#we have to think that she was almost certain he was dead at this point
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- Answer the question, Miss Scully! - What is the question?
The X-Files | S04E09 'Terma'
#the relief she must have felt#we have to think that she was almost certain he was dead at this point#and then he just Arrives#from outta nowhere no warning#clearly injured but not too obviously#and it galvinises her to continue and make the case she wants to make#beautiful for them#aside but the fact that the orchestra didnt '''swell''' here is actually a musical crime#i mean i appreciate the trumpet dont get me wrong but like. we could have had a string swell!!!#x files#the x files#s04e09#terma#the scientist speaks#my gifs#gillian anderson#dana scully#david duchovny#fox mulder#notes: 100
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oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT
oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.
SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint â and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)
so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place â did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!
so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas â and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.
the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats â an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!
now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.
here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline â which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading â you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out â but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.
but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.
so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.
anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.
#using the tags as a footnote system here but in order:#1. quentin MAY not be dead according to some theories but in the text he is a charred corpse#2. arianne is great and i love her but to be honest. my girl is kinda dumb. just 2 b real.#3. faegon is totally a blackfyre i think it's so obvious it may well be text at this point#it's almost r+l = j level man like it's kind of just reading comprehension at this point#4. relatedly there are some characters i think GRRM has endings picked out for and some i think he specifically does NOT#i think stannis melisandre jon and daenerys all will end up the same. jon and dany war crimes => murder/banishment arc is just classic GRRM#but i think jon's reasoning will be different and it'll be better-written.#im sorry but babygirl shireen IS getting flambeed. in response stannis will commit epic battle suicide killing all boltons i hope#brienne will live but in some tragic 'stay awhile horatio' capacity. likely she will try to die defending her liege and fail#faegon will die there's zero chance blackfyres win ever#now jaime/cersei I do NOT think he knows. my brothers in christ i don't think this motherfucker knows who the valonqar is!!#same with tyrion i think that the author in GRRM wants to do a nasty corruption arc + kill him off but the person in him loves him too much#sansa i have no goddamn idea what's going to happen. we just don't know enough about the northern conspiracy to tell#w/ arya i think he has... ideas. i don't think she's going to sail off to Explore i am almost certain that the show doing that was a cover#because the actual idea he gave them was unsavory or nonviable for some reason. bc like.#why would arya leave bran and jon and sansa? the family she's just spent her whole life fighting to come back to and avenge?#this is suspicious this does not feel like arya this does not feel right#bran will not be king or if he is it'll be in a VERY different way not the dumbfuck 'let's vote' bullshit#i personally think bran is going to go full corruption arc and become possessed by the 3 eyed raven. but that could be a pipe dream#the thing is he's way too OP in the show so the books have to nerf him and i think GRRM is still trying to work out#a way to actually do that.#i don't think he told them what happened with littlefinger or sansa. i think sansa's story is vaguely similar#(stark restoration through the female line etc)#but the queen in the north shit is way too contrived frankly. and selfishly i hope she gets something different#being a monarch in ASOIAF is not a happy ending. we know this from the moment we meet robert baratheon in AGOT#and we learn exactly what GRRM thinks of the people who 'win' these endless wars of succession#and they are not heroes#they are not celebrated#and they are neither safe nor happy
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Other Worlds
Azriel x reader
Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.
Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."
Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cuts from a fall, my silly wordplay
A/N: I loved writing this, it really had me in my silly sense of humor (at one point Azriel is jealous because he thinks Xanax is a person) and just like also so happy to have written my first request! I hope you like it Anon and tolerate my silliness.
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âDo you think sheâs dead?â
âHard to say, you fall that height and would expect itâ Nesta gently rocked the body back and forth with the sole of her shoe and you groaned.
âThis is exactly why you shouldnât practice without Amren Nestaâ Feyre bit out.
âAnd how was I supposed to know that a human would fall out of the sky? And besides, I did catch her before she hit the groundâ Feyre gave a huff to her sisterâs bored tone.Â
âBut not before all the trees Nestaâ
âDetails, detailsâ
âRhys is gonna kill you, we have to move her before he finds outâ Feyre got level with your marbling body, sticks and leaves sticking out of your hair from your fall through the canopy above. Nesta folded her arms across her chest in protest as Feyre rolled you onto your back, a deep whimper escaping your throat.
âWell sheâs not deadâ
âFor nowâ Nesta raised an amused eyebrow before rolling her eyes and squatting to lift your feet as Feyre caught your shoulders with her own disapproving look.Â
âHer clothes are so odd, is it continent fashion?â
âHard to say, the material on her legs is soâŚdense?â Nesta replied, a thumb rolling over the cuff of your jeans, your Doc Marten burying into her sternum.
The two sisters carried your weak body through the hillside towards the cabin they had retreated to for a break from the Illyrians. They reached the humble home after a small uphill climb in the Winter air and gently placed you down on the couch again. The two stood then at the foot of the couch, unsure of what to do next with their new house guest, a thud from outside followed by a swear interrupting their thoughts.Â
âShit it's Azriel with the food supplies you forgotâ
âYou forgotâ Feyre returned
âWhatever, here help me cover herâ The two sisters sheathed you in a thick woollen blanket as Azriel pushed through the door causing the females to shoot straight up, standing shoulder to shoulder to try to hide you behind them.Â
âHey, I dropped a bottle of liquor on the path sor- what are you two doing?â he looked suspiciously at the two, plopping the crate of food down by the mouth of the door.Â
âNothing!â their heads snapped to one another at the same time, cursing their simultaneous reply.Â
âYou two have the same look on your face that Cassian had when he was trying to hide the blood ruby he got from Summer Court after his experiment with arsonâ he gave a laugh that turned nervous when the females didnât do the same, another almost panicked glance shared between them.Â
âWell if thatâs all Az, thanks for comingâ Feyre made a quick movement to Azriel, catching his shoulders and turning him back towards the door, Nesta taking a wide stance to try to obscure more of you.Â
âFucking hellâ your voice rattled out in pain as you pushed to sit up, the wool sinking down to your lap as your heavy hand found your bleeding head. Azrielâs eyes grew to nearly the width of his skull as he looked frantically between Nesta and Feyre.Â
âShe did it!â they said in unison again, pointing to one another.Â
âOh Rhys is going to kill youâ he whispered angrily, moving to the couch as Nesta sidestepped, throwing an anxious look at Feyre.
âWhe-re the fuck a-m I? What happ-ened?â your hand traced through your thick hair, branches catching in the locks. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, trying to bring the cozy cabin into focus before swinging your legs to the ground and supporting your weight with one arm. Your movement went entirely still as you looked up to find the three members of the Night Court staring at you with matching bewilderment.Â
âAm-am I dead?â Your stare landed on Azrielâs wings, conclusions forming quickly.
âNo unfortunately notâ Feyre elbowed Nesta into the ribs as Azriel analysed your whole figure with his hazel eyes, his shadows swirled around his feet until they wrapped around yours. Your shriek of pure terror caused them to dash back to their master.Â
âYou're okay!â Azriel tried but it was too late, you were in full panic mode, your system shutting down in utter distress until you felt your blood pressure hit the soles of your feet after hitting the ceiling, sending you into a loss of consciousness.Â
âNice going you big bat, you killed herâ Azriel gave a dirty look towards Nesta, her eyes rolling for the thousandth time that day.Â
âSend for Madja-â
â-Rhys will kill Nesta for thisâ
âWell I think her little magic trick will die without herâ Feyre folded her arms into her chest, weighing up the options.Â
âWe could give her the tonic that's here, let her heal without everyone gawking at her at home. Iâll go back with Nesta and explain, by the time weâre here again perhaps sheâll be healed and Amren will be home from her travels and can send her backâÂ
âAnd am I supposed to play healer Feyre?â
âWell you have more experience with healing because of the battlefield than us and besides, Nesta isnât known for her bedside mannerâ Azriel sighed before rubbing a hand across his face at Feyreâs logic, she showed him how you got here in his head to help her point.
âOkay fine, go but if she dies, Iâm not to blameâ They nodded in agreement, taking another look at your floppy body before heading for the door with their things, kicking the box of supplies out of the way.Â
Azriel lifted your legs slowly back onto the couch before fetching a dish full of mountain water and healing tonic. He hovered the cloth over one of your large gashes that had cut straight through your straight-leg jeans. He looked over your body, unable to hide his curiosity towards the university logo decorating your sweatshirt, the deep purple colouring at the very ends of your hair as well as the multiple pieces of metal piercing through your ear's cartilage. Despite the series of cuts and bruises generously coating you, Azriel believed you might be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and you were entirely out for the count.Â
He sighed, dropping the cloth back into the dish and going to make tea with another healing concoction. He rolled his shoulders back and tucked his wings in as tight as possible to minimise their appearance before gently tapping your shoulder to bring you around. When that didnât work, he fetched one of Cassianâs training boots and ran it beneath your nose, you stirred immediately. You went to shoot up in shock, his strong steady hand, gently pressing you back down.Â
âYouâre okay, youâŚyou just fell but youâre okay.â he said as softly as possible, the ease of his voice unable to settle the rising worry across your face.Â
âI-I fell?â he gave you a small nod, not entirely a lie he thought to himself.Â
âFucking hell my head-â you once again ran your hands down your face, the dry blood slightly flaking in the movement â-do you have any paracetamol or something?â
âPara-what-almol?â Azrielâs eyebrow raised in question before he reached for the tea he made for you from the small table behind him. You removed your hands from your face and looked towards the squatting Illyrian, taking in the beautiful male in front of you, pain being replaced by embarrassment. You pushed up despite his disapproval look, returning to the same position you were in before you fainted.
âSorry, I should-I should go? EmmâŚwhere are we?âÂ
âThis is Velarisâ
âVelentia?! How did I get here?!â You shot to your feet in surprise, the blood rushing and sending you shakenly back to the soft fabric almost as quickly.Â
âNo, Iâm not sure where that is but youâre not there, here take thisâ he passed the cup with a half laugh and you looked down unconvinced.Â
âNo thanks man, not here to be poisonedâ Azriel scoffed in slight offense as he watched you wince to put it back on the small table. You look down at your freshly ripped jeans, your fingers tracing the fresh wounds.Â
âIâm Azrielâ His voice brought your eyes back to him as he passed you the soaked cloth, allowing you to run it over the gashes.Â
âYNâ You gave a small smile back, fighting the singe of the elixir.Â
âYN? Thatâs an odd nameâ
âYou say that as if thereâs an Azriel at every petrol station in townâ You half laugh, more questions entering Azrielâs head than answers. Azriel rose to his feet and headed into the kitchen with the abandoned groceries as you finished with your leg, starting on your forehead.Â
âNo paper here or something?â Azriel looked towards you as you took the cabin in in all its glory, Feyreâs artwork the object of your marvelling.Â
âTheyâre Feyreâs, she was here earlier. She went a bit mad up here when she found out Rhysand was her mateâ
âMate? Oh sheâs like Australian?â
âWhat? You speak in riddlesâ he laughed, joining your side on the couch with his own cup of tea. You looked at it with an air of hunger, not unnoticed by the Spymaster, he looked from the cup to your face.Â
âYou can drink it YN, itâs not poisoned, here look Iâll take a sipâ You watched him take a taste before offering it back to you where you took it from him, its fresh floral taste having an almost reviving effect, you drank it almost one gulp.Â
âNow, Iâm afraid you canât go home just y-â
âFuck I knew it! Whatâs in this tea?! Iâm being kidnapped!â You shot towards the door, almost knocking the dish of water all over the floor, sending Azriel swearing. You reached your exit and with a wave of his hand, Azriel locked it from the inside.
âYN, no one is going to hurt you, you just, this is going to be hard to explain, one of myâŚfriends brought you here by accidentâ You still tried to pull on the knob of the door, glancing from it to Azriel as he stood to close the distance.
âStay back! I know self-defence!â Azriel couldnât hold his laugh at the small human girl before him threateningly looking at him. He went to catch your arm softly, only for you to send your heavy-booted Doc straight into his instep, followed by the base of your palm up and into his nose, the shock of your sudden movement catching him off guard. He groaned slightly reaching for his nose as it bled, missing your hand reaching for the keys in your pocket and the mace on the keychain. Azriel roared at the feeling of the spray of chemicals burning into his eyes, sending him onto the floor writhing in pain.
âFuck! Fine! Die in the snow!â He shouted out, waving his hand and releasing the door. You hardly heard him, whipping the door back as the now night air lashed in near-freezing gails of icy snow. You fought the tornado of air as you put the oak door between you and it, sliding down the wood to the ground, your body screaming in pain still from the fall. Azriel sat up, still blinking hard to clear the burning liquid.Â
âAnd you thought Iâd be the one to use poisonâ A breathy laugh left him as his red eyes watered and you found yourself matching his smile.
âI promise I wonât kill you, if you donât kill meâ he gave you a genuine look and for some reason you felt such a wave of trust hit you. You agreed, too tired to run from him or face the snow and you rolled your head along the door before looking back at the Illyrian, tracing your eyes along his linen shirt and leather pants
âAre you in a motorbike gang or something?â
âGods I hope you start making sense soonâ he pushed up from the ground, doing his best to not untuck his wings for balance. You looked up at him and reluctantly took the hand he offered, noting the deep scaring covering them like burls on a tree. He followed your eyes to his hands before he gingerly took them back to replace them across his still-stinging eyes. Azriel threw himself back down on the couch and you followed suit.
âIâm sorry about the-â you gestured to your own eyes and he gave a small laugh.
âItâs okay, Iâm impressed a human would have such speed, to be honestâ
âHuman? And what are you a fish?âÂ
âNoâ he didnât return your laughing tone, only reaching for your disregarded cloth and placing it over his eyes. Your hand ran down the side of your jeans until you retrieved your phone, the screen fully destroyed from your dance with the trees.Â
âGreatâ you sighed, throwing it down on the table, Azriel watching the action.Â
âNesta couldnât save your mirror from the fall?â
âNesta? Rhysand? Azriel? No one called like Dave around here?âÂ
âNot really the fashion in Prythianâ he smiled.
âPrythian? Like from the children's stories?â you chuckled at him.
