#totally not suggesting this to get out all my rage towards others without causing a civil war
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lower-management · 1 year ago
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I have a -terrible- idea:
What if instead of doing bad karaoke nights in hell we did bad stand up comedy nights?
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diamantinasfrilledshark · 1 year ago
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Roleplay Rules!
Status: Semi-Open as of November 2nd, 2023
Feel free to DM me or ask any questions in my inbox! I can't guarantee that RPs will start right away, but we can definitely start setting things up.
In order to RP with me, you NEED to send me the hidden phrase in here so I know you actually read the rules. If not, I will not RP.
Literacy Style:
Literate to semi-literate. I like to write in multiple paragraphs, both with detail and somewhat dialogue heavy. If you’ve seen my writing, it’s a lot like that! I expect potential RP partners to follow in suit/match.
It seems as of late that I prefer literate with multiple paragraphs and details.
I’ve been RPing since I was like, 10. If I see *she smiles* it might summon rage 💀 /hj
Where We Can Talk:
Just starting off? Tumblr DMs! I won’t RP in the comment section of a post.
You can now ask for my Discord. It’s where I’m most active.
Slots:
Don’t really have a cap off but it becomes too much at once I will be sure to let you know.
Genres and Plots:
Almost anything and everything! However, towards strangers and people I’m generally unfamiliar with, SFW are going to be the topics I steer towards. Adventure, drama, horror etc. are all fine the first go around.
I’m pretty flexible on genres so like, hey don’t be afraid to suggest it.
NSFW, I like writing smut, I just need to like you as well lol. Not a slight on your behalf, but I will let you know whether smut is a possibility or not.
NSFW will only be done with other 18+ adults who have verified they are in fact, adults. I absolutely refuse NSFW to “ageless” accounts and minors.
Honestly I don’t want to RP with minors so if you’re a minor, don’t message me. Don’t do it. Thanks.
Pairings:
Gets a little odd here, I don’t actually ship anything, if that makes any sense? Like, canon character X canon character just isn’t in my repertoire unless they’re already an established couple or the franchise is heavily leaning them that way.
That said, I’m totally cool with self shipping and OCs X Canon characters. (If self ship, it has to go both ways. Sorry I’m a simp too 😔)
Platonic, familial, those work best though especially if I am unfamiliar with you as a person.
Honestly I’m not as veered towards romance unless you’re a good friend of mine.
Do:
When first DMing, send me memes to help break the ice! I’m pretty good about speaking to people, but I understand how awkward it can be
If you’re using an OC, please tell me all about your OC! If you have any reference pics etc, send them so I can describe them during the RP.
If you’re playing a canon character and you’ve changed anything about them that’s notable, feel free to mention their quirks, and the lore building you’ve done for them.
Tell me if it gets to be too much or if you wish to change directions. I want you to feel safe and have a free voice during the chat. If something doesn’t click, tell me.
Please talk to me about the RP plot before we start! That gives me a good direction on what bases to hit and which lines to not cross. Your boundaries are just as important as mine and I want to respect them.
Use brackets or some other notation to let me know you’re speaking out of character! I’m very prone to using []
Understand that you can leave for a while and don’t need to apologize. Genuinely, I know you’ll get back to me. If you don’t think you will or it’ll take longer than expected then let me know. I know people get busy, so it’s honestly no problem.
Don’t:
Do NOT ask to RP if you are a minor. I do not wish to RP with minors.
Send me unsolicited NSFW or a starter without any conversation prior to. It’s just kind of ???? On my end.
Do not godmod HEAVILY. I’m okay with like, “and he helped her up and watched as she walked over to the desk.” But fully godmodding is a no.
Send one liners. Self explanatory.
Wildly deviate from the plot in bizarre ways. Like, making things NSFW all of a sudden or cause angst when there was none. I hate saying “Mary Sue the RP” but do not Mary Sue the RP.
Please don’t be upset when I take a hot minute or two to respond. I’m a person that has a life outside of her phone and is actually prone to migraine if I look at screens for too long. I will always get back to the RP unless I say otherwise.
Be pushy for a character or a pairing I said no to.
Go too OOC for canon characters.
Ask for things like rape, beastiality, common DNI criteria.
I understand RP can be therapeutic but remember, I am not a therapist and the RP we have is not substitute for actual mental health help.
Fandoms:
SCP
Call of Duty
Darkwood
Assassin’s Creed
Grimm
Uncharted
My Little Pony (yeah goin' back to my roots)
My OCs (need to ask about those, there’s,,,, many and they’re all intricate.)
Other Things:
Please use third person, past or present tense. Usually past tense.
I feel it goes hand in hand with literate RP but use “speaking” for a dialogue and ‘thinking’ for thoughts.
Try not to rush anything! Let it happen naturally and it’ll all play out.
Don’t be afraid to talk to me outside of the RP either. Like, it’s a personal thing we’re probably going to become friends.
Some Examples of My RP Style:
Mind you, not all of these are going to be extremely long. Things tend to taper out.
All of these examples were lifted directly from one of my RPs.
November 2nd, 2023: I swear not all of my replies are going to be like this. I'm immensely more busy now.
This is a starter:
A young princess sat on the balcony of her mother’s grand palace. The stars of the night were absolutely gorgeous as her dark eyes peered upwards, tracing constellation upon constellation. There, she could see the proud statue of Amun and feel the loving gaze of the beautiful mother goddess, Hathor. Strings upon strings of stars hung in the sky and bathed the desert in a warm white and blue gold, illuminating the darkness so she could observe the night life of her people. At barely eighteen years old, the young princess had been coming to a very startling conclusion as she stared out at the houses amongst the dunes and the boats and their ferriers on the Nile: that one day, all of this would be hers. The thought scared her, as ruling over such a people with the same authority as her mother and her mothers before her… The burden was crushing in its own right.
Sameera, the current pharaoh of Egypt and seated daughter of Isis and Ra, had been gearing her only daughter up for greatness since she had been brought into the world. The palace had served little as a home and more of a house of education, gearing up the little girl for a future in which all would bow down to her. Sameera has been, and will be considered a bountiful ruler. She ushered in an Egypt in which magick and divine favor rained down on the land, where suffering was lightened, and where pain had been naught but a bruise.
To give her daughter, Tavi, a taste of what it would mean to be the seated pharaoh and begin expanding her power besides running the palace, Sameera had placed her in charge of the Festival of Hathor. The festival in itself being amongst the most important task Tavi has been held in charge of to this date. In the morning, Tavi would be heading out by herself to Dendera, the main site of Hathor’s cult and preside over it, and of course, ensure it passes smoothly.
It sounds so simple: let people get drunk and feast, make merry, and enjoy singing and dancing in the company of others, but Tavi has never been a part of such importance in ritual ceremonies. She’s only ever observed, and even that in itself has been something hidden to her as her mother finds the merrymaking beneath her real education under the watchful eyes of Thoth.
Tavi sighs deeply and rests her arms on the balcony for just a moment more, already intending to head back inside and rest for the night before one of her lady maids interrupts her train of thought.
“My lady,” the finely dressed woman begins. “You have a visitor.”
Tavi’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she crosses the balcony through the cool night air to come to her lady maid’s side. “What? Who on earth would come to my quarters at this hour?” She inquires, more curious than angered at the thought she has a visitor.
The woman bows her head in the princess’s presence as if to silently ask her if she should address the visitor. “I believe it pertains to the Festival of Hathor, but it was not my place to pry,” the lady maid continues, her voice soft and sweet. “Shall I tell them to leave?”
Tavi blinks before shaking her head. “No, you may leave. I’ll handle this,” she replies warmly, her hand resting on the taller woman’s shoulder. “Go, get some rest,” she hums.
The lady maid nods, thanks her princess, then exits out the servant’s entrance, leaving Tavi to her own devices.
The young princess brushes back some of her black hair, wondering who would ask audience with her so informally and so late at night. She crosses her limestone floor quietly, akin to a ghost as if to tell her visitor no one is present before stopping just shy of the door. Mentally, Tavi remembers what her mother has said about acting regally in the presence of others, how to stand tall and like a future queen, and physically rolls that onto her stance.
With a deep breath, she opens the door.
And here is another response show casing what RPs tend to look like down the line WITHOUT me RPING multiple characters:
Tavi’s eyebrows shoot up In surprise as the listens to Arya’s words. “That is troubling,” she murmurs more to herself than anyone else as she once again brushes back some of her hair.
Her mind wanders, wondering what the right course of action would be. Of course, they would be moving during the earlier morning before the sun would come up, but with the flowers on the line… “perhaps we should leave earlier,” she hums.
But then that would require waking up the rest of the party—and they needed their rest. “We can discuss this inside, please,” Tavi moves aside in the doorway, gesturing for Arya to enter. “I would despise seeing your work go to waste because of the heat and the sun,” she says, already moving to her table to give Arya a cup of water.
[Howdy, here’s the phrase. “An ocean without unnamed monsters would be like sleep without dreams.” ]
And here is a response showcasing me RPING multiple characters:
Abasi mentally rolled his golden eyes at Arya’s childish gesture as he led Tavi through the halls. He enjoyed the feeling of the princess’s hands on his forearm—she felt delicate beneath his touch, and it made his heart beat just a little bit faster.
The area they had stepped into was absolutely beautiful, gorgeous in every which way. The air was sweet and warm, like a mother’s caress.
“Great mother Hathor,” Tavi murmured, her head bowing in reverence to the goddess. “What a beauty and blessing you are,” she murmured to herself, slowly letting go of Abasi’s forearm.
“Princess!” A priest’s voice cut through. “What a pleasure to see you here,” he said warmly. “I presume you’ve come to make an offering?”
Tavi smiled and nodded, gently telling Abasi that his guard could lower. “I have. What a magnificent job you and the priests and priestesses have done.”
The priest beamed and quickly nodded for one of the lower ranking priestesses to fetch a bowl full of offerings they’d prepared for the princess. “It means the world t hear it from you,” he said. “We’ve gone all out this time for her festival.”
“It shows,” Tavi hummed, silently thanking the lower ranking priestess who handed her a bowl full of spices, jewelry, flowers and sweet smelling oils. Gently, Tavi came to the edge of the pool, kneeling down and offering silent prayers to Hathor, a blessed mother, before placing the bowl gingerly on the water.
It rippled as it flowed on the surface, almost resting perfectly in the middle amongst the sparse lily pads and lotus flowers.
On her way back up, Abasi offered the princess his hand, and she took it.
The priest once again beamed. “The goddess is most pleased with your presence,” he noted, barely able to contain his joy. “Would your companions like to make offerings as well?”
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koushisatori · 3 years ago
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if you can't believe in others, at least believe in us
kyoutani x gn!reader
genre: as ordered: a bit of angst w a touch of comfort
warnings: one (1) big jealous idiot, miscommunication
word count: 5.4k
note: this is smth an anon asked me to do (but like...nearly a year ago, I'm not sure if anon is still there or if they remember and my dumbass deleted the ask so I just beta-ed through whatever I had but I know they called me out on enjoying jealous characters so here we go) I'm sorry, mysterious anon, I'm stupid </3 Anyway, that's that. I don't remember if reader was supposed to be female or not so I made it gn!reader (but if I forgot to change something, pls tell me so I can fix any errors c: It's also my first attempt I apologize in advance)
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In the beginning, you weren't sure why your boyfriend is ignoring you
You can't remember doing something that would annoy him, nor do you remember an instant of anger in his eyes that would give you a hint about his reasoning to stay away from you
He explained early on that sometimes he just needs a day of distance because Kentarou could feel the anger simmering right under the surface, enough that something small could tick him off already, and he would hate if you were on the receiving end of this unexplained fury
Both of you also made sure to promise each other to clearly communicate, the relationship between the two of you would not last long if you're not properly telling each other what might be bothering or hurting...just in general cross a boundary
Communication probably was one of the most important aspects of your relationship
cue to the actual situation: your boyfriend avoiding you
So, Monday evening you think maybe it's this overwhelming sensation of unexplained anger and that something at morning practice ticked him off completely
But then Tuesday comes and goes, and your boyfriend had avoided you all day long, did not even bother to read your messages,
on Wednesday, you try to talk to him, but all he does is glaring at you with a look that leaves you speechless and kind of heartbroken,
Thursday is the day you're replaying everything you did on Monday, trying to find something that he could have misunderstood, yet no matter how hard you think about it…your brain won't come up with a reason that explained why Kentarou was so upset with you!
So you decide to make him talk to you on Friday
Enough is enough, right? For gods' sake, he is your boyfriend! You miss him and his strong arms that give hugs so warm that you melt right into them
You don't get a second alone with him until school ends
you practically sprint out of the school building over to the gym, knowing that he had a free hour, which means that he is probably the first person there - your only chance
There he is, sitting with his back to you, aggressively chewing on a bun filled with chicken - his usual that reminded him of his favorite dish - glaring holes into the ground
After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you carefully aks: ''Kentaro…Ken…?'', slowly stretching out your hand, wanting to rest it on his shoulder to maybe help to soothe him a bit
he flinches instead and his heated, agitated gaze meets your eyes, making you recoil in return
''…will you talk to me, I miss you…'' you say softly, realizing how it hurt being ignored by him
''Ah, suddenly you miss me…'' he spits, narrowing his eyes ''…didn't fucking seem like it the last time I saw you…''
''Kentaro, baby, I have no idea what you mean,'' you plead, keeping your voice low to hide the desperation lacing it, confusion written all over your features
all Kyoutani does is growl, hopping down from where he's sitting while shouldering his gym bag
''...shouldn't have been so flirty with Shittykawa like that then-'' he grumbles - ''Ken, I didn't-'' you insist, but he continues ''twirling your hair, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, fuck you Y/N, if you want him, then feel free to take a fucking leave" Kyoutani cusses, not even listening to you
You shake your head, ''Kentaro, no, you totally misunderstood the situation,'' you follow up, panic seeping into your voice now that you knew what he referred to, ''I love yo-''
''Tsk'', he moves to leave
you try to take his hand but, instead of turning around, Kyoutani just rips it away from you, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket
from behind you, you hear Yahaba and Oikawa approaching (talking about Volleyball and Captains duties)
once they guessed what must have happened, they offered you their help (they both swear that Kyoutani will never ever find a ''cute s/o as you are, y/n-chan, I'm worried for my little angry pomeranian kohai'' )
Usually, you would try to talk to him, but after enduring a week of radio silence and now this treatment, you were tired of upholding something that seemed like a lost cause
you just wave both setters off and leave the school grounds, a frown plastered onto your lips and tears swimming in your eyes
Kentarou had not listened to you, did not even really look at you, and the few seconds he did, his eyes were filled with rage instead of the warmth he had usually reserved for you (and only for you)
If your boyfriend thinks avoiding you for a week and blaming you for something ridiculous without hearing you out is how you handle a relationship…maybe you would have to consider not pursuing it any longer
Which is easier said than done
The whole night you wait for a message, anything, and then all Saturday morning
you still had hope left
You get one from Yahaba, who tells you that Oikawa tried to clear up the situation as well after the reason for your fight dawned on him (Kyoutanis piss poor mood and behavior towards him a strong indicator) but Kentaro, again, just ran off
The future team captain even called you after your lackluster answer, listening to you getting the frustration and sadness out of your system
It didn't matter, right? Your boyfriend decided to unofficially call it quits by implying that your feelings for him were not genuine instead of using his mouth to talk to you and disregarding everyone involved
as if he wanted to ignore the truth as a convenient excuse to get out of your relationship
that's the conclusion your brain came up with
You softly sniffle in the privacy of your room, clutching a pillow to your chest (which has seen more tears in the last two days than in the past three years), deciding that it would be a good idea to go into the city to treat yourself
knowing that your mother has a hair-dresser appointment somewhen today, you go and announce that you would join her to finally buy the latest season of your favorite series
once there, you additionally get microwave popcorn, chocolate, and ice cream, as well as a pretty shirt you saw on a mannequin while window shopping
you feel a lot better after spending some money and ignoring the lingering sadness of your presumable break up with Kyoutani (who you love ok, it is not that easy)
In between your stops, you meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa munching on fatty burgers (celebrating your cheat days like a holiday and indulging in whatever your heart desires, is what makes it easier to stick with healthier habits the rest of the time was the questionable explanation coming from the brown-haired setter, pointing at you with a soggy potato fry)
after a moment, the setters eyes turn sad, a frown replacing the smile on his lips
he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you from going just yet, apologizing for being the cause of your fight and for being unable to talk some sense into him
(you assure him that it is not his fault, knowing that your friend will probably brood over it otherwise, which wouldn't be fair)
Iwaizumi adds that Kyoutani will come around and that his cooldown time is just longer than those of other people (and if not, he will give him one of his famous volleyballs to the head and use his status as only truly respected senpai to talk some sense into him) but you again decline their suggestions
after saying goodbye (and seeing Iwaizumi give his best friend an assuring gentle pat on his shoulder, the secret softy in the usual harsh ace shining through)
If Kentaro was willing...able to throw away your relationship this easily, he can't possibly really love you, and you'd accept this even if it's hard and painful
Now remembered of what you had attempted to forget about, you feel your eyes sting with unshed tears (you thought there was no possibility of you having more tears to spill, yet the impossible seemed to be the case) you look down at your phone to text your mom and frown
Kentaro 🥰: we need to talk. Kentaro 🥰: meet me there [location]
For a second, you hesitate, biting your lower lip harshly…you really want to go and talk to him but…
The tears still sting in your eyes and blurring your view reminded you of what you had gone through the whole time, and that it was his turn to finally come to you
break up or makeup, the ball was in his court now
so while walking to where your mother would be waiting for you, you begin to type
You: No.
You: I waited for you all week, even though you ignored me, and now you expect me to run the moment you choose to stop being a childish idiot?
You: if you decide to speak to me then comqjdkn
Kentarou wouldn't say he feels particularly bad. Not at all! If someone was to ask him, he would probably answer fucking peachy, what the fuck are you asking for or growl angrily. No one would bat an eye and further question him, nor guess that maybe he wasn't as great as he pretended because he missed his gorgeous better half, but…it was his fault, wasn't it?
Of course, he originally thought he had a valid reason to be upset. And if he had just spoken to you about it, everything would be solved now. Instead of being a decent boyfriend, though, his pride overtook his thinking processes once he realized that his behavior wasn't even the slightest bit justified. Not that he knew this when he saw you speaking with Shittykawa right before school. All he could see was his gorgeous s/o shyly fiddling with her fingers, conversing with a leaned forward, very involved Oikawa Tooru. He would have fetched you away from the brown-haired setter. He had no qualms about showing his possessiveness. God, Kentarou wouldn't have hesitated to growl at the tall, brown-haired boy if not for the question he heard coming from the Captain.
''Y/N-chan, how is it that you, an adorable, charming individuum, is with a brute like Mad Dog-chan? I really-'' Well, that's where he decided to leave you with the setter. He didn't need to hear your answer. Didn't want to witness an excuse or maybe the truth. If both of you were so fucking smitten with each other to flirt this blatantly, why don't you just go and cheer for him, hold his hand, and kiss his cheek goodbye? It was his choice to distance himself.
Kyoutani couldn't help the feeling of betrayal and hurt washing over him. Maybe you just used him as a stepping stone to get closer with Oikawa, and Kyoutani has been too blind to see it. He never doubted you or your relationship before, but it's not a secret how eruptive Kyoutani could be. It has always been beyond his imagination how someone so cute and sweet like you could love a person like him. Your friends thought so. The teachers. The whole school! Everyone questioned your poor judgment. And when you came running up to him, you're cheery voice calling out for him, everyone present looked at you like you grew a second head. It's the reason why seeing you with Trashykawa ticked him off so bad. It catered to his biggest insecurities and fears. He knew that all those skeptics would be delighted to see you, everyone's darling, with the schools' star setter. They all would agree that the pretty, handsome young man is a better fit than the always hostile-looking troublemaker.
While Kyoutani didn't take Oikawa seriously in most cases, he undoubtedly was one of the most devoted people Kentarou had ever met. If Oikawa wanted to get a new serve right, he wouldn't stop trying and repeating it until his legs gave in, and Iwaizumi dragged him out of the gym. When he wanted to find more advanced players to practice with, so he could, in return, give this new knowledge to his team, there was no way he would not manage to make it happen. Even if his ideas, wishes, and plans cost him blood, sweat, and tears (like getting Kyoutani to actually train), Oikawa never backed down. Kentarou had heard that Oikawa's last girlfriend dumped him because of his passion for Volleyball. Yet Kyoutani couldn't help but think that, in you, the ambitious setter would have found someone that would be able to handle it. You usually came over to watch the team when you knew that Kyoutani was there to play. You sat on the stands with your homework in your lap and a Seijoh-coloured pencil wiggling between your fingers, not bothered by the noises coming from the court. You play with your earlobe while you frown at whatever problem you came across. You patiently wait for practice to finish. Kentarou was sure that you'd be someone Oikawa would actually try for. You weren't one of his squealing fangirls, hanging from his arm on every opportunity, but his friend. You didn't pester him to take selfies with you while pushing cute bentos into his hands. When you bring food to practice, then it's for the whole team to share. If he wanted you, Oikawa would probably have to win you over and make sure that you'd stay. Courting and all that jazz. In all seriousness, Shittykawa would be a fucking idiot if not.
The dyed-blond wing spiker had been so sure that he was rightfully mad that he didn't stop to think twice before he reacted this coldly towards you. But, and this made it even worse, Kentarou knew that he was wrong the moment you asked what happened after an entire week of enduring his silent treatment. The second he heard your shaky voice and saw the tears welling up in your eyes, his brain rebooted, and suddenly he wasn't so sure of his own reasoning. You two were together for about half a year. Kyoutani - by now - was confident in his ability to identify most of your expressions. All he could decipher in your eyes was pain, paired with a need to understand, but…if he was in the wrong…it would mean that he had hurt you the whole week, which in conclusion implied that Kentarou had been the world's shittiest boyfriend. Fuck, he thought, I don't deserve y/n.
His situation didn't get any better the moment Oikawa entered the gym. The person Kyoutani thought he had a real reason to despise now tried to mend the rift between the two of you.
''Mad Dog-chan, I think you misunderstood something there. Well, no, you decided to not listen-'' The taller male says, hands gesturing wildly. While his voice still had that annoyingly cheery tone, it had something commanding hidden underneath. And oh, how Kentarou hated when someone demanded something of him, even if it was for his own good. ''Don't want to hear it.'' the blond mutters, already aggravated. The brown-haired setter resolutely puts himself in the way again. ''Oh, but you have to! That morning, Y/N-chan literally declared her love for yo-'' - ''I don't fucking care.'' Kentarou barks, not looking Oikawa in the eyes.
After another fruitless attempt to get properly into the gym, he growls and turns to leave. Already on his way to grab his stuff and take a leave, he hears Oikawa yelling. ''You answered and justified why I asked Y/N-chan to begin with!" And then louder, even though he could make out Iwaizumi trying to wrestle his childhood friend back into the gym, "APOLOGIZE, YOU IDIOT! YOU BETTER GROVEL FOR Y/N'S FORGIVENESS! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS SHOW YOU'RE PUTTING ON, AND YOU KNOW IT!"
This happened on Friday evening, and the guilt was gnawing away on him ever since. On his way home, Kyoutani had automatically taken the detour to your house. Kentarou enjoyed bringing you home (and more often than not, you pulled him inside with you, making him cuddle you!). It makes him feel like a good boyfriend, and he knew that you arrived there safely. He would never tell anybody and deny it if you ever decided to share this, but Kentarou relished in the feeling of your hand holding his all the way while going on about your day. He admired that you'd pet every cat and every dog you meet on the trip home together with him. You were perfect for him…why again did he act like this?
What caused Kyoutani's attempt to apologize - in his usual overly blunt and partly aggressive kind of way - was Yahaba, though. Both boys denied being remotely something beyond 'not really enemies'. But his future team captain was definitely one of the very few people that could and would tell him to his face that he fucked up without real repercussions. He would presumably even help Kyoutani to get it together.
After Yahaba had called you and listened to your heartbreaking rant, the setter realized that you, his friend, and his 'not really enemy' needed to talk ut out. Totally immersed in your tirade, you accidentally let slip that you couldn't endure Kyoutani's treatment any longer. That being pushed over by your boyfriend with brash and hurtful words after handling the cold shoulder was too much. That you expected Kyoutani to break up with you on Monday either way. In-person, if he had mercy on you or continue his treatment as a silent method of doing so. While you told Yahaba about your planned ''get over it-self-care'' weekend (involving tons of ice cream, movies with crying guarantee, lots of blankets, and no smartphone), the setter had already put on his jacket, shooting a message to Kyoutani.
From Yahaba: get your stupid fucking ass outside to meet me, or I'll bench you the complete season next year
Even though the wing spiker was sure that Yahaba's words were nothing but empty words, Kentarou allowed himself to accept this threat as an excuse to put his pride aside. Because, even though Yahaba annoyed him to no end - not as bad as Oikawa but still - Kentarou was also aware that you and he were friends. If someone could help him gaining your forgiveness, Kyoutani had to accept and admit that it was Yahaba. Meeting his light brown-haired teammate was kind of awkward. Kyoutani was unsure what he had to expect, though he should have seen the rough treatment coming. Yet, getting told that you, the person Kentarou was undeniably in love with, felt so neglected and hurt that you deemed this relationship to be as good as over allowed the guilt monster in his chest to grow. Shitty Oikawa was probably right ordering him to grovel and beg on his knees for you to even hear him out.
Your answer to his message was partly unlike you. Well, the last sentence. You usually were pretty forward with him to avoid miscommunication and uncalled-for moping around. And while you sometimes send keyboard smashes to express the chaos you felt, they were always in a separate message and not so…random. The text definitely meant something like ''then come to me'' but somehow, Kyoutani had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing.
Besides, he couldn't just wait till Monday and hope that you'd accept his apology! You may send him away today already, but he still had a teeny-tiny bit of hope. If he let the thoughts of him leaving you or the other way around fester in your mind for two whole days, though,…you'd probably realize that leaving him wasn't that bad of a decision. You'd come to the conclusion that all your admirers could treat you better than Kyoutani did. And he was too selfish to let you leave. Even though all he did the whole week was being self-centered and stuck up, he would be damned to begin being a saint now and let you go. That you at least were willing to talk to him was…a relief, to say the least. Kentarou hoped that this translated to you being willing to put up with him a little longer if he apologized correctly. That you're not opposed to giving him another chance to make things right.
