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garfinkelstingle · 9 months

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magic and maybes | draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader (implied slytherin!reader but only once i think)

warnings: swearing; implied mentions of verbal abuse; this is not in chronological order, but i do think it makes sense this way (especially if you've listened to the song); angst

word count: 5,2k

summary: based on “wendy” by maisie peters; loving draco is like something out of a fairytale. but not all of those always end with happily ever after, do they?

a/n: oh my!! hi!!! my first full-length fic in over a year!!!! so exciting!!!! this came to me while listening to wendy (which you should defo listen to if you haven't yet; the whole album is too good!!) and i just sort of rolled with it. i will never understand why i keep coming back to draco, but i just do. i have never written anything like this, and i certainly have never written draco like this, but the song called for it!! and also, let's be honest, this really matches draco better than it would most other characters. oh and i put it in the warning, but please beware that this is not written in chronological order. it's supposed to showcase the rollercoaster of relationship that reader and draco share, and i thought this was the best way to do it! let me know if you like it, it would really mean a lot <3 happy reading babes

masterlist

rolling like a stone / laughing like a kid

She had never seen him like this before.

Correction: She had never seen him like this before in front of people that weren't just her. Because this is the only way she had ever seen him, really seen him. She knew the charade he kept up, could see right through it better than anyone else. And if you took all of that faux meanness and excruciating ass-ness away, this is what you would be left with, what she's been left with all these years that she's known him. A silly kid, rolling around in the grass, holding his stomach laughing, eyes glistening with tears and shining brighter than any star ever could.

This is how she saw him, always, and how she hoped she would get to see him forever. This, and nothing else.

calling like the future / closed up like a fist

It was always the same. He always did this, and she swore that one of these days she would hex him into oblivion for it.

"What do you mean I can't come with you? We've been planning this for months; I told my parents to make plans without me and they have. What am I supposed to do now?" They had been at it for close to an hour now, going back and forth, nowhere close to having this argument reach its conclusion.

Usually, she didn't mind backing off. He was stubborn; she knew that. This wasn't something she had discovered only recently. She had known him for longer than she hadn't, so she was acutely aware of this quality of his. It didn't surprise her, but that didn't mean it didn't annoy her, either. So she'd just let it slide and move on—one of them had to.

This time, however? She wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm not responsible for you and how you spend your time," he provocatively stated, his eyes ablaze with fury that nearly matched hers. How dare he? As if this was in any way, shape, or form her fault.

"You have got to be kidding me! You were the one who invited me to spend Christmas break at your house! You were the one who wanted me to meet your parents! You were the one who made all these grand plans, and now you just blow me off the day break starts and talk about responsibility?" She couldn't believe him. She really, truly, couldn't.

Except that, maybe, she should. This wasn't the first time Draco blew off their plans. In fact, it wasn't even the second or the third. But he usually had a not-so-terrible reason for it, and the worst thing he had ever cancelled before was a Saturday in Hogsmeade or a picnic by the lake. This, however? This was huge, a plan that had been set into motion during the summer, when they had sent their owls into a frenzy, corresponding through multiple letters a day and vowing not to spend another break apart. She had told her parents before she boarded the train to take her back for another year at Hogwarts, that she would spend the Christmas break with her boyfriend and that they should take that trip to the sea they've been dreaming of forever. And since they did just that, and she didn't feel like ruining their holidays as well, she would now have to spend hers at the dingy castle, with people she barely knew and couldn't care less about.

She didn't even need him to change his mind at this point. While the reason he was giving her sucked, she was sure the real reason didn't—even if he wasn't planning on telling her. What bothered her so much was his refusal to just simply apologize for screwing up and leaving her hanging. If he would just say that he was sorry, she'd let this go. But she knew him well enough by now to know that the chances of that happening were non-existent at best.

"I will not apologize for your lack of a backup plan," he said, with a voice so cold that she could feel actual shivers run down her back. "I will see you after break is over. Merry Christmas." And with that, he turned around and made his way back to the castle, without even sparing her a backward glance.

And all she could do was stare after him, seemingly frozen in place, with tears flowing down her cheeks freely, and wonder if this was what loving someone was supposed to feel like.

lost my page when you kissed me

She hadn't meant to fall in love with him. They had been friends, or at least something very close to it. Draco believed that only people who had nothing else to their name cared about having friends, and she somewhat agreed with him. Friends were feeble; people came and went. There was no use getting attached to them, not when you couldn't ever be a hundred percent certain that they wouldn't just up and leave one day.

But he—he was something else. They had known each other for years, attending the same balls thrown by both their parents and their associates, riding in the same train compartment on their first trip to Hogwarts, reading the same books side-by-side on their common room's couch. They were put in each other’s orbits due to their inescapable proximity, yes, but they were welded together by baked goods that they would steal from the kitchen and share in some dark corner of the too-big houses they would be dragged to, shy smiles and squeezing of hands followed by it's okay, you're not alone's, two a.m. conversations in front of the fireplace in which they discussed whatever books they just finished reading and, sometimes, maybe even more. That's what made her the first person he would say "good morning" to at the breakfast table, and what made him her preferred potions partner. Nothing more and nothing less. They weren't friends, but they were each other's person. Whatever that meant.

It made sense, and it worked, and neither of them needed more. Or so she thought. Because when Draco kissed her after one of those infamous two a.m. conversations and told her „You just looked too pretty not to kiss", after she asked him why he would do something so ridiculous, she came to realize that maybe they were wrong. Maybe getting attached to someone wasn't the worst thing there was. It couldn't be. Right?

i know the girl you want / it scares me

He was scared. He was scared, but so was she. The future was uncertain and terrifying. It didn't make sense on a good day and was simply revolting on a bad one. So much could go wrong at any given moment in time, and not knowing when or what could happen made it sometimes feel like, maybe, life just wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

And when you add love to that equation? You're pretty much just signing off on a death sentence. Draco knew that, and so did she, but unlike him, she believed it to be worth it. Love was never something she saw herself needing, or even wanting, but now that she had it, she was certain it was worth all the heartbreak it might possibly entail. Draco, however? He still didn't trust her enough to let his walls down completely, to give her the power to destroy him and believe her when she said that she would never, ever do that.

She loved him, and she was certain that he loved her, too, but she also knew that he might never be able to let her know that himself. And she knew that he expected that to be enough, that her own knowledge would suffice her and that she would survive without his confirmation, and maybe she could. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to. Spending your time with someone who was emotionally closed off to everyone around you and made them feel like they were replaceable was one thing, but spending your life with someone who was emotionally closed off toward you and too proud to tell you that the one person he could never replace was you? She wasn't sure if she was strong enough for that. She doubted she ever would be. And that terrified her more than anything else ever had before.

pretty like a girl / vicious like a man

He was beautiful. She had always found him inexplicably beautiful; his was the kind of beauty poems were about, a beauty that ran so deep and was so intricate that she sometimes wondered if he wasn't put on this world solely to be admired and stared at.

Even now, when his face was laced with fury and his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping his desk, he was still beautiful.

She wasn't even sure what they were fighting about now, stopped paying actual attention to the ugly words leaving his mouth. Instead, she was questioning her judgment. She had always found him beautiful on the outside, just as everyone else did, but unlike them, she had also always considered his soul to be beautiful, too. And yet here she was, target to his livid shouts and insults, wondering if maybe that was just another thing that she had been terribly, terribly wrong about.

give up like a ghost / leaving halfway through

It was moronic at best, really. They had spent a fortune on these tickets and had been excited for this game for months now. So, the fact that they were now letting it all go to waste? It was pure idiocy.

Especially when you looked at the why. He was being a child, a petulant little toddler who got upset at the idea of giving his girlfriend of nearly four years a kiss in public.

And the worst thing is that she hadn’t even been upset because it hadn’t surprised her in the slightest. She knew Draco, knew that he liked keeping their PDA to an absolute minimum, and she didn’t mind it in the slightest. Or, well, not enough to be actively affected by it. So, when the kiss-cam panned to their faces, she blew it a kiss and winked for good measure and went back to talking to Draco about how pathetic Potter and his friends looked standing there on the very far side of the stadium, most likely not even able to see the scoreboard. She had moved on, and so had the camera, but for whatever reason, Draco didn't.

Instead, he started huffing and puffing about Salazar knows what, getting upset at her for what, exactly? For respecting his need for privacy? For not pushing him to do something she knew he wouldn’t be comfortable with doing, even though she really wanted to? For, once again, putting him first and foremost? Is that what he was trying to punish her for? Because he certainly didn’t seem to be able to put it into words, storming off like an actual imbecile instead, leaving halfway through the match.

And of course, she had to follow him like the ever-loyal girlfriend that she was, trying to catch up with him and calm him down, even though she was seconds away from losing her bloody mind herself. She was sick and tired of his juvenile behaviour, was just so exhausted with having to put up with his shit instead of just enjoying herself, and yet it seemed as if some invisible string kept on pulling her in his direction, not allowing her to choose her own needs and herself, ever.

She wondered if he would ever grow tired of this pretence of his, or if this was what being with Draco Malfoy would entail, forever. She didn’t want to believe it, but it became harder and harder with each passing day. Maybe this is who he was, who he always would be.

But maybe it was just a matter of time before he would finally give it all up and be who she has blindly believed him to be all this time. All she could do, it seemed, was to hope that she wouldn’t be the one to give up, first.

if i'm not careful we'll be married

"Do you ever think about the future?" His voice broke through the quiet reverie they had both found themselves in. She was used to him being the first one to speak up after a long beat of silence; he didn't find it quite as peaceful and tranquilizing as she did. Not that she minded, though. She liked his voice, and she liked talking to him even more. To say that the question surprised her, though, would be an understatement.

Putting the book she was currently reading to the side, she snuggled further into him. The fireplace was providing a fair amount of heat, but the chill seemed to be inescapable in the Slytherin common room. It was also just very nice to be able to have him hold her close like this, even if the only reason he did so was because it was far past midnight and everyone else was already fast asleep.

"Sometimes, yeah," she said. "Do you?"

"Yeah." She didn't expect him to elaborate, so it stunned her when he did. "I see us. You and me, together. Married. But not like them. Like us. Does that make sense?" It did. She knew exactly what he meant. Not like them. Not like his parents, who didn't love each other in the slightest and could barely stand each other most days. And not like her parents, either, who cared deeply about one another, at least as much as you could care about someone you didn't choose to marry. They found a way to be friendly and cordial, mainly because they didn't want their daughter to grow up with parents who were constantly at each other's throats, but it was still far away from the real deal.

Were they the real deal? That's what Draco was implying, wasn't it? That if they would get married, it'd be because they loved each other. He's never even said it, she thought. And he hadn't. But he's said this now, hadn't he? And that should be worth more than any stupid three words ever could be, right? Because he wanted to marry her, really marry her, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. It rarely happened for people of their status, so she should be beyond delighted that it was happening to her. Plus, she loved him, too, and unlike him, she hadn't been afraid to say those three words. Marrying Draco was what she was supposed to want; finding out that he wanted to marry her, too, was supposed to be the greatest news she's ever heard. So why was there some nagging part of her brain that knew that saying yes would be the worst thing she could possibly do?

"I know what you mean," she said. She had never lied to him before.

you want me / you're sure

Blaise Zabini was flirting with her. Then again, Blaise Zabini flirted with everything that had legs and a mouth he could kiss, so it did nothing to impress her. It did, however, do its damage by making Draco furiously jealous. After all this time together, she prided herself in being able to read him like a book. Him storming off like a petulant child made her think that, in this instance at least, even a visually impaired person would be able to deduct the fact that he was (unreasonably) upset.

Sighing, she made out to follow him, annoyed that she had to make yet another excuse for her friends. It shouldn't be her job to smooth things over every time his tantrums killed the mood at a get-together, and yet it seemed like part of the "Dating-Draco-Malfoy" package.

She found him at the lake, the same way she always did. She wondered if there was any specific reason he chose this place to run off to , but she doubted he would tell her even if there was. Some secrets just weren't worth the effort of trying to figure out.

