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butmorethanthis · 3 years ago

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Western Danmei Fandom Archetypes

2ha mains - ‘READ THE BOOK READ OUR BOOK NOW sobs about HYX something about hole READ THE BOOK NOW shout out to the absolute unit’ - your book is a terrifying masterpiece and CWN is the kind of character Shakespeare could only dream of crafting and all you do is scream and make terrible jokes, excellent work

mdzs mains - they’re hard to hear over the sound of their own ongoing wars tbh - ‘the author is DEAD unless she says something that proves me right - everyday means everyday!!!! BUT ONLY WITH LUBE! WWX desecrated my mom’s corpse but it wasn’t HIS FAULT, Alexa play wangxian.mp3’ you have all the best and all the worst things about being a massive fandom and if you are not Chinese you need to be throwing flowers at the feet of the Chinese members of this fandom (and every Chinese culture fandom tbh, translations, cultural explainers and endless patience, folks are generous as hell) cus y’all are ANNOYING. Anyway, special shout out for the yi city youts, living in their own darkest timeline cus CQL mains won’t let you have dark and disturbing things

TGCF mains - the simpiest gong and the most smiley shou so quite often y’all miss the heart of darkness in your own story! TGCF is a jamboree of pain, stop selling it as sweet autumnal walks! The delusion that is Beefleaf is a collective trauma response to a deeply harrowing side plot that involved arguably MXTX’s most loveable side character! Jun Wu gives 2ha villains a run for their money in terms of corpse heavy architectural structures! That being said, canonical Self insert porn, and you have a ferret in a cute hat, which is fresh and exciting, not a dog or a fox or cat or a dragon like every fucker else, well done

SVSSS mains - I have to keep it real y’all are a bunch of edgelords, and smug as hell but I’m finna allow it because your (reluctant) gong is the sweetest (sqq if you topped him he might not cry! Just a thought. Ok he might cry less) and you’re right, witty meta with one (1) harrowing scene of like borderline consensual non con (if your focus is sqq) or just plain non con (if your focus is lbh? But the perpetrator is the system? a sword? Their partner trying to save their life?) ent for everyone and people misunderstand your chaotic ass text a lot, because they don’t want to ask difficult questions about ‘what consent even means’ and ‘the intricacies of a meta take on a genre that is from a culture they did not grow up in and found out about on tumblr’ So you know. Frighten people out of your fandom with your in jokes, it’s ok. Also a cumplane is a horrific image when you don’t know what that means, exemplary work.

WOH mains - my beloved Shanrens, y’all and your beloved cast deserved so much better than 813 and you have my whole heart. You are a bit unhinged, cus you only eat ice. Y’all are horny as hell, which makes sense cus your leads were stunning and push hard at the F of RPF, let’s keep it real. All these danmei characters are pretty dark, but yours don’t have a war to hide behind, they’re just like that, (I’m over simplifying, sometimes you have to eat your daddy to survive and that’s ok 😭😭) so you are the most feral of them all. Congratulations. I’m happy for people who’s focus is Yexie, but there are about 6,368 lesbians who found love in hopeless place just waiting for you to write about them, please, I don’t ask for much but write some strap on content I BEG. Speaking of which, shouts to the Nya-Xu girls, you’ve got everyone doing pet play on main and THAT? That is what fandom is about.

Guardian mains - you staggered, limped, dragged yourself across the floor so everyone else could shimmy forwards. You got a good theme tune, well done on your musical taste. Everyone needs to put respect on your name but they don’t, because your show ran out of money half way through 😭 and what little they had was spent almost exclusively on getting two gorgeous leading men and giving them NOTHING to work with (and the snake ladies wardrobe) 😭😭😭

Advance Bravely mains - you’re right, it’s a Dadaist masterpiece, but this shouldn’t be your main, beloved, please watch word of honour, gong jun is in it and everything.

Winter Begonia mains - the thing is, you want people to sit with you! Your show is beautiful in every way, and you advocate for it so softly, with such love. But you look like high art and it’s scaring the sluts away. Make some memes!

Sleuth mains - this fandom seems to divide cleanly into 30 somethings that are tired and might wake up in the middle of the night to strangle you at the slightest provocation and gender fuckers that want to be topped by Jin San and honestly? Mood. Y’all are kinkier than you’d think, much like the source material, but mostly you are just here to eat and sigh wistfully at Fu Meng Paul thirst traps while you write service top porn. If you read that as a RongZhi main and couldn’t see yourself you need to read it again.

Qi Ye mains - we get it, you can read, and yes, ZZS is darker than we ever knew and JBY is more of a mess and we need to be more scared of Wu Xi than we are, and Helian Yi is not prince Jin. Counter point: Prince Jin is a simp and it’s FUNNY, it’s nice having Xiyuan as like, ethereal couple goals and ZZS kills a toddler in SHL and then dumps WKX just for REMINDING HIM, we know what he is, even if he is pretending he does not see. It’s a real good and funny book though, you’re right.

Thousand autumn mains - one guy in your animation looks pretty hot and slutty with his shirt all open and the non jiang purple but you never really sell it, come on! Do some evangelism, we’re never getting HYX so I may as well read something.

BONUS nirvana in fire (it’s not a danmei but if you don’t watch it they take your non problematic consumer card away, and do you know what? That’s fair) - y’all are sophisticated. Smart. Aesthetes. You’re here for POETIC CINEMA, and will accept nothing less. But no one needs your meta, the show is clever enough on its own, stand down. Make some memes instead. We need more porn in this here fandom.

#mdzs #cql #2ha #erha #tsomd #qi ye #thousand autumns #tgcf #svsss #nif #word of honor #shl #nirvana in fire #the untamed #the sleuth of ming dynasty #winter begonia #dumb husky and his white cat shizun #heaven official's blessing

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chrisevansjellybeans · 4 years ago

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I Love You, You Idiot | Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Here I am, once again writing in my favorite "we're best friends but we won't say we're in love" trope. Someone stop me.

A/N: This does not fall into the TFAWTS timeline!

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angsty-ish

*not my gif*

The bass rumbled through your entire body as you tried to listen to whatever story Sam was telling to the group. You tried with everything in you to listen but the mixture of the loud music of the club and your best friend's hand just casually laying on your exposed thigh was making it very difficult. You noticed the group laugh so you let out a small chuckle but if anyone asked you would not be able to say what was so funny.

“You okay, doll?” You glanced up at Bucky, who’s blue eyes were squinted with concern. His thumb slowly rubbing circles on the spot on your inner thigh where it was rested. “You look a little out of it. Do you need me to take you home?”

Say words, Y/N. You told yourself. But forming sentences was getting harder and harder with each circular pass the pad of his thumb made.

“Uh.”

Good job. Very articulate.

You didn’t want to be that person. The person who falls in love with her super hot best friend, but doesn’t say anything because they don’t want to “ruin the friendship” and then ends up sad and alone because said best friend doesn’t realize the feelings and moves on to someone else. And yet here you were. Being that cliche.

“Guys, I think I’m going to take Y/N home.” You heard Bucky say. Snapping out of whatever trance you were in you shifted away from him so his hand was no longer on your leg.

“No, I’m fine.” You stood up, strong and steady. “See? I was just thinking about some work stuff. But I’m gonna go grab another drink. Anyone want anything?”

The group shook their head and you made your way to the bar, happy to be away for a couple minutes.

Your moment of solace lasted only a few seconds though because you felt Bucky’s presence behind you. He trapped you in by placing his arms on either side of you, his chin landing on your shoulder.

“Wanna take shots?” Bucky’s voice rumbled in your ear. You really hoped he couldn’t feel the goosebumps that arose all over your skin. His breath smelled like a mix of spearmint and whiskey. A scent that if it came from any other man you would have probably been repulsed but on Bucky it was just comforting.

“Only if they’re tequila.” You turned around so you were face to face with him. Bucky gave you a cheeky smile as he waved the bartender over, ordering two shots each and then your regular drink order. As the bartender got your drinks ready, Bucky leaned down on his arms so he was even closer, your faces barely an inch apart.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Bucky smiled, pressing a slight kiss to your cheek.

“You’re mine too.” You whispered but you knew he heard you. Thank god for that super soldier hearing. Bucky stood back up and you could tell that he was on high alert, making sure that no one bumped into you or was making a beeline in the direction you guys were in.

You turned back around and placed your arms on the bar and leaned against it, your breasts pushing up slightly causing the guy next to you to take notice.

“Hey,” you glanced over as the guy next to you turned his body to fully face you. “You are the most beautiful woman at this bar.” You were amazed at how bold this guy was being. Bucky was still behind you, his arms still on either side of you. To anyone who didn’t know the two of you, it would be safe to assume that you were a couple.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” You smiled at him and leaned against Bucky’s arm a bit, to hopefully give that couple illusion even more.

Bucky was watching the interaction carefully, not yet ready to intervene but there if he needed to. You noticed his vibranium hand flex on the bar as the guy continued to flirt with you, that small action causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“You wanna get out of here, pretty girl?” The guy leaned in even closer to you, officially popping the imaginary bubble you had around you. That was enough for you and for Bucky.

“Alright buddy, ease up.” Bucky pushed a hand against the guy's chest, moving him away from you. “She’s with me.”

“Relax, big guy. Why don’t you let this little mama speak for herself.” The guy stood up from his chair, he was Bucky’s height but you, Bucky and the guy knew that if it came down to it Bucky would kick his ass.

“This little mama doesn’t want to go home with you.” You said sternly. As you finished speaking, the bartender placed the shots and the drinks in front you.

“Bitch.” The guy mumbled, shaking his head and making his way around Bucky.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Bucky grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt. His eyes blazing as he glared down at the asshole. With each second that passed you could tell his hands were tightening around the guy’s shirt.

“I called your little slut girlfriend a bitch.” He spat out. “Maybe control your woman from flirting with other men at-”

Before he could finish, Bucky slammed his fist into his face. You let out a scream as the guy fell to the ground. Everyone’s eyes now focused on the three of you. Bucky reached down and grabbed him, pulling him back up. You had to look away as blood started to pour out of his nose and down his face. It looked like Bucky was about to punch him again but you quickly put your hand on his arm. Bucky looked over at you, his chest heaving, his metal arm shifting under the stress of his grip.

“Bucky, please. It’s not worth it. Look.” You glanced at the crowd that started to form, phones out and recording.

You could see the headlines now: Winter Soldier Bar Brawl: Is he still unhinged?

You spotted Sam making his way over, his face full of concern. Turning back to Bucky you squeezed his bicep. “Please. Let’s go.”

“Buck.” Sam made it over to you. “Go, I’ll take care of it.”

Bucky heaved as he pushed the guy away from him and then grabbed your hand. He quickly threw down a crumpled hundred dollar bill on the bar and didn’t wait for the change as he pulled you through the crowd of recording phones and out of the club.

He quietly pulled you down the street until you guys ended up at least four blocks away from the club.

“I should have killed that guy.” He huffed as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Immediately he winced and pulled his flesh hand out. You hadn’t noticed before but his hand was definitely red and swelling. “Fuck.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” You sighed as you gently took his hand in yours, turning it over and inspecting any damage. It didn’t look fractured but it was definitely sprained and going to be sore for a while. “You could have broken your hand, you fucking idiot.”

“It will heal in a couple hours. And you’re welcome.” Bucky scowled in your direction. “Next time, I’ll just let him shit talk you all night.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. If you would have waited another twenty seconds we would have gotten our drinks and probably wouldn't have seen that man again.” You glared. “Instead you had to turn into a cave man and beat on your chest and prove your dominance.” You tried to sound tough but your voice was shaking given how cold you were. You had left your jacket back in the club.

“I wasn’t proving shit, Y/N.” Bucky snapped as he pulled his hand out of yours, sliding his leather jacket off and putting it around your shoulders in a huff. “Maybe it infuriates me to hear someone talk about you like that.”

“Well it’s not all cake and ice cream for me, but you don’t see me throwing god damn punches.” You sighed as you wrapped the jacket tighter around your body. “This is going to be everywhere tomorrow.”

“Who gives a fuck.” Bucky muttered.

“You should!” You fumed. “It’s not a great look to have you out here punching random guys at bars, Bucky. Especially over nothing that important.”

“Stop talking like that. God, it’s like you are the only fucking person who doesn’t see how goddamn special and important you are.” Bucky hissed as his hand continued to throb. “So please just..stop talking.”

You snapped your mouth shut as you shot daggers at Bucky which he gladly returned. You turned away from him, calling a car to take you back to his place. You both waited in silence, Bucky only making the occasional foul exclamation whenever his hand hurt. Finally for what seemed hours the car finally pulled up. Bucky, always the gentleman even when angry, held the door open for you as you slid in closing it gently but not making any moves to get in the car. You looked up at him through the window confused but he only shook his head and tapped the car, signally for the driver to leave.

