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dreamologisth2o · 3 years

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Why I Believe Endersmile Is Canon

Because I’m on a bit of an Endersmile binge--

This is all gonna be very messy and just me putting my thoughts together and I’ll probably not be going through the VODs for exact timestamps or anything because that’s exhausting and I applaud the people who do, but here are my thoughts on Endersmile and why I’m 100% convinced it’s canon. They’re besties your honor.

/rp Any names mentioned are referring to their dsmp characters and not the streamers themselves unless specified

First off: The Disc. Dream trusts Ranboo, a lot. He trusts him so much that he literally gave Ranboo one of the two discs he needed to pull off his big plan at the finale. He trusted Ranboo, so much that Ranboo deciding to give the disc back to Tommy or Tubbo wasn’t an option, even though Ranboo was friends with both, which he knew. I don’t know why he gave Ranboo the disc, or how he got the disc from Skeppy in the first place, and I’m sure he did have a hundred and one back up plans for if Ranboo did decide to give Tommy the disc, but asking Ranboo to hold onto the disc in the first place means Dream trusted him to a degree, and that’s big coming from Mr. “Reserved”.

Second: Knowing Dream’s Voice. Ranboo knows/remembers Dream’s voice well enough that he hears it whenever he’s in the panic room, that his subconscious uses Dream’s voice to force Ranboo to confront his fears. For a guy who hasn’t had any one on one time or conversations with Dream in VC on stream, he sure does a really good job imagining his voice. /s

Basically, they must have spoken, a lot. They must have spent time together outside planning for things or exchanging items or whatever. So much time, in fact, that Dream and Ranboo both end up sharing the same ideology of “People not sides” of “One big happy family” of “Being the person that stops conflicts” of “Being on all sides” of “Mediating between those sides” of “Choosing the side they think is right”.

During Ranboo’s prison visit dream/nightmare, the Voice tells Ranboo that the only reason Ranboo hasn’t been hearing it lately, is because he hasn’t been speaking with Dream as often. That Ranboo and Dream had talked with each other nearly everyday. And I’m inclined to believe that because the mere existence of the voice proves he’s heard Dream’s voice a lot, or he has a very good memory of Dream’s voice, which, considering his memory problems probably isn’t the case. This is further supported by how ever since Dream’s been in prison, ever since Ranboo banned himself from the prison, he hasn’t heard even a hint of Dream’s voice, not even as he’s remembering more and more.

Third: The Disc War Finale. During the disc war finale, we have in universe proof and out of character confirmation from both cc!Dream and cc!Ranboo that the characters had been staring at each other during the entire thing. Some friends on a discord server have also pointed out how Ranboo appeared to be avoiding Tommy’s gaze unless Tommy’s distracted. And during the entire thing Ranboo’s the only one not holding out a weapon, instead he’s got a book and quill in his hand. We’ve now also got confirmation that Ranboo was Enderwalking during the Disc War Finale, which makes all the strange behaviors make sense because if they’re friends, if they’re allies, then Ranboo didn’t show up to fight Dream. Then Dream might’ve been trying to convey something to Ranboo, like perhaps trying to keep Ranboo from doing something stupid and revealing their alliance. Especially if he planned on being put in Pandora, he really doesn’t need his friend to try and “save” him and ruin the whole plan.

Fourth: The Voice. I am inclined to believe the things the voice says. Why? Because everything the voice is talking about are all the things Ranboo doesn’t want to confront, doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to remember. The voice isn’t malicious. It’s not even Dream, it’s just using Dream’s voice to make Ranboo listen. And Ranboo knows it’s just himself. (also out of character confirmation from the cc!s that the voice is NOT Dream and never has been, it’s just a manifestation of all the shit Ranboo’s repressed coming up and slapping him in the face) Everything the voice does, all the things it says, is trying to get Ranboo to remember the “bad” things he’s done, to remember that he was on Dream’s side. To force him to face that side of himself that might be capable of doing bad things, if there’s a good enough reason. It exaggerates things, it makes them out to be worse than they actually are, but that’s how it’s able to get Ranboo’s attention, that’s how it’s able to force him to think about those things. Ranboo won’t do anything until he’s forced to face the problem, the Voice is just trying to get Ranboo to do that.

This is why I believe Ranboo DID blow up the community house. Why he’s working with or has worked for Dream in the past. Why he willingly gave Dream his memory book, possibly to create a visible conflict between them and ensure no one would connect them as allies, like what Dream wanted to do with Punz. And also because the other things it’s said, such as Ranboo being given the Cat disc to hold onto, have been proven to be true. Nothing the Voice has said has been confirmed a lie. And many of the things it’s talked about aren’t things we or Ranboo can find the answer to unless he talks to Dream, which is until the dude’s rescued from the prison, isn’t happening. (cc!Dream where’s your Dream lore?!?!?!)

That said, if Ranboo was the one to blow up the community house, then Dream was covering for him during the Disc War Finale. He didn’t have to. He could’ve thrown Ranboo under the bus. But he chose to take on that blame, make himself look even worse in the eyes of everyone gathered there while he was at their mercy, to protect Ranboo from similar persecution. Doesn’t this remind you of anything? And Ranboo’s got a track record of making friends with those who help him.

Fifth: The Visits. Ranboo has visited Dream in prison multiple times. At the very least at least 2 times that we have direct confirmation of, and probably even more. His visits are consistent enough that just a few days after Ranboo bans himself from the prison, Dream notices and starts a strike, tells Sapnap that Ranboo’s stopped visiting, asks him, his best friend who literally threatened to perma-kill him if he were to ever leave his horrible situation, to send a message to Ranboo. (which, I guess Dream still kinda trusts Sapnap despite everything that’s happened, huh?)

Why would Ranboo visit? Unless they’re friends, unless they’re allies? Because even Dream’s so called best friend only ever visited once. Even Bad who Dream claims to have been the nicest only ever visited once. And while Tommy and Quackity visited more than once, their multiple visits have very clear reasons behind them, while Ranboo’s just, don’t.

And consider: How did Ranboo know about the things that were said during the Disc War Finale, word for word, line for line, that he wasn’t present for, unless someone’s told him? Unless he heard about it from Dream himself. Unless that was what they were talking about. Unless that’s part of the reason Ranboo kept visiting Dream.

Sixth: The Lessons. I don’t know about you, but giving life lessons to someone sounds like something you’d do with a friend, and not just a “puppet”. The whole lessons book gives off really mentor mentee vibes, and considering how Ranboo’s following in Dream’s goal of stopping conflict and uniting the server, well. And the lessons aren’t even malicious, or designed to push Ranboo away from others. In fact, many of them, especially the last few ones we see, are designed to protect Ranboo! Unless Ranboo’s safety was a top priority for Dream, there’s not much reason to pass those lessons down. This lines up incredibly well with Dream taking the blame of the community house’s destruction during the Disc War Finale, as well as his protective streak at his own expense when it comes to his allies and the people he cares about. Which means Ranboo is someone he cares about, which means they’re friends! They’re besties your honor!

Seventh: Ranboo’s Vehement Denial. Ranboo is infamous for being an unreliable narrator, for being in incredible denial despite all evidence supporting otherwise. Which means his vehement denial that Dream can be anything but bad is a fairly obvious red flag that that’s not true, and that Ranboo has reason to believe it’s not true, but chooses to actively ignore or forget those reasons and attempts to reinforce the “everything’s Dream’s fault, he can never change and will always be bad” mentality, that sounds like something he stole from Tommy or c!Dream antis, because he doesn’t want to face the fact that he has reasons for believing the opposite. At this point, I am 100% on board with the idea that all these unprompted instances of Dream hate is just a blatant cover up of how that’s not true at all. (Which he touches on, ever so briefly, when he renovates the second stronghold room)

Aaaaand that’s it! For the most part. I could touch on how Enderboo is hoarding all the backbone in this relationship and that the dynamic between Enderboo and Ranboo is closer to that of someone waking up after a sugar high or going for three days straight without sleep than it is two completely separate people or someone who’s literally sleepwalking (and that “Enderboo” is his normal state and “Ranboo” is the sleep deprived not thinking straight state). But this post is already obscenely long and I should end it here.

TL;DR: They’re besties, your honor.

Anyways, if you got this far, thanks for reading!

#my thoughts #my posts #character analysis #endersmile #c!ranboo #long post #dreblr friendly

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my-soul-sings · 3 years

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kiss the girl: ch 2

Fandom: Tears of Themis Characters: Artem x Reader

Summary: Armed with a trusty book, Artem Wing attempts to win the woman of his dreams.

ch 1 | ch 2

***

“Surprise her with flowers.”

Artem has skipped to the second half of the book where the practical suggestions are, because he doesn’t have the patience to carefully read the lengthy explanations of the “psychology of love”. The practical tips are simple enough, but the explanations following each of them are unnecessarily long and repetitive.

Ignoring those, he highlights the ones that stand out—those that sound more doable for him, at least.

The first one he notices is a classic: flowers. Of course. He’s done it before actually—he’d given her a bouquet of garden cosmos because she told him that she liked them. She didn’t really show much of a reaction back then, but he recalls the warm smile it had put on her face for the rest of that day. He doesn’t mind seeing it again.

But, would it be boring to do the exact same thing? Maybe he can change it up slightly… If he recalls correctly, the book said something about how to send a bouquet of flowers in a way that will “keep her on her toes”.

It doesn’t take long for him to scan the book and find the relevant page. However, as he goes over the detailed suggestion, his brows gradually turn downwards into a frown.

“Will this really work...” he mumbles to himself, pressing a finger to his temple. Frankly, it sounds unnecessarily cliched and cumbersome… not to mention embarrassing. No doubt, if Celestine catches wind of this, she won’t let him live it down.

But, he supposes, if he’s going to take relationship advice from a book, then he might as well go through with it fully.

Having made up his mind, Artem picks up his phone and begins typing up a draft message.

***

You’ve barely stepped into the office when you hear Kiki calling your name in an unusually high-pitched voice. Your first thought is that she’s managed to get tickets for the upcoming concert for her favourite idol group.

But then you arrive at your desk and realise a marked change from how you had left it the night before: your usually clean and neat desk now has a large bouquet of garden cosmos placed right in the middle of it.

Artem’s is the first name that comes to mind, but you dismiss the thought quickly. With his shy and reserved personality, it’d be strange to expect him to send you flowers out of the blue.

Your sharp eyes don’t miss the little pink rectangular card sticking out from the side of the bouquet. Kiki spots it at the same time as you do, and her eyes widen with a playful gleam, not even trying to be subtle with the way she’s leaning over to you, to take a peek at the message.

With a cheeky smile, you lean away from her too, deliberately hiding the card from her view, which only makes Kiki kick up a fuss about wanting to see too. Thankfully, Celestine isn’t in the office yet. You don’t think you can deal with two overly-enthused friends this early in the morning.

Ignoring Kiki’s protests, you open the folded card to read it. As it turns out, there’s not much to hide from her. The message is a simple and curt one:

I hope this makes you smile. Have a good day.

“There’s no signature,” you remark, handing the card to Kiki who practically lunges for it. Her disappointment at the short message is obvious. “Why would someone give you flowers without signing off on it?”

“Maybe they forgot?” you venture, although you carefully search the bouquet in case you missed something else.

“Don’t tell me… Did you send this to yourself?”

You’re unable to hold in your laughter at the absurd idea, and the both of you simultaneously burst into giggles. Just then, your finger feels the edge of another piece of paper hidden between the wrapping paper. You pull it out, and it’s just a small, square card with the letter ‘M’ written on it in fancy, embellished lettering.

“Maybe it’s the first letter of his name?” Kiki suggests. “Who do you think it’s from?”

The letter ‘M’... You don’t know that many people whose name starts with that letter, and a familiar face is already coming to mind—he’s the only one who would pull a stunt like this, especially after you told him specifically a few days ago that you did not want him to send flowers to you, and especially not to your workplace. You don’t want to be teased by your colleagues and worse, Artem might get the wrong idea if he sees it.

“I think I might know who the culprit is…”

With a clenched fist, you pull out your phone and search up the contact before hitting the ‘call’ button. Kiki is left behind, cleanly forgotten, as you storm out of the office to give the culprit a piece of your mind.

***

When Artem enters the office that morning, the first thing he notices is Celestine and Kiki whispering to each other at the pantry while stealing glances at a certain attorney’s way. He follows their gazes to her desk where she’s seated and doing work as always, although today there seems to be a frown etched onto her face, and the bouquet of flowers are nowhere to be seen.

He panics for a moment, wondering if something had gone wrong with the delivery, but then he notices the wrapping peeking out from underneath the table when he walks past her desk and heads towards the pantry, where her two friends are obviously talking about her behind her back—literally.

“What’s going on?” he asks in a low whisper after exchanging morning greetings with them. “Did something happen?”

Celestine discreetly points in the direction of their sulking friend with a grimace. “She’s been like this ever since she got the flowers this morning.”

Artem’s brows knit together, and his mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally manages to piece together his thoughts into a coherent sentence. “I thought... she’d be happy to receive flowers.”

“I thought so too,” Kiki nods, “but when I asked if she knew who the sender was, she suddenly got angry. Said she knew who the culprit was and stormed off. Then she came back and she’s been doing work like this ever since.” She finishes her explanation with a drawn-out sigh, and her eyes return to the back figure of the junior lawyer who’s furiously typing away at her computer.

Artem follows her gaze, and nervously swallows a lump that had formed in his throat without him realising. As always, Celestine is annoyingly quick to catch on to what he’s thinking, and she startles him slightly with an elbow nudge to his arm. “Shouldn’t you put your things down in your office? Or are you here for coffee again?”

He’s not even in the mood to humour her right now. With an absent hum, he nods and quietly trudges towards his office.

Once he’s inside and the door is shut, his bag falls to the ground by his desk and his jacket is flung unceremoniously onto the back of his chair before he sinks into it, fingers entangling in his hair.

He’s screwed. Did he send her the wrong flowers? But she said she liked garden cosmos and he had sent her the same flowers before, so that can’t be it.

Then, was it the message? But he took pains to make sure that it was short, simple and pleasant. Or was it because it was too short? Had she been expecting more?

No, no, but Kiki said she got angry after she figured out who the sender was… which meant that she was angry at him. Had he overstepped the boundaries by sending flowers to the office?

That’s probably it. He messed up horribly. Of course she would be upset that her boss sent her flowers to the office—that was inappropriate. Entirely inappropriate. Why didn’t he think this through properly? Stupid, stupid stupid…

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even register the sound of knocking on his door. It’s only when he hears his name being called that he looks up, only to meet the gaze of his colleague whom he can’t bear to face right now.

Hastily, he fixes his hair from the crazed pulling and tugging just seconds ago, and sits upright in his chair while eyeing her cautiously. He’d better pick his words wisely here. “Yes?” The word comes out strained, as if he’s choking.

“I’ve completed the draft statement of claim for the Macrosoft employee issue—the one about the breach of restraint of trade clause and the conspiracy claim,” she says, placing a set of papers on his table. “I’ve also completed the legal opinion you requested for the resulting trust analysis on the Williams’ matrimonial property issue, and I will send you the draft affidavit for Mrs Jones’ case by the end of today.”

“Ah. Thank you…” Artem waits for her to say something else, all while scrutinising her face. She doesn’t seem as angry as before—although she does look a little confused when she meets his gaze.

“Did I miss anything?” she asks, already visibly starting to panic.

“N-No, it’s not that...” Should he just apologise right now and avoid letting the issue fester? He’s not sure if he should be happy or unnerved by how perfectly normal she’s acting. Is she not angry anymore? Or is she just doing an exceptional job of holding her anger in? All those reminders he used to give her about maintaining composure in front of clients and in court must have paid off.

“Okay. Then, if there’s nothing else, I’ll go—”

“Wait, just— just a second.” She peers at him curiously as he stands to his feet and walks over to her, all the while refusing to make eye contact with her.

“T-The morning... flowers… you...” For goodness’ sake, he makes a living off speaking before the court, and yet here he is, reduced to the equivalent of a blabbering toddler in front of his colleague.

“Ah... you saw those?” she looks away, and he sees the frustration from earlier returning to her face.

“You… don’t like them?”

“It’s not that,” she replies, twisting her lips. “It’s just a stupid prank to play on someone.”

“A… stupid… prank?” Each word is like a stab to his chest. Did he do something to give her the impression that he was making fun of her, or playing a joke? Most people think he’s too serious to crack jokes in the first place...

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve settled it with the culprit.”

For the first time in the conversation so far, Artem doesn’t sink further into his internal pool of self-pity. Instead, he’s now genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I just called him to tell him to not send me flowers to the office anymore. I’ve told him before, but he really doesn’t listen to people.”

“Who?”

“Marius. You know how he is.”

“You think… Marius… gave you the flowers?”

“Yeah. He kept denying it over the phone, but I know better than to believe him. Who else would send me flowers for no reason?”

She’s staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to laugh at her rhetorical question or respond to it in some way.

