I get annoyed when people get the basic customs and traditions of my culture wrong. Anyway sorry for rambling TLDR: I would like to learn more about Indian culture and idk where to begin so I would be grateful for any direction you can point me at 2/2

so this has taken me a while to answer because i needed to find time to sit down, think about it and answer it properly. it might seem like a somewhat simple question, but to me, at least, it’s complicated? (i’m probably going to be going over stuff you probably already know, but i’m trying to answer in a complete way.)

i need to start off by saying that my family is from north india (gujarat specifically), and because of that, i have a certain level of privilege, including how north indians and north indian culture is portrayed in the media (obviously including bollywood). i mention this because simone ashley is south indian, specifically tamil, and there is so much prejudice against south indians in general, and this obviously extends to how they are depicted and how their culture is shown in various forms of media; colourism (which simone has spoken out about) is just the start of it. (also, as someone who is north indian, i’m not the best placed person to talk about the prejudice and discrimination faced by south indians.)

a big part of why desi fans are so excited about simone’s casting as kate is because she a dark-skinned woc, and typically, dark-skinned women aren’t cast as romantic leads, and they’re not cast in shows anyway, especially when compared to light-skinned woc. so the fact that she’s going to be a lead in one of the biggest shows on netflix is a big.fucking.deal. in addition, they changed her character’s surname from ‘sheffield’ to ‘sharma’, which on the surface seems like a great idea, but if you look a little deeper, there are so many problems to be found.

(this got long so continues below)

sharma is not a generic indian surname; it’s specifically a north indian hindu name, which throws up questions. is kate going to be a hindu on the show? does this mean her family is from north india? are they going to talk about caste on the show because sharma is a brahmin surname? how are they going to explain kate being in england, and being out in society with the upper crust of the british aristocracy? (because of the time that bridgerton is set, and with them specifically setting up kate as indian, i honestly don’t know how they’re going to explain kate’s presence) i honestly think that the show didn’t think too deeply about it and they chose the name sharma because it starts with ‘sh’ and ~sounds indian. however, it’s thrown up so many questions that they can’t ignore, especially because they tried to explain race in the first season.

i talk about all this because you ask about holi, and incorporating elements of kate being indian when writing. and i’m not trying to be mean, but i would maybe hold off altogether? i need to point out that holi is a hindu festival, and is not specifically tied to being indian. i know i mentioned that sharma is a hindu surname, but we don’t even know if kate is going to be hindu, she may be a christian, or another religion or an atheist. also, because simone is tamil, they may decide to have kate be south indian despite the north indian origins of sharma, if they chose to address it at all. and depending on where in india you are from, and your religion, you will celebrate different festivals. even indians of the same religion celebrate different festivals, and some celebrate occasions at different times (e.g. gujaratis celebrate hindu new year the day after diwali. this isn’t the case for most other hindus. if we take holi, i know that it tends to be celebrated more in north india, and the image you describe isn’t necessarily universal).

there has been a lot in the tags regarding clothing, and seeing kate and her family wearing indian clothing, and while i get it, it makes me nervous. personally, i cannot wait to see kate in the same style of dresses that everyone else wore in season one. why? because seeing an indian woman in that period of dress is something i have been longing for. i don’t want to see an indian woman wearing a lengha or a sari or sabyasachi in that time period, i want to see her in a bonnet and empire waistline, because that is something we haven’t seen much of.

also, talking about seeing kate and her family wearing indian clothing has the potential to ‘other’ her, and tbh, can come across sometimes as fetishy, especially when you consider the time the story takes place in, and all the implications of colonialism. (there’s also the fact that unless the show has hired indian costume designers, it would be kinda gross for them to use any kind of indian clothing, and that includes adding elements to the era-typical dress that i’m hoping for.)

i’m going to be honest, i’ve seen pieces of fanart with kate wearing a sari and other indian clothing, while anthony has been in typical regency dress, and it makes me uncomfortable. it gives off coloniser vibes, and that’s a dynamic i have absolutely no interest in. there’s also the fact that i’ve seen art where simone as kate has been shown as light-skinned, to the point where she appears to be the same colour as anthony, and i mean, hello?!

full disclosure, i’ve made some posts regarding headcanons and music that i should have thought twice about. i’ve reblogged stuff that i should have thought more about before i did so. why? because they had overtones of north indian privilege, and/or orientalism. being indian (wherever in india that is) is part of someone’s identity, it’s not a gimmick to sprinkle onto things, and it’s not something to festishise, and i think, at least from what i’ve seen, that is the concern a lot of desi fans have, even if that’s not the intention of the original posters.

i realise i’ve gone on a seemingly massive tangent, but what i’m trying to say is, i don’t think there is a need to specifically reference kate being indian, especially when when writing canon-era fic, even more so when you consider we don’t know how the show is going to address it. now, i’m not saying i have faith in the show when it comes to kate and her ~indian surname, just that until we know how the show addresses it, i don’t see why it needs to be referred to? i understand why one might want to, but i just think there are waaay too many potential pitfalls, and the risk of coming across as orientalist/patronising/fetishy too high. some fans have fears when it comes to kate sharma and how she is presented, and for good reason.

sorry for not answering how you expected, and not giving you the resources you asked for (which, tbh, i’m not sure i would know where to start). i get what you were trying to ask, and i thank you for asking in the first place, but the question felt a little unfair tbh. but, i would encourage to read up on orientalism, also about the privilege that north indian hindus have, and honestly, the british colonisation of india.

ETA: i put this in the reblog but im going to add it here as well

also, something i forgot to add, even though i talk about north indians/north india and south indians/south india, it is obviously more complicated than that. there are many different states in india, and even then, different regions within those states will have different customs to each other. and then you have to factor in religion. likewise, there’s no one language that everyone in india speaks. basically, it’s not one universal culture that can be ‘boiled down to the essentials’.

#kate sharma #kate sheffield #kathony #bridgerton #anthony x kate #kate x anthony #simone ashley #kanthony #if i've got something wrong please PLEASE correct me #also if i've forgot to say something that needs to be said #idk anymore #i am once again wishing they hadn’t tried to explain race during season one #look at all the stuff it’s thrown up #ask

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makowo · 3 years

Text

Forever Deep Below Creation

This is still a work in progress, but due to my lack of posted writing in the past 3 months, I thought I'd give a sneak peek at the beginning of the fic.

Warnings: None

Characters: Naegi Makoto, Kirigiri Kyoko

Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto

Words: 3k

It’s another warm night in the woods. Cicadas cast their calls to the air, and while some creatures tuck into their nests and dens, others rise to greet the darkened sky. Wing and hooves and fingers and claws grazing the sky, Brushing against the stars and cupping the face of the moon.

And here Makoto is, prepping dinner in the cottage he calls a home. His home. Their home.

He pulls out a knife from the block by the counter just as he hears the front door’s lock click. He can almost feel the burst of warm night air flooding their living room, though it is little to the warmth of the stove as it works to bring water to a boil.

He blinks, dropping his focus to turn towards his wife with a grin. “Welcome home honey!”

“Honey?” Kyoko echos, placing her bag on the coffee table. She leaves her holstered gun beside it, walking into the kitchen to check on him. “It’s unusual for you to use pet names.”

“Only if I wanna tease you.” He chuckles, and she does it right back. “Unless you prefer stuff like “babe” or “sweetheart”?”

Arms wrap around his waist, Kyoko resting her chin on his shoulder. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

She avoids the question, and he saves that tidbit of info for later. Avoidance is not a no, after all. “Yakisoba.” He nudges the noodles around with a spoon, half-focused on it as he leans back against his wife. “Thought it might be good to have something quick tonight, y’know?”

Kyoko merely hums, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Shouldn’t you turn up the AC? You’re cold.”

“Means I can cuddle up to you to stay warm tonight though.”

“As if I’ll let you do that.” She scoffs. He can feel her smile against his skin.

“Ohh?” He goes through the motions of prepping their dinner, Kyoko stumbling along with his hasty steps with a steadfast grip. “And how are you gonna stop it?” Even if they’re on opposite ends of the bed, they always wake up with one clinging to the other. Hard not to cuddle.

She takes a minute to ruminate on it, before managing an answer. “Heater. Right between us.”

Makoto laughs. “Won’t that burn?”

“If it keeps your ice hands from touching me at 2 in the morning, then ‘m fine.”

His whine of objection couldn’t be more fake. “That’s mean.” He quickly nabs the pair of bowls set aside early on, tracing the grooves of their rims with his thumbs as he sets them out side by side. “You’re mean.”

Finally, he’s released from his lavender-scented prison as Kyoko reaches for one of the bowls, unsubtly nudging him in an attempt to get him out of the way. He stays still however, nudging her right back. “It’s still hot, Kiri-san! Gotta let it sit for a bit.” He warns with a frown.

“It can sit for a bit in my bowl.” She replies deadpan, still urging him away. And he relents, because it isn’t that big of a deal anyway but he doesn’t want to watch Kyoko burn her mouth while trying to eat again. Or just forget about it while she works.

“Then eat with me in the living room.” Makoto grabs his own bowl, getting what yakisoba she leaves behind in the pan. “And after it, we go straight to bed.” He’s not risking his work going to waste, after all.

Even with these tough terms he’s set up, Kyoko lazily nods, most likely due to still suffering from sleep deprivation. Maybe she’ll decline when she’s woken up a bit, maybe she won’t. Makoto decides to settle down on the couch and put on a movie that might distract her from it anyway.

It’s more background noise than anything, though; something about an escape room? Pretty sure he put on a sequel movie too, which turns their interest only to one another. Not that he minds.

“Would you like to go on a trip sometime in the next month?”

“Mmh, yeah?” He replies through a mouthful of food, quickly swallowing it before continuing. “What case has you going out of the country this time?” It’s not odd for Kyoko to ask if he wants to travel with her if she knows it’ll take too long for Makoto to bear.

She shakes her head, taking a bite of her food before answering. “I mean as a vacation, actually?” She replies with a tone implying that she’s questioning her own words already.

“Vacation?” He can’t help but echo, because… well, Kyoko never takes vacations! He can imagine she has a lot of days saved up because of that, but it never seems like she plans to put them to use other than for emergencies. Guess he read her wrong on that part, even if this is the first time she’s planning a legitimate vacation herself in the four years she’s been working as a detective again.

“Is it a bad time?”

“No, no!” Makoto shakes his head, not daring to let this slip by. “I’d love a vacation! It’d be nice to get out of the house.” He doesn’t really have much going on anyway, since the whole school idea didn’t really pan out. He’s just a stay at home husband now, and since Kyoko still makes enough money to support them both, he’s not actively seeking a job right now. Thus, he’s perfectly free.

Kyoko smiles. “Good. I’ve made sure to go ahead and clear up a week for ourselves, but I need to know what you might want to do.” She glances at him curiously, before quickly adding on. “Preferably not something that’s outside of Japan, I’d have trouble paying for that right now.”

Well that’s a no brainer for him, but it does narrow down his options significantly, which he happens to be thankful for. “Do you have anything in mind?” For a fleeting moment, Makoto recalls his dinner, taking a bite of it before he looks away from it and thus forgets it even exists. “I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really have anything in mind…” Never been one to aspire for once-in-a-lifetime thrills, like skydiving or something. He’d be happy just lounging at home the whole week, despite his earlier comment.

“I thought we could go to a nearby city then, and go sight-seeing.” Kyoko spares a glance towards the movie playing, before interest in it is once again immediately lost “Maybe in Seoul? There’s a large cave system there as well, and they’re open to caving this time of year.”

“Hm?” Makoto tries to recall what exactly that is, but he’s drawing blanks. “What’s that?”

“Well, Seoul is-”

“I know what Seoul is.” Makoto deadpans, though completely understands why she thought that was what he was talking about. He’s not the most educated person, what with the whole memory loss thing. “”I mean caving! I’ve never, uh, heard of that.”

“Ah.” Kyoko nods, setting down her bowl on the coffee table. “Apologies. It is rather self-explanatory however; we just go and explore a cave system with a small group.” She shrugs, stifling a yawn. “I thought it might be fun to do something like that together. It’s rare for a person to do, wouldn’t be too dangerous, and we’d be together the whole time.”

That does sound pretty cool, he’ll admit. He’s never really gone into a cave before, if he excludes the ones that they’d have to hide in during… ah, well, it’d just be nice. Doing something kind of thrilling. He imagines it’s thrilling, at least.

“I think it’d be fun!” He finally chirps, leaning over to rest his head on Kyoko’s shoulder. “It’s been a while since we’ve done something together, I’m sure it’d be a good time for us both.” And he’s pretty sure they don’t have any trauma tied to caves, which is a definite plus! Unless they count claustrophobia? Neither of them have shown signs of that though, so they’ll hopefully be fine. Hopefully.

As if she were able to sense his worry (which he doesn’t doubt that she can), Kyoko places a hand on his leg, stopping its worried bouncing. He hadn’t even noticed it doing that. “Are you sure?” She asks lightly, brow furrowed with worry. “”It can be dangerous, you know. There’s only so much a tour guide can do to make naturally made caves safe to enter.”

Makoto frowns, now actually worried. “Then why would you recommend it?” He asks, very quietly.

Kyoko takes a while to respond. In fact, she doesn’t respond until she’s actually finished her dinner, as well as his. It was getting cold so he may as well let her have it. “Do some looking, and if you have a better idea, tell me.” And then she heads to bed, because that’s just. A perfectly fine way of ending a conversation.

Makoto trudges on after her after about an hour of thinking (mostly lack thereof, with the television being such a terribly convenient and easy distraction) on the couch. Unlike most nights though, where the room is pitch black, her back turned from the door so as to not catch the stray rays of lights that he’s forgotten to turn off, it’s… actually still pitch black in there. But after a moment of letting his eyes adjust, he catches Kyoko’s alarmingly bright gaze cutting through the gloom.

“Can’t sleep?” He mutters as he stumbles through the dark, going off of his recollection of the room’s layout, reduced to something of barely any use through the haze of sleepiness tugging at his being.

“I can.” She replies slowly, watching him not unlike how a cat would watch their owner. Not that she or their relationship in general compares to that; she just has that… “look”. Like she knows everything. “Was just waiting for you to come to bed.”

If he’s being honest, it’s kind of exciting. It’s the look she gives when her interest is upon him entirely, something that earns a flattered blush every time. “Thank you then.” He chirps, before crawling into bed like a lizard wriggling beneath the warm sands of a desert, except much less gracefully.

He almost expects nothing to happen, oddly enough. He should have known Kyoko was waiting for a reason.

A warmth presses up against his back, and a hum against his ear. “Don’t have to go in until noon tomorrow.” Kyoko huffs. He can just sense her smile when he shivers. “So… we could…” something presses between his legs, and teases just the right spot, “have some time to ourselves, maybe…?”

Makoto is a weak man, and especially weak for his wife. And thus, all he can do is scrounge up what remains of his energy, roll over, and let the franticness of their motions do the rest. ------------------------------------

It’s quite a hike to get to the cave they’ve been looking at. The route is safe, spacious, and short for the most part; it’s apparently a tour “good for beginners”, and while Makoto believes their caving adventures will begin and end with this one, it’s nice to know that this place doesn’t have any curveballs. Or spike-filled areas. Or tunnels one can only crawl through. Or maybe even fractures.

“Stop worrying.” Kyoko demands, his thoughts coming to a harsh stop. He manages not to be totally thrown off, following hastily after his wife as they trudge along a pebble-filled path.

He sighs when he catches up, glancing around. Just west there’s Tokyo, bustling with life, but it’s far enough only to serve as a backdrop to the hill-covered fields they’re in. They follow a path lined by thin ropes tied to sticks in the ground every other step, as despite the lack of actually dangerous areas nearby, there’s a lot of… well, area. The Tragedy changed a lot of the landscape, more so than most would believe.

Stopping his mind from wandering too far again, Makoto directs his attention ahead. They have a few other people with them, much more diverse in their body type than he assumes the average would be for much more difficult to traverse caves. They talk amongst themselves, all of them clearly going with someone they know for the trip. Ahead of them, the tour guides walk, though he can’t tell what they’re doing. He doubts it to be much at all, really.

“Are you excited?” He finally asks, careful not to speak loudly. He doesn’t want to draw much attention from their peers here, they’re lucky enough to have only garnered a few curious looks.

“Of course.” Kyoko replies, just as quiet. “I’m sorry it had to be delayed so much, cases just kept piling up.”

Makoto scoffs. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re able to help people.” Adjusting to keep a good hold on his backpack, he reaches over to grasp Kyoko’s hand. She’s changed her gloves today. Much rougher. “Even if it’s not another year until we get a chance like this again, I’m satisfied.”

