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hungermakesmonsters · 2 days

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(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Nine

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour, use of toys. More sickening cuteness. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.3k

A/N : It's party night and that can only mean one thing; lots of drama and fun...

MASTER LIST

Chapter Nine

Within an hour, the penthouse was full.

The string quartet in the corner started to play and the wait staff started to circulate with trays of drinks. You’d lingered off to the side, near Billy but giving him enough distance to greet his guests without things being weird. You were there as his employee first and foremost as he’d reluctantly explained to you before the first guest arrived. Everything else was too complicated, and you were quick to agree with him; no one else needed to know your business.

But he pulled you towards him when Karen and her boyfriend Frank arrived. Karen gushed over your dress and you did likewise. Frank gave you an uncomfortable look from behind his mask, like he was sizing you up, but his attention quickly turned back to Billy. So did Karen’s.

You quickly came to realise that Billy had that effect on the people around him. Eyes were always on him, he was always the centre of attention. And Billy seemed to revel in it. You felt yourself almost shrink away as he spoke to his friends, until you felt his finger tip ghost your bare thigh through the slit in your dress.

“There’s someone I want to introduce Frankie to. Karen do you mind...?” He left the question unfinished but everyone understood. He wanted Karen to babysit you.

“Of course!” You spoke before you had the chance to say anything, putting her arm around. “Come on, I think Foggy and Matt are already here.”

You gave Billy one last look, catching his gaze darkening as she led you away. As you both made your way through the crowd, Karen stopped one of the wait staff and grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to you.

“So, what do you think of all this?” She asked, scanning the crowd, obviously looking for her friends.

“It’s -” you started before you’re breath caught, feeling the toy start to softly vibrate inside you.

“Yeah, it’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you answered, looking around and managing to spot Billy right where you’d left him.

The vibrations continued for a few seconds as your eyes caught his and he smiled. You held his gaze as he lifted his phone and finally stopped the toy.

“Don’t worry,” Karen said, hooking her arm through yours and giving a gentle tug, “I won’t let you get into any trouble.”

She gave you a smile that you didn’t entirely understand; whatever she thought of your relationship with Billy, it was clear she didn’t have a clue what was actually going on between the two of you.

“I guess I’m just a little nervous,” you explained. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around this many people...”

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll love Matt and Foggy,” she told you, “Foggy is so funny and Matt is -”

“I’m what?” She was interrupted by the appearance of two men at her side, both smiling widely at her.

“I was going to say real pain in the ass, but you’ve ruined the surprise now,” Karen answered back before quickly introducing you to her friend.

They were both lawyers in Hell’s Kitchen, you quickly discovered. Foggy was the joker of the pair, while Matt was quieter, with a drier, charming sort of wit. You didn’t realise that Matt was blind until you noticed his cane. Neither asked what you were doing at the party or how you knew Billy, and you were more than happy to keep that information to yourself, in favour of learning all about them.

When they started talking in a way that close friends do, they still tried to include you and make sure you felt like part of the group, and it was something you’d never really experienced before. It felt nice, like you could be one of them one day, like you could have your own little group of friends and a normal life. All you needed to do was make it through a whole year with Billy and you’d be able to have the sort of life that you wanted.

Your hand trembled as you brought your glass to your lips, another unexpected wave of vibrations started and your thighs clenched. Turning, you looked around the party, trying to spot him, but in a room full of masked men in tuxedos, it was almost impossible. The vibrations intensified and you could almost feel his eyes on you; you could picture his smile as he watched you struggling to keep a straight face.

It felt like your cheeks were burning, every fibre of your being overcome with embarrassment at just how close you were to coming in such a crowded room. Trembling fingers adjusted your mask, your hand lingering, covering your face as your breath became short, uneven pants. You clenched around the toy, but that just made it worse.

A sigh of relief slipped from your lips when the vibrations suddenly stopped, leaving you on the precipice of an orgasm.

Finally, you were able to concentrate on Foggy again, trying to catch up with the story he was telling - something about Matt getting caught outside their dorm room in college in nothing but his underwear.

“You okay?” Karen asked suddenly, derailing her story and drawing everyone’s attention to you.

“Fine, just a little warm,” you lied. “I’m going to go grab some water.”

“I could do with some water too,” Matt said, “mind if I join you?”

“No, of course not,” you told him, taking a step forward and lightly placing your arm on his so he could follow you towards the kitchen.

“I hate that story,” Matt muttered, leaning towards you so you could hear him over the party as you walked together towards the kitchen. “Foggy always insists on telling it in front of pretty girls.”

Instantly, your cheeks started to warm.

“You mean Karen?” You dared to ask, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat.

“No, I don’t mean Karen.”

“But how -”

“He wouldn’t tell the story if you weren’t pretty,” Matt explained before you could finish the question. “He was trying to put you off me.”

“I thought he was your friend?” You asked, more confused than ever.

“He is, I just have a bit of a reputation and -”

You gasped as the toy started to vibrate again, the intensity stronger than before and catching you completely off-guard. It stopped just as suddenly as it started, but your shock hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Are you alright?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you answered, “just my shoes pinching my feet.”

Fortunately, you’d managed to reach the kitchen and had the counter for support as you got a glass of water for Matt and then one for yourself.

“Thank you. I never could get used to the expensive stuff they serve at these things,” he explained.

You smiled and, suddenly, the intense vibrations started again but, this time, instead of cutting off after a couple of seconds, it carried on. It didn’t take long for you to realise what was going on; the first time had been a warning, this was the punishment.

Billy was watching you and he was getting jealous. He wanted all your thoughts on him and not the man standing in front of you.

“Karen explained your situation here,” Matt went on, “but when you’re done working for Russo, if you ever want to go for dinner or coffee, or something...”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, barely thinking about what Matt was asking you.

You squeezed your thighs together but that just made the vibrations feel more accute.

“I know some great places in Hell’s Kitchen...”

“Oh…”

Matt’s smile widened, completely unaware of your torment and just how wet your panties were. You pursed your lips and tried desperately not to let out the moan that was threatening to spill from you as Matt continued.

As awful as you felt the moment you had the thought, you were glad he couldn’t see the way you were squirming and the discomfort on your face as you struggled not to come in front of him. Your eyes searched the crowd again, trying to find Billy wanting to plead with him to relent.

“There’s a great Vietnamese place that -” Matt’s fingers brushed your arm suddenly and you almost came.

“Hey Murdock, I think Karen wants you.”

Your breath caught as Billy appeared seemingly from nowhere

“Russo,” Matt muttered curtly.

“Said she needed you to settle a bet or something,” Billy told him, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you for a single second

Matt nodded, his attention briefly turning to you before he left; “don’t forget my offer.”

Billy barely waited until he was out of earshot to speak; “having fun?”

There was an edge to his tone, something that you didn’t like, something that you hadn’t heard before. He wasn’t used to sharing you and, clearly, he didn’t like it.

“If you didn’t want me to talk to people, you shouldn’t have left me on my own,” you answered back.

“I didn’t leave you on your own, I left you with Karen.”

Your breath caught as he stepped closer, placing a hand on the counter at your side, and making you feel boxed in.

“You can’t force Karen to babysit me. I wasn’t doing anything, I was just talking. I thought that was why you let me come tonight, so I could be around people.” You looked at him, finding uncertainty in his expression. He looked lost. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes found yours from behind his mask and, for a moment, he just stared at you, unsure whether to answer or not. He took your wrist in his hand, placing his fingers over your pulse before letting out a slow exhale.

“I can’t hear your heartbeat,” he told you with a longing that you knew he hadn’t wanted to share, like he was going through the worst torture imaginable. “I can’t -” he cut himself off with a frustrated huff.

“Billy...”

There were no words, there was nothing you could say in response to any of it. You hated the frustration and agony on his face, hated the fact that there was nothing you could think of to do to fix it.

So, instead, you stayed quiet, letting him keep his fingers over your racing pulse for as long as he needed to, while your hand discretely slipped into his jacket to rest on his waist. You remained that way for a few minutes, until Billy seemed to relax again.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered softly. “We don’t have to keep playing if you don’t want to.”

“I-I want to keep playing,” you answered just as softly.

“Really?”

“Yeah... you said you wanted me to spend the night thinking about you, but I -” you bit your lip and dropped your gaze for a moment, “- I want to know you’re thinking about me too,”

Billy leaned close and, for a second, you thought he was going to kiss you but he stopped himself.

“Of course I’m thinking about you,” he confessed, “you’re the only thing I can think about, little hummingbird. When I saw you over here with Murdock all I could think about was -”

He stopped abruptly, lips pulling into a snarl at whatever thought was tormenting him.

“What?” You gently prompted.

“That night, after we had dinner together. The way you begged and moaned as I fucked you with my fingers,” his voice turned low and dark, his gaze fixed on yours. “All I could think about was how wet your pussy was and how hard you came for me against this counter.”

Your thighs clenched and you struggled to draw breath. You knew he could feel just how fast your heart was racing and it seemed to settle him further - the fact that he could make your heart pound so hard seemed to relax him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet. Not here. When everyone’s gone,” you told him, tearing your eyes away long enough to glance past him towards the party. “We should...”

“Yeah... before anyone notices...” he sighed, slowly stepping back.

For a moment you wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t care if anyone saw, but you reminded yourself that it was for his benefit as much as your own; he’d warned you from the start how people tended to view arrangements like yours.

He forced himself to turn and started to walk away from you, pulling out his phone and making the toy give a gentle buzz inside you, ramping up your arousal all over again and letting you know he was still thinking about you, that he wasn’t going to stop thinking about you.

You made your way back to Karen and, when asked about it, explained that Billy was just checking that you were alright and making sure that no one was bothering you. She gave you a look and you weren’t sure that she believed you, but she let the matter drop.

To avoid causing Billy any distress, you stayed by Karen’s side for the next couple of hours. Every now and then, you’d feel a sudden buzz inside you. Sometimes it’d just be a couple of seconds, other times, he’d leave it a few minutes before turning it off, making you squirm uncomfortably. You tried to hide it by shifting your weight between your legs, telling Karen that your new shoes were hurting you.

But, after your sixth glass of champagne, you found yourself starting to feel a little bit tipsy and in need of the bathroom, so you excused yourself.

When you got there, there was already someone waiting outside.

“Are you waiting for the bathroom?” You asked, trying to be polite, and wondering if it would be quicker to go use your own bathroom on the other side of the penthouse.

She looked at you for a second, a cold smile growing on her lips.

“Oh, you’re the new one,” she remarked, barely containing her derision as her cold fingers brushed against your necklace. “I see he’s still putting collars on his pets.”

Collars? Pets?

You wanted to say something. Anything. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Where are my manners?” She laughed, offering you her hand. “I’m Krista Dumont, I used to be you until he got bored of me.”

You took her hand, feeling like you were running on autopilot, the need to be polite far outweighing trying to understand what the fuck was going on. Her skin was cold to the touch and her eyes were dark; there was no mistaking the fact that she was a vampire.

“You’re a pretty little thing, I can see why he picked you,” she continued. “But that’s the problem with men like William; they always get bored and move on to the next pretty thing.”

“I don’t -” you tried, hating how lost you felt.

Krista. Madani had mentioned a Krista, hadn’t she? You shook your head, trying to focus your thoughts, trying to remember the photos you’d been shown. She’d had your job working for Billy, but she was a vampire now...

Did that mean Billy had turned her?

“You poor thing,” Krista cooed, leaning towards you and placing a cold hand on your cheek. “Did you really think you were the first? That you were special? Does he like to listen to your racing heartbeat once he’s done fucking you or was that just for me?”