“Can you please wait.” You turned to the driver who let out an annoyed huff.

“Five minutes lady. It’s almost bar time.”

Quickly you opened the door not stepping completely outside, the air having an unforgiving bite to it now.

“Get in the fucking car, Bucky.”

“You go, you have a key. I just need some time.”

“You can take some time in your apartment. Just get in the car.” You retorted.

“I’m not getting in that car.”

“James, I swear to god.” You were fully out of the car now. You slammed the door shut causing the driver to cast an annoyed look your way. “What is your problem? We argue all the time, it’s not that serious.”

“It’s not about the argument,” he grumbled. “It’s about the fact that you are so completely oblivious to how fucking perfect you are and how it wasn’t just that guy that was staring at you but every other guy in that bar. And how angry it makes me that I just want to go up to every single of one of them and tell them to put their dicks away because you’re mine and only mine.”

Your breath hitched as you processed his words.

“And I’m doing everything in power to not just shake you until you realize that I love you, and not just as my friend.”

“I-”

“I can’t believe I just told you that.” Bucky shook his head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Get in the car, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky turned and started walking down the street.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You yelled after him. “If you don’t think that I love you back, then you really are a bigger idiot than I thought.” Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“What did you just say?” He asked as he faced you again. He stayed where he was but you could see the tension start to leave his body.

“I said,” You smiled as you let out a long breath. “That I love you, you idiot.”

Before you knew it, Bucky was over to you and he had you scooped up in his arms. His mouth moved feverishly against yours, every emotion that the two of you had for each other pouring out in this one kiss. Your hands found their way up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low moan that sent vibrations through your whole body.

“Alright, lady, I’m leaving.” You both ignored the driver as he waved you off and pulled out and down the street. But you couldn’t care less because you were finally in the arms of your best friend.

“Say it again.” Bucky whispered against your lips.

“I love you, you idiot.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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starlightoffandoms · 2 years ago

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I posted 10,976 times in 2022

23 posts created (0%)

10,953 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@alleiradayne

@coffeebox62

@that-crazy-drummer-chick

@flock-of-paper-birds

@hanaaeri

I tagged 791 of my posts in 2022

#ofmd - 56 posts

#happy tag - 53 posts

#destiel - 46 posts

#the witcher - 37 posts

#write this way - 32 posts

#tora - 25 posts

#goncharov - 24 posts

#supernatural - 23 posts

#dean winchester - 22 posts

#the boys - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i would love to see demon dean and collecting honey cas bc while completely unhinged demon dean would have been so careful & loving to him

My Top Posts in 2022:

Me watching the Batman: *turn away for a second to check on the cat that's being real sneaky like*

Police Captain: *starts talking*

Me: *swings around almost hard enough to give myself whiplash* IS THAT IZZY HANDS?!!!!

Police Captain: *is Con O'Neill*

Me: it IS Izzy Hands!!!

Cat: *runs and hides from insane parent screaming about Izzy Hands*

12 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

Looking for more Witcher blogs for me and my bestie @coffeebox62 to follow. I know I follow several of y'all and want to rec you to bestie but my brain doesn't retain blog names to share and I'm awful at tagging tbh. So if you post/reblog Witcher content please interact with this post. Thanks a bunch!

16 notes - Posted January 4, 2022

I didn't have time to post Friday for the week's fics. Life happened but here we are! Hope you enjoy!

Day 15 – Smoke – Rated T – Sam and Dean retire from hunting and live their best versions of lives that work for them. Destiel and Salieen, Canon Divergence

Day 16 – Red – Rated E – Serial killer boyfriends. Destiel AU

Day 17 – Muse – Rated T – Cas has performed as Jimmy Novak for years. The last few years have been rough and he hasn't been able to write any new music. To loosen up some, his friends take him out for a fun night. From that night forward he started to write as he'd never done before. Destiel AU

Day 18 – Tattoos – Rated T – Werewolf Dean hadn’t told Cas that he was a shapeshifter. Dean is forced to shift and Cas finds him. Destiel AU

Day 19 – Ladies – Rated G – Ladies night with a little extra. No ship, SPN ladies AU

Day 20 – Spa Day – Rated T – Eileen and Rowena set up a spa day for Cas with ulterior motives. Destiel Canon Divergence

Day 21 – Haunted – Rated M – Dean remembered lost. Then the one day he had finally decided he'd had enough, the man he loved was back. Destiel Canon Divergence

Day 22 – Rain, Rain – Rated G - Kid Jack shows up on their doorstep. Destiel Canon Divergence

Day 23 – Sleepless Nights – Rated T – Dean and Cas welcome new additions to their family. Destiel Canon Divergence (I had accidentally tagged this as mcd, so if you skipped this I PROMISE it isn't mcd. that was my bad when I posted from my phone.)

Day 24- Fish – Rated T – Sam and Jack are up to no good but it has a happy ending. Destiel AU

Here is the series to stay up to date.

See the full post

18 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

Week two coming at you!

Day 8 – Sober – Rated M - Cas was gone and Dean found himself at the bottom of too many bottles. He knew that he couldn't get the love of his life back if he didn't have a clear head. He'd do whatever it took to get him back. Destiel Canon Divergence

Day 9 – Vintage – Rated G – Cas explodes an ATM b/c it didn’t work properly. Destiel Canon Divergence

Day 10 – Enchanted – Rated M – Dean buys an antique mirror at a flea market and gets more than he bargained for. Destiel AU

Day 11 – Drag – Rated M – Dean gets caught during a body dump. He is not a very good liar but Cas doesn't care. Two serial killers in the same area and Cas is just trying to protect his territory. Destiel AU Murder Boyfriends

Day 12 – Crossover – Rated T – Cas comes home one day and things are moved around. He checks his wards. They're all still in place. Over the next few days, things are moved, the TV randomly turns on, music plays out of nowhere, and the pie keeps getting removed from the fridge to the counter. Cas reinforces his warding. Then one day there is a man he doesn't know standing in the middle of his living room and he isn't quite corporal. Destiel AU

Day 13 – Morning After – Rated T – Sam wakes up not sure what the previous night after a huge hunt had held. Saileen Canon Divergence

Day 14 – All for You – Rated M – Dean sees a flyer for an art project that paid $200 a day. Some doctorate student was in need of help with a project. He hoped that whoever Castiel was actually planned to pay. Destiel AU

Here is the series to stay up to date.

See the full post

19 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hey y'all! Back at it again this year. Here's the first week of fics!

Day 1 Maze/Maize – Rated T – Dean cooks Cas’ favorite foods. Destiel AU

Day 2 Pillow Talk – Not Rated – Aftercare. Destiel AU

Day 3 Digital – E – Dean is in heat and Cas is in another country. Destiel AU

Day 4 Wicked – T – Cas practices darker magic and the gov't doesn't like it. They do more than necessary inspections on his facility. Dean is being punished and gets assigned to difficult cases. Destiel AU

Day 5 A Perfect Disaster – M – Stubborn Dean didn't evacuate when he was told to. Luckily Cas has a safe house nearby. Destiel AU

Day 6 Parody – T – Dean had moved away as soon as he could from his abusive father. It doesn't mean he doesn't still end up dealing with bigoted assholes. Destiel AU

Day 7 Fine Wine – M – Dean and Cas had gone to high school together and occasionally ran in the same circles. It'd been over 20 years since they'd seen each other. They reconnect at a work event. Destiel AU

For some reason it's been all Destiel so far🤷🏾‍♀️. Was not the initial plan. We'll see how the rest of the month goes. Here is the series to stay up to date.

See the full post

28 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #im actually shocked by a lot of this🤣#i totally disappeared dealing with mental health stuff for months #gotta be thankful for queue stuffs

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kuroopaisen · 4 years ago

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tiny love || 8

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. through a few strange twists of fate, you’ve ended up living with the very boy who’d broken your heart. but, perhaps it’s not as bad as you thought it’d be. he is the perfect gentleman, after all.

warnings: f!reader, angst??

wc: 3.9k

m.list | ch. 7 ↞ ch. 8 ↠ ch. 9

The film was alright. There was a certain chaos to it, an unhinged energy that gave it real character. Although, you weren’t quite sure how to feel about the reverse-Freudian implications of Marty’s mother getting a crush on him.

The phone in your lap buzzed, shooting light upwards into the darkened room. Glancing down, you read the name ‘Kohei’ on the screen.

It’d be rude to text him back during the movie, right? Since Iwaizumi was showing you this specific film… Although, it’d been your choice.

You turned your mind away from the question, your eyes flitting back to the screen.

The man with the frazzled white hair – Doc, was it? – was speaking at a rapid-fire pace. If it weren’t for the subtitles, you would’ve been totally lost.

Your phone buzzed again. Still Kohei. You covered the screen with your hand, trying to block out the ambiance-ruining brightness.

Yet another buzz.

“Who is that?” Iwaizumi frowned. “They’ve got a lot to say.”

“Sorry,” you blushed, turning your phone over so it was face down on the arm of the couch. “It’s Kohei.”

“Kohei?” There’s a strange lilt in Iwaizumi’s voice.

You ignored it. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure you met him at the party.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi hummed. “Right.”

He said nothing more, turning his attention back to the screen.

You bit your lip, fingers tightening around your phone.

It felt a little weird, doing something so casual with him. Well, you’d been doing casual things with him for a while, but something about this just felt so domestic. Probably didn’t help that the last time you did this together, he’d kissed you.

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

God, that felt like a lifetime ago now. And maybe it was, in some way; neither of you were those people anymore.

But a part of you still wanted to kiss him, just like back then.

You knew you shouldn’t think about it. He’d pushed you away two years ago for a reason. If you wanted this whole living situation thing to keep going smoothly, you had to respect that.

And yet, it felt unfair.

This was all so easy. So natural.

But it was something you couldn’t have. Something you couldn’t hope for.

You swallowed roughly, slipping your hands under your thighs.

You couldn’t think about it. If you did, you’d just make things worse.

And you were willing to do just about anything to maintain the delicate friendship between the two of you.

✧ ✧ ✧

“So,” Tooru’s voice came through the speaker with its usual levity. “How’s living with Iwa?”

Your stomach dropped. “It’s good!”

It’s not a lie. You just didn’t want to talk about it with Tooru. At least half of the things that made the whole arrangement so fun were things you didn’t exactly want to mention to your older brother.

“You don’t have to rub it in!” He whined.

“Rub what in?” You blinked, a little lost.

“The fact that you get to live with Iwa!”

Oh. Right.

“You’re the one who suggested it,” you teased.

“I know, but it doesn’t make it sting any less!”

“He would’ve killed you within the first day,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Not true!” Tooru barked.

You laughed. You didn’t need to see him to know the exact expression on his face. He’d always been comically expressive, even as a child.

That warm silence that always followed laughter settled over the call.

“Oh, man,” Tooru chuckled. “No, but how are you going?” He asked.

It’d been a while since the two of you had really gotten the chance to talk. Both of you had just been too busy; any catchups you managed to sneak in didn’t allow for much time to really get into the details of your lives.

But today was the day.

“I’ve been doing really well, actually!” It was such a delight to be able to say those words with full sincerity. “I’m still adjusting and everything, but… I think it’s going to be good.”

Small hiccups with Iwaizumi aside, everything was under control. Sure, sometimes you weren’t quite sure what they were saying in class, and yes, you did procrastinate more than perhaps you should’ve – but you were making a life here.

“See, I told you!” He chided.

“Yeah, you keep reminding me of that,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I’m just saying,” he hummed, adopting his favourite ‘hoity-toity older brother’ tone, “you should’ve listened to me in the first place.”

“I know, I know…” You sighed.

Tooru had told you time and time again that things’d worked out. ‘If I can move to a whole new country on my own, then you can definitely do it with Iwa’s help,’ he’d said. You’d had trouble believing him at first; but for once, he’d been right.

“I’m glad the two of you have each other, you know?” He said.

You flinched. Now those were words you hadn’t expected to hear.

“Huh?”

“You and Iwa,” Tooru explained. “He doesn’t talk about his feelings often, but I think you being there has really helped him relax.”

Your stomach churned.

Was that true? Had your presence really made Iwaizumi feel better? He’d done a lot to help you, but you felt like you hadn’t really done anything for him. You’d just felt like something of a burden.

But if that wasn’t actually true…

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly. God, you hoped your voice wasn’t giving anything away.

“Well, you know,” Tooru said, “you’re someone he knows from home. That sounds pretty comforting to me.”

You were grateful he couldn’t see the pink blooming on your cheeks. “Are you asking me to move to Argentina?” You teased. You didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no—”

“Because I’d rather die.”

The gasp that erupted from Tooru was so loud it peaked the audio. “How dare you? If we were living together, I’d be able to keep an eye on you. And, I could ward of any pesky boys.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Don’t be so inappropriate!” Tooru shrieked. “I don’t want to know the details!”

“I wasn’t going to tell you any of the details!”

