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stories4thepack · 6 months

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The vampire bites the Physic

Wednesday Addams x vampire!reader

(Requested)

Warnings: blood, injury, stabbing (yeah!)

“No!”

You scream, the power of your words scratching the back of your throat like it were the dagger thrusted into Wednesday.

you can smell the blood before you see it

Crackstone twists the blade with a grin. You can hear the sickening tear of Wednesday’s flesh. Your want to run to her side, protect your girlfriend. Yet, the way your mouth waters at the scarlet, stained, school-shirt reveals how much of a danger you are right now.

Laurel Gates strides over to you, a silver dagger in her hand. You know she is going to kill you, plunge it into your heart while wearing that cruel, psychotic smirk.

“Stop,”

Crackstone hisses, his semi-rotten voice box doing little to aid his speech

“Let the leach finish of Goody Addams. “

The cuffs around your wrists are suddenly released, causing you to fall onto your knees. As well as smelling Wednesday’s, you feel your own blood flowing down the side of your head. A result of the beating you had suffered. You hear Wednesday slip to the floor, amazed she hadn’t yet screamed out.

“Bye Bye Wednesday.”

Laurel giggles, tailing Crackstone out of the Crypt. You crawl to the goths side, ignoring the way your chest burns with hunger. When you reach her, you lean against the pillar, exhausted by the pain from your own attack and the hunger flowing through your veins.

“Your going to be alright Wednesday.”

“Is your vampiric Vision impaired? I’m dying!”

You attempt to chuckle but the hunger that is making your vision scarlet and tightening your throat, makes the sound come out as more of a hiss. You’ve learnt to push the hunger down, and continue on with the day, but with more and more of Wednesdays blood flowing from the wound, it becomes increasingly difficult.

“I should put pressure on it, right?”

You manage to force out of your mouth, the words strangled but hopefully understandable. Wednesday doesn’t say anything.

You quickly crawl to your knees, placing your hands over the wound and pushing down hard. The goths face scrunches up in momentary pain. You smile, trying to help as much as you can

but then you look down.

Her blood flows over your fingers, decorating your skin a dark, red. You breath catches in your burning chest, your eyes fading into a dark, deep scarlet. You can not hear Wednesday speaking to you, trapped in your own hungry thoughts, before her hand wraps weakly around yours.

“I can read your face as if you were one of my murder novels, I find your intentions humorous.”

She mumbles, a tiny smile on her face, which is somehow growing paler than it usually is. You look back to the wound, your fingers have unintentionally curved slightly into it.

“Proceed Y/L/N.”

Wednesday mutters, your head snapping towards her face once more. You want to argue, to resist but the single, weak, curt nod she gives you is enough to make your shove away any form of doubt.

You carefully lean forward, your heart flutters as Wednesday lifts her head slightly, allowing you full access to her throat. You brush her messy hair away, unable to fully understand what you are doing. That is, until your lips press against her cool skin. You can feel her heart beat slowing with every second and suddenly, you know what you need to do.

You pull away, ignoring the confused look on Wednesdays face at your action. You place both hands on the Handel of the blade, forcing back your hunger as much as possible.

“This is going to hurt.”

You say, before yanking the dagger out of her body. You hear her hiss, see her eyes close and perhaps imagine a tear hiding beneath her eye lid. You bring your wrist to your mouth, tearing your fangs hastily into it before bringing it over her wound.

You allow a few drops of your blood to fall into hers before bringing your wrist up to her mouth.

“Are you going to turn me.”

You shake your head, you would need to drain her completely for that, and have a few candles and a spell book around. Wednesday manages to open her mouth slightly, enough to allow the blood from your own bite to fall into her mouth. You pull away, crouching beside her as her heart slows to a stop-

Suddenly she sits up, gasping for air. She looks at the palm of her hand before feeling her forehead, searching for the wounds your blood has now healed.

“Your a vampire, how is this possible?”

“The curse of being awesome Wednesday.”

You mutter, lying back against the pillar as Wednesday runs out, going to save Nevermore

———————————————————————

“You alright Wednesday?” You ask, watching as she paces around in her empty side of the room. Her stuff is still gone and her bed has been made with plain white sheets, nothing smells like her anymore, it feels so unfamiliar. She continues to pace…

“Wednesday, Crackstone is gone! Laurel is dead! What has gotten your pigtails in a twist?”

She pauses briefly to throw a sharp glare at you before continuing her pacing. You sigh, realising that calling her name again was useless. So you stand up, walk over to her and place both your hands firmly on her shoulders

“What are you doing Y/n?”

She demands, turning slowly with a scowl on her face. She is met with one of your cocky grins.

“Come one Wednesday! What is bothering you?”

Your voice bounces with playfulness, an attempt at calming the obviously adrenaline rushed girl. Wednesday pauses and you can see the way her jaw tightens as she decides whether to tell you the truth

“Y/n”

She finally says, looking up slightly to meet your bright eyes. There was something missing, she noticing, realising that she disliked the lack of burning, scarlet hunger. There was something about that side of you, a killer, someone who could match how dangerous she herself was, that she found incredibly beautiful

“Last night, at the Crypt-“

“If your gonna ask how I healed you, I honestly have no idea myself. Somewhere down the line I had a wizard for a great, great grandfather or something.”

Wednesday waits until you are finished, deciding the best way to ask is directly (as usual)

“Would you have bitten me.”

It sounds more like a statement but the words are enough to make you freeze. You hate the way your eyes snap to her throat, and you know for certain that she saw the short action.

“Is my blood that tempting for you?”

She asks, stepping closer, deep eyes never leaving yours. You swallow nervously, your hands feeling suddenly very sweaty.

“Yeah, you are.”

Another step, her head tilts upward for you. Instinctively, you brush her pigtail over her shoulder, finger carefully trailing her jugular. Wednesday watches as your glowing eyes darken into that scarlet and she adores the way they look into her own.

“Sorry, I should have my sunglasses o-“

She cuts you off by pressing her lips to your, the gentleness of the action surprises you but soon you are kissing back, hand grasping her throat as if it were a life line.

You pull her by her shoulder, guiding her over to her bed, making her sit down on the edge of it. You decide to sit behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I assume you are going to bite then?”

She questions, her usually monotone voice sounder so much sweeter now. Your lips press against her cool skin, feeling the light shiver that ripples through her body at your touch. You can both hear and feel her heart beating and feel the warmth of her blood. It is all too tempting

You bite down, fangs breaking through the soft skin as if it were nothing. You feel Wednesday stiffen and lean backwards into you as you begin to drink. Her blood the most incredible you had ever tasted. Your hand grasps the other side of her head, tilting her further to the side to give you better access. No other blood would compare to this, no one’s and nothings.

When you finally tear your head from her throat, she turns around, kissing you again and no doubt tasting her blood on your lips.

You fall back against her bed, head sinking into her pillow. Your surprised, nearly shocked when Wednesday lies beside you, your hands touching each other lightly.

“We are going to do this again? Right?”

She doesn’t hesitate with her answer, and moves her head a centimetre to look into those scarlet eyes once more

“Yes, Mon Cher, we will”

#Wednesday x vampire #jenna ortega #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #enid sinclair #fanfiction #wednesday addams #vampire #requests #Vampire Wednesday #vampire bites

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leavesdriftinginthewind · 1 year

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I think what pisses me off most about the Wednesday fandom is that so many are intentionally ignoring the fact that Tyler is MEANT to be a tragic character because he is a Hyde. We basically have it beaten over our heads that Hydes are the outcasts of outcasts, deemed too difficult to help, and therefore abandoned and left to their own devices, basically giving them no way to NOT be tortured into being someone’s slave or ultimately having something tragic or awful happen to them that forces out their Hyde and leaving them to become a monster and/or get killed.

So many people blame Tyler for every bad thing that happened in this first season when he LITERALLY had no option but to do exactly as Laurel wished. He was TOLD to go murder the people he murdered, he was TOLD to get Wednesday to trust him, he was TOLD to go after Eugene, he had no CHOICE but to obey, it’s literally in the show’s lore. And we are both told AND shown what lengths Laurel went to to literally torture this teenage boy into becoming a monster that was FORCED to obey her. Not only that, but all that “mama” talk and physical touch is gag-worthy. SHE is the true monster who wanted everyone dead, and she ruined that boy’s life to try and get what she wanted. And the show INTENTIONALLY shows AND tells you all that.

We are SHOWN how Tyler was chained, beaten, poisoned to bring the Hyde out, to become Laurel’s perfect slave. And still so many see HIM as the “true villain,” stating that if he was truly “good” he never would’ve done all he did. Meanwhile the lore has TOLD you, Hydes have no choice. But WAY too many disregard this plot point entirely simply because they see it as something to cling to for their preferred ship to happen. That’s infuriating to me, truly. Not only from a standpoint of really loving Tyler as a character, but also from a standpoint of it being apparent to ME of where the story is going, and knowing that so much of the fandom is gonna be pissed off about it because it’s Tyler-centric.

We are given so much information about “Hydes have been banned from Nevermore for 30 years,” “Faulkner was studying Hydes but he died before he could finish his research,” “nobody knows for sure if, once unlocked, Hydes are only monsters or if the person they were is still in there.” Between all this within the narrative itself and Hunter talking about how he’s excited to explore the duality of the Real Tyler versus the Hyde next season, I think it’s obvious that Wednesday and Tyler are basically going to get to the bottom of this “are Hydes all 100% bad and dangerous” problem themselves, and the result of their research will probably get Hydes accepted back into Nevermore.

Wednesday already knows how unjust the whole system is, she mentions it FREQUENTLY in the first season. Once she gets past feeling betrayed by what happened in season one, it’s likely going to weigh on her that someone she cared about deeply enough to bring her walls down for, to actually seek out to KISS, was so hurt by this system that he ended up doing all he did. And Tyler is inevitably returning, the writers have talked about how we’re going to learn more about Tyler and explore his true feelings for Wednesday. They’ll be brought back together, no doubt. And thus, the deep dive on Hydes will probably begin.

I don’t care what you ship, I don’t even care if you really LIKE Tyler as a character, but I DO care that so many have made him out to be a pure villain simply because that suits their own personal narrative better, and makes them feel like it’s more likely their preferred ship will win the “war.” Like, try and WATCH a show, actually WATCH it, and not simply cling to bits and pieces that suit the storyline you’ve made up in your head. You’re SUPPOSED to hate LAUREL, you’re supposed to, at the very least, wonder if the Real Tyler is still in there, if he can be helped, and you are SUPPOSED to feel some pity for the boy who was forced into becoming an enslaved monster.

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thelightsandtheroses · 1 month

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4. lovesick

Let's Get Lost Chapter 4 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place. However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster … Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, references to past drug addiction, references to alcohol, historic argument referenced, one passing reference to body insecurity, reader is unnamed with no physical desctipton but wears a necklace, Frankie and reader are parents, yearning? Word Count: 3350 Notes: Thank you for the lovely feedback so far - it's meant so much to me and I hope you enjoy this update. I am so excited to share this chapter with you! The chapter title is from Laurel's song lovesick.

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The nearby town is awake and full of life this morning. Dappled light warms your skin as you walk through the main street with the rest of your group. You can smell the salt air of the sea in the distance, interspersed with enticing smells of food as you walk past a bustling restaurant.

You could stay here forever.

Clara’s ahead of you, glued to Santiago and giggling happily as she animatedly tells him about everything she wants to do today. It sounds hectic, involving the beach, the summer club, and a truly incredible amount of ice-cream.

Next to you, Frankie has a soft smile on his face as you catch him looking at your daughter. He seems more relaxed at last. There’s a lightness to him again, his smile reaches his eyes and there’s warmth in his face again. You missed that.

You missed him. You miss him.

Living a life agonising over what could have been is wrong. You made the right decision to leave Frankie at the time. You know that.

You and Clara deserved better than the life that he was promising you both at that moment. Clara was, she is, the priority and quite simply, you didn’t want your child to grow up around active addiction. That’s not a bad thing. Frankie feels the same, he’s told you.

Frankie’s changed now though. Your Frankie’s back and that’s a complication you didn’t expect.

You’re happy for him. He’s lost that haunted look in his eyes; the shadows are lighter on his face. It’s even good to see him in those ridiculous patterned holiday shirts, to notice his hair is just a little longer and the curls are peeking through again and look clean and healthy. He’s not been wearing his hat on holiday and there’s something about seeing his hair like this that makes you want to run your hands through it.

You cannot ruin Benny and Lia’s wedding though. You can suppress this.

You have to.

You’re so close to Frankie right now though.

It happens without thought. You’re not sure who initiates it , whether it’s you or Frankie, but somehow as your arms unconsciously move with the stride you take, your fingers have brushed his. Then they’re entwined. Gently, barely touching really, but linked all the same.

It feels electric.

It feels dangerous.

What are you playing at? Is this wrong? Is it cruel to Frankie? Or you? And what about your daughter? She needs consistency, she needs structure. Not the messed up will they, won’t they? you and her Frankie could develop into.

This feels natural though. It reminds of you of how things used to be. Hand in hand walking down the city streets after dinner, so incontrovertibly in love with him. Lia used to joke you were couple goals, until you weren’t.

The memories you’ve tried to avoid since your breakup, to suppress so that the heartbreak of losing him wasn’t so sharp, are flooding back. It’s too much, it’s too hard.

It’s too messy.

You need the wall back up. You need the pillow barrier to better fight these thoughts back, to fight these stupid tiny gestures.

It’s harmless though, right?

You’re holding hands, you’re hardly pressed against the wall in a sweaty mess. So it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Santi looks back and he meets your eyes. You watch him look down fleetingly and then back at you. No one else would notice it, you’re not even sure Frankie does. You do though. You see how his face changes, the disappointment, something unreadable there too. He shakes his head just slightly.

It’s enough for you to withdraw, to walk towards Clara, making a fuss of her instead.

This is meant to be a family holiday for her, it’s meant to be about Benny and Lia’s wedding.

You can’t do this.

As the steam from the shower dissipates, you notice your reflection looks just a little healthier; a little less weary. While your mind has been running away with you, you realise that the holiday itself might be helping.

You haven’t thought about checking your work emails in days, you haven’t thought about that project or any of it. You feel a little more like yourself again which probably makes sense because you’re at the halfway point now. It always feels like you just start to enjoy and relax in your breaks as the end looms closer.