At your house, he was greeted with darkness. Not even a single light illuminating any of the rooms he could see from his spot on your front lawn. And the ones he saw were your and your mom's most-used rooms. Your room window, your mothers' workroom, and the living room area with an adjacent kitchen. All of those rather significant rooms and the lack of light in them seemed to be a dead giveaway for Kyoutani that no one was home. Kyoutani guessed that you were probably out with your mom, glancing over to the empty spot in front of the garage.
Oh god, your mother had been the only supportive person of your relationship. Maybe it's in your family to see the best in everyone, even in shitty people like him. But if you told her about his behavior, she'd most likely not welcome him with a smile ever again, no matter if you forgave him.
There weren't many things Kyoutani could do in this situation, but it wasn't as late as nature let it on, and after a few seconds, he had decided to sit down at the front door and wait for you, hoping that it wouldn't take too long for you to come home. As if fate wanted to tell him something, the wing spiker had put on the jacket with the half-full power bank. He had worn it to the shelter when he visited it this week while distracting himself from your absence in his daily life. You had gifted him the piece of clothing, which is probably why he unconsciously had decided to wear it to everything he did after school in the first place.
Kentarou passed the time by snarling at people eyeing him for a moment too long to not be judgmental, petting the neighbors' cat wandering over to him, and watching videos. Every time he thought ''Y/N would like this'', his heart stuttered guilty.
To Kentarou, it felt like an eternity until your mother's car finally drove up the entry. To avoid your mother's potentially deadly stare, he nervously checked his mobile, realizing that he had waited for a little more than 3 hours. Yet, the wait had done nothing to soothe his nerves. They instantly spiked up again while his heart threatened to jump out of his throat.
She will hate me. Your mother would hate me, she'll hate me, she'll ha-
''Ah, Ken-chan! Good evening.'' Your mother greets him with a tired, yet still gentle smile. Oh. The blond blanches. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed the treatment he received from your mother more than he should. Being spoken to without suspicion and receiving a warm smile every time without fail was a welcome change to his daily life. Your mother didn't listen to people trying to bad-mouth him. To her, he simply was the boy that - normally - treats her child the way a mother wished for. Even if he pulled a face as long as a fiddle.
''I didn't know you were coming, Ken-chan, or I would have messaged you…but now that you're here, maybe you can assist us out and help Y/N inside? It would help a lot.'' His gaze immediately flitted over to you on the passenger seat. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and that stubborn but endearingly cute pout on your lips, he nearly missed the tiredness your body emitted. Kentarou wanted to rush over to your side immediately but was stopped by your mother again. ''I don't know what you two are fighting about…but please talk to each other. I don't want my baby to be this sad. Especially now, and…'' she rests a hand on his shoulder, her eyes kind and comforting ''…I also don't want to miss you here, alright?'' He stiffly nodded and watched your mother carrying in plastic bags filled with various medicine packages and food.
After coming back to his senses, Kyoutani finally stumbled over to your side, practically ripping open the car door. This new perspective revealed a plaster cast wrapping your whole left leg and a removable wrist brace on your right hand. ''Bab- Y/N…what the fuck…happened?'' His honey-brown eyes continued to wander over your injuries, and with every second, he found more. Scratches and scrapes, bandaids and bandages peeking out from underneath your clothes. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered, hanging his head low.
All your intentions to fight his helping hand and limp over to the door by yourself disintegrated into nothing. You never witnessed such a devastated, beaten expression on his face before. Instead, you settle for ''Will you help me?''. A question asked quietly to your fingers picking at a loose band-aid edge on your arm and pressing it back onto the irritated skin.
After you loosened your seatbelt, he waits for you to carefully place your arms around his neck. It is followed by Kyoutani lifting you out of the car so gently as if he was afraid you might break. This whole situation in itself already contradicting his brash appearance and usual behavior. It would give whiplash to all the people pretending to know him. But he was always caring in his own way when it came to you. It's why you loved him after all. Because you usually knew that he loved you, too.
For a few moments, the atmosphere between the two of you felt awkwardly tense, both of you unsure how to interact with each other. The mostly blonde wing spiker breathed out a sigh of relief when you fully leaned into his chest once he stood upright, resting your head against his shoulder. A bit of maneuvering through the front door eventually lead to Kyoutani passing through the hallway and taking you to your room, where he was gently lowering you down on the bed.
It was a now or never kind of situation. For the both of you. While Kentarou was trying to find out where to begin his apology, he took a few steps back in case you wanted space until everything was cleared up.
You unconsciously helped him making a decision by impulsively grasping onto his shirt the moment he started to withdraw, stopping him in his retreating movement. Kentarou saw your lower lips wobbling, teary eyes looking up at him pleadingly.
''Please stay,'' you say weakly, which is enough for him to throw the whole thinking process away and simply sit down next to you, intertwining both your hands. ''I'm staying. I'm not leaving. Not now nor this relationship if you still want...an ''us''. The wing spiker took a deep, shuttering breath. '' I'm sorry, Y/N…'' he finally manages to say, honey eyes locked onto your linked your hands. ''I have been fucking stupid all week. 've been a fucking terrible boyfriend, the worst to ever exist.''
As if to encourage him...to show your boyfriend that his apology was not for nothing, you shuffled around until the last bit of distance between the two of you was closed. You hum, acknowledging his words while leaning your head on his shoulder.
''I didn't think you're cheating or something, …'' Kyoutani immediately assures you. There was no way he would allow you to think that he would accuse you of something like this. ''I had no reason to be jealous, but I was insecure. Let it get the best of me. Despite our promise to communicate, I was sulking. 't was easier. I'll do whatever the fuck you want for you to not give up yet…'' he says, taking his time with every sentence.
With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. ''It will probably take a lot of cuddling and attention from you...'' you say thoughtfully ''...but I forgive you…if you promise to not do this again…'' you murmur, tilting your head upward to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. ''Otherwise, I'll accept Iwaizumi-san's offer to get your thinking process restarted.'' For a moment, your voice had its usual joking edge. But you knew talking out everything was necessary. ''But, in all honesty, 'Tarou....please, never do this again. I am honest. I will not endure this a second time. When you tell me that you need a day or two for yourself then that is totally fine. If you feel yourself giving into whatever insecurity, talk to me about it. I am sure there will be an explanation or a solution but don't leave me in the dark. Don't treat me like that. I love you. Only you and no one else. But the time love can withstand straight-up ignorance by your partner is limited.''
Slowly, your boyfriend nodded, squeezing your hand to tell you that he understood. You would probably cling to him for a while but were sure that he would survive the extra closeness. Not even half a second later, his head leans onto yours cautiously.
''…and try being nicer to Oikawa-san, Tarou, he hasn't done anything to you.'' You add humorously before small giggles started to erupt from your lips. ''Also...Baby…'' you start, being interrupted by choked-up hiccups and giggles. By using your nickname for him, you take away another persistent fear of his. What he does not miss, however, is how you wince in pain before you continue, ''…who helped you put this into words? I mean…I loved it, but…,'' You leave unsaid that words usually are not his strong fort.
Biting back a smile, he frowns, huffs, and puffs…, but the way you are looking up at him, eyes shining with relief and adoration, allows him to admit defeat. He sighs ''…it's how Yahaba said I should say it…'' It usually would be an odd enough statement to make you throw yourself all over him with laugher. As a slight replacement, you squeeze his hand a bit, still shaking with suppressed laughter. ''I promise…that I will talk to you. Can't promise the Shittykawa part.'' Another soft chuckle leaves your lips before you look up at him again. ''I hope you try nonetheless. You should not let Iwaizumi-san hear you calling Oikawa-san that, though, I don't think this would turn out well for you…so...maybe stop this at least.'' Kentarou rolls his eyes at you, but in the end, he nods.
You wait for another second to clearly distinguish the two topics before you continue. ''…Thank you…for coming and finally speaking with me instead of break-'' A hand on your lips muffles your words.
''Don't say these words. I'd never break up with you,'' Kentarou grumbles, a light, uncharacteristic light pink settling on his cheeks. You stick your tongue out, which leads to him taking his hand off of your face with a surprised noise, rather dumbfounded that you had licked his hand. It gives you the chance to lean up and finally press your lips against his. ''I'm not leaving you either,'' you murmur, feeling his lips twitch upwards slightly. You decide to leave the teasing for another day.
Moving back into your previous position was enough of a hassle to hiss in pain. It brought back Kyoutani's awareness of the second problem at hand. ''What did happen to you?'' Kyoutani asks in an attempt to tamper down the excited, happy beating of his heart.
''Oh, this...uh, when I answered your text, I got driven over by a dude on a bicycle,'' you casually drop. It was kind of entertaining to watch his expressions change at an unequaled pace while processing your words. In the end, it settled into something akin to passive-aggressive worry. The way he was immediately fretting over you while cursing and cussing out the bicycle dude was his own way of caring. As you watch him retrieving the food your mother bought, while mumbling about how you're a dumbass for not paying attention to your surroundings, how he'd come over every day until you could go to school again to bring and teach you the stuff you would miss and how he would fucking murder the bicycle idiot if he ever finds out who dared to drive you over, you can't help the smile forming on your lips.
Once again, you are proven that loving him - while occasionally troublesome and demanding - was everything but wrong.
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nhlandotherimagines · 4 years ago
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Everything About You- Mitch Marner
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@natbarzal @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @jonnytoews19 
And they blurbs continue! Here is number 10 of the Up All Night series, with the one and only Mitch Marnie ❤️
I had a lot of fun writing this one, but just a heads up it contains a lot of crying, infidelity (not by Mitch or Y/n but still), anxiety/panic attacks, loss of a loved one, and of course some friends to lovers fluff in there too! I hope you all enjoy it ❤️❤️❤️
You know I've always got your back, girl, so let me be the one you come running to, running to, running
Today has not been your day at all. Work totally kicked your ass, and now this! “Isaac what the hell?” Your voice cracks a little, but you can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed. All you feel at this moment is rage, because your boyfriend of two years is sitting in your shared living room with some other girls’ tongue down his throat.
“Y/n! You’re home early!” He practically pushes the girl to the floor in an attempt to look innocent.
“Oh I’m sorry! Was that inconvenient for you? Please ignore me and go back to business, I’ll just be in OUR bedroom!” You’re yelling now, moving with purpose towards your bedroom. Slamming the door behind you, you pull your phone out of your pocket. Eyes filling with tears, you press on his contact as fast as you can trying to keep your composure.
“Hey Y/n! What’s up?” Mitch’s voice is sing-songy like it always is, but today it does little to make you feel better.
“I need you to come get me...” your voice trails off as your whole body begins trembling. “Isaac c-cheated and I just, I need to go. Please.” You’re crying now. So much so that you don’t register much of Mitch’s response, aside from him promising he’d be there soon.
———
“Where is she?” Mitch is angry, you can hear it from down the hall. Mitch doesn’t get angry though, and you quickly realize this might become a much bigger problem very quickly.
“Get lost Mitch.” Isaac spits at him, and your breath hitches in your throat. You don’t make out the words that leave Mitch’s mouth next, but you do hear a crash as your feet carry you towards the front door as fast as they can move.
“Mitch don’t!” The words leave your mouth faster than you have time to take in the scene before you. Mitch is gripping the collar of Isaac’s hoodie, and has him pushed up against the wall. Both men turn to you when they hear your voice, and you’re thankful, because it looked as though Mitch was ready to swing. “Please let’s just go.” Your voice and eyes plead with Mitch, and it has his heart breaking. He lets go of Isaac, but not without giving him a shove first.
“You’re not going with him.” Isaac announces, sending Mitch a dirty look.
“Watch me,” you shoot back at him before turning to Mitch. “Can you come help grab my bags please?”
And he does. The whole while Isaac cursing and swearing under his breath, and you easily ignore him. That is until you’re slipping your jacket and shoes on. “I don’t see what your fucking problem is! You’re the one whoring around with the entire leafs roster.” His words have you seeing red, and thankfully Mitch can read you like a book. He wraps a hand gently around your bicep, but hard enough that in your attempt to lunge at Isaac he holds you back.
“For the record asshole, Y/n hasn’t so much as looked at anyone on the team in a suggestive way. So some time in between being a dipshit, get your facts straight.” Mitch’s voice is cool and collected, and it eases your mind as he pulls you and your bags out of the apartment.
As you make your way to Mitch’s car, you feel numb. The whole situation runs through your brain over and over, but somehow you remain emotionless. Slipping into the front seat, you wait as Mitch loads your things into the back. You’re so in your head, you barely notice him get in and start the car.
“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, but Mitch hears you loud and clear. He immediately pulls the car back into the spot he just pulled out of, slamming the car right back into park causing your body to jerk forward slightly.
“Do not apologize to me, are you serious?” You turn to him, and he sends you a sad smile taking your hands in his. “I am so happy you called me! I want to be the person you call when you need something. Anything! I will come running anytime anywhere if you need me! Do you understand?”
The emotions that you hadn’t been able to find just moments ago find you now in full force. Tears steadily stream down your face, and all you can do is nod as Mitch pulls you awkwardly into his chest. The centre console digs into your ribs, but the pain doesn’t compare to the ache in your heart. Besides, in the comfort of your best friend’s arms, you’ve never felt more safe.
I see it's just a matter of fact, girl. You just call my name, I'll be coming through, coming through, I'll keep coming.
Living with Mitch was the easiest, yet hardest, thing you’ve ever done. Your plan was to move back home to your parents place, but Mitch pouted and complained about not being able to see you. So after hours of lighthearted arguments, you decided to stay. You fit well with Mitch, but there is one thing that is starting to become an issue. His teammates.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” Will chirps the moment Mitch and a few of his teammates arrive to pregame before going out for drinks. Somehow Mitch’s place always gets offered up as a place to host these get togethers. Sure, you love all the guys, and they are your friends too, but the whole ‘girlfriend’ chirp was getting old fast.
“Still not his girlfriend!” You call out, peaking around the corner to let the boys know you’re in the kitchen. You got a head start on the drinking, and are currently pouring yourself a hefty glass of wine.
“Great, so you’re free to go on a date with me then.” Will winks at you as he leans against the counter beside you.
“Absolutely not!” Mitch pipes in before you even can formulate a response. Everyone’s head snaps towards Mitch, and his cheeks seem to turn a shade darker. “I’m not letting her date any of you, she could do a million times better! No offence Willy.”
“Oh none taken.” Will manages to get out while stifling a laugh.
———
The bar was packed, you knew it would be. You had insisted you would just stay home, because it was the boys night to celebrate their win, but Mitch wasn’t having it. So here you were trying to find your way to the bar for another drink. Bodies all around you, bumping into you, spilling drinks, and it felt hard to breath.
As your hands start to shake, you abandon the idea of another drink and instead turn to head back towards the group. Your breath hitches in your throat as you turn to see a sea of people. You try and push your way through, but with every step you begin to feel smaller. Your entire body begins to shake, every small brush of a limb against you has your head spinning. Panic sets into your bones, as your heart begins to race. Your eyes frantically scan the crowd looking for Mitch, as you begin wringing your hands together anxiously.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Where is Mitch?” You begin muttering to yourself. Obsessively repeating his name to yourself as if you’d forget who it was you were looking for if you stop. Of course you had to ask him to hold onto your cellphone for you!
Tears sting your eyes, and the anxiety wracking your body manifests itself into fear now. It feels as though everyone is staring at you like you’re crazy, and you don’t feel safe here. Unable to find your bearings in a room that seems to be spinning around you, you do the only thing you know how to. You call out for Mitch.
His name falls from your lips, and you know how pathetic it sounds, but you don’t care. You’re just praying that he hears you, so you call out for him again. “Mitch! Where are you?!” People are definitely staring now, but you feel like you’re moments away from passing out.
A hand grips your shoulder causing you to jump back. As you whip your head around to see who grabbed you, your eyes are met by a very concerned Mitch. You fall against his chest, and he holds you close as you try to not fall apart.
You barely register the fact that Mitch is leading you through the crowd, aside from the fact your feet are moving. You still have your face pressed into his chest as the two of you step out of the bar.
“Hey what’s wrong?” His voice is soft as he runs a hand through your hair softly. You can’t respond with words. Instead you squeeze your fists tighter in his shirt, as your body begins to tremble against him. The tears, mixed with your makeup, will surely stain his shirt, but you can’t stop. “Woah! Shh don’t cry, it’s okay I’m here.” Mitch rubs your back in slow circles as you desperately cling to him. You stay like that for awhile, but soon enough you come to your senses and feel like a total idiot. You pull away from Mitch abruptly, and turn away from him aggressively wiping at your face. “God I’m sorry Mitch! I’m such a baby!” You groan. You’re angry at yourself, and super embarrassed. So much so, that if it weren’t for the fact your phone was still in Mitch’s pocket, you would have just ran away.
“Y/n?” His voice sounds so unsure, yet so soft. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet, but you do turn back towards him. “I shouldn’t have let you go to the bar alone, I’m sorry. Did someone hurt you? Because I swear to god I will go in there and fight for you no questions asked.” He adds a little chuckle at the end, but his tone gives away the fact he’s telling the truth. You have no doubts Mitch would fight for you, it’s why you love him.
Holy shit. You love Mitch!
“N-no one hurt me Mitch I just, I don’t know. I got overwhelmed, and scared. I didn’t have my phone, and I couldn’t find you a-and I just shut down. God I’m so stupid! I’m an adult and I can’t even get a drink for myself.” You stare at your feet, willing the tears away that once again threaten to fall down your cheeks. In a moment, Mitch has your face in his hands tilting your head up, forcing you to look in his eyes.
“Stop that.” His eyes are looking into yours like he’s trying to read your mind. “You are so far from stupid! I’m sorry I didn’t find you faster, I’m sorry I let you go alone. You’re okay now though alright? Let’s go home yeah?” You nod, but neither of you dare to move. His face is only inches from yours, and you use this moment to just take him in. He’s absolutely beautiful. His hair falling over his forehead, his perfect skin, his blue eyes, his lips. He’s perfect. You realize you’ve been staring at his lips a beat too long when he licks his lip. The action pulls you from your daze, and you let your eyes wander back up to his, which are focused on your own lips. Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes meet yours again.
“We should go.” You awkwardly clear your throat, completely ruining whatever that was. Mitch slowly drops his hands back to his sides, shaking his head lightly.
“Yeah let’s go.”
On the other side of the world, it don't matter, I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two
Loss is something that everyone will experience at least once in their life. You have had your fair share, but none to date hurt quite like this one. Losing someone so close to your heart, and being completely alone. Your family all in a completely different province, your best friend is in a completely different country playing hockey, and you are laying completely still. Unable to move from the spot you collapsed into after the conversation with your mom.
Death wasn’t new to you, but being alone certainly was. So all you could do was cry.
You only lift your head from the pillow when your phone rings. A picture of you and Mitch flashes on the screen, letting you know he wants to FaceTime.
“Hey Mitch, how was the game?” You ask after accepting the call, but keeping your camera off.
“The game was good... did you not watch it?” He asks, rightfully confused, because you had told him you’d watch it.
“Oh well uh- something came up I’m sorry.” Your excuse is poor, but not entirely untrue. Mitch might have even let you away with it, if it weren’t for the small sniffle you let out at the end.
“Y/n are you crying?” You see the concern written on his face, as a fresh batch of tears start falling. “Please turn the camera on.”
You listen to him, no energy left in you to argue. As you see your face pop up on the screen you immediately regret it. You look awful, and Mitch’s eyes soften when he sees you. “I’m fine Mitch I just- Mom called me, and I’m just having a rough night. It just sucks being alone.”
“Is everything okay?” He questions, but you can tell he’s trying not to be pushy. All you can do is shake your head, more tears falling down your face. Mitch feels his heart break in two as he watches you fall apart on his phone screen. “I’m coming home.”
“I know you’ll be home tomorrow night, I’ll be okay. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” You aren’t sure how you manage to string coherent sentences together, but you do. You feel silly telling Mitch you don’t like being alone, it’s not his fault he has to travel so much for work.
“No I’m coming home now. I’ll be there in 4 hours okay? Just hang in there for me alright?” You look at the screen and realize Mitch is frantically throwing things into his suitcase. After he manages to stuff everything into the suitcase he zips it up and looks back at his screen. You still haven’t responded, so he speaks again. “4 hours, and I’ll be there. I promise.”
And he kept his promise. 3 hours and 56 minutes later he crawls into your bed and holds you until you fell asleep.
I still feel it every time, it's just something that you do. Now ask me why I want to.
“Wow he’s really smitten with you isn’t he?” Audrey, Justin Holl’s wife gushes. You had just filled her and the other WAGs in on why Mitch had flown home for you just over a month ago.
“He’s a really great friend.” You smile shyly, eyes searching for the topic of conversation himself. When you find him, he’s smiling at you, him and Justin leaning against a wall both sipping beers. You send him a small wave, and he winks back at you.
“Oh come on! A ‘really good friend’ doesn’t pack up a work trip on a moments notice and fly home to you like that. This boy is totally gone for you! Honestly I assumed you two would have gotten together by now.” Audrey gestures between the two of you dramatically, and your cheeks heat up.
“He doesn’t like me like that.” You insist. If they could feel how fast your heart is racing though, they’d know just how badly you wanted what they were saying to be true.
———
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Mitch asks as he closes the apartment door behind him. You have just gotten back from Justin and Audrey’s and you’ve hardly spoken a word to him.
“Just thinking.” You mutter, hanging up your jacket and throwing your keys on the desk.
“Care to share with the class?” He chirps, smiling widely as he hangs his coat on the hook next to yours. The moment is so incredibly domestic, and your stomach is doing somersaults at the thought of it.
“Just something Audrey said.” You pause for a moment unsure if you really want to tell Mitch what’s really going through your head. “Can I ask you something?” You flop down onto the couch, watching him over the back of the couch as he grabs you both a beer from the fridge.
“Shoot!” He grins, handing you a beer and taking a seat right next to you. He pops open his beer, and leans back against the couch throwing an arm around your shoulders. He looks at you expectantly as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Why are you so nice to me?” His brows knit together in confusion, so you choose to elaborate. “Like I get that we are friends, best friends even, but you go out of your way to always be there for me. Stepping out on work to fly home to me because I’m sad, isn’t really something a best friend does. So why are you so nice? I don’t need you to take pity on me if that’s what this is. I don’t want to be a charity case.”
Mitch sits forward on the couch now. His arm no longer around you, instead both elbows are planted on his knees. He’s picking at the label on his beer like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. This isn’t a side of him you see often. Mitch Marner is nervous.
“It’s not like that at all! You aren’t a charity case!” He still hasn’t looked at you, and the distance he’s putting between you has you panicking.
“So tell me what it’s like. Come on Mitch, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You tease, bumping his shoulder playfully with your own. Your attempt to lighten the mood even just a little works momentarily, as a small smile breaks out on Mitch’s face.
“You really want to know why I do all of that stuff for you?” His eyes search yours now, hoping he finds the answer he’s looking for. He’s hoping that you are ready to hear what he has to say, and when you place your hand on his arm with a smile he knows it’s going to be okay. “It’s because I love you.”
It's everything about you, everything that you do. From the way that we touch, baby, to the way that you kiss on me. It's everything about you, the way you make it feel, new. Like every party is just us two, and there's nothin' I could point to. It's everything about you.
“Mitch-“ your voice is a warning. Or maybe it’s a plea. Even you aren’t sure, because your heart is in your throat right now.
“I’m serious. I love you. I think I always have, I mean what isn’t there to love? You always make me feel important, like no one else matters and I’ve been trying so hard to make you feel the same way. To make you feel like you’re worth it, because you are so worth it. I love everything about you. I love how funny, sweet, strong, and caring you are. I love how you are just so you. There is not one single thing that made me love you, it was everything. I’m sorry if this is weird for you, but I’m just being honest.” His whole body seems to relax a bit after he finishes speaking. It is almost as if you can see the weight lifting from his shoulders. A weight you hadn’t realized he carried with him, and you want so badly to apologize to him. Tell him you’re sorry for not realizing sooner, and that you wish he hadn’t carried that weight for you. You want to tell him you’re not perfect, and that he has you all wrong. Mostly though, you just want to tell him you love him too.
The only way you know how to tell Mitch exactly how you feel about him isn’t by telling him all of those things with simple words, you have to show him. So, taking a deep breath, you lift your hand from Mitch’s arm, and place gently on the back of his neck. You gently dance your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and you feel a shiver pass through him. He slowly lifts his eyes to yours again, and without another second of hesitation you’re pulling him into you.
When his lips reach yours, you kiss him with all you have. You pour yourself into him in hopes of showing him how grateful you are for him, and how much you love him. He smiles against your lips, as he pulls you into his lap. He hugs your body to his own, and you grip his hair like you’re scared to let go.
After kissing for what feels like forever, but also not nearly long enough, you pull away to catch your breath. Your foreheads are pressed together, both of you breathing heavily, and both sporting mile wide grin.
“Wow.” Mitch breathes out, causing you to giggle. “Add that to the list.”
“List?” You ask curiously, sitting back in his lap to get a better look at him. His hair is messy, lips swollen and red, and his eyes have never looked more blue.
“The list of things I love about you. The way you kiss me, I can add that to the list of everything.” The happiness you feel in this moment has you feeling warm. Sure, maybe the way you found Mitch wasn’t conventional, but there was a reason you called him all those months ago. However it happened, you’ve never been more happy to call someone yours.
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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago
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RP Rules
Status: Semi-Open as of July 26th, 2022
Feel free to DM me or ask any questions in my inbox! I can't guarantee that RPs will start right away, but we can definitely start setting things up.
In order to RP with me, you NEED to send me the hidden phrase in here so I know you actually read the rules. If not, I will not RP.
Literacy Style:
Literate to semi-literate. I like to write in multiple paragraphs, both with detail and somewhat dialogue heavy. If you’ve seen my writing, it’s a lot like that! I expect potential RP partners to follow in suit/match.
It seems as of late that I prefer literate with multiple paragraphs and details.
I’ve been RPing since I was like, 10. If I see *she smiles* it might summon rage 💀 /hj
Where We Can Talk:
Just starting off? Tumblr DMs! I won’t RP in the comment section of a post.
You can now ask for my Discord. It’s where I’m most active.
Slots:
Don’t really have a cap off but it becomes too much at once I will be sure to let you know.
Genres and Plots:
Almost anything and everything! However, towards strangers and people I’m generally unfamiliar with, SFW are going to be the topics I steer towards. Adventure, drama, horror etc. are all fine the first go around.
