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5uptic · 4 years ago

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crewfu: fanfic spotlight!

We work together by Anonymous (5up & DK, unrated, gen | 248 words)

Summary: One likes plants and baking, the other loves to create and design video games. They stay up and create monstrosities together, it's their fun, it's their favourite game. Aka a 5up and Dk roommate au!

No matter how life tangles, I’m still here with you. by hungryandsleepy (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 279 words)

Summary: 5up has been working so hard on his new map, and of course, he needs someone to give him a motivation to go to sleep.

objectively pretty by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 462 words)

Summary: steve is drunk. he's pretty sure 5up is too. that doesn't mean being called pretty is any less momentuous.

you plus me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 489 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve meet.

he said to me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 656 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve share a moment.

by the snowmen by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 670 words)

Summary: Steve has a moment when it's all over.

today you got to know me (a little bit too slowly) by runninohhoney (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 675 words)

Summary: Steve lights up a cigarette. 5up doesn't smoke.

what would it take by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 787 words)

Summary: It's Steve's first mission. He hecks up. Or does he?

sorta cute by floweruru (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 822 words)

Summary: ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said. ‘That’s just disrespectful,’ he said. Yet there was 5up, crushed like a can in Steve’s embrace, feebly kicking at nothing as his feet leave the pavement.

i was gonna kill u, but ur kinda cute?? by Cthulhuer (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve is a mess and 5up is worse.

I hear a Symphony by AwkwardAce (5up/Fundy, unrated, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: He exhaled until his lungs ached for air, fingers twitching as he opted to remove the sleek white gloves he wore in a feeble effort to soothe himself. It didn’t work. He wrung his trembling hands together as his eyes raked down the worn leather case taking in the doodles- some etched some drawn- across the faded surface. He snapped the buckles open and his breath hitched, catching in his already tight throat. For a moment the world span, his head throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to run and hide. 5up breathed out slowly, shakily.

staring by lytriis (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: steve asks 5up out. 5up doesn’t know how to respond.

and it's four am, and yet, you're here by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: in which steve shows up at 5up's house, in the middle of the night, completely spontaneously

more than this by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve catches 5up venting.

3:15 by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve tries to guess Five's name. It's much more difficult than he anticipated.

things were different by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: His eyes circled around to his friends, Kimi and Janet engaging in pleasant comversation, sleepy and becoming increasingly more sober. He looked, finally, across him, and caught Dumbdog staring at him. What now bro, what did this guy want. small talk, turns into not small talk, then there's no talk

Once Upon A Dream by SmearedWords (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: 5up looks ethereal, while Steve is struggling to breathe. "You're not real either." Or: Steve has a crush and a nightmare in three parts, 5up is tired, the crew life is hard and Polus sucks.

the ones you love will call you back by homeward_bound (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: stevesuptic: dude, is it weird that i miss vegas DumbDog: No? I do too. stevesuptic: okay [steve misses vegas and apollo. they talk about it]

cough it out by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: Apollo thinks that Steve must be well and truly gone, at this point, because he giggles, like Apollo’s just told a particularly funny joke. He looks Apollo right in the eye and asks, “Do you trust me?” “Absolutely not.”

ivy by Secular_Czar (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: It might be a sad day, in general, but Steve isn't about to let it get to him. His friends won't ever let him wallow either.

The Colosseum by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: Five squinted, looking at the colosseum intensely. He thinks Apollo was latched onto the sphinx’s shoulder, fur matted with blood. Janet was slumped against a column, probably out, with Kimi whose bow was snapped in two, her leg twisted at an odd angle. DK was in the corner trying to cast various supporting hexes and charms with a broken arm, whilst Hafu was dragging a heavily bandaged Steve away. or 5up slaughters a cat

Oneshots :) by woofles1990 (5up/Fundy, 5up/Steve, teen rating, multi | 2.5k words, oneshot collection)

Summary: Just a bunch of MCYT/Among Us oneshots, mainly featuring 5up's crew because yes :)

the adventures of 5up and steve staying up late because they're under 30 by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.5k words)

Summary: “The night is young!” Steve yells at the ceiling, throwing his hands up in the air. “Take advantage of it! Commit crimes! Fuck hoes!” Five catches his hands in the air and laughs. “You wish you had hoes.”

unreasonably in love by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "It was like pieces of a puzzle, everything coming together. And now, here they are, standing in their apartment, which looks more like a hollow shell than a home, filled solely with scattered boxes and the minuscule amount of furniture that they brought with them to Vegas." Or: what happens after Apollo and Steve move in together.

cant be love by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.5 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: He had chuckled to himself, he felt so stupid. Who in their fucking minds names a playlist 'sugr?', he thought, internally cringing. A story where a Steve meets an Apollo, and some things happen.

Somewhere in the darkness, us together for a while by tumtummeke (Apollo & Kimi & Steve, teen rating, gen | 3.6k words)

Summary: Apollo worries about Steve. Steve breaks his vape pen. Kimi plays power washer. Self-indulgent angst, with a generous helping of friendship and cuddles.

odyssey by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 23k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens...they warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. Therefore pass these Sirens by and stop your men's ears with wax that none of them may hear." -Homer, The Odyssey

Also: SilverSprinklez10‘s yupwaves collection.

Summary: This is a Harry Potter AU based on the characters/personas of the youtubers/streamers.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s), if there is one/multiple], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k] ([added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not)])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji... you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed (but this is the first one! lol).

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

#crewfu #fanfic spotlight

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harrysweasleys · 4 years ago

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both a little crazy // d.m

request: Hi! Just noticed ur requests r open! Can u please do a Draco x Slytherin Reader in which the Reader is a bad boss biatch and is TOTALLY savage, but her and Draco hides feelings for each other?

warnings: very brief mentions of torture, language?? not proof read bc i am sick and dont feel like it i am sorry

word count: 3.1k

a/n: don’t mind the fact that i based the reader off of rosa diaz. :)))) enjoy! (also yes i reposted this bc my tumblr wasnt working and tags were wonky!)

——

Your head was held rather high as you entered the Great Hall, your eyes pointed straight towards the Slytherin table in hopes that no one would talk to you as you walked over. It was way too early for conversation, in your opinion. Any attempt would just be sour.

You took your usual seat next to Pansy, who’s head was down on the table as she breathed slowly — quite possibly sound asleep. It wouldn’t be a surprise. She was not one for early mornings either. Quite possibly less so than you were.

The empty goblet in front of you was quickly filled with pumpkin juice before you took a big gulp, hoping the familiar liquid would help bring a bit of energy into you. However, that was a failed attempt as you felt your eyes stay heavy, your head swaying to the side slightly before a loud voice startled you out of your dozed out state.

“Crabbe, shut your mouth,” you snapped, silencing the boy sitting across from you who looked over with wide eyes, his mouth closing slowly, “You just woke up half the bloody hall with your laughter.”

Pansy jumped up from next to you, thick red marks across her forehead that resembled the wooden carvings on the table she was just rested against. You let out a low chuckle, eyes darting towards the entrance to the Hall — what you saw made you stop your laughing and sit up straighter.

Draco, accompanied by a brunette Slytherin, waltzed in with a smile on his face. You looked down immediately, hating the bubbling jealousy that threatened to emerge. You had seen the two together before but it didn’t help the sudden onslaught of negative emotions every time you saw him with her.

Maybe, possibly, you’ve had dreams where you use muggle torture techniques to keep her out of your life.

But no one needed to know that.

“Ah, Malfoy’s brought his admirer,” Pansy sighed, resting her chin on her hand, “What a surprise.”

You scoffed, trying to play it off, “When doesn’t he?”

No one knew of your little crush on Draco Malfoy. And if things were to go your way, no one would ever know. Being sly was always one of your specialties and you were rather proud of that. You didn’t let people in on a lot of secrets and you were bound to keep this one to yourself too.

“Fair point,” Pansy said lowly as Draco walked towards the table with an arrogant smirk on his face. A pleasantly attractive smirk, yes, but it was arrogant nonetheless. And you wanted to bite your own tongue off at the knowledge that the brunette was the one that put it there.

He sat across from you, seated between Crabbe and Blaise, but you didn’t greet him. Pettiness was overtaking your mood and you sat quietly, not even turning up to face him as you picked at some breakfast foods to put into your plate. Your day already felt like it was ruined — as dramatic as that was.

“You ready for tonight’s Quidditch game?” Blaise asked nonchalantly, taking a sip of tea and raising his eyebrows at Draco. You hid a scoff.

“Yep, can’t wait,” you sighed, leaning forwards, “The rain will really up the fun factor.”

You looked up at the bewitched ceiling, the heavy rain clouds pouring down on the students below. The drops obviously never reached anyone, but it was still awfully gloomy. You always hated playing in the rain. You’d end up in bed, shivering and wet with the early signs of a cold.

“Only reason I joined the team was to take down Gryffindor,” Draco sneered, “Will gladly get to do that tonight.”

“That’s if we win,” you scoffed, “Potter’s always got one up on you. You should probably fix that.”

After saying the words, you felt guilt blossom in your chest. You knew Draco’s weakness was the fact that his ‘sworn enemy’ Harry Potter always beat him — you had never really thrown it into his face until now.

You could see the change in his mood from the way his eyes grew slightly darker, glaring at you as if he wanted to retaliate. His shoulders slouched downwards and he leaned forwards on the table.

“Well, what’s got your wand in a twist this morning?” the corner of his lip curved up into a smirk and you had to force yourself to look away from him so you wouldn’t cave.

Shrugging, you kept your voice neutral, “Just saying. Maybe it’ll give you more incentive to win and prove me wrong,” you picked up your cup, avoiding eye contact if at all possible.

He eyed you, confusion laced into the creases of his forehead. You had never snapped at him like this before but you just couldn’t help it. The faint smirk quickly vanished and was replaced with a scowl as he turned down to face his plate.

You bit the inside of your cheek, absentmindedly picking at the scraps of bacon and toast on your plate. This section of table grew awfully quiet at your outburst, an awkward air surrounding all of you.

Being friends with Draco, it wasn’t rare that the two of you bickered. He always carried his nose and chin high, and sometimes you liked to knock him down a peg, no matter how much you swooned over the platinum headed boy. His charismatic charm was just one of the endless reasons he always thought he could get his way.

“Seriously,” Pansy leaned over and whispered in your ear, “What’s up? Why’d you say that?”

A blush rose to your cheeks and your snapped your head to her, “Out of my business, Parkinson.”

Her eyes widened and she held her hands up in surrender, “My bad.”

You let out a huff and went back to eating your meal, very much aware of Draco’s eyes piercing the top of your scalp as you kept your own eyes facing down, attempting with all of your might to avoid any more conversation than necessary.

Tonight’s match should be fun.

——

As usual, Potions class was a complete drag.

Snape was in his usual foul mood, nitpicking every single damn thing. You were used to it by now, having been in Snape’s house for nearly six years now, but it didn’t mean you particularly enjoyed it.

Least of all now, after being paired with Draco for a potions assignment.

If this were any other day, your heart would be doing leaps inside of your chest right about now — however the idea of just the two of you having to work together and talk was slightly nauseating after this morning’s outbreak.

“So,” he sat next to you, sliding awkwardly into the empty seat, “You still mad at me?”

You scoffed, flipping through the pages of you book, “Wasn’t cross with you.”

Fun fact about Draco Malfoy; he always saw right through you.

“C’mon,” he nudged your shoulder, causing you to look up from your book, “Don’t think you’ve ever spoken to me like that before.” His soft voice and piercing eyes were so hard to lie to. You always found yourself tempted to spill your deepest darkest secrets.

“I said I wasn’t mad at you,” you forced a smile, “I’ve got... other things going on.”

He didn’t believe you for a second, “What other things?”

You blessed Salazar and all of the Hogwarts founders that Snape decided to do his rounds, cutting your awkward conversation short and placing a piece of paper on your desk — the name of the potion you’d have to make.

Wiggenweld.

Grinning, you re-opened your book and began scanning through, landing on the very worn down page with said potion on it. You couldn’t count how many times you’ve made this, which was great since you could do it easily and get away from Draco as soon as possible.

“Stop ignoring me,” he pushed, a small smile on his face, “We’ve gotta team up and play well together tonight so you might as well come clean.”

“Stay out of my business and I won’t have to hex you,” you said through gritted teeth, your voice low so no one could overhead. You reckon that’d be quite embarrassing.

He leaned even closer to you — close enough that you could smell some sort of faint cologne and laundry detergent lingering on his house robes. Close enough that you could see the small strands of brown hair in the sea of bleach blond. Close enough that his eyes weren’t just blue; they were turquoise. Green stars scattered amongst a sky of blue.

Close enough that you nearly forgot to breathe.

“I’ll find out eventually, you know?” he looked over the page in your book and began writing the ingredients and steps down on the parchment in front of him.

You fought back a chuckle at his childish handwriting.

He offered to go get the ingredients and you let him do so as you cleaned up your desk, preparing it to become a potion station. You hated working in a dirty environment and so you attempted to make the dingy desk as spotless as possible.

Your partner had been gone for quite a while as you felt slightly guilty. There were quite a few ingredients to Wiggenweld and it’d be tough for him to walk back with everything in his hands. You gazed over to see if he needed help, your heart leapt up into your throat.

Draco was leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest and a smirk on his face as he chatted to the same Slytherin girl from breakfast.

You bit down on your tongue, fighting a deep breathe that would surely give away your overwhelming jealousy. After taking a good long moment to calm down the rapid, angry beating of your heart, you balled your fists behind your back and walked over to him.

“Give me these,” you snatched the bottles and ingredients from his hands, looking anywhere but his eyes as you turned away from him, “When you feel like actually doing the work, that’d be great.”

Storming back to the table and placing everything down in a somewhat organized fashion, you decided to turn over to Blaise at the table next to you, “Wanna switch partners?”

He let out a low chuckle, looking over to the quiet Hufflepuff boy that was chopping away at the other half of the ingredients, “Mine’s actually working so I’d say no.”

“So selfish,” you scoffed, shaking your head, “Mine’s off being a git.”

Dropping the tool he was using to grate a unicorn horn, Blaise crossed his arms and walked over to you, “Lucy? She’s great.”

You let your hair fall from behind your ears to hide your frustrated blush, “Yeah, she’s real great. Taking his time while he should be here working”

If you had looked away, you would have missed the smirk that overtook his face. However, you noticed it, and it only made the blush on your cheeks grow even deeper.

“Oh, I see what’s going on,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“No you don’t,” you snapped, “Go back to work or I’ll cut your tongue off and use it as an ingredient.”

He stepped back, but the smirk and amusement never left his face. Blaise was intuitive, yes — but you were being incredibly obvious, that much was certain. Him putting the pieces together was your fault, really.

“Oi, don’t attack me. If you’re to go after anyone, wouldn’t it be her?” he nudged his head in the direction of the girl that Draco was now walking away from, “after all, she’s the one stealing your man.”

“Shut your face,” you spoke lowly, glaring him down with all of your might as he walked back to his table with a chuckle. You watched as he went back to work before you decided to do the same yourself, picking up a tiny bottle and reading the label before unscrewing the tiny lid.

Draco’s bright head popped up on the other side of the table, “We getting started?”

Fighting the urge to snap, you nodded your head slowly, “So kind of you to join. Now get to work.”

He brushed your comment aside, stepping closer to you and ignoring your demand to get to work, “Do you know Lucy?”

Biting down on your tongue, you shook your head, “Nope. Your girlfriend?” You hated how bitter and insecure you sounded but at the moment, that was really the least of your concerns. All logic has been thrown out the window.

He rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh, “Bloody hell, no. She’s actually interested in Zabini. But I was wondering—”

“Wait, what?” you asked, nearly knocking a tiny bottle over as you leaned into the table, trying to get closer to him as if your hearing was off. Which, by the sound of what he said, you assumed it might be.

“What?” he stopped, “I’m trying to help her get with Zabini. He keeps talking about her.”

Suddenly, you felt like a complete idiot. The blush on your cheeks resurfaced and your heart did a leap against your ribcage.

“Oh,” you looked down, letting out a humourless chuckle, “I’m so sorry.”

Of course, you had jumped to conclusions. That’s what you always did. And now here you were, looking like a complete idiot and making your feelings blatantly obvious. The one thing you had been trying to avoid.

“Sorry? For what?” he was now the one to be confused, “What’s going on?”

“I—,” you blinked rapidly, looking over at him and trying your best to come up with any sentence that could make sense, “Nevermind. Let’s just get back to work.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly put off by how oddly you had been behaving all day so far, but he didn’t press the subject. You knew he’d ask you about it later, but that was for another time. You couldn’t exactly blame him either. If the tables were turned and he was the one behaving oddly, you’d be on his rear about it too.

You made a promise to yourself to talk to him after tonight’s game. The conversation might end up going against your one goal, and it might end up going really badly for you, but you had to tell him. It was time.

——

The Quidditch match ended up being a breeze. You guys ended up victorious by a landslide, Draco catching the snitch with a massive grin on his face. The relief spread through your body like a tidal wave as you watched him hold up the tiny golden ball — but what was even better was watching Gryffindor stalk off the field with glum expressions.

A real victory.

The Slytherin team gathered down on the pitch, surrounding a boastful Draco as he held his head high. A part of you wanted to go down, give him a hug and apologize for the rude comments you made this morning — but the other part of you thought that he was fine celebrating without you. You’re the one who made him feel like complete crap this morning; why would he want to celebrate with you?

You smiled from afar, walking into the Slytherin tent. You were alone, obviously. Everyone was still shouting and cheering on the pitch and you highly doubted the partying would end anytime soon.

The perfect escape for you.

You hung up your broom and removed your uniform, bundling yourself in a comfy sweater and leggings so you could walk back up to the castle without getting too cold now that the sun was gone.

Hoping no one would catch you sneaking off before party plans were made, you began to open the tent door, only to be interrupted by a voice.

“Not sticking around?”

You spun on the spot, facing a rather sweaty and satisfied looking Draco. You cursed his good looks under your breath, knowing that you’d have a hard time saying no to him while he looked like this.

“Not feeling well,” you lied, shrugging and looking down at the ground.

He stepped closer to you, “Right, you’ve been odd all day. What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing again.”

You took a deep breath, biting your lower lip as you gazed back up at him, looking into the eyes that made butterflies fly wildly in your belly.

“I spoke to Blaise and I think I know what your problem is,” he stepped even closer, the space between the two of you now only a few inches.

Letting out a small laugh, you shook your head, “That little git.”

He pursed his lips, placing one of his warm hands on the side of your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat and you leaned into his touch, not sure where he was going with this but enjoying every second of it.

One step closer, and he was nearly flush against your body. He was radiating warmth, his entire body still high off of the win, and you swore he could feel your rapid heartbeat.

Why else would he be smirking like that?

His smirk didn’t last long, however, as his lips pressed against yours.

Many people say their first kiss with their crush is soft, delicate — this wasn’t the case here. His lips pressed against yours with feverish passion, bringing the temperature in the small tent up by at least ten degrees. His lips were hot and wet as they moulded against yours, both hands cupping the sides of your face as he locked his body up against yours.

How many times you dreamt of this, you couldn’t count. But by Merlin, was it better than you could have ever imagined. You felt as if you were dancing with him, letting loose and moving to a rhythm of heartbeats. It was truly a beautiful feeling; one that you hoped you’d get to experience again.