You place your damp towel back on the radiator and tug at the waistband of your loose trousers one final time. You take a deep breath, applying the finishing touches to freshening up your appearance by liberally spritzing your perfume on your neck and wrists. The warmth of the cardamom scent immediately soothes you further.

You move to put your necklace back on. It’s one you wear every day, you’re not sure how it started but you feel naked without it now. You can’t seem to get the clasp on. The more you try, the more your fingers feel clunky and sweaty and panic rises in your stomach.

You need this necklace to be able to go to lunch, you irrationally tell yourself, adding more unwanted pressure, making your fingers even more slippery.

“Crap,” you exclaim as you almost drop the necklace down the sink.

“Everything okay?” You hear Frankie ask, his soft voice a balm on your panic.

“Uh, hey Frankie, can you help me for a second?”

“Sure, sure. Are you um, are you decent?”

“Yeah, yes, um …” It hadn’t occurred to you that it might have sounded like you weren’t and for a second you try and think about all the scenarios where it might have been something else.

Frankie opens the bathroom door and closes it behind him gently. “Everything okay? You look alright?”

“I can’t get my necklace and I almost dropped it down the sink and - my hands are all sweaty?”

“It’s no problem.”

You hand him the jewellery quickly and he smiles. “You wear this every day, don’t you? I think you were wearing it when we met.”

“I would have been.”

”It’s pretty.”

“Thanks.”

“Can you turn around?”

You oblige, shifting so that Frankie can easily place the necklace around your neck.

“There,” he says after a second.

“Thanks.”

You turn around so you’re facing him. He’s already ready for your late lunch and you can see he’s caught the sun just a little this morning. The guys had been zip-lining earlier after your breakfast in the town - Benny’s idea for a more inclusive, sober, stag event. All of you had already been diving earlier in the week - you love being in the water, it had been like coming home.

Right now, it feels like that moment when you first start a dive though. That momentary pause of doubt as you rely on the oxygen tank, as you sink down deeper into the water’s secrets. It’s exhilarating and terrifying.

You feel like that here with Frankie now.

You move closer to him, taking in the woody scent of his cologne, the slight hint of coconut sunscreen on his arms. He’s here, he’s real.

You’ve missed him.

Your lips are on his without thinking. It’s a move so familiar that it’s pure instinct. You loop your arms around his neck, bringing him ever closer to you so you can feel his torso pressing against you.

He responds, hands in your hair, moving you against the wall as he kisses you deeply.

The two of you don’t need words. You never did.

His hand skims your face, moves down your neck towards your waist as he traces the contours of your body, rests his hands on the edge of your shorts, breathes heavily onto your neck before returning to your lips.

You can feel how he wants you. You can feel the anticipation building in your stomach. You need him, you realises as you trace your fingers on the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning it and feeling the heat of his skin, noticing the freckles coming out with all the sunshine here. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lips feel against yours and his hands and you need him to move away from your waistband, beyond your cotton underwear to a point of no return.

This kiss already obliterates that barrier though, right?

His hands finally start to move down -

“Mummy,” your daughter calls and you immediately pull away from Frankie.

He looks at you, breathing raggedly.

“I’ll uh - I’ll go and check on her.”

“Yeah, I just, I just need a minute,” Frankie says in a low voice, his cheeks flushed.

“Right, yes, of course.”

“Mummy? Daddy?”

“Just coming,” you say, rolling your eyes at Frankie’s smirk and the slight shake of his head there. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Not quite,” you whisper teasingly.

“Well,” Frankie says, leaning in close again.

“MUMMY!”

“Dammit, I can tell you she’s definitely spent too much with Will. Fuck me,,” Frankie mutters. You’re not sure entirely what he means by referring to Will at that moment, but you’re too busy trying to quickly regain your composure, to get to your daughter. It’s something you can store to muse on later.

Reality calls.

The sound of the whirlpool covers the dull tones of discussion from others in the spa area. You take a sip of your tea, leaning back and shutting your eyes.

“So this is nice,” Lia says, the smile evident in the tone of her voice. “I feel like I’m finally relaxing a bit.”

“Good, you should.” How are you doing with all the prep and you - you’re marrying Benny!”

“I know, it’s … I don’t even know what to say. I love him. That’s it - I love him and I want this. I am so ready for this.” Lia smiles happily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. “It’s going to be great.”

“I’m so happy for you both, ‘m happy something so good came out of the last year or so.”

“Are you and Frankie - are you two okay still?” There’s caution in her voice. The anxious part of you wonders if perhaps it’s because she’s afraid you’ll ruin her wedding, cause a scene like you did at Will’s wedding. Guilt pools in your stomach because you shouldn’t make your friend feel like this.

You’re desperate to tell her.

I kissed him. It’s on the tip of your tongue, you can feel the words forming.

You want to tell her.

It was a damn good kiss after all.

Something stops you though.

“We’re good,” you say finally. “We’re friends again and we both want the best for Clara. That’s all that matters, right?”

“Yeah. I’m actually really proud of you both. This is pretty damn mature. I’m glad you’re not, I don’t know, just messing each other around. I know it was hard, I know the breakup and everything that happened - you’ve been really strong and I am proud of you.”

On any other day, her words would fill you with pride. Today though, guilt spreads through your body instead, searing heat of anxiety with it.

“So, ”

Your name is called as the massage therapist walks into the spa.

“Later,” you say to Lia apologetically before following the stranger out of the main spa, grateful for her interruption.

Massages are strange. They’re supposed to be relaxing but you find it hard to turn off your brain, the hints of anxiety about the parts of your body you’re less than comfortable with, whether or not you’re being judged and the underlying worry of what if you fall asleep? What if you snore?

This is a surprisingly relaxing experience though - your masseuse has checked her pressure, ensured you’re comfortable and you’re starting to relax a little, to lose a little of that tension you were holding. Soft piano music plays and you shut your eyes, trying to turn off your thoughts a little.

“So are you the bride? It’s a big wedding party, isn’t it?”

“No, my friend Lia is. I’m one of the bridesmaids.”

“That’s nice.”

“They met because of me though. Well, me and my ex.” You have no idea why you’re saying this but surely there’s a privacy code, right? You can’t tell Lia, or Sophia, or anyone. So why not a stranger?

“That’s nice.”

“It was … wasn’t the best scenario.”

“Oh.” The masseuse pays attention to a knot in your neck, releasing some of the waves of tension you’ve felt recently. Maybe that’s what makes you continue.

“We had an awful break up. At our friend’s wedding, who is in fact the brother of the groom. I mean awful too and public.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yep, talk about drama. And I think - no, no, I definitely did. I just kissed my ex today, like a proper in the movies, perfect cinematic kiss. That’s one thing, but I think I might still be in love with him. I’m going to ruin Lia’s wedding too, aren’t I?”

The masseuse pauses, you feel her lift her hands above your body.

“I’m going to give you a free face mask with this. I think - I think you need it.”

Eighteen Months Ago - Will’s Wedding, Florida You’ve been pretending all evening. You have become so skilled at pretending, you think you could give Meryl Streep a run for her money. It’s exhausting though. You’re exhausted. Next to you, Sophia is humming as she opens her lip gloss and tops up her makeup. She’s changed into a different dress for the evening; less dramatic and easier to dance in. She looks beautiful, there’s a warm smile on her face, her complexion is glowing and she looks serene. Part of you hates her for that. “You look great,” Sophia says as she catches you frowning at your own reflection. “I’m so glad you and Frankie are here. the way Will is with him and Santi, they’re as much his brothers as Benny. And after Tom -” “Yeah.” “It was nice that Molly came, right? I think Tom would have liked that.” “Definitely,” you say, even though from how Frankie used to talk about the divorce with Tom and Molly you are not so sure Tom is looking down grinning right now. Tom didn’t make it back though and Frankie barely did. You still don’t know much about what happened, Sophia doesn’t seem to either. The men don’t talk about it at all. You’ve lost your Frankie though. He didn’t need to die to not come back. It just means that no one knows you’re in mourning. You keep hanging on, you keep hoping. You’re sure there’s something you could do better to help get him back. “How’s Clara doing?” Sophia asks. “Great.” She hasn’t slept in weeks, maybe months. Sleep itself is a foreign concept now and no matter what you read, no matter what you try, your daughter just cannot sleep through a night. “And you and Frankie? Are you guys next - should I, uh, aim the bouquet towards you?” You laugh lightly, swallow the bitter taste in your throat and the words you can’t say. “Sure. Shall we head out?” You’re pretty sure Frankie is using again.

Now

You pull yourself out of the memories, not wanting to go any further into that night.

You remember the aftermath all too well though. The DJ was playing Murder on the Dancefloor and the irony of it still makes you almost laugh. Your relationship died on that dance floor to a fitting song.

Flashes come back to you against your will as you try and focus on the spa, on the now.

“I don’t think we can do this anymore. I love you, Frankie. God, I love you, but we can’t.” Frankie’s look of betrayal filtering through the residual high. The heaviness that here at Will’s wedding you’ve suddenly voiced the thoughts that have consumed you for weeks. Liquid courage and the image of Sophia’s face, so full of a hope you can’t imagine anymore, guided you to this moment. “Here, really? You’re just giving up on me?” “Tell me you’re sober, Frankie, swear it.” “Don’t do this here.” “We can’t do this anymore. We can’t. It’s not - I’m done, I can’t, Frankie, I can’t.” Your voice is panicked, rising. Echoed shouts, the feel of stares, so many stares. Music going quiet. Santi and Benny guiding you both away from everybody else. Tears. Yours. His. An ending. It’s over. You can’t come back from this.

You blink back tears. It was a bad break up and it would have been so much easier if you’d ever hated Frankie, if he’d ever hated you. Breaking up because you love someone but it’s not enough is a pain you hope your daughter never has to experience.

He’s different now though.

You’re different.

It would be different, wouldn’t it?

Clara’s curled up, fast asleep in her bed. Soft snores sound as you place your book on the bedside table.

“Hey,” Frankie says softly as he shuts the bathroom door carefully. “She looks exhausted.”

“It’s all that time in the playgroup and sun,” you reply affectionately.

“Do you think she’s having a good holiday?”

“Yeah, of course. I hope so.”

“Me too. It’s good to see her happy like this. I’m glad we did this. For her.”

“Same. She’s going to look adorable at their wedding, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Can’t believe it’s only a couple of days away and then we’re -”

“I know.” In two days, Lia and Benny get married. You won’t wreck it, you won’t.

You look at the bed, the pillow barrier Frankie has automatically built. Neither of you have spoken about the kiss before lunch. When you returned from the spa and got ready for dinner, you had spoken about Clara and your books and anything but the kiss.

The pillows feel wrong though. You remember the start of the week, how it felt secure to have the pillows between, mature even. You are grown ups, friends and exes and the pillows protected that. However, the barrier is a merely a representation of the line you obliterated earlier. It can’t work anymore.

You’re not just co-parents.

You don’t know if Frankie feels the same though, if too much has happened now for the two of you to forge something new.

The pillows are a weight though. You look at Frankie and hesitantly move one of the pillows away from the barrier.

He smiles, almost imperceptibly and then he does the same from his side of the bed.

With the lights out, there are still so many words unsaid, so many conversations the two of you need to have.

You turn in the bed, feeling the warmth radiating from Frankie’s back. You hear him shift, the rush of air as he turns around and he’s facing you.

“Hi,” he whispers, reaching a hand to touch your face.

“Hi,” you reply.

Perhaps that’s the only word you need right now. The two of you are starting all over again.

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#frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #fic: let's get lost #frankie morales x you

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ghouljams · 8 months

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Hi! I've been binge reading your Fae! series again and I had an idea that I just had to share with you.

Fae!Gary who is trying to ensnare a fantasy writer/editor darling who is constantly foiling his plans by accident.

He gifts them a book that he said reminded him of them? they hand him a book they just knew he'd love.

He gives them flowers to brighten up the office? she gives him a knowledge dump on what the bouquet means based on the language of flowers.

thanks for taking the time to read this! don't forget to get some water and a snack <3

Oh my God ROACH, the forgotten son. Chaos boy, gremlin man, low danger sense and impossible to kill. Yeah you can have a little Roach as a treat. I've tweaked this prompt a little for a librarian!reader, also with a few of my personal Roach headcanons.

It's always a slow day when he comes in. Always with a mask on and earbuds in. You smile and wave him over. He hardly needs the prompting, making his way quickly but purposefully to stand in front of your cart. He tugs an earbud free, and holds out a book to you. Hard canvas bound with yellowed pages, the front is painted with laurels of heather and honeysuckle. It's not one of the library's collection.

"Where's the book you took out?" You frown, glancing to see if he has any bags or is holding anything else. He shoves the book under his arm and digs through his pocket to pull out a notebook and nubby pencil. You wait for him to finish scribbling and show you.

"Already returned," He turns the page and keeps writing.

"So then this is...?" You're really just filling dead air, you assume he's going to tell you what it is. He has this preternatural ability to think conversations an extra sentence ahead.

"A present for you," He holds up the notebook, and you smile a little at the doodle in the corner. A little square with a bow on top.

"I have something for you too!" You grin, clapping your hands together. His brows draw together with a frown. "We were going through the books that we're going to sell soon and I saw this, made me think of you." You hold up a finger to tell him to wait and rush behind the front desk.

It takes a moment of digging to get the old book free but it's well worth it. You hold it up with an excited 'ta-da' and hurry back to your cart. He never tries to disguise his interest in your trades, and you can see the exact moment his eyes light up with excitement reading the cover.

"It's super out of date these days, but I thought-" He cuts you off with a few rapid hand movements. Ones you recognize easily.

"No, no, I love it." He signs, trading your gift for his. He eagerly cracks open the ancient entomology hardback. You feel your heart squeeze a little watching him trace his finger over a colorful illustration of a beetle. You finally look away to see what book he's brought you. It's a collection of old love stories from the region. Your heart squeezes a little tighter.

"You know it's silly, um," You start, not sure how to phrase what is so average for most people, "You keep coming in, and I feel like I know so much about you, but I don't know-" He looks up from the book, there's something colder in his eyes, something that warns against the question on your tongue, "-your name." You finish.