âNo, Prythian like the realmâ he tossed the cloth back into the dish, the red in his eyes subsiding.Â
âMy mom used to tell me stories about Prythian and these like great bat boy warriors with these really big-big-winâŚâ you trailed off as you looked to see the shape of Azrielâs wings over his shoulder.Â
âReally big? Well, thanks for the flatteryâ He laughed aloud as your face greyed.Â
âFuck, itâs happened, studying for my physics final has finally driven me insane, this is all in my head, a stress-induced dreamâ Azriel reached to your thigh and gave you a gentle pinch following your matter-of-fact speech, causing you to flinch a little.
âOkay so not a dreamâŚâ
âNot a dream, my brotherâs lovely ma-wifeâs sister, pulled you through a sort of rip in the realm and landed you hereâŚnot very carefully might I addâ He said softly so as to not have you black out again, you nodded very very slowly to his words. You faced away from him, fixing your stare on the smashed phone, you thought of your physics lectures. The theories of tears in the fabric of time being possible, the possibility of alternative realities, the possibility of unexplored realms before settling finally that this wasnât a possibility, this was a reality.Â
âSo, okay, right-â you bit your lip, working through the thought, Azriel trying to push the shiver down his spine away at that action â-okay cool, right, so Iâm gonna need like an excuse note or something for the exam and then, right, cool, Xanax maybeâ
âIs Xanax a friend of yours who can help?â Your head shot towards Azriel at his genuine question and you let a roar of laughter leave you.Â
âDefinitely although I donât think theyâre here somehowâ you offered with a smirk, Azriel feeling a weird sense of jealousy at not being the object of this smile.Â
âWell, weâll make do and try to get you homeâ You nodded sheepishly to him.
âDo you not want to go home YN? You seemed pretty eager when you tried to break my nose earlierâ he smiled and you gently knocked into his shoulder playfully.Â
âI meanâŚIâm not in a rush to get back to the testâÂ
âOkay well, it will be a day or two before my friends are back and Rhys has calmed down over Nesta bringing you to greet us so youâll have time. As for now, care to have something to eat? You can help me make it so we both know neither is trying to poison the otherâ he gave a light laugh while standing again, and you followed him along to the kitchen.Â
For the rest of the night, the both of you spent your time cooking, laughing and teaching one another about your worlds. Azriel explained the Courts, his role and his familyâs as well as giving a shortened version of their relationships with one another. In return, you told him about your studies, what Instagram was and how democracy works. Azriel wasnât sure heâd ever felt such strong feelings towards someone heâd just met before and it confused him almost as much as what microwaves were.Â
âHere you go, a glass of our best liquor, you deserve itâ Azriel passed you the tumbler as you sat cross-legged on the couch beneath the woollen blanket you were previously hidden under.
âOh slayâ
âNo, I didnât kill anything to get this for youâ You almost choked on the drink with the laugh that left you at his confused words.Â
âNo Azriel itâs like-actually maybe Iâll explain drag culture to you another dayâ He nodded eagerly at the prospect of learning more, sinking into the couch alongside you with his own drink.Â
âSo have you girlf-mate type person like Feyre and Rhys?â
âNo, no girlf-mate type person-â he teased back and you sighed, clipping him with the pillow from under your elbow â-do you?â
âNope, to be honest, I donât think Iâll be missed from home, I lost my parents young and never really found my flock at college eitherâ you shrugged.Â
âHow could anyone not miss you YN?â
âYou have to say that, youâre my captorâ
âActually Nesta captured you, Iâm just minding you-â You returned his smirk â-speaking of which, time for sleep, tomorrow they should be back to figuring getting you home for your examâ you whined like a misbehaving child but youâd been fighting off sleep since dinner so agreed with him.
He lead you to his room in the cabin before offering you one of his clean linen shirts and leaving you to sleep. You practically swam in the fabric, with no wings or Illyrian muscles to fill it out, feeling the same way about the colossal bed that you slipped into. You looked up at the ceiling where Feyre had painted delicate little consolations, the day washing over you, had all your prayers finally been answered? You smiled as you gave into the sleep that hunted you all day.
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âWe are sending her back!â
âAmren canât guarantee sheâll end up in her realm, sheâs not going anywhere!â You wiped the sleep from your eyes, Azriel's blunt tone waking you from the best sleep of your life.
âShe canât stay here Az!â
âAnd what if she ends up somewhere a lot worse, she coul-oh YN youâre awakeâ You looked from the doorway between the two gorgeous Illyrians.Â
âThis is Rhysandâ
âOh, your majesty I supposeâ you did a half bow after stepping closer to the males, a small laugh leaving Rhysand at the action.Â
âDonât flatter him YNâ
âYN, flatter me if that would make you happyâ he grinned, Azriel rolling his eyes.Â
âYouâre exactly as describedâ You shrugged at him, settling down on the couch between where the lllyrians stood
âI would like to apologies for NestaâsâŚinteruption to your day to day life and more so forâŚprobably being all Nesta when you woke upâ Rhysand offered, Azriel folding his arms tightly across his chest as he inspected you closely, you in his shirt may now be his favourite sight. Rhysand watched the slight change in his brothers demanour at your presence, this increasing his worry.Â
âNow YN, itâs time we get you back to-â
â-I heard you guys say you canât say for certain Iâll get homeâ you cut across Rhysand, his eyes darting back to you, Azriel trying to bury his smirk.
âIâm confident we know how to get you thereâ
âOkay cool, so Feyre will accompany meâÂ
âWhat?â Rhysand bit out.
âWell its just if youâre so sure youâll get me in the right spot, surely youâll have no issue allowing Feyre to accompany me yanno, since youâre confidentâ Azriel lost his battle in holding in his smirk.Â
âSheâs got you there Rhys, if one of us wouldnât do it, why should she?â
âBecause she doesnât belong hereâ Rhysand chewed out, locking eyes with his brother.
âShe is sitting right here and she isnât going near any wormhole or whatever if youâre not sure Iâd get there safeâ You forced his attention back to your with your sharp words.
âWho said anything about worms?â
âYN has a habit of speaking in riddlesâ Azriel sat alongside you, giving you a somewhat proud smile, his arm instinctively resting on the back of the couch behind you.Â
âYN, Iâm sure youâre great but I can almost guarantee that our world is vastly different to yours, itâs a lot to take on for your mortal mind, perhaps we could arrange a home for you in the mortal realm?â you tilted your head side to side weighing up his offer before Azriel replied for you.
âI can teach her our ways, I can school her like you did Feyreâ Rhysand sighed out but couldnât deny the way Azriel looked at you and you at him was deeply familiar to him.Â
âFine, a week, you may stay a week and if it doesnât work out then the mortal realm it is, weâll set you up with a nice manor and youâll live very comfortablyâ
âLike Downton Abbey?â you teased despite your audience.
âIâm not familiar with that regionâ
âIs that where the drag culture is?â
âOf sortsâ you laughed at Azriel and his quizzical words, his hazel eyes so enamoured by the sight, further cementing Rhysandâs suspicions. Rhysand sighed deeply ensuring you agreed to the terms and to be taught by Azriel before he left to continue to reprimand Nesta.Â
------------------------
Over the next week it became abundantly clear that despite being from two different realms, you and Azriel were made for one another. You both had the same humor and intelligence as well as thirst for knowledge. You continued to teach him about your home and he taught you about the new world around you and the more you learned the less you wanted to leave. On your first day in Velaris, you thought your heart may burst with the growing love for the place and even more so for your guide.Â
âAnd then Cass completely blew the building up, I thought the vein was going to burst in Rhysandâs headâ Azriel tilted his head back and laughed loudly while you both crossed the bridge of the Sidra, your last official day in the Night Court before you had to decide. Somewhere along the way, Azriel and your hands became interlocked and forgot to separate.
âYou live such insane lives hereâ
âAnd you could tooâ he stopped you in your tracks, his eyes warming over your body as he looked down on you, the sinking sun reflecting off of the snow.Â
âMaybe with less arson thoughâ he added with a grin you loved so much.Â
âAz, Iâd love to stay but-â
â-No, just say âAz Iâd love to stayâ and leave it thereâ he fought his faltering smile as you looked down at his shoes, both hands held in his now.Â
âBut Az-â you couldnât find the end of the sentence, the words lost on Azrielâs lips as they met yours with such searing passion. His mouth slotted over yours with such a perfect fit it was like they were always meant to be there. You stood further on your toes to deepen the kiss as his hands traced around the nape of your neck and yours landed around his torse. You separated when the need for air almost matched the need to never let go.Â
âI-I canât remember the end of my last thoughtâ you laughed lightly and he grinned. âSo youâll stay?â
âI donât think I was ever going to be able to walk away from youâŚwell not without mace anywaysâ you smiled back into another kiss, the second of many many more.
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Let Me Know What You Think Friend!?
Part Two
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acosf#acomaf#acowar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x oc#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#azriel fic#cassian#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#acotar fluff#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#sarah j maas#fanfic#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#rhysand#feyre archeron#smut#acotar smut
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Wear my name, be my girl
Theo, Blaise, Draco, Enzo and Mattheo
Bonus: Regulus Black (Marauders era)
An innocent laugh with the Weasley twins before the quidditch game gets someone jealous. When he intervenes it becomes clear that he wants you to wear his jacket and be his girl.
Thanks to this request!
I kinda processed the request wrong in my brain and instead of just writing for Theo and Mattheo, I wrote it for all of them. I wanted to write for Tom II Riddle but he doesnât give me quidditch vibes, so Iâm sorry no Tom. Also, not to sure about this piece, but I did have fun writing this. Anyways hopefully you have fun reading it.
For the Regulus Black bonus you can skip the intro.
It was a sunny, but chilly day. You breathe in the fresh air and head for the quidditch stadium. You arrived at the entrance and looked over to see if your friends were already at your regular spot, not noticing that a certain slytherin was staring at you. The slytherin team had just finished warming up when you arrived and he was about to get off his broom and leave his friends when the Weasley twins approached you.
âEarly bird are we?â Fred sings as he sees you scanning the stands. You nod and smile, happy to have found someone you know. âApparently too early, my friends arenât here yet.â Fred chuckles and takes a step closer. âWeâre here. Weâll keep you company.â George senses someone staring and looks over to the slytherins. âYeaah. That might cost us the freaking game.â You and Fred look a bit confused at Georgeâs words, so he points in the direction of the slytherins âYour boyfriend doesnât seem too pleased with us.â You follow his finger and you canât help but blush, before quickly looking away. âNot my boyfriend.â You chuckle. Unfortunately.
âMind telling him that.â Fred jokes. âHermoine told us heâs crazy obsessed with you always trying to impress you and stuff.â You shake your head at Georgeâs words. âDonât believe everything she says.â Fred smiles, noticing the slight blush on your face. âShe says heâs answering questions during class faster than she can.â George says and Fred immediately follows. âAnd letâs not forget that whenever he flies near you heâs always doing cool tricks to get your attention.â George nods in agreement. âThis game is going to be a curse, since heâs going to be even more arrogant and more eager to win.â Fred looks back to you. âAnd the way heâs staring daggers right now. Thatâs just unhealthy behavior.â You lick your lips and smile as the twins complain. âYou guys really donât like him?â Fred and George are baffled by your ridiculous question. âNo, we donât like him at all.â They both sing with humor as they state the obvious, making you laugh so hard you place a hand on your chest.
Theodore
You were too busy laughing to notice Theodore walk over to you, but the Weasleyâs do see him and quickly say their goodbyes. You look up at Theodore when he stops next to you, but continues to stare at Fred and George with dead eyes. âPlease, donât curse them.â You chuckle and make Theo look at you. âWhat were you talking about? You know theyâre just fools, no good knuckleheads.â You stare at him through your lashes, judging him with your eyes only. He sighs and throws his head to the side. âMaybe Iâm overreacting but I donât want them to get the wrong idea.â Your expression changes as you think for a moment. âWhat do you mean?â Theodore shrugs. âIf youâre always nice to them they might think you like them.â
You frown for a second. âBut I do like them.â Theodore rolls his eyes, a bit annoyed by how oblivious you were. âI mean like as in really really like them.â You chuckle at the suggestion. âTheo, weâre talking about Fred and George. Weâre really just friends. And donât tell me that guys and girls canât be friends, because weâre friends.â His face goes blank and you struggle to figure out what heâs thinking. After a few seconds Theo presses his lips into a line. âRight, of course.â Theodore almost wants to reach for his chest as he feels his heart squeeze. Arm I stuck in the friendzone? How did I end up in the friendzone? He tries to shake the insecure feeling that slowly creeps up on him, but just then he notices Fred and George looking your way and snickering.
âUhm, silly idea, but how about you wear this for good luck and to make sure that nobody bothers you again.â You watch him carefully take off his jacket and feel yourself get flustered at the idea of wearing a jacket with the name Nott on it. A nervous laugh rolls over your lips. âPeople will think something is going on between us. Earlier George already referred to you as my boyfriend.â You bite your lip softly after saying that last bit and Theodore canât help but wonder if you would like him to be your boyfriend. He definitely wants to be yours. âIâll take that as a compliment.â He smirks when he notices you blushing at his words. He takes a step closer to you and watches your pretty face heat up a little more as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders.
You slip your arms in the sleeves and allow yourself to get comfortable. You scan Theoâs face in an attempt to figure out what heâs thinking about, but just then Mattheo, who was running late, enters the stadium. As he passes you he notices youâre wearing Theoâs jacket. âFinally won her over, Notty-boy? About time.â Mattheo jokes and wants to ruffle Theoâs hair, but Theodore angrily pushes his hand away and gives Mattheo a scowl. Mattheo just laughs and walks over to the rest of the team to get scolded by Draco for being late. Theo continues to stare at Mattheo, cursing his friend and avoiding you. You watch Theodore as he refuses to look at you and youâre forced to take a step closer to get his attention. âJust ignore him.â Theo says with a sigh and you smile before looking down at your fidgeting hands. When you look up after a few seconds youâve made up your mind and shake your head. âNo, I wonât ignore it. How about you explain what he meant by âfinally won her overâ.â
Your eyes donât leave Theodoreâs face and a nervous hand moves through his messy hair. His tongue moves over his lips as he searches for the right words. âLetâs just say, I wouldnât mind if people thought you were my girlfriend, because I like that idea.â You take another step closer to him and look at him with teasing eyes. âYou like that idea ofâŚâ A smile tugs on his lips as he notices you get closer and urge him to confess. âI like the idea of you being my girlfriend.â A ridiculously happy smile spreads on your lips. âI must say I like that idea as well.â You try to sound as calm as possible, teasing him a little more, but your excitement is obvious. A soft laugh escapes his lips and he quickly reaches for your face holding you for a passionate kiss. When you break the kiss, his lips stay close to yours as you drown in each otherâs eyes. âYou should go back to your team before Draco freaks out.â He ignores your words and brushes over your bottom lip to ask for another intense kiss. âJust a few more kisses for good luck.â
Blaise
When Blaise approaches you three with his serious demeanor all laughter goes quiet and the twins awkwardly say their goodbyes. As soon as theyâre out of sight you turn towards Blaise, whoâs frowning in the direction they left. âDonât worry theyâre just being friendly.â He huffs, before finally turning towards you. âTrust me, no guy is ever just friendly.â You frown, before a smirk starts to tug on your lips. âOh, so every guy has an agenda?â Blaise nods, his eyes still dark with jealousy. âYes.â He answers without thinking it through and still glancing over in the direction of Fred and George. âSo whatâs yours?â You ask cheekily, happy that he got caught in your little trap and you cross your arms as you stare up at him. Immediately he looks at you and realizes what he said. You notice a hint of nervousness glimmer in his eyes as he averts his eyes and chuckles.