“Well,” he muttered against your lips after pulling away, “Guess I was right.”

You wanted to retaliate and give him a sarcastic comment, but your mind was too numb and flummoxed to do so.

“Sorry I was acting all crazy,” you sighed, looking up into his blissful eyes, “Perhaps it’s true when they say jealousy makes people do crazy things.”

“It’s alright, love,” he smirked, placing hands on both sides of your waist and pulling you even closer, “We’re both a little crazy then.”

It felt like hippogriffs were fluttering around your belly as he kissed you once more, hands tightening their grip as he deepened the passionate act.

This would be awkward to explain when the team walked in, but for now, the two of you were perfectly content as you were.

Finally together.

——

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#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy one shot

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malfoys-demigod · 4 years ago

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Boy-Magnet - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Prompt: “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”, “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

Summary: Being the opposite of a chick-magnet, you attracted many single boys who always tried hitting on you or asking you on a date. These boys all had the wrong intentions, especially Cormac McLaggen who had to be the biggest problem of them all. Draco couldn’t stand seeing his friend/secret crush go through this all. Little did you know, he would give his last fend off, showing that he would be there for you at all times now.

Word count: 3.6k

Tagging @the--queen-of-hell

A/N: Ah!! It’s a bit scratchy but this oneshot should do it! Enjoy!

-- “Hey Y/N, you free this weekend?” asked a passerby whose friends started chuckling as they walked past you in the corridors.

“Nope,” you irritatingly answered and rolled your eyes as you were waiting for your friend Daphne to leave the classroom she just had classes in.

You checked the time from your antique chain watch, looking at how classes should have ended five minutes ago for Daphne. But then again, she was having Professor Binns’ History of Magic so he would have gone overtime without knowing.

“Silly old ghost,” you muttered to yourself as you placed the watch back into your sling bag. You were lucky you didn’t have to fill another class like Binn’s into your schedule unlike Daphne who was advised to take History of Magic if she wanted to become a professor.

“I can agree with you,” came the voice who replied to you. Looking up, you saw Cormac McLaggen walking towards you slowly with his hands in his robe pockets, smirking at you. “Too bad I still have him this year,” his hand pressed the wall, making his body closely face yours.

“How unfortunate,” you tried sounding as lively as possible.

The obnoxious boy let out a laugh, thinking you were interested in the conversation he started, pulled up his History of Magic book and waved it in front of you. “I was thinking,” he said looking at the book, “If you could tut-”

Daphne Greengrass was the first one to have forcefully brushed the doors of the classroom you were standing by open, storming out with a sigh of relief as she saw your figure waiting by.

“Merlin’s beard!,” she boomed, “Thank you so much for waiting, Y/N.” She looked tired as if she slept through the whole class time but seeing that she drew on her arms with her quill meant that she was wide awake, bored out of her mind as she did not want to write useful information from the class.

When she looked at the person who was closely in front of you, she knew what she had to do as she pulled you by the arm and said, “We have to go! Uh,” she looked down, left and right, thinking of a quick excuse, “The boys want to meet us!” She looked at Cormac who seemed uncomfortable hearing that there were boys who were more valued than his time. “Beat it, McLaggen.” she said as she dragged you away from the scene, going wherever was the farthest from him.

“The boys, huh? Very specific of you, Daph,” you laughed. Turning left and then turning right, the two of you had entered the Great Hall, the nearest place with the most people to use as a way to hide from ill men like Cormac.

“Right,” she exhaled from running so quickly. “We’re okay here?”

“I suppose,” you shrugged, “I actually would love a snack anyways.”

The two had gone to the ends of the Slytherin table which was the edge facing the professors’ table when they usually had their meals. While you were placing your bag by your side, Daphne had already asked for pumpkin juice and sandwiches from the elves.

When she was finished ordering, she looked at you with concerned eyes as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “Sorry class took long. I bet if Binns was aware of the time, you wouldn’t have encountered that slimy boy.”

“It’s alright, Daphne. I just hate how there are still so many ill-minded boys in this school who think they can just claim me as their own. I wish I wasn’t some magnet to them,” you sighed, laughing.

Daphne nudged your shoulder, shaking her head from left to right. “Don’t ever say that! You’re lucky boys go after a beautiful girl like you, but sadly they go after you in the wrong way. You just need to learn how to defend yourself without anyone helping you.”

“True, but I suppose having a boyfriend would be nice too,” you joked. Daphne rolled her eyes in a joking manner as she drank from her pumpkin juice.

“Sign me up too, Y/N,” she sighed, “Oh Merlin, why can’t you help me out!,” Daphne looked up to the ceiling, pretending to pray for a miracle.

While you were laughing your arse off, footsteps belonging to a group were walking towards your end of the table. You only noticed when a body slid into the table, sitting beside you.

“Gone nuts haven’t we, Greengrass?,” said the voice.

Daphne and you turned to the right, looking at Draco and his gang who had just arrived with a grand meal through the magic of the elves.

Your friend nodded, taking in another sip of her pumpkin juice. “Crazy times we live in, Malfoy.”

Draco gave a small nod in return, then looked at you, giving you a friendly warm smile. As he smiled from his mouth, it was also as if his gray eyes were smiling as well.

“Afternoon, Y/N,” he politely greeted you, “I would have assumed by your childish laugh that you had gone nuts as well, but then again, I can’t picture you going nuts, especially over someone trying to ask Merlin helplessly.”

The whining ‘Hey, I’m right here!’ from Daphne was ignored and spaced out as you were in the zone with Draco’s conversation.

You smiled as a result of hearing the smooth comment the platinum blonde had given you. Stroking a loose hair strand behind your ear, you shyly looked down.

“Well, Draco. I’m full of surprises. I could go nuts any minute by now.,” you replied, looking back up as if your confidence had just brought you back alive.

“Not on my watch, Y/L/N. Besides, what could possibly drive you nuts? You’re one of the most calm people around school. You don’t have annoying people such as saint Potter on your shoulder everyday.”

Scoffing, you shook your head, denying the things he had just said. That was by far the most untrue statement anyone had ever told you. Your whole life constantly revolved around people trying to hook up with you and trying to fend off those same people.

“Have you ever seen the countless mindless boys who try asking me on a date?,” you laughed. “It’s not fun to decline their offers.”

Draco’s face had hardened as he knew what you were talking about. The way he commented how he assumed you didn’t have people on your backs to fend off was all bluffs. He had seen the evil minded boys who had tried to get physically close to you, and he even heard many betting which one would claim you as theirs that he even threatened to hex most of them whenever you weren’t around.

“Why would you decline them? Surely you’d want to go on a date with someone.”

You tilted your head, “Yes, I would but most of these boys don’t have the right intentions. I can somehow feel it.”

Draco nodded, understanding what you meant. He took a lowkey angry bite off his sandwich, visualizing the many boys he would often overhear by the corridors.

“I can assure you that there’s only a few boys with the right mindset,” he stood up, causing his group to stand up as well. He looked at you with careful eyes, “You take care, Y/N. See you back at the common room. Excuse us.”

You waved goodbye, smiling pleasantly at Draco as he turned around, leading his group out of the Great Hall. Daphne could see the way you smiled at Draco, treating him differently from the rest of the other boys in school. She nudged you in the shoulder again, making you finally turn back to her with a dazed look.

“I know Malfoy’s.. Well Malfoy, but he’s quite nicer than the rest of the boys in school towards you.” she detected.

“He seems like it.” you agreed.

Potions class with the Slytherins was a joined class with the Gryffindors. This was one of the many classes that you had with other houses and one of the few that was shared with the Gryffindors. Today was promised by Professor Snape to be an interactive class.

So aside from the usual potion experiments, Snape informed everyone that today’s experiments would be done in the way wherein he would pick pre-made pairs from his list to do the experiment together.

While you were hoping to be paired with Daphne or anyone that was willing to let aside the ill-minded questions on their minds to focus on the experiment with you, Draco was hoping to be paired with you.

Being a table behind you, he didn’t have to look back at you and pray that he was going to be paired with you. He had the chance to look in front of him and watch your reaction when you finally get picked to be with him.

To kill the suspension throughout the whole classroom, Snape grabbed the list on his desk and stood in front of the class.

“Greengrass and Zabini.”

Draco watched as Daphne, your seatmate, pouted and waved goodbye as she moved out of her seat to be with Blaise. He felt like Merlin was in his side as the chances of being paired with you only grew higher.

“Potter and Granger.”

Draco rolled his eyes and wanted to throw his head back. ‘Nobody gives a damn!’ he impatiently said to himself.

“Y/L/N and McLaggen.”

Draco’s heart felt like stopping as he heard a name that was not his be paired with you. He looked at McLaggen who smirked to himself as he started moving his way to your table.

“Malfoy and Weasley.”

“Oh, come on!” Ron complained, only for Snape to smack him in the head with his list. Draco was too discontented to see Cormac take the spot he was yearning for that he didn’t even have the emotion to bark at Ron for being his partner.

Throughout the entire experiment, Draco’s eyes were on the table in front of him. As every second passed, he kept praying that Cormac would somehow get poisoned from inhaling whatever ingredients he could have misplaced, making him run to the Hospital Wing so he could stop looking at you with such puppy eyes.

Despite being the best potion student of the class, Draco was really off his game. He couldn’t stop paying attention to you that he would single-handedly make little mistakes throughout the whole experiment that Ron started getting annoyed by. Even if Ron wasn’t one of the best potions students, he had to fix the mistakes Draco kept filling in with.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy. I thought you were the top of our class!” Ron complained as he picked up the ingredients Draco had dropped, assuming that he placed it in the pot. “Why are you so lousy all of a sudden?”

Draco definitely did not hear a single word Ron had said as his eyes and ears were on you and McLaggen. He was listening to how you were trying your best to be patient with Cormac. He was a mess just like Draco, only to find out that he was always a mess in potions. He wasn’t as keen and smart as Draco in this class - he was far from that. He couldn’t tell which ingredient was which, which made you wonder how he’s been getting by with potions class.

“Why don’t I do the experiment for us?” you irritatingly suggested. “You can still experience the experiment by observing.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Y/N,” Cormac playfully pouted, “I’m such a mess when it comes to these things.”

Draco rolled his eyes, muttering to himself that Cormac was indeed a terrible mess in general. He then watched Cormac rest his head on the palms of his hand as he watched you continue with the experiment like a hopelessly in-love puppy. Draco wanted to smack the head of Cormac for being such an annoying person, not doing his job, and looking at you in the way he wanted to look at you.

“You know, Y/N,” Cormac said, “You’re really good at potions. I bet you do all sorts of talents with your hands.”

Draco narrowed his eyes in anger, holding the table with such grip as he was trying to compose himself from breaking out and hexing the life out of Cormac. How dare him have the audacity to say such a thing to you! Where were his manners? This was an outrage! Draco couldn’t take it anymore. He looked at you, heavily focused on the experiment that you did not hear the last thing Cormac said.

“Uh-huh.” was all you said.

“Do you think you could perhaps tutor me in potions?” Cormac asked, “I know a secluded spot for the two of us in the library.” He wriggled his eyes, expecting that you were going to turn to him and accept the offer gladly.

“No thanks, McLaggen.” you nonchalantly declined the offer as you were still focused on brewing the experiment. “Pass me the whisk, will you?”

As Cormac passed the whisk, there was a lingering touch from his hand as he tried feeling the smoothness of your hand for a little longer. You turned to look at a grinning McLaggen as you aggressively took the whisk away from him, removing his touch from you with a disgusted look.

“You’re welcome.” Cormac sounded as if he depended on the thanks he was waiting for. You just gave him a scoff as you didn’t even bother looking back at him.

Draco was furious from the inside. He asked himself, ‘How could Merlin bring such a badly behaved and disgusting person like Cormac McLaggen into this world?’ As he angrily chopped more ingredients, he couldn’t stand witnessing monstrosities like this. Then again, there were many boys that probably tried courting you without him there, so the unknown number of attempts that he wasn’t there to fend off made him grow more furious than he already was.

After class, you made your way to the one place where you could easily gather your thoughts.

The Black Lake.

If Draco Malfoy claimed the Astronomy Tower as ‘his place’, then the Black Lake was yours. You didn’t have to travel a flight of stairs to gather your thoughts. It only took you a good walk away from the castle to make it to the famous lake.

The Black Lake was the place where you could distress yourself from the immense workload your classes would give you. It was the place where you could talk to yourself, vent and rant to yourself about the things that bother you. It was the place you could be at for hours.

There were barely people who normally hung around the lake as they were scared of Merpeople dragging them into the water. It was nonsense. Of course there were merpeople but people had to understand that they lived in the bottom of the lake. Why would they swim to the top-most part of the lake and attempt dragging people down with them?

When you finally arrived at your favorite place, you rested your back on one of the massive rocks by the trees to get a perfect view of the lake. You opened up your Defense Against the Dark Arts book, attempting to learn more things in advance. This class may have not been your strongest class, but it wasn’t the weakest class either. But either way, you wanted to do some advance reading since you did not have anything else to do for the day.

“Now,” you said, turning to the next page, “Which spell should I learn today?” Your eyes were looking through familiar spells that you either have tried out before or did not interest you. You flipped to more pages, searching for more interesting spells but you ran out of luck. The ones you wanted would have caused mass destruction in a place such as the Black Lake. Also, extreme spells were not allowed to be practiced alone.

Feeling defeated, you closed your Defense Against the Dark Arts Book and sighed, placing it back on your bag. ��I suppose watching the Lake for awhile would suffice,” you said to yourself as you hugged your knees, watching the body of water that the lake had embodied.

“Perhaps I could be of use for entertainment.” said a voice that had come out of nowhere.

Surprised by the voice, you had looked left and right to see where the voice might have come from. But there was nobody. Suddenly, hands covered your eyes, blocking your sight and turning everything you saw into darkness.

“Guess who.” said the same voice that had now whispered into your ear. The thrills that ran along your spine could only mean one thing. Cormac McLaggen. You furiously grabbed a hold of his hands and shoved it away from your eyes as you stood up, turning around to push the playful Gryffindor.

“What the hell, McLaggen!” you screamed, walking a few steps backwards.

Cormac cheekily smiled, walking a few steps towards you. “Come on, sweetcheeks. I know you’re just trying to play hard to get with silly old me.”

Your eyebrows narrowed in anger as you have heard the most ridiculous thing from his mouth. “You’re out of your mind. I despise boys like you who think they can just come up to me and act all playful with me. Why can’t you bark up another tree for once?!”

Cormac pulled you and forcefully pressed you against the nearest tree. He stroked your cheek with his left hand while his right hand was carefully holding you tightly in your waist. He leaned into your ear, whispering, “Because,” he said, “you are-”

“STUPEFY!” casted a voice.

Cormac’s body had flown off of you and into the ground, ten meters away from you. You exhaled in relief and saw that it was Draco Malfoy who had casted the spell. When he saw that Cormac was unconscious for a second, his eyes went to you. He ran towards you, placing his hands on your shoulder, looking up and down to see if you were hurt. “Are you okay, Y/N? Dammit, if only I had gotten here faster. Merlin’s beard I swear, I already threatened that asshole twice today. If he-”

“MALFOY” Cormac yelled as the Gryffindor tried properly standing on his own.

Draco saw that McLaggen was almost on his feet. To stall things, he had quickly casted a “Glisseo”, resulting in Cormac to slip and fall on his own bottom as the spell caused him to flatten steps into a slide. Once Cormac fell once again, Draco looked at you with concerned eyes, “My dear, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am now that you’re here.” you honestly told him. “He just happened to get in the way, honestly.”

“Right, well, it’s time I show you what I've been trying to do ever since vile gits like him have been trying to get on you.” Draco said, looking now at Cormac. “Oy!”

Cormac stood up, looking at Draco with sore eyes.

“Yeah, you great ugly brute! Come at me, Gryffindork!” Draco confidently opened himself.

McLaggen infuriatingly started dashing towards Draco as if he was a bull that saw Draco holding up a red flag. Before he could jump and tackle Draco onto the ground, Draco did the opposite of lowering his wand and casting, “Wingardium Leviosa!” on Cormac, who began levitating off the ground.

Your mouth opened with excitement as Cormac demanded that he be let down immediately. Draco’s wand then pointed at the Black Lake which dragged Cormac’s body above the cold-icy lake. When Cormac had realized where he was being placed, there was fear in his eyes as he started whimpering, apologizing and crying.

“Shall we drench him?” Draco shouted, pretending he was the ringleader of a carnival.

“No, no, please don’t!” Cormac begged.

“I think we should!” Draco sounded happy. “And into the water you go!” With that, Draco pointed his wand to the water, bringing Cormac in for a sweet drench. Then Draco abruptly brought him back on air, only for him to place him back on the water. The action of bringing Cormac back down and back up was done continuously for a good five minutes as Draco was amused and entertained by what he was seeing.

It was funny at first to watch, but five minutes was enough for you. You started to feel bad for Cormac even if he was an awful person to you.

“Draco?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”

Draco scoffed and laughed. “Don’t you think he deserves extreme consequences?”

“True, but I think that should be enough.”

“In a minute, I’m nearly satisfied with my doings.”

Seeing that Draco was focused on the punishment he was giving Cormac, you thought of one way that could possibly prevent him from continuing his doings. You walked closer to him, slowly enveloping him with a soft hug.

Being unfamiliar with such actions from someone like you, Draco without delay, had lowered his wand, resulting in dropping Cormac into the water, possibly sinking him into the depths of the lake as the water that day was extremely cold.

The platinum blonde had surprisingly hugged you back even softer than expected as he brushed the strokes of your hair. He placed his chin on your head as he closed his eyes, taking in the fact that the two of you were hugging each other.

“Thank you, it means a lot to me.” you said.

“I promise you, Y/N, that I will always be there for you. Whether it be fending off jokes like McLaggen or comforting you in any possible way, I assure you, I will be there for you. I won’t let you off my sight.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, “I’m going to do the same thing for you.”

#Draco Malfoy x Reader #Harry Potter #Harry Potter x Reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader

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hatsukeii · 4 years ago

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Fam I needed to just write something to restart my brain and jumpstart some shit so

Just yeah you can ignore this fic if you’d like but I’d say still maybe give it a read because I don’t even know what I’m doing it’s 6am and I was brainstorming and got this

Angst btw, haven’t done that in a while

Okay but before that look at my baby though like he’s so perfect and precious and I love him sm🥺 so let’s make him suffer more on my blog hm🥰

Proud// Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word count: 1.6k+

Warnings: Depression, self hatred, self harm, dead reader

Summary: I honestly don’t know at this point I just wrote down everything I could think of

All that clouded his mind were thoughts of disappearing. Staring mindlessly over the school’s rooftop, he felt a sense of euphoria. Maybe it was just his suicidal tendencies, or maybe it was more, but at that very moment, Tsukishima was imagining how it would feel to jump right off. It didn’t matter, really, did it? People took it as a joke. They took his attempts as a joke. “You’re just being overdramatic,” they’d say. “There’s no way you’d ever do that.” “Stop chasing attention.” Even with cuts on his bare skin, nobody reached out. “You wanna die? I’ll buy you pills later, yeah?” Well, yes, he did want to die, but the team never realised he was serious about it. Nobody ever realised he was serious about it. High schoolers took mental illness as a joke anyways. A twisted, disgusting, horrid joke that Tsukishima could do nothing about but smile and laugh along in order to hide his pain.