“You were about to!”

“No I wasn’t!”

“I’ll have you know, you are far too young to be dating, young lady, and that—”

“I’m only a year younger than you!”

“And?”

“Shut up, Tooru!”

✧ ✧ ✧

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. The kitchen table was supposed to help you get your ass into gear. But instead, your laptop was open, but nothing had been done. The screen was probably a few moments away from turning idle.

A to-do list stared back at you, unrelenting. The sound of rain against the windows was your only companion. Iwaizumi had left for the gym some time ago, and you’d decided that music would be too much of a distraction.

Not that the absence of it was helping you.

Come on, you thought to yourself, just focus.

Easier said than done.

You groaned, leaning back against your chair. Why was it so hard to focus?

A deep breath, and then—

Slap!

Your cheeks stung from the impact of your own palms.

No difference.

The sound of the door opening was a beautiful reprieve. Finally, a worthy excuse to procrastinate—

“Hey.” Iwaizumi said a little breathlessly, holding his hand up in greeting.

You gaped at him.

Words might’ve come to mind if it was any other circumstances.

But when he was just standing there like that, you couldn’t help it.

A white shirt that clung to his torso, cheeks flushed with recent exertion, hair all messy—

It was official. You needed to start writing up your will, saying your goodbyes, getting all your chickens in order. Iwaizumi was certifiably too much, and you couldn’t handle it.

You were doing your best to respond. Truly. But it’s like his chest was a damn magnet, drawing your eyes back to it no matter how hard you tried to look at him respectfully.

Stupid Iwaizumi Hajime and his stupid shirt and his stupid chest—

“You good?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Me?” Your gaze snapped up to meet his. “Oh, yeah. I’m great, actually.”

“If you say so,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Well,” you gaped at him, trying to fight off the myriad of phantasmal shirtless Iwaizumi’s dancing around your head. You were losing. “I’m offended that you’re not more concerned.”

“You’ll recover,” he grinned.

You pouted at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this treatment.”

Iwaizumi chuckled again, ambling across the room with an aggravatingly slow pace. The sooner he was out of sight, the better.

“It’s tough love, sweetheart,” he tutted. “It’s how the world works.”

“Well—” You huffed, trying to think of a retort. But, you were far too distracted by the use of ‘sweetheart’ – even if it hadn’t been used in an affectionate way.

“I’m going to have a shower,” Iwaizumi said, smirking at you. “I hope you’re feeling better by the time I get out.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, eyes fixated determinedly on your computer screen. If you looked up and saw his glutes, you were sure you’d implode.

You covered your face with your forearms, letting out a silent scream.

Why did God hate you? Why did he want you to suffer? Every time you thought you’d got it under control, you were reminded of the fact that Iwaizumi looked like that, and any work you’d done to neatly tuck your romantic feelings into a box managed to wriggle like a rebellious young cat.

Every goddamn time, you were reminded of just how determined he was, how responsible, how quietly caring, how—

No. You shook your head. No need to indulge those thoughts. Not when you were supposed to be doing work.

Although, there was no way you were getting anything done today.

✧ ✧ ✧

“How old are you in these?” You grinned, glancing at Kohei.

His cheeks flushed. “I think I was like… sixteen here?”

“Sixteen, huh?”

“You know what high schools like back home,” he whined. “We all deserve some stress relief.”

“And yours was… running at each other across a field while screaming at the top of your lungs?”

“You should try it,” he beamed. “It’s surprisingly effective.”

You laughed, your body curving towards him.

You hadn’t planned on inviting Kohei over today. You’d just happened to bump into him by chance on campus as you were heading home. As usual, he’d struck up quite the conversation. But you’d wanted to get home before it got dark, so you’d invited him to come with you.

So there you were, sitting on your couch in the front room, listening to Kohei tell you about the stupid video he and his high school friends made back in Osaka. Most of them were re-enactments of Naruto scenes.

To each their own, you supposed.

The creak of front door came from around the corner.

“Hey Hajime!” You called out.

“Hey,” he called back, voice warm.

“You’re home later than usual,” you said.

“I was hanging out with Taiki,” he explained. “We got bubble tea.”

“Oh, nice,” you nodded, watching as he came into view.

He smiled as he caught sight of you. It took him a moment to realise you weren’t alone.

“You remember Kohei, right?” You gestured to the boy sitting next to you.

“Hello,” Kohei nodded, bright smile on his face.

“Hi,” Iwaizumi said. His smile disappeared, expression becoming even stonier than usual.

The atmosphere felt a shade cooler than it had a moment prior.

“You didn’t tell me you were having someone over,” Iwaizumi said coolly, heading to his bedroom.

“It was impromptu,” you explained.

“Mhm,” was the last sound you heard before he disappeared down the hall.

You clenched your fists in your lap. Had something happened? Was it okay to ask?

If something was up, Kohei certainly hadn’t noticed it. Not that you expected him to.

“How’d you feel about the most recent Godzilla film?” He asked.

“Uh… I don’t think we have it.” That was the polite way of saying ‘Iwaizumi hates that film with his entire being, and he wouldn’t dare debase this household by buying it on DVD.’

You’d heard his rant a couple of times, actually – insufficient screen time for Godzilla, a lack of understanding of the point of a monster movie, mediocre battles.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Kohei shrugged. “It’s on Netflix.”

“Ah, I see,” you nodded.

Why did it already feel like agreeing to a movie was a mistake?

✧ ✧ ✧

Thirty minutes in and you knew it was a mistake.

You were bored. Horribly, terribly bored.

But you didn’t have the heart to tell Kohei that when he, at least, seemed to be enjoying himself.

Besides, you could find other ways to occupy yourself. You could just think (see: fantasise) about Gojou Satoru. That’d been more than enough to keep you entertained during your duller classes.

Iwaizumi ambled into the kitchen, his eyes flicking to the two of you for only a second. You held up your hand a little as a greeting; he didn’t return it.

You swallowed, turning your ‘attention’ back to the TV.

Something was wrong. You didn’t know what, but… If Kohei wasn’t there, you would’ve just walked over to Iwaizumi and asked him if there was any way you could help. But having a guest… complicated things.

Said guest stretched his arms over his head. You hoped, absentmindedly, that he’d had a shower recently.

He laid one of his arms along the top of the couch, just ghosting your shoulders.

You managed to hold back a frown. What was he doing? Was he trying to hit on you? Or was it absentminded? If it was the former, then it was a rather childish way of—

A loud clutter erupted from the kitchen. A quiet ‘shit’ quickly followed.

You shot to your feet on instinct, rushing over to where a very disgruntled Iwaizumi stood.

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking him up and down.

Water stained his shirt, the water jug lying sideways on the countertop.

“I’m fine,” Iwaizumi grunted, setting it upright.

You grabbed the tea towel, dabbing at his shirt. Sure, it wouldn’t be much help, but—

“I said I’m fine.”

You draw back sharply, shocked by the harshness in his voice.

Instead you turned to the puddle of water on the counter, laying the tea towel over it. You watched as it turned a shade darker, seeping through the cotton until there wasn’t a single inch of dry cloth left.

Iwaizumi had turned away from you, standing in front of the sink as he refilled the water jug.

You pressed your lips together, concern and agitation brewing in your gut.

He seemed… Stressed? Irritated? Bitter?

But you couldn’t ask. Not right now. You’d have to wait until Kohei was gone, at the very least. And you didn’t want to pry. Iwaizumi didn’t appreciate that sort of thing.

Was there anything you could do for now? Anything at all?

“Did you want to order food with us?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. It was the best thing you could think of; giving him one less thing to worry about might help, right?

“No,” Iwaizumi said curtly.

You blinked at him. “You sure? It’ll save you the trouble of making dinner.”

“I’d rather eat on my own,” he grumbled.

“Oh,” you murmured.

You were at a total loss. Something was wrong.

But you turned away, slinking back to the couch.

“Is everything okay?” Kohei asked as you sat yourself back down.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

As a precaution, you set a little more distance between the two of you. If you sat any closer, he might get the wrong idea.

✧ ✧ ✧

After what felt like three days, the film was over. What’d happened in it? You couldn’t say. You hadn’t been paying attention.

You’d instead been preoccupied with Iwaizumi.

Maybe you were worrying too much over something minor. Maybe he’d just had a bad day at work. Maybe Taiki had just been a brat. Maybe he just had a few assignments due in close succession.

But that didn’t stop you from feeling anxious. Was that pathetic?

At the very least, you wanted to make sure he was okay. This behaviour seemed… weird.

“What time is it?” You turned to Kohei, tilting your head to the side.

“Uh… eight,” he said, checking his phone.

It was that late already? But there was still so much you needed to get done…

You yawned, stretching you hands above your head. “Thanks for hanging out with me today,” you said, turning to smile at Kohei.

“No problem,” he nodded, in response, offering you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Nothing more needed to be said to get the message across.

The two of you walked towards the front door, Kohei’s steps a little slower than yours.

You didn’t want to make it look like you were trying to rush him out of there, but you also didn’t want to give him the impression that you wanted him to stay. Everything just felt so weird, so… so high stakes. Like any little action you made was at risk of being misinterpreted.

“Well…” Kohei lingered at your door for a moment, looking at you with what seemed to be hope in his eyes.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” You smiled.

“Sure,” he nodded, opening the door. “Thanks.” He seemed a tad more dour than usual. Your stomach twisted a little.

“Bye!” You said, hoping that this, at least, would set your boundaries.

He didn’t seem bold enough to make an actual move, but you’d rather save the trouble.

You watched with a tiny sense of relief blooming in your chest as he stepped over the threshold and walked away.

Once the door finally closed, you let out a long sigh.

Something was up. Even you could tell that. His attempts at flirting, while juvenile, were earnest. What a strange evening this had been…

At the very least, you made a note to not invite him to your house alone again. That’d been your first mistake.

You dragged yourself to the kitchen, pouring out a glass of water. The tea towel was still soaked through, laid out on the counter. You’d probably have to get a bath towel to clean this mess up.

You sunk to the floor, feeling the cool tiles against the back of your thighs.

Were you going to have to turn Kohei down? God, you didn’t want to do that. That sounded awkward. And he was genuinely a sweet guy – your heart just wasn’t in the right space.

Not while you were living with Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi.

Something was off with him, too. But you had no idea what. He’s always been tight-lipped about his own feelings. Even two years ago, it had never been about him; it’d be about the potential ramifications his actions could’ve had on the people around him.

He never wanted to be a burden. Even though he’d leant you a hand so many times these past six months, you knew he’d never ask for the same in return.

But you wanted to help. He deserved support.

Should you ask? Should you try bringing it up, or—

“Oh, fuck.”

Your looked up sharply.

Iwaizumi was stood at the entrance of the kitchen, shoulders tense with surprise.

“Oh, sorry,” you swallowed, crossing your legs.

He just grunted in response, turning his attention to the fridge.

You bit your lip, watching him closely. His posture was tense, his jaw stiffer than usual.

“Hey, Hajime?” You asked, voice soft and quiet.

“What?” His response was quick, sharp.

“Are you alright?” Perhaps you should’ve asked this earlier. Perhaps you shouldn’t ask it at all. But it was too late to take it back.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, half-slamming the fridge door.

“I know you’re lying,” you said softly.

He may keep his feelings to himself, but he wasn’t the best at disguising them. Especially when it came to annoyance.

With Tooru, it tended to bubble over, resulting in some rant or threat. But these days, you didn’t really see him get pissed except for when the washing machine wasn’t working properly.

“Mind your own business.”

Those words cut you to your core.

This was… strange. Unusual. He’d seemed fine this morning, and as far as you knew, he’d just… been to the gym. His demeanour had only taken a nose-dive when…

“Why are you being like this?” You asked, voice thin and tight. God, this better not be what you were thinking.

“Being like what?” Iwaizumi mumbled, staring at his phone.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Did he really have no idea that he was acting like a petulant child who didn’t want to eat their vegetables?

“Do you have a problem with Kohei?” He couldn’t dodge that question.

“No,” he said, still looking at his phone. “He just comes off as a bit desperate.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You can’t be serious,” Iwaizumi scoffed. “He’s not subtle.”

You stared at him, total confusion clouding your mind.

What on earth was he on about? Desperate? Subtle? Wasn’t it just a case of him having a grudge for no reason?

Wait. Holy fuck. Was he… jealous?

The realisation washed over you like a fever.

Anger, rage, bitterness. It all collapsed in on itself, feelings you’d been supressing for two years.

He’d crushed your heart in the palm of his hand two years ago. Told you that any kind of romantic relationship between the two of you would be too much of a risk.

And you’d let him.

You hadn’t fought back. You hadn’t stood up for your own feelings. You’d just let him do what he wanted, what he thought was best. And never, not even once, had you made your feelings known.

But here he was, with the audacity to be jealous of a guy flirting with you.