He hopes for a smile, or the most likely quirk of the lips she gives when beyond the walls of their home. He earns neither.

“I’m not.” She tightens her grip, tugging him forwards. “Come on. We’re falling behind.”

Makoto nods, silent as he follows her up the steep incline, and silent still until they come to the entrance to the cave.

He can only think of an open maw when he sees the entrance. It sits neatly above the ground, embedded into the side of the hill’s peak, moss creeping over the exposed rock. Various plants and flowers bloom from cracks in the walls he can see, reaching out towards the sunlight beyond. But as he looks upon the entrance, the teasing glimpse it shows of its surely vast depths, he can’t help but think they’re trying to escape the dark rather than gain any sunlight.

The heat must be getting to him.

“Alright everyone!” One of the guides chirps, clapping their hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s do a quick check to make sure everyone has what they need!”

Makoto remembers all their supplies, and part of him knows that he has everything, but anxiety urges him to check once more. Plus, he needs to actually put some of it on now. That too.

He crouches down and pulls his backpack around, trying not to focus on the cave. Instead, he mentally lists off each item as he finds it; helmet, gloves, boots, first aid kit, and a flashlight. Not much really, and he’s more than happy about that fact.

Makoto sighs, putting on each item he needs and putting away the rest. He’s careful about the gloves in particular as he puts them on; the helmet may have a light that could break if he’s not cautious, but Kyoko picked these out for him specifically before this trip. She has very strong opinions about them, and apparently these are the best pair for this sort of task that she could find. And they must be, they’re very comfortable! A perfect fit even, despite the fact that she gave them to him on the way here without any warning. He can’t imagine what they must have cost.

After checking for his caving suit and quickly realizing that he already put it on before making this trek, Makoto shoves his old shoes and socks into the back, hopping back up just as everyone else seems to be handed something.

“Now, before we head in, I want you all to get a good look at this map.” The guide says as they hand a sheet of paper to each group. “Even if this is a short trip, and we know this place like the backs of our hands, there’s a few turns here and there!”

Kyoko takes the map they’re given, Makoto peering at it from over her shoulder, having to crane his neck to get a good look. It doesn’t seem like too much, thankfully; there’s a meander or two, but none on the main path, thank the gods. He’d prefer not to have to do any crawling during this!

“It’s a straight shot, huh?” He comments absentmindedly, resting his chin on his wife’s shoulder.

She merely huffs, reaching back to thread her fingers through his hair. Despite the unsatisfying feeling of the gloves she’s wearing right now, he eagerly leans into the touch. “Yes. I’ve seen pictures of the cave as well, and it appears to not be very dangerous, unless one was actually being reckless. Should take about twenty minutes, at most.”

Makoto grins, wrapping his arms around Kyoko’s waist. She makes another sound, something like a noncommittal grunt, but doesn’t nudge him away as he expects. It’s nice. “And after this we go eat at Stellar Cafe.”

“We ate there last week.” She quickly reminds him, paying only a partial bit of attention to what those in front of them are saying. Something about the first aid kits, nothing very important.

“Too bad.” He gives her a quick peck on the cheek. “I like their food, and the service is nice.”

He can hear her stifle a laugh as she pulls away. “You like their curry. There’s perfectly good curry elsewhere.” She reaches into her own backpack, pulling out a walkie talkie. “Now get your radio out.”

“Don’t you think this is kind of overboard?” He pulls it out anyway of course, making sure his is connected to hers. “They never recommended these for caving, at least not on the sites I looked at.” Seems that most of the time people are expected to stay together anyway, if there’s more than one person at all. He’s surprised Kyoko decided to do this.

“Can’t ever be too safe.” Is all she says, before looking to the cave. “It’s time to go.”

Makoto follows her gaze, and sees the rest of the group already clambering over rocks as they enter the hole. “Ah.” He pauses, choking on nothing for a moment so fleeting he can’t even react. “Yeah.”

If he showed any hesitation, Kyoko does not acknowledge it. Instead, she walks ahead, and with heavy steps he pretends are eager, Makoto follows her into the dark.

------------------------------------

and that's it! quite a bit, and definitely not the best writing in the world, but im very proud of it so far! if you can then please rb this and give your thoughts, i do this for free but there's a reason i post my fics at all, which is validation <3 basically what keeps me going and able to continue writing at all, actually.

#danganronpa #makoto naegi #naegi makoto #kyoko kirigiri #kirigiri kyoko #naegiri #writing #fics #this has taken. a While #ofc this isnt the final product but this cuts off right before the horror parts start. which im very excited for #this fic has been a long time coming and im SO excited to do it <3 aaaaa

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purrincess-chat · 4 years

Text

My Chosen’s Keeper CH3 (FINAL)

Here is the last chapter of the petty kwami AU. I have basically this whole week off because of Hurricane Sally, so I decided to go ahead and post the last chapter since I finished it up. I’m so happy you all enjoy this fic, and I hope you like the conclusion!

Read on AO3

Chapter 3

After a week, Lila stopped scheming against Marinette. In fact, she’d stopped doing much of anything. Every so often she’d look over her shoulder as if expecting someone to be following her, and she flinched every time she opened her locker or her bag.

Tikki was satisfied enough with their efforts, though she worried they’d gone too far when Lila spun around on poor Nathaniel walking behind her to his seat. Her goal was to inconvenience Lila, not scare her out of her skin, and now her stomach was churning too much to enjoy her morning macaron. She popped into Adrien’s bag where Plagg was dozing in an empty Camembert carton and shook him awake.

“Plagg, do you think maybe we went too far with all of this?” She asked, but Plagg simply shrugged his shoulders and burped.

“Relax, sugar cube. That girl got what was coming to her.”

“Yeah, but she’s petrified now, and people are starting to notice,” she said with a nervous glance up at the open zipper. “I think we should stop.”

“Fine,” Plagg yawned, and Tikki prodded his side.

“I’m serious, Plagg. No more pranks.”

“Okay,” he said, and she sat back, antenna pressing low against her head.

“Good,” she said with a nod.

As the bell rang, Tikki slipped back into Marinette’s bag before her owner noticed her absence. She tried to push the whole situation from her mind, but when Alya leaned against Marinette’s neighboring locker, her nerves only worsened.

“Lila’s been acting super paranoid today. I wonder what’s bugging her,” Alya whispered, casting a glance at their classmate across the room.

“Nathaniel told me she thinks she’s being haunted,” Marinette said. Even she seemed concerned, and Tikki shrank deeper into her purse.

“I mean, a lot of crazy stuff has been happening to her, so maybe she is,” Alya said with a wince.

“I wouldn’t doubt if she’d made a spirit angry,” Marinette mumbled, and Alya leaned in closer.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I feel kinda bad for her. I saw her dozing off in class earlier. She must not be sleeping,” Alya said, biting her lip. “Hey, why don’t we all plan a sleepover? Maybe if a group of us supports her then she’ll feel safe enough to sleep.”

“Uhh, yeah, sure,” Marinette said, sounding anything but willing. “You plan it, and I will definitely not think of an excuse not to go.”

“I’ll ask her this afternoon. It’ll be fun.” Alya nudged her with her elbow before they headed to their next class.

To Tikki’s horror, not only did Lila accept the sleepover invitation, but somehow, she managed to convince them to host it at Marinette’s house. Lila had a way of backing people into corners, and Marinette didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Tikki was equally as unenthused. Just what she needed—another reason to get involved.

“Plagg, what am I gonna do?” Tikki asked that afternoon in art class. “I know she’s up to something!”

“Do you want me to leave stinky cheese in her locker again?”

“No!”

“Good because it’s a terrible waste of perfectly good cheese.”

“Plagg! I’m serious. What if Lila does something to my owner tonight?” Tikki said, tugging his arm. “Help me!”

“I thought you wanted to be done with all of this? No more pranks?” Plagg said, and Tikki averted her gaze, antenna lowering.

“I do, but she’s coming into her personal home. What if she finds her diary and learns that she’s Ladybug? Or what if she just so happens to steal her earrings? Or what if-”

“Don’t worry, sugar cube. I’ll help you tonight. Lila won’t get away with anything, okay?” Plagg said, patting her head.

“You mean it?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Plagg asked, and Tikki’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, bad question. I promise I won’t let you down—this time.”

“Thanks, Plagg.”

Later that evening, Tikki chewed her lip as Marinette tidied up for her guests. She’d helped remove any lingering Adrien pictures despite her friends all knowing about her crush, but Marinette was just as wary of having Lila over as Tikki. As a result, she was taking a few extra precautions like hiding her diary and anything else Lila could use against her. It eased some of Tikki’s worry, but not all of it.

“Are you really going to have that girl over?” She asked as Marinette locked her important belongings in her chest.

“I couldn’t exactly say no. Lila is too good at manipulating everyone. If I had said no, she would have made it seem like I hate her,” Marinette said, leaning against her fist.

“But you do hate her.”

“Yeah, but I can’t prove why I hate her to everyone, so I don’t have a choice,” Marinette sighed. “We’ll just have to be extra careful tonight. I doubt Lila will try anything with all of the girls over.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

Thankfully Alya arrived first to help set up because Lila was the first after her. She seemed surprised and slightly annoyed to find Alya there as well, and Tikki’s blood boiled at the sight of her. She popped up to the roof, tapping her paws together as she peered out over the street. The night was calm and quiet—a direct contrast to the storm brewing inside her. Where was Plagg?

“Ya know, you really worry too much.”

She spun around to see him lounging on the chair with a cheese danish from the bakery. Relief flooded her mind, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance. “Where have you been?”

“Relax, sugar cube. I was doing some important reconnaissance,” he said around a mouthful.

“You mean helping yourself to whatever your greedy stomach wanted?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You are so selfish!”

“Oh, then I suppose you already know that Lila has a lockpick in her bag?”

“She- you- oh…Well, then we should-”

“Already did. And her toothbrush just for fun,” he snickered, and Tikki lowered onto the chair beside him. “I’m a little insulted that you don’t believe in me.”

“Dinosaurs, Atlantis, the Black Plague…”

Plagg bit off a chunk of his pastry and chewed it grumpily. “We never talk about your mistakes.”

“Thank you, Plagg,” Tikki said, and he blinked, swallowing the rest of the danish whole. “For everything.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sappy on me.” He turned his back to her and waved it away, but she could see the smile tugging on his lips. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”

The girls were gathered in Marinette’s room when Tikki and Plagg snuck in and took position on Marinette’s bed. Marinette had strategically positioned herself on top of her locked chest, and partnered with Plagg’s disposal of Lila’s lock pick, it eased some of Tikki’s nerves. At least her secrets would be safe, but that didn’t mean Lila didn’t have other tricks up her sleeve.

After a while, they moved downstairs to watch a movie, and Mr. Dupain brought up homemade pizza. Plagg groaned beside her as the girls pulled apart stretchy strips of cheese, and Tikki restrained him from flying down and helping himself.

Halfway through the movie, Lila got up to go to the bathroom, and Tikki followed. Just as she feared, the moment the door closed, Lila set to work silently opening cabinets. Tikki had half a mind to spray her with the sink nozzle again, but after a few minutes of searching, Lila found what she was looking for—a metal nail file. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair and tucked them both into her pocket.

Back out in the main room, she announced that she was going to go upstairs and call her mom who was traveling overseas on some important ambassador thing, and she only had a short window in the evening to talk to her because of timezones or something. It didn’t matter the reason because it was a lie. Marinette’s glare followed her up the stairs with Tikki right behind it.

“Plagg?” She hissed, glancing around for that lazy black cat, but she didn’t have to guess where he was. “I told you not to touch the pizza!”

Plagg clung to the piece he was greedily stuffing in his mouth as Tikki tugged on his tail. “Oh come on! Mr. Dupain makes his own mozzarella. I couldn’t resist!”

“Lila is on the move! She took a nail file from the bathroom, and now she’s upstairs! Come on!”

Plagg caressed his slice of pizza one last time before Tikki dragged him up the stairs. Lila was already kneeling beside the chest, nail file and bobby pin at work.

“Come on, stupid chest. I know Marinette is behind all of the weird stuff happening to me lately,” she grumbled. “I just need something to blackmail her with to make it all stop. Just open!”

“Plagg, what are we gonna do?” Tikki whispered, and Plagg was already surveying the rest of the room.

“Follow my lead,” he said, darting for the nearest mannequin.

Lila nearly had the lock open when a stack of shoeboxes toppled over, and she jumped. Seeing that it was only boxes, she took a deep breath and turned back to her work.

“What?” She gasped when her makeshift lock picks were no where to be found.

“Lila…”

She startled, jumping up and spinning around, but no one was in the room. No one she could see anyway.

“Liiiila…”

“Very funny, Marinette. I know it’s you. It’s been you the whole time. I don’t know how, but you won’t beat me,” she said, but the way her eyes flicked frantically around the room betrayed her true fear.

“Leave her alone…”

The mannequin by the chaise, surged forward, and Lila’s scream filled the house. She scrambled for the trapdoor, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she tugged. The girls rushed up the stairs, Marinette at the front. She pushed the trapdoor open easily to find Lila curled into a ball on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

“What are you doing?” Marinette demanded, and Alya crawled up to wrap an arm around Lila’s shoulders.

“The mannequin!” Lila wailed.

“What about it?” Marinette asked.

“It-It talked and moved and-and-” She pointed across the room, but the mannequin had returned to its original place. Even the shoeboxes had righted themselves. “But…”

“Maybe we should all just go to bed,” Alya suggested, and Lila grabbed her shoulders.

“But it did move! I swear I’m not making it up,” she said, gripping her shirt so tightly that Alya swatted her hands away with a hiss.

“I think you’re just tired-”

“Or crazy,” Marinette mumbled, masking it with a cough.

“Sleep deprivation can make you see weird things,” Alya said. “Come on. Let’s get you some sleep.”

As the girls moved downstairs again, Marinette eyed her chest, but her secrets were safe. Tikki still stayed up all night to make sure Lila didn’t try anything again, but their ghost stunt seemed to have scared her off the idea.

When morning light streamed in from the windows, Tikki sat back with a yawn. Curling in next to Plagg snoring loudly on Marinette’s chaise, she slipped off into sleep with the reassurance that Marinette was safe.

***

The Monday after the sleepover, Lila entered the school on a quest for vengeance. Dark bags hung under blood-shot eyes, and her whole demeanor was slightly unhinged as everyone hung out in the courtyard on break. Tikki knew she was going to target Marinette again, so she lingered close by—waiting.

Marinette was sketching on a bench by herself while a maintenance man repainted the railing to her left. When he reached a stopping point, he scooted the ladder next to the bench and took his break, but Marinette never looked up from her drawing.

“Hey, I heard about the sleepover. What happened?” Adrien materialized at Marinette’s side, startling her out of her skin. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Marinette relaxed. “I don’t know. I knew she was up to no good, and while we were all watching a movie, she went up to my room to ‘call her mom’ then she just started screaming and freaking out,” Marinette said, shooting her a glare across the courtyard. “I don’t really know what happened, but she swears my mannequin talked to her.”

“Do you think she’s doing it all for attention?” Adrien asked, but Marinette pursed her lips.

“I don’t think so this time. She seemed really freaked out when we found her. I think she’s actually losing her mind,” Marinette said.

“You don’t think she’s really being haunted, do you?” Adrien’s green eyes clouded with worry.

“I don’t know,” Marinette said with a shrug. “Maybe she is making it all up for attention, or maybe all of her lying is finally catching up to her.”

“Let’s hope this convinces her to start telling the truth whatever it is,” he said. “I’m just glad she didn’t do anything to you. I was worried when I heard she was coming to your house for a sleepover.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed at that, and she took her eyes off Lila. Adrien was the perfect distraction, but Tikki wasn’t so easily deterred because Lila was watching them too. Their friendly smiles and close proximity drove her over the edge. When she dashed toward them, Tikki braced herself, but Lila wasn’t aiming for the bench.

Tikki glanced up at the paint can resting precariously on the top of the ladder beside them, recognizing the intent in Lila’s eyes.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, flitting up to the bucket.

Lila rocked the ladder, but against the laws of natural physics, the can twirled around and dumped on top of her. The courtyard fell silent as the can clattered to the ground, and Lila wiped green paint from her face.

“That’s it!” She screeched, pointing a finger at Marinette. “This is all your fault!”

“Lila, Marinette didn’t do anything. I was talking to her the whole time,” Adrien said, holding up cautioning hands.

“No! Everything is her fault!” Lila stomped a foot. “I don’t know how you keep doing it, but I know it’s you!”

“Lila, what are you-” Alya started, but Lila lunging at Marinette cut her off. Nino and Ivan caught her, and Adrien took a defensive stance in front of Marinette.