Except you.

He still remembers the way you would smile at him. God, you were the only one that would do that. How you sat with him in an empty classroom every single day, rubbing circles into his back as you told him everything would be okay. All those library weekends and study dates together, and not once did you ever complain about his need to rant. You were there to listen to him when no one was, yet all good things had to end. You were gone, and he wasn’t sure what to make of your death. It hurt. Everything hurt. His mind wasn’t stable enough to process it.

It was when you finally gave your last breath in that stupid, stupid hospital ward, did he realise how much he needed you. All the times he’s stopped himself from overdosing were because of you. He knew how devastated you would be if one day you woke up to the death of him on the news. You’ve done so much for him, he would never let himself cause you pain. Never. Yet now, he was back to square one. He was alone again. He was left on his own to fight through this dull, torturous, cruel world. He had to push on with his life, yet there was no one here to push on for. His one reason for living was gone.

The rooftop was quite chilly. Wind blew across Tsukishima’s, as if it was slapping him across the face. Did he look good at that moment? Tucking his shirt back in properly, he grabbed a jumper from his bag, pulling that over himself. If he was going to mourn, might as well mourn looking at least decent. He didn’t remember the wind being this cold. Was it always this cold? “Hey (Y/n), do you need a sweater...” He turned around, expecting to face you, when another gush of wind sliced across his cheeks. This was going to take a while to get used to. He used to let you wear his sweaters when it got chilly like this. You would always pull the sleeves over your hands to make sweater paws, the one thing that never failed to make Tsukishima smile stupidly. The extra sweater he habitually brought to school now sat in his backpack, with no one here to wear it. Sure, he could give it to someone else, another girl even, but it wouldn’t feel right. It never would.

“Ahh, it really never lasts does it?”

And he would be right. The best relationships never last for him. Was it a curse? Some kind of sick hex on him? He would never know. Two good relationships down the drain. First his brother, now you. Why didn’t he see the signs? How you oftentimes skipped school without a warning, the way your face went paler and paler by the day, it almost made him laugh at how utterly stupid and unsuspecting he was. How could he have let all those little things slide? He hated himself for not noticing earlier. If he knew he would’ve done anything to make you the happiest person he knew. There were so many things he wanted to do with you. He was planning on bringing you on a date someday, before telling you how he had quit the cutting. He wanted to show you all the constellations someday, as per your request to him. He wanted to feel your arms around him, hands stroking his hair and his neck tickly from you mumbling sweet nothings into it. He wanted to one day hold your hand in his, comparing the sizes as he laced his fingers with yours. He was trying so hard not to disappoint you. He made a promise to himself that he would let you be the first to know, yet that won’t work out now that he can’t tell you anything. He was so close to his goal, going from cuts all over his arm to occasionally a cut or two on his wrist. He could imagine the way you would cover your mouth like you do when you cried at the movies out of joy, before lunging forward and holding him tight, not letting go, just like how you usually would when he made you proud. Would someone else ever do that for him? No, that would be over demanding for anyone else. High schoolers didn’t have time for shit like this. Nobody cared enough to sit there for hours on end trying to unravel the puzzle that is his mind.

He could almost hear you next to him, patting his back and whispering into his ear just like the old days.

“Kei, I’m so sorry. I really am. But I... please don’t hate yourself. Hate me. Hate me for leaving you so soon. Hate me all you want, but never, ever hate yourself. You are the best thing I’ve ever com across. Your poor soul needs to heal, and I promise, I’ll be watching you from above.”

The thought of your last words snapped the fragile string in him as tears rolled down his cheeks, the rooftop breeze blowing them into his mouth. He would never hate you, even if you wanted him to. He simply couldn’t and that goes without question. When he heard about you being in a hospital ward, he practically dropped everything he was doing and zoomed over, praying he could see you at least one last time.

“I... fuck- promise..?”

He shakily held out his pinkie, his eyes shut tightly as he tried to stop the tears. For a moment, he felt your pinkie graze against his, before it fell.

“(Y/n)..? (Y/n) wake up, wake up please! Please, you can’t leave me now, I can’t handle it by myself, please... I’m begging you...”

Your parents stared as the unknown blond boy wailed, pouring his tears onto their child’s hospital bed as he refused to accept it.

“(Y/N)! I’M SORRY, I’M SO, SO SORRY! I’M... I’m sorry, I couldn’t make you the happiest person in the world.”

It’s okay, you thought.

You already did, Kei.

He never got a reply to his question.

“Tsukki? Tsukki! Lunch is about to end!”

“Ah, shit”

Rubbing his eyes, he looked down, eyes painful from crying. Was it already the end of lunch? Probably, but it wouldn’t hurt to skip a class or two once in a while.

“It’s fine Yamaguchi.”

His friend was the most concerned after your death. He knew that Tsukishima was bound to have a hard time accepting the death of his anchor. He may not have realised it himself, but Yamaguchi knew Tsukishima well. And from everything that he’s seen, he was absolutely sure that he was in love with you. He was so in love with you to the point where he would probably never recover from losing you. He could see that you were such an important part of his life, that losing you would be equivalent to dying. Yet now, his best friend was alone again. Yamaguchi never fully understood Tsukishima, you were the only one that was able to dig deep into his mind and console him properly. You were the definition of his comfort and vice versa. The two of you were inseparable. Yamaguchi truly didn’t know how to help at this point. Tsukishima was damaged beyond return.

“Tsukki, I know it’s really hard on you, but I promise it’s going to get better. Please don’t do it even if you think it’s worth it because it’s not. I’m not saying this out of pity. You helped me up at my lowest and I want to do the same for you. Losing you would be losing the person I’m the most thankful for.”

Tsukishima would kill himself with no problem. What stopped him was knowing that even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to meet you. He could never see you again no matter how hard he tried. A person like you, who selflessly helped him during his hardest times, greeted everyone with a smile, you were bound to end up somewhere nice, whether it was heaven, or reincarnated into a millionaire. The universe would never accept someone like himself. He hurt himself and others in many ways, he was going to hell for everything he had done, and although that would be okay with him, a promise was a promise.

So he was going to live.

He was going to live on, stop cutting, and be the best person he could, all in honour of you.

He was going to live and make you, watching him from above, proud, even if the two of you were to never meet again.

Tags:

@izzyphantomgamer @sunshines-and-tatertots @tiredgr3mlin @tiger1719 @skyeackermans @macaronnv @ewfilthymundane @samanthaa-leanne @kaylacinderella @inlwlevi @random-fandomlover @majorfangirl37 @itmekisuu @trashcanweeb @sakusasgarbage @eightaces @fandomwriter73 @mariechan123 @iwaigroomi @oyasenpai @sneezefiction @emsvegetables @poppirocks @shoutsukii @bokutokoutarou @artsamber @xonfusedsoul @justachillgirl @just-another-bored-writer

I’M BACK FUCKERS

I’ll do some requests now lmao

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu tsukishima #hq #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq scenarios #hq headcanons #hq tsukishima #hq tsukki #tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu angst #manga #anime

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kalimagik · 4 years ago

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Hello Lovelies! I know I have been kind of MIA recently other than responding to asks, but I hit this pretty fantastic milestone of 1.3k followers and have been wanting to do a writing challenge for some time! (I’ve had my prompts written for about a month, but I wanted to post it when I was getting less busy)

I cannot thank you all enough for the continued support and love on here. I appreciate every single one of you <3 I hope to get back into writing soon, but until then, I think I can fill myself with reading for submissions to my writing challenge!

With the holidays coming up and my love for the Christmas season, I’m giving my challenge that type of theme, but do not feel obligated to use a holiday theme for your writing :)

So let’s get to it!

RULES:

When you finish, please tag me [ @kalimagik ] and tag #maggieswinterwritingchallenge

Please reblog to increase its reach and participation

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The Usual: Two prompts per person and no more than 2 people per prompt!

For Tropes and Winter Holiday Scenarios, no more than two people for those either and try to only take one if you use them (You can do this in addition to prompts if you’d like!) - Of course, you can utilize a trope in your work even if you don’t claim it, I don’t mind!

Send me an ask with your chosen prompts, scenarios, or tropes, as well as the character you wish to use.

Can be Character X Reader or Character x Character - it doesn’t matter

I primarily write for the Harry Potter fandom, but if you would like to write for Marvel or ATLA or LOK, I will most likely read those because I’m obsessed with both of those universes as well!

If you would like to choose a Winter Holiday Scenario, but do not see a tradition or holiday that you celebrate, please let me know and I will add it! I would love to see everyone’s traditions, but I do not know all of them, so please share them with us all <3

NO SMUT PLEASE! I just haven’t been in much of a smut mood, so I would like to keep this happy and for everyone!

NO INCEST OR TEACHER/STUDENT RELATIONSHIPS PLEASE! If you write one, I will most likely read it, but I will NOT be reblogging it.

If you have any triggers at all, please make sure to use them so everyone knows what to expect.

There is currently no end date for this!

1. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you” 2. “What are you bloody talking about? This is brilliant!”

- @pregnant-piggy : Blaise Zabini x Reader

3. A: “I can’t do this” B: “Let me help you then”

- @protect-remus : Zuko x Reader

4. A: “You didn’t!” B: “I did” 5. “Don’t be so daft” 6. “That looks really nice on you” 7. “WAIT! Don’t go in there!” 8. “Voilà! I was right” 9. A: “You let me win, didn’t you?” B: “The smile on your face was well worth it” 10. “I’m too cold. From my nose to my toes” 11. “He/She looks just like you”

- @angelinathebook : Harry Potter x Reader

12. “Don’t scare me like that!” 13. “That smells reeeally good. What is it?” 14. “Can’t someone just show up with a cookie or something?” 15. “Why hasn’t my Mr./Ms. Right shown up yet? I am a catch after all” 16. “Wait up! I wanted to thank you for everything you said back there”

@starkidpotty : Harry Potter x Reader

17. “I can’t imagine anything better” 18. “Why does this always happen to us?” 19. “Let’s hide here and avoid everything else” 20. “You can’t possibly do all that, can you?” 21. “See, you never had to be anything more than yourself” 22. “I can’t wait for the next adventure” 23. “And this happens all the time?” 24. “I don’t know what you expected from me” 25. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’ll be fine”

1. A: “Us being together. Liking each other. It just doesn’t make sense!” B: “Love, what’s meant to be doesn’t always make sense. It just is”

- @the-moon-and-the-book : Sirius Black x Reader : It Just Is

2. “Can you kiss me already?”

- @liilyevanss : Harry Potter x Reader

3. A: “Everything is so beautiful” B: “You’re beautiful” 4. “You’re so cute when you talk about what you love” 5. “I want to spend my life making everyday for you better than the last” 6. “My arms are always open for you, you know that” 7. A: “Smell this.” A/B: “it makes me feel so warm inside” 8. “How did you know that this is what I wanted?!? I love it! Thank you” 9. “Can you just cuddle me now?” 10. “You smell nice” 11. “Let’s get married. I love you and you love me. That’s all there has to be to it”

- @remmyswritings : Regulus Black x Reader

12. “I think I just won our bet, love” 13. “You can do it, darling. I promise I’m not going anywhere” 14. “You’re cute when you’re mad”

- @pregnant-piggy : Blaise Zabini x Reader

15. “I honestly get lost in your eyes every time” 16. “You make me feel safe”

- @angelinathebook : Harry Potter x Reader

17. “I didn’t have a home until I found you” 18. “Do you want me to shout it from the top of the Astronomy Tower? Because I will. I LOVE (insert name)!”

- @the-moon-and-the-book : Sirius Black x Reader : It Just Is

- @shaynawrites23 : Remus Lupin x Black!sister

19. “Just knowing I was coming to see you is what got me through the day” 20. “We can run away, just don’t look back.” 21. “I want to love you today, tomorrow, and everyday from now on if you’ll let me.”

- @iliveiloveiwrite : Fred Weasley x Reader : Love Me Now, Love Me Always

22. “I would choose you all over again” 23. “Sleeping next to you is always so much more comfortable” 24. “I can’t picture being here without you” 25. “You are my sunshine” 26. “My whole heart belongs to you” 27. “I would love to have my heart broken by you” 28. “Don’t get too excited, there’s more where that came from” 29. “You are literally my favorite person ever” 30. “How did I not know you during school? You’re impossible not to notice”

1. “Don’t go, we can work on this! I swear!” 2. “It isn’t working anymore. I think it’s best if you leave.” 3. “I wish I could forget everything and be with you, but I can’t. I’m sorry” 4. “Please take this anyways. It was for you after all...” 5. “You’re like a beautiful dream, but dreams end and I have to wake up sometime” 6. “Let me kiss you one last time and then I’ll go” 7. “You hurt me, (insert name)! You hurt me and I won’t be able to forget that!” 8. “Just leave me alone” 9. “I never want to see you again” 10. “Give me a second chance, please! You won’t regret it” 11. “Please, please, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen” 12. “Don’t cry, you’re making it so much harder for me to say what I need to say” 13. “I watched you change to be what they wanted you too, but this isn’t the you I fell in love with” 14. “You’re being a prick and I don’t like it”

@starkidpotty : George Weasley x Reader : Should’ve Known Better

15. “But I trusted you” 16. “GET OUT! GET OUT RIGHT NOW!” 17. “Life isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. There’s a real darkness out there. There’s a darkness in me” 18. “I’m not talking to you right now” 19. “I am so mad I could snap my wand” 20. “Go away before I hex you” 21. “Just know I will always love you, even if you don’t love me” 22. “I tried so hard to be your friend, but you make it so difficult for me” 23. “Can you just sit with me for a bit?” 24. “It’s odd. I should be crying, but I can’t. I’m content with my decision” 25. “We’ve been through so much. You can’t just throw it all away!” .... “Yes I can because it’s better for me” 26. “You have to let me go. It’s the only way to move on” 27. “I’ll never forget you”

- @snitches-at-dawn : Cedric Diggory x Reader

28. “Don’t doubt my love for you” ... “I’m trying not to, but it’s so hard” 29. “I can’t keep being strong for both of us. It is wearing me out.”

- @heloisedaphnebrightmore : Charlie Weasley x Reader

30. “It’s me or him/her. I can’t handle feeling like a second choice anymore”

1. Opening presents 2. Baking cookies 3. Picking & decorating the tree 4. Going Caroling 5. Going to a Holiday Party (office party, family party, a Yule Ball, your choice!) 6. Christmas Shopping 7. Watching Holiday movies together 8. Seeing Christmas Lights 9. A day of lighting the Menorah (whichever or all of them, you choose!) 10. Introducing a character to your holiday 11. If you have any holiday traditions of your own you would like to incorporate, please do! I would be happy to add them

1. Soulmate au

- @liilyevanss : Harry Potter x Reader

2. Roommates au 3. Coffee Shop au 4. Bookshop au 5. Best Friend’s Sister/Brother

- @shaynawrites23 : Remus Lupin x Black!Reader

6. Enemies to Lovers 7. Friends to Lovers

- @iliveiloveiwrite : Fred Weasley x Reader

8. Unrequited Love 9. Fake Dating au 10. Dating because of a bet

Tagging Some Mutuals to see if y’all would want to participate, but are in no way obligated to

@iliveiloveiwrite @heloisedaphnebrightmore @teheharrypotter @pregnant-piggy @weasleysflowr @dogweedanddeathcaps @remmyswritings @shaynawrites23 @acciotwinz @angelinathebook @with1love1anu @poppin-potter @birdie-writes @nebulablakemurphy @theweasleysredhair

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askkrenko · 4 years ago

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Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Gastly Line

I may or may not be afraid of some ghosts.

DESIGN:

Gastly, Haunter, and Gengar are an interesting design combination of a creature being fully realized. Gastly is just a face, really, while Haunter has something of a proper head and hands, as well as the hints of a body. Gengar is then the full creature, with legs and everything. Meanwhile, Gastly has a very will-o-wisp look for a minor ghost, while Haunter is more actively ghostly. Gengar, meanwhile, is designed to be sort of an animated shadow of a nonspecific Pokemon that’s absolutely Clefable. It’s name, even in Japan, comes from the word Doppleganger, which is a magical being that looks like a copy of a real person. Basically your classic evil twin.

All three designs are relatively simple, but I also think they get the point across. These things are spooks, and they’re all the same spook gradually getting stronger over time.

The only really weird and confusing thing about the trio is... Haunter is bigger than Gengar. Forget the tiny Haunter you remember from the anime.

Thanks, KlavernBoer for taking this picture. Haunter is 5′03″. or 1.6m. Seriously. It’s HUGE. It’s just only in the newer games that you can really tell. The anime’s wrong on other sizes, too, but the Haunter one is extra surprising because you can ride Haunter in Let’s Go.

So, the base three are fine, and then we’ve got two added forms. Mega Gengar, like many Mega evolutions, is just... X-TREME!

I don’t really have anything interesting to say about Mega Gengar. It’s just Gengar but spikier. It has a third eye for some reason... and if anything it feels like it’s devolving back toward Haunter with the forward-leaning pose and the lack of feet. It’s interesting for the Mega Evolution gimmick, but I’m really not feeling the design. You know what design I do feel, though? GIGANTIMAX GENGAR!

At over 65 feet tall, this thing is higher than many buildings, and it clearly just wants to eat everyone and everything into the netherworld that is its mouth. According to the Pokedex, its mouth leads directly to the afterlife, and if you stand too close you’ll hear your loved one’s voices calling for you to enter.

Those children are about to get eaten. That’s just what’s going to happen. Maybe they can fight it off, but if not, they’re snacks. I also love how Gigantamax Gengar sinks into the ground, making it even bigger than what we can see. It’s huge. It’s terrifying. I love it. EVOLUTIONS: Gastly to Haunter at 25 is fine but I’ve already complained about how trade evolutions are kind of out of date and more of a pain than they are fun anymore. Back in they day they were fun, sure, but now it’s just a chore. Mega Gengar was a bad idea. Many Pokemon needed Megas. Many Pokemon want Megas. Gengar was not one of them. In fact, Gengar was so good even before getting a Mega that they had to nerf it by changing its special ability from a good one to a bad one, and it’s still an entirely solid Pokemon. Megas very clearly were distributed more on ‘what would be cool’ rather than ‘what Pokemon needs a boost’ and that makes me sad. Because part of the reason Gengar is so cool is that it really doesn’t need the boost.

Gigantamax Gengar is basically a straight upgrade from Gengar. Max Phantasm lowers an opponent’s physical defense, but Gengar’s special attack is literally twice its physical, so there’s no reason to use that. Instead, it gets G-Max Terror, which prevents the opponent from switching out.

Art by please tell me if you can figure this out I’ve done reverse search and nothings turned up. It seems to be linked to https://theroaringtrainers.com/ but I can’t actually find it there.