I’m pretty flexible on genres so like, hey don’t be afraid to suggest it.
NSFW, while I am not opposed to it at all, must be talked about extensively if you are not a close friend.
NSFW will only be done with other 18+ adults who have verified they are in fact, adults. I absolutely refuse NSFW to “ageless” accounts and minors.
Honestly I don’t want to RP with minors so if you’re a minor, don’t message me. Don’t do it. Thanks.
Pairings:
Gets a little odd here, I don’t actually ship anything, if that makes any sense? Like, canon character X canon character just isn’t in my repertoire unless they’re already an established couple or the franchise is heavily leaning them that way.
That said, I’m totally cool with self shipping and OCs X Canon characters. (If self ship, it has to go both ways. Sorry I’m a simp too 😔)
Platonic, familial, those work best though especially if I am unfamiliar with you as a person.
Honestly I’m not as veered towards romance unless you’re a good friend of mine.
Do:
When first DMing, send me memes to help break the ice! I’m pretty good about speaking to people, but I understand how awkward it can be
If you’re using an OC, please tell me all about your OC! If you have any reference pics etc, send them so I can describe them during the RP.
If you’re playing a canon character and you’ve changed anything about them that’s notable, feel free to mention their quirks, and the lore building you’ve done for them.
Tell me if it gets to be too much or if you wish to change directions. I want you to feel safe and have a free voice during the chat. If something doesn’t click, tell me.
Please talk to me about the RP plot before we start! That gives me a good direction on what bases to hit and which lines to not cross. Your boundaries are just as important as mine and I want to respect them.
Use brackets or some other notation to let me know you’re speaking out of character! I’m very prone to using []
Understand that you can leave for a while and don’t need to apologize. Genuinely, I know you’ll get back to me. If you don’t think you will or it’ll take longer than expected then let me know. I know people get busy, so it’s honestly no problem.
Don’t:
Do NOT ask to RP if you are a minor. I do not wish to RP with minors.
Send me unsolicited NSFW or a starter without any conversation prior to. It’s just kind of ???? On my end.
Do not godmod HEAVILY. I’m okay with like, “and he helped her up and watched as she walked over to the desk.” But fully godmodding is a no.
Send one liners. Self explanatory.
Wildly deviate from the plot in bizarre ways. Like, making things NSFW all of a sudden or cause angst when there was none. I hate saying “Mary Sue the RP” but do not Mary Sue the RP.
Please don’t be upset when I take a hot minute or two to respond. I’m a person that has a life outside of her phone and is actually prone to migraine if I look at screens for too long. I will always get back to the RP unless I say otherwise.
Be pushy for a character or a pairing I said no to.
Go too OOC for canon characters.
Ask for things like rape, beastiality, common DNI criteria.
I understand RP can be therapeutic but remember, I am not a therapist and the RP we have is not substitute for actual mental health help.
Fandoms:
SCP
Darkwood
Assassin’s Creed
Grimm
Uncharted
My OCs (need to ask about those, there’s,,,, many and they’re all intricate.)
If you mention it and I know it, there’s a chance I’ll go with it.
Other Things:
Please use third person, past or present tense. Usually past tense.
I feel it goes hand in hand with literate RP but use “speaking” for a dialogue and ‘thinking’ for thoughts.
Try not to rush anything! Let it happen naturally and it’ll all play out.
Don’t be afraid to talk to me outside of the RP either. Like, it’s a personal thing we’re probably going to become friends.
Some Examples of My RP Style:
Mind you, not all of these are going to be extremely long. Things tend to taper out.
All of these examples were lifted directly from one of my RPs.
This is a starter:
A young princess sat on the balcony of her mother’s grand palace. The stars of the night were absolutely gorgeous as her dark eyes peered upwards, tracing constellation upon constellation. There, she could see the proud statue of Amun and feel the loving gaze of the beautiful mother goddess, Hathor. Strings upon strings of stars hung in the sky and bathed the desert in a warm white and blue gold, illuminating the darkness so she could observe the night life of her people. At barely eighteen years old, the young princess had been coming to a very startling conclusion as she stared out at the houses amongst the dunes and the boats and their ferriers on the Nile: that one day, all of this would be hers. The thought scared her, as ruling over such a people with the same authority as her mother and her mothers before her… The burden was crushing in its own right.
Sameera, the current pharaoh of Egypt and seated daughter of Isis and Ra, had been gearing her only daughter up for greatness since she had been brought into the world. The palace had served little as a home and more of a house of education, gearing up the little girl for a future in which all would bow down to her. Sameera has been, and will be considered a bountiful ruler. She ushered in an Egypt in which magick and divine favor rained down on the land, where suffering was lightened, and where pain had been naught but a bruise.
To give her daughter, Tavi, a taste of what it would mean to be the seated pharaoh and begin expanding her power besides running the palace, Sameera had placed her in charge of the Festival of Hathor. The festival in itself being amongst the most important task Tavi has been held in charge of to this date. In the morning, Tavi would be heading out by herself to Dendera, the main site of Hathor’s cult and preside over it, and of course, ensure it passes smoothly.
It sounds so simple: let people get drunk and feast, make merry, and enjoy singing and dancing in the company of others, but Tavi has never been a part of such importance in ritual ceremonies. She’s only ever observed, and even that in itself has been something hidden to her as her mother finds the merrymaking beneath her real education under the watchful eyes of Thoth.
Tavi sighs deeply and rests her arms on the balcony for just a moment more, already intending to head back inside and rest for the night before one of her lady maids interrupts her train of thought.
“My lady,” the finely dressed woman begins. “You have a visitor.”
Tavi’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she crosses the balcony through the cool night air to come to her lady maid’s side. “What? Who on earth would come to my quarters at this hour?” She inquires, more curious than angered at the thought she has a visitor.
The woman bows her head in the princess’s presence as if to silently ask her if she should address the visitor. “I believe it pertains to the Festival of Hathor, but it was not my place to pry,” the lady maid continues, her voice soft and sweet. “Shall I tell them to leave?”
Tavi blinks before shaking her head. “No, you may leave. I’ll handle this,” she replies warmly, her hand resting on the taller woman’s shoulder. “Go, get some rest,” she hums.
The lady maid nods, thanks her princess, then exits out the servant’s entrance, leaving Tavi to her own devices.
The young princess brushes back some of her black hair, wondering who would ask audience with her so informally and so late at night. She crosses her limestone floor quietly, akin to a ghost as if to tell her visitor no one is present before stopping just shy of the door. Mentally, Tavi remembers what her mother has said about acting regally in the presence of others, how to stand tall and like a future queen, and physically rolls that onto her stance.
With a deep breath, she opens the door.
And here is another response show casing what RPs tend to look like down the line WITHOUT me RPING multiple characters:
Tavi’s eyebrows shoot up In surprise as the listens to Arya’s words. “That is troubling,” she murmurs more to herself than anyone else as she once again brushes back some of her hair.
Her mind wanders, wondering what the right course of action would be. Of course, they would be moving during the earlier morning before the sun would come up, but with the flowers on the line… “perhaps we should leave earlier,” she hums.
But then that would require waking up the rest of the party—and they needed their rest. “We can discuss this inside, please,” Tavi moves aside in the doorway, gesturing for Arya to enter. “I would despise seeing your work go to waste because of the heat and the sun,” she says, already moving to her table to give Arya a cup of water.
[Howdy, here’s the phrase. “An ocean without unnamed monsters would be like sleep without dreams.” ]
And here is a response showcasing me RPING multiple characters:
Abasi mentally rolled his golden eyes at Arya’s childish gesture as he led Tavi through the halls. He enjoyed the feeling of the princess’s hands on his forearm—she felt delicate beneath his touch, and it made his heart beat just a little bit faster.
The area they had stepped into was absolutely beautiful, gorgeous in every which way. The air was sweet and warm, like a mother’s caress.
“Great mother Hathor,” Tavi murmured, her head bowing in reverence to the goddess. “What a beauty and blessing you are,” she murmured to herself, slowly letting go of Abasi’s forearm.
“Princess!” A priest’s voice cut through. “What a pleasure to see you here,” he said warmly. “I presume you’ve come to make an offering?”
Tavi smiled and nodded, gently telling Abasi that his guard could lower. “I have. What a magnificent job you and the priests and priestesses have done.”
The priest beamed and quickly nodded for one of the lower ranking priestesses to fetch a bowl full of offerings they’d prepared for the princess. “It means the world t hear it from you,” he said. “We’ve gone all out this time for her festival.”
“It shows,” Tavi hummed, silently thanking the lower ranking priestess who handed her a bowl full of spices, jewelry, flowers and sweet smelling oils. Gently, Tavi came to the edge of the pool, kneeling down and offering silent prayers to Hathor, a blessed mother, before placing the bowl gingerly on the water.
It rippled as it flowed on the surface, almost resting perfectly in the middle amongst the sparse lily pads and lotus flowers.
On her way back up, Abasi offered the princess his hand, and she took it.
The priest once again beamed. “The goddess is most pleased with your presence,” he noted, barely able to contain his joy. “Would your companions like to make offerings as well?”
33 notes · View notes
robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago
Note
Now I want the story where NMJ is half war god and NHS is half fox spirit, thank you so much xD
based on this tumblr post and Lao Nie’s decision to refer to WRH as A-Han in this one ficlet
on ao3
Nie Zonghui had long ago suspected that his Sect Leader was a madman, but he didn’t really know it for certain until the first time he lost the man while on a bodyguarding mission – his first, and a great honor. 
Supposedly.
“It’s all right,” his father said, looking long-suffering, when he reported back in distress. “He’s an adult, our sect leader, and this is a small city with no major threats in the middle of some idiosyncratic festival celebration for some goddess or another. How much damage can he really do before he sobers up?”
Nie Zonghui stared at his father, then turned to his mother, who was also staring at her husband with an expression of sincere incredulity.
“Lots,” she supplied. “Lots and lots and lots, and that’s assuming he doesn’t get himself killed in the meantime. Why would you even say that?”
“He’s our sect leader, have some respect.”
“I respect the boss bull of the herd, too, but it doesn’t mean I let it go wandering around the fields wherever it pleases!” She shook her head, snorting in a manner not entirely unlike a bull herself. “Well, if we’re very lucky, maybe our cousin will knock up a cow while he’s out and about rather than just breaking things. We could use a direct heir already; he’s not getting any younger.”
“We could use him being properly married is what we could use. I don’t understand why he’s so resistant – ah, Zonghui, you’re still here? Go gather some cultivators and go look for him, but don’t kick up any fuss, and worry too much if you can’t find him at once. He’ll be back to business soon enough.”
He was, if by “soon enough” one meant “after nearly ten days” and by “back to business” one meant “still drunk off his ass and waxing rhapsodic about some girl he met and possibly married”.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure the sun shines out of her ass,” Nie Zonghui’s father said, his face stormy. “You still could’ve told us where you went. Look what you did to poor Zonghui, he’s been wearing down his heels pacing in worry over you!”
“Oh, heels, yes, did I mention that my gorgeous goddess had amazing legs, too?” their sect leader asked with a soppy smile and stars in his eyes, totally uninterested in any of their petty complaints. “She could kill a man with them – oh, but I would die a happy man between those thighs…!”
“Zonghui, go guard the outside door,” his mother told him. “Also, tell his younger sister that she might need to be sect leader sooner than she’d hoped, because I’m going to murder this fucking –”
-
Nie Zonghui was there, too, when ten months later his new little baby cousin was (metaphorically) ditched on their doorstep.
The entire thing was entirely too dramatic for his taste, and yes, he was aware that as a person who chose to dual wield sabers he had very little room to criticize others for being overly dramatic, however correct he might be.
They had been fighting bandits – barely disguised mercenaries, really, probably paid off by the Wen sect to harass them – in what had turned into a particularly bad situation. Three separate regiments had joined together to take advantage of a terrible thunderstorm and ambush them at all once and them with their backs against a raging river, swollen with rain to the precipice of flooding, with no way to retreat except by fleeing on their sabers, abandoning the common people they were protecting and losing all face. 
The sect leader had been raging on the battlefield, saber in hand, but even he had seen that they would need to shortly choose between death and dishonor; Nie Zonghui, close by his side, had seen how his face was split with a terrible scowl as he wracked his brain for more options.
Then there had been a terrible roar of thunder, and then a flash of light that had blinded them all.
Nie Zonghui had immediately noted the anomality of it, thunder first and lightning second, and wondered it if it was some sort of array working against them, especially when the light had not faded away but grown brighter, causing searing pain in his eyes that made him fall and clutch at his face. But he was a good soldier, loyal and true, and he forced his eyes open to squint into the night, looking to see he did not know what.
Through his sun-blindness, he vaguely thought he could see a silhouette not unlike that of a woman, ten feet tall and radiant as the sun, wearing a dress of nine colors and carrying a guandao in her hand that seemed to reach the clouds, but when he blinked again he saw nothing at all.
Or, well, he did see something: all of their enemies were headless, no matter where on the battlefield they were, their bodies dropping like a loosened string of coins where they had been standing and splattering anyone they were fighting with blood as they gawped at the sudden corpses.
Also, the sect leader was suddenly holding something in his arms when he hadn’t been before.
“What’s that?” Nie Zonghui asked, and the sect leader turned towards him. Nie Zonghui squinted, and suddenly wondered if this entire battle had been a very bad dream. “…is that a baby?”
“Yes,” the sect leader said, grinning broadly. “He’s my son!”
“He’s your what,” Nie Zonghui said.
“My son! I didn’t know about him, of course – apparently he came as something of a surprise to her as well – but anyway she thought that it would be more appropriate for me to raise him, all things considered. A baby doesn’t quite fit her lifestyle. What do you think of ‘Mingjue’ as a courtesy name? Good, yes?”
Nie Zonghui suddenly understood why his parents were always cursing all the time.
-
“I don’t see why I need another wife,” the sect leader said. “I already have a son.”
“Don’t you want to give said son a mother?” Nie Zonghui’s mother asked, her arms crossed. “One that isn’t the Dark Lady of the Nine Heavens, the war goddess you somehow managed to knock up without getting killed?”
“She never specified that she was –”
“Someone needs to be Nie-furen,” the sect leader’s younger sister interrupted, “because I am sick and tired of doing the job, and it’s a little difficult to ask a goddess to do it. So you are going to find yourself another one that’s a little closer to the ground this time, you understand me?”
The sect leader nodded and agreed, which was universally agreed upon to be the only appropriate reaction when his beloved meimei said something in that particular tone of voice.
(He did, after a suitable period of time, state that he wanted to make clear that there was no actual evidence that he had knocked up Jiutian Xuannü and that it was quite plausible that the mother of his heir was nothing more than a rogue cultivator of particular strength and possibility even immortality. If Baosan Sanren had managed it, why not someone else?)
At any rate, they brought him several pictures of women that might fit the bill and who would not be too offended at being asked to be a secondary wife – their sect leader swore up and down that he had performed bows with the mother of his first son, rendering him legitimate, and anyway no one was in the mood to see if the maybe-a-goddess would take offense to someone calling her child a bastard – but none seemed to catch their sect leader’s interest.
“Consider visiting a few brothels,” Nie Zonghui’s great-uncle suggested. “Anything to get you back in the habit of thinking about women of a less divine nature – though of course we’d prefer that she be literate.”
The sect leader scowled and stalked off to go night-hunting instead.
“I don’t like brothels,” he said to Nie Zonghui as they made their way through an especially deserted mountain valley in search of something that had murdered all the local mensfolk in the surrounding villages with especial viciousness. “Surely there’s an option in between.”
Nie Zonghui preferred his sabers to either men or women, but he obediently wracked his brain to think of where people in stories and famous songs found their wives. “Innkeeper’s daughters?” he finally suggested.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the sect leader scoffed, but the very next day, he decided to break his usual habit of staying out in the wild no matter the weather in favor of taking shelter from the encroaching storm in a small inn right at the base of an especially lonesome and nasty-looking cliff.
“We’re always happy to have guests,��� the innkeeper said with a somewhat sinister smile – he was pale as a ghost in the guttering candlelight, and his lips looked very red. “My daughter will show you to your rooms.”
The daughter in question was inhumanly beautiful: small and graceful, with a fox’s face and dark hair that fell to her knees.
“Wow,” the sect leader said, staring at her. “You know, I think you could kill me with those nails of yours.”
Nie Zonghui took a look and agreed with the sentiment, seeing that her nails were as long as claws and looked just as sharp, but apparently he and the sect leader had somewhat different interpretations of this sequence of events and plans on how to address it.
Namely, Nie Zonghui pointed out that the lady was obviously some sort of yao or maybe a gui and that she was probably the one seducing the local mensfolk, draining their yang energy and then slaughtering them, and therefore that it was undoubtedly their duty as cultivators – and cultivators of the Nie sect in particular – to put an end to her vile deeds through the swift application of their sabers. Furthermore, he explained, they should take care never to allow themselves to be alone with her in the process, lest she seek to entrance them with her seductive magics and lure them to their undoubtedly violent deaths.
The sect leader’s rebuttal to this line of logic was limited to “I’m the sect leader and if I want to bang the probably-a-ghost, I’m going to bang the ghost and there’s nothing you can do to stop me”.
Amazingly enough, the sect leader did not end up dead the next day – the innkeeper looked just as surprised as Nie Zonghui felt – and instead announced, very happily, that he was planning on marrying her.
“You what,” the innkeeper said, staring at his very smug-looking ‘daughter’. In light of dawn, she was wearing a dress of many colors with a foxfur ruff, and her beauty was almost painful to behold.
“You why,” Nie Zonghui moaned.
“You shut up,” the sect leader told him. “I’ll have you know that my lady here is very clever, literate and well-learned, and she doesn’t at all mind being the second wife. Weren’t you one of the ones on my case about getting a Nie-furen to help managing things back home?”
“I didn’t think we needed to specify that the person in question didn’t murder a lot of people!”
“Isn’t his first wife supposedly a war goddess?” the lady inquired, her clever eyes dancing in amusement.
“Well…yes…”
“Also, all those men deserved it,” she said. After a brief pause, she added, “In my opinion as a totally unrelated observer, of course.”
“See?” the sect leader said, putting his arm around her waist. “No problem. Anyway, she’ll stick to killing bad people from now on, it’s fine.”
The lady smiled. There were many teeth in that smile, and they were very sharp.
“If she doesn’t, I’ll have my first wife discipline her,” the sect leader added and her smile abruptly disappeared.
Nie Zonghui coughed into his hand, but reluctantly admitted that maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as all that.
-
“Huaisang is a lovely name,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, being the best of them at diplomacy when she put her mind to it, although admittedly it was something she did only very rarely. “I think we were just expecting something a little different, that’s all.”
“Possibly something a little more fox related,” Nie Zonghui’s father said.
“Please,” the sect leader’s second wife said. “That would be gauche.”
They looked at her.
“…all of my suggestions along those lines got rejected,” she admitted, and glared at the small shrine in the corner as if it had personally wronged her. In this context, it very well might have.
“Is there anything we should keep an eye out for?” Nie Zonghui said, watching his little cousin carry around his even littler cousin under his arm as if he were a sack of potatoes and not a baby that hadn’t yet had its first month celebration. He would have interfered but for the fact that little Nie Huaisang seemed to be notably more in control of his various limbs than the usual infant. “A tail, for instance?”
“Oh, no,” the second lady said. “Nothing like that.”
“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“It’s very rare for fox children to achieve a grand plot worthy of a tail in their first lifetime.” A pause. “From what I understand, that is.”
“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “…great.”
“You’ll take good care of him when I’m gone, won’t you?” she asked, and when they all looked at her, smiled. “Not for another year or two, don’t worry, but I really can’t stay here that long. Sometimes, a girl’s got urges she has to take care of.”
“The sort of urges where we’d need to hunt down a mysteriously appearing fox yao for having murdered a lot of people?”
“I already promised to stop killing people,” she said sulkily. “Although I do think I made some plausible arguments in favor of a little bit of entirely justified murder in connection with the Jin sect and maybe the Lan sect and, oh, the Jiang sect –”
“Please don’t.”
“It’s not my fault your Great Sects are all headed by men who wrong women.”
“You’re not wrong,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, and Nie Zonghui’s father looked alarmed. “But still, don’t.”
“You’re such spoilsports. But no, as it happens, it’s getting to that time when I need to return home for a while to pay my respects to the older generation.”
“How often does that happen?” Nie Zonghui’s father asked. “Once a century?”
“A gentleman shouldn’t ask a lady her age,” she sniffed. “At any rate, my family home is rather far away and they’re fairly insular, so I’ll probably be gone for at least a decade or so. I’d take the baby with me, but, well, you know, long travel and all. He’s better off sticking with his father.”
“All right,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said. “We understand, and we’ll help take care of him as best we can.”
“I’m glad.”
“We have only one thing to ask of you in return.”
Their second lady arched her delicate eyebrows.
Nie Zonghui’s mother smiled. “You be the one to tell your sister-in-law that you’re leaving your post.”
“…you know, on second thought, maybe I can push my departure out a few more years…”
-
“Before you say anything, I want to be clear right now that I don’t need a third wife,” their sect leader said. “I’m fine.”
“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, not unaffectionately. “You’re not allowed a third wife.”
“And therefore – wait, really?” he asked, a little skeptically. “You’re not concerned about me?”
“Oh, we’re very concerned about you,” Nie Zonghui’s father said. “But not in that specific respect. Some celibacy would probably be good for you, at least in terms of increasing your life expectancy.”
“…my sister is lying in wait with a cleaver to make sure she doesn’t have to take on the duties of Nie-furen again, isn’t she.”
“I’m not discounting that possibility, but don’t worry about it, it’s fine, we’ll talk to her. The Lan sect haven’t had a proper hostess in years either, we can just say we’re following their example.”
The sect leader eyed his cousins beadily. “They haven’t had a proper sect leader in years, either.”
“No, you don’t say,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said dryly. “What a coincidence -”
“You have two fine sons,” Nie Zonghui’s father said hastily. “That seems like enough, really.”
“You don’t think they need a mother…?”
“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui interjected politely. “While we admit that it may be within your capabilities to be able to find a mother willing to deal with one step-son who has been waiving around a saber taller than he is since he learned to walk and has a penchant for the unyielding, unmerciful and very violent application of the norms of divine justice –”
Nie Mingjue’s presence bolstered the spirit of good men, while his gaze seemed to make evildoers itch. He was the most earnestly good person Nie Zonghui had ever met, and also one of the most stiff and unbending in respect to what he believed should and should not be done.
Unfortunate that his standards didn’t seem to match up to the needs of either human law or diplomacy…
“– as well as another who can scheme circles around anyone and persuade them of anything as long as he puts his mind to it and only doesn’t because he’s too busy lazing around in the sun to bother –”
Nie Huaisang liked to file his nails down to something that looked quite normal, but they grew sharp quickly enough if he wasn’t paying attention, and he had a penchant for pranks. There was nothing quite as unnerving as running into a sudden and unexpected ambush and then suddenly hearing the shrill peal of a fox’s laughter, hidden behind a scholarly fan.
“– but all things considered, we’d really rather you - didn’t.”
His mother and father nodded fervently.
“Good,” the sect leader said, though he still looked suspiciously at them as if he thought they were hiding something. “Good. As long as we’re agreed.”
-
Nie Zonghui walked in on his sect leader pinning the Wen sect leader to a wall, murmuring something in a low voice with a very particular smile on his face, and then he turned around and walked right back out again.
The sect leader of the Wen sect might appear beautiful and young, but he was at least a generation older than the Nie sect leader. Not that that had stopped the latter from relying on their respective positions to refer to him in startlingly intimate terms – my dear A-Han, the sect leader would say with a touch of wickedness that reminded one of his second son and the tiger gall bravery of his first – and while at first the Wen sect leader had taken it as a challenge to his authority, an act of brash insolence, it appeared that they had progressed beyond that.
That the Wen sect leader already had three wives and two concubines apparently didn’t present any obstacles either – except perhaps in what those poor women might have to endure from their husband when he returned from the wretched teasing he was enduring. Nie Zonghui felt a bit of pity for them.
Shortly thereafter, he felt a bit of pity for himself. The Wen sect had long dreamed of dominating the cultivation world and sought to increase their influence with the other sects through underhanded means, with the Nie sect opposing them at every turn. Even if war was not on the immediate horizon, the wise could smell its distant approach in the air - the best estimates said that it would take another decade or two to arrive, unless the Nie sect leader took an especially hard stance.
It appeared, however, that the Nie sect leader had chosen to take a different sort of…hard stance.
Ugh.
Maybe Nie Zonghui could conspire to throw his sect leader into a cage with a live tiger in heat next time he felt in the mood. It’d probably be less dangerous.
Nie Zonghui had assumed that the first person to talk to him about what he had seen would be his sect leader, even if it was only to remind him of the general rule that the sect leader had ultimate power and therefore could exercise his own bad judgment in deciding to fuck whoever he wished, but instead it was the Wen sect leader that found him later that afternoon.
A flush had yet to fully fade from his cheeks, and Nie Zonghui raised his eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking directly at the man in front of him. 
He did not want to know. Others might, given that no one had ever complained about the looks of either party, but he himself had realized long ago that he had no interest in matters of the flesh under any circumstances; he was very content with that conclusion.
“Is there some service this one can provide to Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely, and it was only when the sect leader flushed again that he realized belatedly that his words could be misconstrued. After all, his own sect leader had probably already made a similar offer regarding the provision of services…
“Your sect leader has a sister, doesn’t he?” the other man asked, his voice tight and his hands in even tighter fists. “I’m not misremembering that?”
“He does,” Nie Zonghui responded honestly, and not without sympathy for the Wen sect leader’s position. He was given to understand that making certain belated discoveries regarding one’s own preferences could be highly disconcerting, particularly later in life. “But she’s rather different in kind than what you may be thinking, so it won’t work out that way. It wouldn’t work even if she wasn’t already married, which she is.”
After a moment of thought, he added, “Also, consider your predecessors.”
The Wen sect leader’s eyes narrowed.
-
Really, it was the sect leader’s own damn fault that he got himself murdered.
334 notes · View notes
pink-flame · 4 years ago
Text
Promises Kept - A WFW Missing Scene
Soooo...I let it slip earlier to @mamirugbee that in my original plot outline for We Found Wonderland the scene where Luke finally wins the ring was there. I ended up not writing it because I thought that would be too much angst on top of everything else and you all would riot. But she wanted it and I love her so I wrote it. But then I got distracted with other angst on the way to that angst...so you also get the immediate aftermath of Julie leaving. Oops. It's 2 for 1 night for WFW angst! Just remember I WAS ASKED FOR THIS. Love you, Jenni. 💜
Luke held it together pretty well for approximately three days.
