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storycraftcafe · 1 year ago

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SO what’s your process for creating characters? Especially supporting cast who are important but not influential in the plot? Walk me through it!!

Hey Buddies!

Hokai so Character Creation is a big big ass subject and a very important one. To quote Chuck Wendig: “Stories are soylent green, they’re made of people”. And if you take even a glance at fandoms you’d see how important characters are to readers and fans. Characters are how we step into story and these wonderful worlds writers create, they’re what we connect to, empathise with and so on.

I like to break character’s down into three groups: Main Characters, usually our hero, main villain, any POV characters or live interests. Side Characters, the protag’s friends, allies, love interests, smaller antagonists. And supporting characters, everyone else that fills up the world and makes it feel alive and gives it depth.

So if we’re gonna focus on side and supporting characters, there’s a few key things to remember:

Characters aren’t just people, they’re tools in our storytelling kits. While we should seek to make them feel alive, we need to remember their purpose and function in the story.

All characters save for the once and done ones you make up on the fly like that barista with a bad attitude or the kindly bus driver should have some depth, positive traits, flaws and at least a suggestion of change, if only in how readers and pov characters see them.

Draw from life but don’t copy from life.

It can be so easy to slip into cliche and offensive stereotypes so it’s vital to be mindful about what kind of character’s you’re putting on the page and how you’re using them. Some stories are not yours to tell and that’s okay.

Finally to be perfectly honest, a lot of this for me is kind of instinctual. Some of my favourite side characters popped up out of nowhere and had at most a sentence in my outline telling me their purpose. But I’ll try to explain my thought process.

When I’m planning or writing a story and the need for a Side character comes up (a protagonist’s friend or neighbour, coworker, boss,) someone that’s gonna have some influence on the pov character, that we’ll see more than once I try to settle on their purpose.

Are they an ally? A friend? A helpful neighbour? Are they this asshole down the street that has conflicts with the pov character? A henchman of the bad guy? Are they there to help or hinder or be a foil or a mirror?

Say we have a protagonist who is kind of isolated and withdrawn. She’s gone through some shit, has trauma from before the story but their character arc isn’t about struggling through the dark alone but learning to make bonds, to finding their own people and community. They’re gonna need some nice side characters to help with that. Someone she can bump into a lot and form those beginning connections with.

Off the top of my head that means neighbours, either immediate or down the street/hall, people that frequent the same places she will like the cafe on the corner, wherever she works, etc. Let’s go with neighbours. Maybe… Older nosey neighbours, the kind that’d chat over the fence or bustle by to say hi and welcome and offer something baked.

Right off the bat, I get a bunch of ideas, my brain throwing at me examples I’ve seen or read of before either as they are or recombined into new ones. I see Wilfred from Dr Who, Carl from Up, a bunch of Karens (male and female) from social media, people that I’ve known in real life, including my own Grandmother. And I think about this character’s purpose.

I want them to be an ally, someone that helps my protag along their personal journey. That’d mean they’d have to be friendly, warm, good hearted, but a bit nosey and probably very stubborn to get past the walls my protag has thrown up. My mind clicks onto the archetype of a grumpy old man, all bristle and hot air but caring. No nonsense, no bullshit, calls it like he sees it but not tactless.

I like this idea but I don’t stop here. I keep poking at it like I’m building something from lego without a plan, putting things on, taking them off. Maybe this guy is a widower and just as lonely as our protagonist. Maybe a grandfather estranged from family but wishing he could have done better. Maybe his wife is still alive but they never had kids.

Eventually, I settle on this idea of the two old love birds, no kids but they like to take in strays. Meaning they keep an eye out for anyone alone and offer a welcome. Nothing pushy, just the ‘neighbourly thing’ to do. Then it’s just what they look like (He’s broad and blocky, strong in his youth, and she’s small and petite with eyes magnified by thick glasses), what their basic personality is like (he’s a grump but sincere, she’s sweet but mischievously sassy and they bicker for fun), maybe things like heritage(Italian-American, Irish, maybe Eastern European), health concerns(he has arthritic knees and a replaced hip and uses a cane, she maybe had breast cancer), habits, etc and that’s enough for me to go off.

I only really understand my characters after I’ve written them for a bit, so try them out in a few scenes and see how you like them.

This is also where I double check my work for stereotypes, especially when working with identities and so on beyond my own experience. I highly recommend you double check with people belonging to those groups, or refer to one of the blogs on tumblr that act as a point of reference like WritingWithColor. Be humble and open to learning with this.

If you really want to go further, you can give them an arc of their own. Maybe they have their own struggles you wanna touch on that could flesh out the story, give your protagonist a chance to do something in return. Maybe a problem that reflects the main conflict but on a micro scale. But the trick here is the audience doesn’t need to see all of it, just the changes that matter and serve the greater story.

And of course as always, sometimes my plans explode in my face and I have to adapt. I’ve made these characters up on the fly when I realised I needed one, I’ve also cut them from the story or combined two or even three into one, or I realised I needed a friend to be an enemy. I’ve even had to take really minor supporting characters and upgrade them, or downgrade side characters.

To create very minor supporting characters, I do the same just with way less detail.

Maybe my protag is taking the train and there’s another passenger that’s kind of a rude entitled business guy and we get to see some tasty petty revenge or he just makes a bad day worse. Or there’s a cafe our protag always goes to and there’s this barista she maybe says hi to and shares compliments with who notices a change for better or worse.

These super minor characters I really just make up as I go and as I need. They’re really simple and I like to use them to emphasise a mood I’m going for, to break it up or to highlight just how my POV character is feeling or in denial about.

Like any part of writing , character creation is a skill you can practise and develop over time.

And one part of this skill I am constantly mindful about is making these characters diverse, but respectful. With these simple ideas it’s so easy to slip into harmful stereotypes and I feel writers have a responsibility to be as mindful as we can, to constantly learn and try to do better.

If you made it this far, go get yourself a treat, have some water and feel free to ask more questions if you have any.

Good writing!

#writeblr #on writing #writers on tumblr #writing resources #writing tips #writing advice #writing advice: characters #writing side characters #writing characters #answered ask

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riggerbison · 1 year ago

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I apologise I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean that you can’t or shouldn’t love an addict. I want to clarify: addicts deserve love and compassion, addicts can be in romantic relationship, just that it can be difficult sometimes and can with the right help have healthy relationships. I agree it is mental health problem. I’m sorry I didn’t add more detail. I was trying to point out that the show was demonstrating that addiction is not as simple as it seems, that it is difficult on both the person suffering addiction and the people around them and the different ways people react to the person’s addiction. Woobifying Ray deliberately misunderstands his addiction and diminishes the impact that it has on his life and the lives of people around him. Ray is multifaceted but so are the other characters, and so is addiction. This show isn’t a romcom. He’s a person with a problem, seeking love like everyone else. Addiction is an immensely debilitating and life altering condition and love cannot be the only remedy. Love- genuine uncomplicated healthy love, a support system, access to mental health resources, de-stigmatisation and a satisfying fulfilling life helps addiction. Mew’s exhaustion with his addiction is common and not evil (it’s just complicated) when compared to Sand because the point isn’t that Sand loves him more and is better at looking after him (the show is telling us that’s not the point), it’s that they have a different relationship with this addiction. None of them are wrong, addiction is a massive thing that no person (or group of friends) should be expected to take on by themselves.

TD;LR Addicts deserve love, loving an addict is not wrong or futile. Addiction requires understanding and compassion. The show is showing how addiction manifests and the consequences. Addiction is complicated but so are people.

okay i gotcha, yeah wording is important when it comes to conversations like this (kind of like the wording used towards ray).

now that you have been more clear, i will address this and your last ask. as i mentioned that set wasn't about mew or sand as people or pitting their love of ray against one another. as you said they both do love ray. we have no idea how long mew and ray have been friends but we do know that even two years ago mew was still speaking to ray in the way that he is now. he was short with him, he brushed off his problems later with a cliche quote and then gave him the keychain. a keychain that ray still has and cherishes much like he does hold onto his love for mew....much like he clings to this trauma, his addiction, and self-hatred. which is more what the set was about. that mew is that manifestation of the things ray thinks and feels about himself. that he's the problem, the burden, that people aren't going to be around for him forever, etc.

sand on the other hand if ray would choose to move on from mew/his past, he could move into the future where he could be seen as someone who isn't always starting things, that people would be there for him, that he could stop drinking and recover, he could learn to love himself, etc.

i in no way think that mew, his friends, or even sand can save ray, he definitely does have to make the final step himself to decide to go to rehab and therapy. however, love, words, and actions are important factor when it comes to wanting to help someone. i am not saying kids gloves are necessary and i don't think sand uses them. which is while i will argue that mew isn't more aware or equipped than sand because if anything sand is very straight forward with ray too, he has told him from the beginning that he has a problem. he just never realized how deeply rooted it was until ep 5. and sand makes no attempts to barter in the same way that mew does with top. no addict is going to just going to stop because you ask them too...they have to want too. again that's why it's all up to ray and that was the point of the final gif in that set because ray can't get out of that bath in the past to move to the bath in future where he could heal and be happy.

what i do love about this show is that is very symbolic and that there's messages painted into even the messiest of situations. that the characters are used to parallel each other in a number of ways and in ray's story, it's mew and sand.

#addiction isn't meant to be romanticized and i do love that the show is showing just how big of a impact it can have on not just him but the #people around him as well #and i will argue that more people woobify sand and mew than ray as if they can't make mistakes because he is the one with the problem #they all are a tangled mess and have an affect on each other #anon #only friends series #asks

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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

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Not My Type (Like You) ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: you should like do a one shot or even another mini series about amortentia/love potions in general. i’d soooo read that

AU SEVENTH YEAR WHERE VOLDY NEVER CAME BACK <3 f**k that mf !

italics are for flashbacks <3 i love them if you couldn’t tell

Warnings: mean!draco, cursing, more mature themes/ideas, little bit of spice towards the end teehee but not too much bc idk how to write smut to save my life

Words: 4.5K

A/N: I saw a tiktok that kinda inspired this and i couldn’t get the idea out of my heaaaad if anyone knows which one im talking ab send it my way so i can show !!!! ALSO I LOVE THIS ONESHOT I LOVE DRACO AND I AM IN MY FEELINGS this might be my new favoriteeeee

Draco Malfoy was insufferable.

The Prince of Slytherin was unbearable for many reasons, things you've been taking notice of since your first year at Hogwarts when you accidentally had the ”pleasure” of interacting with him when he called you stupid in a class for reciting a spell incorrectly. That day, a hostility blossomed. A hostility that ensued nothing but teasing, mocking, and criticizing that would sometimes go too far and you'd both have to be pulled away from each other by your friends’ before either of you said anything excessively harsh that had no return.

You often felt like Malfoy sought you out to bother you and only for that. You could be sitting in the Quad with friends, conversing and laughing like nothing in the world mattered, and a few minutes later you'd be hurling insults towards the blond across the courtyard after he would yell something infuriating to you with that smug smirk on his face and his goons laughing wildly beside him as if he just said the most hilarious thing they've ever heard.

On the days you’d ignore him, not having the patience or the energy to deal with him, he would still somehow find a way to push your buttons. Little things here and there like passing you in the corridors and tugging at the ends of your hair gingerly like a child but enough to tick you off or sending you notes from across the class in the form a small fluttering bird with a lousy drawing of you usually with a message along the lines of, “Y/L/N, hopefully, this note finds itself in the nest of hair you have today xx DM.”

In all honesty, there wasn’t a day you didn’t encounter Draco and it’s been that way for seven long years. Neither of you ever gotten tired of mildly or spitefully bullying each other and neither of you ever dreamed of stopping. He was one of the few constants in your daily life, and you in his. It was like you both lived on annoying the other, and in the midst of all the chaos that you brought to one another; there was a small, teeny, tiny acquaintance - not that either of you would ever admit it. You may have noticed it the time you bet each other ten galleons for who would win in the Triwizard Tournament your fourth year and he bet on Viktor Krum while you on Cedric Diggory. (he’s very much alive i refuse to think otherwise.)

“So you’re telling me, your mother is the reason why you’re not at Durmstrang,” you scoffed. “This whole time I could have been saved four years of headaches.”

“You’re just jealous some of us have more opportunities than others,” he snarks back pompously. “Unlike you, I hardly believe you would be graceful enough to even be considered admission into Beauxbatons.”

You had gone to see the last task of the competition just like the rest of the schools, all packed tightly onto the stands and watching carefully the exit of the maze. Naturally, you had arrived with your own friend groups, but somewhere during the time of sitting there and even being a few rows behind the blond and his minions, the two of you had met in the middle bench after he was trying to prove something wrong to you.

When Cedric appeared back in front of the stands with the glowing Triwizard cup held high over his head in victory and every Hogwarts student loudly celebrating, you had jumped up from your seat and shook wildly an irked Draco beside you. He roughly shrugged your hands off his stiff shoulder, looking up at you with a sneer that you met with a bright beaming smile.

“Pay up, Malfoy!” You held out your hand towards him, opening and closing your fingers to receive the bet money. “I believe it was ten galleons you owe me.”

He begrudgingly reached into his coat pocket and fished out the coins, counting them defeatedly before tossing them into your palm. “What a waste of galleons.”

“Hey, you made the bet,” you reminded him with a still very bright smile. You shoved the money into your pockets, keeping one of the gold coins in between your fingers, and gave him a small hair ruffle that he harshly recoiled from before you turned to jump back up towards the level of stands your friends were originally sitting at.

“Were you really sitting with Malfoy this whole time?” One of your friends questioned when you reached them, a goading smirk on his face.

“Ooooh, she definitely was,” another friend piped up, wiggling her eyebrows. “They’re obsessed with each other.”

“Shut up,” you smack her arm casually, showing the pair the one gold galleon you were holding. “We are not. I was only sitting with him to get my bet money.”

“Sure,” they drawled in unison, sniggering when you threw your head back in annoyance.

You looked down the rows to see the mop of white hair you just sent into disarray. He was slowly descending the stairs of the stands with Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him. Almost as if he felt your eyes on his back, he turned back to look at you, his cold gray eyes gazing into yours. It was like everything around you went quiet, the only thing in your focus was him and all you could do was stare back. It wasn’t until your friends started stifling laughter and whispering “aww’s” that you snapped out of the short-lived and odd few second trance you were in. He waited for you to do something before he turned back around, and you did - by holding up both hands; the one golden galleon on your left and your middle finger on your right, grinning to yourself when he rolled his eyes throwing you the finger right back before he finally disappeared into the mob of people below.

You were briskly walking down the corridors, books held tightly to your chest with your friend at your side while you made your way to Advanced Potions with Slughorn after Snape finally made his way into the DADA position. It was an easy class, potions being something you had a knack for and it gave you enough leisure to mess with your “favorite” Slytherin who shared it with you.

“Look there goes your boyfriend,” your friend teases, elbowing your upper arm roughly and nodding her head down towards the hall to the tall blond appearing around the corner and entering swiftly into the class.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss. “I’m tired of everyone saying that. I hate him and he hates me, end of story.”

“You know when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite,” she says tauntingly. “Besides, hate is a strong word and very misplaced. Maybe, it’s just years of built-up tension that both of you have been too nervous to do anything about.”

“Tension? Yeah, I want to strangle him,” you laugh to yourself at the thought.

“Not that tension, idiot,” she shakes her head, “I mean sexual tension...clearly.”

You gave her a horrified look mixed between being disgusted and being offended. You held your hand over your mouth and pretended to gag as dramatically as you could. “I am appalled that you would even say that. I would rather be locked in a room with Filch and Peeves and hear them argue and fight all day than to be with Malfoy like that.”

“Come on, think about it,” she encourages, stopping the two of you a little ways away from the classroom. “You guys 'hate' each other?” She finger quotes the hate, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “When you hate someone, you don’t go out of your way to talk to them every day.”

“It’s not like that,” you wave a hand dismissively. “Also, this isn’t a cliche, this is real life. We hate each other, that is all there is to it.”

