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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

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Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute. “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always.

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply.

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

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mermaidcashton · 4 years

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i hate to admit it

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship: michael clifford/reader prompt/AU: this is a gift for the wonderful @h0tsos who wanted soft, subby Michael in an enemies to lovers capacity (and i snuck some coffee shop!au in there as well, and some weebness because, well, it’s Steff and Michael) wordcount: 4k+ warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, explicit sexual content a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (which was a gift exchange this time around) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘this means war’ by mariana’s trench • ‘my hero academia’ is a manga/anime series. there are references to it and a few of the characters in this but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand what’s going on.

i hate to admit it *** “So, they’re like...superheroes?”

Luke sipped on his glass of rosé, nodding like he understood whilst making a face that showed he absolutely did not.

“Yeah, dude, pretty much!” Michael nodded along with your co-worker with so much enthusiasm he looked like one of those dogs people put on their dashboards. Except less cute. Wait, no - not cute. Definitely not cute at all. Good save, you. Couldn’t have your own internal monologue thinking you felt anything for the moron you were forced to work with 3 times a week was anything more than an annoyance you had to endure. With a butt that wouldn’t quit. Dammit, self!

Michael took advantage of Luke showing an interest in his (and yours) favourite anime, and began bombarding him with half baked theories, predictable favourite scenes and shitty character analysis. He nearly knocked his own hat off as he flailed his hands around in an attempt at explaining the dynamics of a battle from the second season. Luke smiled politely.

You snorted into your drink as you drained the last of it; you were definitely going to need another. If Michael started fanboying over Deku again, you were going to scream.

As you placed the empty bottle onto the wood of the coffee table, you took another glance around the apartment you were in. You’d never been up here before, despite spending a minimum of 20 hours a week in the coffee shop downstairs. But after this evening’s staff meeting tackling such issues as ‘who forgot that milk needs to be kept in the fridge overnight’ (Luke), ‘who is putting too much whipped cream on hot chocolates’ (Michael), and ‘who wrote ‘THIS COFFEE IS HOT, BUT U R HOTTER ❤ ) on a customers caramel macchiato’ (Luke again), Ashton had invited you all upstairs for a ‘employee chill’. You had been surprised a week or so into your employment when you had found out that the manager was also the owner who lived in the apartment above Screamin’ Beans; he was only in his mid twenties, but the more you’d experienced his drive and determination, the more your surprise had dwindled. Ashton really was a great guy, with one big flaw; Michael. They had been best friends for years, hence him moving into the apartment when he came back into town and the job Ashton had given him; which in your humble opinion was the equivalent of setting a monkey loose on the milk frother.

Michael had sealed his fate with you the same day he’d started work. He arrived 10 minutes late (from upstairs), sleepy eyed and shy smiled. His fluffy blonde hair was spilling out of his beanie, and he kept biting his very pink lip bottom with sharp little teeth. The way he pronounced your name was adorable. You’d burned your hand on the espresso machine. Strike one. Things unravelled quickly after that. He was ‘too shy’ to take orders and work the register so you were stuck there all day talking to goddamn customers about why it wasn’t a good idea to have 3 pumps of every syrup while he hid behind silver machinery and dirtied way more jugs than you deemed necessary. Strike two. And then he’d dropped a latté into that ladies bag - sorry, very expensive bag. Michael had let out a ‘uuuhhh’ sound like a malfunctioning robot without moving for so long that the furious customer had stopped trying to yell at him and focused her rage on you instead. When he had eventually come to whatever passed for his senses, Michael had power walked into the employee bathroom and didn’t return until Calum arrived to join the shift and assured him the woman had left, twenty minute later. You were beyond strikes. You’d been so sure you could talk Ashton into scheduling you together as little as possible. There was no reason to put you down to work nearly every shift together, especially shifts where only two staff were on! Except, apparently there was because he kept fucking doing it. Every time you pressed Ashton on it, he’d say something about how he needed Michael ‘trained by the best’, or ‘matching availabilities’, or he thought their ‘energies combined well; auras are meshing, y’know?’ The one might have been on you for catching him as he was returning from his Vibe Check Yoga class at the studio down the street.

He’d also emphasised that Michael needed more friends now he was back in the city, and you two had loads in common! You both liked pop punk! You’d rolled your eyes. And Italian food! A ‘tch noise. And anime! Okay, you’d bite.

The next time you’d gone into work, you’d engaged Michael in a conversation about ‘Tokyo Ghoul’ and recommended ‘Demon Slayer’; things started to pick up. You didn’t fantasise about locking Michael in the walk-in fridge the whole shift. And then…

“You watch ‘My Hero Academia’, right?” “Uh, yeah! I love it.” “Me too! I just ordered a Todoroki tee yesterday. And another Deku one, of course; gotta rep my main man!” “Oh..cool! He’s your favourite?” Of course Michael was a basic bitch. But hey, that’s fine. Deku was fine. He was the main character, after all. And he’s a little less whiny in the recent manga issues, you guess. And the way Michael’s face was right now - open, comfortable, lit up like the 4th of July? That was good, too. His eyes were so green. “Yeah! Who’s your favourite character?” “Well, I would die for a bunch of ‘em, but I’m a Bakugou girl at heart.” You laid a palm flat on your chest, choosing to ignore the feel of your heart beating faster than it had been five minutes ago beneath it. Michael wrinkled his nose. “Bakugou? But he’s like...he’s so mean! And angry!”

Oh no. You’d had this conversation before. You locked eyes with Michael, hoping he could see the warning in your eyes. Don’t do it, ho.

“Like, he’d probably make a better villain than hero!”

“You okay, boo?” Calum slid into the space on the couch beside you, holding out a fresh beer for you to take. “You look deep in thought.”

You hummed and accepted the bottle from him, letting go of your train of thought as you caught sight of Luke trying to prove he could get his overly long leg behind his head. Michael and Ashley F. were both actively trying to avoid getting kicked in the face with a sparkly boot, whilst Ashton was just monitoring the situation very intently; you’re not entirely sure when he last blinked.

You snorted again as Luke’s foot slotted into place in a position you were 85% sure he would not be able to get out of again without assistance, possibly from the emergency services.

“I’m fine. Gotta be one of us capable of thinking here, y’know.” You teased, looking sidelong at Calum. He laughed, rubbing a hand over his freshly shaved hair; he’d always been as easy to get along with as he was obnoxiously handsome. “Hey! You’re lucky I know you’re talking about the human pretzel over there! And I guess, your boyf-” Big brown eyes glittered at you over the hand you’d slapped over his mouth. “-fwendth.” Narrowing your own eyes at your friend, you hissed. “Shut up! I would rather die.” Calum waggled his eyebrows incessantly at you until you relented and dropped your hand. “You knew who I was talking about, though.” Ugh. Smug was not a good look on Calum. “You know, smug is not a good lo-oh fuck, is that the time?” The clock behind Calum’s head showed 8:58; your auction ended at 9:00. You fumbled into your bag for your phone, unlocking it and flicking straight to the app you needed. Phew - still the top bid. “Whatcha doin’?” Calum hooked his chin over your shoulder, blowing your hair out of his face before settling down.

“Bidded on a really cool, limited edition figure. One of my all time favourite anime characters. The auction is about to end.” You explained, making sure Calum could hear you other the cacophony of sounds associated with Luke trying to get his other leg behind his head. You both watched the seconds tick down, your username sitting securely by the words ‘Winning Bid’. At two seconds to nine, the page refreshed, then refreshed again; it was over.

‘Winning Bid: BIGRED69’ “Uh...what happened? That’s not you, right?” Calum asked, tilting his head to look at your face, and the rage it contained. BIGRED69. He’d done it again.

“Uh oh, Y/N - what’s wrong?” Ashton’s voice pulled you out of your internal screaming, and you looked up at him.

“She’s losing her weeb shit at a heavy eBay loss” Calum answered for you, nodding solemnly as he pulled away from you, giving you room to bonk him with a cushion. “Oh! That’s too bad, but that’s another thing you and Mikey have in common!” Ashton beamed. “Mikey!” Oh no. Oh no, no.

“Yeah?” Michael sloped over, getting his black boot caught on the corner of the leopard print rug as he did. Ashton caught him with an ease you suspected (knew) came from practice. “Why don’t you take Y/N to see your anime dolls? She collects them, too!” Ashton looked so pleased with himself and his suggestion for further ‘bonding’ for you and Michael, and Michael looked like he’d been force fed raw lemon at the phrase ‘anime dolls’, so you let it go on your own behalf. Except now Michael was waiting expectantly for you to follow him to his room and Calum was shoving you off of the couch to get you moving. Fuck your life. You sighed as you got up and started walking. “Fine, let’s go; you can show me your Todoroki body pillow and then we can get on with our lives.” Michael let out a small hiss like an angry kitten, his cheeks colouring a pretty pink. He spared a glance at everyone left in your wake. “I, um, don’t have a body pillow, you guys.” “Suuuuure!” You rolled your eyes, waiting for Michael to enter his bedroom so you could follow. The blonde flicked the light on and moved slightly further in so you could pass him, before shutting the door with a small ‘click’. You decided not to comment on this action, looking around at the posters on the walls and figurines on the shelves instead. You were undecided on whether or not you were going to comment on how cool a lot of Michael’s shit was. A ‘Full Metal Alchemist’ poster over his bed, a full shelf of Funko Pops from movies you loved, framed prints of album artwork by Waterparks and The Maine. Fuck. You were really aware of Michael staring at you with an almost hopeful (?) look on his face as you let your eyes travel around his room before he could show you his ‘anime dolls’. Fuck. Your stomach felt fluttery, and you thought you might have a serious problem here, before you caught sight of a very different problem on Michael’s desk.

A rare Kirishima Eijirou statue - box signed by the voice actor - you’d been outbid on last month. By BIGRED69. What were the chances a different one was sitting by Michael’s laptop?

“So,” You said, trying to keep your voice neutral and non-murderous. “Where do you get your collectibles from?” “Forbidden Planet, Tokyo Toys, eBay…” Michael rattled off, until you interrupted him. “Where did you get that one? Looks rare - it must have been difficult!”

