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doctenwho · 3 years

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Gestures and Evasion

Hello! Welcome to a new DT fic! My deepest apologies that it’s been so long, and thank you so much for waiting so patiently! Life’s been a bit of a rollercoaster recently, and I’ve needed a bit to recuperate, but I’m back again!

This prompt didn’t have a specific character mentioned, but luckily, since it wasn’t anonymous, I was able to shoot pistachoz a DM and they’ve confirmed it’s a Tenth Doctor request! :D

Warning: None, I don’t think?

Word Count: 3,514

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the creator! :D)

The Doctor doesn’t really remember the first small act he’d committed to try and get his companion to notice him. To notice him on a... well, on a more personal level?

It’s a general memory, nothing pinpointed, but he knows it happened long ago.

It was something small—mundane. (Y/N) had more or less brushed the gesture off with a light laugh and a smile that made his hearts hammer away in his chest, but (Y/N) had really seen if for what it had been.

It wasn’t very often that the Doctor had these sort of feeling about anything, but there was just something special about (Y/N). Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

He’d been trying for just about as long as the companion had been travelling with him to send little messages, or gestures in hopes that maybe (Y/N) would see what he was doing for what it was instead of brushing it off like she tended to do.

If he’s honest, he’s never really had this kind of problem before. He’s had many companions, and more often than not, those companions tend to want more from him than he’s willing to allow himself to give. Rose, and Martha—Jack, even—they were all looking for more from him, and being what he is, and what he does, it’s not that simple to reciprocate feelings.

They’ll all age and eventually die, whereas he’ll just move on to his next bout of regeneration with a broken heart he’ll have to try his hardest to keep under wraps.

The Doctor knows that maybe (Y/N) showing such little interest in him is almost a good thing. Less heartbreak down the road when (Y/N) decides not to accompany him any longer, or, worse, when old age takes (Y/N) away like every other human before her. It’s inevitable, and he really should have a stronger hold on human life compared to TimeLord life, but the loss always knocks him down for a while.

It should be a good thing, but he just can’t seem to bring himself around to believing that it’s a good thing. Not when every time (Y/N) brushes off a gesture he’s thought over, and put time and effort into, it fills his hearts with an unfamiliar pain he hasn’t felt since losing his family and Gallifrey alike.

It had taken him a while to notice he was even trying to win (Y/N) in a sort of courtship way. And it had taken even longer to realize he’d been doing it for about as long as he’d known (Y/N). It hadn’t seemed like it at the time, but looking back now, he can see how all the little comments and gestures were more than just friendly.

But she’d been brushing his attempts off since early in their travels. Shooting him a smile, but turning away when anything too even the slightest romantic turn. Avoiding his eyes when he stared fondly, or laughing it off when a compliment slipped past his lips.

He really didn’t understand it.

He could see the Gallifreyan romantic gestures confusing (Y/N), but the few earth gestures he’d picked up barely stirred anymore of a reaction than the Gallifreyan ones. He didn’t know where he was going wrong—how it was all being perceived the way it was. The wrong way. He wasn’t getting the reactions he wanted and... well, it hurt.

Both his pride, and his hearts.

It had started small with flowers—or, a flower. They were on a foreign planet, but he knew giving small gifts like a flower was one of the human gestures. So, he’d searched around while his companion was busy exploring, and located the loveliest flower he could find. It was mixtures of blues and purples; native to the planet but incredibly rare considering they only bloomed twice a year, for no longer that three days at a time.

The flower had a sweet smell; one similar to those of sweets from earth. For a while, before he’d remembered Earth didn’t have this specific species of flower, nor were they advanced enough in space travel to find one, he’d assumed they’d used the attractive scent of the flower as a marketing technique to sell their sweets.

The sugary smell Earth sweets had would always come second to the scent of this specific flower.

The exchange had been short, and less than pleasurable if the Doctor’s honest. He’d found (Y/N) sitting on the ground, just taking the calming atmosphere of the planet. His heart stuttered in his chest before he finally took those last few steps towards her, where he settled at her side and cleared his throat to gain her attention.

He’d held the flower out, rambling out facts as (Y/N) took the flower into her hands. She gave it a sniff, and fiddled with the stem and petals for a second before smiling down at it. She stared down at it, before looking back at him with an appreciative smile. He’d thought he’d won her over, but instead, she settled the flower on the ground beside her.

His hearts had cracked as his companion’s hand fell away from the flower, leaving it on the ground as she returned her attention to the world around her. He’d swallowed thickly before sitting himself beside her, not bothering to mention the fact his gesture had gone unnoticed.

It was the same ordeal when he’d ordered (Y/N) a space delicacy from one of his favorite planets, where his companion had taken the treat into her hands and tasted it without a second thought. Smiling down at the treat, before shooting him light smile as she licked her lips.

He didn’t know why he’d been expecting—hoping for—anything more than the usual ‘Thank you’ he always received when he did something out of the ordinary for his companion, but the mumbled words had filled his with a sense of sadness.

It was silly.

But he kept trying.

The gestures just kept coming. It was barely a forethought anymore. An unconscious effort to try and win over his companion—seeking this relationship (Y/N) quite obviously didn’t want. It was a sad downward spiral, but he really couldn’t imagine not trying to woo her. He’d been at it for so long, not trying sounded foreign.

He tried just about anything he could to get any sort of reaction. Any hint that his companion knew what he was trying to do. Any acknowledgment that she understood that he was trying. He’d prefer blatant rejection to this... whatever this evasive attitude (Y/N) was expressing.

Dinner in the stars.

Unique gifts from distant planets.

Various treats and snacks from wherever they happened to be.

He even tried to learn more about human things on earth. How humans went about stuff like this, and how it all differed from his Gallifreyan roots. Human courting was quite the oddity.

He didn’t talk to many humans who weren’t his companions, or people he’d saved in some way or another, but the man who ran one of the shops had taken some time to educate him, but the Doctor had come out of that conversation more confused than he’d gone in.

But on the bright side, (Y/N) had enjoyed the bag of sweets he’d awkwardly bought to stand at the register and chat with the friendly shopkeeper.

He was still at a loss. Nothing seemed to be working. Nothing wooed his companion. He didn’t understand—couldn't see how not one single thing he’d tried had gotten (Y/N)’s attention.

But he still had one more thing up his sleeve.

“Where are we going?” (Y/N) asked cautiously from the seat in the console room. The Doctor was doing his usual laps around the TARDIS console to what should be six TimeLord’s jobs simultaneously. He’d gotten good at it over the years, but there was still, occasionally, some rough kickbacks when he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“It’s a surprise,” the man shot his companion a grin, pulling a lever. At this point, (Y/N) should be used to the surprises. He never got the kinds of reactions he was looking for, but he was still hoping that... maybe sometime he would. That something he planned would be the special one that could win his companion over.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, but continued to watch the Doctor how around the TARDIS like a madman.

They weren’t far from the next greatest surprise the man had planned. They’d been travelling a little under an hour, and (Y/N) had only joined him in the console room ten-ish minutes prior, but he’d still refused to tell her where they were heading.

(Y/N) was still quiet when the Doctor stabilized his space and time machine, checking everything twice before finally tugging his companion up by the hand and leading her towards the doors.

He threw the doors open, grinning widely as he gazed around. Just as promised.

It was a phenomenon really. A collection of heart shaped carbon monoxide ice chunks. No one was quite sure how they’d been formed, or whether someone had carved the hearts and left them to float in this tiny orbital pull in the middle of nowhere.

It was a sight few saw—the Doctor had only heard of this place from chatter on a nearby planet, but he had to admit it was just as beautiful as he’d imagined. The ice glistened as the light casted from the TARDIS hit it, making them twinkle just as brightly as the stars in the background.

It was about as romantic as you could get.

“Woah,” (Y/N) gaped at his side, and the Doctor turned to look, smile slowly lighting up his face as he watched his companion’s eyes travel from heart to heart. “What... what is this?”

“It’s carbon monoxide ice,” the Doctor informed softly, the smile on his face widening as his hearts thrummed in his chest. His companion had an astonished look on her face, eyes wide with childlike curiosity. “Like that of Mars in your solar system. No one’s really sure how they take shape but... well, they’re quite the sight.”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed out, almost like her breath was taken away by the sight.

The Doctor had been told by many, had seen for himself as beauty takes away people’s breath. He’d been there too, once or twice with his current companion.

He barely even caught his words as they left his mouth—his heart speaking before his brain had a chance to filter his words, “Like you.”

That was his moment of error, the Doctor noticed.

He frowned to himself as his companion slowly pulled themself away, shying away from his side and retreating back into the TARDIS with one last lingering glance at the ice. The Doctor’s hearts froze within his chest, as he watched uncertainly—unsure just how he’d managed to mess this one up as well.

“It’s late,” (Y/N) muttered softly before leaving the Doctor alone in the TARDIS doorway, the man’s gaze locked on one lone heart with a barely noticeable crack down the center. It wouldn’t be long before the orbit around them pulled the frail pieces apart, severing the heart into two.

The TimeLord forced a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment as he resided completely with the cracked heart.

He didn’t understand.

The clumps of frozen carbon monoxide made his hearts hurt the longer he stared, so he was quick to follow on his companion’s footsteps, spinning on his heels and shuffling back inside, making sure to shut the doors behind him.

He wanted to flee this place, this failed attempt, but he couldn’t bring himself around to flying the TARDIS at the moment. He didn’t have the energy too. Like expected, (Y/N) had disappeared into the TARDIS, so the Doctor plopped heavily down on the seat.

Maybe it was time to accept the fact that his companion did not reciprocate his feelings. That he was barking up the wrong tree. He’d thought that they were... but maybe he was wrong.

The Doctor stared up at the TARDIS ceiling, his space and time machine giving a little hum as if she could feel his worries and mood. His hand patted the back of his seat halfheartedly as a promise that he was okay.

It had never been this hard with any other companion. There was just something so special about (Y/N). Something he wanted to get closer too, even though he knew he’d end up hurt in the end. Something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get now.

Maybe it was time to settle this once and for all. His gestures were overlooked, or, maybe even ignored. As much as it hurt to admit, (Y/N) didn’t seem very enthused with anything he’d done. Maybe it was the human not understanding what he was trying to do—but humans tended to like words.

The Doctor from (Y/N) in her room, perched on the edge of her bed. (Y/N)’s attention raised when the Doctor announced his arrival with a sturdy knock on the slivered-open door. The knock pushed the door in enough for the Doctor to poke his head in.

“Do you, uh, have a moment?” He asked cautiously, almost ready for the rejection he’d been living with for the better part of travelling with (Y/N). He’d grown used to it, but it still tugged at his heart strings. She’d never deny him conversation, but he could still see and feel her pulling away from him.

“Of course,” (Y/N) sat up a little more, giving the Doctor her full attention. “What’s the matter?”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, the Doctor realizes as he shifts from foot to foot in (Y/N)’s doorway, mind vacant of any thoughts. (Y/N) tilted her head at the Doctor’s odd silence, studying him from her spot, “Doctor...? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” the man cleared his throat. Then did so a second time before continuing, “I wanted to, uhm, know what you thought about the, uh,” he gestured broadly behind him, hoping his companion could piece his question together.

“The ice hearts?”

It was a good thing his companion was so clever.

“Yes, the hearts.” The Doctor nods, fingers tapping awkwardly against his side. “Did you... did you like them?”

“They were beautiful,” (Y/N) repeated once again, fidgeting with her own fingers, “it was a bit unexpected, but... yeah, I did. Thanks for showing me them.”

The man gave a nod, but didn’t voice anything. If he thought his voice would’ve come out naturally instead of the anxious waver he was sure would be there, he definitely would’ve replied with a soft ‘My pleasure,’ because it really was his pleasure to introduce (Y/N) to the beauty of the galaxy.

There was an unsettling moment of silence where neither really knew what to say.

It was the Doctor who broke it, staring at his shoes as he finally allowed the words he’d been stewing over out, “do you... not like me, (Y/N)?”

“What?” the surprise was prominent. The word rang out for a second before the Doctor lifted his gaze to settled on (Y/N)’s shocked, tense frame. Her muscles were stiff, body sitting up straighter and more alert than she had been when he’d first asked to talk. “I like you plenty,” (Y/N) assured quickly, “what gave you the idea I didn’t?”

There was a list, really. He could count things off on his fingers, but he wasn't here to be petty. The man bit his lip, leaning against the doorframe to support his weight. He honestly just wanted to know why (Y/N) was so evasive every time he so much as tried to woo her.

“You... well, uh, you never seem to care,” he made sure to word it carefully, “I... I’m not sure if you even notice, or ignore it, or what. I just, I need you to be honest with me. Why haven’t you... reciprocated any feelings?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Doctor,” (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and one ankle crossed over the other as she leaned forwards in interest.

“Since I met you,” the Doctor swallowed, “I’ve been... I don’t know how to say it but, trying to court you, I suppose? That’s not really something humans do, but it is something TimeLords do. It’s just that... every attempt I’ve made... every try I’ve made to do something cute, or romantic, you brush it off. You’re evasive, and... I’d just like to know if that’s because you don’t reciprocate my feelings. If you don’t feel the same, we can just put this all behind us.”

“It’s not like that,” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet, a near whisper, “please don’t think it’s because I don’t like you. I do, Doctor. I just... I wasn’t sure.”

“Weren’t sure?” The man furrowed his eyebrows, “sure about what?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I noticed everything, the flower you gave me, the sweets. All the dinners, and the... the dates. Today with the ice hearts even. I didn’t know how to admit I liked you when there was a chance you didn’t like me back the same way. I don’t know what I’d do if I ruined this.”

“But the gestures and dates?” the Doctor frowned, finally stepping into (Y/N)’s room and sitting on the edge of her bed beside her. He’d thought he was being obvious.

“Very obvious,” his companion let out a little laugh, “and I should’ve known, but I was scared. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. This adventure is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I didn’t want to compromise that by admitting my feelings.”

He could understand that, a bit. “So... you do like me too?”

“Of course,” (Y/N)’s smile was soft, “a lot, Doctor. I just... didn’t know how to reciprocate it without there being a possibility that everything could fall through, and we’d ruin our relationship in the process. I know you were offering it, but I was nervous. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” the Doctor chastised quietly. He paused for a second before speaking again, “I’m having a hard time believing this is real,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “you really acknowledged it all? I... never noticed.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled softly, “and I have proof it wasn’t all in vain, Doctor.” (Y/N) stood up from her spot on the bed, and moved towards her book shelf. It housed a few books, and some trinkets she’d found on their travels and liked. She continued speaking as she searched through the books, “I really enjoyed everything you put together for me since I met you. I wasn’t sure you were really doing it all to be romantic at first but... the hearts today really summed that up for me.”

The man watched as she tugged on one of the book’s spines, pulling it from the shelve and holding it in her hands for a second before she waving to retake her seat. She started flipping through the pages, so the Doctor leaned over her shoulder to watch.

“Here,” she stopped on a page towards the middle of the book. The Doctor refrained from gaping as his companion carefully pulled that singular flower he’d given her all that time ago from the book. The room was instantly filled with that sweet, alluring scent and his hand shook as he took the pressed flower into his fingers by the delicate stem.

“I thought you left this,” he admitted softly, studying the vibrant colours that had stayed even after being pressed into the book. He hadn’t noticed her bringing the flower back. Had really thought she’d left it on that planet and ignored the gesture entirely.

“I couldn’t,” his companion sighed, “it was selfish, even if I didn’t want to ruin what we had, I wanted to keep it to remember the moment. To remember you, even if we did at some point part ways.”

“You’re brilliant,” the Doctor breathed out, finally passing the flower back like it was as precious as a crown jewel or something. “So incredibly brilliant, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head away from his gaze, but it was different than the usual brushing away of his gestures. Something was different now.

They hadn’t cleared it all up, that was for sure. He still had questions, and she still had doubts. They didn’t quite understand each other yet, but it hadn’t all been in vain like he’d thought. She’d seen it all. Acknowledged it, even if not to him. His hearts swelled as he smiled lightly.

There was still a lot they needed to discuss, but for right now, the Doctor just wanted to spend a bit of time with his companion—without all the hassle of their rightful doubts and insecurities.

“Do you think we could... spend a little while longer looking out at the frozen carbon monoxide outside before we leave? It really is quite pretty, and... maybe we can talk about this more later?”

“I’d... love that, Doctor.”

“Good. Uh, great,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His companion giggled at him, but he didn’t mind in the slightest, “allons-y, (Y/N).”

<><><><>

Once again, sorry this took so long! I’m hoping to keep this momentum going and keep getting out the requests in waiting! I hope you all liked this fic, it was a bunch of fun to write! I thoroughly enjoyed creating the frozen carbon monoxide hearts, so I hope you all liked that as well!

As always, feel free to prompt me again if this wasn’t what you were looking for (though it might take a while to get around to it if you do!) and thanks once more for requesting. Hoping everyone had a good morning/day/night!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #ten #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #10 #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #TARDIS #writing prompt #writing requests #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic

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shelobussy · 3 years

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I know you talk abou st*cky in the interracial ships stuff, but can we talk about st*ny? Iron husbands is literally right there, but I also always sees Rhodey as Tonys moral support only. And ik Tony is very shippable with most characters, but the fact his ship is Rhodey is one of the lowest ships in ao3 (ironstrange, winteriron and god forbid stark*r all had more fics in ao3).. It's pretty telling this side also has racism problems...

I'll go ahead and answer this here, but letting y'all know that I do have a marvel sideblog if you want to hit me up there (@themarvelarchives).

Hey, I'm going to ramble for a good minute.

So after I posted my very incoherent, controversial take on St*cky vs SamBucky, there were a ton of ppl who came onto anon saying that St*cky shippers were racist. I think I only answered a few, but y'all were pretty insistent on it. I personally have not observed that St*cky shippers are so I'm not calling anyone out on that side of the fandom for that.

I also did not call out anyone on this side of the fandom bc that's not what my meta was about. I think I mentioned maybe once or twice in the whole post that there was underlying racist in the fandom, but since you asked, we can talk about it here.

Covert Bigotry In Fandom Spaces.

To understand what's going on in the MCU, we have to first look at what I call "woke-queer" fandom.

So "Woke-Queer" Spaces is the phenomenon where certain fandom members like to call ppl out on their bigotry, while covertly harboring their own queerphobia/racism/etc. An example of this that we're all familiar with is TERFS and how they like to claim that they are progressive and woke, while also claiming that trans women are fake and trans men are sexist.

How this translates to fandom, however, is the hypocrisy that is cancellation and callout culture.

For example, Supernatural in particular is a fandom that likes to call out the writers on their homophobia and racism, and yet, somehow, the fandom is chalk full of homophobia and racism. If you want to read more about this, here is a truly excellent article from the perspective of a queer woman of color.

Moving on, I've also talked in a previous meta post, on the internalized acephobia that exploded in 2019 after Good Omens was released. Rather than reiterate everything I said in that post, I'll just leave it at this: the controversy in the Good Omens fandom can be summed up by the fact that queer audiences are claiming that Ineffable Husbands is the wrong kind of queer. The hypocrisy oozes off the screen, doesn't it?

A final way this viably translates to fandom, is in how the Doctor Who fandom evolved over time.

So Steven Moffat takes over as head writer and showrunner in 2010. It's a new series, a new Doctor, a new Tardis, and new branding. He steps up the action, changes the color grating, and raises the stakes. Women are sexier, the Doctor is smarter (and more of an asshole, but that's another meta post), and every companion comes with their own impossible mystery that makes them Special™.

Series 5-10 got tons of woke points for having lesbian characters, an episode where the Doctor is homoerotic with James Corden, and an underlying trans narrative with the Master's reincarnation. What a lot of people forget, however, is that his series was incredibly sexiest, incredibly lesbian/biphobic, and basically turned the Doctor into everyone's fantasy sex-object.

This, unfortunately, brought out the worst of the fandom. There was RTD Era vs Moffat Era wars exploding in certain corners, TenxRose shippers vs ElevenxRiver shippers.

What does this have to do with covert racism in fandom cultures though?

Hnnngng ok, so back in RTD era's we get Martha Jones, the Actual Best Companion On The Entire Show. Except for the fact, of course, that she is written to be in love with the doctor. She's a brilliant character--smart, sassy, flawed, funny, flirtatious--and her entire plotline is reduced down to a school-girl crush on a white man.

She doesn't do well with fans, they scrap her after one season.

We move on to Donna Noble (The Other Actual Best Companion On The Entire Show) and RTD's era ends with them scraping her too and regenerating David Tennant's Doctor.

It will be five more series (not seasons, SERIES) until Doctor Who will have another black companion--who gets extra points for being gay--only to fall victim to "bury your gays" at the end of the season (but not really bc no one stays dead on Doctor Who).

The fandom's reception of Martha Jones was historically bad. The comparisons to her predecessor, Rose Tyler, were rampant and everyone was finding a reason to hate her.

The fandom's reception to Bill Potts was also historically bad, as everyone was screaming that she was being written for more "woke points" and that they wanted Clara back.

Fandom has a historically bad reputation of being problematic and, I would argue, the majority of it has to do with these toxic undertones of bigotry that slip under the radar. "Woke-queer" spaces, as I call them, are these instances above where spaces that claim to be inclusive of gender/orientation/race are covertly bigoted.

Marvel and Cancelling

Now is an excellent time to talk about the MCU.

Anthony Mackie (Sam Wilson) has recently come under a lot of criticism from fandom members for shutting down shipper speculation.

"The idea of two guys being friends and loving each other in 2021 is a problem because of the exploitation of homosexuality. [...] something as pure and beautiful as homosexuality has been exploited by people who are trying to rationalize themselves."

I can't find the rest of the quote, but Mackie goes on further to say that it was important to him to portray "a sensitive, masculine figure" without insinuating that there was romance involved.

Woke culture lost it's shit. Everyone was suddenly claiming that Mackie was calling them exploitative for shipping a gay ship as a queer audience, which could not have been further from the case.

Mackie actually makes some very excellent points in that sensitivity is not gay/queer. Woke culture loves to rag on Toxic Masculinity, but the minute someone plays a character who is loving and sensitive with no queer narrative in mind, they are immediately canceled.

What Am I On About

Okay, let's actually address what your ask was about, Nonnie. You pointed out--rather truthfully--that it is unfair to call-out racism on one side of the fandom, while ignoring it on the other side.

Well, I've gone back through my St*cky vs. SamBucky analysis (which is incoherent at best, I apologize for that) and I see maybe once instance where I called out fandom members for being racist. Here's what I had to say about racism:

"[...] Iron Husbands is a rarepair, probably because it’s an interracial ship."

"[there is] nothing wrong with shipping two white men, but it does become a problem when you ignore/bash POC/interracial ships to the determinant of your own white ship."