The look in his eyes makes you wish you could take it back, makes you feel like you've shattered whatever isle of peace you two had carved out for yourself. He looks back at the page he'd been reading and snaps the book closed. The sound makes you flinch. He balances his notebook against the hardback and scribbles something before opening the entomology book again. His eyes scan the pages as he flips through, before he finds what he's looking for, and turns both books for your approval.

The page is opened to a Roach, and the notebook reads "it's a nickname." You nod.

"Sorry I asked," You tell him. He shrugs. Then blinks, seeming to realize something. He glances down at his chest and scratches it, strangely you get the urge to itch as well. He can hardly get his notebook set up fast enough, and you jump to catch the entomology book when it slips from his grip. The notebook is shoved in your face almost as quickly as you can hold the book out to him.

"Do you like your book?"

"Oh! Yes!" You're realizing you haven't given his gift the attention it deserves. You grab the book off the cart and flip through it, skimming your finger over the table of contents. You recognize most of the stories, the classics, but not all of them. The paper is just a hair thicker than modern books, with filigree at the top and bottom edges speaking to its age. You wonder where he found something so beautiful. When you look up at him again his eyes are soft, brows drawn together in an expression you'd almost call lovesick.

"Would you want to get dinner some time?" You surprise both of you with the ask. Roach seems to light up all at once again, nodding excitedly. "Ok, um," You grab his pencil and lean to jot down your number on his notebook, he watches you like a hawk the whole time, "I have to get back to work, but text me when you're free and I'll-" He's leaned so close to you, solid and warm, his fingers cover yours as he takes his pencil back, making your brain stall a little. You don't know how you were going to finish that sentence.

"Ok," He says, and his voice is so low you hardly think you heard him at all.

"Ok," You agree. His eyes scrunch happily, and you return the smile. This is good. You have a good feeling about this.

#Roach kicking open the door to the bar and signing so fast Ghost is the only one that can parse anything #Soap and Gaz are mostly like “when tf did you get into town??”#1fae1 #fae!roach #gary roach sanderson #roach cod #roach modern warefare #cod x reader #x reader #roach x reader #gary sanderson x reader #roach mw2 #mw2 2009 #anyway welcome to the fae wild Roach #he feels very autumn fae to me #I bet he likes pumpkins #we love a selectively mute bug boy

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kimpossibly · 1 year

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THE CHAIN -> e. roundtree PART THREE: the six

PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: swearing, drinking, drugs, minor injuries, blood, very suggestive content, implied sex (NOTE: some warnings for this story include MAJOR spoilers for this series down the line, so I'll put those beneath the cut. If you don't want to get the story spoiled, then just ignore it ― but I did want to provide the chance for you to get an idea of how the story will go later down the line if you have any sensitive topics you'd like to avoid. please prioritize your mental wellbeing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I fear I may have screwed up the timeline, but oh well! Hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS (SPOILERS INCLUDED): reader has a life threatening illness. Discussions about death and loss, depictions of grief, hospitals

SEVENEIGHTNINE (1975-1976)

The recording of their first album tested The Six's strength ― not only as a band, but as friends. And Y/n, who had never really been a part of the band during its songwriting process, was quick to realize that there was friction between the same band members again and again. Most notably, Billy and Eddie.

KAREN: Eddie wanted more freedom with what he was playing, Billy thought that since he was the frontman that his word was law...it's the same old story you've heard before. They were in a constant dick measuring contest and neither one of them wanted to admit defeat.

WARREN: Billy was my friend. Eddie was my friend. But when you put them in a room together and told them to make a song, they were the most annoying motherfuckers you'd ever met.

One day after a particularly harrowing songwriting session, the band found themselves back at the house in Laurel Canyon. The place that was usually filled with talk and music was silent, the telltale sign that they had brought work home with them. but what else were they supposed to do? They worked together, they lived together. The lines between work and home were becoming dangerously thin.

Y/n couldn't stand the silence. At her house, there had always been something going on ― her mom would be talking on the phone, someone would come in injured and she'd fix them up. At the very least, she'd keep the television on so she could get a good nights' sleep. But that night it was dead silent. Sickeningly so.

So Y/n got out of bed and wandered into Eddie's room. She didn't acknowledge his presence as she walked in, stopped in place suddenly, and collapsed onto the ground, staring up at the ceiling.

Eddie watched the whole thing from his bed, his guitar in his hands. He expected that maybe she'd say something, start a conversation and whatnot, but she didn't. She just went on, staring at the ceiling as though she had all the time in the world and a perfect reason to be there on the floor.

So he spoke first. "Hi."

"Why can't you just get over things?"

EDDIE: Out of the blue, no hesitation. "Why can't you just get over things?" I knew what she was talking about. Me and Billy had been at each others' throats for weeks, ever since we started writing the damn album. She wanted to know why I couldn't just pack it all in and take the hits as they came.

"Um―"

"Because here's the thing: you guys both have so much pride. Soooooo much. So much it makes me want to slap you guys across the face and remind you that you're human, not gods. And, look, I get it. He walks all over you sometimes and that's not cool. But sometimes it feels like you're pushing back just to be contrarian. Like you don't really disagree with what he's saying, you just disagree with the fact that he's the one saying it. You get my drift?"

EDDIE: Like I said, she doesn't sugarcoat things. She'll tell you what you are and if you don't like it? Tough.

Eddie paused, leaning back. She was right; he knew that much. And maybe he did argue with things just to argue, but so what? They weren't The Dunne Brothers anymore, they were The Six. Implied equal partnership. And still...

"He's thinks it's his band, Y/n."

"Then talk to him about it."

"I can't."

"Why not?" Y/n sat up, a crease formed between her brows.

He wasn't quite expecting that question. But, after a bit of stumbling, he came to what he thought was a reasonable answer: "Because he doesn't listen."

Y/n just looked at him like that was the dumbest thing he had ever said. "Well then make him listen."

"Yeah, alright. and how the hell am I supposed to do that?"

She didn't answer immediately, thinking. Eddie thought for a moment that he might have won.

EDDIE: There wasn't really a way to win an argument with her. Not really.

After a moment she turned to him. "A war isn't just two guys screaming at each other, Ed. They need soldiers, armies. Let me be your army."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like watching you get pushed around. It's kind of...sad."

"Thanks."

"You asked."

They lapsed into silence again. Y/n laid back down on the floor, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. When she spoke again, it was so quiet, Eddie wasn't sure at first if she was talking to him or to herself. "I just...I'm on your side, okay? So don't make it any harder to be."

EDDIE: I never quite got that, you know? "I'm on your side." I had no idea why she'd be on my side. Billy was the frontman, Billy was the guy you looked up to. And there she was, trying to help me out without me even asking. I guess I thought, am I really that pathetic? [Laughs] I probably don't want to know the answer to that. I don't know why she was on my side, I really don't. But it was good to know. Made me feel like, aside from all the melodrama that came with rock n' roll, I had something to hold on to.

By the time SevenEightNine was done, the CEO of Runner Records, Rich Palentino, was not impressed. In fact, in his opinion, the entire collection of songs they had collectively poured their hearts and souls into, did not have a number one single among it. Teddy Price decided to take things into his own hands, and that's when Daisy Jones got involved.

The plan was to take 'Honeycomb' ― a song Billy had written about the life he had promised Camila ― and add a female vocal onto it, a sort of call and response duet.

Needless to say, Billy was not happy about the arrangement.

GRAHAM: He had just gotten back from rehab and was finally making things right with his wife and his daughter, and they wanted to bring a new chick in to "fix" his song. I can see why he was upset. I just think that he could've handled it better.

EDDIE: He threw a fit. So, naturally, everybody tried to do things to appease him. Graham had the idea that Karen could sing the female part.

KAREN: Like I said, I can back up a chorus, but I can't hold my own.

EDDIE: Y/n was thrown into the mix.

KAREN: Eddie put "Y/n" and "solo" in the same sentence and she looked like she was going to vomit. We moved on.

GRAHAM: Eventually Billy got the gist that Daisy was what we needed. At least, Teddy thought so. And Billy would take Teddy's word over his own any day of the week.

BILLY: I thought, "Fine. If this Daisy girl wants to try it, we'll let her try it."

Daisy was brought into the studio within the next couple of days, marking the first time she ever officially worked with The Six. She was generally well received by all its members (except maybe Billy) and found a fast friend in Y/n.

Firstly, they were the closest in age, and, when you're thrown into a new environment surrounded by strangers, that tends to be what you gravitate towards. That, and Y/n had the special ability of getting the boys to shut up long enough to let her do her thing. That was especially important.

DAISY: The first time I got into that studio to record, the rest of the band crowded at the window, staring at me like I was an elephant in a zoo. It was unsettling. I was probably on the verge of yelling to them to give me some room to breathe when I saw Y/n and Karen dragging them out by their collars, kicking them out of the room until they were the only ones left. That meant a lot.

Despite Billy's every attempt to complain, Honeycomb was released featuring Daisy Jones. Billy was stubbornly pessimistic about the whole thing, of course. And by the time the recording and mixing of 'Honeycomb' was done, it was completely different from the song Billy had first pitched. He felt that his vision had been trod upon in a most disrespectful manner, so much so that, when it was first played, start to finish, for the entire band, the walked out the second the record stopped.

They all watched him go with confusion ― the song was good. It was great, even, but Billy hated it so much that he couldn't even stand to be in the same room as it. And this was before Camila started coming to recording sessions, so no one really wanted to follow him out. Especially not Eddie.

So after the door slammed, they all spent a tense few seconds looking around, sharing confused and annoyed looks over Billy's outburst, and when it became clear that no one was going to do a damn thing about it, Y/n sighed and got up. "Looks like I have to do everything around here, huh?"

She found Billy outside, leaning on the hood of his car, staring at the slowly heating pavement in the California sun. He had his hands crossed over his chest, not unlike a kid who had just gotten his toy taken from him. He didn't look up when Y/n stepped outside, but he spoke the moment she was within earshot: "We're not releasing it."

The reply that came back was a sharp, loud laugh from Y/n. "Fuck you, we're not releasing it. It's a good song. Probably the best one we've ever made."

"You don't get it," Billy shook his head, "that's my song that she's singing. Mine. The one that I wrote about my wife."

"It's not about your wife, Billy," Y/n said. "It's an apology to your wife. You asked us all to make it and we said yes, so don't go acting like you're the goddamn puppet master pulling all the strings. You asked us to make the song, and we said yes. And it's our band. Your song, our band. Sometimes we have to make decisions that don't please your every fucking whim because it's our band and we want to take it as far as we can. And this song, Billy? This is how we do that."

He said nothing, continuing to stare at the ground.

"We're releasing it as soon as we can, and the world is gonna lose its fucking mind. At least you can go home and tell your wife that everyone loves her song."

Billy looked up then, some of his scowl melted away. Y/n grabbed him by the wrist, uncrossing his arms and pulling him back towards the studio. "Now the least you can do is go be civil to your bandmates and to the girl who just made us a number one single."

Eventually she succeeded in dragging him back into the recording booth, to the surprise of everyone already there.

"He threw a fit; I told him to shut up and get over himself. So, when can we release it?" Y/n asked, looking to Teddy.

BILLY: Just like that, she told me to get my act together and got me back in that studio. It was a little harsher than it had to be, but it worked. She had perfected the art of making someone realize how much of an asshole they were being at that point. I think she used it most on me. Occasionally Warren. If it weren't for her, I don't know if I would've gotten back in that studio. Because I don't know if anyone else would've walked out to get me.

Just as Y/n had predicted, 'Honeycomb' quickly sailed to the top of the charts. It generated national attention, with the whole world seeming to suddenly ask the question, Who the hell is The Six?

Daisy Jones had singlehandedly brought them to the top, and it pissed Billy Dunne off to no end.

The rest of the band, however, was enjoying their newfound celebrity. Their album, SevenEightNine, came out soon after, putting them on the road for their first tour ever. Daisy was set to be their opening act ― which, again, did not exactly please Billy. But she was a magnet. Where Daisy went, people seemed to follow.

As the days counted down before they left, they did what they knew best: partying. Y/n, in particular, found herself spending increasingly more and more time with Daisy.

DAISY: Not everyone was on board with me having a hand in the band's success, I knew that. But I had a place at the Marmont that had a pool. And back then, that was all it took to be okay in Y/n's book.

―

[The following is a transcription from an interview with Rolling Stone. On June 2, 1975, Jonah Berg sat down with Y/n L/n to discuss the band's recent success and life on the road.]

JONAH: Where do you think you'd be right now? If you weren't in a band, I mean?

Y/N: [Pauses. Smiles] Somewhere in the ocean.

JONAH: No thoughts as to a career?

Y/N: You didn't ask about a career. You asked what I'd be doing right now. And that's it ― I'd be in the ocean. And I'd be in whatever career got me there.

[This marks the end of the transcript.]

―

WARREN: The girl is a fucking fish.

DAISY: She'd go under for as long as she could, come up for a single breath, and go back under again. Over and over and over. You can't get a single word in that girl's ears when she's in the water.

KAREN: Y/n had a habit of getting...obsessed. With people, with music, whatever it was that caught her interest and held it. And Daisy...[pauses] Daisy did that.

EDDIE: I'm not so sure it was a great thing that Daisy and Y/n became friends when they did.

In Laurel Canyon, Y/n was often the first to come home. In fact, whenever another band member stumbled in, they could most likely count on the fact that if they shouted, "Y/n, I'm home!" they'd hear her yell "Good. Go to sleep!" in response. But that night, it was not the case.

After all the band members had returned for the night, Y/n was still at the Marmont with Daisy. Her hair and clothes were still drying from when she had jumped in the pool an hour previous ― well, she either jumped or she was pushed. She couldn't quite remember now.

Dozens of people had crowded around the pool, drinking and doing whatever drugs came their way. More than once, Daisy and Y/n would stop their stroll to knock back some pills passed their way or do a line off a pool table. Y/n started to wonder what time she had to get home when she noticed Oh, the sun is coming up. Has the sun always been that purple?

"Daisy, what time is it?" she asked, looking to her left. But Daisy had disappeared. There was a splash, and suddenly Daisy was floating in the pool with her nicest Caftan dress billowing around her. She looked like some kind of mystical sea nymph, or so Y/n thought.

"DJ!" Y/n yelled at her, catching her attention. "I need to go home."