âMaybe not all guys. All Gryffindor guys. And Matt, he has like three agendas. And Enzo but his agenda is obvious, dude flirts with everyone.â Blaise tries to change the topic by ridiculing his friends. âBut you donât have a secret agenda?â You ask, not pleased with his answer. âNope.â He tries to sound casual, but his brain is working on an excuse to leave, because he could feel himself heat up. You chuckle. âGood, because for a moment there I thought you were jealous.â Blaise forces an awkward laugh. âNah. Why would I be?â You take a step closer and bite your lip. âI donât know, itâs not like weâre dating.â Blaise nods, but thereâs a hint of disappointment in his eyes. Weâre not dating. Iâm very much aware. No need to shove it in my face.
âAnyways, I better get going. Cedricâs waiting for me.â You make up on the spot, hoping to confirm your suspicion. âCedric?â Blaiseâs voice raises a bit, making his displeasure obvious. You try to suppress your cheeky smile and nod seriously. Blaise quickly realizes that he has no reason to keep you away from Cedric, but he hates the idea of you spending the entire game cosying up next to that damn hufflepuff.
Luckily Blaiseâs brain comes up with the perfect plan. âYeah, uhm, but before you go- I was just up there and it gets pretty cold, so⌠here take this and uhm be sure to wear it so you stay warm.â You can no longer contain your smile as Blaise takes off his jacket and hands it to you. You hold the jacket and stare at the letters forming his name. âIsnât it weird that Iâm wearing this? I mean weâre just friends.â Thanks for the reminder, not necessary. âFriends can wear jackets with their friendâs name on them.â Blaise argues and you laugh softly as you put on his jacket. âIâve never seen you wear Dracoâs.â He loved you wearing his jacket and couldnât help but stare, ignoring your counter argument. âWould it really be so bad if people thought we were more than friends?â Blaise suddenly blurs, still adoring you in his jacket. He needed to know, because he wanted you to be his girl and wear his name every game, and maybe even have his name one day.
You close the last bit of space between you two, so youâre now almost pressed against him. Itâs then that he realizes his feelings might not be one sided. You meet his eyes and with a soft voice you speak up. âNo, it wouldnât-â You fall silent when Blaise tilts your chin up. âAnd would it be so bad if we were more than friends?â You gently shake your head no and he leans in to kiss you tenderly. âTook you a while.â You tease when the kiss breaks and he smiles. âShut up.â He whispers, before kissing you again and wrapping his arms around him.
You both break the kiss when you hear the slytherin team cheer for Blaise and you. You look over to them and chuckle. Blaise pulls you against his chest. âHow about you wear that jacket to every game and I go search for some new friends.â You laugh at the last bit and press your lips against his. âDonât worry, if I can have you and your jacket, Iâll gladly make peace with your merry band of idiots.â Blaise leans in for another kiss, but is interrupted by Dracoâs yelling. âHey! You should be preparing for the game.â Blaise rolls your eyes. âMinus Draco.â You joke and Blaise raises his eyebrows in agreement. âOne last kiss for good luck?â
Draco frowns in annoyance as you and Blaise kiss for what feels like minutes. âTheyâre gonna have to part at some point right?â Enzo joins Draco. âI donât know if I got to kiss her, I wouldnât need air either.â
Draco
Youâre too busy laughing with the twins to notice an agitated Draco strut over to you. Itâs only when he literally pushes them aside that you meet his eyes. âCan you fools stop bothering her.â He snaps, his voice poisonous, and you cross your arms looking at Draco with a stern look. âThey were not bothering me.â Draco huffs, thinking he clearly knows better than you. âThey are always bothering you, talking to you for no reason.â Fred and George snicker. âLike you.â Draco looks at them with disgust and wrinkles his nose, before turning his face towards you. âWalk with me.â He demands with a calm and surprisingly gentle voice.
As soon as you're a few steps away from the Weasleys you meet his eyes with a stern look. âWhat was that for?â You snap and Draco drops his head knowing that you hated it when he was unkind to your friends. âI was saving you. They were clearly flirting.â You shake your head. âThereâs no need for you to be so protective of me.â Draco moves closer to you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. âYes, I do. Youâre sweet, innocent and ridiculously beautiful. If I donât watch over you⌠youâll end up with the wrong type of guy.â You soften, knowing that his concern for you is genuine. âI know you mean well, Draco, but canât you be a little less aggressive.â Draco sighs, not really seeing any problem in pushing people and snapping at them. He adores your sweet face and calms down. âMaybe there is a less aggressive way to keep idiots away from you.â You look at him questioningly and Draco slips off his jacket.
âHere, wear my quidditch jacket.â He hands it to you and you take it, but then you start to worry. âIsnât it weird if I wear it? Itâs something normally only girlfriends do.â Draco watches you put on his jacket regardless of your own argument and he shrugs. âIâm not really a labels kind of guy, but if you want to be my girlfriend, fine.â Your mouth drops a little. âThatâs not what I was saying.â Draco takes your hand and pulls you closer, placing his other hand on the small of your back. You blush as you're now pressed against him. You close your eyes and sigh. âWhy canât you just admit that you like me like a normal person.â Draco licks his lips and waits for you to look up at him, before speaking. âIâm in love with you, (y/n) (y/l/n). Wear my name, be my girl.â You feel stripped of all air as his honest words reach your heart and make it swell. âHappy now?â He whispers and you nod, cheeks burning with color.
âLove confessions arenât free.â He whispers before slowly leaning in. You smile and meet his lips for a soft kiss. âIâll wear your name and be your girl.â He stares at you and feels himself fall even more in love with you as you say those words. âGods, how can one person be so perfect?â He pulls you into a tight embrace, feeling like he needs to keep you close and safe with him. âCheer for me, will you?â Dracoâs soft whisper makes him sound almost vulnerable. You lock his lips with yours, kissing him passionately in an attempt to show him how much you love him. âIâll cheer for you like a crazy fangirl.â A bright smile forms on Dracoâs lips and he leans in to leave one more soft peck on your lips.
Enzo
You see Enzo approach and smile at him, but you also notice somethingâs different about him. âHello, fellas, howâs it going?â Lorenzo places his arms on Fred and Georgeâs shoulders. Fred and George look at each other and then to you. âI take it this is our cue.â Fred laughs and they both disappear out of Enzoâs arms. âDid I say something wrong?â He asks innocently, like his little dominant move wasnât obvious. You smile at him and softly shake your head. âYou came off a little jealous I guess.â You try to explain and Enzo shrugs. âIâm not, you can have friends.â You laugh and close the distance between you two.
âUhuh but youâll always be best friend, Enz.â Enzo groans. âYey me.â His words make you frown and he immediately feels embarrassed about his childlike behavior. âSorry, you didnât do anything wrong. Itâs just- I got my feelings all messed up after last night's kiss.â He had been crushing on you and at first he thought it was just a small thing that would pass, but it didnât. Terrified to ruin his friendship with you and lose what little he had with you, he buried his feelings. However, after last night all of those suppressed feelings were back in his head and heart, stronger than ever.
You feel your heart sink as he refers to the stupid drunk kiss that happened last night during a ridiculous party game. You had banished that memory to the back of your head, not allowing your feelings of love to ruin your friendship. âYou said it was just a silly kiss.â Enzo clenches his jaw. âI know what I said.â Youâre surprised by his harsh tone, this was a rare part of Enzo that almost never surfaced. You take a step closer to him and place your hands on his shoulder. âDonât tell me that some stupid kiss ruined our friendship?â Lorenzo sighs. âNo, I did that long before last night.â Your eyebrows knit together as you donât know what heâs talking about. Enzo shuts his eyes and presses his lips into a line before sighing. âIâve loved you since forever and⌠not being with you itâs eating me up (y/n). Please donât hate me for this, but if I canât have you, then I canât be your friend.â
Thereâs so much sadness in his voice it almost breaks your heart. When you donât immediately react Enzo moves away, but your hands on his shoulders wonât lead him and you pull him closer. âI know exactly what-â Enzo shakes his head. âNo, you donât.â You laugh. âYes! Yes, I do, Enzo Berkshire! Because Iâve been in love with you since forever!â It takes a moment for him to process, but when his eyes go wide you see his eyes light up again. The next moment his lips crash against yours for a long and intense kiss, while his arms wrap around you tightly, hugging you like only Enzo can. When he breaks the kiss his head still rests against yours. âCan I ask you for a silly little thing?â He whispers with playful eyes. You nod and Lorenzo lets go of you to take off his jacket. âWear this, for me. For good luck⌠and maybe also to make sure those Gryffindorâs know that youâre off the market.â
You turn around and Enzo helps you slip on his jacket. His body fills with pride as he sees you wear his name. âIâll wear it with pride.â You say and tug him by his shirt to demand another kiss. His hand holds your head, fingers entangled in your hair as his lips passionately move over yours. âIâm winning this game for you.â He whispers, before leaving to join his team.
Mattheo
You were too busy laughing at Mattheoâs expense to notice him walk over. With a foul smile and head held high he looks at the twins. âWhat are we laughing about?â His voice is calm, but heâs radiating fury. However, Fred canât resist fuelling him especially with the Gryffindor - Slytherin game starting in half an hour. âYou.â Fred says bluntly and Mattheo instantly steps in between you and the twins. Dark eyes focused on Fred. âWhatâs so funny about me?â Fredâs about to open his mouth when George decides to be the wiser one and slings his arm around his brother. âTime for one quick last round around the stadium, I think.â Coming to Georgeâs aid you place a hand on Mattheoâs biceps, urging him to turn away from Fred and face you.
âTheyâre absolute tossers.â Mattheo snaps at you when he finally turns away from Fred. You laugh at his frustration. âTheyâre funny, though.â Your little joke doesnât sit well with him. Part of him grew worried that maybe you had a thing for one of the twins. âAre you going to cheer them on or me?â He asks with an annoyed tone and piercing eyes, but as soon as he notices you take a step back he softens. He hated himself for getting so jealous and being so possessive of a girl that wasnât even his. Instinctively his hand reaches for your arm, softly brushing it as a gentle way of asking you to not move away from him. âI- I didnât mean to- I- I just thought they were flirting or something.â He chuckles, partly confessing he was jealous. He feels himself get flustered as you study him. You had never seen him behave like this, but he quickly regained his confident composure. âShall I fly you to your spot in the stands?â He offers in an attempt to distract you from his confession.
But youâre not letting him get away this easy. âSo what if they were flirting with me, Riddle? Is that a crime? Because last time I checked I was still single so-â Your teasing his cut short when Mattheo snorts, making you raise your eyebrows. He slightly clenches his jaw, cursing himself for not being able to control himself and allowing his arrogance to have the upper hand. âSo what⌠you want those guys to flirt with you?â His eyes focus on yours. âThey werenât flirting and if they were thereâs no reason for you to get all snappy about it.â You retort, crossing your arms. In his mind you were already his and he hated that you kept on reminding him that in reality you werenât his at all. When you notice his jaw clench, you roll your eyes and remind him once more of the one thing he canât stand hearing. âMatt, you donât need to worry about me, Iâm not your girlfriend.â
Okay, now you've done it. You notice a flicker in his eyes and then he quickly reaches for your arm, moving you behind the stands so youâre alone. âWha-?â He pushes you against the wooden wall of the stadium and cups your cheek. âYou should be my girlfriend.â His lips crash into yours forcefully and he pushes himself against you. It takes a moment, but you canât resist the intensity of his kiss and your hand sneaks up to his curls as you part your lips and kiss back. When he breaks the kiss he stays close to you and studies you while you press your lips into a line, realizing how quickly you kissed him back. You feel your cheeks heat up as you notice the smug smile appear on Mattheoâs lips. His fingers entangle with your hair as he leans in for another kiss, this time softer but still intense.
When he breaks the kiss, his eyes glimmer with pride and his smirk frustrates you. âI think you should wear this.â He says, taking a step back and taking off his jacket. âYou know, since youâre my girlfriend now.â You roll your eyes, but nevertheless turn around so he can wrap it around you. He pulls you with your back against his chest, strong arms wrapped around you, and traces your neck with sweet kisses. âCan I now fly you to the stands? I know your regular spot.â
Having you close against him as he flies around, making sure everyone has seen you with him while wearing his green jacket with his name on, was an unnecessary ego boost. He makes sure you land safely on your feet next to your friends. âDonât be too insufferable.â You warn him and a smug smile tugs on his lips. âCanât make any promises.â You go stand on your tiptoes. âIf you promise to behave, Iâll kiss you now that everyoneâs watching.â You swear you saw little lights in his eyes at your suggestion.
Bonus Regulus Black
Sirius seriously needed to keep his hands to himself, Regulus was fuming as he watched his brother brush a strand of hair out of your face. He had not been desperately trying to impress you for his idiot brother to swoop in and charm you with one decent gesture. âNot that you have any value to the Gryffindor team, but shouldnât you get ready for the game.â Regulus walks over to stand by your side with his broom still in hand, staring his brother down with disdain.