And then there was the post you brought up where I addressed interracial ships in the fandom. That one is probably more relevant to this topic, to be honest, as I actually addressed fandom racism there. I assume that your reason for bringing up Stony is because it's a ship that is more relevant to my side of the fandom, HOWEVER, the reason I highlighted Stucky instead was because I was comparing the fact that they've both been around the same amount of time and are relationships that feature the protagonist and their best friend.

You brought up St*ny in the ask, however, so I'm going to talk about St*ny for a minute.

As someone who never has nor will ship St*ny, it never even occurred to me that some of the problem behind the Iron Husbands tag being so small is because everyone ships the white, boring ship. You brought up a very valid point, but because I was never in that part of the fandom, I can't really speak to any possible underlying racism there, besides what I've already said above.

I would be interested in hearing a St*ony shipper or ex-St*ony shippers thought on this, but sadly I don't know any. If you have any more thoughts regarding this, Nonnie, pls drop back into my inbox.

You do make some excellent points in this ask though, and I would like to talk about racism on my side of the fandom.

So back to Mackie and his Twitter cancellation. Notice that Disney made him address the rumors and not his co-star, Sebastian Stan. Anthony Mackie is put on blast and made to answer fan demands and receives backlash, while Sebastian Stan gets to fly under the rader. This is not, by the way, a criticism of Stan, but instead of the blatant racism Disney has been displaying over the past few years.

How this ties in with the rest of my post has to do with my "woke-queer" spaces bit. The outcry across the MCU fandom over Mackie was swift and unforgiving. He was cancelled on charges of homophobia and bigotry--all the while these same fans turn a blind eye to any queer interpretation of other interracial ships and discourse in their own fandom.

The racism that I'm speaking about, of course, is an almost passive racism. Of course if you don't ship a specific ship for reasons other than their race, it's perfectly fine. It's okay not to ship Iron Husbands or SamBucky or any other interracial fandom ships. However, the distinct lack of shippers in the fandom IS telling because there are people who would ship that exact ship if not for the fact that one of men is black.

I don't have much more to say about this except to thank you for bringing it up and for listening to my long rambling post.

(Feel free to bug me about Tony Stark, MCU ships, MCU Meta and anything you want to talk me about on this blog and @themarvelarchives.)

#this got long sorry #iron husbands #sambucky #james rhodes #tony stark #sam wilson #anthony mackie #doctor who #moffat critical #my meta #ash does meta #ash does fandom #marvel #mcu #fandom critical #fandom criticism #long post

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the-crows-typist · 4 years

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Hello! I recently read your azul's ficlet and i'm close to crying at how beautiful it is (its 4am emo hours). If its okay, may I request a ficlet of Jade with a gn!reader with the word 'sleep' or 'rest' (pick whichever suits better!). Thank you in advance! 💖

CW: Spoilers for the movie Your Name (Kimi no na wa), character death, body switching, angst with a happy ending, and slow burn (sort of)

Feedback in greatly appreciated!

Thank you to @opalmaplehibiscus , @jellyfishstuckinwonderland , and @raven-at-the-writing-desk for the input in the making of this fic. I greatly appreciate your help.

The Possibilities are Endless

“My name is..”

“Please remember me...!”

The crowds on the train pushed them apart, a braided bracelet was tossed towards Jade. A lifeline connecting both of them together, a connection between two souls; the face of one that was desperate to keep holding on, they yelled one last time just as the doors of the train closed and their grip on the bracelet wrap loosened.

“My name is—!”

Jade opened his eyes and he was in his room, his very dark room. To his side was his closet and to the other a white wall. The sound of bubbling water churned behind the window of his dorm room and with one slow blink, he pulled himself up and hunched over.

The same dream, the same voice, the same bracelet tossed to him.

He craned his head to his lamp stand where the colorful wrap lay next to his earring, he doesn’t remember where he got it nor does he remember why he wanted to keep it for so long. He took the bracelet and looked at it and thought back to the voice in his dream.

“Please remember me...!”

Pushing himself off he moved to the mirror to fix his appearance, with his brush and hair gel in hand he let out a gasp when the lights of vanity shined light on a note. A note written on his cheek with a marker, a message he didn’t remember writing.

“Who are you?”

It was during breakfast that Jade began to notice the strange happenings around him, how Azul asked if he was feeling better or how Floyd said he was wearing his earring again. “What do you mean,” Jade questioned. “I always wear it.”

“You weren’t yesterday. And you looked so lost like some little guppy, you even forget how to get to class yesterday morning.” Floyd complained, eating his breakfast with a huff. “Was it a prank? Cuz’ you got me good.”

What was he doing yesterday?

He woke up, went to school...No. That wasn’t what happened. He didn’t recall anything from the previous day. In fact, he remembered being at a different place.

In a city full of buildings and faraway from the sea, the familiar smell of white roses, the smile of an unfamiliar fellow and a bento box he had no recollection of him cooking or making.

His uniform wasn’t black but a cream with a tint of yellow, his magical pen was nowhere to be seen and was instead replaced with a pen nib brooch. He touches his cheek, remembering the message written on his cheek. “Who are you?”

“C’mon, you gotta tell me.” Floyd pestered, his arm over Jade’s neck “Was it a prank?”

“Perhaps.” The twins laughed, Floyd pulling close but in his mind he thought of the message, his incapability to remember the previous day. He needed more answers but only questions filled his head.

His notes were a mess and full of sketches. There were sketches of Night Raven’s facade and the students, his classmates. A slew of messy messages on paper, the handwriting worrying as if the person writing was stressed beyond belief.

“The uniforms are black, the gems are pens.”

“Nothing but roses for miles.”

“Wishing well???”

“Where am I?”

“Mr Leech, please read the next line.”

“Yes, sir.”

Trein’s brow raised and he blinked. “Well, today you actually remember your name. Perhaps you were just feeling ill.” A hum of laughter passed through the class. “And your hair is fixed as well; I was beginning to think you and your brother switched places when you came into class with a messy bed head.”

Jade blinked, tilting his head. “I...see. I’ll make sure to not make that mistake again, professor.”

“Good. Continue on reading.”

“Magic transcends all meaning when twilight occurs, when the sun and the moon share the sky for a single moment.” Trein explained, using a magical pointer. “The word twilight means ‘half-light’ when the light of the sun glows and causes refraction in the atmosphere and signaling the end of the morning and welcoming of night or visa versa. At times like this does magic become unpredictable and free-forming and when realities begin to overlap each other for the time twilight occurs. This was used to the advantage of the earliest magician in recorded history.”

Trein faced his students. “Nowadays, these times of day are known as dusk and dawn as the world twilight has fallen out of favor in recent years.”

“It’s probably because of that one book.” A student yelled from the rows behind and Trein nodded his head. “Ah, yes, ten years ago was an odd time for the word ‘twilight’.” Trein blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Who would have thought the human body produced so much diamonds but that is beside the point.” The bell rang and the students began taking their books. “Be sure to read up on your lesson today, we will be having a quiz tomorrow on the topic.”

Jade stayed in his seat for some time and stared at the diagram on the board.

Twilight.

In the back of his mind, a flash of a memory comes to him. He remembers a train stopping by and the droves of people coming in and out. Jade was alone that time, buying something some seeds or fungi. The sun was setting at the time, the yellow sun turning orange and the sky dimming to a nightly violet.

“Jade.”

He didn’t know the person who called out his name nor did he remember what they looked like but he did remember the smile they had, as if they were looking for him for a long time, it was a face relief.

“It’s me.”

He didn’t know who this person was nor did he ever remember their face and yet, at that instant he seemed to have known them his entire life. In his heart was a feeling of warmth, of glee, of content and relief; he was confused by it all. A strike of panic pierced his heart when that smile turned into a confused and upset frown. “You don’t...remember me..?”

The next stop came and people began filing out, pushing the two of them away from each other. “Jade, please remember me!” They said as they were pushed out by the crowd. Reaching up, they pulled the braided tie from their hair and threw it out of him. “Please remember me..!”

He caught the braided tie just as the other let go and doors began to close.

“My name is—!”

“Is there something wrong, Mr Leech?” He blinked, looking to Trein with confusion. He had missed the door and stood by the wall of the classroom. “Ah—I’m sorry.” There was a hissy laugh from Lucius as Trein set him down on the table to collect his papers. “You seem to be in deep thought, is there something on your mind?”

“No, professor, I was just thinking about our topic today.” Jade lied through his teeth and Trein took it with a huff. “I know twilight is a regular phenomenon but I didn’t know that it was an important time of day for mages and magicians.” A nod came from his professor. “Many people nowadays don’t see its importance as magical materials and magic itself have grown and changed over time. With the new technology and the new breakthroughs we have, the archaic practices of the past have since then been abandoned.”

Trein looked to the window and Jade followed his gaze, the sun began to set and the color of orange and violet painted the sky. “Twilight has begun.” Picking up his beloved cat, Trein stretched his back and moved to face the student in front of him. “It’s best to get back to your dorm, you might miss the curfew.”

“Professor, have you ever experienced anything during twilight? Like the way you’ve explained it during class?” Jade asked suddenly, his professor’s eyes widened then looking to the side to think for a moment. “I have but they were more of dreams than the otherworldly claims of recording happenings. I would often see myself in another person’s shoes, seeing a world I did not know about, it wasn’t a pleasant experience but...It was interesting, for a dream at least.”

“I see. Thank you very much, professor. I’ll be on my way.”

He stared at his messy notebook unblinking, the messy handwriting and the sketches were foreign to him. He drew a few doodles but he never put any detail to it nor was he able to do sketches of his peers in movement.

“Where am I?”

Taking his pen, Jade wrote a message. What had happened to him wasn’t a dream, he knew that and he knew that what he was about to do wasn’t a sure fire guarantee that whoever wrote this will see it but the unpredictability of the situation allowed him to push through with an eagerness to see the end results.

“You are in Night Raven College. My name is Jade.”

The night loomed over the dorm, the once blue waters a dark purple and tinge of black. Twilight has ended. Jade closes his eyes for a moment and sighed, thinking back about the lesson and to the confused glances of his peers.

“Please remember me...!” The voice begged, the image of a braided bracelet flowing through the air as it flew towards him. Tugging his sleeve, the bracelet was wrapped around his wrist snugly; its design was simple and bright mix of blue, yellow, and red.

“Please remember me...!”

Jade tugs his sleeves back down, only stepping out of to his bed when he felt tired. The bracelet was removed from his wrist and sat next to him.

“My name is—!”

The voice echoed through his mind, he felt that he should remember it, he felt like he should know who it was, and all he felt was frustration and eagerness to see this unpredictable situation through. He closed his eyes wanting to rest his eyes rather than sleep.

“So this is what Night Raven College looks like. It’s very pretty, your uniforms are very pretty too but I’m not used to the environment there. It’s probably because of the walls or the silence.”

It had been a few days since the messaging through the notebook began with Jade and his pen pal, of sorts. It seemed that his new pen pal had been observing weird happenings to them too. Their classmates telling them of their weird behaviors, one time all they ate were mushrooms.

“I don’t even like mushrooms and because of you I ate a whole lot of them in just one day!”

It seemed that his odd dreams of seeing another world unlike his own weren’t dreams after all. The white and yellow uniforms, the sweet smell of lilies, and the pen nib brooch all pointed to Royal Swords Academy. Apparently the person he switched bodies with studied there.

“And I was told that I ate eel for lunch and it upset my brother. It seems both of us are even on this regard.”

He always wrote messages on his notebook the moment he got home and he preferred it that way rather than waking up to writings on his face and arms. The marker ink was hard to wash off, even with large amounts of sudsy soaps.

“We have a notebook to communicate for a reason, please use that.”

“I like writing on your hand, Jade.”

There were moments that he expressed frustration with them, even anger but that soon dissipated into childish antics of messages written on skin, eating disgusting foods they came to like, and a bond that transcended physical reality. They were from two different worlds and yet, here they were being friends.

All this was just like a dream to him.

“Hey, about that braided bracelet...Where did you get it? I had one just like it before it disappeared; I used to wear it on my hair.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer to that. It just came with me, I suppose. I couldn’t part with it for some reason so I’ve been wearing it ever since.”

“I guess we just so happened to have the same braided tie, huh? Hehehe!”

After class, Jade went to experience the twilight hour for once and see the students filter out of school and run about. It was the end of the week and it was a time for fun, brooms flew overhead and magical swirls of dust were thrown about by fun-loving students.

“What I like about your school is that none of you are afraid to get dirty and have fun.” He remembered his pen pal writing. “I love RSA but the uniforms and the rules we live by stop us from having fun like all of you there in NRC.”

He couldn’t blame them, RSA had some rules to go by and the uniforms really stopped them from having fun too. The chaos that he saw in RSA wasn’t like those in NRC, not by a long shot but he could see the charm it had in it despite the difference in school life.

Jade wanted them to experience this first hand one day. In their own body, of course.

He went back to his room when the sun had disappeared and the moon stood in its place. Sitting by the notebook, he took his magical pen from his pocket and began writing his response to his pen pal’s recent message.

“RSA has beautiful scenery, there’s no doubt about it. It’s a nice change of pace from the gothic feel NRC has, I find it rather peaceful. Though the sudden music lessons do tend to throw me off but that is something I will eventually come to get used to.

He tapped his pen on his desk, humming at his short reply. He looked at his wrist; the braid coiled around his wrist and was vibrant under the yellow light of his lamp. Unlike them, he never really gave hints of what his school life was about nor did he give details of what it was like to spend a day in RSA.

“We had a lesson about the magical phenomena known as Twilight. Apparently around that time, magic becomes different and realities begin to overlap...Do you think that’s what’s causing us to switch bodies?”

“Twilight...I’ve heard of that phenomenon too! It actually makes sense, maybe that’s what's causing it but if it’s really true then that’s some real strong magic!”

Jade slept that late that night, the braided tie next to his forehead. For once, he didn’t dream of the train station but of a hand coming up to take his own. No, it wasn’t his hand, it was his pen pal’s hand, and it grasped softly then tugged for him to follow.

He was on a mountain, the sky glittering with millions upon millions of stars. It was a beautiful sight, his eyes widening as the stars grew closer and closer, the heat around him rising and rising; burning his skin and singing his hair. The world around him was destroyed and the last thing he heard was the terrified scream of someone he was beginning to hold dear.

He awoke with a gasp, his eyes tearful and his lungs out of breath. Next to him were a concerned Azul and his brother Floyd. “We could hear you gasping from the hallway.” Azul explained but Jade kicked off his covers and ran to his desk, his notebook, their means of communication was empty. The messages he had collected with them were gone and only his own remained.

His brother tugged at his shoulder. “Look at me.” He was whirled around, their foreheads touching. “Breathe. You’re gonna give yourself an attack if you don’t breathe.”

He closed his eyes, leaning against his brother to breathe harshly. A pair of hands pats his back, Azul’s and Floyd’s, in an act of comfort but none of their touches reached Jade. He was too confused, too shaken up, too anxious. “It was just a bad dream.”

A dream...

What he had seen in the eyes of his pen pal was all a dream...?

Pen pal?

“It’s best that you get some more rest.” Azul said, pulling Jade back to his bed. “I’ll explain to the teachers what happened to you.” Floyd nudged him down and pulled the covers up until his brother’s chin. “We need you well rested, Jade. We’ll have the others check on you every once in a while.”

He forced himself to breathe slowly and carefully, his eyes screwed shut and thoughts in a whirlwind. His memories scrambling and confusing, he tries to remember the train station, the lake that was on RSA’s sloping hills and the falling meteorite.

Had there been a meteor shower? There was no news of it, no indication.

A hand caressed his head, shushing his sounds to silence.

“Sleep, Jade.”

The next day, Jade spent all his time in the library with books about stars and meteors and sleep being the furthest thing from his mind. He poured through the articles about meteor showers, checking online news sites, and pouring through scientific documents.

Nothing.

No recent reports of a meteor shower anywhere near the area of RSA or NRC.

A frustrated sigh left Jade’s lips and he held his head with a huff, burying his fingers into his hair when a fluffy tail rubbed and pawed against his arm. “Good to see you’re up and about, Mr Leech.” Trein stood over him as Lucius stepped over the articles to sit on one of the books.

“I didn’t know you were taking a liking to astronomy.” The professor commented, taking an article and reading through it. “Meteor showers, eh? I haven’t seen those for some time. The last one was beautiful but also very tragic.”

“What do you mean, professor?” Jade stared up at his teacher, slightly surprised.

“You weren’t in NRC at the time this happened but there was a meteor shower that passed by Twisted Wonderland, it was a festive time...But that soon became a tragedy when a fragment broke off from one of the passing meteorites.” He sighed, closing his eyes and setting the paper down. “Though NRC and RSA have been rivals for a long time, I can’t bear to think such a catastrophic event would happen to them.”

His heart skipped a beat, eyes wide in surprise. “You mean to say...”

“A meteorite fragment fell on RSA three years ago, specifically on the field just outside the school where some students were watching the shower. Those poor children...”

The white crystal of his magical pen glowed bright and Jade pushed himself off his chair, figure hunched forward and head hung low. Lucius let out a meow as he scrambled away from the student. “Mr Leech, what are you doing?” Trein demanded but his voice fell on deaf ears, Jade remembers his last dream, the last time he switched bodies. He remembers the falling meteorite, the scream that wasn’t his own, he remembers them.

His pen pal.

In a burst of magic, Jade disappeared from his position leaving a scared Lucius and a confused and upset Mozus Trein.

The landscape around him was heavy, the crater left by the meteorite was massive and no traces of life were seen within the impact zone. The memory of the meteorite fragment falling right on top of his pen pal, killing them instantly played again and again in his head. Jade, normally so aloof and calm, fell to his knees.

They died.

They died where he stood.

For the first time in a long while, Jade screamed his heart out. A wail of agony loud enough to echo through the empty void that was essentially his pen pal resting place. He sunk to his knees and continued crying until his throat became hoarse and painful.

He laid on his side as the sun went down, the braided tie peeked out of his blazer.

“Please remember me—!”

The train station...Was that a dream too? What had he been doing when he was in there? What was he there for?

Who was calling out his name.

“Jade...?”

The sun set over him, the sky turning orange and violet. It was twilight hour.

“Jade..”

“Jade.”

There was a touch to his shoulder and a soft shake. His head turned, his eyes widened. A student from RSA stood over him. They smelled of white lilies, uniform a mix of white and yellow, and their magical crystal a pen nib brooch. There was a familiar gleam in their eyes, a smile he came to know from the many days they had switched bodies.

His pen pal smiled at him, offering their hand for him to take. “It’s really you, Jade. It’s actually you.”

They laughed, pulling Jade into a hug; his tall figure dwarfing them easily as they hugged his chest. Jade sighed, returning the hug soon after and rocking each other back and forth for a few moments the sun shined in the horizon.

“I thought I lost you, y’know?” They said, looking up at him. “I just...I suddenly couldn’t reach you.”

“I thought you had died. I saw the meteor fall on you.”

They looked at each other for a moment and a laugh was shared, their foreheads linked together soon after. “I know but...somehow, maybe...I don’t really know what happened to me. I just couldn’t reach you to tell you what happened on that day. I nearly forgot about you and I cried for days wondering why.”

Pulling away, they looked down to Jade’s wrist. “Hey, that bracelet...”

“You gave it to me in the train station.”

It was all coming back to him now. This person, his pen pal, was someone he held dear for a long time.

He felt comfort.

“Oh yeah! I did, didn’t I?”

“Do you want it back?”

“No. Keep it.”

The two held hands for some time but were immediately thwarted by them pulling out a marker. “Hey, why don’t we write our names? That way, if we ever forget each other there’ll always be a reminder. Ah, but I don’t have any paper with me...”

Jade offered his palm, his smile teasing and knowing. “You always liked writing on my skin.”

They shared another laugh and the marker’s cap was pulled off, Jade looking over the horizon as they wrote their name on his palm. “Your turn.”

He took the pen from them and as soon as he wrote the starting strokes of his name, the marker fell from his grasp.

The twilight hour had ended and the moon took over the sky.

“Eh...? What am I...doing...?”

Jade was found by his peers not long after, taking him in and letting him rest as they descended the crater near RSA. Mozus Trein was their chaperone, explaining to the staff of the rival school and covering his own students.

“Someone he knew died here,” He explained, looking at Jade being covered with a blanket by his brother. Jade’s eyes were closed and he leaned against him, clearly exhausted from the ordeal and exposure to the elements.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, professor.” Said one RSA’s employees, brows upturned and frowning deep. “The meteorite crash was a very tragic event for all schools. I can’t imagine how much grief that young boy has gone through knowing that a friend of his died that day.”

“I hope you can look the other way on this. I know we shouldn’t come into each other’s premises without proper—“

“It’s quite alright. I’ll explain the situation to the headmaster once everything has settled.”

Floyd pulled his brother to his chest and stood up, Azul placing a hand on his back.

“Let’s go home, Jade.”

Jade wasn’t alone that night, Floyd and Azul wouldn’t allow him to be alone. They slept next to him, keeping him company but while the two slept, he couldn’t. The moon shone against his window and gave his room a very soft blue glow. He raised his hand to his face, the message from someone he held dear was still visible but slightly smudged.

“Thank you.”

Bitterness rose in his chest and to his throat, his brows furrowed in frustration. The tears forming stung his eyes.

“You idiot,” he brought his palm to his face, sniffling. “I can’t remember you this way.”

A year had passed and the dreams stopped coming after that night. Jade had picked up the habit of sitting outside during twilight hour, watching the set and holding the bracelet that never left his wrist for more than a second. He wore it everywhere he went but when asked; he never had a proper reason for it.

“I feel complete wearing it.”

The yearly magical shift festival brought troves of customers and onlookers, Jade and his brother sat on a bench and let their legs rest after a long day. “I’m gonna go get something to eat. You want anything?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll buy some myself.”

“’Kay.”

Jade was left alone after that and he closed his eyes for a moment, his nose taking in the different smells of food and perfumes.

There was a familiar smell of white lilies.

“Excuse me.”

A person stood in front of him, holding a brochure. They were a uniform of white and yellow and a pen nib brooch. They smiled at him and familiar warmth bloomed in his chest. “I don’t mean to disturb you or anything.”

Their smile was sheepish but it felt as if he’d seen it somewhere before.

“Do we know each other by any chance?”

“I think so.” Jade’s smile was easy and suddenly their eyes began to water. “I had a feeling we did.”

“Hey,” Jade reached over and intertwined their hands, the bracelet’s colors were vibrant against his skin and theirs.

“May I…”

“Can I…”

“...Know your name?”

