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majestyeverlasting · 1 year ago

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A Little Less Restless

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (friends to lovers)

Summary: As Bucky finds himself within the still familiarity of Brooklyn, he comes to realize that he deserves nice things. And, most of all, that he deserves you.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I haven't posted any new writing in a bit, and it feels good to be resolving that (yay me). Please enjoy this piece I wrote today. Lot's of fluff and very obvious feelings. It's been a while since I wrote something for him. <3

Three knocks sound on Bucky’s front door as his reflection stares back at him in the bathroom. He's leaning close to the mirror in careful criticism. Enough to see the green flecks in his irises. The freckles on his cheeks from being in the sun. The pricks of hair making up his scruff. Then he eases back and squares his shoulders. They fall after he releases a breath.

He prays he doesn’t look as restless as he feels.

The smile you give him when he answers the door carries a warmth he isn’t sure he deserves. But he takes it because that’s all he can do. Enjoy it like a man who’s been cold his whole life. By some miracle, he feels himself smiling back in that small, weighted way of his. It was a trade off of sorts, and now you’re even. No outstanding debts.

He motions you inside with a soft please, and you study him once you’re in the foyer. In the few seconds that you’re silently observing, Bucky wishes he knew exactly why. As tender as your gaze is, heat was already rising to his cheeks. But like everything else when it comes to you, he takes it. Looks right back at you shyly, pushes his hands into his pockets, and waits.

“Your hair’s shorter,” you finally say, smile growing wider. “Did you cut it?”

“Cut it,” he repeats like a question, hands moving to run through it. The previous night creeps back to the forefront of his mind.

When he’d gone for a walk to get some air and inadvertently found himself being drawn in by the red, white, and blue barber’s pole spiraling on the next block. It’d been ages since he’d gone to a professional, but walking inside to the faint scent of tobacco and aftershave made him feel as though he’d never stopped.

“Mhm,” you hum, certain.

The stumped look on his face vanishes like it was never supposed to be there. “I went and got it trimmed at a place called Ricky’s last night.”

“And you forgot that quickly?” Next thing he knows, you’re wrapping him in an embrace, peeking up at him after a few seconds, “I’m teasing.”

He squeezes you back tighter.

It’s you who eventually pulls away, and he finds himself trailing you as you venture deeper into his apartment, eyes roving thoughtfully. A coffee table now complements the couch in the living room. The walls are no longer bare. At long last, the space was beginning to look more like a home.

For the longest time, Bucky had only seen it as a place to rest his head after countless assignments that took him miles away. It didn’t need to be anything special, or so he thought. One of the first things you told him upon coming into his life was that he needed a constant. A place to come back to that he could make his own. That was his. He’d spent so much of his life serving other people and belonging to other people that he was finally learning what it meant to be his own.

It was exhausting not being halfway across the world with a task to busy his mind. Brooklyn was still in comparison. A place where he could recognize street names, faces, point out buildings that used to be something else when he was a kid. And now there was you, who made being stateside worthwhile in a way he didn’t think was possible. He realized then, how much he’d deprived himself of meaningful connections outside of work.

“It looks great in here, Buck. What’d I tell you?” Your earnesty is genuine. Makes him, as old and borderline cynical as he is, feel special. “You’re gonna have to start inviting me over more.” You shoot him a wink, and he freezes because of the weight of the implication. If you notice, you don’t say anything.

A few months ago you’d been strangers crossing paths. Then acquaintances. Now friends who cared about each other a whole awful lot. Only, it was more obvious on your end. He kept most of his sentiments guarded, not yet ready for them to bleed out like an open wound. It didn’t help that you were always wielding a knife, coming closer and closer to cut through the wall he built around himself.

“You can come over whenever you want,” he says. “I’m always here.”

“When you’re not on assignment,” you add. “And I know. I just don’t want to scare you away.”

Bucky frowns at the suggestion, but his lips eventually turn up. “Good thing you’re not a scary person,” he says, counting on earning a laugh. Something.

And you do, right before shaking your head. “I’m serious.”

“You couldn’t scare me away,” he assures.

You nod slowly. “So how’ve you been?” There’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue, so he waits it out. It ends up punching him right in the gut. “You look…I don’t know.”

It hadn’t been all too long since he’d come back from Morocco. Only a week. And it would be a while before he was sent out anywhere else. His mind was in the constant process of drifting to the type of thoughts all men sifted through when they have nothing but time. Those regarding purpose, belonging, and meaning. Not to a deep, crippling degree, but enough to make him want to spring into some sort of action. Find something to indulge in that wasn’t saving the world.

Bucky swallows and shifts his weight. “Restless,” he offers. “Didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I’ll always notice.” Silence stretches between the two of you and a siren wails in the distance. “Maybe we can go out tonight, just you and me. Is that something you’d wanna do?” The question sounds shy.

What you didn’t know quite yet is that he’d probably do just about anything if it was with you.

***

At the end of the night, it’s Bucky who pulls out his card and pays for dinner. Not even giving you the chance to think about digging into your purse. As an old tune continues playing overhead, your grateful eyes sparkle at him from across the table.

Neither of you had dined here before. It’s one of the places Bucky said used to go by a different name and was run by a different family, Italians. You liked listening to him talk about what once was because it made you realize just how much he knew. Just how thoughtful and reverent he was when it came to the good memories he had.

Being listened to so intently was new for him. But he enjoyed it. Especially when you’d ask questions or bring up a point he made further back in the conversation. By the time the waiter comes back around with his card and his copy of the receipt, the two of you are basking in the memory of the evening and thinking about what the rest of the night may hold.

“This was really nice,” he says, folding his napkin and setting it aside on the table. Then his expression becomes consumed by a certain solemness. “I don’t know how well it comes across, but I need you to know that I appreciate you. A lot.”

Your heart nearly bursts. “I know, Bucky,” you promise. He still looks unconvinced, so you extend your hand face up on the table for him to take. “I know.”

The cab ride back to his place is quiet. You hold onto his hand the whole way, relishing the feeling of his thumb tracing back and forth over your skin. It’s a gesture that says I’m here with, I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me. Brooklyn passes by in rushes of darkness peppered with light. Pedestrians walk alongside the streets, some holding hands just like the two of you. It isn’t long before the driver pulls up alongside the curb of the complex.

It isn’t until you’re in the elevator that you’re sure that you want to stay.

The two of you get off at the fifth floor.

“Is it okay if I spend the night? If not, I completely understand. I know it’s such short notice,” you ramble as he’s turning his key into the door. He hopes you don’t notice the way he falters. But part of him knows you do. You don’t miss anything. Luckily for him, you’re just as fazed by your own question, holding your breath.

It’s not until you’re inside that he graces you with an answer, “‘Course you can.”

Your shoulders drop in relief. What you’re not expecting is the laugh he tries to bite back. Maybe it was mean of him, but he liked knowing he could make you sweat. Sometimes it seemed like it was only ever you who made him openly anxious.

“You’re terrible,” you accuse, failing at restraining a smile. “Absolutely horrible.” You’d forgotten to throw away an empty water bottle before you left, and it’s the closest thing you’re able to throw his way in retaliation. He catches it and tosses it in the trash himself.

Mischief written all along his smile when he starts towards you.

Partly scared and partly excited, you think to flee at the last second. After a few measly steps, you’re being pulled back into the firmness of his chest. He’s sure enough laughing now, the vibration rushing straight into your back right along with the warmth of his body. So are you. He only has one arm secured around your waist and, despite the fact that he’s not even trying, it's enough to hold you.

“Wait, wait, wait—hold on a second!” your words come out giggly both because you’re anticipating some sort of attack, and because he’s never held you quite like this before. Unlike a normal hug, this feels like he has you rather than you having each other. It’s vulnerable. Dizzying.

“You win, you win!”

“What?” he laughs in surprise. His mouth is so close to your ear that you shiver. “Thought you had more fight in you than that,” there’s a playful warmth to his words.

You shake your head in denial and relax back into him. You didn’t stand a chance of winning unless he let you, and you were more than willing to tap out early. Because even so, you were still in his arms at his mercy, and somehow that felt like the safest place to be. By the time you realize both of your laughter has faded to a thoughtful silence, he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to the shell of your ear.

When he lowers his arm from around your waist, you turn around to face him.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. He suddenly looks boyish, younger. Having crawled out of whatever shell of crushing expectation and responsibility he usually resided within.

When he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, his shoulders relax and his breaths slow. And for once, he indulges. In you. In the prospect of having someone to lean on and being leaned on in return. It’s a reminder that he’s allowed to experience nice things. To have a life to look forward to outside of lending himself to cause after cause.

You’re soft, and warm, and everything good a person could be. He pulls away slowly after a while, blinking down at you with heavy eyelids. You’re looking right back at him like he’s the world itself.

“Maybe you’re not so terrible,” you whisper, smiling.

Of everything he was feeling now, restless wasn’t one of them.

Thank you so much for reading! I promise I see every like, comment, and reblog and appreciate them all very much.

To join my “taglist,” follow @taleseverlasting

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x fem reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 30 days ago

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Just One Reason: Happiest Time of Year

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You put the phone down. You don’t even have the energy to be disappointed, because you’re not surprised. You don’t have hope left to be let down. You blow out between your lips and hang your head, holding it as you rest your elbows on your legs.

Right. There’s nothing left. You can’t ever accept that but you also can’t change that. Yet what is really the twist of the knife is that you’re not getting your money back. It’s the beginning of December and you’re dirt poor. Literally. Everything you have is now in the ground.

Well, at least you don’t have any gifts to buy. You roll your eyes back before another deluge of tears can flow over. You throw yourself back against the couch and sigh.

“So, how did that go?” Lloyd gives you a start as his timbre slices through the tension.

“How everything’s been going,” you sit up, embarrassed, unsure of how long he’s been there. “So, not well, but nothing I can do but keep going forward. If that’s even possible.”

“Mm, I’m sorry, toots,” he hums.

You stand and shrug. “I think I’m just going to go be alone.”

He nods as he watches you curl around the couch and cross the room. He doesn’t move from the doorway, “shoot, I never seen you like. I never imagined you so down. I wish I could do something to cheer you up.”

“You’ve done enough,” you insist. “Really. I mean, if I can’t get out of here quick enough, there’s a shelter--”

“A shelter? No, no, you stay here as long as you need to,” he shows his palms. “Oh, wait, I got an idea. Something to distract you, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you drone.

“Tell me you’re not tired of wearing my handmedowns,” he tugs on the borrowed pullover and you shy away.

“Better than nothing,” you say.

“Right, well, I like that about you, tootsie roll. Easy to please, but you gotta start knowing your worth. You deserve better. So how about it, we can go for a shopping spree?”

You blink at him. “Lloyd, I can’t. I don’t--”

“Merry Christmas. Consider it my gift to you.”

“Christmas...”

“Nothing wrong with an early present,” he smirks. “Come on.”

“But... I can’t pay you back. I can’t even get you a gift.” You deflate, “without my laptop, I don’t even have a job.”

“Add that to the list,” he ticks the air with his finger. “Your gift to me will be coming with me. So, let’s go.”

You stare at him. You can’t say no. Not after everything. He’s all you have left and he’s so nice. That man you saw shouting in a sandwich shop turned out to be so much different than you expected. For once, a bad thing ended up better.

“Right, sure. Let’s go hit a Walmart,” you force a smile. It’s less than genuine. It hurts your cheeks and your heart. Your eyes sting.

“Walmart? Pfft, forget that noise,” he grabs onto your wrist and pulls you through the doorway. “Coat, boots, tie em up tight. We’re gonna be doing a lot of walking.”

❄️

You rub your hands together as you cross the lot towards the mall. As you near the doors, the glass reflects you. You see yourself next to Lloyd. You see how much you don’t belong, not just him, but there.

As always, his hair is perfect quaffed. Combed neatly with the sides trimmed close. And he wears a stylish coat, not a practical one. His leather boots give him little traction and he grabs your shoulder as he slips on a patch of ice.

“Woah, you okay?” You grab his elbow to steady him. You’re not much help.

“Good,” he snorts. “Got you to hold me up.”

You scoff, “whatever.”

“Almost got you,” he teases.

“Almost got me what?” You wonder.

“Smiling. For real this time,” he says. “I’ll get there.”

He reaches for the door and opens it for you. You thank him as you step through. It feels overly polite, especially for him. He follows you inside and the warmth trapped in the crowded mall hits you like as wall. Your shivering is quickly replaced with a sheen of sweat.

You remove your gloves, then your hat. The only things you have that are yours are your outerwear; only what you wore on that horrible night. You sniff and look around. The other shoppers gab and giggle and you just want to melt onto the floor with the thawed snow.

“Oh, first thing’s first, lattes,” Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you towards the open front of the cafe.

“Lloyd.”

“Look, they have a candy cane one. Gotta try it. Tis the season, right?”

“That’s nice, but really, it’s fine. We should just get what we need,” you say.

“We need lattes,” he insists as he stops in the queue.

“Alright,” you surrender. You’re not going to argue. You have no place to. He's doing something nice, you shouldn’t be such a dark cloud.

The cafe is as busy as the rest of the place. You’re not surprised. It’s that time of year. There’s jingling music, bright signs declaring outrageous sales, and tinsel all around.

Lloyd clucks, “jeez, sure taking their time.”

“It’s packed,” you say softly. “Gotta be patient, I guess.”

“Mm, guess you’re right.” He taps his toe and puts his hands on his hips.

You glance over at him as he stares over the heads of the girls in front of you. They narrow as he watches the barista chatter to a coworker as she refills the whipped cream dispenser. He sighs. For a moment, you see the man you first met in that shop, yelling about a wrap.

“Would be fast if they stopped yapping,” he mutters under his breath.

“Lloyd,” you chide gently, “if it’s too much of a wait, we can skip it.”

“No, I want a latte. You need a latte. You deserve one,” he snips. “You should be spoiled, tootsie. You’ve lost so much, you should get one thing you want.”

It hits you like a slap. ‘Lost so much...’ If only he knew how much. Like really knew how much it hurts. You lower your chin and shudder out a breath. You’re dizzy from all the people and the noise and the smell of cinnamon.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I sit down?” You ask breathily.

“Yeah, that’s fine, but... are you okay?” His forehead lines with concern.

“It’s... yeah, just realise I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“No? I told you to help yourself.” He arches a brow.