You picked up the walk again, your friend to following behind you while letting out a deep and exhausted sigh. You couldn’t help but think about what she said, sure, perhaps at one point you thought Draco was attractive with his bright silver hair, his glittering gray eyes, his little button nose that he would crinkle up every other word he spoke in his charming haughty voice, or the way he’d tower over you in the middle of a conversation gone wrong and he’d be talking lowly to you but all you’d be able to focus on was the sweet scent of apples and cologne that radiated off of him.

“No,” you whispered almost silently to yourself, forcing yourself out of your thoughts and shaking your head from side to side as if it was going to get the image out of your head. He was mean, disrespectful, arrogant, and insulted you daily - even if you both laughed about it or gave props for the perfect jabs.

The first thing your eyes landed on when you walked into the dingy Potions classroom was Draco, his focus trained on the ceiling as if he was deep in thought. Just as his eyes were about to flicker down towards you, and sensing that he was about to, you quickly avoided his gaze and concentrated onto Slughorn who was waiting patiently by his desk with a bubbling cauldron for you and your friend to join the crowd in front of him.

“Great! Now that we’re all here,” Slughorn began excitedly, fixing the sleeves of his robes as he grabbed the ladle in the cauldron and began stirring it while continuing his lecture.

You were trying to listen, capturing only the professor’s last sentence as he called on someone who raised their hand. All attention was thrown out the window when you realized Draco was standing near said classmate, a look of annoyance suddenly clouding his features when his pale eyes met yours.

“What?” He mouthed. You ignored him, trying to turn your concentration back onto Slughorn but nothing he was saying made sense, and right as you caught a word you did understand, a shuffling and an abrupt arm knocking into yours threw you right back out of the loop.

“Watch it,” you snap hushedly when you notice who it is. “Why are you over here?”

“I can’t say hello to my number one fan?” He whispers back, snickering slightly when you scoffed quietly.

“Fan? Says the one who shoved his way through the crowd to come over here,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“I hardly shoved,” he mutters. “I only moved because I couldn’t see Slughorn from where I was standing. Not everything’s about you.”

“Really? Because to me, it seemed like you came over here for my attention.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, a patronizing smile making its way onto his face. The type of typical boy smile where his mouth is half agape with his tongue smoothing over his teeth as he stared off across the room with his fingertips rubbing thoughtfully against his jawline as he thought of what to say. You stood still as he bent down, nearing his mouth towards your ear and whispering hotly, “you wish, darling.”

Slughorn sent everyone to their paired tables, and as everyone began moving and Draco sauntered off away from you, you stood stuck there, shocked with the lingering chills that were sent down your spine from your archnemesis’ comment.

“I told you, you’re into each other,” your friend sang expectantly from behind you, grabbing onto your sleeve and directing the two of you towards your table.

You were working peacefully at your workspace, cutting up, peeling, and crushing the ingredients that your friend was sliding across the surface to you. In the table behind you was where Draco was working annoyingly quiet, tossing the stripped stems of the roses at you that you had to peel, tiny thorns pricking at your ankles through your socks since the bigger thorns had been taken off for the potion. As payback, you would throw back loose extra pearl dust you ground up, giggling tauntingly when he would frown at you for getting the coarse white powder all over his Italian leather shoes and most definitely inside of them as well.

When you, and seemingly the rest of the class, had finally thrown in all the ingredients and the potion promptly finished brewing, beautiful clouds of white and pink smoke began rising from the cauldrons, each one having a lovely scent of first; freshly pressed high-priced linens, then a faint smell of a brand new racing broom out of a box with a freshly polished wood handle that then quickly transformed into a sweet harvest of apples, green specifically, and finally...

“Ugh, gross,” you pinched your nostrils closed, turning your body around and sending a scowl towards Draco’s way. “Malfoy, we get it, your cologne is expensive, now stop spraying it. I was smelling all these wonderful things and you ruined it.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you were crazy. “Are you mad? I didn’t spray anything, I think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Well you laid it on too heavy this morning then, it reeks in here.”

“You’re one to talk, Y/L/N. Did you bathe yourself in that dreadful perfume you wear just now? And that ghastly lip shiner thing you use,” He sneers, crinkling up his nose. “I can’t even think straight, I might vomit.”

“Lip shiner? It’s called lip balm, you prat,” you retort, crossing your arms angrily. “Either way, I haven’t used or sprayed anything either so-”

“For Merlin’s sake!” Your friend suddenly exasperated loudly from beside you making you briskly whirl around to look at her, a look of pure annoyance etched onto her face. “Are you two really that daft? Honestly? Have you been paying attention to anything other than each other? For instance, the potion we just made?”

This gained the attention of your classmates around you in the surrounding tables, turning their heads slightly but not obviously with small knowing smirks on their faces while they snickered quietly and listened. It was soundless as you reached towards the book in front of your friend, pulling it painstakingly slow towards you in fear of the words that were written on the open page.

“Amortentia,” you muttered glumly as you read the page, pushing it away from you dejectedly as everything began to click.

“The reason you’re both smelling each other is because you’re what the other desires and is attracted to. Wow, what a revelation! As if the whole school didn’t already know.”

You were afraid to turn around. You could feel the cold and hard pair of eyes burning holes onto your back and the immediate amount of whispers and giggles of the people around you. Luckily, Slughorn was busy at the other end of the room, working diligently with another pair of students who managed to mess up their potion.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco announces finally.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” You questioned, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you turned again and took notice of the way his lips were curling upwards as if it was the most disgusting thing he could have ever heard.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” he deadpans. “Why would I ever desire someone like you?”

There had been occasions over the years when you were in this situation. None as drastic and as revealing, but there would be times when friends and others would poke fun and say the exact same thing your friend told you earlier. The usual, “they got the hots for each other!” and you would always brush it off and joke about how you could never, and he’d do the same. It was always amongst laughs and jokes, but as you looked at the Slytherin in front of you - there wasn’t a hint of amusement on his hardened face.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” you seethed, biting down hard on your lip to refrain from lashing out either in tears or in insults, you couldn’t decide. “If I’m so revolting, leave me alone from now on, I mean it.”

“I never said that,” he argues. “You’re just simply not my type.”

For some eerie, awful reason, the words tore into you like a sharpened knife going easily through butter. You were used to his insults, his mocking, his comments about your appearances - but this hurt, and you couldn’t explain why. You thought, for a second, possibly, that maybe your friend was right. Maybe there was a hidden attraction you had for the platinum blond that you buried deep away and one that he had for you. There was no way that was the case now, not at all.

And for the first time in your life, you couldn’t be more sure of a simple little fact.

You hated him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You don’t know how long you spent sitting in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, back against the cold tiled wall with your knees brought up to your chest. Your friends had tried to console you after the public rejection and humiliation, but their words only made you feel worse. You felt silly for being so bothered about being rejected by Malfoy, he wasn’t exactly someone you fancied, to begin with.

After dinner, you went off the grid and found yourself where you’re now sitting. The ghostly girl flew restlessly around you, popping out of her stall now and then to chat but then going back into her abyss of nothing when she learned you were still upset. You noticed it made her a little too pleased, considering the fact it was always her who was miserably wailing about her problems in the bathroom. She tried to hide it and let you talk to her about how you felt, but she gave terrible advice most of the time.

“Well, if it was me, I would have never started fancying someone who was mean to me,” she mumbled. “Like when Paul Wighorn made fun of my hair for a whole year and laughed when I cried. I hated his guts then and I still do now.”

She had a point, but she was also Myrtle. Nothing about the overly dramatic ghost made sense.

“I don’t fancy him, It’s just weird,” you trail off. “I can’t imagine a day without him, even if he is a complete arse. We always joked about how we hated each other, but I didn’t think he actually meant it, I guess.”

“I think you do fancy him, though,” she whispers knowingly in your ear, making you flinch from her cold draft. “Stop denying it, it’ll only keep making you feel worse. Amortentia doesn’t lie, silly. Maybe when you drink it, but before that, all real feelings are there, whether you know it or not.”

You sat quietly, taking in her words before something came crashing down onto you like a wall of bricks.

“I suppose that means he’ll have to stop denying it too,” she adds thoughtfully.

“Myrtle,” you rush to get up, smoothing your hair down profusely and fixing the wrinkles in your clothes. “You’re a genius.”

“I am?” She asks excitedly. “What did I say?”

You waved her off, giving her another thank you before rushing out of the bathroom and into the empty corridors. You were trying to go back to your dorm to sleep, hoping that when tomorrow came you would be bold enough to confront the Slytherin Prince but it was thirty minutes past curfew, something you didn’t notice until you were bustling down the steps in a rush and came face to face with the man of the hour himself doing his Prefect patrolling duties.

“Go to your dorm, Y/L/N,” he sneers. “I’ll take away house points, don’t test me,”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That I’ll take away house points? Watch me. Five-”

“No, you twat,” you groan, swatting his arm with your hand. “I don’t believe that I’m not your type.”

He stayed wordless for a moment, biting the inside of his cheeks and clenching his jaw as he peered down at you from his lanky height. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t think you were my type until the amortentia made me aware of it,” you answer quietly. “Actually, my friend had a hand in it, but it was mostly the potion.”

Silence, again. Still and deadly. You could hear the large clocks around the school tick and tock, the hundreds of paintings snoring peacefully or chattering quietly. You avoided looking up at the boy in front of you, all of a sudden feeling small under his gaze until you felt cold fingers brush against your cheekbone and then softly through your hair causing you to finally look up into the soft wandering almost blue eyes.

“I didn’t find out with the amortentia,” he muttered almost reluctantly as if it was the most difficult thing he had to reveal. “I’ve known I’ve liked you for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You curiously wonder aloud.

“I’m not telling,” he smirks. “Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”

Both hands came up to rest on your cheeks, slightly cold but soft and tender. It sent chills throughout your body as he took a step closer to you and then closer, backing you carefully into the diagonally ascending stone wall that went in the direction of the stairs. Your breathing was getting uneven, you noticed the way you accidentally switched to manually forcing yourself to inhale and exhale normally when he leaned down with his face now being mere centimeters from yours. It was torture, having your eyes closed and feeling the way his nose was brushing against yours, minty breath warm against your lips as he ghosted over them with his. He was so close, you smelt everything that was in the damn potion that got you here. It sent flutters of warmth down your body, trickling down and seeping deeply into every bone in your body as if this is was the remedy its been needing. This is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally felt a soft pair of lips being pressed into yours, it felt almost unreal that you were there. It was awkward the first couple of seconds, both of you wondering how in the world had you gotten yourselves in this position, but after you relaxed and he found his Prince of Slytherin confidence - it was magic. His lips moved languidly against yours, affectionately and full of longing. He kept his hands on your cheeks, still timid to move anywhere else while you kept yours resting lightly on his sides. It scared you a little, how fast and how easily you melted into each other, like if this was something you’ve been doing with him for years rather than torment the other for laughs.

You hated the feeling when he pulled away, a gust of freezing castle air passing through the space between you and cooling your lips and face from his contact. His hands dropped down to his sides and he looked down at you with a small smile, a teeny bit smug, but happy. You wanted to feel the same way, but a question still loomed over your head, overpowering the giddiness you were vividly feeling.

“Why did you lie earlier?” You question softly, directing your gaze to the floor. “In class, I mean.”

He thought about his answer for a second, sighing deeply when he realized he had to uncover more truths about himself to you. You took a mental observation at that, he didn’t like to talk about feelings. “You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I thought I’d beat you to it and reject you before you could reject me.”

“What made you think I’d reject you?” You coaxed. “Other than the fact that I made you a sworn enemy at eleven.”

“Exactly that,” he laughed lightly. “You’re unpredictable, Y/N.”

You smiled to yourself at the realization that he finally used your first name. “So are you, Draco.”

“Not really,” he grins. “Like in just a few moments, for example, I’m going to start snogging you.”

You opened your mouth to encourage him but shut it quickly when he closed the space between the two of you again, this time much closer than he was before. He was flush against you, and when you say you could feel everything; you could feel everything. You were almost begging for him to lean down and kiss you again by the time you felt his hands on you again, running delicately around the exposed skin of your hips when your shirt hiked up an inch on accident. He leaned down again, and with the advantage of his lowered height, you let your hands slide up his arms, biceps, and ultimately the nape of his neck where your fingers continued up into his hair. The breathiest gasp escaped his throat as you tugged at the ends gently, smirking to yourself when he closed his eyes in delight at the touch.

His lips came down onto your fast this time and hastily, pressing himself impossibly closer into you. You could feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hold moving upwards onto your waist as he continued to kiss you fervently. His teeth bit down softly on your bottom lip and you wasted no time in parting them slightly for his tongue to meet yours. You tugged at the platinum strands of hair again, feeling triumphant when a low groaning sound emitted from his throat at the sensation as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.

You knew you were done for when one of his hands slowly slid up your upper body, stopping first at your collarbones with warm fingertips fluttering over the skin, before he moved it upwards completely and he now had his large hand wrapped comfortably around your neck. You gasped in delight into the kiss, a swarm of butterflies going directly to your lower stomach as he squeezed against the artery in your neck meticulously, the coldness from his Malfoy family crest ring only adding fuel to the fire. He tore his mouth away from yours with his hand still clutched firmly around your throat and you were almost sent into orbit with the look he was giving you. A look filled with desire, adoration, and intensity - his pale gray eyes were much darker, almost a dark blue that resembled the starry night sky on a summer night.

Lips reattached themselves roughly and feverishly against your jawline, peppering long and tender kisses all the way towards your ear and then down towards your collarbones where he was beginning to undo the rest of the top buttons of your school dress shirt. You felt him smile against your hot skin when you’d writhe underneath him, emitting weak whimpers that you couldn’t hold back that he ended up having to clasp a free hand over your mouth as he whispered into your ear to stay quiet.

It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a poorly lit corridor where anyone could walk past and see the frenzy that was unfolding, nor did it matter to Draco that his Prefect duties were long forgotten. Your friend was right, and everyone else for that matter; it wasn’t hate you felt for the blond at all, it was years and years of a craving and a hidden yearning packed with displaced tension.

And now, you were both exactly where you wanted to be; together.

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outof-thepast · 2 years ago

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The Metaphysics of Cyborg Labor

“There was no subjective evil in their life, just the invisible background of the systemic violence.”

Slavoj Zizek

The rituals of our everyday lives are preconditioned activities imposed on us. Not imposed coercively, as in by someone holding a gun to our heads, but in a much more sinister way. The threat underlying our daily decisions, a threat that lives in our unconscious, consistently reminds us that we can either submit to exploitation or starve to death. The current system does not allow for a third option. You either submit to work or good luck trying to survive in the streets. What makes this threat even more sinister is the way it is presented as if it comes from nature itself: whether it was God, human nature, the selfish gene, the naked ape, the bell curve and all the other pseudo-science developed by the rich to justify treating us like machines.

“The poor are poor because they want to. That’s what I heard her saying. It made me angry but I didn’t know how to dispute that,” said my roommate Eva as we sat around the table. She was visibly distressed.

“The sayings and cliches of the rich are meant to rationalize our poverty. They say stuff like that, mostly to themselves though sometimes in public, to make themselves feel better about the miseries of the world that they created,” I responded.

“Hmmm. Yeah, I guess I buy that… I don’t know, Rosa, sometimes I can’t tell what you mean..”

I got up and picked up the dishes from our table. I had the intention of washing them but my exhaustion pushed me towards my bed in the living room. I live with six other women maquila workers in a small one-bedroom apartment intended for two people. All of us are from the small town of Tecoanapa, Guerrero. The border hellspace we are in makes me have visions and dreams of the miserably poor Tecoanapa as a utopian territory existing centuries in the past, in a realm other than the one of the factory system, a territory where time, space and identities are corroded and eventually erased, throwing us into an empty space designed for machines rather than humans. People become something other than humans after years of being here, and once you were here it was hard to leave because of the system of traps in place to keep us in. The system of credit, debt, wages, loans and always looming the threat of unemployment trapped us.