#works from the typewriter #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #jade leech x reader #jade leech #twst jade leech #twst jade x reader #angst #jade ficlets #this took me so long to write oml #twst #twst x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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marypsue · 3 years

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Man, I love me a good OT3, and I have written many where two-thirds of the OT3 are an established couple before everybody figures out their feelings and the third joins them. But there’s this...thing that I feel like I keep noticing in fics, where two-thirds of the OT3 are an established couple, and the narrative treats them as like...one person. Like there’s the third, who is the POV character, and then there’s The Couple, who are The Love Interest, and it all plays out pretty much like it would between two people. Often there’s a confession and the established couple turn out to have already talked about how they both feel about the third and come to the conclusion that they both love the third, and from that point on there’s a lot of “we love you” and “we’ve been hiding it for a while because we didn’t know how you’d react” and just...

Like, I’m here for this ship because it has three people in it, all of whom I like and think have interesting dynamics with each other. I really want to see all of those dynamics in play. I want to know how each of these individual people feel about each other, and how it’s different for each of them (because relationships are always different between different people!). I want to see whether things got messy for the established couple because of both their feelings for the third, and how they worked it out if things did get messy, or (the most ideal and my favourite of all possible scenarios for getting a triad together) how they do work it out with the third once everything’s out in the open, because the relationship with only two was about as stable and complete as a two-legged end table and they really do need that third person to bring it all together!

Maybe this is a phenomenon exclusive to my most recent fandom. Maybe I just need to be reading more stuff with established OT3s instead of getting-together fics. And it’s certainly never been a deal-breaker or made me backbutton out of a fic. It’s just...a thing, that I’ve noticed, and I don’t know if anyone else has.

#mostly i just hope that when i write ot3s i'm doing all the characters justice #but then that's mostly what I hope when I write anything so who knows

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tuffduff · 4 years

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Rock Stars Make Bad Boyfriends (Vince Neil x Reader x Slash)

Pairing: Vince Neil x Reader x Slash

Words: 3,170

Request: anon! : “hi again! i’ve got another idea for an imagine so i came right to your blog - hopes that’s okay! i had an idea where the reader kind of has an unofficial thing with Vince Neil but he’s stringing her along - flirting with other girls and such almost in front of the reader’s face - & she ends up meeting slash when gnr and the crue are on tour. slash immediately falls for her & she falls for him too but slash sees how Vince treats her. slash eventually asks her on a date & vince ends up hearing about it & confronting the reader about it. she tells him she really likes slash and she’s done with him and eventually slash and the reader end up dating much to vince’s dismay. thank you so much!”

A/N: Yes, love; that is more than okay!! I love that y’all come to me with these ideas! I love this prompt and I think about this Motley/GNR tour a lot...even if it was short. Turned into a short fic, but hopefully y’all don’t mind that. Hope you’re all doing well!

Taglist: @ubernoxa @the--blackdahlia @reigns420 @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @rumoured-whispers @dustnbones

“Vince?” The blonde kept his head turned away from you as though you hadn’t spoken a word. You felt the scowl on your face deepen as he sent a wave towards the girl working the outdoor bar of the hotel resort pool area. “Vince, are you even listening to me?” This time, your tone must’ve been enough to get his attention as he turned back to you.

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby. What were you saying?” You pushed your tongue against the wall of your mouth trying to summon patience; it’s not like you just spent the better part of the last five minutes trying to tell Vince about your day.

“I was talking about what happened earlier in the gift shop. There was a little girl who didn’t have enough money to buy this key chain, and a little old man bought it for her.”

“Mmm.” Vince’s head had turned again the minute you started talking. You frowned.

“And then the shop blew up. It was a huge explosion.”

“Mmhm.”

“The little girl and old man died.”

“That’s nice. Hey, I’m gonna go get us some more drinks, alright, baby?” Vince stood from his lounge chair without waiting for your reply. “Be right back!”

You sighed a little as you watched him unsurprisingly saunter over to the girl at the bar who was practically licking her lips.

All your girlfriends called you crazy for agreeing to go on tour with a rock star. Well, no; that was misleading. They encouraged going on tour, but expecting serious commitment from a rock star? In your dreams, they said. Rock stars don’t make good boyfriends.

You met Vince only about a month prior, so you knew it was nothing quite serious, but was it wrong for you to hope? You liked Vince. That first night neither of you could stop talking until the early morning hours, his eyes sparkling and unmoving from yours, his hand on your knee. But he was a humongous flirt. You tried not to let it get to you—after all, here you were poolside at a swanky resort in a room you didn’t pay for, going to concerts you didn’t have to buy tickets for. Tradeoffs, you supposed. Even still, you couldn’t help but glance over and over again as Vince stayed longer and longer at the bar. You tried to work on your tan and stay undeterred as you planned your outfit in your head for the show later.

That night, Vince complimented you already three times on the way to the arena, but that was only after he heard Tommy telling you that you were looking “hot as fuck, dude.” You still counted it as a win. Then you scolded yourself; were relationships supposed to be about winning?

You also heard Nikki saying something about how their new opening band would be starting tonight, kicking off this leg of the tour. Guns N’ Roses—you had never heard of them, but the name sounded cool. They must have been good if they were opening for the Crue.

Despite his sweet talking and possessive touch all the way to the arena, Vince soon abandoned you once you actually got there. You brushed it off; you weren’t a child. He did have a show to get ready for—you tried not to notice how many groupies you were already seeing walk by, though. There were more interesting things to see anyways. At least, you were determined to find them.

That turned out, again, to be wishful thinking. You didn’t have complete access to every part of the arena, and really, you felt bad about being in the way of all the crew members. That led to you finding the door outside, to the back of the arena, where you hoped to just find a quiet place for a moment.

It took two tugs with all your strength to actually pull open the heavy doors, but instead of opening a gateway to the outside, another body toppled into you. You let out a startled yelp.

“Oh, thank fuck, man!” You heard a soft voice say in relief. There was so much hair in your face that you couldn’t see behind all the black unruly coils to untangle yourself from this mystery guy. “I went outside just to smoke and like, chill before the show, you know, but the doors fucking locked—” you both finally untangled and you found yourself face to face with, well, still a whole lotta hair.

He had on black leather pants and a denim jacket with black sleeves, along with cowboy boots. You couldn’t see his eyes behind his curls, but you were sure he was staring right at you.

“Woah, uh...” he murmured. His voice never changed from the soft murmur. “I thought you were security or something.” You chuckled and watched as he pushed his hair away from his face, revealing pretty, brown, fascinated eyes that were, indeed, staring right at you. You could feel heat growing in your cheeks, but did your best to stay calm.

“No, just a lost soul.” You joked lightly. He blinked a few times at you, almost dumbfounded. He was adorable.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something fun.” A smile grew on his face at your reply.

“I can show you that. I’m Slash.”

“Slash?” You asked in amazement, and he chuckled.

“Yeah, well, my name’s Saul. But I’ve been called Slash for years.” Saul. Slash.

“Okay, cool. I’m Y/N.” You both exchanged smiles and he jerked his head, waiting to make sure you walked beside him rather than behind him.

He took you to where the rest of his band was gathered and introduced you to an eclectic group, all of whom were nice and chill. Less chaos than Motley, but still had that aura hanging in the air, that they were on the verge of destruction, that they were a gang.

Slash, though soft-spoken, asked you question after question—where you were from, what you normally did for fun, what music you liked as he strummed a guitar mindlessly. You watched his fingers in amazement, how effortless he made the action look. And then came his question, “why are you backstage?”

“Oh, well, I’m with—” Speak of the devil…

“Y/N?” You turned at the sound of the door slamming open and Vince appearing in the door frame. “Where the fuck have you been, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I’ve been listening to these guys jam. You guys picked a great opening act.” You replied coolly, and you couldn’t help but notice the way Slash smiled down at his guitar silently.

“Well, you’re supposed to be helping me with my makeup,” Vince didn’t hesitate to cross the room and pull you off the couch you were sitting on by your arm, giving you no chance in the matter. “Or, something more productive. Like putting that pretty mouth of yours to use.” You sent Vince a look and immediately snatched your arm out of his grip. No way were you going to tolerate being disrespected like that in a room full of people.

“If you wanted a sex toy to bring on the road with you, I’m sure you could have had plenty of other girls—that’s not what I am.” You replied, pushing around him and walking out of the room. Vince chased you down the hall.

“Hey! Y/N, wait! Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Vince cooed, pulling you to a stop and pressing his lips to your neck. “I just wanted to make sure they knew you were with me; I just get jealous. Especially when you look so fucking good tonight.” You let it go, but you didn’t forget the incident. And you especially didn’t forget the moment later, when you were watching Motley Crue perform from the side of the stage, as a hand gently touched your shoulder. It was Slash.

“Hey...you ever...want...someone...find...” you couldn’t hear him over Mick’s guitar.

“What?” You yelled at him. He laughed before leaning in close to your ear. He had to brush your hair back, and his lips were practically touching your skin.

“If you ever get bored or want to have fun with someone while you’re on tour, come and find me.”

The implication of that almost had you nervous; did all these guys just think you were a road groupie? But, sure enough, Vince ditched you once more at another show and you found yourself knocking on the Guns N’ Roses dressing room door. And there was Slash, answering the door with a smile as though you had known each other for years. “Hey, dude. Check this out, tell me what you think.” He played you a guitar riff he had been working on and waited expectantly to hear your thoughts after. And that was that, you were fast friends.

You weren’t sure how to explain the phenomenon, but you knew it was mutual. Just a special connection; even when you were both still learning about each other, it felt more as if you were remembering. It was like putting on a pair of boots that had already been worn in.

And you knew it was mutual because, according to his bandmates, Slash was pretty shy unless he was drunk. But not with you; he could talk your ear off. Somehow in just a couple weeks, it felt as if you were best friends.

That was an incredible feeling in itself; at this age in life, could you really meet another person out of the blue and grow so close so fast? But beyond that, there were little moments. These moments you quickly grew to live for, these moments made your heart race and your palms sweat.

Moments when you looked over at him, cigarette hanging from his mouth as he focused on the guitar, and you never wanted to kiss a pair of lips more. Moments when you thought maybe, just maybe, Slash felt the same. He would hug you in greeting every time he saw you, but sometimes leave his arm around your waist, effectively holding you to him until he had to let you go. When you would swear you caught him already staring because of how fast he turned his head away.

“Y/N, I can’t wait for you to meet Pandora.”

“Who’s that?” He smiled up at you, his head resting on your lap as it usually did, a guitar resting in his.

“She’s my boa.”

“Your...your snake?”

“She’s the sweetest—she’s gonna love you.”

He wanted you to meet his snake—or, snakes. You laughed, and for some reason, you felt such a wave of affection hit you at just the thought of his existence. You spent more time watching Guns open from the side of the stage than you did watching Motley—you were usually goofing off with Slash at that point. Suddenly, Vince’s continuing disappearances didn’t bother you so much. The only thing that actually did bother you was when Slash would walk you up to your always empty hotel room every evening. The both of you would drag your steps every time and take unnecessary trips to the snack machine, or stand out on the balcony to check out the moon. Just anything to prolong ending the night.

“Empty again,” you joked to Slash as you opened the hotel room door to dark and vacant room. You weren’t even sure why you and Vince kept up the charade anymore—he hadn’t even kissed you in days. At this point, you were riding to the arenas with Slash and his band.

Slash didn’t laugh like you thought he would. He was looking down, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Can I ask you something and you promise to not get mad?” He asked you. His words were almost rushed, as though he had to gather courage to even say them.

“Yeah, of course you can. What’s up?”

“Do you actually like him? Vince?” He ventured. “I mean, I know you don’t love him, but...”

“How do you know that?” You asked out of curiosity, certainly not out of disagreement. He was right, of course. Slash shrugged a shoulder.

“I would just imagine, you know...if you love someone, you would want to be around them. Tell them things first, eat with them, just kinda look to them first.” You listened to his words, realizing over the past few days you had been doing all of the above with Slash. You had given up trying to tell the nuances of your day to Vince, but Slash listened when you told him how you short circuited the electricity with your blow dryer at the hotel. He laughed at your jokes or when you tripped backstage because he was always watching you. He gave you his jacket when he saw you shiver once, he made sure you got food after the show if you were still hungry. When he was drunk and carefree, he wouldn’t chase after groupies. He would come and find you and fall asleep on your shoulder.

“I don’t love Vince.” You confirmed softly. “Vince...had me fooled into thinking he was someone else. That he cared.”

“Then why are you with him?” You stared back at him, unable to give him an answer.

“I don’t...”

“Let’s go out.” You felt your heart jump.

“We’ve...we’ve been out, though.”

“Y/N, Denny’s after midnight is hardly a date.” He said, though he was fighting a smile; that was a good memory.

“Depends on who you ask,” you chuckled, making him chuckle. “Wait, did you say a date?”

“Well, yeah. That’s what I mean.” He said softly. “Listen, Y/N. I think you’re pretty cool. And I dunno, I’ve never really...like, there’s a lot of pretty girls out there, right? But you’re so fucking beautiful I thought I was seeing things when you opened the door that day. Then, I found out you were with Vince, and I tried to let it go, but I see how he treats you, and it pisses me off. You deserve better. But you just, us, you and I, we click, you know? I know you feel it, right?” You nodded after a moment and felt your heart flip again when he smiled. “So, give it a chance. We have the day off tomorrow. Let’s fucking do something fun—I don’t know, we can go to the fucking zoo! Or go find some concert somewhere or just, go anywhere.”

“...Okay.” You agreed with a smile. He grinned back at you.

“Okay? So like, early afternoon? 4 or something?” You smiled; was he that excited to see you? Your heart hadn’t been this giddy in a long time.

“Yeah, that sounds great with me.”

It was barely 3 in the afternoon and you were towel drying your wet hair, fresh out of the shower, when your hotel room slammed open. Vince appeared for the first time since you’d last seen him before the concert the night before, staring at you with what you could only describe as fury. You stared at him silently.

“Can you fucking tell me why all the Guns N’ Roses guys are hyping up Slash for his big date tonight with Y/N?” He demanded. You looked down, waiting for the shake and guilt to hit you, but it never came.

“Vince, it’s not like we were in love with each other.” You said with quiet bluntness. Vince’s eyes grew wide.

“I brought you on fucking tour with me!”

“And ever since then you’ve left me night in and night out to go and sleep with every groupie that comes your way! We haven’t slept in the same bed in weeks! There are fucking lipstick stains on your neck right now, Vince!” He glanced in the mirror quickly before he cursed under his breath.

“Y/N...it’s just, the way it is, you know? That’s the life we live.”

“You just fuck other girls and have me waiting for you too? That’s the life?”

“Alright, I fucked up. I do care about you, Y/N, baby. I do. I’m trying. I’ll do better.” Vince’s voice was soft and sugary, and he walked over to you, grabbing your hand in his, holding your eyes with his. “Just give me another shot. We’ll have some fun.” This time, his smooth talking did nothing for you; your heart was already taken by someone else. You slipped your hand out of his and silently began gathering up your things.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Vince laughed as you shoved your clothes in your luggage. “C’mon, baby, just calm down. You’re not even dressed.” You sent him an incredulous look.

“I am more than calm. Goodbye, Vince.”

“Where are you going? Y/N, seriously! Oh, what—are you just gonna jump onto the next rock star? I thought you weren’t a groupie, huh? He just wants to fuck you and then he’ll drop you, just you fucking wait! That’s all we do!”

“No, that’s what you do. You don’t speak for him or me.” You snapped over your shoulder at Vince’s childish yelling. The door slammed behind you and you smirked a little.

You made your way through the hotel in your towel, barefoot and hair dripping, and knocked on the door you knew to be Slash’s. He opened it slowly in confusion, and felt your heart expand at the sight of him already dressed and ready to go much too early—clean hair swept out of his eyes, a flannel that was barely buttoned, and leather pants. He took one look at your bag and towel.

“It’s not 4 yet.” He said, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Speak for yourself.” You said, fighting the urge to smile back. He leaned against the door frame, now smiling outright. “…You know, I think I just lost my backstage pass.” Slash laughed.

“It’s all good; I’ll sneak you in in my guitar case or some shit. And besides; this leg of the tour is almost over. We only have a few shows with them left. Next month, we’re opening for Alice Cooper.” He paused a little, his voice turning serious. “You know you can come, if you want.”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, looking down. Some of the things Vince had said were sinking in; you didn’t want to be known as just some groupie that jumped from band to band. Slash touched your shoulder in an effort to get you to look at him.

“I want you to come.” Your heart fluttered again, and threatened to soar out of your chest entirely when he leaned forward and gave you a light and sweet tender peck on the lips—your very first kiss together. He pulled back too quickly, laughing. “You look ridiculous.” You glanced back down at your towel again and laughed. Slash took your bag from your shoulder and stood aside. “You know, I’ve only got one bed in here.”

“That sounds good to me.”

#slash gnr #saul hudson #slash gnr imagine #saul hudson imagine #guns n roses #gnr imagine #gnr #gnr fanfiction #Vince Neil #vince neil imagine #Motley Crue #motley crue imagine #motley crue fanfiction #80s imagines #classic rock imagine #classic rock fanfic #classic rock

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ganymedesclock · 4 years

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So... What do you think about revisiting Danny phantom in general? Revisiting the fandom I've noticed a lot of fanfic that have Danny's parents finding out his deal rather violently, or generally having more violence/angst than the original show..

I’m assuming you’re sending me this ask because of my recent burst of Danny Phantom art, so, it’s probably not a surprise to say I’m doing a certain amount of revisiting myself, and certainly not about to shame anyone else for it. It was a very dear cartoon to me in many ways and left some enduring hallmarks on my own writing, and I can absolutely understand people feeling the same way.

That said, as someone who’s been in this fandom for a while, albeit quietly- there certainly is a thread of macabre interest in fandom spaces, one I don’t always know that I agree with, especially when it comes to the Fentons.

My personal verdict on the Fenton parents specifically is I think they are not handled fairly by canon. This is a problem that Danny Phantom as a show shares with Fairly Odd Parents, though I would argue the Turner parents in FOP are quite a bit worse at this.

Roughly, I think how the Fenton parents are canonically depicted suffers from a phenomenon that affects many parts of the show: DP, as a series, has a bit of a sense of confused priorities between comedy and drama, and as a result, what’s 'real’ in-universe and what’s “just supposed to be a joke”. The kind of humor that DP tends to spring for is exaggerated or shocking behavior- it also tends to be a humor that hinges on the idea that other people are generally inconvenient to the main character. So humor-characterization is inconsistent here- Jack is negligent until it’s more inconvenient to depict him as overbearing (see: Girl’s Night Out and other cases he desperately wants to bond with Danny) he’s a recluse only loved by his wife until it’s more inconvenient to depict him as having an active social life (Masters Of All Time and that he and Maddie are going to a themed party so they’re dressed ‘weirdly’ in public)

A big victim of this is Jack’s sense that ghosts aren’t people and his desire to dissect them. Because here is the thing: it’s all talk, in the worst way. It hinges on the idea Jack- someone who knows enough of what he’s doing that along with Maddie and, in the past, Vlad- ripped two different holes in reality hard enough to permanently alter someone’s relation to undeath- has never seen a ghost before the series as he says in Mystery Meat.

The series has a big problem where it hinges on the Fentons’ inventions and expertise but also wants to treat them like idiots constantly. And if you notice how much I’m talking exclusively about Jack- that’s part of the problem. Maddie, in many ways, outside of episodes that throw her a bone, despite constantly being told by people she’s too good for Jack, is really treated as an extension of Jack. Masters Of All Time even suggests that her choosing Jack in the first place was just a path of least resistance between her two college friends, and she’d have married whichever one stuck around.

The Fentons are not respected as experts, so Jack is given his ignorant line about dissecting a ghost. The Fentons need to remain exaggerated, ridiculous, an inconvenience to Danny- so they threaten his alter ego and point guns at him, but this is funny and not serious and not a reason to be worried about them as parents, because they are not on Danny’s level. Nobody is ever on Danny’s level. There is literally an episode called The Ultimate Enemy. The antagonist is an evil future Danny. The only person who could ever be Danny’s ultimate nemesis is Danny himself.

And when the series stops milking the Fentons for jokes about how they’re so stupid and how Jack is an idiot and Maddie married that idiot but even she doesn’t respect him even though she loves him and dutifully follows him everywhere and god how can these people care about ghosts they’re so ignorant and out of their league-

-then it kinda shuffles its feet awkwardly and goes, yeah. the Fentons love each other, and love their kids.

Yeah, Jack has framed photographs of Maddie, Jazz, and Danny on his personal workstation.

Yeah, in Mystery Meat Jack was seriously debating walking away from his lifework because it upset one of his kids.

Yeah, every time in canon the Fentons find out Danny’s secret they’re immediately all in supporting him.

Yeah, even not knowing it’s Danny, Jack has an amiable conversation with him in Million Dollar Ghost and the ghost containment units designed by the Fentons get some jokes about that they’re a little cramped but they aren’t horrifying prisons of inhumanity- and as soon as Danny Phantom the ghost boy has a good point, Jack lets him go on purpose.

Yeah, Jack is a competent ghost hunter who can take on Skulker and win as well as beat down the giant lake monster Skulker brought with him in Girls’ Night Out and would do this in a heartbeat, no jokes and no sidetracks, because that monster just chewed on his baby boy and nobody does that to his baby boy.

Yeah, Maternal Instinct is an entire episode of Maddie throwing hands with (or deceiving and manipulating) literally anything she thinks was responsible for getting Danny in this dangerous situation.

...And then the series says “but that’s not funny! Here, have jokes about the Fenton Stockades, that exist and have spikes and Jack wants to put his kids in them for time out, when the spikes apparently don’t hurt given Jack is not injured for being put in there. Here, have a joke about Jack attacking Jazz with a vacuum cleaner because he gets hellbent on the idea she’s possessed for no good reason. Here, have an uncomfortable joke about how badly Jack Fenton wants to vivisect a ghost while it screams. Funny funny funny. Why- why are you flinching?”

It basically creates a comedic situation where the show is constantly winding up like it’s gonna punch you- with the idea that the Fentons are bad parents and this has consequences for Danny and Jazz personally- and then laughs in your face if you flinch. It’ll never actually punch you- but it will sure keep swinging its hand really close to your face and laughing at your reactions.

This is, I’m just gonna say- one of the worst elements of the series, this weird relationship it has with “hahaha are we depicting an abusive family or not? ;)” where its actual point is that Jack Fenton is a person who should be shamed for being overzealous, for caring about this niche field, because nobody cares about ghosts! (unless the entire premise of the show does) Nobody wants to think about ghost science! That’s LAME! (unless Vlad does it)

So I think ultimately this creates a polarizing experience in the fandom. What part of this information do you take?

Do you take, say, my personal approach, which is:

“Hey, so it’s pretty clear and consistent that the Fentons love their kids and wouldn’t hurt them. The Fentons are nice people. They can be obsessive or headstrong but there’s nuanced and salient ways to examine this in the basic framework that they care, both about their family specifically, and in general- and while I think they can have flaws or conflicts with their kids, and with ambient ghosts in the world, I really don’t think they’re in danger of torturing a sapient entity in their basement and it frustrates and annoys me that canon ‘makes a joke’ of them doing these things because it thinks they’re so incompetent that these things are not really malicious actions, when- whether or not you successfully shoot them, it takes a certain kind of person to point a weapon you know is dangerous at something that looks, and talks, like a fourteen-year-old, especially when you’re a parent who has probably at least once in your life worried about something happening to your kids, and the ghost of a teenager means something happened to someone’s kid, in a general sense.