“Yeah, I just forgot. Lot on my mind,” you nod and look away. “I see a table in the corner. I just need to rest my legs.”

“Sure, sweetie,” he reaches and runs his hand down your arm, a gesture that surprises you.

You watch his touch fall past your sleeve and you cautiously back away. He turns his attention back to the counter and his throat bobs as he moves forward with the line. You retreat and claim the small table in the corner.

It isn’t just the crowd or the music or the cheer, it’s that he’s not there. Your dad isn’t there. You might not be alone and you owe Lloyd that but you are in agony. You just want him back.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #just one reason #the gray man

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ranwan-love · 1 month ago

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Pick a Card: A reality check you need.

Trying to give you a reality check as your blunt bestfriend....

Buy me coffee:

https://buymeacoffee.com/idcbutibel6

Pile one

Friends?? How is your friend circle?? Are you happy with them? Are they really nice people who knows the balance of give and take?? Do they support you even behind your back or just empty words on your face??? How do you feel after spending time with them???? Babe there are some questions you need to ask yourself and these are few of those.

You know what true nature of our soul is stability. It's not high vibration, low vibration or any vibration at all it's completely shunya. Don't confuse this with staying the way you are or not growing because you are at peace whatsoever but it's rather being at peace. Peace brings stability or anything that brings you peace leads to stability. Like walking out of your comfort zone brings peace or resting when needed.

Like let me explain

we are at frequency A; we attract everything of similar frequency. Eventually the space gets filled you can't attract more or if you forcefully try to attract or manifest, same frequency material will come to you in different ways or facade? And you might even feel exhausted or in endless loop.

you increase your frequency; like by doing your inner work, accepting your casualties, improving them and stay in this period for some time. When it becomes new normal to you, your frequencies shift and you attract better new things. This is kinda what I mean with stability and peace. I am sorry if I am not able to explain it well lol. But at same time if you start playing victim or self pity your vibration goes down and you attract same frequency people and things in life!!! So like I don't know if you gonna accept it or not but the friends or people around you are direct reflection of you. So stop resonating with these part of yourself, clean the space and focus on parts of yourself that you want to resonate with.

So now ask yourself if your friend or family don't bring you peace are they right for you? If not, why they are here and to what extent? On what parts they are reflecting on you.

Pile Two

Parents+protection??? Okay does your parents need protection or you need protection from them or maybe protection from yourself as you have mastered there voice in your head which is always there to hurt you.

I don't know why I suddenly thought of Palestine so I am setting intention for them too that they are safe. And if there's some other issues like parents having bad health or just you having tricky relationship with them. I hope it heals too.

You know what this pile at first gave me two type of energies one who love their parents or just hate them but after few minutes I realised no it's rather specific. It's pretty much love and hate relationship. It's like you love them alot but things they do, say or project on you ruins you completely. You might be living under same rooftop which turns out to be really toxic and takes quite a toll on you. At same time you can't hate them completely because you see how much they are working for you.

So I want to say it's ok. Things make way more sense from your perspective intead of some third party who will ask you to cut off them.

Instead try accepting, forgiving and drawing boundaries. I guess it kinda sounds stupid but let me try to explain

Accept that there's a part of them which cares for you even tho their actions says otherwise. Like even there words like wish you were never born, you should die, you would eat us alive anything. They don't mean it. But you would say hey they mean it because it sounded so genuine when they said it! So listen it's there ego self who said it, ego who have been tormented, went through pain, trauma,experience of there own. Try to imagine there higher selfs they definitely hate this behaviour too. Like does there higher self hate you same way, do they wish for you to die? It's just they project there pain on you and it somehow relieves them. You know why because that's all they can do! You have a chance to escape, you have freedom. They never did. Be it your mom or dad! So this is all they could!, so there words hold no value other than just pain.

genuineness you felt in those words was pain they were feeling. It sometimes also comes from a place that my kid is different what if society doesn't appreciate it, worst case hurt him/her? Because that's what happened to them. So while trying to protect you from so called society they become something worse or you can say became the society they were scared of!

So forgive them! Everytime they argue stay quiet, don't give unnecessary reaction,observe where the pain is coming from. You will be able to generate empathy without getting hurt.

Third draw boundaries! Now you accepted and forgave them but that doesn't mean now this is enough so draw boundaries! Start with subtle ones and than eventually increase them. Create space for yourself.

Pile Three

Okay so how does it feel to be your biggest enemy? Does it feel good? Are you enjoying it? Just a genuine question are you sadist or masochist? Maybe both??? Like is it enough or are you going to do it more?? Do what??

"SELF HARM!!!! SELF PITY!!!!"

Like okay bud! I know you had harsh life, traumatic childhood even whole of teenage but does that mean you gonna keep self pitying yourself? Do you think a prince will come?? Your twin flame will come or perhaps jungkook will come??

It's wierd to explain but it's more like you don't play victim but self pity alot!! It also takes away power in really quiet way.

Let me try explaining with example. Imagine you have set of bad experiences, where you barely survived and reached here. You definitely observe how strong you were or how much you have grown. You analyse that thing so well to point you have realisation that you were not a victim but a warrior. But than you self pity like oww man why me why such harsh experience didn't i deserve better, i was a kid too. Would I be better if things were different??

You just keep reliving the moment and the pain.

At this point you just like pain? I think you watch way too many kdrama where main character is shown so powerful because she goes through so much. So you have made this belief

"pain=growth/greatness". The pain or experience you were given they might have been source of transformation or growth but you reliving those experiences in your head is not. You are just patting your ego that you are next chosen one or something. Babe even if you are chosen one , if you stay stuck in your head, procrastinating what you need to do, ignoring your body needs you won't be able to fulfill your purpose of chosen one. So do some grounding and practical work. Like if you are doing everything and still things are not working it's simply because you are stuck in this mental cycle.

I don't know if this will go along the above message but just accept whatever happened,happened.

You already learnt from it, If some message is important it will come as direct clear sentence in your head. Best of luck.

*you might be poet or writing poems might help you release this self pity or pain inducing habbit!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks alot!!! 💚

Please please let me know if it resonated with you.

It will help me develope confidence as I am really new to doing readings for other people. It was always limited to myself or my really close people. So your opinions would matter alot.

Thanks alot once again

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howtotrainabraincell · 2 months ago

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Greetings my fellow AC mutual!!!

Lately I have been reading all your canon posts here and may I say that I love them all. You have created amazing canons here. I'm feeling extra romantic so here's an idea: how would the Assassins, including Templars, feel on their wedding day? The before, during and after the wedding. You can choose all of them or a few of them.

Please and thank you 😊🙏 and have a wonderful day today.

Sure thing! This is a cute one!!

A/N: I may not have put it in each one, but they will respect their wife's wishes to not be intimate on their wedding night (whether it be fear or being exhausted from the festivities). But...I mean come on. Who wouldn't want to have a wedding night with any of them?

ALSO, there may be multiple parts to this bc there's A LOT I got going on in this mind of mine when it comes to this lot getting married...

Jacob Frye

Before:

You know this man will have his Rooks there lolll they'll be throwing the biggest loudest bash London has ever seen in honor of their Boss getting hitched. He just might make Greenie his best man (he teases the man to the ninth realm and back but they're good buddies for real).

Jacob takes this seriously. He's still his wonderfully goofy and chaotic self but he takes certain aspects of marriage more seriously. He wants her to know that he'll be good to her, he'll protect her with his life, and he'll love her even after he dies. He also takes setting up a home for her seriously. The man isn't for anything lavish and she isn't either (her cozy non-materialistic ways are something that majorly attracted Jacob to her - high key don't think he'd like somebody who was materialistic, as happiness is in life not things) but he wants to set up a nice little place for them to call 'home' together. A place where they can be together as husband and wife and hopefully have a handful of little rooks running around one day. A place that's theirs and theirs alone.

During:

He thinks she looks beautiful in her wedding dress (he bet she looks even better out of it tho...PFFT). He'll never admit to it, but his eyes began to sting at the sight of her - and of course he wasn't rubbing the tears from his eyes throughout the ceremony! He just had something in his eyes...

He's very genuine and sweet when he recites his wedding vows 'In sickness and in health, etc.' to you, both of you having decided to save the personal vows for each other privately. (Heads up Jacob cried when he read her letter of vows and promises to him, he couldn't believe how sweet it was. Man was legit sitting there thinking 'How'd I get such a wonderful wife?'). He genuinely cannot believe that he found a wife who loves and accepts him for him. Rest assured that any insecurities Jacob has before they marry will soon be gone because his wife loves him the way he's always deserved.

Once the marital vows are said and done, they move on to the exchange of rings...and that's when the tears start.

Jacob knows that she isn't materialistic and that she doesn't need a fancy ring to know that he loves her, but he thinks she deserves it, and he has just thing in mind. Something that compliments her eyes because they're one of his top favorite (and he has a lot lol) things about her. Something that reflects the joy in her eyes when she laughs, the smile crinkles she's developed from years of managing to laugh through her struggles, and the swirls of color. Jacob would definitely enlist the help of his big sister in finding a ring for his soon to be wife and does.she.come.through. When it comes time for the ring exchange, he's pleasantly surprised to find that she put just as much thought into his ring as he did hers.

Both are engraved with confessions of their love for one another and intricately designed to match the spouse they were made for.

After:

He would enjoy the celebration, and it would be planned and based off of how his wife feels about such celebrations. Jacob being a bit more extroverted is likely to enjoy socializing and having a big get together - and if his wife is the same way then great! But if she's more introverted and can only take so much he's whisking her away, so she doesn't get stressed out. I actually think that he would want to be alone with his new wife and not just for *wink wink* but he wants some alone time to just have a slow moment with her. He would enjoy the celebration his Rooks put together for them and she thinks it's so sweet that they went all out, but as we know Mr. Frye has a tendency to act rashly when he becomes impatient. Next thing you know, he's scooping his wife up without a care in the world and carrying her off with a grin five miles wide, her face the exact replica of a tomato as she clings to him, and the Rooks cheering them goodbye as Jacob carries her off.

If she's afraid of the wedding night activities this man is instantly comforting her assuring her that he doesn't expect anything, he would never hurt her, and he'll wait for her. If she's tired? He is too honestly (he does have a lot of energy, but I imagine when he's alone he just OOF crashes but doesn't want anyone to see it. I mean he does have a full-time job annoying Evie ofc lol what else are baby brothers for?) so cuddling and going to sleep together is just fine with him. But if she wants him - tired or not - he'll give her everything he's got and then some.

Do I need to go into Jacob's wedding night? I mean... it's Jacob. The man lives to serve and please. And please he does...

Bayek of Siwa (I included him bc he legit started it all technically a Hidden One but potato pitatoh)

Before: This man is joyful on his wedding day. He's so excited to marry her and spend their days together. Whether this is after his divorce from Aya or we're not going with cannon and it's his first marriage - this man wants to be a husband, he is husband material. He can't wait to pledge himself to her before the gods and dedicate his life to loving her. He can't wait for her to be his wife HOWEVER - If we're going with cannon he was rejected when he proposed to Aya, so he has some understandable hesitancy when he proposes to his love. Can you blame him? He really loved the one he proposed to the first time and got shot down poor guy. It's the second time he's proposed in this life, and he does not make the mistake of thinking that just because they're in love that she'll say yes. He made that mistake before, and it felt like a knife to the gut.

BUT - If we're going with head cannon... this time he found himself a woman who was ecstatic to be proposed to by him (and I mean literally ecstatic like she tackled him in happiness making him laugh his ass off before she showered him in kisses and said yes).

If sticking to cannon he is worried and afraid deep down to remarry. He loves her very much so much in fact he believes that he very well loves her even more than he loved Aya (which like WOW ya know what I'm saying?). But when he's around her all fears and worries are eased and he comes to his senses knowing that he would forever regret not spending the rest of his life with her, now that he's met her and has her in his life.

Headcannon wise he's still a bit scared as being a Medjay is stressful and a known profession in which one is likely to gain enemies (insert middle finger to members of the order of ancients). He worries about her being targeted but he knows that she can take care of herself (she'll make one hell of a Medjay's wife that's for sure LOL). He also fears that it would be selfish to marry her and put her in danger - but upon sharing this fear with her she quickly dismantled his fear. Whether they marry or do not marry, either way - she could possibly be targeted by his enemies, to this he agreed. Then she asserted that it would be better that they face their adversaries together with their love motivating them to eliminate all threats, than to face those who oppose them separately. To this he simply smiled and hugged her tightly melting into her embrace.

During: They didn't really have weddings in Ancient Egypt more so the signing of a binding marriage document, the woman moving into the man's home to live with him as his wife, and then it could/would be followed by a celebration. However...that is Egypt as a whole...not Siwa. Those of us who have seen this beautiful spot in Egypt where beloved Bayek is from, know that it's beautiful and lively (quite frankly a great place to start a family) and you just know that Bayek is from a community that loves him. They're going to throw him and his intended a celebration to end all celebrations.

Hepzefa ISN'T dead I.DON'T.CARE - he's absolutely Bayek's best man.

Bayek in his armor and her in a linen dress covered by a layer of sheer fabric with a lily in her hair, as they get married in the evening when it cools off, the sand unable to burn their feet and the sun unable to glare in their eyes so they can actually look at each other lol. Any fear he had is gone when he sees her at the end of the aisle. They meet each other at the end of the aisle and join arms to walk together toward Hepzefa (who OFC is marrying them obvs). They make their vows before the gods to love, cherish, respect, support and be honest with each other for as long they both live.

After:

Again, if we're sticking to cannon, I think that Bayek would move in with his new wife instead of her moving in with him. A new home and a fresh start with his new wife, is just what this man could use after his arduous journey.

Headcannon however they would move into their own place in Siwa together and work together to make their home everything they dreamed it could be. I HIGHLY believe that he would find a way to make a pond for her filled with water lilies (his nickname for her btw - she's his "beautiful lily").

After a night of dancing, laughter, feasting and sheer happiness they would go home together. They would end the night by sitting on the roof of their new home together watching the Oasis of Siwa from afar, bundled up tightly together in a blanket against the chill air of the Egyptian night. He would point out the different spots of Siwa from they sat, but mostly they would admire the beauty of the moon on the oasis not too far away. They might even go for a swim in the cool waters together, laughing and splashing each other. Tell.me.he doesn't sneak attack her from underwater lloollll. They'd spin around in the water easily with Bayek holding her against him and smiling as she gushes about how much she's enjoyed the day.