During my first years in Reynosa, Tamaulipas, now renamed Maquila City by the ruling elites in an attempt to sell it as a megalopolis completely subservient to the international masters, I talked about my dream to everyone. I had the simple aspiration of saving enough money to build a house back home and to never have to work again. “I’d rather be poor and not have to work as long as I have a roof and some food,” I used to say, attempting to convince myself and others that there was a way out of the hell. The dream eventually evaporated or was exported to China along with the commodities I produce sixty hours a week. About the time my ability to desire was deflated I read about the rise of the class struggle in China, so logically i knew that’s where my desire was to be found, in the barracks amongst the Chinese workers and students who held banners denouncing the world of work which I also hated. One of the things about our work at the factory was its way of reducing your capacity to desire and messing with our heads. Karl Marx wrote about the effects machinery under capitalism has on our minds in one of his books. I wrote down his quote when one of my friends read it to me.

“Labor is replaced by machines, but it throws one section of the workers back into barbarous types of labor and it turns the other section into a machine. It produces intelligence - but for the worker, stupidity, cretinism.”

The view from my bed consisted of three crumbling white walls with no paintings or pictures and a window that offered a view of the Pan American Transnational Highway and its endless waves of truckers, traffic, border-enforcement drones and police robots. The sound of commerce and repression came swiftly through our tiny walls and windows, a vomit of highway noises and drone sirens and decomposing truck motors. It created an unacknowledged sense of eeriness that went unperceived most of the time due to its pervasiveness. Sometimes I believed that the people responsible for designing Maquila City wanted to make us feel like machines ourselves. Everything about the city pushed you to behave and think like a machine- automatically, lacking consciousness and a sense of being. Every move you made had already been decided by someone else, there was no reason to think for yourself.

The living room window opened up a view of the city at night and I liked staring at it. Eventually it became a daily reminder of the MegaMachine that had trapped me and all those out there being worked to death throughout and beyond the night. That’s what I started calling Maquila City a few years ago, the MegaMachine. I knew that there were better words to describe it, I just didn’t know them, at least not yet. Sometimes I would feel a sense of unity and solidarity with the people and things I saw through the window, including the drones and the killing robots that had been created and coded to become enemies of humanity. Most of the time I stared at the highway because I became transfixed by the show of lights - mostly white, red, green, and blue - coming from all directions, altitudes, moving through space like sinister mechanical fireflies. After all these years I still wasn’t used to the cheap spectacles offered by the city, yet there was nothing else to do or observe.

Every day was the same thing. Walking to work with my roommates, who were still not quite my friends, I’d stare at the hallucinatory desert sand blowing around dead fields and the alien buildings and factories. There was nothing beyond them but more desert, death and the dehydrated visions of those that have tried to escape and the joy of those that had made it. I had gotten used to the way the area around the maquila made us forgot everything about ourselves - our real serves, the selves under the superficial identities of name, age, sex, gender, and nationality. The nearer you got to it, the more disoriented you felt, the more ready you became to become one with the machine.

Twelve guards stood outside the prison-like gates. They carried machine guns, bombs, and death technologies that we couldn’t name. Five stood inside the gate, five outside, and the other two guarded a war tower in the middle of the artificial court yard. The bosses told us to not be intimidated by their private military as they were just there to protect the commodities we were producing from narcos, bandits, emancipated cyborgs and other groups that pledge alliance to laziness or what they called tortuguismo. It had taken decades but the subversion against the factory system and the tyranny of work were finally appearing again.

One of the union organizers I met years ago, at some point in 2098, told me about why the bosses hired mostly girls and women. She said it was because of the mythology of femininity: the soft-hands, passive behavior and submissive character that is attributed to us made us attractive to those that want to exploit without encountering resistance. In their eyes, we were the equivalent of cyborgs. They believe that we are the nearest they have to access their utopia of a world without workers.

Everyday was the same at my workstation, as well. I stood in front of a machine that will force me to repeat the same act over and over again for at least the next 12 hours. I entered a particular frame of thought as I turn on the machine: I concentrate on the repetitive task until it becomes a compulsive act, until I become an appendix of the machine, both in a phenomenological and ontological sense. Then my mind breaks free and I regain a sense of self. I usually thought about work, workers and their hands, legs, limbs and other body parts they had brutally lost for the sake of the bosses profits, about the nature of time in the maquila, where each passing second injures your body and mind. I thought about the dialectic of friends and solitude, the unnecessarily hour-long walks home, and the threatening shadow of the sons of the elite that roamed around the MegaMachine abusing and killing the women that produced their families wealth. The devil comes to mind as he represents both the evil banality of the shadow beasts of the elite, as well as the spirit of revenge growing in China and in the maquilas of the border and I’m sure in other parts of the world, too.

“Last night a group of gachupines stopped in front of me. They were driving a BMW. When they lowered their windows I saw the driver pointing a gun at me. I remember him smiling - it was nightmarish. I froze as they laughed, some hysterically. The driver was telling them to imagine if he’d shoot me, they continued laughing and then drove away.” My friend spoke about her experience during breakfast and we stood there quietly. These where the usual stories that we told each other every morning, so no one really felt like saying anything. There was nothing left to say. All we could do was accept that reality and confront the devil when we encountered him along the desert roads.

The savages came from various social backgrounds, some had been born into it while others arrived seeking to convert death into money. They all adopted to their families, to their assigned microscopic world and their (anti)social role. They were the agents in training of the MegaMachine. In today’s world, the state and the economy depend on the alliance between legal and illegal forms of commodity production. This alliance created a social world for this parasitic strata that were known as the members of respectable society. As kids, they were all sent to the same U.S. military schools - “they’ll teach them how to become men!” their fathers would say -, they owned property in the same cities across the U.S. - Aspen, Colorado, Austin, Texas, New York City. They were also united by a shared cultural code, a shared sense of ritual, folklore, fashion and aesthetics. For any outsider, their shared cultural world would be indistinguishable from a society of cannibals. But, in our world, they were the members of respectable society.

The threat of violence and exploitation constituted our days and nights. It made us nonexistent. Before leaving to work, we tried to dedicate 10 minutes to drinking coffee and doing nothing. It was our daily confirmation that we still held some autonomy over our lives, and if we did then maybe we could have more, somehow. The walk to work started while it was still dark and we arrived at the maquila at day break. This morning we received news from the dictators that ruled over maquilas. They announced their reports over a series of megaphones placed around the dirt roads:

“We are going to be growing and generating 50 thousand new jobs in the IMMEX sector. In 2064 we closed with 270 billion dollars and we think that we can easily achieve the rounding of 300 billion driven by the elimination of the uncertainty of the T-MEC. We have every confidence that it will be implemented in the second half of the year - and for that, we need you all to do your best in terms of productivity and please remember that we will be keeping tabs on your levels of input. We need to keep this up and we must have confidence in ourselves and, if foreigners are trusting in investment in Mexico, then we should too.”

The walk to the factory was a terror in itself. Those we called the savages, the gachupines, the sons of the local caciques, roamed the area searching for whatever form of aggression and violence would satisfy them temporarily and we were usually their target. The savages, the sons of narcos, politicians, businessmen and bankers and all other kinds of criminals saw MegaMachine as their playground and the women workers as their property, just like their fathers saws the city and the country. I knew this. The hundreds of thousands of women maquila workers knew it, too. They believed there was little they could do about it. They lived in misery and prayed to God for another day. My coworker Marina, an elderly woman in her late seventies, once told me that religion offered her a will to life that carried within it a hatred for all the anti-life forces that currently dominate society. I later realized that most Maquila workers knew this, they just didn’t talk about it, nor had they had the time to think about it in decades.

We knew that they called us carne de monte. It was one of the ways they used language to dehumanize us in order to rationalize their demented behavior towards us. It probably also helped them make their barbarism more bearable in their minds. The new generation of savages are the heirs of Juan Guines Sepúlveda, the Spanish philosopher that defended the right of the Spanish crown to enslave, torture and kill the masses of the Americas on the grounds that they were not human beings. Sepulveda’s colonial worldview has persisted since the 15th century, now manifesting in the ideology of the sons of the local elites at a time of social decay and failing economies. He expressed the worldview and innermost beliefs of the savages back in the 16th century:

“Those who surpass the rest in prudence and intelligence, although not in physical strength, are by nature the masters. On the other hand, those who are dim-witted and mentally lazy, although they may be physically strong enough to fulfill all the necessary tasks, are by nature slaves. It is just and useful that it be this way. He who is stupid will serve the wise man. And so it is with the barbarous and inhumane people - the Indians - who have no civil life and peaceful customs. It will always be just and in conformity with natural law that such people submit to the rule of more cultured and humane princes’ and nations.”

Their delusion of having being born masters is what grounds them in the world and defines their sense of self worth, their pseudo-humanity. If they weren’t the masters ruling over slaves, who where they? This was a question that never crossed their minds. Their dogma was established: “It is just and useful that it be this way.” This is the creed they are raised with, they had been told they were the masters by their families, the church and the state until it was engraved in their unconscious. The savages owned nightclubs, produced cocaine and heroine, controlled the political establishment, the maquiladoras, construction companies, parking lots, and basically everything else that exists in modern cities. They owned the jails and the judges and the local police force. They also owned us. Sepúlveda absolved them of their sins. If the poor had a hole where their soul should be, they were free to treat us worse than animals, like objects.

At six minutes before midnight, Vicente Niebla was doing lines of coke as he sat in his Porsche GT6 next to an OXXO. He was with three… allies, or business-partners.

“Pass that shit, jefe.”

“We all need it. I can’t do this shit without being high. It helps me bring out the monster.”

Vicente gave them the bag of coke to shut them up. He looked down at his new Rolex watch, feeling proud of how far he had gotten, how much farther than his father on whose shoulders he stood. In recent years he had turned his body into a shrine to his father. It was covered in tattoos of the spectral symbols surrounding him and his death: the names of ranches, horse saddles, machine guns, and a hyperrealist portrait of him on his chest. He began to think about the respect he was shown in his circles as being entirely due to the achievements of his father - something that kept him awake at nights - but he shook off the thought quickly. He had to concentrate on locating and abducting the next unfortunate woman that crossed his path. It’s what the boss wants, he told himself.

The old ladies staring through their windows at midnight, hoping to catch a glimpse of love, sentiment, affection, things which they could only access through their implanted memory systems or movies, took notice of the out of place car. They knew why it was there. They prayed to God and told each other stories of the Devil over the phone. “The devil is loose and its brigade of ghouls and monsters have even taken over the souls of our poor sons. Even the sons of the poor have been taken by the beast. So I pray, I spend most of the day praying for compassion.” “Amen.” It was typical for the older generation of factory workers to have shrines dedicated to Our Lady of Sacrifice Santa Carmela. She had become a deity after leading the last wave of union struggles in the maquiladoras that led to the massacre of 2038. Carmela had been decapitated in the central plaza and her decomposing head exhibited for weeks. For the crushed maquila workers she became a ghost and a deity. They talked with her to give some meaning to their lonely lives. They prayed to her because they believed in the magical cosmovision opened up by the mysticism of religion: they believed in ghosts and spirits and angels because of their capacity to intervene in the world on behalf of those lacking any power over their lives.

The Porsche was still parked on the corner of Ixtepec and Ponciano Arriaga. Vicente turned on the new military technology he had recently installed in his vehicle in order to search for his prey. The technology allowed you to see and track anyone within a two mile radius by tapping into the extensive camera system installed throughout the city to spy on the population. Vicente moved a play stick around the screen until a group of women appeared. His mechanical eye began to follow them. “It’s time. It’s what the boss wants. Did I tell you guys he needs eight a week now? Business is looking good. That’s all it is, it’s business. Remember that.”

The last thing Rosa saw that night was a black car creeping up on her and someone coming at her. Before her world went black she caught a glimpse of the savages: Rolex watch, gold-plated gun, foreign car, diamonds and a crazy-eyed and strung-out kid with no desire other than to kill for money. She then realized these were the last snapshots las desaparecidas see before being taken to be stripped of their dignity and their short lives.

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yoitscro · 4 years ago

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I still haven’t watched the video...BUT.

While I’m still of the belief that Sarah Z probably shouldn’t have posted some “rise and fall” video on Homestuck --which uses the traction of 4/13, a positive day for a fandom that likes to eat itself, to give attention some to criticisms involving speculative allegations-- , I’ve seen more anger from people that I frankly don’t trust being upset about it being a “hit” video to tear down WP, and jumping the gun to the point of threatening legal action, versus actually seeing casual watchers talking about the discourse; more so about nostalgia and “ah, homestuck exists still”.

I assume the paranoid jump on the video is because of casual watcher’s potential reactions? But there’s, also, more reactions toward the team’s response versus what the team + team friends were presumably worried about...so like. I guess the fire being fueled is ironically only being fueled because it’s being blown out of proportion, and thereby brought to peoples attention through *that*.

Sarah’s video is not 100% right. There are false facts from what I’ve seen briefly of. I personally don’t think that a person who’s read Homestuck but has only existed in the fandom space primarily during certain years has the same, fair perspective as a current homestuck that’s been aware of the environment going on, especially on Homestuck Twitter. Instead of things being made in 10 days, apparently, and there not being any effort to reach out to anyone on the team before presenting information, I would’ve just, you know, not done that. At least give it a shot, you literally lose nothing but avoid many things later.

The team has also faced blatant threats and harassment, which isn’t the same as other queer or poc people criticizing how homestuck handles content in their own space, but it exists. There’s certainly a reasonable, human reaction that I get, which come from the anxiety of being put on the spot by a something-thousand subscribed youtuber while you’re trying to figure things out in the background as things have been quiet, right after the turbulent year of 2020. I’ve actually been really frustrated that people haven’t considered that and that these reactions are coming out of nowhere. There is a trauma to consider since this is not the white guy taking the brute of stuff despite people using Hussie’s name as a synonym for the team.

There’s also the fact that Gio was apparently not asked to be used in the video beforehand? At least that’s what I’ve heard, which if true was an oversight, given how one may want to ask “hey, i’m making a video on your articles which could absolutely put you in the center of this since I’m using your online identity; let me get your permission at least.”

That said, based on audience reaction, and how it’s been the opposite of what a handful of people associated with officialized content expected, which is the reason things are being targeted right now, I feel like this is an...overreaction.

Again, I haven’t watched the video. But the video existing with the whispered points it’s brought up is the reason that things exploded yesterday. I’ve seen more dislikes of Sarah’s video from a loud minority who, 1. are people who refuse to ever criticize the issues with Homestuck for actual years, and 2. people who have watched 20 minutes of it and heard what they wanted to hear, versus seeing the criticism acknowledged by everyone else, outside of an acknowledged comment before moving on. The reaction is what’s giving it the most attention, actually.

Apparently in the video she mentions how she’s not trying to enable any harassment, states that somethings presented are just speculation, and doesn’t namedrop anyone specific?

That seems like a cliche way to act like someone can’t ever respond to stuff like this, but that’s usually saved for smaller followed beef on tumblr or twitter. Not a company or it’s contracted IP.

I’ve seen the people say it wasn’t that bad and have honed in on WP + acquaintance reactions versus what was said in the video. It was just something that was posted on a day where so much other 4/13 stuff was going on, which could’ve been given attention instead of one person’s video, which was apparently 2 hours long, and was already being venomously hated before one would’ve been able to watch it in full? (The idea of the anger coming from those who haven’t watched the video is...not surprising. There have been people put on blast for HS opinions for just a sentence.)

The kickstarter update’s response could’ve been posted itself, versus all the stuff prior and after it (the supposed legal action), but I honestly think that it shouldn’t have taken a breadtuber’s threat on Homestuck’s reputation for fans who ACTUALLY engage with it to have communication with what’s been going on, which we’ve been asking for for years. There’s a trust that needs to be rebuilt on both sides, be it from entitlement, elitism, or bullying, and this did not help.