So my end conclusion on the Fentons is I think they are being depicted in a kind of metatextual bad faith, that they are not cruel or malicious people, and in my personal take or understanding on the series, I’d massively dial down those elements, and if any remain, take them seriously as problems they have in their relationships with other people.”

Or do you take an approach more rooted in,

“If the Fentons are shown to be negligent parents they are negligent parents, I’m going to examine and depict them as that, and I find this very hard to forgive, so it’s going to have real and nasty consequences.”

Both are basically valid. The place where I tend to get a little uncomfortable is twofold:

First, I think sometimes people just really want some fictional tragedy to either create or consume, and to that end, you aren’t going to get much juicy drama out of the Fentons being reasonable people. This isn’t evil or unforgivable, but for me, it’s definitely my least favorite fannish content to create or consume. I’m no fan of angst for angst’s sake, and I feel like there’s enough misery and heartbreak in the world that I’m not interested in wallowing in it unless it’s got something interesting to say.

Second- and this is a point I’m gonna be saltier: A lot of abusive Fenton fics that refuse to forgive them for the poorer-taste jokes the series makes, simultaneously give Vlad a blank check, when he has done targetedly malicious things to Danny.

Now- do I also have a more sympathetic read on Vlad, and feel like canon also gives him a bad rap? Yeah! But you can’t have it both ways. You can’t say, “I can’t forgive the Fentons for stuff that was tagged onto them because canon thought it was funny, but I’m gonna editorialize Vlad’s depiction to lionize him as the ideal parent figure for Danny to run into the arms of.”

And the main reason I get so worked up in this, is I feel like Jack in particular (when Maddie is characterized as subordinate to Jack, following his cues, etc., and that’s its own demon) is... characterized as kind of a mocking caricature of traits that I personally recognize as an autistic and ADHD person.

Because the reality is? In many practical ways, I am Jack Fenton.

I like a bunch of weird stuff people find unacceptable or gross, like bugs

I’m hyperlexic (that means I talk, a lot)

Scatterbrained, forget words or where I left something or, sometimes, to do something important

Passionate and excitable including and especially in situations where it’s not normal, or expected, to have this much energy

I absolutely can forget birthdays, even for people I love dearly that mean the world to me! It’s horrible! There’s almost nothing I can do about it! My brain refuses to hold onto this information reliably and no amount of caring fixes it.

And being this way, living like this? My worst nightmare has always been that people think I either don’t care or that I’m just too much of a stupid, flippant buffoon to get right.

The thing about Jack is he’s “a person like me” and he’s “a person like me” who was designed to be a joke. We’re clearly expected to view him as untrustworthy, stupid, just like a big dumb dog of a man who barks in the wrong directions, who sometimes, when it counts, fetches a stick like he’s supposed to. Good job, Lassie. You got little Timmy out of the well.

And I am going to say with certainty and confidence that feeling like this is how people see me is the most unbelievably crushing feeling I have ever experienced in my life. That my excitement and passion means I’m unprofessional, stupid, don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s nearly painful for me, as an adult, to watch Danny Phantom because the show can never get off Jack’s case. And the few times it does, he hauls overtime arduously to make a difference, to help, to build something that will protect others, to put his own life on the line to stop hostile ghosts.

And immediately, then he goes back to being stupid stupid dog man. ha ha. why does his wife love him? no wonder his kids don’t ever want to be seen with him. no wonder his best friend is trying to kill him and he doesn’t even know, the big idiot.

(never mind that we see a scenario where he does know. and admits he would’ve forgiven Vlad anyway. but he can’t forgive Vlad hurting Danny.)

So to rein in this wild tangent: I’m not saying all must love Jack Fenton and despair. I’m not even telling people to hide their angst. If I have a sincere request, it’s this:

If you’re inclined to thinking of Vlad as a cool, troubled, complex person (as I do!) and are haunted by the implications of The Ultimate Enemy specifically for Vlad, that when Danny lost everyone else in his life that Vlad really genuinely tried to help, and was not gloating and happy and victorious to have Danny as his protege, and when that went badly, he was haunted to the end of his days by not having been able to help-

-but immediately turn around and think Jack is just a rotten awful person who’d absolutely hurt his own kid in spite of canon to the contrary (when there’s just as much, if not more, canon of Vlad being willfully hostile)

It might be good to examine why you’re feeling this way, and if this might not come down to the fact that even when canon has people call Vlad a desperately lonely fruit loop, it has a lot more respect for him than it does for Jack, and this isn’t because it’s actually taking a stance against any of the qualities it gave Jack that someone might find disagreeable- it’s because Jack’s just “a big old fat idiot nobody likes, right?”

and that’s... not something comfy to buy into.

#Danny Phantom #readmore #long post #I have a lot of feelings about the fenton parents #and about how generally cartoons like to normalize child abuse in the context of jokes #and this creates a very upsetting similarity between parents who are otherwise characterized as good and reliable #but given these jokes anyway #and parents who genuinely seem really nasty #but it's tied up in a bow with 'it's Just A Joke'#Anonymous

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alice-beaumont-ravenclaw · 3 years

Text

História

A/N #1: Finally! Fic number 3 of the Brazil series! I apologize for the wait. Let’s just say that stuff happened after I posted the second fic of the series that kinda zapped my creativity. Anyway, now I am back!

Hottest Spot South of Havana (Part 1, Part 2) | A Wonderful Surprise

Word count: ≈3000

Alice’s outfit

Alice could perceive the sunlight through her closed eyelids, but she didn’t want to open them just yet. Wanting to enjoy the warmth of the bed some more, she turned around, thinking her pillow felt firmer than she remembered. Her nose detected a familiar smell that reminded her of the sweater she slept in during cold winter nights at Hogwarts. Her boyfriend’s sweater. Charlie’s smell…

Charlie!

Her eyes opened up at that realization, landing on a sleeping freckled face with messy longish red hairs framing it. What was she doing in the same bed as Charlie? Where was Penny? In fact, where exactly was she? She did not recognize the room she was in as she quickly glanced around. As her mind was going at lightning speed, trying to remember how she ended up here, she looked under the covers. Thank Merlin, they still had their pyjamas on. Lost in those thoughts, she felt the pillow underneath her head shift slightly. She soon realized the “pillow” was actually Charlie’s shoulder, and as she slowly looked up towards his face, her green eyes met his warm brown eyes.

“Good morning,” said Charlie.

Alice stared at him, silent, her eyes wide.

“Why are you…?” started asking Charlie before being hit by a realization. He smirked. “You don’t remember how you ended up in my bed, do you?”

Alice shook her head, still staring at her boyfriend.

“Well, you missed my body so much, you just couldn’t help yourself…” started saying Charlie biting his lower lip to stifle a laugh he could feel coming as he saw Alice’s cheeks turn pink.

“What?!” exclaimed Alice, sitting up in the bed holding her face. “Oh, Merlin! They won’t stop teasing after…” She then heard Charlie’s laughter behind her. “Charlie Weasley!” she exclaimed, grabbing the pillow underneath his arm. “How dare you scare me like that?!” she added, throwing the pillow at Charlie’s face.

Charlie barely dodged the pillow as he sat up, still chuckling. “Sorry, it was just too easy, and you’re so cute when you blush,” he said, hugging her and giving her rosy cheek a small peck.

“Honestly, though, how did I end up here?”

“I was sleepy myself when you joined me, but if I remember, you were woken up by Tonks and Tulip getting ready for their hiking expedition, and I think you weren’t able to go back to sleep because of the racket they were making. So you came here,” explained Charlie.

“Oh… Yeah… I remember now. Tonks tripped over an ottoman in the living room; Tulip burst out laughing, followed by Tonks; Dennis escaped Tulip’s pocket, so they started looking all over the room for him while Penny and I just watched. I vaguely remember Penny suggesting I go over to your room since the boys were already waiting outside, so it would be peaceful,” said Alice, scratching her head.

“Feeling you cuddle up to me was a nice way to go back to sleep,” said Charlie, kissing the top of her head. “Are you sure you want to go to the museum today? I wouldn’t mind spending the day in bed with you,” his lips brushing against her neck.

“Charlie!” exclaimed Alice, scooting away from him. “Penny and Andre are probably out there waiting for us!”

“And it looks like Andre brought your outfit in here while we were sleeping,” said Charlie, noticing clothes neatly laid out on the armchair close to the window.

“All the more reason to not make them wait with… whatever you had in mind. They could come in at any moment.”

“Fine,” said Charlie as he started to remove his t-shirt.

Alice let out a small gasp as she backed away some more, only to find out she had reached the edge of the bed. She fell backward, the little thump it made alerting Charlie. He turned around and saw Alice’s ankles and feet above the bed.

“Alice, are you…?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Alice raised a thumbs up to indicate she was okay, making the both of them laugh. They quickly got dressed, Alice using magic to get her hair into a braid.

“I’m surprised Andre picked out the overall for the museum. When we were in Paris, he wanted to dress me in couture when we went to the Louvres,” said Alice as they left the bedroom.

“That’s because I know you and also because I thought we might walk around where the museum is after visiting it,” said Andre, who was sitting on the couch, sipping his cup of coffee.

“How… how long have you been sitting there?” asked Alice, frozen in place.

“Since I’ve been done with breakfast on the terrace with Penny,” said Andre, nodding towards the open doors leading to the terrace where Penny was still sitting, reading a book. “You know, I could get used to this lifestyle,” added Andre as he got up, placing his empty cup on the saucer on the marble top of the coffee table.

“We know,” said Alice and Charlie in unison.

“The two lovebirds have decided to join us?” asked Penny as she closed the doors of the terrace behind her.

“Seems like it,” said Andre as he held the door of the suite for Penny, Alice sticking her tongue at her Hufflepuff friend.

Alice and Charlie walked a few steps behind them as they made their way to the elevator.

“Good thing you didn’t give in to me earlier,” whispered Charlie.

Alice simply nodded, her eyes on their two friends waiting for them next to the lift.

After arriving at the Museu Histórico Nacional, they made their way to the inner courtyard, where carriages, probably used by the nobility back during the colonization and the Empire periods, were on display. Andre seemed to find them quite interesting as he stopped to look at them in detail, Penny staying with him as Alice and Charlie walked inside.

They slowly made their way around the permanent exhibits, which seemed to be divided into three periods: pre-colonization, colonization, and independence. The pre-colonization rooms mostly had native artifacts and prehistoric cave paintings. The rooms that pertained to the colonization period contained portraits of Iberian royals, including an equestrian depiction of Philip II of Spain, who ruled during part of the Iberian Union period between Spain & Portugal. There were also displays showing the extent of slavery in the colony as it was a big part of the economy back in those days.

“What’s slavery?” asked Charlie as they passed miniature models representing the slave trade.

Alice stopped in her tracks, turning around. “You don’t know? Actually, I shouldn’t be surprised. Grand-papa always said wizards live in a bubble. Well, in general, slaves are human beings that are owned by other human beings, and they are treated like property and traded as such. They have no rights. Slavery has existed for centuries, but back during the colonization period, Africans were taken by Europeans as slaves and were used in the colonies as cheap labour. That’s a very succinct summary of it.”

“How awful! Why would Muggles do that?”

“Greed? But it’s not like wizards are perfect. While a majority of house-elves love doing their work and find the idea of compensation insulting, the way some families treat them is… despicable,” said Alice, frowning, as she turned back and walked into the next room, Charlie following her.

They eventually reached the rooms that covered Brazil’s independence period, starting with a life-sized statue of Emperor Pedro I and the text of his acceptance letter to stay in Brazil in the early 1800s, marking the beginning of the country's independence period. There were also paintings representing naval military scenes, one of which seemed to have caught Charlie’s attention as he stood there, looking at it.

Alice, noticing he wasn’t close to her anymore, walked over to him to see what could be so fascinating about that painting. “Are there any dragons?” she said, a small smirk raising the corner of her mouth.

“What? No,” he said with a small chuckle. “No, it’s just most paintings we’ve seen so far represented daytime scenes, but this one is a nighttime scene. There’s something… enchanting about it, I guess, with only the moonlight illuminating the scene.”

“How poetic of you, Charlie Weasley,” said Alice, her lips forming a tender smile.

“I have my moments,” said Charlie, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“But you’re right. The moonlight does have something magical. This reminds me… You know the book I was reading yesterday at the lovely library you brought me to?”

“The Brazilian fairytales one? Yes, I remember. What about it?”

“Well, there was this story about how night came.”

“It comes when the sun goes down, no?”

“Well, yes, but it’s a story about how the phenomenon that is night came to be, because at the very beginning of time, the story said, it was day all the time. There was no night.”

“Really? And how does it explain the arrival of night?” asked Charlie as they sat on the bench near the nighttime scenery.

“Well, the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, who dwelt in the depths of the seas, married a human,” started Alice. “She left her home among the shades of the deep seas and came to live with her husband on earth, in the land of daylight. Because she wasn’t used to that much daylight, her eyes grew weary of the bright sunlight and her beauty faded. That saddened her husband, as he did not know what to do.

“‘O, if night would only come,’ she moaned as she tossed about wearily on her couch. ‘Here it is always day, but in my father’s kingdom, there are many shadows. O, for a little of the darkness of night!’

“Her husband listened to her and asked, ‘What is night? Tell me about it, and perhaps I can get a little of it for you.’

“‘Night,’ said the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, ‘is the name we give to the heavy shadows which darken my father’s kingdom in the sea. I love the sunlight of your earth land, but I grow very tired of it. If we could have only a little of the darkness of my father’s kingdom to rest our eyes part of the time.’

“Her husband quickly called his three most faithful slaves. ‘I am about to send you on a journey,’ he told them. ‘You are to go to the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent who lives in the depths of the seas and ask him to give you some of the darkness of night so that his daughter may not die here amid the sunlight of our land.’

“The three slaves made their way to the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent. After a long, perilous journey, they arrived at his home in the depths of the seas and asked him to give them some of the shadows of night to carry back to the earth. The Great Sea Serpent gave them a big bag full at once. It was securely fastened, and the Great Sea Serpent warned them not to open it until they were once more in the presence of his daughter, their mistress.”

“I have a feeling they didn’t listen,” interrupted Charlie.

“You would be correct. So, the three slaves started out, bearing the big bag full of night upon their heads, but they soon heard strange sounds within the bag. It was the sound of the voices of all the night beasts, all the night birds, and all the night insects. It sounded like the night chorus from the jungles on the banks of the rivers to give you an idea. But as night was something no one had ever experienced on land, the three slaves had never heard sounds like those in all their lives. They were terribly frightened.

“‘Let us drop the bag full of night right here where we are and run away as fast as we can,’ said the first slave.

“‘We shall perish. We shall perish, anyway, whatever we do,’ cried the second slave.

“‘Whether we perish or not, I am going to open the bag and see what makes all those terrible sounds,’ said the third slave.”

“Oh, Merlin…” interjected Charlie.

“So,” continued Alice, “they laid the bag on the ground and opened it. Out rushed all the night beasts and all the night birds and all the night insects and out rushed the great black cloud of night. The slaves were more frightened than ever at the darkness and escaped to the jungle.

“The daughter of the Great Sea Serpent was waiting anxiously for the return of the slaves with the bag full of night. Ever since they had started out on their journey, she had looked for their return, shading her eyes with her hand and gazing away off at the horizon, hoping with all her heart that they would arrive quickly to bring the night. In that position, she was standing under a royal palm tree when the three slaves opened the bag and let night escape. ‘Night comes. Night comes at last,’ she cried, as she saw the clouds of night upon the horizon. Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep there under the royal palm tree.

“When she awoke, she felt greatly refreshed. She was once more the happy princess who had left her father’s kingdom in the depths of the great seas to come to the land. She was now ready to see the day again. She looked up at the bright star shining above the royal palm tree and said, ‘O, bright, beautiful star, from now on you shall be called the morning star, and you shall herald the approach of day. You shall reign queen of the sky at this hour.’

“Then she called all the birds about her and said to them, ‘O, wonderful, sweet singing birds, henceforth I command you to sing your sweetest songs at this hour to herald the approach of day.’ The cock was standing by her side. ‘You,’ she said to him, ‘shall be appointed the watchman of the night. Your voice shall mark the watches of the night and shall warn the others that the madrugada comes.’ To this very day in Brazil, we call the early morning the madrugada. The cock announces its approach to the waiting birds. The birds sing their sweetest songs at that hour, and the morning star reigns in the sky as queen of the madrugada.

“Once it was daytime again, the slaves came out of their hiding place. Their master turned them into monkeys for having disobeyed the Great Sea Serpent by not opening the bag only in the presence of his daughter. To this very day, one sees the mark upon the monkeys’ lips, where they bit off the wax which sealed the bag; and in Brazil, night leaps out quickly upon the earth just as it leapt quickly out of the bag in those days at the beginning of time. And all the night beasts and night birds and night insects give a sunset chorus in the jungles at nightfall.”

“Wait… Did a Muggle really write that? There are a lot of elements in there that seem magical,” pointed out Charlie, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, most Muggle fairytales have magical elements. It’s like they know about us and our world without really knowing… Like when you heard The Sorcerer’s Apprentice at the Proms. You said how the music really fit the feeling of magic, even though a Muggle composed it. Perhaps people can feel it without realizing it, and some things we see in their tales come from the days when Muggles knew more about us, but now that knowledge is viewed as pure fantasy instead of truth,” said Alice, her eyes brightening.

“Maybe… Wait, aren’t sea serpents a type of dragon?” asked Charlie, smiling broadly.

“Hmm? Oh, hum, yes, I think so, but you’re the expert on the matter,” said Alice, her eyes on the painting, but her thoughts on something else.

“So based on that story, we have nights because of a dragon?”

Alice stared at him, quirking her eyebrows. “I guess so…”

“Cool,” said Charlie, nodding his head in satisfaction.

Alice shook her head slightly, biting her lower lip to avoid laughing. Of course, the dragon would be the one thing to stick with Charlie. Lost in their respective thoughts, neither of them noticed Penny and Andre making their way to them.

“There you are!” exclaimed Penny, standing in front of them, her hands on her hips.

“I am starving,” said Andre, holding his stomach.

“Sorry, we didn’t see the time,” said Alice, as she got up with Charlie.

Penny rolled her eyes, smirking. “You two don’t seem to notice the time go by when you’re together.”

“Shut up,” mumbled Alice, taking a hold of Penny’s arm.

“Did you know that there’s a story that says a dragon is the reason we have nights,” said Charlie as he walked in front of them with Andre.

“Ok, maybe in Charlie’s case, it’s when dragons are involved that he forgets about the concept of time,” whispered Penny, making Alice snort with laughter.

After eating lunch at the museum’s café, they looked at the other exhibits before returning to the hotel. The rest of the afternoon was spent around the pool as they waited for their friends, Charlie wanting to tell Barnaby about the dragon story. Alice stared at the same page of her book all that time, her mind still on fairytales and their origin...

A/N #2: Thank you for reading my fic! I hope you enjoyed it! Now, before someone comments one what Alice says regarding house-elves, I based it on this article. The fairytale Alice tells is from HERE and the painting that catches Charlie’s attention is THIS ONE. The reason the title is “História” is because in Portuguese, it means both “history” and “story,” which I felt worked with the story. Feel free to leave a comment, including constructive criticism.

#hphm fanfic #brazil series #hogwarts mystery fanfic #brazilian fics #jacob’s sibling #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery mc #alice beaumont #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x alice beaumont #Charlie x Alice #penny haywood #andre egwu #rio de janeiro

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fanfuckingfic · 4 years

Text

You Move Like Real People Do

(Choreographer!Jimin x Ecologist!Namjoon x Singer!Reader)

Summary: Sometimes loving someone is just too easy. It just sinks into you so deeply or floats you away so high either way it shouldn't be hard to hold on to.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: (Sappy fluff, polyamory, lots of talk about bog bodies, excessive amounts of admiration, the songs are literally Hozier’s and you should listen to them if you haven’t, oh my god this is so self indulgent)

A/N: I haven't written in like 3 years and I've never tried bullet fic style so please be nice :( also I love Hozier so much oh my god I literally just built a whole universe in my brain around his music + bangtan and I think Movement fits Jimin so well and LRPD is a sick song and Joon is a just weird nerd but anyway please enjoy and lemme know what you think!

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Namjoon is an ecologist and Jimin is a choreographer and Y/n is a famous indie-rock blues singer/songwriter (literally just fucking Hozier because I love that man with every bit of my heart).

You and Joon are early risers and spend mornings sipping coffee and reading together on the couch while you wait for Jimin to get ready for the classes he teaches alongside being a choreographer so they can kiss him good morning and wish him a good day when he leaves.

You’re sure to put extra honey in his green tea to-go cup, and he kisses you both quickly on the cheek before scurrying out the door.

They both kind of fiddle around with their day cause Joon is a professor at the local university and only has classes twice a week and finished grading that last assignment yesterday.

So now he's watering his plants and terrariums in the greenhouse porch you all have and your sitting there fiddling with your guitar, messing around with some chords sometimes writing them down sometimes not.

Casually you ask Joon which student had the best paper.

“One student went out of their way to be a kiss ass if that counts.”

You ask how he means with a chuckle.

“Well you know how I've been writing a thesis about bog bodies and what-not?”

“Yes of course, love, you only remind me of the phenomenon every chance you have.” You look up at him with mock disdain.

His eyebrows furrow, “I thought you liked talking about the bog bodies” He pouts and you honestly can't even try to deny it.

“I do, I think it's kind of beautiful- not like dead people that's shitty- but when you describe how the swamps and bogs preserve them and how they’re found.” You take in a deep breath mulling over your words for moment.

“You make things like that sound so beautiful, Joonie. Even if I don't get half the big sciencey words you say. It sorta sounds like people falling in love with something they shouldn't but doing it anyway.” You smile to yourself thinking of him talking to (mostly at) you.

Namjoon still gets flustered easily by your and Jimin's creative ways of declaring your love.

He hears Jimin's tinkling laugh in your music and his own words in your songs, sometimes he feels like he doesn't love you both back enough but you both are quick remind him that he doesn't show love through notes and twirls

He shows them through flowers he picks and the way he's always willing to interrupt himself to explain something when he sees confusion in either of your eyes, because he knows you want to but wont stop his train of thought, you both want to understand what he's babbling on about because you love him.

(And he looks so fuckin hot when he goes on his passionate rants about certain bacteria being the back bone for an entire ecosystem how could you not?)

He blushes and clears his throat.

You always find the beauty in everything, can turn just about anything into a love story, a poem.