“No, we haven’t -” you shook your head, cheeks burning hotter despite her cold touch.

It couldn’t be true. Billy had promised not to lie. He’d told you that there hadn’t been any others like you.

You wanted to find him and ask him what was going on, but there was something about her, about the way she was looking at you; you couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away to look for help. You were stuck. Trapped.

“He will eventually. He just can’t help himself,” she told you, her gaze holding yours, forcing you to keep looking, to keep listening. “But it doesn’t have to be like that. I could help you, save you the way I was saved...”

You remained frozen as she leaned towards you, softly pressing her lips to your cheek, tongue lapping up a tear you didn’t even realise had spilled. Your heart was racing, lungs struggling to draw breath. You couldn’t stop her, couldn’t even lift your arms to push her away as her lips started to trail down towards your neck.

Fingers pulled open your necklace and let it fall to the floor.

“Let me show you who you really are,” she muttered against your neck, cold lips leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Yes. You found yourself wanting it, wanting whatever it was she wanted you to want. It was like your mind had turned blank and her voice was all that remained. You were in her thrall with no way of escaping.

Then came the scrape of teeth on flesh and -

You were pulled backwards as she was wrenched away from you. Curtis had her pressed against the wall while a strong pair of arms pulled you away. You felt limp, like a rag doll being half-led, half-carried into the library.

Whatever she’d done to you had started to wear off as you were pressed back against the door, and you realised you were with Billy. Somewhere along the way, both of you had lost your masks, but you couldn’t rightly say where.

His fingers were on your neck, eyes desperately searching for any sign of bite marks. When he didn’t find any, his hands moved to hold your face, catching your eyes with a concerned look that would have broken you at any other time. Then he was on you, his body against yours, pinning you in place while his lips slanted over yours and you sank into a devouring kiss. All you could do to respond was moan softly as his tongue slipped between your lips.

It took a few seconds for you to come back to your senses, and a moment more to realise that you were angry with him. You pushed him away, breaking the kiss. The space you created wasn’t much, but it was enough to see him, and for him to see how upset you were.

“You lied to me.” Your voice threatened to break. “You promised that you wouldn’t lie to me.”

The look on his face said more than his words ever could; he knew that he’d been caught out.

“I didn’t -”

“I asked if you’d done this with any of the others and you said no.”

“I said not like this,” he tried to explain.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I fucked Krista,” he stated flatly. “That was all we did. We didn’t talk about literature or hang out, she didn’t make me laugh, she didn’t sit and watch the sunset with me. We fucked. And after three months of fucking, she wanted more from me. More than I wanted to give her.”

“What did she want?” You asked, even though you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

“Me. This life. She -” he sighed, “- she wanted to be bitten. She wanted me to turn her. She tried to get me to do it during sex when I was...” he trailed off for a moment, leaving you to fill in the blanks. She’d done it when he’d been struggling to control himself. “I told her I wouldn’t, that I couldn’t have her in my bed anymore, and she quit.”

“But she’s -”

“She’s a vampire now. She found someone else to turn her, then came back to me, thinking we could be together. And I - I couldn’t give her that. I didn’t want to give her that.” The more he spoke the more fraught he sounded. “So, yeah, I fucked up. I didn’t see what was right in front of me until it was too late. And if you want to know; yes, I’ve fucked others that have been in your position. But it’s never been like it is with you.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that from the start?” Your voice still broken, eyes threatening tears.

“So you could think that I just lure women here to take advantage of them? So you could think I was doing that to you?” He shook his head. “We shouldn’t work. Everything about you, it’s - you’re all the things I never thought I wanted. But I like being around you, I like the way I feel when I’m with you. We could stop all of this, I’d never touch you again, and I’d still want to spend time with you.”

You didn’t know how to respond to any of it. Instead, you found your fingers on your neck, remembering the necklace that was now gone.

“She called it a collar. She called me your pet.” Indignation replaced the upset in your tone.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed again, “I should’ve explained. The necklace was supposed to keep you safe, it’s supposed to signify to other vampires that you’re mine -”

“I’m yours? As in your property?” You asked angrily.

“I just wanted to keep you safe. I know you’re not mine... I know that you’ll never be mine,” he said bitterly.

“How could I be yours when we can’t even have sex?”

You regretted the question the second it left your lips and you saw his face drop.

“You’re right,” he answered before letting out a humourless huff of laughter, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Irony is that I did everything different this time and it still got fucked up. I let myself enjoy just being with you, I tried to take things slow. I let myself care - but I couldn’t even do that right. I’ve been lying to myself, pretending that anyone could want me for me. But even you don’t. If it wasn’t for the money, you wouldn’t even be here...”

You watched as he took a step back and started to turn away from you but, before he could get away, you were reaching for his hand, pulling him back towards you. He gave you a confused look but didn’t say anything while you sorted through your conflicting emotions.

“I -” you started and stopped, not sure what you wanted to say, only knowing that you wanted to say something, “- I haven’t been doing any of this for the money. I like you, okay? A lot. I know that’s not what we agreed to and I know I’m not supposed to, but I can’t help it. That’s why it hurt that you lied to me, because you obviously liked her enough to sleep with her, and I -”

Before you could finish, he was on you again, pulling you into another eager kiss. The floor disappeared beneath your feet as he lifted you and carried you further into the library, not putting you down until he reached his desk. Your fingers grasped his jacket, keeping a tight hold of him while he kissed you.

“Let me show you how much I like you,” he muttered.

He sank to his knees without warning, his hands pushing your dress up and pulling your panties down. He took a moment to appreciate just how wet they were before throwing them over his shoulder. It was only then that he seemed to remember that the toy was still nestled inside you. With a wicked grin, he took his phone from his pocket and set the toy to a low vibration.

“Billy...” you breathed, watching as his head disappeared under your dress.

The cold press of his lips on your thigh had your heart racing, and a quiet moan slipped from you when you felt him start sucking little marks into your skin, like he was claiming you. It felt like everything was happening in slow motion, each press of his lips and drag of his tongue bringing him closer and closer to where you desperately wanted him. Before he got there, you noticed his finger clumsily swiping at his phone, ramping up the vibrations.

His fingers parted your folds and you gasped as his tongue started to tease your clit.

You moaned, already feeling overwhelmed, feeling the pressure of a whole night's worth of teasing start to fill you. Your legs trembled, held apart by Billy’s strong hands, leaving you completely at his mercy, as he licked and sucked your throbbing, swollen clit. Gripping the edge of the desk, your back arched, and your moans only got louder and more desperate. Struggling to hold off the inevitable until -

“Come for me,” he groaned in that eager but commanding tone.

And you did as you were told.

Your whole body shook, finally able to relieve the tension that had been coiling in you since the moment he’d filled you with the toy. More wild moans escaped your lips and Billy’s tongue kept going until you were too sensitive to take anymore. The vibrations finally stopped and you felt Billy pull the toy from your trembling body and heard it drop but you didn’t look down.

Instead your eyes were fixed on Billy, as he finally emerged from beneath your dress. He stood and your arm instantly wrapped around his waist, while the hand of the other tenderly cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his wet lips.

“I like you too, hummingbird. A lot,” he finally dared to admit, drawing the softest laugh from you.

He leaned in to kiss you again, his hips settling between your thighs. You let out a soft moan against his lips, pulling him closer, needing him as close as possible, feeling the way his cock was straining against his pants. Now that he’d said the words, you felt closer to him than ever and you didn’t want the moment to end. When he pulled back, the look on his face was all it took to have you fumbling to undo his pants and free his achingly hard cock. Your hand ran up and down the length of him while he just looked at you.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, already sounding a little breathless.

“I want you,” you answered.

Billy hesitated, looking almost reluctant, and it took you a couple of seconds to realise why; this was usually the point when he started to lose control and things fell apart.

Your free hand moved back to his cheek. “Are you here with me? Are you in control right now?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want this.”

Billy relented with a nod. You took a breath as his arm hooked beneath your knee, lifting your leg, making sure you were spread open for him. Your hand dropped from his cock and moved to grip his jacket again as he pressed forwards. The tip of his cock parted your folds and pressed against your wet entrance and you felt your whole body start to tremble in nervous anticipation. He kissed you again, this time softly, savouring the taste of your lips as he slowly started to nudge inside you, drawing a moan from you.

Your grip on his jacket tightened and you tried not to wince as he stretched you. You knew there was going to be some initial discomfort because of his size, but you didn’t care. You wanted to finally feel him inside you.

“Are you still with me?” you asked him softly, trying in vain to hide your discomfort.

Billy nodded, lifting your leg a little higher, opening you further, enough for him to slowly start sinking deeper, almost enough for him to -

Suddenly the noise of the party spilled into the room and Billy recoiled, pulling out and leaving you trembling.

“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Bill?” An angry voice pulled you back to the moment and your heart stopped.

Billy pulled away, fumbling with his pants, turning to face Frank. Your shaking hands tried to right your dress as you got off the desk, your face burning with embarrassment as Frank leaned down to pick your discarded panties off the floor, a disgusted look on his face.

“You plannin’ on fuckin’ up that poor girl too? Can’t keep your dick in your pants, that it?”

“What -” the word left your lips in little more than a whisper and it was completely ignored.

“Fuck off, Frankie,” Billy growled. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“I ain’t lettin’ you fuck up another one, Bill. I told you, you don’t get to fuck around like this no more.”

“And I told you, you don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re the one that did this to me, Frankie. You don’t get to keep fucking up my life.” Billy answered back, pointing an angry finger at Frank.

Your embarrassment doubled when you realised that Karen was there. She moved past Frank, stepping towards you and offering you her hand. “Come on, they need to talk this out.”

Billy didn’t even look at you, he was too busy looking like he was about to tear Frank to shreds with his bare hands.

You hated yourself for how easily you took her hand and let her lead you out of the library; like a child, being removed from a room by your mother because the adults were talking. You felt so lost, so completely and utterly mortified, that you barely even noticed that Karen led you back through the party and to your rooms, and into the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Karen asked, closing the kitchen door and sealing you both in the tiny room and away from the sounds of the party.

“No, I’m not okay,” you responded sharply, “what was that?”

“Look, Billy is just -”

“Not Billy, you and Frank,” you clarified.

“I know you’re probably confused right now, but Billy really shouldn’t -”

“How is it any of your business?” You interrupted again, your voice shaking, tears threatening to spill.

“Because it isn’t safe. Billy - when he’s like that, he isn’t safe,” she tried to tell you. “He’s sick, he -”

“I know.”

Karen faltered, obviously not expecting you to know anything about it. “He told you?”

“I’ve seen it,” you snapped, hating that you were being made to feel like a child who had no idea what was going on. “I’ve been helping him with it. And that, in there - it wasn’t that.”

Scrubbing at your eyes, you refused to cry in front of her, you refused to show anything but anger.

“I know it might seem like -”

“Like what? That he likes me?” Your voice threatened to break. “Is that really so hard to believe? That he might actually like me? That someone like him might actually want me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Karen tried to explain, reaching out, trying to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You shrugged away from her, moving towards the door and pulling it open. “Just get out.”

“I know you’re pissed, but I’m just trying to help,” Karen tried again, obviously trying to keep her own temper in check.

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want it. So, just go.”

She looked ready to argue but quickly gave up. You watched as she left and made her way back into the penthouse.

You thought about going back to Billy but you couldn’t face anyone, you felt so embarrassed and angry, you felt like there was still so much going on that you didn’t understand. And you hated it. It made you feel like you were back home, with everyone around you making decisions for your life without bothering to consult you.