He didn’t own you. He had no say in what happened in your personal life. If you wanted to sleep around, if you wanted to have a long-term partner that wasn’t him… it didn’t matter. It was your business, not his.

And yet, the worst thing of all was that this response, this jealousy, made your heart flutter. It made you hopeful; that maybe, this time, things might be different.

That Iwaizumi Hajime wasn’t so far out of reach. That this time, you had a chance.

Fuck him.

“No,” you hissed. “I’m not letting you break my heart again.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes blew wide, his lips parting slightly.

“You dropped me like I was nothing two years ago,” you scoffed. “You don’t get to act like a spoilt little brat just because you’re jealous.”

“Look, I—” He stopped himself in his tracks.

He really had nothing to say for himself, huh?

You glared at him, the corners of your eyes beginning to sting. “You’re acting like a child,” you hissed. “I hoped you were better than that.”

You didn’t give him time to respond.

He didn’t deserve to.

You stormed off to your room, slamming the door behind you.

A deep, shuddering breath wasn’t enough to still your stuttering heart. Nor was it enough to move the lump in your throat.

God, what a colossal disaster.

But for once, it wasn’t your fault.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: sorry this one’s late! thank you for your patience :( i hope it was worth the wait

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #tiny love

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bitchylittlevictorianchild · 3 years ago

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Love, love, love, love, love reading fanfiction for a fandom that I am not actually a part of. It's healing. It's beautiful. It is, dare I say, a form of self-care. Also, it is incredibly fun to try and figure out what's actually Canon in a universe/story that you have never invested time in. For instance, right now I've been reading fanfiction for The Witcher.

Here is what I know about the franchise thus far:

Geralt is a powerful Witcher

He has a horse named Roach

This horse is his best friend, which consequently makes him a Horse Girl

Roach never runs

Roach doesn't like other people

Except Jaskier

And Ciri

Ciri can make portals

She is very powerful

She's kind of weird

She's Geralt's child

She is also basically Jaskier's child

And Yennefer's child

Ciri has a lot of parents actually

There's this big mountain castle thing that Witchers convene at every year to talk about general tomfoolery and things like that

There are Hot Springs.

Geralt's mother abandoned him

He was raised with other Witcher children by an older Witcher

Found family is a huge topic and theme within not only the franchise, but within the fandom

Jaskier is a flamboyant bard that follows Geralt around and I am in love with him

They're Weird Boy Best Friends.

Jaskier writes a song for Geralt entitled Burn Butcher Burn. I cannot legibly explain this song without breaking down into maniacal screaming and violent sobbing.

It's basically a dis track that would give Taylor Swift a run for her money any day, or in this case, any century. And that is explaining it lightly.

Jaskier gets tortured because of Geralt

It affects his hands, which in turn affects his music capabilities

Geralt trusts Jaskier to take Ciri, his daughter, to the Big Witcher Mountain Meeting

Yennefer is a witch

She's intense as fuck, but she cares deeply - if not recklessly - about the people she loves.

She's also a princess

Also Ciri is a princess

Yennefer helps Ciri train

Chaos is basically magic

Witchers are not actually human

Geralt speaks in grunts. This is, objectively, very funny.

Geralt has white hair. Like it's white white.

Elves exist? And are prejudiced against??

People hate Geralt for some reason

Yennefer and Geralt had a thing, but Geralt broke it off

Yennefer and Jaskier bond over their breakups with Geralt in a bar at one point.

This is one of the scenes that would make an average straight viewer go "Awww :(" and a queer viewer go "WHAT THE FUCK-"

There are many scenes that illicit the same response

Wyverns exist

Geralt is similar to the mythical Greek hero Achilles because he too would exact insane and terrifying means of revenge on those who have hurt the people he loves, and he simply would not see the absolute unhinged nature of his actions.

Ladies, gents, and my gender non-conforming friends, this laugh riot is cheaper than therapy, yet somehow more healing than any coping skill I've ever utilized.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #i know most of these are wrong #but boy oh boy does it not matter #its canon to me #on a seperate and completely unrelated note i am in fact having a sleep attack #lol

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saharzahids · 4 years ago

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Starkid Rewatch: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals 🎼

Finally we have reached the hatchetfield series

My paulkins brain is ready let's gooo

I'm that one lady in the audience who's genuinely jamming out to the intro

Thinking back to how the intro was just foreshadowing the ending and that Emma gets infected too

🎶what an ass, what a bitch, what a cuuuuuuuuck🎶

I love how every musical with them has lauren and robert having a cute dance number

Paul was clearly set up to be the asshole character but we all chose to love him so they just went along with it

LATTAY HOTTAY ☕

Does she know i would die for her

I have very low blood sugar

Paulkins interaction here we go

Knowing that ted is the homeless man...

I don't know how it changes things here but somehow it just does

Reluctant friendship hcs for paul and green peace girl come through

Once again: props to June saito for understanding the duality of lesbian fashion

Hey it's everyone's favorite murder grandpa

Oh, look a new blouse

Pitch perfect whomst?

I love that for Bill it's never a question of alice being gay..it's never really that big of a deal. He just does not like deb

He even suggests other girls for alice

Its just really comforting for me to watch it be normalised so sweetly

Lah...dee...DAH. DAH. DAY?!

I will 100% believe this is the man behind the paul clones. He is so fucking unhinged look at him

🎶black coffee, I'm your coffee gal- NOOOOO!!!!!

He has to bend to half his height to meet her eye level i love them

Promise me you'll think about the implications!!

Jaime had no business being this hot during cup of poisoned coffee

They're constantly just holding hands or reaching out for each other it's too cute

YOU GRABBED THE WRONG ONE, YOU NOODLE!

The purest friendship

Ted casually jamming out to Robert's dance

[alien/turkey noises]

His brain fell out

Who is it? Professor hidgens! Don't lie to me whoever you are, I'm professor hidgens!

This is paul and...them

I'm going to...kick your...head

Iconic

Get you someone who looks at you the way paul looks at emma

Or even the way emma looks at paul really they're both equally soft

The biggest plot twist would have been if Paul had been the one to crash Jane's car

FUCK CLIVESDALE

So I guess I'm the supervillain? I don't think of you like that at all emma

I'm soft for them

Jaime i love u

Seriously her voice 😯

Jeff just jumping around while jaime sings like a goddess honestly same

Anyways paulkins are being all adorable in the background

I love how they're just screaming out for bill like fuck ted

I shot a charle-ton

Appreciate his jokes please

SING THE BEGINNING OF MOANA

The best starkid song honestly

Can we talk about how paul remembered most of the lines? Like emma and ted were just repeating whatever he said and bill was fucking singing the circle of life

Ted's voice cracking

I just realised he's sitting directly in front of charlotte's body and I know he's 90% an asshole but this fucking scene man

Like he cares just a little and we can all see it how he's trying to keep whats left of his friends from dying too

Honestly joey's acting here gets me

Height difference™

When he said "I respect her choices but..." I honestly initially thought some homophobic crap might follow but bill you absolute angel

He did not dissapoint

Bill Woodward 🤝 Steve harrington

If you get what I mean

(team i have no issue with you being a lesbian but please have better taste in girls)

Fancasting for denise or angela to play grace chastity in NPMD

Corey's expressions in this scene honestly breaks my heart

He just wanted to save his daughter 😔

prove it asshole, we're the army

he boop

WEAR A WATCH ⌚

I'm authorising you to use my firearm

Hidgens and mcnamara are both dramatic gays but with completely opposite energies

[foot sweep]

The way he skip-runs across the stage

Draco would be proud

For a 63 year old he can really work those hips

The audience losing their shit

Should I take this chair? I'll get the piano

The light slowly turning red as infected!mcnamara smiles

The audience slowly realising what the lyrics mean

Honestly iconic

One of my favorite moments in the show

So the last thing paul ever told emma was "byeeeee"?

Nah fuck that they both survived and are living happily in colorado running their pot farm

What ending?

The theatre being Paul's worst nightmare and starlight theatre being the place where he's killed, and starlight also being miss holloway's nightmare time? Methinks he might be her descendent of some sort

Watch out paul, he might kick your head

Mr. Davidson didn't want to be a mindless alien slave! He wanted to be choked by his wife!

Starkid stroking their villain takes a whole another level here huh

Jon slipping between normal talking to singing after every other word is pure talent

All jokes and paulkins related angst aside the ending is actually really amazing for a multitude of reasons

1. Inevitable is an absolute masterpiece of a song and it ties in all the previous songs that were there in the show

2. It provides context to the intro song (its all a fucking loop babey)

3. We get this one final moment of softness

4. Emma's scream perfectly harmonises with the ending of inevitable

5. It spectacularly breaks the 4th wall for the second time and integrates the audience as characters in the show

6. They never once break character through the whole thing

7. It proves once and for all that the hero of the story was never paul, it was emma. paul was just the final villain

That being said I am happily going back deep down in denial-town. You can find me drowning in a bucketload of paulkins fluff fics goodbye

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musical-chick-13 · 2 days ago

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I am not. Immune to. "Close to You" by Gracie Abrams.

#what is it with songs titled this #they always make me cry #a self-proclaimed 'grr romance is dead I'm never thinking about dating ever' girl #and I turn into. well. the opposite of that. when I hear this. (or the (different) n. trees song of the same name.)#I feel the need to cancel out listening to this by listening to a bunch of Not Love Songs immediately after like it makes me DISTRAUGHT #'pull the trigger on the gun I gave you when we met' SHUT UP!!!!!!!#unhinged lady screams about music #UGGGHHHH I'm going to end up on The Dating Apps by the end of this year aren't I #NO!!

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the-great-bbe · 4 years ago

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Ready or Not!

Rhaenys crawls under her father’s bed. Mama was quite clear: they were playing hide and seek, and Rhaenys needed to hide her best from all the men looking for her. She stifles a giggle into her little hands. After the count of ten—ready or not, here they come!

or a quick little fanfic, about our favorite game of hide and seek :)

Lyrics of “The Hide and Seek Song” copyright by Headquarters Music.

youtube

Who wants to play a game? It’s time for hide and seek!

Mama kisses Rhaenys’s forehead. Egg sleeps in his cradle, despite all the noise coming from outside. It sounds scary out there, but Rhaenys is safe with Mama and Egg. Mama will never let anything bad happen to her, not even the nightmares that scare Rhaenys in the middle of the night.

“Let’s play a game, my sweet.” Mama’s hands are shaking, and her voice is high pitched. But everything must be fine, because they’re going to play a game. And not just any game, but hide and seek! “Listen carefully. Many men will try and find us, but we can’t be found by anyone. When the game is over, I’ll come get you myself, do you understand? You must hide very well, not even Balerion can find you.”

Rhaenys nods. “I’m good at this game, Mama! I’ll hide forever and ever and then we’ll have honey cakes after dinner.” Maybe if Rhaenys hides the best she can, Mama will let her have two entire honey cakes!

Mama kisses her again, and hugs her so tight that Rhaenys squeaks against her shoulder. “My little sunshine, I love you so much. Now hide. Hide!”

Rhaenys scurries off. Mama is really worried even if she didn’t say so. This game must be very important—perhaps Grandfather is playing too, even though he never plays games. So where should she hide? Maybe behind the barrels in the wine cellar, or in the gardens? No, beneath Papa’s bed! No one ever goes in his room anymore, and the space is so small that only she and Balerion can fit!

She tiptoes up the stairs, and closes the bedroom door so that it’s almost shut but not entirely. Closed doors are more suspicious in hide and seek, after all. Then she tucks herself beneath the bed, and arranges the heavy bedspread so that it’s not wrinkled. Rhaenys shimmies to the very edge of where the bedframe meets the wall, and waits.

She waits, and waits. She almost wants to go back and ask Mama for how long they’re supposed to play, and how many players. But instead she wiggles with anticipation. Mama was quite clear: they were playing hide and seek, and Rhaenys needed to hide her best from all the men looking for her. And Rhaenys is the very best at hiding! She stifles a giggle into her little hands. After the count of ten, or maybe a hundred—ready or not, here they come!

Rhaenys spies a shadow by the almost-closed door, and holds her breath.

-- Run, run, run! Time to run and hide!

Run, run, run! And now I’m going to find you, scurry off into the darkness.

Hurry, I’m behind you!

Don’t you speak! Hide and seek!

“Myrcella! Myrcella, where are you?”

Myrcella bites her lip. Joffrey is no good at being a seeker, he gets too angry and starts shouting for her and the servant children. And of course the servants come out, and Joffrey is so mean when he catches someone! But not Myrcella—she is the very best at this game, and she would rather fall asleep beneath this dusty old bed than let Joffrey win.

Mother tells her to let Joffrey win, to keep him from throwing a tantrum, but Uncle Tyrion says that it’s good for even the Crown Prince to be told no every now and then. She sniffles. One of the serving girls showed her this hiding spot, saying that no one ever looks under here since it’s so deep in Maegoir’s Holdfast and who can fit beneath a bed anyway?