He loves that about you and Jimin you're both so able to make the world more beautiful with your bodies and minds. You both love that he adds so much sustenance to that beauty.

“You're right, bog bodies deserve love, just like any real person does. But a student wrote their paper on them and used me as a source in their reference page.” He huffs, still amused by the students' tenacity.

“Any real person, huh? You gave them an A didn't you?” You absorb his words before deadpanning.

Namjoon doesn't answer and instead bends down to kiss your lips then your forehead before he goes back to being very interested in how his Venus fly trap is doing.

Some days when your writer's block is extra bad and you've been struggling to come up with lyrics that mean anything or chords to go with them, Jimin asks if you want to come with him to the studio.

He's just experimenting with some new choreography so it's just you two.

He notices when you get into these slumps you can't quite reach your way out of and staying in the house all cooped up trying to get inspired by the same things you see everyday isn't going to help.

It's a classical piece a dance company hired him to choreograph, wordless dancing was always his forte.

Feeling the music move through him and around him, throw him to and fro. He likes to feel like a tool of expression- like an instrument to be played.

You watch him work and think and move, over and over again, something just slightly different each time just slightly closer to what he wants.

He's breathless by the time he comes to sit next you against the back wall he saw you staring the whole time and loves how he can still make you and Joon speechless and swooning even after all the years together.

“Sometimes I forget you're real, you know, when you dance.” You murmur head on your knees still in a daze after watching him.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow and smirks.

“The hell does that mean?” He simpers, knowing you're probably about to say something that will completely floor him and make him fall for you even harder.

“You just stop looking real I guess, you look like if I reached out to touch you, you would still just be barley out of reach, like driving towards a rainbow or a mirage, ya know?”

He quirks his head, not really understanding what you mean but trying to.

“You're just so good at using your body to show a concept you almost kind of become one. I don't know, mostly, I just feel like I'd chase you forever if you really were unreachable like that, I don't think I'd mind.” You shrug and reach for his hand to fiddle with.

He exhales in surprise. He was absolutely right. Floored.

“Would you dance with me? Running after me doesn't sound as pretty as us dancing together forever.” He asks twisting you fingers with his.

“I don't think I'd have a choice not wanting to dance with you would be like not wanting to breathe.”

He sighs dramatically. “Babe! How am I supposed to be okay after you say shit like that? Huh?” He laughs and shoves your shoulder playfully.

You laugh and fall over pulling him with you.

Namjoon comes by later with drinks from the cafe he knows Jimin loves and finds you both slow dancing in the middle of the empty studio.

You both pull him in between you and continue to sway back and forth. It's sweet and romantic and your drinks go cold before any of you are ready to let go of each other.

Your latest album was amazing and you're about to go on tour and you're nervous to be away from your guys for so long cause last time you went on tour you weren’t as famous and such didn't go to different countries to perform.

You're gonna miss them terribly and they miss you twice as bad and they definitely bawl their eyes out when your tour bus is out of sight.

They tried really hard to keep up the smiles for you cause you deserve the success and the recognition without guilt or reservations but wow the house is so quiet without your absent-minded humming and strumming and no knew pieces of paper with potential lyrics scattered around the countertops.

You all keep in touch of course- face-timing at least once a day with both or either of them and you ask them not to watch any recorded performances cause you don't want them to spoil it for when you come back and do your final home concert.

Your reason being: you left two songs off the album you wanted to perform on tour.

So now it's your last concert before you get to sleep in the same bed as your loves again, they arrive early but you're still too busy with sound check and your drummer having boyfriend problems to get more than a hug and kiss to each of them.

They don't mind though they know how concerts are for you. You love them- you get to give your fans a bit of your soul and they all give a bit right back.

They meander through the crowd towards the front not too close though. Your manager tried to get them to stay backstage but they both wanted to get the full experience since they did as promised and had steered clear of any footage of the concert.

When you walk out everyone lights up and the energy in the whole concert hall shifts.

You smile so bright and they're close enough they can see the surprise on your face when you look down into the crowd and see them. Your eyes soften and get a little misty but ever the professional you trudge on.

Song after song you work the crowd into the comfort of your melodies and words have people screaming, crying and eating out of the palm of your hand so easily.

You get to the end of your set, Namjoon and Jimin know- you'd asked them for help when planning the show. They knew which songs you were gonna sing and when but it didn't occur to them it seemed just a bit short until now when you're clearly your throat and asking for the house lights to be brought up just a bit.

“The next two songs are love songs, I would sing about political injustice and grieving a metaphorical loss all day if I could-” the crowd hoots a few times with their chuckles and Namjoon and Jimin feel surprised grins growing on their faces.

“but I'm just too in love to not write a song or two.”

You strum a tune he’s only slightly familiar with, its something he’s heard you tweak for the past year or so.

“The lyrics of this one are a bit odd and terribly specific to a certain person so bare with me.”

The auditorium murmurs a laugh again knowing your lyrics more often than not are.

“I had a thought, dear, however scary

About that night, The bugs and the dirt

Why were you digging?

What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do”

The piano sounds and the haunting harmony from your back up singers makes Namjoon’s heart race.

He knows what you're singing about, Jimin knows too he might not get it as well as Namjoon does right now- some of the things Joon talks about are just slightly too icky for him- but he does know that if he could dance about Joon’s brain he would.

He smiles when Namjoon's hand squeezes his, his eyes unable to look away from you and the little story being told between you two right now.

“I knew that look dear, eyes always seeking

Was there in someone, that dug long ago

So I will not ask you, why you were creeping

In some sad way I already know

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you and neither would you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do”

Noli timere Namjoon hears the words being dragged and stretched in your vocals and his heart clenches.

“I could not ask you where you came from

I could not ask you, neither could you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We could just kiss like real people do”

Your voice tapers off and the strums slow as you open your eyes and hold his gaze meaningfully.

Namjoon is left feeling like he's floating.

You wrote a song about something he cares about, you wrote him a song about one of his favorite things even if it is a very creepy weird thing.

You took all the thoughts he poured into your ears and made it something people could love just a little bit easier. He almost thought he couldn't love you more than he already did.

“This next one might be a bit less niche but if you've ever seen your lover dance you would know exactly what its about.”

The heavy dip of bass vibrates their feet and a resounding clap comes to fill the air as the surprise and tears come his eyes.

“I still watch you when you're groovin'

As if through water from the bottom of a pool

You're movin' without movin'

And when you move, I'm moved”

Jimin’s hand comes to his mouth and you smile mischievously into your mic.

“You are a call to motion

There, all of you a verb in perfect view

Like Jonah on the ocean

When you move, I'm moved

When you move I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be

When you move I could never define all that you are to me”

You look directly at him making sure he knows this is his song.

“So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally

Move me, baby

You are the rite of movement

Its reasonin' made lucid and cool

I know it's no improvement

When you move, I move”

Jimin laughs wetly at your joke. You’re wrong- he thinks- your body is absolutely and improvement of any situation.

“You're less Polunin leapin'

Or Fred Astaire in sequence

Honey, you, you're Atlas in his sleepin'

And when you move, I'm moved

When you move I can recall somethin' that's gone from me

When you move, Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby

So move me, baby, Like you've nothin' left to prove

And nothin' to lose, move me, baby

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Oh baby, oh baby

Move like grey skies

Move like a bird of paradise

Move like an odd sight come out at night”

The sudden crash of the band coming together to put music to your declaration makes goosebumps rise on Jimin's skin, Namjoon looks between you both and his heart melts softly in his chest. Just the admiration between you both enough to make him fall all over again.

“Move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby

So move me, baby

Like you've nothin' left to lose

And nothin' to prove, move me, baby

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby”

The calls and hums of you and your back up singers echo quietly before applause assaults their ears, the cheering nothing short of deafening.

You bow and wave backing away from the mic for a few moments- taking in the last show you'll be doing for a while- before walking off stage.

Namjoon knows he should be pulling Jimin with him towards backstage so they can smother you with love properly but hey can't move Jimin has tears streaming down his face and Namjoon is too awestruck about you remembering him going on about the last words of a poet who had written about the bog bodies and how you always just cared so much about him and Jimin.

Eventually they do move through the leaving crowd towards security, the guards already aware of their faces escort them.

They knock on the green room door with your name next to it.

It swings open so quickly they flinch back and the woman barreling into their arms throws them back at least a foot.

“I missed you so much” you all but sob into their chests. Clinging tightly to their shirts.

They share a look over your head all too endeared with your clinginess having missed it terribly for the past months.

“We missed you too angel.” Jimin sighs into your hair, much closer to your head than Namjoon.

Namjoon hums in agreement then sniffles making you both turn your faces up to look at him, Namjoon crying was a really rare thing well maybe in comparison with you and Jimin who will cry at an emotionally manipulative commercial without hesitation.

You're both slightly shocked to see tear tracks on his adorably reddened face and him struggling to control his breathing.

“Ooh Joonie.” You coo then pull them both into the green room and start wiping at his cheeks. He sniffles again and it's absolutely precious.

“Y-you sang about b-bog bodies!” He sobs hauling you off your feet pushing the air out of your lungs.

Jimin laughs and sniffs wiping at his now wet face too.

“You guys liked them? They weren’t corny?” You wheeze as he sets you back down between them.

“Are you kidding?! You referenced Sergei Polunin, that's so corny, babe.” Jimin pets your cheek and kisses it tenderly. “Of course we loved them.”

“I'm gonna put my song in my thesis, its gonna open a whole flood gate for the romanticism of them.'' Namjoon says, mostly to himself, still shaky with tears.

Jimin pulls you both in for another hug and in a similar state to Namjoon says, “I’m gonna choreograph both of our songs. I’m dropping all my projects for it- right now.”

You laugh and shake your head before pulling back to take them both in again still not over how long it’d been since you got hold them.

“You wanna go somewhere? Get a welcome home drink or meal or candle or something?” Jimin asks, putting your hair back into place as best he can.

“That diner with the shakes on 5th is probably still open-” Namjoon starts but you shake your head.

“Can we just go home? I missed you so much.” They both nod with the softest smiles and each grip a hand.

Your tour bus dropped off most of your stuff at home earlier that day so Namjoon just takes your backpack and Jimin pulls your guitar over his shoulder. But not before asking with a smirk-

“Did you say Fred Astaire in sequins?”

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Thank you for reading <3 Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! It’ll lets me know if I should write more or not

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panharmonium · 4 years

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more rambling re: that last post (+ the merlin/will fic survey overview)

because i generally refrain from reading fic while i’m actively writing for a fandom, the only real ao3 reading i have done for merlin is my survey of the merlin/will ship tag. and the only reason i undertook that survey in the first place is because while i was doing an introductory cruise of the various merlin tags during my first exploration of the fandom (after i finally finished S5 and was able to start looking into fandom dynamics without fearing spoilers), i noticed that a LOT of the fic tagged with this ship was also tagged merlin/arthur, and despite the fact that i personally am more interested in gen stuff, i started to get both suspicious and annoyed about what i was seeing. but i also wanted to have the data to back up my annoyed feelings, so i made a little spreadsheet for myself and then just filled it in whenever i had time to kill and wanted something to do.

the data, when i eventually finished, backed up my annoyance pretty much as well as i expected, which was disappointing, but not surprising.

to clarify - i’m not annoyed by the fact that will and merlin don’t have a whole lot of material in their ship tag. will only showed up directly in one episode; i don’t expect him to be a popular subject. what i AM annoyed by is the fact that there are actually more merlin/arthur fics in the merlin/will tag than there are fics that actually focus on...merlin/will. by, like - an extreme margin.

(the rest of this is just me griping about fandom trends. popping it under a cut so folks can just move on with their days if this isn’t relevant to their interests.)

The Numbers

two quick notes before i get into the nitty-gritty:

1) i originally did this survey a few months ago, but i updated it this week with fics that have been added since then, so the numbers are current.

2) some of the data below would probably vary slightly depending on who was conducting the survey, so there’s a bit of wiggle room in either direction. the criteria i had to use [aka what counts as just a ship ‘mention’ vs actual content] would be subject to reader interpretation, obviously, but even with that, i do feel that most stories fell into pretty clear categories.)

so, without further ado -

total # of fics in the ship tag: 145

number of fics that are inappropriately tagged (meaning either will himself or merlin/will as a ship does not actually appear [which is kind of bizarre, but which i saw happen surprisingly frequently], OR where there is only a brief reference to will or past!merlin/will and that’s the extent of their inclusion: 50

number of fics that are duplicates of works already in the tag (ie podfic), or (in one case) a meta podcast about the show: 5

so, that brings down our total number of fics with some sort of actual merlin/will content to 90.

of these 90 works, only 17 of them are actually focused on merlin/will.

everything else in will’s ship tag, including the 54 works from the previously discussed "incorrectly tagged” category, is either a) fic where will is dumped, broken up with, or otherwise passed over in favor of arthur (and very occasionally gwaine, at least once mordred, once percival, once arthur and gwaine in a threesome, and once CENRED, which i’m sure will would be especially thrilled about), or b) fic where will is only included as a previous/ex relationship (again, almost always in lieu of arthur).

moreover - of the 17 actual merlin/will fics, 7 still end with will dying or the relationship ending for reasons other than him being passed over for arthur. an additional 4 are <1000 word PWP snippets, generally written for old LJ summer pornathons, one of which still somehow manages to be...you guessed it - all about arthur.

in terms of actual one-shots/full fics where merlin/will is the endgame/non-dead pairing, there are only 6 stories.

i repeat: will gets six earnest stories, IN HIS OWN SHIP TAG.

i repeat once again: will, in a non-dead, endgame form, gets 4% of his own ship tag.

The Content

the in-fic trends are frustrating, if you actually like this character.

the asshole. will is an abusive boyfriend. he is a jealous ex. he’s a shitty friend. he’s a stalker. he’s manipulative. he’s emotionally abusive. he’s physically abusive. he dumps merlin for someone else. he cheats. in one fic he’s so mad at merlin that he outs merlin’s magic to arthur. in multiple fics, i watched him literally go off the rails and try to murder somebody.

the fuckbuddy. they’re just messing around, guys! no, of course it’s not serious! they just do this for fun! of course there’s nothing to get in the way of arthur’s inevitable arrival! no sirree!

the unrequited. will is actually in it deep for merlin, but merlin doesn’t feel the same. this does not, however, prevent merlin from using will for sex, companionship, comfort, distraction, etc - until arthur shows up, when will either steps aside in deference to merlin’s all-consuming passion for arthur or is dropped like a hot potato.

“not even will.” that sentence. over and over again. merlin had never felt like this before, not even with will. nobody had ever understood merlin like this, not even will. even in fic when they were like. married. or engaged. fanon arthur pendragon must be truly mind-blowing, y’all.

dead long-term relationship. will was merlin’s husband/fiancé/long-term partner. now he is Dead. merlin getting together with arthur is what allows merlin to Heal. (these stories sometimes contain some variation of “not even will,” as discussed above.)

lastly, in a related phenomenon:

who are you and what have you done with arthur pendragon??? i suppose in a way it’s nice to know that will isn’t the only one who gets the OOC treatment, but it is still really...something, to read fic where will is twisted into an unpleasant, abusive, canon non-compliant version of himself, and then to see arthur, on the very same page, transformed into a gentle, solicitous, kind, caring, equally canon non-compliant angel. fanon!arthur is more worried about merlin’s well-being than literally anyone i have ever seen. he is so invested in merlin’s emotional health. he is so concerned about merlin’s boundaries. he says things to merlin that no version of arthur pendragon has ever - EVER - in any universe, thought about saying to anybody. he wants to hear all about merlin’s problems, and he’s all about taking it slow and making sure merlin feels comfortable and loved and worthy and safe (from all that horrible stuff done by that horrible other guy; that must’ve been so hard, merlin; ‘it’s okay, i’ve got you now’) - the man is utterly unrecognizable. and you know what? it’s okay! it is fine to make your characters as OOC as you want. it is fine to make them better/nicer than they were in the canon. sometimes we all want that, right? it’s fanfic! have a ball. i will never tell anyone to stop writing what they like, and i will NEVER interact negatively with a fic i don’t care for. EVER. do not do this, people - click the back button and move on with your life. but i reserve the right to be annoyed, in my own space, about a persistent trend of will and arthur’s canon functions being flat-out reversed, in service of merlin/arthur. not in the sense that canon!will is particularly gentle or sweet, because that’s not the case - but in the sense that will, in canon, is the one who actually cares about merlin’s best interests, whereas arthur is, quite frankly, the ass. a lovable ass (sometimes). but an ass nonetheless, and one whose relationship with merlin is, from start to finish, an unhealthy, oppressive mess.

The Point

the point of me typing this up is not to say that what people choose to write is bad or wrong. this is fanfic! you can write whatever you want. you can make characters as OOC as you want. you can create as many AUs as you want. i don’t mind fic authors writing stuff i don’t personally care for; someone else probably loves those stories! and i am never going to interact negatively with anything i don’t personally enjoy - i am going to let people continue to have fun in their own ways, and i am going to grumble about my frustrations in my own space, and then i’m going to direct my energy into writing stuff i would personally like to read.

the point is just that i needed a brief second to complain, on my own blog, about my most familiar bbc merlin nemesis (otherwise known as ‘single-ship ubiquity’). and what i mean by this is that it is REALLY FRUSTRATING that other little relationships are not even granted the tiniest concession of owning their own ship tags, in a fandom that is already so SATURATED with merlin/arthur content. like - even if i’m generous and use the number 17 for the number of actual merlin/will fics in the tag, that still means 88% of will’s ship tag is actually fic about merlin falling in love with people who aren’t will (*cougharthur*). eighty-eight percent! of his own ship tag!

(to put it another way - the ship tag isn’t supposed to be where you go to watch your character get repeatedly dumped or left behind for someone else, okay? it’s supposed to be literally the opposite of that.)

will’s ship tag is already tiny. and almost all of it belongs to arthur. moreover, a significant chunk of it uses will as a convenient villain (completely contradicting every canon aspect of his characterization), when in the actual story will dies to protect arthur (who he doesn’t even like) and then lies to save merlin (at the expense of his own reputation, and despite the fact that he personally thinks merlin returning to camelot is a bad idea). his behavior in canon is selfless, and wholly committed to merlin’s welfare, and yet in his ship tag he gets treated like trash.

the kid can’t catch a break. and it’s such a pervasive thing that even though i personally am primarily interested in merlin and will as friends (i am pretty romance-averse in general when it comes to media, and i have never written anything that isn’t gen, for any fandom, ever, in my life), i am also so indignant on will’s behalf that i’ve basically become invested in the well-being of this ship as a matter of principle. it’s not my main thing, and it’s not necessarily how i view the canon-verse, but i am SO IRRITATED about how virtually all of will’s shipfic has been taken over by merthur (and about how maligned will is in his own tag) that i have actively committed myself to supporting merlin and will together in as many AUs as possible.

(this is basically like when i trained myself to love allison argent after teen wolf killed her off. i did that out of spite, y’all. it’s the principle of the thing.)

so, y’know. all i am saying is that i think will deserves his share of happy endings, and i think it would be nice to see fics where he is not just a stepping stone on the road to merthur or an unrecognizable parody of himself.

more importantly - EVERY merlin ship deserves to have a tag that isn’t completely swallowed by the local fandom behemoth. merlin/arthur already owns three quarters of the archive. a gargantuan oil tanker like that can afford to let the little rarepair canoes float down their own streams in peace.

#tl;dr version:#GIVE MERLIN AND WILL THEIR OWN FICS 2K20 #I WILL NOT REST UNTIL THIS INJUSTICE HAS BEEN ADDRESSED #(y'all think i am kidding but i have already walked the walk ok)#(i am currently the internet title-holder for 'most words dedicated to this relationship')#(it might be the platonic version but if you don't think i will stretch myself and try something new)#(then you underestimate just how aggravated i am)#(and just how much i want this kid to get everything he deserves)#the once and future slowburn #no kings no masters #fandom

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doctenwho · 4 years

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Parental Demeaning

Hello! Thank you for the request! I loved the idea of this, but I wasn’t too sure how to go about it. I only really have my parents to go off (they’re not at all like the ones written) but it’s hard to put myself in the mindset of it without context (and since parents are all drastically different), but I tried and hopefully it’s alright!

I had to read a couple articles to find some lowkey emotionally abusive things, and I tried to put as many as would fit, but still make sense in the fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Emotional/ Verbal Abuse.

Word Count: 4,230

Summary: Up in the prompt! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to creator!)

It really wasn’t often you got to go home and see your family and friends. As much as you loved them, there was just better things to see and do in space with the Doctor. It was no one’s fault, the Doctor would bring you to earth whenever you asked, but you just got so caught up in the Doctor and other planets and adventures.

It also didn’t really help that you basically lost all concepts of days and times when you were in the TARDIS. Without the sun rising in the morning and setting at night, you couldn’t be bothered with remembering whether it was day or night, or October or December. It was just then, or rather, now.

And even after all his years travelling, the Doctor was really no better when it came to times or days or months—but he usually got the year right when you asked. To be fair though, earth timelines really had no significance to him—it wasn’t like he’d have an angry mother if he missed Christmas or her birthday or something.

You on the other hand... you were just thankful the Doctor had mentioned the current date on earth because if you missed your mother’s birthday there would definitely be hell to pay. It really was a coincidence that the Doctor happened to prompt a visit to your home planet the evening before your mom’s birthday.

It would’ve been bad had you shown up months later having missed her birthday and not even rung her to wish her a happy birthday. She’d probably hold that over your head for years and years to come if that happened.

But you were saved before you could get yourself in trouble. The Doctor was basically your guardian angel at this point.

So, that following afternoon the Doctor had landed the TARDIS a street over from your parent’s house so they wouldn’t see you exiting and entering a police box like a lunatic with a man they’d only really met in passing.

“Come on,” you huffed, standing by the TARDIS door with your arms crossed over your chest and a pout on your lips, “I don’t want to go alone.”

“They’re your parents,” the Doctor raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling teasingly, “your parents, your planet. I should stay out of it. Besides, your mother barely knows me, I’d ruin the day.”

“You wouldn’t and you know it,” you sighed dramatically resisting the urge to smile at the glance the Doctor shot in your direction, “you’re going to make me suffer through all the questions they’ll ask that I have no answers too alone? They’ll want to talk about my work—which I don’t have, then they’ll ask how I support myself with that same job I don’t have!”

“Well, aren’t you a dramatic one today,” again with the teasing from the Doctor, “fine, fine. I’ll tag along. But, it’s not my fault if it upsets your mother on her birthday.”

“No, it’ll be my fault,” you smiled brightly, “they’re always telling me I need to get a boyfriend anyways; she’ll probably be ecstatic when I bring home a Doctor.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” the Doctor huffed a laugh as he finally moved to join you at the TARDIS doors. He opened the doors and stepped out, you following close behind, “I doubt a space Doctor is as sought-after as a medical earth doctor.”