Daisy, of course, wouldn't hear of it. Parties didn't end until she thought they were over. "No, no come on! Just stay a little longer!"

"I can't, I...we have rehearsal in the morning."

Daisy sighed, splashing somewhat disappointedly. "Mkay. Fine," she sighed, swimming over to the edge, "can you at least help me out?"

She held a hand out, which Y/n took. Stupid decision, of course. Daisy just pulled her into the pool, causing an eruption of cheers around them.

As she hit the water, Y/n briefly thought that she had some reason to be upset with Daisy, but she couldn't quite remember why. Within a moment, all discomfort had disappeared, completely forgotten, and she was perfectly ready to stay as long as Daisy wanted.

That was, until she came up for air and saw Billy standing there at the edge of the pool.

For a moment, Y/n just stared up at him blankly. Then, she splashed water on him. He looked at her in confusion and she explained, "I had to make sure you were really there and I wasn't just making you up."

"Y/n, it's time to go." he said.

"Oooookay," she said slowly. "I'll get a taxi in a little bit."

"No, this isn't some kind of courtesy call. It's time to go now."

Y/n huffed in response, swimming over to the side. She was too tired (or doped up) to argue. Really, Billy's presence reminded her that she had a house with her own bed. And she realized right then how much she really, really wanted to be in bed.

"Who told you I was here?" she said as she attempted to hoist herself out of the pool.

"Eddie did," Billy replied, helping her out. "Something about you not knocking."

"That son of a bitch," she muttered. "Where is he?"

"Back at the house. Asleep."

"I want Eddie. Get him here."

"You'll see him in the morning."

Y/n, not satisfied with that answer, pushed Billy away, anger curling her hands into fists. "I don't need you to tell me what to do, Billy. I'm a fucking adult. I know when I've reach my limits."

Billy looked at her. Mascara and eyeliner had traced gray lines down her face. Her hair and clothes were soaking wet, clinging to her, dripping onto the pavement. For a second, the hardened look on her face reminded Billy of the day she wandered into their garage and stole the drum sticks straight from Chuck's hands. She didn't look much older now than she did then.

"Just get in the goddamn car."

"No."

"Get in the car."

"No!"

"Y/n, you're bleeding."

She looked down suddenly and noticed a deep cut on her right hand. She frowned at it, but didn't seem that surprised at its existence. "That was there when I got here."

Billy more or less forced her into the passenger seat of the car, where she hung her hand out of the window, letting the blood drip onto the pavement rather than onto the seats.

In the less than ten minute drive home, Y/n talked until she was laughing hysterically at her own jokes, stuck her head out the window and howled at the moon, and finally sat in silence long enough that she started to cry.

Eddie woke up that night to a book hitting him in the face. He jolted awake, looking around wildly. And then, in the dead silence of his room, Y/n's voice came from the doorway. "Snitch."

She shut the door after that, and he heard her stumbling footfalls down the hallway.

And while that should've been the last time Y/n partied with Daisy, it wasn't. She went the next night, and the night after that. The knocks on Eddie's wall became less and less frequent until they stopped all together.

Daisy became her favorite pastime.

"You're in love with Eddie, right?" Daisy asked. They were both lying on the ground outside at the Marmont, letting their heads hang over the pool so that only their hair soaked in the water.

At her question, Y/n shot up, her wet hair drenching her back with cold water instantly. "What?"

"Oh, sorry," Daisy said, still hanging there. "I just thought...you know..."

Y/n did not, in fact, know. She turned to Daisy, a crease formed between her brows. "Why would you think that?"

Daisy sat up then, her impossibly long hair acting like a weight that she had to struggle against to sit up. "You're always lookin' at him when you're rehearsing. At a certain point it was like...I could count on the fact that when I walked into the studio, you'd be right next to him."

As Daisy spoke, Y/n felt herself frowning deeper and deeper. Eddie...Eddie was her best friend. That was for sure. He was the one she went to when she wanted to talk to someone.

Three thoughts emerged as Daisy talked.

One: I am not in love with Eddie Roundtree.

Two: I'm in love with Eddie Roundtee.

Three: It's so obvious it's sad.

Daisy kept talking, oblivious to her sudden revelation. "I get it, you know? If you really like him, you should just go for it. He's a nice guy, and he looks at you as much as you look at him."

Y/n excused herself then, claiming she felt sick. Well, that was mostly true ― she did feel sick. But not the type of sick that drinking generally made her. The kind of sick that came from thinking too hard, too quickly.

But instead of coming back, she left the Marmont, walking home with bare feet. She was still dripping with pool water, freezing her ass off the whole way home, but she was too deep in her own head to really realize it.

She made it back just as the sun was starting to come up, falling asleep on the couch rather than in her room. She slept fitfully, waking up every half hour or so thinking she had said something in her sleep that she couldn't take back.

The next night, she didn't go back to Daisy's. In fact, when Eddie heard Y/n's bedroom door shut before midnight, he frowned, wondering momentarily if she had just imagined it. Then, to test the theory, he knocked. It was the tune to the newest song by the Kinks. He didn't think too long about the song, really, he just wanted a response.

For a moment, none came. He waited patiently, silently, for any response. There was none.

Sighing, he settled back down on his bed, deciding that that was the last time he'd knock. There was no point in knocking to no response.

But a few moments later, the response came ― this time at his bedroom door.

He paused, sitting up, part of him wondering if he'd completely imagined it. Either way, he had to check. He got up, leaving his bass on the bed, heading to the door. He opened it and Y/n stood in the doorway, hair still wet from a shower.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi."

And then, before he had the chance to say anything else, she stood on her toes and kissed him. He was so taken by surprise that he practically froze as he kissed her back, only to be unfrozen by her pushing him further into the room and kicking the door shut behind them.

EDDIE: [Pauses. Takes a deep breath] Oh, wow. Um. Yeah, sure. Yes. I did…I did love Camila. But, everyone loved Camila, you know? Maybe it was…at one point I thought maybe…[pauses] it’s not important. The love I had for Camila…it was painful. It was so much stuff that had nowhere to go, so it just sat. Weighed me down. And Y/n was the first person who, I don’t know, made it lighter.

The next morning when Y/n woke up, she was clearheaded for what felt like the first time in years. The sunlight didn't make her head pound, she didn't feel nauseated, and she didn't have to check herself to see if she'd acquired any news injuries from the night before.

When she rolled over, Eddie was there, still asleep. Her lips parted slightly at the sudden reminder that the previous night hadn't been a dream. And the reminder of Eddie's presence next to her reminded her that there were, in fact, several other people in the house.

She sat up and saw Eddie's shirt at the edge of the bed. She reached for it, leaning over and tapping Eddie on the shoulder. "Hey," she said. He stirred a bit. She held up the shirt. "Can I borrow this?"

"'Course." he responded sleepily. "You leaving?"

"Oh, don't worry. I won't be far. Just down the hall" she said with a smile. He laughed slightly at that, and she gave him a quick kiss on the side of his lips. She tried to get up then, but Eddie caught her wrist, pulling her back down to him. He wrapped an arm around her, pressing his lips to hers. She found herself smiling as he kissed her, a chill running down her spine.

Eventually he let her go and she slipped his shirt over her head. She went for the door, pausing before opening it. "We're going to talk about this later, by the way."

Eddie frowned. "What's there to talk about?"

She paused, thinking. "Maybe talk is the wrong word for it."

She gave him a sly smile, causing him to roll his eyes and bury his head in his pillow. She laughed quietly, opening the door as quietly as she could and shutting it behind her. And as she went to walk into the hallways, she saw Warren standing there, a beer can in one hand.

WARREN: She looked at me with this doe in headlights look, and I just knew she was going to ask, so I told her before she had the chance.

"We have thin walls."

WARREN: Man, the look on her face right then. [Laughs] Priceless. I was so drunk the night before, I didn’t hear shit, but one look at her—the messy hair, the smudged makeup—you just knew. I was happy for ‘em. For once it felt like I wasn’t waiting for the shoe to drop, you know? It just…dropped. I was happy for them.

Y/n said nothing to him, simply turning and walking away, causing Warren to chuckle to himself.

Billy and Camila moved out of the house in Laurel Canyon soon thereafter, wanting to have a home to call their own. That left the more, well, irresponsible band members to themselves.

One day, Warren returned to the house to find Graham, Karen, Eddie, and Y/n on the back porch, slumped in chairs, staring at the air in front of them like they were waiting for something.

"What are you guys on and can I have some?"

WARREN: It was mescaline, because of course it was.

"How long does it take to kick in?" Warren asked.

Karen shrugged. "Depends on the person."

A few seconds later, Warren suddenly stood up, stumbling slightly. "Whoa..."

Y/n giggled, then frowned. She moved her head back and forth, side to side, like she was weighing it. "Guys, my head is getting really heavy. Too heavy. How much should my brain weigh? Can brains gain weight? Do I have an overweight brain and I didn't notice it until now?"

"If you had an overweight brain, you wouldn't have failed math." Warren said. "Now, I-I feel on a molecular level, you know, like me and the canyon, we are..." he trailed off, then clapped, "Ha! No, we're the same, man."

Karen laughed. "Warren and Y/n are feeling it, clearly."

Graham laughed, and then suddenly he went slack, eyes wide. "Oh shit..." he put his hand over his stomach, "I can't feel my heart."

As Karen went to make sure his heart was actually beating (which, of course, it was ― he was just looking in the wrong place for it), Y/n turned her attention to Eddie. He was staring at his hands like it was the first time he was seeing them. She looked at her own, waving them in the air like she was trying not to hurt the air.

Y/n and Eddie had kept their, well, for lack of a better word, tryst, from the rest of the band members. Except, of course, Warren who had found out completely by mistake. As Y/n inspected her hands, she let one fall to the side, landing on Eddie's thigh.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. She bit her lip to hide a smile.

"No, Graham, it's there."

"Karen, I can't feel my heart. It's gone, man."

Y/n slid her hand further up his thigh, trying her best not to giggle at the way he tried to keep his cool under her touch.

"Can-Can we call a doctor or something?"

"Graham. Move your hand up."

Graham frowned, looking down. Then moved his hands to the correct place and, upon feeling his heart beating steadily underneath his palms, sighed in relief. "Oh. Thanks."

Eddie suddenly stood up, startling all of them. Without a word, he took Y/n by the hand, pulling her back inside. Y/n giggled then, already going to unbutton her shirt.

Karen and Graham watched them go in confusion. "What the hell is up with them?" Graham asked as the door shut behind them.

Warren just raised his half empty beer can in their direction. "L'Chaim," the declared, then drank it all in one sip.

Thanks to Honeycomb, The Six had been put on the map. They were touring for their first album with Daisy Jones as their opening act. It was on that tour that they all got their first taste of real fame of screaming crowds and fanatic fans.

Towards the end of the tour, the decision was made that Daisy would join the band, and they would soon become known as Daisy Jones & The Six. After the tour, they were on their way to creating their first album with Daisy on the team.

EDDIE: Things were perfect. Well, I didn’t think they were perfect at the time. I still wasn’t getting along with Billy, I didn’t feel like I had any creative control, I basically felt like a second-class citizen even though I had been there from the beginning. But I had Y/n, and the band was successful. If I had been able to put down my pride and look at my life from a couple steps back, I probably would have thought, damn…this ain’t bad. I never really guessed how bad things would go downhill after that.

TAG LIST: @itsametaphorbriansblog @lcversrockk @yipyipmorals @chemicaldeathwish @greengarsstuff @karenfockingsirko @lilyhw1 @simmo04 @unsaiddaisy @simpswhore

Fill out the taglist form in my pinned post if you'd like to be tagged in the last part!

#eddie roundtree x reader #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #daisy jones & the six fanfiction #eddie loving #eddie roundtree #billy dunne #graham dunne #karen sirko #camila dunne #warren rhodes #warren rojas

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is-the-19thcentury-man-okay · 6 months

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I was very pleased with my English 1820s man. I made sure he had enrichment of a scholarly nature, to balance out the Romantic tendencies they have. He took to studying classical history and language, and I confess I was proud to have such an intelligent 19th century man. More recently he took an interest in current affairs but, as he is quite young, I assumed this was a sign of maturing. Then, just like that, he ran away! I went out searching and a neighbour informed me that he'd gone to Greece to fight against the Ottomans! I was horrified and went straight there, but I found him with a pack of Greek 1820s men and he adamantly refused to come home. What should I do? I worry that he will get hurt fighting, or that his constitution will not survive rough living in the Greek mountains. But he's having such a good time. He is learning the modern iteration of Greek (such a clever man), enjoys the local cuisine, and even wants to dress like his new friends. Is he in great danger if I let him stay, and how could I take him home without breaking his heart? (I don't want to risk any of those Greek 1820s men getting angry either, if I take their lucky mascot away.) Many thanks for your advice!

Romanticism and nationalism make for a very potent combination, as you have learned by now, and for many 19th century men of a certain social class and level of education, the attraction of the Classical world adds another layer of mythical folklore; not to mention the allure of pagan ceremony and skimpy neoclassical clothes.

For 1820s-1830s men, the Byronic appeal of exotic "Eastern" nations can be irresistible, and in general you will find a lot of national myth-making and interest in folk costumes.

Lord Byron in Albanian dress, 1813. This man is not Albanian!

You also have to be aware of your 19th century man's possibly very different ideas of national and imperial boundaries. He learns the polka in Bohemia, he wants to fight the Ottomans, he wants to fight in the Miguelite war—he might support Romantic German nationalism! It's not always the national and cultural understandings of the 21st century.

Being British is also not a guarantee of sensible behaviour. You might think that your British naval officer is going to rest on his laurels after the Napoleonic Wars, and the next thing you know, he's leading a fleet in the Chilean Independence movement!

Thomas Cochrane, naval officer for hire.

19th century men are not for the faint of heart. It can be challenging to balance their Romantic desires with a sensible course of action. Since your man has already spent so much time with his new Greek friends and has embraced their lifestyle, you could suggest that it's important that he document his experiences in a travel narrative that will also champion their cause.

As much as possible, you want to convince him that he's very valuable as a writer and/or visual artist giving voice to a cause—too valuable to foolishly risk his life or ruin his health abroad.