Heading to your room, you locked the door behind you and changed into your pyjamas before crawling into bed, burying your face against the bear he'd bought you as the tears started to fall.

End Note : We're now referring to Frank as Frank-cockblock-Castle, and I hope everyone enjoyed some of the little cameos, some of them will be back in later chapters to cause more trouble. Anyway, hope this chapter lived up to expectations 😅 As always, thanks for reading/commenting/liking/reblogging, it really does mean so much to me every week!! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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egcdeath · 3 hours

Text

the old college try

summary: you reconnect with an unexpected guest at the creator of your scholarship’s dinner party.

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

warnings: stanford era, sassy reader, situationship, a touch of family drama, mentions of putting an etsy love spell on someone, arguing, emotional immaturity, maybe not the best decisions from our lovely characters, kindaaaa open ending

word count: 4.6k

author’s note: i am absolutely addicted to all things ex!patrick. i hope you enjoy reading this!

“This is my son, Patrick.”

Your stomach dropped the second the woman’s son turned around, familiar light eyes and scruffy appearance immediately taking you back to your tumultuous third semester of college.

You remembered it like it was yesterday—the extended periods without contact followed by a surprise appearance at your dorm room, or the drawn out arguments on the phone that left every passerby giving you—the angry woman on the phone in her pajamas on the sidewalk—a strange look, and even the few good times you had with him.

You blinked once to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then felt an onslaught of realization hit you at once. Despite your several month on-and-off situationship with Patrick, you never learned much identifying information about him, including his last name. In fact, that had been something you’d argued about multiple times. The two of you barely knew each other, save for each others’ bodies, which you unfortunately both knew very well.

Had you known that Patrick was the son of Mrs. Zweig, donor to your scholarship, you wouldn’t have accepted the invite to this family event.

Mrs. Zweig seemed to recognize the shock and confusion on both of your faces. While you didn’t think your mouth was agape, there was certainly a high chance that it was. “You two already know each other?” she asked, looking amused.

“No,” you quickly replied.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, his words coming out at the same time as yours.

“Yes,” you tried again, trying to get your story straight.

“No,” he said this time, your voices overlapping once more.

She glanced between the two of you skeptically before humming aloud. “Hmm. Well, I’ll let you two chat and connect, or reconnect, whatever it is you’re doing.”

She was off without much more fanfare, leaving you very flustered in her wake.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Patrick asked you, getting right in your face like he always did when the two of you argued. It was almost slightly nostalgia-inducing.

“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, given that he had been introduced as the son of your beneficiary. Of course he would be at a family function. This was his family, after all. But you were flustered, as anyone else in your shoes would be, and words were currently failing you.

“Zweig doesn’t ring a bell?” he asked. When you responded with a wordless shake of your head, he chuckled in annoyance and disbelief. It all felt very familiar. “What was it that you always used to say to me? ‘You don’t even know what my middle name is?’”

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes, not knowing where the discussion was going, but not liking it regardless.

In response to your non-verbal response, he leaned in close to your ear, clearly not trying to let on to the rest of the attendees the level of drama that was currently occurring in their midst.

“You hypocrite.”

The words he spat were simple, but effective—leaving you simultaneously filled with rage and oddly, a little aroused.

He walked off after that, using self restraint that you weren’t actually sure that he had. Knowing Patrick, he would be back and spewing vitriol in your face or in your ear whenever he next had the opportunity.

You were taking a very different approach to the situation. Now that you knew Patrick was at the event, you were determined to do everything humanly possible to avoid bumping into him.

You talked to any and everyone you could find, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel Patrick’s eyes searing into you, no matter what part of the room you were in. He was clearly waiting for the moment he could pounce on you once again, evidenced by the way he seemed to start going on the move whenever you stopped talking to someone.

Somehow, you were still one step quicker than him, quickly maneuvering yourself into new conversations or inserting yourself into the conversations of others.

You weren’t sure what Patrick so badly wanted to tell you anyway. Maybe taunt you about some new conquest he was with, or to beg you to come home with him after dinner. Unfortunately, the latter proposition didn’t sound all that bad.

Other than your issue of avoiding conversation with Patrick, you were also facing another challenge: People trying to introduce the two of you to each other. You weren’t sure what it was that made people think that the two of you needed to meet so badly—from Patrick’s mom, who had been insisting for weeks that you meet her son, to a random cousin who happened to think that you’d like each other. You wished you could tell them that you’d already met each other, and that you’d magnificently crashed and burned.

Briefly wanting to get away from the repetitive small talk and questions about if you’ve met the person you were in a messy situationship with, you found your way to a bathroom—but not without being followed in.

“What the fuck?” you said immediately as the door behind you shut.

“We need to talk,” Patrick said plainly, locking the door behind him.

“Unlock that,” you demanded, not because you were all that afraid of your safety, but because you wanted a quick exit plan if he started to really piss you off.

“Fine,” he conceded, unlocking the door. “But don’t act weird if someone walks in on us.”

“Walks in on us?” you laughed, parroting his words. “There won’t be anything to walk in on. I mean, you can’t seriously think I’m going to fuck you at a family dinner.”

You were about 95% sure of your words, but that other 5% was thinking about the logistics of getting your tight dress off in that small bathroom.

“I didn’t come in here to fuck you,” he explained.

“Then what are you here for?” you asked, confused about what else he could possibly want from you.

“We need to get our story straight. I can’t have a repeat of that conversation with my mom.”

“Why does it matter? I’ll just stay away from you for the rest of the night. I’ll expect you to do the same, then there won’t be any issues.”

“That won’t work. Have you seen the seating chart for tonight?”

“Seating chart?” you scoffed. It seemed ridiculous, but it made sense. For people rich enough to create and fund scholarships, it made sense that a large dinner for friends and family members would come equipped with a seating chart. Besides, you were sure there were people with dietary restrictions in your midst. “How would I have known there was a seating chart, let alone look at it ahead of time?”

“Well, a little spoiler: you and I are sitting next to each other.”

“What the hell? Who did that?”

“I don’t know! Stop looking at me like this is my fault.” Now that he mentioned it, you were currently glaring at Patrick. “It must’ve been my mom. I swear she’s been telling everyone that you and I need to get together. Everyone’s been telling me all night that we need to meet.”

“God, I thought it was just me. Is this a family of matchmakers or something? Or are they trying to help you out with your fear of commitment?”

“I don’t have- can you just focus instead of trying to be funny? We’re gonna be next to each other all night and people are going to be asking us questions. So what are we going to tell them?”

“You don’t want to tell them about you leading me on for months?” you asked innocently, not trying very hard to hide the contempt behind your words.

“No, you’re right,” Patrick agreed with you, fake thoughtfulness in his tone. “Now that I think about it, maybe we should tell them about the love spell you paid some Etsy witch to put on me.”

You instantly felt your cheeks warm at the mention of such an embarrassing action.

“That was a joke and you know it.” It wasn’t a joke. It was a dark period of time for you. “So what do you suggest we tell them?”

“That we’re just friends,” he said simply.

“They aren’t gonna be suspicious that you’ve never brought me up before?” you probed, part of you wondering the logic behind his decision, and the other part of you wondering if he’d ever brought you, his situationship, up to his friends or family.

“Doubt it,” he dismissed with ease.

You were only a little disappointed, but not at all surprised. “So what’s the story?”

“That we met when I was visiting Stanford.”

“That’s true, though.”

“Just leave it at that. We met once or twice through mutual friends,” he directed.

“Okay,” you shrugged. “Anything else I should know?”

“Just that you look really hot tonight,” he said, biting his lip and unabashedly checking you out.

“Okay. Goodbye,” you didn’t bother humoring him, though his words did satisfy you. You left the bathroom and didn’t spare a glance back, even as you heard him leave a few minutes later.

After the torture that was socializing with people whose sole purpose seemed to be setting you up with your ex fling, you’d all been summoned to sit down for dinner. Just as Patrick warned you, you sat down at a seat that was directly next to him. You wished you could switch seats with someone else, putting their nameplate next to him and hoping that no one would be any wiser, but you couldn’t see a world where that would work out for you.

Eventually, Patrick sat down next to you, clearly trying his best not to look at you too closely, lest someone catch on to the fact that you two knew each other.

You did your best to be a fly on the wall in the conversation that the people around you were having. You poked around at your salad and wondered if you focused hard enough on the leaves, if you’d be able to disappear.

“So, have you two had the chance to meet?” someone asked from across the table, directing the question to you and Patrick. Clearly, your plan of disappearing hadn’t worked out after all.

“Yeah! We actually know each other already,” you explained, directing a friendly smile towards whatever cousin or family friend you were speaking to. Clearly, Patrick didn’t trust your answering abilities, as he butt into the conversation before you could finish speaking.

“We have some mutual friends, so we’ve crossed paths once or twice,” Patrick clarified, attempting to give more context to your relationship. Technically, it was true. While you weren’t necessarily friends with the man who inadvertently set you up, you’d been invited to a party being hosted by some tennis player in your accounting class who played with Patrick at some point, and met at that very event.

Despite the many partygoers, Patrick seemed instantly drawn to you, or at least, was instantly attracted to you, based on the way that he openly checked you out as he approached you. Normally, that kind of thing would make you roll your eyes and walk away, but you’d been intrigued by his looks and his shameless demeanor. If only you could go back in time to tell yourself to roll your eyes and walk away.

“But we don’t know each other very well,” you added. That, you firmly believed was true. Patrick may have known what position made you cum quickest, but he didn’t know a thing that actually mattered about you. He probably couldn’t even tell you what your major was.

“What a coincidence you ended up here, then,” the other man, whose name you couldn’t remember, commented. “Did Patrick help you get the scholarship?”

“What?” you tried not to sound too offended, though you very much were. You tried to remind yourself that saying the wrong thing could cost you your entire higher education, and ended up laughing off the very rude allegation. “It’s really just a funny coincidence.”

To your surprise, Patrick jumped to your defense. “Unlike you and your seat on the board, there’s no nepotism here. We met long after she already got the scholarship, which she earned. She’s one of the most dedicated students I know.”

His words surprised you. The argumentative ones calling out his relative, not so much, but you were a little impressed by the way that he stood firm on the fact that you were a good student. Sure, he witnessed you studying for midterms in your dorm room every now and then—even if at the time he’d been trying to distract you from your work to get some attention—and now that you were thinking about it, he did bring you flowers after he found out you’d made it onto the Dean’s List.

Maybe Patrick hadn’t been all that bad of a… you didn’t even know what, after all. But that was certainly a thought you were only entertaining due to his sweet behavior he was currently exhibiting. The fact that you were a whole year out from your entanglement and still couldn’t define what the hell happened between the two of you was a testament to how much of a mess your relationship was.

“Not that you know too many students,” his relative laughed in that stuck-up rich person's laugh they all seemed to have. You tried to ignore how you were already getting caught in family politics, getting your academic ability called into question in the crossfire of an easy insult Patrick dealt to his family member. “Pat’s too busy going around the world hitting balls. How’s that going, by the way?”

From what you’d observed in your own efforts to see what he was up to, they weren’t going great. Notably, after you’d cut things off with him, his performance decreased significantly.

“It’s going well,” Patrick said with false confidence that you saw right through. If you could see right through it, you were sure that his family members were able to do the same. A brief glance at the woman in front of you who was clearly attempting to suppress a laugh confirmed this for you immediately.