Sirius grins at his brotherâs obvious jealousy. âBe careful brother, your true colors are showing.â Regulus clenches his jaw and averts his eyes feeling a little caught, but thankfully his grinning fool of a brother leaves. When he looks over at you, youâre already smiling at him. âThat was a bit harsh of you. Nervous for the game?â You ask and heâs glad you offer him an excuse for his behavior. âYes, definitely the game. Though, Iâm confident weâre gonna put Gryffindor to shame.â A smug smirk tugs on his lips and you laugh at his confidence, but he immediately gets a little serious. âYou know, my brotherâs not a bad guy, but he can be a bit⌠uhm- invasive at times. So if heâs ever too much, let me know.â You smile and nod softly, not going to argue with a worried Regulus. âPromise?â Regulus watches you carefully, waiting for you to make the promise. You take a step closer to him and lock your eyes with his. âPromise.â
Just as he seems to be reassured enough to turn around and go back to his team, he notices a few guys glance over at you. He sighs and turns back around to you with a face filled with annoyance. Frustrated, he licks his lips as his eyes dart around. âWhy are you so tense?â You ask genuinely worried and you reach for his arms, gently squeezing them to calm him. âYou really are too precious to leave unchaperoned.â He breathes and you laugh at his choice of words. He sighs, but then a genius idea pops up in his head. âHere, wear this.â He sets his broom aside for a moment and lets his slytherin training jacket slide off his shoulders. When he hands it to you look at it with confused eyes. âItâs rather chilly today.â Regulus explains, but feels himself heat up. Maybe his attempt to claim you and protect you from others was a bit too obvious. You tilt your head and stare at his blushing cheeks, but you refuse to take his jacket since youâre a bit annoyed with his inability to come clean about his feelings.
He notices that youâre being a bit difficult about it and sighs, getting a little flustered. âJust do me a favor and wear it.â You shake your head in amusement. âFine, if you'll do me a favor as well.â You reach for the jacket and he nods, feeling a bit more confident now that youâre complying. You slip the jacket on and enjoy the warmth of it and Regulusâ scent, before taking a step closer to him so thereâs no space left between you two. âKiss me.â You demand and his eyes widen, not believing that thatâs the favor youâre asking for. Clearly you had seen through his subtle flirting and obvious jealousy of the past months. No denying it now, time to step up. He leans in, simultaneously wrapping an arm around, and brushes your lips before kissing you tenderly. You rest your hands on his shoulders and allow him to pull you against him as he intensifies the kiss. Slowly you break the kiss, but your eyes still linger on his as you enjoy being in his arms. âBe careful up there.â You whisper and itâs then that Regulus realizes exactly how perfect of a girlfriend youâre going to be. He nods and moves away from you, unable to hide smile. He takes his broom and heads back towards his grinning teammates.
#slytherin#slytherin boys#theodore nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#enzo berkshire#blaise zabini#enzo berkshire imagine#enzo berkshire x reader#blaise zabini imagine#blaise zabini x reader#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy#regulus black#regulus black x reader#regulus black imagine#papercorgiworldwritings
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aita for trying to summon a god to resurrect my wife?
i (142m) recently lost my wife (139f) to terminal illness. we were married for nearly 127 years, and were survivors of a disaster that destroyed our home city and killed nearly everyone in it. she was my best friend, the love of my life, and the light of my world. iâve spent months trying to move on, but the pain of losing her has only grown stronger since her death, with my grief eventually leading me to quit my job and travel in the hopes of finding something else to live for. i will be upfront in admitting that, in the process of quitting, i blew up the school i worked at (no one was hurt), almost killed my assistant (heâs fine), and released a bunch of monsters from the abandoned gated community i had contained them in a few decades prior (long story).
anyway, during my travels i came across a relic that contained immense necromantic power, but i quickly realized that i would be unable to utilize it for my purposes on my own, as my wife had been dead for several months by that time and was well past the point of resurrection by conventional means. long story short, i decided to harness the power of the same god that caused the disaster that destroyed my and my wifeâs former home.
as it turns out, my former boss (????m) picked up a kid (13x) off the street around the same time this was happening, and tasked my brother (also 142m, weâre twins) with teaching them magic. i wonât bore you with the details, but this thirteen year old now keeps following me around and fucking up my plans to reunite with my true love, which iâm frankly tired of.
(side note: this kid also won a fighting competition that hasnât been won by someone from our school since i attended. i need to remind you, they are thirteen. iâm not certain theyâd ever used magic before my boss picked them up, so i have no idea how this possibly could have happened, or when they had the time to even attend the fights since theyâve seemingly dedicated the majority of their time to fucking me over for no good reason.)
my ex-boss seems to think that summoning this being is a âbad ideaâ and could âdestroy the world,â but 1. iâm doing it in my already ruined hometown and 2. i think that the world is a small price to pay to have my wife back. itâs not like itâs worth much without her in it, anyway.
edit: shut up about the fucking giant tree itâs an unrelated current event. you canât prove that i actually did anything to him, and itâs rude to accuse people baselessly
#hi. this one is sillygoofy#wizard101#w101#wiz101#wizzy101#wizzy fandom#malvia#sylvia drake#malistaire drake#cyrus drake#merle ambrose#hazel speaking#m drake#s drake#c drake#ambrose#also i made up the ages and couldve donethe same for ambrose#but i think itâs funnier if mali just doesnt know how old he is
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Let's talk about vintage lenses.
Here is your cool samurai show with modern lenses.
Here is your cool samurai show with vintage lenses.
Hollywood is no stranger to fads.
We are currently in the middle of a "make everything too dark" fad. But that fad is starting to overlap with "let's use really old lenses on ridiculously high resolution cameras."
This is Zack Snyder with a Red Monstro 8K camera.
He is using a "rehoused" vintage 50mm f/0.95 Canon "Dream Lens" which was first manufactured in 1961.
This old lens is put inside a fancy new body that can fit onto modern cameras.
Which means Zack is getting nowhere near 8K worth of detail. These lenses are not even close to being sharp. Which is fine. I think the obsession with detail can get a bit silly and sometimes things can be "too sharp."
But it is a funny juxtaposition.
The dream lens is a cool lens. It has character. It has certain aberrations and defects that can actually be beneficial to making a cool photograph. It's a bit like vinyl records for photography.
[ Peter Thoeny ]
It has vignetting and distortion and a very strange swirly background blur.
[ Gabriel Binder ]
Optical engineers have been spending the last 60 years trying to eliminate these defects. And I sometimes wonder if they are confused by this fad.
"I WORKED 70 HOURS PER WEEK TO GET PERFECT CORNER SHARPNESS!"
And whether you prefer to work with a perfect optic or a vintage one... it is a valid aesthetic decision either way. I think vintage glass can really suit candid natural light photography. You can almost get abstract with these lenses.
[ Peter Theony ]
Personally I like to start with as close to perfect as possible and then add the character in later. That way I can dial in the effect and tweak how much of it I want. But even with modern image editing tools, some of these aberrations are difficult to recreate authentically.
That said, it can be very easy for the "character" of these lenses to become distracting. And just like when someone first finds the lens flares in Photoshop, it can be easy for people to overdo things.
Zack Snyder decided to be his own cameraman and used only vintage glass in his recent movies and it has led to some complaints about the imagery.
I mean, Zack Snyder overdoing something? I can't even imagine it.
Non camera people felt Army of the Dead was blurry and a bit weird but they couldn't quite explain why it felt that way.
The dream lens has a very wide aperture and it lets in a lot of light. But it also has a very very shallow depth of field. Which means it is very difficult to nail focus.
[ Peter Thoeny ]
Her near eye is in focus and her far eye is soft. You literally can't get an entire face in focus.
There is no reason you have to use the dream lens at f/0.95 at all times. But just like those irresistible lens flares, Zack couldn't help himself.
Here is a blueprint that you can't really see.
Extreme close ups of faces without autofocus at f/0.95 is nearly impossible to pull critical focus on.
Looks like Zack nailed the area just above the eyebrow here.
Let's try to find the point of focus in this one.
Ummmm... she is just... blurry. Missed focus completely.
But Zack isn't the only one going vintage. I've been seeing this a lot recently.
Shogun is a beautiful show. And for the most part, I really enjoyed the cinematography. But they went the vintage lens route and it kept going from gorgeous to "I can't not see it" distracting. And perhaps because I am familiar with these lens defects I am more prone to noticing. But I do think it hurt the imagery in a few spots.
Vingetting is a darkening of the corners of the frame.
Light rays in the corners are much harder to control. A lot of modern lenses still have this problem, but they create software corrections to eliminate the issue. Some cameras do it automatically as you are recording the image.
Vintage lenses were built before lens corrections where a thingâbefore software was a thing. So you either have to live with them, try to remove them with VFX, or crop into your image and lose some resolution.
It's possible this is the aesthetic they wanted. They felt the vignetting added something to the image. But I just found my eyes darting to the corners and not focusing on the composition.
And then you have distortion.
In this case, barrel distortion.
This is mostly prominent in wide angle lenses. In order to get that wider field of view the lens has to accept light from some very steep angles. And that can be quite difficult to correct. So you kind have to sacrifice any straight lines.
And sometimes this was a positive contribution to the image.
I thought the curved lines matched the way they were sitting here.
But most of the time I just felt like I was looking at feudal Japan through a fish's eye.
It's a bit more tolerable as a still, but when all of these verticals are bowing in motion, I start to feel like I am developing tunnel vision.
I love that this is a tool that is available. Rehousing lenses is a really neat process and I'm glad this old glass is getting new life.
This documentary shows how lens rehousing is done and is quite fascinating if you are in to that sort of thing.
youtube
But I think we are in a "too much of a good thing" phase when it comes to these lenses. I think a balance between old and new can be found.
And I also think maybe Zack should see what f/2.8 looks like. He might like having more than an eyebrow in focus.
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A 'TEA' PARTY (AZRIEL X READER)
Summary : The prince of Montesere was a heartthrob with his exceptionally good looks and charismatic words. You were raving about him to the girls but Azriel was having none of it.
Warnings : Nooone
A/N: You guys have no idea how EXCITED I was to write this. This is definitely one of my favourites. Enjoy !
"And he said 'I'll make time for you. Always.' I DIED. LITERALLY DEAD DIED." You said waving your hands animatedly.
The girls oohed and aahed while clutching their drinks. Feyre pretended to swoon, Mor was holding a hand to her heart and Elain went starry eyed. Nesta remained stoic but you could see the hint of a smile gathering at the corner of her lips. You would bet a 100 marks that it was straight out of one of her romance books.
"What's going on ?" heads whipped to the door where Gwyn and Emerie stood holding more snacks.
"Just in time! Get over here. You guys are missing out on top secret information." Mor helped them out with the snacks, sharing a shy look with Emerie.
"The Prince of Montesere is what is going on." Nesta said, a sly smirk on her face.
"Ooo..I've heard he's quite the charmer." Gwyn piped in and everyone nodded their heads enthusiastically.
"We think he has a crush on Y/N." Elaine said making a stupid grin crawl onto your face.
"What the fuck? Details PLEASE." Emerie grabbed the bowl of popcorn placing it on her lap to share with Mor.
A rush of joy consumed you as you looked around the room. All the girls were finally taking some well deserved time off and you were glad that you could spend it with each other.
"Okay." leaning forward as you channeled your inner storyteller. "Sooo...let me just start off by saying he looks DIVINE. Dark hair, dark eyes and don't even get me started on his voice...UGH. I think my ovaries might have exploded."
"Wait hold on." Feyre carried a confused look on her face. "Are we talking about the Prince or our shadowsinger?"
Silence engulfed the room.
Someone snorted and the entire room descended into laughter. Your face heated up. From embarrassment or from laughing you weren't sure of.
"She definitely has a type alright." Nesta said setting off a new round of laughter.
"OKAY LISTEN IN MY DEFENSE---" you shouted over the chaos.
"Don't even try." Mor was clutching her stomach, slightly wincing at the pain.
"OKAY SHUSH. Y/N CONTINUE !" Gwyn came to the rescue and you shot her a grateful smile.
"Anyways as I was saying.." you shot a pointed look at the girls daring them to say something. All of them had shit eating grins on their face.
Emerie and Mor had already finished half the popcorn.
"He showed me around the city and took me to all his favorite spots. It was very---"
"Did you make out?" Emerie interrupted and the girls leaned forward their eyes twinkling in anticipation.
You were about to respond but your face had already betrayed you , turning a scarlet red. Elaine and Mor squealed , almost falling off their seats. Feyre had a wide eyed expression on her face, her drink long forgotten.
"You should have STARTED with that, you idiot !" Emerie shouted, an incredulous look on her face.
"OKAY SHUSH. The most important question. How was it?" Gwyn made everyone settle down again as she awaited your answer.
You'd just opened your mouth to respond when Nesta asked "How big?"
Spluttering in shock, you smacked Nesta's arm. "I didn't sleep with him!" You hissed in a whisper. "We just made out. He is a really good kisser. I'll give him that."
"Tell me what this male is bad at. Why aren't you with him already?" Elain asked taking a sip of her tea.
"Honestly, he's too good to be true but.."
"He isn't a certain someone." Feyre finished for you, eyes softening in understanding. You'd never told the girls about your infatuation with Azriel but they knew. Somehow, they just knew.
You didn't bother denying it and just shrugged nonchalantly. A wave of understanding passed through the room. Almost everyone had been in a similar position before. Sometimes your soul craved another's so violently, it made you blind to anyone else.
"Well..it was fun while it lasted." you said breaking the silence.
"For two days." Emerie laughed softly.
"You should tell Az---" Mor was interrupted by the opening of the door. Seven pairs of eyes focused on Azriel as he stood at the door , looking sheepish.
"Look who's hereeee." Feyre said playfully, a blush rising on Azriels cheeks as he bowed his head.
"Rhys wanted me to grab a book." he muttered softly, edging towards the wall and trying to ignore the six pairs of eyes with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes.
You were just utterly mortified. Did he hear everything?
I put up a sound barrier. Wouldn't want the Illyrian babies snooping around. Feyre's voice echoed in your mind.
You shot her a grateful smile which immediately fell as she shot you a wink. Oh no. She was upto something.
"Az, tell Rhys I'll be there as soon as Y/N finishes telling us about her Prince."
Both you and Azriel stiffened, his back still facing you. Emerie dissolved into a fit of laughter that she was trying to hide behind her palm. Nesta's eyes twinkled at the prospect of messing with Azriel.