“How did you do it, Marinette?” She growled. “I put those test answers in your schoolbag, but they weren’t there when Mlle. Bustier checked! I planted my necklace in your locker during lunch, but somehow you put it back! How did you do it?”

Marinette and Adrien cupped hands over their mouths as the weight of those words settled among their classmates. Confusion and anger snaked its way onto every face, and more classmates joined Adrien guarding Marinette.

“Wait, you tried to frame Marinette? But why?” Nathaniel asked, and Lila shot him a glare.

“Because I hate her! She’s always getting in my way and ruining my plans. I’d have you all eating out of the palm of my hand if it wasn’t for her!” She said, shoulders heaving. She ripped away from Nino and Ivan and kicked the paint bucket with a shriek.

“Whoa, so all those times Marinette said you were lying…” Nino said, lowering his gaze.

“She was right,” Adrien spoke up, and all eyes turned to him. “Lila is a liar. Nothing she’s ever said is true. She just wanted to use all of you for attention.”

“So, you’ve never met Jagged Stone?” Rose deflated.

“And let me guess. You’re not really bffs with Ladybug,” Alya said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course I’m not friends with that stupid insect! I hope Hawkmoth takes her Miraculous and rids the world of her stupid face!” Lila shouted.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Damocles demanded as he and Mlle. Bustier approached.

“Karma,” Marinette said with a grunt.

Lila glanced between each face glaring back at her, the rage-induced fog clearing enough for her to see the damage she’d inflicted. Her eyes widened, and her shoulders shrank. For the first time since she’d stepped foot in their school, Lila was exposed. Powerless. Small.

“My office. Now.” Mr. Damocles barked through gritted teeth, and Lila followed behind him quietly. She had nothing left to say. No more lies to tell.

“M, are you okay?” Alya pulled her best friend in for a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I never believed you.”

“Yeah, we should have known better. You never trip out over anyone unless there’s a reason,” Nino said, ruffling her hair.

“We’re sorry, Marinette.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“It’s fine,” Marinette said, cutting everyone off. “Really. I’m not mad at you. Lila manipulated all of you. It’s not your fault she can’t tell the truth.”

“Marinette…” Alya cooed, and all of their classmates huddled around her.

When the bell rang, they all dispersed, heading to their next class, but Marinette excused herself to the bathroom. Tikki slipped back into her purse, relieved that it was finally over and that she hadn’t been caught. Or rather, she thought she hadn’t been caught until Marinette ripped open her purse and dumped her out into her waiting hand.

“I thought kwamis weren’t supposed to meddle,” she said, quirking a brow, and Tikki shrank guiltily.

“I’m sorry, Marinette! I just knew she was up to no good, and I couldn’t let her frame you,” she said, pressing her paws together.

“Putting the test answers back and moving the necklace are like you, but exploding milk cartons and mannequin ghosts?” Marinette cocked a hip. “Plagg, I know you helped too.”

A sinister chortle echoed above them as Plagg floated down beside Tikki. “I couldn’t let sugar cube have all the fun.”

“We’re really sorry,” Tikki said, lowering her head.

She braced for her punishment, but instead, Marinette lifted the two of them to her lips and planted a soft kiss on each of their heads. “Thanks, you two.”

“You mean you’re not mad?”

“Nah, Lila deserved it,” she said with a shrug.

“I’ll accept my reward in the form of one of those tasty cheese danishes your dad makes,” Plagg said, puffing his chest out, and Marinette scratched under his chin with a giggle.

“You can have all the cheese danishes you want,” she said. “It’s nice to know you two have my back.”

“Of course,” Plagg said, draping an arm over Tikki’s shoulders. “If someone wants to mess with the Bug, they’re gonna have to go through us.”

“We’ll always make sure you’re safe,” Tikki added, and Marinette held out a pink with a smile.

“Bien Joué!”

#miraculous ladybug #tikki #plagg #marinette dupain-cheng #lila salt #petty kwami au #my writing #uninteresting tidbit #chapter 1 was 1k chapter 2 was 2k and now chapter 3 is 3k #this was unintentional but i find it amusing #anyway #enjoy #hiatus cat

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belovasangel · 3 years

Text

Kintsugi

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!GN!Reader

WC: 1641

Summary: Peter needs a push to help an old ally.

Warnings: Swearing, ANGST, hopeful ending

A/N: First off, thank you for reading this. I haven’t written in maybe a year so this might be not the best. I want to shout out Polaroid15 for inspiring me to write. Something else in this fic I should mention, Peter’s identity isn’t exposed and in the Blip he aged according to current-time (so in this he is 18-19)

“In Japanese culture, Kintsugi is the reformative art to repair broken pottery. The shattered pieces are taken and glued back together with a binding agency and gold paint. There is a metaphor between each crack and gold stroke, as the meaning is deeper than restoring a pot. It’s meant to give hope and to empower those who are deemed ‘broken.’ The point is to tell people to embrace their insecurities and you will be okay in the end.”

Peter Parker rolled his eyes and looked back at his notes. The background film of his art history course droned on, as the school stuck the Blipped students into a course to graduate faster. He began to doodle along the sides of the pages, drawing the Spider-Man suit and a few webs. He thought of Ned, sitting on his MIT campus, working on his computer engineering software, and hoped he was thinking of Peter as well. Him and Ned made a pact back in freshman year to attend MIT together and when the Blip hit, Ned kept his promise. And at this rate, Peter will be in their dorm room by March.

He looked back up at the lecture briefly to watch the credits roll, only to notice afterwards the teacher had fallen asleep at the desk. The other students got the same idea to pack up and leave for the weekend early. Peter began stuffing his notes in his backpack and stood to walk out, only to bump into a fast body.

“Hey-”

Peter looked up, his backpack falling to the floor in a heavy heap. He looked up angrily, fully expecting Flash to be staring back, however he saw the red-faced (Y/N) staring back with doe eyes. “Peter, I am so sorry...”

He huffed and shoved (Y/N) back with his shoulder to grab his stuff. “You can leave, ya know? Don’t need to watch me pick up the mess you made.” He audibly heard them gulp and quicken their breathing. With a quick shuffle, they walked out of the class. Peter stood quickly and recalled the events leading to their icy encounter. He can feel sympathetic towards them, as Mr. Stark passed away tragically about a year ago. While Peter has come to terms painfully with his death, he can tell (Y/N) still is struggling. He knows they had a plan to attend Yale or Stanford after this, but those plans have derailed fully. Peter knew (Y/N) wasn’t fully ready to accept they need to grow up and move on. He wouldn’t be the one to put gasoline on an already erupting fire. Hopefully Pepper can say something

He began walking down the halls of the school, remembering the small memories along the halls. Lifting the lockers during Homecoming to get his suit, him and Ned discussing the plans to build the Death Star, and even when MJ first opened her locker next to the two (and immediately asked, “what are you two losers looking at?”). Fond, fond memories.

Peter hopped on the subway, getting minorly excited to begin patrolling the city. May has plans tonight, he hopes it’s a date so he can spy once or twice, but overall it’s sitting on buildings and eating those amazing subs. The moment Peter stepped into the apartment, May was on him. “Hey, my beautiful boy genius, how was school?”

He laughed as she kissed and pinched his cheeks. “Hey May. It was fine, boring. How are you, need any date prep?” She turned bright red and looked back to the newspaper. “Peter, I told you it’s not a date. Happy and I are-”

“Your date is with Happy?” Peter popped his backpack to the floor with a quick thump. May gave a sheepish look, fully expecting this from him. “Peter I promise you, Happy is super kind and is going to treat me great tonight.”

He sighed, pulling at his hair minorly. “Do I need to chaperone you?” She laughed and shook her head, “we’ll be fine Pete. Anyways, to change the subject, Pepper called you earlier and asked for you to swing by the Tower when you get a chance.” Peter nodded, head still foggy with holy fuck, Happy is going to get with my Aunt.

He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and ran to his room, changing into his suit and flopping out the window. Within the first few hours, Peter stopped three guys from breaking into cars, saved a cat from a tree and rescued an old lady from oncoming traffic. As the sun was setting, and Peter got to enjoy the sunset with his sub, he decided to call Pepper.

“Hey Pep, what’s going on?”

He could hear her sigh on the other side, and he took a bite in anticipation. “I need your help Peter. And I know you won’t like it.” With a mouthful of spinach, salami and bread, he said muffled, “you can count on me.”

“I need you to help (Y/N).” Peter promptly spit his sub out of his mouth with a sharp cough and inhale. “What? What’s wrong?” Pepper sighed again. “(Y/N) isn’t okay. They’re only leaving their room for school and that’s it. I deliver them breakfast and dinner, we barely talk between the doors. Plus they come home late every night and I need to know what’s going on.”

Peter bit his inner cheek. Of course (Y/N) is being selfish towards Pepper, seems about right. Peter felt like this was a sign, to finally see what’s going on and help Pepper reconnect with her kid. Yet, Peter didn’t want to give (Y/N) any slack. They’re being rude and not grateful for what they have. “Of course, Pepper. I’ll keep you posted. Does K.A.R.E.N. have her location?”

“No, she turned off her location a while ago. Thank you Peter.” He nodded, knowing she couldn’t see. With a quick end, he threw the mask on and dove off the crane. He searched every alley in all of Queens, ever corner store, checked every rooftop and park and bridge and under every car. He found a huge ass tree and even climbed it. Peter didn’t want to let Pepper down, even if he felt more and more annoyed with (Y/N). He knew they wouldn’t leave the city, but this was getting ridiculous. Eventually, around 11:30 P.M., he found them sitting in front of a large mural of Tony. There were flowers along the painting, along with lit candles and teddy bears. Peter felt his blood boiling, knowing they could have had their location on this whole time.

“What the fuck are you doing (Y/N)? Pepper is besides herself worried. You’re being so fucking selfish, leaving her alone every damn night. She is suffering, wondering why her own child won’t talk to her while you’re out here hiding! What are you scared of? Why can’t you grow up? He died! Get over it!”

Peter creeped up closer and closer to them, not listening to the sniffling and heaving breaths of (Y/N). As he reached them, he saw they were hunched over and panting. “What’s wrong? Get up,” Peter sneered as he pulled their shoulder back. He let out a gasp and let go, in complete shock of what he saw. Their face was littered with bruises and cuts. Their right eye was completely swollen and the under eye bags were as dark as the sky. “Are you okay?”

They scoffed and pushed away Peter’s hand, and struggled to get off the ground. Many groans and gasps were shed as they stood slouched. Peter quickly noticed the large gash on their side, and he could tell they were severely injured. “We need to get you to the tower right now, c’mon.”

As he got closer, (Y/N) stumbled back to avoid his touch. Peter scoffed and tried to reach again, but with the same result. “Stop being stupid and let me help you.” They stopped and let out a large laugh. “Now you fucking care about me, when it will make you look good. I can just imagine Pepper telling me how great and caring you are, and how brave you were to go searching for their lost child. Fuck off with this savior complex, Peter, you can’t save everyone! Some people were meant to suffer and burn and fucking die in the end.”

Peter had never felt so confused in his life. He tried reaching out for the third time and was shut down. They began to walk towards him, fire and tears in their eyes. “Do you have any idea how much fucking pain I feel every day? When my father died, Pepper and I were so shattered, but instead of staying with family she decided to work with you, the great and friendly Spider-Man! Why help your own kin when the prodigy is doing just as bad? I am so sick of living in your shadow Peter! It’s like the universe is telling me I was a mistake! You ruined my life. You are the reason my father is dead. You are the reason I wish it was me instead!”

They fell to their knees in agony, letting out screaming sobs and pained sounds. He quickly recovered, wiping his own tears to comfort them. “I am so sorry (Y/N), I am so so sorry.” Peter put his hands under their arms and lifted them into his arms, as fast as he could go to avoid another lash out. He began to swing them back, and in a quiet voice, (Y/N) whispered into his neck. “Why wasn’t it me, Peter?”

And in that moment, Peter realized that some people need help being put back together. Maybe Kintsugi isn’t so dumb after all.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter x reader #spider-man #peter parker x gender neutral #peter parker gender neutral #my fic

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bestkindofbeehive · 3 years

Text

Smile for Me Week, Day 1: Secret

happy smile for me week!!! for my first trick, have a fic I wrote after thinking about my dad too hard. it ends well and it was pretty cathartic for me, but it does get a bit emotionally intense re: feelings about having to stay closeted in front of your parents for years, so fair warning. but it does end well I promise!!! I’ll probably post this on ao3 soon too, so look out for that!

-----

Never in a million years would Parsley have ever expected that being stuck in the same slapdash “mental health” retreat as his dad would end in anything other than frustration. And, to be fair, that was how things went for a while. But then that weird florist handed him one of his dad’s terrible dishes, and before he knew it he was getting drunk off his ass and actually talking to his dad for the first time in... years, probably. Somehow it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. The Kahlúa and birthday cake flavored vodka probably helped.

And then he’d been woken up in the middle of the night and suddenly urged out of the giant front gates with very little reason why— something something carbon monoxide poisoning. Not that Parsley really needed convincing to get the hell out of there at that point. Even a constant flow of free alcohol probably wouldn’t have kept him there for much longer. Those last PSAs were getting pretty creepy and, well, incredibly specific and aggressive towards one particular person. He had hoped that chicken te- flower vendor made it out alright, but he saw them a few days later in town. So things couldn’t have ended too badly.

The most astonishing thing, though, was the fact that he and his dad actually kept talking once they got out of that place. And he somehow didn’t wind up wanting to tear his hair out by the end of every conversation, even. Of course his dad frustrated him plenty of times, but it never got bad bad like it used to. Things between them were... good. Not good good, but just. Good.

So good, in fact, that Parsley manages to somehow metaphorically vomit up the words necessary to tell his dad he wasn’t attracted to women. He wasn’t even drunk— tipsy, certainly, but he was painfully in control of all his faculties that night.

It went... well. He knows the night ended on good terms, and he knows his dad didn’t get angry. He’s pretty sure his dad told him he loved him at some point, which is a good sign. It only happened a few weeks ago. He isn’t really ready to think about it very hard in any capacity. He’s scared that he’ll go looking for some specific sign, or a phrase, or a look— something that definitively tells him that his dad doesn’t look at him and wish he had another son— and come up empty.

Parsley takes what he can get, until what he can get isn’t enough anymore.

The tension finally breaks one evening; almost six months to the day they both left the Habitat. They were watching the end of some melodrama that was airing right before the hilariously disorganized cooking show they both enjoyed. And the stupid thing is that Parsley can’t even remember what his dad said that set him off so bad— but, god, his dad would know just the right string of words to tick him off enough to say something. It was something about keeping secrets. Something about how he didn’t understand why some people keep harmless stuff so close to their chest for no reason. Which is rich coming from him, the man who has to bluster his way through every emotional conversation he’s ever had. Parsley would be seeing red if his eyes weren’t already that color.

“See, I mean, like with your whole, uh, situation— Not that I’m tryin’ to rag on you or anything, sprig, but I just don’t see why you didn’t just go on and tell me! I wouldn't've been mad at you or nothin’,” Jimothan says, gladly shoving his entire foot in his mouth for the sake of scolding Parsley, just like old times.

Parsley, to his credit, doesn’t immediately blow up. “You didn’t exactly make it the easiest thing to do,” he says, his voice clipped and his jaw tense. His dad makes a bewildered noise next to him; a noise that wouldn’t be out of place in a sitcom.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean? I always told you that you could talk to me about anything, didn’t I?” Jimothan asks. The look of genuine confusion on his face almost makes Parsley want to drop it and just keep watching tv, but the fuse has already been lit.

“Sure, if you forget about all the times you showed me that definitely wasn’t true,” Parsley scoffs, pretending to focus on the tv again. The melodrama is still going. The character on screen is crying big, unrealistic tears. Parsley can’t make out what they’re crying about over the blood starting to rush through his ears. Every neural pathway in his brain left over from his teens is yelling at him to just let dad think that he’s right so the lecture that hasn’t even started will stop.

“What’re you— Parsley, what the heck are you talkin’ about? I’ve never— When have I ever said somethin’ that would make you think I wouldn’t—”

Something in his dad’s tone immediately sets Parsley’s blood to a boil. He sounds like he doesn’t understand; like he doesn’t even know where this is even coming from. He has no idea. Fuck, would it hurt less if his dad tried to justify himself instead? If he sounded angry instead of confused? Because this means that he just doesn’t know. Decades of hiding and bullshit and being afraid and he just didn’t know.