She expected him to be upset with her, to accuse her of leading Zabini on and whoring herself out to him—Salazar knew it wouldn't be the first time. It used to upset her beyond measure. There would be a good amount of crying and screaming on her part; calling him a pretentious douche, telling him to screw off if he really thought so little of her. It always ended the same: he would storm off, eventually, and disappear for a good few hours. Then, he'd come back, without something even remotely close to an apology, and tell her he wasn't mad anymore. She knew what he really meant when he said it: I expect you not to be mad anymore, either. And even when she was, she was usually too exhausted to keep on fighting. After a while, she decided there wasn't even any point in being upset in the first place. Draco was who he was; she knew what she was getting into. Or so she kept telling herself.

This time, however, seemed different. She was sure he could hear her approach him—he always did. So why wasn't he turning around? Why wasn't he yelling at her and making her feel as if the affection of others was her fault?

He stayed quiet until she finally reached him and made to stand next to him. "I don't like it when others try to make a pass at you," he said. She waited a beat, wondering if he was going to add anything else. He did. "I know I have no right to be upset with you." This was new. It surprised her. So much so that she wondered if she might've misheard. "It's not your fault Zabini has no respect for boundaries, or anyone else, for that matter. I just... it's paralyzing, sometimes. Realizing that you could leave me for someone else at any given moment, and there's nothing I could do about it. I want to be with you. I know I'm not always good at voicing it, but I do. I'm certain. That's why I get upset. Because it terrifies me."

She took his hand in hers and gave the back of it a soft kiss. This was possibly the most vulnerable he had been with her, ever. She understood him; of course she did. Didn't he know that she was just as terrified? That a life without him in it didn't seem to make any sense whatsoever to her? She loved him, and now she was sure that he loved her, too.

Nothing else mattered.

lose the world that you live in / pretend that it's what you wanted

“This isn’t okay, and you know it.” Maybe she did. Maybe she knew that this wasn’t right, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to feel like. But it’s all she’s ever known, and sometimes it felt as if this was all she’d ever want to know. Because when it was good it was great. It was all she could ever want and then some, and she honestly didn’t think she would ever find anything better than it.

Draco wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. She had her flaws just like anyone else, so to expect him to be something she herself couldn’t be? That seemed unfair and illogical at best.

“Look, you don’t get it, alright?” And she didn’t. None of them did. Not her mother or her father, not her friends or his. They were complicated and messy, but they were right. Right for each other, right in all the ways that mattered. She loved him, and he loved her. If there was anything in life she was sure of, then it was that.

“You can’t let him treat you like that.” That’s what it always boiled down to. Every fight she ever had about him—and there were probably too many to count—always came to the same conclusion: She shouldn’t let him treat her like that. But what did that even mean? No one would ever treat her the way he did. No one would ever look at her as if she was the reason they got up in the morning, as if she hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. No one would ever be able to make her feel like she was the thing they lived for, someone they’d die and kill for in the same breath.

So, what if he’d yell at her and insult her and make her question her worth sometimes? He’d never allow her to question herself out loud to him; he’d make sure to show her how important she was to him. And Salazar forbid someone else dared to say the wrong thing when it came to her—he’d made sure it’s the last thing they’d ever say.

Maybe she knew it wasn’t okay, what they were doing. There were a million words to describe their relationship, with toxic and unhealthy being the prime examples. But no relationship was perfect. Why should theirs be?

it's a life i could have, i know

They were invited to someone's birthday. She didn't even know whose, just knew to wear "that green dress that makes you look like actual royalty". There also had been a promise by a certain someone that the dress would later be carefully taken off, and that there would be some... not so careful actions afterwards. It was the prospect of that that kept her from making up some excuse as to why she suddenly had to leave this awful and hollow house and curl up with a book and one of Draco's sweaters in her bed.

The party in itself wasn't awful; on the contrary, it was lovely. The music was played by a live orchestra, and the entire house was decorated in different shades of blue and silver. There were white roses everywhere, and the food was exceptional, too. But she didn't know anyone here except for Draco; she didn't even know the birthday girl. She was a couple years older than the two of them, and from what she understood she was the wife of a son of a business partner of Draco's father. Or something like that.

She was currently standing in a corner all by herself, with a champagne flute in hand, trying to find Draco in the crowd. He had snuck off some time ago, claiming that he had to make the rounds or else "my father is going to chew my ear off about it", convincing her that it wasn't necessary for her to introduce herself tediously to every single person he would have to shake hands with. He wasn't wrong, but somehow standing in her lonely corner appeared to be an even worse fate.

Eventually, she locked eyes with Draco and gave him a small smile. She knew it was pointless to beckon him to her; he'd just shrug her off. Instead, he sent a quick wink her way, before turning back around to speak to whatever important person he was speaking to right now.

This could be my life, she thought. Going places with Draco, having him wink at her from across the room, promising to take her dress off at the end of the night and make it all worth it. This could be the rest of her life. She could see it, could see herself be one of the important men’s wives, gossiping away in some lonely corner just like hers, on their fifth or sixth flute of champagne already, trying to hide the hollow look in their eyes. This could be it. It was nothing like the life that she had wanted for herself all this time, and yet it didn’t seem to bother her nearly as much as it should.

throw your rocks / scream that you hate me

She didn’t even know how long it’s been. All she knew was that her mother had been up twice to tell her that she was this close to hexing him away from their property, and that she had begged her just as often not to.

“He has every right to be upset,” she had said, and could feel the bile rise in her throat at the bitter taste of the lie. Because no matter how often she told herself just that, it didn’t sound any more truthful to her ears than it did the time before. Yes, maybe Draco was allowed to be upset. She certainly was. But standing below her window, completely wasted, and throwing rocks at it, whilst yelling profanities at her? No one should have the right to do that.

And it wasn’t as if it was her fault, either. She had given him a choice; she shouldn't have had to do that. She hadn’t even meant to. It was supposed to be clean cut. She was supposed to tell him that it was over, that it should have been over a long time ago. If he still couldn’t tell her that he loved her after five years together, chances were that he never would. And she was just so tired of not hearing those words.

But she had looked him in the eyes and something—something made her believe that maybe, just maybe, he would realize that she was worth so much more to him than his pride and that being with her was worth more than being whoever he kept on pretending to be.

She should have known that her stupid, childish hope would be the death of her.

So here he was now, screaming that he hated her, that he wished that he had never met her, that being with her had been the greatest mistake of his life. And what if he wasn’t wrong? Would things had been different had she been different? Would he have been able to tell her how he felt if she had been more like Daphne? Would she have been able to leave him sooner and protect her own heart had she been more like Pansy?

It was driving her mad, the never-ending question of “what if?”, and yet her silly mind didn’t seem to be able to put an end to it. Because no matter how awful being (or in this case not being) with Draco may have been, it was still the most magical time in her life so far. And she didn’t even doubt for one second that the rest of her life might have been just as magical, too. Except that there was only so long a person could survive on magic and maybe’s, before eventually having to put an end to the madness and realize that the whimsical dreams weren’t anything other than nightmares hiding behind a pretty façade.

She loved Draco, loved him with her entire being, loved him more than she could ever imagine loving or even wanting to love anyone else. But, somehow, along the way, she had come to realize that just because she couldn’t see ever loving herself even half as much as she loved him, it was still enough to realize that leaving him was the only way she could ensure that she wouldn’t lose herself completely.

So, when her mother came up for the third time, this time with her father in tow, she didn’t fight them when they suggested to call the authorities to remove the Malfoy boy from their property. After all, just because Peter never wanted to grow up, didn't mean Wendy couldn’t.

i could love you / wait 'til you're ready

It was the little things more than it would ever be the big ones. She knew Draco, knew that the only way she could expect big romantic gestures from him was if someone were to put him under a spell, which is why she came to appreciate the small gestures and hold them as close and dear to her heart as she possibly could.

It was the little enchanted paper cranes that would hold little love notes of “your hair looks pretty today” and “how lucky I am to be dating the smartest witch in this castle”.

It was how he would lend her his robe without a second thought when he would see her rub her hands together in a fruitless attempt of warding off the cold, even though he had adamantly tried to convince her to wear a jumper underneath.

It was how he would press a kiss on her temple first thing in the morning, without fail, every single day, no matter if they had fought the previous evening or not, letting her know that he wasn’t going anywhere.

It was how he would rub her feet at the end of a long day in Hogsmeade, knowing that her boots were a size too small but that she loved them too much not to suck up the pain and go out with them anyways.

She loved him, and whilst she had no problem with telling him just that, he had no problem with showing her, either. And maybe he wasn’t lying when he told her that he just needed time, that she ought to just be patient, that sooner rather than later he would feel ready enough to say it, too.

The question wasn’t whether she could wait or not; she knew she could. The question was whether she loved herself enough to know that she shouldn't have to.

forever 20

Twenty.

That’s how often she had said it, and how often he had stayed quiet. And every time he hated himself just a little bit more because he knew that with every time that she would say it without hearing a reply, he would get closer to hearing it for the last time.

And now here he was, stuck at twenty, forever, because he knew her well enough to know that it was over, really, truly over, with no one to blame but himself.

The worst thing was that for every time she said it, he had wanted to say it tenfold, had wanted to shower her with those words until she grew sick and tired of them. Had, on the worst days, wanted to just grip her by the shoulders and shake, shake, shake her and tell her, over and over, that he loved her, that he had loved her all this time and would love her for all the time to come.

But he never did, and now she was gone beyond his reach and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that, maybe, this was the best thing that had ever happened to her. The best thing he had ever done for her. And that had to count for something, right?

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polkadot358 · 1 year

Photo

I made some sprites and boss battle animations heavily based on the content made for the john loves you au by @zzoupz and @salmonandsoup . Big props to them for creating and expanding this au along with every other contributor who helped get my creative juices flowing!

I have tagged it but just in case !!FLASHING LIGHTS!! for the gif below

Details, ideas and ramblings on the sprites are below the read more!(I am warning you that it is long and that this is my first time posting)

All sprites are facing to the right and are supposed to be the walking downwards sprites.

John:

For John and Gary I just swapped around their bodies and kept their arms so that their silhouettes would be the same (or at least similar) to the ones in the Faith game. This made them a lot easier to design alongside the fact Zoup gave them distinguishable features (thank you!). The first sprite is John cloaked, second is uncloaked and third is his ‘action move’ like the one in game when he holds up his cross.

For his phase 1 transformation I like to think this is when Gary and Amy are properly kicking his ass and Buer does not like that so John starts to fervently pray to his “angels” to save him. They do but start to transform John as they feed off his fear of failing his “God” and of being killed by Gary and Amy. As the protagonists deal with the “angels” John escapes (to mirror canon!Gary’s fight and highlight John’s cowardice) and prays in his private sanctuary where he can directly speak to “God”.

Amy and Gary catch up, leading to John’s phase 2 transformation where Buer has had enough and directly possesses John at the peak of his terror, fully transforming him. You may notice in this transformation that John’s blood forms a cross, I did this because of ~symbolism~. The flashing yellow references when canon!John first received the golden cross from Father Allred in the Martin house when his faith was strongest. For swap!John he is literally being given the cross directly into his chest and his faith is also at its strongest, although it’s out of pure blind faith to his “God” from fear rather than it being a conscious decision. It’s kinda mocking the canon flashing but its use still means “John” is becoming stronger. Also, the reason the antlers move is cuz I read an interview with Airdorf where he said he liked to keep his demons abstract to allow the human mind to make it horrifying. I know he was referring to the shapes of the demons but I took it and made the antlers move to allow people to think “oh, are those antlers or bloody hands?” Clever, maybe, I dunno.

Gary:

I’ll repeat what I said above but I just swapped John and Gary’s bodies and kept the arms the same. I made Gary look like he was wearing a cassock, gave him his hat and cane and voila, it’s his first sprite. His second sprite is his ‘action move’ where he whips out his bible and leans on his cane. salmonandsoup said how the AU would be a two player game, I could see this being done by giving Gary and Amy individual strengths and weaknesses. Gary would be a slow mover but would be the only one able to fully kill demons with his biblical knowledge. Amy would be speedy and could hold items but would only be able to stun or ward away demons.

