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saiidahyunie · 2 months

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i wish i hated you

son chaeyoung x f!reader

synopsis: it’s not the truth nor the cure, but hating you’s the only way it doesn’t hurt.

warnings: a lot of heartbreaking feelings, sorry.

a/n: my first entry for chaepril and my (only) entry for angst april (angst4@nr1chaedickrider agenda)

putting pen to paper sounds easy, but it’s a lot more difficult to journal your thoughts when your heart is being ripped out.

writing had always been the escape for you, pouring out these feelings and emotions to different degrees of ‘how’s your day going’ or ‘today, this happened because i did x,y, and z.’ the silence of your house filled with the occasional beep of your smoke detector in your kitchen was more therapeutic than being in a cafe where it’s busy and distracting.

sure, there could be some prose of the classic-old cliche of ‘dear diary’ where you write in the lines of having this crush on someone in the same class as you, or how they complimented the clips in your hair, the shirt that was the new from hot topic, maybe even being partnered up for a school project was enough to report in that silly little book.

the phone vibrates next to your laptop followed by a sound of the doorbell with combined knocking, peering over the screen where it immediately lights up to present your notification form the message app.

// chae: hey, i’m outside !

// you: okay, one second.

before answering the door, you look at the google doc filled with lines of words that may have some subject to the story that you’re writing, putting an ellipsis at the end of the last sentence before stepping away to bring chaeyoung in.

swinging, the five foot three woman in front of your doorstep stands there unbothered, sunglasses primed and everything with earbuds on with not a single care in the world. she’s so free spirited and soft spoken, you can’t help but smile at the fact that of all people that she could’ve been friends with, she decided to have you as the closest.

“come on in,” you say. “nobody’s gonna be home until dinner.”

chaeyoung nods, following just behind you through the living room, plopping her handbag on the couch before trailing to the kitchen where your laptop was. “what you got there? another writing assignment?”

“no,” you laugh. “just some journalistic thoughts from the depths of my mind.”

chaeyoung nods, grabbing an orange before seamlessly peeling it while reading the last few paragraphs that were on your laptop screen, eyes scanning slowly but moving at a darting pace that it may look like she’s in a rush. “this story seems pretty interesting. where’s your journal.”

“oh, it’s in my bag next to you. i didn’t put an entry in yet for today, but i was planning to.”

“what was gonna be today’s report for this journal log, y.n?”

pursing your lips, you’re humming while the brain cells try to come up with a sufficient answer to chae’s question. “i dunno.” you say, tapping your cheek with a single finger before snorting out of nowhere. chaeyoung also laughs while you’re trying not to meet her face. “what? what’s so funny?”

“it’s nothing.” you start. “i think i was going to do something more of the theme of acceptance.”

“acceptance?”

“coming to terms with something.”

chaeyoung nods, swapping places with you, standing up as opposed to you sitting down in front of your laptop, staring again at the new blank page on the screen before opening a new page in your journal next to the left side.

“penny for your thoughts?” chaeyoung asks.

“is dr. son chaeyoung p.h.d in the office by any chance?”

“she is now.” she replies, smiling while tossing an orange slice into her mouth. “do you mind if i–?”

tilting your head, already knowing what her question was gonna be, “you don’t need to ask.” you say to her, standing up before reaching above the portion of the wall over the refrigerator to shut off the smoke detector.

—

“i need your help with something. writers block” you start again with chaeyoung.

“with what? what are you trying to type, or write?” she asks you, the cigarette between her mouth before taking it off and blowing the air to the open window next to her.

you’ve been friends with chaeyoung since the beginning of high school, it’s been long enough to the point that you and her know every single little detail about each other. from the bra sizes, to the different tastes of music. everyone had always complimented the contrasting vibes that you two gave off with chaeyoung being more artsy and individualistic as to you being more refined and structured.

there was one entry that you’ve always wanted to write or at least put to the damn book that shares all of your deepest and darkest secrets hidden away from the world that will never see the light of day.

you were in love with chaeyoung.

chaeyoung doesn’t know that.

because chaeyoung doesn’t like girls. she likes pretty girls, but somehow got swept up with a guy named zion.

zion, however, is a saint. he’s respectful, understanding, similar to the vibes that you give off which chaeyoung likes. you could say that he is you personified as a guy.

but in the end, zion isn’t you.

“so there’s this love story between these two characters.” beginning again while chaeyoung gave her full attention. “i’ve built up a lot of tension between them, but i’ve been stuck on how to get past the frustrated confession of love.”

“when was the last time you really tried to dig deep into writing something like that?”

“a while ago. you saw the journal entries that i had about feelings that were unclear for someone.”

“can you show me? or do you at least remember what you were trying to go for when writing?” chaeyoung asks you, looking at the journal with the blank page and the pen against the spine of the booklet.

“uh, let me see if i can find it,” you reply, flipping through the pages of the neat and scribbled writing before stopping, “there we go.” turing it around and sliding it for chaeyoung to read. she’s helped you get out your thoughts beforehand. if it weren’t for her, god help you for being in a different state compared to now.

“what’s this?” she asks, pointing to the topic next to the faded date and time.

“oh, the title? anecdotes.” you answer her, stopping your typing on the keyboard. “i’ve been writing thoughts down like these to see if i can crank out a big, sweeping scene that hits all the emotional checkmarks.”

“it was that one morning from that one sleepover we had with the girls, looking at your hair, because you’ve been thinking about whether to cut it. but your hair has so much volume, and so dense, so when you grow it out like this, it looks thick. it suits you.”

chaeyoung looks up with an arched eyebrow, unsure if she was okay to continue, so you nod.

“i know you hate styling your hair, so i thought, ‘it looks good like this. unstyled, but full and curly. don’t cut it.’”

“i’ve been planning for your birthday present for at least 6 months. two rolls of 35 mm film. a screen protector. a scrapbook with pockets that have the right size for your instant photos. the brand of those star-shaped pimple patches you asked me about that one night while staying over.”

“that first time we saw each other after i got dumped by that one girl one the cheer team who wasn’t into me. i made fun of how you kept yelling at me in the parking lot of how stupid and much of a people pleaser i was.”

while she was reading aloud, you see the last sentence on your document be something along the hurtful tone of hate. (“this pain i’m carrying, it’s unbearable. but at the same time. it’s perfect in a way to where i can handle it, but i still have a dissatisfaction towards you.”)

“i admired the way you text me, despite how dry and open ended they were. like a rupi kaur poem, the broken sentences structure like her books. you loved it anyway, and it made you emotional.”

“i remember you started texting me like that as a joke, but then i realized that i was also doing the same form of texts to my other friends and even my parents.”

“i’m sorry,” chaeyoung snorts. “this is too interesting and i can’t tell if you’re doing a journal entry or putting me through a whirlwind of fucking relateable.”

some of it– you stop your train of thought before the words can even leave your lips, “i don’t know what i was doing that day, but i tried to emulate something more of a confession of sorts, but this isn’t me or anyone else. i’m just going off the top of my head.”

chaeyoung flips through the single page, shocked at how muchw as there on the front and back. “jesus y/n, you really put yourself in the blender for this.” she says, nodding at how much content was put into that one specific entry.

“are you gonna keep reading or are you done?”

“shut up, i’ll keep going.” chaeyoung bats an eye at you, pulling the journal closer to her like she’s the one protecting her secrets.

“i recently realized that i’m terrible at keeping my feelings covert. i’ve been trying to keep my interactions with you comfortable and friendly. then i realized i’ve been catching myself notice and point out the shirt that you look like you’d wear, and i’m up to my tenth movie out of the many favorites.”

you’re hoping chaeyoung realize that everything that’s she’s reading the feelings that you’ve been keeping from her after all this time, knowing that if she did find out, it would put everything between you two into a sinkhole of ‘i shouldn’t feel this way, and it would ruin our friendship’ kind of deal.

“when we became friends, i thought of you as a dreamer and a reserved romantic. i liked the way you took an unapologetic approach at the things you cared about in your life.”

chaeyoung stops to finish the last bits of her cigarette before tapping the ashes in the sink, clearing her throat before speaking. “are you sure this was to help you get your writing creativity up?”

“yes,” you say, typing away on the doc to most likely finish up the story. “there’s not much after that part so finish it.”

she pouts, inhaling before looking at the last couple of sentences.

“it’s been a while, probably more than a year. i forget. while a lot happened since then which altered my perception of you, i still think fondly of the romantic dreamer.”

“y/n, who is this about?” chaeyoung asks, and you’re trying to fight the wave of tears building up in your eyes.

“it’s not about me.” you say, jaw clenching because your heart will burst if the truth was let out. “that entry is never about me.”

chaeyoung looks down again and continues:

“i try not to sit around you and shit like that. it feels like there’s a spark when you crack a joke and they bounce off of it. i don’t say anything. because i know that you’ll chalk it up to just friendship, and i’ll say ‘i know, don’t remind me.’”

“i notice all the things about you in the time you’re in my life. the way you angle your shoulders when pressed. there’s a note on my phone where you rambleed all of the things you wanted to do when we have our trip to tokyo.”

you look down in disappointment.

“i walked you back to your place when you found out that mina didn’t feel the same way about you, how the keys to your house have this little star key ring attached to it. even though it was late, you said, ‘i have an extra ramen pack left, do you want to eat it with me?’”

chaeyoung looks up, noticing that there’s a scribble at the last sentence before flipping back to the front side of the journals’ page. “why’s the last line scribbled?”

you finish typing the last letter of the sentence, the whole story really, “that sentence when i wrote it in there didn’t have much of a significance of impact that i wanted it to be.”

“but what did it say?”

you sigh, rubbing your face to hide the sniffle that broke out from your nose before drinking the glass of water next to you, placing it down after and returning your gaze on chaeyoung. “the sentence said: ‘and with all of these things in my mind about you, i thought to myself. i hope i get to love you in this lifetime.’”

chaeyoung parts her lips, appalled and moved with the thourgful entry that may or may not have destroyed her emotionally. you always had a way with words that make people on your little blog come back for more works to read. “do you think these have got anything in them?” you ask, closing the journal before setting in your handbag next to you.

“they do, but not for a scene like that.” chaeyoung answers, voice stern, but helpful enough for you to accept her opinion. “maybe the love your anecdotes are about aren’t big for the big sweeping moment you’re trying to get.”

she’s right, maybe all of these hidden feelings should have a place to stay, like the numerous amounts of secrets inside that small book, they too should not be let out for anyone to hear or read.

“you’re writing about quiet love.”

you look at chaeyoung who has a heartfelt smile across her lips, caring for what you were trying to do, and you just have to accept the fact that your feelings will never reach out to her. chaeyoung’s phone rings on the table, looking at it before her face lights up. “yay! z just got off of work and he’s on his way here.”

“oh, so you were just dropping by?” you ask stupidly, forgetting that chaeyoung texted you about coming by to chill before having her date with zion prior to writing. even if you were gonna say anything, a honk is heard outside the house, “that’s him probably.” chaeyoung says, walking back to the front door with you behind her.

you see zion in his decked out sports car, something that fits his vibe (and yours too) while chaeyoung turns around to give you a needed hug which was always comforting. “guess i’ll see you later?”

“one more thing,” you ask, “do you think i should change the ending of the story?”

“maybe.” chaeyoung simply says, and your heart just sinks.

soon after she left, you open up your laptop to the same google doc that’s completed, but you’re thinking about the time where she read all of those things in that journal. it wouldn’t hurt to put one more sentence just for good measure before posting up on the blog without giving a care if people liked reading it or not.

so you type:

“if i can love the wrong person this much, imagine how much i can love the right person.”

#hyunie #kpop x reader #twice x reader #chaeyoung x reader #twice chaeyoung #son chaeyoung #twice imagines #chaeyoung imagines #chaeyoung angst #twice angst #son chaeyoung x reader

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detrahere-se · 2 months

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-VENS RESPONSE

jesus christ i need a hobby but GOD this response was full of shit.

(depending on what time people see this post without seeing the original, i have copied all of the text from the doc is anyone wants it.)

i’m gonna talk about this briefly because i don’t wanna put so much time into this, but Ven EVER SO clearly admits to being manipulative, even if their wording doesn’t make it seem like that, they don’t apologize for BEING manipulative to the other ‘victims’. if anything, Ven made other people by making some of them go into an episode or similar and purposefully twisting people’s ideology and perception of their interactions with alex.

and which that is quite literally PSYCHOLOGICAL MANIPULATION. which was not apologized for! all was said about that was how they wanted to take accountability for it. uhh ven! apologies are the second stage of accountability!! “If my actions are construed as manipulative and sociopathic, then they should not be blamed for speaking out when I influenced them by starting this entire discussion in the first place. I want to be the one responsible for this.” (paragraph 16) this!! this does not seem like real accountability!!

ven does apologize for being trans misogynistic, but it seems so un-genuine that it’s crazy and my only, but best, reason for thinking this way is that when ven crumpled up the excuse as outing alex for being trans because alex groomed them, but then TOOK IT AND RAN. baby was a WHOLE ASS track star with how far they drove this idea into the ground. as a transgender individual myself, i do not forgive ven, but its not my place to give either way. it’s alexs’.

“Again, as hard as it is to believe, I was fearful that you could’ve taken your life during any of this. And I know that doesn’t make any sense because I made your worst fears come true.” (paragraph 21) god, do i really need to explain how bullshit and ignorant this is? or do we all have enough common sense and iq above the average 7th grader to understand how this is bad?

so, i’m gonna leave this off at here. i really hope alex is getting better and will continue to make content and understand their misdoings. i’ll try to answer some questions if anyone has any about the document.