It was almost a little pathetic to see, watching Patrick lie so obviously to an audience that couldn’t even pretend to believe him. Seeing how he stepped in to help you out, it was only fair that you did the same for him. Even if he hadn’t done so, you were starting to become embarrassed for him.

“Have you been to any of his matches recently?” you asked, interrupting their mockery of Patrick. “He did a really great job at the French Open. I mean, even making it to the French Open is really impressive.”

Not that you’d been at any of the matches, but you occasionally Googled his name to see what he was up to. Even more occasionally, you turned on ESPN to see if you could catch any footage of him playing. But it wasn’t like you even really cared.

Okay. You cared a little bit.

Most of the time, you were rooting for him to fail, as is the right of all bitter exes. But now was not the time for you to share that information. Not when Patrick was looking at you like you were crazy, and his family members were eyeing you suspiciously.

That was when you remembered that the two of you weren’t supposed to know each other very well. You instantly tried your best to cover up your tracks. “But I don’t know a lot about tennis, that’s just what our friend told me.” Considering that you hadn’t spoken to Art since Accounting 223 ended, he did not actually share this information with you.

“Huh. Do you guys talk about Patrick a lot?” you were trying your best not to fold under the skeptical look she was giving you.

“Only when he’s doing something cool. Which isn’t very often,” it was a good save, which left the rest of the table laughing at your little dig at Patrick. You were starting to understand his family dynamic a little more, and it didn’t exactly seem like a pleasant one.

You could practically feel his betrayed gaze searing into you, but you did your best to ignore it. You were already feeling guilt gnaw into you about hanging him back out to dry with a family who already liked to pick on him.

“You know, that actually reminds me. You said you don’t know much about tennis, but I remember seeing you play a little bit. How’s that going?” Patrick asked you, his question obviously trying to reveal something embarrassing about you. You instantly felt the blood drain from your face at the mention of your attempt to play the sport.

Your brief stint with tennis was mainly born out of your desire to see Patrick more often. After your run-in at his friend’s party, you were determined to put yourself in the type of situations that would allow you to ‘accidentally’ run into Patrick.

You started off simple, going to the tennis matches for Stanford’s men’s team, hoping that Patrick would eventually show up in the stands to support his friend. Despite your incessant searching of the stands, you were never able to find Patrick amongst the crowd of students, fans, and supportive family members.

Never one to give up easily, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Maybe if you were a little sportier, Patrick would take an interest in you, reaching out to you so you wouldn’t ever have to make the first move. You spent the evening perusing sporting goods stores with your roommate, putting cute tennis outfits and equipment that you couldn’t really afford on a credit card.

The next morning, the two of you got up bright and early to hit the tennis courts before anyone else arrived. The game seemed simple enough, but proved to be far more difficult than either of you anticipated. After half an hour of attempting to play with frankly awful technique, you decided to call it quits and do a photoshoot instead.

Feeling satisfied with pictures that featured your best angles and the slightest hint of breeze blowing up your skirt, you decided to post your photos on social media with a caption about how much you loved tennis. That was sure to get Patrick’s attention.

Just as you’d suspected, not long after you posted, you received a message from Patrick, casually asking about how things were going with you. Your faux interest in tennis had been promptly abandoned.

Surprised at the fact that Patrick was bringing up your very blatant bait of him, you were caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I was never really super into it,” you attempted to dismiss.

“That’s news to me,” he chuckled. “I swear, you told me about how you were super into tennis. Was that just a phase, or…?”

He eyed you mischievously, clearly challenging you to a match of whatever mind game it was that he wanted to play with you. Unluckily for him, you were in the mood to play–and win.

“Something like that. I guess I just figured out that tennis really wasn’t for me. But you know, college is a time to try out new things. See what you like, what you don’t like. And man, I really didn’t like tennis.”

Obviously, you weren’t talking just about tennis. You hoped that Patrick was able to catch onto the not-so-subtle subtext.

“I don’t know, I thought you liked tennis a lot. Thought it was good for you,” Patrick commented casually, going back to his food before looking back at you.

“It was surprisingly pretty toxic,” you replied easily.

“Are you sure you didn’t share a part in that toxicity? With a sport like tennis, you really get out what you put in.”

“Sure, but I didn’t put in nearly as much toxicity as I was getting from it.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Patrick murmured.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It means that you think you’re so guiltless, but you played a bigger role in… tennis not working out than you’re acting like you did.”

“Please, enlighten me on how I could’ve made tennis work out better for me.”

“I just think maybe you’re being a little too hard on tennis in comparison to what really happened.”

“Just because you have a nice racket and a little more experience than me doesn’t mean you’re an expert on how bad things were for me. Seriously, Patrick. You actually don’t have a clue about what I was going through.”

“Are you guys still talking about tennis?” someone asked with a forced laugh, breaking the thick tension at the table. There was a stiff, awkward chuckle from your fellow dinner companions. It was almost as if you’d forgotten that you were at his family’s dinner, bitterly arguing with Patrick in loosely coded language. You should have the shame to feel embarrassed, but you mostly felt agitated with Patrick.

“Obviously,” Patrick replied. “What else would we be talking about?”

“Oh yeah. Obviously,” they said stiffly. “So like, are you sure you two don’t know each other that well?”

“We really don’t,” you quickly replied.

“Why would we lie about that?” Patrick said, your voices overlapping.

As if arguing about something that was very obviously a metaphor for your relationship wasn’t suspicious enough, this reaction certainly didn’t help your case. It was ridiculous to attempt to keep up this façade when it was becoming more and more clear to anyone at the table with eyes to see and ears to hear that you two were more than casual, mutual friends.

“Actually, we did lie. We were friends for a little while,” you confessed.

“Friends?” Patrick parroted with a scoff. He looked at you with disbelief before shaking his head. “Excuse me,” he announced before standing up and walking off from the table.

The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, which you took as your cue to follow Patrick to wherever he was sulking off to. “Sorry. Excuse me.”

The two of you said nothing as you followed Patrick out to his back patio. The fresh, cold air felt nice after a suffocating, stressful evening. As Patrick sat down on a piece of comfortable furniture, you wordlessly sat across from him.

“Just go. Back inside, back home, I don’t give a shit. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Clearly you do,” you replied, watching him dig in his pocket for a cigarette to no avail. He finally found a loose cigarette and brought it to his lips, ignoring you as he lit it up.

“Don’t blow it in my face,” you warned him, though you wouldn’t mind taking a drag or two from it.

“I won’t,” he replied, words muffled around the cigarette at his lips.

The two of you sat in silence before he spoke once more. “Do you seriously feel like we were just friends?”

“Jesus,” you laughed at the question, unbelieving that Patrick would think all of your desperate acts to try to get him to commit to you could be interpreted as anything but romantic. “Of course we weren’t just friends. But you try describing what we had to someone who wasn’t a witness to the train wreck that was our relationship.”

“We were…” he trailed off as he thought about how to describe your relationship. “Friends with benefits?”

“Sure,” you replied, though you obviously disagreed with him. “You know, this is exactly why things didn’t work out. I wanted to be with you so badly and you refused to acknowledge that we had a connection any deeper than physical until it was convenient for you.”

“Did you expect me to spell out how I felt about you when I was showing you how I felt?” he asked as if it were the most obvious question in the world.

“Actually, yes. Clearly we were not on the same page about how we felt if you thought that you were being so obvious while I was over-analyzing every single word you’d ever said to me to try to figure out how you felt about me.”

“Are you serious? You were the one who was impossible to understand. One day you wanted me to take you out on a date and hold you in your little twin sized bed afterward, and the next you didn’t want to speak to me. How was I supposed to interpret that?”

“Patrick, you were doing the same thing to me! I was just so mad at you. Like, constantly. Even though I had feelings for you. My friends were always telling me I’m an idiot for letting you treat me that way, so obviously I tried to start pushing you away. But even with everything, I still really liked you, so I couldn’t fully stay away from you,” you explained, hoping that your disjointed words would make sense to him.

It truly was a very complicated situation. Part of you wondered if you had communicated this earlier, if things might have ended differently for you.

Patrick seemed to be thinking deeply about your words before he spoke again. “Do you ever still think about me?”

You had two options for approaching his question. You could lie, like you hadn’t made it abundantly clear earlier that you still, at the very least, pay attention to his tennis career, or you could tell the truth and risk having your feelings hurt again.

“Sometimes,” you confessed, going with the latter. “I’m mostly still really annoyed with the way you treated me, and the fact that I let you treat me that way. But sometimes I miss you, anyway.”

“Then let’s do things differently this time,” he proposed as if it was the best and brightest idea he’d ever had. “I miss you, too. It shouldn’t have taken us breaking up for me to realize how much I need you in my life, but it did.”

“What are you saying, Patrick?” you asked, trying to make sure that you fully understood his proposition. Was he trying to get you back?

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he spelled out for you. “I want to treat you better than I ever did before. I’ve thought about everything that went down between us, and I think that we can make it work this time if we just try to be honest with each other. What do you think?”

You were shocked at the offer. If someone had told you going into this dinner that you would end it with your former situationship asking you to be with him, you would’ve laughed in their face. Yet, his proposition, and the fact that you wanted to say yes, didn’t exactly feel like a laughing matter.

You paused as you stopped to consider your options. Your gut instinct was to say yes—you’d wanted him for so long, and he clearly wasn’t over you. You obviously had some things you needed to work through before you really made this relationship work, but the feelings were there. The more logical part of your brain was telling you to say no—Patrick had hurt you so many times before, that there was no telling if he would hurt you again.

“Sure. Let’s try it,” you said, ignoring all of the logic in your head and fully following where the passion in your heart wanted to take you.

You couldn’t be sure if this would end in another heartbreak for you, but you weren’t so sure that you cared either.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #challengers #challengers fic #josh o'connor x reader

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nyxshadowhawk · 1 day

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A Retrospective on Harry Potter

Why did I like it in the first place? What about it worked? Where do I go from here?

I have decided to give up Harry Potter.

J.K. Rowling’s reputation now stinks to high heaven. At this point, she is quite indefensible. And even if that weren’t the case, she is not someone that I would want to associate with anyway. Meanwhile, the internet has not only turned against her, but against Harry Potter itself. An innocent question on Reddit, about which Hogwarts Houses the ATLA characters would be in, got downvoted to oblivion. Innumerable Tumblr threads insist that fantasy fans should get into literally anything else (suggestions include Discworld, Earthsea, The Wheel of Time, and Percy Jackson). And now that Harry Potter is no longer a sacred cow, there has been a recent slew of video essays that rip it to shreds, attacking it for its poor worldbuilding, unoriginality, and the problematic ideas baked into the original books (like the whole SPEW thing), etc. Those criticisms always existed, but now they’re getting thrown into the limelight.

It pains me to see such an ignoble downfall of Harry Potter’s reputation. If Rowling had just kept her damn mouth shut, Harry Potter would have aged gracefully, becoming a beloved children’s classic. I'd still plan to introduce it to my own kids one day (after Rowling dies and the dust settles). It’s not surprising that not all aspects of it have aged well, since it’s been more than twenty years since its original publishing date, and everything starts to show its age after that long. I acknowledge that most of the criticisms of the series that I’ve seen lately are valid, and I’ve read plenty of better books. And yet, when I return to the books themselves, even with the knowledge of who JKR really is inside my head, I still really enjoy reading them! There’s still a lot about them that I think works!