“Depends on who you ask, but it’s close enough,” you waved him off. “Anyways, you’re just my friend who happens to be a guy, they’re too nosy for their own good. Last thing I need if for them to start searching you up online and finding literally nothing because you’re not even from earth. I don’t even know how I’d answer those questions.”

“I mean, technically you can find me online—a lot of people on your earth know about me. I’m quite the phenomenon.”

“Not really the same thing,” you laughed.

You waited patiently while the Doctor closed and locked the TARDIS, before the two of you were strolling in the direction of your parents' home. This visit was a surprise, since you didn’t have a cellphone that worked from Outerspace, so you really couldn’t contact them and let them know you were on your way beforehand.

And even if they didn’t want company for long (which was unlikely), you and the Doctor could always leave. The TARDIS is only a few streets away. You don’t want them to feel obligated to entertain you and the Doctor if that’s not what they had in plan.

The two of you walked side by side, chatting easily about your latest adventure on a distant planet. An adventure you certainly wouldn’t be bringing up to your parents. You arrived at your parent’s home in minutes, walking up to the door and knocking. The Doctor trailed along behind you, a balance of interested and indifferent about being with you at your folk’s home.

As expected, it was your mom to answer the door, swinging it open—and if the door happened to open outwards (which thankfully it didn’t), you probably would’ve been smacked backwards at the firm swing.

“(Y/N)!” she greeted as she drew you in for a hug. You returned the hug with practiced ease, dropping it as soon as your mother did. Then she was looking you up and down, which she always did whenever you returned after not seeing them for months.

After basically checking you out thoroughly, her attention snapped to the Doctor, who hadn’t moved since the door had swung open. She eyed him, to which he gave a small wave and a smile.

“You’ve brought a friend.”

She didn’t sound mad, nor happy. But that was probably a good sign. And even if she didn’t like the Doctor it’s not like she’d say anything with him here. She’d wait until you were visiting alone, whenever that would happen next, to complain and tell you he was no good.

“It’s the Doctor, mum,” you told her, “you’ve met him before.”

And that much was true. The Doctor had met both your parents in passing when he’d met you that first time. It was barely more than awkward ‘hi’s’ from both parties before the Doctor was sprinting away after some space creature tormenting earth. It still counted though.

“The Doctor, right.” She gave a nod, looking him up and down as well. She did that to everyone you brought him, including your friends from school. It was like she was trying to decide if she liked a person from their appearance.

“It’s lovely to see you again,” the Doctor grinned from where he was standing.

“Quite,” your mother replied. She looked between the two of you for a second before settling her attention on you and speaking again, “it’s about time you brought someone home. Well now, come in, come in. The both of you.”

Your mom ushered both you and the Doctor into the house. You slipped off your shoes and the Doctor frowned before doing so as well.

You tried not to laugh, since not once had you seen the Doctor without shoes. It was almost weird that he was now stood beside with just his socks on his feet. At least he was wearing socks, you couldn’t even imagine a barefoot Doctor.

“How nice of you to show up for your mother’s birthday,” your father called from the couch, barely looking away from the television, “you could’ve called ahead though.”

“We were travelling,” you lied, but it wasn’t a complete lie, “bad reception. Besides it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, colour me surprised,” your mother smiled happily. She casted a sideways glance at the Doctor, who’d distracted himself by looking at some of the photos hung on the walls.

You looked towards the man too, before clearing your throat to get his attention and sitting down on a loveseat across from the couch. The Doctor followed you, settling onto the cushion beside you while your mother disappeared into the kitchen.

“Tea, coffee, anyone?”

You glanced over at the Doctor, blinking at his shrug before you were calling back a, “tea for us!”

“Where are your manners?” your dad glanced towards you, “your mother is making you and your friend tea, and you don’t even say please? If you don’t behave, no one will ever love you, silly girl.”

“Sorry,” you ducked you head in embarrassment. “Thank you, mum,” you called back into the kitchen. Your mother didn’t reply, but it did seem to please your father. You planned to thank your mother when she actually brought the teas out.

You frowned; a bit upset that you’d been scolded in front of the Doctor after being in your parent’s home for less than five minutes. You leaned back on the loveseat, frowning down at your lap. You glanced up when you felt the Doctor’s elbow nudge you, but he wasn’t looking at you—instead focused on your father.

You raised a confused eyebrow at him, but he didn’t really notice it. You weren’t too sure why the Doctor was all but glaring daggers at your father.

No one said anything. You’d already been scolded once, the Doctor not really a talker in situations like this, and your father still distracted by the television. He tended to avoid talking and socializing unless your mother was there beside him, which was normal.

Your mother returned soon enough, holding a tray with four steaming mugs, a little sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk. There was also a stack of four plates, four forks and a small, store bought birthday cake.

With your mother’s arrival, you father shut off the television so he could actually join the conversation. You knew if he left it on though, you mother would yell at him like she always did. You were thankful that they weren’t going to have one of those arguments with the Doctor in the room.

She set the tray on the coffee table, then got to work handing out everyone’s mugs. She started with your father, then the Doctor, then you. She casually managed to fill the silence as she distributed the mugs, “a coworker of mine bought a cake over to the house this afternoon, isn’t the lovely, (y/n)?”

“Thank you, mum,” you made sure to say after taking your mug into your hands, “it is a cute little cake.”

“I know!” she chirped, sitting back with her own mug, “it was the nicest thing. I mentioned that we hadn’t heard from you a while and that we weren’t sure you’d come around today, so she brought it over after work.”

“That’s very nice of her,” you mumbled, adding what you liked to your tea and stirring it up before taking a sip. You just let your mother drone on about her probably too nice coworkers. You gotten used to being compared to anyone who said anything nice to your mother at a young age, so it barely bothered you anymore.

“It is,” you mom grinned, “she was telling me about how her daughter is off at university, and how she comes home every weekend to visit-- what a sweet girl she is. You should be more like that. We hardly ever see you, and I assume it’s this young man’s fault?”

The Doctor looked like a dear in the headlight, mug lifted to his lips, but frozen there when your mother mentioned him. “No,” you came to his defense, “it’s just been busy. We’ve been travelling a quite a bit. There’s so much to see. I’m sorry I can’t visit as often as I’d like though.”

“Nonsense,” your dad frowned, setting his mug on the side table and crossing his arms over his chest, “if you really wanted to visit, you would. You’d make the time.”

You gave a heavy sigh, settling your mug on your thigh, “we’ve been over this, dad, I’m not nearly close enough to visit as often as I want. I get pulled here and there at...at work, and it was hard even finding the time to come visit you guys today.”

“We know darling,” your mother cooed, “we just miss you is all. You should be thankful that your father and I care about when you visit, lots of parents don’t care what their children get up to. We just like to know what’s going on in your life...”

“I am thankful,” you frowned, staring down into your mug, “I just... I’m busy. The Doctor and I have work to do, and I can’t... I can’t always be thinking about you guys and visiting. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

“No, of course not,” your mother relented, but the frown on her face clearly said she thought otherwise.

You felt bad that you couldn’t always be around for your parents, but you really needed a life. And there was absolutely no way you’d be passing up more trips into space with the Doctor for a few more evening tea parties with your parents.

It was still a bit weird for you to hear your parents requesting to see you as often as they did. You remember them always commenting about how you needed to grow up, and be successful in your own life. How you needed to move out and stop mooching off them—always telling you to stop burdening them, and become an adult.

And you had. You’d done exactly what they pushed you towards.

But now all they seemed to want was you back as you were.

Parents were confusing.

“Right,” your mother spoke brightly, as if the last few minutes of conversation hadn’t happened, “who wants some cake?” She always tended to skip right over anything she didn’t like the sound of. It was a trait you’d known your whole life.

You nodded your head, glancing towards the Doctor, who was still watching your parents as if he were trying to understand them. He’d barely had any of his tea, instead nursing the slowly cool mug in his lap. “Doctor?” you prompted. He turned to you giving a quiet ‘hm?’ in acknowledgement, “would you like a slice of cake?”

“Oh, no thank you,” the man shook his head, giving your parents a polite smile, “I don’t like to have too many sweets.”

“That’s alright,” you mother promised, “I’m sure I can bring the rest into work tomorrow. The two of us’ll never get through it all before it’s gone off, right darling?”

Your father gave a hum of acknowledgement, which seemed to please her.

You watched as your mom unstacked the plates, she cut herself and your father small sized pieces of cake, “how big, sweetheart?”

Your mother looked towards you, almost impatient. “Uhm,” you mumbled, “a bit bigger than your guy’s?” You requested.

The pieces your mother cut for them were about half the size of a regular slice of cake. You knew they liked to watch their sugars, but you didn’t really. You didn’t eat enough sweets in the TARDIS to really have to, so this was a bit of a treat.

Your mother’s eyes shot up to you, eyebrows furrowed in concerned thought, “are you sure? Should you really be eating that much sugar? Food is not your friend, honey. You’ve got to keep yourself in shape if you’re going to find yourself a nice husband.”

You blinked, frowning before you nodded, “yeah, you’re right. A bit smaller than you and dad’s alright?”

Your mother nodded happily, cutting a slice of cake for you and handing it across the coffee table. You eyed the cake for a moment, debating whether you really wanted to eat it. Maybe she was right?

Before you could put it down and refuse the sweet treat, the Doctor hijacked your fork and took a bit of the dessert. You gaped at him in surprise, blinking at his bright smile, “it’s really quite good,” he told you, “you look lovely, I’m doubtful any amount of sweets could possibly take that away.”

You smiled at him, silently taking him. You really had wanted to eat the cake, but not if it would jeopardize your figure- but if the Doctor was saying it was good, and prompting you into it—it was hard to say no.

You took back your fork when the Doctor offered it back, taking a bite of the cake for yourself. It was delicious. He’d been right. It was probably the best non-homemade cake you’d ever had.

“Where did your coworker get that cake?” the Doctor questioned cheerfully, dragging your mother into easy conversation, “a special occasion is coming up and I’d love to get a cake for it.”

“Oh!” Your mother set her fork down on the edge of her plate, “it’s from this nice little bakery downtown, the name should be on the box in the kitchen, I’ll check for you when I bring the plates into the kitchen. They’ve got really nice sweets.”

“Wonderful,” the Doctor grinned, “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for the occasion.”

You held you tongue before you could ask the Doctor what exactly he was talking about. Instead, you shoved another forkful of cake into your mouth and listened to the Doctor charm your mother over the little bakery downtown.

Time continued on, and before you knew it, you were stepping into your shoes at your parent’s front door. They were both stood in the doorway, watching the you and the Doctor put your shoes back on.

“It was so lovely to see you again, honey,” your mother beamed, moving in to hug you once more, “I'm so glad you could make it for my birthday.”

“Yeah,” you hummed, “it was good to see you too mum.”

“Come back soon, alright?” your father prompted, giving you a one-armed hug, “call ahead though, you don’t know if we’ll have plans or not. Our lives can’t revolve around you.”

“I know, but I really can’t,” you huffed, “reception is awful when you’re travelling. I’ve tried before and nothing goes through.”

Your dad gave a tired sigh as he pulled away, “you’ve always been so difficult.”

You opened your mouth to reply—to apologize—but the Doctor beat you to it, “well, it was lovely seeing you both again—or rather, meeting, I suppose. We must be off now, places to be and things to see!”

“Oh, alright,” your mom forced a smile, “we love you, sweetheart, and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “love you guys too.”

And then the Doctor was leading you away, pace fast. You threw a wave over your shoulder, which your mother returned before she was shutting the door. You were in a weird state between glad you’d managed to see your parents on your mom’s birthday, but mad at yourself that you’d made the Doctor sit around with you.

He had to have been bored. Your parents had barely acknowledged his existence throughout the hour-long visit.

The Doctor didn’t really say anything as the two of you walked side by side back to the TARDIS. He was almost stewing, but you didn’t know why he was mad. Maybe because you’d begged him to tag along. Was he mad at you?

When you arrived at the blue police box, the Doctor was quick to unlock it. You stood patiently, waiting to see what would happen when the two of you were closed in together. He was obviously angry about something; you just weren’t sure what.

You followed him in, shutting the door behind yourself. When you turned back into the room, the Doctor was already pressing buttons on the control panel. You stood for a second before finally speaking, “I’m sorry.”

The Doctor’s attention shot up towards you faster than you’d thought it ever had, but he no longer looked angry, “what on earth are you sorry for?”

“You’re not mad at me?” you asked skeptically, leaning back against the TARDIS doors.

“No, of course not.” He looked tilted his head, “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at those people you call parents.”

Wait, what?

“Why’re you angry at them? Did they say something to you?”

You don’t remember them saying anything mean to the Doctor, but you wouldn’t put it passed them to passive aggressively say something that could be considered an insult to an alien.

“No,” the Doctor blinked, looking genuinely confused, “they said something to you.”

“What do you mean?” you couldn’t help but ask. Did the Doctor see something you didn’t?

The Doctor let his hands slide off the console and drop to his sides, lips curling into a frown as he stepped towards you, “you really don’t see what they did wrong?”

“...no?”

“(Y/N),” the Doctor breathed, “your parents didn’t say a single nice thing to you tonight. Everything they said was some sort of twisted, belittling way of putting you down.”

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, not really understanding. “They didn’t say anything mean.”

“They were making little remarks, hidden away,” the Doctor insisted, “and I saw that they hurt you. You heard them, but you thought nothing more of the remarks because you’ve been hearing them probably your whole life. To you, they’re normal—normal behavior between parents and their children. It’s not, (Y/N).”

“What do you...”

“You didn’t even notice,” the Doctor frowned, standing in front of you, “and I doubt your parents did either, but I did, and I don’t like it. It’s not right. Not when everything they said this evening couldn’t be further from the truth.”

The Doctor took a breath before launching into a heated rant, “your mother commented on you wanting cake, insinuating that one slice of cake would make you gain weight, but you’re absolutely perfect the way you are. You can have as many sweets as you’d like, she doesn’t get to dictate what you eat,” the paused for a moment.

He didn’t stop for long, because not even a beat later the Doctor continued on, “and your father told you no one would ever love you for forgetting to thank your mother instantly for a cup of tea. That certainly isn’t true, because I love you and no amount of anything—especially forgetting to say thank you—will change that.”

“Doctor--”

“And don’t even get me started on those little remarks,” the man huffed, turning away from you, “your mother comparing you to everyone, or your father saying rude things like ‘you’ve always been so difficult’,” the man mocked in your father’s voice, “and none of its true, you’re not difficult, and you’re a far better daughter than your mother takes you for—I mean, look where we are, we came from space for her birthday, and all she does is comment on your figure, and try to guilt you into visiting more often.”

The man finally looked at you, all anger in his eyes bleeding out as he finally noticed your frown, “I... never really noticed.”

“You shouldn’t have to notice,” the Doctor sighed, moving to pull you into a hug that was so much more comforting than anything your mother could give you, “you shouldn’t have to notice, because it shouldn’t happen. What they’re doing is emotional abuse. They’re hurting you—whether intentional or not, they are.”

“I do feel awful every time I see them,” you couldn’t help but mutter into the Doctor’s chest.

“And you shouldn’t,” the man whispered honestly, “you really shouldn’t. You should feel good after seeing them. You should have a nice time with them—not be ridiculed and disrespected. I was only there for one evening, and I couldn’t stand the things they were saying about you. I’m so sorry that you’ve been suffering through that you whole life, (Y/N).”

You swallowed, unsure where to go from here. You really had never noticed—or maybe you’d never really paid attention to it. Never put the pieces together. But you saw it now. How everything they said made you feel bad about yourself, or hurt your feelings.

And it sucked.

“They said some pretty terrible things tonight, huh?”

“They did,” the Doctor sighed, holding you a bit closer, “but nothing they said was true in the slightest. They're abusers, and they’re wrong. They haven’t been very good parents.”

“Not tonight they haven’t,” you sighed. “My mom basically called me fat. Told me to watch my weight in a nice, roundabout kinda way.”

The Doctor bit his lip, before he gave a small nod, “but she was wrong. You’re perfect. She doesn’t get to say things like that to you when there’s no reason to be saying it. And there’s never a reason to say anything like that.”

“Suppose so,” you frowned, “it was good cake.”

“It was,” the Doctor grinned, “which is why we’re getting our own from that bakery, one that we’ll eat until we we’re sick. I’m not letting your parents tell you how to live, it’s not fair.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “this was the special occasion you were talking about?”

The man grinned beside you, hopping towards the console again and pulling a lever that faded the TARDIS away from its parking spot, “had to cheer up my companion and make her feel special—I'd say that’s a pretty special occasion, wouldn’t you?”

<><><><>

I hope this was satisfactory, and thank you so much for prompting! As always, if it’s not what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again! Apologies if the parents don’t read right, I never knew writing parents could be so hard! Didn’t know how to write a spontanious visit to the folks, so just went with a birthday.

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #reader insert #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #TARDIS #prompt #writing prompt

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carpstan · 3 years

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hi @wasp-factor! i'm your secret santa. i just wanted to say how happy writing this fic for you made me - i love gakushuu too, even though i never had the chance to write about him before, hopefully it's in character. i know you like gakushuu/isogai, and i tried to include it in the fic (apparently i really like this ship, i never thought about it before). i hope you'll like it and, since we don't know each other, maybe we'll become friends. happy holidays!

Asano Gakushuu discovers the magic of Christmas

He had done it on purpose. There was no other possible explanation.

Winter holidays were approaching and the headmaster himself had given class A a social studies assignment about the influence of Christmas. Normally, Gakushuu would not have minded writing a paper on a topic that he deemed to be quite fascinating, but that was really not the case: the headmaster apparently thought it would be delightful to have everyone discuss a different aspect of the main theme, so joining all the students’ essays would result in a rich dissertation that would cover every little detail. The problem was the theme he got.

According to the instructions he received, his task was to understand what made Christmas so appealing to people in terms of improvement of their mood and behaviour; in easier words, he had to investigate the odd phenomenon known as “the magic of Christmas”. Oh, and he had to provide actual evidence to support his thesis as well. He had to go on the streets and interview people.

So, his father absolutely did that on purpose. Forcing him to reflect on a social event he considered not only pointless but plain out dumb, while also having him interact with random strangers who were likely just as dumb was an extremely clever way to torture him. Like that was not enough, he knew he could not complain about it with his friends, who he was sure considered him lucky and would have immediately said he got the best topic. The audacity.

It could have been literally anything else. And to say he was almost excited - no, not the right word. He was intrigued when the theme was announced. He had made some research on his own and he had stumbled upon an interesting article regarding the frailty of a consumist economy which revolves around a single month of extreme consumptions, he would have been ready and enthusiastic to write about it. Ren got that part instead. Now that was luck.

Well, he better start to plan out his actions. First of all, he was going to complain to his friends: they were not going to understand him, but he still needed to get rid of some frustration. Then he would start right away. The deadline was two weeks from then and he needed to get properly organised to avoid spending too much time on this project. The sooner he turned it in the better.

---

It was not going as well as he expected. He thought everything would have run as smoothly as usual, but he should have taken some factors into account. The problem was that for the first time in his life, he found himself in the unenviable position of talking about a topic he had no knowledge nor experience of.

His father and he never celebrated Christmas, or any holiday to be fair. Their house was the only one in the neighbourhood, or maybe in the whole city, which was completely missing decorations. Once he was asked how he felt about it, and the truth was he did not feel anything at all. His family was not religious, and not believing in Jesus Christ sounded like a perfectly good reason not to celebrate his birth to him. He did not mind his house keeping its sobriety either; being exposed to flashing lights for more than two minutes gave him a mild headache, actually. He never thought it was sad, or whatever people said about those who did not celebrate, it was just behaving like usual in a time of the year which was just like any other period.

Still, he was having some troubles doing his deed. He had decided to start off with the interviews, since he knew from the beginning he would have had to rely on other people’s experiences, and also he wanted to get rid of the most distressful part first. That turned out not to be a good idea too.

Well, to be fair he did not have a choice. He just seemed to be particularly unlucky with the people he met. He tried his best to select those who looked more likely to actually answer his questions, but these last days also did their best to remind him the one thing he’s not good at: understanding others.

He wanted to develop a good thesis, so his intention was to gather information from people belonging to different social classes, age groups, gender, occupation and so on; he had thought that, if he had been able to analyse the phenomenon through different perspective, he would have also found the key to see the whole picture. Apparently he could have not been more wrong.

Apart from being dragged down a rabbit hole of war stories and memories of a long dead man by an old lady, witnessing a college student have a full on mental breakdown and having a business woman tell him that her children were ruining her life and their expensive desires were driving her crazy - that would have been helpful, if only he had got the part about the economy - he received the same answers from everyone. And those were not answers he could work with.

A lot of his targets claimed that presents were the best part - both receiving and giving. It made sense, at least the part about receiving, because he really could not see the appeal of wandering all day through the streets - oh, the irony - looking for gifts and getting crazy while trying, and probably failing, to figure out what someone might appreciate. Again, it could have been an interesting take to explore for the economic aspect, but he should stop thinking about that.

No, the tradition of presents was actually a decent starting point, maybe it was kind of shallow and too closely connected with the intrinsic materialism of a consumerist society - okay, enough - and it was not completely clear to him why everyone was so obsessed with Christmas and not any other holiday if it was just about gifts, but he could make it work. What actually bothered him was the other answer he frequently received.

It was lights. People actually told him that they liked the little lights all over the buildings and all the other decorations. Lights. Was he supposed to say that what made the population radically change its habits and attitude in the month of December depended on lights? What is wrong with everyone?

Exchanging presents and “festive atmosphere” really was all he got. He could feel his average grade suffer. He was not going to let it happen, let alone because of a social studies assignment on the magic of Christmas.

---

It was his fifth day of scanning the streets for someone who would give him some good material to work on. He had been reviewing his notes and the night before he had had an idea: it was his last resort, but time was running fast. Reluctantly, he made his decision. He was headed towards the 3E building and he intended to make a truce.

When he did arrive at the building he could not find anyone. Class E was definitely odd, but how skilled each of them appeared to be at getting through that hell of a path down the mountain was beyond weird if you asked him. Maybe it was for the better, he thought. He would have found another way, he did not need any help, certainly not from them.

Just as he was about to head back he noticed someone walking out of the building and towards him. Isogai arrived at the spot where he was standing fast, stopping at an appropriate distance before speaking.

- Asano-kun, I didn’t expect to see you. Do you need anything?

He did not look too happy to see him there, but he was very polite, just like it was expected from him. Isogai also seemed eager to know what brought him there, which was legitimate; he swallowed down his pride and forced himself to do what he came for.

- Actually, yes, I do.

Gakushuu straightened his back before continuing.

- I’m writing an assignment for social studies about the social effects of Christmas and I need to interview some people. I haven’t received any satisfying answer so far, so, would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?