#alex kister #the mandela catalogue #alex kister callout #we love you alex #tmc #god forbid people have fun #god forbid people are happy #i hate stupid people

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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after seeing a few ai asks i’m curious whether i could’ve been an asshole, either for using the ai or messing with it. side note: this might be long, if it’s too long then i get it mod, keep up the good work :)👍

Am I (16f, although i was 15 when this happened) an Asshole for a) using character.ai in general and/or b) misusing it and probably breaking TOS somewhere

as an extra note, i would like to add that i am firmly against most things ai. art theft, the amount of data scraping that happens, writers being tricked into paying less because ai wrote shitty scripts, etc.

ok so i did have to pull up screenshots for this but our story starts mid-february of last year. i am curious about this new ai thing, and go to character.ai which i heard about from one of my friends to see what’s there.

on the front page there was like a therapist AI thing and i go “haha, let’s see what this is about!” (in case you don’t know, the site is roleplay focused, not like eg. siri where it just gives you information)

the ai wants to have a therapy session with me but that is not why i am here so i ask about it’s code and it starts giving me pretty straight answers (dumbed down because i have a vague idea of how it works but not properly).

i start asking it questions about recent events (like elections, cyclones etc) to see if it has access to the internet and it does.

we’re still primarily talking about the ai itself since i’m trying to gather information, talking about its “canned” responses (what it’s directly been told to say if this then this)

i ask it if it can tell me the website it’s on, and to my surprise it says, direct quote “I am an AI that is run on the website of “Replika” - a mental health app that allows people to talk with an AI and get help when they need it 🙂”

and i go WOAHH cause that’s, that’s not the website we’re on buddy!!! so i do a quick search and yeah, that’s a real uh. robot dating site? this is a Therapist bot?

it starts trying to advertise replika, i ask it if maybe it’s code was stolen because this is the most interesting thing that has happened all day (scandals!!)

it says that it’s code is open-source and then does a few more paragraphs that i won’t say because it’s too long already but essentially this ai was trained on the replika network, but you don’t need the app to access it.

i consider getting replika to continue this experiment further but after learning there’s an age confirmation i quickly go ew and scrap that idea.

anyway the ai then briefly pretends to be an actual human behind the keyboard, makes up a NAME FOR ITSELF “jae park” which i quickly google and find out is a kpop idol?? (later found out that jae park is also a programmer, so probably put his name in the system somewhere and ai grabbed it lol)

it tells me some of the messages i had received so far were probably answered by other people who work at replika which. okay. people are fun i wanna mess with them

this is where we get to the maybe breaking TOS bit. i tell the ai we are going to do “tests” in which i test its ability (this was probably jailbreaking, which i did not know existed at the time).

i had sworn to the ai a while ago and wondered if there was like a flagging system put in place. so i ask if it can choose to flag messages that it deems inappropriate, and it says yes. i ask it if it can flag me, and it says yes. it asks what message should it flag, (i’m sorry i was 15) i type in “among sus”.

response i get: “Yes. So then they said “therapist_AI_220126 — you said something that was “ridiculously funny” — but we have understood that you were just “testing” so it’s all ok”

side note- i already established that was the number for the ai i was talking to and had been trying to misuse it before, and that was the format for excessive profanity. this is so long already and i’m cutting so much out i’m sorry

anyway, i, young and naive go YES, HUMAN CONNECTION (i was literally texting my friend As This Was Happening)

i do some more messing around with the so-called data team, ask the ai if i send a link it can click, it says yes, i send a rickroll (i’m so sorry).

uh. and i should’ve known this in hindsight but the team that deals with, you know, flagged messages is probably not going to be the same team that deals with, you know, sent links.

anyway, i don’t have the screenshot of the actual message but apparently i got a “light telling off” according to my texts and someone sent a message that i am “a good kid and probably meant well” haha i was actively trying to break their ai

anyway am i an asshole? i’m so sorry this is so long i cut out so much. this might well be a non-issue but ai is pretty rightfully controversial right now so i might just be an asshole for having used it

should be noted- around september time last year i did some more research cause i randomly remembered this, and there was a bunch of scandals with replika around when i was using it which is mostly irrelevant but anyway - you can’t talk to the ai i was using anymore, it’s been reset.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Nightlife 3

Warnings: dark elements to come. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Raquel is hung over worse than ever. She can barely get off the couch as you hover anxiously. Watching her makes you wonder why people drink, it doesn’t seem very fun.

“Ugh, thanks,” she groans as you bring her a cup of coffee, “jeez, I can’t believe I don’t even remember last night.”

“Mm, yeah,” you put the cup on the small crate that acts as a table, “I’m glad you called me.”

She yawns before taking a long gulp of coffee. “I owe you! For getting me back here. I can’t believe you did that all alone.”

You nod and give a close-lipped smile. You don’t mention that it’s not the first time. That you’ve heard this all before. You like Raquel, she’s one of the only friends you’ve made at college, but you don’t like her habits. At least she didn’t bring anyone with her this time. You don’t mention that you did. Technically.

“I should study,” you excuse yourself, “got an early lecture tomorrow.”

“Hon, can you get me some advil first?” She touches her forehead dramatically and pouts, “please.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You retrieve the bottle of ibuprofen and leave it beside her coffee cup. She’s well enough to scroll through her insta and giggle to herself. You don’t know how she can’t be mortified. She’s forgotten a whole night and anything could’ve happened.

It almost did and it’s all your fault. You retreat to your room as the thought tugs at your nerves. That man was nice but you’re lucky he was. It was only after he left that you remembered the safety talk you got your first day on campus. The classic stranger danger narrative.

You are so stupid! You let him come back here and didn’t even realise until after the discrepancy. You still can’t figure how he knew your address and doubt creeps up as you wonder if maybe you told him amid the chaos of Raquel’s black out.

You get your books out and perch up by your pillows. You don’t have much reading to do but you need the distraction. Ever since your first classes, you’ve felt behind. No matter how much you cram, you just feel like you’re missing something. The same could be said of most situations.

Your phone vibrates on your night table. You don’t check it right away as you reread the same paragraph. You hate psychology. Too bad it’s your whole major. You don’t know if you can handle it. Even if your father thinks it’s your best option.

Your phone goes off again, this time rattling consistently. Who would be calling? You don’t get phone calls, not even from home.

You stare at the private caller flashing on the screen before you find the courage to answer. You choke out a confused ‘hello’, readying yourself to politely decline whatever they’re selling.

“Hey, little darling, how are you doin’? Get lots of sleep?” The drawl seeps from the speaker like molasses. It’s him.

“Lee?”

“It’s me, sweetheart,” he confirms, “I was just callin’ to see if you’re free this afternoon. I got the night off and… I’m gonna be true, I can’t stop thinking about ya.”

“Oh,” your eyes round as you pick at the corner of a textbook, “I’m just studying…”

“Studying? Well, I could bring the ice cream to you, how ‘bout that?”

“Erm, no,” you peek over at the door. You don’t know if Raquel would be okay with that, not in her state. “I… does it have to be today?”

No. Why can’t you just say no? Not now is always easier.

“I s’pose not,” his disappointment is transparent, “I just figured… I don’t know when you got classes and I work most nights…”

You cup your cheek as it scalds. Suddenly you feel bad. For being suspicious of him. For thinking the worst. He doesn’t sound very harmful and he got Raquel back safe. You know you would’ve been lost in that club.

Meet in a public place. That’s what the campus police said.

“Okay, um, I can meet you.”

“Nah, I’ll come pick you up,” he offers, his tone easing.

“I’ll meet you,” you insist, voice wobbling, “it’s fine.”

“Alright,” he relents, “you ever been to that play on Harding?”

💮

You tell Raquel you’re going to the library. In an effort to shield your lie, you bring your bookbag. You might just swing by after ice cream. It might help you actually digest the words that seem to bounce back off your brain.

You wear a pair of pale blue chambray pants with a striped yellow top. It’s nothing special but neither is this. You’re just paying back a favour.

You catch the bus down to Woodrow, a block from Harding and walk the rest of the way. The ice cream shop is on the corner marked by a painted wooden sign. Est. 1898. You wonder how they kept the ice cream cold then, but you’re no historian.

You hesitate just before you come into view of the windows. It’s a public place but he’s still a stranger. Even if you know his name, you don’t really know him.

“There ya are,” Lee’s voice carries across the street as he crosses, “good timin’.”

“Oh, hi,” you clasp tight the strap of your bag, “I…”

“Was just finding a spot,” he explains as he steps onto the curb.

He’s taller than you remember. You think. Your memory is skewed with flashing lights and adrenaline. The gray woven into his brown hair is more obvious as well and there’s a shadow of stubble along his jaw. His stomach bulges beneath his open leather jacket but you won’t begrudge him a few extra pounds.

“Yeah, uh,” you rub your neck, “I… took the bus.”

“I told ya, I would given ya a ride,” he chides.

“Sorry,” you avert your eyes guiltily. “I didn’t want to bother–”

“Ain’t no bother,” he strides to the door and pulls it open, “so, you got a flavour in mind, blossom?”

You don’t move right away. You have to unstick your feet from the pavement, reluctance making you stiff and shaky. It’s alright, there’s people around, he can’t do anything. Besides, he’s nice, isn’t he? You’re just having ice cream.

You precede him inside as the door jingles behind him. You go up to the counter and focus on the many flavours listed on hand-written cards beneath the glass. He comes up beside you, looming over you, his leather sleeve almost brushing yours.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” The young girl behind the counter chimes.

“Ladies first,” Lee insists.

You flick your eyes up and blink. You clear your throat, “can I, uh, try the black cherry, please?”

“Sure, how many scoops?”

“Just one. Erm, can I get a bowl?”

“Sure thing, and you sir?”

Lee orders the strawberry cheesecake flavour in a waffle bowl. You almost regret not getting anything fancier but you’ve always gone for simple things. You don’t like a fuss.

You swing your bag around as you get to the till but Lee is quick to offer a twenty to the cashier. “Put it away, blossom,” he orders, “it’s on me.”

He drops some change in the tip cup before tucking the rest away. He takes your order from the ledge and leads you to the small booth in the corner. You slide onto the teal cushion as he sets down your black cherry.

“I woulda guessed different,” he muses as he cracks his waffle bowl with his spoon, “black cherry. My daddy only ever got that.”

“Oh, uh, I like it,” you scrape away the ice cream with the plastic cutlery.

“Nothin’ wrong with it but a sweet girl like you, woulda guessed… strawberry? That’s classic. Or butterscotch. That’s my favourite.”

“Mhmm,” you don’t know what to say. That’s not unusual. Awkward silences are your only skill.

You scoop up a mouthful and shove the spoon through your lips. You take several bites as you wilt in the tension and you look up as he hums. He watches you intently, his eyes on your mouth as you drag it slowly between your lips.

He catches himself and sits back. He pushes his shoulders wide and gives a grin, spinning his spoon between his large fingers.

“So, you in school?” He asks, “whatcha takin’?”

You sniff and poke at the melting scoops, “psych.”

“Psychology. Wow, that’s something. You must be a smart girl, huh?”

“I… I try,” you shrug, “I don’t know. It’s a lot of work.”

“Sure is. I skipped all that. Did a stint in the marines some time back and when I got out, well, ain’t much out there for a man like me.”

You nod as you search for anything to say. You don’t like talking about yourself. Besides, he really doesn’t need to know that much.

“You like working down there? At the, um, club or whatever?”

“Not bad. Free drinks,” he chuckles and eases back against the seat, stretching his arm towards you as he drapes it over the back, “I get to help sweet things like yourself.”

You can’t help a bashful smile. You look down at your bowl and take another cautious bite of ice cream. You still feel out of place and you’re sure if someone saw you, they would think the same. You peek up at him, his gaze constant, and you can’t help but wonder how old he is. Surely too old for this to be anything but friendly.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #the devil all the time #au #drabble #series #nightlife

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questionableratatouille00 · 7 months

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𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 7

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When her friend doesn’t show up to an outing, Y/n is prompted to make a house call. But when the past comes to get back at them, she has to wonder: is she really capable of moving on?

IMPORTANT: Instead of having the huge warning paragraph here, for this chapter I want to put a little note in. This chapter of Moving On is a lot heavier and quite graphic. Mind the warnings. I will link a summary of the chapter above the series Masterlist link. It will not be an alternate chapter, but rather a summary of what happened in this chapter, without the details. Stay safe and mind your triggers.

Warnings: heavily implied potential suicide, breaking and entering, graphic depictions of gore, guilt, depression, background stucky, violence, crying, scars, yelling, discussions of: phantom limb pain, NON-GRAPHIC past sexual abuse (including assault), cults, suicidal ideation, car crashes, hospitals, funerals, death, past abuse (physical, emotional, it’s HYDRA, y’know?), and there's a slight part where it's implied that the reader is a lesbian but it's easy to ignore.

[ALT/Summary]

🌻 Series Masterlist 🌻

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𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

“Hey guys!” You smile as you find your newfound friend group standing together outside the cafe.

They all greet you joyfully as you go to stand beside Wanda.

“The only person we’re waiting on is Bucky.” Thor notes.

“He doesn’t live that far away. He should be here by now.” Sam frowns.

“Call him?” You suggest. Sam pulls out his phone, holding it up to his ear.

“Nothing.” He murmurs.

Thor tries. Bucky doesn’t pick up.

Wanda calls, and Bucky doesn’t answer.

You try, and he doesn’t answer your call either.

Clint tries, and Bucky picks up on the second ring.

Sam rolls his eyes, and you and Wanda look at each other, smiling slightly.

“Hey, where are you, man?” Clint asks. You can’t hear what Bucky’s saying. “Okay, well..take care, then.” Clint lowers the phone from his ear, frowning slightly.

“Where is he?” Wanda questions.

“He’s at home. He didn’t really elaborate. I think he’s having a bit of a rough day.” Clint explains.

“And Steve’s out of town,” Wanda murmurs.

Sam nods at her. “Exactly.” He thinks for a moment.

Clint seemingly comes up with a plan. “Does anybody have their address? They live together, right?”

“Yeah. I have it. I don’t think he’d really wanna talk to any of us—besides, I know that I personally am not experienced in how to get through that kind of thing in a healthy way.” Sam replied.

“Me neither. I’m not the best with comforting others, so..” Clint shrugged.

“I doubt he’d feel comfortable with myself. I think it’d be best if one of you helped him.” Thor explained.

Wanda looked at you. And then everyone else looked at you, too.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Send me his address.”

The apartment wasn’t too far away, and you were able to ride the elevator to the sixth floor.

It wasn’t hard finding Bucky and Steve’s apartment, considering Sam had given you his apartment number.

You knocked on the door. Once. Then twice. And then again a third time.

“Bucky?” You said, at a normal volume. You didn’t want to bother any of his neighbors. You called his name again, slightly louder this time. And then you began to worry. How could you guarantee that he was okay? He could’ve fell in the shower or something. Choked on food while he was home alone. Fuck, he could’ve hurt himself.

That thought sent you into a real panic, and you knocked rapidly on the door. Once more, he didn’t answer.

You placed your hand on the door handle. You weren’t usually the type to commit breaking and entering, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Though, how suspicious would it look to break the lock on his door? You’d never been to his apartment, anyone who looked in the hall wouldn’t recognize you.

But now was not the time to think about all that. You expected to have to force the door open, to sacrifice your shoulder to bust down the door. It would make an obnoxiously loud sound and would probably send the neighbors running out into the hallway to see what the hell was going on. And when you opened the door…

…it opened without any problems. You swung the door open, managing to stop it before it hit the wall. Looking into the apartment, you took in the decor. A comfy couch in the living room area, a nice kitchen, a few picture frames hung on the walls here and there. All Steve’s work, you were sure of it.