Why does the Hand even have this room—maybe this is where Lady Lysa is supposed to sleep, instead of in Lord Littlefinger’s rooms. Myrcella isn’t supposed to know about that, of course. But she knows a lot. She knows that Joffrey isn’t going to be a very good king, and that Mother and Father should’ve never married, and that the mean old black cat Tommen wants to catch had another owner before. Myrcella heard Uncle Jaime speak about him once, and the person who owned the cat before. Uncle Jaime says many things about before Myrcella was born, but only when he is drunk and sad.

She twists a bit of string around her string until her finger turns purple. By now Joffrey must have found Sweetrobin and Tommen. She hopes that Sweetrobin cried and punched Joffrey in the nose. He gets to hit Joffrey without getting in trouble, since his father is the Hand. Myrcella is just a girl though, and must be a sweet little lady who lets Joffrey do whatever he wants. Last time she complained to him about cheating in games, he bit her ear. Mother wiped her tears and told her to bear it with a smile. Myrcella stopped complaining after that, but it still burns in her stomach.

Father says he won’t be like this forever, at least. Myrcella hopes so. She imagines him fully grown, but still the same way, and instead of twisting her arm he twists her neck. Just like Tommen’s kitten that bit him once. Joffrey let the poor little creature under Tommen’s bed, and Tommen screamed about monsters for weeks afterward. She sighs. There aren’t any monsters here that Myrcella doesn’t already know.

Myrcella hears footsteps down the corridor and holds her breath. Oh, if Joffrey finds her, he’ll tug at her hair and scratch at her arms! He’ll be so horrible, he always is! She’d rather die than be found by him!

Tiptoe through the cellar or crawl under your bed.

Anywhere you’ve fled, I am going to find you!

Stay inside the shadows, all you girls and boys.

Don’t you make noise, or I am going to find you!

“Are you afraid?” Myriame asks Arya, but she shakes her head. She refuses to be afraid. Not now, when they’re still hiding from the men who took Father away and locked Sansa in her room.

She shivers and Myriame pats her arm. She’s one of the serving girls—Arya heard Father call them Lord Varys’s little birds, once. Before everything went so wrong. But when Father was taken, a group of serving girls took Arya by the arm and hid with her in an alcove. They cut her hair, they dirtied her face, they shredded her fine dress and pinned a dirty pinafore to her shoulders. No more Arya Stark, just Nan. Nan, amongst Myriame, and Celia, and Delight, and Sera. Just another serving girl hiding behind curtains, nor beneath the bed.

“It will be alright,” Myriame whispers. “The only ones who go down here are us. Everyone else gets caught like Princess Myrcella. Those men won’t ever get us.”

Arya shivers. No one speaks of Princess Myrcella and how she disappeared without a trace. Did bad men steal her away like Father and Sansa? She dares to ask, “How do you know?”

But then their breath because there’s men outside their room. Their voices are harsh and drip with ill intent. One of them calls Sansa a whore and Arya wants to stab his eyes out with Needle. But then they enter the room and she squeezes her eyes shut and holds her hands over her nose and mouth. They can’t find her. They can’t! They’ll take her away from Father and Sansa, and who knows what they’ll do to Myriame!

There are four beds in this room, a servants’ dorm. Arya dares to peek. They check beneath one bed. Then another. One of the men cackles, “I can smell you, little girl! Where are you hiding?”

Neither of them dare to breathe. The man says in a high pitched mockery voice, “Ready or not, here I come!”

Arya burrows into Myriame’s side and waits to die. There is noise, yelling, shouting, terrible noise. Then there is heavy silence, only broken by Myriame’s breaths. Arya doesn’t dare open her eyes. Not for a second.

Myriame murmurs again that it will be alright, but Arya keeps her eyes firmly shut, counting the seconds.

Run, run, run! Creep up on my grave!

Run, run, run! Stalk the night away!

Scuttle off into the night! But what’ll be behind you?

Don’t you speak! Hide and seek!

Tywin barricades the doors shut in his wrath. How do two grown knights go missing in daylight?! And not just any knights, but his own—he needs Gregor Clegane’s bloodlust to scour the Riverlands, like a beast on a leash. And Amory Lorch is slime suited for the most unsavory tasks that Tywin cannot do. But they are gone, disappeared without a trace.

Just like his granddaughter Myrcella.

He sheaves himself onto his chair and pours himself a goblet from a blood red decanter. Years have passed, and still Cersei blames the Dornish. But even Tywin can’t point the finger at them, as there is no evidence at all. Myrcella simply played hide and seek one day, and was never found. Most likely some depraved monster of a servant took the girl for his own desires and threw her into the Blackwater, a fate entirely underserved for anyone of House Lannister. The fact that the girl was too sweet to harm a fly just makes the wound sting greater. Without her calming influence, Joffrey is an unhinged little bastard, and Tommen a spineless fool. What is Cersei teaching her children?

Not to mention she’s let both Stark girls escape! First Arya in the chaos after Eddard Stark’s arrest, then Sansa from a barricaded room! Last Tywin heard, they were both back in their mother’s custody at Riverrun. And Robb Stark is proving himself to be a wolf on the battlefield—he’ll have to deal with the boy himself. If he can stop him from overtaking the Riverlands and spilling into the Westerlands! Tywin could gouge his daughter’s eyes out for her folly. They will never get Jaime back, now that they’ve lost their bargaining chips!

Tywin hears footsteps lead up to his door and barks, “I am to be undisturbed!” He doesn’t hear them head back down the stairwell, and he growls to himself. Idiots, he is surrounded by idiots! He stalks to the door and swings open the door.

There is no one there. He blinks, then closes it. He turns back towards his chair, and the window is open. Cold sweat beads at his brow. He never opened that window, and yet the curtains blow in the wind.

A princess and two knights go missing in broad daylight without a trace. This must be the work of faceless Men from Braavos, paid to…to what? Myrcella is an obvious target, if less obvious than Joffrey or Tommen. But why Clegane and Lorch? Perhaps this is a Dornish ploy, as revenge for Princess Elia and her children—

Something falls over in his adjoined privy and Tywin swears he hears footsteps come up the stairwell once more. He steals into his bedroom without so much as a whisper, as one breath. He must hide. The wardrobe’s doors are swinging in the breeze. The Faceless Man will hear him close them, surely. But where else? His heart pounds in his temples and his vision swims. By the gods, are they already inside the room?

He looks down. It is insulting, but his only choice. Tywin squeezes himself beneath his bed and pushes himself towards the wall. The walls themselves are hollow, to allow the servants to attend without disturbing his betters. If he can find the trapdoor without alerting the assassin, he can survive this.

He is Tywin Lannister, the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. He will not die here! He holds his breath, and wills his numb hands to stop shaking.

Like a frog inside a skillet, a lobster in a pan.

You don’t understand that I am going to find you!

Be still as a mountain and quiet as a mouse, ‘cause any little sound,

And I will surely find you!

Joffrey is dead. Joffrey is dead! And the castle isn’t safe! Tommen scurries into an abandoned room deep in Maegor’s Holdfast. There’s just a trundle bed in the corner, boxes piled on top of each other in the center, and dust coating everything. Once, Myrcella showed him this room while playing hide and seek—but that was when she was still here. Even years later, no one understands what happened to her, or to Gregor Clegane, or Amory Lorch, or to Grandfather. Mother blames the wicked Dornish. Joffrey blames evil Northmen magic. But Tommen knows, he knows that it’s the monsters. He has seen them in the night! They are in the walls! They are beneath the beds!

Tommen told Margaery to run before he fled the wedding feast. He hopes she survives. But he can’t think of more than finding his hiding place. He’ll never make it out of the castle, not with the smallfolk starving and so angry at them. He’ll sneak out at night, before the monster goes feeding. And then he’ll head…somewhere. Anywhere but here!

Try as he might, Joffrey haunts his steps. His bloated purple face, the bile and blood spilling down his chin to pool in Mother’s lap. Mother screamed and screamed when he died, like the day when they couldn’t find Myrcella or Father. The monsters must have killed him too, like everything else in this castle. And now he is alone!

Tommen shrieks, and claws at his hair. He can’t breathe! They can hear him! They can smell him! He is next!

He crouches down on the bed in the corner. He wills himself to breathe but he’s too afraid. Joffrey is dead! Myrcella is dead! Grandfather is dead! Will they ever find his body?! Tommen chokes on his sobs and his entire chest aches. He hurts. It hurts. The fear, it hurts, make it stop—

He collapses to the ground. He writhes, and scoots beneath the bed, and muffles his screams into the dust and the dark.

Tick—tick—tock, are you ready or not?

Tick—tick—tock, listen to the clock!

Hasten off into the black, don’t waste another heartbeat,

Don’t you peek! Hide and seek!

Dragons roar from over Kings Landing, and Cersei sobs into her hands. She should be on the Iron Throne to meet the usurpers, but then they burned her Kingsguard at the gates and—and she panicked. She ran, and hid beneath a servant’s bed.

King Aegon Targaryen the Sixth, come back from the dead! With silver-gold hair and bronze skin and indigo eyes, thirty thousand Dornish spears at his back and that miserable little chit Shireen Baratheon as a bride with the Stormlands as her dowry! And Daenerys Stormborn, Queen Beyond the Sea, come to help her nephew claim his throne with their shared dragons! They each ride one, with one reserved for the sister that Lannister men murdered along with godsdamned Elia Martell! Cersei could scream, but then they’d find her.

She must escape.

If she makes her way back to Casterly Rock, then she shall be saved. No dragon can defeat the heart of the Westerlands! Cersei can still salvage this, even with all her family dead and her dreams scattered to ashes in her throat—

At least there is no valonqar. The prophecy took her children from her, but her neck is still her own.

At least she got to hold Joffrey as he died. Myrcella and Tommen had no bodies to bury. He was her first, and her last, and she prays that he found his siblings from wherever those wretched monsters stole them away.

Muffled footsteps creep from beyond the corridor and Cersei can’t breathe. A servant? A Dornish spear? A Dothraki? Daenerys? Aegon? A monster?

Bare feet enter the room, splattered with dirt and blood. One of Varys’s little birds? They skip to the edge of the bed, and a sweet voice rings out, “Found you!”

Swift as night and brutal as the Blackwater, a hand reaches under and grips Cersei by the hair. She screams as she is dragged out, and then she can’t scream because hands are at her throat and twisting—

Let the countdown begin!

10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1!

Rhaenys peeks out from behind the door. All is still and silent. Not even the flies are buzzing. She stifles a giggle into her hands. Aegon raises an eyebrow, and she explains, “Everyone always hides under the bed. A child’s mistake, it can be forgiven with time and wisdom.”

He shakes his head, before resting his chin on her head. “You’ll never need to hide beneath the bed again, I swear it.”

“I know.” She trusts her brother. She loved him before he could even remember her face, of course she trusts him. Him, and their aunt Daenerys, and their family in Dorne, and all her friends hiding in the walls—Rhaenys shall never be alone again.

Her family are in the throne room, and she shouldn’t keep them waiting. How happy they will be to see her! How happy she will be to see them! The weight of years of hiding bows her shoulders. It is time for her to stop hiding, stop seeking, stop this game and take her place in Aegon’s circle. He will be so proud to see how she’s survived. Mama would be proud. But Rhaenys…well, old habits die hard.

She shimmies beneath the bed and pulls Aegon down with her. He laughs and she lets the shadows become her. Just once more. Once more, the darkness becomes her. Rhaenys bares her teeth in a grin. What better tool for a new king than a monster who knows where everyone hides? Aegon survived the last game between them, and she’ll keep it that way.

She tells Aegon to count to ten, and he holds his breath.

A clock ticks somewhere.

There are many who covet the throne. And the countdown begins anew.

Ready or not, here I come!

#becky blue eyes #asoiaf fanfiction #horror fanfiction #rhaenys targaryen

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oneweekoneband · 4 years ago

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I’m slightly nauseous already with knowing I’m going to say this, but what does “self-awareness” even mean? In modern parlance, as a descriptive phrase, as a comment on art? I’m asking in earnest, like, I’ve been Googling lately, which for me is basically on par with doctoral study in terms of academic rigor. The self is king, anyway, tyrant, so where is the line of distinction between material that intentionally is nodding at some truth about the artist’s life and what’s just, like, all the rest of the regular navel-gazing bullshit. I mean, I’m all self, I am guilty here. I can’t get it out of my poems or even make it more quiet. This is the tenth time I’ve invoked “I” in the space of six sentences. Processing art has always necessitated a certain amount of grappling with the creator, but the busywork of it lately grows more and more tedious. Joy drains out of my body parsing marks left behind not just in stylistic tendencies and themes, but in literal, intentional tags like graffiti on a water tower. This feels an age old and moth-holed complaint, dull, and I am no historian, or really a serious thinker of any kind. I’ve now complained at some length about self-referential art, but didn’t I love how Martin Scorsese nodded to the famous Goodfellas Copacabana tracking shot with the opening frames of last year’s The Irishman? Didn’t I find that terribly fun and sort of sweet? So there’s distinctions. I’m only saying I don’t know with certainty what they even are. I’m unreliable, and someone smarter than me has likely already solved my quandary about why self-knowledge often transforms into overly precious self-reflexivity in such a way that the knowledge is diminished and obscured, leaving only cutesy Easter eggs behind. Postmodernism has birthed a moralizing culture where art exists to be termed either “self-aware Good” or “self-aware Bad”. Self-referentiality in media is so commonplace, so much the standard, that what was once credited as metatextual inventiveness often feels lazy now. In 1996, Scream was revitalizing a genre. Today, two thirds of all horror movies spend half their running time making sure that you know that they know they’re a horror movie, which is fine, I guess, except sometimes you just wanna watch someone get butchered with an axe in peace.