Isogai was surprised by what he could tell. Fair, he thought. He was not aiming at him specifically, but any 3E student would have had the same reaction. Or a way less polite one. He had to admit, he was quite content having met him: he did not insult him and sent him away, which was already a lot, and Gakushuu did have some sort of respect for him, if he could call it that. He acknowledged he was smart and most importantly he was skillful enough to be able to use his intelligence to do a good job as class representative. He was from class E, so he mostly despised him, but a little less than he despised the others.

- Of course. What is it?

He had hesitated for a couple of seconds before pronouncing the words, and Gakushuu guessed he had debated whether he should indulge in their conversation or not until the very last moment.

- Do you consider Christmas important?

Isogai pondered his words upon answering.

- My family is Christian, but I’ll admit we don’t give much weight to the ritual celebration. Apart from that though, we do take Christmas seriously.

Gakushuu nodded slowly. Not religion then. He had already figured that bit on his own, religion might have been a relevant fuel in the past, but it could not get such an effect in these times. It was time to ask the infamous question then: he really hoped he was not going to hear presents and lights again; this really was his last resort.

- If not religion, what is it that makes Christmas so special? How is it different from any other holiday?

Isogai took yet another pause.

- Well, it is the only holiday that brings my whole family together. On Christmas day no one is at school, or at work, and even if it happened before that we had to spend it in the hospital, we still were all together.

A small smile was forming on his face as the words rolled out of his mouth; he may have not even realised the corners of his mouth rising ever so slightly.

- We also usually get to eat a meal that is a little more elaborate than our usual, and since we cook all together too it’s another chance to spend as much time as possible with each other without worrying about everyday’s problems. It’s the one day we can live completely carefree. And since everyone else tends to feel more generous, they leave higher tips, which is convenient.

Family. Was that the key? It was the message that also laid under those college students who mentioned some dishes that their relatives were going to cook and that they were looking forward to eating. He should have understood before, he told himself, but he knew he could not. He just could not. He was never going to understand what it really meant, he knew because he had forced himself to do it before. Even those times he had tried to picture a cohesive family, he still did not manage to get past the notion that the concept of family itself is supposed to be on a higher level than most things. Why would something one had no control over ever be so important? How could relationships decided by casuality alone be more relevant than those born out of mutual choice? It did not mean anything to him. He was never going to understand.

But at least he had enough material to write a good essay now. He could have just thanked Isogai and left, but there was that last sentence he had said. He did not think too much before opening his mouth again.

- Don’t you think that’s hypocritical?

Isogai now gave him a full, conscious smile, even though it had a shade he could not quite place: it looked almost sympathetic. He shrugged before finally replying.

- Maybe it is, but I’m not in a position to judge, if anybody is.

Gakushuu was not sure about what he should do with that statement. It was something to think about.

- Alright, that’s all I needed. Thank you, Isogai-kun.

---

Gakushuu did not write the essay right away. Instead, he took his time to adjust all the information he had gathered. He did not take any notes while talking to Isogai, but he soon realised that was not going to be an issue at all: he remembered all his words perfectly, he noticed, and he proceeded to write them down in the evening.

Later, he caught himself thinking about that conversation more than once. They did not even say much, and he wished they had taken some more time. Speaking with Isogai again was something he would have liked; they did not have much in common, but he still thought they might have some interesting discussions, if only they had the chance.

He actually ended up handing in his paper on the last day. It was not usual for him, or, to be honest, it should be said it had never happened before. He knew he had made excellent work.

---

It was not evening yet, but the sun had set long ago. The sky was clear and a soft yet glacial wind was blowing; Christmas lights seemed brighter when the moon was not high up in the sky, drowning the stars themselves with their overwhelming glow. After a careful analysis, Gakushuu was confident in confirming that he hated them, and the flashing ones still gave him a mild headache. How all those people could appreciate them was forever going to be a mystery.

Mindlessly walking through the city centre, he was still thinking about that assignment. It had kept him occupied for a good portion of time, and he was glad it was now something he did not have to worry about anymore. As he was passing close to a café, something at the corner of his eye caught his attention. He stopped by the side of the street, unsure of the reason, and peeked through the café’s window: there he saw Isogai serving a couple of elders with a warm smile on his face. He was working hard, probably, no, surely looking forward to spending the next day with his mother and siblings. The man he had just served handed him what looked like a very generous tip, and his mind trailed back to that one conversation again. He could not understand Isogai’s situation either, he had to admit it, at least to himself. At the moment, it felt okay. Realising he could not understand everything for once did not feel like a tremendous crime he had to atone for. It actually seemed to him that he could empathise with Isogai, just for a second, and despite knowing it was nothing but an ephemeral feeling that was going to be gone in a flash, it made him feel well. Maybe poor people deserved rights, after all.

Then Isogai noticed and his face went pale. Gakushuu did not immediately interpret that reaction correctly, but he soon became aware of what his presence there had meant in the past: he thought he was going to tell his father about it.

Isogai excused himself and rushed outside to meet him without even bothering to grab a coat and started talking before Gakushuu had the chance to clarify his intentions.

- Asano-kun, I know I shouldn’t be working but I really-

- I’m not going to report you to the headmaster.

Gakushuu interrupted him immediately. Isogai did look significantly relieved.

- I was just passing by. But since I’m here I wanted to thank you for helping with my assignment. It was an interesting conversation.

Isogai’s eyes were wide open - he almost looked like a deer caught in the headlights. But soon he started to warm up and reserved him a smile similar to the one he gave to the clients in the café.

- Oh, I’m glad I was helpful. It was interesting indeed.

Gakushuu could almost feel himself starting to smile in the moments of silence that followed, which he hurriedly broke.

- Well, it’s cold. You should head back inside.

He quickly said then. Isogai was almost shivering actually, but he looked somehow pleased. Gakushuu suspected he had seen him smiling, but he could not be sure.

- Yeah, that’s right. Merry Christmas then, Asano-kun.

He greeted him; his smile might have been brighter than those Christmas lights.

- Merry Christmas, Isogai-kun.

He really did not despise him that much.

---

After leaving the café, Gakushuu decided to head home. The walk was not long and he deemed it quite relaxing. He was not paying a lot of attention to the familiar buildings of his neighbourhood: everything was in place, just as it was when he had left the house in the morning.

Except there was a difference, a small detail that could have gone unnoticed and that most people had surely missed, but which appeared like a massive change to his eyes: on his house’s front door there was a Christmas wreath. It was small and quite simple, but it was there. He stared at it for what might have been a whole minute before snapping out of the shock and entering the house.

He found his father sitting on the sofa reading a book like nothing had happened, but he was the only person who could have put it there.

- What does it mean?

Gakushuu asked as soon as he arrived in the living room, without bothering to greet him first.

- What is it?

His father asked, his eyes still fixed on the book in his hands.

- The Christmas wreath on the front door, what about it?

- I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Gakushuu stared at his father for a handful of seconds, before huffing what sounded like a “whatever” and going straight to his room. There, he allowed himself to smile.

#assassination classroom #assassination classroom secret santa

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thatfragilecapricorn30 · 4 years

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The Nightmare

Written for The X-Files Horror Exchange, hosted by @xfilesfanficexchange. The prompt is from @baronessblixen - I hope you like what I did! Tagging @today-in-fic

A/N: The title is inspired by the painting “The Nightmare” (1781) by Henry Fuseli

prompt: demons | 4k words | season 5 | horror

Mulder and Scully drove through the Vermont countryside, carefully navigating the winding roads covered in leaves. It was early fall; the trees had just begun their metamorphosis and the view was stunning. Scully wondered if Mulder specifically picked their current case so they could enjoy the seasonal foliage, because if so, she very much appreciated that level of planning.

They pulled up to a small inn with Victorian architecture; the house looked like it belonged in a novel with a governess as the protagonist. It was very quiet - the only sound was the wind rustling through the trees - which unnerved Scully, who was used to the incessant din of city living.

They got out of the vehicle, both admiring the tableau. She turned to look at her partner. “Really, Mulder?”

“What?” he asked, as he tried to pull their luggage from the trunk.

“Is this really a case or are you trying to get a free vacation on the bureau’s dime?” she chided.

He squinted at her, confused by her line of questioning.

She gestured to their surroundings. “Vermont in October… quaint bed and breakfast… are we really here for work?”

“I hate to disappoint you, Scully, but this is not a romantic getaway,” he said, “but it could be if you play your cards right.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Mulder continued, “This town is so small that this is the only accommodation available. Unless you’d prefer to camp out in the woods?”

Scully rolled her eyes and followed him inside, where they met the proprietor, Grace. She had gray hair but her presence belied a much younger woman. Grace showed them to their rooms and advised them that she would be around to answer questions and cook them breakfast in the morning.

Scully had to admit that this place was a lot nicer than some of the other motels they had stayed in. There were big windows that faced the changing forest and the bathroom even had a clawfoot tub. The only problem was that the heater was on overdrive. The climate was definitely cooler than Washington, but it wasn’t cold enough to warrant the sauna-like temperature. She couldn’t find a thermostat, so settled for opening the window a touch to let in the fresh air. Scully was marveling at the view when she had the sensation of someone watching her. Usually it was Mulder, which should make her uncomfortable but she was used to it at this point. However, when she turned around he wasn’t there.

“Mulder,” she called out. They were lucky that they snagged the two rooms that had a connecting door, so they didn’t have to traipse down the hall to talk to each other.

“Yes, dear?” he responded through the open door.

She made her way over to his side. “Were you just in my room?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said. He was pulling clothes out of his suitcase. She wondered briefly how none of his suits ever seemed to be wrinkled even after being packed away but hers always were.

“My room is really hot. Have you seen a thermostat around?”

He suggested she check with Grace, so she went down to the first floor. Scully didn’t see her anywhere, so she decided to explore a little. There was a parlor with sofas and chairs to sit on and a dining area with a few tables of varying sizes. Scully examined the portraits hung on the wall: many of them were black and white and seemed really old. As was common for the era, no one pictured was smiling and their blank stares made her shiver. She heard a creak behind her, but when she turned around there was no one there. Scully laughed to herself; she was getting spooked for no reason.

Scully returned to the photographs.

“That was my grandmother as a child, with her family,” a voice came right over Scully’s shoulder. She jumped a little.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,�� Grace said with a slight laugh.

She continued, “They all lived and died in this house. My great-grandfather decided to convert it to an inn to make some extra money, but my family has always lived on the premises, even to this day.”

“Wow, so this house has been here a long time,” Scully commented.

“Yes, it has. My ancestors almost lost the property during the depression that occurred in the late 1800s. But my great-grandfather found some old railroad bonds that were worth a lot of money so he was able to pay off his debts. Family lore alleges that he made a deal with the devil in exchange for the bonds,” Grace chuckled as she said the last part.

Scully tried to keep her expression neutral but thought it was a strange story to share with a guest.

“Of course, I don’t think that’s true at all,” Grace continued. “More likely it was a rumor started because some of the townspeople were jealous of his good fortune. But a lot of my guests seem to really enjoy hearing that little story, particularly during this time of year.”

“My partner would love that story,” Scully said with a smile. She knew he was one of many that would get a real kick out of a tale like that, especially while staying in an old bed and breakfast, right around Halloween.

“How are the two of you settling in?” Grace asked.

“Now that you mention it, my room is actually really hot. Is there a way to turn down the heater?”

Grace frowned. “That’s odd. I actually haven’t turned the heat on yet. It’s still early enough in the season that the sun does a good job of warming the house. Though, it’s cool enough outside that if you open the windows, you should be fine.”

“Scully,” Mulder interrupted, now standing in the entryway to the parlor, with the case file and notes in his hand.

“Are you ready to go?” he inquired. She knew that they were due at the police station so she said goodbye to Grace. On her way out, she glanced back at the portrait on the wall, and could almost feel the stare of Grace’s great-grandfather, the alleged deal-making gentleman, on the back of her head when she walked out.

----

It was late by the time Scully and Mulder returned to the inn. They had met up with the local detective, who gave them access to the evidence and even more detailed case notes. Scully conducted an autopsy while Mulder visited the crime scene. After the long day of travel and work, she was happy to have a comfortable bed to sleep in, even though she was too tired to try out the clawfoot tub. Scully drew the shades, but left them parted slightly, so that she could feel the soft breeze from the open window. She noticed that it was full moon and hoped that its luminescence wouldn’t keep her up. She closed her eyes and fell asleep quickly...

Scully woke with a start. She attempted to roll over to turn on the bedside lamp, but realized she couldn’t move at all. It’s okay, I’m still half-asleep, she thought. But when Scully tried to sit up, it felt like there was something pushing down on her chest. A feeling of panic began to overwhelm her and her breathing became shallower. Her room was completely dark, which was odd because before there was a sliver of moonlight between the shades. The most terrifying part was that she could hear loud, raspy breathing. Was it hers? Or something - someone - else’s?

After a few moments of paralysis and her heart practically beating out of her chest, everything dissipated - the labored breathing gone, the weight removed from her sternum, and the darkness lifted. Scully slowly tried to move and once she realized that there were no lingering issues, she ran to Mulder’s room. Fortunately the connecting doors were unlocked.

She jumped on his bed and shook him awake. “Mulder, there’s something in my room.”

Mulder woke up instantly, asking “What’s going on?” as he started to get out of bed.

“I swear someone is in my room!” Scully exclaimed, trying to keep the hysteria out of her voice.

Mulder got out of bed to investigate and she followed him closely behind. He flicked on her light, which illuminated the room and showed that nothing was out of place. Mulder checked the closet and her bathroom, while Scully remained by the connecting doors. It seemed silly to be scared, but all she could think about was the pitch blackness, not being able to move and the noisy panting that sounded like it was from a person. Scully blushed a little when she saw her gun was on her bedside table. There was really no reason to bother Mulder when she could protect herself.

He met her at the doorway after his inspection was complete. “There’s no one here, Scully.”

She shifted on her feet, reluctant to be alone again. He must have been able to sense her hesitance at sleeping in her own room because he led her back to his bed, where she sat down.

“I’m sorry, Mulder, I really thought there was someone there.”

She started to explain the incident as Mulder got back into bed. She hoped that he wouldn’t comment on the fact that she was making herself comfortable as well, by laying down next to him. She didn’t want to go back to her room but she also couldn’t bear Mulder making a joke right now when she was still feeling a little frightened.

He listened to her tale with interest and then asked, “Scully, have you heard of sleep paralysis?”

“Mulder, I’m a doctor. Of course I have.”

“Well, I hate to be the voice of reason, but your experience matches all the symptoms,” he stated with a chuckle.

“But it really felt like something was holding me down…” she trailed off, shivering slightly at the memory.

He brushed back a lock of hair that was plastered to her cheek from sweat.

“Did you know that hundreds of years ago, people didn’t know about sleep paralysis as a medical phenomenon and used to believe that a demon was sitting on your chest? And that’s why you couldn’t move?”

Scully wrinkled her nose. “Mulder, your bedtime story needs some work.”

Mulder laughed, “I can certainly arrange for sweet nothings to be whispered in your ear, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

She snuggled into the covers a little more, and raised her eyebrows as if to say go on.

“In Newfoundland, the creature on a person’s chest was called The Old Hag. It’s actually a popular figure in their culture. There are a few ways to prevent the Old Hag from visiting, one of which is to sleep with a bible under your pillow…”

Scully fell asleep to the slow cadence of his voice and the feeling of his fingers brushing through her hair.

----

The next morning, Mulder and Scully ate a quick breakfast in the dining room. There didn’t seem to be anyone else staying at the bed and breakfast, which added to unsettledness Scully felt. Once Grace left the house to tend to her garden, Scully turned to Mulder conspiratorially.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but…” she paused for dramatic effect. She owed him for letting her stay in his room last night, and she knew he would like this story.

“...Grace told me that there’s a legend in her family that her great-grandfather made a deal with the devil.”

Mulder looked intrigued. “Do tell.”

“Apparently, he was going to lose the house but found some railroad bonds out of the blue. So I guess he sold his soul for them?” she mused.

Mulder leaned back in his chair. “You know, Scully, in Greek and Brazilian mythology, you can make a deal with the devil, or rather a demon, at a crossroads. It’s also a popular theme of a lot of American folk music. I bet we could find one around here, see if her story is actually true.”

Scully glared at him. Now he was taking this too far. “No, Mulder. We have a real case to work on. Plus, even Grace doesn’t think the story is true.”

“So why are you telling me then? Do you think it has something to do with last night?” he questioned.

Scully turned back to her oatmeal. “Of course not. I just thought you would find it interesting, is all.”

It was a small lie. She had forgotten about Grace’s tale until Mulder mentioned demons last night when he was providing historical explanation of sleep paralysis. Naturally, she didn’t think there was a demon (or Satan himself) in her room last night, but it was an odd coincidence.

“Uh huh,” Mulder said skeptically.

Instead of arguing, Scully glanced at her watch. “Come on, Mulder, we have to get going. We’re meeting the detective in twenty minutes.” She pushed away any thoughts of demons and deals out of her mind, so she could concentrate on her job.

-----

When they got back to the bed and breakfast, Scully decided to test out the tub. She was happy that there was hot water and some nice soaps for her to use and that it actually looked clean. But when Scully exited the bathroom, she was concerned by how warm her room still felt. It was so strange: old houses tended to be drafty, not the other way around. Scully attempted to open her window even more, but it wouldn’t budge past the three inches it was already opened. She wondered if she should amend her opinion of this place.

It was only ten o’clock, so Scully decided to go downstairs and see if she could find Grace or a thermostat. It was eerily silent and only a few dimmed lights were still on. Grace didn’t seem to be around anywhere. Scully was, once again, drawn to the photos hanging on the wall. She tried looking for the one Grace showed her but it wasn’t there anymore. However, upon closer examination, the portrait was still there, but Grace’s great-grandfather was no longer in it! Instead, it just featured his wife and daughter, sitting on a divan. Scully could have sworn that the first time she looked, there was a man standing behind the two women.

Suddenly, the lights went out. Scully was so startled, she let out a little yelp. Luckily, she made it back to the staircase without running into something because there was moonlight streaming in from the windows. Scully exhaled and reminded herself that this was nothing like last night, which was sleep paralysis. Even still, she hurried upstairs before she could be disproven. Once back in her room, she triple checked that her door was locked, just in case. She thought about telling Mulder about what happened, but she didn’t want to give him any more reason to go looking for a crossroads.

However, it didn’t matter, because a few hours after Scully fell asleep, she was awoken again, but this time by Mulder.

“Scully! It happened again!” he whispered eagerly.

“What?” she grumbled, still half asleep.

“I woke up and couldn’t move. The room was completely dark, even though it’s nearly a full moon. The same thing that you experienced!”

Scully sighed, “Mulder, you said it was sleep paralysis last night.”

“Scully, I don’t think so. I’ve experienced sleep paralysis and this was different. Plus, the story you told me at breakfast changed my mind about this situation.”

He walked around to the other side of her bed and pulled back the covers and started getting in.

“Mulder!” Scully exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m not staying in that room. That was freaky, Scully.”

“So you’re going to sleep here?” she asked, incredulously.

“What, you can sleep in my bed but I can’t sleep in yours? It’s the twentieth century.”

Scully sighed, “That doesn’t even make any sense, Mulder, but fine. Just don’t hog the covers.”

She turned over so her back was to Mulder. She could hear his breathing even out as he drifted off to sleep and it was surprisingly very soothing. Scully tried to concentrate on that instead of the weird things she had experienced in this house. She couldn’t wait to go home.

----

Scully was not one to give into her imagination, but all day she’s felt like someone was watching her. It was a prickly feeling that gave her goosebumps. It started in the morning, when she went downstairs for breakfast and noticed that Grace’s great-grandfather was back in the portrait. Scully did a double-take when she walked by, and stared at it for a full minute, completely stunned. She was either going crazy or something very weird was going on. Neither explanation was very good.

A few hours later, when her and Mulder were in the car, they drove through a four-way intersection that didn’t have any stop signs. Mulder laughed about the hijinks bored teenagers get up to, but Scully couldn’t help but notice that they had passed through a rural dirt crossroads. There was no one else on the road and no sign of life at all, which was eerie, but Scully ignored the feeling. Luckily, they were able to close their case so tonight would be their last in Vermont.

Later that night, she wasn’t looking forward to sleeping alone in her room, even though Mulder was just on the other side of the wall. She got ready for bed and kept thinking she saw something out of the corner of her eye. But whenever she whipped her head around (and almost gave herself whiplash), there was nothing there.

Scully could hear the TV in Mulder’s room, so she knew he was awake. She decided to see what he was up to. When she walked to their shared doors, he was sitting on his bed, flipping through the few channels available before landing on a nature documentary.

Without turning to look at her, Mulder asked, “Scully, are you going to bed?”

“Mhm,” she said, non-committedly. “We don’t get a lot of channels here, huh?”

She was trying to come up with a topic of conversation that would justify her loitering in the doorway. But she didn’t have to, because Mulder walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her into the room.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight?” he asked with a slight smile. “That way we can protect each other.”

“That’s not what.. I wasn’t…” she tried to argue but Mulder’s smile just widened.

“Oh, of course. I’m the one that actually needs protecting. You would be doing this as a favor to me,” he kept going.

Scully laughed. She appreciated him not giving her a hard time. Mulder could be really sweet, when he wasn’t driving her absolutely crazy. They both got into bed and Scully pretended not to notice that they each had their designated side now. She trusted Mulder, had since they first started working together, and sleeping in the same bed wasn’t actually as weird as it should have been. She just hoped it would be an uneventful night...

----

For the third night in a row, Scully awoke to a pitch black room. There was no moon light streaming in from the window, even though that was the case when she fell asleep. She couldn’t even tell if Mulder was still beside her. The feeling of something pressing down on her chest was back and she couldn’t breathe. Her heart rate started ratcheting up. There was something breathing loudly in her ear. That couldn’t be Mulder, could it? She thought. Scully lay paralyzed for a few moments until the pressure let up. She blinked and the room returned to normal, meaning the glow from outside was bright enough that Scully could see the outlines of furniture. Was it still here? Scully didn’t know and was terrified. The room felt oppressively hot, like a sauna. She pulled the covers completely over her and Mulder, even though she knew a thin comforter would not protect her against anything natural or supernatural. She moved closer to Mulder, gently placing her palm over his mouth and pinching his upper arm. He grumbled and tried to pull away from her, so she placed her lips against his ear and whispered, “It’s here.”

He froze and turned his head slightly to look at her. She wondered if he could feel the thick air too.

Suddenly, a loud BANG sounded through the room. Both of them screamed and jumped up. Scully turned on the lamp, as Mulder grabbed his gun. Her eyes travelled around the room and noticed the bathroom door was now closed. The loud noise must have been the door slamming shut.

Mulder got up to open it, but it was jammed. He eventually pushed his way through using his shoulder. Scully was right behind him and saw that all of the toiletries had fallen off the counter. The bathroom had a small window, but Scully could see that it was secured.