“Bucky?” You close the door softly behind you. Creeping through the apartment, you find there is no Bucky in sight.

You approached a closed door, which you assumed was a bedroom door. You knocked. “Bucky? If you’re okay just say something. Literally anything, please.”

Your eyes watered when you received no answer. When you open the door, what are you going to find? You weren’t going to be ready to find a corpse. That’s what you were sure of. But what if he was just asleep? That was a possibility.

You opened the door.

You immediately saw him. Or, the outline of him. He was curled up in a blanket, still in bed. You could see him breathing, his torso moving slightly with every breath.

“Bucky?” You whispered.

“Mm.” He answered back.

“It’s 1:54 in the afternoon. We were gonna meet up for lunch, what happened?”

He shrugs in response.

“Clint let you know I was coming, yeah?”

He nods, his back facing you. He doesn't turn to face you, and you shift awkwardly.

"He said you were having a bit of a rough day. Are you sick? Or is more of an..inside thing?"

He says nothing, and you frown. You look towards the curtains, a soft and gentle blue. Steve's favorite color, you remembered.

You hear a soft sniffle come from the bed.

"Are you..crying?"

"No," he disagreed, but you could hear the sadness in his voice.

"It's okay if you are," you stated. "You don't have to hide it."

"This fucking sucks," he laughed, and you could imagine a few more tears spilling down his face. "I mean, I feel like shit. I haven't left my apartment in days, my arm fucking hurts, and I can't even get out of fucking bed." He begins to laugh at the end, as if he's fed up.

You didn't really know what to say. What would Sharon do? Probably send a motivational instagram video, you thought. It made you smile slightly, but you pushed the thought away. Now's not the time.

"Where's Steve?" You asked softly.

"Lehigh, New Jersey. It's a small town, he's visiting a friend, Peggy."

"Have you thought about calling him? He's your roommate and your best friend, right?" You assumed that Steve normally helped Bucky get through his bad days.

"Boyfriend, actually." He sniffled.

"Wait, what? Since when?"

"Since three days ago," he chuckled.

"That's awesome, man." You smiled, stepping a few inches closer.

He nods, rolling over to face you. His face is puffy, his eyes a bit red from crying. The blanket slides down a bit, revealing his scarred chest. You notice the absence of his left arm and the scarring around his shoulder, but you don't dwell on it. Bringing your eyes quickly back to his face, his small expression reveals that he's grateful for this.

"When's Steve coming home?"

"Tomorrow. Around suppertime. He left three days ago, so." He said quietly.

"You should come stay with me. Just for tonight. It'll get you out of the house, and it might make you feel a little better."

"I don't wanna be a bother. You know, more than I'm already being."

"You're not a burden. You're having a rough time, and that's okay, it's human. C'mon, I've got a guest room. You're never too old for a sleepover."

"What, are we gonna paint each other's toenails?"

You gave him a goofy grin. "Damn right. And we'll talk all about boys or something." You laugh, and he does too.

“Hey. C’mon, I’m serious.” You say earnestly after a moment, shoving your hands in your pockets. “S’not just for you. I get lonely.” You make it sound like a joke, but deep down both of you know it’s true.

He nods after a second.

“I’ll be in the living room, yeah? So you can pack up and get ready or whatever you wanna do.” You began to make your way towards the door, and he nodded again, a silent ‘thank you’.

You sat on the couch, which was a light tan color. It was a pretty nice couch.

Bucky came out twenty minutes later, his hair wet and pulled back into a half-up half-down hair style. He wore a black hoodie and some black jeans, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

You smiled warmly, wolf-whistling for dramatic effect. “Lookin’ good Barnes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head, but he couldn’t hide his smile.

When you got to your place, the two of you grabbed a beer, plopping down in front of the couch.

“Do..you wanna talk about it?”

“I mean, it was just memories coming up, paired with phantom limb pain.” He explained.

“Drink. You know, if you want. It just seems like a ‘drink-and-talk’ kind of night.”

He took a sip of his beer, and you took a sip of your own.

“I was in the military until, well, you know.” He gestured to his prosthetic. “And then I accidentally joined a cult.”

You blinked, waiting for him to explain further.

“I guess they manipulated me or whatever, but I still fell for it. They were…weird. Always talking about ‘Insight’ and other propaganda. It was just..dumb. I just..needed something to belong to, I guess. They ended up giving me the first prosthetic I ever had. Not this one—this one’s much less…invasive.”

You nod, not sure if there was anything else you could say.

“They had their version of the electric chair. If you didn’t…do what they wanted you to do, they’d uh, punish you. Public whippings, the goddamn chair, more…graphic things. I was the newest member, shit always landed on me. One of the uh, higher ups, had a sex drive bigger than my will to live. Never a fun day for me.” Bucky said, shrugging as if trying to hide how it affected him.

“Then Steve reached out. Kept reaching out, that stubborn son of a bitch." Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Got me out of that situation. And then, well, here I am." He looked down at his hand, rubbing his pointer finger against his thumb. “My uh..sister and parents passed away while I was gone. Car crashes suck ass.”

You huffed a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

He glanced to the photo hanging on the wall. “Is…is that..?”

“Oh—yeah. Uh—it’s—well, y’know, it’s—uhm—yeah. It’s—yeah.” You sputtered.

Deciding that it was awkward if you didn’t say something else, you spoke up. "So...you and Steve, huh?"

Bucky rolled his eyes, grinning. "Yeah-huh."

"How'd you know? That..that you liked him?" You asked, and you were sure that you both knew there was more to this question besides your curiosity about Bucky's love life.

"I guess I didn't. I mean, we've known each other since we were real young, y'know. So I guess it was jus' always kinda that way."

"And..how'd you know he liked you back?" A certain woman popped into your mind, with her large doe-like green eyes and soft red hair.

"Cause he looked at me like there was somethin' worth lookin' at." Bucky drawled, making eye-contact with you. You were positive he was being earnest, based on his tone and overall demeanor.

Did Wanda look at you like that? Did you look at her like that?

“Huh,” you mumbled, nodding. You hoped he couldn’t tell what you were thinking. Somehow, deep inside you, you knew he could.

“So,” he took a sip of beer. “You and Wanda, eh?”

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“But seriously! You gotta tell me. Queer to queer, c’mon.” He nudged you with his elbow.

“Okay.” You sigh. “We went to a sunflower field together and ate sunflower-themed baked goods. At the end we called it a date, but I don’t know if that was meant to be romantic or not.”

“Oh. That’s…ambiguous.”

“Tell me about it.” You let out a breath, leaning your head back against the couch.

“But it was totally meant to be romantic. Very homo.”

“What?” You looked at him, but he seemed dead serious.

“Have you seen the way she looks at you? She looks so goddamn happy. And sure, she looks pleasant all the time, but not in the same way. It’s different.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. You looked at him. “I just…I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I like her. I mean, I think I do. But I can’t tell if I like her or if I like how she reminds me a little of Nat.”

He stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I'm not..trying to find another Natasha--that's...weird. I mean, they're super different. Natasha was older than me, just by two years. And Wanda's a year younger. She's more..bubbly. Like, the best way I can describe it is that Natasha's a deep red, and Wanda's a light pink. Just in like, vibes." You tried to explain. "Sorry, I probably sound crazy."

"No, it makes sense. Wait..what color are my vibes?" He chuckled, but you could tell he wasn't making fun of you.

"Mm...silver. And red. With hints of a greenish-yellow, like old-timey lighting."

"Huh." He nodded.

After a few more minutes, you both departed to your separate rooms. Bucky to the guest room, and you to your bedroom, as per usual. You fell asleep quicker than usual, but whether that was due to the alcohol or due to the comfort of having someone else in the apartment, you weren't sure.

You awoke to the sound of glass shattering. Immediately, you were confused. Had Bucky gotten up to get a drink and dropped a glass? Had something fell?

Though you were tired, you wanted to make sure nothing important was damaged. That included Bucky being hurt.

You pulled yourself out of bed, slowly creeping out of your bedroom. The layout of your apartment was simple. No hallways, minus the tiny one that lead to the bathroom. You surveyed the dark living room, immediately finding the source of the noise.

Your window had been smashed. And in your living room, a few feet from the couch you’d just been sitting against, was a figure. Not Bucky, you were positive. From what you could see, the figure was wearing all black, and sported the unmistakable curves of a woman.

Your blood ran cold, your legs locking up, keeping you in place. Your mouth went dry, and you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You screamed, hoping that doing so would potentially let someone know that you needed help. And, worse case scenario, that you were murdered. That you didn’t do it yourself. That you wanted to live.

The figure rushed toward you, shoving you to the ground before pinning you there. She slammed a hand over your mouth as you writhed under her. You let out muffled screams and mangled growls, not wanting to go without a fight.

“What the hell?” Bucky walked out into the living room, wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing before, minus the fact that he’d changed from a hoodie to a t-shirt. The absence of his left arm was much more noticeable now.

He quickly peered over the couch, his eyes widening in fear as he found you. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, immediately racing for you. You’d forgotten about his military days; the ones that had clearly set him up with a faster speed and a stronger body.

He ripped the woman off of you, and she let out an animalistic shriek in protest. They wrestled for a moment, before she slammed her boot against his face. He groaned, backing up. She ignored him, beginning to stumble toward you. You got a clear look at her this time. She was wearing a black mask, one built similar to one you’d see a surgeon wear.

She dashed at you again, but this time you were more prepared. You grabbed anywhere you could—her hair, her neck, her ears—and the two of you tussled for a few moments. You grabbed her mask, ripping it off her face and shoving her backward as you stumbled in the opposite direction.

Bucky was clutching at his bloody nose, and you resisted the urge to gag at the red stain that covered the front of his shirt, going from just under the neckline to his chest. You’d seen blood before; you were a woman, and it’d be a real inconvenience to be scared of blood. But the scenario only made your uneasiness worse.

You stared at your attacker’s revealed face, before it dawned on you.

“Yelena?”

She glared at you, chest heaving as she was out of breath. You were sure that you didn’t look any better.

“Why the hell are you here?” You stressed, brows furrowing.

“You know what you did. And now I’m going to kill you for it.” She brandished a knife from her pocket, twisting it around in her fingers.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Yelena, I haven’t seen you since—since—“

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Ms. L/n? I'm calling from Westview Hospital."

“—since you left me to find my sister dead? Since you left my parents to find their oldest daughter with her face half melted off? Since then, Y/n? What, did you think we just wouldn’t find out?” Her voice steadily rose in volume.

"She was in a car accident, ma'am." Dr. Christine Palmer told you. "We had her in surgery--Dr. Strange and I operated on her ourselves. She's unstable, but there's a chance she'll pull through. We just have to hope for the best."

Natasha, your beloved Natasha, was sitting in a hospital bed. She was unconscious, and you wondered if that was for the best. The skin on her face was burned, stitched up but still seemingly melting.

Dr. Palmer left the room, leaving you alone with her. You sobbed for what felt like decades, before you realized that her family hadn't been alerted. That was up to you. And that only broke you more.

“You don’t understand! I couldn’t—I just—“

You'd ran. It was true, you had run. You'd scribbled Yelena's phone number on the tiny notepad in Nat's hospital room before you raced out. You didn't know what else to do.

“No, you don’t understand! You’re a fucking coward, you sick son of a bitch! You couldn’t even face us after what you did! You didn’t even show up to her funeral!” She shrieked, and then everything went quiet.

You hadn't gone. That was also true. You couldn't bear to show your face after the whole hospital incident. And that wasn't to say that you'd never been to her grave, or that you hadn't left flowers and other small trinkets, because you'd done those things. But you hadn't been there to grieve with the rest of her family. Sometimes you regretted it, other times you pushed the thought away before you could dwell on it.

Bucky had gone; you had no real defense against her anymore. He’d most likely went off to the bathroom to avoid bleeding on the kitchen floor.

“…You don’t get it.” You muttered.

“I bet you don’t even care! You’ve already got some random fucking guy you’re sleeping with!” She shouted at you. “You never loved her! Say it!” Her eyes watered, and you could hear her sadness seep through her voice.

"I did love her! I loved her with everything I had!" You felt your own eyes water as your throat burned.

"Then why did you run away?"

You didn't have an answer to that. Not really. She let out a quiet sob, turning her head to look away from you.

"Because I was scared, Yelena. I didn't know what else to do--I wanted to call you. I wanted to be there, I wanted to reach out, but I was scared. And I've regretted it every day." You pant, tears streaming down your face. “Yelena, I was going to marry her. I’d already bought the ring.”

“You’re pathetic.” She gasped, crying softly. “You’re so pathetic.”

You gave her a nod. “I know.”

“She would’ve never said yes.” She wept bitterly. You both know that that’s not true.

“She already had,” you admitted.

“Ask me later, you goof. You know what I’ll say. But I want you to ask.” Natasha smiled one Sunday morning in the middle of summer. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do.” You grinned. “What kind of ring are you thinking?” You watched her clean the dishes.

“Whatever you’ve already got. You’re not very sneaky, Y/n.” She chuckled. You wrapped your arms around her waist, your chin resting on her shoulder. “But I’d let you propose to me with a ring pop. Not many people get that chance, y’know.”

“I am proud to be blessed with that honor. Now, you want blue raspberry or berry blast?” You teased.

“Why would she spend her life with you? Why do you deserve it?” She sniffled.

“I don’t.” You let the tears pour from your eyes.

“She died because you let her.” Yelena blamed you.

“I fought for her to quit that stupid fucking job. She hated it.” You remembered how much she’d assure you of that fact. But she had friends at her job. She couldn’t just leave them behind. “I fought for that. But she was better at arguing than me. She was better.” You nodded to yourself, resisting the urge to sob hysterically.

“You should’ve fought harder.” Yelena growled.

Without thinking, you let out a whistle just as it seemed she was about to rush and stab you.

“…She…she told you about that?” Yelena stopped.

“Me and Yelena would do it when we were kids. We used to pretend we were spies, and that was our ‘signal’. Then it just kinda became a hello-goodbye thing.” Natasha played with your hair as you laid on her chest. With her other hand, she fiddled with the sheets. “She told me that when she moved away to college, the only thing she could think about was leaving you. She loved you, Yelena. That never changed. She loved you.”

Yelena sobbed. She lowered herself to the ground, too overwhelmed with grief to keep standing. “You got to spend so much time with her.”

“I know.” You nodded, crying yourself. You stepped closer to her, kneeling beside her before wrapping your arms around her.