Artem doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how, because his mind has drawn a complete blank at this point, save for the one question ringing in his mind:

Where the heck did she get the idea that the flowers were from Marius?

In his stupor, Artem doesn’t realise that the silence in his office has been stretching on for far too long for it to be comfortable. And he doesn’t notice the realisation that clicks in her eyes after a while, until he hears a quiet, “ Oh .”

She sheepishly meets his eyes. “By any chance, was that letter on the card meant to be a ‘W’? As in, ‘Wing’?”

Should he admit it? If he does, will her anger shift to him? Should he just let Marius be the scapegoat and live the rest of his days in quiet atonement and regret?

Artem doesn’t get the chance to admit it, because she easily reads the answer off his very perplexed and obviously guilty expression. Obviously, he’s far better suited to defending criminals than acting like one.

“Are you mad?” he asks her, when she too, falls silent.

“Huh? No, no, of course not. Why would I be?”

“You were angry when you thought Marius sent you flowers.”

“That’s because it’s Marius. But I’m glad the flowers were from you .” Her lips spread into a warm smile, and in that instant, all of Artem’s worries dissolve into thin air. “I love the bouquet, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

A smile of relief makes its way onto his face, and he nods. “I’m glad you like it.”

So there is some truth to the book that Celestine gave him after all.

In that case… maybe next time, he can send her roses. He hopes he’ll have the occasion to, anyway. For now, he’ll take it one step at a time.

#artem wing #tears of themis #artem fanfiction #artem fanfic #tears of themis fanfiction #tears of themis fanfic #my writing #this is up on AO3 as well if u wanna read it there!#my handle is morninwarri0r #kiss the girl

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aetheternity · 3 years

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i got a request! which i do hope you like since it took a while for me to think of ejdj:

so hc’s for Levi and/or Mikasa ahsjd

they wasn’t there to protect you. They felt so stupid and useless. They couldn’t hold in their tears. you were gone. They couldn’t hold you in their arms. He couldn’t laugh at your stupid jokes. you were the heart of the survey corps. Now that you’re gone, the survey corps went all dull and colorless. They would curl up into a ball in their bed (which Levi has for some reason idk why, and if you’re wondering, no mikasa and levi don’t share a bed wtaf👩🏼‍⚖️👩🏼‍⚖️👩🏼‍⚖️) and think about their favorite moments with you. He would remember you fall down into a hay stack and that you would immediately laugh after. They would remember you falling asleep while reading a book with them. they would remember all that. weeks go by and you were still gone. The survey corps was still colorless and dull. There were many still crying after you ‘death’. But on the 18th week you were gone. it turns out. you weren’t dead. The survey corps were on an expedition, they had no expression on their face after your ‘death’ .. they still couldn’t get over the fact that you were dead. Oh they missed you so much .. but their sadness faded when they saw you, alive, hiding in a bush. now that the survey corps has found you. There was color and happiness once again.... // i hate this plot but it was all i got

(My last two requests have been angst so I would genuinely like to ask from the bottom of my heart. Are y'all ok????)

Word of warning: Angst, Missing reader (found)

Mikasa

•She had always assumed the most painful thing in the world would be losing either Eren or Armin. (Or both!) She'd already lost her mother and father but losing you was like a whole other level of painful.

•She'd always seen life as both beautiful and cruel but right now it just felt cruel. Like someone had stripped the world of its color.

•Keeps every single thing that you've ever given her or held in her bed under her blanket so she can hold it at night in a little pile.

•Cries while rereading the last chapter you bookmarked in your favorite book that was always on her nightstand. (Definitely reads it every night before going to sleep)

•Armin and Eren's moods are also drastically effected. People you probably didn't even know were coming up to Mikasa with condolences.

•If you had a living family all of your belongings that Mikasa didn't possess would go to them. But if you didn't Mikasa would add it to the growing "shrine" for you.

•They hadn't found your body and a part of Mikasa had held on so strongly for the first couple weeks that you could be alive but the surrounding area had been titan city and they found your horse without you.

•Mikasa would retell every memory she has of you to Eren and Armin (sometimes to anyone who will listen).

•She doesn't want to look like she's dying inside but she is and literally everyone can tell. (The entire Survey Corps seems to be mourning for weeks with her.)

•When she thinks no one's paying attention or when she's alone is when she'll really give in. Hugging her knees, pretending it's you and just rocks back and forth with deep heavy sobs.

•Around week 18 when the search had been completely given up on and everyone had begun to live normally again (aside from Mikasa.) There you were, in a bush.

•Jean had been the one that found you. Breathing, slumped back against a tree and behind a bush.

•Somehow you'd survived and here you were like a mirage. Except-

•Alive.. real. So so very here.

•Mikasa was already tearing up as she pressed a finger over your pulse. Then pulled you forward into her lap. Your body a little pale, but warm.. so so warm like it'd been every night she'd ever held you.

•Remember in S1 when Mikasa was holding Eren after he emerged from the titan and she put her head up to his chest then cried as she held him? That's you and her rn.

•Girl's sobbing so loud she's attracting the other Survey Corp members that had come out beyond the walls.

•Everyone else starts to tear up too as she just rocks you and cries into your dirty shirt.

•You can bet she's not letting you go either. "We need to put them in the wagon Mikasa. They need treatment as soon as we get back." Cool. She's got you in her lap, arms around your waist.

•Over her dead body will you separate her from you especially in this state. She's combing your hair back with her fingers, placing a hand over your heartbeat and sighing sweetly as she listens to your pulse.

•Please don't take them away that's my emotional support human. 🥺

•You can bet she's gonna follow you around like she's surgically attached until she feels like you're genuinely ok and that you're not gonna leave her again.

•Know that she does it because she loves you.

Levi

•Everyone else is balling their eyes out over your death. You've even got some of the toughest looking men in the Survey Corps balling like little kids.

•He's not though.

•At least not during regular business hours.

•Alone at night in his room he's got your favorite book in his arms. Tears spilling over his cheeks with little sniffles as he holds the pillow you love alongside your book.

•He makes your favorite tea every morning and places it on your side of the table before remembering but he can never bring himself to drink it or throw it out so it just sits there till someone else gets rid of it.

•Your laugh never leaves his mind. In fact it practically haunts him. He's all alone but there's that sound. It's always you.

•He's lost so many people but the first week you were missing he refused to believe it. He's a little harsher in his words as he speaks to people for that whole week.

•You can't possibly be gone..

•He finally stops making an extra cup of tea for you and when he does the normal chores he stops saying he's doing your chores.

•To everyone else it just seemed like Captain Levi was being Captain Levi. But to Hange and Erwin they could see the slight difference. (I'm betting Erwin is the one who throws out the extra cup of tea Levi made every morning.)

•On the 18th week of you being gone a cadet comes yelling boisterously. Panting as they try to speak. "Captain! We found something!"

•When Levi sees you something swells in him. His heart is beating a mile a minute. Erwin is holding you and for a split second Levi's resolve slips and he's down on his knees next to Erwin.

•"Are-Are they?.." Erwin nods. "They're alive, Levi."

•He doesn't let you out of his sight for even a split second. He's riding a horse next to the cart you're kept in all the way back home. He's in your hospital room every free minute he has. He's fluffing your pillows every night and placing your favorite book in your arms.

•He made you tea even though you're not awake to drink it 🥺

•Holds your hand and stares at your still face for hours.

•Probably cries late at night when everyone is definitely asleep. Whispering soft, You're ok.. you're ok's Next to your ear.

•Listens to your heart beat because he'll never get tired of it.

•He's so mean once you're awake. He's probably forcing you to take on more work but know it comes from a good place.

•Don't ever do that shit again. But with his frowny pout that's too cute to look at.

•Please don't leave him again. You're one of the few things he has left.

#shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk x reader #snk #aot x reader #levi x reader #attack on titan #levi x y/n #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi x you #mikasa ackerman #mikasa aot #mikasa x you #snk mikasa

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wildlyglittering · 3 years

Text

A Love for all Seasons Part 1 (Winter)

I said that I would write a piece for Nessian Month to be posted each Sunday so here is the first!

I’d hoped to have this up earlier but hey ho. I ended up scrapping 8,000 words of something that I’d previously done and re-wrote this in a day. It’s barely edited so I can only apologise for dubious quality and numerous spelling errors.

I asked for prompt requests and this one is based on ‘modern au, Nesta as a ballerina.’ You’ll probably see that it’s not entirely modern au because I just can’t write modern au - sorry!

I’ve decided to link all 4 prompts received together as a 4 part series. Not all other sections will be as long as this one. Probably. I mean, I’ve not written them yet so....

***

Velaris at Solmas was a magical time and Nesta wasn’t thinking metaphorically – Solmas was literally a magical time.

Solmas was a blend of both fae and human traditions and, as a time for celebration, this meant spirits were up and magical shields were down. Active magic rippled through the air as did the leakage from those who had magic but never used it.

No one truly remembered when the lines between fae and human’s merged and there was the possibility the fae had decided to adjust the truth in collective memory to make it seem like they had always been part of the city.

Perhaps they had. Perhaps they hadn’t. Not a human amongst them could tell and not a fae amongst them would.

As centuries passed, or decades - no one was quite sure after all, the fae evolved to blend in. They shed talons, claws and teeth, and moulted wings and shimmering skin.

That wasn’t to say a good deal of them didn’t have remnants of their previous lineage; there were still those who had wings and those who were always followed by a mist. Some slipped from human form like their flesh was a dress.

There wasn’t a fae who didn’t have some magic, however small. But then, so did Nesta and her sisters, Feyre and Elain.

At some point in their collective past, the fae decided they liked the humans and vice versa and so romantic liaisons were not an uncommon occurrence. Despite a few differences, both species were compatible and that was how magic managed to bleed into some human veins. As Feyre said, they were human but with ‘added spice’.

Sometimes all that magic, especially at this heightened time of year, was damned irritating.

That morning Nesta had been in a café, reading her book when a lady biting into a gingerbread man had to stop on account of her baked good starting to scream.

Then, when she’d left to make her way to the ballet, she’d been caught in a snow flurry where the snowflakes took the form of small fairies and danced around her. She’d slapped them away, ignoring their outraged cries.

The walk which should have been ten minutes from her favourite café down into the theatre district ended up taking forty after some enchanted horses pulling sleighs decided to protest and caused a blockage across three streets, causing numerous detours.

When she finally reached the theatre, the peace of her day shattered, Nesta stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door. “Fucking fae.”

Nesta didn’t hate the fae. Technically, you couldn’t. Anytime anyone had a negative thought there was a haze which descended over people’s minds to remind them how much they loved the fae and how pleased they were to live beside them.

The magic in her blood meant the haze was a pithy little thing which Nesta mentally told to shove its pleasantries up its non-existent asshole leading it to drift away, pretending it wasn’t offended.

No, she didn’t hate them but she found them so inconvenient.

Nesta had settled at her dressing table when her door opened following a knock. A head peeked round, long ruby-red hair streaming downwards. One of the fae Nesta did like.

“Nesta?”

“I’m here.”

“Viviane said she’s going to turn a portion of the Sidra into an ice rink later, fancy coming? I might also take an ice-dive. Good for the pores!”

Gwyn, the production assistant at the Velaris City Ballet Company was fae but was classified as a water nymph. Nesta had only discovered this when they took a trip to Adriata the beach city the previous year for a ‘hot girl summer’ and she realised Gwyn had a set of gills accompanying her lungs.

Nesta met Gwyn’s eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t help myself; you know that. I take it the ice-rink is a no?”

Nesta shook her head in response as she began on her hair but smiled. Despite herself she really did like Gwyn and Viviane, and a lot of the production company too even though the company was riddled with nepotism and bias.

Few humans managed to win a place in the ballet. Arts and creative pursuits were hard to break into when you were auditioning against fae. The only reason Nesta was as successful as she had been was because of that drop of magical blood.

She reached for the headdress resting next to her make-up. The Solmas production was The Nutcracker which their performance director, Eris had choreographed and screamed over for weeks.

“Tchaikovsky was a close, personal friend of mine,” he’d bragged. “He was fae of course, well – half-fae, but then no one can be perfect.”

Nesta had rolled her eyes and ignored Eris’ glare, not at all intimidated since they both discovered she immune to glamours and spells.

Nesta hadn’t been able to score the prima ballerina role for the production but then she hadn’t for years. How can a human compete with fae who spun in the air and flew on invisible, gossamer wings?

She’d auditioned for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy and wasn’t offered the position on account of the actual fairies also auditioning. If Nesta had managed to win the role then she wouldn’t have lasted a week before a surprise accident befell her, regardless of the amount of protection charms she wore.

The role she had won suited her fine, the dance being one of her favourites – the Illyrian dance. The steps weren’t complex but the performance was all about attitude and frankly, Nesta had that in spades.

When she’d been offered the dance, Gwyn took her aside in the corridor, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you want to perform this Nesta?”

“I know what you’re going to say, the dance should have gone to an Illyrian and you’re right – it should have. I’ve been trying to petition Eris for years now about Illyrian ballerinas but he’s always up to his typical high-fae purist bullshit.”

Gwyn had given a nervous laugh and looked around them, making sure Eris wouldn’t somehow leap out of the wall at the comment. It was a fair suspicion; he’d done it to performers before if they had any critique of him to say.

“Just do the dance cultural justice.”

Nesta swore she would.

On the scale of species hierarchy, full humans remained at the bottom. They were aging mortals with no magic and poor immune systems. The fae laughed themselves silly at the concept of chicken pox and the common cold. However, it didn’t mean every fae species was revered.

High fae like Eris were basically royalty while lesser fae were their middle-class cousins. Nymphs were considered useful and the majority of other fae fell someplace in between.

Illyrians were almost a side step from the hierarchy.

As a species they were immortal, eternally youthful and ripe with magic as powerful as some of the high fae. Some of their bodies were like machines with what they did with them and they would have been able to perform ballet for days on end without breaking.

They also had those vast jet-black wings which were terrifying and enthralling at the same time. It was a shame Illyrian Air didn’t do well, but then there were far too many customer service issues.

The only reason they weren’t on par with the high-fae (in the eyes of the high-fae) was that they weren’t elegant enough. They moved with a violence underneath the surface of their flesh like their blood was fire.

They also had complex histories which no one understood because Illyrians refused to discuss anything about Illyria and their heritage with anyone who wasn’t an Illyrian.

She once asked Feyre about them to be told Illyrians had spent their entire lifetimes being looked down upon by other fae so when those same fae demanded Illyrian secrets, they refused to comply.

Feyre had said, “Cassian told me, ‘Why should we give them anything when we have to fight for everything,’” and Nesta conceded he had a point. Possibly the only point Cassian had ever had but a point nonetheless.

Why was she thinking all this now? Why was she thinking of her baby sister’s stupid friends? She knew very well why.

Gwyn had stepped into Nesta’s dressing room. “Isn’t tonight when your sister and her friends are coming to the show?”

Yes, that was why.

Gwyn leant against the wall, in Nesta’s line of sight in the mirror and Nesta shrugged keeping her voice nonchalant. “Yes, unfortunately.”

It wasn’t unfortunate Feyre was coming, Feyre who loved anything to do with art and ballet but Nesta wasn’t looking forward to the rest. Rhys, Feyre’s half high-fae, half Illyrian boyfriend had all the arrogant superiority of the high-fae and the volatility of the Illyrians with none of the manners.

Nesta was painfully aware Rhys didn’t like her.

The rest of the group were also non-human with Feyre seemingly abandoning humans completely, preferring the exclusive company of Rhys circle of fae friends. Elain was the opposite, living outside the walls of the city in her cottage, wanting nothing to do with fae at all.

Feyre had told Rhys a bunch of stories from their childhood and Rhys didn’t quite comprehend how human sisters worked, didn’t quite comprehend how complex their relationship had been.

The spit of magic in their blood had made things all the more difficult as humans were not the best containers for magic. In Nesta’s eyes what made it worse were all the tattoos Feyre had inked into her skin; amplifiers mostly.

Anger had been born from Nesta’s worry and her worry was from her love.

Feyre understood the root cause of Nesta’s peevishness even if she didn’t like it but Rhys saw disapproval and returned it in kind.

At the thought of some of the attendees Nesta’s heart started doing something change, fluttering away like it was a bird trapped in a cage. She remembered when Ianthe, one of the ensemble, had shown them the pet bird she’d brought.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she’d said, her eyes glittering as her fingernails grew sharp. “Such a pretty pet for me to love.”

Nesta remembered the poor thing desperately trying to fly out of its cage, smashing its wings and beak against the bars.

Ianthe ended up eating it. She’d sobbed she hadn’t meant to but she hadn’t grabbed her protein bar that morning when she’d left her apartment and she was starving.

They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature to consume. The fae were like locusts that way, consuming land, lives, birds. Hearts.

Gwyn’s smile at Nesta’s response stretched into one which took up most of her face and Nesta refrained from shuddering. Nymph embodied the gentle and the harsh of their element. Water nymphs had the ability to be as tranquil and soft as summer rain or as vicious and deadly as a shark in deep water.