This is all to say that in 2020 Taylor Swift looked long and hard upon her image in the reflecting pool of her heart and has written yet another song about Gone Girl.

“mirrorball” is a very good piece of Gone Girl —feels insane to tell anyone reading a post on a blog what Gone Girl is but, you know, the extremely popular 2012 novel about a woman who pretends to have been murdered and frames her husband for it, and subsequently the 2014 film adaption where you kinda see Ben Affleck’s dick for a second—fanfiction. It would be a fine song, a good song, really, even if it weren’t that, if it were just something normal and not unhinged written by a chill person who behaves in a regular way, but we need to acknowledge the facts for what they are. When Taylor Swift watched Rosamund Pike toss her freshly self-bobbed hair out of her face and hiss, “You think you’d be happy with some nice Midwestern girl? No way, baby. I’m it!” her brain lit up like a Christmas tree, and she’s never been the same. If you Google “taylor swift gone girl” there waiting for you will be a medium sized lake’s worth of articles speculating about how Gone Girl influenced and is referenced in past Swift singles “Blank Space” and “Look What You Made Me Do”. This is not new behavior, and if anything it’s getting a bit troubling to think that it’s been this long since Taylor’s read another book. Still, while the prior offerings were a fair attempt at this particular feat of depravity, “mirrorball” has brought Taylor’s Amy Elliott Dunne deification to stunning new heights. And most importantly, Taylor has done a service to every person alive with more than six brain cells and a Internet connection by putting an end to the “Cool Girl” discourse once and for all. By the power invested in “mirrorball”, it is hereby decreed that the Cool Girl speech from Gone Girl is neither feminist or antifeminist, not ironic nor aspirational. No. It’s something much better than all that. It’s a threat. I ! Can ! Change ! Everything ! About ! Me ! To ! Fit ! In !

Gone Girl (2012) by Gillian Flynn

“mirrorball” (2020) by Taylor Swift

When the twinkly musical stylings of Jack Antonoff, a man I distinctly distrust, but for no one specific reason, whirl to life at the beginning of this song I feel instantly entranced, blurry-brained and pleasure-pickled like an infant beneath a light-up crib mobile or, I guess, myself in the old times, the outside times, three tequila sodas deep under the disco lights at The Short Stop. Under a mirrorball in my head. I know very little about music, as a craft, and I really don’t care to know more. I’m happy in a world of pure, dumb sensation. I’m not even sure what kind of instruments are making these jangly little sounds. I just like it. I am vibing. We may not ever be able to behave badly in a club again, but I can sway to my stupid Taylor Swift-and-the-brother-of-the-lady-who-makes-like-those-sweatshirts-with-little-sayings-or-like-vulvas-which-famous-white-women-wear-on-instagram-you-know-what-I-mean song, pressing up onto my tiptoes on the linoleum tile of our kitchen floor and can feel for a second or two something approaching bliss. “mirrorball” is a lush sound bath that I like a lot and then also it’s about being all things to all people, chameleoning at a second’s notice, doing Oscar worthy work on every Zoom call, performing the you who is good, performing the you who is funny, performing the you who draws a liter of your own blood and throws it around the kitchen then cleans it up badly all to get your husband sent to jail for sleeping with a college student... Too much talk about making and unmaking of the self is way too, like, 2012 Tumblr for me now, and I start hearing the word “praxis” ring threateningly in my head, but I’m not yet so evolved that I don’t feel a pull. Musings on the disorganized self—on how we are new all the time, and not just because of all the fresh skin coming up under the dead, personhood in the end so frighteningly flexible—are always going to compel me, I’m afraid, but that goes double for musings on the disorganized self which posit that Taylor Swift still thinks Amy Dunne made some points.

Because on “mirrorball” Taylor is for once not hamfistedly addressing some “hater”, in the quiet and the lack of embarrassing martyrdom it actually offers an interesting answer to the complaint that Taylor is insufficiently self-aware. This criticism emerges often in tandem with claiming to have discovered some crack in the chassis of Swift’s public self, revealing the sweetness to be insincere. My instinct is to dismiss this more or less out of hand as just a mutation of the school of thought that presumes all work by women must be autobiography. And, regardless, it is made altogether laughable by the fact that anyone actually paying attention has known since at least Speak Now, a delightful record populated by the most appalling, horrible characters imaginable, and all of them written by a twenty year old Taylor Swift, that this woman is a pure weirdo. To accuse Taylor Swift of lacking in self-awareness is a reductive misunderstanding, I think, of artifice. Being a fake bitch takes work. Which is to say, if we agree that her public self is a calculated performance—eliding the fact that all public selves are a performance to avoid getting too in the weeds yadda yadda— why, then, should it be presumed that performance is rooted in ignorance? Would it not make more sense that, in fact, someone able to contort themselves so ably into various shapes for public consumption would have a certain understanding of the basic materials they’re working with and concealing? Taylor Swift, in a decade and a half of fame, has presented herself from inside a number of distinct packages. The gangly teenager draped in long curls like climbing wisteria who wrote lyrics down her arms in glitter paint gave way to red lipstick, a Diet Coke campaign, and bad dancing at awards shows. There was the period where she was surrounded constantly by a gaggle of models, then suddenly wasn’t anymore, and that rough interlude with the bleached hair. The whole Polaroid thing. Last year she boldly revealed she’s a democrat. Now it’s the end of the world and she’s got frizzy bangs and flannels and muted little piano songs. Perhaps this endless shape-shifting contradicts or undermines, for some, the pose of tender authenticity which has remained static through each phase, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been doing it all on purpose the entire time. I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try...

In the Disney+ documentary—which, in order to watch, I had to grudgingly give the vile mouse seven dollars, because the login information that I’d begged off of my little sister didn’t work and I was too embarrassed to bring it up a second time—Taylor referred to “mirrorball” as the first time on the album where she explicitly addressed the pandemic, referring to the lyrics that start, “And they called off the circus, Burned the disco down,” and end with “I’m still on that tightrope, I’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me,” which actually did made me laugh, feeling sort of warmly foolish and a little fond, because it never would have occurred to me that she was trying to be literal there. I suppose we really do all contain multitudes. Hate that.

#taylor swift #folklore

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babbushka · 5 years ago

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Magician!Kylo?!? This could be set any time, but I picture it in the Victorian era where occultism is high! Tall, dark, very dark, handsome, definitely mysterious and can hypnotize you with a touch or a glance! Fog, firelight, darkness, decadence, horse drawn carriage sex lol. Lots of possibilities! I hope you love this idea as much as I would love to be his on stage assistant! Thank you for all your wonderful writing!!!

(1.4k, mentions of mild gore in the magic act)

Oil lamps flicker and flare along the damp street lamps, as boots and heels scuff cobblestone. Horses whinny in the rain, chuff and neigh as their masters urge them down the streets, down down down towards the theater, the only bright attraction in this dull corner of London.

The line moves quickly as thunder cracks, as lightning illuminates the inky black alleys, as working class people on their night off shuffle into the theater. Sixpence was an easy price to pay, and nearly all could afford it – and nearly all did, and nearly all showed up, waited with bated breath for admission, waited to see him.

Kylo Ren the Incredible, the Magical, the Great.

The crowd murmurs in their seats, just beyond the red velvet drapes. They are thick and lined with fringe of gold, that had been your choice, your request. Nothing spoke of an enchanting beginning to an extraordinary evening, than velvet drapes. It is a full house, this evening showing sold out, and quiet excitement thrills you as you twist and stretch in your outfit.

Kylo is at your throat, as he always tends to be. His white gloves grasping at your breast, as he sucks a mark just below your ear, hums into your pulse. You grin, he’s excited about this show, has a new act, has a new means to dazzle and amaze – and tonight is its debut.

“The show begins soon,” You warn, doing nothing to dissuade him from ravishing you, “Darling you must go to your mark.”

“In a moment, I’ll go in a moment.” He murmurs, making you laugh enough that you must stifle the sound of it, for the music is dying down. When the music ends, the show begins, and truly, Kylo must get to his mark.

Yet he still buries his face into your tits, takes a deep breath of the sweet powdered perfume you laid there, makes you smile. The scar which splits his face shines in the low lamp-light, before he is nothing more than a puff of smoke, making you roll your eyes once again. You’re immune to his charms, you know all his tricks. Or do you?

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kylo’s voice surrounds the theater, and the crowd goes deathly still as they try to pinpoint how who what where why – “I welcome you, to our show.”

The curtains open to an empty stage, although it only remains empty for a moment, only for an instant, before sparks fly from the floor and when the fireworks have settled there he is, there is your Kylo. The crowd gasps, and you can see from just beyond the wings of the stage, that Kylo quirks a grin.

For an hour he dazzles them, card tricks and illusions that get them enchanted, get them entranced. Kylo pulls coins from the ears of small children in the audience and makes them laugh, gives the coins to the children whom Kylo knows have never held one of such worth before. He pulls doves from his top hat, materializes eggs and ribbons from thin air, and you sit in the wings and enjoy the way that the crowd oos and ahhs, for surely such feats are impossible.

But then, then it is time for this new trick, then it is time for you.

He introduces you to the stage, and the crowd sits up a little straighter in their seats, watches as your fishnet clad legs stalk across to where Kylo stands at center stage. You push out a great big box on wheels, and the crowd gasps, because what could possibly be inside?

“Marvelous, isn’t she? My beautiful wife.” Kylo says, so softly that almost no one can hear it, says it just for you. He turns to the audience then as you set up the act, as you open the box and reveal that there is nothing inside. “You know my good people, sometimes I think she’s so incredible, I wish I could have two of her.”

You smile, before climbing into the box, waving to the audience before Kylo closes the box onto you, so that only your head and legs are exposed.

“In fact, tonight I think I just might get my wish.” Kylo says, as he spins the box around to show the audience that there are no strings to this trick.

Your heart pounds, you hope it works, you hope the illusion is a success.

The audience gasps when Kylo pulls out a great big saw – cartoonish almost, in its size and shape. The saw’s teeth are razor sharp, or so they appear. The audience doesn’t know, they are on the edge of their seats.

Kylo opens the door of the boxes so your body is visible through the little glass windows, and somewhere out in the theater, a child asks if you’re going to be alright. He then closes the doors, and begins to saw through you, begins to hack into your body.

You scream, deliciously and loud, as the crack snap pop of your flesh and bone make the audience cover their eyes, their ears, their mouths. Kylo grins like a maniac, like some unhinged monster, as he saws into you, all the way through to the very bottom.

“Do you think we got her?” Kylo asks the audience as he removes the saw, “I’m not so sure.”

He inserts more blades through the center of the box, by now the crowd is shouting, hollering, demanding to know what he thinks he’s doing. You try not to laugh at their rage on your behalf.

He pushes apart the two halves of the box, wheels them each around so that the audience can see you are fully cut in half, contained in each section.

Your legs kick on one end of the stage, your body writhes on the other. There are shocked gasps, children standing up to get a better look only for their parents to yank them back down into their seat again, as Kylo spins the two halves of your body independently.

“Kylo!” You shout, mock-angry and not in any pain at all, “Kylo put me back together this instance!”

“But darling I was just having a little fun.” Kylo playfully responds, stunning the audience.

How are you not dead? They saw the blades stick into your body, they heard the crunch of your bones. How are you still berating him, how are you still alive?

“My foot itches.” You complain, and one of your legs kicks dramatically, making them laugh, reminding them that this is nothing more than some incredible trick.

“As you wish my dear, I shall stitch your body together before all these good people, so that they may bear witness to our greatness.” Kylo rounds up the two boxes once more, fits them together.

He waves his hands over them, and all the latches and clasps pop and snap together. He pulls out all the blades, the saws and swords. You give a loud moan or two for good measure, the relief of your limbs attached once more flooding through you.

And then, the box is opened, and out you climb, and the audience has their jaws dropped.