“Are you KIDDING ME?” Parsley fires back, eyes wide open and blood red. Jimothan almost jumps, having not been witness to his son’s temper in a while. “When HAVEN’T you said something that would make me think you wouldn’t approve? I wouldn’t— I couldn’t go a day without you making some comment about how I needed to get a girlfriend, or- or- how you couldn’t wait to have grandkids, or some other stupid thing about me “finally” getting a wife someday—” Parsley rants, his voice stuttering with the anger flying around in his chest.

Jimothan at least has the decency to look a bit stunned. “But— Oh c’mon Parsley, that was just me tryin’ to give you a little push! I thought you were havin’ a tough time talking to girls, so I figured I would just give you some pointers—”

“No! That’s just it! You just had to build up and build up this— this idea of what I was supposed to do! Every time you just had to make a comment like that it was another bullet on the fist— LIST of all the things I wasn’t doing right,” Parsley flusters. At some point in his rant his hands find their way to his head, and he tries to run his fingers through his hair to calm himself down, but they keep catching on tangles. “A-And you wanna act like I shouldn’t have been scared to tell you, but you—!”

“Scared?” His dad’s expression breaks a little, which just makes this awful situation all the more difficult. Shit. Shit shit shit, this wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. It shouldn’t even be happening, but the fire in Parsley’s chest isn’t dying down and he can’t keep his traitor mouth shut.

“Sprig, you didn’t have any reason to be scared, it woulda been fi—” Jimothan tries to start.

“Ugh, you’re not LISTENING!” Parsley feels like he’s seconds away from tearing his hair out. God, he sounds like such a teenager. “It wasn’t that easy! Of course I was scared! How the hell could I have explained— I just—!!”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU I WASN’T THE SON YOU WANTED?!” Parsley finally screams.

The room gets quiet frighteningly fast. His dad just stares at him, his face slack with a cocktail of confusion, surprise, and what Parsley wants to hope is sadness.

Suddenly, all the anger and half-hearted bravado flies out of Parsley’s chest. His arms fall to his sides, and he’s left panting with the exertion of having just spilled out a flood of emotions that have been building since he was in elementary school. He doesn’t feel relieved. He just feels tired.

And then he starts crying. Which is just... great. As if this night needed some extra turmoil to really polish things off. Like most times, he can’t even stop himself; he was never good about not wearing his heart on his sleeve. Not his anger, not his disappointment, and definitely not his heartache. It’s not even a “dignified cry”, as his dad would put it— he’s hiding his face in his hands, and he can’t stop his shoulders from shaking every time he tries to suck in a stuttery breath.

He probably looks pretty pathetic right now, Parsley thinks. And in a few moments he’ll hear his dad get up and walk out of his apartment while mumbling something about seeing him later. And then in about a week’s time, Parsley will answer the phone, hear his dad’s voice, and both of them will never speak of this night ever again.

But something different happens.

Instead, he feels his dad’s sturdy hands take him by the shoulders and pull him into a firm hug. It’s an awkward thing; Parsley’s hands were still covering his face, so now they’re kind of pinned to his chest, and his dad is squeezing him just slightly too hard. They’re both out of practice, really.

Before Parsley can manage a “whuh” in response, he hears more than sees his dad take in a big, faltering breath while his shoulders start to shake. Parsley has only seen his dad cry a handful of times in his life. Most of them happened around the time the divorce was finalized. But after that... Nothing.

Jimothan makes a wounded noise of a sob. “Y-You’re— God, sprig, I would never...” he starts, but can’t find the words to finish. Parsley manages to find it in himself to forgive his dad for that pretty easily. He’s never been the most eloquent when it comes to emotional outbursts. Parsley manages to wriggle his arms free, and wraps them around his dad. The older man lets out a little sniffle in response, and then starts to run his hand down his son’s messy head of hair. It only catches a few times.

“You’re all I got, Parsley,” his dad mumbles through the thickness in his voice. “You’re all I got.”

Parsley lets himself cry just a little bit more, his chest finally starting to feel lighter than it has in years. The two of them exist like that for a while— clumsily hugging and crying and mumbling little fragments of things they’ve both been meaning to say. At some point they’ll have to break apart, and at some point the night will have to end. They’ll part ways with slightly stilted goodbyes, and very likely won’t speak of this night for at least a few months. But for now, they both let themselves have this moment.

And it’s not much, but it’s enough.

#smile for me #jimothan botch #parsley botch #sfmweek2021 #smile for me game #s4m #mine #writin

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imagineddworld · 4 years

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Cuddly day

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco and you loved to cuddle a lot, which resulted in getting in trouble once in a while.

Word count: 1,7 K (1704)

Author’s note: I hope you enjoy this fic. It turned out longer than i meant to, but I also feel guilty for not posting so long. So longer fic it is. I hope you like it. I really try my best to post more, but deadlines are getting closer and so are my exams. I hope you all are doing safe. Much love x

Cuddling with Draco was one of your favorite things. Just laying in each other arms, creating a mess of limbs. You loved the warmth that radiated from his body, which was a nice comparison to his usual chilly room. However with winter approaching, it seemed to be even colder. You just wanted to hide under a big blanket and bury your face into Draco’s neck to take in all his body warmth. But overall, you just loved being close to him. No matter what the situation was. You loved the feeling of his soft skin against yours, how his fingers carefully caressed your skin. Your nose would get filled with his subtle body odor, making you feel at home. And when you laid your head on his chest, the sound of the calm rhythm of his heartbeat worked as a perfect lullaby. In his arms you could truly relax and feel at peace. Cuddling was one of your ways to escape the world’s problems. Even if it was for only a few minutes, both of you would give everything in exchange to just cuddle and snuggle for a few minutes.

You cuddled so much, even in between classes. But that came with the danger of being late and ending in detention. Once you were cuddling, you couldn’t escape Draco’s grip. As for now, you were in that exact position again. You had to attend Snape’s class in only 10 minutes, or less. But Draco had no intention of stopping the cuddle session for class. So you needed to find a way to get both of you in Snape’s class on time. Not that it mattered too much if Draco was late or not. He was Snape’s favorite after all.

Your cuddle session had started off with you resting your head onto his chest. You softly drew patterns on his stomach, feeling his subtle abs underneath your fingertips. His shirt was buttoned open, as he was feeling too warm for some odd reason. No matter how extremely cold Hogwarts was, this boy never seemed to be cold in his life. The arm you were resting on, was wrapped around your waist, to keep you as close as possible. His other hand rested comfortably on your hip, caressing your skin underneath your skirt that had ridden up a bit. Eventually you ended up laying underneath him. He easily rolled the both of you over, ending up on top of you. His arms were wrapped around your neck, his head laying on your chest. His hands played with your hair, occasionally massaging you head. It was wonderful and truly an adorable sight to see. The smallest amount of sun light that shone through his window, made him look so majestic. His hair seemed to glow, contrasting against his dark clothes. He looked too good. You just couldn’t resist the urge to play with his soft platinum hair as well, while you adored the sight in front of you.

Sadly enough, you really needed to get up, or you were surely getting detention. So you started to ruffle up his hair, making it look all messy. Normally this would annoy him immediately. But the only reaction you got out of him was a soft groan as he tightened his grip on you. “Draco, Darling. We really need to go”, you tried to argue with him, hoping to get out of bed soon. But that was an unrealistic wish. You tried to wiggle yourself loose, but he wouldn’t budge. His arms were too strong for you to get away from. Surely, when he literally had you trapped underneath his body. As you tried once more, he made an inaudible sound that sounded similar to a whimper. It made you giggle. It was cute, annoying sometimes, but overall just the most adorable thing ever. Draco always came off as a cold, closed off person that rarely show any signs of affection. But as he was around you, he just turned into a loving, cuddling sweetheart that showered you with his unknown love and affection.

“We have 5 minutes left to get to Snape’s class-”, he interrupted your sentence with a loud groan, “If we leave now, we might make it just in time”. He ignored your statement, and kept himself in place. A minute later you felt his body lifting up a little. But before you could even move the slightest bit, he came down again. He had switched from laying on your chest, to burying his head in your neck. Every now and then he gave a little peck on the spot below your ear. He surely knew how to get his way with you. But you really hated detentions with Snape. “As much as I love cuddling with you, I really don’t want to land another detention. Snape might love you so much, but he hates the living hell out of me”. He kissed down your neck with soft pecks and sneaky little nibbles. “Just a few more minutes”, he mumbled in a pleading tone. You shook your head, but couldn’t help the smile from creeping up your face. How were you so lucky to see this loving side of this cuddle bug. The urge to keep cuddling was getting more difficult to fight back. He just knew you too well. He knew your weak spots, and surely wasn’t afraid to use them to get his way. He had a strong will. If he wanted to cuddle, that means he is going to cuddle you. Not that you are complaining. Just would’ve been more fun when you didn’t need to worry about what kind of punishment Snape would give you.

You ended up being 20 minutes late. How you had convinced Draco to eventually get up, was a mystery. As expected, you had landed yourself 3 detentions and needed to write a 20-page essay due to the next lesson. All the while, Draco only needed to sit one short detention. Which was really unfair. Snape always loved to pester you with annoying chores you had to do while detention. He truly annoyed the living hell out of you. While his perfect Slytherin students just were given warnings, or if they actually needed to be ‘punished’ he made them just sit 20 minutes in his classroom. He gave them no rules or anything. They just needed to be there 20 minutes and were good to go. But as you were together with Draco for over a year, you had gotten used to the detentions and other variations of his punishments. Snape could get creative with his ways of getting your blood to a boiling point.

Once the lesson was over, Draco started laughing at you as he left the classroom. You glared at his passing figure, rushing to pack your stuff before the git got away. You ran after him, hitting him on the head with one of your books that didn’t fit in your bag. “Don’t laugh at me. You’re the one that is going to write that essay”, you said seriously, or at least tried to. Whenever you were around Draco, you felt your sour moods vanish in no time. “Why me?”, he smiled at you innocently. You raised your eyebrow, silently asking him if he was really asking you that question. But he made no sign of acknowledging the underlying meaning of your eyebrow raise, so you decided to answer him. “Because it’s your fault I landed myself 3 detentions and have this stupid essay to write”. He acted to be offended, playfully laying his hand over his chest as he fake gasped. “Me?” “Oh yes, darling. As much as I love cuddling you, I hate detentions more. So if you just had budged when I asked you too, we wouldn’t even have this problem in the first place”. You were surprised to see him nod his head in agreement. He already had planned on writing it for you, when he first heard Snape announce your punishment for being late. He wouldn’t let you suffer. He know how difficult essays were for you, so you were going to be writing none stop for the whole week. That would mean he couldn’t cuddle you during that. So he preferred to take this upon himself and write it in just a day, as he actually was good with writing essays.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him so he could give the top of your head a kiss. “I was already planning to write it for you, love. Don’t worry about it”, A bright smile lightened up your face. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”, You teased him, but he knew well enough how thankful you were. “Always”, Draco winked at you, making your cheeks turn a light pink. Even after more than a year of dating Draco and being his girlfriend, you still got flustered whenever he did small things like this. But you loved them all the more.

As you came to the point where your paths separated, you halted Draco to peck him softly on the lips. “Seriously though, Thank you darling. You’re the best, even if you can be a huge pain in the ass some times”. At the last part of your sentence he pushed you softly, resulting in you accidentally bumping into a passing student. You apologized and made sure they were alright, before you returned to your grinning boyfriend. “You know I love you”. He nodded with a grin: “ Yeah, I know”. This time it was your turn to shove him, but it didn’t really affected him. “Don’t be so full of yourself. It doesn’t suit you”, he laughed his beautiful laugh, making you feel warm inside. The delighted sound made you feel so joyful. You gave him a final kiss, before leaving. Only to be pulled back into him, in a rather passionated kiss. As your lips parted to get some air, he whispered a soft ‘I love you’. Even if he didn’t said it as often, every time he does, he truly means it. And every time your heart fluttered at the sound of it. You really were lucky to be with this beautiful cuddle bug.

#Draco Malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco hp #draco malfoy hp #draco imagine #draco x reader #draco fluff #hp imagine #hp fanfic

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

Text

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Chapter 5

Gwilym!Prince Charming x Reader

Summary: After losing your parents, your step-family makes your life impossible. That is, until Prince Gwilym holds a ball. It’s your one chance for everything to change.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @queen-paladin, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf, @namelesslosers, @headl0ng, @captvianswaan, @folietracksix, @baltimoresweethearts, @killer-queen-87, @haileymoreolikestupid, @itsametaphorgwil, @misslolasworld, @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen

A/N: It’s the grand finale! Thank you again for all the lovely responses to this fic! I can’t believe I’m almost done with the Disney AUs already! also i barely proofread this because i was so excited to post it so if you see a typo no you didnt

Warning(s): brief descriptions of abuse

Moodboard

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 here we go!!!

Frank and his daughters came home about an hour after you did. You were already back in your servant clothes and waiting by the door. You took their cloaks and bags, and began hanging them on the rack in the main hall.

“How was your night?” you asked politely.

“It was a splendid evening, Y/N,” Frank answered. “More than you could ever hope for.”

“I’m sure it was,” you returned, holding back a smirk. If only he knew.

“I’m relieved to see you have not stolen anything else from my wife’s closet,” he sneered.

You shook your head. “No, sir. I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve been thoroughly educated.”

“Very good,” he said, seeming displeased that he couldn’t goad you.

But nothing could spoil this night. It was perfect.

“Is there anything you need before going to bed?” you asked.

“I’m fine, but you’ll of course help the girls get changed,” he said.

You nodded again. “Absolutely.”

He watched you suspiciously as you followed your step sisters up the stairs. You were calm. Too calm. And you were humming, which you didn’t normally do. Plus the tune was something he had heard somewhere - but no event would have had you in attendance. His frown deepened. Something was up.

***

Gwilym returned to the palace two hours later, empty handed and broken-hearted. Rami and Ben were waiting on the steps for him, but as he walked up, he only shook his head. They sighed, disappointed for their friend. Thankfully, the remaining guests had all gone home.

“Sorry, mate,” Ben said.

“There was no sign of her?” Rami asked.

“No,” Gwilym said. “Even the carriage tracks just seemed to disappear. It was like she just vanished.”

“So, all we’ve got to go on is the shoe?” Ben wondered, holding it up.

Gwilym had only entrusted his best friends with it, and they had kept it from his father.

“It’s made of glass,” Gwilym said. “Which means it only fits her.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Rami asked. “Try the shoe on every woman in the kingdom?”

“Only the single women,” Gwilym said, as if it were obvious.

Rami and Ben shared a surprised look.

“I hope you’re joking,” Ben said.

“Far from it,” Gwilym replied. “I’m going to find that girl, and I’m going to marry her.”

Rami sighed. “Very well, then. But let’s start in the morning.”

“Thank you both,” Gwilym said, relieved. They had every reason to leave now. Both had duties at home, and had done what was socially expected. With the ball over, there was no obligation to stay. “Really.”

“Of course we’re gonna help you,” Ben said. “But I’m with Rami. Starting tomorrow.”

“You guys go on up, I’ll be right behind you,” Gwilym insisted.

His friends shrugged, but did as he requested and went inside. Gwilym remained, holding that glass piece of you carefully in the crook of his arm. He looked out into the night sky, hoping somehow you could feel his desperation.

“I am coming for you, my darling,” he said quietly.

***

You yawned as the sun peered into your room through your curtains. You were feeling unusually light this morning. Like you were still floating just above the ballroom floor. With a contented sigh, you stretched and forced yourself out of bed. Frank and the girls would be needing their breakfast soon, but you knew you had a little extra time today. They’d certainly have a bit of a lie in after the late night.

You threw your dress and apron on. You did a spin around your room, giggling as you imagined Gwilym there with you. Then you had to slow to a stop. It was a fantasy, nothing more. One glorious night. But now it was time to return to reality and your true life. Still, you could cling to the dream for one morning.

Humming to yourself, you put the pot on to boil and began prepping plates for breakfast. You set a pan atop the stove to start some sausages when you heard the jingle of a bell. You looked at the wall. It was coming from Eleanor’s room, so you guessed she was up. You asked Elsie to start the food and went back upstairs to get your step sister dressed. When you reached the landing, you saw Frank emerging from his room, already dressed.

“Good morning,” you said kindly.

“Y/N, what did you get up to last night?” he asked.

“Why, nothing, sir,” you said. “I cleaned up, as you instructed, changed clothes, and got a head start on some other chores. When those were done, I occupied myself by reading.”

He seemed skeptical. “I see. I hope you weren’t reading anything too fanciful. You mustn’t fill your mind with...unrealistic dreams and fantasies.”

Your brow furrowed with confusion. What was he implying?

“No, sir,” you said. “I try to keep everything practical.”