TYPING: Poison/Ghost was a really dumb thing back in Red and Blue. Ghost was the only thing good against Psychic, but there were no Ghost moves worth a damn and the only ghosts were Poison/Ghost, so they were weak to Psychic. Now that the Psychic bogeyman’s a lot less of an issue, this type combo is a lot stronger. The Gastly line has four weaknesses, two resistances, two double resistances, and two immunities. Six is a decent array of defensive types, and the fact that Normal, Fighting, Poison, and Bug attacks fall off Gengar like water off a duck’s back really helps. Offensively, Gengar’s getting super-effective hits on only Ghost, Psychic, Fairy and Grass (two of which are getting super-effective hits right back on Gengar), but almost nothing resists Ghost, and Poison works just fine on most of the Dark and Normal types that do.

Grim Haunter by Dragolisco

STATS: 130 Special Attack, 110 Speed. Oh, you want to know about its other stats? ...Why? It has 130 Special Attack and 110 Speed. It usually goes first, and the other Pokemon often won’t survive. Okay, so, defensively, Gengar’s sub par at 60 HP, 60 Defense, and 75 special defense, but those stats aren’t so low that he’ll simply collapse to most hits. Just build for Special Attack and Speed, and swing for the fences. It’s not complicated. Mega Gengar has bigger numbers all around, with 170 Special Attack and 130 speed, with both defenses raised by 20. Look, if you have 130 speed and 170 special attack it doesn’t really matter what your other stats are. You’re a murder machine.

Art by TsaoShin

ABILITIES: Gastly, Haunter, and any Gengar in generations 3, 4, 5, and 6 has the ability Levitate. With a ground weakness and two pre-existing immunities, Levitate makes them particularly hard to stop. Shifting this line’s already defensive typing to include three immunities and four resistances with only three weaknesses is absurdly powerful, and the devs figured that out the hard way. As of generation 7, Gengar has the Cursed Body ability.

Cursed Body... is an ability that exists. It’s has a chance to disable any move that hits Gengar, and while that’s not garbage, Gengar’s relatively fragile body means you’re unlikely to see it trigger in a normal fight, except maybe on an attack you intentionally jumped in front of because Gengar’s resistant anyway and you’d rather they use again instead of switching attacks. Yes, sometimes it’ll save your life, and sometimes it’ll really mess up someone using a Choice Band, but it’s not really a relevant part of the overall Gengar discussion. Mega Gengar has Shadow Tag which prevents the opponent from switching out. Shadow Tag is a very powerful ability that makes sure Gengar gets to knock out what Gengar wants to knock out. There is no escape from Mega Gengar.

Pokemon x UNDERTALE: Chara and MegaGengar by Sa-Dui

MOVES: Gengar is one of those early Pokemon that gets all sorts of moves that it has no reason to have. I have a theory that when TMs were first programmed into Red and Blue, every Pokemon could learn every TM, and then they decided that was silly and cut out the moves that really didn’t make sense... But any Pokemon programmed in after this was instead given TM moves case-by-case. My basic evidence for this is that the Pokemon that can learn Thunderbolt for no apparent reason are mostly Pokémon early in the Internal List. I haven’t really gone on a deep dive, but this is my theory. Anyway, for attacks, every Gengar takes Shadow Ball. Gengar gets it on level-up, it’s its best Ghost-type move. The only bit of competition here is Hex, which requires either Hypnosis or Will-O-Wisp to set up.

Gengar’s other attacks have a lot of options. If you want a Poison move, Sludge Bomb. While Sludge Wave technically does more damage to a single target than Sludge Bomb, the added 20% chance to poison in Sludge Bomb is generally going to wind up being more damage than 5 more power.

The only things that don’t take full damage from Shadow Ball are Dark and Normal, and while Sludge Bomb can work on them, they share a weakness in Fighting. With fighting ALSO being super-effective against Ice, Rock, and Steel, many Gengar trainers teach it Focus Blast, an absurdly strong albeit highly inaccurate attack. Further, Gengar has plenty of special attack options like Dark Pulse, Thunderbolt, Psychic, Energy Ball, and Dazzling Gleam if you just want more options at Super-Effective damage. If there’s a Pokemon you’re particularly worried about, Gengar probably has something it’s weak to.

But what sweeper setup would be complete without Sword Plot or Nasty Dance? Get a moment to set up and Gengar can double its Special Attack, giving it an easy time tearing through anything that gets in its way.

On the other hand, maybe you’re a bit worried about backlash. With high speed, Substitute can make a good defensive measure and scout what the opponent’s doing. And aforementioned Will-O-Wisp and Hypnosis can severely impact the opponent’s ability to smash your face in while also turning Hex into a 130 power attack. With Mega Gengar’s Shadow Tag, you can get even tankier. Disable and Taunt can severely inhibit a Pokemon that’s trapped in combat against it, and if you really just want to trade Megas, you can use Destiny Bond because they can’t exactly switch out. Gengar has a lot of options, and it’s good at them.

Art by Nohbyl

OVERALL: The Gastly line is great. They look cool, they’re powerful, they’re useful, and there’s actually a bit of a niche for Haunter to be used on its own due to having a different ability than Gengar, not that it’s a particularly good one. GMax Gengar is great, too, though Mega Gengar is entirely unnecessary. Gengar with Levitate was good enough before Mega Gengar existed, it’s weird to me that they added the Mega, then nerfed base Gengar.

Anyway, Gengar’s in a great place, always has been, and I’m sure we’re going to keep seeing it for years to come. It’s also simple enough to easily show up in any region, and popular enough that they’ll never shelve it for long.

#Krenko's Pokemon Guide #Gastly #Haunter #Gengar

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drarryruinedme7 · 6 years ago

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Soooo, I’ve decided to write a short (?) list of Drarry fan fictions rated General or Teens and Up. Thanks to @aylasecuralikenoother I realised most of the times, only M or E rated fics are recced, but I love lots of soft fics too, so (please, read the tags on AO3):

Dear Diary by AWickedMemory

Rating: Teen and Up | Word count: 20,427

Summary:

// This can’t possibly go worse than the last time I kept a diary. //

After the war, Harry picks up a journal to write in… and it writes back. Luckily, it’s not a Horcrux on the other end this time.

Don’t mind if I keep your tie (and your heart, babe) by Ingi

Rating: General (#kissing) | Word count: 21,363

Summary:

The Eighth year common room has a parrot in it, courtesy of McGonagall and her mad search for interhouse bonding.

Most of the time, it's just there, until one day it repeats "Potter has a damn fine arse." And the Slytherins know exactly who the parrot's mimicking...

Draco is not amused.

Eclipse by Mijan

Rating: Teen and Up (#kissing) | Word count: 287,239

Summary:

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..."

Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Scurrilous by Saras_Girl

Rating: Teen and Up (sex is mentioned) | Word count: 25,142

Summary:

When Potter starts behaving more oddly than usual, Draco has no choice but to take an interest. After all, it’s his job. Sort of.

Sharing is a Myth by @xx-thedarklord-xx

Rating: Teen and Up | Word count: 5,603

Summary:

“Draco,” Harry breathed, stepping forward. “I have been in love with you since the moment you offered me your biscuit when we were five.”

Draco snapped his head up, breath rattling in his chest. “What?” He himself hadn’t realized his feelings till a few years ago.

“Or maybe it was when you snuck out of your house when we were nine and you declared that you would use your inheritance to buy me the world.” Draco felt his ears heat up and he wished Harry would stop.

Harry took a step closer. “Perhaps it was when I gave you my dirty old jacket and you smiled so beautifully that I slipped and fell.”

-------- Or Draco doesn't understand the concept of sharing, but sets out to learn. Sharing turns out to be far harder than he originally believed, but it can be rewarding if he just takes a chance.

Talk to Me by Saras_Girl

Rating: Teen and Up (#kissing) | Word count: 15,601

Summary:

When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story.

Series: The Fluffiest of Drarry Floofs by @rockmarina

Rating: check every single work, there might be some explicit, but mostly G and T.

Content:

Adorable, lighthearted, tooth-rotting sweet Drarry one-shots for the broken hearts and souls in despair. Spiced with humour and smut, and free of angst, these fics are sure to make you wriggle in your seat and smile like your facial muscles have decided to start exercising. Happy endings guaranteed.

The Worst Plan He's Ever Had by @gnarf

Rating: General (#kissing) | Word count: 3,495

Summary:

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend until valentine's day is over. I detected at least three hexed objects in my mail and five attempts to poison me with love potion this week and I'm sick of it.”

“To be—your boyfriend?” Malfoy's voice stuttered and Harry braced himself for the punch he was expecting. But it never came. Instead— “Fine. I'll do it.”

Harry couldn't believe his ears. “Just like that?”

“Yes Potter, just like that."

#drarry #drarry squad #drarry fanfiction #drarry rec #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfic rec #drarry fanfictions #draco x harry #harry potter #draco malfoy #rating: G #rating: T

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thecorteztwins · 5 years ago

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These are all scenes from my longass ALT-MARAUDERS FIC PITCH and you don’t need to read the whole pitch because it’s huge and a fic in itself, but basically what’s going on is Xavier ordered Miss Sinister, Madelyne Pryor, Pyro, Haven, and the Shaws to work together as a crack team accomplishing bringing “home” mutants like the Marauders but probably also other stuff too. I don’t really care what their mission is though because it’s about their relationships. Also it looks like ALICE is now the adopted team baby, at least for Madelyne and Haven (maybe Pyro too, I like to think he looks out for her) sorry I don’t make the rules OH WAIT I DO AND I SAY SHE’S TEAM BABY honestly she really fits the theme/the team, given her history? So I’m down for it. Tagging @sammysdewysensitiveeyes since you showed interest in it and since it’s got YA BOY PYRO and @hexiva since you asked about it too, though no obligation to read it, or to read all of ‘em! I feel like you might like “Scientists” though, Hex. CONTENTS A Box Full of Darkness - Sebastian/Haven Canvas - Madelyne/Alice Scientists - Claudine/Haven Like An Old Married Couple - Group Parties, Pleas, and Promises - Pyro/Shinobi Sea & Sky - Madelyne/Haven Awkward - Pyro/Sebastian Stories - Madelyne/Pyro Out of the Frying Pan - Sebastian/Shinobi Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream - Pyro

*** A BOX FULL OF DARKNESS "Do you care at all for poetry, Mr. Shaw?” The ship had a small sitting room that also served as a library, shelves lining three of its walls. The wood, the carpet, the small chair, the atmosphere, all made one forget that one was at sea, and not in fact in the nook of some old college’s study. One had to wonder who had chosen the books. ”No, Ms. Dastoor, I can’t say it has ever appealed to me. Most of the arts do not, particularly the ones that are not visual in nature. I do not see the point of endless stanzas and pentameters to say in metaphor and allegory what could be said much more clearly and succinct in a single sentence of plain simple prose.” ”Then I hope you shall forgive me for sharing a bit---it reminded me of you, you see.” There was one in her hand. ”Ah, what was it? Something from the Decadent movement? Or perhaps some pretencious Bohemian lampooning the upper class from which he came himself? Dare I hope for Ozymandias, perhaps, and will it be Smith’s or Shelley’s?” He was smirking slightly. Perhaps he thought he was being funny. Or it might just be his face. ”You seem to know much about the subject despite a disinterest in it. I rather admire that you took the time to learn,” and she did sound genuinely approving, encouraging, “But, no---Mary Oliver, someone much more recent, and much more recently deceased. I am paraphrasing her here so that my meaning, my reason for seeing you in this, is not confused: Someone once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” He smiled wryly, “Is that how you see me, Ms. Dastoor, a box full of darkness?” “No,” she said, her gaze rising back up from the open pages to meet his, her large dark eyes unreadable as they drank him in, boxes of darkness in themselves, “And I do not agree that evil and suffering---if we must use ‘darkness’ to mean those things, which I also do not agree with, but is what I believe Ms. Oliver may have meant--is ever a gift, no matter what we may get out of it through our own power to come back from it...but I believe you see it this way, do you not?” There was no accusation in her tone, no disapproval. There seldom was. She was only asking, only observing. At least, Sebastian thought, that was what she wanted to seem like. He always suspected her motives were more, and that she was simply trying to disguise the fact she was trying to needle him, rather than making it pointedly obvious as, say, Emma, might. Coward---but then, he knew that of her. “Perhaps in less poetic terms, yes. I’m a practical man, Ms. Dastoor. I used to work in a steel mill. I saw how heat and pressure forged the worthless in the valuable, how the smelting process pulled the precious iron from the rest of the ore and shaped it through force into something useful. The same can be said of people---and I do indeed say it. You have heard me. Is that the darkness of which you speak?” ”The steel you speak of and the shapes it was forced into were valuable and useful...by the definitions of what the humans shaping it needed and wanted. But ore and iron and metal and stone, all these have no intrinsic value, or lack there of. There is no objective difference in the value between steel and granite, glass or diamond, gold or plastic. Thus, too, I believe that when it comes to people, you are deciding what is valuable according only to your standards. But is there objective worth to your perception of strength over your perception of weakness, beyond what is merely your perception?” And yet again, her voice was calm, not accusing, merely observing and asking. Sebastian returned, just as calm, if slightly smug, “Is there objective value in your perception of kindness and morality, Ms. Dastoor, beyond that it is merely your perception?” “I believe it has practical applications, but I have also never claimed an objective standpoint in our discussions, have I? Whereas you have, if I am recalling corrective,” Again, there was nothing aggressive in her tone. She was polite as could be. “I have and I do, but if I am to have it be put to a test of authenticity, I must require you to subject your own beliefs to the same scrutiny. It is not fair for the burden of proof to only fall on my shoulders.” Still also calm, still slightly smirking in his turning around on her. “That is quite true. I apologize,” she relented, ”But, to my original point---while I may disagree with Ms. Oliver’s sentiment, is it not one that appeals to you, one that you share?” Sebastian, too, relented with his smirk becoming a smile, “Yes.” The smile widened, knowing and amused,

“And despite your claim of not sharing the poem’s sentiments, I believe you see me as your box of darkness---and you are excavating me in search of some gift.” He put one hand in his suit pocket and began to depart, though he turned once, the smirk returned, and said, “Do let me know if you find it.” *** CANVAS “It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Alice, interrupting Madelyne’s angry rant, “I’m not real.” Madelyne Pryor had just explosively dragged the girl away from Claudine, insisting that the child shouldn’t have to see that...that...MONSTER...at any point on the voyage home. And if Haven hadn’t stopped her, she’d have ensured that Alice wouldn’t have a chance to, by KILLING the other woman, whom Madelyne now realized was aptly named “Miss Sinister” for fare more than her looks. She might still do it... But first--- “Don’t give me that!” Madelyne suddenly rounded on the girl she had just been comforting, been supporting, been swearing she’d never have to see her abuser---that was what it was to breed and clone someone just for the sake of their violation, abuse, beyond abuse!---again. But Alice had hit a nerve. And for the same reason Madelyne Pryor had so much empathy for her, she now had ire too. Madelyne’s snapping did, at least, stop Alice from crying. She’d been about to start, but the shock of Madelyne’s sudden change halted her in mid-tear. “You’re made of real flesh and blood, right?” Madelyne demanded rhetorically, “And you have thoughts and feelings right? Well you're real! The flesh being shared doesn't make it less real, just not unique. So you’re no less real than someone’s identical twin. And even they’re not really copies, because they have different personalities. So the only way you could be a copy---which you’re not---is if you had the first Alice’s same genes AND same thoughts and personality and everything! And you don’t, right” “Um,” Alice sniffled, a little afraid to correct the woman, who was so fierce whether she was defending Alice or berating her (or at least, it seemed like that was what she was doing...Alice wasn’t sure), “Actually...actually...I get all the memories of the previous Alices, so...so....I am a copy, actually...” “Oh,” Madelyne felt her argument just get ripped out from under like a trick rug someone had pulled. Her empathy came flooding back from the girl...and shame for shouting at her. Especially since she knew who she had REALLY been shouting at. “Well...” Shit, what did she do now? She’d just as good as told the girl she WAS a copy! How did she salvage this now? Come on Maddie, she told herself, What did you need somebody to say to you when you found out? “Listen, Alice,” she put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, firmly but gently. Her tone matched. “Yeah, you’re a copy. So am I. But we’re still real people, for all the reasons I said. No one gets to treat use like Claudine---or Colcord---treated you. No one should, anyway. It DOES matter. Being a clone, a copy, it doesn’t make you less alive. And so what if you’re a copy? You’re still YOU. You become more and more your own person with every moment you’re alive. Think of it like...like...” A Xerox. It was what she had compared herself to when she’d told Jean what she was. A Xerox that lost a lot in translation. What memories she’d had were either lies manufactured by Sinister...or worse, remnants from Jean that had bled into her mind when the Phoenix brought her to life. “Think of it like a Xerox machine, okay?” she said, more gentle than ever now, voice soft, and little tears of her own welling up, “When it first comes off the copy machine, yeah, it’s a duplicate...but then you can draw on it. You can write on it. You can crumple it up or throw it in the bin, or you can paint over it until it’s something new entirely on the paper. It’s up to you. It won’t stay a duplicate for long though. Either you can change it...or someone else will. But it’ll happen either way. And you know what?” Madelyne put a hand on Alice’s face, looking into her eyes, “I bet you can paint a real masterpiece.” *** SCIENTISTS “Are you alright, Claudine?” Madelyne had whisked Alice off. Haven had been going to do that originally, but since Madelyne had stepped in, Haven would leave it to her. She didn’t need to be the hero every time, and Madelyne...Madelyne had much in common with Alice. She might be better for Alice. And Alice might be good for her. But Haven’s next concern after Alice and Madelyne was Claudine. Claudine was the victimizer, yes. She had done awful things to Alice, to the Alices before her, to the other children. She had also been a victim too, and no one else here had pity for her now that they knew what she’d been besides that. No one else but Haven. “No moral outrage, Radha?” Claudine smirked slightly. She’d retreated to her lab, and it was hard to tell if she’d been expecting Haven to follow or not. “Of course,” said Haven calmly, “It horrifies and revolts me that those girls were bred only to be used as their hosts, their entire personalities, their souls, displaced for yours. Horrifies and disgusts me. Just as it horrifies and disgusts me, on just as deep a level, that the same was going to happen you if you did not escape in such a way.” “So because I was in danger of something terrible happening, you can excuse what I did?” Claudine sounded curious, mocking somehow, tapping one red-pink nail against a porcelain cheek. “Not excuses,” said Haven still calmly, “But I understand. And I still care if you were hurt just now.” “It’s more than that, isn’t it though?” said Claudine, still sounding amused, “You want to see if I’m wracked with guilt or not, if I hate myself. You want to see if I’m remorseful or tortured like you, like you want me to be maybe. Like you hope I am because it proves I must have some good in me, and you can comfort me and feel good about that. And if I’m not remorseful at all, you want to see why that is, if it’s because of Sinister or if it’s just me. And then if it’s just me...you want to figure me out too. Like you do with dear Sebastian.” Haven blinked, her sole sign of surprise, “That’s quite a lot of conjecture, Claudine. But...you are not incorrect, no. We do like to divide things neatly into victims who could do nothing, who had no power, and the victimizers who are wholly monsters...but that’s not wholly true, is it? Sometimes, the victims can do something. And sometimes, the only thing they can do is a monstrous thing. They’re caught in a Catch 22---either they don’t do the one thing they can, and thus will feel they are to blame for what happened. Or they do it, and they must live with the guilt. I can’t tell you if you were right or wrong Claudine, because---” “---sometimes there is no right or wrong, because the entire situation was wrong, and that’s not your fault.” Claudine finished, “I’ve heard how you talk with the kiddies, Haven. Like those little ones we pulled out of the fight pit. Or the one who pushed his friend forward at the flesh market so he’d get taken instead. You’re just oh so understanding, aren’t you? Seeing things from all sides.” “I would hope so. I certainly try to be. But, I admit, I’m not seeing something right now...why do you say that with what sounds, to me, as a mocking tone? Am I misinterpreting you, Claudine?” “A bit. I’m not mocking you, really I’m not---but I am teasing a little. It’s just so funny, you know?” Claudine’s index finger was next to her smiling mouth, “How you’re always thinking, always watching, and how I’m the only one who notices. What do you think the others would think, if they knew?” “I’m afraid I’m still not understanding you, Claudine. Would you mind helping me by putting it a bit plainer?” “Ever so polite. Come on now, Haven---as well as you know people, you must know they don’t like being put under a microscope. Everyone likes the IDEA of someone who “gets” them, who knows just what they’re feeling and what they need without them ever needing to open up all their vulnerable little insides like clams willfully tearing themselves out of their shells...but when it actually comes along, they don’t like it. Especially if it doesn’t feel earned, or specific to them. Because when they say they want that, they’re thinking of a partner, a lover, one single person who knows them that well because they’ve been with them that long, and love them, just them, that much. But telepaths like me, we get all that without having to see them as special at all. We don’t have to love them or spend time with them to KNOW them. We don’t have to open ourselves up in exchange. That’s why people don’t like us. And that’s---” She stepped close to Haven and bobbed her fingertip just above the other woman’s nose, “---why they wouldn’t like you. Oh yeah, you’re great when you’re sensitive and empathetic and all that, when you just know when someone needs a cup of tea or a shoulder to cry on...but it’s only to a point. Underneath all that soft silk and sweet words, you’re a lot like me---a scientist. We see the data. We gather it. We examine it. We analyze, we classify, we theorize. People call Xavier creepy these days but I think he’s just finally being honest.” She picked up Haven’s right hand, and raised it up, Haven allowing her. “So,” Claudine met her eyes, still smiling, “When are you going to be honest too?” Haven smiled back, with kind sincerity as always, “May I be honest now, Claudine?” “Of course.” Haven put her other hand on top of Claudine’s, sandwiching the unnaturally pale paw between her two soft brown ones, “Everything you say is accurate. But it’s also a deflection. You could have told me that you just did not wish to talk about Alice, you know. I would not have pried or pushed you. You know I never do.” Claudine laughed, and it was the laugh of someone who had just been proven completely correct. *** LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE “We’re going to need you to go undercover for this mission,” Xavier explained to the team, “It’s been decided that Sebastian and Haven will do best in this environment. Naturally, you will be outfitted with image inducers, and provided with all the false documentation required.” He slid a folder across the table to them, explaining, “You will be posing as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. King.” “King. I’m sure you thought that was very clever, Charles,” said Sebastian, picking the folder up and perusing it, “And I see our first names are...Abraham and Lakshmi. Is that a reference to something?” “Lakshmi is the goddess of which Radha is an aspect,” Xavier explained, “And Abraham...well, that just sounds slightly like Hiram, your middle name, or so I thought. I thought it might help the pair of you remember your identities, without being obvious to others.” “Well, thank you Charles. It’s good to know you put a man on the Quiet Council of whom your opinion is so low you think I can’t remember two names for a single night,” said Shaw, getting up and taking the folder with him, without excusing himself. The rest of the team follow suite, save Haven, who of course said the politest of goodbyes and thanked him for arranging the false identities. clever, and our first names “We’re leaving in the next five hours, so there’s hardly any time to prepare,” Sebastian said, plainly speaking to Haven even though he was looking ahead, not at her, “Ms. Dastoor, come with me so that we may discuss the details of our ruse.” Pyro watched the pair like a hawk as they went in a different direction from the rest of the crew. “Jealous, Pyro?” Claudine quipped, “I confess, I didn’t think Sebastian was your type...then again, he does have a certain resemblance to Dom I suppose...” Pyro was in no mood to play, however. “If he touches her I’m a-toast him from the inside out, see if his stinking GUTS are fireproof!” he proclaimed, a small jet of flame emanating from his wrist-shooter for emphasis. “Husband and wife...what’s Xavier thinking?! And she’ll be all alone with him and have to keep up the act if he does anything!” “Don’t sweat it,” Shinobi assured, “ I know my dad. She’s like ten years too old for him to be interested.” Pyro looked confused, “Isn’t she YOUNGER than him?” “Yeah,” said Shinobi. A look of disgust came over Pyro’s face. “Don’t look shocked,” Madelyne told him, “Don’t forget, he dated someone under ten once.” And that garnered...about the expressions you’d expect. Even from Claudine. “Me, you idiots! I was making a joke!” Madelyne clarified, seeing their shock and horror on their faces, “I’m technically like twelve years old max! God, you people...”