“Oh! eBay! It was, but I have an app for it, so…” Michael grinned, looking pleased with himself. An app? “An automatic bidding app? You sniped me?! That’s cheating!” You squeaked; you could not believe this. It was unbelievable.

Michael blinked at you, head empty. “BIGRED69?!” You managed to make the world’s stupidest screen name sound like a terrible accusation. Which it was.

Comprehension dawned on his stupid, beautiful face all at once. “Oh my God! That was you that I’ve been fighting for this stuff? No way! But you didn’t know it was me?”

“Why the hell would I know it was you!” You threw your hands up, and Michael just stared dopily back at you.

“‘Bigred69?! Obviously I assumed you were 12!” Michael let out a squawk of protest, before folding his arms defensively across his chest.

“Clifford!” “What?” Michael’s tone became more insistent. “My last name! Clifford!” You pulled an exaggerated ‘so?!’ face, throwing your hand in the air again.

Michael had the unmitigated gall to huff, like you were the biggest idiot in the room; like he wasn’t always the biggest idiot in every room, all rooms, ever, in the history of rooms. “Clifford the Big Red Dog!” He said, insistence heavy in the words.

You often swore you could almost hear the old internet dial up tone trilling inside Michael’s brain when customers at the coffee shop asked him such difficult questions as “What dairy alternative milks do you carry?”, “Where is the bathroom?”, and even once - you swear - “What’s your name?”. In Michael’s defence, that last one had been asked in more flirtatious-than-not tone by a brunette who clearly had some kind of vision problem (he’d been dressed more horrendously than usual that day beneath his uniform apron; was that a utility vest?!), but had fluttered her eyelashes at your idiot colleague so hard, for so long, you’d been concerned she’d be leaving without what little vision she’d arrived with. But still. Idiot. Michael, not you. And yet, now it was you with your brain puttering through the information you had with the shrill electronic sound of the 90’s in your head. “Clifford the- are you for fucking real?” This could not be real life.

“It’s totally clever!” Michael asserted, continuing in earnest once you scoffed in reply. “No, listen! Because of Clifford, and also, I had red hair when I made it, and 69 is funny - it is! - and, well-” His face flushed slightly before he puffed his chest out a little, apparently deciding to commit to his defence of his screen name. “I’m big, so it works on like, loads of levels!”

This could not be happening to you. You were decidedly not standing in the bedroom of a coworker you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also couldn’t stop thinking about kissing as you restocked the counter fridges in the evenings, as he explained that his auction site handle was a combination of a previous dye job, an insinuation about his dick and a massive fucking dog. You could not let Michael have the upper hand here, but you were floundering. So you fell into more familiar, more pathetic territory.

“If you were called something like ‘deku-loving-loser’, then, sure - I would have known it was you!” “Who’s 12 now?!” “Uh, still you!” Okay, so this wasn’t your finest moment, but you were in it now. And you’d really wanted the Kaminari figure tonight. Michael didn’t even like him that much!

“The point is, you totally sniped me! And you get stuff about basic canon wrong! And your understanding of the characters is one dimensional! And, and...your hat is stupid!” Well, shit. In your defence, Michael’s hat was stupid. You could feel how hot your face was, and Michael’s eyes looking right at it was only making it worse. You couldn’t read his expression at all; he looked like he was searching for something, and you didn’t know what it was, or if he’d find it. You could only assume he had when he took the most decisive steps you’d ever seen him take, reaching you in two huge steps and cupping your face with both hands. Michael kissed in a way he didn’t do anything else; he felt sure and certain as he pressed his lips to yours, moving them with intent. Your brain became overtaken with television static almost immediately as you moved your mouth in time with his, opening your mouth immediately at the questioning press of his tongue. You had enough of yourself left aware to yank his stupid fucking hat off his head as you tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, Michael’s hands sliding down to clutch at your waist as you swayed with the kiss. As Michael pulled back ever so slightly, you took the opportunity to press your teeth into his plush bottom lip, the way you’d thought of doing in afternoon slumps on shift. The whine that came from deep in Michael’s throat made a split second decision for you.

You pulled back further from Michael, yanking your top off in one go and starting in on the buttons of his black shirt before he fully registered the sight of your bra and the top of your full breasts.

“Shit, Y/N, are you…” Michael trailed off as you pulled his sleeves down his arms, and the shirt off this body. Your eyes met his as you popped the button on his black jeans and placed your hand on his zipper. “Do you really want me to overthink this, Michael?” A moment’s pause, then he shook his head vigorously, leaning down to pull his boots off once you’d yanked his jeans to his knees. By the time he was left in his (funnily enough, black) boxer briefs, you’d discarded your own jeans and were knelt at the foot of his bed in your soft, lilac underwear. Michael’s breath hitched as his gaze drifted down your body, taking it all in under the artificial light of the room. “Get over here, Clifford…” You teased, trying not to second guess what was happening. Michael broke out of his trance and more or less threw himself onto the bed, settling his head on the pillows and pulling you on top of him for another kiss, and then another, and another. By the time you pulled back to catch your breath, your head was spinning. You braced yourself on your forearms on the bed, taking the time to admire Michael’s body beneath you.

You’d seen the tattoos on his pale, strong arms before, but they looked different in this context; the contrast between the milky skin and dark ink made your stomach swoop. The blonde hair on his head is also a contradiction; to the dark hair on his chest and the hair trailing down his stomach and disappearing under his waistband. Your mouth felt very dry as you let your gaze continue downward, to the straining bulge beneath the fabric.

You flicked your eyes back to meet Michael’s in question, your fingers suddenly resting on the waistband of his underwear. Michael swallowed thickly, and then nodded once before fixing you with a gaze of pure anticipation.

No use waiting around. You propped yourself up onto your knees over him and pulled on the fabric decisively, not stopping your motion until his underwear bunched up at his ankles. Holy shit.

You always knew Michael had to have at least one redeeming quality, and you’d finally found it. His cock was huge, hanging heavy and hard between his fuzzy thighs. The head was flushed the darkest pink you could ever remember seeing, and the slit was already shiny with precum.

If a voice in your head that sounded unfortunately like Calum pressed that Michael had lots of qualities you secretly found redeeming, you ignored it in favour of getting straight to business.

“FUCK! FUCKIN-”

Apparently, Michael hadn’t been prepared for you to take half of his impressive length into your mouth in one go. You sucked with intent, casting your eyes up to take in the sight of him. His pupils were already starting to blow, and you’d barely done anything. God, that was so sweet.

But then Michael threaded his fingers through your hair, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your scalp. The blonde wasn’t pushing down, but his grip was firm. You could feel the weight of his hand on the top of your head as you held his cock in your mouth, and that shit? Would not stand.

You grab the wrist brushing your hair a second before your other hand finds his idle one, fingers twisted loosely in the sheets. Once you’ve captured both wrists, you guide both to the same point above Michael’s hips, before slamming both into the mattress with purpose.

If you’d had time to think about it, you’re not sure how you would have expected Michael to react. He didn’t really put out the energy of a man who’d properly fight you for control, either in a domineering way or with more of an air of fragile masculinity. Perhaps a bit of questioning but ultimately compliant as long as he got his dick sucked. But the wanton moan that kicked out of Michael’s chest as you settled into a tight grip on his wrists where you had them pinned on the sheets with intent? That was unexpected. That was interesting.

Your mouth had remained still on his cock whilst you got his wrists pinned down, more cockwarming him than blowing him. But now you had him so pliant and under your control, it was go time. You pulled back up his cock, wrapping your lips tightly around the head of Michael’s cock, and sucked with gusto. Another groan from above you. You worked your tongue all the way around the head before pulling back enough to flick it into Michael’s sensitive slit. “Oh my fuuu- Y/N, God, I-” Michael was starting to writhe, his hairy legs rubbing into the sheets beneath you. You could feel his wrists moving along with the rest of his body, but you knew you’d made it clear you’d wanted him pinned, and he made no move to get his hand free. Good boy. You sank steadily back down Michael’s length, at least to the six inch mark, before pulling back up, hollowing your cheeks as you went. Back down a little further, then up, back to teasing the head, using your tongue. Michael couldn’t predict what you were going to do next, and it was clearly pushing all of his buttons. You could taste the precum that his cock kept kicking out into your mouth and throat, and see the flush spreading down his neck. By the time you’d pulled, drool beginning to build at the sides of your mouth, Michael was a mess, moaning as much as he was breathing. This could get addictive, you thought to yourself as you let your mouth drop to his balls, and your thumbs press into the pulse points on his wrists. You hummed before you released his left ball from your mouth with a wet pop, and that’s when Michael started begging. “Please, please, Y/N, I wanna-” he panted, cutting himself off over and over. “You’re so beautiful, lemme- God, fuck, it feels so amazing, you’re- I’ve been good, I’ll do anything, please…”

You pretend to consider his pleas as you dragged your tongue over his right ball, dipping into all the creases and leaving them wet behind you. Drawing back up onto your knees, you released one of his wrists so you could push his sweaty blonde bangs back from where it was plastered to his forehead, drinking in the vision before you. His green eyes were nearly completely black, blown out with arousal. The sheen on the skin of his face and body made him glow. His lips were chapped from his teeth tugging on them, and the pink of the matched the flush spread from his cheeks down his chest. And the wrist you were no longer restraining hadn’t moved a centimeter, still pressed firmly to the mattress. Michael was a good boy. And you knew how to treat good boys. With no preamble, you took Michael back into the wet heat of your mouth, relaxing your throat and not stopping until your nose was buried in the soft thatch of trimmed hair on his crotch. You took a moment to situate yourself and enjoy the deep whines bursting out of Michael’s throat into the quiet of his bedroom, before you began to move again, swallowing around his cock. You saw his thighs begin to tremble to the side of you before you heard him speak. “Fuck, fuck, Y/N, please, I’m gonna-” You hummed as hard as you could, pushing Michael’s wrists with that little bit more force into the bed as you did. Michael let out his loudest whine yet - bordering on a sob- as he came, shooting down your throat as he writhed beneath you.