“Good,” he said. “Now get to work.”

You nodded, a bit perplexed, but continued into Eleanor’s room.

***

In the morning, Gwilym was the first up. He hardly slept at all. He wrote a decree for his father to send out, that he and Ben and Rami would be making the rounds through town and the countryside to find the owner of the missing shoe. They would begin today, and search until the prince had found his lost love.

To his shock, the king agreed to this. He read over it at the breakfast table, nodding at each point. The ladies were to try on the shoe and if it fit, it must be the girl who Gwilym met at the ball.

“Very well,” he said. “You’ll begin today?”

“Yes,” Gwilym said. “I want to find her as soon as possible.”

“Alright, son,” the king replied. He looked at the prince and offered a sincere smile. “And best of luck.”

Gwilym beamed. “Thank you, Father!”

And so, they began their search within the palace, where the out of town noble guests were staying. Gwilym had his doubts about those girls because he met them before you even came through the door. But he knew everyone deserved a fair chance. When the shoe fit none of those women, they made their way into town, with a few guards along for protection.

***

Frank received a letter from the palace early in the morning. He looked it over and you saw a flash of...something cross his face. You couldn’t place the emotion though. It seemed almost like a glimmer of hope. His eyes glanced over at you before quickly turning to his daughters.

“Girls, get yourselves looking nice,” he said. “We’ll be having visitors from the palace this afternoon.”

“The palace?” you questioned, without meaning to, but you could hardly help yourself.

“Yes, but that isn’t any of your business, Y/N,” he snapped. “Get my daughters ready and then proceed with your chores as usual. You are not to make your presence known while the visitors are here.”

You nodded apologetically. As you made your way back to the kitchen, you wondered if the visitors Frank referred to could be Gwilym and his father. Was he looking for you? Something in your heart told you he was, but you hardly even dared to hope. Such a thing was the stuff of dreams. And yet, the ball seemed like a dream too, but it was as real as the tea kettle you carried. You began devising a plan.

As the day wore on, you completed your chores quickly. You wanted to prepare yourself as well. Your gut was telling you Gwilym was on his way to take you away from here. And you had all the proof you needed in that slipper that was hidden beneath your bed. So when you finished sweeping the entrance hall, you ran up to your room to get it. Only, when you opened your door, you came to an abrupt stop. Frank was sitting on your bed, holding the slipper by the heel. One wrong move of his fingers and it would fall, risking a break.

“Well, well, well,” he said darkly. “I had a feeling you had made your way to the ball. You’ve been far too dreamy to have had as dull a night as you claim.”

Your heart rate quickened.

“That’s mine,” you said, feeling childish as the words left your mouth. “It was given to me.”

Frank laughed humorlessly. “Oh, likely story. I suppose this is another one of my wife’s things you stole.”

“You cannot stop me from this,” you said, ignoring the accusation. “The prince loves me.”

“Against his better judgement, I believe that’s true,” he admitted.

You blinked, surprised at your step father’s nonchalance about this. Did that mean he would accept it? No. There had to be something else he was getting at.

“As it is, though,” he said. “You’re spoken for.”

You frowned as your stomach dropped.

“What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, getting to his feet and straightening his jacket with his free hand. “And mine alone.”

A chill ran down your spine. Was he really saying what you thought he was saying?

“I’m not a slave, Frank,” you said. “I am free to do this.”

“I do not intend to make you my slave,” he said. “I intend to make you my wife.”

Your body went rigid as the blood ran out of your face. The very idea made your stomach churn. The thought of being his wife, sharing his bed, bearing his children...you nearly heaved right there in front of him.

“No,” you said firmly. “I won’t.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” he said.

“It’s sick!” you cried. “I’m your daughter!”

“Step daughter,” he said. “I will have this estate, Y/N. You will do for me what your mother could not. My son will be the true and rightful heir, and start a new line.”

“Are you not happy with the children you have?” you wondered, completely rocked to your core. “Why do you insist on a son?”

“Sons are the only useful offspring,” he scoffed. “Daughters are just mouths to feed until you can marry them off, and even then, what’s theirs will never belong to their family. It belongs to their husbands. Well, I am not going to lose everything because my previous wives were too weak to give me what I want.”

“I will not,” you refused again. “I’ll run away.”

“And leave behind your home?” he taunted. “The one your father built so lovingly with your mother?”

“It will no longer be a home to me if I am trapped in such a marriage,” you said.

“I’m not giving you a choice, Y/N,” he sighed. “I’ll keep eyes on you everywhere, I’ll lock you in your room, whatever it takes. Or, you can submit to me now and become mistress of this house as you were born to be.”

“I’ll die before I marry you,” you spat. “I’ll die before I bear any child of yours. I’ll -”

“No need to go on,” he said. He was being alarmingly calm about this. “I know the rest. But you will marry me, Y/N. You will have my son, and you’ll do it all without complaint. Just as you have with everything I have ever given you.”

You blinked again. So everything he’d put you through was a test? A way to manipulate you into obeying his every command? He was...grooming you? Your stomach gave another lurch.

“But first,” he said. “We will need to squash your dreams of Prince Gwilym.”

“What do you -”

He cut off your question by hurling your slipper into the wall. It shattered with a crash, which drowned out your anguished cry. You sank to your knees, hopeless.

“There now,” he said. “I’m only teaching you the harsh lesson of reality.”

Tears fell freely down your cheeks. You heard loud knocking at the front door, but barely registered it.

“That’ll be him,” Frank said.

You snapped to your senses and started to rise for one last desperate escape attempt, but Frank was faster. You felt the blow of his palm against your cheek before you even saw it coming. You fell to the ground, face throbbing. You wanted to scream, or cry, or swing back at him, but you were completely numb from the shock. You couldn’t feel anything but the sting on your skin.

“Do not resist me again, Y/N,” Frank warned.

With that, he walked out of your room, and you heard him turn the lock. You were trapped. You curled into a ball on your floor and wept quietly.

***

Gwilym was relieved when the door finally opened. This was the last house of the day. He saw a man there, whose smile was...unconvincing to say the least. He bowed.

“We are happy to see you, Prince Gwilym,” he said. “I am Frank Tarleton, and I believe one of my daughters is the girl you’re searching for.”

Gwilym raised a brow. “But you don’t know which?”

Frank blinked, taken aback, and then laughed an empty sort of laugh. “Good one, your highness. Please, come in.”

Gwilym looked at Ben and Rami who both shrugged. They followed Frank inside and into the drawing room, where two young women sat on the couch, looking nervous. Ben explained everything, with Frank nodding eagerly along. Something about the man struck Gwilym as slimy. He was too polite, too eager to please, and it seemed even his own daughters were made uncomfortable by him. Gwilym sighed.

“Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled.

He was beginning to lose hope. Who was left, if not these girls? And yet, neither of them struck him as the one he was looking for.

***

You listened carefully at your door, not daring to make any more noise. If Frank returned, he might do worse than strike you. But you could listen to what was happening downstairs.

It was a bit maddening to hear, though. To be so close to Gwilym now, and yet so far. To be a prisoner now in your own home was worse than being a servant. And the worst part was seeing the proof of your identity lying in pieces beside you. You felt like the slipper. Broken. Completely in pieces. Like your dreams too.

You heard the front door open and close again. You went to your window and watched Gwilym mount his horse, his friends on either side of him, and trot away toward town. Was that truly the last time you would see your love?

It couldn’t be. Now, you could hear Frank’s familiar footsteps coming back up the stairs. You knew you had to make a break for it as soon as he opened the door. You braced yourself. You had no time to pack anything, no time to grab money or valuables. You would have to break away with nothing but the clothes on your back and a prayer.

You watched the doorknob turn, feeling as if everything was in slow motion. It creaked slowly open and Frank’s body appeared in the door frame. He reached for you, but you ducked under his arm, darted down the hall, flew down the stairs, and straight out the front door.

You ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even daring to look back to see if Frank was in pursuit. You just hurtled toward town, hoping that anyone could help you. You would give up your home, and everything you knew - you would even give up your life - before marrying Frank. You had to escape, even if it meant becoming a beggar.

You burst through the back door of the tavern, tears streaming down your cheeks, and chest heaving. Flying through the kitchen, you threw open the doors to the dining area and found Zelda behind the bar. She looked up at the commotion you were making, took in the sight of you, and her brow furrowed.

“Zelda, please!” you cried, frantic. “I need help!”

You went to her, and she took you in her arms.

“Y/N, what’s -”

She didn’t get to finish her question before Frank came barreling through. He must not have been far behind. You let out a scream. Zelda pushed you behind her and you cowered at her back. She put her arms out to shield you further.

“Zelda, remove yourself if you know what’s good for you,” Frank threatened.

“Don’t, Zelda, please!” you begged. “Don’t let him take me! He’s going to force me to marry him! Please!”

She stiffened in front of you. “Oh, no you don’t, Frank. I will not stand by and let you do this.”

“Stand back or you’re fired,” he warned.

“I don’t care,” she shot back. “I won’t let you have her!”

“I’m afraid it’s not up to you,” he returned harshly.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to move her, but Zelda was a stout woman with considerable strength. She resisted him, taking hold of his biceps and forcing him back several steps. Her advantage was clearly gained by the element of surprise.

“Run, Y/N!” she cried. “Get out of here!”

Panicked, you leapt over the counter and wrenched the door open. You threw yourself out of it, trying to ignore the sounds of the struggle behind you. You darted into the street and sprinted as fast as you could away from the tavern. You had no idea where you would go from here - but you could not stay and be forced into a lifetime of Frank.

You glanced back. To your horror, you saw that Frank was emerging from the tavern and had spotted you right away. With a gasp, you turned back around and sped up. Only, as you turned, you didn’t realize what was in front of you. You ran right smack into a man’s back. The force of the collision put you on your rear in the dirt.

Wincing, you looked up. Your jaw dropped. It was Gwilym!

He met your gaze and froze as well. For a moment, you were both back at the ball, when he’d come up to you on the stairs and asked you to dance. He recognized you instantly.

“It’s you,” he whispered.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sudden stinging on your scalp caused you to cry out instead. Frank had fisted his hand around your hair and dragged you to your feet.

“Your highness!” he gasped, noticing Gwilym. “I do apologize. My servant here has forgotten her manners.” He looked at you and continued through gritted teeth. “And her place.”

He yanked your hair on the last word for extra emphasis. Gwilym’s chest tightened as he watched Frank manhandle you. He briefly imagined himself drawing his sword and plunging it right into Frank’s chest, but he refrained.

“Release her,” he ordered.

Frank looked at the prince, bewildered.

“I’m sorry?” he questioned.

Gwilym’s expression darkened. “I told you to release her.”

Frank hesitated.

“Now!” Gwilym shouted.

You relaxed when Frank finally let go. Your scalp still itched with soreness. You desperately wanted to throw yourself into Gwilym’s arms but you were still afraid of what Frank might do. You did take a cautious step back.

“Your highness, I’m dealing with an unruly servant girl,” Frank said. “But she is mine and I may do with her as I please.”

Your lip trembled and you shook your head.

“That’s not true,” you sobbed. “You know it’s not, I’m your step daughter and you’re forcing me to -”

“SILENCE!” Frank roared, and raised his hand.

You shrieked and covered your face with your arms. But the blow didn’t come. You peeked out, lowering your shield just barely. Gwilym had taken hold of Frank’s wrist. Rami and Ben, who you just noticed being present, both had their hands on their swords. Now was your chance.

“Don’t let him take me back,” you begged again. “Please, your highness, don’t let him.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Zelda trotting up the street. She halted when she took in the scene before her.

“Sir Tarleton,” Gwilym said, releasing Frank’s arm. “We were at your home and I asked you if you had any more women residing there besides your daughters. You lied.”

“It wasn’t a lie, really,” Frank argued. “Just an omission. You see, there’s no way this girl was at the ball when I forbid her from going.”

“If that’s true, then you are still in trouble,” Gwilym said. “All eligible maidens were to attend.”

“She’s only a servant -”

“I know you’re lying, Tarleton,” Gwilym interrupted. “Now stand down.”

Frank stepped away from the prince, shooting glances between him and you. Gwilym turned to Ben.

“The slipper please, Ben,” he said.

“No!” Frank protested, starting toward you, but Rami stopped him.

Ben handed Gwilym the slipped you’d left behind on the staircase. You wiped your cheeks, clearing away the dirt and tears, and held your prince’s gaze. You smiled at him.

“I knew you were the girl from the tavern,” he said gently. “I knew I recognized you.”

“And the cemetery,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “I remember.”

“How did someone like you even notice someone like me?” you wondered, amazed.

“Because you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” he told you simply. “Inside and out. And from that moment in the cemetery I saw what you truly are - a princess.”

You flushed, looking bashfully at the ground.

“I’m not really a -”

“Maybe not by birth,” he said. “But in heart.”

You met his eyes again. Those eyes that from the first time you saw them, told you the kindness of this man’s soul.

He knelt down onto one knee, holding out the slipper. It made you ache for the lost one Frank smashed, but you were relieved that you had left one behind at the palace. You toed off your boot and raised your leg. Ben stepped closer to help you balance and you shot him a grateful look. Then, you slid your delicate foot into the glass slipper. It fit perfectly.

Gwilym’s face lit up like a firework. Ben let go of your hand as Gwilym laughed, took you up in his arms and spun you around. You giggled with joy as well. He lowered you gently to the ground.

“Now, will you please tell me your name?” he asked.

You chuckled. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, and cupped your cheek in his palm. “How beautiful.”

“No!” Frank shouted again, and this time Rami had to grab him to stop him. “No! You cannot take her from me!”

“The girl does not belong to you,” Gwilym said sternly. He turned and faced Frank. “I see very clearly now that you have been mistreating her. She is free to choose whatever she likes.”

“I’m her father!” Frank insisted.

“Step father,” you said. Then you looked up at Gwilym. “I choose you, my love.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied. “Sir Tarleton, you’ll be taken into custody.”

Frank’s eyes went wide as the guards moved to take him from Rami. They clapped iron rings around his wrists. He seemed too shocked to struggle.

“Take him to the dungeon to await trial for his crimes,” Gwilym instructed. He faced you again. “And you, my darling, may come with me to the palace.”

“For how long?” you wondered.

“Forever, if you wish it,” he assured you.

“I could hardly wish for more,” you said happily.

He took your hand and helped you onto his horse. Together, you headed for safety, and building a life together. In true love.

***

You and Gwilym married as soon as possible. The whole kingdom was thrilled at the wedding. Frank was tried and convicted for his abuse, but would not serve a life sentence, so instead of prison, he was banished from the kingdom. Even so, early in your marriage to Gwilym, you frequently had nightmares where your stepfather returned.

Gwilym was as loving and patient a partner as you could hope for. He let you talk through your trauma, and he made sure to never do anything that caused you fear. His support helped you to truly heal.

Your step sisters had to move from the estate, which was now yours entirely. Eleanor and Miranda were surprisingly happy to take over their father’s first business, the tavern, which they ran successfully with Zelda. They both eventually found merchant husbands and lived peacefully, and you were genuinely happy for them.

But the greatest joy Gwilym ever gave you was your children. You had two boys and two girls, and they were the light of the whole kingdom’s eye - but especially the king, who lived a long and healthy life with his grandchildren. You had no other description for your life besides happily ever after.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x you #Brian May #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #brian may x you #bohrap imagine #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap boys #borhap cast x reader #borhap cast imagine #borhap cast x you #borhap boys x reader #borhap boys imagine #borhap boys x you #a dream is a wish your heart makes series

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gingit-cake · 3 years

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Therapeutic Gallavich

I’ve been wanting to write a tribute post to the Gallavich universe as a free source of therapy during the pandemic. I’m somewhat tongue in cheek here, but in a country (USA) where we have too little mental health support and too much stigma about mental health, diving into the Gallavich fandom and binging Shameless over the past 6m has been a really comforting coping mechanism for me. There is so much grief and loss in the world, so many ways our government and - for many people - our peers have failed us, that the fictional world of Ian and Mickey has been a wonderful source of comfort, in a lot of ways. It’s a retreat from the IRL shitshow. It’s got endless permutations of happy endings, to give us that serotonin boost and vicarious thrill. And given Mickey and Ian’s respective struggles - homophobic and sexual abuse, mental illness, neglect, parental death, incarceration, etc. - there are also countless fanfics that include therapy, recovery, and informal paths towards healing from past trauma. I’ve never related to a show so personally as I have Shameless, and binging it during the pandemic - when social isolation leaves way too much time for rumination, compounded by being at midlife and the reflection that triggers - it basically ripped open my heart and dredged up long buried stuff I’m finally willing to address. My husband and I watched the S7 finale on New Year’s Day, and let’s just say 2021 has been an emotional retcon of my life since. (I’m learning all the creative, literary terms.) (And don’t worry, strangers on the internet, I am fortunate to have a therapist and the insurance to pay for it. I wish we all had this.)