Meanwhile, Sebastian and Haven’s conversation in the former’s ship office was not far off. “With all that covered...” Sebastian finished as the last of their act was hashed out, “I have to bring us to what will likely be the most difficult part of this for you. Ms. Dastoor, I am not sure what the norms are for married couples in public in your country, but at some point in the evening...I will most likely put my arm around your shoulders.” “I understand,” said Haven, with the solemn gravity required for such a thing. “There will hopefully be no need for anything else, but if dancing occurs, there is a chance that a hand on your waist will be required as well. Can you allow and “act natural” this without displaying any discomfort?” "This will be tolerable if need be, Mr. Shaw, though not preferable. Will your hand be on mine, outside of potential dancing?” Sebastian cracked a smile, amused, “Husbands and wives don’t hold hands, Ms. Dastoor. I’m shocked you’ve never noticed that. It’s far too intimate for a married couple.” “I’m afraid you lost me, Mr. Shaw. Too intimate for a married couple? Is this a Western peculiarity?” “Men don’t slap their wives bottoms, Ms. Dastoor, “Sebastian explained, “They slap the bottoms of waitresses and flight attendants when their wives aren’t there. Does that help illustrate it better? “Yes, I think I see, Mr. Shaw.” “We probably haven’t had sex in the last 25, 35 years. At least not with each other.” “Thank you, Mr. Shaw.” “ Our marriage bed is as dry as the Sah—” “Thank you, Mr Shaw.” It was the first time that Sebastian had ever heard Haven cut him, or anyone, off. He would have taken offense from someone else, but he actually liked this, and smiled. He found it amusing he’d managed to get under her skin enough to prompt such a, for her, dramatic reaction. He’d have to make a note of this. *** PARTIES, PLEAS, AND PROMISES These Krakoa portals were truly a godsend. For many mutants, that was because the X-Men and other agents of Krakoa could now come to them easily and bring them to a safe place. For others it was because it enabled them to keep contact with their family and friends while also not having to leave what they felt was at last a place they could belong. But for Pyro and Shinobi...it meant bar-hopping from Manhattan to Moscow to Mexico! to Bulgaria to Bangkok to Taiwan to Timbuktu! In Manhattan, a cute guy with a nose piercing bought them beers and guided them through the city with his friends, boyfriends, and cousins til 5 AM when the guy’s cousin decided she really wanted spahgetti, so they all went to her house in the Harlem projects where she made them some and then they watched 90s hip hop music videos together. They stayed til 10 AM, then hopped a portal to Mexico, and went to a resort strip, where they got piss drunk again by doing shots with a guy covered in tattoos who might have also been involved with the cartels---Shinobi said he knew him from his dad’s black market business---and then Pyro got in a fight with the bouncer while Shinobi snorted molly in the bathroom stall. Got drunk again in Shanghai, fell off the bouncy dance floor, made friends with some Ukrainian tourists and went back to their hotel, walked in on an orgy, and when in Rome... Next thing they knew, they were in downtown Tokyko, drunk again, running on foot from the Japanese police, each of them holding a marijuana plant in a pot, laughing uncontrollably. Shinobi grabbed Pyro’s hand and they phased through a wall, only to fall down through thin air into an underground parking garage. Their potted pot plants shattered as they hit the concrete, and this just made them laugh more despite their own bruised tailbones as they lay there between a couple of cars. Eventually, when the giggles ran out, Shinobi slurred, “Man, I’m so glad...so glad our last night is awesome.” “Wha?” Pyro said, not sure he’d gotten that right. He was pretty boozy right now, after all, “What’d you mean, last night?

"Well, I, uh,” Shin said, obviously uncomfortable, “I decided...if I can’t hang out w’you anymore...gonna make the last time a good time.”

”Wh--” Pyro started, then his expression soured, “It’s yer dad, isn’t it?”

No answer.

”I knew it! He told you...tol’ you you couldn’t...be mates with me no more...that it?”

Shinobi mumbled.

”Listen Shin...forget him! You a grow...grown man! Y’don’t have to do what that old douchebag says! He’s just a...just a cunt, a right cunt, y’know? Fucking cunt...” Pyro wobbled back and forth, so vehement was he in his support.

”Well, we’re workin together now...” Shinobi said weakly.

”Yer workin WITH him though not for him! And why’re you even doing that? C’mon, he he wasn’t any good to you why should you do anything for him?”

Shinobi looked shocked, then angry, demanding, “How d’you know that?!” "Pfft, I’m not as thick as your old man thinks, you know! I can pick up a hint or two! Especially when it’s you telling me.” Shinobi looked shocked again, and Pyro, still swaying in place, clapped him on the back and explained, “Ah, I don’t expect you to remember but you’ve said a few things when you were as full as the back of a plumber's ute.Don’t worry, weren’t nothing too personal, no specifics, so don’t look so scared alright?” Pyro knew how it was to want to keep some things private, things that hurt, and even drunk he was trying to be sensitive to that, sensitive as someone like him could be. He continued, “And anyway, would have still guessed. He’s such a right bastard to everyone, can’t imagine him being some warm old papa bear behind closed doors. “He’s---” Shinobi started, about to tell Pyro about just how horrible his father was, and then remembered how ‘sympathetic’ Warren had been, and instead went back on the defensive, “Well it’s none of your business!” Pyro shrugged, not deterred, “Sure it’s not but I’m a journalist, so what do I care? It’s been my job to go where I’m not wanted. And you can do what you want, Shinobi me mate, but you can’t expect ol’ St. John to just keep his trap shut on anything, you know that. Calls it likes I see it, me. Thought you liked that.” There was a sobering silence between the pair for a moment, sitting on their butts in the silent garage while the noise of the Tokyo nightlife sang beyond the concrete walls of what they were missing. “Don’t...don’t tell him I said anything,” Shinobi said at last. Pyro promised him he would not. For he heard the plea in his new pal’s voice. *** SEA AND SKY (Context: Happens just after THIS) “Haven?” Madelyne arrived to the rescue, praying she wasn’t too late. She’d thought she was when she saw the wreckage, but she also saw Haven within it. And she wasn’t lying there like a body, she was sitting up, kneeling over...something. “Haven, thank god! Are you injured? Stay right there, I’ll come over and help---oh dear lord.” As Madelyne had begun to move forward, she’d seen what Haven was kneeling over, its half-charred head in her lap. “Is he---” “Yes,” said Haven, calmly, sadly, distantly. Madelyne didn’t ask how; it was obvious, the explosion killed him. She’d thought his powers would protect him from that kind of thing; it must have been specialized to combat that. Freaking Pierce. She didn’t bother to question how Haven was alive, but if she had, she’d assume maybe it was something also designed only to kill humans and Haven had been in a safe place during the explosion and then found Sebastian’s remains after. Something like that. “Alright, come on,” she said gently but firmly, taking Haven by the arm, trying to pull her up, “There’s nothing you can do for him now. He’ll be reborn on Krakoa by the time we go back to pick him up anyway. Wait, what are you doing? Haven, put that down, that’s disgusting!” Haven was carrying the...torso. She was tenderly cradling the great hunk of lifeless meat, needlessly supporting the neck and head as one would for an infant. The sight out Madelyne in mind of a bizarre Pieta scene. Madonna of the Charnel House. “Haven, he’s dead!” “I know, Madelyne, I know. But isn’t it...wrong to just leave a body here? I know he will have a new one on Krakoa, but it still feels obscene to leave the old one unburied, unconsecrated, uncared for.” “Haven...” Madelyne started, not sure what to say. And she thought of something she never had before. What had happened to her body? Her first one? The original? The one that died at the end of Inferno? She’d come back first as a being of pure psychic energy disguised in a human form, a very solid ghost, essentially. That was all she was for a long time, walking and talking and fucking, all while TECHNICALLY still being dead. It was only recently that she had really become flesh and blood again, Jean Grey’s DNA spliced by Arkea into the body of a woman named Ana Cortes, altering the physical appearance of the young Columbian into that of the redhead and allowing Madelyne Pryor’s consciousness to take up residence in it...meaning Madelyne was still, as ever, occupying a body that wasn’t really her own. And her first hadn’t been her own either, just a copy of Jean’s, but she wondered now, what had been done with it? Knowing the X-men, they gave her a perfectly proper funeral. Maybe they even cried. But she wished, perverse as it seemed, that they had thrown her out with the garbage, had the HONESTY to treat her in death as they ultimately had in life, than PRETEND that they really saw her as a loss. She knew they didn’t. Even the ones who knew her FIRST, Rogue and Psylocke and Longshot, who had met her BEFORE they met Jean, even they had wanted that witch instead of her at the end.... “Yeah, okay, just...just put it somewhere it won’t...rot,” she said uneasily, “And we’ll call Sebastian when he...when he wakes up. See what he wants to do with it.” It should be, Madelyne felt, his choice, and Haven agreed. When he did get the call, his reply was firstly being rather disgusted they had kept it, and then, without any emotion, said they should just thrown the “damn thing” overboard. “Funeral at sea then,” said Madelyne as she turned off the phone, “You want to do the honors, Haven? Since it was your idea.” Not like anyone else wanted to be a part of it. Well, except Shinobi, who had suggested launching it like a cannonball and then having Pyro set it aflame in the sky. They thought they were funny. “Would you mind helping me terribly, Madelyne?” Have asked, “I’d rather lower it down gently, and if your telekinesis could that, I would appreciate it...but I also understand if you don’t wish to touch something so gruesome, even psychically.” “I’m not squeamish,” Madelyne smirked. As she performed the task, she noticed Haven was silent. “You’re not gonna...say a few words, or anything?” “Mr. Shaw has told he isn’t religious, so I don’t think he would want it. And he isn’t...well, he isn’t dead. So what does one say, really?” “Hell if I know,” said Madelyne, “It’s funny---I’ve been dead a lot, you’d think I would be an expert on it.” As she began levitating the chunk of meat that once house Sebastian Shaw’s mind and soul, if he had the latter, she continued, “I never even thought about what should be done with my body...which isn’t really even mine now actually, don’t ask...I guess cremation is most appropriate. Fire, you know. It’s kind of my thing, whether I like it or not.” “I’ve always wanted a sky burial, myself,” said Haven. “I’ve never heard of that,” Madelyne sounded very interested. The word ‘sky’ had piqued her interest as a former pilot. “It’s a practice among my mother’s people, the Zoroastrians, as well as many other people, such as Tibetans. The body is placed on a mountaintop to be decomposed naturally by the elements and the animals. In Ancient Zoroastrianism specifically, it was placed on the Dakhma, the Tower of Silence, to be desiccated by the sun and consumed by birds of prey. I realize this sounds ghastly to a Western point of view, but--” “No, no, I get it. You’re just...going back to nature, becoming a part of everything else again, right? That sounds like your kind of thing.” Haven smiled at her, “It is.” Below, the body gently broke the surface of the waves, and Madelyne released her hold, allowing it to sink. “I guess that’s sort of what we’re doing here. Just with fishes instead of birds. Me though...that’s not for me. I don’t want to be a part of everything. Not when I’ve fought so hard...to just be ME.” *** AWKWARD “Hey! You got a problem with me, fuck knuckle?!” Calmly, Sebastian turned his head in the direction of the insult just hollered at him from the the far end of the deck, “Why, several, Mr. Allerdyce. Though most of them stem from the back you quite clearly have a problem with ME.” The Australian was drunk, but Sebastian knew from experience that the scrawny little bastard didn’t need THAT to be rude and belligerent, in particuliar rude and belligerent to Sebastian. Sebastian could ALMOST appreciate the balls on him, if only he could back them up. But without his fire to intimidate---and it could not intimate Sebastian---he really was just like one of those irritating little rat dogs peeking from ladies’ purses to bark challenges at true canines. “You’re damn right I do!” Pyro returned, “For starters, you’re---” And then continued with a really rather impressive listing of all his opinions on just what made Sebastian Hiram Shaw, Black King of the Hellfire Club---er, Trading Company---just such unbearable company. Sebastian listened in a detached, blaise manner, quite unruffled by the display of uncouth unruliness, and ready to simply throw the fool overboard should he come close enough to grab. “And on top o’ all that, yer a homophobe to boot!” What. Sebastian blinked. Nothing else had surprised him in the entire rambling rant, but this? This he had not seen coming. “Come again, young man?” “You heard me! Don’t think I don’t know why you’re always tryin’ t’get between me and your son! You don’t want him catchin’ the gay any worse than he’s got, eh?” Sebastian stared at him for another moment. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he turned away, and put his fist up to his lips, as though stifling a cough, “Excuse me.” Did that fucker just laugh?! Pyro wondered. “Excuse my boot up yer arse, you old dicknob! Listen, it’s 2020, and you can’t get away with---” He is laughing! He was indeed. Pyro had not been prepared for this. “Hey...hey what’s so damn funny, huh?!” “Nothing, nothing,” Sebastian waved a hand, but it was clear from his voice he was still trying VERY hard not to laugh again, “Please, do go on about my bigotry. After all, I’m very conservative when it comes to sexual practices, as I’m sure you know.” Something begin to click in Pyro’s intoxicated mind. Something that suggested...he might have made a mistake here. And an admittedly pretty hilarious one. “Oh god yer in the fucking Hellfire Club, “ he muttered, dragging a hand down his face, “Of course you don’t care about that...” “Well, it was funny though,” Sebastian said, and the bastard was actually SMILING, “Thank you, Mr. Allerdyce, I haven’t been that tickled all week. But, no, I know about my son’s egalitarian predilections with regards to sex and gender----he inherited them from me, after all.” Oh. Oh god. Of all the things Pyro HAD NEVER WANTED TO KNOW OR IMAGINE. A moment ago, Sebastian had been planning to throw Pyro overboard. But now? Now Pyro was considering just doing it to HIMSELF. *** STORIES “And then I got to Cambodia and let me tell you---food is great. People say don’t ask what’s in it but me, I got to ask---it’s my job, see---and yeah, they eat things ‘Mericans never would, or most Aussies, but I say, why’re we judging? We eat pigs and those’re way more intelligent than spiders or half-hatched duck eggs, seems we’re the savages for that, y’know? Not that I’m givin’ up pork any time soon but you know what I’m saying?” Pyro and Madelyne were sitting on the ship’s edge, watching the sun go down over the water, sharing a few beers, talking about what they’d done before all this. “You don’t look like you ever ate pork in your life, string bean,” replied Madelyne, “ But yeah. You say Cambodia? What part?” “ Senmonorom, capital of Mondulkiri Province.” “No kidding! I dropped cargo off there once!” Madelyne exclaimed, “When I was a pilot! Spent the whole rest of the day there since I had the time. Couldn’t understand a word but I loved the---oh no, hahaha, I loved the food!” “Ha! I’m sure it was just noodles you got, love.” “Mmm...pretty crunchy noodles, then...” She paused, and looked pensieve, more serious, “It’s crazy. I can really remember the texture. Not the taste though. He must not have known what it tasted like.” “He?” Pyro asked. Madelyne was suddenly sober in more ways than one, as she explained, looking away, “I never went to Cambodia. I never flew that plane. That cargo never existed, and neither did whatever I ate.” “Well, y’don’t need to lie to me get me to like you, Madelyne.” “No, you don’t understand---they’re not lies. I mean, they are, but---they’re not to me, I---but they are---I hate them, but I forget that they’re not---” She was clutching her hair now, and looked distressed. “Whoa, whoa, hey there mate, what’s the matter?” Pyro placed a hand on her back, trying his best to calm her down, something he wasn’t great at even for himself, “Listen, Maddie...I been through some crazy shit. And I heard crazier on Krakoa from people. We mutants...or, people who are, I dunno, mutant-adjacent like you...we live weird lives. You don’t GOTTA tell me but I’ll believe you.” Madelyne took a deep inhale, “It’s not that. I know you’ll believe me. It’s just...I never really talked to anyone about it, you know?” Pyro was uncomfortable now. He braced himself. He didn’t like going deep, he wanted everything to just be fun and casual. But he wasn’t going to run away or brush it off either. He owed his friends better than that; when he’d been on his last legs with the Legacy Virus, his friend Avalanche had been everything. He knew their value. Madelyne, too, needed to amp herself up for this. “So you know I’m a clone, right? Of Jean Grey?” “It’s come up, yeah.” “I was grown to full adulthood in a...in a vat, basically. But Sinister---the man who did it---didn’t want me to KNOW what I was. Would spoil the plans he had for me and...for me and Scott. So he gave me some false memories. Mostly I had “amnesia” but I could remember being a pilot. To explain the memories of flight and fire that I got from Jean----what memories don’t come from him, are from her. Well, the Phoenix actually...it’s complicated.” “Yeah, I’m getting that. That’s rough, buddy,” oh god he sounded like an idiot, “ But in my book, you still went to Cambodia.” He was answered with an eyebrow quirk from his friend, and so he elaborated, “Look, I’m a journalist, and I’m a writer, and I...I write stories. Even when it was something true, I’m still making a story about it. And when I make it up entirely, it’s as real a story as when I wrote the one about the real event. Ah fuck, I can’t talk, can write a damn novel but I fuck up all the words when I try to SAY it...look, Maddie, what I’m saying is,” He put a hand on her shoulder, “When I met you, it wasn’t who you are now, or who you were when you came out of that vat. It was some human bird running with the X-Men in Dallas. Yeah, I noticed you looked a hell of a lot like Jean and I thought that was who you were the whole time. Then I saw the broadcast they made, where you talked to your husband---shit, wait, he married you and Jean, what the fuck---telling him to find your baby---oh fuck I’m just realizing why you’re so mad at him, holy hell--before you gave up your life to save the world. That’s who I remember. And your memories, real or fake, well they’re a part of you, they’re your stories. Stories...they make us who we are. And even if they were made up, who you are, what you did, isn’t. You’re a story, yeah. So are we all. Fuck I’m really mangling this but you know what I--- oh.” Madelyne was hugging him. Holy shit. Well, he must have done something right, then. Damned if he knew what, though, he thought he’d fucked it up royally with that Trump-level rambling. And when she released him, she looked up at his shocked face, and said, “St. John?” “Y-yeah?” “Eat some damn pork. You really ARE a string bean.” *** OUT OF THE FRYING PAN Sebastian Shaw was indeed generally immune to explosions. And also to fire. He simply absorbed the thermal energy, rendering it harmless to him, if annoying. Afact that a certain Australian had exploited mercilessly. But Pyro was not here now, and so he could not stop the blaze that Shinobi was trapped in, that Sebastian had escaped but Shinobi had not yet. He’s not out yet, Sebastian thought nervously as he watched the blaze, waiting, Must be unconscious, must have hit his head, the fool, idiot boy, told him to stay in super dense form, stupid stupid stupid child He’d burn to death, if smoke inhalation didn’t get him first. He would die, and be reborn on Krakoa. It would be fine. And the suffering, the death, would serve him right, for being so foolish as not to listen to his father, to do the sensible thing and stay dense, why had he let himself get caught there? If you were weak enough to die, you deserved it, deserved it for KEEPS. Sebastian could say that, and admit it applied to him too. He would not DENY the second chance given to him by Krakoa, but nor would he pretend that Emma didn’t earn his death by virtue of being ABLE to do it. If you could do it, if you did do it, then it was within your rights to do it, was how Shaw saw things. Right of power was the only right that mattered, and you did no favors by RESCUING someone, you only prolonged their weakness. Any moment now, he thought, Any moment...if he’s going to make it out, it will have to be soon. There was a horrible cracking as a wood beam crashed down into the flames. The building was coming down. And Sebastian Shaw’s feet were suddenly moving. But was it by his deliberate decision? Or his own accord? He didn’t know. He sprinted into the structure, careful not to let his body bash through what supports remained---it might not hurt him but it would crush Shinobi if the boy was still alive---heedless of the fire, though the smoke stung his eyes, and he knew he was not immune to the effects of breathing it. If he was going to do this foolish, stupid, NEEDLESS thing, he had best do it fast. He scanned the room through the gray haze, and caught a glimpse of purple obscured by some rubble. He tossed it aside, digging through it like a terrier on the scent of a rabbit, until he found his boy, unmoving but still breathing, and hauled him from the wreckage. His body hair sizzling against his heat-proof skin, the sweat turning to steam the moment it left his brow, he gathered the limp form of his son into his arms, and ran from the flames, this time not caring about the beams he knocked aside, ran right through as though they were as intangible as Shinobi could be. When they were out, and a safe distance away from the blaze, Sebastian laid his son down, and waited for him to wake up. As soon as Shinobi did, as soon as his eyes opened, and he began to speak, and to realize what had happened, to start to express his shock at the fact his father had just saved his life at risk to his own... Sebastian’s fist landed against the boy’s ashy face. And again. And again. Until Shinobi was dead. He left the battered corpse where it was, and begin making his way to find the other Marauders, and tell them they needed to head back to Krakoa when most convinient, that Shinobi had died and would be waiting there. And when they arrived and picked him up, Sebastian knew he would have the good sense to say nothing to anyone. And he’d have a talk with him about the importance of handling oneself in such future situations. He really did try with the boy, dammit, but there was just no teacher like experience, he supposed. And painful experience worked best. *** NIGHTMARE DRESSED AS A DAYDREAM