None of the other things I’ve read have had as collossal of an impact upon my identity, my values, and my own writing as Harry Potter. It’s hard to move on from it, not just because it’s something I enjoy, but because I have to literally extract my identity from it. I don’t know who I’d be without Harry Potter. I don’t know what my work would look like without Harry Potter. I don’t know how to carry it with me as just another piece of media that I like, as opposed to a filter for who I am as a person. So, with all that in mind, I have to ask myself why I liked Harry Potter so much in the first place. If I’m going to move on from it, then I have to be able to define and isolate the things about it that I want to keep with me. Something about it obviously worked, on a massive scale. So what was it?

It’s not the worldbuilding. The worldbuilding is objectively quite terrible, especially in comparison to that of other fantasy writers who knew what they were doing. At best, it’s inconsistent and poorly thought-out, and at worst it’s insensitive or even racist. Is it the characters? The characters are, in my opinion, one of the stronger parts of the story. But I felt very called-out by one of the many online commentators, who said that anyone who identifies with Harry is too cowardly to write self-insert fic. (I do not remember who said it or even which site it was on, but I distinctly remember the phrase, “Reject Harry Potter, embrace Y/N.”) The reason why people get so invested in Harry Potter’s characters is because they’re easy to project upon, and it’s possible that my love of Harry comes more from over a decade’s worth of projection than anything else. The incessant arguments over characters like Snape, Dumbledore, and James Potter ultimately stem from the fact that these characters do not always come across the way Rowling wanted them to. As for the writing itself, it’s decent, but not spectacular. Harry Potter is something of a sandbox world, with less substance than it appears to have and a crapton of missed opportunities, making it ripe for fanfic. For more than ten years, I’ve been doing precisely that — using Harry Potter as a jumping-off point to fill in the gaps and develop my own ideas, some of which became my original projects.

So what does Harry Potter actually have that sets it apart? Why are people so desperate to be part of Harry Potter’s world if the worldbuilding is bad? What, specifically, is so compelling about it? I think that there’s one answer, one thing that is at the center of Potter-mania, and that has been the underlying drive of my love of it for the past decade and a half: the vibe.

Harry Potter’s vibe is immaculate.

You know what I mean, right? It’s not actually a product of any specific trope, but rather a series of aesthetic elements: The wizarding school in a grand castle, with its pointed windows and torches and suits of armor, ghosts and talking portraits and moving staircases, its Great Hall with floating candles and a ceiling that looks like the night sky, its hundreds of magically-concealed secret doorways. Dumbledore’s Office, behind the gryphon statue, with armillary spheres in every single shot. Deliberate archaisms that evoke the Middle Ages without going as far as a Ren Faire: characters wearing heavy robes, writing with quills and ink on parchment instead of paper, drinking from goblets, decorating with tapestries. Owls, cats, toads. Cauldrons simmering in a dungeon laboratory. Shelves piled with dusty tomes, scrolls, glass vials, crystal balls, hourglasses. Magical candy shaped like insects and amphibians. A library with a restricted section. A forbidden forest full of unicorns and werewolves. That is the Vibe.

There are five armillary spheres just in this shot. They are unequivocally the most Wizard of tabletop decor.

There’s more to it than just the aesthetic, though. The vibe is present in something that writers call soft worldbuilding.

There’s a phrase that writers use to describe magic systems, coined by Brandon Sanderson: hard magic and soft magic. Sanderson’s first law of magic is, “An author’s ability to solve problems with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.” A hard magic system has clearly-defined rules — you know where magic comes from, how it works and under which conditions, how the characters can use it, and what its limitations are. Examples of really good hard magic systems include Avatar: The Last Airbender and Fullmetal Alchemist. If the audience doesn’t understand the conditions under which magic can work, then using magic to get out of any kind of scrape risks feeling like the writer pulled something out of their ass. It begs the question, “Well, if they could do that, then why didn’t they do that before?”

You may come away from that thinking that having clearly-defined rules is always better worldbuilding than not having them, but this isn’t the case. Soft magic isn’t fully explained to the audience, but that doesn’t matter, because it isn’t trying to solve problems — its purpose is to be evocative. Soft magic enhances the atmosphere of a world by creating a sense of wonder. If your everyman protagonist is constantly running into cool magical shit that they don’t understand, then the world feels like it teems with magic, magic that is greater and more powerful than they know, leaving lots of secrets to uncover. Harry Potter, at least in the early books, excels at this. The soft magic in Harry Potter is what got me hooked, and I think it’s what a lot of other people liked about it, too.

The essence of soft magic is best summed up by this scene in the fourth film, in which Harry enters the Weasleys’ tiny tent at the Quidditch World Cup, only to find that it’s much bigger on the inside. His reaction is to smile and say, “I love magic.”

That’s it. That’s the essence of it. You don’t need to know the exact spell that makes the tent bigger on the inside. You don’t need to know how Dumbledore can make the food appear on the table with a flick of a wand, or how he can make a bunch of poofy sleeping bags appear with another flick. You don’t need to know how and why the portraits or wizard cards move. You don’t need to know how wizards can appear and disappear on a whim, or what the Deluminator is, or where the Sword of Gryffindor came from. You don’t need to know how the Room of Requirement works. Knowing these things defeats the purpose. It kills the vibe, that vibe being that there is a large and wondrous magical world around you that will always have more to discover.

One of the best “soft magic” moments in the books comes early in Philosopher’s Stone, when Harry is trying to navigate Hogwarts for the first time:

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 8

Many of these details don’t come back later in the series, which is a shame, because this one paragraph is super evocative! It establishes Hogwarts as an inherently magical place, in which the very architecture doesn’t conform to normal rules. Hogwarts seems like it would be exciting to explore (assuming you weren’t late for class), and it gets even better when you learn about all the secret rooms and passages. The games capitalized on this by building all the secret rooms behind bookcases, mirrors, illusory walls, etc. into the game world, and rewarding you for finding them. The utter fascination that produces is hard to overstate.

Another one of the most evocative moments in the first book is when Harry sees Diagon Alley for the first time, after passing through the magically sealed brick wall (the mechanics of which, again, are never explained). This is your first proper glimpse at the wizarding world and what it has to offer:

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad....” A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.... —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 5

What works so well here is the magical weirdness of wizardishness juxtaposed against normalcy. Eeylops Owl Emporium is just a pet shop to wizards. A woman makes a very mundane complaint about the price of goods, but the goods happen to be dragon liver. Broomsticks are treated like cars. All of these small moments contribute to the feeling of the wizarding world being alive, inhabited, and also magical. It gets you to ask the question of what your life would be like if you were a wizard. What do wizards wear? What do they eat? What do they haggle over and complain about? What do they do for fun?

In Book 3, Harry enjoys Diagon Alley for a few weeks when he suddenly has free time, and we get to experience the wizarding world in a state of “normalcy,” when he isn’t trying to save the world. He gets free ice creams from Florean Fortescue, gazes longingly at the Firebolt, and engages with delightfully weird people. He’s a wizard, living a (briefly) normal wizard life among other wizards in wizard-land. And that is fun. It’s so fun, that people want that experience for themselves, enough for there to be several theme parks and other immersive experiences dedicated to recreating the world of Harry Potter.

One of the greatest things about Universal was its phenomenal attention to detail. You can hear Moaning Myrtle’s voice in the women’s bathroom, and only the women’s bathroom. The walls of the Three Broomsticks have shadows of a broom sweeping by itself and an owl flying projected against the wall, so convincingly that you’ll do a double take when you see it. Knockturn Alley is down a little secret tunnel off of the main street, and that’s where you have to go to buy Dark Arts-themed stuff. It’s really well done.

Another thing that contributes to the vibe, in my opinion, is that the wizarding world is slightly macabre. They eat candy shaped like frogs, flies, mice, and so forth, and they have gross-tasting jellybeans. In the film’s version of the Diagon Alley sequence above, there’s a random shot of a pet bat available for purchase. In the third film, when Harry is practicing the Patronus Charm with Lupin, the candles are shaped like human spines. In the first book, this is Petunia’s description of Lily’s behavior after she became a witch:

Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school, and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 4

I remember reading this for the first time, and it just kind of made intuitive sense to me. I suppose it fits into the “eye of newt and toe of frog” association between magical people and gross things, but somehow it works. Unfortunately, this is retconned later with the knowledge that wizards can’t use magic outside school, but before that limitation gets imposed, the idea of Lily amusing herself by turning teacups into rats seems like an inherently witchy thing to do.

That association between magic and the macabre shows up elsewhere, as well. In The Owl House, Luz’s interest in gross things is one of the things that marks her as a “weirdo” in the real world. When she goes to the magical world of the Boiling Isles, weird and gross stuff is absolutely everywhere. That world’s vibe leans more towards the macabre than the whimsical, but it works because you sort of expect the gross stuff to exist alongside the concept of witches, and that they would be an intrinsic part of the world they inhabit. You don’t question it, because it’s part of the vibe.

(The Owl House is one of the few things I’ve encountered that has a similar vibe to Harry Potter, but it’s still not the same vibe. In fact, The Owl House outright mocks the expectation that magical worlds be whimsical, and directly mocks Harry Potter more than once. The overall vibe is much closer to Gravity Falls.)

The Harry Potter films utilize a lot of similar soft worldbuilding with the background details, especially in the early films that were still brightly-colored and whimsical. For example, the scene in Flourish and Blotts in the second film has impossibly-stacked piles of books and old-timey looking signs describing their subjects, which include things like “Celestial Studies” and “Unicorns.” When Harry arrives in the Burrow in the same film, one of the first things he sees is dishes washing themselves and knitting needles working by themselves, taking completely mundane things and instantly establishing them as magical. In that Patronus scene with Harry and Lupin, the spine-candles and a bunch of random orbs (and the obligatory giant armillary sphere) float around in the background. One small detail that I personally appreciate is the designs on the walls above the teacher’s table in the Great Hall, which are from an alchemical manuscript called the Ripley Scroll:

It’s all these little things that add up to produce The Vibe.

Obviously, much of the vibe is expressed very well in John Williams’ score for the first three Harry Potter films. The mystical minor key of the main theme, the tinkly glockenspiel, the strings, the rising and falling notes that mimic the fluttering of an owl, the flight of a broomstick, or the waving of a wand. That initial shot of the castle across the lake as the orchestra swells, as the children arrive at their wizarding school:

If you grew up with Harry Potter, just looking at this image gives you The Vibe. The nostalgia hit is definitely part of it, but The Vibe was already there, back when you were a child and you didn’t have nostalgia yet.

In my opinion, only Williams’ score captures this vibe — the later films, though their scores are very good, do not. But the soundtrack of the first two video games, by Jeremy Soule (the same person who did Skyrim) absolutely nails it. This, right here, is Harry Potter’s vibe, condensed and distilled:

youtube

This is why I feel invalidated by the common advice “just read another book.” I have read other books. I’ve read plenty of other books, many of which are wonderfully written and have left an impact on me. But there’s still only one Harry Potter. To date, there’s only other book that has filled me with a similarly intense longing for a fictional place, and that is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. That book deliberately prioritized atmosphere over everything else in the story, and actually lampshades this in-universe. The Night Circus has a plot and it has characters, but it’s not about its plot or characters. It’s about the setting and its atmosphere. It swallows you up and transports you to a fictional place that is so evocative and so magical that you just have to be part of it or you’ll die. And even then, The Night Circus has a different kind of vibe from Harry Potter. In this particular capacity, there’s nothing else like Harry Potter.