I don’t like that Hussie only speaks up when a boiling point is reached, and people who work on his team are beyond gone or dealing with the fallout with how he’s neglected his IP and the fans that’ve somehow stayed to support it; crowd control and community management is important, and every other indie creator or small team on the internet who thinks ahead has been getting this. And I honestly hope that anyone who is legit having a terrible time producing HS content considers whether or not they should continue to stick around, for their own mental health.

If by a week from now we’re talking about the reaction of the video and the video itself is potentially long out of people’s mind well. That’s the point of this rant.

and on the other side, quoting a friend:

Sarah z's video didn't need to be released on a day of celebration for a healing fanbase and that video regressed that and caused the official team to have fucking public panic attacks.

Not a great 4/13, tbh.

#homestuck #sarah z #yeah so this is less about the video content and more about the reaction thats blown up more than the video.#ive always wanted wp to strive and do better...this aint it.#the glass canon has caused more issue than it set out to fix #and i get the emotional reaction but...come on.#also some of the reactions are just disingenuous; shes wrong about some trans opinions but dont erase that her trans editor wrote jade takes #not her

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electronicdelusionstarlight · 4 years ago

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Boethia’s Bidding

Many people remember Mephala’s cut quest from Skyrim, about Baalgruf’s kids being corrupted by the Daedric Prince’s whispers and slaying their own father. It leads to a general worsening for the hold since Baalgruf’s brother is a far worse Jarl than him, even if he does instantly join the Imperials as soon as he gains power, and ends with you betraying one of the few Jarls who trusted in you from the very start in a far worse way than you would be able to do in Vanilla by siding with the Stormcloaks.

Everyone knows about that cut quest.

But how many people even ever heard about Boethia’s Bidding till this post came along?

Boethia’s Bidding is a cut continuation quest for the vanilla Boethia’s quest, Boethia’s Calling. After slaying her former champion and gaining the Ebony Mail, the prince will appear to you and ask you one final show of power and loyalty to them.

You will need to go to Solitude, and slay Jarl Elisif as she’s wrecked by Paranoia and fear at the plots happening all around her.

It’s a very stealth/speech oriented quest. Boethia’s machinations have left Elisif a nervous wreck, locked up in her room and armed in fear of potential assassin, unwilling to see anyone, the security in the palace tripled.

You will either sneak inside (in which case if they find you in a “forbidden” zone the guards will turn hostile) or you can talk your way inside to the steward, and convince to let you talk to her as her friend/thane, or even become her personal bodyguard, all the while being escorted by at least ONE guard.

It seems like an interesting, stealth/assassin oriented quest honestly, but I’m not here to talk about this.

So, you get inside Elisif Room, posing as her bodyguard, and she tells you this.

Image Description: Elisif Direct Quote from the cut quest: "I'm glad they finally believed me. About the assassin I mean. It's been so hard since my Torygg passed. No one takes me seriously. So how's this work exactly? Do you just kind of stand there on the look out? That's what Bolgeir does. Well, he sort of looms more than stands. Bolgeir's loyal, but even he doesn't do what I ask. Case in point, this whole assassin thing. Well at least I have you now. Look at me ramble... Well, I guess I'll go about my business sulking in here. You can stand over there in the corner watching for assassins."

No one fucking takes Elisif seriously. Ever. The steward will berate her suspicions when you ask him about assassins, and everyone will simply go “grief must have make her go mad, poor girl.”

Everyone underestimates her and shit, and you MIGHT think this quest is trying to remedy on that, especially since her worries are funded, instead it seems the only way you can end this quest is by killing Elisif.

After you do it, Boethia will appear and congratulate you for your doing, and... seemingly give you nothing but their respect. Erikur (The thieves guild plant) will become the new Jarl of Solitude, hence him having Jarl dialogues and the Jarl title in game (I always assumed he was supposed to be the Stormcloak Jarl, but this makes it even worse somehow).

The quest is unfinished so we don’t know what would Elisif’s death bring to the also unfinished Civil War questline.

We have to keep in mind a couple things tho, such as Boethia’s shrine being very close to Winshelm, and Stormcloak Alligned guards and soldiers commenting on how their cause seem to have been favoured by “Daedric Nobility” itself... when they are not calling Elisif a bitch rotting in oblivion that is.

Since we know for a fact from Elder Scrolls Legends lore that Boethia was directly supporting the Thalmor War Effort, it’s not difficult to say who actually asked the prince for Elisif’s death, or why would they decide to support the Stormcloaks in such a way. Erikur, the new Jarl who has close commercial ties with both the Dominion, the Empire, the Thieves Guild AND the Stormcloaks, is ALSO heavily implied to have had an hand in the assassination, without however tying it to the Dark Brotherhood for some reason.

We can also be glad they didn’t decide to add this quest to the game either. Elisif is already an INCREDIBLY wasted character in Vanilla, to waste and ruin her even more by simply fridging her out of nowhere and with no reward, only to then have her be cursed by her enemies as the man who plotted her murder seats on her throne all smug about it.

There is also another thing we need to keep in mind however, and that’s for the possibility that this, again, unfinished quest is missing other possible options. Boethia tells you a very specific line when you finish this quest after all:

Image Decription: “Remember always this: You need answer to no authority, neither mortal, nor divine... As you will it, so it shall be.”

The divine part is particularly important. Boethia is demanding for you to do their bidding (title drop), yet at the same time they claim everything should be done by your own free will. Maybe there IS a way to finish the quest without killing Elisif, to spite the Deadric prince by your own free will and not kill her.

Erikur is involved, so say there actually IS an assassin in the Blue Palace among the many, seemingly useless thanes and housecarls in Elisif court, among all her servants or guards? Maybe you have to beat them to the time to kill Elisif, or in turn you can also save her from them. You save Elisif, expose Erikur who is put in Jail/executed, his sister becomes the new Thieves Guild Plant for their missions, and Elisif now either trusts you alot and is willing to follow your advice and shit, or better yet has finally understood that she needs to be her own woman and shit, meaning that if this happens before season unending in season unending she will be far more assertive and will be far more proactive alongside Tullius, but in case of Stormcloak victories she will also die (In which case Erikur gets in power) as she attempts to assassinate Ulfric and probably dies in the process. (which you can stop or not, in which case the rebellion is in shambles even if Skyrim is indipendent now, and everything sucks even more than it would under Ulfric since the next in line for the throne is Galmar).

Either way after you find the second assassin and actually save Elisif (Maybe have hearts and apples involved for some nice Snow White symbolism? Important for later), either gaining her trust or making her a shrewder ruler as a result, maybe even both, Boethia will appear to you when you are finally alone.

They will congratulate you to have “outplotted” the lord of plots, much like Hircine congratulates you for hunting the hunters during his own quest, and for having followed your own free will, especially after having literally murdered a guy who had started doing the exact same thing (following his free will rather than Boethia’s orders), which would make you either incredibly stupid or incredibly far sighted, since now Elisif is on the path to become a ruler following the spirit of Boethia’s teaching, if indirectly, and you will be her trusted advisor, the only one who believed her when she realized there was a traitor in their midst, giving you (and Boethia as her champion) much power in turn.

Of course, this is me giving Todd way too much credit. The quest was probably as set up as it was in the scripts to the letter because Bethesda can’t stand the thought of a Girlboss winning, it was just never implemented, and all this new way to end it was never intended to exist, but you know, it’d be really nice if we did something with Elisif outside of the way she’s already treated in canon.

It’d be cliche in a way, and it’d be not as well written as I wished it was, but it would still be SOMETHING MORE than the way she’s treated in canon.

You know... Elisif the Fair... becoming Elisif the Girlboss. Under Boethia’s blessing. And with the Dragonborn kneeling at her side as her vizier and enforcer.

A Wicked Hunter befitting of the Fairest Queen of them all.

Wouldn’t that be rad?

#skyrim #elisif the fair #elder scrolls #tes lore #skyrim lore #skyrim mod #there's a mod that puts the cut quest back as it is unfortunately #boethiah #boethiah's calling #boethiah's bidding

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jadepetals · 4 years ago

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so this is part 2 of the fics that i've read and have stayed with me for a looong time. hope you feel the same way.

The Meeting Place / 15352 words

Bakery working, university attending, empty pocketed Harry Styles loves words, quotes, and wooing the beautiful boy who hates blueberry muffins. Because falling in love is very easy when one is falling in love with Louis Tomlinson.

swimming in a champagne sea / 16978 words

Louis is a supermodel. Harry is a celebrity photographer known for capturing the brightest up and comers in their most candid moments. They meet at London’s most exclusive New Year’s Eve party.

Monsters at Home / 21566 words

Everyone's eyes are on Harry, the beautiful, charming new student. Harry's only got eyes for the school golden boy: football captain Louis Tomlinson, whose homophobic father complicates matters a bit.

til I drown in your hands / 26204 words

Liam has a house to sell (and issues to sort out), Zayn is just trying to keep it together, Niall wants everyone to get along, Louis is flirty, and Harry has been in love with Louis for eight years.

lock me up with love / 29657 words

Louis had a messed-up knee, ruined career, and labradoodle to take care of. Harry had a normal knee, perfect career, and concern for his recluse neighbor. Harry's baking skills were enough to bring them together.

Sounds Like Heaven / 30516 words

A very painful au where singer/actor Harry Styles and songwriter Louis Tomlinson are married and have a daughter, but are not together any more. Except of course, it’s not that simple.

Sisterwives / 32624 words

Louis thinks he's getting everything he's ever dreamed of. Harry helps him find what makes him truly happy.

Nobody Marks You / 33093 words

Five assholes stuck in a bunker put on a play.

In Your Black Heart (Is Where You’ll Find Me) / 35954 words

The story of The Captain and The Carpenter.

Two Steps Behind / 38550 words

Louis is two years younger than his neighbors, Harry, Liam, Niall, and Zayn, and he grows up bending over backwards to get their attention and acceptance. Especially Harry's.

7 Up / 51973 words

Very loosely based on the British TV show "The Up Series" and somewhat inspired by the song “Something I Need” by Onerepublic, we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded. Harry calls it a time capsule. Louis calls it a pain in the arse.

Gentle Autumn Rain / 57690 words

Louis Tomlinson moved to London with a big heart and a big dream. Harry Styles moved to London, fresh out of the police academy, with the hopes of helping as many people as he could in his eyes. When a deranged alpha forces their paths to cross, their ideas of what is meant to be will never be the same.

somethin’ bout you / 59855 words

Of all the government agents in the world, Louis had to go and land the most charming one.

DOCTOR, DOCTOR /80389 words

Harry and Louis are competing for the same position. They have differing outlooks, a heavy amount of mutual irritation, and all manner of reasons why getting romantically involved would be a terrible idea. Somehow — well. Things end up happening.

The Dead of July / 117466 words

Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

Never Be / 117522 words

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Wild And Unruly / 123665 words

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

A Love Like War / 173835 words

Louis Tomlinson is a cliched rock star, he's got everything except for love. But then he meets Harry Styles; the man that, against all odds, saves him in every way a person can be saved, even when Louis didn't know he needed saving in the first place.

Your Mess Is Mine / 176723 words

Louis is the father to the most brilliant little boy in the world who is all Louis really needs, or at least that's what he tells himself. Harry is a gorgeous boybander fresh off a two year break and a massive scandal that's left him a little broken and more than ready to move on.

Young & Beautiful / 227417 words

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

#self indulgent i just wanna be able to find them fast #fic rec list #fic rec #larry fic rec #larry #larry stylinson

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solarscholarsofmagick · 5 years ago

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10 Things that EVERYONE Needs to Know Before Starting the Craft

1. Wicca and Witchcraft are Not the Same Thing

This is a pet-peeve of mine when people use those words interchangeably. So, what’s the difference? To put it simply, Wicca is a religion, while witchcraft is a practice. It’s like saying that prayer and Christianity are the same thing. Wicca is a relatively new invention, being created in the late 1950’s by Gerald Gardner after he spent a lot of time in Asia and became enthralled with their spirituality, which he merged with various occult practices that he came across in his travels. Witchcraft, on the other hand, is defined, at least by this author, as the act of manipulating the energy around you to achieve a goal. You can be either or you can be both, but they are not mutually exclusive.

2. Witchcraft Does Not Need to Kill Your Bank Account

If you follow many big-name witch influencers, more than likely, you will get caught up in the aesthetic of hundreds of beautiful crystals, perfect altars, sculpted candles, and much more elaborate and expensive things. Now, I want to make it clear, that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, but it is not always feasible to have (or afford) everything required to fit that aesthetic. Rough, unpolished crystals will work just as good as the one you saw that was professionally polished and carved into the shape of a skull. You can get candles at thrift shops, not just at the website that sells specifically anointed candles for every specific intention. Remember, it is not the tool that makes the witch, but the witch that makes the tool!

3. Know the Difference Between a Coven and A Cult

While it is not necessary, there are definitely some benefits that come with finding a coven that welcomes you with open arems. So, first off, what is a coven?

A coven is a group of like-minded witches that help each other out magickally and hold a special bond or connection. They will often perform rituals together. Please keep in mind that there is a difference between a coven and a cult.

A coven is rewarding, full of (usually) great people and potential friends, while a cult is dangerous, toxic, and filled with people who often prey on the vulnerable or unaware.

Here are some potential warning signs of a cult:

They encourage you to cut off ties with your friends and family.

They try their best to make you dependent on them.

They pressure you into engaging in sexual/criminal/drug activities.

You feel as if it is dangerous to leave.

The “leader” equates themselves to a deity or is a “my word is law” type.

You feel as if you are walking on eggshells around them.

There is some “divine” goal that you must behave a very specific way in order to reach.

Those who manage to escape are demonized and/or are made into examples.

If you suspect that you or a loved one are in a dangerous situation, please contact the appropriate authorities.

4. Witchcraft Can Become Mundane

Pop culture has a bad habit of sensationalizing witchcraft. As cool as it looks, witchcraft isn’t all lightning fingers and demon-slaying. You most likely won’t become a soldier of a magickal war, facing down an ancient evil that was recently released. Sorry, I didn’t mean to burst your bubble!

That being said, witchcraft is extremely rewarding and can be as fun as you make it!

Just like with any other art, it requires discipline! It requires study, practice, and essential tasks (or as they are often fondly called, witchy chores). Some of these “chores” include cleansing, charging, decorating, meditation, and more. Unfortunately, as we all know, these tasks may feel tedious, but they are often very necessary. Again, it is as fun as you make it, and you will be less likely to burn out/hate performing the tasks if you view them as the essential tasks they are rather than unnecessary chores.

5. Learn As Much of the Basics That You Can

As much as we want to immediately jump into more flashy things such as astral projection and elaborate spells or hexes, you must learn the basics first. Why? Because, without a strong grasp of the basics, your magickal work can be unstable and reap results that you may not have intended, including ones that cause harm to you or those around you. To quote a cliche, you must learn to crawl before you can walk.

Here are some basics that I recommend you begin with:

Visualization

Meditation

The history of witchcraft

The elements of a spell

Color/stone/common herb correspondences

Grounding

Different types of the craft

6. Elitism Exists and it’s Bullsh*t

Unfortunately, no matter what community you are in, there will always be a few bad apples, but I will be referring specifically to elitists. Elitists in the witchcraft community tend to preach that their way is the only true way to be a witch, that you must have the most expensive of tools, or that witches who come from a family of witches are better than those who do not. If there is one thing that I want you to take from this article, it’s that, no matter what anyone says, you will NEVER be any less of a witch because of your bloodline, ethnicity, skin color, religion, spiritual practice, or socio-economic status!

7. You Don’t Need to Choose Between Religion and the Craft

One of the most common reasons of being apprehensive towards starting your journey through the craft that I see is a fear of retaliation within your own religion. For example, a lot of Christian witches will initially be afraid of going to hell for their practices. As someone who grew up in the Bible Belt of the Southern United States (poor Awen still lives there), I can definitely relate to this feeling. However, I, as well as several other religious witches, can say that you can have both. You do not need to drop one to have the other. In my eyes, your relationship with your god(s) is between them and you and is nobody else’s business.