"Look it’s the Marauder!” everyone cried out in awe and admiration as Pyro entered the party. His grim, stoic expression, his majestic stride, were in contrast to the lascivious frivolity around him of the swimsuit-clad crowd, but this difference only made the girls come swarming to him faster. He accepted their fawning adulation, but only cooly, as it was just his due. He was, after all, the handsomest, most power, Supreme Mutant, and this was all normal and natural. It was only when he began passionately lip-locking with Jean Grey on the hood with Jean Grey that-- Wait, what? This was wrong. This was so wrong. It had to be a dream, but even then it was WRONG. He’d never had a dream of this kind about a woman in his life, let alone Jean Grey. And if he was going to, why would it be JEAN? That felt extra wrong, given that he was pals with Madelyne now, was this some kind of weird-- “GET OFF ME!” cried a man’s voice, and Pyro broke away from the embrace, looking up. Some several dozen feet away, Fabian Cortez struggling with an amorous Avalanche, who seemed to have been engaged with the same activity with the redheaded ‘Supreme Mutant’ as Pyro just had with Marvel Girl...and Dom was wearing the same outfit Jean was. “Oy, what in the--” Pyro started to demand, when suddenly a huge head ---Mr. Sinister’s head, specifically-- erupted from the ground. It was bedecked by yet more scantily clad girls, with a throne on top it in which sat Claudine, being accosted by them, and she looked as confused as Pyro and Fabian were, confused and horrified. Then the rain began, endless rain, and Pyro was all alone, all alone in the mud as the rain came down, rain and pain, so much pain, coming from parts of his body he’d never had in his life, his womb, his-- “All right, that’s quite enough of that!” the voice of Emma Frost echoed throughout all of existence, and the lights came back on in the world again as Pyro woke up. “Freakin’ kids,” he muttered, as he realized what had happened. There was a baby telepath in the latest batch of rescues, and the little bugger had gotten their dreams all mish-mashed together. Happened more than once before. Grunting, he turned over, and went back to sleep...though a little uneasy this time. He wondered, who had that last part come from?

#fic #writing #alt marauders #out of cortez

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fallynephemeron · 6 years ago

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I was tagged by @angrymagicgirlmarsette . Thank you for tagging me!

What genre(s) you write

Betwixt would be difficult to really pinpoint into a typical genre, and considering it’s not going to be printed in book format, I feel it’s not as necessary to try to conform to one.

Breaking new ground here with some combination of web series, episodic fiction, fantasy novel series, with a nod to the long-running format TV soap opera but in written form.

If we’re really talking genre though, I’m drawing heavily from Urban Fantasy, Gothic Romance, Supernatural Horror, with an adequate dose of High Fantasy Epic and Dystopian Adventure for good measure.

What’s on your reading wish list

One thing that’s caught my eye is the Raven Cycle. I’ve loved other things Maggie Stiefvater has written. I’ve read Lament probably 6 times, the imagery draws me in every single time.

Finding the Terry Pratchett Discworld series books I’m missing is kind of high on the list. I’ve read all of them, but some were read over 20 years ago and I want to revisit them. I used to be a voracious reader, but kids happened, trauma happened and my ADHD diagnosis showed me why I have to be really careful getting sucked into novel world because the real world stuff really truly suffers when I do. So unfortunately reading has taken a back burner for far too long.

Your favorite character from your current WIP

This is the hardest question, but it’s all about the character arcs, baby. I simply cannot choose between these four. (edit: i got really carried away, but I was on a roll, and ... well...) (edit 2: i use too many adjectives, i’m aware of the problem)

Rivet ... my brown force of nature with too many tattoos, vacillating between boundless rage and weary sarcasm, doing her best to keep the ones she swears she doesn’t give a shit about on the correct path with her fractured clairvoyance and haphazard approach to magic. She’s been more and more aware of some kind of upheaval on the outskirts of the mundane world. She’s had run-ins with the unpredictable Fae in the past, A rune covered baseball bat, a dog eared tarot deck, and an intimate knowledge of the secret paths of The Nowhere have been the tools that have kept her alive so far.... but will they be enough now that she’s somehow become responsible for the safety of one boy-crazy half faerie that just might be the answer to all the questions?

Xavier ... my precious one, batting his long lashes, swooning all over anyone he has half a hope might love him, if only for a night? He’s been abandoned, used and abused, pulled back from the brink of destruction. He wants to put all that behind him and move on, exploring the glittering, gritty, rainbow oil slicked nooks and crannies of the city he’s fallen in love with. But between the men that see him as nothing more than a plaything or a possession, the darkness in the surrounding woods that seems to want to devour him whole, the eerie figure he can’t quite see at the edges of his vision that seems to be spying on him, and the dark eyed, sharp tongued woman built like a cage fighter that definitely is spying on him “for his own fucking good”, what is this too pretty, pale, little, gay, shimmer goth, faerie halfling, supposed to do? Stay home? Not on your life

Wynter…my innocent, red cheeked, much too tall, awkward, nearly mute from anxiety, loyal to a fault, doormat. He should be a fully matured werewolf by now, so why hasn’t he had his first change? But that’s the furthest thing from his mind, if only for this moment. What’s the difference between childhood best friends and boyfriends and does love always have to hurt so much? And does it always have to include the awkward sex stuff that always makes him feel like he’s going to vomit? And now he has another problem. A terrifyingly alluring faerie problem with big green eyes that he keeps catching staring at him. What is he doing here and why is Rivet being so secretive about it?

Jaq ... my brilliantly talented fuck-up. How can someone be that innocently naive, and that criminally minded stupid at the same time? His lack of impulse control, a filter, any sense of self preservation, his messed up backwards sense of right and wrong... at what point do the people that love you say “enough” and refuse to be hurt by you anymore? But he’s lost in the battle between his realities, the shit he sees that isn’t real and the shit he sees that is real but no one else can see, it’s a wonder he’s survived this long in a world he can’t make sense of, filled with people that often can’t make sense of him. His art is his way of sorting out the mess inside his head. Wynter has always been by his side, like the welcome mat you wipe your feet on without thinking about it too hard, so why is he hanging out with her so much? He hasn’t been able to trust her, since.... the incident when they were children. Maybe he’s just paranoid, but he’s pretty sure they’re hiding something from him.

Some writing tropes you like

Pretty much anything involving two people that don’t know each other or don’t like each other, forced into the same space with no way out. Arranged marriages, elevator breakdowns, etc. etc.

The story behind your WIP’s name

Betwixt feels like magic and hexed and I like X’s. Hence why Xave’s full name is Xavier Alexander Maxwell. And it means between, and that is everything my work is exploring. What it means to be between. Between a rock and a hard place, having a grey morality, living on the edge of the mundane world, with a foot in the magical realm. It’s going to explore the vacuous chasm between wealth and poverty (not talking about the middle class suburbs lol, though that is a between) Right and wrong. And the thin line between salvation and destruction.

Are you a pantser or plotter?

Naturally? I’m a pantser. For Betwixt I’ve had to become a plotter. It’s too big and too complicated to just freewheel it.

Do you post your work somewhere?

I’m going to. The plan is to publish on WordPress on a regular release schedule. Hopefully weekly. But we’ll see how well that plan holds up as we get closer to publication.

Do you also read/write fanfic? If yes, for the same genres as what you write?

I’ve had a really hard time writing fanfic, but there are some I really enjoy reading.

Your favorite dessert. Because why not.

Also Pie! Pie is the best. Seriously.

Tagging @emdop cause you’re the only other writeblr I really have talked to besides the one that tagged me.

#writeblr #ask thing

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zeciex · 6 years ago

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Obsidian & Angelite Ch. 2

Oya has spend centuries bound to one single plot of land when one day a stranger with a voice of velvet and presence that can only be described as dark and outmost interesting. He comes with an offer she can’t refuse and suddenly her entire world changes, both for better and worse.

But what does Langdon need of her? And how can she use him to get what she want? Maybe they’re bound by something bigger than fate.

Warning: Dark themes, Strong Language, sexual tension

ArchiveLink

previous ch.

@lostsomewhere93 you wanted me to tag you so here you go

A prison is a Prison

For hours she’d been up, long before the storm seized and returned to a calm humid. The time had been spend on collecting her things into an old leather bag, mostly seeds, books and the trivial jewelry collection she had gathered throughout the years, payments from her visitors. She hadn’t come anywhere near Langdon, his presence both a burning curiosity and a danger. Weather he had slept or meditated she didn’t know and honestly didn't care to find out.

It wasn't until the sky had turned to orange morning before Michael showed his face, hair still impeccable. Maybe, just maybe he put a hex on it.

“You sleep like the dead,” Oya noted when she pushed the bag towards the open door with her foot.

“And you didn’t sleep at all,” he mused back, fixing his jacket to sit properly. “Too busy doing small spells.”

So he knew, he knew she had looked for answers. The feeling had been there, that he could feel her flexing her powers, much like she’d feel his own. Without a hint of remorse she abruptly turned towards him, her black dress fawning out like a flower, blossoming and then withering.

“Yea, well when a mysterious stranger shows up holding the key to your cell, you want to know who holds it,” she rebuked. As much as everything about him lured her in, she also mistrusted him. How could you trust someone you didn’t know? Let alone someone that had secrets woven into his seams.

“And what did you find?” He asked knowing very well she hadn’t found anything but wax and smoke.

“I don’t trust you Mr. Langdon and you haven’t given me anything to trust. I’m a curious person and you,” She wiggled her finger at him. “Are one big question mark.”

He chuckled at her biting tone. “You don’t trust me but still you’re willing to let me change your binding to this plot of land to another, a place you know nothing about simply because I gave you a promise?”

“Something about you tells me you’d keep your promise and I’m willing to risk it for freedom,” she said walking closer to him. With her magic she reached out and pulled at a knife, it’s blade cutting through the air until it landed in her hand. The blade met the soft skin of Langdons neck who only reacted by lifting his brows at her. “If you break the promise I’ll turn your life into living hell.” She closed in further, her lips inches from his, eyes burning. The threat pulled at the corner of his lips, eyes turning sultry. “And trust me, Mr. Langdon, you don't want to piss off even a bound goddess.”

His eyes all but rolled in enjoyment.

Oya stepped back, threw the knife that once more cut through the air and dug into the wall. She might be bare for spilling her past but she’d cut down every layer he had like he did her.

Langdon stood at the gate of her prison, a statue out of time, out of place. It was fascinating how alluring he was, and concering at the same time. He waited patiently for Oya to finish her ritual, putting various of herbs and oils into a bowl on her porch, symbols marked in chalk around it.

She blew out the candle and let the smoke dance up around her before setting it beside the bowl. With one last utter of words, she stood and turned to Langdon. Behind her the content of the bowl lit up in blue and green flames, ashy smoke rising from it to mix with the air. And like that she had locked away her prison, her house, with a hex that’d make any intruders turn around.

“Are you ready?” He asked, opening the gate for him to step out. Oya came to stand in front of him, the two of them looking at one another through the invisible barrier that surrounded her.

She clutched her bag in one hand and dried the other on her dress, suddenly nervous. Her first attempt on escaping had burned her, quite literally. If she tries to pass the barrier she’d start sizzling like a piece of bacon and recovery is long and painful.

“I’m ready,” she answered, determined for this to work. It had to. Michael smiled down at her, his golden hair a halo in the sunlight. With withheld breath she took it, the sensation of his hand in hers leaving her skin warm and tingling. The energy around him engulfed her in a burning darkness, whirling up the dust at their feet.

With one step backwards, Oya was forced to move forward. One step, her feet hit ground it hadn’t stepped on for what felt like eternity.

Her dark eyes snapped to Langdon, who simply smiled at her before stepping backwards once more. This time her feet hit warm concrete, the green around them replaced with blinding whites and dark greys.

From one prison to another.

Buckling, her knees hit the concrete, hand leaving Michael and instead falling over her mouth as realisation hit her. Tears stung in her eyes.

It might have been strange to celebrate a switch of cells but when you’ve been trapped in one place for centuries, forced to stay out of time, forced to only see as long as your eyes can, kept from society and luxuries, you’d eventually lose all your hope. And that was exactly what she had done, lost all hope.

And then Michael Langdon came and promised to not only free her from a version of her hell, but give her hope for freedom to the fullest.

Langdon crouched down to her level.

“Y-you have no idea what it’s like to have been trapped in the same place for what felt like eternity,” her voice shook with strangled sobs. Looking up at him there was a mix of gratefulness and spite on her face. “I’m grateful even if it’s stepping from one prison into another.”