There’s been a few fanfics I explicitly want to give a shoutout too as ones featuring therapy or recovery or conversations that have stayed with me in a meaningful way. Excerpts, tributes, and links below the jump. Possible spoilers for Enemy Lines, Someone to Hold Me Up, Buy and By, and Etherized Against the Sky.

Enemy Lines, by J_Q and stars_fall_on - Ian has a therapist Dr. Lancaster, who introduces him to the concept of rumination:

“He felt a tightening in his chest. Did he even want to let go of Mickey? If not, what the hell was he still holding onto? A memory. A feeling. A belief that he’d made a real connection. But nothing substantial. Nothing real. // 'Ian, is there something hindering you from wanting to move on?" she asked then sat back, looking closely at him. “Are you familiar with the term rumination? // ... // Rumination, as opposed to worry, very often focuses on loss and an overpowering need to understand why something happened.' She continued to watch him closely as she spoke. 'While emotional processing starts out this way, healthy processing leads to acceptance and a release of negative emotions, but rumination keeps you stuck in a pattern.’”

THIS is my brain in a nutshell. As I wrote in a comment on one of the chapters to this amazing slow burn, enemies-to-lovers fic, I’ve got relationships from 20y+ ago that I still brood over. I’m working on letting go and the Gallavich universe has been a creative inspiration for doing some of that work.

Someone to Hold Me Up, by @westernredcedar - Mickey has a conversation with an OC about forgiveness, after reconnecting with Ian in this hurt/comfort fic:

“'You ever have to forgive your guy for something?' Mickey asks. // Mel laughs. 'Of course. Daily, actually. The man’s a damn slob.' // Mickey snorts, but then he runs his hand over his mouth and tries to actually get to the point. ‘What about something big?' // Mel looks like he’s considering the question thoughtfully, and Mickey realizes that somewhere in the midst of all this madness, he’s really gotten to like this guy. 'I have lots of thoughts about forgiveness, actually,” Mel says with an eyebrow raised. “So you may not want to get me started on that theme. But it’s more about my parents and my sister than about Jeffrey, if that matters. I guess for me it all boils down to this: would it cost me more to forgive or cost me more to stay angry? And my answer to that question is not the same for everyone.’”

This conversation about forgiveness has really stayed with me. One of the reasons I’ve realted so much to the character of Ian Gallagher is I had a hothead brunet of a boyfriend in high school during that same age range (15-17) who is probably the same height as Noel Fisher and caused no shortage of DRAMA in my life, and it didn’t end well. (We were definitely NOT soulmates.) I am serious when I say Shameless and Gallavich specifically helped me let a lot of this 30y old angst go. This exchange b/w Mickey and Mel gets at it - it was costing ME a lot to hang on to this past.

By and By, by @nowherenj - This one I’m not going to excerpt, because it was the whole story that moved me. Nowherennj draws on their experience in recovery, and this slow burn is both beautifully written and a primer on being in recovery. This was really helpful for me, as I have close friends and family who are in recovery, some with a dual diagnosis (drug use + mental health diagnosis), and this story’s generous attention to detail helped illustrate their experiences for me in a way that we don’t talk about on a regular basis. One of the reasons I identify so strongly with Shameless is because I come from a big sprawling Irish-American family with a lot of addiction and mental illness in it. This fic about Ian and Mickey in recovery makes explicit much of what I think my family hovers around because it can be so hard to talk about openly. I wept reading this one when the author brought in The Avett Brothers’ No Hard Feelings - how I want to live my life.

Etherized against the Sky, by Snarfle - This one is less about my own therapeutic journey and more about what I hope I can be for young adults that I work with now. It has a character in it named Mr. Strickland, who is a very important father figure for Mickey. I was a professor for a decade, and still mentor young adults in my current job. I think one of the unsung roles that I experienced in academia is too be a mentor for young people. Some instructors are just about curriculum and grading, but when you cross paths with young adults at the beginning of this stage of life, figuring their sh*t out, the ability to be a kind and safe source of input and an active, non-judgemental listener is honestly the most fulfilling aspect of working with students and young professionals, in my view. Maybe it’s because the years 15-25 were such chaos for me, but I love working with people this age (and probably why I hang around on Tumblr despite my near eligibility for AARP lol). You’ve got your whole life in front of you! So many possibilities! Full of hot boyfriends and tomato plants and rescue dogs and heated pools. :)

There are surely more, I’ve realized that “hurt/comfort” is a great tag for these kinds of stories. But this post is already too long. Thanks to all of you in the fandom who have created art and narrative that have kept me coming back for more, and not feeling so alone in the pandemic. We are a mighty little community!

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drawbauchery · 4 years

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Pre and Post-Second Session Secrets

fic by cartoons-tothemoon!

fic commission info inside!

Private, in all his years, was always regarded as oblivious, dense, benign.

He knew this, and most of the time, he didn’t even mind such a thing. Was it really so hard to believe that a cutie pie like him that liked knitting and baking was also capable of feats of incredible violence?

Of course, the answer was always “yes.” Because of course it was.

However, Private had found himself a different role to settle himself into in his most recent years. Or rather, a secret trait, that he treasured along with his more open and obvious personality traits, like kindness and empathy.

And that trait was quite simply, being perceptive.

It was undeniable that Private wasn’t always aware of his surroundings, but he was aware of people.

He could tell when Skipper was getting a little too paranoid for his own good or when Rico missed Julien especially bad on hour-long missions, or when Kowalski was about to have a sensory-related meltdown.

It was why he was the one who always paid rent.

People liked Private, and Private liked quite a lot of them. Even the ones he didn’t like, he seemed to have an understanding of.

They thought they understood him, and he found that he understood them quite well.

———

He couldn’t understand this quite well, however.

Skipper was a…character. Let’s just say that. Ignoring his haircut and his arms and his sharp eyes that always had a certain spark to them and-

Ignoring all that, Skipper was the type to let things slip under the radar. Sure, it’s not like Kowalski WANTED people to know how his last relationship went, and Rico’s cavalcade of issues was always on full display even if they created a sort of smoke-screen for other things, but with Skipper…his issues only came up when they physically pervaded their lives. Dr. Blowhole or Hans, for example, it would’ve been nice to know that Skipper had particular targets on his back, but, that was spy stuff lost to the days. Of course he didn’t talk about it.

He was now referring more so to things like his extreme fear of needles, or that one time when it came up that he could tie a cherry stem with his tongue. Just last week was the first time Private had even heard a thing about Skipper’s apparently strained relationship with his family. He’d kind of assumed he didn’t have a family at that point, as sad as that sounded to say.

Weird insecurities, secrets, skills, and even just his past in general were things he never mentioned because it “never came up,” but it’s not like Private hadn’t asked him about a few of those things before. Skipper just happened to always dismiss him, there was always a reason for him not to contend with the questions in mind, be it they were already busy with whatever crisis the day had in store for them or whatever other excuse Skipper could make up at the moment.

So, Skipper was a private person. There certainly wasn’t anything wrong with that. It’s quite ironic that he himself wasn’t MORE private, in fact.

And sure, it occasionally lead to a whole incident, or two, or…five, but it’s not like they could really say something about it anyhow. It wasn’t that they weren’t allowed to call him out for certain things, they certainly were, but if they began asking him to be open…well, wouldn’t they have to be more open too? To point the blade one way and not expect it to pierce you as well was a foolhardy argument to make. And besides, what would they even be asking him? “Be more open and honest about your secrets and feelings?” Not only is that vague as hell, it’s just…

It’s a lot to ask of someone.

Private seemed open in a way that made people comfortable with him, but was he really open at all? Sure, he had no problem discussing things like his interests or some elements of his past with others, but now that he had to think about it, it kind of obfuscated the truth.

After all, being so open about living with Uncle Nigel most of his life made people forget that he could’ve been doing other things with his life as well.

Not that the Armadillo Kid forgot, anyhow.

So, maybe secrets were fine after all. Maybe Skipper didn’t even realize he was keeping secrets until they came up. After all, the needle thing only came up during a physical with the team’s doctor, the cherry stem thing only came up while they were getting ice cream, and his strained relationship with his family only came to light because he received a letter from them that he tore up before reading when he was helping Private sort through his mail pile.

To make something out of it when he has no reason to would just be silly, and to put this extra level of scrutiny on Skipper, or anybody for that matter would no doubt weaken their trust in him, and that was the last thing he’d want.

Being cute and loving and trustworthy wasn’t something Private saw as a skill he had to hone, it was just how he was, but that didn’t mean it didn’t take work. Love and trust were labors all their own, and just because they weren’t the same thing as being able to construct ray guns or have inexplicable amounts of dynamite in his hoodie’s pocket didn’t mean it wasn’t worth something, to somebody like him.

After all, no matter if the team possessed enough dynamite to destroy the Eastern seaboard or conquer Mars, they’d always need somebody to pay rent.

And although there were times when Private wanted to press, wanted to question, wanted to scream from the rooftops how much he wanted to understand with all his heart, he relented. He relaxed. Sure, he took note of such incidents, but that wasn’t being nosy. That was just his job.

So, Private, in all his patience, let things be. Sometimes secret were secrets for a reason, and prying open a treasure chest with a crowbar was never going to be an easy task, especially if he could later count on the key to wash up on the shore. Why pry now?

And that was his mentality for quite a long time.

Until a crowbar washed up on the shore.

———

In retrospect, it felt like it was a few day’s coming. Skipper seemed to be slipping from his usual emotional state of “fine, but tired” to “fine, but tired AND jumpy,” which doesn’t seem like that much of a difference until a tap on the shoulder gets you pressed against the fridge in the exact position it would take to dislocate your entire upper body.

He just wanted a glass of water.

Of course, Skipper apologized a thousand times over, but Private just brushed this off as Skipper having a bad bout of insomnia, and so, Private just dropped him off at his room for a nap, circadian rhythm be damned.

It didn’t seem like insomnia. Sure, it’s not like Private knew Skipper’s sleep schedule enough to say that it WASN’T insomnia, but…

He could just tell that something else was bothering him. He couldn’t tell why, maybe it was the way he only acted out like this when being touched or when he knew other people were around, maybe it was the eyebags that felt less sallow and deep than he knew they’d be after a practically sleepless week, or maybe it just felt like he had something to hide.

If he was trying to hide something, it would seem like he had nothing to hide in the first place. Skipper was a master of the double bluff, the triple bluff, and so on and so forth. Skipper practically waltzed around the truth on the best of days.

However, this clearly wasn’t the best of days. Skipper was obviously, clearly, undeniably hiding something, and was making no effort to even hide those efforts. Sure, a double bluff was a double bluff, but that only meant that this was either a remarkable version of such a psychology, or an absolutely terrible version of what it really was.

You could never really tell with a guy like Skipper.

Of course, given that his ice pack still didn’t seem to dull the pain of nearly having his arm removed from his socket, and how spooked Skipper seemed to be about the whole thing, there was a little bit of certainty that this wasn’t just an act. Whether because he did it in the first place, or apologized for it, he couldn’t say for certain.

(Sleeplessness, erratic movement, paranoia, irritation…were his hands trembling?)

At this point, Private wasn’t really certain WHAT to do, confronting him on it was certain to escalate things, but if he didn’t do SOMETHING about it, Skipper might actually kill somebody. It’s not like Skipper would approach him about any emotional vulnerabilities or problems he was facing. He didn’t talk to anyone about them. Not by choice, anyhow.

He had to do this. He had to figure something out, and it most certainly had to be him.

Private hated to boil this down in such a way, but getting people to open up to him, especially when they didn’t want to, was a lot like operating one of those coin-operated claw machines. Some of those games were easier than others, and a lot more may take it for granted that you would try again, but it was basically the same idea.

To win the game, you had to look at all the angles, you had to time your moves just right in accordance to the game, and, of course, you had to have a delicate touch. That was how you won your prize, be it an adorable stuffed toy, or insight into one of your dearest friend’s issues.

You couldn’t shake the machine, or break it. Because then you’re not playing the game.

You can’t analyze the game simply as a mechanical device, and expect to win either, because there’s nothing wrong with how the mechanisms actually operate, just how the machine takes them.

It has to be him. He’s the one with the gentle hand. He’s the one who can see all the angles, and, yes, he knows when he needs to apply the force necessary to not just play the game, but to win. The people around him need him to play to win.

And in many ways, they’re lucky.

Private’s great at those games. Where else would he get all of his stuffed animals, after all?

———

It felt like Skipper had settled down at dinner. Sure, he tapped his silverware softly when his fingers seemed to lose the rhythm he took while fidgeting, but he seemed more tired than anything else. Tired and sad.

Which, on one hand, was not great. The last thing Private wanted was for his friends to be sad, but it also meant that he was open.

He was stuck.

Trapped by societal convention. He couldn’t leave the table until he ate all of his food, and because Kowalski prepared it tonight, the consequences for leaving would not only be an empty stomach, but a hyper self-conscious scientist in the coming days, a price rather damning considering the combination of how sad he’d get and how much yellow-cake uranium he had access to.

So, now was the perfect time for an intervention.

“Hey, Skipper, how’s it going?” Perfect opener. Bland and unoriginal, a little suspicious considering the lack of conversation currently going on, but, nonetheless, it was the only entrance he really could take.

Of course, there’s already so much weight to be taken from “how’s it going?” But a person who’s doing fine in the world won’t think about that. They’ll just be fine. And they’ll say they’re fine.

“Oh, uh. Fine.” Skipper said, not exactly startled, but not exactly there, either.

“Do anything interesting today?”

“I already apologized for that.”

“I meant other things. Interesting things.”

Now, this did not look to be a compelling conversation, mostly because it wasn’t. Skipper wasn’t even really answering the questions, using half measures to make sure he never had to lift his eyes from the part of the table he had locked his gaze on, and seemed determined to not look up from until he could leave, a classic tactic to be sure.

“Skipper, are you…al..right?” Kowalski asked, hesitantly. “I’m not talking just now, I’m talking in general. You’ve been acting really strange, lately.”

Although Private could handle these things on his own, the fact of the matter is, you don’t turn down good help. Kowalski was good help. Sure, his plan may have to be reformatted, but he’d play it by ear, like he always did.

“Has something happened? Your erratic behavior began almost three weeks ago, and it’s continued since then, with seemingly no cause behind it.”

“I’ve been handling it.”

“Oh yeah, sure. That’s been going real great.”

That got Skipper to lift an eyebrow in his direction, but his eyes remained cast down as he primarily focused on eating. He was almost done, and although Private hadn’t been able to dig a lot on his own, he’d take what he could get.

“Sir, you assaulted a member of team, with no justifiable reason behind it.” Skipper flinched at that, but kept his head down. His guilt was already well-known, so it felt more like picking at flesh wounds at that point. “That is the behavior of somebody not just unstable, but somebody unfit to lead.”

Private…hadn’t expected that. This seemed to be spiraling out of control far too quickly. This is definitely not how he plays the game.

“Kowalski-“

“Can it. Skipper, if you can’t get yourself together and be the leader you’re supposed to be, then I suppose we’re just going to have to find a new leader.”

Private was shocked. Horrified, even. Skipper had lifted his head at this point to glare at Kowalski in twain.

“You seem to forget I have the number to HQ, too. Acquiring yellow cake uranium in New York City is, uh, shockingly difficult, in case you were wondering.”

Private knew Kowalski was bluffing. The team needed Skipper, just as much as Skipper needed the team. Even if he was going on some more secret missions than usual, he always came back to the roost, not to mention that HQ wasn’t really fond of them in the first place. They were stuck with what they had, and what they had was each other. Kowalski was never going to call, and Private knew this. And if Private knew, then Skipper did too.

Not like it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Maybe it made it hurt worse.

Skipper stood up.

“Then HQ better be on my doorstep by morning with a new assignment waiting for me.” Skipper sneered, and walked away from the table to put away his plate.

“Oh, and I’m sure your new team will just, fall at your feet, that’s what you’re looking for, right? For people to be quiet and not question your judgement?”

“And I’m sure your new leader will be just fine with whatever Geneva Convention violating monsters you’re storing in the break fridge. Because that’s what you want, right? A leader that’ll hold you accountable?”

“I’m not even mad about that anymore!”

“I f-feel like I’m w-watching mom and d-dad go through a, through a divorce.” Rico whispered to Private as they watched the scene play out. Private, however, could only watch. He felt like he was learning more and more with each passing venomous jab that they passed back and forth.