You swallowed everything he gave you, and when you were sure he was finished, you pulled off slowly, and gently, releasing his wrists as you stood back up on your knees.

Michael looked blissed out, staring dreamily up at you with bright, adoring eyes. He still was yet to move his hands. “Hey.” “Hi.” You smirked down at him. “I believe I heard something about you’d ‘do anything’?” You shot a quick glance at the figurine on his desk, and down at yourself. “I had some ideas…”

collab masterlist • my masterlist

#5sos writing collab #my writing #mermaidcashton #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #michael 5sos #michael clifford x reader #michael 5 sos x reader #5sos x reader #michael clifford fic #michael 5sos fic

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inquisitorhotpants · 4 years

Text

okay let’s just get this out of the way.

i didn’t like it.

If you liked it, I am honestly jealous of you! I wish I did. But I am really uninterested in any attempts to convince me to like it.

TROS review, with spoilers, below the cut

So I walked out of the theater very “meh” on it. Almost everyone else in my friend circle seemed like they loved it, so I ruminated on it for a couple days and came to a conclusion.

I’m not meh.

I really, really don’t like that movie. I will likely never turn it on of my own volition.

These are not in any particular order, just as they come to me.

The pacing is absolute shit.

JJ’s “Lost” buddies got more lines and screentime than Rose, an established character they promised was getting a bigger more impressive role in TROS.

Everything important Rose did got cut. That lightspeed hopping Poe was doing? Rose worked it out. But I guess we didn’t need to know that.

There are more effective ways to communicate in a movie than having Poe stand around reciting exposition about things he shouldn’t know about, but clearly JJ Abrams is uninterested in any of them

So many unearned emotional moments that mean nothing to the characters but JJ slaps in there to mash the dopamine button because HEY REMEMBER THIS YOU GUISE

So just to be clear, Leia can fucking FLY THROUGH THE VACUUM OF SPACE but just mentally communicating with her shitty kid kills her, sure jan

Rey would have just fucking killed Palpatine if he’d just shut the fuck up but no

Someone banged Sheev Palpatine.

Who also managed to somehow survive the second death star FUCKING EXPLODING.

You had the chance to show a fucking sith cult and went with “have Poe recite exposition about a sith cult”

The universe shows up for Lando, but not Leia???

Do not get me wrong, i adore Lando! But I really feel like even Lando and Chewie would have been like, “what the fuck??” about this?

JJ Abrams is a fucking shit writer

Pretending everything in TLJ doesn’t exist - except for some halfassed R*ylo, apparently - is shitty

Rey felt grossly OOC this whole fucking movie.

SHE ABANDONED FINN ON THE GODDAMN DEATH STAR

In theory, the Palpatine thing could have been good in the right hands; JJ Abrams was not the right hands.

All it took for Kyle Ron to stop being a space fascist was thinking about his dad telling him to be nice? THAT’S IT? Well hell, why are we punching Richard Spencer when we can just ask his dad to tell him to be a good boy??

Why the hell did we bury the lightsabers on Tatooine? All Luke ever wanted was to get away from there. It meant nothing to Leia. It meant nothing to Rey. It was literally only there so that viewers could go OMG I LOVE ANH and get teary eyed

So after that frankly excellent acting where Rey tells Kyle Ron to leave her the fuck alone, we get heart eyes and “Ben!” and a fucking kiss?

When she doesn’t even know who the fuck Ben Solo even is??

Neither do we because he has no fucking lines??

Finn is the glue that holds this fucking trio together and he’s reduced in half the movie to running after Rey. Gross.

We seriously took the member of the trio with the most established backstory and most filled in timeline in canon, played by a Latino actor ... and made him a former drug dealer. really? not a single person went “hmm maybe this looks bad”?

Fic writers will do hours of research so they don’t get something wrong in a PWP smutfic, and you can’t research Poe’s backstory for four seconds?

please enjoy your three minutes in each set piece, keep all hands and arms inside the screaming traincar at all times, and ... nowwww we’re going to slowwwww dowwwwwwwn so Rey and Kyle can Force Skype for no apparent reason

there are no actual stakes

“Chewie died!” just kidding

“threepio is gone!” just kidding

“we don’t have a fleet!” just kidding

“kylo ren, head fascist, is dead!” just kidding

“Final Order” is dumb as fuck

so much finnrey baiting

this covers the part about unearned emotional moments much better than i ever could

Good thing Vader eliminated that galactic menace, amirite? oh wait

“closes the entire saga” hey jj you know there are NINE movies in the saga, right? cause there sure wasn’t fuckall about the prequels in there.

this “trilogy” doesn’t feel like one. at all.

it’s so checkboxy. “they want r*ylo, check! no r*ylo, check! use that leia footage - shit we’re out, give her the weakest death imaginable. twin suns! palpatine! let hayden say a couple words so the prequels fans shut the fuck up! ‘everyone’ complained about rose, cut her out! cameos out the ass!”

The Knights of Ren were boring af.

rey gets no character growth

Are we just gonna make all the black folks in the movies related? Lando & Jannah already are, so do we get a short in a couple months where we find out Finn is his son and they’re all related to Mace Windu?

It just felt very “i didn’t like your movie so i’m going to make 2 and 3 in one smashed together mediocre movie”.

I just cannot get past shit writing and shit pacing and a hack job at “homage”

Now i’m stuck looking at a hundred hot takes on twitter about how “this is ben solo’s trilogy! he’s the real hero! he’s the poor abused boy and no one else has ever had it worse in the entire star wars sagaaaaaaaaaaaa and how dare rey get everything while he was abused and neglected and had NOTHING” thanks jj

Y’all I love this cast and they deserved so much better than what they got from this trilogy.

I suppose there were a couple of things I liked.

the music was phenomenal, as always. Palpatine’s theme done in the style of Rey’s theme was great.

space horses!

FINN FINN FINN FINN FINN

FORCE SENSITIVE FINN

the bickering scene. I got my hopes up after that. They were quickly disappointed as Rey quickly went off into OOC-land

Dark Rey and that little snarl at the end

I thought the new force powers were cool af. It’s about time we do something with the Force beyond jumpy jumps, zoomies, and the jedi mind trick

I’ve only known D-0 for 4 days but if anything happened to him ... you know the rest.

i actually enjoy the theme of “you are not your bloodline” but it was done so much better by Claudia Gray.

Anytime the trio was together was good.

As much as I am super “eh” on Kyle Ron as a character, I appreciate Adam Driver as an actor, and the scene where Rey passes him the lightsaber and he does that little shrug with the smirk, that was good. I liked that quite a bit.

The problem is that cool setpieces do not a good movie make.

I started The Witcher the day after I went to the movie, purely to stop thinking about this shitshow of a movie, and that show is great. xD

#tros #the rise of skywalker #tros spoilers #tros critical

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xsparklingravenx · 4 years

Text

the broken mirror

Title: the broken mirror

Fandom: Persona 5 Royal

Characters: Goro Akechi, Akira Kurusu

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,582

Summary: “Get to the point, Akira,” Akechi said, his name dripping from his mouth like poison. “We both know that you didn’t blow up my phone with notifications for a simple outing.”

“No, I didn’t,” Akira replied, so slow to speak. It reminded him a little of himself, selecting words for the best possible outcome, wearing a thousand different masks to hide his true self. “But what I want to discuss, it’s not something we should do over text. Or phone.”

Major spoilers for the entirety of the third semester. Akechi and Akira, and the truth of the world through one set of eyes.

AO3

The first time Akechi’s phone rang that evening, he ignored it.

It buzzed through the wood on the table, shifting as it vibrated and lit up, casting a light on the cracked ceiling of his shitty rented apartment. The pi-pi-pi noise of its incessant ringtone made him wrinkle his nose in disgust, but it was an easy thing to forget. The laptop in front of him, containing all his notes on their current situation, commandeered the majority of his attention.

Reality was a mess. He was back from the dead through unknown means. A paltry conversation with a paltry human being was the last thing on his mind.

The second time his phone rang, he spared a careless glance its way. Careless, because he knew who was calling, and careless, because he knew it would destroy any of his focus. There was only one person who had his number who would actively call him, and unsurprisingly, it was his name that had flashed up.

KURUSU AKIRA.

Akechi stared at the phone until it stopped ringing again, the screen fading back to its usual, factory-set background image. Most other teenagers his age had images set there. Takamaki, he knew, had a picture of herself and that girl who had been involved in the Kamoshida case. Sakura had a group shot of the entire cast of Featherman R. Even Akira himself had a photo set there, a ridiculous picture of Morgana gorging himself on the largest plate of fatty tuna that Akechi had ever seen in all eighteen years of his life.

In the silence he tapped away at his keyboard, connecting theories and cross-checking intel. Takuto Maruki’s name was scattered about like a constellation across his document. As his phone screen switched off, he was left mostly in the darkness, only the light of his laptop screen left to illuminate the room.

The third time his phone rang, he blocked the number.

It was an easy thing to do. He reached over, unlocked the screen, and with a few taps Akira Kurusu was barred from contacting him. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, and it wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes, when he left too many messages on read in the Phantom Thieves’ group chat, the members would individually leak into his private messages. Never Sakura or Okumura, but sometimes Takamaki, or Yoshizawa, and always, always Akira.

It went in cycles. They’d contact him and he’d block them. Then he’d require them, and he’d unblock them, enter their group chat, and lurk in the shadows. They were not friends. They were not even teammates. They were colleagues at best, their relationship one based out of a mutual need to solve their current predicament, and nothing more.

That meant he didn’t need unnecessary distractions.

He returned to his work. Websites, tabs. The Phan-site’s question was stark against his backlit screen. WOULD YOU JOIN THE PHANTOM THIEVES?

He scoffed, scrolled down, and then slammed his laptop lid shut. In the darkness, he grabbed his phone, unlocking the screen again to stare at Akira’s name.

“Who’s more pathetic?” he asked. “You for continuing this ridiculous charade, or me for letting you?”

No answer, because Akira wasn’t a mind reader, as much as he seemed like one.

No answer, because Akechi had blocked his number.

No answer, because Akechi didn’t want to give him the opportunity to give one anyway.