I don't think Bayek would make love to her on the banks of the oasis for their first time the man has romantic plans that he plans to woo her with lol. (Later on, in their marriage though...woo!) Rest assured that their first time will be sweet and romantic, he'll make her as comfortable as possible, with pillows everywhere and candlelight guiding their hands within the walls of their home.

Also like the idea of them traveling to Alexandria together and having their honeymoon there. Them exploring the Alexandrian Lighthouse together, the library (shortly before it BURNED DOWN DAMN YOU CAESER), horseback riding through the sand dunes and around the lush greenery near the Nile, going to the markets together and giggling about whatever it is that they find funny, sailing on the Nile together and fishing/gathering reeds for various projects, THEY WOULD CLIMB THE PYRAMIDS TOGETHER CHANGE.MY.MIND.

Evie Frye

Before: Their wedding isn't one that can be celebrated openly but they still have a celebration that is the epitome of love. The two women had both agreed to write their vows for one another and exchange them after the wedding, wanting to keep their promises to each other and words of love just between them.

They couldn't decide on names lol. Evie wanted her last name, and she wanted Evie's last name. But they quickly came up with a solution as they both have brothers. They decided to hyphenate their last names for some extra cover. Evie becomes Mrs. Frye-(L/N) and she becomes Mrs. (L/N)-Frye. That way no one would suspect them being married and if anyone ever asks, Evie married one of her (wife's) brothers and is her "sister-in-law" the same way Jacob is a stand in husband for Evie's wife and she is Evie's "sister-in-law". History will say that they were sisters in law hahaha.

But for real though tell me why they end up calling each other "Mrs" SO MUCH in private (Evie almost forgets that she's a Dame bc she gets called Missus *insert her last name* so much by her wife haha).

During:

Not able to shout their love from the rooftops unfortunately, the couple settles to have a very small and private ceremony. Jacob - who would NEVER breathe a word, Henry who's just happy to see them happy, Ned would probably be there and while Abberline would be SHOOK (I don't care if that word died out like 8 years ago lol it's funny) he would be pleased to know that they've found happiness together.

Tell me why I'm so damn sure that Jacob marries them (he would do that for his sister jokes, loving eye rolls from his big sister and all). They would either get married on the train not too far from the Red Lion where they would go afterward to celebrate, or in Henry's shop (his wedding gift would be lots of various flowers ranging from "everlasting love" to "trust and loyalty").

OR I do have a head cannon that they don't have any witnesses at all. They go up to rooftop facing the Thames and wait for sunrise together with their rings and a basket of goodies they both enjoy. When the sun begins to rise, they make their vows to each other tearfully and very sincerely, pledging the rest of their lives to each other and promising to always be together and love one another. They do this so that they can start the new day together as wives and say what they truly want to one another without an audience. It'll even become tradition years later that they both stay up until sunrise to celebrate their anniversary as the years go on, just the two of them

After:

They do their own wedding presents, and the new Mrs. Frye can't help but giggle at Evie's reaction when she gives her the special edition of her favorite book. I think we can all imagine how ecstatic the loveable bookworm that is Dame Evie Frye would be.

When Evie reads the vows, her new wife has written for her she boo hoos too lol. She can't believe that she's lucky enough to have married such a sweet and wonderful woman. Especially when she thought she would never marry and dedicate her entire life to the Creed.

Something fun the two women embark on together is setting up their home together. Not having been able to have had an open wedding they didn't have wedding showers or receive the traditional wedding gifts; they pick out each piece of their new home together! With how in sync, they are together there is hardly anything they disagree on (unless its Evie's wife trying to get her to stop working herself almost to death...by smooching her to the point where Evie looks like a laughing tomato haha) and their home comes together wonderfully. Everything in their home cozy and a reminder of their love.

It takes Evie a little bit before she finally lets go of the fear that getting married to her love, was nothing more than a wonderful dream. But each morning when she wakes up and either sees her wife next to her sleeping safe and sound, or she wakes to beautiful flowers followed by Mrs. Frye trailing in quietly with a cup of morning tea for her still sleepy wife. Her wife can rest assured that Dame Evie Frye will love her for the rest of their lives.

Altair Ibn La' Ahad

Before: He never thought he would marry or fall in love the way he's fallen in love with her. He's a naturally a confident man, so there's no doubt in his mind that he wants to be her husband and spend the rest of his life with her. There's no doubt...but there is worry. He worries about being a good husband to her in terms of giving her a safe stable home due to being an assassin and he knows that he can be...emotionally stunted, but he plans to correct that and never leave her wondering if he loves her. Because he does with his whole being. After all, if she can help pull him out of his younger arrogant ways, by gently and patiently telling him why he's wrong without criticizing him, then she can do anything.

During: His worries are vanquished when he sees her. He immediately knows that come what may, they'll be alright so long as they're together. He can't stop looking at her during the wedding, making her blush as he smiles at her (surprising the hell out of Malik lol bc the 'tHe nOvICe cAn SmILe?') As they take their vows a few cheeky looks are given here and there the pair obviously checking each other out, (insert Malik gagging like a goof). Altair can't get over how she looks like an otherworldly being with her beauty unmatched by anyone or anything. She can't get over how handsome and gallant he looks in his robes, with his hood down (GASP), his sword at his side as his thumbs rub the backs of her hands. (But with the hood thing he's never had anything to hide, he just wants to show his face and let everyone know that he's marrying her and that he's proud to be her husband. He's a very proud husband haha). When they seal their new union with a kiss, he bends down to pick her up and hold her tightly making her laugh. They both can't stop smiling, completely and utterly happy and excited to start the rest of their life together.

After: He would bring her jasmine and a few Damasks roses - they're nowhere near as beautiful as he thinks she is but the sweetness of each flower reminds him of her - in a neatly gathered bushel and loves the smile it brings to her face. He doesn't care about having a wedding night, he just wants to be with his wife and love on her in whatever manner she wishes. Sitting there and watching the stars over Masyaf or Jerusalem (depending on when/where they get married) If she wants to lay there with him and relax, he's happy to hold her and do just that. But if she wants him to take her...her mind will be blown at just how loving her new husband can be...

Ratonhnhake:ton/Connor Kenway

Before: He's worried about being a good husband. Very worried. He wants to be a wonderful husband to her, as wonderful as she is to him. He loves her with everything he has of course and would defend her with his life. But he was so focused on his mission to take the Templar order down, to get justice for his mother, so focused on his rage...that despite how much he loves her, he wonders if he can pull himself out of the dark mindset that he was in for so long to treat her the way she deserves. He will try but he still worries. He doesn't want to be angry (never at her keep in mind - about life in general) his entire life. Her kisses and presence helps though, more than she'll ever understand. He wants to be there for her as much as she's been there for him, through thick and thin, no matter what.

During: Feel like there would be two weddings for the couple. A colonial one (planned by the Homestead for the happy couple) and a traditional Mohawk wedding (planned by the Clan mother who is so excited to see him getting married), a wedding to honor both his and her culture. He stands like a statue clasping his hands in front of him patiently, eager, and nervously until he sees her. Cheesy as it is... the sight of her brings him peace. He can't even wait for her to make it to the altar, making his way to her down the aisle in a few long strides to meet her with a smile. They walk down the aisle together arm in arm and hands intertwined, unable to contain their excitement.

After: He can't stop staring at his wedding ring and smiling at it. Typically, the Mohawk people did not exchange wedding rings until modern times, but he loves his and what it represents. The eternal love and union he and his wife will share. His face hurts from smiling so much, but he doesn't mind it a bit. Now as for the wedding night... I think he would be very shy at first. Terrified of hurting her because he's very aware of the fact that he's massive and intimidates a lot of people. He would never do that to her. Being with her is honestly really enough for him, the emotional intimacy the two share is what made him so sure about making her his wife. The newlyweds would work their way up into sex slowly, getting a little closer each time and accompanied by lots of reassurance and soft laughter. And when they finally got it, the assassin and his wife had never felt more complete in their lives. He makes love in plenty of other ways though - mostly through his thoughtfulness and observation which leads to anticipation. He always knows what she needs before she even asks and he's always happy to help.

Their mornings start off with him usually waking first and realizing that marrying her wasn't a dream. He'll watch her sleeping peacefully in his arms, and then inspect their fingers where their wedding bands lie and realize that it's real. They got married. He's married to this wonderful woman. She's, his wife. Before he can begin to spiral in excitement he leans down and scoops her closer to him, burying his face in her neck which makes her laugh softly.

Venturing outside together to enjoy nature and do various outdoor activities, playful banter and pairing up to hunt together and scavenge. He'll look over and see her helping him with a fresh kill or scavenging other items and become overwhelmed with the desire to kiss her out of nowhere. Needless to say, lots of love and laughter fills the lives of Ratonhnhake:ton and his wife.

Henry Green/Jayadeep Mir

Before: He's happy and so ready to be her husband. He's admitted to himself that he's liked her from their first meeting, but he's loved her almost as long (which is not long at all because he fell for her quick). I don't know why but I can imagine that Jacob might try to do the whole "you know how the wedding night works right?" talk with him much to Henry's horror haha. He gently assures the younger Frye that he does in fact know what to do on his wedding night with his wife, if she'll have him. Don't worry though! The man is from India the birthplace of Kama Sutra...he knows what to do. Trust him.

During: Whether she wears the usual white dress or chooses to honor his culture by wearing traditional Indian bridal clothes, this man will be emotional. Guaranteed his eyes will begin to water when he sees how beautiful the woman he loves is, walking down the aisle to him. When they take each other's hands, he can't help the goosebumps of excitement he gets thinking about how lucky he feels to be marrying such a woman. He'll never understand how he got her to agree to marry him (despite being charming have a head cannon that his charm goes out the window when it comes to proposing to her lol he was so nervous that she would say no!) but he'll never forsake her or take her for granted. Perish the thought!

After: Get ready for a very fun honeymoon! Traveling together and studying each place you go, learning fun facts and the history behind the cultures. I think he would be so excited to show her around where he grew up and tell her stories (the happier ones) from his childhood. I also think that Mr. Green would be eager to prove that his intelligence is more than just the book variety...

Shay Patrick Cormac

Before: He's excited. But also, nervous. So nervous. He's aware that the type of life he leads isn't the safest or the most routine/regular thing a man can do. But you can bet that he'll be damned if he doesn't give his all to be a good husband to her. A worry that runs through his mind is dying at sea on the Morrigan and leaving her widowed and alone. He noticeably goes on less voyages after they marry only going when it's necessary. Depending on when they get married, he may still be traveling around on Templar/Shay way business - but either way whether he's close to retirement or still working, he wants to settle down with her. He plans to create a nice home for her, take care of her, love her, and have a handful of beautiful babies that he'll love almost as much as he loves her.

During: The moment he lifts her veil from her face he can't take his eyes off of her. Literally. The only time he does is to briefly and gently slide the ring onto her finger, otherwise he's smiling and staring at her like a lovesick puppy lol. He's so busy admiring his bride that Haytham with a smirk on his face gently clears his throat reminding Shay that the time to seal his new union has come. When the Irish captain realizes what the Grandmaster is saying the man blushes in slight embarrassment, and you bet he turns right around and kisses his new wife. The pair laughs as those invited applaud in celebration, but they're in their own world together.

After: After the wedding he'll take her to his home (read: their home that he hopes she loves) in New York so they can be alone together, in more ways than one. Their home will definitely know what love is when they're there together. He's a go go go kind of man as we've all seen but he's slow and gentle with her and if she finds herself too tired to celebrate in a more intimate way, she better get ready for the best cuddle session of her life. However, if she does find herself in need of her husband...let's just say that he's Captain of more than the Morrigan... Tell me why the idea of him untying his wife's corset is very erotic... Once they start married life together this man is taking her on the Morrigan (if she wants to go that is if not, he has plenty of other fun things in mind...) and sailing her to wherever she wants to go. I imagine she would choose Ireland to learn about where her husband's family came from, and Shay would love showing her around his place of origin.

Haytham Kenway

Before: He's composed in public ever the austere Grandmaster.... but a mess in private. He can't stop fidgeting with his cravat, pulling at his sleeves, straightening his coat. He looks absolutely handsome, but he knows that he won't hold a candle to his angel of a wife - who he DEFINITELY peeked at lol. You telling me this man didn't try to go to talk to her before the wedding because he missed her, and he doesn't stop short by the crack in the door, dumbfounded by how beautiful she looks? His face will be redder than his vest. With how in love with her he is, he feels less the confident Templar, and more so a little boy in very deep love. He's so happy that he gets to marry his love and spend his life with her, just the sight of her alone helps him to calm down and realize: he's marrying the love of his life.

During:

When he sees her coming down the aisle to him, he forgets how to breathe for a moment. The majority of the ceremony is spent exchanging loving gazes, gentle hand squeezes and him trying not to pass out. She notices how flustered he seems and reaches up to gently cup his face for no one's benefit but his. Needless to say, it helps to calm him significantly.

He can't believe how beautiful she is and how he got her to agree to marry him. Haytham doesn't say it in his vows, but he'll give her the world and more and always take care of her. With this man I have a feeling that actions speak louder than words (I mean did you see how he got rizzed by Ziio LOL everyone thought HE would woo HER, but she BAMBOOZLED him). He may not speak what he's feeling, and she may have to play fill in the blanks sometimes when he becomes overwhelmed by his emotions (cue him being very grateful for her patience), but with her complete agreement he's more than happy to show her in a deep kiss or something a bit more husbandly...

When they're pronounced husband and wife he steps forward while the officiant is still speaking and kisses her with abandon. The Grandmaster is thrown out the window for the moment and the lovestruck man comes out much to his new wife's delight. He embraces her tightly never wanting to let her go and his arms sweep her up in quick spin that makes her squeak in laughter as his own grin spreads across his face.

He would spoil.her.rotten come the wedding and wedding presents.

After:

The celebration would be a grand one and last long into the night. Shay swears upon the Morrigan that he'll knock Hickey's lights out if he gets pissed and starts to cause a ruckus LOOOLL. Haytham is a good dancer, but he doesn't like to make a spectacle of himself, for his new bride however he'll get out there and dance with her feeling absolute contentment in knowing that of all the men in the room that could have her in their arms he has her instead. He enjoys watching her have fun, and every time she finds him in the room and smiles at him while she's dancing, the man swears to the gods that his heart starts to race. You can definitely bet that his face stays a decent shade of red for the majority of the ceremony and party.