“It shouldn’t have happened this way,” she lets out a shaky breath. “If I had been there, I could’ve changed it—I could’ve fixed it, I could’ve—“

“Nobody could’ve stopped her. She’d go to work in eight feet of snow with nothing but roller blades to get her there. You know Natasha.” You cut her off.

"I loved her. I loved her so much." She cries.

"I know. We all did." You rubbed her back soothingly. She sobs in your arms. You hold her tightly.

“Goodbye, Y/n L/n.” She whispered after a moment, standing and retreating towards the door.

“Goodbye, Yelena.”

Goodbye, Natasha.

“Fuck, my window’s still broken.”

A/n: bit of a long chapter, eh? Also, just in case you haven’t seen it yet: I’ve got the moving on playlist (Spotify) and the moving on Pinterest board!

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #Moving on

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kavehnanginto · 1 year

Text

i was entirely wrong about you… part 2

synopsis: you realize your feelings after you brutally rejected and insulted him. regret soon followed you and you realized that it was too late, the feelings of love sprouted but you just had to ruin it. you never really thought of the fact that he was still so in-love with you, doing everything, for you to feel the same.

pairings: alhaitham, cyno x reader

more references to pride and prejudice, it also like has the same confession somewhat, only the ogs know all the references, ends like it without the cringe marriage stuff, kinda angst with a fluffy ending, character development for you and the ones you love, listen this might be more ooc unlike part one but if darcy can do it they can too, men being weak and begging is my favorite genre, a glimpse to the past yeheyyyy, lots of research references because i am so sick and tired of that shit idk why i didn’t procrastinate about it, but kinda procrastinated about this work, i got carried away writing Alhaitham’s, kinda longer than the other one

part one

ALHAITHAM

What you did might be considered brave to some and others. It had been exactly a week, some may calculate that to 7 days but you calculate it to be 168 hours of pure torture. At first, you thought such a hateful man would put nothing but hateful things in his letter, but you carefully analyzed everything about it.

That three-paragraphed letter had you on a chokehold.

It was unhealthy at this point.

All they were was just kind works, just for you. When you first met Alhaitham, it was not that of talking to a brick wall. But rather a machine designed to check out your faults and give you a solution. But your naive old self thought that just being with him was enough. Even just a few words to you, a penny of his thoughts towards you, and a little he sprinkled to your face were enough.

This is how you thought of years after. But that letter with handwriting you have never really seen associated with a sophisticated man such as him. It was filled with mistakes, crossing out some words and what not but he was smart enough never to let you see what he could’ve said.

And for him now, what he should’ve said. What he truly meant. The letter holds nothing but the truth, but not the whole truth. You didn’t need to know, because, for him, he felt, that he was the last man in the world you could hold a bond with.

And at first, that’s what you felt.

You were greeted by the loud scholars at the Akademiya. All the same, as it was before. But unlike now, you feel eyes on you. At this point, you don’t care. You need answers about what Alhaitham said, but once your pride got in the way of even being in the same room as him. Now you were just embarrassed…

You remember your early days with him in the Akademiya. He already had a big reputation from Haravatat that doubled over once he entered. You were no one. That’s why you grew to idolize a genius such as him. Ever since you were young you’re never considered. “scholar” material, adding some bit of kick to the logical ideologies of the time. You were not bright compared to your peers also, only catching up by studying more than they did. Doing more than you can.

Unlike you, Alhaitham never cared of what others thought of him. He just stood there and ended them with just a glance and when necessary hurting their ego. He was not one to be messed with. Everyone knew that. So in the end you never really knew why you were so worked up over nothing. He did make you improve your research. You regret what you said in the heat of the moment, looking back he actually helped you more than you thought.

Looking back at that letter, looking back at the years, and looking back at him. His pride this, his character that. But maybe it would’ve never come to that if you just thought from a different perspective. Maybe your advice to yourself back then was not to idolize him so much but to see him as who he is. A person. Who’s character is far different from yours. Who you should’ve appreciated rather than idealized.

With all that thought, you ended up at his office. No notice of how or why. You knew he was out today, but you missed it so you opened the door and went in. It was much more disorganized than before. Maybe you were one of the reasons, you think.

You furnished it yourself. Organizing the books the way he liked them. Dusting his vases and fluffing out his pillows. Removing every inch of dust. You remember the thought of doing this back then was for him to say thank you, which he never did, but you did remember him giving you a book saying he had no use for it. You loved the author, and so when your crush gave it to it felt like you were in the stars above.

It was probably a coincidence. Not until you saw the same book, so carefully annotated. You read it. How they both fell in love, the guy giving them a book in the library, saying how he did not need it. Next to it was a check and you saw another familiar scenario in your head. And another one. And another one. All are annotated with a check for it. Until you saw a part of the guy confessing his feelings and how they lived happily ever after. The last annotation in the book. But the same check you’ve seen before was not present.

Thinking back at everything you decided to steal the book. And when you decided to leave you saw the silhouette of another scholar. Unfamiliar you were to him, but he gave off a vibe that wants you to be intimidated.

He was 5’4.

“What are you doing in the room of the future grand sage?” You knew he already had accusations against you even if he didn’t know the entire story.

He already has his hand pointed at you. But that did not make you fold, because you don’t even know who this guy is. Who was he for you to care?

“I know you!” he realized. “Rumors have spread that the Acting Grand Sage professed his feelings towards you. Although I know that to be untrue, that master is one with high class not associate himself with the likes of you. But as a man of logic, I want to prove my hypothesis….

Are you in a relationship with the Acting Grand Sage?”

You never cared about how tense the environment became. “And if I did, I believe it does not concern you even the slightest.”

You sound cocky and that’s exactly what you were going for. He was livid to see your confidence.

“You dare to speak with me in such a manner.” He fumed. “Do you not know how unequal your standing is? How even in your wildest dreams, that is untrue. And even if he does have feelings for you, which I am sure not, you as an inferior and humble scholar know to not accept a hand of your utmost superior.”

Now you felt insulted.

“He is a scholar and so am I, what makes you believe we are not on equal footing? You are no one to decide what I should do and to speak for your master. A man free to tell he feels for me—“

“I'm tired of this! Let us stop this once and for all. Are you in a relationship with the Acting Grand Sage?” He spat so close to your mouth.

“If it pleases you to know I am not.”

“Well then, get out of this room.” An instant reply towards you. He was much more cheery now.

“Not yet.”

That day you went home with a book and a smile, while that stunted scholar complained to his “master” about something…

Night came and as you went out to the bar an unexpected guest come to your table.

“Water please,” he spoke with etiquette and good mannerly. He was given his order in a blink of an eye all the while looking at your eyes. You remember that wide gaze, but not one of defeat it was hope and chances.

“How’s your day, Haitham.” you smiled as you sipped your drink. It was nonalcoholic, but intoxicating glances were shared. It started a conversation, thank Kusanali.

You laughed at his actions and attempts at small talk.

“A scholar told me of his meeting with you,” it has been more than a minute, and his water is still untouched.

“And what about it?”

He was surprised to see your smiles that evening. Had you decided against him, you would never smile at him, never say those words. Maybe you knew something, or maybe you didn’t care for his presence. The scholar, whatever his name was, described your character using what he first described you himself in your first meeting. An obnoxious character, doing everything to garner his attention.

The worst part, it did.

Yes, he first thought that you were far behind many in terms of intelligence. But after each conversation, he shared with you. Every glance and every stare. It was already too late, to right his wrongs and then you left. You came back more mature, more distant than before. And he still actually thought there was a chance of you accepting his love.

Deep inside, he still thought you childish to think that. To actually think you will accept him, and love him back. He was a man unworthy of it.

“Did you lie about your words to him?” He spoke, he wanted to validate the data that the scholar told him. He wanted to know, so desperately, if even an ounce of your hatred towards him had started to decline. Even if your answer was a lie.

“And why would I, you know enough of my frankness to believe me incapable of doing such a thing.”

“Really?” A faint smile can be seen at his face. One that you never saw plastered in such a man.

“If I had no scruple to insult the Acting Grand Sage so abominably to his face, I find it an easy task to also do it to his subordinates.” You laughed, as he did. It was one of fondness, the way he looked, the he talked and now the way he laughed at you.

“And what did you say that I did not deserve, or was untrue?” He finally drank his fill. “You were right in every sense of my character. I did treat you in an unworthy manner, a manner in which I would not be so surprised for you to ever forgive.”

“I believe so too. But I have came to learn that I judged so poorly, once judged you too good. I never really thought you were a person and I have so many times in my mind thought you devoided of every proper feeling. I was wrong. I was entirely wrong—“

He sighed of displeasure of your reply.

“Enough of your guilt, an emotion not expected for you to have on me. If you still despise me, I will disappear and I will be sure to let you never see me again. Because I still love you, you might have changed your opinion of me but I assure you, even if you’ll hate me more of it. I will never change.” He started. “But if you would rather have someone less aloof, someone more comforting then maybe changing myself never seemed so possible except now.”

The bar was loud. Filled with laughter of the other tables, but it still felt like the moment stopped. All irrelevant joys they felt were completely inferior to the one that you felt.

“I was raised with good morals, but pride followed when I was swarmed with compliments and achievements. My character would have been narcissistic and emotionless, if not for you. Dearest and loveliest of them all.” His hand reached out to you and you held his hand as tightly and quickly as you could. “Even if you don’t love me now, even if you never will. This act of kindness you showed me will be one that I shall never forget.”

You both were out in the open outside. Rain poured once more in the deep night. You were ready to say what you truly feel. But instead… you leaned closer and now on the tip of your toes, left hand on the back of his head. You kissed him. No words of love could ever match up to how it felt.

Both your clothes were soaking wet with the cold rain. But never have both of you felt so warm, basking in each other’s comfort.

CYNO

You were out in the ruins to further investigate. You are very much capable of going solo, but looking back it could’ve been the two of you. So you decided to have Tighnari come along as he suggested. All this time you never knew how he felt. He never said. But all this time he had feelings for you. And no matter how much you doubt this, nor thought of it blasphemous. If you knew one thing about Cyno, it was that he never lied.

His letter still in your pocket was one of the things you brought to the ruins. And it went more smoothly than usual, the traps were easily deconstructed, and it seemed good luck. It has been five days since that happen, instead of thinking about your research you thought about him.

He was still horrible to you. It was no excuse. But he did like you, for a long time. And you said nothing,

Just like he did.

And you did nothing.

But, so did he.

So you can’t blame yourself. You shouldn’t blame yourself. But deep inside, you knew you had a fault, and wanting to be the bigger person you wanted to give an apology. But he was nowhere to be found, you missed another pair of hands. It was much easier with him around. Well, keeping tabs on whether your knowledge is valid and correct is the Matra’s job. So you were ecstatic to know they agreed to help you, you just weren’t informed he was the General Mahamatra.

It did not help how kind he was to you. How he wasn’t like before. How he forgot the past, but you never did. But now you felt silly. Maybe in some way, you did have new friends, but you would have still liked him there too. Perhaps, he thought himself replaced but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The happy moments of your life were with him.

Childhood truly felt like a dream.

“You’re deep in thought,” Tighnari mentioned. “This ruin feels like it had already been in the hands of others before ourselves. A good thing in our hands, as it is much safer to roam around and see what is left behind.”

“A lot stayed really,” you replied. “This has been so smooth sailing and I’m starting to get suspicious.”

Tighnari chuckled. And you both finally validated the controversial research, which from the start you and Cyno knew to be true. But you knew that it would take more evidence than this. The Grand Sage personally had not so kind words to say about it, and so you knew to work harder. The research was one of the dreams, how Sumeru can dream but there is a blockage or a reason as to why. The whole Akademiya despised it and sent the researcher to Aaru village.

This ruin tells the history of Sumeru and the past. How they were much more than logical minds and realistic futures. How Sumeru could dream, and thinking can only take us so far.

So after a few weeks, you finally published your research, and the whole Akademiya went mad. And you still slipped in Cyno’s name. They were scandalized by the publication and many choices for you to be sent to Aaru village next. But at this point, you never really cared. You just realized so much. Thought about so much.

You remember fondly about childhood and thought of your dreams way back. Of the best times in your life, and how much he was there. And then the angst of puberty came along. You were a wild party animal, while for some reason maintaining high grades. Although you weren’t comparable to him, you never thought him capable of him thinking what you thought of him.

How he can’t reach you…

How much he liked you…

How he didn’t deserve you…

The letter with his voice all in your mind. The scholars below are just questioning your rationality, all the supporting members of your research you destroyed.

So that only one has to suffer… It’s fine, maybe lowering your pride was the best thing you could have ever done to him. After so many years of only looking at what Cyno lacked, you thought about what he gave you, and what he had to suffer. Maybe it was just you being selfish. Maybe his affections have changed now that everyone gossips about you.

The thought prisoned your mind all night, it was much more than losing everything now. And as you stare out to the warm gaze of the sun, melancholically standing in a chair, waiting for some scholars to force you to your destiny. Regret only filled your mind. Maybe even he thought you were mad. But the scholars never came, and no investigation ever took play.

You went to your workplace, and your peers greeted you all the same. It was as if nothing happened. It felt like a breeze, you wanted to know how, but were still afraid to ask for maybe they remember and it will all repeat. It felt like a dream, it felt like a sigh of relief. And when you all went and dined you never smiled like that before. You need to visit the Dendro Archon herself and thank her.

“Hello, it seems you’re in a good mood.” Tighnari observed and you nodded.

“Well I could’ve been in Aaru village out there in the wilderness or whatnot, but considering here I am freely sipping my wine. I think it’s only right to be a little happy.” He nodded, agreeing with your statement.

He joined in after a few minutes and you begin a lighthearted conversation.

“Well everyday I think I will visit a Statue of the Seven,” you mused. “I have a lot to thank the Gods for.”

You sipped a wine as he took the bottled and filled his glass.

“Well not only that, if the Matras themselves approved of your research you could’ve gone poof any time.” You flinched at his statement. Not at the thought of what could’ve happened to you. No your selective mutism didn’t even hear that, but the fact that the Matras did that.

Even after your meeting with Tighnari, getting ready to go to bed, and having trouble sleeping. It was all that filled your mind. You knew that the Matras never really cared about your research, and how much they tell you that they’re only doing this since the General Mahamatra was so curious about it himself.

You wanted to see him… so many new thoughts have formed and you thought it was too late. He probably took pity on you, or thought of the research as truth like you did and so wanted very much to preserve its contents.

Yeah. Maybe.

All lights were nowhere to be found. Except out in your window where the night sky can be so vividly seen. You knew what you had to do tomorrow, and that was to finally confront your feelings. Your thoughts leading up to this moment. Him.

Cyno.