Kowalski was clearly mad that Skipper hasn’t been taking the suggestions he’s been giving on how to get back in “tip-top shape,” as Private would say, and whether he was just trying to get Skipper to take better care of himself, or if he was just trying to figure out what caused him to be in such a state, and his methods hadn’t been working. Obviously. Skipper seemed like he was too tired to continue, but only continued to do so out of either pride, or just because it was something expected of him.

“For the last time, I am HANDLING it.”

“Oh, really? Is that what you’re doing?”

Skipper glared, but he seemed more disgusted than anything else.

“For the record, yes, I am actually DOING something, but, think what you want, I’m going to bed.” He said, leaving the kitchen. Private could tell that there was clearly more that he wanted to say, but without the place to be open about it, he wasn’t going to be.

There also clearly seemed to be more that Kowalski wanted to say, but where Skipper went hot, Kowalski went cool. Explosions always got more attention because they were bright and flashy and dynamic, but Kowalski looked ready to launch a new ice age, and a new ice age would bring with it cold, lingering death.

Still, in all of this, there was still a question to be had.

“You’re not…really going to call HQ, are you?”

Kowalski crossed his arms and leaned against the counter with a sigh.

“No.”

Private smiled, not especially brightly, but, gratefully. It was a resigned response, sure, one that if Kowalski had more energy would be followed up with a tirade, but, still, it meant the world to Private.

It wasn’t his greatest fear, that would be badgers, heights, leopard seals, and whatever was living in the trash can, but Private couldn’t deny that he possessed some sort of anxiety surrounding the idea that this little family of his would fall apart, and eventually, they’d be nothing more than strangers. Maybe because it was something so…true. The fact of the matter was, that this was a job. They went from never knowing each other to what they were now, after all, but if Skipper or Kowalski or Rico got a better deal, who’s to say that they wouldn’t take it? And if they didn’t get a better job, then wouldn’t this job just have to end at one point?

This worried him, as a passive anxiety that he never thought he’d have to consider, the same way that “what if space squids came to Earth and decided to steal Kowalski’s technology, and then conquer the planet?” or “what if I have to be the one to make a doctor’s appointment?” was a passive anxiety. The chances of these events happening were slim to nill, sure, but it could still happen.

Still, there was something to be asked.

“What do you think Skipper meant by “actually doing something?”

Rico shrugged, “p-probably hitting the b-bottle.”

“Mmm. Not likely.” Kowalski replied. “Skipper isn’t the type to be incapacitated by choice, unless under specific circumstances.”

“G-girlfriend? He did say doing some-“ Rico looked at Private when he said it, who did his best to look neutral, if not a little bored.

Kowalski grabbed Rico by his skull, and shook it around. A weird counter-measure to the traditional head slap, considering they were beginning to wonder if that was doing more harm than good. “No, no. Remember Kitka? He was a lovey-dovey mess over her for a week! There’s no way we wouldn’t know if he was dating someone.”

“B-Boyfriend?”

“Night terrors?”

“N-New nemesis?”

“New medication?”

Kowalski sighed. “Who’s to say? Whatever Skipper’s newest problem is, or what happened, we can only do so much if he’s so insistent on not telling us.”

Private was about to pipe up. “And only saying that he’s “taking care of it” is negligible at the best of times. Until Skipper’s knocking down my door for some super-charged xannies, I think the best thing I can do is stay out of it, and I recommend you two do the same.” Kowalski then left the kitchen. And then there were two.

It had been a very stressful evening.

Private looked at Rico. Rico looked at Private.

“J-Julien’s telling me w-we b-bought too much ice-cream l-lately.” Rico sighed, feigning some sort of casual gesture. “W-winky flavored and e-everything. It’d, well, it’d b-be a shame t-to go t-to waste.”

Private smiled at that.

“I’ll go grab some spoons.”

———

Ice cream with Rico and Julien and his gang obviously wasn’t going to solve things, but there was something fun about eating too much ice cream and watching Clueless in Julien’s room that seemed to make Private far, far less stressed than he was when he entered.

For all his crude jokes and lewd gestures, Rico could be a really good friend. He hid it pretty well, but he seemed to be remarkably perceptive.

It was just a good thing to remember.

And although Private could’ve spent all night watching cheesy 90s movies and braiding Julien’s hair, it was already half past midnight, and he was supposed to be up bright and early as always.

…Of course, given Skipper’s state as of late, what had once been an 8 AM wake-up had slipped into 9:30…and then 11:00…and then they kind of gave up on getting Skipper up at any time that they didn’t have to. Still, a healthy sleep schedule makes for a healthy mind, and a healthy body, and Private liked being healthy, despite the fact that he had just eaten half his weight in ice cream, so, he figured it was as good a time as any to go to bed.

…But it looked like he was not alone in roaming the halls tonight, as he turned the corner, he saw Skipper peek his head out of his room, look left, right, up, down, and then left again, before slipping out of his room, and beginning to walk carefully into their living room.

To pretend that Private ever had a choice NOT to follow him would be like saying that you had a choice not to open that secret door behind the bookshelf, or the choice not climb a mysteriously hidden spiral staircase up to the clouds. Once you know it’s there, it’s not like you can ignore it.

So Private, at a pace approximately an entire hallway away from Skipper, followed him. Both carefully making sure they didn’t step on where the floorboards may creak, and carefully side-stepping various messes, until Skipper made it to the living room.

He looked around once again, but seemingly missed Private’s face peeking out behind the doorframe, masked by the cover of darkness.

Skipper seemed to be aware of a presence THERE, but with no way to see it or prove it, he ignored it. He continued to the window in the living room, which was supposedly Marlene’s idea of a fire escape, despite the fact that there was no conventional staircase, and the platform you’d land on was three stories below them.

However, because there was never a fire they needed escaping that wasn’t started by them in the first place, they bought the place anyhow, and disregarded the blatant safety hazard.

Skipper, was obviously aware of this, as when he opened up the window, he walked away to attach a rope he was carrying to a weight-bearing beam, before walking back to the window, and beginning to scale the building.

Private walked quickly to the window, conflicted between staying hidden and knowing what’s going on, but found a way to peer out of the corner of the window without being seen.

Skipper seemed to have landed safely, and scaled down the fire escape from there, before ending up in an alley, and turning a sidewalk out of Private’s view.

He was leaving at night? Well, that sure managed to explain the supposed bouts of insomnia he’s been having as of late, but where? And why?

Where was he going at night? Was Rico right and he was going to go see a date, or at least a sex worker? Maybe that paranoia came from guilt of some kind. Was he living this whole other life as a nightclub singer or gardener or something? Was he doing drugs? Where was he going?

And why was he leaving at night?

Well, obviously he was leaving at night either because it was an activity that could only be done at night, OR it was something that he wanted to keep a secret, and felt was far too shameful to share.

But that doesn’t really narrow it down, no. It becomes more of a Venn-Diagram at certain points than anything else. He’s repressed up the wazoo, just more casual about it. Anything could be worth keeping a secret for him and for him alone if he was operating under that criteria.

Well, regardless. Private might as well go get his pajamas on, because he had a feeling he was going to have a long night ahead of him.

———

He was only a little wrong about that.

It was only two or three hours he had to wait, but that was two to three hours he had to wait sitting silently in the dark, only occasionally being able to pull out his phone to scroll through, before hearing a random noise in the middle of night, feeling his heart rate jump about 20 beats higher than it should’ve been, and turning off his phone as fast as possible so the light illumination it gave off wouldn’t give him away.

It was a long two or three hours, and a mildly stressful two or three hours, at that, let’s just say.

However, it seemed to him that his patience was rewarded when he heard the slightly distant sounds of Skipper climbing the rope back up to the apartment. It wouldn’t have mattered how quietly he was climbing, after so many hours spent stressing over the slightest of sounds, when he heard the slight scuffle of sneaker rubber against brick, he knew it was either Skipper or a burglar, and he was ready to confront both.

So, Private got into position, just a few moments before Skipper had grabbed the window pane and pulled himself inside. He untied the rope from the weight-supporting beam, pulled the rest of the rope inside, and then closed the window as quietly as possible. He stared at it a moment, and then let out a sigh of relief.

And then Private clicked the lamp on from where he was sitting in Rico’s recliner, and Skipper half jumped out of his skin.

“You’re home late.”

“Private, I-“ Skipper almost seemed happy to see him, but then something made him hold back. “It’s, uh, nice to see-“

“What are you doing? Sneaking out-sneaking out windows in the dead of night? Why? We have a front door.” Private had left the chair that he was sitting on, and began to pace in front of him. He should have rehearsed. “Wait. The more important thing is, where are you going?”

Private didn’t seem to particularly care if he got an answer or not at this point, especially considering that as Skipper stood there with his mouth gaping, looking like he was about to say something, Private grabbed the sides of his face with his forefinger and thumb and pulled him down to his level.

“And just who in the world split your lip? What? Are you doing a fight club now?” He muttered. Skipper hid his hands as discreetly as possible behind his back. Private squeezed his face once or twice before letting go.

“I want answers. REAL answers. Nobody believed you when you said you joined a bowling league last week, so I want REAL answers. Now.”

“…” Whatever Skipper was trying to explain, or trying to cover up, he really seemed to not have a story put together either way. It was either incredibly hard to explain, or he foolishly didn’t have a story put together in advance and just…EXPECTED to never get caught.

“…You give the best hugs?”

“WHAT?”

“And you’re always so optimistic. It helps my uh, team morale.”

Private let out a quite confused screech.

“And you’re really good at cooking. Your meals are practically restaurant caliber as is.”

Private looked as if a vein was going to pop out of his head, he was so furious. “…You are doing NOTHING to help your case if you think that you can just WANDER in here at deadass hours of the night and think you can just GET OUT OF IT by making me fall to your feet smitten-“

“-Not a big fan of that language from you, bud…”

“That’s it. I’m getting Kowalski.”

“Wait!” Skipper rose his voice slightly, maybe a few decibels too loud as he reached out to grab Private’s hand.

This was a gesture that surprised both of them, as Private turned around to hear him out and Skipper dropped the hand like it was a flaming hot crucible. Skipper seemed conflicted on where to put his hands until he stuck them firmly at his sides.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “For…Everything. For, just being kind of awful lately? I know it’s been…Rough, but I’ve…” He sighed.

“Take your time.” Private said, and Skipper looked almost grateful for it.

“I’ve been forced recently to take a long, hard look at myself, by somebody who knows me quite well…Almost too well. The knowledge, and simultaneously the idea that they have that knowledge has been taking a sort of…mental toll on me.”

Private took a seat, apparently ready to listen more.

“It’s, I don’t know, really. On some level, I want to take it out on them for being right, but I really can’t, so…I guess that’s fallen on you guys when it shouldn’t have, and I’m…really sorry about that.”

Skipper sat down as well, in front of Private.

“I really do mean it when I say I’ve been working on it, I just needed to find an…outlet.”

Private tilted his head. This was something to take in. He felt sort of vindicated for having a feeling that there was more going on, but it was still rather vague.

“What are you saying?”

“…I’ve picked up some…night classes…to help with my stress.”

“…What kind of night classes?”

“Oh, you know…baking.” He said hesitantly.

And that basically clinched it for him. Skipper’s thought process had perfectly revealed himself to him! After hearing something that hit too close to home, he endeavored to better himself, but was embarrassed by it! That sounded reasonable, and it was just like Skipper to do too.

“Don’t get that smug look on your face, if it doesn’t work out I’m picking up night archery.”

“Who? Me? Smug?”

Skipper laughed as he gave him a shove. He seemed a lot more relaxed than he did in a long time. It must’ve felt good to get that weight off his shoulder. Sure, taking cooking classes might not be a big deal for anybody else, but this was Skipper. Skipper was a weirdly hyper-masculine, private guy. For him to even get in a situation where he’d willingly tell Private something like this, it was a pretty big step.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Kowalski or Rico.”

“Oh, no problem! If you want, I can pick out a recipe for you to bring in.”

“I was just about to ask for one, how serendipitous.”

Private couldn’t help but keep giggling, just from the relief of it all. It was a pretty tense scenario for quite a bit of time, and he couldn’t help but react in some way to the ease he was now feeling. Skipper got up and gave a stretch that was indicative that he was ready for bed, and couldn’t help but smile fondly as Private tried to catch his breath.

“You know, it’s funny. We, Kowalski, Rico, and I, were trying to figure out what was up. We thought it was anything and everything from a girlfriend to seeing a therapist that was putting you off so badly, who would’ve thought.”

“Ha ha, yeah.” Skipper said, as if Private couldn’t tell his hands were shaking.

“But wait,” Private said, in a sorta-fake moment of wonder. “Where did you get the split lip from then?”

Skipper panicked. “Why did you say that me giving you compliments would make you fall to my feet smitten?”

Private panicked more. “Good night!”

Okay, so maybe they were both working on this “open and honest” thing. So sue them. Baby steps or not, it was a step in the right direction. But, if Skipper’s secrets were as benign as that, then Private could take them any day, and he’d make sure he knew that. He hoped Skipper thought the same of him.

(Remember when 3K was considered long for me? Ha ha, anyhow, this is 5.5K words of nothing but dramatic irony. I really can’t believe that I went from writing short fluff pieces based on actual art to my own story arc about Skipper getting some FUCKING therapy.

Anyhow! Much more important things are afoot! I’m doing charity commissions, where all proceeds are going to bail funds across the country. If you like my writing, feel free to contact me at my Tumblr @cartoons-tothemoon, and we’ll work it out from there. $10 for 5K, or $2 for 1K. Of course, I don’t really know what to charge yet, but that can be negotiated! I’d really appreciate it if you commissioned me at this time, but my work on @drawbauchery’s is always going to be free. I hope you have a nice day!)

#cartoons-tothemoon #fics #pom #submission #can FINALLY post this #i'm sorry i always either have tablet problems or am sick when you send me a story #and it might be the most obvious thing ever but #i'm #once again #all over the skivate #private acting like mrs incredible 'i thought you'd be back by eleven'#and skipper the fearless leader FREAKING out because he's in trouble alskdnf #like i love the fact that being in trouble with his subordinates is so pressing #private canonically knows how to be intimidating when he's pissed so this just ticklesme #also small thing but i love how rico looks over at private when he talks about a girlfriend #he's somehow so considerate and inconsiderate at the same time #ko and skip's fight was really fun to read too #they're kind of in a power struggle #like toeing the line between family and business #it's really interesting #skipper's a dummy who's trying his best and i love him for it

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whenrockwasyoung19 · 4 years

Text

It’s Time to Talk about a Bespectacled Elephant in the Room

I’ve been in the Beatles fandom for 8 and a half years. I have had a Beatles blog for the entirety of those 8 and a half years, and I have watched as discourse about these four men evolve. The discourse inside and outside the fandom has become so toxic that I don’t think I can engage with it in the same way that I could before. Let me explain.

When I entered this fandom 8 and a half years ago, it was in 2012, quite an infamous year in tumblr history. That was the pique of “”cringey”” fandom culture. The Beatles fandom was as steeped in fandom culture as any other fandom. I know this because I was part of two of the top of fandoms at the time, Doctor Who and Sherlock. Believe me, I have seen cringe.

The fandom at the time was totally aware of the John, Paul, George, and Ringo’s flaws as individuals, but most fans tended to simply enjoy Beatles fandom as if it were the 60s. Some might call it ignorant bliss. If you asked me at the time, I’d have said it was self-aware ignorant bliss--if that even makes sense. At the time, there wasn’t a person with a Beatles icon who hadn’t heard the line “John Lennon beat his wife.” Everyone knew it, but everyone also knew the real story, and so everyone just made peace with it. As a result, people didn’t think about every bad thing the Beatles ever did on a daily basis. It was more like a once-a-month kind of thing. Otherwise, fandom discourse was quite fun and relaxed. There were no shipping wars, no one fought over who was the best Beatle, everyone gushed over the Beatles wives, and we all just had fun with fics and fan art.

Of course, in this period, people engaged in conversations about one bespectacled Beatles problematic behavior. These conversations usually came from outside of the fandom. It was usually randos coming into the tags or into someone’s ask box and ranting about John Lennon’s violent behavior. Some of it came from within the fandom. Some people really didn’t like John and gave others shit if they listed John as their favorite Beatle. A lot of the discourse boiled down to: ‘hey, I see you like John Lennon. You should know that he beat his wife. And now that you know that, you should feel bad about ever liking him in the first place.’ And the response was often, ‘Actually, John Lennon didn’t beat his wife. They weren’t even married at the time. And also he didn’t beat her, he slapped her once in the face, and then never did it again.’ No one’s minds were changed. The fans had made their peace, and the antis came off as cynical and pretentious.