"I can't believe you're going to be a princess, Y/N !" Elain played along. You swiped a hand across your throat repeatedly, indicating at them to cut it off.
"He basically professed his love to you already. I don't know what you're waiting for." Nesta said looking like she was ready to plan the imaginary wedding if she had to.
Azriels shadows were growing a little agitated, rapidly bouncing off bookshelves trying to find the damned book.
"If he had wings, I'm sure he would have the biggest---" Mor cut off , finishing her sentence by widening her eyes and looking down.
Emerie choked on her tea, making it go up her nose. Mor rapidly hit her on the back trying to help and stop laughing at the same time. In her urgency to move, she'd knocked over the tea pot spilling hot tea over Gwyn's leggings.
Gwyn stumbled out of her seat fanning her hands at her legs like it would help. Elain grabbed the jug of water and threw it on Gwyn's leggings soaking the carpet beneath her. Feyre who had been about to fill a glass with water for Emerie stared at her empty hand where the jug had been.
Nesta watched the entire scene unfold before her eyes with mild interest , sipping on her tea.
You just stared, absolutely and completely horrified by the turn of events.
A tendril of shadow made its way over to you and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes behind your ear. You shivered from the sudden coolness and turned your head towards Azriel.
Wearing a cool mask of indifference, he walked out of the room pretending like nothing ever happened.
A/N: AHHHH, this entire thing made me feel some type of way.
Please take a min to leave a comment and let me know if you liked it as much as I did !!
#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#acotar series#azriel x you#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#acomaf#azriel imagine#acotar azriel#shadowsinger x reader#azriel spymaster#azriel fic#elain archeron#nesta archeron#feyre archeron#gwyneth berdara#emerie of illyria#mor acotar#acosf#azriel x female!reader
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The part I appreciate the most in the Lockwood and Co show is how it handles depression and suicidal thoughts in teenagers. As a theme, itâs not often (ever) done well. Lockwood and Co is the only story I can think of that depicts it in a nuanced, realistic, non-romanticized way
but first, before I get into it: [if youâre in crisis or need someone to talk to and donât want to/canât use your national hotline, highly recommend Samaritans, genuinely saved my life] okay, letâs go
Lockwood is the most obvious, with his general disregard for his own life and admitted suicidal ideation. Lucy struggles with her self-worth and the intensity of the emotions sheâs subjected to. George worries that he doesnât belong, that thereâs something useless or wrong about him. The show depicts these thoughts and feelings in a way that isnât overblown or dramatized, itâs all but casual. Which is how it happens. Depression or suicidal thoughts donât crash into you all at once, they creep into your life without you noticing
But more importantly (and again, something Iâve never seen anywhere else), the show also offers counterpoints to those thoughts and feelings. It shows that there is a way out, even though you may feel trapped and hopeless. This is crucial for the showâs target demographic. Bad media depictions of depression or suicide get internalized, contribute to the stigma, and make it harder for people to ask for help. This show doesnât do that. This show tells its audience that, yes, things are scary and painful and it fucking sucks, but itâs not hopeless. And it says it so well
In the second episode, when Lucy wants to quit, she admits something that Iâm almost certain sheâs never told anyone
âsometimes I just think Iâd be better off deadâ
And when I watched this the first time, I expected Lockwood to react the way Iâve seen people react in my own life; with silence or panic or downright dismissal. But he didnât. He stays calm and he says something that is so so important to hear when youâre struggling under the weight of feelings like this
âI understand thatâ
Saying this tells someone several things: that youâre on their side, they arenât strange or monstrous for feeling like this, and that youâre not going to attack or abandon them because of it. And you can see the impact it has on Lucy, the way her face clears. She went from struggling to breathe and near tears to calm and steady. Itâs no mistake that in this moment we hear his and Lucyâs theme for the first time (those simple, beautiful guitar strings)
The next thing he says is also important
âand itâs not trueâ
Simple, to the point, directly addressing her feelings, and (the most common mistake) doesnât make it about him. Telling someone that you love them or that theyâd be upset to lose you might sound nice, and it can be later on in the conversation, but in a moment like this, itâs infinitely more helpful to confront the thought itself
A similar moment in the first book stuck with me too, when theyâre underneath Combe Carey Hall and Lucy almost steps into the well. What sheâs hearing in her head (and the general phenomenon of malaise that ghosts produce) is very similar to depressive or suicidal thoughts. Before she can fall, Lockwood pulls her back
âno, Lucy, thatâs not the way itâs going to beâ
Depressive and suicidal thoughts deal in absolutes, so sometimes it takes an absolute to counter it
In the last episode, George has that heart-breaking moment where he says all the awful things he thinks about himself, partly because of the influence of the boneglass and Bickerstaff, but itâs also been building up, there in the background. Increasingly, itâs Lockwood and Lucy working together and George working on his own, which picks at old wounds (engineer, engineer, engineer, weirdo). He bonds with Joplin because he feels like she understands him in a way the others donât
âitâs nice to have someone to show off toâ
But Lucy pushes back against all that because she sees herself in all the ugly things George is saying, because sheâs felt that way too. She understands that. Sheâs so surprised and horrified to hear him saying those things, resigning himself to dying down there, sheâs not going to let him go on believing them
âyouâre not a third wheel or an oddball or whatever it is that you think you areâ
âyouâre the best of usâ
âwe are not losing you, Georgieâ
Flo called him that earlier too, but Lucy wasnât there for that and coming unprompted from her it sounds so much like something you might call your slightly annoying younger brother. Sheâs so absolute about it all, with no opening for doubt, and you can see something like surprise on Georgeâs face (but also pain because now Lucyâs in danger too)
For all Lucy knows, the boneglass will kill her. I donât think for a second she genuinely believes her talent will protect her; she told Joplin that to protect George. Itâs unclear when exactly she came up with the plan to use the skull, but she was willing to risk it anyway. And she knows, she knows, George will blame himself for this (because she would too, if it were the other way around), but even then, sheâs very clear
âthis isnât your faultâ
Their whole scene down in the catacombs is two kids trying to keep each other alive, physically obviously, but on the inside as well. And, oh god, George almost crashing down next to Lucy after heâs knocked over the boneglass, trying to wake her up. His voice
âLucy, Lucy, itâs me, itâs me, say something, speak to meâ
I think itâs down in those catacombs that George and Lucy really understand each other for the first time. In their own ways, theyâre both curious and suspicious about the Problem and what causes it, trying to learn more about it (and stressing Lockwood out in the process). They both left their families; they both struggle with feeling strange and different than everyone around them. That connection pulls them both back from the edge
Lockwood, for all his confidence, is practically in crisis or was fairly recently (I suspect living with George helped). Itâs fairly common, actually, for someone suicidal to overcompensate with an exterior shell to hide it, which can manifest in different ways depending on the person (they may not even realize theyâre doing it, I didnât)
And I love how the show handles it. Heâs not made into this dark, tragic figure. Heâs so full of life it hurts. He jokes around with George and Flo, fights with Kipps, admires Fairfax. He has dreams (plans) for the future. Heâs struggling with trauma, they all are, but heâs not Broken⢠in the way similar leading characters are often made out to be, in the way we often fear we are
And, of course, thereâs Lucy, a wreaking ball through the precarious balance of Lockwoodâs life. Itâs not so much that she gives him a reason to live (although she definitely helps), but she holds him accountable in a way no one else does. This is the difficult part of recovery that no one talks about. Having people care for you (George) and sympathize with you (Flo) is great and necessary, especially early on. But at some point, you have to take responsibility for yourself and the noise in your head (you have to open your door on the landing)
What that looks like is complicated and messy and different for every person, but seeing it played out in a story is remarkable. Iâve never seen anything like it. This is a difficult thing for anyone to learn (many adults never even try)
That shot of George, Lucy, Lockwood (and Kipps) rising up on the catafalque sums it all up for me. Each of them fell into darkness alone and rose out of it together. They inspired each other to fight and win their individual battles, even when they couldnât be there to help
#lockwood and co#lockwood & co#anthony lockwood#lucy carlyle#george karim#george cubbins#quill kipps#lockwood and lucy#lucy and lockwood#locklyle#lockwood netflix#flo bones#She speaks!
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Make it Right
Chapter two- Hauting for Home
âââââŚâŕźťâĄŕźşââŚââââ
Paring: Astrid Deetz x Fem!Ghost!Reader
Warnings: Mentions death, a bit angsty, bad writing. (Let me know if I missed anything!)
Word count: 3k+
A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm so sorry that this chapter took a while to make. I was busy on the weekend; however, I found time to finally finish the chapter for you all! I really do hope you guys enjoy this one! I will try to get a specific schedule for updates on certain stories. If you guys are wondering about updates for 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours,' I will try to update that as soon as possible. I will also be doing a couple drabbles on different characters and or drabbles of characters I've already written for. I would also like to thank you guys so much for all the support you all have been showing me! I am so thankful and grateful for each and every one of you! Thank you so much for every like, reblog, and comment, it means a lot to me!
â°ââ¤Series Masterlist
âââââŚâŕźťâĄŕźşââŚââââ
âââââŚâŕźťâĄŕźşââŚââââ
"You talked to my dad?!" Astrid had exclaimed with an amused smile on her face. There it was, that twinkle in her eye that you had missed so much. She hadn't been very happy recently, with you not around and everything else in her life that had been happening.
"Yeah, when I had first died. I got sent to the immigration office, and what do you know? There he was behind the glass. He's just as kind as you always told me he'd be. Surprisingly, he immediately recognized me. He told me that he had been watching after you and practically watched our love 'blossom,' as he put it." The two of you continued walking outside.
You couldn't help but think about how people must be seeing this. Astrid looked as if she were talking to herself from an outside perspective. Aware of her past, you knew people had a tendency to bully her, so when nearing Miss Shannon's School for Girls, you tried to get her to talk as much so that others wouldn't look at her funny. So, you took up most of the time on the way there, talking as much as she could so that she didn't have time to talk. Which was odd because she was usually the one who'd talk while you'd listen.
"He said he liked me, which is a relief. Sometimes, I feel like your mom is more confused but is trying to be supportive. I mean, remember when I had first come over, and she started talking about how she too 'experimented' as she said. Anyway, that isn't the point. I met your dad, and we actually frequently visited you together. It's funny, sometimes we'd bond over how much we missed you."
Astrid's eyes had furrowed as she had begun to notice that every time she began or wanted to speak, you only spoke faster, almost sputtering out information. A frown tugged at your lips as she had caught on.
"I just don't want people to look at you even more weirder than they already do. If you're talking to yourself, they'll find that an easy target. Try...putting on some headphones and pretending you're on the phone? Or you can just put your phone up to your ear?"
She smiled as she took her phone out of her pocket and brought it up to her ear.
"Thanks, you're right. So, what else did he say about me? Did you see my grandfather? What's the afterlife like?" Astrid felt like she had a million different questions to ask.
"Your dad says he's proud of you and that he sees himself in you all the time. As for your grandpa, no. I mean, I feel as if it's harder to find him since he did lose his head to a shark. The afterlife is a bit weird. I can't tell you much about it since I haven't exactly crossed over. I basically only know what headquarters and a few shops look like. I mean, there's a 'Soul Train' which essentially takes you to the 'Great Beyond,' but I never went because I don't want to risk not being able to watch over you."
You grabbed Astid's shoulders, moving beside her to walk toward the street end of the sidewalk. Even though you were dead, the sidewalk rule never really left you, even while Astrid couldn't even see you.
"Yeah, I figured. I almost can't believe that a shark bite ended his life, I knew my family wasn't normal, but we can't even have a somewhat normal death? The Great Beyond, huh? Soul Train is a clever name though. Does no one know what's on the side?"
"I mean, I've never seen someone leave then come back from the train in the full year, almost two years that I've been here. I'm not taking the risk and crossing anyway, I can't lose you again after we just got back to each other."
"You're right..." Her eyebrows furrowed, her attention on the sidewalk as they continued to walk. She thought to herself for a moment before speaking again.
"So, you don't have any ghost tricks you learned?"
"Of course, you'd ask that, would you be disappointed in me if I said I didn't?"
"I mean, you've been gone for a year almost two, I'd expect you to know at least something to make me feel better for all the time you've been gone."
"Okay, uhhh... I can walk through walls and, I guess, float a bit."
"That sounds like every other ghost."
"Just because i'm a ghost doesn't mean I have super powers, Astrid."
"Just saying."
"I mean, I do have this nasty scar from the accident." You lowered your shirt neckline, showing the scar on the lower part of your neck. Astrid winced at the scar before looking away.
"Right. Weird how all it took was one neck twist for you to die.
"Well, it's more like my neck twisted as if I was a cartoon character that got punched, and my head began spinning-"
"Ew, shut up. Don't talk about it like it's something light."
"I'm sorry, you're right."
It was silent for a bit as you guys walked into the school, Astrid opened one of the doors while you phased right through the other door. Astird put her phone back into her pocket as she walked upstairs and past the other students. You followed after her, your eyebrows furrowing at the other students nearby her dorm. Some of them whispering to each other while giggling.
That's when Astrid opened her dorm room's door, a bedsheet attached to the ceiling by a rope coming straight towards her. The bedsheet makes out a ghost with a 'Boo' sign in its chest area. Astrid stumbled back before turning around and looking at the other girls, who began to burst out into laughter behind her.
"When you're all driving carpool and banging your pilates instructor to fill the empty voids in your life, we'll see who gets the last laugh."
The girls smiles and laughs quickly died as she finished speaking. Astrid turned around as she went into her room, shutting the door behind her. You smiled proudly, a laugh escaping you as you saw the looks on the girls faces as they disburst from Astrid's door.
"Witty as always." You said as you phased through her dorm room's door. The make-shift ghost on the ceiling startling you a bit as you had almost 'ran' into it. Sometimes you forget you're a ghost even if it's been a year.
"They have not toned down with the comments? You had always been careful about this topic, not wanting to bring it up too much with Astrid.
"No." It was a simple and straightforward answer that made you not want to question further. A part of you felt angry that you were helpless to all of it now that you're dead. You had gotten so used to defending her against everyone but now your words would only fall on deaf ears.
You sighed as you plopped yourself onto her dorm room's bed, thinkiing for a moment on how to steer away the conversation of bullying that she obviously did not want to talk about.