After watching Julie disappear right in front of his eyes, while he smiled...smiled to show her he would be ok...he had sunk to the ground, very much not ok. He had stayed there, just outside the garage doors, dizzy and sick to his stomach while the reality of the situation washed over him until finally the change in light alerted him to the fact hours had passed. He realized somewhere vaguely in the back of his mind through the haze of mental static that the rest of the guys would be home from school soon. He didn’t want them to see him like this. He didn’t want to be the one who had to tell them what had happened, didn't want to see the hurt in their eyes or even worse the sympathy. His instincts were screaming at him to run away from the situation, to escape like he had escaped his parents’ house when their smothering attention and rules became too much. The urge to grab his acoustic and walk out and never come back was strong, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his side as he turned the idea over in his mind.
In the end it was never really an option.
He couldn’t leave his friends.
He couldn’t leave his band.
He couldn’t leave his parents, not again.
And most of all he couldn’t leave the life Julie had almost sacrificed everything to make sure he got to live.
He had promised her a lot of things. That they would make things work somehow. That he would win her that dumb ring. That he would help her reconnect with her dad. That it would always be him and her, Luke and Julie, in it together against nosy bandmates, and questionable record labels, and the looming possibility of being separated by thousands of miles (back when that had seemed like as far apart as they could get).
And he had promised her that he would take care of their friends, and follow his dreams and do his best to be happy.
It turned out that the one promise he had made her that every inch of him was screaming out in protest against might be the only one he could actually keep.
So he would.
Luke unclenched his palms and placed his hands flat against the pavement outside the garage doors. He took a deep if shaky breath then pressed them into the firm surface until he managed to haul himself to his feet, his legs protesting as he forced them to move through their stiffness. He just had time to drag himself into the bathroom and splash cold water on his face before he heard the telltale sounds of his friends approaching, their boisterous voices carrying from all the way down the driveway. He emerged back into the studio, purposefully turning away from the doors in a desperate bid to buy himself a few extra seconds to compose himself before he had to explain Julie’s absence.
“And then I said if a platypus is a mammal where’s their nipples cause that’s how mammals feed their kids, right?”
“Reggie, I don’t know what made you think we want to hear this conversation…”
“Oh come on, Bobby, where’s your intellectual curiosity. Go on, Reggie.”
“Right, so then Mr. Gleeson said they don’t have nipples. They feed their babies by basically sweating milk through milk gutters.”
“Ok...I take it back, Bobby was right. I now know way more than I ever wanted to.”
“Luke, will get it. Hey, Luke! Guess what I…”
Luke turned slowly to face his friends and watched their faces fall as they took in his tight expression. Apparently his efforts to school his face into a neutral mask had failed epically. Luke realized his hands were shaking and shoved the offending appendages into his pockets hoping that would hide the effects of his runaway emotions.
That also seemed to be wishful thinking.
“What’s wrong?” Bobby asked bluntly, taking half a step towards Luke before stopping short when he saw the way he flinched. “Oh.”
“Luke, I’m…” Alex swallowed hard and glanced away for a moment seemingly fighting with his own emotions. “I’m so sorry.”
Reggie was the last to speak, the panic stealing over his face like a punch directly to Luke’s chest.
“Where’s Julie?”
When Luke didn’t answer right away he asked again, shaking off Alex’s attempts to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Luke, where’s Julie?”
“Home,” He answered simply, his voice steady despite the emotions still raging inside of him.
He knew what he had to do now.
He had to honor Julie the only way he could, by helping his friends be ok.
“What? No,” Reggie protested, looking back and forth between his friends as though expecting someone to tell him it was a joke. “She wouldn’t. Not without saying goodbye.”
“She didn’t have a choice,” Luke told him gently. “The portal just appeared and she...she ran out of time.”
“Ok, ok,” Reggie ran his fingers through his hair roughly, leaving pieces standing up in all directions. “We can go to the ghost club, right? We can get Willie to help us get into Caleb’s dressing room and we can go find her.”
“That’s a good way to get killed by an evil ghost,” Bobby pointed out.
“We’ll figure it out,” Reggie insisted.
“Reg...we don’t even know...we don’t know if Caleb still trusts WIllie or not. We haven’t seen him since that night.”
Luke could hear the pain in his friend’s voice and he hated it. Alex might not have had the time to develop the same deep connection with Willie that Luke had with Julie, but he knew his friend had seen flashes of that potential in their stolen moments. The fact that Willie had been missing in action since he tried to help them save Julie weighed heavily on Alex. Luke could see it. He just couldn’t do anything about it except be there for him as much as he could.
He was going to need Alex too.
He was going to need all of them.
“Reggie, even if we could do that she didn’t want us to. She didn’t want us to leave our families or our dreams or our lives here. She fought so hard for us to have them. We have to live like it’s now or never, for her.”
He managed a small, sad smile hoping it would calm Reggie’s rising agitation but it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“Don’t quote your lyrics at me, dude,” Reggie snapped, once again brushing off Alex’s attempts to put a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re supposed to be in love with her. How can you just let her go without a fight?”
Luke felt like his throat was closing up as Reggie’s words hit him like a slap in the face. He knew his friend didn’t mean it, not really. He was just hurt and scared and mourning the loss of the little sister he loved.
It didn’t make it hurt any less to have his own doubts and guilt thrown back into his face though.
Before Luke could come up with anything else to say to comfort him, Reggie reached up to wipe at his eyes and spun on his heels, stomping out of the garage and down the driveway.
Alex shot Luke a worried look before nodding after their friend.
“I’ll check on him. I’ll be right back, ok?”
Then he was gone and Luke and Bobby were alone in the garage.
Bobby was looking at Luke like he was some kind of wounded animal and Luke wished he would stop because the longer his best friend looked at him like that the more tempting it was to totally break down. And he couldn’t do that and keep his promise to Julie. So he would hold it together. He would.
“I’m not going to ask if you’re ok because that would be a stupid question,” Bobby said, crossing the garage to sink onto the couch before patting the seat next to him expectantly.
Luke hesitated for a second or two before sighing and sinking down next to Bobby, the urge to tap his foot or drum on his knee overwhelming though he fought it down. He didn’t need to give Bobby more ammunition about his mental state. Not that he needed it.
“Look, I’m going to miss her too,” Bobby cleared his throat before reaching out to pat semi-awkwardly at Luke’s knee. “And I know it’s going to be worse for you. But I’m here for you. We all are. So just...don’t run, ok?”
Luke could have laughed at that if his mouth had seemed to remember how. His friends really did know him too well. Still. He had already ruled out that course of action.
“I won’t,” He promised.
And he didn’t.
What he did do was dive headfirst into trying to make sure their lives would go on like Julie wanted. He was there waiting when Reggie processed his feelings enough to feel bad about his outburst and showed up at the garage in the middle of the night and pulled Luke into a tight hug that lasted a long time. He was there when Alex wanted to talk about feeling anxious not knowing for sure if Julie had made it back to her time and what she had found there. He was even there when Bobby admitted that he missed Julie but he missed Queenie too and he wasn’t sure that the band was ever going to be as close as they once were. Luke did his best to reassure them all, checked in on his mom, and started calling around trying to book them a gig even though they had hardly any songs they could use and none of the bookers he spoke to seemed particularly interested.
He forced himself to tell bad jokes, and offered to go get pizza and suggest busking so they could refill their food fund.
He did all of that for three days until it was like the adrenaline he had been running off of ever since Julie disappeared into a hole in the ground finally wore off. On the fourth day he knew his friends noticed that he was quieter than normal though none of them said anything, just exchanged mildly worried looks. On the fifth day he lost his appetite, picking at the leftover pizza that Bobby had warmed up for him and refusing the variety of junk food his friend then hauled out to the garage. On the sixth day he slept most of the day, drifting in and out of fitful dreams. He had only emerged for a couple of bathroom breaks and was back curled under the blanket he usually left unused when his friends showed up after school, their worried looks no longer mild.
The 7th day was a Friday but they didn’t go to school. Instead they staged what amounted to an intervention, hovering around the couch (he didn’t bother folding it out now that the possibility of Julie crawling in next to him was gone) and refused to stop staring creepily at him until he sat up with an annoyed huff.
“Don’t you have school?” He muttered, pulling the blanket more firmly around his shoulders despite the smothering heat.
“We’re not going,” Reggie said, reaching out and yanking the blanket away from Luke in on quick movement.
“Hey!” Luke protested.
“We’re worried about you,” Alex said ignoring the way Luke was suddenly looking anywhere but at his friends. “You pretended nothing was wrong and then you crashed hard.”
“You’re depressed,” Bobby said bluntly, because of course he did.
He was annoyingly accurate and to the point at all times unless he was hiding his meaning in some obscure literary quote of course.
“I’m not,” Luke tried, feeling strangely exposed without the weight of the blanket. “I miss Julie...a lot, ok? But she wanted us to live and I’m living.”
“There’s living and there’s living,” Reggie countered, dropping down next to Luke to sling an arm around his shoulder. “And Julie would want you to be living, you know what I mean?”
“We don’t expect you to be ok,” Alex broke in quickly. “Just for you to be honest about what’s going on with you. You’ve been there for us the past few days now it’s your turn.”
“I’m fine,” Luke tried one last time, though his argument sounded half-hearted even to his own ears.
“You haven’t showered in a week,” Bobby pointed out, the softness behind his eyes easing the harshness of his words as Luke forced himself to look up and meet his friend’s eyes. “Come on, rinse the smell off and then we’re taking a field trip.”
Luke groaned but forced himself to stand and cross the distance to the bathroom, his bones aching like he had spent years in bed, not hours. He hardly remembered the shower but when he reemerged some indeterminate amount of time later his hair was dripping and he admittedly smelled a lot better. He still felt a bit like he was walking through a heavy fog though, like some slight, almost undetectable force was making each one of his steps just that little bit more difficult. He thought it might not be the weight of something slowing him down at all but the absence of something. It was like he had forgotten how to do everything right without Julie next to him. Walking and eating and breathing. He knew he had done them all before he ever knew her but that didn’t make them come any more naturally now that she was gone.
Still.
He had promised her he would try.
So he let his friends steer him out of the garage, let them lead him down the sidewalk, Alex and Bobby buffeting him on either side and Reggie walking in front, chattering away and peering back every few seconds as though afraid Luke would bolt if he didn’t keep him in his sight. Luke for his part just shuffled along, grunting out a response when asked a direct question and keeping silent the rest of the time. Apparently the plan was to head to Reggie’s house. His mom would be at work and she had bought him this brand new video game console called a Playstation that the boys were all dying to try out. That newly separated parent guilt was apparently good for a few things, like letting Reggie have ice cream every night and expensive gifts. Luke was pretty sure that none of them were particularly in the mood to play video games and were putting on the enthusiasm for his sake. He appreciated it. He just couldn’t match it.
But once they were actually in Reggie’s room, crowded around the little television he got for his last birthday, Luke had to admit he did feel a little more like a human being. He even caught himself laughing as he watched Alex and Reggie squabble over the second controller as Bobby clutched his above the fray. Reggie grinned when he saw Luke’s brief smile and shoved the controller they had been fighting over into his hands.
“Here, you try!”
And he couldn’t stand to see Reggie disappointed, not when he had seen him so hurt so recently. So Luke did try. And he let himself enjoy it. And he let himself tune out and pretend that there wasn’t someone missing.
He did such a good job at pretending that it wasn’t until they had left Reggie’s house several hours later in order to keep his mom from knowing they had skipped and headed for the ice cream shop that the gaping absence all came crashing back.
Because right around the corner from the ice cream shop was the arcade.
And right inside of the arcade entrance was a claw machine.
And inside of that claw machine he could only assume there was a purple plastic ring that would now never sit on his girl’s finger.
He couldn’t explain why his feet carried him towards the arcade but they did, seemingly without any specific direction from him.
“Luke....” Alex’s worried voice called after him but he didn’t pause until he was standing directly in front of the damn game that had been haunting him for months.
And there it was. The ring. Mocking him from the exact spot it had been in all along.
Apparently his friends had caught up to him by then because when Reggie spoke up it was from directly behind him.
“You’ve got to let that thing go, man,” His friend said carefully. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Luke found himself understanding Reggie’s initial reaction to the news about Julie’s departure because all of the sudden he was angry. He wasn’t just angry, he was furious.
He brought his fists down in tandem on either side of the joystick, feeling the reverberation up his recently healed arm and had just enough time to wonder if that was the smartest idea before words were bursting out of him unbidden.
“It matters,” He said fiercely, ignoring the way Reggie flinched slightly. “It matters. She matters. She matters to me and she’s gone and I said I would give her that ring and I didn’t and now I can’t and...and...it just matters, ok? It just does.”
Alex and Reggie both stared at him, eyes wide with worry seemingly unable to land on something helpful to say as they watched him finally implode. The silence stretched and Luke was just about to kick the machine just to have something to fill the gap and give him another chance to externalize the storm brewing inside of him when Bobby stepped forward calmly.
“Here,” He said, his voice calm and even. “Go ahead.”
He held out his hand and Luke instinctively stuck his out to catch whatever Bobby was trying to hand him. He folded his fingers over the mystery object to keep it from falling to the ground, before uncurling them carefully to examine it.
It was a quarter.
Luke looked up sharply expecting to see sympathy or something worse on Bobby’s face but all he saw was that look his best friend gave him when they were disagreeing on a song or when they couldn’t agree on what toppings to order for their pizza. Or maybe more like when Luke had wanted to use those fireworks for pyrotechnics or when he had suggested a book club as a viable gig. Like he didn’t approve of what Luke was doing but also like he was going to be right there behind him, letting him know he was an idiot and then helping him anyway.
Somehow it was exactly what Luke needed.
So he didn’t say anything else, just swung to face the machine and deposited his quarter in the slot before he could think better of it.
The game came to life as he swung the joystick jerkily to the right, not letting himself think too hard about the exact aim as the claw hovered over the ring in it’s plastic container. He slammed his hand down on the button to drop it probably harder than was strictly necessary but it felt good to have an excuse to hit something. The claw dropped and clutched it’s mechanical arms around the plastic container. Luke tried not to react, afterall he had gotten this far many times before, but the weak arms always released the ring long before it could actually make it to the prize shoot. But even as that hopeless thought crossed his mind the claw was rising, taking the ring with it and this time it didn’t drop back to its former spot. This time the ring remained locked in the claw’s embrace until it tumbled down into the prize shoot leaving all four boys to stare at the machine in surprise.
“Did that just…” Alex started.
“You did it,” Reggie practically whispered, disbelief clear in his voice.
Luke for his part just stared at the claw machine that had once again gone silent and still as he tried to process what had just happened. He had been so angry a minute ago and he could never win the ring and it didn’t matter because Julie was gone...Julie was gone...but it did matter and now he had won the ring and...did he really just win the ring?
Once again it was Bobby who broke them all out of their stupor, stepping forward and reaching through the metal flap to retrieve the ring, pressing the plastic container insistently into Luke’s shaking hands.
“You did it,” He said simply but firmly.
“I did it,” Luke echoed, his voice slightly choked.
“You said you would and you did,” Bobby continued. “It’s ok, Luke. You did it.”
Luke was very aware that Bobby was talking to him like a small child and he wanted to be offended, he really did, only he felt like a small child. Like nothing made sense and all of his emotions were too big for him. He had tried for so long and so hard to win that stupid ring, had seen it as a metaphor for how he felt about Julie, how he would do anything for her, how he wanted her to know that as intrinsically as she knew her own name. He had tried so hard and it had never worked and now she was gone and the very first time he tried, the first time, and he had done it.
Luke felt tears pricking at his eyes and did his best to fight them down.
“Luke…” Reggie started, his own eyes looking suspiciously wet.
Luke couldn’t bear to hear what Reggie was going to say or to make eye contact with any of his friends when he felt on the brink of breaking into sobs. He spun to face the machine again only that didn’t seem to help. His vision went blurry and his throat went tight and the next thing he knew he was breaking down into sobs. He tried to stifle them in a fit of embarrassment but there wasn’t much point. The tsunami had started and all he could do was ride the wave and pray he was in one piece on the other side.
He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the claw machine, the soothing temperature doing little to slow the tears rolling down his face or the hiccuping, painful sounds that were emerging from his mouth. The ache in his chest was almost unbearable but it was matched by the sharp pain in his hand as he clutched so hard at the ring’s plastic container he was sure it would leave an angry red outline when he finally uncurled his fingers.
He loved her.
He loved her so much.
He loved her and he was never going to see her again and he won her the ring and she was never going to know it.
He was so alone.
Only he wasn’t.
Because suddenly there were warm arms wrapping around him from every direction, cheeks pressed against his shoulders and the top of his head, soft words of comfort being spoken in three different voices.
“It’s ok, Luke.”
“Let it out.”
“We’re here.”
And he did.
He had promised Julie they would do their best to be happy. He intended to keep that promise. But today all he felt was pain. And that would have to be ok too.
And it was.
And they were.
Not all at once.
Not for a long time if he was being honest.
But slowly and steadily genuine smiles, and laughter began to work their way back into their lives. They didn’t talk much about Julie at first. It hurt too much. But eventually Reggie brought up a story about her over pizza and soon they were all chiming in, recounting their favorite moments with the girl who would always live in their hearts even if she could no longer live in their world. After that they brought her up often and it hurts but it also heals.
Luke took to wearing the ring around even though it was too small for all of his fingers except his pinkie and often got stuck even then. Bobby didn't comment on the way his finger was starting to turn as purple as the ring itself, simply handed him a black cord one day for him to string it on and brushed off Luke’s rush of thankful words. After that Luke wore the ring on a cord around his neck, dangling down to thump gently against his heart as he walked, the cool plastic a constant reminder of what he lost but what he gained too.
He wasn’t living the life he would have chosen for himself but he was living the life Julie had chosen for him. He hoped the two would come together eventually. He had to have faith that they would.
Eventually he sat down to write a song for her and ended up with a poem instead.
Eventually he had the idea of sending her a message through time, a box filled with all of the things she had loved and left behind, all the ones that would fit in a small box anyway. Eventually he pried the teddy bear version of himself out of Reggie’s reluctant fingers to go inside. Eventually placed all of their carefully selected polaroids inside too.
And eventually he slid  a purple ring off of the cord he wore it on, placed it carefully back into its original container and left it for her to find with a lingering kiss pressed to its surface.
Eventually.
But first.
He lived.
Tag list: @futurearchaeologyprof @moreflowersthanweeds @chickwiththepurpleguitar
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little-mad · 3 years ago
Text
Downsides of Thievery Pt. 5
~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~
The moment Gavin stepped out of his cage, he felt ten times more vulnerable and exposed than he had previously. The fact that he was on the ground with everything looming up above him did not help in the slightest. Though the alteon wasn’t even standing at his full height, Rael looked like an absolute monument before him. Gavin felt more like an insect next to the giant than ever.
“Knock it off!” Gavin scolded himself mentally. “He may be insanely big, but I’ve got a bigger mouth.” He wouldn’t allow himself to be cowed just because his captor happened to be taller than a building.
“Hurry up,” Rael’s voice thundered from above, effectively forcing Gavin out of his contemplation.
The alteon looked down on Gavin with his usual level of disdain. He had to wonder how much of that was due to the fact that he was a convicted criminal, and how much was just because of how much he seemed to dislike humans. The criminal part, Gavin could understand, but not liking him because he was a human seemed pretty...was racist the right word? Or would the proper term be speciesist? Either way, Rael was acting like some kind of -ist.
When Gavin didn’t immediately start moving at his order, Rael seemed to grow even further agitated. “Why are you incapable of following simple commands?” he questioned sharply, leaning forward slightly as he glared down at Gavin.
This particular comment was very reminiscent of something Gavin’s seventh grade social studies teacher had said once. The cranky old bastard had basically had it out for Gavin since day one. Apparently Mr. Borgan wasn’t a fan of class clowns. Gavin had never really liked following orders from authority figures before that, but he was pretty sure that ass of a teacher had set him down his path towards crime. Mr. Borgan made him realize that just because someone was in charge, didn’t mean they were right.
And now, here was Rael trying to order Gavin around. Yes, Gavin had been placed in Rael’s custody and therefore was his responsibility. But that didn’t mean he got to order Gavin around like some kind of dog.
“Maybe if you tried asking nicely,” Gavin told Rael. Though he said it sarcastically, it wasn’t entirely untrue. He would be much more likely to do what Rael wanted if the guy would just try being a little friendlier.
Rolling his eyes, Rael shook his head. “I never asked to babysit a human.”
“Well maybe you’re being punished,” Gavin retorted with a bit more bite than he’d intended. Obviously he hadn’t really meant what he said, he had no idea what life was like in the “Imperial Guard.” However, the moment Gavin caught sight of the look on Rael’s face he knew he had said something he shouldn’t have.
There was a dark look on the alteon’s face as he glowered down at the human at his feet. Gavin took an instinctive step backwards. He was sure if his body came equipped with lights and a siren they’d be going off like crazy.
Before he could make another move, a giant hand was coming at Gavin in a flash. He stumbled and ended up tripping over his own feet and falling onto his back. The hand was an inch away from him. He braced himself to be grabbed, slamming his eyes shut in fear. But then a moment passed and he remained untouched.
Cautiously, Gavin reopened his eyes, and the sight he saw made his heartbeat stutter. Though no part of it made contact with him, Rael’s hand hung over Gavin. He was caged in by the appendage, his head sticking out between the massive index and middle fingers.
Looking past the hand, Gavin stared up at Rael’s face, which now hovered almost directly above him. The alteon’s head blocked out the sunlight that filtered through the canopy, and it was almost like his face was a moon that had eclipsed the sun.
Rael’s beautiful teal eyes were clouded with rage, his lips pulled into a snarl. Suddenly, Gavin felt like a mouse that had been caught by a vicious cat. God, what a stupid mouse.
-
Rael had never been particularly short tempered, or rather, he had never allowed himself to be. If he was ever going to be taken seriously as someone worthy of being a member of the Imperial Guard, he needed to prove that he was more than his peasant parentage. And so he played the role of the refined, even-tempered gentleman.
Perhaps it had been his tendency to constantly suppress his true emotions around others that caused him to snap so abruptly at Gavin Stone. Or perhaps it was just the human himself who had a unique skill for getting under his skin. Either way, Rael had found himself dying to put the little man in his place.
All it had taken was for the human to say something that hit a little too close to home. The fear that Rael had never been and would never be truly viewed as a member of the Imperial Guard had haunted him for a long time. He wondered whether the rest of the soldiers secretly whispered about him behind his back, poking fun at the peasant who dared try to play at being someone of any standing.
When Rael had been given the less than favorable assignment of collecting a human prisoner, the idea that he’d been purposefully given the task due to his background had quickly taken residence in the back of his mind. He had been trying not to dwell on it, to just do his job and move on. However, when the human suggested Rael might be being punished, it reminded him of all his insecurities.
The next thing he knew, he was pinning the human to the ground. His fingers surrounded the little creature on all sides. Rael couldn’t deny the sight gave him a rush. It was satisfying.
Gavin Stone was a thief who was willing to potentially put the relationship between the human and alteon realms at risk just to satisfy his own greed. “He’s a criminal, that’s why I dislike him so much,” Rael told himself. However, in the back of his mind he knew what really angered him about Gavin Stone’s insolence was the fact that he was a human. Humans were smaller and weaker than alteons. In the animal kingdom, would that not place alteons above humans?
“Remember your place,” Rael growled as he stared down at the human trapped beneath his hand.
There was no defiance in Gavin Stone’s eyes, just panic and fear. Perhaps this time the message would sink in.
Rael gave the human one last hard look before removing his hand and resuming his seated position on the log. Though he was still tense, he could feel himself beginning to come down from the sudden spark of rage he’d experienced. He took a steadying breath as he returned his attention to the human. The little man had yet to get to his feet, though he’d sat up and was staring up at Rael with wide eyes. “Hurry up and do your business before I change my mind.”
-
Obviously, Gavin had known he was tiny compared to Rael and the rest of the alteon dimension. It was pretty hard to forget. And yet somehow he hadn’t quite fully comprehended what it meant to be so insignificant to the world around him.
A part of being a thief was knowing that people, for the most part, were too absorbed in their own business to pay much attention to the actions of a stranger. Gavin could be a ghost, a nobody. Now take that concept and amplify it tenfold. That was how little of an indent Gavin made on the alteons’ world. And that had been what Rael seemed adamant on imparting on his captive.
As much as he hated to admit it, Gavin had been shaken by Rael’s outburst. It had been a harsh reminder of how easily the alteon could hurt him or worse. Laying there trapped under the giant hand, Gavin had felt totally and completely helpless. It was not a feeling he enjoyed in the slightest.
“How am I supposed to stand up to that?” he pondered as he pulled his jumpsuit back up over his shoulders.
Gavin had to wonder whether this was the kind of treatment he could expect from the Emperor. The alteon ruler had been diplomatic and peaceful with humanity as a whole, however, he questioned whether or not that would apply to a human criminal.
Gavin sighed. He really wasn’t looking forward to facing Rael again. He would much rather just stay concealed within the confines of the large bush he currently resided in. Of course, that would only serve to piss Rael off even further. Chances were, the giant would just reach in and snag Gavin if he took too long. He shivered at the thought of being anywhere near that hand again.
And so, quite reluctantly, Gavin exited his cover and returned to the clearing where Rael was waiting. He approached the alteon silently. For once he didn’t have anything to say--or more accurately, he didn’t have the confidence to say anything. Rael appeared as though he had calmed down at least somewhat, but Gavin wasn’t ready to risk incurring his wrath again.
He came to a stop in between Rael’s feet and stood silently. He kept his gaze downwards, unwilling to meet those eyes which had so recently stared at him with burning fury.
-
When Gavin Stone had returned, he seemed almost like a different person. Gone were the animated expressions that had lit up his face. He was quiet and passive. At Rael’s command, he’d gotten back into his cage without making any sort of fuss.
Now, Rael was back on the path to the city and the human was sitting in his cage without saying a word. It certainly seemed as though Rael’s show of force had been effective. So why didn’t Rael feel more happy with himself?