Akechi didn’t have fond memories. Tolerable memories, yes, but fond memories pushed it. Fond memories suggested that he’d formed an attachment to them, which was an impossibility. He made sure to keep a healthy distance away from anything that might have tampered with his mission, or, anything that might have twisted his view of the world. He achieved that through cool detachment, masked by his cheery, ace-detective persona, his flawless disguise.

One of those tolerable memories happened to involve Akira Kurusu and a jazz bar, the songstress’s dulcet tones melting into the air as they both tended to their non-alcoholic beverages of choice. Akechi’s was sweet. It wasn’t that he favoured that particular taste over anything else on the menu, but multiple people at school had mentioned the flavour. He jumped on the trend like he did all others; quickly, and without thinking.

“Is it good?” Akira said. “Your drink, I mean.”

“I can certainly see why it’s popular,” Akechi lied. “All these flavours, exploding on my tongue…truly, a delectable experience. I suppose that’s what is needed to appeal to the masses, though. Something that is universal, that can be really enjoyed.”

“You’re funny, you know,” Akira said, swishing the little cocktail umbrella that the waiter had put in his drink. He had that smirk on his face, the one that screamed that he was trouble. Hell in a handbasket. A devil wearing human skin.

“Oh? Certainly the people who chat about me online seem to think so.”

“No, not like that.” Akira leant back in his chair, sipping his drink slowly, savouring each drop. “It’s the way you use words. You fire them off like they’re infinite ammo in a video game.”

It was easy to figure out a response for something like that. Inwardly, Akechi thought that Akira was a fool. Outwardly, he grinned, several blocks of laughter falling from his lips. To the trained ear, it might have sounded artificial, but Akechi could blame that on the TV studios, on the fact that he needed that laugh to appeal to the millions who watched him from afar. “Are you trying to tell me that I’m babbling, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira watched him over the top of that tiny umbrella, the low-light of the jazz bar reflected off his glasses. Fake, of course, much like his honest high-schooler act, but then, who was Akechi to judge based on appearances? “No, I’m just saying that maybe you could do with being more honest.”

It was more difficult to formulate a response for a statement like that. In the half-second he had to think one up, Akechi ran through a thousand potential reactions. More laughter? Stare in shock? A question in response? A joking answer? There was no way that Akira could know the truth behind him, behind his actions or his words or his façade. There was no need to be worried, but selecting the perfect comeback was vital. He needed to keep him in his pocket, or everything would be over.

In the end, joking answer won out. With a grin, Akechi said, “Why, I don’t know what you mean. What would make you think I’m lying?”

“Just something I was thinking,” Akira said, giving the most subtle of shrugs. “All those words just makes what you’re saying difficult to follow, like you’re diverting. That, and you’re wrinkling your nose every time you take a sip. If you hate it that much, don’t drink it.”

Akechi put the glass down, his own paper umbrella bobbing in the liquid. Hate was too strong a word for such an innocuous thing. Hate was a word reserved for Shido, for the foster families who had made his life living hell, for the people who dared try and stand in his way as he did all he could to make his world manifest.

Hatred was what he felt towards Akira Kurusu. The drink? That had done nothing wrong other than being a little off for his tastes. Akira? Oh. He’d done everything.

“It would be a waste,” Akechi said. “And I’m certain that there must be something to like about it. My classmates often speak of this flavour.”

Akira laughed then, a genuine brand unlike Akechi’s bootlegged version. “And if your classmates said that the fall from Skytree was amazing, would you still take the leap?”

Akechi nearly scowled then, only just covering it up at the last moment. “Are you suggesting that I’d endanger my own life for the whims of others? I’m afraid not, Kurusu-kun. Still, what a drastic change in conversation, all over a simple drink. Tell me then, is yours any better?”

Leaning close, Akira offered his drink to Akechi, pressing the glass into his gloved hand as he snatched the sweet drink off the table. It was a simple exchange, one beverage for another, and yet Akira remained close. “Try it for yourself.”

He downed the rest of Akechi’s drink in one go. All of that sickly-sweet fizz, gone in a moment. Akechi looked at the drink he’d been handed, the one he hadn’t chosen for himself, and simply shook his head in an exasperated show. “Well, I never have been one to turn down a challenge.”

Putting the glass to his lips, he tipped his head back. The fruity mix washed away the saccharine flavour of what he’d had before, a refreshing, yet unexpected taste. When he was finished, he put the glass down on the table, meeting Akira’s expectant gaze.

“So,” Akira said. “What did you think of that one?”

Akechi leant his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand. With his left hand, he plucked the umbrella from the now-empty glass, regarding it with disinterest as he said, “It was good.”

He couldn’t see Akira past his focus on the tiny, paper accessory. That meant he definitely didn’t see the self-assured smirk on his face.

It took him half an hour to unblock the number. Half an hour of opening and closing the lid of his laptop. Half an hour of getting up to check the window and then sitting back down. Half an hour of locking and unlocking his phone, checking social media idly instead of doing the work he knew should be taking priority.

It took another fifteen minutes for the first text to show up.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:33

Have you unblocked me yet?

Perceptive, but not a mind reader, Akechi reminded himself. He sat at the table, staring at the screen a while before finally resigning himself to a begrudging answer.

AKECHI GORO 9:37

I’d congratulate you on your clever insight, but we both know that’s bullshit. Regrettably, you’re just good at figuring out patterns. What were you doing for the last half hour? Sending that text every time I crossed your mind?

He set the phone on the table and tried to ignore it. There was no immediate reply. Back when he’d been a part of the Phantom Thieves the first time, there were often long swaths of time before anyone would get back to him when he offered up information in the group chat. Now he knew that they likely had a second one to scheme against him, to laugh at how he was such a fool for falling into their well laid trap. It wasn’t something that stung. He’d been the one who had set out to betray them, after all.

When his phone vibrated again, he sighed. There was Akira’s name once again, because he didn’t know how to leave things well alone. A blight on the background-less screen that Akechi was so used to.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:38

Something like that.

His responses were always infuriatingly short. It wasn’t something he reserved for Akechi, he seemingly treated everyone that way, group chat or not. Akechi deliberated on whether or not to send a follow-up, which turned out to be a mistake. In the time he spent trying to figure out what on earth to say, his phone started ringing again, buzzing through the wood.

He hit the busy button immediately.

AKECHI GORO 9:40

I’m not picking up. Stop wasting your time.

Responding to him was defeating the point entirely, but Akechi was already a lost cause in that regard. He chuckled, low and bitter, his right hand brushing through his hair to grip at it as he leant over the phone, the little bubble indicating that Akira was typing popping up instantly. It felt like a game. An illicit game that he should have had no interest in playing.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:41

So you want to talk over text only?

AKECHI GORO 9:41

I’d rather not speak to you at all.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:42

Says the one who came to me when the world went to hell.

Akechi’s fingers ghosted over the keyboard, but he didn’t actually type anything. He wanted to snap at Akira, to tell him that he'd gone to him because he was the only one who’d retained his sanity. He didn’t, because raging at someone didn’t have quite the same effect when it was done via toneless messaging.

His fingers itched for his sword. How he wanted to call upon Loki and fight like a beast in the confines of the Meta-verse. He’d spent years venting that way. Blood spilled in his quest to feel like a human being, only it never worked. He only ever felt like more of a monster, a monster he enjoyed being.

The phone buzzed again. Akechi gazed at the message with resentment gnawing in his gut, at himself, at Akira, he wasn’t entirely sure. Discerning his true feelings wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Once, it had been clear-cut. Once, it had been the world against him, and there had only been one way to survive that; detach, shut-down, hate everything.

Morgana, in his whiny little voice, played on repeat in his ears. You don’t really hate Joker, do you?

He switched screens, finger hovering over the block button again. In the end, he switched back, the message still on the screen, plain-as-day.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:45

This is because of what happened today, isn’t it?

In movies, in shows, in fiction, the heroic sacrifice was big. It was showy. In the old reruns of Featherman, often out of order, it still managed to be righteous, to be tragic, to be justified.

For Goro Akechi, it was lonely.

Back to the wall, the one he’d just dropped to stop the Phantom Thieves getting in his way. Shadows and his own cognitive puppet ready to rip him apart, just before him. His own darkened garb a shroud around him, not a shield anymore, but just a shame. A testament to his true, undesirable self.

A toast, to Masayoshi Shido for having a child every bit as ugly as him. Both of them, murderers. Both of them, scum of the earth. Shido might have put the gun in Akechi’s hand, but Akechi had done the deeds. He’d been used, but oh, hadn’t he put himself in that position?

The truth was so; in those final moments, he wondered if he’d been wrong. To decry the Phantom Thieves for believing so strongly in their bonds, to turn on them as savagely as he had. All along, Akechi had hid his jealousy and envy of Akira behind sugared smiles and soft words. He was everything he wanted to be. He had everything he’d ever wanted.

Taking the bullet for them, letting them run, it was no selfless act. It was one last ditch attempt to be the hero in a story that he’d chosen to play the villain in, and even then, karma had to be a bitch about it. What was supposed to be a magnificent death in a blaze of glory was instead a lonely, bitter end for the ace-detective who had given his all to revenge.

(It was not, and never had been for Akira. Morgana’s words rang hollow. Crow and Joker, Akechi and Akira, they were each other’s antithesis, that was how it was supposed to be. To give his life for his after everything would have been laughable.)

Or at least, that was what he remembered. When he came to, it was Christmas Eve and Shido had been taken down. Sae Nijima was talking about getting Akira to turn himself in across the street, and Akechi, with no memory of how he’d gotten there or how he’d even survived the cruise ship, had marched straight over and taken the metaphorical bullet for him a second time.

It was what he thought about all those nights later, after he’d sought out Akira and Maruki had taken Yoshizawa hostage. As he laid in bed, phone on his pillow at his side, he knew it was that which had tipped him off that something was wrong.

His version of sacrifice meant that he was destined to be lonely, forgotten, discarded. And yet, in turning himself into Sae, he’d found a sense of satisfaction, like finally, finally, he’d done something right.

He’d turned himself in not for his own sick sense of righteousness, but he’d done it for Akira—and there was no way that life would be so kind as to grant him the opportunity to save him. Not in a way that would save them both.