"Did you hear that my sister's pregnant? I know that I shouldn't bother looking over them since they're perfectly fine.."
"I'm not surprised."
"She's naming the baby after me."
"God, that's ridiculous! Naming their kid after a relative who isn't even dead yet-" Astrid's voice faltered for a moment. The fact that you were dead and have been for almost two years was still a punch in the gut after all this time.
"That's what I said, baby." You offered her a small smile as you played into the bit that you were still alive for Astrid. She still wanted to make her at least feel a bit better.
'Baby.'
Your words - and your smile, even if it was for her benefit - just made Astrid's heart twist further in her chest.
"You're killing me here."
"Why?" Your head tilted to the side as you looked at her.
"Because you're supposed to be dead." Her voice came out in a strangled whisper as she looked down at the papers scattered on her desk.
You bit your lip, you didn't want to show that what Astrid had said hurt you. Even if you were dead, you still had emotions and feelings. You paused for a moment before deciding to drop the topic.
"So, they're having a baby shower. You should go."
"Oh god, a baby shower? Is it too late to make you disappear again?" Her face had immediately scrunched up with distaste at the idea of being forced to go to a baby shower - especially your self-centered sister's baby shower where she'd name her child after you for her own gain.
"Come on, you couldn't see me for a whole year, and now that you're finally able to, you already want to get rid of me? That's cold, babe, even for you. Even for me who's dead cold. Get it? Huh? Dead cold. Because i'm dead? And i'm cold now because I have no blood. No? Okay."
"Oof, that was horrible." She said as she shook her head and grumbled in response.
"Come on, admit you missed me. I heard all your late-night talks that you thought weren't reaching my ears."
"I did miss you - I've missed you for a whole year." She confessed, sounding a bit surprised by her own confession. The room fell silent, the weight of everything that had happened falling onto the both of them. Neither of them wanted to address it, though, they didn't want to have to deal with it now.
"Did you ever-" She paused for a moment as she thought of the right words to say, "When I'd lay in your bed and mope, were you just...watching me?"
"No, I hated that. I'd still do what I would've done if I were alive. I tried holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear that never got to you."
"Sweet nothings, huh?" She teased, which earned an eye roll from you. Again, the room had fell silent as the two were lost in thought before Astrid spoke again, breaking the silence.
"How bad did it hurt?"
"Uh.. Well... I just remember being on the ground one second, then in the air the next. I landed, and well- You know what. It had hurt for that second that I was alive, but it had been an instant death if anything."
Having to talk about your death wasn't an easy topic. It was a reminder of how quick you had lost it all. The blood in your system, the beat of your heart, Astrid. The sight of you nervously fidgeting with your own fingers made Astrid's heart ache.
"I hate that." She muttered, her voice coming in strained, almost as if she was forcing herself to get the words out.
"I'm sorry." Your words were mumbled as she continued to fidget with your fingers, now more anxiously than before. The apology caused Astrid to shut her eyes, trying to hold herself together. She felt that now was not the time to start breaking down.
"Don't. Don't apologize." She had almost snapped at you as she opened her eyes to shoot a glare at you.
"Okay." You were never one to go against her word, you didn't want to start a fight. Especially not now. All you could do was bring up one of your hands, beginning to gently pull on the hairs on the back of your neck as you avoided Astrid's eyes.
"Is that a nervous habit of yours now? Pulling your hair." She asked as she reached her hand out idly to brush your hair out of your eyes.
"I had gotten it when I first reached the afterlife. When you watch the people you love hurting, and all you can do is ghost around them..." Your voice had faltered, forcing yourself to clear your throat and then begin to speak again.
"You feel so helpless. Watching everyone who used to be around you and love you so miserable about your death. It makes you feel guilty but, most of all, useless. There's no way to hold, touch, talk to, comfort them... It's hard."
The room had fallen silent after your words. Astrid's fingertips gently brushed along the back of your head - tracing the place that you usually pulled at. She let her hand rest there, trying to keep you from pulling at your hair again.
"How cold am I?"
Your words made Astrid pause for a moment. Leaning closer to you as she wrapped an arm around her now ghost girlfriend. The chill of your skin made her shiver involuntarily - but Astrid tried not to show the way her body automatically wanted to shy away from the cold.
"Really damn cold. It's like you're an ice cube almost." Her words a mumble as she got closer to you, laying next to you as she rested her head on top of yours.
"I'm sorry that I'm not warm anymore." Your own words come out as a mumble as well, instinctively, your head rests on her shoulder.
"I know you don't much like when it's really cold. I thought I was keeping myself with this sweater but now that someone's actually able to touch me, I realize it's doing nothing for me."
"Gosh, you don't have to apologize for that. At least you're here." She pulled you closer against her, her arms wrapping around your waist - burtying her face into your shoulder, even if your skin was freezing and caused a slight burn against her own warm skin. She ignored the way that her body had involutarily shivered at the contact - focusing instead on the fact that her girlfriend was here.
"Barely." You mumbled quietly as you gently pulled away from your girlfriend, knowing that you were probably burning Astrid's skin with your own cold, dead skin that was now a pale blue hue.
"Don't be like that. You're talking as if you have no more hope."
"Death has a way of doing that."
Astrid let out a quiet huff at your words. Her eyes flickered back and forth from you and her own hands that were now gripped tightly on her bedding - but in the next moment, she let go. Almost as if with a full burst of speed, she darted to you. Her arms wrapping around your body, hauling you into her bed in a tight, crushing embrace.
"Astrid-" You had said in surprise and protest. You knew that you were cold. Dead. The cold would burn Astrid at one point, and you didn't want that. Not when you used to be alive and warm for her. You used to keep her warm and now you can only burn her with your icy dead skin.
"Don't even think about complaining. I don't care if you're cold." Astrid snapped as she held you impossibly close against her. Her body shivered once again as your cold skin was like a bucket of cold water dumped over her body - but she ignored the cold, focusing on the sensation of her girlfriend in her arms.
A frown had tugged at your lips, knowing that eventually, Astrid would get too cold, but after a year of being a lone ghost who watched your loved ones move on or suffer because of you, you couldn't help but be a little selfish. Your arms wrapped around her as tightly as you could.
You missed your girlfriend so much. Watching over her for a year, her suffering for a full year over your death, had done a number on you. You'd cry if you could, but all you felt was this deep internal sadness. You had no heartbeat, you had no blood to warm your body, you had no tears to shed from your dry eyes. Your chest was the most still it had ever been, you had no air to breathe anymore.
It had begun to feel like too much for the both of them. Being this close to each other after a year of thinking they'd never be able to have contact again, feeling each other's skin despite the feeling of a small burning on her own skin from your own. It was almost enough to make Astrid cry.
The cold was beginning to seep into her skin - making her shiver and leaving her skin prickled. But Astrid wouldn't - couldn't - let go of you. Not when it had been a year since she was able to hold you. You had only frowned as you held her tighter. A small hiss escaped Astrid from the cold contact as she tried to get herself impossibly closer to you.
"Damn it, it's getting too cold." She hissed, speaking between clenched teeth as she tried to bury her face into your shoulder further.
"Warm up with the blankets, I'll just lay beside you. I promise I won't disappear." You pulled away, gently moving Astrid off of yourself as you carefully pulled her bedsheets over her body. When you finished tucking her in, you lay beside her, admiring every detail you could land your eyes on.
She only huffed a bit, feeling oddly petulant about the fact that she had to let go of you However, she did as she was told. A small shiver rattled her body as her eyes locked onto yours. She managed to mumble something incohereently as she reached for you, trying to tug you close again.
"Too cold, baby. Just give it a moment. I'm here, you see me." You tried to reassure her as you gently tugged a strand of hair behind her ear.
'Baby.' The soft nickname only made her want to pull you close again, but she knew that you were right. Her boy was cold - skin still pricked and burned from being in contact with her girlfriend. She snuggled further into the bedding, her hand gently reaching out to yours. Linking her own pinky with yours, causing you to smile. Her eyes looked into yours as if asking if it was okay to which you had nodded.
âââââŚâŕźťâĄŕźşââŚââââ
A/N: I don't know why this felt like such a short chapter to me despite it being the most words I've written so far?? I might have some filler chapters for this and 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours' sometimes. Then again, there is still a lot to write for the storyline themselves. Thank you, lovelies, for all the support on my posts! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm so sorry if some days I do not have time to update. Also, if there's anyone that wants to be tagged for updates on this story, leave a comment saying so! Bye, loves!
#jenna ortega#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x female reader#tara carpenter x reader#jenna ortega x fem#jenna ortega x reader#jenna marie ortega#jenna ortega imagine#beetlejuice 2#beetlejuice#astrid deetz x reader#astrid deetz#Make it Right#eroscomet
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The Little Things (Changbin Ver.)
The small things he does every day that make you feel oh, so special.
Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin
| Piggy-Back Rides |
We all know that Changbin is strong. That's not really a secret to anyone who's a stay. And knowing this sweet man, he'd give you piggy-back rides whenever. In fact, I'm almost certain he'd just randomly come up to you and be like, "Hey, want me to carry you?" I just think it's a Binnie thing.
Now, if he knew that your feet were killing you, or you had a random pain in your leg? You bet your ass that he's not letting you walk. Nope. He's picking you up piggy-back style and carrying you wherever you want to go. You can whine and complain about how its not that bad, or how you can still walk, but he's not setting you down. Nope. If his baby girl's lower half isn't doing well, she's not walking. End of story.
I also kind of feel like if you both went out drinking with friends and you got tipsy, or if you were tired, he'd carry you then, too. Just in case you were to fall or stumble. He wants you safe at all times, no matter what condition you're in.
| Lays His Head on Your Lap |
Again, we all know that Changbin, who can seem intimidating, is really this big teddy bear who wants to just love and be loved. And that includes using your lap as his pillow. It's probably his favorite pillow if we're being honest. Your skin is so smooth, and your muscle just feels so nice under his head.
If you both are on the couch watching a movie or just relaxing, his head will more than likely be on your lap. He'll do it whenever he pleases, honestly. But if he's exhausted after being in the studio all day, writing music, he'll take you by your hand and will literally drag you to the couch just so he can lay down on your lap.
He's 100% fallen asleep on your legs, too. Most of the time, it's because you're gently scratching his scalp and running your hands through his hair. That, paired with your smell and the plushness of your legs just lets him relax to the point where he just clocks out. Not that you care. He's absolutely adorable like that.
| Hugs From Behind |
You guys, this man is so sweet and cute and adorable. That's why I'm a firm believer that Changbin will always approach you from behind just to wrap his arms around your waist, pull you back against him, hold you close, and rest his head on your shoulder or head (at least, if he's taller than you lol).
Changbin will do this literally whenever he can. If you're cooking something, he'll give you that back hug while watching you cook and ask what you're making (and he might steal some food, too). If you're at a gathering, he'll hug you from behind and just rest against you while you're conversing with someone. Whether it's because he just loves you or he's getting jealous, he's doing it regardless.
But he'll definitely back hug you when he's jealous. He'll hold you tighter than usual (the dead give-away that he's jealous to you), and while you're talking with whoever is making Changbin jealous, he'll shoot a death glare at them, almost telling that person you're his. And that way, you won't see him being all menacing (even though you're fully aware of it).
| Playful Arguments |
Alright. We know Changbin is loud. And I feel like the playful arguments would be an excuse for him to be loud with you. You guys do it all the time, no matter where you are and who might be with you. Half the time, it isn't even arguments. It's Changbin whining about something loudly, and then you yelling at him to stop, and Changbin just whining louder.
"I'm hungry!" "I told you to eat before we left, Binnie!" "YOU WERE RUSHING ME THOUGH!" "Was not!" "WERE TOO! CAN WE PLEASE JUST STOP?!" "No! You're just gonna have to wait until after we're done with our errands!" "BUT I'M HUNGRY!"
Half the time, it is because Changbin is hungry. Other times, it's literally about the dumbest shit ever. Most of the time, when you both are "arguing" around the other Kids, they just laugh and claim that you both are like an old married couple. And that usually makes Changbin get louder and complain that he's not old.
| Makes SURE You Eat |
It's no secret to anyone that Changbin loves food. It's the most important thing to him after you. And that usually results in Changbin constantly checking in on you to make sure you've eaten something. He'll ask in person, or he'll text you while you're at work. If you haven't, he's going to pick something up for you and drop it off so you can eat.
Now, let's say you are someone who tends to just...not eat. Maybe you've never been into eating breakfast in the mornings, or you don't eat lunch because you want to just get some work done during your lunch break. Changbin will snap you out of that habit REAL quick.
Guys, I'm not kidding you. He will spam your phone every 3 minutes saying, "EAT," or "Baby you gotta eat something. If you don't, I'm gonna pick up something for you and force it down your throat đĄ." And if he does bring you something, he'll literally sit with you and make sure you eat everything. And if you can't finish, he'll eat whatever you can't. Why? Because it's Changbin.
Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
#skz#stray kids#stray kids imagine#skz imagines#changbin imagines#changbin#seo changbin#changbin x reader#changbin x you#changbin x y/n#changbin x female reader#changbin x male reader#seo changbin x reader#seo changbin fluff#seo changbin stray kids#changbin skz#skz changbin#stray kids changbin#seo changbin skz#changbin stray kids#skz seo changbin#stray kids seo changbin
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Trust
Series masterlist
YNN: your nickname
My first time writing something steamy (ish). Hopefully it's not too clunky.
Sometimes romance is a date to a restaurant. Sometimes it's plotting murder together. đ
~~~
"I want him dead."
Although she spoke quietly, Rhaenyra's voice seemed to echo around the room.
You twisted your head to look at her in disbelief. You had just finished making love after hours. You'd coaxed her to pleasure several times using your hands, mouth and cock. How could your darling wife be thinking about murder when you were still barely capable of stringing words together?
"I need you to repeat that," you said slowly, "because it almost sounds like I haven't made you come enough if you're thinking about murder. It's not mine, is it?"
She giggled and moved closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Your arms instantly wrapped around her, an echo of the countless times you'd held each other like this before.
"Of course it's not you," she rubbed your chest in reassurance. "I'm talking about Otto Hightower."
At the mention of the Hand, your good mood plummeted.
Ever since Lord Strong's resignation, you had been cursed with Ser Otto's presence. The fact that he became the Hand again was beyond a joke, given that his ambitions to make his grandson Aegon King was a secret only to Viserys.