#is the 19th century man okay #asks #romanticism #nationalism #1830s #1820s #more problems caused by lord byron

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ofallthingsnasty · 4 months

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G, H and Y for Doflamingo? You seemed curious about letter H, I wanna know your thoughts about it and Doffy especially!

Yandere Alphabet

Honestly, H (What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?) made me reblog it... I love lists like that because they make me think + help flesh out characters - and like I said in the tags, that one was so good I had to have it on here haha.

tw.yandere, violence, noncon, minors dni

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

When is it ever not a game to him? Despite him being incredibly dangerous and cruel, a defiant darling fares well with Doflamingo. He's like a kid watching his pet hamster squeeze through increasingly smaller openings to get out of a box, to reach some treats - it's entertaining until it's not. You might as well be the dirt under his shoes, you're a pathetic little creature that couldn't even break his skin if it tried. Of course your little tantrums and escape attempts are hilarious to him. How cute, you think there is still hope for you. Quaint. Bite, scratch, kick - jump out of the next window if you want, it's all a riot to him. (There is a line here - where exactly, you'll never know. But there are times when your antics do bother him. And when he's in a foul mood and you cross him? Whatever he has in store for you will have you quiet and compliant for several days, trust me.)

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Well, what's the worst thing you can imagine? That. I think he can get incredibly violent with you - and doesn't really stop. There is no love from this man, just sheer possession, obsession - you have to understand, he owns you. If he says jump, you jump. If he has you tied down and blindfolded, legs spread for random people to violate you because you dared to refuse him the night before, you say 'sorry' and 'I'll never do it again, I swear' and kiss his feet. If he locks you away for days and days on end in some empty room without anything to do and just some water because you wouldn't answer him, you'll never refuse to open up that precious mouth again when he asks you something, right, sweetheart? He'll learn how you work - what you love, what you hate, what you fear - and uses it against you. With others, that one violent outburst might be the worst thing to happen to you or that time they force themselves on you. With Doflamingo, it's like a pink-clad grotesque grab bag of worst experiences, one more horrifying than the next. Fun, right?

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

I think that depends on when he meets you. Pre-Dressrosa? You're perched on his lap by the time he has figured out that he wants to keep you around and not only fuck you - who the hell has time for intricate plans or even trying to court you? He's a busy man with a million things to do. He likes what he sees and the rest can come later. It's not like you'll go anywhere, weak little dog that you are. After the takeover? He can allow himself to rest on his laurels a little - he doesn't need to pluck you off the street like a roadside flower. He can watch. Indulge in some classic little stalker antics. Learn more about you. Wait for the perfect moment to turn your whole life upside down. Doflamingo is nothing if not an afficionado, wanting to enjoy the way you'll beg and cry and plead when the world as you know it is about to be changed forever. He doesn't snap. He lies in ambush.

#that man has terrifying layers to me. fascinating character #omg that was so much fun thank you!!!#tw.yandere #tw.noncon #yandere one piece #doflamingo x reader #/doflamingo #/one piece #yandere alphabet

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fruitviking · 1 year

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Experimenting with Sherlock Holmes and Dracula crossover fic. Enjoy!

"The girl, Miss Westenra, repeatedly goes to sleep looking perfectly well, yet wakes up pale and close enough to death as to require blood tranfusions." Holmes settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. "What could be the cause of this nocturnal ailment, doctor?" Watson lit a cigar. The September heat had dwindled somewhat with the setting sun, but the evening air was still a trifle too thick for comfort. He loosened his collar with one finger. "The symptoms do not make sense, Holmes," he admitted. "The young lady is losing blood at night, that much is clear. She is fatigued, troubled by haunting dreams, and sleepwalking. She is clearly suffering from something. Yet there are no bloodstains anywhere that I could see, and the only injuries are those two points on her neck from -" "The safety pin." Holmes raised an eyebrow. Watson huffed. "Apparently." His friend's grey eyes lit up. "You do not believe it?" "Such an injury would have healed by now, even with Miss Westenra in her weakened state." Watson shook his head. "No. I do not know the cause of her illness, but it is certainly not that wound in her neck." "Perhaps it is." Holmes rose from his chair slowly and began to pace back-and-forth in front of the unlit fireplace with one hand in his pocket. He gestured with the other as he spoke, his long fingers flickering through the air. "Miss Westenra is losing blood at night, you have said so yourself. We can accept that as a fact. But the blood itself is nowhere to be found. Therefore, something is taking it." The doctor's eyes widened. "Whatever do you mean, Holmes?" he gasped. "What could do such a thing?" Holmes's whirl of motion suddenly ceased. He turned his back to the fire and spread his arms out across the mantelpiece either side of him. "There are more things on heaven and earth, my dear Watson," he said in a low tone. "We will soon be venturing into dangerous waters. I cannot guarantee your safety on this journey, though as always I will appreciate your company as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death." His eyes, gleaming with curiosity, were focused on something far away. Watson shifted in his chair and puffed on his cigar. His friend's words, though delivered with his typical dramatic flair, were decidedly disconcerting."I am at your service, Holmes," he said at length. "And from the sounds of it, you may need me to watch your back." Holmes smiled briefly. "Good man." "Will you tell me the villain we are facing?" "When I have all the facts, dear boy. First I shall require a copy of the newspaper detailing the extraordinary arrival of the Demeter on the shores of Whitby. That, I believe, will lend us some greater insight." Watson couldn't quite see the connection between the notable recent shipwreck and his sweet young patient, but he trusted his friend to see it for him. "I will arrange to speak with Van Helsing again as soon as possible," he suggested, not wanting to rest on his laurels. "He may have further suggestions for treatment which I have not considered." Holmes was closer to his chair now, pressing a hand on his shoulder. "If you are to visit him or the young lady again, Watson," he intoned, "I beg you not to travel at night."

#acd holmes #dracula #sherlock holmes #dr watson #crossover fic

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stillness-in-green · 7 months

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What Helck Does Right That BNHA Is Doing Wrong

I wrote this out in a spate of frustration a while back, lost it, and then was able to recover it again, so in the interest of conservation, I figure I might as well share. It contains massive spoilers for Helck—details of its ending, its overarching plot, deep world secrets, and so on—so read at your own risk if you're one of the few people following the anime. On the other hand, very few people do seem to be watching Helck, so if you watched the first episode and then dumped it for being too goofy and comedic, this write-up will definitely give you some context for where that story goes.

(More people should read/watch Helck. Please read this and then go read Helck.)

(If you prefer, you can also just skim the Helck bits until you get to me complaining about BNHA’s crappy endgame. Hit the jump, either way!)

Helck: What It Does

For my readers unfamiliar with the series (e.g. probably most of you), Helck’s elevator pitch is, “After the Hero defeats the Demon King, the demons hold a tournament to select the new Demon King. But wait, why is there a human here?!” It’s riffing, obviously, on the foundational JRPG story, and starts out in a high-key goofy comedy mode, which, while representative of its sense of humor, is not actually very reflective of the tonal zone it winds up occupying for most of its run. The darkness and horror elements of the series are foreshadowed by the title character—Helck, the human who showed up to join the Demon King selection tournament—cheerily proclaiming that he hates and wants to destroy all humans. Something is very wrong in the human lands, it seems, and the main character—Vamirio, one of the Four Heavenly Kings of the demon empire, sent to oversee the tournament—uncovering and then responding to that wrong forms the bulk of the story.

That said, it takes a good long while for Helck to reveal the true nature of its conflict. While there are some key villainous figures that have been in play for long before that point, the ultimate truth is that the world of Helck contains a disembodied force that contacts people when they’re in their darkest, most despairing moments, providing them an “answer” for why their situations are so miserable and how to go about fixing the world that hurt them so badly, as well as power to help them do so. The answer given by this force, called “The Will of the World,” is twisted and omnicidal, but between a degree of implied mental influence and the timing of the approach, lots of otherwise innocent, hurt people can wind up becoming the figures behind literally world-threatening dangers.

Eventually, we find out that Helck himself was approached by The Will when he was a child in a bad situation. He wasn’t quite ready to give in yet—he had a kid brother to look out for—and so he powered past it, but it’s remained in the back of his head since that day, ever-ready to whisper its apocalyptic solutions to extreme class disparity and abuse. This gives him a degree of empathy for the villains of the series, even as they do extremely awful stuff that he can’t otherwise forgive.

In the epilogue, a new king is crowned and we’re generally assured that things in Helck’s country are going to improve from now on. The demons are developing magical treatment to reverse a once-thought-irreversible transformation from sentient person into mindless monster, preparing groups that will venture forth to find all the affected humans still wandering the countryside so that they can be helped. Helck himself could easily rest on his laurels, either settling in with the human friends he had to go to extreme lengths to save or accepting his demon friends’ invitation to come live with them, the ones who fought at his side and gave him hope when he was so often on the verge of despair.

But he does neither, because he knows that The Will of the World is still out there whispering to other people in pain—it’s a force of nature that will always be out there, until someday it succeeds at finding someone it can use to overturn and restart the world. It can never be killed, only circumvented. However, The Will can’t act on its own, only through those that have fallen under its sway, and those people don’t start out as raving, gleefully evil maniacs! They start out as people experiencing unconscionable suffering, because people suffering to that extent are the only ones who can be convinced to believe that the answer is total annihilation.

Helck knows better than to assume that simply installing one good king in one overall-good country will be enough to save everyone in the world—or even in that one country!—from despair, and he’s intimately familiar with what that despair is like. So, he packs up with one of his besties and they set out on a journey that will, implicitly, never really have an end. Of course, he’ll come visit his friends and loved ones from time to time, but what he’s really dedicating himself to is finding and rescuing other people, other victims, giving them reasons to hope, reasons to believe in the world as it is now, because, as he himself experienced, that’s the only thing that can really stop someone from falling prey to The Will of the World.

Saving those victims is a practical means of preventing all the harm they would have gone on to wreak, yes, but it also means said victims don’t have to be put to the sword when they turn up at the head of an army of monsters or some shit a few decades down the line.

Helck’s answer to the problem of recurrent, inevitable suffering is thus threefold:

Improve the system at large by clearing out the corruption on top.

Dedicate active, ongoing efforts to redressing the sins of the previous system and helping its victims, even if they seem too far gone.

Proactively seek out and bring aid to problem areas before the sufferers there metastasize into world-shaking dangers.

Its characters are involved in all three of those stages—the heroic side cast does Point 1, Vamirio and her allies handle Point 2, and Helck takes up the responsibility of Point 3. He goes out into the world to be that extra safety net when the better society he helped put in place inevitably still fails people, in places where his allies can’t reach. To find them—the people who are in such bad situations that apocalypse looks like a reasonable solution—he’s going to have to wade, personally, into the deepest and worst mires he can find, pulling people out of that darkness one hand at a time.

As a series, then, Helck believes in systemic change while also believing that systemic change will never be sufficient on its own to prevent all suffering. However, rather than then simply shrugging and accepting that suffering is inevitable and so the heroes will have no choice but to deal violently with the people who fell through the cracks when they inevitably return as dangerous villains, it sends its hero out to do that ground-level work of saving people. And he himself isn’t enough either, but his actions are still meaningful, because every life he saves is both that one soul saved from darkness, and one more vector cut off that could otherwise spiral into exponential amounts of suffering and death.

BNHA: What It's Not Doing

We can see an echo of the path into darkness which turns victims into villains in BNHA, where the villains are not Born Monsters, but rather become monsters because of the circumstances of their lives. The pain they endure, the discrimination and violence they face, leads them to their extremist reactions to try and repair—or simply destroy—a world they perceive as fundamentally hostile to them. While there’s no overarching Will of the World manipulating them for its own ends—All For One is akin to it in how he operates, but at the end of the day, he’s still just another man, not a literal planetary anima—the end result remains the same: people forged by suffering into enemies so dangerous and resolute that they threaten the entire foundation of the world as it currently exists, as well as all those who are living in peace and happiness in the current world.

So, when faced with the prospect of enemies who are an unavoidable consequence of the endurance of the status quo (because the status quo the heroes have chosen to support is full of discrimination and repression), what exactly is BNHA proposing to do about those enemies arising in the future? How will the heroes’ course of action regarding those enemies be different at the end of the story than it was at the beginning? Well, so far we’ve got:

Shouji functionally telling the heteromorphs at the hospital that all they can do is endure their suffering until the people around them decide on their own to improve.

Even as she’s embraced by a Hero, Toga believing there’s no possible ending in which she can reach a world she wants to live in, and so resigning herself to finding a satisfactory death instead.

The seeming resolution of the subplot concerning the civilians lashing out at the heroes for their failure being for them to collectively agree to support heroes even more, with no explanation of what that would change for the children out of view of a hero, like Tenko was, or being victimized by a hero, like Touya.

I feel like the manga wants us to believe that the future will be better because heroes as a group, inspired by the kids of 1-A and with the corruption of the HPSC purged, are going to be more empathetic towards villains as a group going forward. I don’t believe that, however, thanks to even the students’ (and especially Deku’s) continued willingness to completely ignore the humanity of the villains they don’t have pre-existing bonds with. Their empathy for “their” designated villains is admirable, certainly, and a good start on the necessary change, but it’s not sufficient if it starts and ends with that highly conditional empathy.

What is going to be different on a systemic level to help people like Toga or Spinner? What will change in society at large such that the average person on the street will become willing to help someone off-putting and potentially dangerous like Tenko or Jin? What overhaul of professional heroism can we expect to help prevent situations like Touya’s or assuage the generational grudges behind Mr. Compress or Re-Destro? What new oversight mechanisms will be put in place to prevent more children from being scooped up to be raised as weapons like Lady Nagant and Hawks? What can be done to catch people like Muscular or Moonfish at a younger age and intervene before they grow up into murderers? What better counselling programs in prison could be introduced such that someone like Ending might actually be less suicidal when their prison sentence ends than they were when it began? What social safety nets need to be strengthened such that children like Overhaul and Geten wind up in normal, loving homes with the resources to help them sort through their issues rather than criminal organizations and cults?

After the dust settles on this endgame, what in god’s name is going to change?

Further, even if those changes are enacted, what are the main characters going to do personally for those who still slip through the cracks? As @robotlesbianjavert wrote previously, once everything has been done as best it can for the greater good, what’s the second safety net there to catch those who can’t be saved in the greater good’s first pass?