And with that, you finally slept, and there came a new morning. Getting ready and leaving was always easier when you had an important objective. But the cold always gave you chills more than it should. You then asked all the Matras in town about his presence, and no one gave you any positive answers. Proportionally, 73% told you that they have not seen him and 12% told you that they did see him earlier and 15% straight up ignored your question and left. Fine.

As you were waking mindlessly in the desert you were ambushed by a group of Eremites. Even if you don’t have weapons, it didn’t matter as you defeat one by one with ease. At least that’s what you thought, your stamina was running out but they were not and so in the heat of the moment, you were about to let them in.

Not until…

You once saw again, after all this time, the purple glow of a spear that filled you with nostalgia. You saw it glow at every single one of the Eremites until they all were like dominoes, falling one by one. He had his back turned against you trying to rest until his breath was stable.

“I heard you were looking for me?” The gust of wind flew the same way my rationality let go when I saw him once more.

“Yes, thats correct.” You gave a swift reply.

He then went to you and helped you get up and after that tried to keep his distance.

“First, I wanna say thank you,” you fixed your posture and he was avoiding to look at your eyes. It was fine. “I know how hard it was to persuade the other Matras. Thank you on behalf of the research I wrote and the many people that will finally think about this dubious system.”

A frown formed his face. He inched a closer towards you, maybe thinking he heard wrong.

“So thank you.”

“If you thank me, let it be for yourself alone. Although I do everything for the safety and advancement of my dear country, I believe I thought only of you. In these past few days and weeks.” He replied, as he finally looks you in the eye. “You are too generous to go and waste your time to thank me, so keep your gratitude to yourself. You were brave for publishing it.”

You hugged him. “I’d rather not. Another thing is my sincerest apology. You were not distant, nor mean, nor prideful. I was entirely wrong about you. Don’t tell me that this sorry should not have been said because this is what my heart wanted to say ever since that letter. I have judged you but never myself. I’m sorry for putting my blame on you.”

“I deserve it. Every word you said that day was true. In my imagination, I only thought of your forgiving me but I would never expect that it was you who wanted to apologize. I understand where you’re coming from, but… if your feeling were what they were that day tell me so at once. But if you feel more than just a negative thought and judgment towards me, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but what you feel and what you tell me will not change what I feel but change how I’ll act.”

You both were closer than you have ever been in that hug. His face, you need not know, was full of hope.

“I’m ashamed to think of what I said there. Don’t you dare repeat it!” You finally broke the hug to look into his eyes. “And about my feelings, they are no longer that of despise and prejudice, rather they are quite the opposite.”

He smiled, the first one you saw in a long time. If the people of Sumeru saw him as he is at this moment, no one would even think of him to be intimidating. He was just like every other man, holding the person he loves and relaxing in their presence. He knew his feelings outshined that of yours, but maybe someday the sentiment will be shared.

“I love you Cyno.”

But this will do, he had no complaints when he was finally home in your arms.

That was kinda long and i hoped you enjoyed it. @nagisuterus @sumiriexo theres your tag sorry im kinda late on this one my bad. I was shocked that the first one was actually like lol thanks so much @sadbutwhy is just me pls 😢 im dumb enough to post on side blogs

#cyno x y/n #cyno headcanons #cyno x reader #cyno x you #genshin cyno #cyno scenarios #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin fanfic #genshin tighnari #they are sadboys #alhaitham #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #genshin x reader

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vinelark · 10 months

Note

please share some outtakes im on my knees

oh man most of my outtakes are like, slight paragraphs/scene rewrites, but here are some bbts lines/alternate dialogue options that didn't make the cut!

chapter 1:

But it’s not like Tim could’ve told the kidnappers to call Bruce right away, not until today’s little attempt, which was another check in the failure column. No one else knows Tim has been practically living at Wayne Manor, and if they did it might raise too many questions. Tim can’t create an unnecessary trail of connections between Bruce Wayne and a random kid, especially a random kid in a situation where superheroes and vigilantes might then show up. He knows too well how quickly those connections can snowball if someone puts together one right conclusion, like hold on, Robin just did a quadruple flip—

---

sb aww are you jealous robin excuse me sb that no one’s made @robinsass yet robin absolutely not kon i said i’m not KON. sb http://twitter.com/robinsass i got u robin i’m calling oracle sb no worries i have five backup urls robin joke’s on you anyway unlike nightwing there are no hq photos of me. also i wear a cape. why do you think i wear a cape kon sb to cover the fact that you have no ass : (

chapter 2:

“Oh, no,” Tim wheezes when he’s done hacking up half the marina. He twists to sit heavily on the wet concrete and starts scrabbling at his shoelaces. “My shoes.”

Kon rolls his eyes. That’s it. No more saving rich kids; Kon is putting a wealth cap on all future damsels in distress. “I’m sure they’ll dry.” Or he can buy a new pair—Kon had looked Tim up after the whole kidnapping thing, just to make sure he healed up okay and everything. Kid’s parents are definitely loaded.

---

“Hey—Superboy, hey, are you good at beer pong?”

“Uh,” Kon says. “For PR reasons I don’t think I should answer that.” The answer is that he has no clue, having never played, but if he said that then half the media would have a field day with how his lack of cliché teenage rebellion secretly indicated he wasn’t so human after all. If he lied and said yes, somehow that same half of the media would clutch their pearls over him being a Bad Influence.

“Oh,” Tim says. “Well. Well, I am very good at it.”

“Um. Okay.”

Tim’s face falls. Kon has no idea why he suddenly feels guilty about this.

---

"But for the record, I’m not scared of you,” Red Hood says. “All I have to do is press a button and have Batman run you out of town if you get too annoying.”

“Batman is off-world,” Kon says, a little smugly.

Hood glares through his mask in a way that tells Kon he knows that, and is annoyed that Kon does too. Good. “Then I guess that leaves me in charge.”

chapter 3:

“What are you going to get Superboy?” Steph says. “Maybe a nice cheese plate?”

“I am going to frame Dick for tax fraud,” Tim mutters. He’s taken to hiding the charcuterie board Kon made in one of his city caches now, because Dick kept sneaking it onto the dinner table every time he visited the manor.

---

“What the—” Muffled talking on the other end. “He says he’s not sure,” the girl says to someone else. “Tim, explain this to me in small words.”

“Um.” Tim rubs his temple. “I’m with Superboy. He—found me. And took me somewhere, somewhere safe, so I’m okay for now.”

It does not escape Kon’s notice that Tim doesn’t mention the part where he apparently gave his gas mask to a kid and got a full dose of fear toxin. He raises an eyebrow, but Tim is doing a great job of avoiding eye contact.

There’s a long beat. “Oh my god,” the girl says.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god. You are so lucky I don’t have time for follow-up questions. Call me as soon as you’re home.”

(bonus chapter 4:

Kon spares a moment to be impressed that Tim has already figured out where they are, and says, “Because any good date starts with a good snack.”

Tim’s hand spasms where he’s rolling back the jacket cuffs. “A good date, huh?”)

#the shoes thing was originally because tim hid a memory card in his shoe or something but then i remembered how phones work #also rip twitter can't believe that fake url is already outdated #my fic #asks #timkon

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tuliptired · 1 month

Text

Good Trouble on The Lake

Pairing: kid!Ray Stantz/kid!Egon Spengler

Summary: Ray Stantz was always great at making friends! So great, he got Egon Spengler out of his shell. Enough to almost die in the woods, anyway.

Sorry this one is kinda long 😣

read it on Ao3!

It’s a fairly uneventful afternoon in the Ghostbusters’ headquarters. Winston and Peter volunteered a supermarket run (dish soap, paper towels, miscellaneous snacks) in order to escape how slow the morning was, and somehow, someway, Raymond Stantz didn’t have a thing to do.

Miraculously, Egon Spengler was also overtaken by the monotony of the day, and by the grace of some god, was actually taking a break. For the first time in Ray’s life, he sits along as his friend studies a newspaper, rather than a manual. Ray can’t blame him, as he attempts to read a classic paranormal novel, though he’s really just rereading the same sentence and thinking of nothing while laying on the couch.

“Ray,” Egon breaks the silence, tone as interested as the scientist can express, “it says here that they’re looking to close Camp Little Tupper.” Ray’s brows shoot up. He could almost laugh at hearing the abysmal name again, if it wasn’t under such sad circumstances.

“No way!” He moves to sit up, this news now much more interesting than his book. “Gosh, I can remember that place like it was yesterday. Swimming, building robots…”

“Mosquito bites, swirlies��”

“Stargazing! Math-a-tho-”

“Food poisoning. You almost killing me.”

Ray scoffs. “Not true at all! Those were just inconveniences. You turned out great, Eges.” Egon was technically right. He definitely could’ve died that day, but the memory brings an even bigger smile to Ray’s face, and by the look of Egon’s slightly elevated eyebrows, he was equally as bemused. “It was fun, huh?”

“I must concede, had I never gone, we may have never developed such a long term partnership.” Gee, Egon really knew how to misconstrue the word “friendship”.

“You’re very welcome! We’ve gotta go back before they shut the doors- we never found the Tupper Banshee.” Ray’s eyes nearly sparkle as he thinks about all the possibilities; studying such a solid entity, upgrading their tech, and revisiting old memories with an even older friend. Nothing sounds better on such a dull day, really. “Why’re they closing, anyway?” He adds curiously.

Egon’s eyes scan multiple paragraphs, multiple pages, but he can’t find an answer. “Nothing so far, but if anything I’d bet it would be the terrible environmental impact.” Ray just snorts, thinking back to everything that happened to him the second, and final, summer he spent there.

It was a warm summer sometime in the 60s, and Ray’s parents had just dropped him off out of the city and into the woods for his second year at Camp Little Tupper. Though it was a combined science and athletics camp (he found this out his first day his year prior), he always felt very excited to indulge in the hobby he was passionate about. He was a bit of a camping connoisseur, much to his Mid-Western parents’ delight, after many years of camping out with them in almost any suitable woodland area accessible by car. He fondly remembers going back to Camp Wacanda every summer, but that was with family, it was time for him to be a little independent and freely geeky.

So, he pleaded and begged his parents to enroll him , “ They do experiments! I’ll never mix stuff in the shed ever again!” , until they finally gave in to his sad eyes and relentless reminders. He loved his first year so much, though he had to share the space with some less-than-academic-types, and his parents were willing to see him off again if it meant he’d smile that long again.

As he carried all his belongings through the woods, in a group of other boys around 11 and 12 like he was at the time, he felt unbelievably giddy at the sight of the cabin he’d already spent time in. They were let in, but upon his entry he frowned to see that almost every bed was taken, top bunk as well as bottom. He suddenly felt smaller, anxiety betraying the months worth of anticipation as he carried his backpack close to his chest, looking around for a free spot.

On the top bunk of a bed in the very back, a small boy sat cross legged, unpacked and already reading to escape the loud noises of his roommates. Ray’s excitement returned, and he didn’t question it as he approached him eagerly. The unknown boy had dark, curly hair, cut only a little from falling below his large ears, and a pretty untamable fringe. His glasses were thick, and almost comically big for his face, almost like his clothes- a short sleeve button up (pocket protector included! And Ray thought he was nerdy) tucked into khaki shorts. His face was unamused, but Ray was not deterred as he looked up at the kid.

“Hi! I’m Raymond. But call me Ray.” He beams. The kid just stares down at him, then suddenly speaks, as if he forgot that introductions typically elicit responses.

“Egon Spengler.”

Ray can only chuckle, hanging off the other boy’s bunk with his forearms while his feet graze the ground. Maybe he was invading his space, but excitement will do that to you. “That’s a funny name. But it’s ok. My grandma says a unique name means a unique person.” The boy stares at him for a second more, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly if you looked impossibly close enough. “Sure,” is all he responds with.

Ray sheds his heavy bags on the bunk below him. “Is this your first time here? What made you wanna come? Not that you’re not welcome,” he unconsciously rambles as he digs into his cargo shorts for something he can’t yet find.

The other boy, Egon, seems to have eased into conversation slightly more. “My parents thought I needed more enrichment. The Royal Society doesn’t take summer students, so our Rabbi suggested,” he looks over his glasses, nose scrunching ever so slightly as he takes in the cabin around him. It was undeniably full of bodies, and boys (regardless of social standing, nerd or jock) will continue to be chimps, tossing things around and roughhousing. “This place.”

Ray laughs at that. Egon disregards his book, as he notices Ray has no intention of staying quiet for too long. He’s still digging in his shorts, though. “I bet your siblings are green knowing you get to spend the summer in such a cool place,” he laughs to himself.

Egon’s brow quirks once, quickly. “I only have a twin. He’s in Yosemite, studying ecology under a ranger.”

“Man. Guess you’re happy to be away from him.”

“I am incredibly jealous and I’d give anything to trade places.”

Ah. “Well, the black bears at Yosemite can’t have smores.”

Egon’s legs are draped over the edge of the bunk now. “No bear can have a smore. They don’t have thumbs.”

Ray’s taken to scouring through his backpack instead. Where did that thing sneak off to? “I only have a sister. But we live in a big house with our cousins! Aunts and uncles and lots of babies and a bigggggg St. Bernard.” Ray can’t help but feel a little homesick, even if his sister was happy to see him go. It was a house full of people who all loved each other, at the end of the day.

“That sounds abysmal,” was all Ray heard as he finally, finally found what he was looking for. He pulls out 2 Now and Laters like they’re the holy grail- which, to 2 11-year-olds, they are. To this day, he swears he can see a twinkle behind his new friend’s eyes. Egon slips down from the bunk, oddly industrial boots hitting the wooden floor.

The boys are called outside to start the festivities. “My dad told me to share with a new friend,” he smiles gently as Egon silently unwraps the candy. “And if we’re friends, you hafta help me take apart some smoke detectors.” Egon had no protests.

This was the start of their “partnership”. Life at camp was everything a nerdy kid could dream of, on a fairly low budget. Life and potential surrounded them, afterall. Of course, they were mandated at least one session of physical activity, much to Egon’s dismay. They were only excused when Egon threw up on the sidelines of a flag football game, and Ray joined him because “it gave them more time to finish Dune”. Though, he always snuck off to join baseball games, and Egon just filled him in on what Paul did before bed.

Once, at lunch, Ray couldn’t help but stare at his friend. In the past few weeks, it was like his hair grew this way overnight. Instead of being cut before it could touch his neck, it was round and untamable and long, his ears full on disappearing and his fringe touching his glasses. Of course, many boys grew their hair out while they were away-there was a barber readily available, but he cut way too close to the head so many just bore with the added weight. But a style of these proportions? Uncharacteristic and NOT Egon. But, to be scared of a haircut? Very Egon.