At the time, when he’d seen Gavin cowering under his hand, Rael had been quite pleased. However, for some reason the feeling had only been temporary. Now he almost felt...bad? “No, surely I don’t feel bad for a human criminal,” he tried to convince himself. Gavin had made himself a nuisance and Rael had corrected the behavior. It was the logical thing to do, right? There should be no reason to feel any kind of regret.
Rael glanced down at the human. The little man had his arms wrapped around the iron bars to keep himself secure. His gaze was focused down into his lap. He almost looked...dejected.
It had been obvious from the get go that Gavin Stone was far from fearless. However, he had seemed to bounce back from his fear fairly easily. It had only taken a few minutes after being grabbed, caged, and transported to a new realm for the man to gain enough confidence to address his giant captor. Now that Rael thought about it, it was kind of impressive.
But now, Gavin showed no signs of bouncing back. It was possible he would remain quiet and compliant for the rest of their journey. Rael should have been celebrating, and yet....
“Perhaps I just regret losing my temper,” Rael thought to himself. He was supposed to be in control of his emotions, and while letting loose for that moment had felt good at the time, he knew it was wrong. “Yeah, that has to be it….right?”
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clnriswood · 4 years ago
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DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER
Something Different | Part Four
a/n: so glad to be back! things start getting a bit more, uh, intense -- but stay tuned for p5 bc it’s about to get vv steamy hehe.
tag list: @call-me-banana-bandit @pillowjj @truly-insatiable @natsiboo @justmesadgirl @boredoffmebox @jjjmaybank @jejegu @ superpowereddonut @irritantive @salemlilly @marshmelloyellow02 @puffymints @is-it-really-a-secret  @i-mmunity @sebastiansass @hisoldlover @kyobien @averagefangirl21 @inurealiyah @fuzzzwald @lesfleursmonet @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive
X
If matters had been bad between Draco and the girl before, it was safe to say that the strength of their bond now was at an all time low, underground, even. On his end, she was a thieving traitor who was joined in Potter’s ranks against him, and in hers, he was a treacherous snake who was incapable of trust and had been solidified into his cruel habits. Their last encounter, at quidditch tryouts, had been the worst yet. It went something like this: Draco, as he left the field of Slytherin’s recently finished tryouts, jeered some nonsense about “any old fool who can swing a bat (Y/N played the role of beater) being allowed onto the team,” which was met by a swift reply from Y/N, who suggested cooly that Draco’s groin should be her bat's next target. This had led to quite the eruption of bickering between both of the teams, one which Madam Hooch, who was entirely fed up with both houses, abruptly put an end to. After that, the girl simply rode the wave of Draco Malfoy induced rage, and during the tryouts, envisioned the barrelling quaffles to be differing versions of his arrogant head. Shockingly, by an act of God, it had worked. Or, not really. Really it was months of training with Cedric over the summer that won her a place on the team, but, well, the rage certainly helped. And yet, despite it all, a nagging truth scratched relentlessly at the back of her brain. And this truth was that somehow, despite it all, Draco Malfoy was the thing of which she was apparently most attracted to.
“Whaddya reckon?” the voice of Ronald Weasley interrupted the girl’s drifting thoughts.
She and her three Gryffindor comrades had just escaped to the side of the Great Lake following the end of their first week of classes. Desperate to get the last of the sun before the soon to come autumn leaves and grey skies, the quartet had stripped free their thick robes and laid out a crimson picnic blanket upon which they sat surrounded by goods. Around them, other Hogwarts students of every year had done the same. With bellies now full, they’d thrown themselves happily back, their chins all turned towards the bright blue sky. As it was, Ron sat beside Hermione, who sat beside Harry, who sat beside Y/N. As they watched the ginger, he jovially made a stream of rainbow colored bubbles fly forth from the tip of his weathered wand.
“What’re you going to kill Voldemort with multi-colored bubbles?” Harry choked on the last pumpkin pastie with a snort.
“Harry!” Hermione scolded, poorly attempting to conceal her own giggles.
“Laugh all you want,” Ron said, “some girl is going to fancy this, I’m telling you.”
Suddenly Hermione wasn’t laughing at all, and she’d gone quite pink, the girl noticed. Next to her, Harry turned into his elbow to cough, which was really just an attempt to cover the big stupid grin he was wearing. The girl chuckled and batted him away with the back of her hand. He winked in reply.
“I want to go for a stroll,” Harry beamed suddenly, sitting upright in a flash.
“Lovely, shall we come?” Hermione began to stand.
“No!” he protested quite loudly. Then, “sorry, just want a quick chat alone with Y/N, if you don’t mind.”
The girl arched a brow at the jet black haired boy beside her, reluctantly standing and throwing Hermione a confused stare as she padded slowly alongside Harry and away from her other friends. The boy drifted farther from the patch of red blanket and closer to the water’s edge, where the grass was long, green, and swampy around their shoes. For a moment, the girl caught sight of one of the Giant Squid’s long tentacles, and she watched as it went sweeping against the surface of the black water and sending ripples across its inky surface.
“What is it then?” she said when they had gotten far enough away.
“What is what?” Harry said stupidly.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she replied gruffly.
“Ah,” Harry scoffed and shook his head, “just said that so we could give Ron n’ Hermione some time alone together.”
“Oh?” the girl answered quizzically.
“Totally fancies him,” he continued excitedly, “not that she’s ever going to admit it, mind you.”
The girl felt her lips split, “really?! I did always wonder… though I couldn’t be sure.”
“I’ve spent the last five years watching those two fight, believe me, I am,” he wrinkled his nose with a grin. “Duck,” he added.
Without hesitation, the two friends bent their knees, covering their heads as the Giant Squid sent a tentacle soaring into the air and slapping the water, making millions of airborne droplets come cascading over them. Knowing the system well by now, the girl snapped her wand up, creating a clear arc above herself and Harry. The dazzling white stream of magic sheltered them safely from the Squid’s tidal wave, repelling all liquid outwards from its top. From around the shore, the sound of unsuspecting student cries of surprise echoed loud in reply.
“Anyways,” the girl stood cooly, like nothing had happened, “I assume this means I shouldn’t be saying anything of it to Hermione?”
“Absolutely not,” he said, “she’d throw herself into the lake if she knew we knew.”
The girl laughed. He wasn’t wrong.
For a few minutes they walked, quiet as they enjoyed the hot sun on their skin. Behind them, though she only snuck a quick glance, Ron and Hermione were bickering; apparently Hermione had made bigger bubbles than Ron and he’d taken it as a personal attack. The girl shook her head, letting the moment pass her and the fresh air flow through her lungs before she spoke again.
“Harry,” she started nervously, “there er, is something I actually wanted to speak to you about.”
He stopped walking, sinking his hands into the pockets of his pants as he sighed deeply with understanding, “you mean you causing a row with Malfoy?”
The girl froze in her tracks, “you knew about that?”
“Well apparently you weren’t too quiet about it,” he smiled half-heartedly. “I just… don’t understand what you were doing with him in the first place,” he admitted.
The girl felt her throat go hard, “dunno that myself, really.”
He blinked at her with his big green eyes, awaiting her explanation patiently.
“I- I just,” she started unconfidently, pausing to think. “I’d noticed there was something off about him. I just wanted to see what it was about.”
“And you think Malfoy’d tell you if there was?” Harry said, voice thick with doubt.
“Well, yes,” she admitted. “I know because he -- well, because he kind of told me so.”
Harry’s mouth dropped, “he did?”
“Yes,” she repeated, feeling her face prickle with warmth.
“So what does he,” Harry began, bewildered, “does he fancy you or something?”
“No!” the girl blurted, tucking her windswept hair behind her ears and finding her eyes suddenly glued to the muddy ground. “Of course not!”
“That’s brilliant!” Harry realized, ignoring her completely as he came quickly to an understanding of how this newfound information could play to his advantage, “and what did he tell you?!”
“Erm,” she gave a weak sigh, eyes back on him, “he said he knew I was working with you and told me to shove off, basically.”
Harry’s expectant smile faltered, “oh.”
“Yeah,” she gave him a reluctant glance.
“But you’re not,” he said confusedly.
“Yes I know that,” she echoed.
“Oh,” he said again.
Harry began walking once more, letting his thoughts brew a little before he continued. The sun’s rays were hitting his glasses hard, sending bright beams of light refracting off of them. The Gryffindor chewed his lower lip thoughtfully and gave his head a scratch.
“So then, if that was all, what was it that you’d wanted to tell me?” he said at last.
“I wanted to ask you how I could help,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and keeping her eyes forward on the nearing edge of the lake.
“You want to help me?” he asked.
“Course,” she shrugged. “I still believe he’s off, or up to something at least. And you seem to be the only other one around here who's noticed it, I’ve heard.”
“You’re right,” he affirmed, “and given that Malfoy’s got some sort of soft spot for you or something, I bet you’d have more luck than me finding out what exactly that is.”
“Er, yes,” she voiced hesitantly. “Only, I think I stomped the soft spot out when I called him a fool,” she said. “And he seemed to have taken it a bit personally.”
“Has he?” Harry said with mock surprise.
“You know he spat on me in the hallway the other day?!” she recalled suddenly. “I mean, literally spat on me. Him and his goons were by the courtyard when it happened,” she recounted sourly.
“Ah, the Malfoy rain,” Harry grinned knowingly.
“The what?!” she gaped.
“Ron calls it that,” Harry continued without hesitation, “because it’s like rain… but from his mou-”
“Disgusting!” she gave her friend a shove, making him cackle.
“I’m surprised this is only your first time,” he chuckled, “I’ve been getting the treatment since my first year.”
“That’s foul,” the girl curled her lip.
“Yes, well,” Harry shrugged, unfazed.
The boy-who-lived adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his skinny nose before stopping at the water’s edge. The surface had gone completely still, making the water look like nothing more than a black sheet of paper. It was beautiful, she thought. Harry stared too, before turning back to her, his smile gone and his face hardened with seriousness.
“Y/N,” he started softly and gave a stiff sigh. “Whatever he says, or whatever he does, that soft spot is still there. Vulnerability like that doesn’t just go away, y’know?” he said. “If he had it before, he can get it again.”
The girl looked at him. There seemed to be some kind of knowing in his green eyes. It made her heart lurch nervously.
“And how might that happen?” she asked.
Harry shrugged, looking her dead on, “you’ll just have to make him get it back.”
. . .
“Well,” she tried, “how do I look?”
The girl stood before a large gold framed mirror in her room, her other self glaring steelily back at herself from within the reflective surface. It was late in the afternoon now. Yolky orange light rays seeped from the half-circle windows that encircled the girl’s bedroom and filled the space with a hot haze. One window, with its peeling paint flakes, had been forced open, providing a comforting breeze and the smell of fresh grass to the dormitory room. The circle shaped room, with its exposed brick walls, thick cream carpets, and vine stuffed walls, seemed like the nicest place for her to be at the moment. But, with Slughorn’s unfortunate dinner party approaching at an alarming rate now, the girl was soon to depart and had found her stomach turning faster and faster the closer her deadline approached. Truthfully, she’d take reading an old book whilst tucked sleepily away into her thick sheets over this charade any day of the week. And, judging by the look on her face, this feeling wasn’t one she was successfully concealing. The girl curled her fingers over her faded wooden dresser, sucking in a slow breath as she reluctantly brought her glittering eyes back up to the mirror before her.
She wore a flowing sheer cream dress, one with long sleeves and little patterns embroidered into its circumference. Wanting to stay casual, she’d thrown on her usual scuffed black boots, but swapped her school socks out for ruffle trimmed white ones that peeked over her shoe’s tops. Her hair was in its usual messy state atop her shoulders, too. Behind her, Hannah Abbott stood with her arms crossed, her head tilted as she looked her friend over.
“Erm-” Hannah started unsurely.
“Oh no,” she said, turning around with wide eyes, “is it that awful?”
“No!” the blonde assured her with a wave of her hand. “Just, well, come here.”
The girl stepped timidly closer, nervous as her friend procured her wand, looked her over, and then gave it a flourish. First, the girl’s hair started magically flattening, before finding itself lifting dreamily from her shoulder tops and into a thick bun, one with a huge loose french braid on its side, and with stray pieces dangling at the front to frame her face. Smiling with like, Hannah then stuck her tongue cheekily out and shortened her friend’s dress a noticeable chunk of inches, so that it stopped flirtatiously at the tops of her legs.
“Oi!” the girl laughed in embarrassment, throwing her hands nervously over her front.
“Oh loosen up,” the blonde giggled, looking pleased with her work.
“I’m rarely out of robes,” the girl huffed, turning back to the mirror.
“Exactly,” her friend said from over her shoulder. “You only get so many chances to show those legs off to Cedric Diggory.”
“WHA-” the girl clapped a hand over her mouth in shock, spinning around. “HANNAH!?”
“Oh please,” Hannah said, sinking down onto the plush yellow quilts that were draped over her bed. “Like I haven’t seen him trying to sneak a peak before.”
She felt her face go red quite suddenly, “excuse me?”
Hannah smirked, leaning against one of the four oak posters that closed in around her bed. She twirled her hair around a finger with glee as she blinked slyly at her friend. Wordlessly, she closed her eyes and waved her friend off towards the Common Room.
“Well,” she shrugged, “go on then!”
The girl glared daggers at her unattentive friend as she cautiously approached their room’s door frame. She stuffed her hands in her dress pockets nervously, her feet feeling as if they were sinking through the now goo-like floor with every step. The green vines that trickled down the large woody door waved their tails in an encouraging goodbye.
“Well,” the girl decided with a smile, “I’m going to throw up.”
“At least wait til’ you’ve gotten out of our bedroom,” Hannah said, leaning back in bed with a sigh. “I’m not cleaning up your vomit.”
She snorted, shaking her head as the door slammed tight behind her, and she went tapping quietly down the stone staircase and out into the Common Room. There weren’t many students around, as many of the non Slug Club members had the luck of eating their normal meals and going about their usual after-dinner-weekend plans, unlike her. Cedric was already awaiting her however, and he looked incredibly dashing in his white button up shirt. The shirt was peppered with little black dots, and had its first two buttons undone, so as to expose just a hint of the god-like collarbones Cedric was sporting. His gold streaked chestnut hair was stood just a little straighter than usual, like he’d attempted to neaten it before giving up shortly thereafter. Still, it was quite cute.
When he saw her, Cedric’s face became the sun, his lips splitting into that dazzling smile, and dimples coming to life across his lightly bronzed skin. From above her, one of the hanging plants whistled, not for the first time that year, she noted.
Cedric tilted his head towards the creature, “yeah, what it said.”
The girl chuckled, off put by the flattery and finding it hard to keep looking at the deathly attractive boy before her.
“Ced,” she protested bashfully, worming her fingers nervously around in her dress pockets.
He smiled wider, if possible, and put his own hands timidly into the pockets of his black pants.
“Sorry,” he chuckled warmly, letting her come to him. “You look lovely.”
They met in the centre of the Common Room. With the sun practically set now, the only light was from the flickering of the massive fireplace’s flames, which cast shadows over the hollows of her friend’s cheeks, jaw, and lips. For a moment, neither said anything. Instead, they just looked at each other. It was Cedric who cleared his throat first.
“Erm,” he said, “shall we?”
“O’course,” the girl responded awkwardly, trailing Cedric out of the Common Room and into the deserted halls.
The two were quiet as they made their way around corners and over moving staircases. Neither spoke, or looked at each other, really. Halfway up a moving staircase, Peeves had attempted to toss a water balloon onto the two, but Cedric stopped the thing midair and sent it flying back at the ghost, who cackled as it went through his stomach and splattering against a wall. The two friends couldn’t help but give a laugh there. One of the portrait’s, which was just nearly missed, screamed defiantly at the friends in protest. Then, about a minute later, Cedric and Y/N turned into the corridor outside Slughorn’s, where they ran into none other than Harry and Hermione.
“Hullo,” Harry grinned.
“Mate,” Cedric scrunched his nose with a smile, the two boys clapping a hand together in greeting.
“Y/N!” Hermione beamed, “you look lovely! You too, Cedric.”
Hermione was wearing a pale pink blouse, Harry a black button up. Both looked nice for the occasion. Also, both looked a little nervous.
“You as well,” Cedric and the girl replied in unison.
Hermione smiled, mumbling, “nothing really,” or something like that.
Harry, uninterested, had jerked his head towards the girl, “I take it you’re not interested in being here, either.”
“How’d you know?” she chuckled with a roll of her eyes.
“Well, me n’ you are only here because Slughorn fancies our dead parents-” he began.
“Harry!” Hermione gaped, slapping her friend upside the head so as to shut him up.
The girl let out an explosive cackle, going weak in the knees with laughter, “he’s not wrong you know.”
Harry rubbed his head as he flashed his teeth at her and raised a hand for her to slap hers against. She did, making the two only laugh harder.
“You two are awful,” Cedric said with alarm, gaining a supportive nod from Hermione.
It had seemed that the group’s commotion had drawn the attention of Professor Slughorn, who poked his head out from around the entrance of his room. He wore, on his body, a quite excessive frayed brown blazer with his black pants, and on his face, an almost terrifyingly supportive smile. When he smiled in such a way, his forehead creased with a set of expressive little lines, and he looked somewhat like a happy frog, she thought.
“Dear boys and girls, you’ve arrived!” he declared loudly.
“We have,” Harry echoed in an obvious reply.
“Come in! Do come in!” Slughorn chuckled joivally, ushering his students into the room he’d cleared for them.
It was an interesting sight to see. In the middle of the room, a huge polished oak table had been set up, around which just over a dozen large and eloquently carved wood chairs stood. Students of every house had gathered; notably, Blaise, one of Draco’s henchmen, and Neville, their friend. The table had been filled with large glass mugs, which were topped to their brims with seven massive scoops of decadent chocolate ice-cream each, atop which were further chocolate shavings. Neville, who looked just about ready to faint, sighed in heavy relief as his friends pulled aside chairs next to his own. Instantaneously, Slughorn began his unsurprising fire of questions. First he spoke to two dark haired Ravenclaws the girl was unfamiliar with, then the boisterous Marcus Belby, and finally he landed his beady little eyes on Hermione.
“My parents are dentists,” Hermione blurted nervously when Slughorn asked of her.
The girl slid her mug forward, dipping her silver spoon uninterestedly into the dessert and swirling it around dismissively. Beside her, Cedric was taking polite tastes of his desert, and, beside him, Harry was uncomfortably shoving spoonfuls worth of ice-cream down his throat. The girl snorted, elbowing her friend, who snapped his gorgeous hazel eyes to hers, his lips crinkling into a little smile as he shifted his attention over to Harry. Cedric nudged Harry, who lifted his chocolate covered face up slowly.
“What?” he said defensively, his voice low so as to be unheard as Hermione continued speaking.
“Is that a dangerous profession?” Slughorn asked the frizzy haired brunette.
“Erm… no,” Hermione said awkwardly.
Everyone, including Cedric, stared at her in awkward silence.
“What’s a dentist again?” Cedric said through the corner of his mouth.
On either side of him, Harry and Y/N tried miserably to stifle their giggles. Luckily for them, a perfectly timed interruption shifted the attention away from the two, and instead to Ginny Weasley, who had just entered the room sporting a cute black dress and some unfitting red eyes. Harry scooted loudly back in his chair, emitting a deathly screeching sound that matched perfectly with the absolute silence of the room. Hermione put a hand over her mouth, a smile spreading beneath her fingers.
“Ah, Miss Weasley,” Slughorn beamed, “come in!”
“Sorry,” she replied through a mumble, “not usually late.”
Harry let out a loud grunt and scooted back forward in his chair as if unaware he’d done anything odd. The girl looked first at the-boy-who-lived, then to Ginny, her brows furrowing in confusion as her eyes travelled. Next she looked to Cedric, who mirrored her expression, and finally to Hermione, who flickered her eyes indicatively at the two Gryffindor’s before turning her nose back to her food.
“Miss (Y/L/N),” Slughorn said loudly, refocusing his attention once again to the girl.
Her eyes darted forwards to her professor, “yes, sir?”
“Your parents,” he said, “tell me a bit about them, will you?”
It had been expected, of course. But she’d dreaded it nonetheless.
“I’d rather not, sir,” she tried.
“Please,” the old man quite literally begged.
“Uh, well erm, she started awkwardly, not knowing where to begin. “They both died when I was quite young-”
“Yes, actually about that,” Slughorn fed in, “how was it your father passed? There was little heard of him after he joined You-Know-Who’s ranks.”
The girl was quite taken aback. How bold of him. Actually, how rude.
“Er,” she blinked frustratedly, “an explosion, I think.”
“Go on,” the professor encouraged.
Everyone, not just Y/N, it seemed, wasn’t comfortable with such a discussion. What was the point of asking such things? How did this add a shine to his little collection of trophy students? Mostly, though, how was it that the man was so oblivious to his indiscretion?
“The Ministry notified me about it when it happened. He took out a bunch of muggles with himself, they said. Only, they didn’t do much reporting on him because...”
“Because?” Slughorn persisted.
“Sir-” she tried again.
But the professor looked absolutely carefree as he took a large spoonful of ice cream in with a wave of his small chubby hands, “do tell us, Y/N, we all want to know.”
The eyes of every student in the room were glued eagerly to her, whether in mild interest, discomfort, or both.
The girl felt her whole body heat up. She’d never disclosed the second part of that story with anyone before, let alone a whole damned Slug Club. Flustered, she blinked rapidly, turning her head left, right, and back left again, as the left was where the door was. And by God, did the door look good at that moment. She could feel the blood rushing to her ears, her feet preparing to bring her to a sprint, a nervous glimmer soak her brow, and yet, just as she’d decided to stand and run, something stopped her.
Beside her, the girl felt one of Cedric’s large hands snake under the table and take a reassuring hold of her wrist. It caught her off guard, the way he’d so swiftly done it. The boy’s long fingers dipped straight into her own, first landing on her wrists for a soft little rub, then sliding right up into her palms, where he closed his fingers in on her own. His hands were wam. Warm and rough. This settled her hard beating heart, if only for a moment. And that was all she needed.
“Sorry professor,” she responded flatly, “but no.”
Her eyes scanned those of her classmates more confidently, and most all of them glittered back proudly in reply. Across from her, Slughorn released a disappointed sigh, before continuing on his little train of questions and peppering Cedric with his next rounds of interrogation. Of course, Cedric was as cool, calm, and collected as ever. The boy put on his most handsome and proud lopsided smile as he answered the professor’s questions of -- well, honestly she wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. For while he spoke, Cedric had released her fingers and found himself absentmindedly tracing the patterns on his friend’s hand, not that anyone could have known. And she, incredibly flustered, but more comforted than anything, let him. Only when dinner ended did the boy retract his touch.
. . .
“Excellent,” Harry declared, the second they’d stepped foot outside of the dungeon. “You were excellent, Y/N.”
The jet black haired boy gave his friend a huge slam of appreciation to the back. He, Cedric, Hermione, Neville, and Y/N were making their tired escape from Slughorn’s party. Together, the group made their defeated and slumped ascent out of the dungeons.
“Thanks, Harry,” she half laughed and half grumbled. “I couldn't have done it on my own.”
Her large bright eyes flickered up to Cedric’s glowing ocean ones, and they twinkled adoringly at her in silent communication. Beside her, Hermione raised a quizzical brow, though, truth be told, Y/N wasn’t paying her much attention at that moment.
“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting an invite back, though…” she’d muttered dryly.
“It’d be his loss,” Cedric fired back confidently, earning a half smile from his favorite girl.
She’d gone to say something else, but her lips had hardly opened when she saw him.
Draco. Draco, with his snow white skin and blue-grey eyes, was heading their way. This was unsurprising, given that they were on Slytherin’s side of the castle. Honestly, he was the last thing she’d wanted to be confronted with at that moment, and judging by the look on his sallow face, it went both ways. As he drew nearer and nearer, his hands stuffed into the black folds of his robes, she waited for the blades of his sharp words to slice her, for him to mouth insults her way as he had so frequently loved to do. But, shockingly, the boy was quiet. In fact, it seemed he had no plan to say anything, but rather to snake right past them, silent and unheard, like a figment of their imagination. He’d almost done it, actually, but the girl had other plans.
“What?” she said, stopping dead in her tracks.
Draco had just passed her, and gone deathly still.
She turned on her heel, asking again, “what? Not going to say anything?”
The boy turned slowly to face her, his icy eyes narrow with dislike, his teeth clenched so hard she could see the definite pulse of his hard jawline beneath his porcelain skin. Beside her, her friends all warily stopped walking, their faces clouding with concern. Apparently, they all thought it better to not acknowledge his existence. The snow white boy blinked silently, keeping his pale lips pressed harshly together.
“What? So now that you don’t have any goons around, you’re no longer interested in making a show out of us?” she asked with a bitter chuckle.
Malfoy’s nostrils flared, a hard grimace taking shape on the curvatures of his perfect mouth.
“You know what I think, Draco? I think you don’t actually care for it. I think you only do it for others to maintain some sort of facade. And I think, you’re too cowardly to face us alone.”
“Y/N,” Hermione tried, “don’t fire him up.”
Draco flickered his narrowed eyes to Hermione, then settled back on Y/N’s. Finally, he spoke.
“Much to Granger’s disappointment,” he started softly, “you don’t have the power to fire me up.”
Her lips split into a sour smile, “don’t I?”
“Y/N,” Cedric huffed with concern, “just drop it.”
Now Draco’s eyes were on Cedric.
“You, however,” he drawled, “are all very easy to fire up.”
Y/N opened her mouth to retaliate, but, as she should have expected, was beaten to it.
“Diggory,” he began, “congratulations on giving your little girlfriend an express pass onto the Hufflepuff quidditch team. I expect she returned the favor nicely with her mouth.”
Cedric flushed a bright red, his nostrils flaring, and eyes growing cold with distaste. This enraged Y/N, yes, but it enraged Cedric more. Before he had the chance to fight back, however, Draco was onto his next target.
“Mudblood,” he mouthed, addressing Hermione. “Did it hurt when Potter here beat your pompous, self righteous self to the Felix Felicis? Is that why you’ve told everyone that he cheated his way to it?”
“N-no,” Hermione replied unconvincingly.
“Shut up,” Neville added.
“You,” Draco chuckled, snapping his attention mechanically to Neville, his lashes fluttering to the beat of his laughter. “Longbottom, please. You’re so pathetic, I could almost find the sympathy to feel bad for you. Everyone can. But, I really needn’t say anything for you to know that, do I?”