When Dashcon happened, and Tumblr took a hard look at its cringey fandom culture, the Beatles fandom evolved as well. The fandom became, frankly, less fun. It no longer felt like a group of people who found the Beatles decades after the 60s and were fangirling like it was 1965. There was still some of that left, but a lot of it kind of faded. So, most fandom interactions were reblogging pictures of the Beatles from the 60s and various interview clips and quotes. But the barrage of antis never really went away, and the response didn’t evolve.

Then, the advent of cancel culture came on. I always waited for the Beatles to get, like, officially canceled, but I also felt they were uncancel-able at the same time. Let me explain. I have been a Beatles fan primarily in an online space, rarely engaging with fans in real life. But I have met fans who are life-long Beatles fans, people who are a lot older than us and who’s fandom isn’t tied to the internet. They don’t give a shit about any of our discourse. They may or may not have heard it before, but they seem totally indifferent to all of it. I’m sure most of them have never heard ‘Mclennon’ before. These are the people that flock to see Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr in concert (and pay astronomical prices for it). These are the people who go to record shops and buy vinyl. These are the people I run into at flea markets who buy up all the Beatles merch before I can even arrive (true story). So, the Beatles will never be canceled because there will always be people who love the Beatles and don’t engage with online discourse. Rarely said, but thank god for Gen-X.

As cancel culture took over the internet, fandoms changed. It’s not as noticeable in fandoms without problematic favs. For instance, I’m also steeped in the Tom Holland fandom, and that boy is a little angel who has done no wrong. No one has discourse about the unproblematic boy who plays an equally unproblematic character. But in fandoms with ‘problematic favs’ the mood has shifted. I’m also in the Taron Egerton fandom. Taron Egerton, for those who only follow me for my Beatles stuff, is a genuinely sweet and kind person who has had zero scandals in his six year career. There were some rumblings when he was cast as Elton John, and some people took issue with the fact that he’s a straight man playing a gay man. This discourse seemed to die quickly as a whole lot of straight people played gay people in that same year (Olivia Coleman as queer Queen Anne, Emma Stone as her queer lover, Rami Malek as Freddie Mercury). Why jump on this boy who at the time was still technically on the rise. He’s not exactly the same target as someone like Scarlett Johansson who has her pick of roles. Taron doesn’t have quite that some power in Hollywood, and I think most people made peace with the fact that this was a big role for him, and it’s not really fair to take that away from him. So, all in all, the closest thing to a scandal was something that died pretty much on arrival.

That was until this summer when everything changed. When George Floyd was murdered, celebrities flocked to social media to mourn his loss. Taron’s social media account was silent. For weeks, Taron said nothing about Black Lives Matter or Floyd’s death. This caused outrage in the fandom. Many raced to defend him, starting a hashtage #IstandwithTaron. Others sought to tear him down and anyone who supported him. The kind of mania this one incident caused tore through an otherwise peaceful fandom. What I saw was two sides in a total panic. The antis were people who once had faith that Taron was a good person and were now questioning that. Andthe defenders were people who desperately wanted him to be a good person and were afraid that he wasn’t. In essence, both sides could feel Taron about to get canceled. The defenders wanted to stop it, the antis wanted to ride that wave.

What this long drawn out Taron example is meant to convey: is that cancel culture has put fandoms on edge. One’s fav has to be perfect, otherwise it can jeopardize the existence of the entire fandom. I’ll admit, I was afraid that I’d be some kind of pariah for standing by Taron through all of this. My actions were to basically reason with the antis but still defend Taron. I defend him mostly because I felt that his silence was the result of a needed social media absence and that trying to shame him back onto social media was an invasion of privacy. But I was genuinely afraid that he would get canceled, and the fun of the Taron fandom would be lost.

In the Beatles fandom, it often feels like the Beatles, mainly John, have already been canceled. I see this coming from two different sources: antis from outside of the fandom and antis within the fandom. The outside antis are just the same as the ones from 2012. These are people who like to drop in that John Lennon beat his wife, posting this in the tag (which violates an ancient tumblr real by the way--no hate in the tags).

The antis outside the fandom speak to a larger anti-John Lennon sentiment online. I see references to John Lennon ‘beating his wife’ on Tiktok and twitter. The tone of anti-John Lennon posts has shifted. Before, it felt like the antis were being smug but also argumentative. They wanted to have a conversation about this bit of info they read on Reddit with no context. Now, “John Lennon beating his wife” is practically a meme. It’s a running joke online that John Lennon was a wife beater. I can’t look on my instagram explore page because every so often a John Lennon beats his wife meme will pop up amongst the other, normal, memes.

This change in discourse suggests that the internet has just accepted this as fact now. I should note that back in 2012, it seemed as if few people knew this fact. The fandom knew it, and these random antis knew it, but few others did. Now, because of how common these memes are, it seems to be widespread knowledge.

Consequently, the Beatles fandom, who used to ward off attacks from antis, seems to have given in. I recently saw a post from a Beatles blog (had the URL and icon and everything) that confessed they felt guilty for listening to the Beatles, and I’ve seen similar sentiments expressed in the fandom. People tend to put disclaimers in posts about John or even all four that John is an ‘awful man.’ It seems like the self-aware ignorant bliss has completely gone away. Occasionally, I still see posts joyously talking about Mclennon or reblogs of old photos from the 60s. But the culture has shifted.

Online, it no longer feels comfortable to be a Beatles fan. It feels like you have to own up to 8 decades of mistakes by four men you’ve never met. And, I should note, this is kind of how it feels to be a fan of anything right now. Taron is not canceled today, but he could be tomorrow. It’s this pervasive feeling of guilt that the person you’re supporting may or definitely has or is doing something wrong.

I’ll admit this uncomfortable feeling has expanded into other parts of my fandom life. I listen to their music, and I feel elated--the way I always have. Then, I get these intrusive thoughts which sound like all the worst parts of Twitter combined. It wasn’t always like this. Back in 2012, when I knew almost nothing about them, I saw them as four young men who were full of happiness, love for another, and talent. Back then, listening to their music was exciting and joyous. Sometimes, I fear that I can never feel that way again. Next year, when I finally go to Liverpool, will I be filled with excitement or guilt?

I say all this for a few reasons. One, I love John Lennon. I appreciate all the good he did for the world not just as a musician and an artist but also his advocacy and charity work. I love him, and a part of me will always love him, but observing the change in discourse has enlightened me as a historian. Part of my job is to observe people’s legacies, and John’s is perhaps the most interesting legacy I’ve ever observed. When he died, he was hailed as a saint. But tall poppy syndrome set in, and the antis started. This culture grew and grew to the point where it seems to, at least among the younger generation, taken over the sainthood.

But as a historian and a fan, I have never seen the saint or the devil. I’ve only seen the man, the incredibly flawed man. The thing that these antis never understand is that John Lennon was painfully aware of his own flaws to the point where it made him all the more self-destructive. In essence, his past mistakes caused him to make additional mistakes. But John, aware of his own flaws, always tried to change and was often successful. I’ve talked about this before, but John demonstrated that he was capable of being a good person, like properly so, again and again. After he struck Cynthia, he never hit her again. His shortcomings as a father to Julian weren’t repeated with Sean. He worked on his drinking, his drug addiction, and his anger, trying to overcome those demons till the day he died. By all accounts, the John Lennon that died in 1980 is not the John Lennon who struck Cynthia Powell at school. That John Lennon was living a cleaner, healthier life. He was a better father to both his sons by that point, and was trying to repair his relationship with Julian. He was a good husband to Yoko and saw himself living a long and happy life.

John Lennon cannot and should not be boiled down to just his flaws. It’s one thing as a fan to acknowledge that John is a flawed human being (news flash: they all are), but he is also much bigger than that.

So once again, why am I writing this long, rambling post, once again talking about John Lennon’s virtues? Because if I can’t engage with healthy discourse about the Beatles and John Lennon, then I can’t engage with discourse on the topic at all. So, I probably will post less Beatles stuff because I find it hard to go through the tags or even my dash (well, I can’t really go through my dash anymore for other reasons I’m not going to get into right now). If any of my followers have noticed a lot of Taron posts lately, it’s not just because I love Taron, it’s because Taron’s tag is pretty much the only location on tumblr I feel 100% comfortable in. Any foray into John or the Beatles tags becomes uncomfortable and guilt-ridden quickly.

So, I probably will post less about the Beatles until I can find a blog or a tag that doesn’t give me bad vibes. My fandom will likely outgrow tumblr and the internet. I have a ton of Beatles books; maybe I’ll rely on those. I am doing official scholarly research on them now. Maybe that will be my outlet. I’m sorry if I post less about them now, but it’s really for my own well-being.

#John lennon #the beatles

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the-lone-witch-and-secret-room · 4 years

Text

Of A Sleep-Deprived Witch And A Crush

SPOILERS FOR ENCHANTING GROM FRIGHT!

BEWARE!

[I put a “read more”-break in here, but my last one disappeared, so I just wanna say I’m sorry in advance in case that happens again and you have to scroll past this entire post.]

This is the story I was talking about yesterday. It was first posted on my Ao3 EleenaDume, which I’m not going to link here because me linking stuff messes with my posts showing up in the tags, but if any of you want to read it there, just search for the name and you should find it!

...I can already hear you guys facepalming, I’m sorry.

Have fun with my Luz obliviously crushing on Amity-fic!

—

Summary:

So... Amity had a crush on someone, huh?

Of all the things that Luz had expected to come out of this evening, that wasn’t something she’d thought she would learn today...

And now she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but somehow, she found herself lying awake at night, thinking about who the lucky person was that Amity’s fallen in love with so hard that her worst fear was getting rejected by them.

Of course, Luz comes to the most reasonable conclusion when thinking about who the crush in question might be. She has this all figured out.

No, she doesn’t.

SPOILERS FOR ENCHANTING GROM FRIGHT!

—

So... Amity had a crush on someone, huh?

Of all the things that Luz had expected to come out of this evening, that wasn’t something she’d thought she would learn today... and that was despite the fact that the Boiling Isles had taught Luz a lot about expecting the unexpected in the little time she’d spent there so far.

It was the middle of the night, and Luz‘s mind had been wandering for hours now.

Today had been... a lot to process. Texting her mom had made her feel a bit better, but she still felt guilty about lying to her and was afraid what would happen if – when – she found out the truth.

But now, Luz was staring at the ceiling of her room in the dark, the cold night air still filling the room despite the fact that she’d closed the windows a couple of minutes ago – she’d learned by now that sleeping with an open window wasn’t a good idea on the Boiling Isles –, and her head somehow kept drifting back to that note.

Remembering Amity’s upset expression after the monster had ripped it apart still tore Luz’s heart in two.

Amity was amazing, and she didn’t deserve to be upset because of something like that. Anyone would have been lucky if she’d asked them to go to Grom with her, and whoever it was she was crushing on was the luckiest person on the Boiling Isles. Now if only Amity herself would realize that...

“So she really has a crush on someone, huh?“ It felt strange to think about that. Luz felt her heart clench in a weird way when she did. “And it has to be a pretty bad one, too, if getting rejected by that person is her worst fear.”

Out of anything Luz would have guessed her friend’s worst fears were from the – admittedly still kind of short – time she knew Amity, being afraid of getting rejected by her crush was among the ones Luz would have put the lowest on the list.

The human girl couldn’t exactly place what it was she was feeling when she thought about that, but it definitely wasn’t good, and she didn’t understand why.

Love was great, wasn’t it? And Amity was her friend. Luz wanted her to be happy. That Amity was in love was a good thing, right? That she was afraid of getting rejected didn’t make it less of a good thing. Most people were... so Luz should have been happy for her friend.

But what she was feeling right now was... the opposite of happy. She was really upset. Why in the world would she be upset? Why was she being so weird about this?

It made no sense.

Luz sunk back into her pillow and let out a deep sigh. She needed to calm her nerves, and she needed sleep. Desperately. Today had been hard, and it had really shaken her up, for various reasons. Mainly because of seeing her mom. Not just because she’d learned Amity had a crush on some- why was her mind wandering back to that again?

Why did she even thinking about that in the first place? It wasn’t like Amity’s feelings were any of Luz’s business, after all.

...still, as the young witch stared up at the ceiling, she couldn’t help but wonder who it was that her friend liked.

Amity only had a few people she actually opened up to, that she was actually herself around and that made her feel comfortable and happy. It had to be one of those, right?

This meant it couldn’t be Boscha or Skara or any of their other friends, since Amity had made it pretty clear recently how much she actually disliked hanging out with Boscha and her posse.

So who else could it be? Maybe someone from the library?

No. Luz had only seen Amity hang out there with the twins and the kids she always read to – her reading to them and doing voices would never stop being adorable to Luz –, and obviously it couldn’t be them. Luz hadn’t seen anyone else around that had in any way interacted with Amity and was even close to their age, and she was pretty sure Amity would have mentioned whoever they were if she did have someone she usually hung out with at the library.

With that excluded, the only person left was...

"¡Dios mío!" Luz gasped. “I can’t believe it. No wonder she was so worried about being rejected!” The answer was so obvious now that she thought about it. How had she missed this until now? “Amity’s in love with Willow!”

In the light of this discovery, everything she’d seen earlier suddenly made a whole lot more sense to Luz.

The two of them had only become friends again recently. ...were they even friends? The human girl wasn’t entirely sure. Willow had said what Amity had done was a start, and they did seem to be getting more comfortable around each other again – all things considered, the rest of Grom had been very fun, and they’d all hung out as friends without it being uncomfortable in the slightest. So maybe they really were friends again, or at least something like that.

...but they still weren’t particularly close, so Amity being afraid of rejection made sense. And honestly, despite knowing that Willow was glad that they were reconnecting, Luz was pretty sure Willow would actually have said no. Willow liked Amity... but Luz was pretty sure that Willow wouldn’t have been willing to take a leap of faith like that this early into their newly healing friendship.

But really, all things considered, Amity’s crush on Willow should not have been that surprising to Luz. They had a history, and childhood best friends eventually falling in love was a pretty common thing, after all.

It was also one of Luz’s favorite fanfic tropes, but that was kind of beside the point.

She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to be feeling about this – they were both her friends, and they were both great, and she wanted Amity to be happy, so of course she’d be supportive and keep her fingers crossed that things would work out for her eventually, but... something about this didn’t feel quite right.

Being supportive and happy for someone wasn’t supposed to make her heart ache like this, was it? And it sure as hell wasn’t supposed to make her want to cry...

What was wrong with her?

“Pull yourself together, Luz. I know today has been a really emotional day, but crying for no reason is a bit much, don’t you think?”

A couple deep breaths helped calm her down.

“There. All better.”

Her mind drifted back to Amity and Willow immediately, and Luz started wondering how she could actually be a supportive friend when it came to this.

She started thinking about how this made the already terrible thing that Amity’s parents had done to their daughter so much worse – gosh, even thinking of them made Luz clench her fists in anger, how dare they treat Amity and Willow like that –, and Luz couldn’t help but wonder for how long Amity had known she had feelings for Willow while being unable to as much as look at her without worrying about the effect it might have... before Luz had helped them patch up their friendship.

Thinking about that hurt.

Amity’s parents were beyond terrible, and she and the twins deserved so much better.

Luz and her mother didn’t always see eye to eye, but they still loved each other.

This was a completely different level of awful.

Willow and Amity had been so close when they were younger. Luz had never had a friendship like that in her life for as long as she could remember. And then Amity’s parents had just taken that away from the two girls, leaving their daughter without any real friends and unable to tell her crush how she felt.

‘...should I try to help and set Amity and Willow up?’ Luz thought to herself, but pretty much immediately scrapped that idea again.

She shouldn’t be so nosy. She should let their friendship develop at a natural speed. Not try to rush things. Trying that might just mess their relationship up all over again.

Willow had been hurt, and she needed time to heal before she was entirely ready to let her former best friend back into her life entirely. And that was okay.

All things considered, that Amity hadn’t asked Willow out was probably for the best. It would have been too early...

‘And dancing with Amity was really nice.’

Luz’s eyes widened.

“What the- Where did that just come from?” She shook her head and sighed. “Okay Luz, it’s getting late and you’re clearly sleep-deprived, time to actually try to sleep!”

Yeah, that was it. Just sleep deprivation. Definitely.

Still, when she closed her eyes, Luz couldn’t help but think of Amity’s small, soft hands in hers and how nicely close their faces had been to each other as they had all but hovered during their moonlight dance.

The memory made her smile. A lot. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this happy and comfortable around anyone. Maybe she never had.

Despite the bad things that had happened today, Luz fell asleep feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

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