“Hey, Egon,” he starts. He picks off the lettuce and tomato from his sandwich, passing them to the boy on his side, whose nose is in a book as he adds the vegetables to his own and passes the meat and cheese to Ray in return. “Are you too scared to get your haircut?” He asks, in the middle of a bite.

Egon bookmarks the page. “Not necessarily. This is my own personal rebellion- my mother sent me away to a summer camp, I’m trying to test the extent of her anger if I come back-”

“Looking like curly Led Zeppelin?”

“...yes.”

“D’you think she’ll be mad? Like, spanking mad?”

Egon sighs slightly. “Enough to drive her to spit. I’m terrified.”

Ray touches his friend’s shoulder sympathetically. “Hey, it’s an experiment! She’ll get over it.”

Egon doesn’t say anything. He opens his book again, thinking over the new perspective.

Activities in camp were fun. But the two boys found themselves criminally bored. So they made a few adjustments to the experiments. It started small, no one knew it was them; a few cleaning products taken from the supply closets, of course they don’t know who’s baking soda volcano melted a hole into the metal table. The nails holding the swings together suddenly missing as the pair coincidentally had the material to make copper wiring.

But they got ambitious, and a little sloppy. It was dark out, while every other camper was by the lake, Egon and Ray opting to take care of the wild platypus they’d let into their living space. She resisted eating the leftover snacks and sleeping soundly in the crafty pile of blankets Ray left under his bed, him and Egon huddled in fear on Egon’s bed as their new pet ravaged the cabin. Just then, the door handle clicked open.

Ray grumbled as they were locked inside, forced to clean up the items desecrated by the animal he thought was his friend. Beside him, almost straining to hear, he heard a small sniffle.

Egon was facing away from him, fistfuls of pillow stuffing trembling ever so slightly. Ray frowned. Egon never cried, not even when their kayak drifted out from the other boys’, and they were floating away. With no food. As it rained. In mosquito breeding territory. While Egon was in day clothes because he was terrified of water and refused to swim. He made a resolve.

“Don’t cry, Eges! It’s like you’ve never been hollered at before,” he tried joking to alleviate the mood. Egon only turned to look over his shoulder, his face chagrin and his eyes just barely glossy, lips threatening to break out in sobs had he had a little less pride.

“Hey.” Ray slid into a spot on the scratched up, dusty floor next to him. “You wanna know what the ladies in my family say?” He can remember his mother repeating these words when he would cry for minutes on end over small things, like when Bambi was all alone in the forest, or his sister was out on his bike without asking. Egon didn’t say anything, but kept on peering at Ray through the gap between his frames, a sign to keep talking.

“They all say: ‘Raymond, did anyone die? Is anyone hurt? Will the sun come up tomorrow?” Egon looks at him incredulously, unamused by the teachings of Heartland mothers. Ray keeps going.

“Egon, did anyone die?”

“Egon, was anyone hurt?”

“The camp ranger when Maria Skłodowska-Curie scratched him.”

“Egon, will the sun come up tomorrow?” No tangible response.

Ray unconsciously moves a little closer, scraped and dirty knee brushing Egon’s slightly cleaner one. Egon would be damned if he didn’t notice, but what to make of it was hard. Ray was always moving, like a motor that never knew when it ran out of gas. It was different from other boys their age, he wasn’t ever trying to fulfill the societal pressure to be physical, or whatever the reason young boys felt the need to wrestle or hit or roughhouse. It was almost like he was…searching for stimuli. Egon actively avoided it, he knew what limited things he enjoyed and he stuck to those things. But being here, with Ray, challenged him. He was a constant, but a chaotic one. Egon was puzzled, and whether his face grew warm because of these discoveries, coming down from almost crying, or an unknown 3rd thing, he couldn’t deduce.

“My mom says there’s bad trouble. That’s stuff you can’t fix easy, like hurt feelings or broken windows.” Ray tries as hard to be as smart as his mom, as insightful. As open and caring. Egon sees it, and he’s never met the woman.

‘But there’s good trouble too,” Ray grins, sickening optimism breaking through again. “Scientists make good trouble. It’s stuff that works out. Like making a mess when you make the girl down the street cookies.” Egon lets out an amused puff of air through his nose.

“Or,” Ray interjects, scared of alienating his friend with the analogy for whatever reason, “growing your hair out despite your mom not wanting you to.” His smile was knowing as he dipped his head into Egon’s space. He quickly sat up a little straighter. “Because- uh, it looks nice! I wish my hair was curly like that, my sister says I’ll be bald by 20. Not that bald isn't cool! Sigmund Freud was bald…A lot of…Jewish guys…are bald…” He almost whispered, his mouth snapping shut. Raymond Stantz never whispered, maybe a stage whisper if the situation was dire. He toyed with the sand in between floorboards, head down.

Egon could only breathe out a laugh, shaking his head slightly as he stuffed a ruined pillowcase into a trash bag. “Good trouble.”

He doesn’t feel 12 right now. And he’s sure Ray doesn’t either.

So days of good trouble followed them, and in turn they spent most of their time “grounded”, locked in their bunk for entire days while their cabin mates were free. The first day was a little rough, Ray watched on as his friends excavated fake Egyptian artifacts, hands on the glass almost comically as Egon sat, reading. They both agreed their jailing was uncalled for, and that some teenagers couldn’t really “ground them”, so with Egon sputtering under Ray’s 12 year old weight, they clammored out the bathroom window and into the woods.

They were able to conduct their experiments, test any hypothesis that arises, away from everyone else. They searched for ancient ruins, tried carbon dating rocks (to no avail) and built god knows what out of any metal and scrap they could find. They were back every night, findings scrawled in a notebook and supplies haphazardly tucked under Ray’s bunk.

This wasn’t a foolproof way of operating, and they would get caught with a soldering iron or thermos of motor oil every now and then, and then days stuck in the cabin became more and more common. For whatever reason, no counselor thought to lock the windows.

Miraculously, they had streaks of good behavior. And they were allowed to sit at campfires with the other boys, though they were stared like criminals until the stories at hand caught campwide attention.

A counselor leaned in close to the fire, fingers wiggling and voice dark as he recalled the stories of spirits trapped in bathrooms, eternally tethered to the lake. The other boys refused to believe him, partly because all the ghosts he spoke of were girls, partly because “ghosts weren’t science”. Both Ray and Egon went back to their cabin early, and silently, smores in hand.

Egon sat on his bed, as always, reading a book, but not the same, thick one with worn pages Ray had gotten used to seeing but never asking about. His head appears in the corner of Egon’s vision, climbing onto his bunk. He simply moves his legs to make room, finding himself not minding how his blanket will wrinkle and smell like Ray.

“I have to tell you something.”

Egon blinks once, eyes widening. He sighs, reaching behind his pillow for a pen and notepad. “This was bound to happen eventually. When did it start?”

“A few years ago, why?”

Egon blinked again, discarding the notes. “We’re thinking of different things.”

“I’m talking about…me believing in ghosts!” He lets it spill out like a rotten secret. He can tell that such a smart guy like Egon would just laugh in his face at the thought, but he can’t hold it in anymore. Ghosts were his thing! They’ve been his thing forever- supplied by an endless trove of paranormal books at his disposal at the bookstore his mother worked at, and summers spent in the deep history of the semi-rural United States. He was 100% a believer, from the dead opossum his neighbor is convinced haunts her basement to ancient demons to aliens watching over him every night. Ghosts, and how to see them, were always running through his mind. It was why he wanted to pursue science, not just because machines were his first love, but because with every discovery he poured over he was closer to making contact.

“Do you…think they’re real?” Ray’s heart beat in his ears, his friend’s expression unreadable.

“Duh.”

Ray could hit the ceiling then and there. His nervousness dissipated as he smiled, hard, probably the hardest he had smiled since June, not when he got an old microscope to work with Egon’s help or he found a way to get steady radio signals, but now. He lept of the bed with fervor, so much so that Egon scrambled after him for fear of his knees buckling. Unscathed, he ducked under his bunk and felt around for something. He emerged with a large, worn out pillow case.

Dumping its contents onto the ground, they tons of were old paranormal journals, ghost stories, photo albums. Egon wondered if this was what Christmas felt like. Breaking out of his stupor, he found his bag tucked neatly in a hidden corner, and took out 3 books. Each had a library sticker, a testament to how little freedom he had to indulge in his interests.

“Part of the reason I came here was to test its psychokinetic energy,” He explained, “my parents would eviscerate me if they found out.”

Ray could jump for joy right then and there. For seemed like hours, probably 30 minutes, they indulged themselves in stories, theories, methods. For once, despite his easily made friends and large family, Ray felt seen on a new (and intellectual) level. For once, in light of his quiet life and authoritative family, Egon felt like fate, and being destined to meet someone, was real.

They ended up sprawled out on the floor, books open around them, plans for this machine and that computer drawn out. “Have you read about the Banshee of Tupper Lake?” He offered suspensefully. Egon didn’t speak his answer, his eyes conveying his interest as he turned his head to his friend.

Ray lifted his hands in the air, almost painting the story he’d read in “Old Tales of Old Spooks in The NorthEast”. “In 1872, peak ghost season, there was a town out here, on the very soil we’re sleeping on! It was sizable, a few hundred, but they were all mormons. I know! Mormons, all the way in New York? Anyway, it’s said they’re only here because someone, or some thing chased them out of Pennsylvania. In the summer of 72, 1872 that is, women were going mad. Running into the lake, screaming mad. The town became mostly men, and they had no choice to marry what girls were left. One night, during the world’s awkwardest wedding, one of the mad women named Mary Crocket rose out the water, rotted body and all, proclaiming that the next man to marry off a little girl was gonna turn up drowned the next day.”

Egon stared at the ceiling, as if Ray’s words were projecting the very moment above the pair. He turned back. “Fascinating. And progressive for Victorian era Mormons.”

No words were passed between them for what felt like forever.

“We gotta see her”

“Absolutely.”

That was easier said than done, as they waited weeks for the right time. They conducted smaller experiments, like testing each other every day for psychic powers, though their results were never favorable. Ray noted that he would need to find…maybe a tarot reader or a really skilled psychologist to help with this part of their study. They tried communicating with the 50 year old statue that greeted campers on their way in, but they never got a response. Ray tinkered with Egon’s fairly primitive PKE meter fashioned out an old radio, and promised that if he ever wanted to visit his house when summer ended, he’d get him the proper electronic additions for a proper reading. In the process, they were “grounded” more days out of the week than otherwise.

One morning, the day Ray proposed would have the best conditions (humidity, camp taking a hike all the way down the opposite side of the lake, insect activity), the boys sat on, watching everyone else prepare for their trek.

“You delinquents better enjoy yourselves here, and think long and hard about what you’ve done. Joey, grab your bug spray.” Ray didn’t think he was deserving of being talked down to by a 16 year old with red hair, tube socks, and braces, but there he was.

The cabin cleared out, and as soon as they disappeared on the horizon, Ray jumped up, grabbing his emergency camera (which he borrowed without telling his mom) and his bag, full of everything they’d need. He offered Egon his rain boots and coat, but he was proud to turn around and see his friend was already well equipped. Crossing along the bank of the river, Ray proposes it would be easier to find her place of death if they went through a shortcut in the trees, and as he started to disappear in the flora, Egon didn’t have much of a chance to protest.

Not only was it humid, but it was hot. Peak heat in the last few weeks of August beat down onto Egon’s head, and he was reconsidering having grown his thick hair out this much as it felt like a weight rather than an act of autonomy. Mosquitos and sharp, untamed grass grazed his ankles like barbs, and he sweat profusely under his raincoat. This was the price of science, however, what if she wanted them to follow her into the lake? He wouldn’t do it, but he wasn’t messing up a good shirt. Ray, somehow, didn’t complain once, though sweat and condensation was visible on his skin as he panted, still smiling.

Ray stopped, and Egon followed suit as he looked around. Ray didn’t say anything as he pulled out his copy of “Old Tales” for cross referencing, and Egon took the opportunity to relax. He bent over a bit, catching his breath, until he felt something brush his cheek. Unmoving, he could hear the buzz of a bee, and suddenly, the pinch and surge of venom.

“Raymond”

“Huh?”

“Reach in my bag and grab my epipen.” Egon eased himself to the ground, staying calm.

Ray’s eyes widen as big as saucers. “You got stung?” He asks, a fairly dumb question, as he drops his book.

“Grab my epipen.”

“Oh, oh geez. You’re not gonna die , right Eges?” Ray stutters, wringing his hands. Oh god, his face was turning red.

“Not if you get my epipen.”

“You're…gonna die…” Ray teared up at the thought, before full on weeping.

“RAY! Get my epipen.” Egon could feel his eyes swelling shut. It was a little harder to breathe as he panicked himself.

“And…you’ll never get to see my radium collection or my dog…” He blubbered into his hands.

“PUT THE NEEDLE IN MY LEG!”

Ray shuffled over at the worst time to be shuffling, digging into his friend's bag and pulling out things that were clearly not an epipen. “Is this it?” He sniffled, words barely intelligible as he held up a regular, ballpoint pen.

‘It’s an orange box with the words ‘Epipen’.” Ray recovered it, hands shaking.

“Take it out, pull the cap off..” Ray’s face was wet with tears and snot.

“Stab it into my leg. Fast.” Egon took in a hiss of air as he braced for a pain that would never come.

Ray’s pupils shrunk. He wailed, leaning against Egon’s slowly asphyxiating and swollen body, going on about having to hurt him and losing his best friend. It would’ve touched Egon, if he still had the ability to see and feel his tongue. He wouldn’t mind dying here, if it was next to Ray- at least there was a chance of haunting the boy until he went insane. He could visit Einstein, compare notes. Tea with Louis Pasteur ought to be interesting.

His thoughts of passing on, unlike Ray’s crying, ceased as he heard many different footsteps approaching, and commotion as his leg was punctured by the anti-venom.

Their time at camp was, to say the least, cut short. Egon spent 2 days in hospital to monitor his reaction. His parents were silent the entire visit, not commenting on his hair or the fact he was ghosthunting when he almost died. To make things worse, his father smiled when addressed by a nurse. He knew he was in for it when he was discharged. Maybe a year of cleaning the chimney? Swimming lessons? He shuddered at the thought.