His phone was ringing again.

The ringtone was an annoyance, something he needed to change before it grated too badly on his nerves and he threw the entire thing at the wall. Akira’s name flashed up once more like a curse. The block button was nearby. A single tap of it, and he could open his laptop and stare at the Phan-site’s question for another twenty minutes instead of working.

He answered the call.

“I didn’t expect you to pick up,” came Akira’s voice, crystal clear on the other end.

“Yeah, well,” Akechi said. “I didn’t expect you to try calling again. You’re a fool, Joker. It’s quite tiring.”

No energy to it. He didn’t have much to inject in his voice anymore, not unless they were in the midst of fighting Shadows, anyway. That kind of mania he couldn’t hope to reclaim in his day-to-day. There wasn’t any point in it anyway.

He heard Morgana’s voice in the background, asking if Akira was talking to Akechi, asking after him like he was part of their ridiculous little team, like his well-being mattered. Akira’s voice broke away from the receiver for a moment as he answered the first question, and then came close instead of answering the second.

“Don’t call me that when we’re not on a mission,” Akira said. Akechi laughed humourlessly. “We’re not Joker and Crow when we’re here.”

“Would you prefer Kurusu-kun then? Or, perhaps Akira, seeing as we’re on such amicable terms now? Why, I’ll even let you refer to me as my given name, if that’s what you wish.”

“Akechi—” Akira cut himself off, and Akechi felt him wince down the line. “Call me whatever you want, as long as it isn’t Joker.”

“The same to you,” Akechi replied, drumming his fingers against the table. It felt so real beneath his touch. Or was it that he felt real against it? “Come now, Akira. You didn’t call me up to make small talk. Get to the point.”

A hesitant moment. How odd. Akira wasn’t the type to think twice. “Are you free tonight?”

He had a date with the Phan-site, but that wasn’t going all that well. Lots of staring on his end, and no answers for it when it asked him questions. His document on Maruki was a lost cause. “That depends on what you’re about to ask me.”

“Penguin Sniper. There’s a billiards table with our name on it.”

His offer sounded too good to be true. There was a moment when he wondered, maybe it is. Maruki was offering them the world on a silver platter. But no. It wasn’t perfect just yet. There were still flaws in Akira’s reality, still flaws in his own. Akira hadn’t called him up with billiards in mind. There was something going unspoken in this simple back and forth.

“Get to the point, Akira,” Akechi said, his name dripping from his mouth like poison. “We both know that you didn’t blow up my phone with notifications for a simple outing.”

Akechi should have left the number blocked. He should never have turned to Akira for help. He should have died in the halls of the cruise ship, lonely and forgotten.

Gritting his teeth, he said, “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”

“I can be there in half an hour. What about you?”

Back to the wall, only this time, it was Akira instead of the Shadows. There was a certain species of delight to be had in this game of cat and mouse. He could escape. He could run. All it would take would be a single tap of a button. End the call. Move on.

“I’ll be there,” Akechi said. “Don’t make me regret this, Akira.”

Tokyo felt distinctly unreal as he travelled through it. It was like he was passing through a bubble, everything distorted and swimmy, a film over Shibuya and the people within it. His head had felt much the same lately, his emotions filtered through that lens, Akira through that odd sheen.

The trains were bustling, yet not packed. Akechi tucked himself into the corner, arms crossed tight against his chest, and switched stations whenever needed. When the announcer’s voice rang out, telling the passengers that they’d arrived in Kichijoji, he got off and prayed he wouldn’t run into Akira until they’d both arrived at Penguin Sniper.

Fate was not so kind. As he headed up the steps and got his phone out to pass through the barriers, he saw a familiar head of black hair waiting on the other side, head dipped down towards his bag. No doubt speaking with Morgana. Of course the cat would be here, he never went more than three feet away from him.

Akechi considered turning around and just heading home. Akira lifted his head and locked eyes with him, and Akechi slammed his phone down harder than necessary on the barrier. There was a cut on his cheek, easily mistaken for a small nick, not quite healed even after all the spells his teammates had poured into him. Earlier, it had been a gash that had exposed the cheekbone.

The gate popped open with a ping.

Akira didn’t approach him. No, he kept his distance, but he didn’t look away. Akechi took his time approaching, arms crossed back against his chest, his teeth grinding together. He felt very much like a puppet on strings being marched to certain death, only death looked a lot like Akira Kurusu and his gleaming glasses.

“You actually came,” Akira said.

“I told you I’d be here.”

“We thought you might have just said that to get us off your back.” Akira led him out of the station. As soon as they were out in the night air, Morgana hopped out of the bag, stretching himself out. Akira said, “You’re heading off?”

“Yeah, just make sure you’re back before too late! And you,” Morgana steeled Akechi with those bright blue eyes of his, giving his tail an indignant shake. “You better not try anything. You hear me!”

“Your request has been duly noted.” Akechi said. He watched as the cat disappeared into the night. “Well, now we’re alone, you may as well say your piece. Though I don’t understand why I had to come all the way out here to hear it.”

“No, not yet.” Akira pushed his glasses up his nose and turned. “Penguin Sniper, like I said. I wasn’t joking about the billiards table.”

Akechi grimaced. Penguin Sniper was filled with tolerable memories, as was the majority of the joints here, but that made it all the worse. Beating Akira, being beaten by Akira, touches stolen here and there, a trading of drinks, a duel not quite to the death, an exchange of gloves—the last time they’d played nice before Akechi had betrayed them all, stormed into his interrogation room, and pressed the muzzle of a gun to Akira’s head.

Twisted by the thought of revenge, distorted by his hatred for his dear rival, Akechi had not regretted pulling that trigger. He hadn’t even hesitated. All that mattered was Shido’s downfall, and Akira’s blood was to paint the path that Akechi needed to take to get there.

What was one more death when Akechi’s hands were already so dirty? What was one more death when it was the only person Akechi had ever given a damn about other than Shido? It might have been hate, but hate was just a simple way to describe someone that appealed to your emotions in some form. Positive or not, Akira did just that.

Still, he followed Akira up the stairs to Penguin Sniper, and he didn’t fight back when Akira handed over the 800¥ fee to access the tables. In the end they stood at either end of the table, pool cues in hand, the balls all lined up perfectly, ready to be struck.

“Should I go first?” Akira said.

“Be my guest,” Akechi said. “I didn’t want to play anyway.”

Akira’s grip tightened on the cue. He leant over the table, the curve of his body a perfect silhouette, and Akechi hated himself a little more than Akira for thinking that.

A sharp strike against the ball. They struck one another and scattered across the table, a veritable destruction, and behind Akechi’s eyes, a memory flitted. Earlier that day, Shadows on every side, an ambush they’d been sloppy in the face of. Joker’s Wild Card failing him in the worst way possible, leaving him open to a weakness that he’d not accounted for when taking on that particular Persona. A strike of thunder sending him down like a house of cards in the wind.

“Something on your mind?” Akira said.

Akechi scowled. “Not in the slightest.”

“Same way you like sweet drinks, yeah?”

He could have snapped the pool cue in two. He restrained himself, barely. “If you want to talk about honesty, Akira, how about you start? Take off those glasses and look at me. No more masks, no more distractions. Me and you. Here. Now.”

Akira reached up and removed them. He was sharper without them, blazing, unmasked and brutal edged. His lips quirked upwards, the tiny cut pulling at the movement, and a single word came to mind. Trickster.

“I’m putting my cards on the table,” Akira said. “Your turn, Goro.”

Oh, how sick Akechi was, for his stomach to flip at his name on Akira’s lips. He leant over the table himself, picking the angle, striking the ball once more. Joker had gotten to his feet, swaying. The Shadow had swung its scythe and there wasn’t time to dodge it. Oracle screamed his name from her safe space within Al Azif, and Akechi, despite all his frenzy in a fight, couldn’t get there fast enough to stop it.

The ball hit the others. The Phantom Thieves lost themselves in the blood, panic running through their collective veins as the scythe struck more than once. Skull’s Persona rising above on its ship, Fox’s throwing ice while Queen and Mona’s tore through one healing spell after another. Fire blazed through the ice as Panther charged up, gunfire as Noir held off the ones fast approaching. Violet threw out spell after spell, bless magic crashing down through the Palace, and Akechi felt it sear his skin, felt Loki react.

Akira regarded the scattered balls. Akechi had downed a couple. “Your move, Akira.”

“Earlier,” Akira said. “What happened?”

It still hadn’t been enough. Surrounded as they were, even all those spells couldn’t get them the upper hand, and the one with the scythe was laughing, swinging its weapon like a toy. It was the kind of fight that Akechi lived for. It was the kind of fight Akechi would die for. Joker was on the floor, bleeding despite the magic that was being desperately thrown his way. He could see the flash of white at his cheek through all the red. His shirt was drenched with blood where it had gouged into his chest.

It wasn’t excitement. It wasn’t fun. Anger had flooded him, rage and fury and the desire to kill. That wasn’t unusual. His way of fighting scared the others, the way he took joy in spilling the blood of Shadows disturbed them, but in that moment, it had been different. It wasn’t his spells he called upon in that moment, even as Loki manifested above him.

“I got angry,” Akechi told him, putting the cue down.

His power had taken hundreds of lives, directly, indirectly. Never had it been used to save someone. His own ragged voice had screamed for Loki above the din of the Phantom Thieves’ panicked battle, and without a word, Loki changed his heart for him. Turning himself psychotic, it was a small price to pay. He tore through the scythe-wielding Shadow with a deranged cackle, throwing himself into the firing line of not only their enemies, but their allies also.

Fire and ice, lightning and wind, psychokinetics and nukes. All of it he took in his stride as he slashed and tore and cut, bladed edge erasing Shadows the second it touched them. For Joker? Loki laughed. Akechi laughed. What a joke. What a joke.

So lost in the rage, he took the blows like they were penance. They were not his friends, they were Joker’s friends. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt.

Violet screamed, “Crow!”