You bend and twist your body around, showing them all that there’s not a mark on you – well, not one caused by swords at least, lest they look too close to your throat. And when you’re in Kylo’s arms once more, when you strike your pose as the music crescendos to an end, the crowd roars with applause.

It is the most remarkable thing they have ever seen, the most incredible, the most confounding, the most astounding thing – and they do not know how to process it other than with raucous applause.

The spotlight shines on you and your man, your Kylo, as you take your bows, as he thanks the audience for their attendance, as they ask for more more more beyond the spill of light. They call your names and throw roses at your feet, a simple thanks for transporting them to a world so much more fascinating than their own.

When the last of the crowd has gone, when all that remains is fog and the eerie crank of music, when there’s murmurs on the streets of how did they do that? Kylo grins against your mouth, licks across your teeth, holds you close in silent gratitude, in an embrace tighter than your corset.

And as the red velvet drapes close, you cast a gaze to the empty seats, the echoes of their cheers lofting in the rafters. Kylo snaps his wrist and the lamps blow out and you can’t help but roll your eyes fondly at this man, this man you so adore, with all his occultist tendencies, with all his supernatural powers.

Or were they supernatural at all? You don’t know.

After all, a magician never reveals his secrets.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren imagine #victorian au #magician!kylo #Anonymous #cowboy answers

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iwantutobehapppier · 5 years ago

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Nobody Loves No One (1/?)

Pairing: Bucky x Enhanced Female Reader

Summary: You know one thing, James Buchanan Barnes was trustworthy and you weren't. When he inserts himself into your family drama and past can you show you're worthy of his trust or deign to hurt him as most of life has?

Word Count: 4,312

Warnings: Eventual Smut, night terrors, angst, verbal abuse, implied abuse, canon typical violence, and cursing. 18 and older only

A/N: This is something I’ve been working on for a while. I really hope you all enjoy it. I’m not sure how many chapters it will break up into. I am still working on the 2k requests I promise! I just really wanted to get this out there after months of working on it. I once saw a note on an AO3 story where it said “Continues to aggressively ignore canon” that's how it is here. Steve didn't go to the past, Avengers Compound rebuilt and everyone is alive. I hope you all enjoy! Reblogs and comments welcomed!

There wasn't a moment you knew him that you didn't trust him. The harsh realization that you never felt this way about anyone else, family included, made keeping him at a distance the only option but hard to follow through with.

He noticed right away, after all, he was trained in the art of reading a situation. Honestly, you weren't trying to be subtle just trying to protect. This only made him seek you out more.

James Buchanan Barnes was trustworthy, you weren't.

You killed for fun in the past, enjoyed the hunt and more than anything lived for the warmth of your enemy’s blood spilling down your hands. Winter Soldier didn't have a choice in his killings but you did and you always made the right choice, at least when you got older.

You became an Avenger to circumvent jail time and the killing became more methodical and less for pleasure. It was to complete the mission not bask in the trail of destruction you could cause. The first time you killed someone like the old days on a mission was in front of Steve and Bucky.

Blood from your broken nose covered your upper lip and chin. When the HYDRA agent punched you square in the jaw you screamed out, not in pain.

With a glower, you grabbed the startled agent by the shoulders and chucked him to the ground using your superhuman strength.

You whipped your boot knife out and fell on top of them using the momentum of your fall to push the blade completely into their chest. A gleeful smile pulled at your lips, your eyes dilated in pleasure watching the light fade from the shocked face of your adversary.

Steve calls out your name, you look up to the sight of him and Bucky charging towards you.

"We heard you scream," Steve’s voice trailed off, he slowed his approach at your blood-stained teeth on display in a sadistic smile.

Bucky continued forward, the deranged look did a lot to him but never a deterrent.

"You alright Toots?" You cocked your head to the side at the sound of his voice. The smile slipped from your face looking down in practiced shame.

"I'm fine." A hollow whisper.

Bucky stood next to you placing his metal hand under your chin forcing you to face up.

"Come on, there are more goons you can stab like a lunatic." You stood up your eyes hooded as an unhinged smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

They saw you in your most primal and pleasure-filled state, where Steve was cautious Bucky became fascinated.

He spent more time with you outside of missions, even had you watch movies during your joined insomnia fits. You learned he had a sweet tooth but only if cherry flavored or chocolate. He loved documentaries, he had watched Cosmos five times. When you introduced him to NOVA the two of you spent an entire night watching your favorites.

He told you about HYDRA late nights when the majority of the team would be away on missions, the violence and how it hurt when they'd wipe the slate clean. He only felt safe sharing in isolation, worried others could overhear even across the compound.

You joked once that it didn't matter after the data dump everyone knew. He was hurt at first but understood you were only trying to spare him the need to hide who he had been.

"Tell me somethin’ no one knows." He leaned into you on the bench at the lake dock. The stars and waning moon illuminating your furrowed brow in memory.

"I was 13 when I killed someone for the first time." The shame you had trained yourself to feel when enjoying death didn't come. Instead, you felt that smile Bucky liked to see on missions pulled at your lips.

"13 eh? What'd they do?" His eyes drifting towards you, that smile made him want to kiss you. Your lack of shame and his abundance something that drew the two of you together. A dysfunctional balance.

"Short version?” You ignored his gaze knowing he would look but never touch inappropriately. “He was touching a friend of mine in a way no adult should so I made sure he couldn't touch anyone ever again." You felt him tense as you leaned against him sharing the bench. A fleeting thought of maybe you shouldn’t have shared this chased away when his metal arm wrapped around your shoulders fingers so gentle curled around your shoulder.

"That was the first time I learned someone could bleed out. I didn't mean to kill him honestly just wanted him to stop." Your tone petulant.

A rough chuckle fell from his lips causing your body to shake as you remain against him. His arm pulled your back almost flat to his chest.

"Well Toots I'm sure ya learned real quick how to let 'em bleed without dying on ya"

You nodded your head in agreement, lesson learned indeed. You laid down, your head on his lap, a hand behind his head you toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Before Bucky would be embarrassed at the sudden intimacy but now he closes his eyes, an unconscious soft rumble pulled from deep in his chest past his lips.

Touching him with such ease was a slow progression that only happened in private. Neither of you ashamed but both apprehensive to show such affection openly. You could recall a time he would remain tense when your hand would rest on top of his. The ease in which you touched him slowly opened him to reciprocate and now you often found each other in such intimate but innocent embraces.

"You?"

"What people assume is a Nazi back in '43," there's a pause, gauging whether he could trust you as you trusted him. Like a fool he did.

"The truth is?" You implored he huffed, pushing your hair from your face he rested his metal arm on your stomach the other at the top of your head gently caressed the furrow wrinkles on your forehead.

"A guy Steve tried to stop from knifin’ this lady in an ally. He nicked Steve's arm and I lost it." Bucky took a deep breath, his metal hand on your stomach bunched up your shirt in a fist.

"I was so scared of Steve bein’ killed...I couldn’ stop myself. I only realized the guy was unconscious when Steve started yellin’ my name." Bucky swallow audible. "Saw his obit' in the paper a few days later."

"So we both didn't mean to." A short laugh escapes your lips.

"Accidental murders?" You shake your head at the idea.

"No never an accident. Always with intent even if I didn't know he'd bleed out I never regretted what I did to him." He was silent at that, you both knew he couldn't say the same there was too much unintentional and innocent blood on his hands.

"So how'd a 13-year-old girl get rid of a body?" You grimace and turn to face the lake, his metal hand slinking up your raised shirt. The cool metal hand resting on your lower stomach. He never pushed boundaries, though you would never admit it out loud you wished he would.

"Uh, so my father's a butcher and well he had this industrial meat grinder." Bucky's brows shot up.

"Oh, please tell me you pulled a Sweeney Todd?" Bucky’s love of musicals endearing especially when you’d catch him humming or the rare chance singing under his breath.

"My father would have killed me," you paused Bucky noticed the far off look in your eyes as you took in the softening hues of the horizon.

"I told him the next day after I put the remains in the dump.” You trailed off remembering your father’s tantrum. “He was upset don't get me wrong but I think that was the first time he was proud of me." With a bitter laugh, you sat up. Bucky pulled his hands from you with remorse, he wished he could remain in an intimate embrace forever, even if he didn't deserve such pleasures.

"But daddy issues will have to be for another night because looks like dawn is breaking." You nodded your head across the lake.

"Hmm, I like a girl with daddy issues." Bucky joked but you were fairly certain he meant it.

"I've got more than you can handle Barnes." You both stand stretching out your stagnant muscles before making way back to the compound to start another day with minimal sleep. Walking ahead you missed his last remark.

"You've got no idea how much I can handle toots."

Late one night you returned from a mission with Natasha. Parting ways you made your way to your quarters when halfway down the hall you hear soft whimpers, pausing you listen for where they could be coming from.

An agonizing cry carries through the door to your right. Bucky. Your heart began to race as you put your hand on the door handle. If he was hurting you didn’t want him to be alone. But was it your place to encroach in his personal life like this? You two were friends, close friends, but was this a boundary you could cross?

The whimpering starts back up and before you can think further you’re entering the room. It’s dark, but you can make out Bucky’s form tossing on his bed. You place one knee on the bed leaning over him, trailing your hand up to his flesh arm gently, trying to rouse him from his inner demons.

“Bucky,” The docile tone barely carries but it's enough for him to still, with your other hand you brush his hair off his damp forehead. His brow softens and you hate the way your heart flutters in response.

He rolls over to his side, his back to you and you remove your hand from his arm hoping this was enough to ease his demons for the night. A metal hand quickly wraps around our wrist. You try not to react, keeping yourself calm.

“Stay,” His voice is sleep ridden, the deep richness much more alluring than should be possible. He tugs your arm and you fall onto his bed. Your chest against this back.

“Please” You ache, his voice shaky and vulnerable, you wrap your arm around him, placing your palm center in his chest and rest your head on your bent arm.

“Of course,” Is all you can muster as he burrows into you. His breath evening out quickly.

When morning comes you aren’t sure what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this. Your fingers curl into a soft shirt as sleep began to fade, laying on your stomach your cheek pressed against warm firm muscles. Your eyes snap open and lookup.

Clear blue eyes peer down at you, Bucky halfway propped up against his headboard. The soft side smile curling on his lips makes stupid fluttering in your chest again. Oh, this was not good. Bucky’s arms curled around your back pushing you into him. Or was this perfect?

“Morning Toots,” the timbre of his voice pulls you back to reality.

“Morning,” Slowly sitting up to one side of the bed you stretch your arms above your head looking around. It hadn’t been even 4 hours since you crawled in bed with him but it felt like you had a full night rest. Looking out the corner of your eyes you catch Bucky still watching you.

“Thanks for last night,” A warm hand rests on your back, it's comforting in a way you can barely remember feeling in your life.

“Of course,” you mutter feeling uncomfortable with your own emotions. Bucky raises a brow at the shift, clouds forming over his eyes insecurity at seeing and hearing about his night terrors two different things.

“I mean,” You try to recover, not wanting to hurt him with your own damage. “Of course I’d be there for you.” looking at your lap you finger the hem of your sleep wrinkled shirt. “There’s no one I’d be there for more,” you look back at him bitting your lower lip, “Thank you Bucky.”

Something shifted, his eyes softening with an easy smile. You squeak when he pulls you back into the pillows.

“Alright Toots,” he mutters, your head below his chin both facing upward. “Let’s watch some morning cartoons then maybe breakfast?”

You nod your head unable to utilize your voice at this intimacy.

"I told you I'd take care of it just like I told you never to call me." Bucky paused at your cracked door, alarmed by the uncharacteristic rush of words and panic in your voice.

"They aren't gonna do shit," he knew he shouldn't be listening on what was clearly a private conversation but he could never stop himself when it came to you.

"Pops, they know if they pull anything I'll take them down and this time it won't be innocent getting hurt. They're all plenty guilty." Bucky could hear your teeth grind together spitting the words out.

Bucky could make out an older male voice saying your name with worry over the phone thanks to the serum enhancements. Worry over what was still unclear.

"They came round last night is all and gave their cryptic bullshit." Loud coughing came through on the phone "I thought you should know. Don't let me stop you from playing the superhero."

When the cell phone beeped for end call Bucky made his way towards his room.

He didn't see you again that day until he came to your door to see what movie you'd like to watch later. You were pulling your worn leather jacket on and the look on your face told him he wasn't going to like whatever you had to say.

"I'm sorry Buck but I gotta take care of some personal matters and I don't know how late I'll be." You pull your bottom lip between your teeth in worry. Missing time with Bucky seems like a crime considering how close you two had grown over the months.

He wanted to say I heard you on the phone don't do whatever stupid thing you might be doing alone but all he could get out was "That's alright, you want some company?"

"Nah, I think I should go it alone. Maybe next time?" You offered. Wouldn't it be nice to introduce him to your family? Pretend for a moment both of you weren't cracked pieces but instead friends with normal nuclear families.