The party doesn't end when she comes to him and asks if he's ready to retire for the night, taking his hand when he agrees and pulling him toward the stairs. This man's face is ON FIRE as they go up the stairs together because everyone knows what they're going up there to do and that damn Irish Captain won't stop smirking at him -

He'll help her undress not solely for the purpose of making love to her, but because he wants to help her get comfortable (her beautiful form in front of him in nothing but a chemise is definitely motivation too...). Making her comfortable is his number one priority whether they make love that night or not. Making sure the curtains are drawn so the sunlight won't bother her in the morning, the fire is lit to keep her warm (I head cannon them getting married in winter for some reason... I mean they can keep each other warm during the colder months), making sure she has water on her bedside chamber.

They lay together after the long night holding each other comfortably softly speaking about how wonderful everything was. They may discuss the Order if she's curious about it and she'll make goo goo eyes at him as he speaks so passionately about it, with him blushing as she looks at him so lovingly. They may discuss books they've been reading together (tell me Haytham wouldn't have a private little book club for just him and his wife I DARE YOU). Things between them may become charged when they hold each other's gaze for too long... and then he'll really make her Mrs. Kenway...

NOTE: I KNOW I DIDN'T DO SEVERAL CHARACTERS IN THIS POST I'M SORRY OKAY. Seriously though some characters came easier than others - but there will in fact be a part 2.

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weskie · 25 days ago

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hello weskie, you are so cool! here is something i can't stop thinking about! i hope you enjoy!

stars wesker saves someone and they look at him with big round innocent eyes and thank him profusely and he has no idea how to respond because it's giving him a crisis. he backs off really really awkwardly and nods them off and feels... bad for it. bad. he feels... bad.

what? is he going soft? no, of course not, so he shoves it down and continues like he's supposed to. easy. it's nearly automatic, anyways. slap on a smile.

but what was that, anyway?

he goes back to his office later, when the adrenaline has run off, and he is left with a strange empty feeling when he thinks about returning to the lab again under Umbrella and Spencer and Markus' direction. instead of the consuming pleasant numbness, there is a... some deep lack he hasn't felt in so long, since who knows when.

thinking about the last time he felt it makes his brain feel like it's buzzing, so he doesn't scoop it out from the repressed cage it's in.

not yet, anyway. not that there is ever a good time.

the more he thinks about the nice things civilians say to him, the way they look at him, the way they thank him... the feeling of pride he gets when he completes a mission and no life is lost. being thanked and praised and being someone's savior... it makes him feel warm. it makes him feel like he'd got an A on a test, when he'd microinject a cell and the new gene would be accepted...

it's warm, and it glows tiny and steady, and he feels like he's felt this before but he can't place it and he can't trust anyone with it and he must foster it lest it die and leave him feeling that strange emptiness again.

he is being weak, and yet in this weakness he feels like he finally gels and flows like salmon up a river with team alpha, even mingling properly with team bravo. it's beneficial, right?

but he submits some paperwork for umbrella and the crushing weight around him is suffocating, exhausting the flame. unity is strength. never question your authority. compassion is weakness...

compassion is weakness, right?

and then he saves a child.

and the child looks up at him in a defining moment that will never be erased from their psyche as long as they live, the image of the man who saved them a hero they will think of ten years later and wonder how he's doing.

and wesker is struck again with this feeling, but this time it's not just adrenaline pulling his strings loose.

he embraces it. the kid gives him a hug for saving them.

he returns to his office later and sits in his chair and takes his badge out. he stares at it, the expression behind his shades perplexed and confused... and let down... and ashamed, and immiserated by a sudden and intense feeling of emptiness and lack, like a teddy bear missing an eye; incomplete, the tiniest match of the flame of empathy flickering steadily in him because it crossed paths with the desire to succeed and a savior complex.

artificial.

it cannot last, it won't last. wesker has more important things to do; he is temporary. he should get up and cease this pointless–

but wesker sits there and he looks at the cold reflection in that badge. he looks at the lie of a man whose sole seed of truth is planted in the lifesaving actions he takes for others that umbrella would have no qualms killing for their goals.

umbrella would have no qualms killing him for their goals, either.

chris is thrumming on his guitar; wesker can hear the gentle pluck of chords, clumsy and fumbling, self-taught and learning on their own accord, not forced or coerced.

and for what feels like the very first time the thought has a genuine and concerning amount of feeling to it, wesker wonders what it would be like if he could run away from umbrella... if he could leave... what it would be like to learn what you want when you want to, eat what you want when you want to eat it, dream and fulfill yourself.

have a sense of self instead of a sense of cohesion within a hive that will die to serve.

ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

This is so tender and devastating all at once. The idea of Wesker slowly but surely falling into the realization that his life could be more, that there is more than what he was raised into at all of those boarding schools, that his immense talent can be used for good… but knowing defecting could and likely would cost him his livelihood if not his life altogether. I wonder if he ever thought about it. I imagine he would’ve at some point. Defection was already an idea in his head, clearly, when Umbrella operations started going tits up. But to do so to pursue a life in which he is a hero– a real hero, not just for subterfuge– is just *chef’s kiss*. I LOVE the idea of an AU where s.t.a.r.s. wesker was truly good, which might be heavy influence from that good wesker au fic i shared a while back, but i do think it would be so interesting to see. especially considering how it would change his relationships with the series' protagonists

#ask #nshtn #your brain is incredible for this #albert wesker #resident evil #i can almost guarantee this will be giving me brainworms somehow

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mothmanperson · 1 year ago

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Picture Unperfect

cw: gender neutral reader, slightly insecure reader, angst, tiniest bit of fluff, reader doesn’t cry, mean frat dude probably, ooc probably

tw: mocking, being made fun of for appearance

well at least until you have the glow-up everyone else seems to be having, or already had, or never needed.

you were so jealous of those people,

and you genuinely never understood how it even came to, that you befriended them.

that they genuinely want to hang out with you in breaks, write you(by their own will, mind you) regularly or ask if you‘d like to go out with them, to a restaurant, expensive ones, your friends seemed to have that money, or amusement parks, or to one of your places.

you were amazed by the fact they simply didn‘t care. they didn’t care that you looked a mess 80% of the time, they didn’t care that you had emotions, that you were more sad and depress at times. your small friend group didn’t care that your room looked how it looked, overlooking the trash mountain by the side of your bed, which you didn‘t have the energy’s to clean up yet.

you were never conventionally attractive. and you never will be, you made peace with that. it was hard, and it still is. every time you come across a reflective surface and catch a peek of yourself you falter, jump at someone you don’t quite recognize. you know those features, all to well, after spending hour standing in front of a mirror, criticizing every wrong placed cell in your body, but they don’t make sense in the way you want them to. your image in your mind is so much different than whatever it is that owlishly blinks back at you.

but after years of yearning to be normal, to look normal, you‘ve come to an agreement with your body and mind, and now you don’t completely hate how you look anymore. it was nice in a way, but it still wasn’t easy.

you felt like you lost so much in your younger years. something you could never recover or catch up on.

conventionally attractive people have it easy, you always thought. sure they might have problems too, but they didn’t wake up with dread, dressing in the biggest and darkest clothes because nothing else felt right on their dirty skin, you always told yourself, in that close mindedness of yours. and that’s okay, somehow this close mindedness brings comfort, just once you only thought of yourself.

conventionally attractive people didn’t have the problem of seeing their friends get pined after left anf right, didn’t have to give advice to a topic they couldn‘t even imagine, and only dream of.

people tend to say ‚your time will come‘ or ‚you will meet someone when you least expect it‘, well…. now you don’t expect it at all anymore, so where is your soulmate? you angrily thought to yourself as a, now ex friend, told you how hard it was to have three people have a crush on her at the same time, because it was so exhausting trying to be nice to them, even if they annoyed her and she only had eyes for one.

‚just block them‘

you once said to which she simply replied

,i don’t want to be mean‘

you stood up and left then and there. your friendship crumbled like ash after. and you never talked again.

romantic interaction and people telling you they like you, romantically or platonically, wasn’t really a thing for you growing up.

one or two friends stayed with you over the years, but the rest you never saw or even talked to anymore.

you often wonder if they think about you as much as you do about them and the way they openly disrespected you and hurt your feelings and you didn’t even get it.

you never had much reassurance growing up that how you looked didn’t matter, that to some people you looked cool, that they wanted to be friends with you because you looked the way you looked.

and that ruined so much for you, most of which you have yet to heal from, yet you’re trying your best.

and then, after you graduated from secondary school, you went off to a technical college. were you met your new friends.

they were so odd and awkward at the beginning. but so were you. you guessed it was destined you got jumbled together into this mess of a group you call friends.

and things finally started to look up. you laughed and cried, shared secrets and insulted each other, it just fit perfectly.

you were oh so greatful to finally find people that you could start to believe, wanted to be friends with you.

even when you started to doubt and ask, they always reassured you, so lovingly, in a way no one else had, you had no other chance than to believe them.

but you have yet to come over the fact that such, ethereal, pretty and handsome people, wanted to be friends, with you, it sounded absurd and made absolutely no sense to you.

all of them were more than just conventionally attractive, and definitely way above ‚over average‘ and they definitely knew, how could they not?

gojo satoru, a tall, white haired dude with big blue eyes was the heartthrob of the school. wearing sunglasses all the time, his laid back and nonchalant personality made him even more popular with everyone but the teachers.

geto suguru was more toned down, a calm and collected individual, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as much of a menace as satoru. his long hair, done in an attractive loose man-bun most of the time, helped bring across his put together yet relaxed persona. and slightly slanted and ever narrowed eyes that gave him such an alluring look that had everyone swooning in secret.

(he even had tunnels, a feature you shared, which made you even more happy, his were just a bit smaller than yours)

and last but not least, shoko leiri, an ever tired, chain smoking woman. her brown hair suited her well, and while controversial, so did her dark circles, it gave her such character you couldn’t even begin to describe. when you looked at her, everything just clicked into place and made sense. having smoker parents yourself, her scent was comforting, oddly enough, mixed with her cherry scented lipgloss (she sometimes shares it with you).

and then there was you… you knew how you looked like, and that’s the exact reason you avoid looking at yourself in group pictures. it was a sweet gesture of them, of course, and you appreciated not being left out, but you simply couldn’t stand seeing yourself next to them. so out of place, so happy yet, it almost disgusted you, you disgusted yourself for ruining such a pretty photo once again.

‚aww, it looks so cute!‘

you excitedly tell your friends as they show you the picture they took of you all while out eating, skillfully ignoring that nauseatingly familiar face, stuffing itself full with food. they don’t notice how you felt, years of covering your disappointment made that possible.

it’s not like you didn’t want them to see or know, because they did, you just… didn’t know how to stop doing it.

if you knew someone, gojo most of the time, took a picture, you took great care in hiding your face, with your hand or a piece of clothing. but sometimes your weren’t fast enough or didn’t notice gojo was taking a picture in the first place. he loved to take those kinds of pictures. and you let him have his fun, admittedly, some of them were really funny and made you laugh aswell, but you‘d never tell them that… they‘d never let you live it down.

it was only one time this kind of escalated into something ugly…

———————————————————————

„oh my god, i look disgusting in this picture..“

„whaaat? no! you look totally cute“

you shot gojo a glare as you continued to look through the plethora of pictures he had taken, physically sick at the way you looked.

it was already evening and the sun just started to set. you and gojo sat on a bench, waiting for geto and shoko to come back from their smoking break. satoru hated the smell and you didn’t smoke anymore so you two always did something else while they killed their lungs.

and today satoru felt like taking pictures, stupid ones that looked ugly no matter how you looked at it, but also some really pretty ones if it wasn’t for you and your little imperfections that only seemed visible to you.

„i’m going to delete them..“

you said, after a lengthy pause and instantly were tackled. gojo put his whole body weight on top of you and reached for his phone, eyes wide and panicked.

„NO YOU‘RE NOT- THOSE PICTURES ARE AMAZING-„

he yelled, or more like whined as he struggled to get ahold of his phone, you kept far away from him. you tried to push him off but to no avail, so you wriggled your way out from beneath him and took some steps back as a precaution.

„nooo- i look awful in these, i’m not gonna let you keep those-..“

you groaned, sidestepping your friends attempt at catching you.

„oh come on, why not? it’s not like anyone is gonna see..“

he tried convincing, stalking closer, eyeing his expensive phone, gripping tightly in your hand.

you faltered a bit, your arm lowering slightly, easily convinced.

„alright, okay“

you sighed out

„but you’re not gonna show anyone else alright? you can send them into the group chat but no showing around..“

you handed him back his phone and he sighed in relief, checking his phone for damage that wasn’t there.

always so quick to exaggerate.

you really hope you could rely on the small chance no one would see.

but alas, you hoped to soon..

days later, in the big break, you sat with suguru, shoko and gojo at a small table at the back of the cafeteria, where you always sat. there was more space for others to sit at but most f the time it was just the four of you.

not today though, some people you didn’t know, but gojo apparently did sat with you for some stupid reason, talking his ear off and taking all his attention.

to say it was awkward would be an understatement. you geto and shoko weren’t quite as extroverted as gojo was, so you didn’t talk, which you were totally okay with, but there were strangers at the table that stared, and talked about topics you didn’t know about. they were loud and unruly, disrespectful and you you could see satoru cringe here and there at something one of the guys said, his phone screen side up layed in front of him, as he played with it impatiently, hoping the guys he knew but really didn’t know would finally leave.

it all happened in a matter of seconds, and gojo received a message, his screen lighting up, showing a dimly lit photo.

it was one from a few days ago, on the bench.

someone stupid and ugly looking sitting right next to him, as if they were on the same level. they shouldn’t even be near him.

thoughts started to crowd their mind, progressively getting worse and worse but you said nothing.

„who is that person with you on that photo?“

one of the guys asked, his voice sounding odd, almost degrading even if he hadn’t said anything bad. you snapped out of your mind, and your eyebrows furrowed. now you felt ashamed.

you could just hope gojo wouldn’t say it wad you, to spare you the embarrassment of being perceived.

„is that your partner?“

another voice called out, less condescending and more curiously before a third voice joined in, grating and mocking tone of voice. it hurt your ears.