Amy:

Humans in the Faith game all have that stick figure look outside of Garcia and Allred who get to be a bit knobbly. This is why Amy has a pretty basic look but I gave her some knobbly-ness in her arms as reference to her canon design and attempted to give her some shoulder length hair, this is her first sprite. Her second and third sprites give light to the idea I talked about in Gary’s section where she would be the item keeper. These aren’t her ‘action moves’ though cuz I imagine her swinging the crowbar around and maybe lifting the lamp higher.

Lisa:

The first sprite is based off of canon!Amy and canon!Lisa designs. I gave her that hanging hair that canon!Amy has and used canon!Lisa’s skinny and less connected arms to inform the rest of her limbs to make her more demonic looking. For the second sprite I made it closer to Zoup’s design for Lisa, giving her more wild hair and clawed hands.

Miriam: Another original look, I wasn’t too sure if she was a nun in this AU but gave her the mask that salmonandsoup mentioned based off of her face in her canon design. I decided to give her a nice grandmotherly silhouette, making her shorter than her canon sprite, giving her a bun and a nice dress to tie it together. Overall, just a sweet old lady with good posture.

Garcia:

The least inspired of the bunch. I just took the hooded design of canon!Gary and slapped Garcia’s arms on there. I gave him his canon colouring even though the cloak should be blue because his grey head did not mix well with the blue clothing in his second sprite. Sorry, Garcia, at least he looks kinda like the grim reaper.

Last thing, I promise! I thought about the themes that the swap AU game could explore that would contrast those made in the OG Faith game. The AU game could explore how limiting faith that is too extreme can be or how faith can become twisted compared to the originals message that through strong and pure faith anything can be overcome. These are ideas that salmonandsoup and vendettapandav have talked about I just think they deserve to be key themes.

#john loves you au #faith the unholy trinity #faith game #pixel art #pixel animation #flashing lights #tw flashing lights #I hope I haven't contradicted anything #or misinterpreted it...

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yanderenightmare · 2 years

Note

alpha deku? he's already a daddy in the yandereverse, but with the added alpha-ness...if a darling ever tried to escape he found find her immediately. i could also imagine bakugou and todoroki as alphas and the three of them finding their cute little omega running away.

OMEGAVERSE ! bnha ! TODO-BAKU-DEKU

goodiebag WARNINGS: omegaverse, dubcon, NSFW, threesome, degradation, condescension, discrimination towards Omegas ig, its hinted that the reader is 18

TIP-JAR

The rules of The Harvest

The Harvest is a government-issued bidding game hosted on every harvest moon, where Omegas are auctioned off to the highest bidding high-society Alpha or Beta, to ensure every Omega is given a secure and wealthy home where they can be assured the proper care and protection.

Taking part in the auction is unavoidable to newly detected Omegas, however, per rules of the game, they're given a chance to fight for their own claim in what is now known as The Run. This additional rule to the otherwise strictly mandatory bidding game is based on prior Omegas succeeding in their escape, thus proving their own self-worth and their own means to take care of themselves.

Omegas who choose to take part in The Run are given a full minute’s head-start, however, by choosing to take part in The Run Omegas give up their position as bidding prizes, therefore no longer under the protection laws of The Harvest, and are thus free-game to any Alpha or Beta who would choose to hunt them down.

THE HARVEST

Her eighteenth winter arrived a couple of moons ago.

And she’d been made to go through the trials like everyone else her age.

It seemed silly now. And perhaps it had been before as well, where she’d long spotted how the boys in her class snickered at her ever since she’d first bled.

But, hopeful as she was, or perhaps stubborn, she’d crossed her fingers and prayed to the moon that luck was on her side enough to make her a Beta in the least.

Even though every bone in her body had long told her the truth.

She was smaller than everyone else. Weaker than everyone else. Emotional. Unstable. Incapable.

Simply not made to take care of herself.

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. The only thing she could do.

Except for crying.

It seemed. So. Fucking. Silly. Now.

That she was dumb enough to think she had a chance of passing the tests. That she was stupid enough to believe that if she just wanted it enough, she’d somehow be spared what she knew was the truth.

But, she was always going to end up here…

Groomed and dolled and sold to whichever Alpha or Beta was interested enough…

The Harvest.

Each year every Omega is round-up for this government-issued Match-Making event. Posing as a charity to make sure poor vulnerable highly fertile Omegas find safety in wealthy homes. Though, in reality, just a disgusting glorified auction to keep power-hungry dogs satisfied.

Caged behind pretty glittering gold bars, Omegas cower, at the gathering of high-society Alphas and Betas circling them like prey.

The highest bidder takes their prize home.

Though… not before they’re all given the option of testing out their skills in The Run.

But, of course, Omegas rarely dare. And even among those that try, it’s an even rarer story that anyone ever makes it. Riggedgame, as it is, as an Omega has slim chances of ever outrunning a Beta, much less an Alpha.

Which is in addition to just how silly she was going to further prove herself to be…

She chewed her nails where she sat on the velvet pillow within her cage. Suppressing the urge to tap her foot.

Unable to look them in the eye.

The swarm of fine-clothed large muscled shapes walking in and about her cage and the other dozen cages housing each their poor soul having had the bad luck of being deemed an Omega.

Some were in shock and denial. Screaming through the bars in the hope anyone would believe them, pleading that they were Betas, some even delusional enough to call themselves Alphas.

She remained silent though. Reserving her energy. Shivering a bit on the account of being as good as naked.

Cold cuffs on her wrists with matching anklets weighing down her feet, and though she couldn’t see it, she bet the collar on her throat was of the same gold fashion.

The harem pants were white like canvas. Thin silk. As was the wrap around her breasts. Probably for the satisfaction of seeing the innocent fabric spoil once the hunt for her started and she’d to be chased down until she trips in the mud by an Alpha’s feet.

She tried blocking out the haughty laughter of the rich around her. Sitting in the middle of her cage so no grabby hands could reach in without exerting themselves. Legs locked tightly to her chest with her arms slung around her. Tail tucked close. Pointy ears alert and shifty on every sound.

Memories of her teacher telling her that she’d make an Alpha very happy one day with that pretty face of hers made her hide behind her knees.

She remembers scowling ever since.

She remembers yelling at him and growling out how she was just as much of a Beta as him.

She remembers how he’d laughed at her.

She remembers the entire class laughing.

Sneering at the memory, her eyes raised from watching her toes to the boy sitting across from her.

He’d attracted a crowd with all his whimpering.

They seemed to like that.

They’d been commenting on him for a while now and each snide comment just made him cry more. Taunting him with haughty jeers about how his puffy cheeks were cute, swelled with tears like that, and how adorable the snot running from his nose was as he bawled his eyes out in fear.

His fluffy ears parted in despair at the people surrounding his cage.

A female had a sharp manicured hand reached in through the bars, rubbing on the boy’s soft ear as she pulled it close to the top of his cage, whispering ugly nothings to him, every cruel word making him cry even more. The boy let his jaw fall open and the woman gave a disgustingly wicked smile before spitting into his gaping mouth.

The other Alphas and Betas watching snickered before their grabby hands also decided to join the game, aiming to manhandle the poor Omega into complete despair. Tugging on his tail until he whined only to tug even harder, yanking his other ear and pulling on his locks, laughing and cooing at him while trying to rip his harem pants off to leave him there naked, humiliated, distraught, and dominated.

She made an effort to not seem as pathetic.

Hoping she wouldn’t draw as much attention-

“You smell phenomenal, my sweet.” A voice beside her called and she realized how her hopes were too high.

She ignored him with a roll of her eyes. Bitterly wishing that she hadn’t jinxed herself, thinking he’d leave once realizing she wouldn’t fall apart so easily, like what the rest of the whelps sniffling in their cages had already.

“I can tell you’re a highly fertile one-”

She tried suppressing it, though she’d already bared her teeth.

A rebellious snarl acted up in the back of her throat, her head snapping to look at the pompous jackass who had that ugly lopsided grin slapped on his face. Her brows set low in a glare as she summoned what she could to give him a ferocious growl.

“Fuck off!”

The comment didn’t need to echo to be heard and make ashen blonde locks shake with a chuckle.

Grinning at the other side of the room atop the exclusive VIP balcony, reserved for only the filthiest of rich, who subsequently was also the strongest of the strong.

“Heh, feisty.”

Golden champagne sparkled with fizzy bubbles in the tall slim glass he held between his fingers as he snickered at the display. His red eyes set on the sweaty reject retracting the digits he’d stuck through the bars back to the safety of himself.

The pair of emerald orbs next to him lazily viewed the same sight, perking up upon the cut in the little thing’s voice. Amused while watching the poor sucker tuck-tail before hurriedly rushing away from the tiny hostile thing locked up in her cage.

“Looks like someone hasn’t quite gotten the memo...” He commented in a mumble. Tipping his glass to his lips before taking a sip.

And, while it was left undecided whether the comment was meant for the omega who dared bark or the alpha who dared scare by it, he surely seemed more taken by the former.

Charmed smirk accenting his features as his pupils slightly dilated, the bubbles in his drink tickling what other hunger brewed in his gut.

“I think we found tonight’s game, boys.”

Jaded duel-colored eyes had taken the same instinctive interest as his two partners. His head slightly tipped making his bangs fall shadily over the scar on his face as he smiled a complementary dark grin.

A curt chuckle escaped him before speaking. “Agreed…”

They were approaching midnight.

And she didn’t want to admit she was scared once the massive entrance split open like a floodgate and the large crimson moon was exposed to them, its red light spilling in and awakening something livid inside otherwise sophisticated tame beasts.

She knew half was petrified and would remain in their cages even when they as well would unlock.

But she wasn’t one of them.

She was staring ahead toward the foliage before her. At the thick coverage of trees only thirty meters ahead. Beyond the grass field she needed to cross first in order to slip past the thick trunks while running in the mud through the branches and roots and rocks to reach her freedom.

Keen eyes. So suspenseful you could see the adrenaline sharpen the red in her retina as she watched the digital clock mounted on the wall. The time of The Run nearing, her last chance fast approaching.

She was the only one to shift and people were noticing.

Getting excited to see the pup try her adorable best.

She knew, were it not fellow omegas, she still wouldn’t be alone in the woods.

In spite of it, she didn’t back down and instead embraced what little bit of extra power the moonlight gave her to shed her human skin.

Taking on the form best suited for wilderness.

Bones broke and altered human anatomy first, before thick fur sprouted in an abundance. Starting at her nape like a mane running down her spine, before every inch was decked in a rich coat. Serving for better warmth.

Paws with claws made for running took the place of fickle human hands and former measly nails.

A pair of eyes that would better guide her through the thicket emerged last. Adapted with the rest of the ensemble. The final touches in aiding her escape.

Her door opened the second the clock ticked double o’s, and off she darted like she’d been counting down from the last-minute shift.

Three more seconds and she’d already reached past the clearing and entered the forest.

“And off she goes…” Cyan and grey eyes commented lazily as he watched the tiny thing disappear between the trees. Much quicker than expected.

Almost impressive.

Almost too bad a distinct scent left a clear trail behind her. Sweet like ripe peaches.

“Seems like the only one.” Red eyes admired as he viewed the other sniveling Omegas still spellbound to the safety of their cages. Already being drooled over by swarming Alphas and Betas pitching their proposals with checks in hand.

“We have to give her credit for trying…” Green eyes gleamed up at the moon as he wrung his blazer off his shoulders and stepped out from his shoes.

Almost shuddering by the ecstasy of the lunar eclipse.

“Hopeful ones make for the cutest Omegas after all…”

Her back paws only barely touched the ground as she maneuvered between the thick stems before her. Legs weighed down a bit by the gold bracelets cuffed on her. Her collar too, straining against her throat, added extra labor to her breaths.

Her ears shook at the sound of a gleeful howl behind her. Powerful where it bounced off the trees in an echo to reach her where she ran for her life. The sound of paws trampling the leaves soon followed. At least six pairs worth rumbling in the ground like thunder. Substantial in weight.

She cursed with a growl. Her lungs already burning while her muscles screamed for a break once she heard the twigs start snapping at her sides. She gave the sound a quick glance before turning to face forward again.