The sight of Queen Alicent strutting around the Red Keep with her supporters flaunting their green robes made you seethe. Coupled with the divide between both camps of supporters and it made for an increasingly poisonous atmosphere in court.
You and Rhaenyra had not been idle. The return of your father as Master of Ships, along with your promotion to Master of Laws had caused quite a bit of grief to Ser Otto's plans. The sight of the vein throbbing on his forehead whenever you managed to persuade the King to agree with you was a beautiful one, and it took everything you had not to smirk or snigger like a child or Daemon.
The thought of your goodbrother reminded you of his and Laena's recent return from Pentos. If anyone knew of a way to remove the Hand, it would be them.
"He will die," you whispered. "I'll make certain of it. Laena will know of something that may help."
"Not Daemon?" Rhaenyra tilted her head to face yours.
You snorted. "Daemon's solution would probably involve a dagger and a catspaw. We need to be subtle and leave nothing for the Queen to accuse us of murder. Laena will know; she was always interested in plants."
"If she finds a way, who will replace Otto? Your mother? Daemon? Tyland Lannister?"
"Actually," you began. "I thought it could be you." She lifted her head and looked at you with shock. "Let me finish," you continued. "You became cupbearer at eight, you've had a seat on the Small Council for almost ten years. You've seen how it works, you know about the issues the other Masters face. When Lord Lyonel was Hand, you regularly met with him to discuss solutions."
Your voice had risen as you'd argued your point, but your hands remained gentle as they cupped her face.
"Think of it as extra training for when you become Queen," you said.
Rhaenyra's face was uncertain. "You are so sure of yourself. How do you know it will happen?"
"I'll make it happen, my love," you promised before reaching up to kiss her.
"I do not feel ready, YNN," she confessed. "Every time I sit at that table, I feel like a pretender, like a girl again."
"Rhae," her name rolled on your tongue. "I don't think anyone is ever really ready to wear the crown. But there have been good kings, bad kings and kings that were middling. There have also been excellent and terrible Hands. You becoming Hand will not cause the Seven Kingdoms to collapse. I would always be happy to advise you if you wished, but you're more knowledgeable than you think you are. If you can't believe in yourself, believe in me and the fact that I trust in you."
The kiss she gave you was hungry, full of teeth and passion. You pulled her up so that she lay on top of you. Her hands made their way to your hair, while yours slowly crept down her back.
When she finally pulled away, her lips were red and bruised. Her cheeks were flushed while her white hair fell loosely around you both, creating a veil that hid you both from the outside world.
"When my wife makes a request, what loyal husband wouldn't strive to see it done?" your lips brushed against hers. "I'll fly to Driftmark tomorrow to ask Laena."
"I want Otto Hightower dead," she ordered.
Like a Queen.
Your wife's reply was not in words.
#my writing#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#x male reader#black reader#rhaenyra targaryen imagines#hotd imagines
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the day we met.
and to think i promised i wouldn't fall in love.
characters. dorm leaders
cw. not proofread
note. just some random hcs.. I wonder who can recognize what post this resembles hehe.. AKA title
pls read malleus' part mwahahaha I like it
riddle rosehearts keeps you on your toes (quite literally.) if it weren't for him you're sure you would have fallen off the horse that seems awfully intent on driving you off it's back to a face full of mud. clearly he was lying when he said 'beverly' was a fairly nice horse... she's literally the living spawn of a demon! but you can say that she counts for a pretty great wing.. horsewoman? how else would you get the esteemed riddle to handle you so delicately?
leona oddly resembles a cat... (technically he is one.) but he really likes to nap, you're sure his daily schedule involves sleeping, eating, looking dead every time of the day he's awake then going back to sleepâlet's not forget the favorite thing cats love to either knead with their paws or lay on! in this case it's you. at some point you had to tip toe and keep quiet everywhere so he doesn't hear, and promptly snatch you for the rest of the day.
the bounds azul would go for you is a little concerning but you're there for them all the well. as far as you knew on campus he was banned from making contracts but the cheeky little octopus had simply smirked when he casually says that the headmaster never said out of campus.. if he isn't there then how would he know? he just has to lure out whoever was the one that was stupid enough to bother you out of campus, hm... this is a job for the eels, no?
to be honest. forget about azul, kalim would do anything for your expense. it doesn't matter if you ask directly or not, just an implication is enough to trigger his impulsive decisions. seriously though, jamil is begging you to be considerate of what you say around kalim. you don't want him actually purchasing a whole country if you accidentally imply you want to rule one. again, be careful or you'll be smothered by his love, and deep gold pockets.
vil has a tendency to stare. believe it or not, even though it might seem like it would be the other way around you do catch his gaze sometimes but he always ends up trying to play it off. maybe he's sick or something? was there something on your face? (vil: yeah perfection) you find out not to point it out though, last time you did you got ignored with a huff. more so when you catch sight of a furious blush you almost mistook as too much of the makeup product. (no such person like vil wouldn't notice how red his cheeks would be if it was that case.)
besides the unintentional spoiling from kalim (who genuinely just thinks you deserve it all as a form of his love and affection.) idia is by no means poor. how else could he afford all the latest parts for his technology? let alone whale on the games he likes to play. this man spoils you intentionally. if he knows you want a character, weapon, or certain item he's getting his hands on it and giving it all to you. a collector's item? easy. it doesn't matter if the price is too high on the bar, nothing would ever compare to you anyways.
malleus is on your side, always. it doesn't matter if you're actually wrong about something, he's siding with you and defending you with his life đ you burned down a building knowing full well that the fire is a big possibility? everyone makes mistakes though... according to malleus draconia everybody. one of the strongest person in twisted wonderland is either the next 100% win rate lawyer or some random person making third grade defenses. there's no in between. that or he's making the dumbest excuse and actually making good points right after.
#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#twst fluff#twisted wonderland headcanons#twisted wonderland scenarios#twisted wonderland imagines#riddle rosehearts x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#kalim al asim x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#malleus draconia x reader#idia shroud x reader#riddle x reader#leona x reader#azul x reader#kalim x reader#vil x reader#idia x reader#malleus x reader#x gn reader#ă
¤ââĄâ . . signed !
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Should Something Happen
Pairing: Mark Hoffman x You
Summary: While working as Jigsaw Apprentices, Amanda spoils some quality bonding time between yourself and Hoffman.
Warnings: Cursing!
Might this actually be a little bit of fluff? I wanted to do something involving the main Jigsaw crew and a protective Hoffman. đ
Perhaps the only aspect of being an apprentice Mark enjoyed was the opportunity to work alongside you. Every trap crafted, every game played and every eventual death led Mark one step closer to his freedom. A life no longer in servitude for an impulsive act of vengeance. Mark had always struggled to quell his impulsiveness. It made him good in the field, Mark had earned a fair share of promotions for his quick actions, but his greatest mistake had cost him almost a year of servitude to Jigsaw himself. Until his sentence was up, until mark could be certain both John Kramer and his helper monkey were dead, he would carry out his part in the games with minimal complaint. In the meantime, he could find a steady contentment in watching the slackened, dream-like expression on your face as you fiddled with some shards of broken glass.Â
âCareful,â Mark finds himself saying, âItâs not intended to spill your blood.â
You drop the shards back into the glass coffin and wander back to the workbench youâve commandeered as a desk, âThereâs so many traps,â You whine and if it were anyone else Mark would be grinding his teeth together. You flip your notebook onto a fresh page, âWho is this one for again?â
âI try not to make a habit of remembering names.â Mark answers, âOnce you name something you get attached.â
You nod, âYouâre right.â You pick up your pencil and hover it over the page. âSadly I donât have that luxury.â Mark keeps one eye on you as he cleans up his workbench, placing a set of screwdriver heads back in their assigned places. You think for a couple more minutes, your expression growing more pained till you drop the pencil again. âHow can I write the tape for someone I know barely anything about?â
âDonât ask me,â Mark says. âIâve never been one for words.â
You give him a shrewd look, as if confirming his words. âYou have special uses.â You say, jumping off your stool and heading over to a stack of boxes, freshly delivered.
âOh yeah, like what?â
You send him a small smile, âBrawn, muscle, inside infoâŚâÂ
âIs that all I am?â Mark canât help the flicker of irritation he feels, âA meathead?â
âNo,â You return to him, catching on you may have offended him. âYouâŚâ A couple teeth sink into your lip, âYouâre the only one whose behaving.âÂ
Mark glances towards the open door, connecting the room to the rest of the Nerve Gas House, âGo on.â
You turn cagey, âEver since MexicoâŚâ
âAh,â Mark nods, âSay no more.â
âI donât like what Iâve been hearing.â You admit, âThe aim of all this was never revenge.â
âWas it not?â Mark enjoys how your head lifts up to meet his gaze, âWas that not why you got mixed up in all this?â
You fix him with eyes of steel, âMaybeâŚâ You admit, âBut not anymore. Seems weâre cut from the same cloth, Detective.â
Mark likes how you say his title, pronouncing every syllable distinctly, âYou donât know me. Not really.â
âMaybe we should work on that?â
Something gives a leap inside Mark. Before he can answer youâre back at the delivery boxes and Amanda is thudding through the door. Her steel toe capped boots echo on the wood, little patches of dust springing up where she steps. She pauses on catching Mark stood in the centre of the room, âAdmiring my work?â She asks, tilting her head.
âI thought John made this one?â You pipe up, before Mark can.
âHe did.â Mark confirms, âThatâs why this one has some refinement.â
âBut it was my idea to add theâŚâ Amandaâs points to the walls and then places her hands a couple inches apart. She presses them together slowly, applying pressure. The visual is enough for Mark to look away.
You busy yourself with the boxes again, âThereâs nothing but syringes.â You take out one to show the two apprentices.
Mark tosses you a pair of gloves, âPut them on, they probably arenât clean.â
You make a face and drop the syringe youâre holding, âGreat. Iâm going to need a check-up after this.â
âBe thankful youâre not the poor bastard diving in there.â Amanda smirks, heading over to inspect the coffin trap. âIs this one done yet?â
âJust needs a couple tests,â Mark says. âAny volunteers?â
âYou first.â Amanda holds her arms up as if sheâs a presenter, âGet in there, Detective.â
âWhat about you, babe?â Amanda slinks over to you and throws an arm around your shoulders, âThe glass isnât in yet, itâll be like taking a good nap.â
âStop trying to scare her.â Markâs voice comes out with more bite than he expected.Â
Amandaâs eyes flash, âWhy you protective all of a sudden, Hoffman?â
Mark would never confess to the bitch before him, but heâs made a mistake and Amanda knows it. âWeâre not testing anything without John here.â
Amanda makes a noncommittal noise.
âIf John approves it, Iâll test it.â You offer, âI trust him.â Amanda jumps back into performance mode, âArenât they precious?â
âIf you put this on.â You gingerly remove from another box a very familiar contraption and hold it out for Amanda to see. Mark grins behind Amandaâs back. He can just picture the colour draining from her face. Amanda doesnât move as you walk past her with the Reverse Bear Trap in hand, âVery funny.â She calls, trying to reclaim some of her bravado.
âI thought so.â You counter, placing the device on the workbench.
Amandaâs scowl only becomes more prominent the longer she stares at her old trap, âWhy is that here?â âInventory.â You supply, âOr so Iâm guessing.â
âSomething old can always be re-used.â John wheels himself into the room. Wheelchair bound, he surveys the glass coffin standing pride of place in the middle of the room. âIs Lauraâs test finished?â
âAlmost,â Mark busies himself with checking over the gears situated behind the coffin.
âLaura,â You repeat, scribbling something on your pad. âI couldnât for the life of me remember.â
John appears amused at your choice of words, âWriterâs block?â You look up as John wheels himself over to you. The Reverse Bear Trap is sat just a few feet away, Mark doesnât like how close you are to something so barbaric. With you showing John your tape speeches and Mark still preoccupied with the gears, Amanda sulks in the middle. She makes her way over to Markâs toolbox and grabs a wrench, right in Johnâs line of sight. Mark thinks itâs pathetic behaviour, how co-dependent sheâs become since Mexico. He can see that your worries were justified. She makes her way over to the trap, but Mark has left her with nothing to do.
âThereâs one glaring issue I see with this entire game,â You say in a low voice. You glance over to Amanda, âWonât they all get suspicious if every one of them has a trap but her?â
âWhat did you say?â
âAmanda,â John cautions as his apprentice as she wheels round on the spot.
âI just worry that something will happen.â You say, closing your notebook and leaning against the workbench. âAre you really betting on all them failing and Daniel just being the last one left alive?â
âHe doesnât have a trap either.â Amanda points out, âIâm not the only one.â
âHe isnât being tested.â John states simply, âThat is why you are there, Amanda. To protect him.â He turns back to you, âNor is Amanda being tested.â
âI still think we should put something in there.â You hold up your hands, âI think itâs foolish to leave it to chance.â
âNot if you can predict the outcome.â
Mark has heard it all before from John Kramer. He knows your attempts are futile, so he finishes up his work on the coffin and with nothing else to do, makes his way to the door. âIâm done for the night.â
âThank you, Mark.â John says, âThe game begins tomorrow. I presume youâll be in position?â
âOn the monitors.â He nods.
Heâs been excused. Mark should go home and rest up for a long day ahead tomorrow. But he canât quite bring himself to leave. John has resumed helping you with writing out the tape for the trap, but Mark doesnât like how Amanda wonât leave the two of you alone. Her new behaviour has made him protective. Mark would have liked you to finish up at the same time as him. Perhaps he could offer to drop you home and they could work on getting to know each other.
âYou want to put me in that.â
You, John and Mark all turn to Amanda, âWhat?â You ask.
Amanda nods, âThat.â She points to the Reverse Bear Trap, âYou want that to be my test. You want me to do it again?â
John glances imperceptibly to Mark. He swallows, so John shares their concern about his favourite apprentice. âDo you know how stupid you sound?â Mark cuts in, taking up what he hopes is a casual position beside you. âEveryone knows you already escaped it. 24/7 news coverage.â Youâre still leaning against the workbench as Amanda walks around it, her eyes fixed on you as if you were prey.Â
âItâs not a bad idea,â You taunt, âSome poetic justiceâ, but Amanda doesnât find it clever.Â
She shoves the Reverse Bear Trap toward you, âYou donât deserve to be here.â She hisses. Mark swears he can hear a ticking sound as you brace your arms on the table, âOf all the people to win, it had to be you didnât it?â âFair and square.â You return and Mark finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what your own game was. Before Amanda, before Mark himself joined Jigsaw, you were tested and won. His eyes fall on the scar on your neck, all that remains of your own brush with death.