To make things a little easier, however, I recommend sliding into the craft slowly. Dip your toe in the proverbial water. Try starting by engaging in activities that aren’t necessarily tied to witchcraft such as meditating, grounding, growing plants, or even just collecting pretty rocks. I also recommend reaching out to practicing witches within your faith for advice. It also may be a good idea to truly research religions of interest and make sure that your religion is a good match for you. It is okay to realize that the religion you were raised to be in, like being raised to be in a particular political party, does not have to be your religion. If it is and it causes you and others around you no harm, then I am truly happy for you and support you.

8. Learn to Listen to Your Intuition/”Gut”

We tend to have a 6th sense for danger or the presence of another being. You may recognize this feeling when you can feel that someone is watching you. Our instincts are built into us to keep us alive. Personally, following my gut has saved my life more than once. In one particular incident, my gut told me to stop at a crosswalk despite not seeing any nearby cars and the sign telling me to walk. Seconds later, a truck sped by, running the red light at full speed.

If you feel that a spell has taken a turn towards the unwanted, find a stopping point and seal it away. Feel as if a deity is calling you? Take the time to research them and their calling cards. However, please take the time to learn the difference between a negative gut feeling and general nervousness, as it does feel different.

9. Learn the Difference Between Good and Bad Resources

Misinformaion and toxic ideologies can be dangerous when it comes to witchcraft. You can read extensively about the difference between the two in my previous post about it here.

10. It’s Okay If the Craft is Not for You

If you decide to try out the craft and later feel as if it isn’t clicking… that’s okay. The initial decision to explore is not one for life. Just like how certain sports, hobbies, music, et cetera are not for everybody, witchcraft is not for everybody. Anyone who decides to judge you for that is wrong and not worth your time.

Please consider supporting us by viewing the original post on our website, here!

#witchblr #witch #witchcraft #witches of color #witches of tumblr #wiccablr #wicca #wiccan #wiccans of color #wiccans of tumblr #pagan #paganism #pagans of color #pagans of tumblr #occult #spiritual #spirituality #spiritualism

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neeterloveschenford · 3 years ago

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RNM 3x07

Hello my fellow lovers of all things alien! Another episode down and six more to go. First I’d like to start by congratulating Heather Hemmens! What an accomplishment! I hope you can continue to pursue your passion for directing. Also I would like to once again put forth my deepest desire for someone to rescue Lucky out into the universe. He’s a good boi! He deserves better!! And on that note, let’s dive into this episode.

I know I can get flip floppy when it comes to Maria, but just a few days ago she was jumping off rooftops and shooting up adrenaline to try jump start her powers. Now she’s strong enough to put Jones in a cage? Maybe if there had been a time jump, but we’re still on day 7. I don’t buy it. I don’t think they know what to do with her even after 3 seasons. I’m not expecting any kind of comeuppance for last season. I think they are completely correct in sweeping that all under the rug. It’s not the show for something like that. If this were Dawson’s Creek or One Tree Hill, sure. But I want to see sci-fi and aliens more than friendship and relationship drama. So I’m not sure where they think they are going to end up with her, but so far it’s been hit or miss for me.

Next we have Liz being all sciencey. I love seeing her, Michael and Isobel working together. But I gotta say, her plan was kinda rubbish. I mean, Jones has been one step ahead of everyone and Liz is gonna Mata Hari him? Don’t think so

Dear Deputy Pete, why are all men so dumb. Every moron on this show hates Max but wants to get into Isobel’s pants. I get it, but it’s so cliche.

Hello Father Dallas! Betcha Rosa’s not gonna miss mass this week! I like him. He quoted Biggie. I already like his relationship with Rosa ten times more than her relationship with Wyatt. I liked his advice too. He works on the Res. Does he know Greg? I wanna know. And he was in a bts picture with Vlamis and Trevino a few days ago. Guess we’ll be seeing more of him.

Alex keeps talking about Afghanistan this season. The last two seasons he only talked about Iraq. I know he served both places, but shouldn’t his line have been something along the lines of he survived the deserts of Afghanistan and Iraq instead of just one of them? Maybe I’m just being nitpicky.

Why is Kyle just being kept in a barn? Is there someone with medical knowledge there taking care of him? Did Eduardo just take him there and hook him up to that equipment and leave him there? What the heck is going on? That barn can’t be that sanitary. And where was Maria in that flashback? Did he just leave her there? Did her shooting Kyle up with adrenaline make things worse for Kyle? Does Eduardo have medical training? Does Kyle know he has an uncle? Who were the guys that were breaking into Max’s house. So many questions. So few answers.

Poor Lucky! Can we find him a new home please?!? HE’S A GOOD BOI!!

I like Isobel having female friends. She has grown so much since last season. But this plan is sooooo bad! Seriously. How did they think this would work? I know they were getting desperate, but seriously!

I’m gonna need Michael and Rosa to have a scene together every episode from here on out! I love their dynamic. And Michael is such a great teacher. Patient when she needed it. Challenging her when she needed it. And the sass coming from Rosa! Also, how stinking cute is it that Michael played baseball! I can just imagine my sweet little Guerin making a home run and being all smug about it. And I’d just like to point out that Heads Up 7Up was my favorite game when I was a kid. I would be devastated every single time we played at school and my thumb didn’t get put down. Memories.

Seriously Liz. How could you not realize Jones was onto you. When has Max ever referred to Maria as DeLuca? She has always been Maria to him. Wait. Hold up. Michael was the only one who ever refers to her as DeLuca. Was this a clue to the big reveal later on? We may never know.

I really love Greg, but he’s really kind of bland these days. I really hope when Maria gets out of that coma that he starts to challenge her. She needs Greg the former drag racer. Not Greg the super sweet boytoy. Michael let her run their relationship last season and look how that turned out.

Rosa’s new power is cool. That’s all I have to say on the matter.

So if Trevor went crazy and committed suicide while working on the Lockhart machine, how did Travis become so nuts? Did Alex referring to Trevor as the crazy boot maker who chased them through a corn field a continuity error? (I mean yeah, it’s gotta be.) Who’s in charge of checking things like this? Can I apply for this job? I think I might do a better job.

Obi-wan Junkyardy could be the best line this show has ever come up with. Especially now that Michael is, in fact, a jedi.

I think Liz has more chemistry with Jones than with Max. Nathan is an amazing actor. I had forgotten, since Max was so bland. But Jones reminds me of how much I loved him on General Hospital. Jones is just sexy. There’s no ifs ands or buts about it. And Liz knows she’s attracted to him. It’s impossible not to be. Cause he’s HOT! And as much as I wanted to bash my head against the table with how dumb her plan was, I loved watching the cat and mouse between them. And then she punched him. It was glorious!

I love that Eduardo knows about Malex. It was a nice parallel that last week we got the Michael and Sanders conversation, and then this week we got the Alex version. Even when they don’t have scenes together, they are still ever present in each other’s lives. I think Alex might not have even realized that the real reason he joined Deep Sky was Michael. And I don’t think that the Lockhart machine is going to drive him crazy like it did everyone else. Maybe Nora built it to be accessed by whoever Michael “bonds” with. He’ll figure it out and I’m very certain that it will hold the key to defeating Jones.

I would just like to point out that most of my theories get debunked pretty quickly. But I was 100% correct about Jones being the Dictator and Michael’s father. I am pretty darn proud of myself. I still think Louise might be Jones’ sister. Which would make Michael and Isobel cousins. That would be cool.

Also I love the fact that Rosa wound up saving the day. Cause she’s a badass.

Which brings us back to Maria and her mindscape. Jones is going to use her to access Patricia’s memories. But memories of what? The Lockhart machine? Whatever she was a part of at Caulfield? That part does interest me. But I do hope that Maria beats Jones by the skin of her teeth. Or maybe because of a fluke. If she kicks his ass or something I will be disappointed.

So lastly, I would just like to point out that today I read a review of this episode on another website and the reviewer referenced Gargamel. 👀👀 I don’t know how to feel about that.

Anyway, all in all it wasn’t a bad episode. But it’s not my fave. And I’m not even going to get into nobody worrying about Kyle. But next week I am expecting much bigger and much better things. Cause, you know, Malex and such. So until next time my lovelies!!

#roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico s3 #s3ep7 #s3 spoilers #s3 speculation #it's only my opinion

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bisexualoftheblade-old · 4 years ago

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how many wips do you have? like what are they all, and not the number of wips in a fandom? what are all the names?

okay. fuck you. fuck you so much. fuck you.

i’m putting this under a read more cut no one else deserves to see this shit. a lot of these are requests, and for those i will just write out the request itself

Shadowhunters:

domestic polycule fluff with tem, jessa, and will because im not a coward

Supernatural

- hehe hoho i request destiel hehehe

- request 61/? cai cai cai cai i need you to rewrite the destiel scene but yk. GOOD. not like i'm in the know about the spn fandom or anything, it's been years for me. but DO IT

Bright Sessions

- caleb/adam grisha AU

- mark bryant vs. united states aka sue the AM

- caleb/adam college fluff

Umbrella Acaademy

- request 31/? i want a ben and klaus drabble please spare me some brotherly bickering

- AND SO BEGINS NIGHT 4 with request 13/? oooh oooh can i get a raymond and allison playlist??? i think their vibes together would SLAP

- hi there night 2 is technically morning 3 but who's counting not me anyway request 5/? can i get a ben moodboard? gotta rep my tua bb

Percy Jackson

- request 9/? can i get a percabeth moodboard or quote edit?? like god they're the og couple goals take me back to high school cai

- For the 100 follower things :D Jercy getting caught in the rain

- request 29/? a drabble about literally anything to do with pjo. i’ll be happy with anyone and anything i’m love these children

- *somersaults in like I’m a real fancy acrobat* hello ello ello may I request some camp half blood chaos possible involving *does a flip* ✨side characters✨ <3

Penumbra Podcast

- request 52/? drabble about the penumbra podcast. this is for ren bc ren likes it and i don't actually know anything about it. juno? i think? that's the one ren likes. write it for ren

- Tpp ghost hunting / buzzfeed unsolved au

- sad juno smut

- final resting place fic go brrrr

Marvel

- request 6/? i'm going to my roots y'all can i get a spider-man playlist? if not a playlist then i'd honestly be happy with literally anything involving spider-man

- request 15/? i'm going crazy this is recorded evidence of me actually losing it ANYWAY can i get a quote edit for something from iron man? literally anything that man says is gold so cai's choice :D he deserved better in endgame i'm still bitter

- request 42/? do another spidey thing that differs from the other spidey thing

- request 73/? you have Opinions. rant about infinity way and/or endgame. go.

- request 74/? quote edit for deadpool!!

- spideytorch relationship character study

- peter parker as a tired grad student monitoring the young avengers (send help)

Six of Crows

- okay listen i wasn't going to request anything bc i worry about you but also? if you want to/have the time hit me with a playlist for our girl nina zenik

- request 43/? fuckin give me the ending anya should have had. she is alive and with her new son and having a great time

- request 45/? inej moodboard?

- request 47/? will you make literally any meme of your choosing for six of crows?

- request 48/? write a drabble for kaz, my favorite bastard

- okay so i don't actually like nina or mattias that much but i still wanna hear about your thoughts (and also see if you'll change my mind)

- kaz brekker turning 18 fic. birthday party, everyone singing, whole shebang. i need it stat

- religious trauma fic aka i started shipping kaz/alina/inej and i can’t stop

- kaz trauma soup (he has D.I.D. and you can’t prove me wrong)

- my two redacted fics for @grishaversebigbang

- wesper fake dating

- six of crows bright sessions crossover: everyone gets therapy

TMA

- uhh... s1 gang having a nice time? melanie getting to have some Pride™️? some "fun" horror thing?

- request 7/? spare steph and jason bonding? please sir? spare some for a humble child such as myself?

- okay so this was meant for night 3 but i had midterm shit SO this is honorary night 3 let's DO THIS request 8/? i want a moodboard of extremely out of context magnus archives shit like i mean confuse the FUCK out of me i don't go here i know Nothing about it

- request 11/? OKAY so i need tim stoker meeting tim drake now i need my timmy to meet your tim plus i want to see character differences no i'm not trying to create a tim stoker in my head so i can read a's fic while NOT thinking of tim drake whaaaaaat you're crazy

- request 18(i think)/? i need a quote edit of every time within the first like. 15 eps of tam where jon is like “sounds fake but go off” thank u bb

- request 40/? i challenge you to write a tma drabble based only on the episodes i've heard. i'm currently halfway through episode 23

- Jon being lovingly bullied into taking a break. I'm aware this has been written a million times but it is one of my favorite things.

- spiral!sasha AU

- extinction martin go brrrrr

- high school era timsasha. they've both been friends for years, and everyone always asks when they will be a couple. they decide to fake date, to prove everyone wrong and show what a bad couple they would be. turns out that's a bit trickier than they thought

- after sasha comes back, tim is broken. he can't let go, scared that if he looks away for even a minute he'll lose her again. sasha suggests shibari as a way for him to give up control

- sasha pov mag 19 au, sacrificing herself to save the others, knows that if she gives herself up to the not!them it will let the others live

- this is the "tim finds a polaroid of sasha" trope

- early archives days,, long nights in research,,, clothes sharing,, somft. late nights and falling asleep at their desks warm and safe in the other's presence

- two parts: timsasha as kids, each picking a constellation that is "theirs". just soft kid antics. tim at sasha's grave glancing up to see their constellations

- continuing your job’s a joke (you’re broke)

DC Comics

- TIMSTEPH HADESTOWN AU,,,

- my redacted fic for @batfam-big-bang

- request for you to get a decent amount of sleep? serious answer, dickkori, SAL's Venus

- request 4/? timsteph morning after 👀 mayhaps?

- a concept: nonbinary stephanie brown

- teehee hi mom, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but can i request damian angst for your accomplishments 100 followers?

- hi you can ignore my first request if you want, or you can ignore this one. but bls possibly write some bikini ra’s? -the bikini bitch

- request 27/? jay is asking through me for a jondami playlist but tbh i also want it so win win yk?

- "I don't know how to help you but I can help you find someone who does" with bruce and jason? im just craving bruce being a good day to jason for once

- “I am putting you in time out because you need to understand the consequences of your actions.” with steph and jason as dumbass disaster bi best friends pretty please?

- request 32/? timsteph patrol date!!!

- request 33/? timsteph *gala* date? mayhaps??

- request 37/? tim drake drabble but make it Edgy cai

- request 39/? drabble of a prank war between tim and damian

- joyfire cuddly fluff please? or like just any outlaw fluff if joyfire isnt your thing (feel free to add every member of the outlaws, dont feel like u gotta stick with jason, kori, roy i love them all)

- barbara and robin! jason fluff? bonding over books or something?

- request 62/? i need a drabble about the chaotic trio jason, tim, and steph i'm love them ty

- request 63/? batfam x mcu crossover. batfam meets ironfam. give me ALL the cliches. ALL OF THEM

- request 64/? young justice x young avengers - jay cuz idk SHIT about the young avengers

- request 66/? jondami moodboard pls and ty

- request 67/? timsteph moodboard!!!!!!

- request 69/? HEHEHE kinky 😏 i would v much like a timsteph drabble of the almost first time. does that make sense? like i don't want you to go all the way NSFW cuz i know that's against the rules and i'm a rule follower. but like they *almost* go all the way. this could be fade to black or some shit i don't care just make it a lil steamy and have Fun

- i request damian angst! all of it

- hmm... maybe i request? jondami?

- mayhaps,,,,some batfam,,,,,committing crimes? ily be gay do crime <3 - lu

- How about a ficlet with Steph and Cass?

Found Family Bingo Prompts

- no powers au

- tunnel

- first day

- join the club

- hurt/comfort

- experiment

- playing favorites

- hold on

- possession

- 10 o’clock

- singing

- road

- snitch

- curfew

- timer

- fantasy au

- zombie au

- dreams

- campfire

- are you okay

- movie night

- games

- scared

Miscellaneous

- a request: Write A Drabble, Coward

- is it too late to request a moodboard for me?