Where, in the near closing distance, red lights glowed in the dark like the blood moon itself.

Her back paws pushed into the ground to halt her from crashing right into the looming figure. Ripping up the mossy forest floor beneath her before her feet caught on a bridged root.

Tripping and sending her to the ground with a thud and an oof.

Her jaw in the mud, as she stared up at him with a wince.

She gulped at the sight of the thick sturdy claws leveled with her eyes. Plunged deep into the dirt. Looking closer to a dragon’s talons than any canid she’d ever seen.

Gathering herself enough to rise. She began slowly backing away. Her head bowed and back hunched. A bit too frightened to look fierce.

She always thought that the boys in her class were large.

Some girls too.

Saint Bernards and Mastiffs. And she’d seen some Hyenas in her life, and even Grey Wolves too.

But, this man…

He was beastly.

More like a bear than a dog with his bulk and size.

The teacher had schooled them about Dire Wolves. But she’d never think to ever lay eyes on one. She didn’t exactly feel lucky to have her thoughts proven wrong.

She’d been told Dire Wolves were the most aggressive of all canids…

Maybe he was one that preferred the taste of blood instead of mating. Maybe he was going to rip her open and eat her while her body was still warm. Stain his pale blond hair with her blood and his teeth with chunks of her flesh.

Spit out her bones when he was done.

A twig to her left snapped and her head snapped with it. Eyes growing ever more swiveled as she found another beast emerging from between the trees. Her hair on strict end and only tensing more when eyeing the new arrival of the same impressive and intimidating build.

Where for a moment she thought half of his white fur was caked with blood. Despite knowing how she would’ve smelled it if that were the case.

Another twig snapped to her right and she felt her odds thinning to the impossible.

But, once she turned to face the sound she couldn’t spot anything anywhere.

Until the luminescent green of his eyes distinguished themselves from the green of the forest, and the rest of his emerald fur exposed to her anxious gaze the more she struggled to spot him.

An excellent stealth hound. She bet, as her bones broke and healed to change her back to human.

Now naked, though having more combat options.

She thought before the other three changed back as well. Steam rolling off tough naked bodies riddled with muscle from neck to toe.

And she realized her options were as slim as before.

“D’you really think you could make it?” An amused voice jeered haughtily, and she turned to eye the one who’d initially blocked her path.

An explosive ash-blonde main pulled in every direction atop his head.

“Well, aren’t you a hopeful little bitch?” He gleamed with a wide set of pearly fangs bared in an awfully lofty grin.

“Manners, Kachan.” Another voice cut in. “You’re scaring the poor thing.”

It was the last one she’d spotted.

Purple marring ran up his arms gruesomely in stark contrast to his friendly freckled face. Green fluffy curls hung wildly around his ears, framing two large and even greener eyes.

“We wouldn't want that little Omega heart to give out, now would we?”

She didn’t know exactly why, but she already disliked him the most.

“Tch-” The man called Kachan scoffed with his grin still stretched wide like a crescent moon across his face. “If she wants to run with the big dogs- sooner or later she’s gonna learn what it’s like when the big dogs bite.”

The green-haired one, visibly exasperated with the other, sighed while resting his eyes.

And then the last of the fray decided to speak up, his voice smooth and refined like early morning snow.

Cold like it too.

“What do you expect when we don't put the mongrel on a leash?” He seemed to chastise, though bore the most indifferent expression while doing so.

In complete contrast to the counter, where Kachan’s glare immediately sharpened at the offender as he gave the comment a threatening growl. And the sound was so chillingly strangling she had to suppress a whimper upon hearing it.

“If I’m a mongrel, you’re a chihuahua, pretty boy. Eager to be carried around in Deku’s purse.” Kachan barked back with spit and spite.

The Alpha’s insane canines flashed along with his growling, making her further shudder where she wide-eyed tried keeping track of the three threats before her.

Where the green-haired one decided to cut in through the bickering of the other two.

“You’re both mutts.”

And the slight edge to his tone seemed to make them both shut up.

“Question is…” He continued upon the requested silence. His attention now set to her again. “How do we get the pup to come quietly?”

The heat in his dark green eyes had her breathing thin and her body feeling cold and hot in flashes.

“Tch-” Kachan scoffed once again. Shaking her from the spellbinding eye contact she shared with the other male to watch while the blonde took three thunderous steps forward towards her.

Where she, despite feeling shocked numb, instinctively reached down to fish a rock up from the ground.

“This whelp ain’t gonna listen to shit.” He proclaimed. “You said it yourself…. what she needs is to be put over a knee.”

Her eyes hardened even more upon that, her brows sinking into a low and sharp glare as she watched him brazenly step towards her.

“Look at me, pooch, and listen. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way.” The man stated. And though being naked and seeing naked wasn’t an uncommon happening among the species, she had to gulp nonetheless as she hadn’t ever really laid eyes on someone so…

Large.

“Oh please, Kachan.” Green-eyes interrupted him once again. “Quit the theatrics-”

“He can't help it.” The other rather quiet one snidely added. Further causing the blonde to bare his teeth with another growl.

“Shut up, Shoto.” He snarled back at the dual-colored one, and she learned his name was Shoto.

Now only the camouflaged one remained.

“Excuse our partner…” Said man apologized. Also taking a step toward her.

Lowering himself with an extended palm to where she kept low to the ground beneath the coverage of some large leaves, against the thick tree the trio had cornered and backed her up against.

“He’s a cur. But, I promise you, come with us willingly and-”

His hand neared her and she decided she needn’t know his name to bark at him.

“Keep your fucking paws off me!” She roared and chucked the rock at the man. Who, unfazed and with a slight smile on his face, caught it in his fist as though he’d anticipated the attack.

“So hostile.” The supposed cur commented with red eyes as wild as blood flow. “Even towards you, Deku.”

Grinning as he licked his teeth. His voice dipped into a low rumble close to the sound of a purr and either way a sound that had her toes curling into the wet dirt beneath her.

“I like her already.” He breathed, and the man they called Shoto hummed in agreement.

His sharp eyes side-eyeing the other as he spoke. “You would. Wouldn’t you, Tsuki?”

That made the blonde growl again for the third time, and while her brows furrowed at the entry of the new name she simultaneously wondered if he wouldn’t snap for the last time soon.

“But I do agree with you and Izuku…” He dismissed before the seemingly short-tempered red-eyed one could bark out another offended threat. “Wildlings are always the most fun.”

All the different names and nicknames thrown about indicated that they had a particularly complicated relationship. And with the heated looks in their eyes, she had the crawling feeling she was going to be the chew-toy in a dangerous game of tug-a-warbetween three Alpha Dire Wolves.

The man she was now fairly certain was the one they referred to as both Deku and supposedly Izuku as well eyed the rock he’d caught in his palm. Though, seemed to look past it into something that made his eyes glint with wicked excitement.

Those same vibrant vine-like eyes snapped to meet with her again and she believed the look alone was enough to cripple her even without the additional overwhelming musk that seemed to carpet all her senses, as though feeding some hunger deep down low in her gut, and rendered her dull and grossly satisfied. Caught somewhere between the sense of being knocked down to her knees and lulled into some false sense of safety. Either way, incapacitating.

“Grab her.” He commanded and the other two pounced within the split second.

She tried rounding the tree, clumsy in her haste as she grasped to stumble her way forward and away, but large rough hands snatched her before she could.

“Get off!” She tried growling, though only managed to whine. “No, stop- Let go of me you fucking dogs-”

She twisted in their grip. Her waist hugged from behind as she was lifted against a very broad and warm chest. Her thighs were picked up by the one in front, same hands pulling on her tail playfully in the next moment, making her cry out a pretty little howl.

She had her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she flailed. Pitiful shakes of her head as her impending violation dawned on her, her cute growls of anger turning into even cuter whines of panic and then further devolved into the cutest of scared little cries and whimpers.

“Someone’s eager to be collared…” The man behind purred with a growl against her ear before biting down on the tip of it. His breath; hot and damp against her neck with his thick meaty arms snaked around her tiny shape as tight as the constricting strength of a boa.

“That’s all you Omegas want, right?” Another of them added. Voice in contrast to the prior, silvery and smooth but still taunting like his mate.

Hands, thrice her size, squeezed the plush flesh of her thighs and she wrenched with another bitterly broken protest. But her struggles mattered little to the bigger threat puppeteering her into straddling the torso in front.

Hot breaths on her face indicated someone was leaning in close, but she couldn’t bear to open her eyes. The sting of warm tears wet on her cheeks, lip caught between her teeth as she awaited the imposing stranger’s mouth on her.

But though the heat was present, the kiss didn’t come.

“Pets don’t want freedom, little one.” He taunted softly instead, condescending with the grace and skill of a true Alpha. “Pets want safety and comfort. Pets want masters.”

And even though she had her eyes tightly shut, she could hear the leer which painted his face. Haughty and salacious, dripping with sadism potent enough to make any little thing like her shiver and bow.

“Hmm…” He admired, his claw scooping a lock from her face with a minor scratch left in its wake, sending a new slew of tears to go rolling down her cheek. “But, nothing’s cuter than a pet not knowing their place.”

She felt another warm breath fan against her face and bit down on her lip even harder to suppress the feeble whimper it caused. Where too much blood rushing about her ears rendered them too hot and useless in hearing the additional approaching footsteps coming from the forest.

But the three males, with Alpha instincts running on adrenaline and those raging owner-sick urges spiked by sweet and sweaty Omega pheromones, were on high alert and nowhere close to being as handicapped by the moment as the bewildered little thing they’d snagged on their teeth.

All three pairs of glowing eyes menacingly glared towards the source of the late arrivals.

“Aw…” Someone bitched. “You caught her already?” They groaned and her eyes opened to look at those who spoke.

A group of Betas stood like wraiths between the trees, all eyes an ugly desperate yellow. And suddenly, with the twist in her stomach the sight of their unsightly sharp smiles brought her, she felt no desire of leaving the Alphas at all anymore.

“Shame...” Another Beta whined.

His head cocked to the side as he licked his lips upon the sight of the hopelessly outnumbered little Omega stripped naked in the Alphas’ much stronger arms.

“You willing to share?” He piqued.

The tails of the rest of the onslaught all wagged aggressively behind them as they howled in agreement, the looks in their feral eyes having her regret running with every fiber of her body. Globs of drool dripping from canines that would surely snap at her to secure their piece.

She whimpered more upon hearing building growling in the trees surrounding the little clearing she’d been caught in. Unable to discern just how many there were. But, that just indicated that they were way more than what she could handle.

“Those that run are free game.” The Beta continued preaching amongst the fray. “We’re happy to take leftovers.”

He smirked and she swore it felt the same as being threatened with a knife.

“Ain’t that right, boys?”

The rest of the crowd jeered. Laughing like jackals. All hungry eyes fixed and spiked in her direction, eager to pounce. And though it was tough to spot in the darkness, it wasn’t easy to mistake why their hands all seemed to be tugging on something below their pelvis.

She made an uneasy sound while her own pitifully tiny hands subconsciously made to tug just a bit on the arms securing her, whilst her thighs tightened around the torso that had initially spread her against her will. Instinctively begging the big bads’ for safety against the rest of the threatening forest.

And as she felt herself being swallowed by the echoes of cheers and jeers around her, came an additional mortifying sound.

Threatening like none other. Low in the beginning, but rising, hums of a chuckle slowly building and amounting to a spurt of sudden laughter.

Deku broke off the howls of the surrounding onslaught with a manic chuckle, reeling her back. Haughty and loud and moon-drunk, he began cackling as though mad. The sounds reverberating throughout the woods, it didn’t shock her to see the birds take flight.

And once he finished, the rest of the forest was left dead silent.

His eyes, steely and condescending yet electric with livid luminescence, didn’t even bother to narrow as he blanked a stale look at the pathetic army of weaklings begging for a taste. And where she was held, goose-fleshed even on her cheeks and from her nape to her ankles, she was glad his gaze wasn’t directed at her when bearing that awful look of disdain.