“Uh-huh. Will Cassian be attending?”

“I don’t know, probably.”

“Are you nervous about doing the Illyrian dance in front of Illyrians?”

Yes. Terrified.

“No,” she said, “I’ve done my research.”

Eris’ choreography for the dance was lazy and aggressive, rooted in his high-fae misperceptions of Illyrian culture. Nesta convinced Eris to let her put together her own steps and when he let her, not giving a damn about the dance, Nesta sought out the sole Illyrian choreographer in Velaris - a woman named Emerie.

At least the dance would contain authentic steps, she’d just never performed it in front of any Illyrians who weren’t Emerie before.

Gwyn’s grin was still wide.

“Oh, go away would you,” Nesta said with a scowl. “I need to focus before the matinee.”

Gwyn laughed at Nesta’s scowl and Nesta knew Gwyn understood Nesta’s words were harsh but her meaning wasn’t.

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, my little witchy dancer.”

Nesta glared at her friends departing back. I’m not a witch, she wanted to say, just a human whose great grandma caught the eye of a high-fae and had at it.

The matinee performance went well. Performances at the Velaris City Ballet Company always went well. The city made it so, drawing in an audience like moths to lamplight.

For all its splendour, Velaris was ancient and small. What was once a human village at the base of the mountains with the Sidra River running wild aside it, grew in population and glamour once the fae came pushing through the veil.

Human technology and fae magic combined to turn the place into something unique which rippled out to other human towns and dwellings but Velaris remained the first and the original.

While other cities grew, Velaris kept its quaintness. Old buildings built from red stone were covered with trailing ivy which bloomed with different flowers depending on the inhabitants’ moods. Rooms would change their size and shape according to the number of people within and wallpapers would shift when required to become something new. A piece of furniture could be a chaise longue in the morning and a mahogany dresser by nightfall.

Outside was no different. The cobbled side streets were slightly off kilter and you could look back, having walked up a steep street only to realise the path you’d walked was now heading a different direction and upwards, not down.

The ballet house was one of the oldest buildings and contained concentrated magic the way a bottle contained liquid. It also meant, much like liquid, if the bottle was shaken then there would be spillage.

Truth told; they’d had some difficulties with previous performances.

The first performance of Sleeping Beauty had left the majority of the audience passed out in their red velvet chairs while thickets of thorns grew up from the stage floor, encompassing the dancers. Nesta had to hack through several vines to reach her dressing room to grab her apartment keys.

The Snow Queen last Solmas followed suit. Viviane had been their prima ballerina that year and was in her utmost element. That had been the worst winter Velaris had ever experienced with uncharacteristic heavy snowfalls and biting frosts. The less said about the temporary missing children and ominous women in sleighs, the better.

Aside from when Eris turned actual rats into human sized dancers and the whole city was put into a three-day long lockdown while fae exterminators went to work, The Nutcracker was going fairly well.

Magic whirled the audience through each act and they heard and tasted and smelt everything being shown to them. Music would drift into their ears as performers danced fluidly across the stage. Some of the audience sobbed, overcome by the magic which sank into their skin.

The experience took some time to get used to if you were human. The first time Nesta had performed ballet in Velaris she was dizzy with nausea and slick with sweat. Now she even managed to use some of her own dormant abilities to counter the effects, or even to add in some of her own.

Before the evening performance began, her phone beeped with a message from Feyre.

Can’t wait to see you dance! Catch up with you afterwards!

Nesta groaned. She’d agreed to go for a drink at the in-house bar with Feyre and the rest but now she wished she was going straight home.

The stage melted away from the dance before hers into Nesta’s scenery as she waited in the wings for her cue. She eyed up the boxes, knowing Rhys had sponsored one for Feyre but didn’t have a clue which one.

The Illyrian dance had a sparse stage, to demonstrate the Illyrian steppes but the painted backdrop was one of Ramiel, the revered Illyrian mountain. Despite the sparsity, the set pulsed with a dry heat; the scent of crackling wood fire and spice filling the air, the sensation of warm winds tickling her skin.

When the music started, she danced on, determined to prove to Illyrian eyes in the audience she would do it justice.

Nesta drew on the same magic which ran in Feyre and Elain’s bones, the same magic Feyre had permanently etched on the surface of her skin. When Nesta leapt, she cast imaginary wings on her back which carried her further forward and higher. When she pirouetted, she was spinning on ice. Her arms were graceful and her legs sharp.

Nesta formed herself into a blade of dance as she undulated her hips and curved her spine. She swore the heat under her skin caused the air to burn around her.

She finished to rapturous applause and resisted eyeing up the boxes again although she wanted to know if any particular hands were clapping.

In the wings Gwyn was waiting and handed her a towel and Nesta realised she was glistening with sweat, droplets highlighting her cleavage.

“Very nice,” Gwyn said, clapping. “A small fire broke out in one of the stalls.”

Before Nesta said anything, Eris walked by with a low whistle. “Great performance, Nesta. I now have a raging boner.”

The women shrieked in disgust and Nesta threw her towel at him. “Animal.”

Eris grinned, “You know it” and his eyes shone as he caught the towel. Nesta made a mental note to ask Elain for more rowan to put around her dressing room door.

Nesta watched the rest of the performances from the wings until curtain close. Usually she never dawdled, always wanting to remove her costume and dress into civilian clothes as quick as possible but tonight she took her time, idly drawing out each minute until she couldn’t avoid her fate forever.

Audience members with children, fae or human often left first, clearing the way for those who wanted to remain behind in the theatre bar. When the fae discovered alcohol a new set of problems arose. Regardless of what species you were, once you were drunk you did stupid things.

The bar was below ground level and took up a vast amount of space. Overstuffed seating was positioned around tables in compartments, each draped with their own set of thick, crimson red curtains with gold tassels. If the occupants wanted privacy, then they had it.

Nesta shimmied past groups; fae, human and mixed, who laughed and clinked their champagne flutes, none recognising her as a dancer they’d watched earlier.

Feyre was likely to have a private booth booked along with the theatre box as Rhys had so much gold he likely melted it down and bathed in it. The last time Nesta met up with Feyre, her little sister had been wearing a diamond encrusted corset top.

Ahead of her stood two figures, both leaning against the open fronted bar and deep in conversation. Cassian and Azriel. No one was able to miss them even if they tried to blend in. Illyrians were known for their size and their wings and not exactly known for their love of ballet.

Almost as though he sensed her arrival, Cassian stopped talking and turned, strands of his black hair falling from his messy bun. Her eyes met his and she felt how she always did whenever they glanced at each other – a little bit anxious, a little bit horny and a little bit excited.

Nesta was worried if she opened her mouth, a thousand butterflies would float upwards from her stomach.

The look on his face, one she couldn’t place, slipped into something familiar as she drew nearer. Cassian smirked at her and followed it up with a slow, obvious glance from head to toe.

“Hello, Nesta.” He drawled his words, husky and deep. His voice was a baritone which always had her itching to dance across his words. Illyrian magic wasn’t the strongest but those who wielded it were.

What Illyrians wielded their magic for was anyone’s guess but if she had to, Nesta would have guessed it was for making panties drop if the turning heads of the crowd and little sighs was any indication.

There had been occasions where she too was driven with the need to show him more skin of hers then he deserved, to beg him to lay her down and cover her body in honey before licking it off with rasps of his tongue.

Must have been magic.

“Cassian,” she said with barely a nod and turned to his companion. “Azriel.”

Azriel nodded back a polite hello while Cassian leant against the bar directly facing her, wearing a grin as sharkish as Gwyn’s. She was like a lamb on the ground being circled by a taloned beast.

“Interesting performance.”

Azriel coughed at Cassian’s words, spluttering on the beer he was drinking and Nesta frowned, heat flooding her cheeks. Was he mocking her?

If he was, she wouldn’t give his smugly handsome self the satisfaction of getting to her and instead she ignored his words asking who else was here and where her sister was.

“Feyre, Rhys, Az and me. Amren came to watch the ballet but didn’t stay for drinks.”

“And where’s my sister and Rhys now?”

Cassian jerked his head over to the direction of the compartments. “They’re having a private ‘conversation’ behind closed curtains.”

Nesta’s face twisted in disgust. Fucking fae. Always fucking.

“Why didn’t Amren stay?”

“She never sticks around after The Nutcracker. Says it’s derogatory and insulting and she only comes to refill her well of rage.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, what was it she said Az? That the performances were brimming with cultural appropriation?”

The heat on Nesta’s cheeks turned into furnace. It wasn’t as though Cassian explicitly referred to Nesta’s performance but his words had to crawled under her skin. Feyre’s fae friends weren’t fans of Nesta’s, not after Rhys had spilled to them everything Feyre had told him.

For a group so ancient, they acted like spoilt human teenagers. Nesta would take the high road and try and find dignity in silence.

The bartender brought out another beer for Azriel and a glass of dark liquor for Cassian. A glass of wine from the Rosehall vineyard was handed to her and she was surprised someone had the foresight to order for her before she arrived, and with her favourite drink.

“Did you not like it then?” Nesta asked after taking a sip, her voice light. Azriel coughed again and this time Cassian shot him a glare, his rough-hewn face growing solemn before sliding into his more casual expression.

“There were some authentic Illyrian steps involved which is impressive. Didn’t realise old Eris had it in him.”

“It wasn’t Eris,” Nesta said, “It was me. I found an Illyrian choreographer in the city and she taught me some steps.”

Cassian’s face stilled for a moment, motionless like stone before letting out a roaring laugh which reverberated around the bar. The lesser fae behind him jumped and splashed his drink on the counter, quivering in fright.

“Well, that explains it!”

Nesta’s flesh prickled, her skin chilling in the overly warm bar. Goodness knows what she’d been dancing. Some dance of self-mockery probably. Her throat was burning and she didn’t understand whether she was upset because she thought Emerie liked her or upset because Cassian had seen.

Nesta’s fingers clenched the stem of the wine glass and she took a gulp of her drink, downing almost half as her hand wavered and her eyes watered. Cassian immediately stopped grinning.

“It was a beautiful dance,” Azriel said from her right and she turned to him, his face serious. “Other performances of The Nutcracker have the Illyrian dance as the violent, hostile war dance. Yours was the best one I’ve seen. Cassian liked it very much.”

Nesta whispered her thanks, looking between the Illyrians standing at either side of her who were now glaring at each other. She was out-flanked next to their bulk and she wished her sister was done doing whatever the hell she was doing so Nesta could say her hellos and goodbyes and get out of there.

“There’s only one Illyrian choreographer in this city,” Cassian said, his voice softer as his fingers trailed around his glass rim. “No other Illyrian would ever bother with this place.”

Nesta looked around the theatre at its gilded gold décor and red curtains but somehow knew Cassian was referring to Velaris as a whole. Illyrians never came to the city to visit, let alone live.

She glanced at him and found his smile was gentler and his hazel eyes, which always bordered on lascivious, were kinder somehow. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to mock her, perhaps he realised his raucous laughter had hurt.

He had no reason to care if he’d hurt her feelings and she shouldn’t have cared either but there had been a sting to his words which sunk deeper than she’d liked. She wasn’t opposed if he wanted to soothe over his words.

But she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead, she fixed a bored expression onto her face. “Oh,” she said, looking into her glass as she swirled her wine around, “and who would that be?”

Cassian, still leaning against the bar, mirrored her by looking into his own glass before taking a sip.

“A friend of mine from the old country moved here a couple of years ago because her attempt at bringing ballet into the township was less than successful. You know her human name as Emerie.”

Cassian was still leaning against the bar, now looking into his own deep amber coloured liquid before taking a sip.

Nesta’s head snapped up to find Cassian now looking intently at her. “Yes, that’s her.”

“Figured,” Cassian said with a chuckle and took another long sip.

His mood seemed less jovial than before, more pensive and Nesta glanced around to discover Azriel had gone from her side. She looked around the crowds but didn’t see sight of him. How she lost an Illyrian of his stature she didn’t know but when she whipped her head around to the booth Cassian gestured towards earlier, the curtains were still closed.

She didn’t even have it in her to be irritated. The whole night was a wash-out and because of the stupid enchanted horse incident earlier closing streets, she was now adding additional time to her walk home.

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired; I have another two performances tomorrow and I want to head out and avoid any festive idiots.”

Cassian stood upright, alert and facing her, his glass sloshing the liquid violently as he placed it back onto the bar a little too hard. His wings flexed. “You haven’t seen Feyre yet.”

“If Feyre wanted to catch up with me then she wouldn’t be playing hide the fae penis with her boyfriend right now.” Her tone was sharp and she glared at Cassian. “It doesn’t take much to say a quick hello to your sister.”

Did Nesta care if Cassian thought her rude? Not a fucking bit. Despite Elain living an hour outside the city and Feyre only living on the other side, a journey which took less than a minute travelling by Winnow Express, Feyre was the sister Nesta saw the least.

“If she comes out at any point,” Nesta continued, “tell her I’ll call her.”

It wasn’t a lie when she said she was tired. Two performances a day took it out of her let alone when magic clung in the air at Solmas and let alone the fact that Nesta had used a tiny amount of her own as some kind of performance enhancer.

Whatever energy reserves she had was depleted, the glass of wine making her feel like she’d drank the entire bottle.

Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye to Cassian, just left her empty glass on the counter and spun around.

Being a ballerina was on her side as she wove through the crowd and up into the foyer which was blissfully empty. Sadly, the world outside the doors was not so much and Nesta took a breath before wrapping herself in her stole.

The statues guarding the entrance waved her a goodbye, one with a human Santa hat adorning its head and the other with a fae garland wrapped around its waist. Nesta rolled her eyes. Human and fae decorations were put on everything so management could say they’d met their Equal Opportunities criteria.

Nesta stepped onto the pavement and looked down the street of the theatre district.

She couldn’t deny Velaris at night was beautiful.

History books stated the first fae who settled in the city were night dwellers and while they were able to survive in the sun, it was under the starlit sky where they thrived. So, the stories went that they made the night spectacular.

The ink black sky was painted with whorls of galaxies and splashed with stars. At first glance everything appeared white but when Nesta looked closer it was clear they were silver and gold and the purest, palest blue.

Feyre had once told her fae eyes saw more colours than humans and the stars were a multitude of colours – the rainbow and beyond. One of Feyre’s tattoos was designed to allow her to see what the fae saw.

The theatre district was still buzzing with humans and fae alike. Because of the nature of the city, it was usual for the streets to be filled until the early hours of the morning and after any performance in the theatre district there was no time for relaxing.

There was always residual magic left over from the ballet. The ballet theatre was the largest of the theatre buildings and so the magic started strongest at the end Nesta now stood before dissipating the further away you walked.

Snowflakes and flowers alike drifted down from the empty, cloudless sky. The Waltz of the Snowflakes and the Waltz of the Flowers often combatted against each other for prominence in their audience’s minds and refused to give in to each even after the show was done.

Thankfully, the Land of the Sweets didn’t involve themselves in this battle. They had done one performance many weeks ago and when chocolate rained from the sky it was delightful. Boiling hot coffee? Not so much.

Nesta navigated her way though the cobbles and crowds as petals landed in her hair and snowflakes melted on her eyelashes. She heaved a sigh of relief when she made it to the end past the gathered individuals who spilled out of the smaller theatres and theatre bars.

She turned left to go into a side street and stopped, almost tripping over her own feet.

Leaning against the wall, silhouetted against the streetlamps and fae lights was the hulking shape of an Illyrian.

“What are you-? How did you-?”

Cassian laughed as he used his elbow to propel himself from the wall and stride towards her. “What am I doing here and how did I get here so fast?”

“Well... yeah.”

“Wings,” he said, jabbing his thumbs in the direction behind him. “They come in useful from time to time. I thought I would fly you home.”

Nesta eyed up the wings behind him, remembering all the news reports of Illyrian Air. “No thank you, I like the walk.”

“Ok, then I’ll walk with you. Make sure you get home safe.”

She frowned. Nesta had lived in this city all her life and despite the occasional fae related incident which was brought on by personal vendetta, unavoidable prophecy from birth or magic spell gone wrong, Velaris was a safe place.

It also helped that Nesta had that splash of fae blood herself and a glare which froze bones. Literally. There had been an incident with an ex-boyfriend but she’d filed an explanation with the police and it was never brought up again.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“I know you don’t but I’d still like to walk you. Please.” The last word was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it but she caught the imploration.

Cassian stepped further into the light of a streetlamp, a few pale pink petals falling from his shoulders, desperation in his eyes.

Nesta sighed. “Fine, but I’m on the other side of the Sidra. The quickest route is over Mermaid Bridge.”

Cassian paused for a moment, “Mermaid Bridge? There won’t be any actual mermaids on it right?”

“Not at this time of year, the water’s too cold and they travel south.”

“Thank god, one of my ex’s was a mermaid. They are terrifying.”