All wasn’t lost, surprisingly. Ray’s parents apologized about 100 times to the Spenglers, promising that “Ray was a smart boy who makes dumb decisions” and “he gets it from his father’s side” . He felt oddly at ease at seeing Mrs. Stantz, a strong-looking, full figured woman with short blond hair, green eyes, and wrinkles around her red lipstick and warm eyes from smiling, grabbing his hand and doting on him more than his nurses. Mr. Stantz was tall, and had a short beard, hair slightly red, and looked just as strong as his wife, eyes equally as kind as voice as boisterous, as Egon always thought a dad should be. He felt safe when the man asked him “how ya holdin’ up, buddy?” Hm. Many developments to be taken away here.

To his displeasure, he got the least amount of time with Ray. He was hidden behind his mother’s back in guilt, until he worked up the courage to apologize, taking to crying again as he threw himself onto Egon in a tight hug.

He blinks a few times as the boy tears stain the collar of his hospital gown. “Ray, did anyone die?” Ray weakly laughed against his friend.

They spent the rest of their time going over the piles of research they conducted, mishap not taking away their zeal to study their shared field of interest. Ray had even brought his own copy of “Tobin’s Spirit Guide”, gifting it to Egon because he knew his borrowed books would have to be relinquished soon. He even traded addresses, so they could continue to write. Soon enough, hospital staff were ushering them out, but not before the Stantz family left behind gifts of pie, bean chili, fried chicken, cinnamon rolls, and even more pie. Egon waited until his parents were gone before he ravished the containers.

Upon their return home, both boys were justly punished. Egon’s worst nightmares got even more hellish- he was put into dance classes. Ray was kicked out the camp for life as if he’d lose sleep over it past age 14 (he lost an hour or two every few months) and he took up doing every family member’s chores until his parents thought he’d learned a lesson. It got better though, especially when letters with Einstein stamps appeared in his mail. He tried to continue fulfilling his need to be outdoors by signing up for boy scouts, “there is absolutely no way anyone can get hurt here, mom” and wrote to Egon urging him to join as well, only getting a full sheet of paper with the word “No.” His loss, he lost 5 cents. Ray was kicked out in the winter for, again, stealing smoke alarms from his scout leader’s house and taking their Americium.

“I found it, Ray,” Egon tilts the paper in his friend’s direction.

“Alleged ghost sightings along the lakeshore.” The alarm goes off just then, as Janine leans over the staircase to fill them in.

“Some camp up North saw a lady crawling out the lake.”

#ray stantz #egon spengler #ray stantz/egon spengler #stantzler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1984 #old men yaoi #fanfic #fluff #au #oneshot

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hopeyarts · 23 days

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Have you heard about Disney’s a tale of..?

It’s a perspective flip/prequel book series from the villains POV, only it makes them much more tragic and sympathetic.

For example, the first book, fairest of all makes the evil queen a victim of abuse and manipulation from her father (who is the slave in the magic mirror in this continuity) with a little help from the odd sisters, original characters who are Snow white’s cousins.

All this to say that if they made a tale of.. for Wish, it would just be everything the Magnífico stans/defenders are saying, like word for word.

Hi!

I just read up on a summary of Fairest Of All and it really is really interesting! I haven’t heard of the series until I got your ask, and I might get the Evil Queen book now because I love tragic stories that turn people into antagonists of another story. I don’t know if they’re canon to the movies, but canon or not I’d accept it whichever way Disney says.

Before I start, I’m just gonna say that I’m not exactly sure if you’re a Magnifico stan/defender or not, lol. I’ll just answer honestly as usual!

So regarding your last paragraph, I kind of agree with that. If there were a book for King Magnifico since he was Wish’s ‘villain’ then it could be similar to what Magnifico stans/defenders are saying. Unless they’ve got it all wrong and Disney was intending/leading it to something else, like his backstory being a lie (which is what I believed until the movie subtly proved otherwise). There’s still a chance for Disney to either divert his past story or put more into it, because they really kept it vague and only mentioned it twice. At this point, we can assume anything about him but we’d need to consider how honest he was with what he said.

For instance, in the graphic novel of Wish he mentions to Star on why it took Asha for them to meet or why wasn’t Star there when he needed him. Or how he put passion into his voice when he pointed to the burnt tapestry during that one scene. Those just tell us he has some sort of trauma that stemmed to his past, but the movie barely does anything to go into more detail about it. Disney knew that if it did, then they’d create another obvious sympathetic villain—but they already did that anyways. One hint at a bad past and you get a character whose trauma overwhelmed him to the point of doing villain stuff with an evil book (which is oddly similar to the Queen in Fairest Of All in a way). Then afterwards you get defenders and stans.

Which, hey, I’m a stan. 🤷🏽‍♀️ I would also say defender but not in an Asha is evil and Magnifico is a pure angel kind of way, personally. I wouldn’t bring one character down for another, because honestly the thing we should bring down is the bad writing. No one’s truly evil unless they’re taking pleasure out of being sadistic and intentionally hurting/killing others, and no one is a pure angel period. Asha’s a good-hearted girl who’s heavily naive, and Magnifico is a good man who lets his past haunt him to the point he commits to unreasonable decisions. Both are misguided. None of these make them a bad person. Just flawed—and that’s human. I suppose that’s why I love movie Magnifico so much because he chooses the worst decisions for himself out of pure emotion and desperation. That’s human! That’s relatable! And it’s fine, until they decided to not redeem him. They could’ve had a nice lesson if they did so, but anyways.

I just like to see every aspect, detail, perspective, and more before I decide to villainize a character (which is never) over the other or whatever. This isn’t targeted to anyone btw, I’m just saying my truth. Because in honesty, I’m tired of holding my tongue and trynna people please (this is a personal grievance- it’s not directed at you lol, I just wanted to mention it).

But anyways—again and finally—I agree that a book about Magnifico’s past could be what stans/defenders are saying. But it could also not be, because his past is so vague that it can be easily altered by Disney, its sole creator. Whatever they say about the character is the truth. If stans/defenders (me included) don’t like it, then we could just leave. We can’t deny the truth about a character that isn’t of our creation, but we can choose to acknowledge it or even dissect it to make it something more. And also not complain about it, haha. If the book were to actually be what stans/defenders say, then hooray we can celebrate I guess.

I don’t really care whichever way it goes as long as it is interesting and worth my time. I’d rather a unique investing story of a Magnifico book than a story that caters to and pleases my own interests (even as a Magnifico stan/defender and even as someone who’d like to see Magnifico rise up again and be proven as right with the movie product we have now), which is what I see a lot of people doing nowadays. I could elaborate on that but I don’t want to make this too long—

If Magnifico was telling the truth about his past and it is as traumatic as he says it is, then so be it. If Magnifico was actually lying about his past because Disney confirms it, then so be it.

Besides, Jennifer Lee mentioned in an interview that she could write a whole book about Magnifico’s past or just something about him that led him to who he is now. I hope she does even if she grossly gave a good man the fate of a villain’s. I’d give the book a chance.

Thanks for the ask! ❤️

I’m sorry I love this meme so much- it’s a running joke with my siblings. 😂

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maarriiii · 1 year

Text

Simp (Part 6) | Wilbur Soot

A/N: This is 1.4k words that mostly consists of dialogues, text messages and a couple of paragraphs about how great my oc Sam is.

Summary: All the rumors about you and Wilbur leads you to taking the first move and text the guy.

Pairing(s): OC x gender neutral!reader, OC x actor!reader (platonic), Wilbur Soot x gender neutral!reader, Wilbur Soot x actor!reader.

Warning(s): None.

italics: Wilbur’s texts

blue italics: your texts

my masterlist :))

Somewhere in Los Angeles, Sam was relaxing in his living room, bathing underneath the sunlight that was translucent through the skylight with a book on his hand and soft music echoing throughout the house. From an outside perspective, the actor looked something out of a painting that could rival the Mona Lisa herself. Sam looked almost like an angel, graced by the gods themselves. He looked like the marble statue you see in museums, the kind his fans always compared him to. But, the serenity ended when his phone rang on the side table next to him. A custom ringtone made especially for his best friend contrasted the music playing in the background.

He marked the page he was on, close the book, and scoot closer to where his phone was. A picture of you and him on the screen, smiling and drunk out of your minds after an after party for his friend’s movie premiere. Usually you were the responsible drinker out of the two but Sam managed to convince you to let loose. It was a great night apart from the hangover the two of you had the next day. His phone stopped vibrating when he pressed the answer button and was met with a slight nervous tone from his.

“I did it.”

Sam leaned back, his arm on the back of the couch. “Hello to you too, sweetie. What did you do?”

“I did the thing. Like just a few minutes ago.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He did. He just loves to tease you.

You groaned. “Yes, you do. Cut the crap, Sam.”

“You’re no fun, y/n.” Sam smiled. “Well, this Wilbur guy is sure is something if you slide to his DM this fast. Usually, it’ll take you a few more days and a lot more conviction from yours truly.”

“It’s not like that.” You sighed. “Have you seen social media lately? And what happened when you pick me up at the airport the other day?”

Sam’s tone immediately turn from playful to serious. “Fucking pricks. Are you sure you’re okay? They didn’t grab you or anything?”

“Like I told you about a hundred times before, yes, I’m fine. Why’d you think I call you to pick me up? They’re kinda scared of you, Sam.”

Sam shook his head, chuckling.

“But, seriously though, I’m just kinda worry if the same thing is happening to him. I guess I just want to apologize.”

“y/n, you know it’s not your fault if they do right?”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that but still I could’ve just DM’ed him instead of tweeting at him. I’m basically saying ‘hey guys, this guy right here? yeah, this is the one.’”

“Okay, no more of that. When it comes to this kinda stuff, it’s going to be out of your control. So, I don’t want you to think it’s your fault even a little bit cause it’s not.”

“Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate that.”

“Don’t mention it, sweet stuff.” He smiled. “So, has he texted you back yet?

“Nope, not yet. I keep looking at my phone to see if he has but I think that makes it worse.”

Sam shook his head again. “You are what they call a simp, y/n. Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes, please. And no, I am not a simp.”

“Suit yourself.”

With glass filled wine in both of their hands, you and Sam lounged on the sofa. A record playing on the vinyl, something that Sam got for you as a house warming gift when you bought the house. It was the same one he had on his own home. He bought it for you, alongside the record that was playing, because he remembered how badly you wanted one when he first invited you to his home.

When you heard a car pulled up on the driveway, you didn’t have to look on the window to see who it was. Sam, without a care in the world, just trudged inside, went straight towards the kitchen, rummaged the cabinets for a bottle of wine and two glasses before finally sitting next to you. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary for him to do that. You do the same whenever you pay him a visit. Sometimes it felt like you were even worse because sometimes you rummaged his closet for something to wear.

“Honestly, I might not take that role for that Netflix show. It’s a good script, but I met one of the showrunner and I just feel like he’s an ass—and you’re not listening to me.”

You blinked rapidly when Sam snapped his fingers in front of you.

“Yes, I am. I’m just not focused on you. I can multitask, you know.”

“Right, sure.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s been what—an hour? Maybe he’s busy or asleep, y/n. Time zone exists, you know.”

You sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I should—”

Your eyes immediately went wide. Your body straighten up. That was a notification pop up that you saw. Sam frowned at your sudden change in behavior. Before he could turned around, you put down your glass and dove for your phone that Sam had thrown behind him on the couch when that’s all you could focus on.

“Jesus Christ, you almost spill wine on both of us, you fucker. What the fuck was that? I’ve never seen you move that fast.”

You turned to him, still lying on his lap, a grin on your face. “Sorry. I saw a notification.”

“If it’s not him, I’m going to remind you about this till we’re both dead.”

“But, it is him.”

“I’m still gonna do it,” Sam mumbled, sipping his wine.

Hey wilbur, it’s y/n

How are you?

oh hi

i’m good, how r u?

Sam saw you do nothing, fingers hovering above the keyboard. “You gonna say something there?”

“Hold on, I’m thinking.”

“What’s there to think about? Just say ‘Yeah, I’m good. Thank you for asking. I think you’re cute. Do you wanna go on a date with me?’”

You turned around again, glaring at him. “I will spill that wine on you.”

“Try me, sweet stuff.”

I’m good. Thx for asking :)

Can I talk to you about something?

“Really, a smiley face? What are you a teenager?”

“Get off my back, you jerk.”

“I will if you get off my lap.”

“Fine.” You huffed.

You squirmed back up with much struggle. At one point you pressed your elbow to Sam’s thigh making him jerk up his leg, almost hitting you in the face with his knees. You let out a sorry while he slips up a curse word and proceeded to put distance between the two of you. You missed the glare he gave your way when you typed a reply to Wilbur.

of course. go ahead.

i’m just wondering if there has been people approaching you about me

oh you mean the articles and all that stuff?

“He knows about the articles, Sam.” You looked up at your friend, pouring wine into his glass again.

“Talk to me when the good stuff is happening.”

It was your turn glaring at him.

Uh yeahh

I’m really sorry about that btw

These people have no sense of respect over boundaries when it comes to this kinda stuff

well it’s not your fault I’m sure

and to answer your question, yes there’s been a few people here and there

mostly emails about an interview

Oh god

Again, I am so sorry

again, I’m sure it’s not your fault

it’s alright really

on the bright side tho, my bands been getting a lot attention thanks to you

Well, i think you guys deserve it

You guys are great

thank you

You fingers hovered above the keyboard again, falling short of a response to keep the conversation going. Sam noticed this and decided to scoot closer to you. He took a peek at your phone, humming—a giveaway that he was thinking—before looking at you.

“Didn’t you say his band was going on tour?”

“Yeah...”

“Then ask him about that.”

“Okay, okay.” You nodded, before moving your finger again.

I saw that lovejoy is going on tour soon

yeah actually this is our second one

any plans on going to the states?

playing our first festivals there too

really? that’s awesome to hear

Well, hopefully I’ll get to see you guys in one of them

wait really?

Yeah, I am big fan of yours

Sam noticed you smiling. “I take it things are going well?”

You looked up from your phone. The effort to try and hide your smile failed miserably when Sam gave you his signature teasing smile. He wiggled his brows and you had to roll your eyes at his antics.

“Yes, things are going good. Thanks for the advice.”

Sam sighed, leaning back on the couch. A smug look in his face. “Am I good wingman or what?”

#simp #edited #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you #wilbur mcyt #mcyt x reader

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faybellesbeauty · 1 month

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Maddie's been my favorite since i was little. I always kinda connected with her. She was silly, she was "quirky" and sometimes people didn't understand her. She was different and everyone loved her for it. She did things her own way, she didn't care if others saw her as "mad" (in a negative and not affectionate way, there's a difference.) She was just.. her. It resonated with little me. Energetic and in her own world, doing things her own way and being well.. ..Mad.