Harry had a hand on his wand now.
“Go ahead,” Draco dared, focusing now on the boy-who-lived. “You’re awfully more of a milksop than one would expect of a Gryffindor,” he said, “so you won’t. Especially not on my side of the castle, where you’d be under professor Snape’s jurisdiction.”
He had a point. About that second part, of course. Slowly, Harry released the grip on his wand.
And then Draco’s eyes were back on the girl, and they were a cold stormy gray, touched lightly with a hint of mild intrigue. The girl felt her fingers shaking now, practically aching to take form into a fist. But she had to stand her ground. She had to prove his lack of power over her.
“And you,” he finished with a heavy sigh. He brought his eyes up to her friends before saying his next words. “As of late, this little thing has been of most interest to me.”
Everyone seemed to have frozen in place, including Y/N, who was capable only of blinking up angrily at him, her jaw tilted up so as to be able to reach his searing and curious gaze.
“And d’you know why?” he arched a silver-blond brow, stepping closer to her.
He looked like he wanted to touch her. Wanted to force her jaw up within the tight grasp of his hands. Wanted to step close enough that her heaving chest would bump against his own. But a flicker of his eyes to her friends stopped him, and instead he just stood there, about a foot apart from her, his hands still buried in his pockets.
“Because,” he continued bemusedly, “unlike everyone else here, you have a secret.”
“And what’s that?” she dared lowly.
Draco’s lips split into an awful, cruel, smile.
“You like having me put you in your place.”
There was silence.
The girl wanted to speak. She’d tried. But only a mute and incoherent stutter toppled forth from her agape lips.
“Fascinating,” his lips stretched wider yet, his voice dropping lower yet, “isn’t it?”
And then his hands withdrew from his pockets. Draco let his slender and silver ring clad fingers find themselves on the bend of his knee as he lowered his height so as to be level with the girl’s fiery stare. For a moment, he just let the blazing blue sear of his scrutiny make its way across her face. She could smell his cologne invading her lungs, the inexplicably alluring scent of Draco Malfoy growing vile to her. He lowered his voice, then, so that only she could hear his almost inaudible murmur.
“This little game of ours,” he whispered. “I quite enjoy it.”
Then he raised a finger, a long and slender index finger, and tapped the tip of her nose.
She just stared at him, and it was a long and wordless encounter. His icy blue eyes pierced straight through her own and into the depths of her soul. He seemed eager to see her either crumble beneath him or expel with rage, but what he did not expect is what she said next.
“Incendio.”
Suddenly, her dress was on fire.
Draco leapt back in surprise, his brows knitting as the base of the girl’s cream colored clothing went up in flames. Around her, her friends all gawked and toppled back in shock. In her right hand was Draco’s wand, plucked straight from his pocket only a moment ago.
“Catch,” she grinned, throwing the boy his wand.
The blond chuckled in bitter surprise, “and what does that achieve?”
“A spell search will reveal that you just casted a fire charm on me,” she gaped in mock shock as she extinguished the flames on her dress with a newly learned Aguamenti charm.
Beside her, the faces of her friends told her they were utterly lost. But it was alright, they’d soon find out what had happened.
Draco let loose a chuckle, “and you think Snape is going to believe that, from you?”
“Sure I do,” she shrugged, “because I also did.”
“What-” he began.
“Incendio!”
Now it was Draco whose clothes erupted in flames. Quickly, he stifled the orange licks up his robes with his own water charm. Now it made sense. The boy’s pale face had gone flush with rage upon realizing what she’d done.
“Oh no,” she shrugged sarcastically.
And then they heard the footsteps. No doubtedly, Snape was on his way to see what the commotion was about. From behind her, her friends all gaped, impressed. Then, on her command, they took their cues and bolted, cackling as they disappeared down the hall and away from the scene of the crime. In front of her, Draco’s mouth trembled with a newfound sense of rage. His white and slender figure slumped slowly with defeat, knowing he’d been outsmarted.
“What?” she teased.
He practically snarled, his eyes alight with a blazing hatred.
“I thought I couldn’t fire you up, Draco?”
. . .
“Our detention will be next week!” the girl exclaimed.
Beside her, Julian, Hannah, and Ernie all roared with approval, the group meeting their large mugs of butterbeer together in celebration. After being issued a lovely disciplining from professor Snape, the girl had headed back to the Common Room in her tattered dress, only to enter a hero to her friends, who’d heard of the encounter from Cedric. Together, by the light of the dying fire, the group celebrated the girl’s triumph over Draco Malfoy. She could only assume that somewhere, on the other side of the castle, a set of Gryffindors were doing the same.
Now, by the dim light of the fire’s embers, the group had jovially devoured a set of gooey celebration biscuits and leaned back lazily in the overstuffed armchairs of the Hufflepuff Common Room. From above and around them, plants snored lazily as they embarked upon their nightly slumber. Slowly, one by one, her friends departed for their beds, until it was only Cedric and Y/N who remained in the Common Room. Cedric was unusually quiet as they left. In fact, he’d been unusually quiet the whole evening. It’s not that she hadn’t noticed, but rather that she didn’t want to. And so, upon being left alone with him, she said nothing. Finally, after a minute of deathly awkward silence, he spoke.
“So. What was all of that about then?”
He’d said it softly. And not the way he usually did when he spoke softly to her. No, he sounded outright disappointed in her.
“What d’you mean?” she arched a brow at him.
Cedric sat stiffly upright on the squashy yellow couch, his ocean blue eyes set forward in thought. His previously neat goldish brown locks had found themselves resuming their usual messy state atop his head, with one little curl springing forth attractively upon his forehead. He still wore his button up, but his hands were folded gently upon his lap in an odd manner.
“I mean,” he continued softly, “why would you do what you did tonight?”
He turned now, his stare intense as it bore into her own. The girl found her throat closing up, and her chest tightened with uncomfortability.
“You went explicitly out of your way to rile Malfoy up. And then- and then you make some feat of landing yourself in detention with him.”
“It was about time someone stood up to him-” she began.
“No, but that’s not why you did it,” he interrupted, hurt.
She didn’t know how to respond to that, or to him, really. The boy looked weakened, his handsome figure bent over with a sort of sadness, casting a rather sad looking silhouette over the dark wooden floors of the Common Room. She’d opened her mouth, but upon meeting his eyes, stopped. They were strained. They were strained and ever so softly moistened with hurt.
“Is it?” he asked, more quietly this time, the look on his face desperate for her next word to be ‘yes.’
But it wasn’t.
“I don’t know,” she admitted begrudgingly, her shoulders falling. “Something about him just gets me going, Ced. Now more than ever. It’s- It’s because I know he’s capable of better.”
“Is he?” Cedric said with a raise of his brows.
Cedric, more than anyone, knew how to see the good in people. And Cedric, now, voiced doubt for the redemption of Draco Malfoy.
“There’s just something different,” she exhaled, feeling far too guilty to hold her friend’s gaze.
“I see that now,” Cedric agreed. “I do.”
She blinked up curiously at him.
There was an eerie silence. Aside from the faint chirping of crickets, the rustling of the flora and fauna upon the stone walls, and the gentle crackles of the dying fire, the only thing to be heard was her own faltering breath.
“But not about him,” he said. “About you.”
Her heart sank.
“I see it, you know?” he murmured lowly. “I see the way you look at him.”
“Ced-” she tried.
But he wasn’t having it.
“And I know in that… in that look, you know?” he continued. “There’s something different.”
Her heart was racing now. Cedric had never talked like this to her before, and the feeling was one she was unfamiliar with. And then there was the way he was looking at her, which hurt. It hurt because he was hurting. It hurt because she didn’t know why it hurt him. And then, this certainly wasn’t a revelation the girl had either expected or wanted to be confronted with, of course. But more to the point, to have it told to her like this, by the person she loved most in the world, was too much.
“How would you know that, Ced?” she murmured, the sound of hot blood in her ears making her dizzy.
“Because,” he started.
Then he stopped. His lips quivered and his lashes fluttered, a tell-tale sign that this next act was going to injure him further, that his next words weren’t ones he could take back.
“Because it’s how I look at you.”
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freddiekluger · 4 years ago
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I am all ears for your season 3 cap's big gay awakening ideas 👀👀
alright, you asked so sit down and strap in
before we get started- a few details are recycled/repurposed from earlier headcanons/ask answers (characterisation is like that), and i came up with all this a couple weeks back, so any overlap with other peoples suggestions is totally unintentional! i’ve just been finding the energy to properly write them up as originally i riffed them with a friend late at night lmao
the captain: homo evolution
introduction (scroll down if you’re not bothered for the hardcore analysis/logic)
this isn’t necessarily what i think WILL happen as much as how i would do it. over the past two seasons of Ghosts, we’ve seen the captain’s main character arc being centred around him loosening up, from learning to value mike, alison, and the other ghosts more as equals than soldiers/means to an end to the season 2 finale, where cap is not only expressing an interest in flowers and fashion (distinctly un-soldierly pursuits) but joining the party and other men (the direct opposite of About Last Night, in which cap bah humbugs partying/’gay abandon’ and is left speechless by the mere presence of a mostly naked man). that being said, the captain is still the captain: his character is still centred around this need for rules and structure and he still finds his identity in the archetypal WW2 military man- all of his incremental moves towards a more ‘modern’ perspective have ultimately been made possible because, like Ben said on twitter, the captain isn’t CONSCIOUSLY aware that he’s gay. he has the underlying feeling that he’s different, he knows of his tendency to attach himself to specific men and form incredibly close bonds (and, as demonstrated by his attempts to hide them, is at least somewhat aware that that’s not the norm), but in his mind he’s written that off as merely “not being a ladies man”. 
the captain is from the 1940s- it’s one thing for him to see and be supportive of a same-gender wedding in present day England where gay=legal unions, marketed doritos, and homophobia being still present but generally frowned upon, and another thing entirely for him to have to apply it to himself. we’ve already seen that the captain appears to be stuck in the past more than any of the other ghosts (”the war is over!” “is it, alison? is it?”- he also references the past more frequently than most of the others), and in his past sodomite gay=punishable by imprisonment and chemical castration, back alley hookups, and the constant threat of blackmail and violence. obviously, despite all this, there was a vibrant underground queer history taking place in England during this time & not all of the above is accurate, but it’s what cap would have seen, and the England of the early 20th century is denoted as being a particularly brutal period for lgbtq+ folks (the destruction of the first world war exacerbated rage and frustration, and lgbtq+ people weren’t the only gorup to end up on the receiving end of that, but i digress). this is basiclly just a really long way of me saying that the captain compartmentalising to that degree was, and to some extent is, a survival mechanism. confronting his homoseuxality means confronting what it means for a 1940s man to be a dreaded homosexual, and all of that directly conflicts with the image of ‘the Captain’ he’s built in his mind. 
we’ve seen this in Redding Weddy, where the captain is aware that Havers means/meant more to him than was normal for a captain/2ic relationship (he does attempts to hide his affection- “i shall miss you, Havers. by which of course i mean we shall miss you “he left me, i mean he left for the front”), but is never able to fully verbalise WHY, and it only takes a series of increasingly dramatic prompts before he will even mention the idea of Havers, let alone begin to articulate their relationship. 
all this just goes to prove that for the captain to properly ‘come out’, there needs to be an external inciting incident- he could easily have gone on shadowing attractive men whenever they visit and avoiding interrogating those feelings for another seventy years if Button house remained without alison and mike. 
while at least julian, pat, and robin have noticed that the cap is not the most heteroseual of men (they’re the only ghosts who have visibly reacted when cap says gay shit), they all appear to have decided to just not mention it, which makes alison and mike our wildcards. not only has alison’s ability to see and communicate with the ghosts already connected them more to the modern world than they ever have been, alison, and mike by extension, has a personal stake in the wellbeing/general growth of the ghosts. happy ghosts=happy house, and like it or not some of them are even beginning to become friends. [i probably didn’t need to write all this like explaining my decisions, but i think figuring out the motivations behind everyon just develops the flavour and lets us have a sexy and accurate headcanon]
so,
the episode
while the captain might not consciously know he’s a fruit (derogatory), he is well and truly terrible at concealing the thirst (it’s not his fault things just keep slipping out!)- i love the idea of just having a supercut near the beginning of the episode that just shows that the captain has gotten even GAYER since last season, with slip ups becoming almost a daily occurence, but it’s getting to the point where it’s actually becoming a serious hazard. last week, he was supposed to be looking out for alison while attempted to put up blinds, but one of mike’s friends (who was over ‘helping out’, which mostly meant eating chips and covering himself in paint) walked through the room with his shirt off and paint handprints on the seat of his shorts, distracting the captain from realising that alison’s stepladder was about to give way. 
with the increased presence of non elderly men in the house (the previous owner wasn’t exactly the life of the party) the captain is getting gayer and gayer, but he’s also becoming more and more defensive, while his brisk demeanour and need for control regresses to much more of a season 1 state (a subconscious attempt to regain control as things get close to spilling over). it’s not the first time his repression has almost slipped, he spent much of his life surrounded by soldiers after all, but with no war and no corporeal body he’s got almost nothing to distract himself from it. needless to say, between the safety hazards and the almost agressive defensiveness which derails any interaction, something needs to be done about the captain.
throughout the week, alison tries to find the opportune time to talk to the captain about what’s going on with him for everyone’s sake, but cap keeps masterfully evading any ‘deep’ talk with willful misunderstanding or just straight up dismissal (which at times gets a bit rude), and alison really doesn’t have the time- her and mike are caught up with managing the first official room redecoration and butting heads with a passive agressive delivery driver. insert general shenangigans, but at some point the captain’s whole “accidentally sabotage something by being distracted and then attack anyone who dares even look at him the wrong way afterwards” act causes alison to exasperatedly blurt out “we all know you’re gay! we get it! you like men! you can drop the act!”. there’s no malice or anything but, as we know, when alison gets run ragged things don’t tend to come out quite right.
everything falls silent (and mike is vaguely confused), and the captain just looks like a deer in headlights. as alison catches her breath, pat pipes up with a “it’s alright, cap, we don’t mind- now we can focus on the task at hand”. the captain sort of regains his composure and once again attempts to brush them all off with a scoff and a “i haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. if any of us is distracted, i-it’s... kitty!” but it’s easy to tell he looks rattled. most of his words don’t come out right, and after trying to blame kitty for their failures (she just had the unfortunate luck of being in his line of sight), he ends up doing an awkward little walk away which quickly turns into a full on sprint. mike, having finished processing alison yelling about gay shit to the air and kind of pieced together what must have happened awkwardly chimes in with “it’s okay to be gay!”- alison just pats him on the back (”yeah no he’s gone, mike.” “gone?” “sprinted away.” “huh”)
the episode continues with the captain flat out avoiding alison and the other ghosts to an almost funny extent as the other plots continue. it takes a bit for alison to realise why the captain reacted so badly (in fact, it’s actually mike who remembers that he’s 1940s ghost- “he’s probably just scared and taking it out on everyone else”). while thomas and julian vote for leaving the captain be so they can have some peace and quiet, fanny/pat/alison/robin decide someone needs to talk to him (fanny surprised everyone but after all, she got murdered because her husband had to live in secrecy- if talking to the captain will avert any further crises, she’s happy to make sure someone else does it for her). kitty’s still upset about being singled out, but she knows better than anyone that sometimes all you need is a friend- cue realisation no. 2.
with the captain avoiding everyone, sending in a regular emissary isn’t going to work. they need to find the least threatening person possible, with no agenda or history other than being there to help (a friend, if you will)- cue everyone looking at mike.
a quick offscreen briefing later, we see mike wandering out to the field where the captain has exiled himself- remember that up until this point, the captain was still in conscious denial about his sexuality, so being forced to confront it head on (and finding out that apparently everyone ‘knew’, which for cap would feel like an intimate invasion of privacy/forced vulnerability) would rattle him to the point of self-exile- he might not be able to run from his sexuality, but he can run from people. the thing is, mike can’t see or hear the ghosts, which means the captain can’t be frightened off by any expectations (mike actually talks to/at cap while facing completely the wrong direction, but consdiering the above point, this works rather well). 
the captain was alternating between pacing, fiddling with his swagger stick, and sitting, but he unconsciously stands to attention as mike wanders over. he’s used to mike not being able to see them, so mike asking to sit down takes him by surprise, disrupting his instinct to flee again.
mike begins a little awkwardly (”mind if i sit?” *silence* “...i’m just gonna assume that’s a no. or is it a yes? yeah anyways i’m just gonna sit. so... heard you’ve been going through a rough patch”), and the captain almost scoffs and wanders off, but something about the clumsy earnestness in mike’s voice, the captain’s vulnerable state, and the fact that it’s been so long since cap has had anyone actually check in on him, that he stays put. he keeps standing and staring away from button house, and mike keeps speaking to the empty air to his left, and alison and the ghosts stay hidden behind their bush a few metres away, but at least the captain is listening. for the first time in weeks, he’s not on the offensive.
“i can’t actually see or hear you, so i’m just gonna talk and assume you’re listening. alison mentioned you have a habit of running away but, um, maybe don’t do that please?”
“my mate daniel's gay. uh, homosexual, you’d probably say- did you have gay when you were alive? did it just mean happy? anyway, he didn’t come out- that means tell people- until he left high school. we all kind of guessed it, the other kids at school gave him a real tough time for it, but he just squashed it down. couldn’t imagine that all the things people were shouting at him were true, so he ignored it. he’s doing good now though. got married to his husband last year, currently runs a bookshop. so that’s nice.”
it goes quiet for a bit. the captain hasn’t moved, and we’re still only seeing shots of him from the back, but there’s a little less tension in his stance than there was before.  mike clears his throat before continuing.
“i’m guessing you’re probably pretty scared right now. i would be- i mean not that you should be, you shouldn’t, but coming from your... situation, i’m guessing it’d be hard. no one’s saying you have to be anything you’re not ready to be, but lots of things that are scary are actually not bad. airplanes, skydiving, clowns- well, not the clown from that movie, but he gives clowns a bad rep- i’m sure there are plenty of lovely clowns out in the world. still give me the creeps though.” the captain makes a captain-y noise of assent about the clown comment- he never liked them either. 
mike glances over to the bush where alison and the ghosts were attempting to listen in (they could only catch every few words- mary got particularly concerned about why mike had referenced clowns), and the captain still hasn’t run away, so alison motions for mike to keep going. he starts telling the captain a story from his uni days. it’s got nothing to do with the captain, or being gay, or self-acceptance, or anything like that- it’s just a standard tale of comedic but inventive problem solving. the captain sits himself down next to mike (to his right, avoiding mike’s gaze, and still staring away from button house), muttering that his legs are getting a bit tired. he sits there for a while, and mike just talks. sometimes he circles back to the gay thing, sometimes he just asks the captain questions, before remembering that he can’t actually hear any answer, but then he keeps asking anyway, thinking that cap might need to talk. he doesn’t at first, but slowly he offers up a word or two. and then a sentence, and then maybe more- mike will accidentally cut the captain off, or leave the silence to long, but the captain doesn’t mind (it’s a nice reminder that nothing he says will actually go on to have consequence). at one point, mike gets out his phone to show the captain photos of his mate daniel and daniel's husband, not just their wedding day but casual photos- couples drinks with him and alison, dinners at each other's places, the bookshop. 
alison and the other ghosts have long gone, and the sun is just about to sink below the horizon by the time the captain stands himself back up with the traditional knee crack and grunt. he looks at mike and nods, giving him a simple thank you before turning to walk (not run) back to button house, head held slightly higher and looking more relaxed than he’s been all episode. the captain has still got a lot to figure out, but at least it’s a start.
[i love the dramatic ending but the implication is that alison has to go and fetch mike bc he has no ideas cap has left and is prepared to keep going lol- also by no means is cap suddenly going to ditch his characterisation and become a yas kween gay right away, i didn’t go into the aftermath bc this is alreayd fucking LONG but let me know if you want follow up????}
EDIT: i've rbed this with the follow up/part 2 attached!
EDIT 2, much later: switched out mike's reference to his 'younger brother' to a school friend, since the christmas special confirmed mike only has sisters and we're all about accuracy here
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amishfruit · 3 years ago
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Lady of the Lake Ch. 2, Walk
full chapter on ao3
commissions/tips
Ahiru wakes up refreshed, stretching her lithe arms above her head and letting out a happy sigh. The house is quiet, but she can tell from where the sun is in the sky that it’s nearing time for breakfast so she gets out of bed.
“Oh, you’re already up.” He steps backwards to let her by and follows her to the table where their plates sit waiting for them.
She nods with a smile on her face, sitting down and quickly tucking into breakfast.
Fakir smiles back when she isn’t looking, enjoying his own meal more than he would without the pleasant company.
When she starts to feel full, she slows down between bites. “So, Raetsel is already at work?”
He nods, “She’ll be home again around supper time.”
“What does she do? I know she said it was a bakery but she wasn’t very specific.” Ahiru asks curiously.
“She helps some with the prep and finishing, but mostly she runs the front and handles the sales.” He explains it simply, hoping the words he’s using are familiar enough to her.
“Oh! So like, icing cookies and stuff?” Ahiru clarifies.
“Yeah… and stuff.” He agrees, not really knowing how to explain a job that he has never actually worked. “Do you still want to go to the library today?” He asks, changing the subject as they carry their plates to the sink and Ahiru begins washing.
She grins up at him where he leans with his back against the counter. “Yes please!”
He laughs at her enthusiasm, taking the clean dishes from her and drying them before putting them away. “Get your boots on,” He prompts, walking with her to the hall and entering his own room.
She quickly laces her shoes, meeting him back in the hallway where he slings a satchel over his head and holds it on his left shoulder.
“Ready?” He asks, walking to the door and waiting for her to answer before opening it.
Ahiru looks down at herself and runs through a mental checklist of all required garments, once she’s sure she has properly dressed herself, she nods and follows him out the door.
They don’t walk towards the stables and Ahiru secretly breathes a sigh of relief.
Fakir stops for her whenever she falls behind and matches her pace, the walk is no longer than 10 minutes and soon they find themselves at the door of a large building.
Holding the door open for Ahiru, he scans the room and finds the section they should start with. He leads her over to the archives, setting his satchel on a nearby table and showing her how to search through the papers. Once his notebook is set out with his quill and ink pot resting on top of the now empty satchel, he joins her in sifting through the collection of historical records. They look for mentions of memory loss, and Fakir also looks at victim reports, finding a few where the victim recounts a memory being blocked and struggling to answer questions from investigators.
The stack of papers grows tall and he suggests they sit and read through them before continuing. Ahiru agrees easily, wobbling slightly before depositing their finds safely on the table next to his things.
They sit side by side, perusing the papers one at a time.
Fakir takes notes on anything they find useful with the intent of referencing them later.
They continue like this for the next hour, library remaining mostly empty with the exception of occasional visitors that come in and out.
Around the time Ahiru starts to grow bored, someone clears their throat nearby and Fakir looks up from his notes, expression quickly growing exasperated.
“You missed your deadline.” The stranger says, voice haughty and more than a little bit annoying, “again. What’s your excuse this week?” They push their thin wired glasses up the bridge of their upturned nose as they say it.
Fakir searches his mind for a simple way to explain the events of the past few days. “Uh, family emergency?”
The stranger scoffs, flicking short navy hair out of their face. “I take it she’s involved?” They gesture towards Ahiru, who crosses her arms and shoots them a glare.
Fakir chooses not to answer, “I’ll bring the article to you tomorrow Autor, it’s not like I’m delaying publication.” He rolls his eyes, “Good thing you always set my deadline before anyone else’s.” Sarcasm laces his tone and the two men have a stare off, Autor breaking away first to turn to Ahiru.
Recognition lights up his face and he looks over at Fakir with a smirk before leaning his elbows on the table to address Ahiru. “You’re the one who walked out of the lake, aren’t you?”
She bristles, scooting back in her chair to create distance. “Yeah, what’s it to you?”
He sits across from her, earning a groan from Fakir. “I was there.” Autor shoots a look at her companion before continuing, “I bet Fakir wishes he were there with me to see it.”
It takes her a moment to grasp the connotation, turning bright red once she realizes what he’s implying. “You’re a total creep!” She hisses it in an attempt to avoid yelling, rage threatening to boil over.
Fakir is similarly angry, he grits his teeth and wills the burning in his face to subside, not wanting to give Autor any satisfaction from leaving him flustered.
Autor raises a brow, “Found yourself a real feisty one, huh Fakir?”
Ahiru lets out an angry yelp and stands up from her chair.
“Go bother someone else Autor.” Fakir grinds out.
“Yeah! We have better things to do than talk to you!” Ahiru adds, causing Fakir to wince from her less than ideal word choice.
Autor stifles a laugh, standing up from his seat. “I’ll leave you to it then.” His tone is amused and he winks at them as he walks away, leaving them to fume in peace.
“That guy is such an asshole!” Ahiru exclaims, too angry to sit back down and fists clenched.
Fakir snorts a surprised laugh, earning a confused glance from her that he waves off. “You are an excellent judge of character.”
Her anger subsides slightly and she slumps back into her seat. “Is he always like that?”
Fakir sighs. “Unfortunately, yes.”
She makes a sound close to a growl. “How can you stand him?!”
He shakes his head, “I barely tolerate him, he’s technically my boss so there’s not much else I really could do without losing my job.”
Ahiru pouts and crosses her arms. “Well he’s not mine, let me know if you want me to take care of him.” She punches a tiny fist into her other hand as she says it and he laughs again in response.
“I don’t think I’ll need you to defend my honor anytime soon, but thanks.” He looks down at her, amused. “Come on, let’s pack up and go eat lunch, I don’t think either of us will be able to focus now.”
She agrees easily, helping him carry the stacks of references back to where they had found them after he puts his writing tools back into his satchel and slings it onto his shoulder once more. She’s still irritated but the walk home helps her calm down and by the time they are inside taking off her boots she’s mostly back to normal. (...more on ao3)
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projectwkm · 4 years ago
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Okay, so... I’ve been seeing you posting a lot of stuff about Actor Mark being just misunderstood and actually nice- but, I’m not convinced. (Which is surprising considering I’m usually the one who likes the “villain,,,”) If I may ask, what’s this theory based off of?
This post has been a long time coming, so sorry! I totally didn’t realise I had asks on this blog,, I’m a fool.
So this is less of a theory of mine and more of an expansion on character and what we know! Do I think for a second Actor is going to be redeemed? No, and I hope he’s not, because I love him so much as a villain. Do I think he is redeemable? Absolutely. Everyone is.