BNHA vs. Helck's Threefold Answer

Consider again the three points Helck’s ending contained—improve the system, care for the victims that already exist, and proactively seek to prevent the creation of new victims—and contrast them to how things are going in BNHA’s end game.

1: Have the main characters improved the system?

No, not at all. The most concrete change to the system has surely been the death of the HPSC President, but no heroes had no hand in that, much less one of the kids. Clone Re-Destro took her out, one villain to another, so no hero had to sully their hands or risk taking on the very office that grants them their authority. Even with her death, we have no guarantee that whoever takes her position next will be any different than she was.

All Might’s retirement shook the system, but the series is out there as I type this recanonizing All Might and his legacy as wholly beyond reproach.

Endeavor and Hawks were exposed as, respectively, an abuser and a murderer on national TV and absolutely no official consequences befell them.

A heteromorphic mob stormed a hospital and the best a professional hero could muster was a feeble apology for not “realizing sooner,” with not a single word from anyone about being more mindful going forward.

Ujiko was removed from the web of orphanages he was maintaining, but there’s been nothing to address how he managed to get away with cultivating his “seedbeds of hatred and ferocity” right out in the open for decades, either, and so we have no real reason to believe the vulnerable children in those institutions are going to be safe from the next unscrupulous figure with ulterior motives to come along after him.

There’s been no recognition whatsoever of the role quirk counselling played in Toga’s repression, no discussion of making prisons more humane, no intention stated of making the current system even the tiniest bit less regressive via actual changes to the law and government-funded social safety nets. The system shows no signs whatsoever of improving, least of all due to any actions on the part of the main characters.

Neither Deku nor any other student has shown the faintest inclination to push back against the reactionary violence demanded of them by the system they intend to join. While they may act mercifully on their own time, they are wholly unwilling to actually protest against the authority that gives them their orders.

2: Are the main characters making efforts to care for the victims that already exist?

Yes and no. This is about the only one I can give them even partial credit for, but partial credit they do still get.

Ochaco made a world-shaking offer for Toga, one that melted away Toga’s aggression and brought her violence to a dead stop. That’s amazing! Shouto has managed to stop Dabi from killing himself and everyone around him against all odds, and we have every indication that he’ll keep dedicating himself to that for as long as it takes. Deku has concretely changed the paths of Gentle Criminal, La Brava and Lady Nagant,[*] and I have little reason to believe he’ll do any less for Shigaraki, however that turns out to look. Attempts are even being made to help the Noumu, following the reveal of Shirakumo’s lingering presence in Kurogiri.

…But that’s about where it stops.

[*] I hate absolutely everything about the way Lady N reacted to him, mind you, but what’s on the page is on the page.

Shouji never bothered to actually ask Spinner or Scarecrow what drove them to villainy, nor do we have any indication that he’s going to follow up with them now that the riot they were leading has been quelled.

Deku’s compassion begins and ends with people whose motivations he can understand; he has none to spare on those whose desires and goals are alien to him, or he attaches that compassion to stone-hearted ultimatums he has no authority to make.

Tsuyu’s got Ochaco’s back, and Iida has a line that you could interpret as being charitably disposed towards Dabi, but no one else in the class seems to be making any efforts to reach out to villains. Shinsou might have brought Gigantomachia to a place where he could confront AFO, but he damn sure didn’t give him a choice in the matter.

Things are even worse on the professional level. Between the flying coffin and the mass arrests, we’ve had no indication that the Pros are doing or are interested in doing the first damn thing to try and help the victims of their flawed status quo.

The first thing Hawks does when confronted with a risen Twice is scream to kill him again, for god’s sake. That’s as clear an indication as I could possibly ask for that nothing he’s experienced has altered Hawks’s methods or his willingness to use them.

As I said above, the empathy a tiny handful of students have for their villain foils is commendable, but insufficient to serve as tidemarks indicating an improved status quo.

3: Is there any indication that the main characters will proactively seek to prevent the pain that leads to the birth of villains?

No. In fact, under the current system, that isn’t even possible for them. That is simply not what professional heroism is or does. Under the current system, heroes are definitionally reactive; they’re not there as a preventative against suffering so much as they’re a topical ointment for it once it’s already arisen. Because the role of heroes seems on track to remain the same as it ever was, heroes can’t go into the dark places because that’s simply not their job.

Addressing bigotry and discrimination is not a hero’s job unless someone perpetuating it is using their quirk to do so.

Preventing domestic abuse is not a hero’s job even if a quirk is in use because quirk use is legal inside the home; abuse is thus a problem for police and social workers to handle, not heroes.

Dealing with corrupt systems and repressive laws is not a hero’s job because they’re enforcers for systems and laws; they can try to change them through the legal pathways available to all citizens, but they can’t bring their powers to bear without becoming villains themselves.

Heroes cannot walk into the heart of darkness of Hero Society because their job is to exist outside, in the open, in the light. Their only function is to stop villains—people using their quirks illegally—and to help out in disaster situations. That’s it. That’s all they’re there to do. And if the parameters of their jobs don’t change, that’s all they’re ever going to be able to do: try to talk a victim who’s already gone sour out of getting worse.

As it stands, if the 1-A kids are still just running around being Cool Heroes Punching Out Villains in the epilogue, they are failing to act as the second layer of aid Helck represents, but rather still only acting as their society’s last defense against those who have become twisted by pain and unaddressed need. In effect, they will continue to be the sword that puts down a monster rather than the hand that reaches out to a victim before the monster can be born.

Right now, I have seen precious little to convince me that, ten years down the line, they’re going to be anything more than fractionally better heroes than their predecessors were—punching first, asking questions virtually never, standing around in the aftermath congratulating themselves for their victories, posing for cameras as the people they just unthinkingly pummeled get packed into police cars to be dumped into a perfunctory legal system followed by a monstrously inhuman carceral complex.

The Impact of Timing

Is anyone thinking that it's not fair of me to compare stuff in BNHA's endgame to stuff in Helck's epilogue? Couldn't most of my complaints be handwaved in BNHA's epilogue? I mean, I guess, yeah, but with the small problem that such a resolution would be incredibly unsatisfying.

The thing with Helck is, that series doesn’t leave those three points for the epilogue; rather, its epilogue is a natural extension of the choices its characters have been making all along.

Helck leaves his chain of command, his kingdom, even his own species, when he realizes how deep their corruption runs. Helck’s struggle to overcome corrupt authority is the foundation the entire series rests on, from its beginning hook of, “Human hero tries to become the new Demon Lord,” to its climax of fighting against The Will of the World itself. (Point 1: Improve the system.)

Vamirio decides upon getting to know Helck that humans, her enemies, are ultimately victims of the corrupt power manipulating them. She shouts out loud her intention to save them, exulting in the sense of relief it gives her to clear away her uncertainty and come to that decision. Later, she passionately declares that she will disobey orders from her Emperor himself, if those orders are to fight humans with the intent of killing them. She’s a figure of authority amidst her own kind, but she is more than willing to go against that authority—and vocally so—if her morals tell her she must. (Point 2: Dedicate active efforts to helping the victims of the corrupt system, even if they already seem too far gone.)

I’ve already talked about Helck’s decision to wander the earth in the series’s epilogue, and this of all points would seem most likely to be relegated to the aftermath, but no, dedication to preventing future tragedies can be found in the body of the series itself as well. Vamirio’s peer Azudora has history with both humans and the transformations wrought by The Will of the World, and he’s been working on a cure since before the series even began. His efforts bring hope to the series at a critical point and provide a model for Helck’s decision at the series’s end, as both men make the same choice: to devote their lives to the hope of doing something that will better the future, even if it doesn’t change things for those who have already been lost. (Point 3: Proactively work to save today’s victims so that they don’t become tomorrow’s monsters.)

In essence, the entire run of Helck is dedicated to presenting the problem Vamirio and Helck are facing, exploring how and why they come to the decisions they do about how to solve that problem, and then forcing them, over and over, to face down their own doubt and fear, their allies’ hesitancy, and their opponents’ highly dedicated efforts to break them down and defeat them, be it through force of arms or despair. The heroes get the ending they do because they decide on the ending they want and then they spend the rest of the series damn well fighting for it.

BNHA’s epilogue handing the kids the passel of resolutions and changes they so desperately need for their bright futures to be remotely convincing—offscreened, timeskipped victories to battles they haven’t even yet realized the need to fight!—will just cement this rant’s contention that the series and its heroes don’t have half of the clarity of purpose and intellectual integrity of Helck and its lead duo of shounen manga Determinators.

In summary, please read Helck.

Disclaimer at the bottom: I don’t want to utterly oversell Helck here. The way it handles its classism angle is simplistic, even reductive, a bog-standard portrayal of, “All nobles are cartoonishly evil save the one (1) pure-hearted exception who just isn’t for some reason.” Its big change to its corrupt system at the end is simply to replace a “bad king” with a “good king,” which is self-evidently not a change that’s guaranteed-effective beyond the good king’s lifespan. Further, there’s obviously going to be a difference in realism between a story set in a medieval fantasy JRPG world and one set in a modified version of real-life, present-day Japan—BNHA does portray a much more complex, well-articulated society.

Still, even acknowledging that comparing the two series is kind of comparing apples and mandrakes, it’s striking to me how similar the themes are when you strip out the language of their respective genre idioms. Both are interrogating notions of traditional heroism and villainy, examining what drives villains, pushing to recognize the humanity in the traditionally monstrous. In that sense, Helck is just across-the-board better, more honest, and more passionate at portraying those themes, while BNHA consistently gestures at them only to bafflingly write them off again the moment they get a little too challenging to deal with.

#bnha #helck #helck propaganda #bnha critical #stillness has salt #my writing #unrelated note: i was reading helck for the first time as i was also reading frieren for the first time #and let me tell you guys #THAT is a fun compare and contrast exercise #need frieren to be a blowout success so it can get a season two and i can get the golden city arc animated please and thank you #but it'd be nice if helck's very...adequate anime did well enough that they could at least get through the whole thing

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spuffybot · 11 months

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I just saw that Oklahoma is working on a book ban that would remove all mentions of sex. This is…beyond dangerous and scary. It’s also reflective of the true motivations behind all of this: to reinforce gender roles, to subjugate women, to enforce heteronormativity, and to prevent children and teens from empowering themselves with knowledge.

When you keep “sex ed” in the home you get pregnant teens, immense shame around sex and sexuality, increased risk of STI’s, increased risk of abuse, and queer people with no safe way to explore or express their identity.

When I was in 8th grade, a trashy romance novel changed my life. My parents didn’t talk about sex. My mom would make me cover my eyes during sex scenes, or fast forward them. The impression this gave me was that sex was something truly awful and scary. She never talked to me about puberty, never talked to me about dating (forbidden, of course), and never ever talked to me about sex. I was the last girl in my class to shave their legs, I never knew what the other kids were talking about, and I had immense fear and shame around sex.

I started to recognize my queer feelings when I was 12, and not to derail, but this only amplified my feelings of terror.

Then, in eighth grade, a friend gave me a book, because she knew I liked fairies and I think she sensed I was anxious about sex. The book was A Kiss of Shadows by Laurel K Hamilton. Now, i could go on about how problematic Hamilton is as an author, but that’s not the point. At the time, this book opened a whole new world to me. The protagonist, Merry Gentry, was a beautiful, confidant, and brave young woman. And she had sex. A lot of sex. And she wasn’t ashamed of it. In fact, it was part of her power and part of her story. And she didn’t just have sex, she experienced pleasure, and her partners prioritized her enjoyment and treated her with respect.

To be a young girl on the brink of my first romantic relationships and having this book be my first introduction to sex, was a game changer. Merry taught me about consent and protection, that sex and love could co-exist, or not. She showed me that a woman could be sexual and still powerful, respected, and desirable. She defied everything I had ever been led to believe about sex and she drastically altered how I felt about my own desires.

Books are knowledge and experience. They challenge what we know and how we think. They expose us to people we would have never met otherwise. They connect us on a deeply personal and human level.

These bans will hurt real people. They will make small worlds even smaller, and leave kids like me without the chance to see a better way.

Please don’t buy into this puritanical censorship. Kids learning about themselves, their bodies, their identities, and their options is not harmful. Leaving kids in the dark is harmful. Cutting off their resources is harmful. Denying them autonomy is harmful.

#book banning #anti book bans #don’t ban books #book bans

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aquarium-ina-bag · 1 year

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Where Danger Finds Me, it Follows with Tides - 1

Plot: Egyptian reader finds themselves yearning for the attention of Wednesday

Thrown into War ch1

Word count: 2k

Warnings: blood, bit of violence

After a grueling week of listening to the groaning spewing out of a loud werewolf’s mouth and the sounds of boxes being unpacked, broken down, then thrown out from across the shared dorm, Wednesday was finally able to get some sort of thought down on her typewriter.

This was the week before a new prison sentence that was covered up by a ‘fun’ thing called education, but last year was more of a thrill than any of her other school years. Getting kidnapped, fighting evil forces, beating up an ex-teacher, sending an ex to jail, and learning to be more affectionate to people she cared about—the thought made Wednesday’s zygomaticus major muscle twitch. Quickly brushing it off, Wednesday had one more hour before her sentence started. The schedule wasn’t too different from last year's, but the people were. Wednesday was involuntarily filled with facts about who was in her new classes there, statuses, drama, and abilities by none other than Enid.

Wednesday had gotten everything ready for herself; now it was time to get this beast across from her to cooperate. The black-haired girl could wake her roommate up in the most abrupt way possible, but that was mostly the last thing Enid needed right now. The wolf’s growling and grinding in her deep sleep were more intense than usual; clearly, she was on edge. Wednesday hadn’t had a clue how to wake someone up in a thoughtful way, so the second best choice was her second favorite right hand.

The extra hand in the room crawled and climbed its way up to Enid, and started to shake the girl gently. A low, loud groan bounced off the ancient walls, and as a result, Thing rattled her harder.

"AM I LATE?" Enid threw herself forward, as did Thing.

"No, you’re actually early, for once," the stoic voice replied.

"But you have less than 40 minutes to get ready."

And with that, the 40-minute race began. Enid was able to get ready and look good in 35 minutes and 5 seconds, almost bumping her third record down. They were able to use the extra 4 minutes and 55 seconds to get down to the quad to be the first to get breakfast. After the bell rang, people started rolling in. The only people the pair cared about were Yoko, Divina, Kent, Ajax, Eugene, and Bianca.