He ran into the bless spell before he realised what he’d done. The blow of light struck him to the core, making even Loki screech. The world blacked out as the force of it took all of his energy, shaking up his ribcage and his lungs. He went down in an instant, all of the rage swept out of him in one moment.

It only made sense. Life wasn’t kind. There was no way for him to save Joker.

“That was more than anger,” Akira said, stalking across the floor towards him. The billiards had been a ploy, Akechi realised, just a catalyst. “You’re still lying to me.”

“Not lying,” Akechi said. “Do you hear any unnecessary words? Am I talking you in circles, Akira?”

Akira grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. “You blocked my number, and yet here you are.”

Akechi had awoken in a safe room, sat against the wall with the Panther’s face peering curiously down at him. He looked up at her, watching her expression morph into shock. “You’re awake! Yeesh, you moron! Do you know what you did?”

He pressed a hand to his mask as he cackled. It was a low, broken sound. “Is he dead?” he asked.

“Do I look dead to you?”

Akechi looked up. Joker stood over him with his hands in his pockets, his mouth turned downwards, his gaze icy behind his mask. His cheek was still bleeding a fraction.

“You’re a fine looking ghost, Joker.”

Akira was a different creature in Joker’s skin. He moved like a cat, his emotions more pronounced. It wouldn’t have been incorrect to call the expression coating his face a type of fury with how his lips peeled back. “So are you. Why did you do that?”

For you, Akechi didn’t say. “Because I wanted to run wild.”

Akira said now, “I know that it was a lie, in the Palace.”

Nobody interrupted them. To the rest of Penguin Sniper, they may as well have not existed. Akira’s hands tightened in Akechi’s coat, their distorted reality theirs and theirs alone.

“Tell me something, Akira,” Akechi whispered. “What is it you truly wanted from the world? A companion who would play detective with you? Someone who would play hot-and-cold in this thing we call a friendship? Did you want someone who would give their life for you time and time again?”

“No—” Akira began.

“Someone who would deny it, because you don’t want to admit you’re that selfish?” Akechi grabbed Akira’s jacket in turn. “You have so many friends. So many talented, incredible friends. And yet here I am, back from the dead, not a memory of how I survived in sight.”

Akira, for once, had nothing to say, and Akechi, who was doubting his own memories, who was doubting his own feelings, who was doubting his own actions, knew he’d struck gold.

Wakaba Isshiki, Kunikazu Okumura, Makoto Nijima’s father. Was it any surprise he doubted his own existence too?

Reality pulsed and squirmed beneath them, a broken mirror of an existence, reflecting their cognition the way they wanted to see it. Akechi pulled Akira close, a brush of lips. Love and hate, two sides of the same coin, just like they were. It was what Akira had wanted all along. Maybe it had been what Akechi had wanted at some point, when he’d been real.

“I refuse to be a slave to a false world,” Akechi whispered in his ear. “I hope you feel the same, Akira.”

“I know,” Akira replied. “But, when all this is over, I just—you don’t have to leave. You can stay with us.”

Akechi laughed, genuine—or fake, depending on the perspective. Maruki really did have the right idea. Trap someone in despair and they’d do anything to escape. Trap them in their happiness, and they were putty to be played with, never wanting to leave.

“Tell me that again when we’re done,” Akechi said, picking up the pool cue. “Then we’ll see.”

#Persona 5 #Akechi Goro #Kurusu Akira #Amamiya Ren #Akeshu #P5R #My Writing

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fax-mach1n3 · 5 years

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AWAE 3x09

Spoilers, swearing, and post-episode thoughts below the cut

- oh i don't like this - this hurts

- i know this is what happened, and that people didn't have the opportunity to come back like ka’kwet did - fuck - oh boy its gonna be HEAVY episode - imagine being that actor, any of those actors, and have to face what happened to your poeple so head on - anne-girl that person doesn't need three spoons! - oh she's gone - me too marilla - whomp there it is - marilla is all of us - YESSSS MARILLA - oh my god is this your first time saddling a horse anne - MATTHEW - the only one we trust - god damn gil - diana's house??? - what on earth gil - minnie mae WHAT! - colour me CONFUSED - STOP HIM DI - oh jesus thake the wheel - oh this is happening just like i thought it would! bash and anne's mom <3 - oh my lord he's gonna find it after he proposes - PEN! - NO show the name you silly girl - do not let him leave diana - MINNE MAE IT'S ON YOU - GOD DAMN CHILD, you were my hope - oh these bastards - nononononononono - HIDE YOURSELF KA’KWET - ohhhhhh no - the ink is gonna run, why can't we have nice things - oof, way to play yourself hazel - can't decide if i ship it - don't think i do? - friends friends freinds - ahhh yes think hard on that bash - HE'S still here! can still find the note! - ahhh yes think hard on that gil - eww billy why are you still alive - HA well done gil - MATTHEW! THE ONLY VALID PERSON - wait are they only saving ka’kwet though - g r o w t h for marilla - THE NOTE - i s2g ms stacey don't fuck this up - NO - oh my god - everything is for naught - the nooooooote - marilla you a mess girl - gil my friend if you're this conflicted about marrying winnie,... maybe ... you should... not - what is on the bottom of everything that makes it so sticky! - god - ficking - dammit - everything is such a mess. anne thinks she's in the clear and gilbert will know how she feels, meanwhile gil knows shit all bc he dumb bby - this ka’kwet line is KILLING ME

- no don't send them to the door! - y'all this is such a shitty time in history - there was no mistake - these ppl are quite evil - matthew! you're such a hero, literally the most outspoken he's ever been - you evil bitch - nope nope - my lawd they are legit gonna die - the priest is still here - write a letter! matthew you freaking machine - mother fuck - alright i know im all shirbert crazy, but this show, especially the residential school storyline is so important to see in this light. as something that everyone dealt with. the majority of poeople, like anne marilla etc can see that this is wrong. but so many 'important' people allowed and encouraged this treatment of families and children. - this is fucking brutal. imagine being those actors - oh gil you ignorant slut - um FUCK - nononono - oh jesus the miscommunication is almost too much - YES ASK HIM ANNE - oml she's gonna miss him on his way - this show doesn't pull punches does it - fucking tragic - hazel i forgive you - FIND THE NOTE ANNE - go to him anne! - OH MY HEART - oh jesus - NO - NO - NO

END OF EPISODE THOUGHTS - ok i straight up CLOWNED hoping for resolution in this one. - the moments gil had throughout the episode seemed a little bit like he was getting ready to say goodbye to Anne and that HURTS - fricking BAITED with Diana, Marilla, and Anne know about the gilbert situation and not TALKING TO HIM - Anne going to talk to him at the end is such a ballsy move and mad respect - seeing winnie at the end really fucked with my brain. she's so happy to see him i feel so bad - that entire end scene cutting from ka’kwet to anne to gil WRECKED ME - matthew lives to see another day and my theory (thankfully) is shot to shreds

- i really really like that the show has chosen to focus on more than just the character relationships and tackle some heavy issues. it makes for some strange mood swings but i think they’re striking a nice balance - the finale is going to either be the best or worst thing we've ever seen, can't wait to hurt again

Let me know what you thought of the episode!

#awae #anne with an e #anne of green gables #aogg #awae 3x09 #awae 3x9 #season 3 #anne shirley cuthbert BLYTHE #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #shirbert #bash #marilla cuthbert #matthew cuthbert #matthew is the only man i trust #moira walley beckett #cbc

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c0untb00z · 4 years

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I would just like to clear, I don't hate the BBC Dracula 2020 Show. In fact, I actually like the idea of Dracula being set in modern times like in the show, but I would like it a lot better if it wasn't written like a fucking reader insert fanfiction.

Don't get me wrong, I love me some reader inserts every once in a while but they're meant to be on Wattpad. Sometimes, you can find really fucking good fanfictions that could genuinly be movies, but this really just feels like someone wrote an erotic fanfiction for Dracula. It almost reminds me of a worse version of 50 Shades of Grey with less kinky sex.

First and foremost Agatha Van Hesling. I actually kinda liked her personality, how driven she was and determined to never give up, but she was literally created for a love interest. In Dracula by Bram Stocker, Sister Agatha is a nun that nurses Jonathan back to health, claiming he was 'sick in the head' as he ranted of what he had seen and warning others of Dracula. She doesn't even have a last name.

However there is a Dr. Van Hesling in the book, hes dutch(???) Professor that mentors and taught(????) Jack Seward who was in love with Lucy, who was fed off of and eventually killed and eventually undead by the means of the one and only Dracula. Dr Van Hesling plays a large role in the plot of the book. He has an open mind and was able to draw connections between things that some others couldn't, as he had access to more sources and could speak to most off the charecters involved. He's the first person to present the idea of a vampire, and Lucy turning into one. Thanks to Jonathan he was able to identify the vampire feeding on Lucy as Dracula and finds out how to kill the vampires.

So basically Agatha was literally fabricataed for the sole perpose of being there, to fall in love with Dracula or something.

I know we all are horny for Dracula. I'm horny for Dracula. Vampires are fucking hot but the sexiest part of vampires is that they ya know. Kill you and are mercily and heartless. The show does show that in a lot of parts and even decapiates a nun and yeets it into a gaggle of nuns which i fucking died at. But it also, humanizes him way to much, hes literally a monster. The scene in the boat with lord whats his name really portrayed that. It was really,,,, weird cause me being a kinky fucker I don't find the particular phrases of "you're going to need to be quiet now," and " youre doing so well" that creepy and if anything a little hot but looking at the circumstance and the look on that kids face, it was like r e a l y fucked up. Which is why i liked that scene. It showed just how fucked up Dracula is.

To be fair i did like Cleas Bangs acting and casting as Dracula. He had a certain charm that was ever so s l i g h t l y off. I heard people say he just 'made up an accent' but fuck you guys its a fucking danish accent you incolent twats anyways. He could be really funny at times and i actually apprecited it.

However the casting AND acting of the modern parts is absolute shit. Ep.3 is where i kinda gave up on the show and finsihed it for the sake of torturing myself. FIRST OF FUCKING ALL LUCY i cannot fathom how P I S S E D i am about Lucy. Why did they have to make her a phone obsessed basic asshole with no regards to anyones emotions besides her own and the extent of her personality is 'getting likes on socail media is all i care about because it makes me feel validated so im gonna wallo in self pity because i was obiously written by white man in his 50s that would have made me white if he wasnt forved to throw in diversity points" like shut the fuck up steven king.