Let’s get into why I think that!
1. ‘A Heartbroken Idiot’
This is the nickname our Mark (in this post I’ll call Actor Mark ‘Actor’, and real Mark ‘Mark, just to avoid confusion) gives Actor. In the WKM Explanation Stream, he calls him ‘a heartbroken idiot’ in reference to his plan on poker night. And if we think about what we canonly know to be true, then there is good reason for this:
The Actor, the Colonel and the Mayor were all childhood friends. The Colonel practically grew up in the Manor with the Actor.
The Actor married Celine. Do we know for certain that they loved each other? No. But we can gather that at some point they were happy, for reasons I’ll go into later.
The Colonel slept with Celine behind the Actor’s back while they were married, and also borrowed copious amounts of money from the Actor to do so (?). The last part could be slightly biased or inaccurate considering Abe was on the Actor’s side for the most part, but I don’t see why he has reason to lie.
The Actor found this out, the Colonel and Celine left, and the Actor spiralled. So far he tried to kill him self. He did kill himself — over and over until his desire to die turned into a desire to understand the Manor he lived in and its oddities.
There are a lot of gaps there, in all honesty. A lot of questions unanswered. Did the Actor and Celine really love each other? Did Celine really love the Colonel? Why was the Colonel so willing to go behind the Actor (his close friend, remember)’s back and have an affair with his wife? Why was Celine so willing to leave her husband if she married him in the first place?
But those questions aren’t important right now, because I’m sticking as close to canon as I possibly can. What matters is that the Actor was betrayed by one of his best friends and that his wife left him in an awful way. They hurt him so badly that he tried to kill himself. Now, this isn’t me ignoring the Entity’s part in all this — we’ll get to that later.
But the purpose of Mark calling Actor a ‘heartbroken idiot’ is that it shows his only motive initially was heartbreak. His actions, initially, weren’t the actions of a man who wanted to destroy his friends and loved ones. In fact, by looking at his attempts to die, especially the first ones, we can see that the only person he wanted to destroy initially was himself. He’d been hurt, badly, by people he called “his close and trusted friends (WKM)”. And he wanted an out. He turned aggressive and revenge-twisted was when his very basic autonomy over his own life was denied to him by the Manor not letting him die.
“After Celine and the Colonel left, Mark was left in this super spiral downwards. He was just completely out of it, didn’t know what to do, and he may have at one point tried to kill himself. But it didn’t work.” (Mark, WKM Explanation Stream)
So before the Manor Entity intervened, was he a bad person? No. Most definitely not. How do we know this, apart from what I’ve said above? This brings us on to point 2:
Celine and Damien
The braincells of the WKM gang, truly. Do you really think they’d stay friends with Actor if he was a bad person? Scratch that, do you think Celine would have married him if he was a bad person? Ruling him as an awful evil person from the start completely undermines the intelligence of the other characters who had been ‘fast friends for years’ with Actor.
That’s not to say he’s flawless. He has an abundance of flaws that the Entity brings out in him (see point three), but even before the Entity, his flaws were probably very visible, especially to his friends and wife. Actor was no doubt an egotistical ass, don’t get me wrong, he was no saint, but he also wasn’t evil. If he was, Celine, who could sense the energy of the Manor as soon as she walked in, would have surely refused to marry him.
It’s hinted that they didn’t have the best relationship by Mark in the DAMIEN Explanation Stream, that much is true. Their reasons for marrying could have been anything — from a passionate spur of the moment decision they didn’t properly think about, to a marriage potentially motivated by finance or power — and we don’t know if they were ever truly happy. We don’t know if Celine loved Actor, but it is implied she at least felt something for him, judging by the look of distress on her face in Chapter Three of WKM when it is revealed Actor is dead.
We also don’t know if Actor loved Celine. I’m inclined to say he did, considering his original plan was to steal the Colonel’s body and get back together with Celine, but there’s a fine line between love and obsession. (In my personal opinion, their relationship started off well before the Manor Entity began to shape them, but my personal opinion doesn’t come into it right now.)
But do you really think if he’d been evil or abusive (as I’ve seen some call him) that Celine or Damien would even be upset about his death, nonetheless have stuck by his side for so long? I doubt it. Mark says nowhere that Actor was a bad person to start off with, and goes into detail of what the Manor Entity actually did to him in the Explanation Streams of DAMIEN and WKM, so read below for more notes on that!!
The Manor Entity
Aha.... my least favourite character of all time...
Words cannot describe how much I despise this thing (whatever it is, Mark described it as more of a concept than anything else). Even as I write this, I feel a boiling rage inside me. Nonetheless! I will keep as fair and as unbiased of a take as I can while I analyse Actor’s relationship with the Manor Entity.
So let’s start with its affects BEFORE the Colonel and Celine left. These characters were fucked the moment they lived in that house. The Colonel and the Actor have been affected worst by it due to living in the house as kids; as Mark says, they grew up together in the Manor. So they’ve probably had the worst effects from it. Let’s see what Mark says about the Entity in the Manor!—
“The thing [about the Manor] that causes people to change, and the thing that curses people, it’s this…. Not a thing, but it’s this idea that whispers in your ear, and the worst thing it could possibly do is that it makes you think that the ends justify the means, in whatever situation…. It’s this thing gently over time just whispering.”
An idea. A whisper in your ear, exacerbating worse qualities and constantly suggesting. Something you don’t even know about until it’s too late. It’s not so hard of a leap to make that it could have made the Chef so aggressive (he’s been there the second longest, other than George the Groundskeeper), could have made the Colonel more hot tempered and liable to cause trouble between a husband and wife, could have very easily twisted the Actor to be a worse person.
We’ve already made it clear that the Actor is not without his flaws. On the contrary, he might be the most flawed from the group. Cocky and stubborn and prideful, passionate and a performer, it’s not so hard to see the Entity delighting at being able to plant seeds in his head. Just little suggestions: “maybe you’re better than them” “maybe they’re holding you back” “maybe they’re conspiring against you”. Just little, back-of-your-head thoughts that, over time, would change him into someone worse, something else.
Something that could have potentially driven him away from Celine and driven Celine into the arms of the Colonel.
Am I saying this is definitely what happened? No. As I say, a lot of canon from Before The Poker Night is missing, and left to speculation. But from what we know about the Entity, and what we know about what it does, it’s increasingly likely it’s been manipulating things from behind the scenes for a while even before the Actor takes his own life.
Cut to Celine and the Colonel leaving. Damien is gone too (God knows where, perhaps the Actor just shuts him out too), leaving the Actor alone in the Entity’s puppet strings. Another Mark quote!
Imagine [the Actor]: his wife left him, his friend betrayed him, the [Entity] whispers “that’s not fair, no, that’s not fair”.... “No, you’re right, that’s not fair.....” “Why should they be happy?....” “No, no, of course, no, they shouldn’t be happy.....” “Maybe they don’t deserve to be happy, maybe you should do something about them not being happy, maybe you should set something up to make sure they’ll never be happy again.”
The Entity is a powerful thing. Its powers are subtle, so subtle that the Actor probably didn’t even notice he was being changed in the first place. As Mark said “the more you stay in that House, the more it drives you toward things it wants you to do… and the worst part is it convinces you that you thought of it in the first place.”
The Entity could have been the one to suggest that he keeps killing himself. It could have very well been the one to lead him to his death in the first place. And the worst thing is that the Actor wouldn’t have a clue they weren’t his thoughts. He is a puppet without realising it, an actor for the Entity to direct in whichever way it wants.
It’s a gradual, awful process. And Actor? As the ‘heartbroken idiot’, the man Mark describes as being a ‘pawn’, that had a lot of time alone in the Manor depressed and bitter over being hurt? He didn’t stand a chance against it.
By the time we meet Actor in WKM, it is very unlikely much of the original man remains at all. While he acts cheery and cocky as usual in the beginning, the bitter puppet we see in the Void after we die and the mania-driven ‘hero’ from DAMIEN is most likely all that remains of the original. Mark from the WKM Explanation Stream explained that “every time [Actor] died, he got sent to this [Void], and was able to get a deeper understanding of it”. Doing so pushed him further and further into the embrace of the Entity, until he was nothing more than a pawn. A puppet.
Actors have little to no control over the scene they play out. It’s the director’s job to push them in the direction they want. And the relationship between the Actor and the Entity seems to function as such: even if the Actor himself doesn’t realise that yet.
And finally, my last point:
No characters are good.
Mark gave a very good quote in the DAMIEN Explanation Stream that I rely on when writing Actor, Dark and Wilford — “no one’s truly, fully, 100% evil”. In the same way, no one is truly, fully, 100% good all the time. It’s impossible. And incredibly relevant when it comes to our three Main Boys, who are all so flawed and broken that it’s not even funny.
We’ll start with Wilford first. It’s easy to forget (for me, at least) all the things he’s done wrong because he’s such a goddamn sweetheart. But- and I won’t go into too much detail- here are some of his ‘crimes’: poaching, murder (several times, as the Colonel and as Warfstache), an affair with his best friend’s wife, with multiple other offences written somewhere in the detective’s study / office (I can’t be bothered finding them dhdjdjnej). Arguably, he also has reason for people to point to him being guilty: he broke his best friend’s heart to the point he tried to kill himself. Which.... is not good.
This is not me hating on William or Wilford as a character. Au contraire, I love them both. But it’s very rare that I see anyone admit Will’s fault in this, or Celine’s (without laying it all on them, naturally, but that’s another story). Will/Wilford is a complicated character who now seems to be far more good than bad (or simply just mad) and has atoned for the past, but more often than not, people overlook his crimes and mistakes and flaws.
The same with Dark, though honestly to a lesser extent. As far as we know, there is very little that Dark has done. We don’t know if he’s killed anyone (other than perhaps Actor in HEIST), we don’t know what his true crimes are because his role is still heavily influenced by the Actor’s bias. But Dark still has his faults and flaws. He’s obsessive and clearly incredibly angry and bitter over what happened, trapped somewhat in the past the same way that Wilford is in the present and Actor in the future. Once again, this isn’t me hating Dark (he’s one of my favourite characters dfhjvffhh), but simply pointing out the negative sides to him, rather than ignoring them. It’s to point out that people — and characters — aren’t 100% good or 100% evil (honestly, they’d be less interesting that way). That includes fan favourites.
Actor is probably the worst out of them. He’s delusional, painfully narcissistic, arrogant and a self-righteous asshole. Nobody is denying that. But underneath that, Mark also describes him as a ‘broken thing’: he’s not the man he used to be. Can he be easily seen as evil now, after everything he’s done? Yes. He’s murdered and he’s betrayed, but let’s not forget he too was murdered and betrayed. This doesn’t excuse what he’s done, but rather offers us insight into his thinking — an eye for an eye. In his eyes, the poker night (at the time) was justified. William and Celine and Damien all betrayed and hurt him, so he was going to hurt them.
Things didn’t go according to plan for him, though. I very much doubt murder was in his original plans, but alas, the Entity twisted his plans unrecognisably. (Whether or not he now regrets the poker night and his actions is up for speculation, and for another post sghcdgb.)
If it is Actor in HEIST and DATE (which I’m very inclined to say it is), it’s clear to me he’s changed: even slightly. Sacrificing himself over and over for Y/N, wooing them with dates and flashy heists, planning everything perfectly for them and giving them the choice on their adventures: now, this could just be me, but that sounds rather far from an evil man. Instead, it sounds to me like Actor knows he’s done bad things, but instead of trying to confront them, he simply runs away from them; he escapes from the reality he’s created by delving into fictional fantasies of adventure where he can finally be the hero.
And that’s not action of a man who is entirely evil. That’s action of a desperate man. A coward, perhaps, but not wholly bad or awful. “A pawn in all this”, as Mark describes him, unable to come to terms with the atrocity of the poker night and what he’s done to his old friends.
To Conclude My Answer!
Actor Mark is my favourite character of all time and has turned into a special interest of mine, but I hope he’s not redeemed. That being said, he is not an ‘evil’ character, and could certainly be redeemed if he ever fully escaped the Entity’s control and owned up to stone for the past (though being redeemed would almost certainly break him — another post for another time).
Everyone’s interpretations of Actorare valid, but I also think it’s important when writing him as close to canon as possible to remember some of Mark’s comments on him, and also to remember his past and how he’s been manipulated by the Entity into something different entirely. While doing so doesn’t excuse his behaviour or awful actions, it offers insight and a way to understand why he’s done certain things!
Ultimately, it’s up to Mark himself to canonise or develop the story and character arcs, which he has done so much already. I cannot WAIT to see where Actor and everybody’s stories end up going, and big preesh to him for making such a heartbreaking wonderful story!!!
If anyone would like to hear me rant more about Actor or the story of WKM and it’s sequels, leave a question or ask and I’ll certainly do it!!
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cakejots · 3 years ago
Text
this is us trying, Chapter 1 - The Beginning of an End
In this AU, they don’t know each other outside of the suit. And in this AU, Ladybug and Chat Noir love each other. But in this AU, Chat doesn’t want their identities revealed.
Written for @ladynoirjuly 2021
notes: this is a coherent story based on all the prompts; each chapter contains at least 3 prompts
Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10
Read on AO3
1. Older
“Well, Chaton?”
Chat stared at Ladybug as though she had grown an extra head.
“My lady, are you sure you want to know?”
“Oh come on Chat, there are at least tens of thousands of people who are of the same age. There’s no way you can figure out who I am just from that.” She leaned forward, chin on her palms and eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“Hmm, that is true.” His fingers under his chin, eyes searching the sky. “I'm turning 21 this year.”
Ladybug looked dazed for a moment before smugness took over. “So I was right about your age! Well, the age range at least.”
“Oh? And how did my lady manage to guess it?”
Ladybug slowly ran her eyes down his body before peering right back into his eyes, and she smiled innocently.
Chat barked out a laugh.
“Now guess mine!”
“Don’t need to. I know you’re in the same age range as meow.”
She raised an eyebrow and his lips curled slyly. “The same way you managed to guess my age. Do you really want me to say it? Or in this case, show it to you?”
Ladybug couldn’t help but blush. “Okay, okay. You’re not wrong, I’m turning 21 this year too.”
Chat’s child-like demeanour came back, eyes lighting up. “Okay, but now I have to know who’s actually older! Mine’s in September.”
“I'm Leo, so the range is from July to August,” she grinned.
Chat regarded her with a mixture of awe and shock. “No way… You’re actually older than me!”
“Why is this a shock to you? I am more mature than you are,” Ladybug giggled.
“I mean, yeah, but for that fact to get thrust into my face, it just feels—”
“Surreal. I get it,” she sighed blissfully.
They fell into a peaceful silence as this new realisation settled within their hearts and minds. They were finding the most minute of things to share without giving away their identities, and just this tiny, basic fact about each other was overwhelming enough.
This, was something they could experience soon enough, to be normal again and enjoy the process of courting. This, was something they could slowly discover about each other soon enough, to fall in love harder, and to fall in love all over again.
“We are so close. So so close.” Chat gazed into her eyes, took her hand in his and squeezed, much like how his heart was feeling as it was overcome with emotions.
“We are finally nearing the end of all of this.” Ladybug pulled him into a tight hug.
2. Masks
It was over.
It was finally over.
It was a joyous day for Parisians as the supervillain who had been terrorising their city over the past few years had finally been caught and sent to prison.
It was a joyous day indeed.
But why was the atmosphere surrounding him so burdensome, just like the downpour that struck ever since he had entered the Agreste mansion?
The thunderstorm that raged above him, the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculouses that sat in his palm, and the face of the supervillain who was actually his father, glaring at him from a distance away with absolute despise and fury, they all seemed to be mocking him for his ill-fortune.
Of course there was no happy ending for him, even after the final battle. How could he have been so naive to believe that there was a positive outcome for him? He was the epitome of bad luck. From being chosen to be the Black Cat Miraculous holder, right down to his fate that had decided his course for him ever since he was brought into this world.
He was all alone now. His mother’s passing during his early teenage years had left an open wound in his heart. He saw the funeral happened. He cried as the ceremony went on for days on end. He was there to witness the burial of his mother. Those were definitive proof that his mother had passed. He has been mourning for his mother every year on her death anniversary.
So imagine his shock when he saw her in the basement he didn’t know existed, still as radiant and beautiful as he remembered. And to be slapped with the knowledge that his father had a hand in all of this.
He had a hand in withholding the truth about his mother’s whereabouts all this time. The truth that he had rights to. That she was well and alive but in deep deep slumber, one that she might never awake from. He had a hand in causing him so much pain, so much trauma. To be the perfect child he is to be, else he was no son of Gabriel. The direct role his father played in causing him to feel neglected, unloved, and worthless. Just so that he could play the supervillain and recruit innocent Parisians in his quest to obtain the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses.
He caused Parisians so much pain, stripping them of their right to feel what they feel. A minor slipped up from being unable to control their emotions and they became the villains for the day. He had used them for his selfish desires, to do his dirty work for him. All this for not being able to move on from the death of his wife. Not being able to accept the natural cycle of life.
And all of this had happened under his nose, but he didn’t even know. He has been living with the supervillain all his life. He has interacted with the supervillain almost daily. He has shown care and concern for the supervillain. He has forgiven the supervillain for his actions, always telling himself that he had his reasons for acting the way he did. He was a superhero and he didn’t even know.
If he had known, maybe he'd be able to convince his father to stop whatever he was doing. Maybe even prevent the current outcome of events, and even save his father from serving jail time. Some superhero he is.
He didn't know what would become of his mother, but he had long accepted that she had passed. And now, his father will leave his side, to pay for what he did.
Chat was truly alone now.
“Chaton?”
He blinked and looked over to his left. His lady was standing right beside him with concerned eyes, her hands on his left arm. The rain had lightened up considerably and he could see her as clear as day. He didn’t register her touch until he had seen it himself.
Chat wordlessly turned towards her and extended his right hand, the hand that held the two missing Miraculouses. He was expecting her to take them from him and called it a day with their habitual fist bump, but she closed his right hand and held both his hands in hers tightly and peered into his eyes.
“Chaton, are you alright?”
Ladybug cursed herself for asking the obvious. Clearly, he wasn’t feeling his usual self. The cheeky and confident demeanour he always had after the end of a battle was gone. His ears, tail, and posture seemed so deflated and depressed that he just looked like a kitten kicked hard.
She touched his face.
Chat grabbed her hand on his face and wanted to smack himself. His lady was right beside him all this time as he was drowning himself in self-loathing and self-pity. He couldn't let his gloominess take hold of her on this glorious day.
“I’m fine,” Chat showcased the brightest smile he could muster at that moment.
Ladybug worried her lips, not buying it for a single second.
“Chaton…”
He knew she wasn’t going to buy his act with the way she was watching him. Chat really didn’t know what he should do. His hand squeezed hers, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Can we go for a run, just for a while? I promised we’ll talk when we meet up again at the Eiffel Tower.”
When Ladybug didn’t respond, he opened his eyes to beg. “Please?”
Ladybug squeezed his hand before nodding and letting go, giving him a head start. Chat caught her hands before they fell completely by her side, and placed the Miraculouses within her palms. He made sure she put them away securely before jumping away. She followed him soon after, giving him the time and space he needed.
.
When Ladybug arrived at the Eiffel Tower, Chat seemed really nervous. She really didn’t know what made him like this, but he shouldn’t be that restless. Not of the revelations he made during the final battle and his rooftop run, and he definitely should not be uneasy about her arriving.
She extended her arms towards him. “Minou, can I hug you?”
Chat rushed to her and embraced her tightly. Her hands drew soothing circles on his back to release tension from his body, and he relaxed ever so slightly into hers.
“Okay, I’m ready to talk.” He took a deep breath to mentally prepare himself before he continued. “I-I know you’re looking forward to the reveal after the final battle. I am too. We’ve waited years for this moment. But… but can we not do that now?”
Ladybug instantly pulled back and gawked at him. To say that she was shocked was an understatement. She did not expect this at all. Yes, she totally forgot about the reveal because she was so focused on making sure he’s alright, but for him to just drop the bomb on her like that. “But—”
“I know this is a really unfair request from me,” he quickly added. “But I don’t want to deceive you. We can go on dates in our suits! So that you get to know me. All of me. How I act in and out of battle.”
He slowly averted his gaze. “And that the feelings you have for me will still be there even after our dates.”
Ladybug couldn’t believe her ears, Chat is still Chat, no matter the situation. The fact that he didn’t even include her in the proposal he just suggested made it obvious that he wasn’t even convinced himself. They both knew that they weren’t going to act any different. They’ve hung out outside of Akuma attacks, they will be the same in and out of the suit. It just didn’t make sense.
“Chat...” she pleaded.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry. Please don’t leave me,” he sobbed and enveloped her in a bear hug, afraid that she'd run if he didn’t have a tight enough grasp on her.
Wait, what? No, no! Where did he get the idea that she’s going to leave?
“I-I can’t—”
That's absurd.
“Chat, you don’t have to explain.” Her hands continued the back rubs from before, making sure that it soothed him enough till he’s comfortable loosening his grip. She slowly pulled back and cupped his cheeks, a smile on her face. “Words are not needed. I may not understand the reasons behind your decisions now, but I trust that your heart is in the right place.”
That subtle shine in his eyes did not go unnoticed by Ladybug. “Words cannot express how thankful I am, my lady.”
“Well, then better make it up to me with the dates you promised.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Judging the look on his face, she slowly added, “Do you need more time to sort things out?”
“I don’t know. Can you stay with me a while longer?”
She nodded understandingly and went back to hugging him. Chat tightened his arms around her and breathed in her scent. Her fingers left delicate touches in its trail from his back to his scalp, knowing full well that it's a gesture he’d appreciate. Low rumbles of purring slowly filled the air around them.
They stayed tangled for who knows how long before Ladybug popped the question.
“About the masks, are you sure?”
“Yeah. We don’t drop them,” Chat said with a conviction he knew was never there.
3. Tease
It’s been a week since the defeat of Shadowmoth.
A week since Chat broke down from whatever he had experienced during that short time frame of the final battle.
A week since he had declined the reveal.
Ladybug wasn’t pleased, how could she be? She had waited 6 long years for that, ever since the day they first met and swore to protect Paris from Hawkmoth’s clutches. Well, Shadowmoth now.
It sucked. Even Shadowmoth has had development. Her relationship with Chat? Null.
No. It wasn’t fair to say that. Of course their relationship had developed. From practical strangers to lovers, they trusted each other with their lives, even if they didn’t know who the other was behind that mask. That’s some intense trust they have right there.
But still.
She was really looking forward to the reveal. They were really looking forward to the reveal.
Chat must have had a reason for what he chose that day, strong enough to throw away what he desired most. But what?
Ladybug sighed, she supposed the only thing she could do was to hope that nothing about their relationship had changed. And be there for him when he needs it, like a good girlfriend she is. Are they even a couple? The unnamed boundaries were causing her additional anxiety she didn’t need now. She guessed she’d have to talk it out with Chat and make clear where they stood.
She got broken out of her thoughts when she heard footsteps approaching her.
“Hey...”
Before she even turned around, the tone of his voice sounded so tired, as though coming here was a chore for him. He had shared with her before that meeting her is always the highlight of his day. For it to become a chore… He must be really affected by it.
“My lady?” He stopped behind her.
That wouldn’t do.
She whipped around and flicked his bell, “Hey Chaton, you’re here!”
And as if that wasn’t enough, she had the sweetest smile he has ever seen plastered on her beautiful face. Those rosy cheeks and welcoming lips upturned, and the whites of her teeth slightly visible from her smile, directed at him. So happy to see him. So thrilled for him to be here.
It shot right through his heart. He couldn’t do anything else besides fixate his eyes on her radiant and alluring face.
“Aww, cat got your tongue? Or in this case, a ladybug got your tongue?” She cooed and flicked his bell once more.
She was relieved she still has this effect on him.
“S-she definitely did.” A pink hue dusted his cheeks.
Cute.
Ladybug figured the only thing she could do was to remind him of all the enjoyable memories they had together and banish the sad ones that gripped him from a week ago. The reveal can wait. What's important was to make sure he doesn’t forget why they wanted the reveal in the first place.
She concluded upping her tease factor was the way to go.
“I’ll make sure you know that my feelings for you are real and you won’t be able to resist my charms any longer.”
“My lady,” Chat whined. He was already regretting his decisions from a week before.
Ladybug, on the other hand, was grinning. She’d accept whatever he’s willing to give. She supposed she could get the ball rolling, to begin filling in on fresh empty pages as they experience falling in love all over again. Because deep down, that is what they’ve wanted after all.
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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago
Text
Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 04 (second part)
(Masterpost) (Episode 04, first part) (Episode 05, first part)
Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes
Continued from the first half of this very long post! 
Lets Go! Gusu
Wen Qing is lovingly exploring the magical wards of Gusu. She tries a little digital penetration on the ward at the waterfall, but gets the hard nope.
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Note: Here at Canary3d we don’t ship Wen Qing with any cultivator ladies because we’re too busy shipping her with modern-day infosec-pro ladies, if you get what I’m saying and/or have read my bio.
Meanwhile Wei Wuxian is fishing with Nie Huaisang, using the method of sneaking up and grabbing fish with his bare hands. This actually works, because he is good at literally everything.  His “I’ll be the prodigy” speech to Lan Xichen, isn’t actually arrogant. 
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Aw, Look at Xiao Zhan pretending this fish isn’t already dead.
Nosy Parker Wei Wuxian
Wei Wuxian goes to chat up Wen Qing and none of his crap works on her.
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If I want to admire a pretty face I’ll go look in the mirror
His interactions with Wen Qing help to mature Wei Wuxian quite a bit over the months and years. Initially she’s a mystery to him, and he wants her attention and esteem. And can’t get either.
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Look how stunned he is to encounter a boundary when she won’t let him touch her needle. “Wards are made to be broken” but she’s not going to let him past any of hers. 
Jiang Cheng, Insecurest Boi
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Oh you beautiful sad angry boy. 
(More after the cut!)
Jiang Cheng is angrily waving the laundry around practicing his angry sword moves without a sparring partner, which is noteworthy partly because it shows how dedicated he is, but also because it shows how much he depends on Wei Wuxian for social interaction and cultivation practice. There must be 40 or 50 kids he could go practice with, but he’s by himself.
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Camera Operator: Why you gotta take it out on me?
When he bitches to Yanli about his Dad preferring Wei Wuxian, she gaslights him.