„really? you could do better than that, satoru, they look so weird, you can even see their double chin“

the voice laughed, and so did the other’s. all the while your friends already small smile slipped from his face, as now a borderline annoyed expression took it‘s place.

„and such unclear skin“

„and their weight?“

„they look stupid“

„ugly“

„unlovable“

you weren’t quite sure anymore which words your mind made up and which ones were truly spoken, but it mattered little. if you could, you would just love to sink into the ground and never face earth an it’s opponents ever again.

„it doesn’t matter does it?!“

gojo’s uncharacteristically angry voice interrupts, and you were happy it was quiet again.

„how they look doesn’t fucking matter does it? their personality is awesome, unlike yours and they look stunning something you could never achieve, so fuck off..“

it was unusual for gojo to slip out of his happy-go-lucky persona, but this was his friend we‘re talking about, he never held back when it came to his friends.

you didn’t listen what happened after that, leaning onto geto’s shoulder and indulged yourself in your phone, a nice distraction from this escapade.

you knew it didn’t matter, those guys… didn’t matter, but that didn’t make it hurt less. emotions from still open wounds trickled out like cold blood. you took a deep breath as the table got silent again. no one talked. but it wasn’t awkward.

there was just a bitter solemn tension in the air.

you were a bit more reserved after that, quiet and less engaging in silly conversations, and your friends knew to give you a bit of time, they didn’t pity you and kept treating you normally.

but they were a bit more affectionate, especially geto.

gojo kept his distance knowing he was part of the cause, and also because he didn’t know if or how he could apologize.

shoko gave you her silent support, a stable individual you could rely on. and you loved her for that.

it was alright though, you‘ll come around eventually, you always did…

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amelikos · 1 month ago

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A couple of things about the new episode in regards to Amethio's scene.

Amethio's facial expressions and his voice (looking and sounding extremely worn out and vulnerable). I thought that his VA did a good job at conveying how he felt. And it also felt significant that he allows himself to display such vulnerability around others, namely Zir and Conia. The way he sounds depending on who he talks to, etc. This is the first time he's sounded so vulnerable. Also, to me, he looked like he was just so exhausted in general... I wonder if he cried. I mean, the person he loves the most (his grandfather) told him he doesn't want to see him anymore and rejected him, when Amethio is devoting his everything to his dream.

Amethio's lines. Notably the "don't make me repeat myself" which possibly implies that he already explained his situation to Zir and Conia.. and that even though he explained, they stuck around because they genuinely want to stay around him to help. And that line also implies that they probably tried to talk to him before that. Which is a step forward for them because back in HZ026 (the first episode of chapter 2), they were distant and Zir said that "it was hard to talk to him (Amethio)". Which possibly meant that they were unsure on how to reach out and that they didn't try to communicate with him. So there was a wall between them (Amethio was alone with Soublades, Zir and Conia weren't next to him in HZ026), which they are now trying to break to get closer to him.

Also in terms of lines. Amethio thinking that Zir and Conia would only stuck around for a shot at promotion was sad. The fact he is aware of such things, and that he didn't consider that they'd want to stay with him because they care about him for who he is. It was clear that they always cared about him more than just for work purposes, but Amethio probably didn't see/consider it. I'm curious about their past tbh (when did they meet Amethio, etc..).

Also Amethio thanking them was sweet. His smile too (his first smile!). The fact he went from "what can I.. no what can we do" and openly asked for their help (he values teamwork and their help). The lines in the opening "even if you seem stuck, you'll be fine" definitely seem to apply to Amethio in this chapter. Amethio is stuck and he isn't sure what to do, and he wants to figure out what to do. And he asked others for help. So hopefully he'll be fine.. I'm not sure what he can do, though. And it still seems like he is going to figure out what he can do to help Gibeon? So, Zir and Conia are still helping him on the Explorers front. I'm curious about Amethio's direction for this chapter.. (Also, I need to point out that he is currently stuck like Liko was before when he met her in the mountain. He helped her out with his words, so now it's also time for him to reflect and consider his own words. Is he going to declare himself worthless and give up after hitting a stumbling block? This is probably the strongest test of Amethio's resolve so far.)

Also, Zir watching Gurumin's videos is still fun and he seemed interested and pointed out the fact that Kuwassu evolved. Potential upcoming Saidon evolution for Zir? Out of the trio (Amethio, Zir, Conia), he is the only one whose main Pokemon hasn't reached its final evolution stage. And Zir is someone who wants to get stronger to help and be able to stand by Amethio's side (he asked Gurumin for advice in terms of battles previously and actually followed it, such as when he taught Sandstorm to his Saidon in HZ025, etc). And in HZ027, he pondered on the word "'friend" when watching Gurumin's video about multi battles. How having friends you can rely on during battles is reassuring! (And also pointing out that after HZ027, the first person we saw Amethio team up with during battle was Friede in HZ045. The first person Amethio trusted enough to battle alongside with, and someone who could be a reassuring friend and ally to have during battles..!)

Anyway, it was also nice to finally hear Zir say the word "friend" because he clearly wanted to say it since HZ027. I think that moment of him watching the Gurumin video about friends was setting up Friede and Amethio's team up in HZ045, and also setting up the day Zir would finally refer to Amethio as "friend" (which he did now after 41 episodes). Gurumin's videos made him think about that. And the one who made Dot talk more openly about friendship and cherish that was Liko. A virtuous circle starting from Liko who reached out to Dot to become her friend, which then made Dot talk more about it in her Gurumin content which Zir watches. Which is now affecting Amethio positively because people are stepping up with the clear intent to support him in his time of need.

It's also neat that Amethio appreciates Zir and Conia's support for what it is. Because they aren't on par with him in terms of battling skills. He is stronger than them on that front (though they do bring him intel and help in other ways). So, it's also cool that even on Amethio's side, Zir and Conia don't need to be the strongest or whatever to be of value. Just them being there for him helps a lot already and he clearly appreciates that. He never gets angry at them either (he always thanks them for their work, even when they don't bring results, like in HZ024 when they couldn't find the castle's location, etc). He didn't blame them or lash out at them in this episode. He is appreciative and kind to them in general, so their loyalty is warranted. They aren't with him because they want a promotion, and Amethio doesn't need them to be "more" than what they currently are to consider them worthy.

Also, the thing about Amethio not having misplaced blame or lashing out at them is reassuring me a bit on the Amethio and Liko front. I wondered if Amethio would regret helping her, since it's what led to this current situation... but also, Amethio would have done the same thing over and over again even if he knew the consequences, since he is that kind of person. (And it's also why Spinel put him in such a situation. Because he knew exactly how Amethio would react, and that he isn't the kind of person to abandon someone in a dangerous situation.) And Amethio usually accepts his actions and whatever come with them.

And speaking of misplaced blame and stuff, I also want to point out that Amethio didn't react negatively to Friede after his loss in HZ025.. he accepted it and pushed forward. He just acknowledged his limitations and kept trying. And when he met Friede again in HZ045 (not counting HZ033 since they didn't interact there), there was no ill will between the two of them after their past confrontation (because there didn't need to be, they just fought for what they believed in). Friede naturally offered to team up, and Amethio followed his lead (being a bit bratty about it on the way there with his "don't give me orders!!", but it's funny and cute that he complains around Friede for the sake of it and still listens anyway because he knows Friede is right).

Anyway, this makes me curious about Amethio and Liko's next meeting and I wonder how they will react to each other after everything.

I think I covered most of what I wanted to write about in regards to Amethio's scene. It was short but good, and some sweetness still managed to shine through despite how crushed Amethio looked.. it made me appreciate Zir and Conia more too. I am not sure what Amethio will be doing going forward, but I hope things will be okay.

#hz068 #character notes #episode notes #zir #conia #amethio

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kryptid-writes · 1 year ago

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Chapter 2 - A Gift From the Devil

Y/n stirs to find herself in the grips of her captor, an unwanted gift forced upon her.

(1.8k)

TW: Emetophobia & Trypanophobia

I slowly regain consciousness, confusion and grogginess clouding my mind. My body feels like a pound of lead, heavy and exhausted. It’s a fight to open my eyes, a battle of wills. When I finally blink them open, I'm confronted by his devilishly handsome face, just inches away from mine. All the memories of the night before flood back like a tidal wave making me feel sick to my stomach.

“Good morning sunshine,” He coo’s, his voice sickly sweet. “I was wondering when you’d wake up, you've been out for far too long.”

I sit up at lightning speed, pushing myself back flush against the headboard of the unfamiliar bed I sit upon. I frantically glance around the room to gather my bearings. It’s all surprisingly nice, seemingly just a normal bedroom, if not a bit extravagant.

Shelves of musty old books with odd titles line the walls. Luscious red curtains hang from the large stained glass windows in which rays of light shine through, leaving glints of color across the dark wooden floor. A crystal chandelier gently sways above my head, reflecting the morning light in all different directions.

My hand grips the crimson silky sheets as I remember what’s happening. This isn’t some sick dream I'm going to wake up from. This is reality.

We sit in silence for a moment, the uneasy tension thick in the air.

He stares at my trembling form, not unlike a predator might look upon its prey. Just standing there with his arms crossed, watching.

“Who are you? Where am I!” I practically yell, unsure whether I should be angry or scared, perhaps a bit of both?

“Shhh. It’s okay, you’re safe here with me.” He gives a soft smile, trying to soothe my panic, only making the situation worse.

“This is my home. Well, for the time being that is. It’s your home now too.”

“You’re fucking sick! I’ve seen what you do, what you're capable of, you're the furthest thing from safety! And if you think I'm staying here, you’re out of your goddamn mind!” I glare at him with a stare that could turn him to stone.

His expression doesn’t change, clearly unphased by my outburst.

“Wow you’ve got quite the attitude missy. I like that in a woman.” He teases.

He furrows his brows. “You’re in shock, you'll come around,” He assures.

I’m not entirely sure if he’s talking to me or himself.

“You humans always were so sensitive” he scowls, his demeaning tone returns once again.

He kneels in front of me and places his hand over mine, my grip tightening on the silky sheets. His calloused fingers softly run over my soft hands in an attempt to diffuse my tension.

I pull my hand back with force, almost as if he had burned me, but in reality his skin was cold to the touch. “You didn't answer my question! Who are you?”

He chews on his cheek for a moment, clearly reluctant to share the information, preparing himself for how I will react.

“My name is Lucifer,” his voice is soft and he gives me a look that you might see on a lost puppy begging for scraps.

The air is knocked out of my lungs, like a punch to the gut. The devil. It can't be. My stomach twists, the feeling of nausea taking over. I push him aside and dash into the room attached to the bedroom that I currently reside in, practically kicking down the door. To my luck, it happened to be an empty master bathroom. Kneeling over the porcelain toilet, I empty my stomach with haste. The waves of nausea come and go, rocking through my body. I hang my head over the toilet bowl in defeat, my body going numb.

I jump at the feel of a hand touching my back, rubbing small circles between my shoulder blades. The skin where he touches me feels like soft electricity coursing through his body into mine, a feeling I've never experienced before. I should be scared, I should be shoving him away, but to my surprise I find his touch oddly comforting.

“It’s okay, my beloved. Let it out.” He sounds genuinely sincere.

It’s sickening. My stomach heaves one final time, emptying until there's nothing left to give. “Why are you doing this?” My voice shakes and lip quivers. A thousand emotions course through my body at once, it's utterly and completely exhausting. I slump on my side, sinking into the cool tile below me. The moment seems to last forever.

He kneels over me, a disappointed frown on his face. He loops his hands under my knees and neck, scooping me up in his arms as if I weigh nothing.

I hang limp in his grasp, giving in, tired of fighting my body. A lone tear runs down my cheek, leaving a cold wet sensation in its wake.

He gently places me on the bed. It feels soft and inviting. The silky blanket is pulled up over me, wrapping my body like a cocoon. I feel as if I'm floating, like TV static is playing in my head on loop.

“You’re exhausted, I can feel it. Sleep.” He says, more of a demand than a request.

I don’t think much of his words, too tired to process them and I reluctantly close my eyes.

The bed shifts and dips under me as he climbs in. He pulls me into his chest, snuggling in by my side and I don't fight. His warm body smells of herbs and ash.

That pleasant electric feeling returns, surging through my body, almost like it's drawing me in, it confuses and comforts me at the same time. I listen to his heart beating and his breathing becoming deeper, feeling the soft puffs of air in my hair. I close my eyes and drift off into a deep slumber.

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

The dreams come tonight, but they're not scary and gruesome as they usually are. They feel warm and fuzzy, the kind of dream you wish you would never wake up from. There’s an overwhelming sense of compassion and affection surrounding me like a blanket.

I find myself standing in a beautiful garden, surrounded by blooming cherry blossoms whose sweet aroma fills the air. It’s dark out, the stars twinkling and the moon shining bright above it all. Fireflies surround the garden, their blinking lights bringing back pleasant memories from childhood of chasing them in the field and capturing them in jars to admire their beauty. \

And there he is, Lucifer, the man who lives in my dreams.

He’s dressed in a nice suit and tie, much different then the beat up clothes and scuffed jeans he usually wears. His hair is groomed nicely and his beautiful wings stand tall behind him. He presents me a bouquet of lucious roses, painted black and red, which happens to be my favorite colors.

For once he is not a gruesome murderer, having the time of his life slaughtering everything in front of him. There is no crazy stare and twisted smile, he is just a handsome man with beautiful white and golden wings showing me an unexpected kindness.

I sniff the flowers, the floral scent filling my senses, bringing a smile to my face.

He smiles warmly, inviting me into his arms and I accept. For the first time in a long time, my dream is pleasant and I'm in no rush to wake from it.

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

I stir to a sharp poke in my lower back. Coming out of my sleepy haze, I feel the pressure of a needle enter the space between the lumbar vertebrae in my lower spine.

“Wha-” I was quickly interrupted by the excruciating pain of a burning hot substance entering my nervous system. I scream at the top of my lungs, it feels like every nerve in my body is on fire, the pain unbearable. “STOP! PLEASE!” I beg over and over again, sobs racking my body. I try my best to squirm away, willing myself to jump out of bed and run as far away from this nightmare as I possibly can, but I find myself being held down by some invisible force.

“Shhh, it’ll be over quickly, my love” Lucifer purrs in my ear, petting my hair and tucking a strand out of my face. He places the large syringe with remnants of a glowing white substance on the bedside table and takes my fisted hand in his. “The pain is only temporary, then you’ll feel so much better.”