- request 20/? i’m going off book because i’m in a Chaotic Mood™️ can you just absolutely vibe check me like go off cai demolish me

- request 21/? i formally request that you pick a favorite cai. i don’t care what that favorite pertains to, just pick a favorite something

- request 23/? roast me

- request 24/? can i have a buzzfeed unsolved spoopy playlist but spoiler alert it’s not spoopy bc shane doesn’t believe does this make sense it has been a Day™️

- request 25/50 i want a jake and amy fic make it Soft cai i’m love them b99 is so good

- request 28/? i know nothing about the lord of the rings so make something that will confuse the shit out of me

- request 34/? malvie and jaylos moodboards 😈

- request 35/? a moodboard for the bbb mods!! perceive all of us!!!

- request 36/? moodboard for the tua mods too???? mayhaps??

- request 41/? doctor WHO? idk but i want a drabble of him and the one character i know from doctor who which is rose

- request 46/? make an alignment meme with our group, have fun!!!

- request 49/? i want you to kin assign me a character from every fandom you can/want to. go feral

- request 50!!!!/? this is a special request. the most special request. can you make a bastards tbh playlist? i want our vibes encapsulated. i want us in music form. i want to hear those songs and be like "that's me and cai" and smile.

- requests 51/? i know jack shit about good omens. explain it to me in the most confusing way possible. make me know less by the end than i know now

- request 53/? can you write a mel aesthetic? i'm Curious

- request 54/? give me a list of book recs cai i want some good book recs pls

- request 56/? edit a picture of US together too

- request 58/? oooh can i have a disney edit? like. hm. i just really love disney and i want anything to do with disney. like a quote or an aesthetic or an aesthetic edit i just want disney.

- request 59/? i would v much like a recipe for carbonara. i've never had it but it sounds fucking delicious

- request 60/? ooh hey can i get a makeup tutorial? i know you like makeup, i'm shit at doing makeup. teach me

- request 65/? i need the most emo playlist you can make that vibes with dear evan hansen thank you

- request 68/? i want a superwholock moodboard. this can be serious, with the actual fandoms in mind, or literally what the era felt like. the insanity. the horror.

- request 70/? ooh ooh ooh do you have a good bread recipe?? i wanna get that bread

- request 71/? i want a playlist with the vibes of summoning a demon. please don't ask questions. i don't have answers. and if i do, no i don't.

- For the requests, how about writing something based on a friend?

- request 75/? MMMM i want literally anything to do with natasha, pierre, and the great comet of 1812

- request 76/? i want some healthy recipes. help a girl out

- a feral bbb quote or two?

- you perceive my plant but now I dare thee to perceive mine own visage

- okay this is a two for one request. 1. you did the bee movie script so now we need a shrek two script edit 2. sleep please

- Pansexual mb for my lil queer soul?

- my (probably) final request is just for you to ramble about something, i don't really care what

- HI ILY CONGRATS AS WELL CAUSE IM LATE BUT CONGRATS. could i request a pirates of the caribbean (or just pirates) or whatever you what to do, free range.

- mood board for the beluga whales who got brought to the animal sanctuary in Iceland please?

- 100 follower request: Moodboard for my stuffed cow Oaky?

#cai's 200 #asks #mininacl

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ficsilike-reblogged · 5 years ago

Text

What’s in a Name?

A/N: This is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever written in my entire life. But it’s soft. Because Marcus Pike is soft and deserves all the love. Granted, I’ve only watched The Mentalist all the way through once, so...do with that what you will.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: PG for mention of guns??? I just want to be on the safe side. Idiots in love. Falling in love with someone and not knowing their name. Cliche use of a Quote from Romeo + Juliet.

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: The five times Marcus Pike tries to learn your name and the one time he actually does.

Pike was unlucky in love. He knew it. He had started to accept it when things fell apart with Lisbon. His friends and fellow agents, the assholes, actually took pity on him and said he’d find the right person eventually. He just didn’t anticipate having to meet her over and over again.

... that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet... (Romeo + Juliet)

Sometimes, every once in a while, he actually hated his job. Sure, he got to go undercover, stop criminals, right some wrongs, and be called ‘agent’ on top of it. But, right now, listening to some sycophant rant and rave about the “superiority of Cubism over Dadaism,” he wanted to switch careers. There was supposed to be a sale of a stolen Cézanne happening at this gallery in Los Angeles and Pike had suspected the guy with the too-tight three piece suit and bad transatlantic accent was the ring-leader of the whole theft and re-sale. He just needed to not spork his eyes out until he saw money pass hands from the agent he’d sent in to pose as the buyer and the thief-turned-art-asshole. He thought it would only take an hour or two, busts like this usually did—but this guy loved the sound of his own voice so much that he had been going on a tangent about 20th century art movements for nearly four hours now and had somehow gathered a bit of an audience, too, debating with others, and the like. It was exhausting just listening to him.

“If you give me ten dollars, I’ll spill some red wine on his shirt and he’ll be forced to leave.”

Marcus looked to the left at the sudden voice and found a woman pretending to look at the piece in front of him, just like he had been doing. She was pretty, dressed in a high-end dress and sky-high, red-bottom heels, and looked every bit the part of an old money socialite. “Ten dollars?”

“I’d do it for free, but I need to receive some sort of incentive so I’m not just doing it out of spite. I heard that’s bad karma.” She hid her smirk behind the lip of her champagne flute.

“I’ve heard spite is a fantastic motivator.”

She hummed and squinted at the painting as if she cared. Maybe she did. “This is an awful piece of work. Truly, one of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

The man behind them continued to talk just as a waiter passed by with a platter full of red wine and she skillfully plucked one from him without missing a beat. She finished her champagne and handed Pike her empty flute. His eyebrows raised as she smiled at him.

“I’m Marcus.” He held out a hand for her to take. She shook it with a smile but didn’t give her name in return. She winked and walked away—right toward the mark.

And yes, she dumped red wine all over him.

There was a collective gasp and he watched the scene with a muted sort of fascination as she then managed to make the art thief smile with some joke she must have said and then he walked away to clean up. The crowd dispersed. The other agent was able to snag the thief and make the exchange and handcuffs were placed on his wrists all within a couple of minutes.

Maybe he should have actually paid her the ten dollars. She really did just speed everything up.

But, when he looked around to find her, she was gone.

The second time he met her was at an art auction in D.C. There was no sting. No operation. The Art Squad had recently helped the auction’s sponsor recover a priceless Van Gogh piece and they had insisted the entire Squad come to the black tie dinner and auction, foregoing the 1000-dollar-charge-per-plate the ticket usually cost. The food was good. The wine and champagne was obviously expensive and Pike was sure he’d see some of the art that was being auctioned off in his case files in the next few years. That was just the way of the world. He looked around at the displays and glanced at the sheets where people had written down their bids. Some people were being generous—most others were being cheap.

He slowed to a stop in front of a small Dalí and then down at the auction sheet. It was currently up to only a few hundred dollars. He wouldn’t win, he was sure, but he could pretend to participate in this ridiculous auction.

“I didn’t take you for a Dalí fan.” Her voice was still smooth and he knew, instinctively, that she was smiling before he even turned to look at her. She was draped in sky blue silk and pearls, reminding him of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.

“I think he’s iconic, to be sure.”

She sidled up to him and looked at the small painting. “Thinking about bidding? It looks like everyone else is besotted with that original Warhol.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder to reference the crowd steadily growing on the other side of the ballroom.

But all he could focus on was the smell was her perfume. Expensive and floral, it seemed to fit her perfectly.

Manicured fingers handed him a Mont Blanc pen from the depths of her designer bag. “Best of luck, Agent Pike.”

As she walked away, he realized she knew his last name now—somehow—and he still didn’t know hers.

Pike tried to find her again in the mess of rich people, to ask her name and how she knew of his ‘agent’ status and last name. But all he managed to do was catch a glimpse of blue silk as she exited the venue.

“Do you know her?” A tired-looking man asked as he walked to Pike’s side. “She left a large donation and my boss will kill me if we don’t have a name to write in our next list of donors.”

“I…I don’t actually. Did she bid on anything? Maybe we could get her name that way.”

And for the next fifteen minutes or so, he filtered through the crowd, trying to ask inconspicuously about his Venus and if she had bid on anything. And, when he finally learned that she had bid on an Alphonse Mucha sketch. And he almost felt lucky. Almost!

Because, as he made his way over to where everyone was pointing, he saw only two scribbles on the sheet. Surely he could discern which one of the names was hers.

One was Richard…

And the other one was just a scribble of blue ink, smudged beyond legibility.

(A few weeks later, he was delivered a package at his office. Inside was the Dalí he had bid on. On a slip of paper was a smudged smiley face and the word: Enjoy!)

The third time he met her was decidedly less glamorous. The Art Squad had been trailing a group of thieves across the East Coast when they finally caught up to them in Boston. Pike had hoped they’d be able to catch them in the act and be done with it.

Instead, what they found when they stormed into the art museum, was the thieves holding several hostages. And, of course with his luck, she was among them.

Her hands were behind her head and she was on her knees as one of the thieves pointed a gun to the back of her head. Boredom was, surprisingly, coloring her face but she smiled when she caught sight of Pike. “Hi, Marcus.”

“Hi,” he said in return, fighting a smile of his own.

The whole thing was over in just over an hour and the hostages were released and the thieves were carted off in the back of a police van.

And maybe now he’d finally learn her name.

He was the lead agent on the case so he had to answer a million and one questions from other agents, from outside law enforcement, from the press. And, belatedly, he watched his least favorite agent, Rhett Brown, approach his unnamed Venus. The agent was fine when given a gun and told to shoot—but how he’d managed to wind up on the Art Squad was a mystery. He’d lost or misfiled more paperwork than anyone else Pike had encountered put together.

Pike knew he needed to finish all of this nonsense—and really, he shouldn’t call it nonsense, this was important—if he wanted to even have a chance to get her name. But the local police asked a lot of questions (they were doing their job, he couldn’t blame them) and then the press conference dragged on (again, they were just doing their jobs). And by the time he finished, he jogged back to where the former hostages had been held as they were being questioned.

And, of course, she was gone.

Pike pulled Rhett aside and asked for his notes.

Rhett nodded and stuck his hand into his suit pocket and then froze. “Oh no.” He quickly patted down his other pockets and shouted at another agent, “have you seen my notepad, man?”

Pike was tired when he met her for the fourth time.

The deposition had lasted longer than he anticipated, stretching long into the night. The case was a strange one, involving inheritances, forged wills, and a “disappeared” Jackson Pollock that “reappeared” across the country. The hotel was nice, however, and he slumped into a stool at the hotel’s upscale bar and ordered a pale ale.

It was set in front of him quickly and he drained half of it without much fanfare.

“I always thought you looked more like a whiskey kind of guy.”

He nearly spat out his drink.

She slid into the stool next to him and ordered a top shelf cognac. Her lips were painted a vibrant shade of red and left a mark against the glass as she took a sip of the amber liquid. “Long day?”

“You could say that. You?”

She nodded with a small smile. “What’re you doing in New York? More FBI business?”

“Something like that.” He took another drink of his beer and she watched him over the edge of her own glass. “How’d you know I was in the FBI?”

“We have friends in common. I know Charlie—you helped him get back his precious Van Gogh.”

“Ah, Charlie.” He nodded in understanding.

“Yes, he went on and on about the FBI agent who saved his marriage—imagine that, an entire marriage hanging on the edge of one painting.” Despite cognac being meant for sipping, she had already nearly drained her glass. “Imagine my surprise when it was you—the man from the gallery opening who basically gave me full permission to dump wine on a pompous asshole.” She watched him laugh as she took another sip of the dark amber liquid. “Charlie pointed you out when you came to the auction. The man can hardly remember his children’s names but he remembers yours.” She smiled and he could have sworn he’d never seen anyone so beautiful. “But I like the um…” she gestured at his chin and then placed her finger beneath her nose in a childish imitation of a mustache. “It’s a good look.”

He laughed—she was good at making him laugh. “I was undercover.”

“Oh?” It came out with another laugh. “Aren’t you mysterious?”

“I’m mysterious? You know my name and my job—and that I think Dalí is iconic. I know nothing about you.”

“What is there to know? I procure art for people who have too much money. I spend more time on planes or in hotels than I do in my little apartment in New Orleans. I like Humphrey Bogart movies and a good blanket.” She smiled before polishing off the last dredges of her drink. “See? Now you know more about me than I do about you. And it is all far less interesting.”

His heart had lodged itself higher and higher into his throat as each word passed her lips. “No…I-I think you’re really interesting and beautiful and I…I would love to know more.”

She was embarrassed, he could tell, but she still smiled. Her mouth opened to say something else and-

-a bellhop stepped to her side. “Your bags have been loaded into the car, ma’am.”

She turned and thanked him, pressing a few bills into his hand before she stood and grabbed her purse. She put a few more bills—far more than her drink could have possibly cost—onto the bar top and signaled to the bartender that she was paying for both their drinks before he could even think to stop her. “Thanks for the company.”

“Yeah. Of course.” He was in a bit of a daze as she leaned down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The familiar scent of her expensive perfume touched his nose as she pulled back.

“I’ll see you around, Agent Pike. But really,” she once again mimed the mustache, “it’s a good look.”

He murmured his goodbye, head still pleasantly swimming, and watched her walk away.

It took him a full five minutes to realize he still didn’t know her name.

The fifth time he met her, he’d been stuck at O’Hare International Airport for five hours. Five hours in the worst airport known to mankind. His flight back to DC had been delayed and then delayed some more and then delayed some more. He’d only been in Chicago for a few days to help lead some training to the local arm of the Bureau. Nothing exciting. And now he was stuck waffling between two equally awful airport restaurants for dinner while he continued to wait.

“Hey stranger.”

He turned to see her walking toward him, a designer carryon being wheeled behind her scuffed sneakers. Her hair was up in a lop-sided bun and she had traded her dress for a pair of jeans and an oversized band t-shirt. And why was his mouth filling with saliva? She threw her arms around him in a hug that he quickly reciprocated, squeezing her around the middle as she laughed lightly in his ear. “It’s good to see you. I see you kept the facial hair.”

He laughed and scrubbed a hand over his patchy beard and mustache. “Yeah, I guess I did.” Pike cleared his throat, trying to not sound so smitten. “Where’re you heading now?”

“Home, thankfully. I’ve been go-go-go since I saw you last. It seems everyone wants to give works of art as presents this year. I’m kind of scared what Christmas is going to mean.”

He smiled, liking to know about her life, how she felt. “Been anywhere exciting?”

“Paris and Milan lose their charm after a while. But I finally got to go to Casablanca.” There was a near twinkle in her eye now. “I felt like I should’ve been running around in a trench and fedora, chain-smoking. God knows how many times I muttered ‘here’s lookin’ at you kid’ to myself like a loon.” She shook her head as she bit her lip. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m jetlagged.”

“It’s okay, really. I…I like it.”

She shoved at his shoulder with another laugh. “Careful. You’ll make me fall in love with you.”

“Would that be so bad?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them—something he usually did when he let his stupid, romantic heart take the lead.

She tilted her head as she looked at him with an almost shy smile playing on her lips. “No. No, I don’t think that’d be bad at all.” They looked at each other, each fighting a smile and stupid fluttering of their hearts for the near-stranger in front of them. She broke the little daydream by clearing her throat and glancing away for a moment. “And you? Been anywhere exciting?”

“Just Chicago. Had to lead some training. My flight’s been delayed for a couple hours. Hopefully, I’ll be out of here before midnight.”

“Well, if you’re looking for a good place to eat in this hellscape, I’d recommend the restaurant near C26. I’ve yet to get food poisoning from them—and the food’s pretty good, too.”

“You want to join me?” He asked, something optimistic blooming in his chest.

But her smile fell. “I wish I could. But my flight starts boarding soon.”