Also lucy and mina never meet??? Theyre in different fucking time lines??? Theyre friendship and love for eachother was fucking golden how dare you rob that form me and give me a garbage bag full of shit with a shiny little bow on top in its place jesus f u ck.

The cemetary scene was o k ay i gues?? I liked the little nod to the book with the bloofer lady and the concept of random sprits being undead because of unfinished buisness. But this really just felt like it was slapped in the show for the sake of going on a date with Dracula in cemetary. I actually kinda apperacted it but it just felt awkward.

Also who the f u ck is Lucy's friend? The gay one??? Like,,,, is that supposed to Arthur???? His chatecter was so fu king weird and offset he just didnt feel like he should be in there. Hes literally just there for a-50-year-old-man's-interpretation-of-young-women-now-a-days verson of Lucy to have a gay best ffriend.

Ok i not even sure if i want to talk about Quincy. It just hurts. It physically hurts me to think about how d i r t y they did my baby. His charecter is the defination of american chivalry, just as great as regular chivarly but with a little extra cowboy vibe. Quincy is jist the biggest,,,, sweet haert,, like he asked lucy to marry him in his cool american cowboy voice cause he knew lucy loved it and it always made her laugh. And even when she turned him down becayse her heart belonged to arthur, he stayed. All he wanted was for lucy to be happy and all he requested was that they stay frirnds. Hes also invovled with taking fkwn dracula although hes not a main charecter percice ly as he doesnt have any entires in the book he still has an amaizing precence and sometimes while reading the book ill be readying one of dr sewards passanges and think "huh i wonder what quncys doin. I hope hes dooin good. Cowboy vibes n stuffs" amd boy dles he do that. Everh dracula film adaptataion robs us. R O B S U S of quincy morris best scene. In the middle of dr van helsing ranting about vampires( thats basically what half of the book is. I could write a 4p minute mono louge of his rambling jesus how does sweard take note of all this) quincy litterally just walks out. And nobodg really pays any notice beside glancing ag his leave and shrugging at one anouther and going back tl listneing tl van helsing explaining his vampire fan theories quincy moris , the quincy morris from texathe untited states of the amerkca the land and the free and also cowboys.stands outside of the bouilding and pints his gun up at. Dracula whos in the shape of a fucking bat eves ddopping outside the window and just fucking,,shoots it. Now he doesnt hit it cause thatt wouldnt be as fun as brutally stabbing the fucker witja wooden stake. But S T I L L. And the fucking bullet hits the window that everybodys in anprobably causes arthur to shit himself the ppoor boy. Can you belive that theh didnt fucking flim thatfor any dracul? Now i i under stands why not put in this adaptation because quincy is only mentionsed like three god damned times. And when theh DK mention him jesusnshit they literally jsut made him some popular jock from amwrica just to conter jacks white twinky ass and then they had him propose to lucy in the middle of a fucking night club and she says yes???? Lile ok jut throw Arthur out a window then cause cause fu c k him i guess. And then after lucy dies he jjsy fucking moves ?? The only thing thta makes this version of qincy quinccy is the fu king name and fact hes from america

Ok now jack fucking seward. He reminds me of when ylu forget you had a pb&j in your back pack so in the bos after school you pull it out cause yoyr hungry and yoyr mom put WAY to much jelly on it so now its like. All obsorbed into the bread and joggy and squished. Just sad and really white. They even had some kid call him whate bread and they werent fucking wrong. His obly personality traits were ' omg i love lucy but shes a hoe ;,,,((' and being connected to Zoe.

Now last and definately least the god forbaden ending. Just thinking about it gives me a fucking head ache. So , jesus, zoe, who is agathas great niece or someshit, a d looks exactly like her (its literally the same fucking actress) is a detective lile scitist reasearching dracula. So dracula is illedatly attracted to her becasue he thinks shes like agathas reincarnation or soenshit. So he tries tk drink her blood at one point and spits it all out and pukes and sjit cause her blood is poisonous bevaise she has fucking c an c e r. So later we find out that draculas weaknesses ( the sun crucifix) arnt actually real hes just afraid of dying so he has like irration fears or some shit so for some fucking reason. They deside. Its a good iea to end the show with this:

Dracula fucking drinks all of zoes blood killing her and himself because her blood poisonus. And ghe fucking emd scene is them like,,, in the sun???? Or soemt hi ng??? And theyre naked and like presumably fucked and dracula says some shit like " its doesnt have to hurt" and i almost tore my wrist open wiith my teeth because of how shitty this ending is.

Not lnly is it disrespectful to zoe but agatha, agathas whole thing was K I L I N G. dracula she wanted him fucking D E A D she woULDNT FUCK HKM

And like just after finding out that he can be in the sunlight with out fucking dying and that crosses just make him umcomfortable or some shit he just desides to kill himself??? DUDE YOU JUST FOUND OUT YOURE PROACTICALLY MORE INVINCABLE THAN YOU WERE BEFORE AND YOU JSUT FUCKING OFF YOUR SELF ??? HE COULD HAVE FUCKING RULED ENGLAD AND SPEAD VAMPIRISM OLL LVER THE FUCKING COUNTFY AND WORLD KF HE TRIED HARD ENOUGH AND HE KILLS HIMSELF BECAUSE THEY WANTED A STUPID SAPPY ENDING

anyway if anyone actually goes through the effort of reafing my god damn eS S A Y about Dracula that i finkshed typing (im not gonna bother editing tbh) at 4 fucking am. Then thank you and please get a life

#vampire #dracula #dracula2020 #bbc dracula #bbc dracula 2020 #3 am essays cause im pissed #dracula bram stoker #bram stoker #draculaxreader apparnetly

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musicprincess655 · 5 years

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Youichi ripped another page from his sketchbook and threw it to the ground at his feet. The crumpled pieces of paper had gathered around him, and if Youichi wasn’t feeling so stubborn and contrary, he’d consider now a good time to stop.

Drawing was frustrating at normal speed. It shouldn’t have made a difference. After all, he could perceive things at super speeds as if they were happening in regular time, but somehow it changed everything. Youichi sometimes drew at normal speeds, just to change things up, but being forced to do so felt stifling.

Usually, drawing was an escape. It was something that was just his, and if what he wanted to escape from something to do with the team, what better place to go than somewhere they couldn’t really follow?

“Did that sketchbook do something to offend you?” Youichi turned to see Barry drop onto the porch beside him. “Need me to fight it off for you?”

“I should probably give it a rest, huh?” Youichi asked, mouth quirking up in a self-deprecating grin.

After two months in America, his English had already started to smooth out. Barry couldn’t speak Japanese all that well, and his aunt Arisa had insisted Youichi practice English if he was spending time in America.

“It’s an interesting coping mechanism, but not a bad one,” Barry said. “At least you’re only raining down destruction and mayhem on paper. I’ve seen worse methods.”

“I’ll run out of sketchbook at this rate,” Youichi said.

“So we’ll get you another one,” Barry said simply. “It’s a solvable problem.”

Unlike my speed, Youichi couldn’t help but think. Barry seemed to notice his shift in mood, and reached down to pick up one of the crumpled sketchbook pages at his feet.

“So what did this one do to offend you so badly it had to be purged?” Barry asked, holding up the sketch of the house across the street that Youichi had been attempting. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“The perspective is all wrong,” Youichi said, pointing out all the flaws he could see. “And I didn’t get the roof right at all, it slants different. And over here…”

“I can’t see any of that,” Barry admitted sheepishly.

“You don’t know much about drawing.” Youichi said it without accusation, even though it was true. Barry was a scientist, and it was how he’d come by his speed. Youichi had just been the product of an accident and a particularly fortunate lightning strike.

Or particularly unlucky, in light of recent events.

“This has always been just your thing, huh?” Barry sighed. “I understand the world through science, and your aunt has her words, and you have this.”

“Don’t have it so much right now,” Youichi said. He was pretty sure they weren’t just talking about art anymore.

“Maybe you’re just focusing in on the finer details too much,” Barry said. “If you step back, maybe it’s not so bad.”

Youichi stared hard at the drawing, glare deepening.

“I don’t think I can keep doing metaphors in English,” he said finally. Barry laughed.

“That’s fair,” he said. “Have you talked to your team at all since you left?”

Youichi looked down at his hands. It was a fair question, but not one he wanted to answer.

“Thought not,” Barry said, not unkindly. “They’re worried about you, you know. They keep calling me to ask how you’re doing. Ryou especially.”

Youichi tried to laugh at how hard Barry hit the R in Ryou’s name instead of feeling the separation between them more keenly.

Because he missed his team in a way that hurt to his core. He missed Miyuki’s shitty personality, and Sawamura’s bright, obnoxious laughter, and Jun’s shouts, and Tetsu’s terrible jokes.

And more than anything, he missed Ryou. They’d been best friends since they were young kids, practically inseparable since the day they’d met. Ever since they’d formed their own team with just the six of them, they’d been even closer.

It had been easy, falling for Ryou. From the first day, he’d captured Youichi’s attention, and as Youichi had slowly learned to translate the jabs and insults and appreciate the genuine words when they came, as they grew up together...he couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t fall hopelessly in love with Kominato Ryousuke.

And his feelings were returned. That was something Youichi was sure of. It wasn’t just the one kiss they’d shared, either, it was everything put together. It was the shared looks, the easy partnership, the quiet moments where both of them were content to just be. Youichi missed those most of all.

It had been easy to just let things develop at their own pace. After all, they should have had their entire lifetimes together. What was a few years while they figured everything out? It couldn’t feel like a waste of time, not when they were together. They’d been friends first, and they would always be best friends first, no matter what else happened.

And then the time Youichi had left had changed from decades to potentially months. Oh, he could still live a long life, but it would mean giving up what he loved doing the most. Every day, he got to wake up and do the best job in the world. Being a hero was cool, and it was all he’d ever wanted to do, and he was expected to drop all that because his body was starting to reject the lightning that flowed through it?