The thing is, I don’t think Rowling was being as deliberate as Erin Morgenstern. (In fact, given many of Rowling’s recent statements, I question how many of her creative choices were deliberated at all.) She was throwing random magical stuff into the background without thinking too hard about it, which works when you’re writing a kids’ story, but stops working when you try to age it up. Actually, scratch that — soft worldbuilding is definitely not just for kids! The Lord of the Rings has a soft magic system, for crying out loud, and Tolkien is the original archmage of worldbuilding. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you that prioritizing atmosphere over meticulousness is bad worldbuilding. That is a valid way to worldbuild! Not everything needs to be clearly explained, not everything needs to make sense. The problem is that Harry Potter doesn’t balance it well. Certain things do have to be explained in order for the magic to play an active role in the story (and the setting of a magic school lends itself to that kind of explanation), but no rules are ever established for the kinds of magic that need rules. When you begin thinking about the rules, you’re no longer just enjoying the magic for what it is. At worst, you begin running up against the Willing Suspension of Disbelief.

It wasn’t actually the “aging up” of the story that did it in, per se, but rather, the introduction of realism. The early books were heavily stylized, and the later books were less so. A heavily stylized story can more easily maintain the Willing Suspension of Disbelief. That’s why, for example, you don’t ask why the characters are singing in a musical — you just sort of accept the story’s outlandish internal logic, and the inherent melodrama of it doesn’t take you out of the story. Stylized stories are more concerned with being emotionally consistent over being logically consistent. The later Harry Potter books changed their emotional tone, but without changing the worldbuilding style to compensate.

In addition to the more mature themes and darker tone, Harry Potter introduced more realism as it went, but Rowling did not have the worldbuilding chops to pull this off. There’s the basic magic system stuff: When you begin thinking about it too hard, something like a Time-Turner stops being a fun magical device, and starts threatening to break the entire story. Then there’s the characters: Dumbledore leaving Harry on the Dursleys’ doorstep in the first book is an age-old fairy tale trope that goes unquestioned, but with the introduction of realism in the later books, it suddenly becomes abandonment of a child to an abusive family. The exaggerated stereotypes of characters like the Dursleys become tone-deaf. The fun school rivalry of the House system is suddenly lacking in nuance. And then there’s the shift in tone: The wizarding world that we were introduced to as a marvellous place is revealed to be dystopian. You start thinking about how impractical things like owl messengers are, you start wondering if Slytherin is being unjustly punished, the bad history appears glaringly obvious, the quaint archaisms become dangerously regressive. Oh, and the grand feasts are made through slave labor! The wizarding world suddenly feels small and backward instead of grand and marvellous. J.K. Rowling’s bigotry throws it all into an even harsher light.

This is why I’ve always preferred the early books and films to the later ones. There’s a lot of things I like about the later ones, but they’re not as stylized — they don’t have The Vibe. Thinking about things too hard is just a necessary condition of adulthood, but it’s still possible to tell a dark, mature story that is highly stylized. I really think JKR could have better pulled off that shift if she was a more competent worldbuilder. But it is painfully obvious that she did not think things through, and probably didn’t understand why she had to. In her defense, she did not know that her story would end up being one of the most scrutinized of all time. As it stands, her strength in worldbuilding was in the softer, smaller, deliberately unexplained moments of magic that were there just to provide atmosphere. And there were less and less of those as the books went along.

Pretty much all the Harry Potter-related content released since the last film — including Cursed Child, Fantastic Beasts, Hogwarts Mystery, Hogwarts Legacy, Magic Awakened, and that short-lived Pokemon Go thing — have been unsuccessful attempts at recreating The Vibe. In fact, the only piece of supplemental Potter content that I think had that Vibe down pat was the original Pottermore, back when it was more of an interactive game. And of course that got axed. That was right around the time things started going downhill.

Some of the art from Pottermore’s original Sorting quiz.

So what now? Well, that’s the question.

I think I can safely say that The Vibe was the reason I liked Harry Potter. It’s the thing I still like the most about it. I’ve spent years chasing it, like an elusive Patronus through a dark wood. If I can capture and distill that Vibe, and use drops of it in my own work, then perhaps I won’t need Harry Potter anymore.

I'm gonna write the story that I wish Harry Potter was, and when I'm a famous author, I won't become a bigot. I'll see you on the other side.

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homestuckreplay · 2 days

Text

JIP (Jest In Peace)

(p.246-247)

WELL.... GOODBYE JOHN I GUESS????

I've watched this like six times in a row and while not a lot happens, the not a lot also manages to be extremely ambiguous. The command is 'John: Take bite of apple' but we don't actually see him take the bite, and we know both he and Rose have refused commands before. So what happened? Was he simply not hungry? Paralyzed by fear? Not all that bothered about dying? Did he take a bite as the explosion happened and we didn't see it? Is he alive????

It would be a bold and shocking move to kill off the goofy main character at the end of act 1, and I hate the idea of it, simply because I think there's so many cool places John could go as a character. Plus it's hard to see what could happen next in the story without him - it makes so much more sense if this is the first 'level' of Sburb completed, and future acts deal with subsequent levels of increasing difficulty and danger.

The meteor impact definitely happened, but in the words of TG, "how big is it". Size comparisons to various geographical landmarks and my mom's dick aside, I have no sense of whether this destroyed John's house, John's neighborhood, the continent or the world - further complicated by how Sburb definitely has the ability to precisely target some things and exclude others. We saw the red circle around John's house that TT couldn't manipulate outside of, so I can fully believe that a meteor would just affect that part, and anyone watching from their windows would see John's house go up in a column of fire like the one on p.247.

Speaking of the neighborhood! We finally got a large scale establishing shot, and it is horrifically normal and depressingly uniform. There are about 400 identical houses on John's side of the river, and what looks like more on the other side. A lot of the yards have trees, there's a lot of lawn and green space around, a large concreted area like a parking lot in the top right, and a couple of roads out of town (though we don't see anyone outside and driving, which is kind of weird since I would have expected someone else to notice the meteor too and freak out and try to run away - unless only John can see if due to being the Sburb player)? Even weirder, we see John's dad's car in the driveway, but nobody else appears to have a car or a driveway to put one in. Is everyone homestuck except John's dad? Is driving the secret power of the clown?

On p.247, we see the curtains close on Act 1, evoking The Theater. Homestuck as a play is not something I've considered, but the theater is the origin of the term 'fourth wall', which has been directly referenced on p.61 and implied throughout with 'our' ability to give commands to the characters. Interestingly, we never saw the curtains open, like we arrived late to John's birthday. This makes me wonder if we missed anything that happened before p.1, and if the story might go back and fill some gaps.

I really hope there isn't too long of a break before Act 2 starts - it's killing me to (still) be uncertain about John's fate.

#homestuck #reaction #eoa1

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woniefull · 3 days

Text

Just One Exception [pt.1]

In which you never really bothered to get to know Nishimura Riki. As a matter of fact, he wasn't someone you ever paid attention to. Until your class had to start planning the fundraiser fair and you both were grouped together. Even then your feelings towards him were neutral...but he seemed to have some strong feelings towards you. Where could this new situation lead?

heads-up: This is pt.1 of the story and I wouldn't say there is much progress in the situation between the reader and Ni-ki...I personally think that. I'm planning on making pt.2 more interesting ya'll so please bear with me. This was just something fun that I had started so don't expect much!!! Also, this was definitely not proofread so sorry for any typos/grammar mistakes

warnings: may not seem like it towards the end but I'm planning on making it a slow-burn, minimal cusswords, female reader, extroverted/clueless reader??, let me know if there is anything else!

wc: 2,374

You quickly slipped into your shoes and glanced over at your phone placed right besides you.

"Shoot I'm going to be late."

"______ make sure to grab some pancakes before you leave"

"No time Mom, I'm running behind, see you later!"

Nothing like being late on my first day.

It was your last first day of high school, you were now officially a senior. A really irresponsible senior at that. It was tough for you to keep up with deadlines and it wasn't anything new if you forgot a big project was due until the night before. These habits may be the very reason why you slept right through your alarm this morning.

You quickly ran to the bus stop at the end of your street. But of course with the luck you had, by the time you arrived, the bus was long gone.

"Great now I have to wa-"

You were quickly cut off by the sound of a motor coming up the road. Turning around, you spotted what appeared to be a teenage boy on a motorcycle. You eyed the boy as he passed you and you swore you saw his face grimace as he looked over at you. Quickly realizing he was a student in your class you start to walk in the direction of the school.

Was that Nicholas? Or was it Nick? Nicky?

You pulled out your phone and looked at your class roster. He was easy to find with everyone's pictures being placed right beside their names.

Nishimura Riki.

"Oh that's his name. He's kind of cute."

Not paying too much attention to your phone anymore you shifted your focus to the two miles of road between you and your school.

"Well isn't this wonderful. I should've asked that guy Nicho- I mean Riki for a ride."

You groaned and continued your journey.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Uh ______ it looks like you've been to hell and back."

You were now slumped over your desk after apologizing to your teacher for showing up to first period thirty minutes late, a couple of giggles were shared throughout the room at your chaotic state.

Shifting your body towards your friend Liz, you pout.

"I don't even want to talk about it. I'm already starting off my senior year on the wrong foot."

Liz offers you a smile as she pushes the strands of hair stuck to your forehead away.

"Don't worry, I'm sure everything will turn out great. We still have all day to go through."

Trying your best to have a positive attitude, you turn to face the front. All while not missing Riki staring at you before he turns around to face the front as well. He displayed the same facial expression as earlier this morning.

Weird.

Not paying much mind to your classmate you began to tune into the lesson.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright class listen up! As most of you know the senior class is responsible for coming up with the money to fund their grad night. You guys will have to figure out how you plan on raising money on your own. I'll be heading to the office for the next hour and leave you all to come up with some ideas. Liz, as class president I assume you will be leading the class in this?"

You perk your head up and look over at Liz who was now making her way to the front of the classroom.

"Yes, Mr. Park! The class already has a general idea of what we're doing so it's just a matter of assigning roles."

"Great I'll leave you be now."

The teacher walked out of the classroom and the class now shifted their focus on Liz.

"Okay, guys I sent out an email last week about what event we should have to raise money and more than 60 percent of the class voted for a fair. So that's what we'll be doing. I took it upon myself to make the groups so I'll be calling out your name and your job."

Liz winked at you, a clear signal to lay your head on the desk and close your eyes. You knew she’d tell you your task once everyone settled down, and you had no doubt she would assign you to her group.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"What? Why would you not put me in your group? I thought we were best friends."

Liz had just broken the awful news to you after awakening you from your short nap.

"_______ let's face it. My job is very intricate and you're not exactly known for your organization skills or attention to detail."

Liz was right, but that didn't stop you from showing her a little attitude.

"Fine. Who is in my group then? And what am I even doing?"

"Simple. Come up with a game to present at the fair."

"You're right that isn't too bad. Wait you still haven't to-".

A voice from behind interrupted you.

"Hey Liz. I was looking for ______. Do you happen to know where she is?"

What's up with this guy and his habit of interrupting you?

"Oh my goodness, are you Nishimura?"

Ni-ki's grin falters as he turns to face you. Liz starts to look at the both of you interchangeably.

"Do you guys already know each other? And Ni-ki since when have you ever gone by the name Nishimura?"

Ni-ki composes himself and begins to speak to Liz with a soft voice and a slight smile shown on his face.

"Last time I recall, never. And no we do not know each other. Or I at least don't know her."

Ni-ki's finger points to you and you could've sworn you saw him scowl at you.

"Oh! Then don't mind my friend too much. She's known for her extroverted personality and lack of situational awareness."

You slap Liz lightly.

"Don't embarrass me in front of my new friend Liz!"

Ni-ki scoffs and looks away.