The moon’s bloody glow gave the green-haired Alpha a menacing silhouette where he stood in the limelight. An epitome of dominance begging for just anyone to try and challenge him. She swallowed thickly thinking she’d see him tear them all limb from limb in gory slaughter.

But he didn’t move. And she reckoned it was because none of them were even worth it to him.

“Scram, Beta scum.” Came his rust.

Low, dark, and deadly.

The danger of it making everyone wince.

“She’s ours.”

All eyes were large with fear. Ears dropped down, some yelping and whimpering, the meek yielding cowards turned towards where they’d come from. Booking back with their tails tucked between their legs, some even spouting apologies as they ran.

But, she couldn’t notice any of it. As the much too threatening atmosphere had made her overwhelmed Omega-body take protective maneuvers. Her heart hammered so loud she felt it might run its course before she shut down.

Passed out and left just a little sleeping beauty in the three Alphas’ many secure arms.

(stay tuned for part two)

TIP-JAR

819 notes · View notes

libraryofloveletters · 5 months

Text

Glue Sticks and Pom Poms

Antonie Griezmann x Fem!Reader

Warnings: so much glitter, girl dad anto, your daughter is lowkey a menace, the team loves your kid like their own, family sweetness.

Word Count: 505

Author's Note: idk if any of you even read for anto but he's pookie so here you go.

Every year since moving to Atletico, his girls have helped him to make Christmas cards for his teammates; this year was no different. The three of them covered in glitter, glue and pom poms.

The giggles filled the house, your daughter and her father shared everything; smile, eyes, nose, giggles. They were twins in every way possible.

Now their love for art was exactly the same, to appreciate and to make were one in the some. Now no one ever said they were good at it but alas to be good, you need practice.

Your daughter gets a pass, seeing that she's only 6 but Anto was 32, he really has no excuse.

You had returned from the store to see them at the dining room table. The glitter, paper, glue and markers were all over the table, Anto and your daughter, Amelia, sat next to each other. Your husband cut out little shapes, giving it to her to stick only the cards they were making.

Every year since she was born, Anto and Amelia have made Christmas cards to his teammates. It was important to him to make them feel as homemade as possible but it was also nice for him to have some time with Amelia, something the two of them could do despite all the hectic-ness of the season.

your arms rest over your husband's shoulder, startling the man momentarily. "When'd you get back ? I didn't hear you come in." He says, pressing a kiss to your hand.

"Just a minute ago, came to see what all the giggling was about."

"Look!" Amelia shows you her card; a poorly drawn reindeer on it with a small red pom pom on the nose, clearly meant to be Rudolph and there's a man next to the reindeer, short blonde hair with a big nose with squiggles all over his arms.

"Very nice, baby. Who's that supposed to be?" You asked her, pointing to the man. You assumed it was her father, seeing that his hair was blonde more often than not and he too had tattoos but her answer made you giggle.

"Uncle Rodri!" She says proudly, meaning Rodrigo. You nodded, "I'm sure he'll love it babe."

Anto shows you a few of her other creations for the team, all of them Christmas related but none of them the same.

You told your husband as much. "I know," he nods, "there's no theme this year."

"Pom poms!" Amelia sticks her hand out, waiting for her father to pass them to her. "What colour?" He asks her.

"I'm gonna get some water," you tell him, kissing his head before walking to the kitchen. In the two minutes you were gone, you hear Antonie shout which was followed my Amelia's giggles

When you returned, you see Antonie's got a red pom pom stuck to his nose. Your lips pressed together, biting back a smile. "It's not funny." He tells you, a finger pointed at you.

Nodding, you snicker. "It's a little funny."

He picks up your daughter, the little girl now sitting on her father's lap as he smothers her cheek in kisses. You smile, taking a photo of them.

It was moments like this that you knew she'd remember.

#holiday extravaganza blurbs 23 #antoine griezmann #antoine griezmann x reader #antoine griezmann x you #antoine griezmann x y/n #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football imagine #football blurb

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aimlesswalker · 1 year

Text

I just want to be some guy

As a trans man, I don’t really feel like I belong anywhere in the lgbt+ community because I’ll never be attractive to anyone (which is why I ID as queer but even then I feel outcast) and it…. it really hurts sometimes. I’m simultaneously too masculine and not masculine enough.

in the men who are attracted to men spaces, most people when they see me think I’m a twink because of being short/small and/or for being trans/nonbinary. They think I’m hairless, feminine, boyish, submissive, etc. I’m…. at this point in my life I am really really not. Testosterone has made me male and everything that entails. I’ve gained (healthy! good for me!) weight and my stomach sticks out, I’m covered in body hair, I am partway to balding. All the things that are conventionally unattractive about men. All the things that are demonized in trans men. I’m too masculine to fit their idea of a nonbinary person. But masculine in “the wrong way”. I have to either be muscular/fit or small and hairless to be wanted here. I don’t even count as a bear, you’d probably just call my shape a “dad bod”. This isn’t just some vague feeling I get in these spaces- people have legit said to me “oh I love twinks” or “oh I love femboys” and I have to awkwardly explain that no I’m not one actually. I’m not what they want me to be. And I’m really tired of people placing that expectation on me- that I’m a slender hairless twink who is submissive and likes bottoming. Just because I’m small and/or trans. so gross.

and then in the women who are attracted to men spaces well… they’d never look twice at me. I’m short and not at all muscular/toned/fit. Again, I have gained weight, am hairy, and halfway to bald. Bedsides not being conventionally attractive- they usually want a man who can “provide”. I am disabled and can’t work. I can’t drive. I can’t give them flowers or pick them up for a date. I can’t be any of the things they’re looking for in a partner. Being disabled makes me seen as “less than”. Being dependent on other people is a trait that is endlessly mocked in men. I’m not masculine enough.

so where the fuck does that leave me? I’m not even going to talk about how being aromantic in queer spaces alienates me further. I love testosterone, I love what it’s done for me and how I feel healthier on it. But like. fuck. I don’t feel like I’m ever going to be attractive to anyone. I never get to feel pretty or handsome. I never get to feel happy about my appearance anymore and that makes me so sad. I used to derive so much joy from picking out outfits and accessorizing and applying glittery make up. I’m too sick to leave the house ever so I don’t do those things anymore, besides the fact that I *can’t* present feminine anymore without risking my safety. People would assume I’m a trans woman and act accordingly because they see a man attempting to be feminine. I am fully man and fully nonbinary, but I never get to exist as both at the same time. I can’t be feminine without people invalidating/forgetting my manhood. I can’t be masculine without people invalidating/forgetting my nonbinary-ness. I’m too masculine for nonbinary spaces and too nonbinary for masculine spaces. I just…….. I get incredibly sad about this.

And people generally don’t care??? the sentiment seems to be that trans men who are masculine, who pass, who are stealth, etc don’t belong in the lgbt+ community, shouldn’t be in lgbt+ or queer spaces. They’re not wanted there because of being masculine. These spaces are only for “non-men”. But the second you talk about your struggles as a trans man as a reason for why you should be included, you get pegged as an owo twink femboy to most people. It’s always one or the other (demonized or infantilized) and I’m really fucking sick of it. It hurts. I just want to be some guy.

#transmisandry #transandrophobia #trans masc #nonbinary #trans male #transgender #disability #fey talks #idk how to tag this at all #i hope this will resonate with some people #i've completely given up dating at this point although i dont want to #i just dont have the energy to sift through 99% of the people who want nothing to do with someone like me #I dont feel like I have any community at this point in time even in online spaces #i dont feel like I fit in anywhere and it is incredibly isolating #i wish i could see myself as handsome or attractive in any capacity #can we please stop shaming men for being bald and hairy #can we please stop infantilizing disabled men #can we please stop calling all trans men twinks or femboys solely bc they are trans #sometimes i want to stop T just to be accepted again #but i cant i need the T for my health issues #does being both man and nonbinary at the same time make me multigender?

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best-female-villain-tournament · 7 months

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SEMIFINAL A

(Will add more if more are sent through)

Submitted Propaganda:

Marisa:

Her villain-ness might be a bit debatable since she ends up doing good in the end but for most of the series she's just totally evil (with moral complexity and nuance thrown in there) but anyway she's so hot and made sixth grade me gay so vote for her for that.

Ask from @catboy-pentheus:

Marisa Coulter propaganda even though I feel like trying to secure her a victory against glados is futile:

- she works for the alternate universe Catholic Church that is also the government. They're very evil

- she's a kidnapper and has a group of kidnappers working for her

- she literally experiments on children's souls. For the evil Catholic Church

- she's a fucking terrible mother <3

- her and her ex are both so shitty it's like. Never get anyone else involved in what you have going on because you make each other So Much Worse

- she put her daughter into a coma for a While and sorta played house while doing it. she's so awful <3

- girlboss tbh

- we never learn the name of her dæmon (her soul outside of her body in animal shape) which says something about how uniquely awful she is tbh.

- she takes her daughter out of the safest place she can be where she's spent her whole life and then her daughter runs away from her. which also says a lot about her.

- literally cannot think of a time Lyra's chosen to stay with her rather than run tbh

GLaDOS:

turned everyone who ever played it into a lesbian (including me). she's so pathetic and evil i love her so much she's the greatest of all time honestly just crown her now she's not just A female villain she's THEE female villain

#best-female-villain-tournament #polls #semifinals #semifinal a #portal #glados portal #glados #marisa coulter #his dark materials

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creepycrawliesanonymous · 1 year

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a/n this is way too long, it started as a blurb and then the spirit of the reader-insert goddess possessed me and this is what I have to show for it, totally could've been longer but I restrained myself, so if the masses want a part two just shoot the message my way

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had a feeling most people your age would be more excited about the prospect of sharing a house with an up-and-coming rock band in Los Angeles. Perhaps you yourself were more excited leading up to your move, packing up your bare essentials and your typewriter, sipping a cocktail in the smoking section of the plane, listening to David Bowie in the taxi over to the house. And what a house it was! You were given the run-down over the phone by the woman who put the listing out, Camila Something (never great with the last names, you were), not put off by the alleged haunted-ness of the house. If anything, the various ghosts and ghouls would serve as inspiration for your screenplay. There was not much that could dampen your spirits at this point, lugging your bags towards the front door and rapping your knuckles on the wood.

Except, of course, the obvious.

Moving from your parents' house to a college dorm had been, as you recall, a bit of a shock to the system. If that was the case then, it was nothing compared to moving into the closet-like space that was the remaining bedroom. You had gotten an apologetic smile from Camila... Alv- shit, Alvaro? It was leaving your head already. You felt bad, she had been nice enough to welcome you into the house and shown you to your shoebox of a living space.

"None of the boys wanted this room, so you should be left alone most of the time. Warren swears it's the epicenter for all the ghosts...," she nervously chuckled, "and whatnot." You took a nibble of the chocolate-chip cookie she gave you. "So just, take all the time you need to settle in, the group is out rehearsing for a gig tonight so you'll be on your own for dinner." She paused. "Unless you'd like to come see them, which would be more than fine! They're all so excited to meet you, especially Karen I think. She's been dying for some more estrogen in the house, me as well."

You swallowed. "I think I'll just stay in tonight, thank you." You cringed at yourself as she visibly faltered.

"No problem, uh, there's some leftover beer and pizza in the fridge if you get hungry, just help yourself to whatever you need." She was a saint, you thought, taking whatever awkwardness you possessed in stride. She even helped carry in your bag, setting it carefully on your twin bed. You insisted on taking in your typewriter yourself. It now lived on one of the cardboard boxes in the corner of your room, presumably left over from the group's initial move. "I'll get Billy to move those."

"It's fine." You had no desk. This was actually preferable to writing on the floor.

Camila gave you one last warm smile before returning back to the living room. You waited until she was out of earshot, stood up, and closed the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were on your own late into the night, into the small hours of the morning. Camila had left the house at around 8:30, after which you snuck out of your room to rummage through the fridge. True to her word, there was a box of pizza within the fridge, with two slices remaining. Considering you were now sharing a place with four boys, this seemed like a small miracle to you. You ate both of them cold, sitting at the dining room table. While you ate, you took the time to take in your surroundings.