âUse your brain,â You counter and your face is far too close to the trap as you glare back at Amanda Young. âYouâd have to wake up in it, or someone would have to put you in it. I donât think either of those are going to work in this game.â
âHow about you wake up in it, you bitch?â
Markâs hands snake around your middle and yank you back just as the trap rips open with a loud bang. The ferocity makes both you and Amanda jump. You would have fallen off your stool if not for Markâs chest breaking your fall. He can feel the sharp breaths you take as the Reverse Bear Trap cools down and lies dormant once more.
âAmanda, take the trap and put it in my office.â John says. His apprentice turns wide, teary eyes on him, but Johnâs face is expressionless. âNow.â
She obeys instantly, taking the trap and striding out of the room.
Mark slides you back onto your stool, âThank you.â You murmur, hand jumping instinctively to your neck.
âAre you alright?â John asks and you nod. Mark can see right through you, he could feel the tremors of your body against his. That was a close call.Â
âSheâs out of line, John.â Mark says, âI donât know what the fuck happened over there, but itâs messed with her.â
âAmanda will be fine.â John insists, âShe will play her part, so long as she isnât provoked.â You nod, understanding your own fault but Mark refuses to admit to his own. âNow Detective, I believe weâre finished here. I will see you both tomorrow for the final preparations.â
Mark watches John wheel himself out. The moment heâs gone you rest your forearms on the workbench and place your head on them. You let out a deep sigh. Markâs never been good at consoling anyone. Itâs just not what he does. Not since AngelinaâŚ
He spots your fallen notebook and places it beside you, âNeed a ride home?â âI donât think I want to go home.â You say, your voice weak.
âYou donât want to stay here.â Mark says, âYou canât anyway. They allâŚarrive tomorrow.â
âHow can you do that?â You lift up your head, âHow can you willingly put people in here knowing they will probably die?â Mark meets your eyes, âI convince myself they deserve to suffer.â
âYou donât lie awake thinking about it?â
âNo,â Heâs being honest. âI think itâs one less shitty person out there.â
âThen you must think that about me.â You push some hair out of your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself. âIâm notâŚyou know what I did-â
âAnd you know what I did.â Mark takes you by your forearms, âDo you think Iâm a monster?â
Your eyes dart around the room and then land on the glass coffin, âSometimes.â Mark allows himself time to digest that, it isnât what he wanted to hear. But your hands come to rest on his own forearms and then youâre pressing your forehead into his chest, âBut you make me feel safe. You help me.â
He didnât expect to earn such close proximity again, this time deliberately. Mark pulls you closer, your hands slide up to rest on his chest and Mark curses his choice to remain in a jacket. Your warmth is tantalising as it seeps into him. Mark tucks you into his large frame and winds his arms back around you.
It feels good to be wanted.
With your face smushed into him, Mark rests his head atop yours. He doesnât know what else he can do, so he lets his eyes close. âWe can look out for each other.â He proposes, âShould something happen.â
âIâd like that.â
#mark hoffman#Mark Hoffman saw#Mark Hoffman x you#Mark Hoffman x reader#amanda young#john kramer#reverse bear trap#protective!hoffman#saw franchise
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The common rebuttal to "this reads like fanfic (derogatory)" is "read better fanfic," which is true in certain cases, but on the other hand, there is some grain of truth to the idea that you can tell when someone's primary mode of literary analysis is fanfic instead of... well... literally anything else. It's okay to like or even prefer fanfic, but if you want to take your craft seriously you also need to read books, dude. Published books will teach you a lot of stuff fanfic doesn't, like proper dialogue formatting and how to introduce your reader to unfamiliar characters. Even the crappiest book (well, if it's not After or 50 Shades, which started off as fanfic to begin with lol) will have been subjected to some sort of editing process to ensure at least the appearance of proper grammar. That's not a guarantee with your average fanfic, and hence why you can't always take all your writing cues from fanfic because it's "so much better" than commercially published original fiction or whatever. Frankly, fic writers tend to peddle some absolutist and downright bad takes sometimes. "Said is dead" is a terrible rule, though not because said is invisible and a perfectly serviceable tag; that's just part of it. Dialogue tags are a garnish, not a main dish that can be swapped out for more ostentatious words. If your characters murmur and mutter instead of simply saying stuff, your readers are going to wonder why nobody speaks up. "'I'm explaining some very plot-important shit right now lol,' she elaborated," likewise, is a form of telling. Instead of letting the reader extrapolate that "she elaborated" via the contents of the dialogue itself, you're telling them what to think about it. And that's why it's distracting: your authorial hand is showing. Writing is an act of camouflage. You, as the writer, need to make your presence as invisible as possible so as to not intrude on the reader's suspension of disbelief. That's the driving reason behind "show, don't tell." And overall, everyone could stand to cut down on the frequency of their dialogue tags anyway. Not every exchange needs "he said" or "she whispered" attached as long as you establish who is doing the talking before the exchange. Some people will complain of confusion if you go on for too long without a dialogue tag, and that definitely is a risk, but at some point you also need to resist the temptation of holding the reader's hand. If they can't follow a conversation between two people, chances are they weren't meeting you halfway and paying that much attention in the first place. In fact, you don't even necessarily need action beats in between every piece of dialogue, as Tumblr writing advice posts will often suggest as a fix. Pruning things often cleans them up just fine.
Another fanfic-influenced trend in writing is, I guess, beige prose? A heavy focus on internal narration with lots of telling. It's not a style I can concretely describe, but every time I click on a non-mutual's writing, I feel like it always has, like. This "samey" voice to it. There's no real attempt to experiment and use unique or provocative language, or even imagery half the time. It's almost a dry recital of narration that doesn't leave much room for subtext. I see this style most often in fanfic where you can meander and wax poetic about how the characters feel without ever really getting around to the plot. And it's like. DO something.
Other tells that the author is taking their cues from fanfic mores rather than books: >>too much minute description of eyes, especially their color and their movement >>doesn't leave much room for subtext (has a character speak their every thought aloud instead of letting the reader infer what they're thinking via action or implication) >>too much stage action ("X looked at Y. Y moved to push their seat in. X took a deep breath and stepped toward Y with a determined look on his face. 'We need to talk,' he said.") >>tells instead of shows, even when the example is about showing instead of telling ("he clenched his teeth in agony" instead of just "he clenched his teeth") >>has improper dialogue tag formatting, especially with putting full stops where there should be commas ("'Lol and lmao.' she said" instead of "'Lol and lmao,' she said." This one drives me up a wall) >>uses too many dialogue tags >>"em dashes, semi-colons and commas, my beloved" - I get the appeal but full stops are your friends. Too much alternate punctuation makes your writing seem stilted and choppy. >>"he's all tousled brown hair and hard muscle" and "she's all smiles and long legs." This turn of phrase is so cliche, it drives me up a wall. Find less trite ways of describing your characters pls. >>"X released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding" >>every fucking Hot Guy ever is described as lean and sinewy >>sobbing. why is everyone sobbing. some restraint, pls >>Tumblr in general tends to think a truism counts as good writing if you make the most melodramatic statement possible (bonus: if it's written in a faux-archaic way), garnish it with a hint of egotism, and toss in allusions to the Christian God, afterlife, or death. ("I will stare God in the face and walk backwards into hell," "What is a god to a nonbeliever?") It's indicative of emotional immaturity imo, that every emotional truth need be expressed That Intensely in order to resonate with people. >>pushes the "Oh." moment as the pinnacle of Romantic Epiphany >>Therapy Speak dialogue. why is this emotionally constipated forty-something man who drinks himself stupid every morning to escape gruesome war memories speaking about his trauma like a clinical psychologist >>"this well-established kuudere should Show More Emoshun. I want him to break down crying on his love interest's shoulder from all his repressed trauma" - I am begging u. stop >>"why don't the characters just talk to each other?" "why can't we have healthy relationships?" I don't know, maybe because fiction is not supposed to be a model for reality and perfect communication makes for boring drama?
>>improperly using actions as dialogue tags ("'Looks like we're going hunting,' he grinned") >>why is everyone muttering and murmuring. speak up >>too many adverbs, especially "weakly" and "shakily." use stronger verbs. ("trembled" instead of "shook weakly") >>too many epithets ("the younger man" or "the brunette detective") >>too many filter words ("he felt," "she thought," "I remembered")
>>no, Tumblr, first-person POV is not the devil; you're just using way too many filter words (see above) and not enough sentence variation to make it flow well enough. First-person POV is an actually pretty good POV (not just for unreliable and self-aware narrators) if you know what you're doing and a lot of fun crafting an engaging character voice. Tumblr's hatred of first-person baffles me, and all I can think is you would only hate it if your only frame of reference was, like, My Immortal. Have you tried reading A Book? First-person POV is just another tool in your toolbox, and like all tools, it can be used properly or improperly. But it's not inherently a marker of bad writing. The disdain surrounding it strikes me as about as sensical as making fun of the concept of characters. Oh, your work has characters in it? Ew, I automatically click off a fic if it has characters in it. like what.
#writing#obligatory disclaimer that I am speaking broadly and this is in no way intended to make anyone feel self-conscious
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I don't think Damian was insecure because Cassandra was a closer part of the family than he was, especially considering that at that point in time he was wasn't fully invested in being a part of the family as he is now (also lets be real, its not like Cass is the center of the family or anything.)
I think it was more of case of him putting her on a pedestal based on what he heard about her, since her reputation probably made her seem like the ideal version of himself that he was told to aspire to all his life, so he was probably hoping that she was similar to him in some way as a form of self-validation, but when he did meet her it probably made him feel very conflicted since she didn't live up to his exceptions.
So in his mind it probably started out like "I'm supposed to be perfect and Cassandra Cain is already perfect, so she's probably very similar to me and I need to aspire to be more like her, which would be easy since we're already very similar to each other" then when he did meet her it went on to become" "Wait that's Cassandra Cain? But she's nothing like me?! Does that mean I'm not perfect after all and everything I'm doing is wrong? No.....its her who is doing everything wrong" so him butting-heads with her was him grasping at straws since putting her down would be easier than for him to accept that what he was aspiring to become all this time was the wrong image and he didn't want to start from scratch by believing in a new version of the ideal him (which thankfully he did end up doing at the end, he just was unsure if it was really what he wanted for himself at that point.)
Either ways its crazy that this plot-line didn't have any follow ups and no writers tried to have interact with each other again in almost 15 years.
I half agree with this, because I do think that Damian would have put Cass on a pedestal before meeting her. And I feel like part of him would have felt betrayed when they did meet and instead of being someone he could relate to, she was chatting with Dick and Tim and connecting over their shared history. The framing in those panels from Gates of Gotham where the trio are strategising and Damian is sitting away from them watching feels very deliberate. But I do think insecurity plays a role in that. You came to a new country all alone to meet your father but now he's dead and you're stuck with a bunch of older people meant to be your siblings and here comes one who was trained from birth to fight as a league funded project and yet... She clicks with your other siblings more than you? I think it would for sure make Damian feel more insecure even if he wasn't fully invested in becoming a part of the family, and he'd almost feel irrationally betrayed by Cass for not living up to the version he had in his head that was meant to ease said insecurity over this new "family" of his instead of making it worse and making him feel even more alone.
I can definitely see that thought process you describe in his head though. He's a genius technically but he is only ten and if something is wrong then either he's the problem or Cass is the problem, no room yet for emotional complexity. And he refuses to be wrong (similar to a certain sister of his who refuses to lose shhh who said that) so he's just going to have to butt heads with Cass until everyone including her understands that he's right and she's wrong, simple!
We deserved so much more of them working together. Gates of Gotham was a great start and I love that it's forever canon that their first act of sibling bonding was blowing up the batboat together. But we deserved so much more.
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So many good moments in Ep 5 of Burrow's End, but this is the one that sets my mind buzzing the most. The idea that community predates identity. We know mama, dada, and baba before we know not only their names, but our own names. And in the season all about family, community, in-group versus outgroup? This feels like such an important idea, and it was came up likely on the spot. It's fascinating to think about, and touches on such big themes about Burrow's End in general.
My mind keeps trying to read "name" as "self," and come up with something like "we have to know others before we know who we are," but I think there's a fundamental error in that idea. Neurologically, we just start off with just "Me" - one of our basic senses is what is "Me" and what is "Not Me." That's fundamental to further categorization, and faults in that sense is where things like depersonalization / derealization come from. Names are just labels, and they're not even the first labels we have for them.
This ties into another point that a lot of people had when watching the trailer at the end of Ep. 4 and during the live reaction of Ep. 5 - the idea that because Sybil was so reluctant to say her brother's name after he died, that it was the result of some top-down oppression within Last Bast and further proof that it's not as idyllic as it seems. Now, Last Bast almost certainly isn't a utopia, and I'm sure we're going to learn more about that in the next episode. And it's possible that it is a top-down enforcement that Sybil, having been raised in Last Bast, has internalized. However, there's a chance this isn't the case.
Less than 30 seconds on Google turns up several cultures that have taboos around speaking the names of the dead - Aboriginal mortuary rituals, the Apache of the Southwest US, the Tolowa tribe of California, the Yanomami on the border of Brazil and Venezuela, certain Romani/Irish Traveller groups, and almost certainly more. While it initially seems unfathomable to Western cultural mores around remembering and memorializing the dead, it's just as possible possible that instead of a method of social control, it's simply a cultural taboo.
https://scholarblogs.emory.edu/gravematters/2017/04/18/aboriginal-mortuary-rituals/
And as Aabria has commented both during the live discussion and general discord channels,
Aabria's a smart cookie, and I trust that she's done plenty of worldbuilding and put tons of thought into how Last Bast's society works. We've seen she's great at her cultural analysis while in the DM's chair in both Misfits & Magic and in A Court of Fey and Flowers. Culture and society are interwoven in all of her games, and where does all that start? With family.
#dimension 20#d20 spoilers#d20#burrowâs end#burrows end#d20 burrow's end#erika ishii#surprise anthropology#damn this series is good
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