With strange softness Michael took her face in his hands, using his thumb to wipe the salty tears from her cheeks. Even stranger was the light in his voice, almost a careful tenderness. “I hope you’ll eventually see this as a home rather than confines.”

“A home is not a prison,” she uttered, voice barely a whisper. “It doesn’t matter what luxuries it holds.” Standing she gripped her bag once more, holding it in front of her as a shield between Michael and herself. With a chuckle Michael walked further into the room, not bothering to turn around when he called her over his shoulder.

The two walked through the space, an open plane with concrete floors, open white kitchen and walls of glass overlooking green forest and a dark blue lake. She found that most of the sparse furniture there was looked rather uncomfortable but luxurious.

With quick stepps she followed him up the stairs, through a hall that ended in matted glass door. Inside were a bed bigger than the one she had in every aspect, height and most certainly width, covered in dark silk pillows. One wall was like most others in the house, of glass. Two openings in the wall lead to what she could glimpse, the bathroom, bigger than her house. And another opening lead to a room darker.

Curious, she dropped her bag at the door and walked into the darkened room. As soon as she entered the room lit up, revealing rows of silk, chiffon and lace dresses, shoes in all hights, some covered in glitter and other edged with gold.

“This will be your room,” Michael said from behind her. Almost, just almost did she snark him with the line ‘Obviously this isn’t your room’ but instead she took a rather revealing silk dress between her fingertips, turning with a raised brow at him.

“Is this leftovers from your previous captives?”

“Bought specifically for you.”

“You were certain I’d come with you?” She asked walking to the island in the middle of the room, the top of the disk glass revealing all kinds of jewelry. She pulled open a drawer and raised her brown once more, scrunching her nose at the content.

“Yes,” he answered, leaning against the island with his hands in his pockets. There were an ease to the way he stood.

Oya hummed and pulled out a lace bra that was barely fabric tisking with her tongue. “I don’t know what you imagine but this,” she shook the bra in the air with a disgusted and slightly entertained look on her face. “Is not going to happen.”

“What do you assume would happen?” Langdons voice were thick and rich as dark chocolate.

“I assume that if you so much as try anything I’ll wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze until your breath leaves you.” Oya pushed him away from her backing further into the room and folded her hands behind her back. The coil in her stomach tightened.

“Does the thought of that excite you?” From the looks of it, it excited him, but she couldn’t deny the pulsing beneath her skin and the drumming in her chest. It was like dancing around a fire and at one point someone would feel the lick of the flames. The thought excited her more than she cared to admit and yet mistrust was a perfect restraint.

Michael hummed walking backwards towards the exit. “I’ll leave you to get used to your new surroundings.” With his presence the pull of his power followed out of the room, leaving an odd emptiness in its place. Lingering were a need but a quiet one that didn't reveal itself any further than a cold longing.

Oya smilled for herself with a look of mischief on her face. In her hand, hidden behind her back were one single strand of golden hair taken from Michaels jacket. With that she had something of his and a way of connection.

The strand was carefully placed in a colorful scarf and hidden in one of the many drawers. A secret to be explored later.

For now the exploration she’d do was of the house.

Much like Langdon himself the house were clean cut. There was nothing out of place, everything was a vast open space with the exception of a few rooms. The library on the second floor had three walls filled with books and an old antique chess board in the middle of the room.

It was a contrast to where she previously lived. No dried herbs and plants hanging from the ceiling, no collected trinkets and hexes lying around, no clutter at all. In fact every room was stripped of familiarities as if it were just a place you visited, a museum. Even Langdons own room she had peeked into looked much like her own and gave no evidence of who or what he was.

The only thing that stuck out was the only wooden door in the house made of dark oak and locked shut.

What surprised her was the greenhouse, a vast glasshouse in the form of a hexton. An addition to the house no doubt and for her she supposed. Langdon doesn’t seem like a person who’d spend time on his knees digging in the dirt to make something grow.

By the time she had finished exploring the world outside the windows had gone dark. The day ending rather quickly which meant that she were no longer in Korea.

“Smells delicious,” Langdon commented when he entered the first floor and took another deep breath.

Oya took the meat off the frying pan and put the pieces on the plate beside the salat. Langdon had made sure the kitchen was fully stocked and she couldn’t help herself but to try out the new stove, one that didn’t need wood.

“I assumed you’d prefer rare,” she said and handed him a plate. “Don’t expect this to become a habit.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

The two of them sat down across from one another each with a glass of wine to go with the meat. Oya’s mind reeled, trying to decipher the mystery of Michael Langdon. What exactly did she know of him? Only the perception and his name.

“Should we play a game?” She asked watching him intently.

“A game?”

“You know far more about me than I do you, I’d like to even out the score, even if just a little.” Langdon motioned with his hand for her to continue, intrigued by the sudden display of familiarity though he knew very well what she was after. Oya licked her lips before continuing. “I will ask you two questions and you will answer as close to the truth as whatever secrets you have will allow.”

“And what’s in it for me?” He mused at her again with a voice of velvet and silk. Following his movement with her eyes, Oya watched him take the glass of red wine and bring it to his lips. She looked away.

“For every second question you may ask me one of your own.”

“Very well, what is your first question?”

“Are you a trust fund kid?” She asked too quickly to formulate a proper question. It should rather have been ‘where do you get the money to afford such a place like this?’ And she winced at the stupidity of it.

“No,” Michael answered truthfully with a slight chuckle. His fingers tapped against the glass in rhythmic silent clinks.

“Where are we?”

“America.” This surprised her quite a bit. It’s one thing to move from one place to another in the blink of the eye but it’s something else entirely to move from one continent to another and with a binding spell no less.

The outside world was lit up by cold moonlight, silhouette of trees forming a sea just outside the windows. Not a single light in sight.

“Do you get excited when I’m near you?” Playfulness tugged at his features, head tilting in curiosity.

“Yes,” Oya answered truthfully with only a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I think there’s no soul out there that wouldn’t get excited by your presence and I think you already know this. You use your… beauty? Sensuality? as a weapon to both lure in and dominate. You know very well what effect you have on people, what weapon you hold against them. As much as it intrigues me I’m not about to fuck a knife, Mr. Langdon.”

“You’re very intuitive, Oya.” Michael laughed, his hair dancing in the air and smile reaching his eyes. They were both aware of one another and when one moved the other did too. It was a dance of souls, of words being said and meanings hinted. But as with all dance partners there had to be an honesty between them and for now honesty were only in bits and pieces. Michael was after all laced with secrets, many of which Oya guessed she’d never know. “Please, rather than calling me Mr. Langdon why don't you use my first name.”

“I’d rather not,” she said with a shrug. “That’d give us a form of intimacy I’m not sure I’m willing to give you. How did you find me, Mr. Langdon?”

“I suppose I’ve had glimpses of you throughout my life,” he began, eyes watching her closely. Oya shifted under his gaze, puzzled to the core by what that all meant. She’d been alive longer than he had by centuries and she had never in his lifetime ever set foot outside of her land, not even by astral projection.

And yet there was a tug at the corner of her mind.

“Eventually my curiosity got the best of me and I asked my father about you. You do make quite a legend. It didn’t take long through a locating spell to find out where you were exactly.” Something within the tone of his voice send shivers down her spine and when a invisible tendril of energy wrapped around her wrist, a trail of goosebumps rose over her skin.

The game made her heart drum violently against her ribs and adrenaline shoot through her veins, making her skin burn with warmth.

“Why are we out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Privacy.”

“So it’s not because you’re afraid that when my binding spell is broken that’d I’d accidentally unleash it on the world?”

“That’s three questions but I’ll answer you anyway.” How generous of you, she thought bitingly but kept it to herself. It was after all her own rules she broke and she was all to curious. “I like privacy, away from the rest of the world and your potential is far too big for me to risk anyone finding out about you through an...accident of yours.”

“Fair enough.”

“Did you feel lonely? Before you were bound.”

Oya licked her lips and rose from her seat, taking her empty plate with her to the sink. The question was loaded, it was much more than just ‘did you feel lonely’ it was filled with other questions, ‘did you feel shut out?’, ‘did you feel loved?’ and ‘what was your only wish?’. It felt like that. Heavy, a question containing many more questions and questions that seemed to be ones he himself might have experienced.

It was strange, indeed.

“Yes, any child of parents who do not want them would feel lonely.��

“But that is not all.”

“No.” She turned to him. He had come to stand beside her at the sink. She looked up at him, drawing in a breath that felt her lungs with spite. Spite was an motivator that could move mountains and one that she was familiar with in the sense that she wanted to punish her family for ignoring her, then using her and then stripping her to the bone.

“Power comes with a loneliness that can only be removed when you find someone who can look past it,” Langdon all but whispered to her.

“Have you found that someone?”

“I did.” There was a sadness in his eyes one that forced her thoughts to fall from her mouth in quiet words.

“I suppose loneliness is a constant battle until you find that someone. I never did, not before and especially not with my powers and not after.” It was like looking in a mirror, even if it was just a moment. She let her mistrust fall an inch, let her spite against him seize and her guard fall, because there was something recognizable.

“What’s in it for you, Michael Langdon?” The question had been asked before but just maybe by playing this game he’d be willing to show a flash of his cards that was kept closely to his person.

“A friend, maybe,” he mused.

Half truth, that was what it was. The moment of openness passed quickly and Langdon stepped back from her making the air between them cold.

“Thank you for dinner and the game but I fear I have work to do.”

Oya was left standing with the same emptiness she had when he left in the walk in closet. The game was meant to reveal more about him but for every question answered only more came up.

What was most revealing was a glimpse behind his mask of sensuality, a fragileness. And what frightened her the most was that she recognizes herself in him.

Michael Langdon was an enigma.

Salt was scattered in a fine ring around the freestanding tub and candles placed along the border of that ring, small yellow flames rising from the stem. In the water floated a mix of herbs, Bearberry for psychic awareness, Catnip for trance work, Blue Sage for meditation and Mugwort for scrying, along with a few drops of her potion mixture.

Oya sank into the bath, warmth embracing her in a calming way. For a moment she thanked the gods for the luxuries of Langdons house and in this instance for warm water she wasn’t forced to heat up by the stove or over the fire. Her raven black hair floated at the surface.

Musing a few words she held a long thin candle just above the water. The candle lit by itself, flame shooting up. The piece of Langdons hair was fed to the flame, letting it turn blue, this would help focus her vision.

Slowly she sank beneath the surface of the water, air held in her lungs and her face disappeared.

Her entire body with the exception of her hands beneath the water, she let her mind go.

At first there were only darkness surrounding her. Then slowly she felt water beneath her feet, her body appearing before her in an emptiness. In this place there were nothing, blackness all around her, water to her ankles, no light and yet she could see herself. It was a place out of time, out of form and she hated it. It scared her more than anything else.

And so she began to walk until shapes began to form around her, a sky red as blood, withered grass crunching beneath her feet rather than water, woods towering up around her.

A coldness crept up her spine and set her heart drumming rapidly against her rips. This place felt hollow and painful. Everything was blurred and no matter how hard she blinked the blurriness wouldn't go away.

A sudden bask of wings and crawking turned her eyes towards the sky. Black feathers against the red sky, crows circling around screeching things she couldn’t catch onto. There were a whisper of malevolence in the air.

Looking down again a boy with blond curls stood a few meters before her with his back turned to her presence.

“Hallo?” She called to him and finding her voice falling short. In an attempt to move she found her feet locked in place, cold fingers gripping at her legs, digging into her skin in a bruising manner. Half skeletons looked up at her with hollow eyes, hissing and screaming,

Oya fought panic ridden but found there was no way out of their grasp. Pain shot up through her body, tears stinging in her eyes, strangled sobbs tightening her cest.

“Help me!” She screamed to the boy and found him turned to her, now older and taller, blond locks in a mess around his head. Black eyes stared back at her and she screamed.

The crows broke through their circle with a screech, wings basking violently as they dived for her, sharp claws heading towards her soft skin. Again she looked at the boy and this time, his eyes were blue and filled with sorrow, filled with fear and confusion.

Gasping Oya broke through the surface of the water, the candle in her hand now suffocated by a wave of water. Her hands dug into the sides of the tub, holding her up as she coughed and coughed, mind trying to understand that it had broken out of that place and were now safe.

The stub of the candle were long forgotten, fallen into the abyss of the water.

Within her chest, her heart strained painfully, feeling empty and hollow. Tiredness clung to her, energy all used up from her spell, suffocated by the chains around her neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she kept repeating over and over trying to calm the jittering in her body, trying to connect her mind to the now. She had done this many times before but none of them had left her so confused. Usually there’d be more substance to understand, more to follow, but this… had been blurry and scattered.

Often you’d have to intrepid the meaning of the vision and it’d oftentimes be easy and a breeze to understand. But this, was strange.

The boy with blue eyes haunted her memory. It was Langdon yes but at the same time he felt different.

Leaving the tub she walked the counter in from of the mirror, leaning on it. Her hair stuck to her wet body, small streams and drops of water sliding down her body in uncontrolled patterns.

Looking at herself, her dark eyes studied the poutyness of her mouth, red rosepeadels blooming against sun kissed skin. She got her appearance from her mother, a beauty that seemed otherworldly and had caused her more than enough trouble at times. Her frame was slender and edged, breasts plump and perky in the change from warm to cool.

The dark tattoos stood out against her skin, wrapping around her neck, around her wrists and ankles.

With a hussed sigh she turned to observe her back over her shoulder. A large round mark was tattooed into her skin, symbols that bound her. If she didn’t know better her tattoos looked like jewelry, fine and perfect. But they held onto the part of her she desperately wanted to release.

Once she attempted to cover the tattoo on her back with two crows in flight but the spell wouldn’t allow such a thing and her curse burned through the tattoo, dismembering her birds.

Crows were her birds… and apparently Langdons birds too.

Maybe they were more similar that she wanted.

Looking down at her legs she noted the red lines that had been drawn over her skin, remnants of her vision. They wanted to tell her something, the skeletons but they were unable to do so. The crows were both a warning and for protection. But Langdon himself, he remained a question.

The darkness and malevolence were evident in him shown by his black eyes, but the blue ones, they were something else entirely. -And it was the blue ones she had seen so far.

#michael langdon #michael langdon fic #michael langdon imagine #ahs #ahs fic #obsidian & angelite

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aibidil · 7 years ago

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2017 Feel-Good Drarry Fic

A few days ago I posted a rec list of 2017 Drarry fic that tackled Important Issues. But not every fic has to be important or political, and I wanted to also put together a list of some fics that have made us smile, laugh, cackle, awwww, and generally feel good about life. Thank you to everyone who puts a smile on the collective face of the fandom. Again, this is not a “best-of” or “favorites” list, and it is unavoidably subjective (and thank you to everyone who contributed ideas to the list!), but I hope you get some joy from these fics. Humor, fluff, crack, and smiles ahead (in no particular order)!

Pretty Fond of Not Very Good Ideas by @lqtraintracks: Harry Peterson, Orderer Extraordinaire, and his trusty sidekick, Ray. Or: Harry's been hit with a memory charm, but it's okay because he realises he's bent for Draco Malfoy.

It looked a lot bigger in the picture by @ravenclawsquill: Draco is determined to experience the full novelty of an authentic Muggle holiday. Harry doesn't quite understand, but when does he ever understand Draco? (Or, the time Harry and Draco accidentally went dogging in a car the size of a matchbox.)

I Can’t Take It! by @xx-thedarklord-xx: After the war, Draco Malfoy became an author. A best selling author whose books move the hearts of those who read them. Which wouldn't be a problem for Ron if all of them weren't about Harry! It was obvious to him that Malfoy was in love with his best friend but why was it that no one else seemed to think so? He was going to get to the bottom of this and get Harry to stop mooning over the blonde idiot at the same time. Perhaps, they just needed someone to come along and get them to fess up. For the safety of his own sanity, Ron was going to help Malfoy ensnare Harry. That is, if they can get along long enough not to kill each other.

It’s Our Party and We’ll Fuck If We Want To by @firethesound: It's like if a tree falls in the forest, Harry thinks. Sneaking away to blow his boyfriend in a coat closet at their own housewarming is only a bad idea if they get caught, right?

A Hyperactive Fruit, a Nasty Neighbour and a Love Story by @synonym-for-life: Potter’s pet Niffler is wreaking havoc in Godric’s Hollow and Draco, the Assistant Head to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, is the one that has to deal with it. Repeatedly. The fact that Potter keeps coming to Draco’s office in grey jogging bottoms - repeatedly - does in no way help the matter.

Just Friends (Or Why Draco Malfoy Shouldn’t Have Sex in His Office) by @unadulteratedstorycollector: Harry and Draco are Auror partners, friends, and um... well, that's it. Yes, Hermione, that is it. At least it is until Harry catches him doing a certain something that he can't get out of his mind.

Mugglewear and Broomstick Skills by @callingdrarry: The eighth years attempt a game of football in Muggle Studies. What is meant to be an insight into Muggle sports turns into a fashion show of ridiculous outfits and Harry nearly losing his mind.

when life hands you (lulu)lemons by @carpemermaidtales: Harry grows bored with his usual running path, and finds himself a surprising new jogging partner when he takes a different route.

The River Thames on a Sunday by @lqtraintracks: A slice of their life in London. Harry jogs. Draco tinkers about. There's rimming. And tea.

Better Than an Origami Bird by @o0o-chibaken-o0o and @jadepresley: A series of letters in which Harry and Draco argue, play truth or dare, get kinky, and are a couple of very naughty (or very good, depending on who you ask) boys during class.

The Sleeping Beauty Curse by anonymous for HD-Erised: When Draco Malfoy falls into a cursed sleep and can only be woken – at least, according to the Daily Prophet, that impeccable source of truth – by ‘true love’s kiss’, Harry Potter knows there’s no way on earth he’s the answer to this particular riddle. Is he . . .?

The Full Monty by @magpiefngrl: Harry poses for a naked Auror calendar and Draco goes batshit crazy with lust.

Fervor by @goldentruth813: Draco hates being woken up in the middle of the night. But he likes sex, and he loves Harry. So maybe it's not so bad after all.

Divination for Dickheads by @seefin: It doesn't actually turn out to be the worst birthday present he's ever been given.

Can I kiss you? by @rose-grangerweasleyisbae: Teddy had been over the moon when Harry had allowed Draco to tag along with the annual Weasley beach weekend when Andromeda couldn't come. Draco not so much. Would Teddy's cousin and godfather ever get along?

Shatterproof Plan by digthewriter: Teddy drags Draco to Australia for Christmas. Draco is down on himself for being forty and still single. They see Harry. Angst. Past relationship drama. Happy ending.

There’s No Espresso in Azkaban by @sassy-cissa: When Harry finds Draco working in a Starbucks, he finds coffee has suddenly become more interesting.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Cake Rota by @gingertodgers: Harry and Draco are drafted onto the office cake rota.

The Slickening: From Devil’s Snare to Penetratio Totalus by @aibidil, @bixgirl1, @carpemermaidtales, @femmequixotic, @noeeon, @shiftylinguini: Sometimes help comes from the place you least expect it.

Moon-Eyed by @l0vegl0wsinthedark: Draco Malfoy, Head of Veela Affairs at the Department of Magical Beings, does not do people favours. Harry Potter, recently turned werewolf, is not “people” – not to Draco anyway. Does Draco plan to fall in love with Harry when he decides to help him? No. Does he end up falling in love with him anyway? Pft, what do you think?