My eyes go white and my body shakes violently. I’m dying. This is it. Meeting my end at the hands of the devil himself. I cry and sob until my puffy red eyes sting and are too dry to produce any more tears. The pain slowly starts to fade. I sink back to reality, a wave of anger and confusion washing over me. I sit up, forcing myself on top of him, raising my fist high above the both of us, shaking with anger and aftershocks of the pain.

He stares at me with wide eyes, a hint of hurt painted across his face.

I hesitate for a second before using all my force to strike him right on the nose, the grotesque crunch of bones breaking under my knuckles. Pain radiates through my hand from the impact, specks of blood painting my skin and the sheets below. It was nothing compared to what I had just experienced, so I simply couldn't bring myself to care.

He grabs my bloody fist and twists it behind my back. “I suppose I deserved that,” his voice is nonchalant as ever and it infuriates me. He taps his nose and it is instantly healed. His bones click back into their previous shape, early signs of bruising disappear. All that remains is a trickle of drying blood.

“WHY?” I scream in his face. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?” My chest heaves, breath coming in uneven and heavy. I shake with anger, feeling completely violated.

“All in due time my love.” His smile is sweet, as if he didn’t just put me through unforgivable pain.

I suppose this is what the devil does. Why would he care? Surely he takes pleasure in torturing me.

I raise my other fist, ready to strike down another blow with all my might. He grabs my hands, pinning both my wrists uncomfortably behind my back with one hand. “Don’t do that again.” He growls, this time much less forgiving.

I twist in his grasp, trying desperately to free myself.

“Sleep.” He touches two fingers to my forehead and I'm out like a light, folding into his chest. He wraps his arms around me, breathing in my scent and counting the rise and fall of my chest the whole night.

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #lucifer x reader #lucfier x reader supernatural #lucifer #lucifer supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural #spn fic #slow burn #love triangle #choices #reader insert #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfic

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naathanuwu · 8 months ago

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Home sweet planetarium

(Rushed drawing by me)

Vox x masc!reader

Category: fluff

Word count: 504

Summary: You’ve been dating Vox for a few weeks. After getting cancelled on again you had enough and decided to bring the date over to Vox’s penthouse.

Warning: Light usage of cursing- it’s like one word, mentioned Valentino

The room was dark and chairs were set out perfectly to pull blankets over them. As you did just that, things were coming along. There was one more thing missing. Looking for a plug, you added the last perfect detail. A small star projector, making the interior of the blanket fort light up with stunning constellations.

To be honest you have had enough of Vox’s stressed and barely present attitude. If there was one thing you could do perfectly, it’s to prepare something nice and comforting. Something to ease the end of Vox’s long day. Soft cushions and blankets were layed out on the floor beneath the blanket roof.

(You were unsure if Vox had enough or even any comfortable bedding, so you brought your own stuff with you.)

Now adding the last few details you hear the elevator ding. Sudden excitement rises within you, wondering how your boyfriend would react. To be quite fair this is incredibly silly, but if Vox wanted something serious with you he had to deal with it.

“Uhh… what the fuck?” You could hear Vox’s voice echo through the room as he saw the odd fort. He couldn’t really make out why it was in his penthouse. All Vox could assume was that Valentino wanted to do something kinky.

You quickly crawled out of the tend and jumped up doing jazz hands. To Vox’s relief. “Surpriseeee~ I came over anyway- even tho you told me not to… yay?”

Vox just kinda stared at you and then back to the fort. He had no clue what this meant. Dating you has opened Vox to many things. One of them being silly and affectionate gestures for nothing materialistic in return. You caught onto that real quick walking up towards him.

“You’ve been working your ass off the entire week and I kinda missed you. I didn’t want to force you to do something that might exhaust you even more, so I thought why not make your home extra cozy?” You gently tucked your hand around his arm, pulling him with you towards the blanket fort. It did look ugly from the outside, you had to admit that.

Once Vox saw the interior of the blanket fort his heart melted a little. “Wow… this doesn’t look as shit as I expected.” He followed you into the tent, his gaze fixated on the stars. It was pretty odd to see something like that, especially coming from an adult.

“I know, I should’ve done this in your aquarium or something. How thoughtless of me…” You sigh out dramatically, dropping your chin onto his shoulder. The dramatic action more of a request of gratitude than genuine critique towards yourself.

Vox placed his clawed hand on your shoulder and lied back, pulling you down with him. The projected stars slowly and smoothly moving, earning Vox’s full visual attention. “This is quite nice actually… you shouldn’t have done something like that, you know?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to. Building blanket forts was one of my favourite things to do as a kid.” You shrug snuggling up to Vox.

A direct thank you would be too much to ask for, but his actions reflect his gratitude. You asked Vox about his childhood and that conversation turned into trauma bonding. Time seems to stop as Vox and you were just trapped in the (fake) starlight, eventually passing out into sleep.

A/n: Hello my beloved Vox simps and fanfic enjoyers! I hope you have enjoyed reading my sweet short fanfiction. I know that in the pole from yesterday smutt won, but I already finished this fluff fic yesterday and worked on the title drawing for it as well.

I’ll get working on the smutt fic next though! It might take a little longer cause I’m a little shy about it hehehe

Ps: Can we appreciate the little separators I made? It’s tiny Vox sending smooches :’)

#I FORGOT ABOUT THE TAGS #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox x oc #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel vox #vox #gay shit #fluff #vox fanfiction #silly #adorable #blanket fort

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yuseirra · 1 month ago

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I'm drawing a comic~ for the meantime...this manga honestly made me so frustrated and pissed earlier, I just ranted on and I found it so funny to read. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, here's how I feel about it rn!!

oh, this is such a perfect time to take a break from it though, i constantly feel so nervous about creating something for it because things escalate fast and I need to make good sense of it and reflect it into my works EVERY week. I am nuts for staying accurate to the source material (it may not seem like it but I'm really a perfectionist and I wish to do a good job getting the characters right) This work has a knack for making me feel extremely tense. It's been that way for the past three months I've hopped in, it's nice and enjoyable to have something to be invested on but sometimes it gets too much.. people are growing insane and pointing knives at each other, our protagonist stabbed himself and fell into the waters. The fact that I think it was an utterly foolish decision for him to have been that way does not help. I do not support what he's done. It does make a pretty impressive scene considering it's a manga and the art looks good, I think they planned that scene to be there from the beginning too but Sigh

I think he directed his anger to the wrong guy. I am not convinced that was the right choice he's made so I hate the look of it. Way to feel this way about the main character huh,

I can't draw.. when things make me this nervous, what else is going to unfold? I feel like I can see the big picture for the whole thing, but there is no way I can predict all the little details and what if things get super ugly, even uglier than how it is now?? I can't possibly work with that, it's just so hard!; Mengo-san Aka-san, what did I do to deserve this?? I came in because I thought I understood what this is!!! I have a good idea of how things are going to go!!! Why do you have to make everything SO MESSY?? It's frustrating. I AM collecting the physical volumes you know? I WANT TO TILL THE END?? please don't make me regret it, You seriously AREN'T going to make the one guy Ai confessed her love to a total freak. You know that and I know it too. It's just out there and set in stone, goodness. This isn't funny. This is so pointless. It wears me out ugghhh it's not about the ship I mean, it's about the message!!! the plot!!!!!! I really don't like how this manga makes things way more complex than what it actually is. It doesn't have to be that way.

Heheh. I ranted again- the stuff below's what I wrote earlier. Honorable mention to chatgpt for helping me translate it.. this is just. I just want things to get resolved. It's getting so dumb.

***

Kamiki is drowning and getting dragged away, Aqua stabs himself, then floats on the water with a melancholy expression on his face… and then there's a break for two weeks or so, right? Ugh, seriously.

But honestly, even in this weirdly ended situation, I’m actually glad there’s a break. If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to write things like this. I get too nervous to write because I really hate making mistakes. I genuinely don’t like it. Normally, I wouldn’t enjoy talking about uncertain situations like this…

But what can I do when I see things?;;; If I didn’t understand anything at all, I wouldn’t be able to write something like this, and if I didn’t have enough time, I wouldn’t have time to think about it, so I wouldn’t be able to write then either. But now that I do understand, it’s just… so frustrating, suffocating, nerve-wracking, and I feel all fidgety because of it.

Honestly, this manga should just release one chapter and then take a break. Release one chapter and then take a break. It would be nice to have about a week to think about it with a clear mind. It’s so exhausting, really. I feel like I know where this is all headed in the end, but the creators have been dragging things out so slowly. Even with the Aqukana storyline, I got so tired with how they handled it that I took a break from reading it last year…

The story hands you the key. It even clearly shows you the door that the key can open. But then it puts up dozens of other doors next to it, meaningless ones. Even after giving you all the answers, it tries to confuse you. But you can see right through it. And while doing that, it points to each door saying, 'Isn't this door pretty~~~ How about that one?' constantly taunting you along. All while it's them that's given you the key already in the first place.

It’s really frustrating… I’m so tired. If I couldn’t see anything, I’d just watch while grumbling or be like, 'Oh…' and keep my distance without overthinking it. But it’s suffocating and frustrating not knowing why they’re doing such pointless things, and it makes me anxious too…

Well… I could just take a break, but… I really like Ai. And when I look at the man she loved, I feel like he could actually be a really good character too, so I watch carefully… There’s a lot to dig into. It would be nice to shift the focus onto the other characters, too, but…

Seriously, nothing’s been properly resolved, has it? They’ve been dragging it out for ages. The characters keep doing crazy things. You can’t end a story like this. It’s just… they're not writing well, but they’re doing it on purpose. This manga is like that; the creators enjoy twisting things, and I should just enjoy that too, but I don't think I do. I just want to use the key and go through the door; I’m not interested in looking at the various door knobs. I wish they’d just stop now. I feel like I know what’s going on. That’s why I’m here to draw fan art. I get so up and down every week, but if the outcome isn’t what I’m thinking, I have no idea what it could be, and I don’t think it would make for a good story at all. I’m not saying it has to go the way I want for it to be a good story! It’s just… if it doesn’t, it feels like the message will completely collapse. It’s not about the couple… Even if the characters die, as long as the story is good, that’s fine, but the framework has to hold up!

About Kamiki's state,

his trauma and the dire-ness of his mentality is probably even more serious than Aqua’s, right? And I actually got that right too.

They said they only felt alive when they were with Ai. That means, in essence, they’re as good as dead now. But if they still want to keep living in that state, it means there was something they believed they had to do.

That’s likely related to the wishes mentioned in Mephisto and Fatal.

‘I want to see you. I want your life to return.’ (Mephisto)

‘I want to get closer to you. I want to receive your love again.’ (Fatal)

'For that, I can do anything. I can even offer my life. I can sacrifice anything. What more do I need to use?' <(Common themes in both songs)

In short, it’s all about 'I want to see you.'"

The "you" here refers to Ai.

That’s what it is.

Well… when you think about it, what Kamiki is doing now is essentially that. His underlying wish was that, but the way he’s going about it has become completely twisted. I don’t think he developed this kind of logic on his own. He’s been influenced or possessed by something. Because he was never someone who could hurt others.

This character didn't harm Ai… I truly believe he wouldn't have hurt her. Everything he’s doing now, in his own way, is probably for Ai. It’s just that he’s gone mad.

And thus, you can infer he's in such a serious condition, yet it hasn’t been highlighted at all.

They made his past so tragic and horrifying (I try to thoroughly analyze the character's psychological state; as I mentioned before, I try to sync up with their emotions…), and yet, with this character, there are parts I just can’t dive into because it’s too overwhelming. It’s plainly obvious. He’s not in his right mind right now. He’s too depressed and tormented to be alive.

Think about it, he’s been through extremely serious things since he was at least ten years old, maybe even younger… Just thinking about it makes me… I once considered exploring this, incorporating to my works, but I simply couldn’t. I really couldn’t… it’s too horrifying!

If the author had written him in a way where he turned into a serial killer because he developed a hatred for women or something like that, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive it. Even though I haven’t experienced such things, I feel I know enough of it to say that would be too shallow, convenient, and disrespectful. That’s really not how you handle such material. It’s beyond lazy—it's irresponsible. But I didn’t think it would go that way.

Whether this character ends up being revealed as the ultimate villain or not, if they’ve created a character like this and don’t address it properly, it’s not respectful to the character. It’s too much…

But I believe that the creators have a certain affection for what they’ve created, so I trust they’ll handle it. I just… want to see it handled properly. I think the delay is because they couldn’t fully express it while the anime was airing. They keep taking breaks and adjusting their pace; part of it might be due to the creators’ conditions, but I think they might have deliberately delayed introducing new content to match the anime’s schedule.

Honestly, I got into this because I knew. I realized, "Ah, this is what this character is going through."

He really liked Ai. It was set up in a way that he had no other choice but to become that way.

Other characters have their own core identity, right? Even if you strip away all their relationships with other characters, they have something of their own.

But when you look at this character, from the planning stage, everything was set to align with Ai, and without Ai, the character itself wouldn’t exist…;; He just collapses. Like in the lyrics, "I can’t live without Ai." The only consolation is that Ai truly did love him back… It’s like, the creators made this character specifically as a match for Ai, you know?

When you create a character like that, it’s only right to handle it in a way that makes that visible.

About his relationship with Ai… it’s not like I just think they look good together or something… It’s more like, when you look at the story and the way the characters are built, it’s obvious that they were made that way!!!

But even in the current situation and how ugly it is, there's one reason I think Ai made a good choice in picking him as her husband. She picked a extremely handsome guy and passed down superior looks to their kids haha. When you look at him, it doesn't make it seem like Ai is way out of his league in terms of looks, does it? She met someone who matched her well and dated him, that’s how it feels. I’m pretty sure they’re really gods, you know? They’re like the god of entertainment and the god of light. Their story is just too similar… they resemble each other so much… If you look at mythology, Ame-no-Uzume’s husband just fell for her at first sight, got swept along, married her, and they even shared a shrine, living happily together… Ame-no-Uzume just barged into his domain, made herself at home, and they got together right away. That god really married well. He ruled over not just one or two domains, but was a supreme indigenous deity and was considered just and noble… It’s like, “Oh, I like this one,” and she picked him like that. And judging by the drawings, Ame-no-Uzume was really beautiful… She was incredibly cute… I was so happy looking at that mythology. They bless the couple’s fate and marriage because they’re satisfied and happy with each other. People even make masks of the two gods and wear them together during festivals.