Liz and you awkwardly stare at each other for a few seconds before she breaks the silence.

"Well then, Ni-ki and ______ you guys should meet after school today to brainstorm entertainment ideas for the fair. I need to hear your pitch by Wednesday to get it approved by the fundraising committee."

Still looking at Ni-ki you hear the bell ring, indicating that it was passing period.

"You both have math next so walk together while talking about your plans. See you later ______!"

Liz collects her things and heads right out the door after giving you a quick hug. Ni-ki turns to face you finally.

"Nishimura are you ready?"

Not wanting to seem bothered by your nickname for him he throws his backpack over his shoulder while speaking.

"Yeah, sure. Let's go."

"Okay wait for me I need to grab my thi-"

Before you even finish stuffing your things into your bag, Ni-ki is already walking away.

You're fast to run right after him while continuing to place loose papers into your folders.

"Hey! Wait up. I can't keep up with those long legs of yours."

Ni-ki doesn't face you but he does slow down his pace.

After a short while, you find yourself walking beside him. You watch how he interacts with others, smiling and exchanging friendly high-fives with his friends. His demeanor with them is completely different from how he is with you.

It makes you a bit sad. You barely even know the guy and it seems like he has something against you.

Oh yeah, I barely even know the guy. I shouldn't let him bother me.

"So is it okay if we meet up at the benches under the oak tree after school? We can come up with ideas there."

Ni-ki ponders for a moment before he answers.

"That should be fine but let's not take too long. I don't really plan on missing any more than thirty minutes of hockey practice today."

"You play hockey? That's so cool! I love it. I used to watch it all the time with my dad, then things happened and I couldn't watch it like before. But recently I started to get interested again an-."

You're stopped in your tracks and stumble backwards.

Ni-ki had grabbed you by the collar to prevent you from going any further.

"We're here."

Ni-ki looks at you blankly and lets go of your collar to enter the classroom.

He couldn't have told me to stop like a normal person? This guy couldn't get any more weird.

Both of you take your seats. He's up at the front again with you two rows behind him. It's hard not to stare at him. Even though you would never say it out loud because of the way he's been treating you, you have to admit that he is attractive.

I think I love his hair the most. Or is it his eyes? Maybe it's hi- I can't believe I'm doing this right now. Why do I have to be such a sucker for pretty faces?

You unconsciously slam your head on your desk leaving a stinging feeling on your forehead.

"Ouch."

You look up to see if anyone had noticed and luckily for you, no one did. All you see is Ni-ki laughing with the girl sitting next to him.

Why does he have to be nice to everyone but me? And why am I letting it bother me so much?

--------------------------------------------------------------School was now over and you sat patiently under the tree Ni-ki and you agreed to meet at. You sat there picking at the end of your skirt while listening to the music playing through your headphones.

Perhaps that's why you didn't hear the footsteps approaching you from behind. And why you were surprised to feel a large hand patting your shoulder.

"AHH-"

The hand that was once placed on your shoulder swiftly made its way to cover your mouth.

"Keep it down will you? You're acting as if I'm going to kill you out in broad daylight."

Ni-ki releases his hand from your mouth and wipes it on his pants. You clear your throat and try to hide your embarrassment by coming up with a response to his previous comment.

"So what you're saying is you're planning on killing me at night?"

"I'd rather not be with you at night."

"Okay Mr. Moody Pants what's got your pants in a twist?"

"Let's just start."

Ni-ki sits across from you and opens his laptop. He clicks on the spreadsheet shared with the groups tasked with coming up with the fair games.

"It looks like most groups have already claimed the traditional and easy games."

Ni-ki looks up at you only to see you with your hand held up high, while the other rests on your hip.

"Look no further Nishimura! I've already come up with the perfect game."

Ni-ki raises an eyebrow and slowly closes his laptop.

"Go on."

"Have you ever watched the Kissing Booth?"

"We are not doing that."

"Oh come on! Don't be lame. It would be super duper cute."

"Why do you think that would ever get approved? We aren't in a movie. This is real life ______."

"You heard Mr. Park earlier. He said we were responsible for fundraising the money ourselves. Plus it's not like the adminstration has ever cared much about anything we do."

Ni-ki hates the fact that you have a point. He doesn't want to give in easily. But time is ticking and he wants to get to practice quick.

"Fine we'll do it."

"Awesome! As a Kissing Booth enthusiast, Liz will definitely be on board and convince the rest of the committee to agree."

Ni-ki notices the way your eyes glisten and the big smile on your face. He almost smiles at the way you tuck your hair back and rest your head on your hands. Almost.

"Yeah I guess she will."

"Can we meet up this Friday to start planning out what materials we're going to need for the booth? I can meet up anywhere you find easiest."

"Give me your number."

Phone in hand, Ni-ki extends his hand over the table towards you.

"Huh?"

The hands on your cheeks allow you to feel the warmth spread around your face and you know that they're tinting pink.

"Give me your number so I can easily contact you?"

Ni-ki looks at you dumbfounded.

"You didn't actually think I was hitting on you, right?"

If your face wasn't red before, it sure was now.

"Ofcourse not! I was just thi- you know what here."

Punching in your phone number you try to control your heavy breathing.

I must've really lost my mind. I'm going insane.

Ni-ki stares at you with an amused look on his face as you hand him back his phone.

"I'm sorry as much as I'm flattered by your interest in me, I could never like someone like you."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

You are in absolute shock by his words.

"Dude I don't even know you! What's your problem with me? I've literally done nothing to you and you're over here being a prick towards me while acting like a fucking prince to everyone else."

Ni-ki sneers.

"You know what you did ______. If anything you're the one being a bitch towards me. Acting as if you don't know me or what you did!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Forget it."

Before you can utter another word, Ni-ki is already running away.

He's a nutcase if he thinks this is over.

--------------------------------------------------------------Niki's POV

"Get your head in the game Ni-ki! Our next match is this upcoming Friday and we can't have any more fuck ups from you after last season."

Ni-ki groans. This practice has been rough on him, especially after the event that had unfolded just thirty minutes before.

How could you forget what you did to him so easily?

Yes, lingering over the past may be petty of him, but he can't help it. He doesn't know why he can't let go. Is it possible he could still have....

No there's absolutely no way. Not after what she did.

Just a couple months before he saw you opening up your locker. He awaited eagerly to see your reaction to the Valentine's letter he had placed there for you. This was his first step towards getting you to notice him. He knew you didn't know of him because of the lack in the amount of classes you had together and because of how scared he was to come up to you.

His friends said that this approach would be better.

Or so he thought.

He was quickly crushed by the laughter leaving your lips. He saw as you called your friends over to look at the letter. It didn't take long for them to start laughing along with you.

Ni-ki was absolutely devastated. He had a crush on you since the beginning of high school. This very outcome was the reason why he had taken so long to profess his love in the first place. And here you were making a complete fool out of him.

After weeks of being depressed Ni-ki started to feel anger. Anger at you. It didn't help that he wasn't one to handle his feelings well.

But soon summer came around and Ni-ki thought that he had finally gotten over you. If avoiding you at every possible cost is considered getting over someone.

Still, when he saw you at the bus stop talking to yourself earlier this morning, his heart had stopped. All those lingering emotions came flooding back to him. Anger, hatred, love...

Niki's flashback abruptly ended when one of his teammates called out to him.

"Hey Ni-ki! Some chick is staring at you from over there at the bleachers."

He looks over and spots you with a smug look on your face.

He sees you mouth the word "Hi" while slowly waving at him. He continues to watch as you lean back and make yourself comfortable.

His heart started pounding and he was scared that others would be able to hear it.

How could she be so pretty but so conceited at the same time?

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fae-morrigan · 2 days

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Nah because why are you only mentioning Kenan and John Henry when pointing out the racism in the Superfam fandom? I checked their tags on your account. You have next to no posts about just discussing their characters and stories. The only times you mention Nat is to prop up your faves. So don't go acting all mighty and progressive because you also mostly ignore their existence. There is a problem in the Superfam fandom when it comes to poc and how often they get ignored, but bringing those poc only to try and appear better than someone else makes you part of the problem. Unless I'm missing some essays about Kenan's growth from a bully to a hero, what it means for John Henry to be a human hero in a city full of Supers and Nat following her uncle's example on your account, then you are no better than the ones you criticize. You need to get off your high horse and stop mentioning poc only when it's convenient. You are just being performative. It's clear those are characters you don't care about. Such a shame though, all three are really interesting.

Hi Chris Kent fan! I know its you. You've been harassing me and several other of my mutuals for the last week, and considering you are using the same rhetoric here you've used unsuccessfully on my mutuals, it really isn't hard to tell who would feel devoted enough to say this.

There are three things that are hilarious about this ask.

My primary fandom presence isn't on tumblr. I am actually on this website the least: So yes, you HAVE missed on a TON of essays about these two and how I feel about them, because you don't actually know me and you haven't even seen MOST of the things I have to say about DC comics as a whole. My primary fandom presence is on the Supertruth discord server which several of the people I am defending in this weird little flame war of yours are part of (hi @ultfreakme!) and have seen me talk about these characters and their stories at length. You do not know me well enough to assert whether or not I like a character by doing a cursory search of my blog.

Your little 'character blurbs' that are supposed to display your DEEP INTIMATE KNOWLEDGE of these characters, SUPERIOR TO MINE, are really shallow and innaccurate. Like, fanon levels of summarization. John Henry's character has very little to do with being a human in a town of supers nowadays and is largely focused on his complicated relationship with the military Industrial Complex (see Superwoman, Steelworks) as an inventor of supertechnology, Natasha is WAY more than just the nephew of John (SHE WAS PART OF THE AUTHORITY) and in fact a huge part of her presence in 52 was escaping out from under John's shadow, not following in his footsteps. You get the closest with Kenan: Yeah, he was a bully turned Super, that's absolutely the pitch GLY was using to sell Kenan as a character, but is that ALL he is to you? You're not going to mention his whole story also being a double for criticism of the Chinese government? His conflict with his parents and struggling to figure out what 'doing good' even means? What about Baixi, Deilan? (That enough analysis for you to be satisfied with some arbitrary level of 'caring'?)

The 'favorite character' in question you are accusing me of using these poc to prop up is Jay Fucking Nakamura, A MAN OF COLOR, AND ALSO A SUPERFAM CHARACTER YOU FUCKERS EXCLUDE ON THE REGULAR. He is an asian indigenous man IN THE TEXT and he is the DC character I post about THE MOST on this website. It is SUPER funny to accuse me of what, using POC to uplift the... other poc...? Thats based of me, I had no idea I was doing it! Like seriously saying this while Jay is my PFP is CRAZY funny. Do you HEAR yourself? And don't start on the "well jay isn't superfam!' nonsense because PAUL KAMINSKI, GROUP EDITOR FOR THE SUPERFAMILY, HAS SAID HE IS. But when have YOU guys cared about what the media you claim to like actually says, aye?

But lets say none of the above is true. Lets say you were right and I was just PRETENDING to care about some of my favorite characters in the entire DC franchise because... because of woke?

It doesn't change the fact that literally less than 24 hours ago you were in my inbox trying to argue that posting 'kent family' as opposed to 'superfamily' was a great Get Out of Jail Free card for excluding characters of color. It doesn't change the fact that you guys repeatedly include Chris over the canon POC within the superfamily. It doesn't change the fact that calling that behavior out is NECESSARY, regardless on if a person 'posts enough' about the characters they're trying to defend from fandom racism. It doesn't change the fact that, according to you 'agreeing' with me in this ask, you decided that picking a fight with someone who made a point you agreed with was somehow the best course of action.