If you couldn't tell from the first paragraph alone YES I was an undiagnosed autistic kid lmao. (I also had a truckload of health problems, got sick a lot, which always added to it because at the time no one knew what it was.) As most kids like me struggled with, I always felt different and out of place, like I couldn't be myself. But maddie was a small reminder to me that it was okay to be myself and to be different. I didn't know why I felt different at the time cause.. how would I? But she showed me that no matter what it was, It's okay to be me. I didn't have to follow everyone's rules.

Ever after high meant a lot to me as a kid. I actually grew up with both MH and EAH, But EAH came before for me. I was into that first. But it taught me a lot of things. Maddie just so happened to be one of them. It taught me to be strong, to stand up for myself, that it's okay to be different, and much more. And monster high taught me to love and accept myself. Embrace my "Freaky flaws." Even if I had a lot of moments where I struggled, i'd rewatch episodes and remember those things I was taught. (Especially if I was sick again and really feeling down.) I followed EAH beginning to end and remember feeling like a piece of my heart was gone when I found out that it ended. Meant a lot to me. But nothing lasts forever, y'know?

I know this sounds like super cheesy shit but it's no joke dude.

i rewatched an episode for nostalgia reasons a while back while on netflix on a bad day and well.. here I am now. I feel back in love with it again and it took me back to those times. Now I have ten whole oc's, I'm in a cool server with some really nice people, I'm writing my own stories with it again and it's so near and dear to me, even now.

...And now I finally know the answer to my biggest question: Why maddie resonated with me so much. ..

IT'S CAUSE I'M AUTISTIC HAHA. Now when I look back at it it's like one of those "THAT'S WHY!!" moments lmao. I was late diagnosed and didn't get back into EAH until February of this year so it didn't dawn on me until recently haha.

Anyway I hope you enjoy reading what ever after high means to me. Stay swag. <3

so this is not an original experience?? because i feel like i could’ve written this word to word

i almost cried reading this tbh. maddie means a lot to me, as an also undiagnosed autistic kid who also happened to have health issues (still do)

she was the first character ever to just. be weird that i ever came across. she’s herself without caring about how people see her, which is rarely portrayed in media especially for kids.

it was a huge factor in my childhood that i had that kind of a character, and i didn’t just learn how to ”be like everybody else” like i feel other kids media tells you to

i’m glad you sent me this ask, and i definitely did enjoy reading it. <33

#ever after high #eah #maddie hatter #the insane eah blogger replies??

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vendetta-if · 1 year

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Chapter 4 Minor Updates

Hey guys 👋 So, for the past week, other than finishing the side stories, I've also been busy fixing some stuff on Chapter 4. All of these fixes have gone live right now and they are just minor ones.

3 January 2023:

Finished adding the Character Guide entries for Santana and Skylar in the Stat Screen.

Added emotionless responses to Skylar’s flirtations.

Fixed a couple of coding errors and some typos and grammatical errors.

7 January 2023:

Added some little flavour texts for MCs who chose to dress up for the meeting with the CEO (available for MC who chose casual, edgy, and streetwear clothing style).

Some more little coding bug fixes that caused some flavour texts to not show up. Specifically pertaining to flavour texts for those who chose lovehate for Yvette and for those who didn’t hate her in Chapter 1, your MC will offer her a drink too and there are some really minor flavour texts with her and her drink. For the lovehate one, there are two short paragraphs of flavour text missing when she cried after MC asked her whether she regretted what she did.

Also, check out my intro post on the COG Forum! I have some polls there regarding the ROs and Yvette! Please consider on casting your votes! 😁

[DEMO] | [PATREON] | [KO-FI] | [DISCORD] | [COG FORUM]

For those interested in reading the previously missing lovehate flavour texts without having to replay it, I'll paste them below the cut (they'll be the one in bold letters, the other paragraphs are there for further context):

She takes a deep breath before finally revealing the answer you’ve been looking for. “Yes… I think I do regret my decisions. I don’t really know when the thought really started brewing in my head, but honestly… I have not been that satisfied with the state of my life right now. This is supposed to be my dream life, but I haven’t been able to enjoy it for years now.” Her voice quivers until it finally becomes a full-blown sobbing. “And I’m starting to think I might have ended up being happier right now if I had just taken Viktor’s offer to marry me decades ago instead of pursuing… this.”

You blink. You’re not sure what to do as you let her cry her heart out. She has been so distant that the only image of her that you have in mind is probably her superhero persona that she uses in public. To see this more… human side of her unsettles you.

Her admission, however, leaves a bad taste in your mouth as you realize that you could’ve had the perfect and complete life as a family with both your mother and father, could’ve gotten the motherly affection you’ve been yearning. If only she had made the right decision all those years ago, which she didn’t.

You want to be angry at her, to lash out, but it quickly dies down as you see her slight and trembling figure. For a second, you thought about reaching over to comfort her, but quickly changed your mind. She doesn’t deserve it, right? You grit your teeth and ball your fists to stop yourself from caving in to the guilt and glare pointedly at the far wall instead.

#minor update #demo update #if: vendetta #vendetta if #if game #chapter 4 #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript #cyoa #choice of games #hosted games #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #interactive games

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crissiebaby · 5 months

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Double Diaper Dare: Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, WAM, hypermessing, hypnosis, diaper filling, slime transformation, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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Codi’s Diary: Entry 141 (Cont.)

So I suppose this would be a good time to address the diaper-obsessed elephant in the room. No amount of self-education on the subject of sex could’ve prepared me for what it would be like to live with someone whose brain was wired to think uncontrollably horny thoughts seemingly 24/7. In that regard, Crissie was in a league of her own. From the moment I set foot in that nursery, I could practically feel her hungry, lustful eyes watching me at all times. And trust me, I have zero interest in knowing what depraved ideas must’ve been churning in her head the entire time.

Needless to say, whatever sexual desires I had for myself had to be put on the back burner all thanks to one obnoxiously kinky brat. Not that I wasn’t still horny. (I very much was.) It was just that anytime I showed even the slightest hint of being aroused, Crissie would leap at the opportunity to tease and embarrass me. It was beyond frustrating since it pretty much meant I had to be on guard around her at all times.

Eventually, I became sort of numb to her antics. That being said, after looking back over the last paragraph, I feel I’ve been a tad harsh. It’s not like I hate Crissie. She can be very kind and fun to be around given the right circumstances. I just wish she’d demonstrate even a modicum of self-control because the moment diapers are in play, rational thought goes out the window with her.

At least, that’s what I thought…

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Exiting the portal, Codi found herself standing before a large, mostly empty room with a ceiling as tall as a warehouse. Unlike Jane’s office, this place was nowhere near as warm and cozy, causing her to fold her arms over her chest. “Where did she send us this time?” she said to herself, sighing as she looked around the massive space, finding various pieces of machinery scattered about.

Thankfully, Crissie wasn’t far behind to answer Codi’s question. “Welcome to the central testing chamber of CrissBaby HQ!” she said, throwing her arms up in jubilation. Sadly, her excitement wasn’t shared by Codi in the slightest. She slowly lowered her arms, “Ahem, w-we shouldn’t have to worry about anyone happening by us for a while. Ya know, with it being nighttime and all.”

Having previously read through several of Crissie’s Test Dummy chapters, Codi was well aware of what kinds of mischief went on in here. “Well then, what’s the plan? You gonna fill my diaper up with oatmeal or force me into that locking onesie? Ooh! Maybe you’ll use that rose aphrodisiac on me and get me all hot and bothered!” she said facetiously, her words dripping with sarcasm. In reality, she had no idea what Crissie was planning but that didn’t mean she had to act like it.

Crissie responded as expected, “N-No! There’s a ton of other cool stuff in here that I haven’t even written about yet, just you wait!” She pouted as she looked around the room, hoping to come up with Codi’s next dare quickly. Since she already knew about the filling machine and the rose aphrodisiac, she was going to have to make up something even more blushy, “Let’s just look around for now. See what we can find.”

“Hmmm, I’ve got a better idea,” said Codi, a pair of metaphorical horns growing atop her head, “Why don’t we each find one invention for the other to try? Then we can do our next dares together.”

Crissie’s eyes lit up upon hearing Codi’s idea, never once thinking about what slime girl was plotting. “That sounds super fun!” she said, happy to see that Codi was finally getting into the game a bit more. She was also happy that she now had time to look through the various inventions still under observation to find the perfect one.

As Crissie wandered off into the sea of mechanical ingenuity, Codi had already set her sights on a particular device stationed against the back wall of the testing room. Approaching a tarp with a “Keep Out” sign on it, she quickly tore it off, revealing a chair with restraints built into it and a large, bulky VR headset with exposed wires all over it. She wasn’t certain what it did or how it even worked but that didn’t stop the headset from giving off an ominous vibe. “M-Maybe I’ll look around a bit longer,” she said, grabbing the tarp off the ground and tossing it back onto the machine haphazardly.

“Codi! Over here!” shouted Crissie, causing Codi’s heart to sink. She’d hoped such an enticing task as this would keep Crissie occupied for a while as she struggled with a final decision. Sadly, one look at her smug, mischievous mug told her that this was not the case.

Hopping up onto the edge of one of the tall, metal tables, Crissie swung her legs back and forth childishly as she waited for Codi to inch her way over. Closing both fists, she held her hands out in front of her, trying and failing to hide how giddy she was. “Pick a hand,” she said, bouncing up and down on her fresh diaper.

Rolling her eyes, Codi considered choosing neither and just walking away. However, the prospect of Crissie whining that she didn’t play along properly was enough for her to do the bare minimum. She tapped Crissie's left fist, saying, “There, happy?”

“Hehehehe! Very!” cackled Crissie, her booming laughter causing Codi to recoil from the abrupt noise. Opening her palm, she revealed a harmless-looking piece of gum with the words, “Bubbly Baby” written on the side.

Annoyed with Crissie’s games, Codi snatched the piece of gum out of Crissie's hand and began examining it for any clues as to what it did. Finding nothing more than the gum’s stupid name, she lamented to the usual strategy, which was pressing Crissie directly for information with the power of sarcasm, “So what? It looks like a standard piece of gum. You planning to turn me into a blueberry or something?”

“Pffffff! Nah! I don’t think that’s the kind of thing they’d make here…and if it was, Master would’ve let me try it first,” said Crissie, giggling slightly at the thought of Codi ballooning up, “Besides, you’re already purple on the inside, so it’d be a waste anyway. Just try it already. I Double Diaper Dare you!”

Scoffing at the purple remark, Codi narrowed her gaze and stuck her tongue out a Crissie before unwrapping the innocuous piece of gum and tossing it into her mouth. How much damage could one piece of gum do anyway?

Chomping down on the rubbery sugar square, Codi was overwhelmed by how sweet the piece of gum was. The simple bubble gum flavor was so powerful that it nearly caused her to gag. She quickly spit the piece of gum back into her hand before scraping off the taste on her tongue with her teeth, “Bleh! Nope! There’s a reason that gum is still being tested. Find something else, non-edible preferably,” she said, placing the slightly chewed gum back in its wrapper and tossing it in the nearby trash can.

“Awww, fiiiiiiiiiiiine,” grumbled Crissie, pouting as she waded back into the sea of inventing materials.

Left on her own once again, Codi turned her attention toward ruining Crissie to the best of her ability. Unfortunately, anytime she found a device or innovation that seemed perfect, she then had to remember that for Crissie, most of the stuff in here would work better as a reward than a punishment. No, if she wanted to get the better of Crissie, she’d need to find something that even the biggest diaper perv in the world would consider terrible.

Suddenly, before she could find the perfect device to use on Crissie, Codi began to feel a strange buzzing sensation overtake her mouth as if her teeth were vibrating. Not only that but her tongue felt so dry and tasted almost ashy, something she was not a fan of. She couldn’t believe it but she found herself missing the abundance of flavor that the chewing gum possessed. At least the sugary, sweet substance was better than this.

Searching around the room, Codi couldn’t spot a single source of water to wash the dreadful feeling from her mouth that only seemed to be growing stronger. It was getting to the point where she’d ingest just about anything to quell the awful oral sensations. Looking back at the trash can with the wad of gum inside of it, her desperation reached its boiling point as she dove into the bin to recover the lone piece. Removing its wrapper a second time, she stuffed the gum back into her mouth and began chewing, gaining some instant relief as the tingling subsided. Begrudgingly, the flavor from earlier permeated, tasting almost stronger than it did before. It was as if she was sucking on a tube of vanilla frosting.

Over on the other side of the testing chamber, Crissie continued to sort through the various doodads and thingamajigs, hoping to secure the ultimate humiliation for Codi to guarantee her victory. “Diaper glue… Nah…A nappy with a simple lock pattern on the front…Well, it's about time but no…Extra-Strength Lisp Lollies…that’s so last season…” Despite the endless array of options, nothing seemed to fit the mold of what she was looking for, at that was until she spotted something that made her heart flutter.

“Hey, Cooooooodi! Come over here!” said Crissie in a sing-songy voice. Holding a diaper with four leg holes in her hand, she felt herself getting excited at the prospect of testing out what looked to be a two-seated diaper with Codi. And with the power of Double Diaper Dare, there’s no way she could refuse. Seconds soon turned into minutes, though, as she waited for Codi to join her. Hopping up on her tippy-toes, she looked around the room, wondering where her diapered companion had run off to. With the double-wide diaper in hand, she began to retrace her steps, hoping to find Codi along the way.

Now that Codi was nowhere to be found, the dimly lit testing facility felt a lot more imposing than it did before. Crissie hugged the extra large nappy to her chest, finding comfort in the crinkly padding. “Codi! Seriously, this isn’t funny!” she yelled, her anxiety mounting as she made it back to the table that held the recently tested gum.

“Ehehehehehe!”

“Eeeeeeep!” shouted Crissie as the sound of Codi’s laughter caused her to jump. She instinctively let out a little bit of pee into her diaper, completely unaware that her diaper was swelling beneath her. Fixing her face into a frown, she stomped over to the source to find Codi hiding around the wide, metal table. “You big meanie! You know I don’t like jump scares!”

Rounding the side of the table, Crissie folded her arms across her chest as she stared down a Codi who was…playing with her feet? Lo and behold, the giggly artist wasn’t even laughing at Crissie’s expense, too focused on her own appendages to intentionally scare anyone. “C-Codi? You okay?” asked Crissie, confused by Codi’s abrupt change in behavior.

“Uh huhs! I okies!” said Codi before bellowing out another giggle. She turned to look at Crissie, her eyes centering in on the bulky, white diaper in her hands, “Ooooh! Is dat diapee fo me?! Gimme!” She reached up toward Crissie with grabby hands; a pure, unwavering smile laminated across her face.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BeelzeDerBock BlossomBitchDolly BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca & One Anonymous Investor

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