As if on cue, there was an announcement over the intercom. “Hello passengers and welcome to Flight 306 to New Orleans. Right now, we will start boarding with our group one passengers and active duty military in uniform.”

“That’s me,” she said with a sigh. “But it was good to see you, Marcus.” She reached out and squeezed his hand.

He squeezed her hand for a moment, keeping her still. “You know, I still don’t know your name.”

She paused and then laughed, a full-belly laugh that quickly had him laughing, too. “It’s-”

A passenger cart beeped as it zoomed by, carrying a few elderly women.

“Group one, you’re free to board. Group one,” the announcement seemed to echo in the terminal, overly loud on the old speakers.

He swore he saw her lips move. He did!

But then she was squeezing his fingers again and walking away.

The cherry blossoms were in bloom. Aside from the terrible crowds they brought and the overall mugginess that came with the season, it was one of the things he liked about living in DC. He was sitting on a bench and watching the wind blow through the trees, rustling the pink and white petals gently. His lunchbreak was ending soon and he’d have to get back to the office. The other agents had caught on about his “mysterious lady friend” when he’d finally arrived back from Chicago and had been ribbing him about it ever since. (“How did you not get her name already, Pike?!” A question for the ages.) He crumpled the wrapper from his sandwich and tossed it in the nearest bin, preparing to leave the park.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, just for a moment.

But when he opened them, she was standing in front of him like something out of his daydreams. She smiled at him before helping herself to the space beside him on the bench. “I was told you like this bench when the blossoms are in bloom.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Your fellow agents are very chatty, you know.”

“You came looking for me?”

“’Course. I was in town. The auction I need to attend isn’t until tonight and…yeah,” she trailed off, embarrassment coloring her tone as she looked away from him for a moment. “Yeah, I thought I’d see you.”

His smile was so big he was sure it was going to break his face. “I’m glad you did.” He reached out and curled his fingers around hers as they rested on the bench beside her legs.

Her smile was shy but she squeezed his fingers in return as she kept looking out over the cherry blossom trees. “It’s pretty here. I’d love to wake up and just see this.” She waved her free hand toward the blossoms.

“Well, it happens every year. You can come back.” Or you could stay, his traitorous, lovesick heart whispered. But no, he wouldn’t say that. No yet, at least. He could take this slow.

But then she kissed him, quick and soft—he nearly missed it. And she was quickly leaning back against the bench, trying to school her features into indifference.

“What is your name?” He asked, question bursting forward.

She guffawed and pulled her hand back with an exaggerated flourish, fighting another smile. “I told you at the airport!”

“There-there was a transport honking and-and an intercom and then you left-!”

She cupped his cheek in her hand and the words died in his throat. She smiled again, fighting a laugh, and whispered her name.

He whispered it back, rolling the letters across his tongue carefully, pressing it into his mind to keep and hold.

He liked her name.

Part Two

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike imagine

490 notes · View notes

viastro · 5 years ago

Text

lowkey | xu minghao

ミ★ synopsis: in which you’ve been pining after your fellow dance member, xu minghao, and he helps teach you the choreo one night.

ミ★ genre: mainly just humor, some fluff, y/n is a dummy, minghao is a softy

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 3,648

ミ★ pairings: minghao x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi!! it’s been awhile uhh, i think i’ll be writing a lot more since i’m quite literally self quarantined. don’t hold me to that tho cause i’m a shithead when it comes to writing 🙈

You know, you weren’t that big of a fan of dancing when you were a child. The first day your mom brought you to your ballet class, you started crying because they wouldn’t give you the big, pink, fluffy tutu. As soon as the class ended you told your parents you were never dancing again, but look at you now. You’re 21 and you are still, in fact, dancing. To make it even better, you’re dancing different genres and are also now part of the dance team at Seoul University.

While you’ve obviously grown to have a love for the art, your parents still like to tease you and copy the way you used to cry about not wanting to go to dance. The most popular quotes they mock you with are, “Wahh! You can’t make me go to ballet! I’m not even the Sugar Plum fairy, this isn’t fair!” as well as the very special, “I’m not a dancer, for I, am The Rock.” (You had a The Rock obsession, so what?) Even then, you let them have their fun because you were truly a nightmare to get into the studio as a child. The three of you made the conscious decision to only joke about it together and to never bring it up to your dance team.

NEVER.

Especially since the guy you’ve been pining over for a good year is part of the dance team. In fact, he’s one of the aces of the team. There’s four of them: Soonyoung, Chan, Junhui, and last but definitely not the man of your dreams, Xu Minghao. The Uni students like to refer to them as the Four Aces, A4 for short. They’re practically Gods at the University, all the freshmen have a crush on them whether they want to admit it or not. Whenever the big showcase comes up the four of them are a subunit and have their own choreo. It’s pretty epic.

You’re rather close to Soonyoung and Chan since they help you out after practice is over so you can touch up on choreo. Soonyoung’s usually the one you go to to ask for help considering he’s the one who comes up with the choreographies half the time.

“Okay but y/n, make sure to make that move sharper. It shouldn’t be that soft, it has to be aggressive. Yeah, like that!” Soonyoung tells you with a big smile once you correct it. You grin, pushing your bangs off your sweaty forehead. You glance over at the clock to see that it’s 12 am already.

“Let’s continue on Monday, Soonyoung. It’s already really late.” You tell him and he looks up at the clock, shock now displayed over his features. “Holy shit. I didn’t even realize it’s already midnight.” He mutters, making his way over to his bag to pack up his stuff.

“Time flies when you’re with a cool gal like me.” You joke.

Soonyoung looks up and stares at you, no emotion on his face. The room is in pure silence.

“You are hilarious.” Soonyoung says blankly after a beat and you throw your sweat towel at him. He lets out a giggle, dodging said sweat towel. You chug the last of the water in your bottle, before tossing it into your bag. You throw your gym bag over your shoulder and pick up the sweat towel you threw at Soonyoung.

“You’re lucky this bitch didn’t land on your face. It would’ve been a tragedy.” You tell him with a smile, going in for a high five.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later y/n!” You wave bye and head out the door.

“UghhhHHHH!” You screech into your pillow, kicking the bed with your feet at the same time. Seungcheol stares at you as you have a mental breakdown from the chair by your bedroom window. You lift your head up to suck in some more air before slamming your face back down into the pillow to scream some more.

“Y/N... please... I just wanted some ramen.” Seungcheol begs from the chair, flipping himself so that his head is hanging from the end of the seat where your ass is supposed to be. You lift your head up, shooting him the scariest death glare you can muster. He squeaks, closing his eyes and turning away.

“Haha.... Just kidding... go ahead...”

You turn over in bed, now staring at your ceiling. You recall the previous events of your day that has led up to this exact moment of internal self LOATHING.

earlier...

“Soonyoung, can you come look at this?” You call from the floor of the dance studio, he turns and jogs on over you after telling Jun and Minghao to wait a minute. Minghao stares at you and you glance down at the IPad right away. Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god.

“What’s up?” Soonyoung asks as he plops down beside you, back against the mirrors. You show him the competition list, and he lets out a sigh. “God.” He mutters, turning off the IPad and pushing it to the side.

“Guys, we’re competing against Mayhem.” Soonyoung announces to the group and almost everyone groans. Well, pretty much everyone except Wheein. She ends up choking on her water mid-sip and leaves the studio in a coughing fit.

“Literally why. I swear, they have something against us. Not even kidding, they literally wanna eat our ASS!” Jun yells and Minghao pats him on the back. You put your head into your hands, closing your eyes as you realize how much harder Soonyoung and Chan are gonna push the group to make sure we get another win.

So basically Mayhem are your biggest competitor, but they have a vengeance against your group specifically. You’re not sure whether it was because of the time you accidentally walked in on one of their lead dancers using the restroom because she didn’t lock the door, or the time Chan ate the last chocolate donut in the rehearsal room. Either way, they’ve made it their ultimate life goal to beat you guys in every competition.

Too bad they haven’t been able to do that.

“As long as we work harder, it’ll all work out in the end. Everyone, get in formations.” Soonyoung announces, clapping his hands. Everyone makes their way to the middle of the dance studio, but you sit there and pout.

“Y/N, c’mere.” Chan calls over, shooting you one of his dazzling smiles and making a grabby hand towards you. You sigh, unable to say no to one of the cutest men alive.

Guess I'll die.

“Y/N, hit that move harder! Good!” Soonyoung yells as he watches you practice in the mirror. You feel your cheeks get warm after he calls you out in front of the rest of the team.

In fact, you were so embarrassed by the constructive criticism that when it was time to change the formation you accidentally tripped over Minghao’s foot, aka the foot of the guy you’ve had a crush on for the past two years haha !

This causes you to fall forward, about to plummet your face into the hardwood floor, only for Minghao to quickly step forward and wrap his arm around your waist, spinning you around, basically saving you from a lot of physical pain. It was, indeed, one of the biggest cliches you’ve ever been through in your 21 years of living, but did that stop your heart from beating out of your chest when you were looking into Minghao’s eyes? No. :D.

“Are you okay?” He asks breathlessly and you try to find your voice so that you can answer and not look like a buffoon. Alas, you cannot escape from who you truly are. A buffoon. You end up squeaking out a “yes.” and twirl yourself out of his grasp, only to trip over your own two feet so he reaches out and steadies you once again.

“Welcome back.” Minghao jokes at the fact that you’re in his grasp once again and you squeak once more, jumping away from him.

It’s only then that you realize the rest of the team is just gawking at you two. Well, except the rest of the A4. Their facial expressions range between a look of surprise and mischief. Minghao begins to take notice of the silence in the room and ends up coughing into his arm to break it. Everyone starts acting normal to avoid getting on Minghao’s bad side.

“Well.. let’s run it from the top shall we?” Chan says as he casts a smirk in your direction. You stick your tongue out at him and he chuckles, heading over to restart the song. You glance up into the mirror and notice Minghao’s eyes on you, and he gives you a sly grin.

Oh good god.

present

“So.. what you’re telling me is that you not only embarrassed yourself in front of your dance team, but also in front of the guy you’ve been pining after for the past what, year?” Seungcheol asks. You nod your head slowly, and he has half the mind to giggle slightly.

“Motherfucker why are you LAUGHING at my MISFORTUNE!!” You yell, throwing your pillow at his face. Seungcheol dodges the pillow while laughing at your outburst.

Frowning you mutter in tiny font, “It’s actually been two years.”

“I have an idea.” You glance up at Seungcheol with a slight hopeful expression on your face.

“What if... you just talk to him?!” You are now frowning at Seungcheol.

“Are you crazy? After our four years of friendship you think I’m going to talk to the person I’m secretly in love with?! Absolutely insane, love. That would never work anyways, I’ll just admire him from a distance like I usually do.” You explain, sitting up in bed.

Seungcheol stares at you for a moment. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you pout down at your folded hands. Your hair is a mess from slamming your head down onto your pillow for at least ten minutes. You may have passed out for a minute due to that but that’s a secret we’ll never tell. He cocks his head to the side, now thinking about how dumb you are. What you apparently don’t know is that Seungcheol is close friends with A4. He’s heard Minghao complain about how shy he is towards you, and how he just wants “to hold her hand sometimes, maybe even a hug and kiss on the forehead. Perhaps even... a kiss on the lips.”

But I’ll just let her suffer. Seungcheol thinks to himself.

“Whatever you say y/n. I’m gonna start making some ramen myself now since you seem to not wanna get out of bed. Came over for us to have a ramen bonding study session only for it to end up with you being stubborn and threatening to murder me with a hanger. I hate it here. This is Seungcheolphobic.” Seungcheol complains under his breath as he gets up and steps out of your bedroom. You glare at his back, laying back down so that you’re once again staring up at your white ceiling. You grab your white pillow beside you and hold it up, imagining that it’s Minghao.

“Hi. My name’s Minghao, I have nice black hair with pretty brown eyes and a beautiful smile. Not only am I tall, lean and fashionable, but I’m also a multi-talented man. I like to volunteer at the animal shelter for funsies and I have a part time job at a dance studio teaching little kids how to dance. Fuck YOU Minghao. Perfect ass bitch. Literally being my dream man I HATE it here.” You mutter to yourself as you glare at your pillow you’re holding above you.

You scoff, throwing the pillow onto the floor and turning over in bed, now staring out the window. The scent of ramen goes through your nose and you find your tummy beginning to rumble. You hear a new sizzle as you assume Seungcheol is making you both eggs. You sigh, getting up from bed.

“Wallow in self pity later. Have fun with your bestie now.”

“Y/N!” You glance up from your phone to see Chan standing in front of you with a knowing smile that has you feeling a bit nervous. “What...”

“So the incident that happened on Monday-”

“Oh hell no! We aren’t talking about this.” You shut him down real quick, standing up to walk to the other side of the practice room. Chan giggles and reaches out to grab your arm, stopping you from running away to safety.

“Channie! I don’t wanna talk about it please!” You whine and he laughs even more, patting your shoulder to calm you down.

“Alright, alright. I just wanted to let you know that Soonyoung and I have to go to a seminar tonight so we won’t be able to help you later with the choreo.” He tells you regretfully and you raise an eyebrow, heartbeat quickening a bit.

“Then why are you here? Who’s gonna teach me-”

“Chan?” You pause as you hear that familiar voice.

Oh... my god....

“Hi Minghao, I’m just letting Y/N know that you’ll be helping her out tonight since Soonnie and I are busy.” Chan says, and flashes you a sly smile. You almost reach out and choke him but he pulls away.

“Have fun y/n!” He sings and walks out the door, leaving you and... him alone. You glance up at Minghao as he sets down his bag, taking his hat off along with it. Your eyes widen once he looks over at you and you glance down.

“How often do you do these late night practices with Soonyoung and Chan?” He asks, taking off his windbreaker as well and you feel yourself break out into a sweat.

“Um, every week. Soonyoung started helping me once he walked in at like 2 am only to find me practicing for our first showcase in freshman year. It’s been our thing since then, Chan joined in on our late night practices when he was a freshman as well.” You explain, putting your hair up into a low ponytail. He nods with a satisfied look on his face, heading over to plug his phone into the aux.

“What are you struggling on? Is it the part before the change in formation?” Minghao asks and you almost throw yourself off a cliff once the vision of Minghao holding you from last week pops into your mind. He turns to look at you once he notices how you’ve become silent, “I just thought because of what happened on Monday that you were struggling with that-”

“No, no I totally understand why. By the way, I’m so sorry for uh.. falling... on you...” You mutter quietly and he shakes his head, waving his hand as if to say, no biggie!

“But yeah, that one is kind of hard because the formation change is one that we don’t do often, ya know?” You answer and he nods. “Yeah I totally get that, don’t worry.” He responds and you find yourself staring at his black hair, which now covers his eyes a bit.

He’s the only guy who can make a mullet look good, you think to yourself. He glances up at you and gestures for you to go to the middle of the dance floor, to which you comply.

“Alright, so let me play the part right before the formation changes so that I can see you do it. Then we can work on what I see you struggling on and fix it.” You nod. It didn’t hit you until now that the guy you’ve been pining over is going to watch you dance by yourself, analyzing your every move to see what mistake you’d make. Now that it’s hit you, you think you’re gonna shit yourself.

Minghao gives you a thumbs up in the mirror and starts the music. Once you notice the part coming you glance up in the mirror, feeling your stage persona take over and the nerves ease away. Minghao watches you turn from the shy, timid person he knows, to a confident and talented woman as you dance. The change has him in awe as he watches you wink in the mirror when you hit a move nicely. He sees you fumble a bit shortly after before catching yourself, continuing to perform as if it never occurred. He pauses the music once you go to your spot in the formation, and you catch your breath.

“You’re really fantastic at what you do, I could see your stage presence come out and it was really uh, attractive, to see. I noticed the technicality error, and it’s really small so don’t worry. I’ll just run through it with you.” Minghao explains and you nod, feeling your face heat up when he compliments you. What you don’t notice is that Minghao’s full on blushing right now from his slip up, but he turns away before you can take notice of it.