Look, if I’m a romance writer and I want to write something related to the entertainment industry, and I borrow mythology, and I know this couple's mythology? And then I write a story like this? Well… from my perspective, Kamiki is a mad god who went crazy after losing his wife. He genuinely loved Ai. Look at his expression in chapter 162. It’s the same as in chapter 153. He loved her that much, and on top of that, she was his savior, his lover, and even the mother of his child, raising them risking everything she's got. He believes she died because of his mistake—so what would he do? He might have thought about following her in death but couldn’t, so he thought, "If I do something, maybe Ai will come back." And when that didn’t work, he just ended up desperately wanting to see Ai again… I think that’s what drove him mad. I don’t think he’s in his right mind. He’s totally lost it. I mean, who could stay sane after losing someone like that for over a decade?

It’s not like the readers should have to guess why he’s fallen apart like this, right? It’s time for the story to show us. I’m really struggling with this—making deductions, writing, drawing—and every time a new chapter is released, people come to me, feeling sad or offering comfort. Seriously, I’m fine! isn’t it? Aren’t the creators romance writers? How could they not cover this? It’s not just about the couple—this is such rich material, and not using it would be a waste, don’t you think? And it doesn’t make sense… Why would they write it so that Ai loved someone truly strange? It’s not like that. Ugh, seriously.

As I always say, it’s not my work, so I could be completely wrong.

Still… it just feels like such a waste. Not using this? Not doing this?

I think all the clues are there… They’re doing this on purpose. Just wait and see. I’m not called the Prophet-type for nothing (INFJ)? When it comes to things like this, my intuition isn’t that bad. There are a lot of things I’ve figured out as soon as I saw them.

What’s frustrating about this manga is that if the plot progression itself is confusing, that’s fine as a mystery element.

But here, they give you all the answers, then pretend they haven’t, dragging things out while playing dumb. That really makes me go, “What are they doing?” It’s like they show all the answers and then, without reason, go off on a tangent. It’s like entering the destination into a navigation system, knowing where you’re supposed to go, but steering the car in the opposite direction for three hours.

Then, they turn around like nothing happened and head towards the destination. It’s pointless. If you don’t know the destination from the start, there’s a thrill as you go. But this just looks like foolishness. It’s like, eventually, it’ll come to this conclusion, but the story gives you the answer upfront and then insists, "Actually, no~" and lies about it. I don’t think it’s a very good method. It’s tiring…

Maybe it works in a volume format, but reading it as it’s released makes you wonder, "What’s even going on here?"

Haha, I came into this with confidence. At this point, there’s quite a bit that’s built up.

When I think about it, I’ve gotten all the critical parts right. Look at the expressions Kamiki makes when he looks at Ai. Does he look like someone who would order Ryosuke to kill Ai just because she rejected him?

This guy just can’t come to his senses after Ai’s death. He’s been doing everything he could just to see Ai again.

And if you’re still confused, the answer is always in Ai’s video message.

Would Ai, of all people, say she wanted to live forever with someone who ordered her death? That’s not how you write that story. The answer was already there, so I don’t know what this manga is doing.

That's why I'm not worried about Aqua right now! I'm mad! LOL. Hey, your dad definitely loved your mom more than anyone else in the entire world. He loved her more than his own life. Well, maybe you put Ruby first… But seriously, is he really so crazy that he tried to kill Ruby just to save Ai?!

But if that's the case, then it means he's not in his right mind, so he needs an exorcism…;;

How could Aqua not understand what kind of person his dad is, even after playing him as his role? Why can't he get a sense of it? Why didn't he listen, and instead tried to drown him in the ocean? Why did he do that? Is he really that evil? Am I missing something? Why are you like this? I can’t sympathize with it—was that really the only way? It doesn’t look that way to me. This is like a parade of fools, seriously. Did I completely miss the mark? Am I really wrong? Did I get everything wrong, and did I fail to see it properly? Then why does Ai’s video message say what it does?

Aqua, please get a grip. And Kamiki is out of his mind. He needs to go to a hospital. Seriously. What is all this?

That's all.

#oshi no ko #oshi no ko spoilers #oshi no theories #long post #omygod... I've been pulling really really strong thus far though #I CAN THINK OF A LOT OF THINGS... but with the manga being this way #it's just tough...I am so nervous #hikaai #hikaru kamiki #I'd like to draw more but maybe it's inevitable I take a break you see #spoilers #what is this comic UUGHH

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shadowkat678 · 1 year ago

Text

Hopepunk: A Thing Of Teeth And Claws

Hope is a thing with feathers, says a famous poem by Emily Dickinson.

But what happens to that small thing of feathers once it's caught? When the horror around it crashes down, and the song is drowned out in pain and anger and apathy at a world that doesn’t seem to be capable of, and doesn’t want, to change?

I’m tired. I’m angry. I'm afraid. I don’t remember the last time those things weren’t true about me. I don’t have control over what is happening to the world, or to the people I care about. I don’t know if I have a future.

I’m tired.

I know it isn’t just me. I’ve seen it. I’ve been in activism spaces for years now, where that same anger is everywhere. The push to want to do something. To enact some sort of meaningful change in a world that seems hellbent on turning people into nothing but variables and numbers towards goals we are not calculated into otherwise. Where those with the best of intentions burn themselves out in their rage because they feel like there’s nothing else left to be driven by. I feel it in me. It’s not unjustified. But it is exhausting.

Once you’ve gone long enough shoveling coal on the fire you’ll run out, and you can’t burn ashes. Something is close to giving.

I’m tired.

Even more than being tired at the state of the world, I’m tired of what it does to me. I’m tired of my inability to have these feelings result in something good. I’m tired of not being able to have control over my life. I’m tired of seeing the people around me being crushed under circumstances far above our ability to affect. I’m not just tired. I’m exhausted.

But Hopepunk. This term came out a few years ago, coined by Alexandria Rowland. They're the author of the Taste of Gold and Iron series, as well as the duology A Conspiracy of Truths and A Choir of Lies, among others. In 2017, they coined the term Hopepunk, positing it as the opposite of Grimdark. In the post original post on the subject Alexandra says,

“Hopepunk says that kindness and softness doesn’t equal weakness, and that in this world of brutal cynicism and nihilism, being kind is a political act. An act of rebellion. Hopepunk says that genuinely and sincerely caring about something, anything, requires bravery and strength. Hopepunk isn’t ever about submission or acceptance: It’s about standing up and fighting for what you believe in. It’s about standing up for other people. It’s about DEMANDING a better, kinder world.”

The ideology of Hopepunk was based on the time of the article’s current political landscape. Protests, civil unrest, and feelings of anger that were (still are, I’d argue) spreading like wildfire. And in a small circle, this caught on. There wasn’t much to go off of, and the ideas that spread from this post didn’t have a uniformity to it as much as other Punk genres of political and literary analysis. There were, and are, a lot of critics believing the term to be yet another line of fluffy optimism and half empty words.

A year later, Alexandria would publish an article on the subject, expanded upon additional reflection, called One Atom of Justice, One Molecule of Mercy, and the Empire of Unsheathed Knives on the blog Optimistic Indie Roleplaying. This is when I first heard of Hopepunk.

Alexandria writes in their opening:

“In July of 2017, I coined the word “Hopepunk,” initially defined very simply in a Tumblr post. I believe the purpose of this article’s commission was to have me write something uplifting. I don’t know if I can. I think it would be (I’m afraid it would be) nice. (…) Nice is an illusion, and so is the suddenness of realizing the lie.”

Alexandria goes on:

“I’m afraid. I’m losing my story, my belief in an atom of justice. I watch it happen, a little more every day, unraveling from my hands—and I’m a professional storyteller. (…) I’m afraid of who I’ll be when the last threads slip out of my fingers. I’m afraid of settling into complacency, of something in me breaking, of retreating into niceness as the last-ditch sanctuary before complete despair.

“Hopepunk says [about human nature], ‘The glass is half full,’” wrote the me who lived in mid-2017. Seems naïve now, doesn’t it? Those are the words of a person cloaked in a story that hasn’t yet been worn threadbare and ragged; a person who thinks they have a sword in their hands, a person who thinks that they as an individual can make a difference, that there is some fundamental goodness in humanity.

What do we do when our hands are empty, when our warm cloaks are gone, when we look around and see how big the world is? When we see how helpless and insignificant we are, how the rest of the world isn’t even particularly cruel or evil, just . . . mediocre? Complacent?

What’s the point?”

And as I read this now, years later in 2023, I feel this sentiment burrowing deeper inside me than ever before. This is what I see in myself. In the people around me. In the world, spinning away into what seems to be never ending disasters and war and pain.

What's the point?

It seems that day by day the hole is dug deeper. The world feels as if it’s ending. But then again, to someone, somewhere, the world has always felt as if it was on the verge of ending, hasn’t it?

I also am a storyteller. I have always believed there is power in it. In how you can create something that becomes real around you. That reflects our own reality in new ways. Things that connect us. Empower us. That’s what art is for me. That’s what it always has been, when the night is long and I need something, anything, to grab onto.

Like Alexandria, I feel my grip on the story around me slipping. The threads are frayed. And I am so tired.

I feel like a child pretending. Hoping that this will make things feel less terrifying when the lights go out and I’m alone in the dark and the day is so impossibly far away. I’m afraid. I'm terrified.

I’m not a hero, and I don’t know if I have the tools to fight monsters like this. These are not problems that can be solved with spells or swords or pretty words. The world around me is burning.

I’m burning.

So, what do we do when we find ourselves here? When hope, the thing of wings and feathers, has been shot down in front of us? When softness is not enough? When nice is just platitudes? What can I do when the world and its problems are so big and I’m so small?

“What is the point?” Alexandra asks. “How do you do it? How do you manage when the task before you is enormous and impossible? (…) How do you go on?”

Hopepunk isn’t just about the Hope part of the word. What is Punk? Not just the music. The ideology. The movement. The message? We all have a thought about what Hope is. What defines Punk?

I listen to the music, and have for a while. I have a lot of friends who are punks. I’d like to think I’m a bit of a punk myself, though I haven’t had the energy or means of connecting with the scene in person. There’s a variety to it. Subgenres of music. Differences in ideas. But let me tell you one thing I’ve noticed about all punks:

They’re goddamn stubborn bastards. And at least for the vast majority, they’re passionate goddamn stubborn bastards.

I’ve been interested in the punk movement for years. Two of my favorite books on the subject of the punk movement are “Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk” by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain, and “Punk Rock, An Oral History” by John Robb.

There’s a long running joke in punk circles about a young punk asking an older punk that very question of what punk is. The older punk smiles, strides up to a trash can, and kicks it over before turning around, pointing, and saying “That’s punk”.

The younger punk thinks on this, then sees another trash can before going over and copying the move, turning around after punting the second can and asking, “That’s punk?”

Before the older punk shakes his head and replies, “No! You poser!”

Point of the story? What is punk? Fuck if I or anyone else actually knows! It’s not about following directions, or going down a checklist. Certainly not just copying everyone else before you. But you know it when you feel it.

Recently, Punk has been idealized a lot. People forget that Punk isn’t just about insolent people lashing out against authority and sticking it to the man. It isn’t just about individualism and loud songs.

Despite not knowing exactly WHAT punk is, never having one clear cut uniform answer, we can see it when it's in front of us. There’s a sound to it. A spirit. A vibe. And there are commonalities that run as a throughline.

In the intro to Punk Rock, and Oral History, Henry Rowlins was invited to share some of his thoughts in the volume. He says,

“Everyone had their own version of punk. Everyone decided what punk was for them. There were endless arguments about what we were fighting for, what we should be wearing (…), what we should listen to and how we were going to change the world.

Punk terrified the establishment. Punk made me get onstage and make music. Punk made me change my world. Punk…punk saved my life.”

Punk has long been considered one of the more nihilistic musical genres, having a thriving subsect of Political Punk dedicated to pointing out and raging at the wrongs of the world the artists see around them. Punk is angry. Punk is passionate. Punk is loud, and messy, and sometimes even ugly, and moreover, there’s room for all of it.

But its stereotypical image perhaps isn't one most people would default to when thinking about the mainstream idea of Hope. Hope is supposed to be something soft, isn't it?

Back to the article, Alexandria gives their answer to what they think the point is, and it is one that feels much more connected to the punk part of Hopepunk.

“Sheer, simple, bloody-minded obstinacy. That’s how you count the stars, build the Library of Alexandria, and go to the North Pole. That’s how you hold the story even when it’s unraveling in your hands. You grit your teeth, and bear the pain, and keep going: One star at a time, one brick at a time, one step at a time.

You can do a lot when you decide to be a stubborn motherfucker who refuses to die.(…) Ask it of Hopepunk, then: “What’s the point?”

And the answer is, of course, that the fight itself is the point.

I am not just tired. I am afraid. I am angry. I am furious. The idea of rage is generally thought of as very punk.

But Hope. Let’s go back to hope. Where does hope come in, that fragile thing made of feathers and song? I am not soft. Not really. I feel myself shattering, jagged edges that will cut me if I let them. That will cut others. Even those I want to help. Even those who don’t deserve it. That the anger will bleed out and burn everything around me. How does that fit with hope?

I believe in stories. That we can learn from them. Moreover, in the end, I believe that everything is a story. History is a story. People are stories. The future is a story we simply haven’t seen the ending to yet, and so can still shape the path of. And like stories, all these elements tie together. Stings whose threads make up a tapestry.

I’ve been thinking a lot about stories lately. About certain ones that have heavily impacted my own. About ones I’ve made, either by myself or with others, both real and imaginary. In Alexandria’s first post, they mentioned a certain scene from the Two Towers.

As Frodo falls to his lowest point, burdened by the influence of the One Ring, not knowing if his other friends are even still alive, carrying a burden bigger than any one person should ever have to shoulder, Sam gives his speech.

Sam: “It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?

But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why.

But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.”

And as he says this, Frodo asks what I find myself asking. What many people ask, I think. What are we holding onto? And the answer: “That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it’s worth fighting for.”

In my anger, in this darkness around us, it can be hard to see anything else. But that has not been all my story is. That said, anger is important. Anger, placed properly, and aimed towards a purpose, can be righteous. It can be a driving motivation towards change. It glows in you...but it can’t be all I have. A fire on its own will eventually burn itself out. What is anger without something the anger is driving you to do in a real, meaningful, way?