Nesta shook her head, not able to imagine a creature of his size being scared of anything. They started walking in companionable silence. The further away from the city centre they strode, the more the crowds thinned.

Some shops remained open, including the café Nesta sat in earlier and groups had gathered around tables to laugh over mugs of frothy hot chocolate which overflowed with cream. Cinnamon, gingerbread, and candy cane scented the air.

As they walked, humans and fae alike paled when they crossed paths with Cassian and many darted out of his way. One lesser fae flattened himself against the red brick wall while another gave a quiet yelp and ran down an alley.

Nesta glanced up at Cassian but either he was pretending he didn’t notice the running onlookers or he didn’t care.

“What do you do?” she asked. She knew nothing about any of Feyre’s friends in any detail. “For that matter what do any of you do?”

Cassian laughed. “Rhys has a lot of inherited wealth, Amren trades precious stones – we think from the old dragon mines, and no one has a clue what Azriel does. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Oh.

“Caught anyone I’d have heard of?”

“Heard of the Tooth Fairy?”

Nesta grimaced, quickly swooping her tongue over her teeth. “Yes.”

“He was one of mine. So was the Bone Carver, the Weaver and Lanthys.”

Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Lanthys? The gold miner? What did he do? Wait, I don’t want to know. He asked me out once.”

Cassian glanced over at her; his own eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Did you say yes?”

Nesta pulled a face. “Good grief, no. He kept sending me telepathic dick pics. It’s bad enough being sent dick pics across dating apps.”

They approached Mermaid Bridge, which was, as Nesta said, devoid of the creature it was named for. Lights twinkled on the other side of the city, the residential side where Nesta lived. There were shrieks of delight further up the river in the dark and Nesta wondered if Gwyn was ice-diving next to Viviane’s ice rink.

Cassian coughed. “You’re on dating apps?”

“Not many, I thought I’d give them a go. My sisters are busy, I only have a few friends and I need something other than work in my life.”

“Yeah, I understand. ‘All work and no play’ make Cassian a dull boy too. The play part of life is fun,” he looked at her from the side of his eye and winked.

Nesta felt the blush spread across her cheeks and she willed it down with whatever force she had left. She wasn’t a virgin so she wasn’t about to start blushing like one.

They climbed the steps to the bridge and walked across. Of all the bridges which connected the two halves of the city, this was Gwyn’s favourite. Nesta’s human eyes couldn’t pick out the colours at night but in the day the railings glittered gold and shimmered with turquoise gems.

“Do you date?” The words slipped out before she stopped them. “You mentioned a mermaid ex so....”

Cassian’s laugh was more a breath and he started to smooth down non-existent knots in his hair. “Yes. Well...no. I did but work is busy and I’m sort of interested in someone and I guess until I purge them from my system, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“How long have you been interested in them?”

“A while.”

“Why don’t you ask them out rather than eradicate them from your options?”

Nesta wanted to slap herself in the face. Or pitch herself off the bridge into the black, ice-cold water. Even as she was speaking, she wanted to not be but it was as though her mouth and mind had fallen out and no longer wanted anything to do with each other.

Cassian shrugged, “I guess. They just never struck me as someone interested in dating fae.”

They came to the end of the bridge and Nesta looked upwards at the sky. On this side of the river without the city lights, the stars were clearer to her eyes, more defined. One shot across the sky.

“You should go for it,” Nesta said, “you might be surprised.”

“Maybe,” Cassian sighed. “She’s kind of intimidating though.”

“You’re over six foot tall with massive wings and can use magic. I’m sure you’re more intimidating.”

“Me? Nah, I’m sure she thinks I’m an oversized bat.”

Nesta cringed. Those had been her words once a couple of years ago when she was first introduced to Feyre’s new friendship group and the Illyrian’s within. She didn’t think they’d heard her say it but then again, fae hearing was something exceptional along with fae sight.

The streets they walked were now quieter, the hustle and bustle of the inner-city gone. The chill settled in easier on this side of the river and Nesta knew she’d wake to frost across her window panes in the morning.

They were silent until they reached her apartment building, halfway up one of the steepest lanes. It was a small four storey which wasn’t spacious or modern but it gave her brilliant view across the river and Velaris and most importantly, it was hers.

“This is me,” she said, stopping outside the steps leading to the red entrance door. “Thank you for walking me back.” It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Cassian in for coffee but she held back.

He smiled, his eyes warm and shining. “Honestly it was my pleasure.” He leant forward, the sheer bulk of him covering Nesta and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but instead he took her slim fingered hand in his larger one and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.

“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you have a good Solmas Day when it comes.”

Cassian was no ballet dancer but he sure moved like one, letting go of her hand and swivelling to face the direction they’d walked in from, marching down the slope of her street while Nesta stared at his retreating back.

He was clad in black and would have easily blended into his surroundings if not for the red jewels he wore at his wrists.

Nesta gaped down at the back of her hand, her mouth open. She still felt his lips, warm and soft, on her skin.

“Wait!”

Cassian turned back to face her, tilting his head.

“I’m sorry if my performance in the ballet was offensive. I know Azriel said it was beautiful and that you liked it but if that was a lie to save my feelings, it’s ok. I went to Emerie because I wanted to make it authentic. I should have left it alone.”

Cassian smiled but it wasn’t mocking. He took a few steps back up the street towards her. “You know I said Emerie was a friend from the old country?”

Nesta nodded.

“She’s a really good friend. I like her a lot. She’s no nonsense with a great heart. I was trying to set her up with Rhys’ cousin Mor and in the process we got talking about dating and relationships and she asked if there was anyone, I was interested in. As it happens, I discovered this evening that she knows the person I was talking about. I’m sure she saw this as her opportunity to do some matchmaking of her own.”

“Oh,” Nesta said, her throat dry.

“Yeah. I also happened to tell her in one conversation I would be watching The Nutcracker this year on account of it being Solmas. So, there you go.”

The butterflies were flittering in Nesta’s stomach again and Cassian’s words were taking shape in her mind and building a story. “The steps Emerie taught me for the Illyrian dance – was that an invitation?”

Cassian’s smile stretched wide and he tilted his head back and laughed, the dark column of his throat shining in the starlight. “Oh yes, a very specific invitation. Emerie must have had the day of her life when she pieced everything together.”

The flittering in her stomach was now pooling in her chest. This type of conversation should have her fleeing up the steps and racing through the foyer until she threw herself into her cold bed to hide under the covers.

Nesta wanted to know what she’d inadvertently done without meaning to. Not that she minded whatever it was she’d done.

“What did I dance then, Cassian?” Her voice was lower than usual and rich like the overflowing cream in the café.

Cassian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hazel eyes were almost black. “The dance you performed half naked on a heated stage was most definitely an invitation, Nesta.” He smiled at her again, soft like before but there was something behind it. Suddenly he was a wolf and she the lamb again. He was all claws and teeth and animal.

A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her pulse beating in her throat, drawing Cassian’s eye.

“Oh, Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice almost a growl. “You performed an Illyrian dance of seduction.”

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thesoulspulse · 3 years

Text

Reconcile (Good Vlad AU ~ Oneshot)

It happened in early winter, that's all he could tell because of the first signs of snowfall outside of the window next to his bed at the hospital. Vlad had been there for, what, a month or so? Kept in isolation from everyone apart from a couple of doctors and nurses. Honestly, it was entirely possible Vlad had been there for longer for all he knew since every day blurred into the next after the accident.

Vlad couldn't feel it though, the cold, because these days his skin always felt either unnaturally chilly or feverishly hot to the touch. The only constant Vlad could feel was pain. The morphine helped ease that pain a little bit, but all that was left to feel after that was this cold numbness. And since the doctors thought he had been exposed to radiation of some kind -which to be fair they weren't wrong- no one has been allowed to see him after he was admitted there.

But still, Vlad had hoped his friends would come see him eventually. And more importantly, he wanted the chance to give Jack a piece of his mind! That...that traitor knew the portal experiment was unstable and potentially dangerous and yet he still pressed the-

“Excuse me, are you awake Mr. Masters? You have a visitor,” a nurse called after knocking on the door and poking her head inside.

At first Vlad was happy that he had a visitor, hoping it would be Maddie so he could get these feelings off his chest about how angry he was at Jack...but as soon as he saw the large silhouette waiting outside the door he knew there was only one person that would have come here to see him who had such a wide girth. It was Jack. But he wasn't ready to see him, not yet, not when all Vlad could think about is how his best friend had almost killed him...

Turning his head away Vlad finally muttered, “Sorry, I'm not feeling well. Please tell them to come back lat-ER!”

Vlad grunted the last word of that sentence as Jack burst into the room, tears rolling down his cheeks as the man called him by that ridiculous nickname of Vladdy he insists on using. Normally Vlad could shrug it off, but right now the nickname felt insulting somehow as if Jack was making light of what happened the last time they saw each other. Either way it's a good thing Maddie actually was there and managed to help the nurse pry him off, reminding Jack that Vlad's in the hospital as a patient so giving him a bear hug wasn't the best idea.

Regardless, Jack looked at Vlad's bandaged face and sobbed, “I'm so sorry V-man. We tried to come sooner but they wouldn't let us in! We were so worried about you!”

Nodding, Maddie put a supportive hand on Jack's shoulder and continued awkwardly. “He's right, as soon as we recovered from the shock of what had happened to you we immediately went looking for you but you had already collapsed somewhere. Jack was heartbroken and didn't understand what went wrong with the portal. I tried to find out too but it was no use, whatever happened fried the wiring and-”

Cutting herself off as soon as she realized she was going off on a tangent when their friend's well-being was much more important, Maddie dropped her hand from Jack's shoulder and asked with a sad smile, “How're you feeling? Have they been taking good care of you? I tried to explain your condition to the doctor but...they didn't believe me about it being related to ectoplasmic energy.”

“Why would they? As far as they're concerned ghosts don't exist,” Vlad replied with a guarded expression, unwilling to admit he tried to do the exact same thing only for his arguments to be thoroughly dismissed since he's not a doctor. “As for the rest they're...doing the best they can I suppose.”

An awkward silence filled the room since none of them knew what to say after that, but then, Jack spoke up and said, “Vladdy? Um, I know it's a bit squished but I made this for you. It's...my way of saying sorry for everything. I should have listened to you and Mads when you told me to stop.”

Reaching into one of the many pockets of his jumpsuit which according to Jack was handed down to him by his grandfather and designed after an outfit one of his ghost-hunting ancestors wore, he handed Vlad what appeared to be a misshapen block of homemade fudge. The gesture might not have seemed like a big deal to anyone else, but for Jack who absolutely loved the stuff and couldn't help himself from eating almost all of it himself in one sitting whenever he made or bought it, however, the fact that Jack was sharing an entire serving of it just for Vlad really was his way of showing his sincerity. Similarly, Maddie reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of her ghost folklore books for him to read since she figured Vlad must have been bored laying in bed all day.

Vlad was at a loss for words because he had almost given up hope that they'd ever come visit him, hope that Jack would own up to his mistakes for once and apologize. But since he did, Vlad couldn't stay mad. He wanted to, but couldn't, not since this forgetful yet earnest man had gone out of his way to finally come see him. The same goes for Maddie, Vlad was sure she felt guilty too for not stopping Jack in time since she's always been the more careful of the two when it comes to their experiments...

Accepting their gifts but resisting the urge to wipe the tears from his eyes since his face still hurt, Vlad held them in his lap and sniffled, “Thank you. Thank you both for coming. I...was afraid you had abandoned me.”

“Come on V-man, give me a little credit,” Jack smiled, gently punching Vlad's shoulder. “You're my best friend! I know I can be careless and stupid sometimes, but friends have to stick together through thick and thin don't they? We'll get through this together and then maybe we can try again with the ghost portal. We were so close!”

Grimacing at the thought of going anywhere near that portal again, Vlad was relieved when Maddie interjected and said, “Jack, don't forget that it's our fault this happened so before any of that we need to make sure Vlad's going to be ok. We don't know what that portal did to him and the doctors are only going to be able to help him so much. The best thing we can do for him is go back to square one and find out what we did wrong so it doesn't happen again.”

“Shoot, you're right. I'm sorry,” Jack apologized, looking dejected. “Don't worry Vladdy, I'll make this all up to you I promise! And we'll visit more too!”

Smiling weakly more because it hurt to move his face too much, Vlad nodded, “I'd like that.”

Soon after that, before Maddie could comment on anything else the nurse shooed them out so they could get Vlad ready for his next check up. But as soon as he was alone again Vlad reached over to set the fudge and books on the desk next to him when they unexpectedly slipped through his fingers. Blinking in confusion but brushing it off as clumsiness, he sighed and swung his feet over the bed so he could bend down to pick them up again. This time though, when he reached for them again they didn't just slip through his fingers as a figure of speech...they LITERALLY passed through them! Alarmed Vlad recoiled from both objects, his heart racing when he mustered the courage to look at his hands only to find they were translucent.

Realizing his sudden spike in heart activity would alert the hospital staff Vlad concentrated as hard as he could to restore his fingers to a solid state again. It took some effort but thankfully he managed to pull it off. It was in that moment though that Vlad realized, for better or worse, his relationship with Jack and Maddie would never be the same again...

And neither would he.

Note: I normally don’t write fully-fledged story content on tumblr apart from headcanon ideas or sharing updates about new chapters for my fanfics, but since I had started this oneshot before my Good Vlad AU started to really kick off and wasn’t that far along I adapted it into a special oneshot about Jack and Maddie coming to see Vlad at the hospital after the accident. I always wondered why they never did and usually assumed Vlad turned them away himself (mostly Jack) along with the doctors and his friends eventually move on and kind of forgot about him for all those years.

Either way, I wanted to see what could have happened if they managed to fix things with Vlad sooner while still on somewhat good terms before that sense of abandonment and resentment for Jack could take root in Vlad’s heart. Hopefully that comes across here in this little story snippet! I might post this on my actual fanfiction account later but for now, it’s here for you guys especially!

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dontcallmecarrie · 3 years

Text

continuation of this, because why not:

“Oh, this is fun,” Loki hadn’t realized just how irritating his voice could get until now, was this why the Soldier kept throwing knives at him?

“I am only dragging you along because our interests align for now, do not expect this to continue.” He snapped over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for any potential attack even as the alarms continued to blare. He was lucky his counterpart was in such poor shape; had he even had a fraction of his usual power available, this entire enterprise would be much, much more difficult.

As it was, Loki was faintly impressed his counterpart had accomplished as much as he had when he was running on fumes. When he wasn’t sneering at the sloppiness of his plans, anyway. Magical compulsion or no, what kind of idiot went and paraded about proclaiming their intentions for subjugation?

“Come now. Do you honestly expect me to believe this isn’t to your advantage? Unleashing double the chaos.”

It was a pity breaking the magical compulsion had done nothing for his counterpart’s mental state. On a number of levels— he was a stone’s throw away from madness, all jagged pieces aimed outwards and it was uncomfortable to look at for too long for reasons Loki preferred not to dwell upon.

Well. At least he could use it to his advantage.

Victor was not a happy camper.

First had been the discovery that, as he’d suspected, that damn gun had landed him in another universe.

Second, said universe was quite possibly his worst nightmare.

Because his country didn’t exist, hadn’t existed for decades now: the Latverian civil war in this world had decimated its people in more ways than could be named, neighboring countries had snapped up just about every scrap of territory his men had fought and died for and goddamn HYDRA was using war orphans for their experiments.

...had he been a bit hasty when he’d taken out the first base he’d encountered? Sure. Sorting out the logistics for taking care of all the victims he’d encountered was a major pain in the neck, and this accelerated his plans for establishing himself in ways he hadn’t entirely expected. Klaue was as annoying as ever, and, if possible, even more of an arrogant bastard to deal with in this strange world.

Did Victor regret it? Absolutely not.

Especially when it resulted in his encountering his first ally in this hellscape.

...though this ‘involuntary twin’ thing would get old fast, he just knew it.

“Hello, Winter.” Victor greeted with a smile. “Looks like you’ve been busy, too.”

The Winter Soldier could not believe that Justin’s stupid self-help books had been good for something, but here they were.

Him, and the poor bastard who shared his face and was now stuck in that incredibly awkward stage between ‘living weapon approximately three seconds from Murder’ and ‘going through deprogramming’, smack-dab in the middle of what had used to be a HYDRA stronghold but was now a bloodbath because somewhere in between fighting himself, and everyone else coming at them, the other Winter Soldier had started breaking through his programming.

He hadn’t realized just how much progress he’d made, until now.

“What do you want me to call you?” He asked again with a tired sigh.

“The Asset does not nee—”

“Oh, fuck no. Pick something else, you’re a human being, you have value.” ...goddamn it, he sounded just like Justin.

Ugh. Justin could never, ever know, he’d never let him live it down...okay, the worst part is that he would, not that the idiot with a death wish needed any encouraging when it came to this sort of thing.

The man’d had a knife to the neck, and still offered him food, offered him help. The Winter Soldier gave his counterpart a dubious glance, and fought back a shudder.