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Yanli is so gentle and kind, and she’s been the real mother for both of these boys when she didn’t have to be. But she ain’t perfect.
Yanli found this soup recipe on youtube. The ingredients are: water
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Jiang Cheng has such a complex about Wei Wuxian he won't take the fish from him directly. He just looks hungry until Yanli grabs a stick and passes it to him.
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Look, Jiang Cheng, we know you have reasons to be upset, but you need to get the fuck over yourself.
Aw, look at Xiao Zhan pretending this fish is cooked/palatable. (note: it is not)
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Xiao Zhan deserves multiple awards for this performance. With bonus points for gratuitously eye-fucking Wang Zhoucheng into next week.
Wang Zhuocheng is an amazing actor who plays an incredible range of emotions, but selling the “delicious fish” lie exceeds his abilities. Look how he steels himself before he opens his mouth.
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Yanli tells Wei Wuxian to be good starting tomorrow, and WWX gives her his patented lying-motherfucker salute.
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This one has 4 fingers, unlike the 3-fingered boy scout salute he gave Lan Wangji on the roof in the previous episode. The extra finger is for extra lying.
Lan Lecture: Goofing off
Wei Wuxian is bored and spends the lecture time goofing off or sleeping like any other smart kid with ADHD.
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Eventually he draws a bunny while Nie Huasang tosses him a nut wrapped in paper and he eats it. It’s the same kind of nut he eats at the beginning of his second life, when he remarks that they tasted better 16 years ago.
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Don’t mind me, just putting Nie-Xiong’s nuts in my mouth
It’s cute how WWX and NHS are so vaguely gay for each other without bothering to be seriously gay for each other.
Several of the rules that are read out during this part of the lecture are things that Wei Wuxian is doing during this part of the lecture, or will become known for doing in the near future.
sitting improperly
causing noise
teasing others
ignoring others and being undisciplined
borrowing money
being late
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Lan Lecture: Showing off
The question & answer part of the lecture arrives, which is when Wei Wuxian gets to show off his gifts. 
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He is that classic kid who already knows the essence of the material, does not need stuff explained, and is super bored at rote learning.
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Lan Qiren makes Lan Wangji show off his skills to the whole class, which would guarantee an after-school ass kicking for the teacher's pet except that LWJ is basically the most aggressive person in the entire Lan clan (thanks Mom for those "I'm going to kill you now" genes!) and is unbeatable. 
Lan Lecture: Going off
Next, Wei Wuxian introduces an idea for sustainable energy.
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He starts off challenging Lan Qiren's hypothetical scenario, and as Lan Qiren draws breath to answer him, Lan Wangji starts speaking. LWJ has been listening very carefully and is speaking out of turn instead of letting the master speak, which is...probably not how he usually conducts himself?
From Wei Wuxian’s perspective, this is just the run-up to his next outrageous suggestion, but for Lan Wangji, this has to be an enormous moment. This boy who is unexpectedly a good sparring partner with swords and words is also an intellectual sparring partner - someone who can give Lan Wangji an actual chance to debate something.  
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Wei Wuxian’s answer "it's such a waste" is directed to Lan Wangji, not to the class as a whole. Lan Wangji, Gusu’s loneliest boy, is suddenly in a relationship with an equal. The relationship is adversarial, but it's EQUAL.
Wei Wuxian carries on explaining his idea: How about digging up and desecrating corpses? No no no Not for fun, but in order to have massive, unthinkable power? 
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Seems like a waste to just leave the dead to their rest when you could be using them for something. 
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Lan Qiren: I can see we are going to have to kill you eventually, aren't we
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Jiang Cheng: oh my god Wei Wuxian you can't just ask about decapitating corpses
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Jiang Yanli: perhaps my unwavering loyalty to Dad's methods with my baby brother should be reexamined
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Nie Huasang: my dude, conceal don’t feel, seriously
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Lan Wangji: hmmm he’s not exactly wrong
Lan Wangji was a LOT more horrified at Wei Wuxian sticking a note on Lan Qiren’s ass than he is at this whole demonic cultivation thing. Lan Wangji is really really attracted to Wei Wuxian’s talent and intelligence, even when it's completely heterodox. You can see it much later when Wen Ning gets his personality back; Lan Wangji is impressed and congratulatory, unlike literally everyone else in the cultivation world.
Punishment
When Wei Wuxian gets sent to copy a chapter 1000 times, Jiang Cheng and Yanli are both horrified, whereas Wei Wuxian’s reaction is totally chill. 
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Basically he knows that he has reached the part of the classroom discussion where he is inevitably sent for punishment, because he is totally used to that being how things go in his education.
Similarly, kneeling doesn't bother him because Madame Yu made him kneel for everything.  Wei Wuxian is the mascot for too-smart bored kids everywhere.
On his way out, Wei Wuxian hits Lan Wangji with this troubled look of yearning. In this moment where Wei Wuxian is sparking Lan Wangji’s interest and tentatively seeking a path toward Lan Wangji’s heart, he is also mapping out the unorthodox path he will follow away from him as they grow up.  
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Lan Qiren in his rage does the dumbest and, frankly, most irresponsible thing the parent of a teenager can do in this situation; he sends Lan Wangji to supervise Wei Wuxian’s punishment. 
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"This terrible WWX is a one-man bad crowd. Let me send my deeply conflicted, stubborn, intensely private, teetotling, abstinent and abstemious newphew to spend several days in a private location with him, being bored together."
Lan Wangji responds to this order with 100% calmness, not even an eyebrow furrow.
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I'm sure no cussing, pornography, romantic portraits, flirty ink grinding, or changes in forms of address will happen.
Lan Lecture: Blowing off
Wei Wuxian meanwhile has fucked off to go make more friends, and is hanging out with Wen Ning. Wen Ning demonstrates his archery by hitting the worlds slowest falling rock in midair and Wei Wuxian earnestly praises him and offers to trade skill pointers.
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I love how sweet and kind WWX is to this younger kid who is obviously a little different.
When Wen Qing shows up, Wei Wuxian takes another opportunity to get into her business, but he skips the charm this time. He also 100% correctly deduces what she is up to.
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Swords by the Waterfall
Then comes another sexy sword fight as Lan Wangji sneaks up on Wei Wuxian and almost get his face sliced open as a reward.
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Now that the swords are out it’s time for...homework, sigh. Summer school is the worst.
Outro
Writing Prompt: Lan Xichen’s letter to Nie Mingjue after meeting Meng Yao
Episode 05 Restless Rewatch is over here!
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mellometal · 3 years ago
Text
Hey, everyone.
I've tried to compose myself before making this post. This is a subject that I've touched on a little bit in posts, but I've never done a deep dive into JUST this topic. I was going to make a post solely about this subject sooner, but this one in particular is really hard for me to talk about without getting emotional...and yet Dhar Mann has talked about this on quite a few occasions in the most insincere, toxic ways. I'll do my best to discuss this topic without getting too emotional.
It's about a serious subject that people still are ignorant about and don't take seriously. Even to this day, with the body positivity and body neutrality movements. (I don't know of a better way to describe just being neutral about your body. Sorry if it sounds weird.)
For anyone who doesn't know what I'm referring to (honestly, I don't blame you, as this is a subject that's often seen as normal and is encouraged in society for the most part), I'm talking about fatphobia. Hating on people for being fat. Discriminating people because of their weight in the workplace, at the doctor's office, just in general. Not many stores having inclusive sizes. People being treated like they're subhuman because they're fat.
I want to say this first, before I bash on Dhar Mann again: I'm a plus-size young woman. This is something that I have personal experience with. Your weight has no significance to your worth as a person. If you do happen to be overweight, obese, whatever, you're not subhuman. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're worthy of being loved, listened to, treated with kindness, and respected, just like anyone else who isn't fat.
If you treat people like utter shit for their weight, get some help. Why do you care about somebody else's weight? Obviously there's an exception to this, like if they're so big they can't move or they're so skinny their organs are showing....because those are causes for concern, but other than that, mind your own business. Even if they are in those extremities, unless you're their doctor and/or their family, STILL mind your own business. How the fuck does a fat person simply breathing and existing affect you in any way? News flash: there will always be fat people.
Before I get to the weekly ritual of tearing TWO of Dhar Mann's videos apart (the next one will be in another post or I'll reblog this post and continue on there), here's an obligatory trigger warning for the video analysis itself and my response: The following post contains fatphobia, fat shaming, a man being super fucking misogynistic and treating women like they're objects, and there's even a touch of some racial aggression. How shocking. Because Dhar Mann really seems to get a kick out of writing about racism to make it all cute. Oh yeah, you're totally solving racism, Dhar Mann. /s
My response contains my experience with fatphobia, relationships with food, mentioned/implied thoughts of s3lf h@rm, feeling like I'm unworthy of being treated like an actual person because of my weight, and absolute rage. Like usual. My responses are very heated. This one especially. It's LONG. Buckle up.
With all this out of the way, let's get to the first video that I want to tear apart. This one is about the auditions for a record deal. I will get to the video about a kid wanting to be a host of a radio show later.
To sum up the first video, a plus-size white woman (Krissy Elliot) is singing for an agent (Isaac) and his assistant (Evette) so she can follow her dream to become a singer. Isaac cuts Krissy off to viciously bash her for being a plus-size woman. Evette stands up for this woman, and says she sounded fine and to let her finish. Isaac doesn't listen to Evette, let alone take what she said into consideration. He continues to ridicule Krissy for her appearance, that she'll "never make it in the music industry" (WRONG, do you know how many plus-size people are in the fucking music industry? There are A LOT more now than when I was growing up and it honestly makes me so happy. There were more plus-size people in the entertainment industry than in the music industry back then.), suggested that she "become a chef or a food critic" because she apparently loves being around food (being a chef or a food critic are noble professions, but NEVER fucking assume ANYONE'S relationships with food), to the point where Krissy left the room in tears.
Here are a few screenshots for context:
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When this skinny, conventionally attractive woman (Jesse) comes in, Isaac's mood does a COMPLETE 180° and he's all sunshine and rainbows. Then right as soon as Jesse did her audition, Isaac is over the fucking moon, complimenting her physical appearance, treating her like an object, and signs her up for a record deal RIGHT AWAY. Pay attention to Isaac's facial expressions in one of these screenshots.
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Evette suggests that they sign Krissy for a record deal instead. Because she was "the best singer they've had all day". Isaac, still all hot and bothered by a skinny, conventionally attractive woman that he's treating like an object, tells Evette that people like Krissy don't make it in the music industry because they're "overweight and unattractive", and is verbally aggressive towards her when she does nothing but explain her stance. Isaac sees this as Evette "talking back" (remember how I mentioned that there's racial aggression? He says that Evette is "talking back" because she happens to be a black woman) and fires her. He signs Jesse a record deal and has a blast with her.
The award ceremony comes around, and they're picking a winner for Best New Artist. They pick the winner, and it's....guess what? You'll never get it! It's Krissy Elliot! Why? Because Evette became her agent after Isaac fired her. Krissy goes into her whole story about how she was laughed out of every single agency and that she worked hard. Good for her. Jesse is obviously very happy for Krissy. We gotta love women supporting women.
This video was again another dumpster fire. As usual. Like I said, with this video in particular, I couldn't get through the first thirty seconds the first time around. Because I've dealt with shit like this. Obviously not with the music industry because I don't even think I'd be good enough to step into an agency...but I mean in my personal life.
Being told by my own dad that he was "tired of buying bigger clothes for me" when I was a young teenager, despite him buying almost nothing but "junk food".
Having my abuser make comments about my weight and talking about diets while I'm trying to eat my food, despite her being overweight.
Having someone I know (not anyone I'm friends with) make a comment about me eating a few things (ONE small piece of broccoli, two baby carrots, a small handful of chips, and ONE small piece of pineapple) and said to "save some for everyone else", even though I was saving food for everyone else, which is why I took so little. She tried to justify it with the fact nobody was there yet (why do you think I took very little food?), and she "was saying that to everyone" (why did she look at ME when she said that instead of making it clear that she was talking to everyone [saying "Hey, everyone" before the comment about saving some for everyone else IS NOT HARD]?), even though I know it was just to save her own ass. I knew she said that to me because I'm plus-size. She didn't say anything to anyone else, nor did she make it clear that she was talking to everyone.
Another person I know (not a person I'm friends with) saying that I overreacted (I did not overreact; SOMEONE TRIGGERED ME and you did NOTHING about it) even though they all KNEW my relationship with food is complicated. They KNEW that I don't really like eating in front of other people. I was upset that someone MADE A FUCKING DISGUSTING, TRIGGERING COMMENT ABOUT ME EATING VERY FEW FOOD ITEMS, ALMOST ALL WERE HEALTHY, DESPITE OTHER PEOPLE EATING A LOT MORE THAN I DID AND PICKING AT EVERYTHING. That day, I was begging one of my friends (one of the people I trust to eat around) to PLEASE take me home because I didn't want to be there (never wanted to be there in the first place), I was tired (I worked all night the night before and was forced to go to a meeting before all this happened), I didn't feel comfortable there anymore, there were way too many people (four individuals plus all their staff from another house were in the house I work in), I couldn't breathe (I was either about to pass out, have a panic attack, or just start crying), but nobody listened to me. I ended up getting a bus to go home.
(Sorry about all that. I was trying not to get emotional in this post. I just needed to share how this can affect people.)
Onto my response, which is all in the screenshots below.
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ETA: I know the screenshots for my response are very jumbled right now and it’s difficult to read. I apologize to anyone who’s unable to fully read it! Because this is part one of this whole subject of fatphobia (I’m making a post about the boy wanting to become a radio host very soon), my response here will tie into that post. My response to that video is vastly the same, despite not making a comment on that video as of right now (the radio host one). 
I’ll be typing out my full response here. I apologize for weird formatting. Instagram wouldn’t let me break up my response into paragraphs. I’ll break them up into paragraphs here instead.
CC (Combination of the first, second, and third screenshots, aka, the first part of my response):
 I have a few questions before I get into my thoughts on this video. One, how the hell does your weight have any significance on your worth as a person, and if you do think this way, why would you think that? Two, do you know that fatphobia is a lot more than just judging a person for being fat? Three, why do you feel like you can speak for fat people like myself with this piss poor excuse for a video that I could barely get through the first thirty seconds of the first time? 
You can’t speak for any of us. I can’t speak for every fat person because not everyone has the same experiences as me. 
I’ve been bullied for my weight in real life as well as online. People have called me ugly just because of my weight. By the way, your weight doesn’t equal beauty, and that’s what I’m still learning. Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. 
On quite a few occasions, I have actually thought about doing dangerous things to my body that I don’t feel comfortable going into here. All because I had people try to boil me down to my weight, call me ugly, and destroy whatever self-esteem I had left. You don’t know what fat people go through, so don’t act like you do. 
There are many factors that go into why a person may be fat, including medical conditions, mental illness, trauma, genetics, etc. All of those things are none of your business unless those people decide to be open about it. 
No, it’s not always healthy to be fat (obviously there are extremities on both sides of the spectrum of weight that are extremely unhealthy), but it doesn’t make a person any less of a human being. Fat people are human too. Quit treating us like we’re not. We deserve to be treated like everyone else who isn’t fat. I’m not saying put all fat people on a pedestal. I’m saying treat us like human beings.
CC (Combination of the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh screenshots, aka, the second part of my response):
Remember how I said that fatphobia isn’t just about judging people for being fat? Well, there’s the “fat tax” on plus-size clothing (even though it maybe only costs a little bit more in fabric, if there’s any difference in making clothes for people who aren’t fat), limited styles for fat people in stores (making a lot of us have to buy fast fashion or have to spend a fortune on clothes that actually flatter us), not very many stores have inclusive sizes still (if you don’t at least carry max 5XL or a size 38/40 in pants size, you cannot call yourself inclusive), and a lot of other things.
Many fat people, myself included, are afraid to seek medical attention for anything (even checkups) because of doctors who only focus on our weight and not on what we came in to see them for. They write it off as if our weight is the sole cause of our problems, which isn’t always the case.
How about we talk about how expensive it is to eat healthy in a lot of places? Not everyone can afford to make fresh meals every day, let alone once a week. Maybe they were never taught how to due to their upbringing. You don’t know.
I’ve had people comment on my weight, what I’m eating (even if I’m eating something healthy like fruits and veggies), talk about my weight or diets EVEN WHILE I’M TRYING TO EAT, and it’s caused me to wait until I’m alone or around someone I trust to eat anything. As a result, I have a complicated relationship with food now.
Telling someone they’re fat doesn’t help them. They know that. They see themselves every day. People may want to change, but they either are afraid to ask for help, or they don’t know where to start. Some may not want to change. It’s up to them, honestly. If you want to help them lose weight, maybe suggest any physical activity they’d have fun doing and do them with them? I dance for fun. Also, you could help set up meal plans with them. 
If you’re not going to at least try to help them lose weight if you’re so concerned about them (this is all if they actually want to change things and don’t know where to start), I cannot say this in a sweeter way: shut your mouth and mind your own business. Because you’re just being a cunt at that point.
CC (eighth screenshot, aka, the third and final part to my response):
There are quite a few plus-size people in the entertainment industry as a whole who are/were very successful. Remember the late Chris Farley and Aretha Franklin? Chris Farley was big, but that didn’t change how great of an actor he was, how funny he was, or how much of an impact he made in the entertainment industry. Aretha Franklin was a plus-size black woman in the music industry, but she’s inspired SO MANY artists we have today! There are many plus-size men, women, and I believe even nonbinary people in the public eye in general. Like I’ve said, beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. That’s why the body positivity and body neutrality movements are a thing.
(I know I implied that I thought about sh here in my response, but please don't worry about me as far as that goes. I'm fine now. I would never go through with anything like that.)
In the last part of my response where I mentioned some plus-size people in the entertainment industry as well as the music industry (the late Chris Farley and the late Aretha Franklin), I was going to name more people, but my comments were getting too long. I'll name some more here off the top of my head:
Lizzo (rapper), the Piggy Dolls (the first K-Pop girl group made up of actual plus-size women), K*v*n Sp*c*y (I don't feel comfortable saying his name because he's a disgusting person, but he's another plus-size man...he was in King of Queens and in A LOT of movies), PSY, Greyson Gritt (a genderqueer person in the music industry), Elle King, Produce Pandas (the first music group in China full of plus-size men), Martha Wash, Chubby Checker, Fats Domino, Big Angel (a J-Pop group of all plus-size women), Chubbiness (another J-Pop group of all plus-size women), Pottya (another J-Pop group of all plus-size women)...there are so many that I found, but if you want to add more plus-size artists, plus-size actors, plus-size comedians/comediennes, feel free to add them in the comments!
Dhar Mann, you'll never know what plus-size people go through. You don't know what we go through. You have NO IDEA what we go through on a daily basis. Stop acting like you do. Because you don't, and you never will.
By the way, Dhar Mann, this will NOT be the last post I'll make about you or your videos. The more you make fucking deplorable, poorly written bullshit, the more posts I'll make! Teehee!
If you got this far, thank you so much. The next part of this is coming very soon. I'm sorry for not posting too many screenshots from the video. I wanted to fit in my response because it's important for people to see.
Have a good day/afternoon/night, y'all. Love you!
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leclerc-xo · 3 years ago
Text
There were four things Eric Dier knew for definite.
1. He’d had better Monday’s.
2. The girl sat across from him was definitely staring.
3. His school needed to invest in better vending machines.
And
4. Apparently if you punch someone in the face three times it will result in being summoned to the Principal's office no matter how much you think the guy deserved it. Go figure.
Eric grimaced as he flexed his fingers. The tendons felt tight and he could already see the purple bloom of a bruise appearing over his knuckles. He lifted his hand up forced the fingers to straighten, the pain shooting up his arm. He wriggled them, moving them one by one and he smirked slightly. Nothing broken he thought wryly. His eyes flicked up and he raised his eyebrows causing the girl who was sitting behind the desk opposite him to blush. He studied a cut on the dip between his second and third knuckle, the area around it crusted with blood. He remembered the clean connection he’d got on the guys face the first time, the sharp sting of his nose ring nicking at his skin. Totally worth it, he said to himself as he made a fist, biting the inside of his mouth as he tried to ignore the way his nerves were screaming.
“Yo dickhead.” The double doors crashed open at the other end of the room and Eric looked up to see Jan and Toby walking towards him. He flipped them the finger in response and scoffed at the tutting come from the secretary's desk. The girl who’d been staring at him had dropped her phone when they’d entered and she was failing miserably at trying not to gawk at the two of them as they passed her desk. Toby threw himself down in the chair beside him and pulled his phone from his pocket, opening it without saying anything. Jan came to a stop directly in front of Eric and kicked at his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. Eric glanced up at him, pursing his lips together and raising his eyebrows. He knew that look and he huffed, shifting in his seat. “Don’t fucking start man,” he drawled and Jan smirked, jutting his chin towards Eric’s hand.
“What was it this time? Did they insult Dele’s shoes?” Jan asked cocking his head to the side. Toby scoffed and Eric shook his head. The smug look that the stoner dude had given Dele before he’d wiped it off flashed across his mind and he leaned forwards, staring down at his hand again. He remembered throwing himself in front of Dele, grabbing his wrists and pushing him backwards. He remembered Dele trying to fight of his grip, blood pouring from a gash on the side of his mouth. Everything else was a little bit of blur until he’d heard someone shout ‘scramble’ and the assistant principal had appeared in front of him. Dele had been dragged off before he could turn around and he’d been sat waiting in the same god awful plastic chair for what felt like an age. “Seriously bro, what if you had broken your hand this time? You can’t do this every time he pisses someone off and they retaliate.” Eric hated it when Jan turned all disappointed father on him and he rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. They’d known each other since kindergarten, had been inseparable since they had bonded over their favourite superhero and Jan was the only person in the whole school who could challenge Eric without regretting it. Still didn’t mean that he allowed it to happen too often.
“It wasn’t like that this time,” Eric answered, his voice level. He knew the girl was listening, she was basically leaning over the desk, her ear angled towards them. No doubt it was the talk of the corridors again. Eric Dier, the most popular guy in school, loses his temper and everyone needs to know why. Especially when it’s becoming a bit of a regular thing. Jan laughed. “It never is,” he said commented but held his hands up in surrender, recognising that he was never going to win this particular debate.
“All I’m saying man is that your hand better be good for Friday, I’m not putting up with shit from coach if you can’t play.”
Eric was about to tell Jan not to worry about it, that he knew full well he’d be playing but the Principal’s door swung open and he didn’t get the chance. “Mr Dier, please,” a low voice sounded and Eric rolled his eyes as Jan patted him on the shoulder. He didn’t see the point in this, the conversation he was about to have but he plastered a guilty look on his face and turned around as Jan dropped down in the seat he’d just vacated.
“I feel like I should enter you in my diary, it’s almost like clockwork,” Principal Evans commented as he pushed the door closed behind them. Eric didn’t react, just pulled on the back of the leather seat nearest him and dropped himself down. He waited as the older man walked behind his desk and seated himself, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him. He clasped his hands together and sighed, staring directly at Eric’s bruised and bloodied hand. “No broken bones?” he asked curtly and Eric shook his head, flexing his fingers. Principal Evans nodded slowly and smiled tightly. “Well good, we wouldn’t want this little outburst getting in the way of Friday now would we?” he said as he pulled open a drawer and lifted a notepad out of it. Eric really did not see the point in this little charade they put on every time this happened. He knew it was to make it look like he was being reprimanded but it was getting boring now. Silence filled the room and Eric shifted in his seat, watching as Evans picked up a pen and started to write.
“Where’s Dele?” he asked, the words coming out sharp and loud. Evans didn’t answer and Eric clenched his jaw, bouncing his leg up and down. “Sir, where’s Dele,” he repeated, his voice lower this time, a little softer around the edges. The Principal looked up at him and shook his head. “We sent him home,” he answered, waving his hand, dismissing the question. Eric looked down at his hand and pressed on bruises, the discomfort distracting him from the retort he wanted to fire across the room. Of course they’d sent him home. Why would they do anything else?
“And the other guy?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Mr Lomax received a warning,” Evans said, rubbing his hand across the paper before ripping it off and holding it out to him. Eric snatched it off him, rage roaring in his ears. He stared at the note in his hand, the scrawled handwriting excusing him from his afternoon classes. “I suggest you spend the rest of the day looking after that hand, get some ice on it. You know how much is riding on your performance of Friday and I won’t have a little ruckus over nothing ruining it.” His voice was low and hard, a warning mixed in with the concern. Sure Eric might be the most popular guy in school, people either wanted to be him or be with him but deep down he knew he was a commodity and it was getting extremely difficult to keep biting his tongue. “Don’t you worry I’ll be there,” he said pushing his chair back a little to forcefully as he stood up. He turned to leave, the anger he’d felt earlier simmering under the surface. This was the fourth time in three months that he’d been summoned here, the fourth time he’d had to sit and listen to Evans talk about him like he was some cash cow the school depended on.
“Oh and Eric?”
“Yes sir?”
“If you see Mr Alli could you please tell him he’s treading on very thin ice. I do worry that next time, and I assume there will be a next time, we will have a broken hand to deal with and I would hate for the blame to fall on his shoulder. He seems to listen to you.”
His name is Dele. Eric bristled at the blatant dismissal of Dele’s request to drop his last name and he nodded curtly not daring to open his mouth. Evans inclined his head, turning towards his computer and Eric took that as a sign that he was free to leave. He yanked the door open and stepped outside, not bothering to acknowledge Jan and Toby as he marched towards the doors that led back to the main corridor. He heard them scramble from their chairs and catch up with him, assuming their positions either side of his shoulders. His note was screwed up in his fist and he tossed it in the nearest trash can without looking. People moved out of their for them as they always did and he stared straight ahead of him as he walked. He knew there would be talk, conclusions drawn about why he kept on getting into fights over Dele but he didn’t care. He was untouchable, the school talisman and whilst he was their main hope for securing funding and would therefore face no consequences he’d continue to challenge anyone who was stupid enough to try it. As he came to the main entrance and threw open the doors he caught a snippet of conversation.
“I don’t get what’s so special about Dele that means he gets all the protection from Dier.”
“I know right? Come swing some of that rage my way, I know a perfect way to burn off some steam.”
“Ohmygod Kelsey!”
“What? He’s hot when he’s angry.”
Jan and Toby chuckled and Eric rolled his eyes before stepping out in to the daylight He might be the most popular guy in school and enjoy all the perks that came with it but he really was getting fucking sick of the place.
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