But you don't agree, do you? And that's kind of what its been about all along. The fandom love of Chris Kent is changing as people notice that he is, a) not a good character b) consistently favored over better non-white characters c) repeatedly used as a tool in arguments to put other characters within the superfam down. And now that people are calling this what it is- white favoritism- you are feeling attacked because you are attached to Chris but NOT to these characters people are now pushing. So you are scrambling for reasons to tell people who express these thoughts that they're actually the bigoted ones in some way. What does that accomplish other than squashing long overdue discussions of fandom racism?

I'm not here for it. You can fuck right off.

#salt posting #fanwank #asks #Seriously anon. What did you hope to accomplish here other than stopping me from saying things you dont like?#I'm not gonna!#You are going to have to sit with the fact that you have decided THIS of ALL HILLS is the hill to die on. And its a real shitty hill.

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sugoi-and-spice · 3 hours

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Y'all there's no freaking way the mystery character in 425 is Tenko. I don't think it's any character we've met before. (And it sure as hell isn't Deku's dad, god that theory is so dumb). The identity of this new character in fact is basically told to us in Todoroki's line earlier in the chapter.

This is most likely a new character entirely, a Tenko parallel who is on the cusp of becoming a villain and that needs someone to reach out to him the way nobody ever did for Tenko. Someone that's going to put Deku's new resolve and mission to the test. It's Horikoshi's way of saying that just because the heroes defeated Shigaraki and All for One, that doesn't mean that they're victorious - they've only gone back to square one.

But square one and the status quo is not a win for these heroes. They need to better their world and build towards a bright future that will prevent the creation of villains like the League. And I think the appearance of one last villain in this story is a great way to show that.

Deku and friends had to use the old hero ways to defeat the League, yes. But now they get to decide what the new image of a hero looks like. And maybe they can even get rid of the idea of villains altogether.

So, no. Even as a die-hard Shigaraki simp, I am not putting my bets on the "Tenko is revived" horse. And honestly? I don't even think I want this character to be Shigaraki or Tenko or whatever version of him people think it will be. I think that would actually invalidate his death earlier even more. Because if nothing else, Deku did save that crying child within him. He did heal Shigaraki's heart and get him to let go of his hatred. But look at this guy:

This man is in fucking DISTRESS. He has none of the acceptance or calm or even will to fight that Shigaraki had - during his death or otherwise. I think if this was the Tenko that was resurrected, someone so clearly disturbed and in pain, then it would make the one save Deku did make in that fight completely meaningless.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - I don't technically hate the way Shigaraki went out. I'm glad that in the end, he died as himself rather than turncoating to join the heroes. I'm glad he's not going to be rotting in prison for the rest of his life. And I'm glad his legacy is clearly going to live on in this world through Deku, even if he doesn't personally.

This issue that I have with Shigaraki's death is the pacing of it. That's all.

I'm still not giving up hope that Shigaraki comes back as a vestige/force ghost though. That for me feels like the only way to bring him back that wouldn't totally undermine the climax of the story.

#mha 425 #mha 423 #bnha 425 #bnha 423 #mha spoilers #bnha spoilers #tomura shigaraki #tenko shimura #izuku midoriya #deku #midoriya izuku #shimura tenko #shigaraki tomura

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 10 months

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Cannot Unsee. Cannot Unknow.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #xue yang #xiao xingchen #song lan #a-qing #blood #special appearance to the fox hairpin. Cute bonus episode and scene #alas I am already struggling a bit with maintaining good flow on this arc #I’ve got a better drawn mdzs art of A-qing coming soon to make up it though!#okay time to talk about This Scene…cause wow the angst is ripe and juicy #what really gets me is the fact Song Lan stays quiet while XXC stabs him….#And that Xue Yang never intended to tell XXC about the fake corpses #NOR did A-Qing want to tell him the truth!!#the theme of ‘ignorance is bliss’ is so strong here…xxc is blind to the evils of the world #and everyone seems to recognize how rare that is. How far they go to preserve it #Yi-city asks a lot of hard questions. As someone who values Honesty above nearly all else-#-the question posed here about whether honesty is truly the correct course of action really gets to me #Lying is a form of kindness in here. And in a story about rumours and manipulations of truth-#its a good parallel to what we see in the main story!#we see the harm caused by trying to lie to be kind. The harm in realizing youve been lied to #there are a lot of plot points around kind lies in mdzs and it facinates me!

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trashcanwithsprinkles · 2 years

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yaksha crew

#only pervases is missing but pervases is literally baby at this point in time and idk if he'll be relevant to the story at all ngl #xiao is only slightly taller than bonanus but give her like a couple decades n she'll be an inch or so taller than him lmao #i seem to only be capable of drawing bonanus with an :O face #idk why #bosacius has four arms each for one of them #but he uses one to make bunny ears on indarias #bonanus saw someone else with horns/antlers and decided she'd stick w them #itto energy #squishy cheeks baby xiao #no there's no chapter out yet maybe tomorrow #i had this sitting in my desktop for a while but i was waiting till bonanus actually appeared in the story to post it #then i kinda forgot about it lmao #.png #.png fic #.png cyanide

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magnusmodig · 2 months

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rough childhood headcanon qs / anonymous / accepting !

╰┈➤ 1 . does your muse blame themselves for their trauma?

||. As is ever the case with Thor Odinson, the short answer is still, in itself, complicated. Ultimately the answer is, in my personal opinion, yes , though Thor is an incredibly introspective person, and so he can be self-aware enough of himself and his family situation to see it plainly for what it was. Thor is not a doormat. But whether or not he fully commits to acting on what he's feeling, and thinking based that awareness is its own issue. One mostly steeped in how Thor views himself and partly how he views his own family (specifically: he views them all with blinding rose-colored glasses ESPECIALLY once they've died, regardless of the damage they've caused him).

For some context on what I mean, by "how Thor views himself", I mean that he is shown to have something of an atlas complex (also known as: superman complex, savior/hero syndrome, codependency). Everything comes down to him. He's the strongest, so he'll do it. He can outlive and outlast, so he'll endure. He's the eldest, so it's his responsibility. So on and so forth very often times coming out as "I will solve this problem for you" statements most notably with Jane Foster. He takes failure personally, especially when other people are at stake, or the collateral. And he will hold himself accountable for tragedies beyond his control at length. In "The Avengers" and a deleted scene in "Thor: Ragnarok" he actively and repeatedly lumps himself in with his family (aka his father and siblings, mostly), and their catastrophic, destructive actions and pasts — both of which are things that thor himself actually hasn't partaken to any large degree (unless we count the failed Jotunheim heist and even that he WAS going to bail on before his temper got the best of his judgement.) He proceeds to call them (his family) "bilge snipe", while using the terms "we" (denotating himself as part of the issue) and proceeds to call the metaphorical bilge snipe "repulsive". He does this again in Ragnarok while telling Banner that "we're cursed to fight amongst ourselves while everyone else suffers for it"), meaning his opinions on the matter have not changed since 2012.

And by "blinding rose colored glasses" I mean that Thor has another tendency to see the good in people, partly in nature and partly deliberately, especially when seeking it out. And he does this especially when it comes to his family, and he will justify their actions by trying to step into their shoes even when it may not always be appropriate. (//gestures at literally all of thor: ragnarok and how he still idolizes his father to an obscene degree thankstaika re: "i'm not as strong as you", and even further back to the way thor speaks to odin in thor 2011 at the end of his banishment re: "there will never be a wiser king than you or a better father". He also idolizes Loki in "The Dark World" with the line "loki, for all of his grave imbalance, understood rule as i know i never will" and to a lesser degree does this with Frigga in the same film "she saved us all, a thousand times.")

From a slightly more psychological perspective:

The long and short of it is that it is much easier to blame yourself for things that hurt you that were beyond yourself. Especially when you can't understand it, or didn't deserve it. Especially when they come from someone you hold in high esteem, and hold a lot of love for. Like caregivers and family. In a twisted way, it grants the guilt-bearer some level of CONTROL over their emotions and their situation that they did not have in the moment the hurt occurred. If you're can blame yourself, then you're at fault. If you're at fault, then you can feel guilty, and if you're guilty, then you can atone. You can actively work to make up for it. ( "By blaming ourselves, we maintain the perception that we’re still in control of the situation and ultimately safe -even when we’re not." - rosscenter.com) This is especially critical in children who go through this sort of parental dysfunction and neglect. And the reason why I think this is not a development saved for his young adult -> adult years is because of exactly what we see on screen.

Thor comes from a family that is just as loving as it is toxic. His father was so good at being a wise king that he completely failed at being a good father. It's something Thor even calls out in "The Dark World" ("I'd rather be a good man than a great king") after speaking on how being king is losing who you are to politics and mind games and war. Odin as a parent, and Odin's overbearing, all-encompassing shadow of a legacy is what Thor's entire character arc was always about overcoming. His mother, Frigga, is by far the most decent of the bunch, but she is far from perfect. To pull from a previous meta on the subject, my opinion on frigga/thor is as follows: " [...] an unfortunate cycle in which [Frigga] spent SO MUCH ENERGY [...] making sure [Loki] felt seen/heard and had “some sun for himself” that she COMPLETELY neglected to see that her other son was in just as much pain as the youngest was [...] And only realized how estranged they had become when it was too late, and she couldn’t reach Thor anymore. (She also died before she could make it right.)"

His brother is arguably the person he was ever closest to (even among his friend group), up until his brother manipulated and betrayed his trust, killed him, attempted suicide in front of him, tried to take over earth as payback, tried to kill him again, rejected him outright, and then got put into jail.

Suffice it to say that while I think that Thor's issues stem from deep childhood trauma (and only ever further reenforced by the fact he ages so slowly), my dude's got some issues, and blaming himself for past trauma is definitely one of them. (When he can't get away with internalizing it and avoiding it any longer, anyways.) I do also think to a lesser degree this behavior does also count towards friends, just to a less extreme degree. With the main difference being: Thor adores his family. He wants to keep them close to him. He's incredibly protective of all of them. Which isn't to say he doesn't love his friends, because that would be the biggest lie. But friends come and go. Thor will always want to be a good friend, but he wants to be a good son even more than that. And so in cases of conflict with a friend and a peer, Thor will gladly and readily call out his friends for their bad behavior just as readily as he would also dismiss and justify their bad behavior towards himself. (you know like not checking in on him for five years in "endgame", apparently...)

#(i was going to go into a whole thing about children and their emotional/mental development cycles)#(critical stages in a child's life to teach emotional regulation and where anger issues stem from)#(both of which thor has TERRIBLE times with throughout his appearances)#(but i might just leave that for a different post that goes further into my thoughts on his childhood in particular...)#(someone else asked this question too (i think 2 others maybe) so maybe i'll make a prt 2)#( ooc . ) — stories that leap from the page .#( meta . ) — son of cosmos . lightning flows through thy veins .#( headcanon . ) — glory to the man who toils for his land . may it ever prosper .#( answered . ) — black feathers fall to a raven's call .#nonny asks #(one thing i think i should also mention is that thor is very much someone who seems to crave control)#(which makes sense given his upbringing)#(and so his craving for control comes out in various fashions)#(and this includes his self-destructive / self-sabatoging / self-harming tendencies and behavior)#(it all comes back to wanting control and wanting security because various needs /were not met/ in those developmental stages)#(which is all just to say: parental bonds are important and thor had virtually neither figure to count on consistently)#(...and oh boy does it show.)

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