As much as he sympathized with the guy— he’d been there, literally— the idea gave him chills.

Though...he could almost see it, now. If he squinted, he could see the tiniest speck of self-determination that HYDRA had tried its best to crush into oblivion, the ghost of a hint of personality in the twitch of his right hand, the way his left hand curled.

“Right, okay.” He sighed. Again. He probably sounded like a goddamn teakettle, but fuck it, he was at the end of his rope here, dealing with people was Justin’s thing, he was much better at punching people. “If you’re anything like me, you’re going to have some serious migraines in the next few months, and no, aspirin doesn’t do shit. You have questions, means your personality’s coming back up which is good... oh, you’ll probably want to stick around for answers because I’m about as confused as you are.”

Because this is what happened the one (1) time he tried to be nice and check up on Justin’s friend group. He could’ve been chasing down that lead in Argentina, but no, he was stuck here instead.

Ugh.

Ivan was running on spite, caffeine, and not much else.

Living on the streets was a pain in the ass, exacerbated by the fact that he was apparently supposed to be dead and...buried? Cremated? He wasn’t entirely sure, none of the sources he’d found had been able to specify and to be completely honest, he hadn’t tried too hard to look.

Just seeing his own name in the articles had been disturbing enough, the realization that a version of him had apparently gone through with his suicidal plot was...something. Not great. His vodka stash back home was going to take a hit as soon as he got back.

As disturbing as reading his own death had been, it’d still been no match for what he’d been able to find on the man who’d given him another reason to live.

Because this world’s Justin Hammer was still alive and well, and locked up in an unspecified supermax for the foreseeable future, and...

An incompetent idiot with far more money than brains, apparently.

Which was so far from the man he knew it was hilarious, because Justin’s charisma had been enough to get a dictator of a sovereign nation wrapped around his finger without even trying, had the boogeyman of the intelligence world on speed-dial and an alien god as his bodyguard-slash-PA. He was untouchable on a number of levels, so when Ivan had first read that article?

He hadn’t believed it, at first.

Had been certain it was an imposter, and while he probably should’ve spent that time researching how to get back home, he’d instead ended up down a rabbit hole of what kind of man Justin Hammer was in this world.

Call it morbid curiosity, or whatever— but Ivan had to know.

It wasn’t like he was making much progress on his own, anyway, not when his resources were staggeringly limited.

And then.

A sleek car pulled up by the overpass where he’d been sleeping, and the window rolled down to reveal a face Ivan was inordinately glad to see.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Loki called, and Ivan didn’t even question why there were two of him. Or why his twin looked like a grad student during finals week.

“Mean Girls? Really?”

“He was correct in calling it a classic.” Loki replied with a haughty sniff as he pulled away from the curb. “Besides— from what I’ve seen, I also know more about this world’s culture than their Captain.”

His twin looked lost, as he stared between them both and whoops, that was probably a terrible first impression. “Is this one of your allies?”

“Yes.” Ivan said, even as Loki spoke.

“When he’s not blasting us all to other dimensions, certainly.”

“It was an accident!”

It was a good thing Loki had so much practice driving, because he would have gotten very nervous by the way their eyes met in the rearview mirror otherwise. “Oh, I know. I’ve told you—”

“There is no innovation without risk—” Ivan defended, only for Loki to snort.

“Have fun explaining that to Victor.”

Ivan froze for a moment, breath stilling in his throat. On a good day, Victor was the epitome of a type-A personality...

“He’s here too?”

“Oh, yes. Not sure where exactly, but how do you think we found you?”

“If you say magic—”

“Are all your allies mortals?” Loki’s twin asked with just the slightest hint of a sneer, and just like that all levity was gone and Ivan didn’t even need to meet Loki’s gaze to know his answer.

“If you have a problem with that, feel free to leave. Right now.”

“Come now—”

“Ivan here blasted us all across space and time, without tearing open any paradoxes or destroying any timelines, entirely by accident. Victor? Is the ruler of a sovereign nation feared and respected throughout the realm. I do not know your approach to such things here, but any insult to my allies is an insult to me.”

Ivan...probably shouldn’t have been too surprised to discover that Victor had not only amassed a following of rabidly loyal minions, but also managed to meet up with the Winter Soldier. Er... two Winter Soldiers.

Man, this was going to feature in his nightmares for months.

“Where’s Justin?” Was the very first thing Victor said upon seeing them, and he cringed as the rest traded looks because of course the one who’d introduced them to each other was the missing link now. Justin was hands-down everyone’s favorite, and if Ivan was stuck being the one to break it to them after having spent hours hacking just to get a name?

Man, this was not going to be pretty.

“First, you have to promise not to get mad.”

“What.”

Ivan told them.

...suffice it is to say, nobody was happy to hear the answer.

“Okay then.” Victor said, face impassive save for the way his eyes gleamed. “It’s been a while since I did a prison break, anyway.”

#No Hero [Downward Descending]#My writing #schrodinger's canon

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Sweet Pea and Fangs//Mission Accomplished

Request: If you're busy you can ignore this. I really like your poly! Fangs and Sweet Pea and I was wondering if you could do another one. Maybe about what being a family with them would be like. (You know like what kind of fathers would they be.) Thanks!

hey!! this was super cute to write! i hope you like it!

- Okay, so lets just say right now

- They would be the best dads in the world

- And you can bet that they both have mugs with ‘best dad in the world’ written on them

- Which they of course use literally every day

- So much so, that you have to replace them every couple of months

- Usually because Sweet Pea puts his down on a table to aggressively

- Or because Fangs doesn’t stir coffee, he bashes the spoon from side to side until he breaks the mug, the spoon, and occasionally himself.

- Anyway

- So lets say you got pregnant at like 24/25ish

- All three of you had moved out of Riverdale

- Because I mean lets be real, its not the safest place to start a family

- With the murderers and the cults and the gangs and literally everything else

- Plus, it had been Sweet Pea and Fangs’ dream to get out of the southside and riverdale and to have a better life than their parents did

- So all three of you have stable jobs that you love

- And a cute little apartment

- Filled with photos of the three of you

- And so many memories of your life together

- Including some random dog statue that Fangs found in the skip behind the apartment complex

- To this day you and Sweet Pea have no idea why he was there in the first place

- But you think the scratches on his hands, face and neck had something to do with it

- And so many plants

- So basically you’re parents already...right?

- Anywayyyyyy

- So, you guys were doing pretty good

- Vey, very happy together

- And you’d just come back from visiting Toni and Cheryl and their new baby girl

- Who is adorable by the way

- So you’d be chilling at home

- You and Sweet Pea watching something on Netflix

- While Fangs cooks dinner (its his turn and he’s the best cook)

- And you’d notice Sweet Pea and Fangs exchanging looks

- So you’d be suspicious

- And eventually, after the two of them giving each other very odd looks all throughout dinner, you’ve had enough.

- ‘okay. what’s going on?’

- ‘we wanna have a baby’ Fangs would blurt out and you and Sweet Pea’s eyes would both go wide.

- ‘what?’ you’d look between the two of them

- Fangs is pushing the last bit of food around the plate

- Sweet Pea is refusing to make eye contact with either of you, finding the ceiling fascinating

- While you’re tapping your foot against the floor

- ‘hello? anyone care to expand?’

- And Sweet Pea would sigh, and tear his gaze from the ceiling, settling on you.

- ‘fine. we’ve both been thinking about it for a whil-’

- ‘and then we went to see toni and cheryl and their kid is so cute and they look so happy and we want to start a family with you’ Fangs would interrupt.

- Of course you’d also thought about having kids.

- Sweet Pea and Fangs are the love of your life

- They’re who you want to spend the rest of your life with

- Plus you’ve been dating since you were like 16, so it makes sense

- But it was difficult enough for Toni and Cheryl to have a baby

- This is going to be complicated

- Both of them will obviously be this kids dad...

- But what if when its born the other gets jealous?

- What if they feel like they’re not properly apart of it?

- Would you even find out who the biological dad was?

- Or would you just leave it?

- What about when the kid is older?

- There’s already enough stigma about kids having two moms or two dads

- What about one with two dads and one mom?

- So, you’d all sit down after dinner and talk about everything

- The possible problems

- How you would raise it

- If you’re all ready

- And you’d finally figure it out

- Well, the best that you could anyway

- But in the end you’d figured that you’d all be alright because you had each other

- So then the fun bit ;)

- You’d be trying for a few months

- Much to the happiness of Fangs and Sweet Pea

- They weren’t complaining

- And then when you do get pregnant

- Holy fuck are they happy

- Like literally jumping around, hugging each other, hugging you

- They’re literally the happiest people ever

- The first thing they do is call Toni

- Because well, they have to tell their best friend that she’s going to be an aunt.

- And a few minutes later, Cheryl texts you a video of Toni on the phone, jumping up and down as they tell her.

- Anyway, so once they’ve calmed down they instantly go into protective mode.

- Like

- ‘oh, sit down. standing up is not good for the baby.’

- ‘what?’

- ‘do you need a drink? food? a nap? a hug?’

- ‘i’m good’

- And you think this is just going to last for a few days

- But no

- This continues all through the pregnancy

- And afterwards tbh

- They are so protective

- You always sleep in the middle so they can both keep you two safe

- Even if it is a nightmare when you need to pee

- Fangs did suggest a bucket by the bed but you and Sweet Pea both agreed that was too far

- They go to all the scans

- And cry

- Every. Single. Time

- Sweet Pea’s suggests going to the baby classes

- Even though you’re kind of unsure of what people will say

- But you go

- And its surprisingly, okay

- You get a few strange looks

- But who the hell cares

- And Sweet Pea and Fangs both have their own little notebooks that they’re furiously scribbling notes in

- And they always take turns to practice on the fake babies

- Plus, before you all go to bed the three of you will read baby books, occasionally swapping them every so often.

- ‘did you know that new-borns are short sighted’

- ‘ha, four eyed loser’

- ‘i’m sorry. how old are you sweet pea?’

- So they’re just the sweetest

- And every time they come back from work they aways have something for the baby

- Literally. Every. Time

- No matter what.

- ‘how many shoes do you think this baby is going to need?’

- ‘i don’t even think babies need shoes, at least not for the first few months’

- ‘no baby needs this many leather jackets.’

- ‘yeah, but its got a snake on the back! how could i just leave it there?’

- ‘where did you find a leather jacket for a baby with a snake on the back?’

- ‘...the serpents made it for us.’

- And they buy the most weird stuff

- Like you’re getting amazon packages every other day

- The neighbors think you guys are doing something illegal

- Sweet Pea buys a baby grow that has labels for where the arms and legs go

- And when you ask him why

- ‘its for fangs. i’m just helping him out’

- So in retaliation, Fangs buys one with instructions of where to feed the baby and where to change it

- Also this doesn’t stop when your baby is born, they’re still buying stupid t-shirts with stupid slogans on well into its 20s

- Your favourite thing they’ve bought is definitely the fake tattoo sleeve

- So, you’re keeping the gender a surprise

- Because who cares

- So you’re going for like a yellow or gray nursery

- And Sweet Pea and Fangs are insisting on doing it all them selves

- The painting

- The furniture

- The little accessories

- Everything

- Needless to say you hear a huge crash within five minutes of them starting

- So you do it together instead

- You start painting while they put the crib together

- There’s some left over screws at the end but they decide against telling you that

- It looks stable enough

- And just to make sure, Fangs tested it out...and got stuck

- They make sure to take tons of pictures throughout the entire pregnancy

- Much to your annoyance

- ‘I’ve just thrown up for the third time in five minutes...stop taking my damn picture.’

- ‘i want to capture every moment’

- ‘why!?!?’

- But you love the majority of them

- There’s some of you by yourself

- Some of them with you and one of them

- Others with the three of you together

- Both of them looking at you like you’re their entire world

- (which you are)

- And there’s a few pictures of just the two of them with fake pregnancy bellies on, in the style of a professional photo shoot

- Another late night Amazon purchase

- Which when you opened you were...confused to say the least.

- When you’re nearing your due date they make sure at least one person is with you at all times, just in case you go into labour

- And that works, until the day you actually go into labour and you’re alone

- Fangs is at work and Sweet Pea had to run to the store to get ice cream and snacks

- And then it happens

- You’re panicking but trying not to, but its not working

- Sweet Pea comes back and then he sees your panicked face and he drops the food and almost himself to be honest

- He’s running around trying to find your bag and his bag and Fangs’ bag

- And you’re trying to ring Fangs but he’s not answering

- Sweet Pea eventually gets through to him when you guys get the hospital and you can hear Fangs screaming down the phone

- He makes it there in five minutes, even though he works at least fifteen minutes away

- They’re on either side of you

- Both panting and telling you to breathe

- Basically they are being ridiculous

- And very unhelpful

- Especially when the breathing is mainly to calm themselves down

- And then Sweet Pea gets distracted, blows a rubber glove up and it pop’s

- And to be honest the fright it gave you, you thought you’d given birth

- But when its time for you to start pushing they’re right next to

- Holding your hands

- Saying so many nice things

- Being so sweet and supportive

- And they also take a moment to hug each other while they watch

- Like they’re crying

- At one point Fangs just screams

- ‘i told you not to look down there’ Sweet pea scolds

- ‘does it go back to normal?’ Fangs would ask

- ‘god, i hope so’ You’d groan in pain

- But then your daughter is born and they’re smitten

- This tiny little life is theirs

- And it relies on them for everything

- And they’re so proud of you

- Literally they’re heart is going to burst with love and pride for you

- They love her so much

- And instantly take their roles very seriously

- The first night they let you sleep because well you’ve just given birth, you need a rest

- And it gives them a chance to bond

- They take turns holding her

- And feeding her

- And just talking to her

- ‘we’re you’re dads’ Fangs would whisper

- ‘i’m sweet pea. nice to meet you.’

- ‘what are you doing?’

- ‘introducing myself. i have to make a good impression, and we need to teach her manners’

- ‘shit, you’re right. hello, i’m fangs, your other dad...do i like, shake her hand?’

- ‘hmmm, yeah. i think she’s too young for a high-five’

- ‘thats your mom over there. she’s asleep at the minute so we have to be really quiet, but she loves you so much...and so do we. you’re our entire world’

- They’re so gentle with her

- And with you

- When you get home, the three of you show her around her new home

- And show her all the pictures on the walls, explaining the memories behind each of them

- You also make sure to introduce her to her siblings (the houseplants)

- When she’s a little older Sweet Pea starts teaching her how to defend herself

- ‘she’s three sweet pea, she doesn’t need to know how to karate chop someone’

- ‘yes she does. i’m always going to be around to keep her safe...but just in case. which reminds me, do you know how to karate chop someone?’

- Fangs teaches her how to cook

- Like she knows everything by the times she’s 10

- Both of them teach her stupid (and sometimes inappropriate) jokes

- Out of the two of them, Fangs is usually the one to tell her off

- Actually, its you...you’re the one to tell her off if she’s done something wrong because they both can’t bring themselves to shout at her

- Its difficult for you too (so its a blessing that she’s actually pretty well behaved, unlike all three of her parents)

- Fangs is definitely the most over protective

- He follows her around when she starts to crawl, literally if she moves a centimeter, he’s up and following her around.

- Sweet Pea is always the one to cheer her up when she’s sad

- And you’re the one she always goes to when she’s hurt herself or if she just needs a hug

- She loves all of you so much

- And you love her

- They still insist of taking pictures of literally every moment

- It actually increases after she’s born

- You really don’t know how thats possible

- Even she gets annoyed at it

- ‘really dad? another one??’

- ‘hey! when all three of us are dead and buried you’re going to look back at these and wish we’d taken more’

- They make it their life mission to teach her every single thing they know about the world

- And all three of you make it your life mission to make sure she knows how loved she is

- Which you definitely accomplished

#sweet pea #fangs #fangs fogarty #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #fangs imagine #fangs x reader #fangs x you #fangs fogarty imagine #fangs fogarty x reader #fangs fogarty x you #riverdale #riverdale imagine #sweet pea x fangs #sweet pea x fangs x reader #fangs x reader x sweet pea

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

I hate the way you drive my car

So, we’re ignoring the fact that it’s 4 am but here I am with the second part of 10 things I hate about you. Ignore typos, I’ll fix them at some point (maybe ?).

Also, this might be a little bit of, like, soft smut???? Unsure, but hey, stuff happens. I don’t know if this actually counts.

NOTE: the line about being ‘a pop-up book from hell’ I’m pretty sure that line is from Gilmore Girls that I used in here (I changed it a bit but still gotta give credit)

I hope you like it!

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

__________________________

“Because we both know that’s not true.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

----------

“I need to ask you a huge favor,” you hear him say on the other end of the call as you’re pacing around your apartment out of boredom.

You groan, knowing that nothing good could come of him asking you for something at ten am on a Saturday. “No.”

“You don’t even know what it is!” he whines on the other end.

“But I know you and know that it’s probably not something I’m going to like if you have to call and ask me.”