The kitchen, frankly, was not in the best shape. Pots and dishes piled up in the sink and the counters looked like they needed a serious scrubbing. The living room had beer bottles littering the floor, and the couch looked distinctly tread on.

You took another bite of your frozen pizza. This would do just nicely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tired from your day of travel (and the handful of plane cocktails you had ingested) you retired to your bed relatively early. It would seem in this house, early meant any time before 2 a.m., and on-time would be closer to 4, which was around the time you were startled awake by a car pulling up and a small crowd of people piling through the backdoor into the kitchen.

"I swear there was pizza left over this morning."

"Eddie, we have a new roommate." That was Camila. "She needs to eat, too."

"Yeah, where is she?" A British voice piped up, moving from the kitchen roughly towards the living room. "Don't tell me she's in bed already."

"Just because you rock-and-rollers like to stay up doesn't mean everybody does," Camila laughed out. "Speaking of which, I'm beat. I'll see you all tomorrow."

"Right behind you." A deeper voice sounded, and two sets of footsteps walked off presumably to their bedroom. You suspected that was Billy.

"Should we go find her?" You felt as if your spine had been doused in cold water.

"Don't be stupid." British again. Someone moved around the living room, a record needle scratched and the quiet sounds of Credence Clearwater Revival started playing throughout the room.

The house started to mellow out after that; you expected the rest of them went to bed, and the ones that stayed out were smoking. It was at that moment that your bladder started to call for your attention in earnest. Weighing your options, you decided venturing out of your bedroom would be less treacherous than pissing your bed on your first night.

The journey to the bathroom you managed to avoid other people, it was the journey back that you slipped up. There was only one person in the living room, and there was only one of you in the hallway, so there was no mistaking that when he was waving, he was waving at you. To make matters worse, he was strikingly handsome, and you were deeply sleepy. Before you could stop yourself, you waved back. He held up the joint he was smoking in your direction. You shook your head. He gave you an exaggerated pout, wiping an invisible tear off his cheek. Not totally convinced that what was happening to you was real, you quietly slunk off back to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a small window in your room, the sill lined with small potted plants. The morning sun beamed through that window, casting a glowing light onto your bed. You reached your hand around looking for your pillow to throw over your head, prying your eyes open to see it lying on the floor next to your headboard. Groaning, you sat up, resigning yourself to the morning.

The house was quiet. 9 a.m. was evidently too early for anybody except you to be awake. You tiptoed your way into the kitchen, searching for a loaf of bread or an oatmeal pack. What didn't escape your notice, was the man sleeping soundly on the coach in the living room. The same man, you saw, that your had encountered last night. In the morning light you were able to get a better look at him. You were right to see that he was handsome, with his curly brown hair and his strong nose. Taking a bite of your buttered bread, you let yourself stare at him for just a few moments. Too many moments, in fact. You realized this when suddenly the boy on the couch was staring back at you.

"You didn't come smoke with me last night."

At that moment, you felt more empathy for deers in headlights than any other living soul on the planet.

"Good morning."

"Is it?" He looked over to the windows streaming in light. He beamed. "It is."

You hurried back to your room, the piece of bread squished within your clenched fist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your first few weeks you spent writing. It was very clear that you kept a very different schedule from everyone else in the house, except for maybe Camila. By virtue of being the only two in the house for long stretches of the day, she was the one in the house that you became the closest to the fastest. In the afternoons she would encourage you to bring your typewriter out into the dining room to keep her company while she poured over photographs from the night before. You would both slip into a comfortable silence, save for the clacking of your keys.

When you weren't writing you were watching TV. Camila had gotten Billy to drive you downtown along with a list of groceries, where you purchased for yourself the smallest television set you could find. While Billy and you said the equivalent of about three sentences to each other that trip, he had carried it into the house for you and even helped set it up in your room. The tiny screen sat in the corner on top of one of the cardboard boxes, consistently tuned to CBS so you could watch re-runs of Scooby Doo.

There was another television set in the living room. It was slightly bigger than yours, too. Maybe it even got more channels. You didn't use it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Camila greatly appreciated your company. She adored the band that she lived with, and she loved Billy with all her heart, but she couldn't deny that uprooting herself from Pittsburgh and moving across the country wasn’t an easy change. Putting out ads looking for a roommate, while being somewhat financially motivated (only so much pocket toast could be eaten by one household), was, perhaps subconsciously, a yearning for companionship, for a friend to fill the hours where the house would otherwise be empty.

And she adored you. You may have been a tough nut to crack, she slowly but surely got you to open up, got you talking about films coming out that you wanted to see, your childhood dog that would puke all over your room, your favorite classes in high school. The little things that were once guarded under layers of uncertainty and self-isolation. She would ask for your opinions on the photos she took, and you would ask her about your word choice. Before heading out for the night, she would always ask you if you wanted to come with, and she was sure she was getting closer and closer to the day you would say yes.

She was also pretty sure you had a thing for Warren. Like, 99.8% sure.

You never brought him up. She started dropping his name in your daily conversation, and would watch as your fingers would still on the keys of your typewriter. You would stutter for a few seconds before taking a breath and composing yourself, nervously glancing over at her to make sure she didn't notice. She never gave you any indication that she did, but of course she noticed.

She also noticed how Warren would scan the audience every night from behind his drum kit, and how his face would subtly fall when he couldn't spot you. Or how he started nagging the group to go home earlier than usual, and would drag his feet a little more in the early afternoons before leaving for rehearsals. The final straw on the camel's back came when he had bought a tiny ceramic kitten and asked her to give it to you.

"She likes cats, right?" It was close to three in the morning when he had cornered her in the kitchen, holding up the small black cat in the light of the oven lamp. "It seemed like something she'd like."

"You know, you can be asking her these questions yourself."

"I don't wanna spook her." He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Playing the long game, huh?"

"I've got time." He froze, eyes slowly widening. "I mean, I don't know what you're talking about."

She plucked the cat from his hands, patting him on the shoulder. "Go to bed, Rojas."

She slid the cat over to you the next morning while you were eating your cereal.

"What is this?" You gingerly picked it up.

"It's from Warren." You quickly set it back down. "It's for you."

You don't think your face has ever been hotter than it was that day. The cat lived on you windowsill, next to the potted plants. Every time you watered you felt a warmness blooming in your chest, running a finger delicately over its head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, you know what channel M*A*S*H airs on, right?"

On a rare day off, the band had settled in around the television in the living room; Camila and Billy sharing the chair in the corner, Graham and Karen lying over each other on the floor, with Eddie perched on the stool in front of the set, his hand on the dial. Warren had spread himself out on the couch, lying down comfortably smoking a joint.

"Uh, yeah." You paused in the doorway. "Yeah, sorry, uh, it's on CBS."

"Great, thanks." Eddie fiddled around with the set before standing up. "Are you gonna join us? I mean, you can join us if you want to."

"Oh, um," you're eyes wildly scanned the room for any hint of disapproval. They landed on Warren, who was hazily looking at you with an easy smile on his face. "Yeah, sure."

"Warren, move your legs," Camila spoke from across the room. Still looking at you, Warren lifted his legs off the couch, inviting you to sit down. As you took your seat, he lowered his legs back down on your lap. He held out the joint, in a movement reminiscent of your first encounter. Never not one for consistency, you shook your head. He shrugged and stuck the joint back between his lips, turning his attention to Alan Alda on the TV. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you tentatively rested them on his calves. You didn't notice, but right next to you the corners of Warren's mouth ever so subtly turned upwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

M*A*S*H, as groundbreaking of a show as it was, was not enough to hold the attention of 7 adults for an extended amount of time. Camila left the group first, but not before dropping you a wink as she left the room. Slowly but surely, the rest of the group left to go putter around in their respective corners of the house, before it was just you and Warren, who had finished his joint and transitioned to laying his head in your lap. His face was looking up towards you, but his eyes were closed, looking so relaxed he reminded you of a cat showing their belly. Not fully aware of yourself, you had rested one of your hands on the side of his waist, while the other was running through his hair. The scene was so intimate you were practically choking on it.

"Will you come to our show this weekend?"

Your hand stilled.

"Hmm?"

"I'd like you to, if you want to." He reached his hand up to yours, nudging it to get you to resume your petting. "I'll buy you dinner afterwards."

"You don't need to do that."

He cracked open his eyes, his face splitting into a grin.

"Girlie, I'll take you to dinner any night that you let me."

You barked out a laugh despite yourself. You felt like you were dreaming. He started giggling, too.

"I will!" His thumb was rubbing the meat of your forearm, drawing small circles on your skin. "I'll get you another little cat, too. My finances aren't robust but I'll find a way." The heart eyes he was sending your way were overwhelming.

"I- okay!"

"Really?" Warren sat up, eyes scanning your face, grinning wildly. Not trusting your voice, you nodded emphatically. Looking slightly awestruck, he reached over and cupped your face. "You won't regret this, honey. I'm gonna treat you so well." Someone called him from another room, and reluctantly he let go of you. Subconsciously you started reaching for him. As he stood up, he leaned over and took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles.

"I'm gonna name a boat after you!"

After he left the room, you breathed out a holy cow, and then another quiet chuckle.

Warren Rojas was gonna be the death of you, and you were counting on it.

#warren rojas #warren rojas x reader #djats x reader #if this gets one note i will write the date fic #i will like this myself if i have to

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jingerpi · 1 month

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Its honestly very concerning how popular ContraPoints video on "Transtrenders" was. I want to make a post discecting it briefly because I feel the video does a disservice to young trans folk looking to learn, instead leaving them feeling unjustified in their indentitiy under the guise of some radical acceptance One of the main issues with the video as a whole is how natalie breaks down existing understandings of trans medicine as a tool to try and unseat transmedicalist talking points, and show how being trans is about personal experience and "feelings". While its important to critique transmedicalists, what she does here is undermine what many people see as the best justification for trans existence without replacing it with anything. She does this in my opinion, because she honestly doesn't have anything to replace it with, and doesn't understand the real basis for gender in the world. Saying this is all well and good, I can critique anyone for not giving good basis for thing but its no help if i don't give anything of substance to back it up either, so heres a brief explanation of why transphobia is a problem, based in actual socio-political analysis.

Patriarchy is an economic structure which has been built up across centuries of accumulated surplus value which was passed down through the eldest son of the ruling class. this is a vast over simplification, but functionally this means there are systems in place in society which privilege men, give them access to more wealth, better positions, and control over non-men. Patriarchy has grown and changed over time and held different shapes depending on the society, we no longer have eldest sons inheriting royal rule (in most places), but we continue to have men as the group with the most economic and social agency in our societies. This privilege that Patriarchs have is constituted not of some magical benefits bestowed upon them from an abstract "system" but are instead taken directly from those who are not men. More specifically, men and Patriarchs take labor and resources from those whom patriarchy considers "non-men". Reproductive labor goes unpaid, women are under privileged in political society, we often don't get choices over our bodies. This isn't merely a coincidence, but serves specifically to give men power and confer more benefits onto them. Because of this, there must be systems in place to manage who is let into the patriarchy, who can be a Patriarch.

The most universal way of doing this is by deciding whether or not someone is a man and conferring onto them certain benefits as long as they uphold this structure, and ostracizing them if they are not. They do this ostracization because if this structure is not upheld artificially through oppression of women and bullying of nonconforming men to keep the categories of man and woman or even man and non-man distinct, the privilege given to the in-group starts to fade. In the same way that "White" is an artificial construct created and upheld to facilitate racism like slavery, imperialism, housing discrimination, and unpaid labor, so too is "manhood" and "womanhood". These constructs appear to be based in existing biology, so they often go without question, but race is also based on such "biology" and that does not mean its a founded construct. The basis for both "race" and "gender" break down once you look at higher level understandings of these concepts. Not all people with xy chromosomes are men, not all people of African decent have black skin, etc etc... I could go on about the "exceptions" for quite some time but you likely know many of them already. These are categories created fundamentally to give one specific category an economic advantage and justify their oppression of those who are outside of said category. The reason we need to respect trans-ness isn't because there is something inherently justified about being transgender, nor because we just have to be really nice to everyone and treat their feelings as absolute truths. Its because the systems which confine us and define gender so rigidly exist purely to oppress and extract value from others. These borders are deeply unjustified and we need to tear them away. We do not need to justify existing outside of the borders, but instead challenge the borders in the first place. Contrapoints fails to meaningfully do this Natalie focuses almost entirely on the arguments surrounding justifications for transness and gives little thought to the justifications for patriarchy. It is treated as a default, always existing, status quo that is unquestionable. It makes me wonder how aware of it she really is, she seems to get stuck in justifying her own existence. the "Transtrenders" video focuses on a discussion between several characters where the primary issue at hand is how to justify being trans, should it be done through medicial, scientific frameworks? or should it be done from a kind and accepting view of others? She makes arguments against the former for being flawed and the latter for being unfounded, but she never actually replaces it with any critique of society, instead saying: "Okay, so what am I supposed to tell Jackie Jackson then? What am I supposed to tell the TERFs? That I'm a woman because reasons?"