He Whose Hand and Eye Are Gentle by khalulu: Draco reads poems and sometimes writes them. Harry receives poems and sometimes reads them. Rutherford delivers poems via the scenic route. Wombat snores. Eventually, all comes together, with help from the foxes in red bibs and the sumo referee.

Shades of You by @bloodyflammable: Draco certainly never intended to be a style consultant for the seriously fashion challenged, but after the war and the reparations his family had to pay, it was clear he would need to earn a living. However, if having to earn a living meant he got to admire Potter’s arse and shoulders in well-fitted clothes, it wasn’t that bad. Or was it?

Group Chat by @jadepresley: A screenshot of a group chat conversation between Draco, Harry, Ron, Pansy, Hermione and Theo.

Like Cinderella, But With Cock by @l0vegl0wsinthedark: ”Oh, shit,” he groans, “This is like Cinderella, isn’t it?! Like Cinderella, but with cock. Cock instead of slippers.” Where Harry’s hexed so that he can’t lose his erection until he sleeps with his soulmate. If only those were easier to find.

November Third by @queenofthyme: November third. It should have been a day like any other. Except it never was. Not for Draco Malfoy. Every November 3rd, the universe seemed to grant Draco Malfoy a chance with Harry Potter. A chance for what exactly, it wasn’t always clear. But something more than their rivalry. Something more than the empty words they shouted at each other across the schoolyard. Something that grew into a little bit more something every year.

Howlr by @partialtopotter: Howlr is the new dating application enchanting Witches, Wizards and Everyone in between. Are you looking for the one or a one-night stand; it’s all here folks. Howlr is sponsored by Weasley Wizard Wheezes, the same team that brought us the Spellular just two years ago. Ginny Weasley, famed chaser for the Hollyhead Harpies, swears by the app, ‘guaranteed to make sparks fly,’ she says. The magic awaits you!

It’s Joggers Season (or so the Muggles say) by @carpemermaidtales: Everything about Draco’s life since May has been one bloody long exercise in subverting everything he’s known, that’s expected of him, in an effort to get as far away from the mistakes he’s made—the wrong choices he was forced into. He’s returned to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s and everything is different—namely, Harry Potter strutting around in clingy joggers that Draco can’t get off his mind.

Quietly, as Requested by @shiftylinguini: Harry was trying to pretend Draco’s warm thigh against his own didn’t make his heart thump and his cock start to fill out inside his usual lazy Sunday attire ― which consisted of a t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and the world’s oldest, rattiest, ugliest and most comfortable pair of joggers. In comparison, Draco was wearing a buttoned up shirt and a pair of crisp, black trousers, which made him both seem impressively attractive and also entirely overdressed for this kind of occasion. Harry lifted one knee, trying to shield the view of his slightly tenting joggers, and the state he was rapidly finding himself in. Perhaps inviting Draco to Sunday Bad Movie night at Ron’s wasn’t that smart an idea after all.

Tackson Pollock [ALIYTM oneshot] by saras_girl: It’s a wet Sunday afternoon. What are a beetle and a Gryffindor to do?

Dance Magic, Dance by @jet-playin: Only one person can make this Halloween night worth Harry's ridiculous costume, and he's not here...

Christmas lights to melt your heart by phrynne: The light does not move. It does not flicker, does not fade. He has the strange feeling it’s waiting for him. Basically, what the tags say + Harry is romantic af + Draco is clueless.

The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by @bixgirl1: When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess. What comes as a complete shock are Potter's other activities...And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him. (Relax. It's just like a holiday Hallmark movie! ...With, uhm, sleepwanking.)

#drarry #drarry squad #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #fluff #humor #crack #feel good

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mylifeatwar · 6 years ago

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Book 2, Chapter 4, Page 23

Archived Text Follows:

Hey Everyone,

It appears that if you throw enough light at a Dragoon’s camo system all at once you can cause it to glitch out. That helps level the playing field some.

Thanks for reading,

– Luther out

Comment Text Follows:

killercow - Knuckledusters oughta’ give that armor a run for it’s money.

nweismuller - Well, that explains Lawman-Actual’s unusual weapon. I was wondering about that.

tkg - interesting I notice a dead patch on the rear left side-shield/armor area near where the dragoon was hit earlier…do the areas auto compensate? for knocked out areas within reason?

nweismuller - I’m not sure that’s a dead area- I think that’s a portion of the shoulder blown away.

Madorakas - I just (naiv) figured the camo system let the light trough. Turns out it just mimics whats behind it and shows it in front. Also i want to know more about this “Knuckdusters”.

Keith - Good lateral thinking. Even in daylight more light makes stuff show up and illume will provide a localized change in viewable spectrums. If memory serves radar doesn’t see them when cloaked either. I wonder how well it stealths against UV…which I’ve long thought they need to switch NVG’s and scopes to, why arent’ they using thermal? You can’t hide heat.

Sazuroi - If it was the light deflection cloaking system I described in one of my comments on the last page, it could potentially deflect all electromagnatic waves, each with a specified set of nanoscale “hairs” (I’m not sure how broad the range of wavelengths is that can be deflected with the existing technology). Heat radiation, which is largely in the infrared spectrum, is actually “larger” than visible light, so the light deflection material could potentially also deflect that, possibly enabling near-perfect heat managment and direction if used internally. That would at least make it exceedingly hard to find a unit cloaked in this way with infrared. Going by this it seems to be the fairly simple projection system, or something more complicated like a hologram in the air created by lasers (which has also been done, like the light deflection material, but in a very basic form, just balls of light hovering inside a laser cage, not sure if the cage was even filled with normal air). The laser hologram seems more fitting since the damaged parts are also hidden. This system could potentially also duplicate a heat signature (yes, there also is a system to duplicate heat signatures, why are you even asking? XD) but it would be more likely for this functionality to be integrated into the armor because the existing system for this is applied to the outside, like ERA. So, basically, if in 50 years we can’t build something like the Dhuvalian Limbs in reality, somebody really needs their butt kicked.

CaptEndo - Except that limbs and other mecha are totally and completely unworkable on any scale much larger than a human exoskeleton suit ( like the Bulls). Ground pressure is the real deal breaker, never mind complicated drive trains and high silhouettes. Even wheeled armored vehicles are severely hampered by high ground pressure. That’s why they were marginalized by major military powers after WWII. Heavy wheeled vehicles have too much ground pressure to do serious off road mobility. This means they get caught in the kill box more than tracks. Mecha would be lucky to move around even on pavement. Add the huge logistical drain of maintaining a walking machine that size and the huge hulking targets they would make, and it’s a pipe dream.

tkg - Not quite a pipe dream john deere did make the plustech forestry vehicle which did walk on six legs and was fully functional. Here is an image as proof:http://indulgy.ccio.co/iF/d6/o5/futurefuturisticWalkingRobot2robotics9.jpgFootage: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD2V8GFqk_YThe issue was the price tag and a lack of interest by buyers but I suspect bipedal mechs would not be as plausible as most might think. Quad and hex designs are a totally different matter.

Sazuroi - In my own writing I also only use exosceletons, but note that I did not say “actually deploy” or “make useful”. I said “can build”. We can probably build a walking machine that size already, no matter how bad it sucks. And the technology seen here is not completely implausible, though it will likely end up going in a different direction. Though there was that concept design wheeled tank with full visual cloak a few years ago. For actual applications though, some kind of spider is probably better, and even that would likely be a niche product. I do have some hopes for that four-legs-with-wheels mecha some japanese guy builds for about 2 million a piece (he introduced the one he built at an expo a while ago, pictures float around), but it’ll probably be too costly and risky. Like that canadian nutcase with the anti-bear armor who also designed a infantry armor nobody wanted to buy despite him offering to tank a full assault rifle clip while wearing it… which proably didn’t convince people of his sanity. Those slabs he made the armor out of seemed to work fine though, back when I came across the story I saw a video where one stops a 7.92 sniper round. That can be faked, sure, but the potential was intriguing.

Keith - Oh good someone else pointed that out. There are mechs and having dealt with armor for many years. It’s a matter of engineering, not scale. The big deal breaker is power to move and to power camouflage. It appears they use multiple small scale emitters as shown by the less than perfect camouflage on the leg that was hit.

Jack McCrary - Ground pressure is not the issue most people think it would be. if you do a volumetric issue for most mecha, their lower legs/feet are typical proportionately at least three times larger than a comparable human limb and then benefit from the dramatically larger surface area. It’s not uncommon for a mecha to end up with a static ground pressure of 0.5 psi or less per ton. So a 20 ton mecha will have around a 10 psi ground pressure (less than a modern MBT) where as an average human male who will have one ranging between 25-30 psi.

Sazuroi - I think the problem with the ground pressure is that a Mech of comparable power to a current MBT would need to weigh a lot more than the tank to be as resistant to fire, since most terrain does not offer cover a Mech would be able to hide behind. To deal with that much added weight, the feet would need to be either even more disproportionately large, which would make it difficult to maneuver in places even a tank can get around – which kind of defeats the purpose of building a vertical combat unit in the first place. Either that or more feet, which would admittedly also require more space to move around. In the few settings I thought up which did indeed utilize Mecha on the ground, I basically had two main directions I tended to go: One option was to make the Mechs extremely large support units – replacing a whole battery of AA missiles while carrying other weapons as well, basically a land warship, though smaller since the crew doesn’t need to be on board constantly. I think Armored Core has something similar as a boss fight. The other option was making them small and mobility-focused, often able to jump quite far, with many legs, “assist legs” or special dampener systems to avoid cratering when landing. Those weren’t terribly armored, and occupied a role between IFV and Helicopter, that is, near fire support. Those were typically single-pilot, and either built around a weapon or at least very focused on their weapons, and mainly defended by keeping a distance and dodging, in cities typically standing on the buildings. Stand-up-and-fight mainline combatant Mecha I never managed to justify to myself, even in space where the ideal small unit is a cube there are reasons against Mecha (why make it look like a human if you can leave out the joints and shave off more weight if you don’t? Why give your attack unit a large frontal profile when the front is supposed to point at the enemy?). On the ground, the main advantage of the vertical shape is essentially the same that led to us evolve in that direction – oversight, and a small “footprint”, as well as being able to mount effectors with a higher range of movement. That is useful – helicopters became one of the main weapons against tanks because a tank can’t spot them very easily, and a Mecha can have an easier time spotting them – but they are also dreadfully easy to hit up close, and easier to spot. Mecha may be harder to immobilize than a tank (opinions diverge, joints can be armored but are out if damaged, tracks are out if damaged and can’t be fully covered from all angles), but mobility is potentially their greatest asset, and it is at odds with MBT-grade armor. Hence, either a light maneuver combatant or a beyond-the-horizon asset. The horizon is reasonably good cover in most situations, particularly if Laser or Particle weapons proliferate and indirect fire becomes less available.

MasterFALE - Just back-up on the Thermal Camo, BAE has a system applicae panels, as noted: like ERA, which provide active camo vs thermal imaging. Hell, they can camo a moving tank in the open while displaying insulting messages.

CaptEndo - Fair arguments. A Mecha as light as 20 tons ( in the range of an APC or light tank, or the Stryker armored car) would suffer from the same liability as all light armor: it’s too thin skinned to take heavy weapon fire, and a high silhouette vehicle like a Mecha would draw fire from every conventional unit on the field long before the Mecha could target them. Not to mention mounting it’s weapons up that high would make it top heavy and enhance recoil. Using smaller multi legged walking machines for industrial purposes might have a real future, but not as an upright armored combat vehicle, which is what I have understood the term Mecha to refer to. There is likely a future for the prototype “pack mule” legged robots, and possibly as low slung mobile missile or gun mounts as well. Those could be practical in the very near future.

#comic #webcomic #mecha #action

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malfoys-demigod · 4 years ago

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Thinking Out Loud - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested by the lovely @the--queen-of-hell

A/N: We agreed to set their ages to 19 during the post war year

5 months.

5 months to be exact when the ultimate wizarding war had finally ended. Some people can agree that 5 months can be so quick that they already forgot that time flew swiftly by in a blink of an eye. For you, 5 months since the war felt like 5 weeks since the war.

The many things that you’ve experienced first-handedly were still too easily played in your mind. First was when you thought your friend Harry had died. He was the one true person who could have saved the wizarding world from the biggest disaster the world could have faced. Seeing his body roll out onto the floor was just hard to process. But finding out that he was actually alive to save everyone was just a relief. Then there were your parents. The people you have loved the most for your entire life. It was just a shame that they were placed under the situation of being Death Eaters. You obviously knew that they did not have a choice. It was either they played pretend Death Eaters or risking your life and theirs. They kept promising you that you would be alright, that they would be alright, and that you could return to becoming a normal family just like the time before Voldemort chose them to be Death Eaters.

The possibility of returning to a normal family was so high. During the war in Hogwarts, you were fighting, defending yourself from the other Death Eaters who in their eyes saw you as a traitor. “Traitor!” they’d call you as they tried hexing the life out of you. “You should have joined your parents like the pureblood you are!” they kept telling you. “Let’s teach her the consequences of becoming a traitor.” was the last thing a group of Death Eaters threatened you as both your parents Stupefied the group, running to your aid to check up on you.

Knowing that there was no time to do this, you grabbed their arms and tried making it to the ends of the corridors which had a door to seal off the Death Eaters who were regaining consciousness from their hits. You could hear them grunt angrily as they started hexing in your direction. When you made your way outside, your parents hugged you tightly and told you, “Our dearest, Y/N. Know that we will always be in your heart as we love you with all our hearts.” as they cupped your face tightly. Your eyes widened, realizing why they had said that. “No.” was all you begged from them. They looked at you sympathetically and gave you one last hug and ran back in to fence off the Death Eaters that were going after you. “I love you, mother and father.” was all you could say as they started closing the doors, looking at you with an uplifting look. “GO! RUN!” your mother said as your father finally locked at the doors.

Fighting off the tears in your eyes, you turned around and ran as fast as you could, returning to the battle. Aside from Harry and Dumbledor, you couldn’t name a single person you have witnessed that had the same courage and passion as your parents. They were the people that motivated you to become as courageous and passionate as them. You knew in your heart that if you ever became a parent, you would do the exact same thing as them and save the life of your child.

You were very fortunate enough to have Narcissa and Lucius as your other set of parents. Of course you couldn’t love them enough just as you did with your parents but they have been nothing but welcoming and supportive of you. Ever since the war, you have been living in Malfoy Manor with them and Draco. Aside from being that important person in Draco’s life, they were more than happy to grant you their home as they were great friends with you parents.

You father was like a brother to Lucius. They were best friends since birth as their families knew each other well. Their friendship grew stronger during their Hogwarts years. If one of them had detention, it was very well known that the other would tag along in their detention because they were the cause of whatever reason the professor had to send them off. After their Hogwarts years, they became work-mates as your father became a respective wizard in the Ministry, just like Lucius as they always playfully competed against each other in their respective jobs. Your mother and Narcissa on the other hand had a similar story. They despised each other during their first years in Hogwarts. Why? They were after the same boy that they have been childishly crushing on. It was a little girl-to-girl competition for them as they tried going out of their ways to have them get noticed by their crush. Discovering that the person they were crushing on was only interested in boys, their small rivalry thawed, apologizing in the end for being obsessive over the same person. They became best of friends after they started helping each other out when they began crushing over different men who were your father and Lucius respectively. According to them, they always had these double dates at first since they were both too shy to have individual dates. Who knew later on, they’d be having catch ups even after they all settled down with children.

Lucius and Narcissa consider their deaths something always worth remembering. They always get reminded of the good times they shared with their best friends whenever they look at you. Lucius would get reminded of your father’s humor and intelligence whenever you make a joke or study with Draco. Narcissa would remember how much of a beautiful person your mother turned out to be whenever you dressed up for dates with Draco or simply looked exactly like her when you let your hair down. From the minute they heard about your parents’ deaths, they swore to take you in like the daughter they never had and protect you for your parents.

They were very much happy to have you. It also made Draco the happiest person in the world. This young man loved you with all his heart and it was also his idea to take you in after the war. His heart broke as well when he found out about the death of your parents. They treated him as if he was their son as well. Draco couldn’t stand seeing you sob the minute the war ended. Before he and his parents had the chance to leave, he ran to the entrance doors of the castle to a sobbing you. He thought he lost you but seeing that you were alive by the steps wanted him to drop to his knees and thank Merlin for protecting you. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m here,” Draco spoke as he tried to calm you down. “M-my parents.” was all you could blurt out but Draco already realized what you meant. He didn’t do anything but wrap you in his arms as he tried having you stand up. He kept apologizing for what happened. “I should have been there to protect them, to protect you.” He said, “Come home with us.” He advised. Draco briefly explained how he could take you home with him as you could both heal emotionally and physically from all the trauma. You had no other choice but to follow him since his family was practically family.

Now, 5 months later, there you were with Draco, laying on his chest as you both cuddled in your shared bed. There were no words being exchanged at the moment as the both of you appreciated the sound of the winds outside as it was soothing to the ears. You were practically cuddling in bed with Draco silently now for an hour that he assumed that you were asleep already. With his thoughts on you swimming around his head, he started thinking out loud.

“Oh, Y/N. Sweet Y/N,” he started speaking out loud as he stroked the loose strands of hair falling out of your frame.

“Wouldn’t you believe it has been 5 months since everything happened? It’s still difficult for me to realize how long it has been. It still feels like we had just gotten home from Hogwarts. I carried you to my room as we laid on my bed, exactly the way we’re laying right now. The only thing that changed is the way I feel about you. Now don’t be alarmed, sweetheart. Ever since the day we came back home, there were many things that I've been thinking about but there was this one thought that I’ve been seriously considering dearly. I love you with all my heart. You know that. You’re the reason why I strive to become a better person everyday. Without you, I wouldn’t be this person, a person who is currently transforming to become a whole new person inside. I constantly want to thank you for that but I just don’t know how. I know I’m not completely transformed yet but I really want to be a better person everyday and I believe that with you by my side, you could help me realize that everyday can be a new possibility to becoming a much better person. I know we're only nineteen but I feel like I’m ready to take our relationship to a whole new level. We’ve gone through so much together and I just want to propose my love for you officially. I just want to ask you the big question already which is: Will you marry me, Y/N?”

With that, Draco sighed as he thought you weren’t awake to hear all of this. Fortunately, you were awake the entire time.

You stopped yourself from crying the minute he asked the big question. This was very unbelievable. Not because he asked early but that it was actually happening. You were more than proud to hear every word that came from his mouth. He truly was transforming.

Happily hearing the question, you slowly face your boyfriend with a warm smile. “Yes, a thousand times.” You softly reply to him as you watch his eyes widen with a sudden surprise.

Draco froze for a good three seconds realizing that he did not come prepared with the best engagement ring yet. He looked down at his family ring, the one he constantly wears to show the Malfoy pride.

“With this,” he said, removing the ring from his finger and transferring to yours, “I welcome you to the Malfoy family. Of course the ring is temporary. Not to worry, dear. I will bestow you the best ring in the entire world once we get things settled.”

You cupped his face with the hand that had the ring as you looked at him with sweetness in your eyes. “It’s beautiful. I love you, Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

“I love you more, Y/N Y/L/N soon to be Malfoy.”

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