“Can you at least hear what I need before you make a decision?” Matthew huffs, clearly a little bothered by the fact that you were dismissing him before giving him a chance.

You can’t help but laugh imagining the pout he has on his face, the one he would be giving you in person that always, without fail, made you say yes to whatever he was asking of you. But you weren’t in person, so instead of conceding, you tease him with, “Hard maybe, but you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”

“I need to borrow your car.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not!” he whines again. You can hear him mumbling to himself about what other options he could think that he had, knowing that he had none as it was if you were the one he was calling.

“Why do you need my car? Where’s yours?”

“We need alcohol and all the boys are busy. And my car is in the shop, the brakes were being a bitch. I didn’t want them to crap out on me when I need to make a sudden stop or something.”

“Yeah, because we both know you’re good at stopping even with good brakes,” you tease.

You hear him laugh on the other end, so strong and genuine that hearing him made you stop and smile for a moment. “What can I say, I pull out all the stops. And yet, I can never use them to get you in bed.” He closes his eyes, thankful that you couldn’t see him regretting saying something that stupid to you. If he kept up this shit with you, you would have a list of way more than ten things that you hated about him. “But, please, can I borrow your car?” You stop for a moment to think, really not wanting to hand over your keys to him. “Your silence means no?”

“You live two blocks from a liquor store. Are you fucking joking?” you let out.

“I never joke about fucking, especially with you,” he says, forcing you to roll your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. He really did mean it, no matter how oblivious you were to that fact. “But that one doesn’t have what we want and the nearest one that has our shit is too far to walk to.”

“I do not trust you to drive my car,” you tell him, hearing the line go dead. You pull the phone away from your ear to see that he was trying to switch to Facetime, probably to wear you down with his stupid pout that always made you say yes. “There is no way I am letting you drive my car.”

“Y/N, I am begging. I will do anything.” He juts out his lip, batting his eyes at you in hopes of convincing you.

“I’ll drive you there.”

“I feel like I’m two seconds from death every time I get in a car with you behind the wheel.”

“Order an Uber.”

“But you’re cheaper!”

Your jaw drops as you can’t help but scoff at what he just said. He can’t really think that saying something like that to you would work. He didn’t mean it like that, just that it was easier to buy you a bottle of wine than pay for the Uber there, back and the tip. But he wasn’t thinking about that enough to fully explain. You study the background behind him, clearly walking into a familiar building, not quite able to make out why you knew the building based on the angle he held the camera. “Wait, where are you?”

“Bye!” he says, hanging up on you immediately without you being able to get an answer.

“Evie!” you yell, clearly frustrated with Matthew’s antics. You wait to hear her open her door, praying that she was awake. “Evelina!” you screech again.

You hear her door open and slam shut, her bare feet hitting the tile of the floor in the hallway as she makes her way to you, “If you go any higher, only dogs will hear you. Why are you waking me up?”

“I have another thing to add to the list.”

She groans, closing her eyes and dropping her head back as her eyes followed to the ceiling. “You know how to write. The list is literally on the fridge. This is not something you needed me for.”

“Well, Miss ‘They have to be legitimate reasons,’” you mock her voice, “I had to make sure it was a real reason by your standards.”

“What else could you hate about Matthew?”

“I hate when he drives my car.”

“When the fuck does he do that?”

“When I asked her if I could get alcohol from the store on the other side of the city,” you hear Matthew’s voice behind you, causing both of you to jump.

“Jesus, you’re like the pop-up book from Hell. How the fuck did you get in here? The door was locked!”

“Evelina gave me a key,” he says, waving his key ring in the air as if you could tell which one he was referring to in the mess of keys.

You turn back to Evelina, your mouth open, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. Everything about your expression said, ‘what the hell?’ without verbally saying it. She shrugs, obviously still groggy from being woken up by your screaming. “He’s here all the time and you always happen to be busy when he’s knocking at the door. It was the third key our landlord gave us, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You open and close your mouth like a fish, unable to figure out what to say. Of all the people she could give the spare key to Matthew of all people.

“So why do you hate when I drive your car?” Matthew cuts the silence out.

“Well if it’s anything like the way you skate, then I don’t think I want to see it.”

“I said I would do anything!” he whines, Evelina groans, leaving the two of you to head to the kitchen, presumably to write the new thing on the list.

“And what does that entail?”

“I would prefer something in the bedroom,” he flirts, earning another eye roll from you.

“How about you start by getting my bag from my bedroom and then we’ll go,” you say, waving him off and practically running to the kitchen to find Evelina. “Matthew doesn’t know about the list, right?”

Evelina looks at you, hesitating to answer. Something tells her that him knowing the entire plan wouldn’t bode well with you. “Did you tell him about it?”

“No.”

“Then, no,” she lies. “And the car thing doesn’t count. You’ve never had him drive your car before. Plus, why would him knowing be a bad thing?”

“Because you know him. He’s just gonna flirt with me and try to make me forget that I hate him. You know I’m a sucker for a sweet guy.”

She looks at you for a moment, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Ok, I’m going to list all the reasons why you’re wrong, and then I’m going back to bed because I don’t want to deal with you anymore.” You roll your eyes at her, something you had already done a lot today, yet still feel the need to keep doing. “So, one. I really do not know him that well, all I know is that he’s clearly in love with you. Plus, I’m closer with Elias, remember? Two. You clearly do not know what flirting is because you two flirt with each other all the time. Every day. Every minute. It’s annoying. Three. You have a very specific type, and sweet isn’t always a given. I know you have dated three guys, and all three of them were hockey players who always got in fights, had curly hair, really nice eyes, and are always someone pest-like. Does that sound like anyone?”

“None of that is true.”

“All of that is true,” she counters, leading to the two of you going back and forth, bickering about the validity of her three point list.

“Hey, is this it?” Matthew interrupts the two of you, holding up your bag.

“Yes, let’s go,” you say, taking the bag from him and pushing him out the door. “You head down and start up my car, the keys are by the door, Evelina just needs to finish the list first.” You swear you see his eyes go wide and look at your roommate before he darts out the front door. You could have meant the list of alcohol she wanted. Evelina wouldn’t lie to you about him knowing about the hate list. “You’re wrong,” you tell Evelina.

She throws her hands in the air, walking back to her room, “Don’t bother me unless you finally realize you love him or you can actually add ‘the way he drives my car’ to your list.”

“I hate you,” you call to her in a sing-songy voice.

“Love you, too,” you hear her reply, closing her door.

You go down to your car, hearing it before seeing it in your spot since Matthew had already turned the volume on your radio up louder than you ever wanted it to go. Your hand reaches for the volume button before you even put the seatbelt on, muting the music to tell him, “There is absolutely no way you’re listening to the music this loud. How can you hear yourself think?”

“I’m honestly surprised you even believe I think. But did Ev give you her list?”

“No, she left it on the fridge,” you say, without thinking.

“The fridge?”

You hesitate, not wanting to tell him about the list. You hated more things about him than you liked, so why did you have to keep reminding yourself about that? And why was it so hard to come up with things to put on there. “It was the grocery list, she’s buying the stuff after her nap and needed to know what I wanted for food,” you lie, hoping he would buy it.

“Is whipped cream on the list?” he asks, pulling out of the garage. The smirk on his face tells you that you shouldn’t ask to elaborate whatever thought was running through his mind, but you couldn’t help but ask anyway. “So you can spray it all over me and lick it off.”

“You’d have to clean up my vomit right after,” you joke, hearing his laugh again. “Who’s to say that I wouldn’t want you licking it off me, instead?” you flirt back, knowing it would get something out of him.

Hearing you say that makes him stop breathing for a moment, letting his mind wander to the image of that scene. His entire body tenses up thinking about it, only to be snapped out by you yelling, “Brake, brake, Matthew, brake!” He slams on the brakes of your car, narrowly avoiding rear ending the person in front of you. “This is why your brakes are crapping out!” you squeal, eyes wide with fury at his nonattention to the road in front of him. “I’m driving home, you are not allowed to drive my car back.”

“Calm down, are you dead?”

“I just died a little on the inside.”

The smirk from before returns to his face, “We both know you die a little every time we go to work, I’m just helping move that along.” Still at the red light, he takes his eyes off the road to look at you, the smirk turning into a soft smile.

You can’t help but bite part of your bottom lip, the rest of your lips forming a smile. His eyes flick between yours and your lips, knowing that he wanted to kiss you. You tear your eyes away to look at the road, fully aware of his eyes still on you, “Green light.”

The two of you drive the rest of the way in silence. Was that some sort of moment between the two of you? If he hadn’t been driving, would he have kissed you? And would you have let him?

No, you wouldn’t kiss your best friend. Nothing would make you want to kiss him. You take out your phone, pulling up your conversation with Evelina. ‘Add the way he drives my car to the list. Or the way he drives in general. I don’t care.’ You sigh, hesitating before hitting send.

“You ok?” you hear Matthew say, hitting send before you can decide not to as you pull into the parking lot of the liquor store.

“Oh, yeah. My boss is just asking me some stuff about one of my projects at work,” you lie to him. Evelina responds, just with an eye roll emoji.

“Alright,” Matthew says, leading you into the liquor store, “Get something for you and something for Evelina and I’ll pay for it.”

You just nod, both of you giving an awkward smile to the other as you went your separate ways in the store. Evelina needed another bottle of her favorite wine, but you had no idea what you wanted. You eventually find yourself looking at a bottle of wine with Snoop Dogg on the label, of all people. “What’s that?” Matthew startles you, causing you to almost drop the bottle right on the ground.

“This wine brand called 19 Crimes,” you say, showing him the bottle, “Snoop Dogg is a partner in the company.”

“19 Crimes? Is that how many we’re going to commit in the bedroom our first time,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You smile and roll your eyes at him. “It’s a reference to British and Australian history, Matthew,” you tell him, admittedly leaning in a little to his touch.

“Ok?”

“So starting in the 1780s or 90s, Britain, instead of killing their convicts, would send them to Australia as punishment. If you committed one of 19 Crimes, you would be sent there, starting a colony of criminals and eventually turning into the down under we know and love today.”

“What are the 19 crimes?” He asks, leading you through the store.

“The first is grand larceny, or theft above the value of one shilling.”

His hand moves from your waist into your back pocket, your breath hitching slightly at his touch. “Keep going,” he whispers into your air, still leading you around the store.

“The second: petty larceny, which is theft under one shilling.” You feel his fingers start to tense up in your pocket, sending a shiver down your spine as his touch became more intimate. Without waiting, you keep going, “The third was buying or receiving stolen goods.”

He pulls you closer to him, tightening the grip he has on you as he starts to grab bottles from the shelves with his free hand and put them into the cart he was pushing. “What’s the fourth?”

“Stealing, buying, or receiving lead, iron or copper.”

“Seems weird,” he notes.

“The fifth will really get you: impersonating an Egyptian.”

He laughs a low laugh, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Weirdly specific, but keep telling me more.” You could be telling him anything right now, and he would probably be going just as crazy as he was now. Keeping you slightly in front of him, he was glad he couldn’t see how red in the face he was getting from the history you were telling him.

“Six would be stealing from furnished lodgings, so anything stamped with the London County Council seal would send you to Australia. Seven was setting fire to underwood, which is undergrowth in a forest.” You were doing everything in your power to restrain yourself, your hand taking his from your back pocket and moving it back around to the front of you. His fingers find their way into your front pocket, settling on your hip bone as his thumb hooks onto your belt loop.

“Eight,” you keep going before he can say anything else, feeling his gaze on you as you try to ignore the tightening grip, “is stealing letters, advancing the postage, and secreting the money, which is robbing the post office of mail. The ninth was assaulting with an intent to rob.”

You realize Matthew had led you to the back corner of the store, secluded from the other customers. Behind the stake of boxes and the shelves of bottles that surrounded you, no one could see you. Everything he was doing, you would have the same reaction to any boy, you tell yourself. It’s not because it’s Matthew, it’s because he’s just a guy.

“Number ten?” he whispers in your ear, turning you so that you face him.

“Number ten is stealing fish from a pond or river,” you let out, his hands on your waist as he pulls you close to him. He presses his forehead against yours, your hands on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, almost in sync with yours as you keep going. “Similarly, 11 was stealing or destroying roots, trees or plants.”

“Eight more,” he says, kissing your forehead.

Your eyes flutter closed, knowing that looking at him would only make this worse for you. “Because of the divorce laws that were in place, number 12 was common: bigamy, the act of marriage while already in another marriage.” He places another kiss on your forehead, his hands on the small of your back to pull him even closer to you, allowing you to feel everything he felt.

“13 was assaulting, cutting or burning clothing. 14: counterfeiting the copper coin.” His kisses start to trail down the side of your face, tracing your jaw bone as you continue, “Clandestine, or secret marriage was 15.”

“I love that you know this. Four more,” you hear him say, kissing your collar bone as you try to stifle the moan that escaped from your lips anyway, praying that no one saw you two doing this.

Your eyes still closed, you continue, “Stealing a shroud out of a grave was 16. 17: watermen carrying too many passengers on the Thames, if any drowned.”

You let out another involuntary groan before he pulls away, a low chuckle escaping his lips as his forehead is once again pressed on yours. You open your eyes to see his blue ones staring straight into your soul. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as he whispered, “I think it’s pronounced ‘Tems,’ babe.”

A grin on your face, knowing he was right, “Where I’m from, we say it phonetically.” His eyes flicked between yours and your lips, just like they did in your car earlier. “18 was incorrigible rogues, people who had already been convicted as a rogue or vagabond and resists arrest, who broke out of prison and person reprieved from capital punishment.”

“What’s the last one?” he whispers again, his lips nearly ghosting yours.

“The nineteenth and final crime that would get a British convict sent to Australia was embeuling naval stores, or stealing naval supplies, in certain cases.”

His lips hovering against yours, not quite touching but close enough to be begging to connect. “In certain cases, would you want this?”

You knew what he was referring to. Did he actually want this? You were trying to convince yourself that he didn’t, but it was hard to believe that. “Matthew. We...” you hesitate, denying that fact that you wanted to. It wasn’t because it was Matthew, you would be this way with any boy. “We can’t.”

He exhales, pulling away from you. “Ok,” he says, a weak smile. He takes your hand, pushing the cart with the other towards the front of the store. You drop his hand, reaching for your phone to text Evelina.

‘I hate the way he teases me,’ you send her, not wanting to give her any more context. Ignoring the vibration that meant she was responding to you, you watch Matthew as he checks out the copious amount of alcohol that he had gotten for the guys. He bites his bottom lip as he pays, his chest now steadily moving up and down as his breath had calmed down from before.

‘This list has to work for me,’ he thinks to himself. He couldn’t let something like that happen again. He couldn’t let you think of ten things. He didn’t even know how close you were to being done.

The two of you get back into your car, the haul almost completely filling up your trunk. You hadn’t said a word to each other, but you did need to know how Matthew had planned on getting everything back to his place.

With Matthew in the driver's seat, you feel like you need to apologize. As much as you hate to admit it, you were definitely feeling something because of Matthew. Was it because it was specifically Matthew? No, no, it was just... you didn’t know. Something. But, did that just change anything between you?

“Hey, Y/N?” Matthew snaps you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you know all that?”

“We talked about the English colonization of Australia very briefly when I was in high school, but we never went in depth with it. Then I saw this video of a news report in Australia where a woman had submitted a comment saying that if they didn’t like having all the criminals in their country, they should just find another island to send them to. The news casters were laughing so hard saying that that was how Australia was pretty much founded. So I looked into what it took for Britain to send their convicts to Australia. I guess I liked it so much that I just memorized the list? I don’t know, it’s dumb,” you discount yourself. “Sometimes I feel like people forget that I’m actually a little intelligent.”

“I think you’re more than a little intelligent; you’re the smartest person I know.” He turns onto his street, you finally realizing that he had driven to his place to make it easier to bring everything up. “I love y-” he starts, realizing he can’t say what he wants to, “I love that you know so much.”

You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, getting out of the car to help him carry everything up to his place. You do so in silence, needing two trips to your car to get his haul into his apartment. “I’ll see you later?” he asks, once it’s all in. After that, he couldn’t stay in the same room as you, knowing that he would want to do so much more than what had happened in the store.

“Yeah, see ya,” you say, going out the door. You shut it behind you, leaning your back against it. You close your eyes, head touching the cold wood. You needed to finish that list as fast as possible. Seven more things before it was complete. “Fuck.”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #nhl #nhl imagines

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iamnmbr3 · 3 years

Note

I know you're not happy with the show but making things up is really damaging your reputation. The show is not a failure; it's the biggest launch of any disney+ show so far with the highest ratings. The first trailer has so many views because it's 7 months old, compared to the first episode being out a week and a half. The CGI doesn't look like it was done by a two year old (seriously lmao??). The tesseract looks dull because it powers down once in the TVA. Stop pretending Loki was mind controlled when Marvel confirmed in his character bio that he was emotionally influenced by the scepter. Bucky was mind controlled. Selvig and Hawkeye were mind controlled. Loki was influenced like Banner and the others were by the sceptre when they were around it on the helicarrier. Please consider that care has been taken to make Loki more multifaceted in this show, not OOC - he's just got more emotion and character to him now and feels to me and a lot of others, more like a living, breathing person who is struggling in the immediate aftermath of being shown the most traumatic recap of his life. I'm really sorry you're not happy with him, but his emotional core and inner heartbreak is being treated with love and respect by the show.