"I’m not ready for this at all; I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I know I did this last year, but I’m just not ready." Kent rambled out his anxieties.

"I know! I think I’m just excited about the new kids and teachers; I want to see who they replaced for Ms. Thornhill." Ajax continued the flow of conversation.

"Wasn’t her name Laura or something along those lines?" Bianca questioned.

"Laurel" Wednesday corrected

"Right, right, Wednesday you have fencing for first period right?" Bianca asked the goth girl, and she nodded in return.

"I sure hope you learned how to beat me during the break" Bianca chuckled.

"Believe me, I have."

"You guys have fencing together again?! Dang it! I loved seeing you guys argue about who should have gotten the point!" Yoko complained.

"Divina and I have them; I’ll make sure to fill you in," Enid commented to console the vampire.

Wednesday rolled her eyes and removed herself from the table to put her tray away; in doing so, the bell rang for the first period. The four with fencing walked in a group to the studio. Classic coach Vlad was there to greet the aspiring fighters again.

"Welcome back, you four. I'm glad to see you back again. If you want a refresher on how to battle, I will be setting up a tutorial for the new students; if not, get your gear on and go do practice matches." The coach shared.

Bianca nudged Wednesday jokingly, the shorter girl grumbled and continued to walk to her black uniform and mask that were placed during prep week. They all quickly changed and started matches as the coach reprimanded the newbies for their stances. The doors opened for a latecomer.. History repeats itself. That snarky grin flashed the room, the Ra’s eye marking on your right eye was as gold as the morning sun, and the scent of euphoric blue lotus followed when you walked past people.

"Vlad! Nice to see you again!" You called out while continuing to walk closer. Arms lifted up above your head for emphasis.

If Bianca were a werewolf, her ear would have twitched. She was so out of focus that Wednesday scored a point on her, yet she didn’t care; she just focused on that voice across the room. Wednesday stared at her, confused.

"Y/n… Don’t you have to be working somewhere?" The older man inquired.

"Yeah, about that, after Weems got hurt from the poisoning, the board wanted a background check on the admin here. A 16-year-old was definitely not someone they wanted working as staff; I guess they didn’t like my records. But! I still have perks; I just have to be an actual student, which is useless for me." You Informed.

"Thank you for saving Weems again. I’m guessing you’re my student then."

"Hey, what’s a scorpion for?" but yes, sir, I am!" You said it excitedly.

"I saw your old mask on the rack; it must have slipped my mind," Vlad mumbled.

Bianca continued to listen, she took off her mask to get a better look at who was speaking. Wednesday assessed the siren's facial features, which showed clear indications of fear, panic, and nervousness. Wednesday worried slightly for her friend, who was this person who had her opponent more scared than when she threatened Bianca? As if it were on queue you looked over to the pair for a split second, then to the equipment rack, eyes landing on the two. You walked past them with haste to get changed, Bianca was definitely on edge when they started up again; she could barely even get into the proper stance.

Once you changed, you planted yourself on the bench between the coach and the pair fighting, watching like an animal looking for its next prey. You mumbled something to Vlad, and Bianca was thrown off again. Of course, you noticed.

"Bianca I can feel and smell the fear off you, geez!" You yelled across the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?! Don’t you have to be scrubbing the halls?" Bianca snapped, throwing her mask on the ground and practically jogging towards you.

"I’m a student now." Returning the attitude

"Hurry up and duel that Addams kid," you commanded.

How did you know Wednesday's name?" the raven-haired girl questioned privately. Surely you’ve never met each other; clearly, you have tension with Bianca, so her friends wouldn’t have talked to you. Who are you?

"I’m not going to listen to you, L/N. Clearly, you lost your status." Bianca huffed up

Vlad has now stepped in "Ms. Barclay, it won’t hurt to do one duel, plus I want to see you two's improvement."

"Thank you, coach," you gleamed.

Bianca grumbled and went back to her spot, picking up the mask as well. The two got back into their stances. Bianca seemed more professional, dead set on winning, but a part of her was still nervous. Wednesday and Bianca bowed and were off, continuing to parry and attempt blows at each other until she could strike out Wednesday. Each. Consecutive. Time. It irked the raven girl. Drawing her out of thought, you spoke.

"Addams. Duel me."

"What?! I beat her each time, though! Duel me!" Bianca cried out

"You’re not focused on her at all; I don’t want to fight someone who has no thought of trying to improve." Your voice was gloomy and almost sounded bored with the conversation.

"I have! You haven’t been here to know that!" She protested

"If you improved, you would have seen me try and beat me."

Bianca shut her mouth, moved over to the bench, and practically threw herself down. You finally got up and put on that custom mask of yours, it had a small streak of red going down the right eye area. Wednesday studied everything she could about you, once you were face-to-face with her, she could finally get the height of you and your physique. She had to look up to look you dead in the eyes.

"I like you. You’re focused, and you try to understand everything you can before launching yourself into a battle. I like it, that’s why I wish to fight you." You smiled down at her.

Before she could say anything, you got into placement and waited for her to do so. Once she got into her comfortable stance, the raven girl gathered information on your stance; clearly, you know what you’re doing. After the bow of respect, you two slowly approached each other, Wednesday attempted a strike, but was completely shut down with ease.

Interesting

You threw out a lazy strike, even that almost hit her. She tried two quick blows, but again, she shut down. What confused her was the fact that your block almost seemed to be there before she could even perform the move.

Could you read minds?

No, this doesn’t look like it, she’s seen mind readers, and this isn’t it. But that stupid smile was plastered on your face; it messed with her nerves a bit.

The pace quickens, and you shoot somewhat lazy shots. She strikes fast, just to be shot down again and again, It felt like hours, but really it was less than 2 minutes. Finally, you put what seems to be your all into this. The speed quickened, as did the eyes watching you two. She almost couldn’t keep up, this was too fast for her. You’re making the raven sweat. An opening for you, you shot like a snake.. no like a scorpion? Round one was finished, and you took the lead.

"Point for L/n!" Vlad exclaimed.

"Whatcha thinking, Addams?" You questioned.

"I want," she hesitated, "no mask, no tips. First blood." A Wednesday classic

"Deal!" You were excited— something realistic. Throwing off the mask, that stupid smile was still on your face.

Wednesday and you fixed your blades and got back to bowing, then the stance, and you were off. The pace picked up from where it had dropped, she was able to keep up more now, so much so that she was able to hit you in the stomach. She was more hopeful now, but she was so hopeful that she completely forgot about the deal she set. First blood. Leave herself open. You went for her jugular, leaving a perfect cut that dripped down a small streak of red on her neck.

"Point L/n." The coach yelled out.

"Y'know, Addams, I had padding on there, realistically, if we’re in an actual duel out at random, I wouldn’t have padding on." You explained.

"Take it off then." She quickly blurted

"Hm. Alright then!"

With haste, you quickly took off the top padding. This was very much illegal in the rule book, but who cares? This was getting interesting, and Wednesday followed suit. There was your school's white button-up under it. Once you got situated, the deal was still on, and the regular steps occurred. The two of you were faster than before, but it was fast for you to land a blow just on her chest. She completely paused, and blood leaked right above where her heartbeat was. A rapid flow of blood stained the button-up; her heartbeat was racing; she was definitely overworked, but this was different, she enjoyed this duel, of course, not the loss but this. Wednesday couldn’t explain why it was frustrating her.

"You’re terrific Wednesday. I hope I can duel you later again, but I must go." You explained.

Picking up your stuff and putting it back into its respectable spots, Wednesday watched a little confused as you left abruptly. She looked around for a second, watching everyone go back to practicing. The raven-haired girl went to check on her cuts, but they were completely gone—not a stain, not a scar, just a tiny hole in her shirt.

Huh?

#Wednesday Addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader

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stories4thepack · 7 months

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Here but gone (part 2)

Wednesday Addams x demon!reader

Warnings: blood, descriptions of injuries, blood drinking, flash backs, Wednesday being a simp. (Anything else?)

The zitronos had taken effect. It had clawed its way into your mind and stolen all control you once had over your body. Wednesday searched your black eyes for anything, anything to show you were still there. That Y/n was still there.

The blood flowing from her abdomen drew you closer, your great, scarlet form within biting distance of her now. Your forked tongue flicking across your dagger sized tusks.

“No”

Wednesday muttered, using apart of her remaining energy to limply raise her arm. An attempt to protect herself. She hears the growl explode from your mouth, sees the way your talons crack into the stone as you rear back.

A flash of blue light sends you into the pillar behind you, your broken cry breaking past your spit dripping lips before you fall limp on the ground.

Wednesday stares in shock before turning to the light beside her. Goody places her hands over the knife tearing it from Wednesday’s body. The Raven hair is so tired, she can barley make out what the spirit is saying, barley see it vanish inside her wound. And suddenly she sits up, her wounds stitching themselves back together as if they have always been able to do so.

without a second thought, she dashes to your side. The pain having caused you to shift back into your human form. Your blood making a puddle around your weak body. She hates the way she falls to her knees beside you, snatching off the black jacket she wore and carefully wrapping you inside it, her body aching as you groaned in pain once more. She ignored the need to question the new feeling, every inch of her black soul focused on you.

she could see the deep wounds in your flesh, the rags that were your clothes doing little to hide them. She recognised the deep scratches of Laurel’s dagger and stared in near horror at the claw marks and chunks of missing flesh she could only assume had been self inflicted.

A tear nearly escaped onto her ghostly cheek

“Y/n,”

she muttered, shaking your body as gentle as she was able to, but at the cry that leaps from your throat, she snatches her hands away.

For the first time in her life, Wednesday didn’t know what to do.

———————————————————————

“You mentioned something about your kind healing with blood.”

Wednesday had mentioned as you sat in the black chair beside her typewriter. The clicking of its keys had stopped, but she did not look away from the words on the page. You looked away from your book, a slight smile on your lips as you responded.

“It does, but it’s also dangerous. “

Wednesday turns her head towards you, eyebrows raised to encourage you to continue

“My kind are rare Wednesday, a dozen left in this country at most. We cannot go about drinking from people. So, at the taste of blood, we could loose control, especially if we haven’t had it before. And, Well! If your injured, that hunger is— burning.”

Wednesday nods, turning back to her typewriter as if to continue. Yet, the irritating bugging to ask one further question got the better of her.

“Have you ever-“

“No”

There’s a silence, the goth lowers her hands from the typewriter, twisting her chair so it fully faced you. You placed your book carefully onto your lap, your face painted with curiosity and slight caution.

“Do you ever want to?”

You sigh, looking away from her, your eyes finding safety staring at Enid’s bright bed across the room. It takes you a moment but Wednesday waits. Listening to your gentle breaths before you turn back to her, eyes attempting to hide the demonic hunger Wednesday had learnt to notice.

“Nearly all the time.”

———————————————————————

You cry out as Wednesday applies pressure to you wound, attempting to stop the bleeding and yet, she watched your blood wash out from somewhere else on your body.

she felt useless, desperately trying to save you as you died anyway

———————————————————————

The night before Wednesday was expelled, you sat side by side in the outskirts of the woods. The night glowing high above. You had missed school, confined to your dorm room by both the blood moon and your own blood lust. You both sat in silence for a while, you watched the constellations while Wednesday took the time to quietly examine you from the corner of her eye. The moon light effectively hid the bags under your eyes and the tiredness in your gaze. But Wednesday knew it was there.

And she knew what was causing it…

“Y/n, you do need blood”

She suddenly declares, taken slightly aback as You laugh, throwing your hands carelessly into the air.

“And who is going to give me their blood. Unlike Vampires, I can’t drink from animals or blood bags! It makes me sick!”

“Then human blood?”

Wednesday asked, her voice carefully remaining monotone and yet her eyes staring fixedly at your face. You sigh,

“There’s still the problem of who.”

Wednesday doesn’t respond, but she turns to you, reaching to lift the sleeve of her jacket up, but your warm hands grasps hers, forcing her to stop. Usually she would of pulled away at the contact, but she doesn’t, curious at the way you command her not to, and yet your hungry eyes demanded satisfaction.

———————————————————————

“Y/n, stay with me.”

Wednesday almost begs as your eyes stare into hers. You give her a weak smile, but flinch and cry out as yet another shock of the zitronos hits you.

Wednesday cannot take it, until an idea flows into her mind. And she knows what she has to do.

“Y/n, I apologise.”

She mutters before hastily pulling up the black sleeve of her shirt, exposing her pale skin. She brings her wrist to your mouth, pressing hard against the fangs poking out of your mouth.

You can’t resist. And Wednesday knows it.

You bite down, too blinded by your own pain to fully comprehend what your doing. You drink, lapping at the blood flowing into your mouth. Groaning as your strength begins to return. You grasp her arm with your free hand, the other digging into her thigh. Wednesday is dazed, trapped in a of great pain, and yet, the willingness to let you continue is one out of pure enjoyment

The pain is nothing compare to the gentle feeling of her blood being sucked away. Your grip on her arm tightens, your eyes snapping open to reveal your blood red pupils. Filled with nothing but hunger and desperations.

you were loosing control.

Wednesday places her free arm behind your back, sitting you up to give you better access to her wrist. For some reason she trusted you, knew you would stop even if you seemingly couldn’t. She relished in the pain you were bringing her, she watched as her blood coated your lips how your scarlet eyes closed again as the zitronos was being rid from your body

“Y/n, that’s enough.”

The goth muttered as the corners of her vision darkened. But you didn’t.

“Y/n!”

She demanded. But you didn’t stop. Maybe Wednesday had been wrong to trust you, to give you her blood. Maybe she would become your prey, your first kill.

“Y/n!”

She forces out, before there’s a howl from outside.