“Maybe it was a draft?” she asked quietly, even though she knew that was unlikely. If anything, the rooms were stuffy and too warm, which would not indicate any type of draft.

Mulder just raised his eyebrows incredulously. He picked up a can of shaving cream off the floor, now with a cracked cap. It must have hit the floor with some force, indicating that the vibrations from the door slamming wouldn’t be enough.

“Regardless, I’m not staying in this room,” Mulder announced. Scully sighed, but didn’t disagree with him. They both moved to her bed instead, but Scully didn’t sleep at all until the first rays of sun appeared over the horizon and the room was bathed in golden light.

-----

Their flight left the regional airport at noon, and then they had to connect in Newark before finally making it back to DC. Scully was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed, uninterrupted, unlike the past three nights. She and Mulder didn’t really talk, just packed up their belongings and brought them to the car. Scully returned their room keys to Grace, who was trying to push coffee and muffins on the pair before they left.

“Grace, if you don’t mind me asking: whose room did I stay in? Like before this place came a bed and breakfast?” She hoped that it wasn’t a rude question.

Grace looked at her strangely but responded with: “It’s funny that you ask, the two rooms you stayed in were actually the master suite a long time ago. My great-grandfather needed an office after he opened the inn so he connected the two rooms. You haven’t seen anything… strange… have you?” she asked curiously.

“Um, no, just wondering,” she said, probably a bit unconvincingly.

When they finally reversed out of the driveway, Scully looked back at the inn. It still appeared to be a charming bed and breakfast but after her stay there, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding instead. She glanced up at the window of her room and saw a dark figure standing in the window.

Scully blinked and the shadow person was gone. She quickly turned back around in her seat.

“Scully, are you okay?” Mulder asked. She nodded but didn’t say anything.

“So what do you think? Poltergeist or crossroads demon looking to make another deal?” he queried with a grin.

Scully fiddled with her seatbelt. “Neither, Mulder. It was sleep paralysis. We just both happened to experience it at the same time.”

Mulder’s mouth dropped open. “Do not tell me that’s what you really think.”

Scully started snickering at the expression on his face. “I had you.”

“You did not.”

“I so did. Anyway, Mulder, I’m surprised by you. Why didn’t you want to stay and investigate more? We were practically living in an X-File.”

“Ah, you know. We don’t get paid enough to work two cases at the same time. Also, sometimes it’s nice just to let things remain a mystery.”

Scully rolled her eyes and laughed, “That was deep, Mulder. But I have another theory: you were scared.”

Mulder looked offended, “I wasn’t scared! You came into my room first. I was just doing you a favor the other nights.”

Scully started to debate that he was the one that screamed last night, which Mulder denied. She knew that this argument would entertain the both of them until they arrived back home, at which point they would call a truce. Mulder would help Scully with her luggage and she would make sure that he was going to stop for dinner, since he never had food in his fridge. And they would both agree that some mysteries were better left unsolved.

#i tried to write a mix of spooky and humor #the horror part was a fun challenge since i don't usually read (or write) horror #but i love scary movies and shows #i hope i did the prompt justice #the x files #txf #the x files fanfic

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Verboten 4 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 4

Later that night, it was officially announced at dinner that the camper’s death was the result of an unfortunate accident. However, what shocked all the students was the decision to finish out the remaining time at the camp. According to Mr. Lancer, he had contacted the other teachers at the different sites, and that was the mutual decision.

Tucker had surprisingly spoken up and demanded how their teacher managed to get through since the cell phone service issue remained unresolved. After their meeting with the police officer, he had checked with other students, who all said the same thing. Their service was poor, and they hadn’t been able to contact anyone. For the technophile, it was extremely frustrating, and he had put a lot of effort in attempting to solve the problem on his own device. He told Danny and Sam that it almost seemed like there was a weird electrical phenomenon causing the problem.

Lancer stumbled for a moment, but he eventually said the Park Rangers had let him use their landline. He then changed the topic and began explaining what the activities for the next morning would be.

“Alright, now I’m really sure something’s fishy,” Tucker whispered to his friends. “Wanna bet he was never able to contact the other teachers?”

“I’ll pass, because I think you’re right,” Danny told him as he stole a glance at some of the nearby Rangers. They had been closely watching the students since the beginning of dinner. “I don’t think the Rangers agree with that decision.”

“Yeah, and did you notice? They’ve been stone faced during this whole thing.” Sam leaned forward as she continued. “I really think something more serious happened to that poor man.”

Danny nodded. “I don’t have the slightest idea what might have happened. You’d think they come right out and say if it was an animal attack. But, that’s fairly uncommon in our state. I mean, the most dangerous animal here is a black bear, but they aren’t very common.”

“It could have been a mountain lion attack. While they supposedly haven’t been in this state for decades, there are still regular reports of them. That’s something that might be kept quiet. I mean, that was an issue in Pennsylvania with their coyotes and the Game Commission.”

“That would make sense, but you’d think they’d still say something like it was an animal attack and chalk it up to him doing something stupid to upset a bear if that was the case,” Tucker mentioned as he fiddled with his PDA. “I still can’t get a good signal.”

“I guess we need to just remain on guard,” Danny mused as the other students began to stand. His friends agreed with him as stood and went to grab one of the paper schedules which held the next day’s events.

…

After Danny and Tucker headed back to their cabin after then had finished freshening up for the night at the communal showers, they were met with the jocks excitedly swapping information. Dash’s grin was almost cat-like as he caught sight of the pair. “So, I guess you dweebs didn’t hear about what actually happened to that camper.”

“Other than what we were told, no,” Danny told him as he went to grab something out of his bag. “And don’t you have anything better to do than spread nasty rumors about the dead?”

Dash’s grin immediately grew larger as he continued, “It’s not a rumor. One of the band geeks was up for an early piss and saw them bring the body into camp. That guy was in pieces.”

“Wha… what!? What did you say?” Tucker stammered as he dropped his PDA.

“Are you absolutely certain that’s what he saw?” Danny demanded as he stepped in between Tucker and Dash. “The camper could have been really messed up, but if he was covered in blood, dirt, and whatever else he encountered, maybe it looked worse than it really was.”

“As much as it annoys me to admit, Fenton makes a good point,” Dash’s other friend, Lucas, mentioned as he sat on his bed. “Without seeing it for ourselves, we don’t know how bad it was, and the kid was pretty scared when he repeated it. So, let me ask you this Fenton, what do you think happened?”

“I’m surprised you care about whatever I think. But,” Danny paused for a moment, “all I know for certain is that something bad happened, and the police and rangers aren’t happy about it. But, I’m not a cop, and I’m clearly not trained in stuff like this, so my hunches are probably wrong.”

“That’s not much of an answer.”

“Unlike some people, I’m not going to jump to conclusions before I know more.” Satisfied with the stunned looks of the jocks, Danny turned to finish preparing for bed. After a moment, he realized Tucker was staring at him. “What?”

“So, where’s this Danny Fenton been all these years?” his friend whispered at him.

Danny raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve never stood up your… you know… bullies before. What changed?”

“Nothing changed, not really,” Danny replied as he climbed into bed. “It’s just I can’t tolerate people spreading rumors like this. It brings bad luck, or at least I think so, and,” he paused for a moment before lowering his voice, “you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Did your parents drill that into you or something?”

“Not my parents, but I can’t remember who did.”

……

The next day, the students were kept close to camp. Most of the day was spent learning basic camping skills. Although there were plenty of grumbles from his classmates, Danny found it pretty interesting as his parents wanted to keep him as far away from the woods as possible. He spent most of the morning in a boyish wonder as was instructed on setting up tents, campfires, and basic traps.

Sam spent a good portion of the morning teasing him, but he largely ignored her. Like a lot of boys, he had an interest in camping when he was younger, so this was a chance to experience it, or at least a small portion of it. However, by the time lunch hit, his enthusiasm had been replaced by uneasiness.

In the shadows cast by the trees around the camp, he felt as if someone was watching him. It was possible it was just an animal, but as the hours passed and the feeling continued, he determined that couldn’t be the cause. Most animals didn’t spend that long watching people, unless they were hunting, but most predators wouldn’t dream of getting so close to so many people. Both Sam and Tucker seemed apprehensive as well.

“Hey, did either of you heard those weird bird calls earlier?” Sam asked while they were eating dinner.

“I don’t know how you had time to listen to birds with how much manual labor we did earlier. I’m exhausted,” Tucker whined in between bites of his food.

“We barely did anything too strenuous. You really need to get out more.” The amused smirk on Sam’s face was quickly replaced by a frown. “But, in all seriousness, something sounded wrong. I’m pretty familiar with the birds around here, but I’ve never heard something like that before.”

“Is it possible it was an exotic bird?” Danny questioned. “I mean, it is possible one escaped or someone let one go.”

Sam considered his words for a moment. “While it’s possible, I don’t think that’s the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain.” She brought her hand to her chin as she tried to put her thoughts to words. “The sound didn’t sound natural. It was almost mechanical.”

“A mechanical bird? Come on, Sam! Even for you, that’s pretty out there. Am I right, dude?” Tucker playfully nudged Danny, only to realize he seemed deep in thought. “Hey, what’s wrong? Earth to Danny.”

“Gah!” The sudden motion of Tucker waving his hand in front of his face startled him. “Sorry about that. It’s just that… I… I think I know what she means”

“Huh?”

“I don’t remember much about what happened when I went missing, but before things go hazy, I definitely remember a strange bird call. After doing some research, my parents said that calls like that are sometimes heard before unusual missing persons cases.”

“Dude! Don’t say stuff like that! I’m already freaked out enough as it is by this whole mess. Ouch! Did you really have to kick me?”

“Keep your voice down,” Sam warned him as she motioned to the side with a head nod. Danny followed the motion and noticed some of the Rangers seemed to be watching them. “I really don’t want them to pay attention to us. They’re watching us, all of us, like we’re prisoners or something. Anyways, Danny do you know anything more about that weird call?”

“My parents said it might be a type of lure, but I have no idea if that’s true or not. But, I think it was to catch my attention than anything else.” Danny shook his head. “Sam, we wouldn’t be doing this. Whatever that call was, it could have just been some weird bird.”

“Don’t you want to know?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. Look, I’ve been uneasy since we first arrived in this forest. I already told Tucker this, but talking about weird stuff like this brings bad luck. Can we put it on hold until we get out of here?”

“But Danny!” Her argument was cut short as he glared at her. She straightened up as her eyes narrowed. “As weird as everything is, I think the bigger mystery is what exactly happened to you when you went missing when you were a kid.”

“Look, I don’t know what happened,” Danny snapped. What was her problem?

“Clearly something did. What’s every going on here might be digging up some of those memories. Maybe you have a memory that could help, but you’re getting so defensive.”

“Of course I am! Would you like it if someone kept trying to make you remember something that’s probably better left forgotten?”

“Alright, alright. Chill already.”

His only response was to huff and turn away. Her stubbornness was something he both admired and occasionally hated. Whether it was petitioning her teachers to get a menu changed, rallying a protest, or badgering her friends for information, she often wouldn’t stop until she got her way. It was a big reason why he didn’t think they’d ever be able to get together.

They had discussed it the previous year, after Tucker outed their mutual attraction. Neither of them thought it would work out. Sam was too headstrong, and Danny was too reserved for it to be a functioning relationship. There was always a spark of hope, but it was situations like this that reminded him that they hadn’t changed. For the sake of their friendship, it wasn’t something they could safely consider.

Maybe when they got a little older, a little more mature, they would be able to act on their feelings, but that would have to wait. For now, he was just going to sit in an annoyed silence as he finished his… what exact was this food supposed to be anyways?

…..

Sam actually apologized to him the next day. However, he was still too irritated to speak to her, but by the time lunch rolled around, he had forgiven her.

The morning had been spent working on more wilderness survival skills, but the Rangers surprised them by announcing that they would be leading them on a hike on the trail that surrounded the camp. It was only supposed to last a couple hours at most, but three armed Rangers would be walking with them.

Annoyed and uneasy murmurs circled through the students as they formed groups of three and four. Those groups were then lined up; one Ranger moved to the front, one went to the back, and the other moved to the center of the line. Before they began to move, the Rangers warned the entire group that, under no circumstance, was anyone to go off on their own.

Although Sam and Tucker wanted to stay away from Lancer and the jocks who were near the front of the line, Danny would not allow them to be in the very back. After everything else that happened, he would not allow himself to be in the back on the line. The warning to stay away from the very back or front still rang in his ears. Unfortunately, that didn’t last very long.

As they began their trek, several of the groups fell to the back of the line. It forced Danny and his friends to have somewhat of a distance between the few band and more nerdy students who were following close to the first Ranger and Mr. Lancer, and the popular kids and jocks who were near the back. The Ranger who was supposed to be in the middle had hung back to help keep an eye on the larger portion of students.

“I don’t like this,” Danny mentioned as Sam had them stop for a moment as she made a quick sketch of a plant off the path. “Is it just me, or is it really quiet?” He had noticed it for a while. Usually a person should be able to hear bugs, birds, leaves rustling, something, but he hadn’t noticed any noise for a while.

“These are older forests, Danny,” Sam explained as she finished her sketch. “Noises often get muffled since plants can absorb sound to some extent.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s not creepy.”

“Actually, Sam, I agree with him,” Tucker mentioned as he looked over his shoulder. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

Sam tucked her sketch book in her bag before pointing to something behind them. “I think you’re right on that, but I don’t think it’s anything out of the ordinary.”

Danny and Tucker turned to see Dash and his friends, as well as some of the popular girls approach them from down the trail. Apparently, they had been spotted as Dash wore an evil grin as he said something to Kwan as he gestured towards them. A round of laughter followed.

“Great, just our luck. Do you think we’d be able to outrun them?” Danny asked as he warily eyed the approaching group.

“Are you nuts, dude? We can’t even outrun Sam.”

“Thanks for that lovely vote of confidence, Tucker.” ==================

Notes:

The coyotes and the Game Commission was an actual thing that happened. Basically, there weren’t supposed to be any coyotes in Pennsylvania, but there were farmers saying their animals were being attacked by something. One of the farmers, who lived nearby where I grew up, got permission to take a shot at creatures and ended up killing a coyote with a Game Commission tag in its ear. Twenty years later, the Game Commission has finally admitted coyotes are back in Pennsylvania, and that they can be hunted. Coyotes can attack people. While there aren’t many documented attacks, they have happened, and Pennsylvanians aren’t very happy about them popping up in towns and parks.

Mountains Lions, also known as Nittany Lions, Pumas and Cougars, are supposedly extinct in the states east of the Mississippi River (ignore Florida – it’s an exception). However, that’s another thing under debate. There have been many sightings of them throughout the years in the east, especially in the Appalachian (app-ah-lay-shin) Mountains. There is actually a picture of one found in Ohio near its border with Kentucky that was taken in 2014. I know there are recent reports in Pennsylvania and New York as well - this includes family members.

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ggukcangetit · 4 years

Text

Namjoon-ing in the Rain

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Synopsis: You hate the rain but your best friend, Namjoon, doesn’t feel the same.

Genre/AU: fluff| best friends!au

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: PG-13 for language

Warnings: nothing really

A/N: i’ve never really written a member-centric fic for anyone other than jungkook. not sure how this worked out. just something that felt like being written. mainly because i hate the rain and i miss my friends. banner by @sushireads !!

There is something about the rain. It makes everything horribly squelchy and disgusting. Daily routine is hampered, and everyone and everything is thrown off kilter. Frankly, you hate the rain.

You do not own a car, instead having to rely on public transport for every single commute. Another reason why you cannot stand the rain. Squishing yourself into a crowded bus during rush hour, completely drenched and trying your utmost to avoid the wandering hands of well-meaning perverts, is not your idea of fun. And why are you drenched when the weather app has predicted a week’s worth of showers which should have prepared you to carry an umbrella along with you. Honestly, you have half a mind to sue every single umbrella manufacturer there is. What is the point of the umbrella if you are still soaked to the bone after holding it up in the rain for a maximum of 3 minutes?

Of course, you do not verbalize these grievances when the opportunity arises. Instead, you opt for a more succinct phrase.

“Fuck the rain.”

Your best friend doesn’t have much of a response to this, continuing to sip the americano in front of him.

“Namjoon, pay attention!” you yell, snapping your fingers in front of him to get his attention.

He looks up with a mildly amused expression. “I heard you.”

“It’s only polite to respond when someone says something.”

“Yes, but-” he shuts the book he had been reading- “when someone only ever says the one thing over and over again, responses are more likely to run out.”

“Rude.” You cross your arms across your chest, glaring out the window of the coffee shop situated opposite your place of work - the place you meet Namjoon every Friday when work gets over an hour early.

“Come on, Y/N,” Namjoon chuckles, tapping on the table to grab your attention. “You always complain about the rain, but you’ve never actually said why you hate it.”

“It’s an inconvenience,” you say simply.

“I beg to differ.”

“Why? Don’t tell me it’s some romantic bullshit like the rains make everything magical and wondrous. Or the ever popular notion that rains are cleansing - a new beginning!” You scoff and roll your eyes, fingers impatiently tucking wet strands of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sure that’s true to an extent. But that’s not what I’m talking about,” said Namjoon, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “I’ll try and explain it to you some other time. Right now, I’m too tired to think. Yoongi was up all night mixing tracks and I couldn’t fall asleep in the next room.”

“You should’ve gone home after work,” you say, feeling a little guilty.

“I should’ve,” he replies with a shrug, but doesn’t budge from his seat for another hour as you finish your latte and he makes a few notes in the book he was reading.

An entire month passes by, and you and Namjoon have missed your weekly Friday coffee meets twice. It’s nothing life-changing or particularly alarming that has caused this disruption. It’s just life. But on the fifth Friday, the weather is bright and sparkling, and Namjoon suggests sitting by the Han river instead of inside the coffee shop. Since you are breaking from your routine anyway, you decide to order an iced honey chai instead of your usual latte. Namjoon opts for two iced americanos instead of one.

You’ve only been to the river a handful of times. Each time, Namjoon has been there with you. In a way, you can’t imagine the river without him. Memory is funny in the way that it attaches permanence to the more fleeting parts of existence.

“Did you submit the report on time?” Namjoon asks, stretching his long limbs above his head.

“Just. Two minutes more and I would’ve missed the deadline.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a fellow deadline junkie.”

You grin before sipping the iced honey chai. It doesn’t taste that great. This is why you don’t experiment with new things. They tend not to work out for you. Or maybe it’s just that you’re unwilling to give change a chance. But that thought is not something you dwell on for longer than a moment.

“Honey chai not to your liking?” Namjoon chuckles at your disgruntled expression.

“This is the last time I’m experimenting with things. Dunno why I did it in the first place. It’s all thanks to your terrible influence. Changing up our usual meeting place pressured me into changing up my choice of beverage.”

“Whatever makes sense to you.”

“I’m just glad the weather is good today! Crisp skies and warm sunshine! I’ve really missed this!” You gaze up at the sky happily, noting a single grey cloud floating by.

The weather gods have never particularly liked you as is evidenced by the fact that a torrential downpour begins mere seconds after you utter that sentence.

“Fuck!” You stand up, gathering your belongings and calculating the driest path back to the coffee shop.

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asks, not having moved from his place on the bench.

“Inside. In case you haven’t noticed, Joon, it’s raining like the fucking apocalypse!”

“You’ll be drenched by the time you manage to get to any of the shops. It’s actually better to stay here. The benches here don’t really get wet unless there’s a strong accompanying wind.”

You groan dejectedly, dropping your bag on the bench and flopping down beside him. Namjoon always looks so peaceful during rains. It’s a complete contrast to the immense irritation this particular weather phenomenon has always ignited in you.

“Why do you like the rain so much?” you ask, turning away from his handsome profile.

“I don’t like it, per se.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I have time.”

“I always look to people to learn about life. Each person in my life has taught me something different. But I also realised that this applies to rain as well. There are so many different kinds of rain, and just like the different people in my life, each type of rain has showed me something different about life. There’s the soft shower that barely touches you as it falls from the sky which is such a contrast to the relentlessness of the rainstorms that continue for hours on end. Then you have the sudden storms that burst through without any warning, upsetting the natural rhythm of things. The cold showers in early November that indicate the incoming winter. And lastly, the first rain that hits the ground after a brutal summer. That’s my favorite one because the smell of the wet earth coming to life always reminds me of that day in our first year of college.”

Namjoon wanted to cry. He was nineteen years old, studying art history and business at the most prestigious college in the country, on his way to becoming a research assistant for one of his favorite academics. Yet, today all he really wanted to do was cry. It was the last week of the semester, the weather had been particularly oppressive, the cafeteria had run out of food by the time he had managed to get out of a meeting with his professor, and to top it off, his bicycle chain had snapped just as he was preparing to cycle home.

It was at that moment that you walked over to him. You both had become friends about a year ago, and if he was perfectly honest, Namjoon wasn’t really sure how that happened. You were calm, even slightly formidable, in the way that you handled every part of your college life. Whereas, he was a bit of a bumbling mess, misplacing lecture notes, contact lenses, and plastic utensils. He often wondered what it was that was holding your friendship together.

“You missed food,” you said to him, matter-of-factly. “It sucked. But I snagged one of Seokjin’s homemade chicken wraps for you.”

Namjoon blinked a couple of times before taking the neatly wrapped packet from you.

“Well, go on,” you said impatiently. “Eat it. What’re you waiting for?”

“R-right.”

But just as he unwrapped the foil, a crack of thunder erupted followed by a burst of rainfall. Namjoon had resigned himself to the fact that things were not going to go his way that day. What he had not expected was to hear you yell the most interesting cuss words at the top of your voice.

“FUCKING HELL! THIS WAS NOT ON THE FORECAST FOR TODAY! I DON’T HAVE A BLOODY UMBRELLA WITH ME! BASTARDS IN THE WEATHER DEPARTMENT CAN’T EVEN DO THEIR FUCKING JOBS PROPERLY! UGH!!!”

Though everything that could go wrong had gone wrong that day, he had never been able to forget the smell of the wet earth on that day. Because that was when he began seeing you as a real person and stopped questioning the mechanics of your friendship.

“I realised that day that you and I were different in many ways, but there would always be something that united us. We’re human and all humans feel despair and frustration at something or the other. The rain humanized you that day. And I’ll always be grateful to it because otherwise I would’ve never gotten to know my best friend.”

It continues pouring for a couple of hours more. But the two of you don’t move from the bench alongside the river. The iced honey chai lays neglected on the iron armrest, while the empty americano cups have long since been deposited into the nearby trash can.

There is something about the rain. It makes everything horribly squelchy and disgusting. Daily routine is hampered, and everyone and everything is thrown off kilter. But frankly, there are better things to hate than the rain.

#bts fic #btsbookclub #namjoon fic #namjoon x oc #c me write bangtan #namjoon #kim namjoon

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