"No, not even because reasons. Just because you are."

"So it's what, a leap of faith? Oh great. I'm sure that's gonna convince all the rational skeptics. Justine, it makes us sound completely delusional."

"Well Tiffany, delusion is what separates us from the animals." Which is an extremely unhelpful answer to give after tearing down what is to many, a key aspect in their reasoning for why they are justified in their identities, and while it is partially correct that trying to use one of the specific theories she outlined earlier to justify trans existence is an exercise in futility, she can't seemingly offer any alternative than some kind of "because I said so" when there ARE very good reasons to be in favor of trans acceptance, and historical reasons for our existence. In failing to do so she misleads perhaps an entire generation of trans people into thinking theres no real justification for their existence

The justification comes from understanding that the premise is false, that the forces which try to bind people to a specific societal gender role are themselves the issue.

She tries to point out that we dont need to justify transgender existence because the frameworks which hold us to cisgender existence are the real problem, but without ever talking about these cisgender standards in an actually meaningful way, instead talking abstactly about societies "expectations" or whatnot, where she should could be attacking the real economic forces of patriarchy. She should be tearing down patriarchy first and then using that to liberate trans existence but instead she tears down trans existence without touching patriarchy or any of the coercion or exploitation that arise from it. I consider this a great tragedy, and a prime example of her failures as an educator.

#long #self post #was writing about this to someone in discord and decided to make a version for tumblr #discourse i guess?#contrapoints

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year

Note

You know what would be adorable? Yuu introduces cut bento box art to the House of Mouse because she brought one for her lunch break. It becomes a part of the kids menu made by Yuu herself. The kids love the cartoon shaped rice balls. Simba and the Dalmatian puppies even get bentos that look like them.

Bonus is that people hear about the anime trope of a girl making bento boxes for her love interest.

Okay okay okay, so I've always had this headcanon that Yuu makes bento boxes for Grim and Adeuce which makes literally every single NRC boy really jealous when she hands it to them every lunchtime at the cafeteria. They taste so good and look amazing and Pinterest worthy every time (Cater's crying at the missed Magicam opportunity). Like Grim's ones are usually cat shaped, Ace's are mainly heart-shaped becuase he grumbles at how cute and unmanly the adorably bunny/animal ones are (don't worry he loves them really) and Deuce's are little baby chicks/ducklings and he feels guilty for eating them because they're so adorable and he just wants to keep them in there forever (boi, it's food. It will rot). Meanwhile everyone else is just glaring at them with simmering jealousy.

Yeah, I've always thought that Yuu likes giving/doing things with the kids/baby animals like making flower crowns/necklaces for Dumbo or DIY toys for Pongo and Perdita's puppies (the parents are incredibly impressed at her ability to not only make 101 but she's personalized them and gives them to the correct participant by calling to them by name) or giving Marie new pink ribbons so her making little animal friendly bento boxes is not out of the question. Even the older human kids like them so Mickey allows her to make them in the kitchen as long as she doesn't overwork herself.

I bet that either Huey, Dewey or Louie (or Roxanne) lets it slip to the club that bento boxes are an anime trope and now the club goers are trying to get Yuu to make and give one to the boys.

Honeslty, Yuu kind of forgot about the shoujo manga-ness of bento boxes and just thinks of them as a cute way to show that she cares so when she does make them for the boys she has no idea why they get so flustered. Idia flat out blue screens. His hears just explodes into pink and Ortho has to make him regain his senses.

#house of mouse au #asks #twst #twst yuu #twisted wonderland #fem yuu

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noodyl-blasstal · 6 months

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A Familiar Meow

Day 12 of @taznovembercelebration, the prompt was "meow" and I drew another card which was "familiar." Obviously the only choice was something short, horny, and daft. Sorry!

Read below or on Ao3, catch up with yesterday's here.

Taako nudges Kravitz with his leg. “Hey, bones, it’s your turn.”

“Mrpgh.” Replies Kravitz into the pillow.

Taako, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, uses the opportunity to run a hand down the length of Kravitz’s back and grab his ass. You know, for waking up purposes. It's efficient.

Kravitz leans back into his hand but doesn’t open his eyes. For someone that didn’t need to sleep Kravitz certainly liked it. There was something about glass houses and throwing stones but that definitely wasn’t relevant right now.

“Krav?” Taako debates shaking a shoulder, but it’d be too much effort to move his hand so he squeezes again instead. Nothing. “Don’t make me shake your ass until you wake up, I’ll do it.” He will, it wouldn't be the first time.

Kravitz shuffles slightly, burrowing further into the covers. “Maako?” He asks, voice muffled by layers of duvet and pillow.

Taako makes a loud buzzer noise with his mouth. “Nope, you must be thinking of your other husband, I’m Taako.”

Kravitz groans from the quilty depths. It's always nice to be appreciated.

Taako tries to resist the temptation, he does, but soon enough he’s wrapped around Kravitz’s back, hand roaming over his hip and along the pouch of his stomach. He grazes his nails across the coarse hair below and kisses Kravitz's shoulder. It's been years and minutes all at once, every day he wakes up with the most handsome man in his bed (well, unless he’s off murdering bad necromancers, but that’s just semantics) and he gets to cuddle him, touch him, build a cat-shaped family with him.

“S’nice.” Kravitz says, pressing his back against Taako.

“Sure is.” Taako replies, skimming lower before running his nails back up to Kravitz’s stomach and sucking very gently on his shoulder. “I’m a big fan, personally.” He presses another kiss to the centre of Kravitz's back

Kravitz groans in frustration and wriggles his hips towards Taako’s hand. “Taako, please?”

“I thought you weren’t awake yet?”

“I am. Please?”

Taako loved to tease and Kravitz loved to pretend he didn’t enjoy it too.

“Taako’s not convinced that you’re fully compos mentis, handsome. No go until you’re definitely awake.” He’s surely not going to play straight into Taako’s hands, he should know better by now.

Kravitz sits up immediately. “I’m awake!”

Angus 2 screams on cue.

“Great! It’s your turn.”

Kravitz flops back onto the pillows. “That was cruel, Taako.”

“What was?”

“You tricked me!”

“I didn’t offer anything that isn’t still on the table.”

Kravitz side eyes him.”

“Faster you feed them the faster you’re back.” Taako nudges the covers away so there’s precisely nothing left to Kravitz’s imagination.

Kravitz is already tugging his robe on. “I’ll be back in 5… 3… 2 minutes!”

Taako laughs as Kravitz does a dramatic skid at the door and rushes back.

“One second, I…” Kravitz kisses him, deep and slow, familiar and wonderful. “...almost forgot.”

“I’ll pine, I’ll mourn, return to me soon sweet prince!” Taako drops back onto the pillows, arm draped dramatically across his eyes.

Kravitz laughs as he leaves, a chorus of mews greeting him on the other side of the door.

“Oh, I am starving! Woe is me! I, Tiny Taco have not eaten in seventy three years! Father, oh father, it’s me, Angus 2, I am so hungry, so weak, I’m using the last of my strength to yell a desperate plea, oh please won’t you help? Woe am I, SausageSausage I have never even heard of food before, but I know I have desperate need of it.” Kravitz’s impressions drift into the bedroom and Taako smiles so hard his cheeks ache. Most mornings took the same shape now, he’d always assumed he’d hate it, stability, the thought of staying in one place used to make him itch. It turned out he was happy in same-ness when he’d been involved in the plan that rooted him to the spot. He’d worried about boredom, but how could he be bored of loving and being loved just as fiercely in return? Not to mention running a school and dating the grim reaper kept things interesting - it was hard to get bored with Kravitz’s roster of cult busts and death criminals, and his collection of awful children, not to mention the small army of cats terrorising them.

Taako's rumination is abruptly interrupted as Kravitz drops out of a portal and lands bracketing Taako against the bed, robe nowhere to be seen. He dismisses his scythe before he even hits the mattress. “So, where were we?”

I hope you enjoyed! Want to read more? You can find the next prompt here.

#Taakitz #TAZNC #taz november celebration #Taako #Kravitz #TAZ Balance #TAZ fic #Noodyl Writes

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bigcats-birds-and-books · 5 months

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24 in 2024

i haven't seen any of these floating around yet, so i thought i'd get one started! here are 24 books i want to read in 2024 (and a bonus readerly goal):

Welcome to Your World: How the Built Environment Shapes Our Lives by Sarah Williams Goldhagen

Obsolescence: An Architectural History by Daniel M. Abramson

Offended Sensibilities by Alisa Ganieva

The Night, The Night by Rodrigo Blanco Calderón

Dayswork by Chris Bachelder and Jennifer Habel

Dawn by Sevgi Soysal

Trashlands by Alison Stine

The Girl in Red by Christina Henry

How to be Eaten by Maria Adelmann

The Way Spring Arrives and Other Stories edited by Yu Chen and Regina Kanyu Wang

The Scourge Between Stars by Ness Brown

Black Tide by KC Jones

A Half-Built Garden by Ruthanna Emrys

The Ambergris Trilogy by Jeff VanderMeer

The Great Cities Duology by NK Jemisin

The Spider and her Demons by sydney khoo

A Shining by Jon Fosse

Bad Cree by Jessica Johns

Other Terrors: An Inclusive Anthology edited by Vince A Liaguno and Rena Mason

Self-Portrait with Nothing by Aimee Pokwatka

Always Coming Home by Ursula K. Le Guin

Unexpected Places to Fall From, Unexpected Places to Land by Malcolm Devlin

Always North by Vicki Jarrett

At the Edge of the Woods by Masatsugu Ono

Bonus Readerly Goal: i'm gonna try REALLY hard to only buy a book after i read five (5), this year (pre-orders DNI). gotta get that backlist under control SOMEhow, right??

notes on the color-coding: the green books are Just Because books (with a couple little red riding hood adjacent retellings in there, which is writing-project-related). a few of these came in a translation subscription box, and i am Interested in Architecture, and i'd love to read more of both this year.

the blue ones are bookmarked for nano prep (i wanna write something fucked up about space this year, i think, it's still cooking). i know it's early for that, but The Vibes™ have to marinate for a while. will probably add some haunted house books to this part of the list!

lastly, the purple ones are driscoll adjacent! filling my words well with related vibes worked well, this year, and i want to do that again next year. since i read through the entirety of my previous ~driscoll vibes~ stack last year, i've been restocking it, so most of these are very recently purchased.

(please note that all this color-coding/explanatory text is absolutely optional and Extra™, if you want to play--you can add it if you'd like, but by no means feel Obligated To Do So lol)

tagging @asexualbookbird, @six-of-ravens/@sixofravens-reads, @agardenandlibrary, @freckles-and-books, and anyone else who wants to play!