“So you need to watch your footing here, because you fumbled a bit during this part,” Minghao performs the specific move where your feet cross over before going into a spin. His movements are similar to water, usually so soft and gentle but later become sharp, similar to an ocean wave crashing onto the shore.

“Try that.” He tells you after he specifies what made you slip up and you nod. Getting into position, you redo what he did and he smiles, clapping his hands.

“Nice! Okay now,” He does the small body roll and you bite the inside of your cheek, cursing to yourself. You stare at his face, noticing the small furrow to his brow as he puffs up his chest for the next move. Minghao glances up into your eyes as he does this and pauses. Warmth floods your face as he seemingly stops teaching you. She’s so pretty, Minghao thinks to himself as he watches you for a moment. He runs a hand through his hair, breaking the eye contact as he glances down at the shiny wood floor.

“Is there something on my face?” He mutters and you break out of your spell, shaking your head profusely.

“No! No, sorry I just...” You panic, fingers fumbling together as you try and come up with a response that doesn’t mention how handsome he is and how much you wanna run your fingers through his hair.

“You just what?” Minghao asks, cocking his head to the side as he watches you internally freak the fuck out.

“I just... I really think you’re an amazing dancer and you’re really handsome but it’s so much more than that. You’re so passionate and good at what you do, but I’m really intimidated by you and I’ve been crushingonyouforyears so being in a room alone with you is really nerve-wracking.” You quickly explain. He freezes, staring at you with wide eyes. You also quite literally pause.

CUT THE CAMERAS...

DEADASS!!! Did I DEADASS JUST CONFESS IN A FIT OF NERVOUSNESS!!

“I... am so sorry. I’m going to go. You don’t have to like me back, I’m so sorry!” You apologize profusely, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes as you start to back up towards your bag. He reaches out and gently takes a hold of your wrist, pulling you to him in a hug. You freeze in his embrace, and he nuzzles his head into your neck.

“Don’t go. I like you too, y/n.” He mutters quietly.

And this. This is when you start sobbing.

You fall to your knees, covering your face with your hands as you ugly sob right in front of the guy who you no longer have to pine after. He’s staring at you helplessly as you cry into your hands about the fact that you thought your crush was hopeless for years, and how you never expected this to happen.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’ve been really e-emotionally unstable, hiccup, recently for no reason. This is like, the best day of my, hiccup, life.” You explain through your tears and Minghao lets out one of his cute little giggles that sends you over the edge once again. You let out a loud sob and he giggles again, pulling you to him in a hug and rubbing small circles on your back.

“That’s okay, we can keep it a secret from everyone that you sobbed after I confessed to you.” He tells you soothingly and you hit his arm softly, making him chuckle at you.

“How are you so calm right now?” You complain, pulling back regretfully f rom the hug and looking up at him with tear tracks running down your face, along with a bit of snot. How cute, he thinks to himself. He reaches over to his bag from the floor and grabs his towel, wiping away your snot and tears.

“I’m quite literally shitting bricks right now from happiness, but I’m just not showing it because I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” Minghao explains and you bite the inside of your cheek. You glance back up at him and he gives you a small smile, reaching up and patting your head.

“You wanna get back to the choreo?” He asks you and you shrug, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. Crying made you tired.

“Can we just hug for a bit more?” You ask and he smiles, pulling you back into his warm embrace. You sigh contentedly, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. You both stay like that for a while, letting the recent events settle into your thrumming hearts.

“Does this mean we’re... boyfriend and girlfriend...” (👉👈) Minghao asks shyly, breaking the comfortable silence. Giggling, you reply, “I believe so Minghao.”

He squeezes you even tighter, nuzzling his head further into the crook of your neck.

“Good.”

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callonpeevesie · 4 years ago

Text

Things that bother me about Percabeth

Warning: this is going to be long and I'm not even sure if this will make sense. Also don't read this if you aren't open to criticizms of Percabeth.

Percabeth is a good ship, or at least has potential as one, but it has many legit flaws (this and this go into the flaws. By the way, go check out @takaraphoenix's Riordan crit) and I have some personal grievances. I'll write this out to understand my stance better because I need to get this off my chest.

I believe most people wouldn't agree with me on all this, but this post is entirely self-indulgent and I'm doing this for catharsis, so don't come at me. This isn't an objective analysis, just me trying to clear my thoughts. But feel free to share your opinions if you want.

Evolution in PJO

This is a pretty general point. I love the evolution of their dynamic in pjo. Their bickering, them opening up to each other and becoming so important to each other, the slow and steady buildup, it's great. Heck, I love slow burn. They have some good moments in pjo: Annabeth opening up to Percy on the zoo express, the scene with the sirens, Percy doing everything he did to save Annabeth in ttc, their conversation after Annabeth took the knife for Percy in tlo. (The underwater kiss is not one of my favourite moments, I'll come to that later.)

The romantic evolution, though, I'm not sure. I enjoyed it in ttc, there were small subtle hints like Aphrodite's scarf, or Aphrodite looking like Annabeth to Percy. But it became kind of tiring in botl onwards. Annabeth was extremely possessive and awful to Rachel. And in tlo things became a bit over-the-top.

I think Rick tried to establish them as the Most Important Person to each other. I don't like that. This is more apparent in HoO. I'll come to hoo later, but there is one instance of this in tlo: Percy seeing Annabeth in the Styx. Like one of the posts I've linked above says, it's shippy nonsense. It comes from the idea that one's romantic partner must be the most important. It doesn't make sense. I think Percy should have seen his mother in the Styx. It would make sense for Sally to be Percy's anchor, considering how much she means to him.

In short, their enemies-to-friends evolution was great, their friends-to-lovers evolution started out fine but became too much for me, and their friends-to-Most-Important-Person-to-each-other evolution was unnecessary and forced.

Luke

Luke and Annabeth's romantic subplot didn't need to exist. This isn't exactly Percabeth, but I'll say it here anyway. First of all, there's a seven year age gap, so Luke returning Annabeth's feelings is creepy. And it seems pretty unnecessary to me. It's also a bit of a mess. In tlt Annabeth blushes when Luke is around, and Luke says 'She's like my little sister.' In tlo Luke asks Annabeth if she loved him, and she says 'You were like a brother to me.' This part feels like Rick trying to add last-moment tension to Percabeth by making Luke a potential 'rival' to Percy. In the Staff of Hermes Percy says Annabeth had a crush on Luke, and as she got older, Luke had a crush on her too. Just ... Why?

They and Thalia were each other's first friends. Annabeth looked up to Luke and Luke was fond of Annabeth. That is enough reason for Annabeth to be hurt and for Luke to care about Annabeth. That is enough to set up their post-betrayal dynamic. The romance thing was completely unnecessary.

Rachel

I absolutely hate the way Annabeth treated Rachel. If there is one thing I despise about romantic subplots, it's justifying bitchiness with romantic jealousy. I guess it's okay to feel a little jealous or even possessive, and I can kind of see where Annabeth was coming from, but treating someone like shit because of that, especially in the middle of dangerous quests, is not okay. It's petty and immature. (It could be argued that Annabeth was mad because Rachel got to lead her quest, but let's be honest, she wouldn't have been that mad if it were anyone else. She specifically treated Rachel like that out of jealousy.) It was never called out and Annabeth never seemed to regret it. This bothers me so much. Fanfiction is a good coping mechanism, I suppose, but I'm here to complain about canon, not cope with it.

Speaking of Rachel, Perachel could have been a good ship. A demigod looking for a normal life and a mortal with clear sight. This elaborates on that pretty well. At the end of tlo it really felt like Rick had to get Rachel out of the way to make way for Percabeth.

Annabeth seems to be too demanding

Annabeth's attitude towards Percy bothers me sometimes. She's a good character and has a strong dynamic with Percy, but she's a bit tiring with regards to Percy (in a romantic sense; she's fine as his friend). I mean look at this quote from tlo:

I can't pretend I hadn't thought about Rachel. She was so much easier to be around than ... Well, than some other girls I knew. I didn't have to work hard, or watch what I said, or wrack my brain trying to figure out what she was thinking.

Percy feeling that way about Annabeth - his best friend of four years - just doesn't sit well with me. Percy straight up admits he's more comfortable with Rachel than with Annabeth.

There's more: Annabeth punching Percy when he asked who he should dance with in ttc, the way she treated Rachel, the way she behaved towards Percy regarding Rachel in botl, judo flipping him in moa. It's pretty tiring in general. Now that I think of it, this wasn't a thing before the romance showed up. Their dynamic was better in the earlier books in general.

Also personally I'm not a fan of Annabeth constantly calling Percy Seaweed Brain. This and this nicely sum up how I feel about that. Annabeth making fun of Percy's intelligence even after getting to know him makes no sense, especially as he was insecure about his intelligence. (And yes, I know she thought he was intelligent, as she said in the Demigod Files, but that doesn't cancel out the million times she called him stupid to his face.)

They became too couple coded

I've seen people say that Percabeth is better as friends than as lovers, and honestly I agree, and I've done some thinking to figure out why. I think it's because of the way they were written after they became a couple. They could have been fine as a couple, if they were written differently.

They started out not being able to stand each other, then gradually, they went through a lot together, got to know each other, learned to work together, and became a team. That was a great evolution, like I said before.

And like I also said before, everything I dislike about Percabeth showed up with the romance. Annabeth became catty and possessive. They became a couple. And it was as if the friendship wasn't there anymore, just the romance. They became like a cliche unreasonable girlfriend and clueless boyfriend. This is especially obvious in the beginning of Percy Jackson and the Staff of Hermes. Where's the friendship? Where's the comfortable bantering? Where's the known-each-other-for-years soundness? Hoo Percabeth just doesn't live up to pjo Percabeth at all.

(Also this is a personal bias of mine, but I'm partially romance repulsed. I can't stand cheesy romantic coded stuff. I only like lovers if they're also friends. So I guess I'm kind of pissed about Percabeth becoming so couple coded after becoming a couple.)

Their HoO dynamic

This is a related point. Like I said, hoo Percabeth doesn't live up to pjo Percabeth. All they care about is each other. They literally don't think about anyone else at all. Percy loses his memory and he remembers Annabeth. Why? Does Hera ship Percabeth? If he remembered anyone, it should have been his mom, like in the Styx. The only reason Percy remembered Annabeth, i.e Annabeth was made out to be more important to Percy than everyone else (including Grover and Tyson and Sally 'best person in the world' Jackson) is that she was his romantic partner. Again, it's shippy nonsense.

And there's this reveal that Annabeth had a crush on Percy all along. Are you kidding me? It completely retcons the enemies-to-friends development. Are you telling me that the Percabeth evolution in pjo where they learned not to hate each other was a lie? That Annabeth gradually opening up to Percy and coming to appreciate him was her acting out of a crush? I'm not believing that, no way.

I'm probably not making any sense, but my point is that Percabeth in hoo in cheesy and can't go one day without each other and people love it but I don't. It kind of messes up their previous dynamic, which is a shame because I liked pre-hoo Percabeth.

Rick seems to go overboard sometimes

I'm about to get a little controversial here. Many of the Percabeth posts in those tumblr screenshots going around social media are about the campers shipping Percabeth, or Arachne making Percabeth fanart, things like that. My theory is that part of the reason Percabeth is so popular is that the characters ship it. And Rick kind of goes overboard with that - not just with the in-universe shipping, with the ship itself.

Prime examples of going overboard are Percy seeing Annabeth in the Styx and remembering Annabeth when Hera took his memory, which imply that Annabeth was objectively the Most Important Person to Percy. I've already ranted about these above so moving on to the part about the in-universe shipping. Like I said, I'm not a fan of the underwater kiss. It's because of the situation involved. The campers just won a war and lost their friends and siblings, Clarisse just lost Silena, you'd think they'd have other things to care about than Percy and Annabeth kissing, at least for one day. And why did Arachne make fanart of that? How did she even know? There was also the matter of moving to New Rome - them wanting to move halfway across country to live together, away from New York, doesn't really make sense to me. This post elaborates on that and suggests better alternatives.

Of course, the author has complete control over the narrative, and the author wants you to believe they are making sense. And when the characters believe that too, it becomes harder for readers not to. When all the campers ship Percabeth, it's enough to convince half the readers to ship it too. (And of course, the pjo fandom has an unhealthy thing with canon ships.)

It's pretty much kept up by the fans

While we're at it, let's talk about the out-of-universe shipping. The fandom has always shipped Percabeth, partly just because they are the male lead and female lead of a series. Percabeth was set up to happen, so when Rick introduced Rachel, who actually made Percy feel good about himself and let him be himself around her, and whom Percy was interested in, he had to get her out of the way. I'm not sure I can explain it, but the Percabeth ending in the first series feels very fan service-y to me.

Platonic Percabeth vs romantic Percabeth

I think everything I've said above just explains why Percabeth worked better as friends. The had a great friendship arc and became two friends who know each other inside out, butt heads a lot but love and respect each other deeply. And then when the romance happened, Annabeth began to show these romanticized but actually toxic girlfriend stereotypes - being jealous and possessive, expecting Percy to read her mind and getting pissed when he can't, etc.

The fandom thinks those traits are okay, because they are normalised in society. People think that's how couples should work (it's not). And so the reasons I don't like Percabeth are the same reasons many people do. The date in the beginning of Staff of Hermes makes me cringe, because they were friends first and friends don't work like that. But no doubt there are many people who find it cute because society loves to romanticise the unreasonable girlfriend and clueless boyfriend trope. There are plenty of people who romanticise Annabeth judo flipping Percy or treating Rachel like shit, because things like that are normalised but I personally can't stomach them at all.

Anyway, those toxic traits come with the Percabeth romance as a package deal and there's no getting rid of them. That's why Percy and Annabeth worked better as friends, and why I feel things would be better if they just stayed friends. There was none of that tiring crap pre-romance. I can't stress this enough, I really loved their friendship in tlt or som. But when their dynamic evolved to romance, it messed up their friendship. There was a specific moment in botl when Percabeth began to feel off for me.

'She will calm down,' Chiron promised. 'She's jealous, my boy.'

'That's stupid. She's not... it's not like...'

Chiron chuckled. 'It hardly matters. Annabeth is very territorial about her friends, in case you haven't noticed. ...'

I don't know why this moment specifically, but this kind of marked a change for me. This is where Percabeth became seriously romantic, and I didn't like the related developments. This was the beginning of Annabeth's jealousy.

So what would I prefer?

I'll be honest, I shipped Percabeth for a while, probably because I love some friends-to-lovers. So I was going to make a list of things I'd change about Percabeth. I wanted to make some self-indulgent UAs (universe alterations) to fix the things I don't like. But then I started writing this thing and read up on other posts and stuff and I realised the list of things that bother me is huge and I could never make Percabeth work for me without messing everything up. So I just gave up shipping it entirely.

What I would prefer is an AU where Percabeth stays platonic forever (@elf-loving-dragon has been encouraging that idea as well). They were great as friends and I want that back. It would be so refreshing to have the male lead and female lead not end up together. Annabeth could end up alone, and still get her something permanent with her friends and camp. It would be so beautiful if something completely romance-free was specifically stated as permanent, because friendships in media deserve as much love as romance.

As for Percy, he could end up either alone or with Rachel. I don't ship him with anyone else rn. While I have made it obvious that I like Perachel, I still don't know if I actually ship it, and the idea of Percy ending up alone is not too bad either. (Update: I stan platonic Percabeth and qpp Perachel now.)

I promise I'm done now. Whew. If you've made it to the end of this long repetitive introspection, congratulations. If you agree, feel free to tell me, and if you want to argue, go ahead, I wouldn't mind listening to others' opinions. If you read this and hate me because of this just keep that to yourself. I have no patience for people who attack those who don't agree with their ship. K thanks, bye.

#pjo #heroes of olympus #hoo #tagging as #anti percabeth #so shippers can avoid this #percy jackson #platonic Percabeth ftw #rr critical #perachel #sally jackson #rachel elizabeth dare #peevesie writes #original content #annabeth bashing

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