“It’s about being kind merely for the sake of kindness, and because you have the means to be, and giving a fuck because the world is (somehow, mysteriously, against all evidence) worth it and we don’t have anywhere else to go anyway.

It’s about digging in your heels and believing that one single atom of justice, one molecule of mercy does exist somewhere in the mindboggling vastness of the universe—believing in that, even if for no other reason than fuck you, buddy; fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I do what I want and this, this is what I want; this is the world I want to live in:

One where the atom of justice exists, even if I’ve never seen it myself, even if I’ll never see it.

It’s about doing the one little thing you can do, even if it’s useless: planting seeds in the midst of the apocalypse, spitting on a wildfire, bailing out the ocean with a bucket. Individual action is almost always pointless.

Hope and strength comes from our bonds with each other, from the actions we take as a community, holding hands in the dark.

What if hope isn’t just a thing of feathers and wings and song? What if punk isn’t just about anger and insolence and lashing out against the world around you? What if the world, people, and stories aren’t so simple?

I can’t answer what Hope is, what Punk is, or what Hopepunk is as an idea binding these two words together to anyone but me. I do know what my story has been. And I know the stories I’ve been told. The stories I’ve witnessed. The stories I’ve touched.

I’m tired. I’m angry. I can’t not be anymore. I don’t think it’s possible. It’s part of me. Perhaps something even greater would be wrong if they weren’t.

But I also remember the people who’ve come into my life in ways that seem so small in comparison, yet somehow, inexplicably, still changed me to the point I continue to think about them years later. The woman who approached me, sitting outside and crying after being almost fired from my first job and, with no possibility of reconciliation, bought me a sandwich and sat with me while I waited to be picked up. Friends that stayed with me during some of the worst times of my life. Strangers that turned into those friends.

In spite of it all, I’ve also seen so much love.

I have always hated false dichotomies. These truths can coexist, and like the tapestry of stories, wind together into something bigger. The softness of hope does not feel like it can survive the type of anger and force and sometimes nihilism of punk. The good in the world feels like it should be shattered under the darkness.

Maybe it all morphs into something new.

Maybe hope becomes a thing of teeth and claws, bared in defense of life’s small everyday acts of love. Friendship. Community. Of myself, and proof that the world is brighter than my own frustration makes it feel. Of all the things that exist in contrast that make these very injustices sting so very much.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be fragile. Maybe hope can be bloody and messy and stubborn and defiant, even in the face of my fear and exhaustion and pain. Maybe it can make something more balanced. Something stronger, as all these contrasting elements come together and inform each other with new perspectives.

Maybe it can be what saves me.

Near the end of the article, Alexandria says this:

Hopepunk isn’t pristine and spotless. Hopepunk is grubby, because that’s what happens when you fight. It’s hard. It’s filthy, sweaty, backbreaking work that never ends. It isn’t pretty, and it isn’t noble, and it isn’t nice, though I expect the natural inclination (and even my own instinctive inclination) is to make it so—to forget the word “radical” in the phrase “radical kindness,” to forget the “punk” part of “hopepunk,” which is really the operative half of the word. To forget the anger of it and let it soften, because softness is what we’re aching for. We want the world to be better—kinder, more just, more merciful. We still yearn toward noblebright, toward an honest and desperate belief that love conquers all.

But we forget, sometimes, that we have knives too in this empire. That we can unsheathe them, that we can turn our blades to the defense of an atom of justice and a molecule of mercy that might not even exist—except . . . except for where we make them exist, in the hands we hold out to each other, and in the shelter we offer even when we ourselves are exhausted, footsore, and filthy, with the wolves at our doors.

Maybe this doesn’t even have to be big acts. It’s something I’ve grappled with often. The feeling that where I am now is not enough. That what I do cannot change the course of the tale I find myself part of. That I can only be a passive observer as things happen around and to me. That I am so helplessly unable to make any meaningful difference in my own story.

And I want to, so desperately. But maybe those first steps can lead to more. The shelter and small words said earnestly in a time of need is just as much a part of this as life altering choices I want to be able to wield.

I've always dreamed of enacting change. Of being someone who could somehow inspire another person the way the stories of others had inspired and saved me. The books I clutched in my hands when the world was too big, and I was far too small. But it's good to remember that even the imposing might of mountains eventually wears under the passing of water.

I still feel like that child more often than not, and that everything I do in spite of it is just a mask dangerously close to slipping. But just as much as those stories, everyday people did the same in touching me, and shaping me. The right word spoken after tragedy. Encouragement from those who bothered to pay attention to things I did not speak aloud.

Maybe I should also reconsider the worth of myself in being the hand that stretches out to other people. Maybe that kindness is just as much a part of this as my anger and fear.

I’m tired of being only angry. Of being only sharp edges and fire and fear and burning myself to ashes in a way that harms none of the people doing this to us. I’m tired of missing the joy while I can have it based on the actions of a few hollow, spiteful, greedy, and selfish bastards that only care about themselves, damn the rest.

So, I will be a thing of teeth and claws when needed. And I will grow fur to keep those close to me warm. Because despite my anger, and fear, and exhaustion, the world is still, somehow, worth it. People are worth it. I am worth it. My story can impact others, and the story of humanity is not yet fully penned.

I have to believe that. If it is not so, then I have to make it so, even out of pure, stubborn, spiteful obstinance. That people are not evil at base, because I am not, and I am not special in the grand scheme of things.

I am just a person. We are all just people, grasping for things to drive and carry us day to day. And people are both kind and horrible. Messy tapestries of different things tying us together into something unique and terrifying and amazing and horrible and full of wonder and joy and anger and fear and beauty.

All of us, each and every one, desperately trying to keep hold of our stories before someone else twists them out of our hands.

Another common example of Hopepunk is a scene in Terry Pratchett's "The Hogfather", spoken by Death. A scene Alexandria discusses and also references in the name of their own original article. Here, Death explains that humanity must first learn to believe the small lies, such as Hogfathers and tooth fairies, so eventually they can come to believe the big ones.

Justice. Mercy. Duty.

Hope.

As is true of many concepts in Diskworld, when asked by the character Susan "Well we have to believe in that, or else what is the point?", Death answers back, "My point exactly. You need to believe in things that are not true. How else can they become?"

My kindness will be worth it, because it made me and those around me a little happier. Even if it hurts me in the end. I am not naive to the world around me. I am angry. I am tired. I am scared. I am just one person. And maybe in the end it's how Alexandria says:

There are no heroes and no villains. There are just people. That’s Hopepunk: Whether the glass is half full or half empty, what matters is that there’s water in that glass. And that’s something worth defending.

Stand with each other, and never let the person beside you forget that to move forward we need something to hold onto, whether knife or outstretched hand. There is still good in this world. Even if we have to fight to create it ourselves with every step we take.

No story is over until the final word has been penned…and even with all the horrors and uncertainty of the journey, we don’t have to travel through ours alone.

#hopepunk #essay

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rytlann · 20 days ago

Text

Reflections From the Ledge of the Manhattan Bridge

To the cutest girls that I know,

I'm very nearly about to kill myself.

I firstly, wistfully call out to you, my muse,

an everlasting beauty that reminds one

of the painful lack of his own.

To Jane, Jasmine, and Juliet, I have a knack for

becoming enamored with nearly-lesbians.

Thank you for everything.

You accepted with grace all my desperate,

stupid, pathetic love without ever gleaning

the nervous ugliness behind my funeral attire.

A tear and a dry, yearning, pathetic choke of a laugh

just for you.

To pretty boys

with nice hips and strong chests,

I wish you'd miss my pinkish lips and sappy eyes,

instead of my ugly heart.

John, Jack, and Joey. Funny, handsome, some

sensitive. Or, that's mostly only me. Though "pretty boy",

really? I'm sure you had taste for finer things than me.

But I am more romantic than you, as I kick my legs and

write poetry over the shimmering river.

I smirk for your sake and laugh the same.

Thank you for everything.

Because I like prettiness in men,

and beauty in my world.

To my best friend,

I do really love you.

This is more genuine than any romantic "love"

that I might've felt, and that is so special.

And I'll ensure that it persists for the rest of my life,

then hopefully through our fading memories, your

memory of me, graduation and maturation.

Then, I hope,

one day, in the house that you paid for,

beside the love of your much longer life,

I am only significant because of my name.

And you might say it and only be happy.

Thank you for everything.

To my grandparents,

I don't quite have much to say.

I exhausted my emotions with lovers.

I'm just at that age to become engaged with beauty

and being betrothed to kids my age.

But I hope you may take solace with the ghost

of my child. It's only fair, since you only

properly knew me then.

You have my consent to lose yourselves

in beautiful illusion. You can have him.

I don't remember him; I don't want him.

And that's only spite, as he's certainly more deserving

of sweet old people's affection.

He'll thank you on the principle of love.

And to my dearest mom

who killed me more slowly and agonizingly

than your second-hand smoke,

god bless you.

#bad poetry #poetry #spilled ink #writeblr #writing

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skykashi · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I really like how much effort you put into pulling canon examples to illustrate points on your blog. I also really love how much enthusiasm you have for best guy Kakashi! On the other hand, constantly ragging on folks for deviating from canon is exhausting.

For example, I know Kakashi/Gai/Obito have the same build. MOST Naruto characters have the same build. I personally don't find the same-y builds fun or interesting, so I like to change it up. It's a personal choice, I know it's not canon (though I'm just as happy to see canon Kakashi as any AU Kakashi), so you *really* don't need to constantly say "fandom take note, X isn't canon". Either we know and we consciously choose to deviate or we don't but you've already perfectly illustrated your point with screenshots, so underlining it with a statement like that comes off as belittling at best-- even if you mean it as friendly ribbing.

I say all this because I genuinely don't think that you're ragging others on purpose. I do think it's an expression of friendly frustration that isn't landing the way you intend. At the end of the day, though, I don't follow you for what fandom thinks, I follow you for what YOU think. I follow to hear the ways YOU love Kakashi. The posts I enjoy most reflect this-- the ones where it's all "this is why I love Kakashi" and not "fandom is wrong for loving Kakashi X way".

Thank you for your amazing work and sorry for the unsolicited ask

First of all, I was really having a hard time answering this ask because you seem like a really nice person and I don't want my answer to seem harsh or upset you in any way, I literally just kept typing things and then deleting them so believe me, this is the nicest way I found to explain my thoughts.

Second, speaking my mind in my own blog is not ragging on ppl, I've never once replied to those fan works with anything negative, I always just scroll past it and then go vent with my friends about it.

Third, when ppl just can't accept a mlm ship without completely changing one of them to make him fit into the wife role because they can't see beyond an extremely heteronormative view then I have to keep reminding the fandom. When ppl can't accept a ship of 2 equal partners and have to change them to make one the stronger masculine one and the other the helpless feminine one then I have to keep reminding the fandom. When I bump into so many ppl who genuinely believe those fanarts and fanfics because it's been years since they watched/read Naruto and everything they see now is this type of content that they no longer remember the real Kakashi anymore then I have to keep reminding the fandom. When this is really effecting ppl's views of Kakashi to the point that I keep seeing ppl saying that he's so weak and small and helpless that he can't even lift the sword that he literally wielded like a total boss with ease in canon then I have to keep reminding the fandom... You have no idea how many ppl I met who really genuinely thought that Gai and Obito are really twice as big as Kakashi and when I told them "actually no, that's just fanon, they are actually the same built in canon" they didn't believe me at first until they went and looked it up themselves, and that's just the ppl that I spoke to, there are thousands of others who really don't know. You are really underestimating how fan contents affects ppl's views, for example, the majority of the fandom thinks that Kakashi was a useless Hokage just because of that old "blow up the moon" meme that never actually happened, on the contrary he's the one who STOPPED the Raikage from blowing up the moon, no one even remembers all of the great things Kakashi did as a Hokage and only remembers that meme that was the opposite of the truth. I keep reminding the fandom because when content creators do stuff like that "for fun" they don't make it clear that they changed stuff and that's not actually how it is, the misconceptions this type of fan work creates is so much bigger than you think and unfortunately it's unrepairable, even my constant friendly reminders aren't going to correct it but I still do it out of frustration first and hope that at least someone might see it and know how it actually is, because I joined this fandom when Naruto ended to keep sharing my love for Kakashi with other fans who loves him too but most of my days in this fandom, I really miss Kakashi because I can hardly find him anymore between the endless Kakashi slander and hate for things that isn't even true, the misconceptions and the way ppl change him so much that he stops being him anymore. I'm here because I want to see the Kakashi that I fell in love with not someone else's OC committing identity fraud! It's not Kakashi anymore if we're going to change everything that makes him, him!

On the other hand, you have no idea how wrong it is that ppl just can't accept a ship where both partners are equal without one of them having to be smaller and weaker or it won't be "fun", it wouldn't have been an issue at all if that's how they originally are but for ppl to change them because "it's boring" for 2 equal ppl wether in their size or strength to be together that's when it's not fine, it's 2023 and yet ppl are still not able to get over the idea that couples can't work without looking like a wife and a husband, they can't both look like men or it won't be "fun", there's a difference between having your own art style which is actually fun, and deliberately changing the designs of 2 characters who have the same built to make one of them twice as big as the other and it's even 100x worse when they change their skin color too on top of everything else, I don't think I need to explain this one.. like man, if you have a size kink then why not ship 2 characters who canonically has a size difference instead of doing this, there are plenty of characters who have size differences like, Itachi and Kisame, or Kisame and Gai or Kakashi and Ibiki or Jiraiya and Sakumo or Sasuke and Jūgo... Etc.

In the end, I'm sorry if any of what I said seemed harsh in any way, that was not my intention, and there's nothing wrong about expressing myself on my own blog because even tho I strongly disagree with that type of content, I never go to artists blogs to force my opinions on them, instead, I block the tags that can prevent me from seeing the things that I dislike as much as possible and express myself in my own space in my own blog so I can at least remind someone of the real Kakashi that the majority of the fandom seems to not remember anymore because that's the Kakashi I fell in love with and I joined the fandom for, and give him some of the love and credit he deserves but hardly is getting nowadays.

Last but not least, from now on, I'll be tagging any post where I'm complaining about the fandom as "#fandom bs" to make it easier for anyone who gets tired of my complaining to just block this tag.

#naruto #kakashi #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #fandom bs #my asks #sky answers

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