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maxbegone · 1 month

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happy wednesday! not sure how we're this far into the week already. thank you @rmd-writes for the tag!

here's a little snipped from my totally-not-hades (2018)-inspried prince of the underworld/god of death au:

“Is this all a game to you, Alex?” Henry calls after him. “Do you honestly think that you can shirk the responsibilities of the Underworld like this? There are duties we must uphold, yet here you are bringing shame upon the House.” Stuck on the spot, Alex rolls his shoulders. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t let Henry see the deep pinch that forms between his brows or the way he knows the shine in his eyes has dulled. “What if those duties change?” He asks, and he can practically feel Henry’s stare burning into his back. “Pardon?” “What if I don’t belong here? What if I’m tired of the Underworld and leaving is the only thing that will lead me to what I truly need? What if it’s the only thing that will make me happy?” There is a long pause before Henry speaks up again. “I…I don’t…This is ridiculous, Alex, and you know it. It’s impossible to leave, and if you did, you’d be risking everything the Underworld stands for. It’s been the same for aeons; no one gets out — not shades, not Gods. But if you somehow manage to leave, then that means it’s possible to begin with, and then what? Mortals will get out and all havoc will wreak upon Earth! Is that truly what you want?” “If that’s what it takes for me to find her, then yes,” Alex bites, turning around sharply, and Henry immediately stills. “Her?” He asks, his voice softer, curious. “And who would that be?” “No one you’d know,” Alex mutters. “I—I can’t tell you.” “Yes, I believe you said that before.” Alex shrugs. “Then I guess that’s all there is to say.” He turns around again, readying himself to venture further into the Land of Heroes and meet those who reside here before finding his way to the mortal realm, when he hears a soft, indignant huff. “All of this for some mortal girl.” Alex shakes his head. “That is not it.” “No? So finding a simple exit that will direct damned souls and fallen mortal war heroes back to the surface have simply no consequence to everything that is instilled down here?” “You don’t understand!” Alex starts on him, getting so dangerously close to Henry that they’re practically nose-to-nose. “And you’ll never understand. I have to do this.” He watches as Henry’s lips press into a thin, defeated line as he tilts his chin up. “Fine, then.” He rises to hover once more. “Continue this ridiculous venture, Prince Alexander. I suppose our history here means nothing compared to what mysteries await for you up there. If you get to the surface, may you find who you wish. Do not call upon me to clean up any mess you’ve made in doing so.” Alex clenches his jaw and desperately tries to ignore the half moons he’s digging into his palm of his free hand right now, or how he’s clutching his blade so tightly the hilt might break. Henry hovers away, never once taking his eye off Alex. His own jaw set tight, chiton draping around him like its own entity, he readies himself to leave. But, in what feels like a moment entirely out of this one, he gives Alex a once over. There’s something slow about it, something longing, and a mild burning in Alex’s sternum begins to grow. “Your laurels are crooked,” Henry says, then vanishes.

tagging @iboatedhere @indestructibleheart @kiwiana-writes @nontoxic-writes @orchidscript

#firstprince #rwrb #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #wip wednesday

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cwritesforfun · 11 months

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TSITP: Conrad Fisher x Fem!Reader: this is me trying

Inspired by the song this is me trying by Taylor Swift and some songs from folklore and just Taylor Swift songs in general so let me know if you like this style of quick story:) here is a link to the song

Y/N = Your Name & S/N = Sister’s Name ** I do not own the TSITP characters or plot!** Yes, I do change the plot a bit.

Lyrics from songs in italics - let me know how many songs you can count

Y/N’s POV

Cousins Beach has always been a beautiful place to visit over the summer. My family has been friends with the Fisher and Conklin families since I was young. I was always closest with Belly, as we were the only two girls besides our moms. Steven was friendly enough. Jeremiah always knew to bring the party to us and was there if you asked, But, Conrad, Conrad was there no matter what. I never had to ask. When the rest of the kids walked together, he would walk by me so I didn’t have to walk alone. He would help me calm my anxiety by walking on the beach with me. He would save me from uncomfortable social situations. When my dad died, he would text me every week (I told him every day was too much). I truly appreciated him more than he ever would know because when I break it's in a million pieces. I was hurting so much, but I had him. My family sold our old home when my father died, but Laurel lets us stay with their family every summer now. It was very sweet of her to do that and it also means endless summer sleepovers with Belly. It can be a little mentally taxing to not have a space to decompress after a long day socializing, so I tend to go on runs after dinner around the beach. My twin sister, S/N, joined me once, but now she prefers partying with Steven.

This year, everything is different. Belly is being entered into the debutante ball. I went a few years ago and my escort was Conrad. I wonder who will take her this year. Susannah has breast cancer and I can tell it’s taking a toll on Conrad a lot. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he keeps pushing me away.

Dinner tonight has been tense. Belly somehow snuck out to the party at the beach. And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound. I was there because S/N wanted me as her moral support if she was rejected by guys or girls, but I mainly hung out with Jeremiah because he’s funny to watch when he gets drunk. I did see Conrad drinking and smoking off to the side. He glared at me when I got another drink. I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me. No idea what his problem is. He won’t talk to me. It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you...

And since that happened, the family is torn. Belly was in no real danger since I was with her at the party and watching over her, but my family didn’t like the idea of a small girl watching another small girl. They said it was unsafe for us to be alone, even though we were with other people at the party. Conrad’s parents got mad because he was supposed to watch everyone as the “oldest” sibling there. The funny thing is, Conrad and I are the same age.

I watch as Conrad storms outside after dinner. I watch his dad follows him outside. Susannah leans over to me and says “Go outside and check on Conrad, will you? I know his father can be a bit direct and Conrad doesn’t always respond best to that. He’ll need you.” I get up and walk through the back door outside. I hear Mr. Fisher say in a slightly raised voice “You’re the oldest. You’re supposed to look out for the younger kids.” UH OH! I exclaim “Technically, we’re the same age.” Conrad says “Go away, Y/N.” Mr. Fisher says “Conrad, apologize right now.” I reply “It’s okay, Mr. Fisher. Um... could you tell my mom I’m going on a run and I’ll be back after?” He nods and I storm past them to the house.

I change, put my headphones on, and run on the beach. I collapse on the beach at the end and put my feet in the cold wet sand. It feels amazing here. I take off my headphones and watch the waves wash over the beach. It’s weird but fuckin’ beautiful.

I hear footsteps and wonder who they sent to check on me. I hear “May I join you?” I see Conrad and I ask “Oh so you finally want to talk to me now?” And my words shoot to kill when I’m mad. I have a lot of regret about that. Conrad sits then asks “Uhh something like that. I’m sorry. Do you want water? I figured you would be thirsty after the run. I was waiting to see you run by.” I reply “I will gladly accept, thanks, Conrad.” He replies “Of course.”

I look at the water and exclaim “Sorry for snapping a minute ago. I just get in my head sometimes and I know it was rude of me to say that. If you didn’t want to talk, I shouldn’t have tried to push you.” He replies “It’s alright. You’re the only one who cares enough to try.” I look at him and see tears staining his cheeks. I reach over and we hug. He rests his head in the crook of my neck and just lets all his tears out. I can tell he has been holding them back by how his tears ricochet.

Eventually, Conrad pulls away from the hug and says “Everyone either doesn’t try to talk to me or they seem afraid of me. I feel like I’ve lost everyone and I have no one left. No one makes me feel like I’m worth anything. I just ... I’m hurting and I miss when days were better. My dad ... he said that I should’ve been a better example. He could smell the alcohol on my breath and he wants me to shape up. He doesn’t see that this is me trying.” I take his hands in mine and say “Conrad Fisher, you’re worth more than gold. You have a wonderful beautiful soul and you deserve so much happiness. I’m sorry to hear how you’ve been feeling, but I want you to know I’m here for you. I’m here for a crying session, a good escape from reality, and I can beat up someone for you if you need me to.” He half smiles and says “But you’re a small girl and they’re not good at defending themselves.” Ahahaha throwing our parent’s words at each other, are we? I half smile and say “And you’re just the oldest sibling who too many people expect too much from.” He nods and says “It’s too much.” I reply “The past few years, when times were tough and I didn’t see a reason to keep going, you were the light in my life. You were a person who helped me see how wonderful life could be amidst the worry and grief. This place on the beach is where we would often find each other when my anxiety got really bad. I don’t know if you remember. But... this is our spot where we let go and allow ourselves to really feel what we feel.” He looks out and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I lean against him and I feel his arms tracing patterns on my arm. We talk more and the sun fully sets.

I pull away from him and we stand up. We start walking back to the house and Conrad exclaims “Thank you for letting me talk and feel and be myself. I would be lying if I said that was it for my problems.” I stop walking and ask “What’s wrong, Conrad?” He stops, looks down at the ground, and says “Nothing is wrong. Well to me, it’s not wrong. It’s stupid really. I don’t know why I feel the need to tell you because it could mean I lose you.” I take his hands in mine and say “You’re scaring me, Conrad. Please tell me what can’t you tell me that means I no longer want in your life.” He replies “I am so very in love with you, Y/N.” HOLY BLEEPING WHAT?!?!? He quickly drops my hands and says “Just forget I said that, please. We’ll be friends and I can move on. Just don’t tell everyone please.” I put my hands on both sides of his face and say “I love you too, you big idiot.” He smiles and we kiss. Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long...

#conrad fisher #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #tsitp x reader #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #the summer i turned pretty #fanfiction #fanfic #Conrad fisher rec

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 2 years

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hello I saw this and i was reminded of my humans are weird/ humans are space orcs/ earth is a death world/ earth is australia phase here on tumblr, so since humans can to some degree mimic certain sounds how would some of the twist guys react to mc mimicking their non-verbal language, like for example since crewel's a weredalmatian, yuu can replicate his barks and growls, not knowing that half of what crewel was saying are swear words

As someone who has a habit of mimicking animal and non-animal sounds, I felt this in my soul. 😂

Before we get into that though, I gotta say that I adore the “humans are weird/humans are space orcs/etc” trope! :D In fact, that was part of the inspiration for the posts on Cater’s “Humans are Weird” Magicam account!

Okay, okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get on with the fun stuff~! ÒwÓ For funsies, let’s have them react to Yuu and mini!Yuu being the little human mimics they are. >w< Keep in mind that this is just a suggestion—you guys can also come up with your own scenarios for such a situation! 0v0

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Yuu:

The discovery happened during PE class, and there happened to be a joint class between the grades. Given the fact that they were surrounded by an almost literal zoo of monsters for students, Yuu was hearing a lot of animalistic sounds coming from their fellow classmates. While unnerving to hear the more dangerous ones being so close to them, Yuu couldn’t help but focus on each sound: the inflections, the duration, the pitch…all of it. They could feel the urge to try and replicate them rising—to see if they could do it.

When they heard one particular growl that ended with a bark from a passing student that looked their way—however—they couldn’t help but repeat the sound back. It wasn’t as deep, but they’d managed to get the length and inflection right!

“What the fuck-?!”

Apparently a little too well, as the outburst had drawn the attention of everyone. Had Yuu known what some of them had been saying the whole time?! Were they planning on blackmailing them?! It took Coach Vargas asking Yuu to explain what happened before it sank in that no, they couldn’t understand the sounds they heard—but they could mimic them well enough!

The rest of the day was spent with the first years testing Yuu to see how many sounds they could make, ranging from growls and hisses to chirps and squawks or barks and meows. It wasn’t until one particular class with Professor Trein that they made a high-pitched ‘meh!’ sound like a kitten that Lucius came running, the matagot yowling and swatting at the student who just so happened to be near Yuu (‘F’ in chat for Ace’s hand). After that incident, Yuu was enrolled in the Animal Linguistics class to not only help them understand everything, but to test and improve their mimicry skills.

Needless to say, the researchers had a field day studying this behavior and testing out human vocal ranges. If Yuu just so happens to know how to use their false vocal cords to create the overtone effect, this will open up so many research opportunities!

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Mini!Yuu:

The class was full of busy students working on their potions, Crewel monitoring them with a stern look while occasionally glancing over at the playpen set up in the corner close to his desk. Inside the pen, little Yuu was happily playing with the variety of toys and coloring books the staff gave them. Anyone watching would notice how Yuu was putting stuff in a bucket, their face one of pure concentration as they looked between the students closest to them and their ‘ingredients’. When a puff of colored smoke erupted from someone’s cauldron, their little hands wiggled over the bucket—as though performing a spell—before throwing their arms with a chirp of, “Poof!”

More than one student uttered a quiet “Aw!” in response.

“Alright, pups. Take the laurel berries and mix five grams of dusk-weed,” Crewel instructed. “Next, you will-”

While he spoke, Yuu was watching intently as the students closest to them were adding the ingredients to the mixture. One of the students—a canine-like monster—accidentally bumped his elbow against the edge and let out a yelp of pain. Almost immediately his partner and the professor were there checking on him, Yuu tilting their head in thought. They were having fun, yes, but…it was lonely playing by themselves. But if the teacher and the student’s friend came when he made that sound…what if they tried?

“You’ll be fine,” Crewel uttered in annoyance over a minor bump though relieved it wasn’t a burn. “Next time, don’t-”

“Yip!”

Multiple heads turned at the sound of distress, Crewel immediately bolting over to the pen and leaning over to examine the toddler. When he didn’t see any sign of injury or distress, he knelt down and asked, “What is it, pup? Are you hurt?”

“I wanna play too!” Yuu chirped, a wide smile on their face as they bounced on their feet. “Yip! Yip!”

Ears twitching, Crewel said, “Puppy…that sound is meant for when you’re hurt, not for when you want to play. I thought you were hurt!” At that Yuu looked confused and lowered their head from the scolding. “…the next time you wish to ask someone to play with you, this is the sound you make.” He made a warbling growl-like bark sound, Yuu perking up and listening intently before repeating the sound back. “Good puppy!”

“Play time?” they asked excitedly.

“Class is almost over. If you can be a good little puppy and wait just a little longer, we’ll find a game to play together.”

“Okay!”

It was after class was over and Yuu was put down for a nap that Crewel was able to mark down this latest development. Nearby were a few students who were sitting at their desks writing letters, nervously glancing over at the sleeping toddler and quickly turning back to their papers when Crewel shot them a withering look. Satisfied, he finished writing his notes:

It has been discovered that Yuu has the ability to copy the sounds that they hear from the other students. Does not appear to understand what they mean unless told, and may begin to use them to gain attention. Will have to test and see the extent of this ability. However…

Severe punishment will be given to ensure students do not verbally or non-verbally communicate curses and insults around Yuu…again.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #divus crewel #ashton vargas #twst divus #twst vargas #twisted wonderland Yuu #twisted wonderland mini!Yuu

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