But you didn't play pretend, not anymore.

"Be safe Toots." You left with nothing else.

He followed you if you wouldn't invite him along he'd at least keep an eye on you. Bucky knew you would only be upset if he got in the way but also knew if you needed help you weren’t someone to ask for it. Your tone on that call left him feeling uneasy about you going alone, while you didn’t need protecting Bucky couldn’t help the way he felt.

He almost lost you right away when Steve just had to show him this cute video he found online.

"I've gotta go, man!" Bucky's knees bounced erratically as he sat at the table waiting for Steve to pull the video up on his tablet.

"Jeez, where do you even need to be?" Steve muttered navigating the tablet.

"I've got stuff going on outside this place." Steve eyed Bucky but nodded his head.

"I can't find it right now anyway. Go on and stop acting like you've got ants in your pants." Bucky took off before Steve had even finished.

By the time he caught up, you had passed Hackensack and still heading south. Where you going into the city? He knew you were from the city but not sure where.

Keeping a safe distance you both made it to Staten Island. He shook his head taking in the sights of what used to be bustling areas of Staten Island now run down with some abandoned industrial buildings and overpopulated projects.

When you stopped in front of a butchery he knew this was the place and grabbed his trusted Betsy, useful in keeping a proper eye on you and safe. Not that you needed a lot of help with the latter. Looking across the street at the destitute multi-family building he decided that would be the most advantageous.

You walked into the brick worn store feeling nostalgia and apprehension all at once with the dinging of the doorbell atop the door frame.

"Pops?" You called out trailing your fingers across the wrapped hanging meats. He hadn't moved the unsold meat to the walk-in yet. You remembered long-lasting bruises from beatings over not getting the meat back in the chiller before dinner.

Your name was called out from the back but it sounded strained. Your brow creased, slowly making your way to the back end of the establishment.

Taking notice of the walk-in fridge door open and the yellowed overexposed strip curtains flapping you called out for your dad once more and his response sounding strained still from inside the fridge.

Standing a few feet in front of the barely see through curtains you could make out what appeared to be your dad in a chair. If you weren't suspicious before you knew now, things weren't right.

You took one step closer to the walk-in before someone charged out, a pipe in hand. Grabbing the pipe before it could impact, you head butt the would-be assailant gaining a sick satisfaction from the sound of their skull cracking. Your enhanced strength and skeletal makeup always fun for taking out bad guys.

A forearm wrapped around your neck from behind, you managed to get one hand between the arm and your neck to keep direct pressure off. Feeling the muscle in the arm and chest now pressed against your back you knew this one would take more work.

With a macabre smile, you began to charge the two of you back to the front of the shop slamming their back into a meat display case. Once the grip loosened from the behind, you flipped him from behind by holding the back of his neck, letting him land on his ass in front of you. Without missing a beat you snap his neck and release him to crumple on the floor.

"How many more?" You grunted.

"I don't know shithead maybe 20? They went upstairs." Your father's hoarse voice called from the walk-in. As you passed by and lifted a curtain slat to make sure he was alright you noticed the worn lines along his face you were unfamiliar with. In the past decade of your life, you had avoided him as much as possible, unwilling to subject yourself to his verbal abuse.

"You gonna die on me old man?" Helping him stand you took a catalog of his wounds nothing seemed severe, appearing they only roughed him up saving the lethal force for you.

Making your way up to your father's flat just above the shop you tried to quell the fluttering in your chest at the thought of all the carnage you were about to unleash. Seeing the light underneath the door you were almost giddy with excitement. No Avengers here to see the delight you took in pain.

Rolling your shoulders back and cracking your neck you whipped out two knives and kicked the door in, sending it off its hinges and into the room. The men inside are dressed in the typical mog sleaze attire you almost roll your eyes but knew better. They charged and you retaliated.

The sound of a window shattering followed by bodies drop you around you and high power rounds freeze your assailants in place but you fall to the floor for protection.

They brought a sniper?!

You were stunned as the men sent to attack you had bullets flying through their skulls. With a grimace, you stood back up realizing who was behind the gun.

"Bucky," you hissed in agitation.

Taking out a guy charging to your right from the kitchen with a quick uppercut feeling the jaw crush at impact and foot to the chest cracking ribs and sending them flying into a wall, you made your way over the pile of bodies to the shattered window.

Stilling you heard the baseboards behind you creak, ducking you whip your head back and smiled at the sound of a whizzing bullet flying through the air. The man behind you falling to the ground.

Standing up straight you lifted the holey curtain to the side looking up at the rooftop across the street.

Under the cover of darkness, you could make out his metal hand giving a two-finger wave and his stupid handsome boyish smile. Nodding your head in thanks, you made your way back downstairs to your father, assured Bucky would be there in no time as well.

You found your father dragging a body from the front end of the shop towards the basement access leaving a trail of blood. Rolling your eyes you lifted the body up with ease then proceeded to toss it down the basement stairs.

He stared you down, keeping eye contact you raised an eyebrow challenging the old man to say a word. Before the traditional verbal sparring could start between you two the sound of boots crushing on broken glass interrupts.

Your father puts his fists up at Bucky's dark shadow leaning against the frame between the front and back of the shop. Bucky studied the body language between the two of you. Your father was a short man and the only visible familiarity the scowl you both pointed his way.

"Pops, this is a friend. That's my job right?" Your father side-eyes you, one that used to scare you as a child now reminds you how much you hated him as a kid.

"We need to call the team," Bucky made his way towards the two of you.

"No!" Your father and you echo. Bucky's brow rises in suspicion, stopping mid-step.

"Listen, Barnes,” Bucky frowned at the formality. “I don't expect you to understand but I've got old contacts that can help me take care of this." You try to keep it vague knowing he'd press you about it later if he felt it was pertinent.

"Yeah Barnes," your father's chest-puffing out and you roll your eyes at him trying to assert dominance. "They're pretty good at cleaning up these messes shithead makes."

"My mess?!” Your face written with disbelief. “ Pretty sure you made this one all on your own." He really hadn't changed over the years, never any culpability. Arguing you missed the way Bucky's eyes narrowed on your father.

"Now shithead," Bucky’s hands curled into fists at your father’s disparaging words. "I may have caused the situation but you laid the bodies down."

The animosity in the back of your father's butchery was palpable. Just like growing up. The only new piece in the aquation being Bucky’s steely glare pointed at your father. You didn’t have it in you to wonder why he held such a hard look for a man he just met. Though your father didn’t really instill much camaraderie in strangers, let alone in his own family.

"Call them and clean up the shop old man." Walking past your father he grabbed your upper arm, looking back at him, his eyes softened in an abnormal manner.

"Don't be dumb," his voice full of concern caught you off guard. Not knowing how to handle this side of a man you only knew as rough you pulled your arm from his grip.

"It's all I know how to be right?" Looking at Bucky you nodded your head to follow him out the front. Missing the remorseful look of your father.

Standing in front of the store with Bucky you feel nervous. When he steps in front of you keeping eye contact you lift your head up and feel your heartbeat faster but not from the adrenaline of a fight.

His eyes locked onto the blood marring your check, his right hand comes up to wipe clean. You stop breathing for the briefest of a moment at his touch.

"You're dad's a real charmer, Toots." You chuckle shaking your head causing his hand to fall away. "I'm starting to see why you killed so young, dad like that would drive anyone to violence."

You can't help the glare you direct at him.

"He didn't drive me to murder, not at first at least." Bucky opened his mouth to clearly inquire what that meant but you cut him off.

"I appreciate your help Buck," you rest your hand on his left shoulder squeezing gently where metal meets flesh "I really do but I've gotta do the next step on my own."

"And what's that?" Bucky wiggled his eyebrows and you sighed, it was hard to refuse those beautiful blue eyes.

"If you're gonna come with I'm afraid you'll get more red on your hands." Bucky shrugged his shoulders with a flare of dramatics your hand slipping off.

"I'd hate to miss seeing that little crooked smile you get when you enjoy a kill." He takes a step closer, your breaths mixing. "Really gets me going." His words and smirk that slides over his face pull a gasp from you.

"James Barnes!" Your tone hushed with an indiscernible tone, "your momma know you talk to ladies like that?"

His smile only widened, skin folding at the corner of his eyes.

"What she don’t know won't hurt 'er." He lifted his hand gesturing towards his car. "Betsy's secure in the back waiting to see what other shenanigans you can get her into tonight." You snickered at his nickname for his m249.

#james buchanan barnes #james barnes #Bucky Barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky x Female Reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #eventual smut #cannon violence #bucky barnes x reader

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xantchaslegacy · 5 years ago

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MtG Characters as TMA Avatars

The Desolation: Lady Orca

Made out of molten tar. Spends every on-screen moment in the novels burning stuff or expressing an excitement for burning stuff. Hates pretty much everyone. She’s Jude Perry if Jude was seventy feet tall.

The Slaughter:

Massacre Girl (Honorable Mention)

We have so little lore on this wacky gal, but her brand is so strongly the Slaughter that she’d probably be my top pick if not for this entity’s strong affinity for music, which means my actual selection for this slot is:

Crovax

He massacres, he slays, and he loves doing it. Most importantly, he made a huge piano out of screaming people. This is slaughter boy.

The Spiral: Kozilek

Feels like a bit of a cop-out to name an eldrazi for any of these, but Kozilek is too perfect of a fit here, IMHO. Twisting perception, making your surroundings untrustworthy, and generally turning reality into a lie is exactly ol’ Cosi’s bread and butter.

The Web: Thantiss

There are a few characters I was tempted to put here. The weaver king for one, but there’s not really a good picture of him. Emrakul is a pretty perfect manipulator, and one whose schemes we still haven’t seen the full extent of, but I didn’t want to list multiple eldrazi.

Thantiss fits the web nicely in their place, for the obvious literal spider reasons, but also because she does manipulate the emotions of other creatures with her mind-magic to create the conflict she feeds on.

The Eye: Dovin Baan

An advocate for and master implementer of surveillance systems on multiple planes, and one of the individuals (formerly) best equipped to make use of the power to see all.

The Hunt:

Gull and Greensleeves (Honorable Mention)

By the time we get to Final Sacrifice, these two (and their not-inconsiderable forces) have become apex hunters and subduers of wizards. They’re not quite as condensed an example of hunter energy as some others in MtG lore, and their activities are limited to Dominaria, which is why my top pic is:

Garruk

There’s a few good contenders for this title, but few characters combine(d) the aesthetic of the hunter with the feral energy and quarry-seeking desperation that Garruk pulled off during his time under the Chain Veil’s sway. Bonus avatar points for having been cursed.

The Dark: Elspeth

The sun’s nemesis. What more could you ask for? ;)

The Vast: Serra

Mostly an aesthetic nomination. Mostly because whole floating field look of Serra’s realm evokes the energy of the vast better than most other planes. Also I really like the vast because their avatars are the most relatably enthusiastic about their patron.

The Buried:

Hazezon (Honorable Mention)

Gets buried points for casting the high-level spell that literally buried Johan’s army and an entire city in desert sands, but it’s not quite defining enough of a characteristic (I know, sand tokens), plus he’s a tad too well-adjusted to be an avatar. The real contender, I think, is:

Braids

Bear with me. As a dementia caster, she’s already primed to be a fear-powered powerhouse. And since her semi-ambiguous death involved getting entombed under the earth, we have the perfect incubation setup for a buried avatar.

The Flesh: Memnarch

A bit of an iffy choice, since Memnarch spends a lot of time and energy fighting against the mycosynth that transmutes metal to flesh (and vice-versa), but he’s so immersed in, consumed by, and defined by that struggle and his own transformation into meat that I think he fits the bill.

(Note: Memnarch is probs a good contender for the Eye as well, but that’s more his means than his fixation)

The Extinction: Yawgmoth

Another perfect fit, imo. Brought death to whole societies, then whole planes, and supplanted life on a staggering scale with the phyrexians. His horrific work continues to replace entire civilizations with the compleat to this day.

The Corruption: Jarad

There’s lots of buggy folk in MtG (Xira 2 and Kei come to mind), but I like Jarad for the corruption because he checks a lot of boxes. Communicates with and controls a large range of insects. Family man (sorta). Really into the insect aesthetic. Underwent a transformation to become the lich lord of a whole guild with a major focus on fungus and creepy-crawlies.

The Stranger: Halfdane

Able to look like anyone? Check

Delights in replacing and tormenting others? Check

Giggling, sadistic and unhinged? Check

The Lonely: Ugin

No friends, few confidants, generally unliked. And now alone in a watery plane of exile with his brother for the next few thousand years.

The End: Tevesh Szat

An ender of lives and civilizations since his sister’s killing. If death isn’t the appropriate theme for a character who, in the face of apocalypse, tries to rack up the kill count even faster, I don’t know what is. Plus he was included in the Nine Titans specifically to die, and to bring more death by having died.

#mtg #tma

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