Hahahahahahahahhaha oh my god anon this was a funny read. Ngl usually when ppl come clowning in my inbox with incoherent rants I just delete it. But this was some quality clowning. This was just too funny to not share with everyone. So I’m gonna go line by line here.

“I know you're not happy with the show but making things up is really damaging your reputation.”

I’m gonna be real with you anon. This makes me sad because I will never write anything this funny. This made me laugh out loud. My reputation? My reputation?!?! I run a blog on Tumblr dot com. No reputation can recover from that. Also as to making things up? Uh. Where??? Just because you don’t like what I have to say doesn’t mean it’s made up. However with that kind of attitude I think you have a bright future ahead of you working in PR for the GOP. They love people who talk like you.

“The show is not a failure; it's the biggest launch of any disney+ show so far with the highest ratings.”

Ok I literally just talked about that HERE. But let me add a few more points here for your convenience. First of all, Disney+ hasn’t actually been doing that great. In fact Disney’s stock recently fell precisely because Diseny+ has underperformed. It missed growth expectations and none of the shows have attracted that big of an audience. Loki had MASSIVELY more interest than either WandaVision or TFATWS and yet it only drew 890K households for the premier - just barely more than either of those shows got. There haven’t been any numbers released for the episodes after the premier but given how boring and unfunny and uninteresting the premier was, I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of viewers, especially more casual ones, didn’t come back for more.

“The first trailer has so many views because it's 7 months old, compared to the first episode being out a week and a half.”

Incorrect. Trailers get most of their views in the first week, and the vast majority in the first 2 weeks. Indeed, they get the most engagement in the first DAY usually and then it starts slowing. The early trailer that got 18 million views got most of that very quickly and then has grown extremely slowly ever since. The more recent trailers are not tracking to get anywhere near than engagement. Why? Because interest is dropping. Now maybe people just aren’t as interested in the trailers because they’re just happy to watch the actual show now or because they loved the first trailers so much that they decided to watch the show just based on that and didn't want to spoil themselves watching later trailers. Who knows. I certainly have my theories though.

"The CGI doesn't look like it was done by a two year old (seriously lmao??)."

Actually I said the posters looked like they were done by a 2 year old. Most of the CGI looks like cheap made-for-tv effects done by an underpaid and under qualified adult. But go off I guess. Also don’t even try to defend those badly photoshopped posters to me. I have eyes. I could argue with you but a picture is worth a thousand words. And just. Look at this thing! This is real. It’s so bad but it’s real. Who wants this?

"Stop pretending Loki was mind controlled when Marvel confirmed in his character bio that he was emotionally influenced by the scepter.Bucky was mind controlled. Selvig and Hawkeye were mind controlled. Loki was influenced like Banner and the others were by the sceptre when they were around it on the helicarrier"

That’s mind control lmao. The scepter was magically influencing his mind. Do you think emotions come from our feet or something?! (And that’s not even getting into the torture and conditioning he underwent or the fact that the Other had his claws in Loki’s mind and was hurting and threatening him in addition to the mind control). Also why do you think it’s appropriate to come on my blog like this and make these sorts of demands? This is my fandom blog that I run for fun. I can engage however I want. You need to learn to cope with that. If you enjoy the show that’s great. Go enjoy it. Don’t tell other people what to think. That’s not appropriate, reasonable, or healthy. If you find yourself truly unable to cope with strangers having different opinions from you about a tv show based on a comic book I definitely suggest you seek help from a professional.

"Please consider that care has been taken to make Loki more multifaceted in this show, not OOC - he's just got more emotion and character to him now and feels to me and a lot of others, more like a living, breathing person who is struggling in the immediate aftermath of being shown the most traumatic recap of his life."

I don’t see any evidence at all of care being put into the show. The writing and storytelling is incredibly sloppy. It gets even the most basic things wrong - like Loki’s speaking style or the fact that he wasn’t young in the 70s or that he speaks the Allspeak not English or his skin tone or hair length or the fact that Jotun!Loki should’ve had ridges on his skin. The head writer and story creator also is openly disdainful of Loki and talks about how he’s a “shithead” and “proper and pompous” and how he needs to be put in a situation where he has to stop “blaming” Odin and Thor for all his problems. He shows no understanding of Loki’s character or care for it. Maybe care was put into the show and they just messed up but I don’t see evidence of that. There’s certainly no way you could know that for a fact unless you are involved in the production in which case you are a biased source who has an ulterior motive for silencing critics of the show.

Also TV!Loki doesn’t feel like a real person to me at all. He feels like a caricature. He doesn’t act like Loki or do or say the things he would or even stand like he would. Look how Loki behaved when being interrogated by Natasha or when being berated by Odin. Loki is someone who puts on a performance as a sword and a shield. TV!Loki is a stupid clown.

"I'm really sorry you're not happy with him, but his emotional core and inner heartbreak is being treated with love and respect by the show."

No it’s not. It’s being turned into a punchline. The “humor” in the show derives entirely from invalidating Loki’s feelings and retconning his motivations and humiliating and mocking and denigrating him and turning him into a literal punching bag. The show robs the character of all dignity and seriousness and makes a mockery of him and the fans he meant so much to. And for what? The humor isn’t even funny.

#asks #loki tv series #loki show #loki tv show #loki 2021 #loki series #Marvel #MCU

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docholligay · 3 years

Note

Please rant/rave (well, we already know which one it will be here) about Harry Potter!

GEE I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH WAITING FOR

OH MY GOD. The level of hatred I have for Harry Fucking Goddamn Potter, the culture around Harry Fucking Potter, extending its poisonous tentacles even to the concept of young adult fiction, fantasy, and the United Kingdom as a country and people.

When you being on this, you may think, “Oh, Doc will explain that Harry Potter sucks because JKR hates trans women” and I will say, oh no, dear reader, that is a fantastic reason to hate the author, and I really suggest we all continue to hate her, and perhaps not purchase the QUEEN’S TONNES of officially licensed merchandise and movies and theme parks that give her stupid little fucking hands all that cash, but no, that is not why I hate the work. There are a number of great works done by terrible people, and the further out the lens of history gets the truer this is.

I hate Harry Potter because it fucking sucks, and mentally stifled an entire fucking generation.

“Well, Doc, Harry Potter was really there for me when--” Oh my god I could not fucking care LESS about your personal emotion connection to “orphan wizard boy turns out to be a rich aristocrat yet somehow less woke than Cinderella though” I have personally emotional connections to hot fucking garbage pails of media properties, and if someone came barreling through talking about the myriad ways in which they were horrible, I would be like, “Oh, you aren’t fucking wrong, pal”

Harry Potter gained wild ass popularity in part due to its magnificent sorting system of Smart, Brave, Evil, and Other, because there’s nothing liberals like more than being able to put everyone’s personality into an easily labeled box, which is why astrology is so popular, or for the intellectuals, Myers-Briggs, which is just as fake but with the veneer of science. This allowed people to give into the tribalism they so desperately liked to pretend they did not possess, and also allow them to write thinkpieces about “The misunderstood Hufflepuff” or “Slytherins aren’t all bad!” or really anything that allows them to write a very real piece about their very imagined oppression for being a part of a totally fake house in a children’s book. Excellent use of your sociology degree, Kai, I thought the addition of phrases like, ‘Content of socialization” and “axes of oppression” really spoke to the struggles you face when wearing a green and silver scarf.

The other reason it became popular is that it’s essentially wallpaper paste formed into characters. I have read all of the books, and I could not tell you even remotely what Harry’s defining personality traits are other than “protagonist”. In American, at least, a large part of it was the fascination with all things British, with the idea of boarding school and prefects and uniforms that aren’t inexplicably chinos and polo shirts for nine year olds. It allowed children to project onto something so bland that it could be anything. And for children, THAT’S FINE. There is a great deal of bland media made for children, but what I’m speaking to is the fandom, which is largely well over the age of 18.

Because if we look at the books, are they...actually good? Was it good, or did I experience it as a child? I mean, honestly, on a literary level, are they, or was it just like we all watched Friends, we did it because everyone else was doing it, because I have a distinct memory of a series that involves such greats as “magical geegaws with poorly defined rules that are quickly forgotten despite being able to solve later problems quickly” or “Everyone loves Harry or is a bad guy, or secretly loved Harry all along”

Oh, speaking of, man, if this was an actual well-written book, wouldn’t it have been wild to have Snape’s whole thing be to teach us that sometimes people do good things for the wrong reasons? Instead of naming your fucking child after the guy who ‘protected you’ because he still wanted to bone your mom? “After all this time” “Always.”

While all this could have been explained, we have Quidditch added into the mix instead because 20 pages of the goddamn Puppy Bowl is exactly what I was looking for while I was waiting for JK to move the goddamn ball on literally any of these actual magical concepts.

Harry Potter is a fucking trust fund baby, star quarterback, who grows up to be a cop and marries his high school sweetheart. (Speaking of, why were we shocked that JKR turned out to be a piece of shit when this was and always has been the conclusion of Harry Potter? Why are liberals so fucking into this series that upholds structures like it ain’t no one’s business? It’s a series that opines that those beneath us “Muggles” should be kept in the dark from us) Literally, he finds out he is a wizard and has a dragon-guarded fucking VAULT OF CASH. At 11. It’s such a series for little tyrants, you are special from birth and need do nothing to prove it, here is a letter certifying as such. Oh, not only are you rich and the greatest seeker and have excellent quips, but also your parents were not only rebels, but the best of rebels, and so deeply involved that your parents were killed by the big bad personally, again, because you are so special. His mother’s love literally saves his ass over and over again, because he was SO SPECIAL. He fought Voldemort FROM THE BEGINNING, and WON. It’s literally the most privilege baby fantasy in the world.

“But Doooooooooooc, it’s for chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiildren”

A) Yeah, and you’re 32, you’re making my fucking point about Harry Potter setting an entire generation up for intellectual failure to launch.

B) Okay, and? I can think of a bunch of kids’ books off the top of my head that in no way require specialness to be given by birth so as to roll out the red carpet for master protagonist. The Hunger Games. Watership Down. A Series of Unfortunate Events. The Chronicles of FUCKING NARNIA, about which I have only a small handful of particularly kind things to say. I’ve never read Percy Jackson, but it’s my understanding that despite his being a literal demigod, the attitudes of the supporting cast are allowed to fall between the extremes of “Appreciates Percy” and “naughty or will learn” Harry does nothing to improve himself even after knowing that he is HUNTED BY THE BIG BAD! “I won’t do this because I don’t like Snape”. So There” which, again, if this series were written with the slightest bit of care or know-how, could be a humbling fucking plot point! BUT NO THAT WOULD BE NAUGHTY.

But the real reason I hate Harry Potter so much has everything to do with the fandom surrounding it, and how it intellectually stunted a generation of adults. The promise of Harry Potter was that it was supposed to make a new generation of readers, and so the popularity of them was pushed, and so there was discussion of teaching them in schools, but I tell you fucking what, I know a whole lot more folks who grew up reading Harry Potter that never advanced beyond reading YA, or even just rereading the entire series every year and that’s pretty much them done and dusted.

In the attempt to recapture whatever it was about Harry Potter that attracted children (A lot of it was your peers doing it. I read them all as they came out, and it was literally the equivalent of watching the game so you could talk at the water cooler. That was never going to be recaptured) people, who by this time were likely in their teens, kept getting recommended stuff at the same and same level. No one ever felt pushed to read things that are challenging, to read things that have some of the concepts or themes of Harry Potter but maybe complicate. I know FAR more adults who read adult books that aren’t into Harry Potter, even if they were as children, than the reverse.

But Doc, why is reading only books meant for 14 year olds a problem??? I mean I suppose I can’t convince you that comfort is not the job of literature or of life, it is the job of an easy chair, because Americans especially are decadent as fuck about being comfy cozy all the time and if anything causes them distress or pain it should be immediately avoided. But Maybe I can convince you that you’re fucking up these books for actual ass children who deserve to have their own writing section without adults bringing their fucking asses into it. They deserve their own spaces. There’s a number of YA editors who have talked about the difficult space YA now occupies because since Potter’s blowup, it’s no longer a niche category, but basically “adult easy reads” and so they have been buying books that are more about the tastes of adult buyers than of literal 14 year olds.

Is that not...sad? To anyone else? Honestly, and this is not part of the essay because it’s a broader reaching problem, but CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS NOT FOR US. CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS NOT FOR US. CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS FOR FUCKING CHILDREN. The fucking 40-23 set really needs to get their shit together and grow up a little bit and engage in some fucking adult media, and maybe, if we support what we’re actually looking for FOR ADULTS, it will come to us. No one is saying you can’t read Harry Potter or watch some Cartoon Network show, but like, search your heart and come the fuck on. Engage in something more complex. If not for yourselves, for the kids getting shoved into simplified adult stories. It should not be about us.

ANYWAY, my larger point is that it was Harry Potter, a badly written series about a magical boy who was chosen and magic and also rich and also a favorite of the headmaster and also more clever than most adults and also spoke the same magical snake language as the big bad and was also star quarterback, but at least there was a system in which you could buy a scarf in block colors and feel like you belonged to a team.

(But not a sports team! lol handegg! I’m cool I don’t get into sports! Except Quidditch.)

#TO say nothing of the fact that I haven't been able to wear gold and burgundy together without some dumbass comment for years #despite being a favored color combination #Anonymous #Eight Days 2020 #Holligay Rants and Raves #I didn't even GET to every point I had but it's been over an hour #GOD I HATE THIS FUCKING SERIES SO MUCH #Doc do you hate me for liking it?#oh sweet thing allow me to reassure you: Yes. Absolutely.#also the prose is god-awful #I've taught teenagers with better rpose

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lover-of-trash-and-people · 3 years

Text

shadow and bone rewatch s1e6 while drinking mid-range scotch

I wish I have a face that is as unlined and pretty as Ben Barnes' when I'm 39

Arken you dirty dirty liar

the face Alek is making at his lies that he knows are lies firstly because he knows the art of lying so well and also because he can read people very well

okay Ivan is kind of a bad bitch with his smirk at Arken's lies

alek's eyes narrowing and his little smile when Arken says 'im an entertainer' bitch I love this show

*grabs hand, pulls up sleeve, and discovers Arken's hand is full of marks indicating successful passages through the fold* 'well, that is certainly entertaining' I love this man with all my heart

him screaming is so fucking hot, is that weird for me to say

Nina being the Darkling's spy is quite interesting

Ben giving the Darkling crazy eyes when Arken owns up to his guilt is so cool

also wtf is Arken a fool trying to negotiate with possibly the strongest man in the world

kind of loved the darkness literally eating him

also love Alina learning to use her powers better when she is alone than when she is with anyone else, wish we got to see the cut in this season as per the books, ah can't have everything I guess

the camera pan to Jesper's gun at his side, amazing

god Jessie is literally so beautiful I need to see her bring Alina to the peak of her power so bad

netflix you better renew this series to let the plot run to its completion

HOW THE FUCK DID THEY CAST THE CROWS SO PERFECTLY

INEJ FUCKING TREMBLING JUST THE TINIEST BIT AS SHE BOWS SLIGHTLY TO ALINA SGSHSBSJJSJSSJ MY TWO QUEENS

'And where is my Summoner?' my little Darklina heart ouchie I really wish you hadn't used and manipulated her like this Alek it was incredibly fucked up especially considering you actually caught feelings

'Ivan and I won't fail you' oh Fedyor my baby, my angel, you don't deserve what is coming

Helnik literally recreating Titanic lmao stop this is a joke

I too would jump off the raft if I came to consciousness to see a gorgeous woman with magical powers with her hand on my back

omg but why is ryevost so pretty though

'I know exactly how she felt. The King's soldiers treated me the same way... I'm not myself today.' why must you do this to me, why must you fuel my darklina soulmates agenda idiocy

I don't quite think I have a problem with the Zoya Darkling relationship as much as I have a problem with the line they chose to reveal it to use with.

my drink's over and I don't know if I should have another, considering that it's 7 am

the tenderness with which he looks at Zoya and takes her hand and then when he says 'I shall relax when I have Alina' makes me believe more that the man that is reduced to tears time and again in front of Alina could in fact be the master manipulator I know him to be

god I can't wait for Zoya's character arc

'I speak six languages, it's part of my job' why is Nina literally the fucking coolest

Alina blinding the oprichniki was so hot, I can't wait to see more of her power and her ruthlessness

I know I've said it before but good god is Jessie Mei Li gorgeous

HER LITTLE SMILE AMONGST ALL THE PANIC AS SOON AS SHE SEES MAL, THE AUDACITY OF THIS SHOW TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS WAY

THE SCORE COMING IN AT THE RIGHT MOMENT, THEIR HANDS MEETING, HER SMILE AGAIN DHDHSBSNSNSNSNAN IM IN PAIN

REALLY?! YOU'RE GONNA GO DIRECTLY FROM MALINA TO HELNIK WITH NO CONCERN FOR MY HEART?