#books #24 in 2024 #reading goals #book talk #asexualbookbird #six-of-ravens #agardenandlibrary #freckles-and-books #if anyone would like me to remove their tag please say so! and no pressure to play #i'm just curious about what y'all want to read!#ALSO if anyone/any followers would like me to ADD you with an official tag please slide into my messages and let me know--i'm happy to add!#you can also just tag me in your own post and say 'thanks for the tag' if you're so inclined!! really whoever wants to play can #(i just know that i myself personally almost never respond because 'what if they don't really mean ME anyone')#(but i assure you that i mean --you-- anyone reading this)#(again: will also happily add you to tags if you'd like just let me know lmao)#(also also: yeah i'm making this instead of finishing off my 23 in 2023 reading list lmao)#(i got pretty far!! all that's left is bitch queen and daemon voices and both of those are literally in progress!!)#(so that's pretty good i think)#anyway ezra you're up lmaoo #not me procrastikn----booking?#procrastibooking #procrastiblogging even #in btw #driscoll

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rwby-encrusted-blog · 5 months

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Do you ever think about the parts of you you picked up from others?

I've thinking about it recently

When I stand from sitting on the ground it's the same way my jiu jitsu instructor taught me.

I love Rummikub. I picked it up from my Grandmother, who taught me how to play. She Would buy me just about any book I wanted when I visited her. My mom and I have a lot of the same vocal ticks as her. She's probably outliving my dad.

There are childhood friends I haven't seen in over a decade that I still think about a lot. Watching Scooby doo movies (The loch-Ness Monster one was our favorite), How to Train your dragon, playing with GeoTracks. I still think about those drive past that pond and Up that hill. One of them had a convertible Bug, and the other had a zipline. I miss them.

I first started watching anime, true anime, when I flew across the country for about a month over one summer. That cousin's transitioned. He visited a while ago and we went to the Coast. It was nice.

My lifelong Friend's mom is in to geology. We went to collect Rocks by a river and I found petrified wood. I still have it. We would play Poptropica and Minecraft. We'd stay up late talking about dinosaurs.

I'd watch Thomas the Tank engine and Play Skylanders and Lego video games with another. He introduced me to youtube, and we'd watch it on my Wii. The first video I watched was Stampy's Cookieland Hunger games. We'd also play Mario Kart. I'd usually play Rosalina on a Bike, Bowser in the Offroader, Or Luigi in the Classic Dragster. We made a Mii named Well Done, because he canonically had a bad tan.

My Mom used to work for Yellowbook, way back when I was five or six. One of her friends gave her a couple Volkswagen Pull-and-Release toys. I still have the first one she gave, thin, yellow, and with ladybugs on it. It's in rough shape, missing it's Bumpers and hood, it has a cracked windscreen and it's spring is so worn it can't propel itself anymore. I never learned her name.

I still love it.

A babysitter used to live beside us. She was Ginger. She's climb the fence to watch us. We used to have a lawn chair out there to climb over with. She brought over a bouncy house a couple times. She had a small white dog named Newton. He was feisty.

All my family would drive eight hours in one sitting to see my nearest family. We'd bring movies to watch on the integrated DVD player and monitor. Our favorite thing to watch was the Simpson's movie.

My dad Played his heart out on the Drums. I was sensitive to the noise So I didn't fully appreciate it, but I can't help but imagine the motions of a drum being played when I listen to music.

He made the best burgers I ever had. I learned to make Red sauce from him. I never liked his green bean casserole, but I certainly hope someone has the recipe. Everyone else loves it.

My Truck is a dark blue F-350 with a crew cab and 8 foot bed, with raised suspension and larger tires. The rumbling of the engine reminds me of Childhood. Smells like it too.

My Brother's car is a 90-something Mustang Cobra. It doesn't run, but he loves the thing. Not a snowball's chance in hell he's selling it.

I rode his bike most of my life. He never really used it, but he did attach one of those trailer things to it and rode my older sister and I around for a little bit. I don't remember it too well due to age, but I had fun.

His favorite flavor is Chocolate. He's a Cardinal's fan. He loves Led Zepplin and the Grateful Dead. He owned a Harley. He met my uncle in the Navy, then My uncle introduced him to my mom.

That love they shared has clearly faded, and fallen with time. They just became different people.

One time he spilt Coffee on Tom Cruise.

I get that for most of my life he's suffered from Depression and Anxiety, but he still made a lot of mistakes raising me and my siblings. Some part neglect and some part Authoritarian control, but there were also kind parts. When He'd come home from weeks working Cell sites, and we'd hang off of him, literally. When We'd pretend to be asleep and have him carry us to bed. When We'd nap on the couch with him. When He'd tuck us in, or let us have another bowl of ice cream without my mom knowing.

He's not gone yet, but he's so fucking close. I hate it. The anticipation, the suspense. That's the worst part. Why can't it be back in the Minimal-Effect stage or Just be over already. Why does he have to be at the lowest point for so goddamn long/

#personal #tw: death #tw: illness

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rumbelleshowdown · 1 year

Text

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Every day. Monster, fear, cold sweat. Celebrity.

Group: B

Tomorrow

“You’re late, dearie.”

Belle jolts, whirling around, her feet skidding on the shelf of wet rock. She manages to keep her balance, wobbling on the edge of the crystalline pool. Two dark eyes bob above the water, sharp and observant, unsympathetic to her flailing.

“I’ve told you not to sneak up on me like that,” she huffs.

The creature lifts further out of the water, looking menacing with his mane of matted curls hanging in his face. Then, he shakes his head like a wet dog and grins.

“Your lack of spa-cial aware-ness has naught to do with me.”

The words are stodgy in his mouth, so he pronounces them slowly. These were acquired from the book she read aloud to him yesterday. Rumple’s mind was a funny wee lagoon; when she cast new words into it, they usually resurfaced as ammunition to tease her.

He slithers to the pool’s edge, moving through the water like an eel. He props his elbows up on the rocks.

“You’re late,” he says again.

“How can you even tell?”

His crocodilian eyes shift to a silver pocket watch that dangles from a knobbly finger of overhanging rock. It looks suspiciously like the one that used to hang from a fob on Jefferson’s waistcoat.

Belle’s lips press into a thin line. “Yes, well, it’s becoming quite tricky to leave my house without being badgered about another ‘recovery mission’. I think I might need to start charging for my services. You’re becoming too…popular in the village.”

Notorious is a more appropriate term, but she knows he would enjoy that label far too much.

It is not uncommon to see Finfolk off the coast of the Orkney Islands. It is, however, unheard of to catch more than a glimpse of talon and tail as they steal a fish off the end of your line. They don’t linger near the shore. And they certainly don’t take up residence in a grotto at the base of the headland, transforming the limestone ledges into a personal museum of pilfered trinkets.

“I hear you’ve been tipping rowboats again,” she says.

“Shouldn’t have rowed so close to the cave,” he trills, “Def-ini-tely shouldn’t have been out on the water if you don’t know how to swim.”

Rumple’s behavior has elevated him from overgrown sardine to local celebrity; a spectacle at the best of times and a menace at the worst. And when Belle’s routine visits to the grotto became public knowledge, the villagers thrust a title upon her as well. Hostage negotiator.

She scans the cave, searching for possible new additions to his hoard. She feels like she’s playing one of those ‘spot the difference’ games they print on children’s menus. Ah, there. Coiled around a stalagmite is a heart-shaped locket, its ruby pendant winking in the reflection of the pool.

“You know, Miss Lucas used to have a necklace just like that. She took it off to swim one afternoon and, by the time she’d paddled back to the docks, it had vanished.”

“Extra-ordin-ary coincidence.” His expression might have looked innocent on a small boy or a puppy, but it only succeeds in making him look all the more devilish.

Belle shakes her head and bends down to unravel the locket. She pockets it, ignoring his cry of protest.

“And I’m going to need the tackle box you nicked from Marco’s boat.”

He scowls up at her. She can just imagine his tail flicking with irritation. He must have known she’d come asking for that particular prize, as he’d stashed it beneath the water rather than displaying it above.

“What if I trade you for it?” she offers.

His gaze darts to the basket cradled in the crook of her arm. His furrowed brow gives a faint twitch, his resolve instantly weakening. Hook. Line. Sinker.

With a profane grumble, he ducks back under the water. His vocabulary has been increasing in color ever since he started spying on the sailors at the docks.

Belle watches him disappear into the deep as she sits down at the pool’s edge and begins unlacing her boots. She has learned the hard way that heels have rubbish traction.

Some say that jewelry and fishing gear aren’t all that the Fin like to steal. The villagers tell tales of those that have been ferried away to a kingdom beneath the waves. The legends serve as requiems for the men and women who were dragged to the depths and eternally imprisoned in unlawful marriages to the Fins that snatched them. Belle thinks that’s nonsense. The Finfolk detest humans and – typically – want as little to do with them as possible. It would be like kidnapping a cockroach from the gutter to keep as a pet.

Still, the superstition persists. Even when begging her to rescue his tackle box from the sea beast’s lair, Marco had cautioned, “Be careful, girl. He’ll steal you too, if he gets the chance.”

Belle dips her toes into the cool water. Marco’s words echo in her mind as she feels a clawed hand latch onto her ankle. Her scream bounces off the cave walls. Rumple’s head breaches the water’s surface again, eyes glinting with wicked glee.

“…for…for god’s sake, Rumple,” she gasps, pressing her hand over her chest, trying to work her heart out of her throat.

He laughs, baring two rows of razor-sharp teeth. She’s reminded of what a terror he must be to unsuspecting fishermen.

His grin wanes when it comes time to surrender his treasure. Rumple reluctantly hands over the tackle box, looking so forlorn that she almost regrets taking it from him. She knows how enamored he is with the little lures and bobbers.

He plants both hands on the rock and, lean muscles straining, heaves himself up onto the rim beside her. His tail hits the stone with a wet slap.

No artist has ever truly rendered the ethereal beauty of a Fin. They refuse to be pinned to a canvas and captured in a frame. There is no shade of paint that can reproduce the exact green-gold color of their tails, nor their iridescent quality in the sunlight. Belle’s eyes follow the scales up his body to where they become a smattering over his belly, just about where most human men have a trail of fine hair.

Aware of where her eyes are fixed, Rumple reaches for the basket with both hands like an impatient child. Her reflexes are a tad quicker and she slides it out of reach.

“No. Don’t grab. It’s not polite.”

He gives her a rude gesture – something else he undoubtedly picked up from the sailors. The effect is somewhat less potent with his webbed fingers.

After the thermos of hot chocolate had gone down so well last week, Belle suspects his serrated teeth might be quite sweet. She produces a small bundle from the basket, unwrapping the gingham handkerchief to reveal a crumbly stack of homemade shortbread. Rumple peers at it, captivated as the scent of honey and coriander hits his nose.

“Dry your hands first or it’ll go all mushy.”

Rumple does dry his hands; not on the handkerchief, but on her jumper, his talons snagging the woolen yellow fibers on her sleeve. He swipes a wedge before she can delay him any longer.

He takes a small, suspicious bite. She can tell the exact moment that the butter-rich biscuit dissolves on his tongue. His eyes go wide and he looks to her with such childlike delight, it makes her heart beat wildly against her rib cage.

“There are otters up the coastline. They have pups,” he says suddenly, as though trying to bolster his half of the trade. “I’ll take you to see them.”

“I’m not dressed for swimming.”

He rolls his eyes. That isn’t something he learned from the sailors. That is something he adopted from her.

“You can’t get these clothes wet, but you can put on different clothes speci-fic-ally to get wet?”

He wrinkles his nose indignantly. His derisive ‘urgh, humans’ is unspoken, but is heard all the same.

“I’ll wear something suitable tomorrow. You can bring me then.”

Tomorrow. He loves that word more than anything.

His sullen expression melts away. He leans in expectantly. Now, this is special. This is something he taught her. Belle meets him halfway, resting her forehead against his. His crooked nose presses into her cheek, their faces slotting together like two puzzle pieces. They stare at one another for a long, quiet moment. His lips twist into a lopsided smile and he pulls back.

That means, ‘I’m happy’. It means, ‘thank you’.

It means, ‘love you’.

Rumple’s tail thumps the rock again, splashing water over her legs, the droplets clinging to her calves like a sheen of cold sweat. She watches him examine a second piece of shortbread like it’s made of solid gold.

‘Yes, tomorrow’, Belle thinks, smiling down at where his fin grazes her ankles.

‘Perhaps he’ll steal me tomorrow.’

#rumbelle showdown #round one #rumbelle fic #rose daughter

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