I simply cannot get over Calahan's accent lmao it's really funny

'im not afraid of you' he says to the insanely gorgeous girl with magic

HIM HANGING HIS HEAD IN DEFEAT TO INDICATE NINA HAS MADE VALID POINTS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I CAN'T BREATHE

'You're just a man. Like all the others.' she says and then forgets her train of thought looking at him as he strips. god I love this

not sleeping all night and then scotch is not a good idea, I think

'I promise not to ravish you' 'I hate the way you talk' her hand on his chest, his hand gripping hers, my fucking heart feels like it's about to explode

good god these shooting locations and sets are so beautiful

Alina throwing the flask at Mal and Mal going 'OI!' I fucking can't, I guess I am a

simp for childhood friends to lovers, give me more of that banter and childhood friend energy, I am thriving

wow it literally seems like they took book! Mal sl*tshaming book! Alina and made show! Alina sl*tshame show! Mal, hmm, interesting

'They would have split us up!' MAL'S LITTLE SMILE AT THIS, and the 'You wrote me letters?' Mal's nod, the Malina yearning stare, the Malina hug, 'thank you for finding me' 'always. I'll always find you.' NO MALINA YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE MADE ME ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL

I understand they had to split time between my ravkan babies and the crows and that is why there were several aspects that were sort of not reflected on enough but Alina's training at the Little Palace, Alina's cut, Mal's personality, a teensy bit of backstory for the crows, maybe one lockpicking scene from my boy Kaz

random note: we have far too many idols and paintings and pictures and whatnot of Hindu deities in our house apart from the specially designed temple (we are Hindus, so maybe it's not that weird but it's a little weird)

Kaz's cane is a literal star, it's so beautiful my heart wants to explode

'Why would Heleen get the Crow Club?' *literally fucking gets up and walks aways instead of answering the fucking question* I LITERALLY CAN'T BREATHE I'M LOSING MY MIND

'I know that voice' WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MAKE ME FIGHT FOR PLATONIC SHIPS IN FANDOMS

'We won't starve' omg get you someone who packs food for you when you go on the run together hiding from your ex who wants to capture you and use your powers as a weapon against your consent

Mal looking surprised at her summoning sunlight, Alina looking cautiously at him waiting for him to disapprove or run for the hills in fear or smth like that, 'I'm sorry it took me this long to see you... But I see you now' my dumb little shipper trash heart ouch

they really said we're gonna feed you this part asian couple as the protagonists in this show in 2021 and guess what I'm eating it's really tasty I'm very satisfied as a south asian

NINA'S LITTLE SMILE WHEN MATTHIAS WAKES UP WITH HIS ARM AROUND HER

'I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me' 👀👀👀 BITCH SAID IMMA SPILL THE TEA AND THEN SHE DID

it's 8 am and guess what I'm getting another drink my parents have c*vid and are in govt qu*r*ntine centres there is nobody to supervise or stop me

I too say 'Why do you have to say things like that?' to my pretty crush when she flirts with me

Nina smiling at Matthias bragging about his conservative ways is my aesthetic

'No, it's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall and yet, oh, there you stand.' MY FUCKING QUEEN

Matthias laughing uncontrollably at Nina saying something which isn't even that funny is a whole ass vibe

Kaz Brekker saying 'The Black General' ooh fuck yeah

YESSSS STEP OUT OF THAT CARRIAGE ALL SEXY BLACK GENERAL

isn't alcohol supposed to like kill germs? well, the amount in my system definitely will

I love my crows so much (always but this time particularly for setting that alarm in the stolen carriage)

ooh Polina recognising Inej by the knife yesss let's go writers

this Ivan Jesper showdown is all I needed from life and yet did not know about

Ivan taking off his cloak was, um, sexier than I wanted it to be

I just realised how thirsty I am going to sound in this post

'Has no one told you that keftas are Fabrikator-made and resistant to bullets, hmm?' 'Oh, I do love a challenge' LITERALLY EVERYTHING

im sorry to be pointing out flaws in a perfect show and adaptation but the line delivery on 'You robbed me of my brother, now I'll rob you of your life' from Polina was kind of weak

'You're a-' *gets knocked out with the back of a gun* LMAO we love the hints

got excited at the prospect of kaz v. zoya until I realised they will not be letting the opportunity of kaz v. darkling pass up

my goodness is Amita Suman a splendid actress

I AM NOT KIDDING WHEN I TELL YOU I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW DARKLES EMERGE OUT OF THE SHADOWS IN FRONT OF MY BABY BOY KAZ

THERE BEING ACTUAL FEAR OR ATLEAST DOUBT ON KAZ'S FACE, THE LITTLE BACK STEPS AS

THE DARKLING WALKS TOWARDS HIM, AAAAH I CAN'T

THE DARKLING STOPPING AT KAZ SAYING 'SHE FLED ON HER OWN' AND THE HINT OF TEARS THAT WE SEE IN HIS EYES

'IT WAS PRETTY CLEAR SHE WASN'T INTERESTED IN BEING A CAPTIVE ANYMORE' YOU TELL HIM, KING

*ACTUAL FUCKING TEARS IN THE DARKLING'S EYES AS THE SHADOWS APPROACH*

NOT ME YOWLING LIKE A HYENA THAT THIS CHILD OUTSMARTED THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN EXISTENCE WITH A FAKE MAGIC TRICK

'Are you sure you added enough cloves?' literally warranting a wide ass smile from my queen Alina making my entire fucking day

for some reason, no matter how much I push it from my mind, Ben Barnes dressed up as the Darkling, dancing to 'push it' keeps coming to mind, it's absolutely ridiculous

I got somehow distracted with interviews but good things came out of that as it gave my body the time for the booze to kick in

and I would just like to say that I love Leigh for all she has given me

Alina is so fucking compassionate, I have no much love for her. I can feel her guilt and her sorrow as Mal talks of Mikhail and Dubrov

don't particularly like how the stag plotline is woven in, could have been executed better

'You're afraid you might start to like me?' *flaps furs like a bird's wings in frustration*

'I DO like you' my fucking heart you idiots

the sexual tension is so palpable and the moment is so intimate I simply cannot

OMG SHE FUCKING FELL

that moment where you think he might let her fall despite having read the books and he doesn't and he tells her his name I- <3

YOU DARE TRANSITION FROM A HELNIK SCENE TO A KANEJ SCENE YOU REALLY HAVE NO MERCY FOR MY HEART HUH

people have talked about this endlessly but Freddie's little jaw tic after he says Inej because Inej is wounded and he can't physically bring himself to help her I fucking cannot

THE MUSIC PICKING UP AS KAZ LOOKS TO THE DARKLING'S CARRIAGE I CAN'T WITH THIS SHOW ANYMORE

and now for one of my favorite scenes in television and cinematic history, David Kostyk throwing a book at Jesper Fahey without even knowing who he is merely because he opens the door of his carriage and says hello to him before getting knocked out by Kaz Brekker while trying to run away

Immediately followed by another, the scene with David Kostyk raising his finger to put forward his point in front of the Darkling and the Darkling trying to let him know he doesn't have to before obliging is one of my favourite scenes in the world

also sir please stop being devastatingly attractive in your glorious appearance with your face and your black kefta and cloak because all that comes to mind is Ayesha Erotica's Emo Boy and I'm afraid that is terribly inappropriate.

'No, you look great.' *literally looks down from embarrassment or blushing* MALINA RIGHTS?

THE LOOK ON THE DARKLING'S FACE BEFORE HE SAYS 'NO ORDINARY TRACKER, NO ORDINARY GIRL' BITCH IM OUT OF BREATH

'ORPHANS OF KERAMZIN, REUNITED.' 'ADORABLE.' HE FUCKING SNEERED IRL I FUCKING CANNOT

GOD IT'S SO GOOD

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harmoni-me · 3 years

Note

Hello! I’m not sure if your requests are still open but, if they are here you go! I wanted to ask if you could write me a request of Nagito Komaeda x a reader who is the ultimate Chess Master? I kinda wanted to imagine him falling in love or already dating his S/O who plays chess as a professional and is more on the kinder side when it comes to him. Good luck! 💖

Ooo! This is such a unique concept, and I absolutely love it! Writing it was an absolute joy! Thank you so much for the amazing request <3

Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Chess Master Reader!

The ultimate nurse, the ultimate swords-woman, the ultimate photographer…everyone in this class seemed to posses such interesting talents. It made you feel quite jealous, in some sort of way.

Now, of course you never thought of your talent as boring, useless, or unnecessary in the slightest! After all, you were the Ultimate Chess Master. You believed that everyone should try chess at least once before inflicting their nasty opinions on the strategic game. Unfortunately, that was already too late when it came to…basically your entire school life.

In Elementary, you would ask the kids on the playground to play a quick game of speed chess, because you thought it was a fun way to spend time with friends! But all you got in return were child-built insults, saying that chess was stupid and boring. It’s quite ridiculous to admit, but those comments still float around your mind sometimes. Kids were harsh, still are…

In Middle School, you had a few close friends, and when you asked one of them to try playing a game of chess with you, all they did was look at you weirdly, a look that only seemed to scream “uh, are you serious?”. This was when you started to question your liking for chess. Was it that weird? Am I the only one my age that thinks that chess is actually a fun game?

Now, you were sitting in class at Hope’s Peak Academy, a school full of the elite, yet…

This was the first time you felt truly, whole-heartily ashamed about your love for the game of chess.

“Are you kidding me? Chess? You got into this school for an old-people game like CHESS!? Pfft-!” A girl in twin blonde pony tails and an orange kimono let out a shrill of laughter.

“An…old people game….?” You muttered to yourself, steadily becoming a little closed off from the rest of the class.

You’re love for chess was parallel to how you played, which was almost unbeatable on a professional level, yet…

Why were these comments crushing your heart? Why did it make your love for the game waver?

Class continued like normal, just a little lecture to start off the rest of our high school lives. You honestly weren’t paying attention, your focus more attentive to your little chess notebook, filing it with strategies you wanted to try against high-level computer AI.

Though, it would be nice to have even a complete beginner to play with every once and awhile, though, you might be asking for too much.

Thump

Great, more harassment.

You turned around slightly in your seat, and looked down at the ground it see a crumpled piece of notebook paper that had hit you in the back. You picked it up, and looked around to try and figure out a potential culprit, but it seemed as if everyone was acting normal. No dice, then.

Unfolding the messy ball of paper as quietly as possible, you read what seemed to be words written on the inside.

Meet me in the library today after school, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to be seen with trash like me

The wording on the letter was…strange, but that didn’t stop you from feeling a tiny firework of joy in your heart. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel more nervous than joyous due to how the letter was written. It was surely vague, but it really seemed like the writer as quite the low self esteem.

You were suspicious, but honestly, what could go wrong? It had to be someone from the class that you were just introduced to, so at least it’s not like a blind date sort of thing…

The more you thought about it, the more it actually seemed like a blind date. Nice.

Time seemed to move incredibly slow for the whole rest of the school day, but eventually, the bell had rung, and you were out the door in a heartbeat.

After a little while of asking for directions to the school library, you finally reached your desired location: An absolutely humongous cavern of probably any book one could think of.

Only a couple of students were residing in this literal book mansion, and none of which you recognized.

“I guess they’re not here yet…” You mumbled, sitting yourself by a large, lit fireplace. As the warmth from the flames licked your skin, steadily causing you to naturally relax all of the tensed muscles that were stuck to your bones.

You pulled out your phone, and automatically started a game of online chess with a random opponent. The game was done in a mere ten minutes. The other player was no doubt new to the game, but that’s ok, you were there once too.

You suddenly heard a subtle clunk next to you, making your gaze wander to that direction. It was that boy from your class, the lucky boy. You remember him clearly because you thought his hair resembled a fluffy cloud. The two of you made eye contact, his foggy green eyes squinting a bit when he smiled at you, warming your heart a smidge.

“Y/N L/N, correct? I hope you don’t mind my presence, though it’s ok if you do, I would never blame you on something that’s not your fault.” The thin male crouched down to take a seat on the floor with you, sitting cross-legged.

“Yep, that’s me…and I actually kind of appreciate the meeting, honestly. Even if you just came for simple company, I think that’s very nice of you, especially since everyone in the class already thinks my talent is boring and all…Nagito Komaeda, right? I’m happy to meet you.” You shot a warm smile to the boy, causing him to reciprocate.

“You’re too kind to such untalented scum like myself, all I have is the Devil’s luck, after all! I can’t even control any of it! So I’m glad someone like me can be used as a stepping stone for you to be a beacon of hope!” Nagito chuckled, humored by his own self loathing.

You flipped your whole body to face the living incarnate of a four-leaf clover, “Well, um, on a personal note, I don’t think you’re scum. At all. I think your talent is anything but boring…I also think you’re…quite kind, for hanging out with someone like myself.” Fiddling with your uniform sleeves in nervousness. You just want him to feel better about himself.

The boy went quiet, his smile dwindling from your comment. Was he not used to compliments?

After a few moments in silence, Nagito gazed into your eyes, a new type of smile prettily stitched onto his features. It was almost like this expression was more…vulnerable, uncovering itself under layers upon layers of facades. His face almost made you breath out a sigh of relief at how comforting and relieving his genuine expression was.

“I would like to play with you. I-If you would let me, of course.” Nagito gestured his hands downwards to the chess set he had placed onto the ground since the very beginning. And how did you not notice that? It may or may not be the fact that the boy in front of you seemed to be way more intriguing.

You’re eyes widened as sudden happiness started to flow through every vein within your body. The excitement washed over your soul, rejuvenating it’s prior state of melancholy dreariness. Was…he was serious, right?

“Really…?” Was all that you managed to squeak, causing the lucky student to tilt his head in wonder.

“Hm? Well, of course…I don’t really know who else I would be aski-“

“C-Can we please play speed chess!?” You sputtered, the passion and the fireplace flames reflecting off of your eyes to reveal in an enticing glow.

“Speed Chess?” Questioned the frizzy-haired boy, though he did seem quite interested at your sudden burst of energy.

“Yeah! It’s also commonly referred to as Blitz Chess, and it’s like chess, but you have a very short amount of time to make your moves! It’s super duper fun, and if you want even more fun, then we could also play Bullet Chess! It’s even faster, and a game only takes roughly three minutes if you…keep up…the…pace…” Your words started to get quieter and more mumbled. God, you totally forgot the two of you were in a library, how embarrassing….

A hearty laugh spilled out of Nagito’s mouth, the corners of his lips turning upward to the ceiling. You looked down in pathetic nature. That was totally something to laugh at…

“Though I would consider myself a newbie when it come to chess, speed chess sounds lovely.” Nagito smiled, his pointer finger playing and twirling around the queen piece’s crown.

“Ah, a-alright, well, lets get started, shall we?” You stuttered, with joy obviously evident within your voice.

. . .

Unsurprising to you, you had won all three games of speed chess against Nagito, though, it was surprising how close each game was. the more you thought about it, the more you realized his luck most likely aids him whenever he plays. Definitely one of the most interesting opponents you’ve been up against, whether it would be for casual online play, or in-person tournaments.

“Ah, bummer, I guess someone as useless as me shouldn’t even try to come close to beating you!” The boy ruffled his cloud-like locks, laughing at his loss.

“Hey! You had me worried for a few turns there, you were no pushover at all, Nagito!” You proclaimed, frustrated on why he would still think that, even thought the game results were all obviously pretty close.

“Also, please don’t say that your useless…it makes me really sad, because it’s not true at all.” You looked up at him with eyes that reflected something that had never burned so brightly before, and Nagito noticed.

Those eyes, previously clouded from the despair given from others, were now shining with a glimmering hope…and he drew that out from you…by simply playing a mere few games of chess.

For a moment, and only for a moment, he believed your words. Maybe he wasn’t so useless, he helped you find your smile and joy, right? Maybe…maybe…

“Oh yeah!” You shot up, causing Nagito to snap out of his thoughtful daze. You stuck your hand out to him, waiting for reciprocation.

“A handshake, to wish a good game among equals.” You encouraged the boy, wanting for him to fully indulge into what it was like to play the game in a professional, yet somewhat casual setting.

The boy looked at your hand, observing everything. Your nails, your fingertips, your knuckles, all the way down to your wrist. Equals, huh…

Nagito then slowly reached out to your hand, grasping onto it gently, yet it felt like it was the most comfortable fit he could’ve imagined. He wanted the warmth from your soft skin to seep into his cold hands, wanting that heat to slowly fill the rest of his frozen body, all the way up to his thawing heart. Though he didn’t linger any more on the handshake than he needed to, not wanting to make it uncomfortable for you.

But god, did he want to hold on forever.

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