Surviving wasn’t living, and Youichi couldn’t be content just surviving.

“They’ll be okay without me,” Youichi finally said. “They’re all strong.”

“I’m sure they’ll survive just fine without you,” Barry said. “But it’s obvious none of them want to.”

“No place on a hero team for a speedster who can’t run, right?” Youichi asked. He could feel Barry’s eyes boring into the side of his head.

“You know, kid, when you first got your speed, I had no clue how I was gonna handle it,” Barry admitted. “And I’m not ashamed to admit that I was terrified.”

“I never noticed,” Youichi said. He’d been too starstruck, in awe of the fact that his favorite uncle and personal hero was a real superhero, and that Youichi was all of a sudden just like him.

“Well, I did at least one thing right, then,” Barry said. “You were just so young, and so different from me. I could understand all this hero stuff with science, but even when you came to the lab with me, it was pretty obvious you were just humoring me.”

Youichi shrugged. He’d never been much of a science kid. Like Barry had said earlier, it wasn’t the way he understood the world.

“You took to this better than I ever expected, considering I had no clue how to teach you,” Barry continued. “I was still learning myself. I was barely an adult, and suddenly I had this sidekick who looked at me like I hung the moon?”

“American saying,” Youichi said out of habit.

“Oh, sorry. It means…” Barry trailed off as he tried to find the words.

“I kind of get it,” Youichi said, cutting off the explanation. “You’re still my hero. All I wanted when I was a kid was to run just like you. I still want to do that.”

Barry looked at him for so long that Youichi was sure that he’d said something wrong. But Barry’s face was gentle, not angry, so maybe it was okay.

“You know, kid, you’ve spent a long time trying to run just like me,” Barry said. “Maybe it’s about time you started running like you.”

He clapped Youichi on the shoulder, getting up and heading back into the house.

“I’ll let you get back to your angry sketchbook rampage,” Barry said.

Which left Youichi alone with that thought.

Maybe it’s about time you started running like you.

What did that mean, though? Youichi had always tried to follow the theory of running from Barry, and then from Bart too. Both of them were faster than him, because they understood the physics of speed, the mechanics of running. Their brains worked with numbers and scientific principles and Youichi had spent years trying to keep up.

But Youichi wasn’t a scientist. He wasn’t a numbers guy. He didn’t see the world through hard constants like that.

Youichi worked on instincts. He saw the world through feelings, through images, through emotions. He couldn’t always describe his world, so he had to feel it out. His gut had always been good, and he’d learned to trust it even in the face of conventional logic.

Maybe it’s about time you started running like you.

So if he was supposed to run like himself, did that mean to let go of the theory? The form he’d spent so many years forcing himself into? Was he supposed to just listen to his instincts? What were they even telling him?

Youichi stood, grabbing his comm. as he left the house. He’d come to love Central City over the years, but right now, as he tried to think, the bustle and noise was only distracting.

He’d gotten familiar with the bus system, and after an hour jumping from bus to bus, he was finally outside the city. There was nothing romantic about this country. There was just a cracked asphalt road, dead grass on the sides, and a fence quickly falling into disrepair.

It was perfect.

Youichi stood perfectly still, trying to listen. What were his instincts trying to tell him? What did his gut say was the right move?

Wind swirled around him, cooling the warm sunlight that fell across his cheeks as he closed his eyes and really tried to listen. The wind hummed in his ears, and if Youichi really listened, he could almost pretend he heard a voice in it.

Run, the voice seemed to say. Run like the wind, run faster, run like you have a force of nature inside your soul. Run to the ends of the earth just because you can, run just to feel the freedom in your heart.

Youichi couldn’t help the half-hearted chuckle that fell from his lips. He couldn’t tell if he’d just imagined the voice saying everything he wanted to hear. After all, he wanted to run again, and he’d always wanted to be fast. And it was impossible that there really was a voice on the wind. That was only his imagination.

Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

Youichi opened his eyes anyway. He could see all the way to the horizon, and all he wanted to do now was see what was beyond it. And then see what was beyond that horizon, again and again and again. He loved his speed because he loved being a hero, but more than that, when he was running, when he was flying, that was when he felt truly free. There was joy to it, joy to the action itself, and that was what truly pained Youichi to lose.

It was a reckless idea. Stupid beyond belief, stupid in a way that Youichi had never been before. But he’d always been reckless. He took risks, just to see if they paid off, and even if it killed him, he’d wanted to stay in this game for just a little longer, for just one more glimpse at the summit.

Youichi set his feet for a sprint, and then he let go of all the tension in his shoulders, dropping them from the form he’d forced himself to adopt, letting his arms fall wherever they wanted, shaking out his legs until they felt just right instead of stiff.

“New message from Nightwing,” the comm. link said in his ear, and Youichi jumped. He’d almost forgotten that even if he was alone out here, he’d never really be alone in this world, not when he had his team.

Youichi tapped the comm. It wasn’t often that they left each other messages. If it was important enough to call each other on the comm., it was important enough to speak directly. But Youichi could understand the difficulty in speaking directly. He’d let go of his anger towards Ryou almost as soon as he’d left, but reaching out was something he was still trying to do.

“Hey,” Ryou’s voice said in his ear, and Youichi clenched his jaw against all the emotions inside him. But even with the lingering frustration, even with the pain...it was obvious which ones he felt the strongest. “I just wanted to say one last thing before we go out on this mission. I bet you’ve seen the Warworld thing on the news. We’re going to go take it down. I need to say this before we go, just in case. This isn’t a guilt trip, though. I’m definitely coming back. Just in case.”

Youichi snorted. That was all Ryou. Of course he’d deflect from what he really meant. Youichi chose to ignore the part where they were maybe going on a suicide mission in favor of listening to the rest of Ryou’s words.

“I’ve decided you’re right about one thing. I have really shitty timing.” Ryou laughed a little. “I had two months to tell you all of this, and I decided to wait until now. I guess I really am a coward. But I still need to say that I’m sorry, one more time, because I never said that. I never said it that way. I’m sorry for calling you replaceable, and for implying that you weren’t hero enough to defend yourself. I wanted to keep you safe at all costs, but that wasn’t right. The choice I tried to force you to accept was one that would hurt you, and I’m sorry I was selfish enough to ask you to accept it anyway.”

Ryou cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice was steadier.

“So that’s it. I’m sorry for everything. And when we get back, if you’re willing to hear me out, I want to say it in person. Because you deserve that. You deserve so much more than I’ve given you. You’re a better man than I am, but I can promise I’ll try. For you, I’ll try. You’re worth that. So just wait for us to get back, and I’ll give you a real apology. And I’ll tell you everything else I was too scared to say before.”

The message ended, and Youichi tried to force the lump in his throat down. There had been so much raw emotion in Ryou’s voice, and it told so much more than his words. Ryou had bared his soul to Youichi, and even if his message was unspoken, Youichi had heard it loud and clear.

Youichi tuned into the comm. link that the team would be using on the mission to the Warworld. Even if he was stuck on Earth, he could still listen, supporting them in spirit.

“We’re losing in here!” Haruichi’s was the first voice Youichi heard. “We need backup!”

“There is no backup!” Nori said, his voice edging into desperation.

“I can’t get the power core shut down!” An screamed. “Arsenal’s down!”

“I could use backup in the crystal key chamber,” Ryou said, and Youichi shivered at the fear in his voice.

“There is no backup,” Nori said again. “All other squads are pinned down.”

Youichi stopped listening, staring up at the sky while the sounds of everyone he cared about slowly losing surrounded him.

Run with the wind. Run faster.

Was this it, then? Was he really better off staying here, staying safe, listening to the deaths of the people he loved.

But was the alternative better? Was throwing all his hopes onto a vague feeling, knowing it would probably kill him, but praying that it wouldn’t, the right way to go? If this was his last run, was it worth the price he would pay for one final look at the summit?

There was no question. Youichi turned and ran.

#kuraryou #miyusawa #daiya no a #dna #my writing #dc!au #inv

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toosadbutkawai · 6 years

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BOTTOMLINE: R E S P E C T

I dont know how to start this but can y'all stop creating fanwars? Aren’t y'all tired of this? Since I have a lot of time right now (note the sarcasm), let’s start about the issue of BTS and EXO. Warning: PLEASE CALM YO ASS DOWN.

AND THIS IS NOT A BIASED POST. I’M TELLING THIS TO MY CO-ARMYS AND EVERY SINGLE DAMN FAN WHO’S HATIN’ ON, NOT JUST BTS BUT ON AN ARTIST/GROUP/OR WELL, INFLUENTIAL PEOPLE IN GENERAL WHO DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG.

Who are you to tell that one group is the original and the other group is not? Guys, first of all, everyone has originality and each of us have our own uniqueness! Y'all think that their works are exactly the same even when they are actually not. Stop wearing your freaking hater glasses. It won’t do you good. Your faves are not even giving a single damn if they saw a group with an almost similar concept, then you immature creatures seem to have lots of f*cks to deliver like y'all the ones who created their concept.

Y'all dumb freaks are even buying stuff and those freaking stuff have a lot of stocks and sh*t because YOU AREN’T THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS THE RIGHT TO BUY A FREAKING IPHONE X. Let’s face it. EXO, BTS, and other groups have different concepts. Don’t be so immature, guys. Nobody owns a concept, really. There is a freaking possibility that people can think of a similar idea. If not, then why is there a saying that goes, “Great minds think alike”? They all have the right to be inspired by a concept and that doesn’t freaking mean that they already copied the concept. There are also DIFFERENT reasons/purposes on why they created the concept or idea itself. AND THAT ALSO DOESN’T MEAN THAT THEY LIKE FREAKING STOLE YOUR FAVES’ UNDIES. Open your damn freaking mind.And about this other issue, let’s not generalize stuff, okay? Every fandom has immature fans and majority of the fandom don’t tolerate immature fans. Don’t worry, there are fans who are mature enough and not war freaks that exist inside the fandom. We just can’t control what some of us are doing but we do remind our co-fans (esp. to those large fanbase accounts) that we shouldn’t do immature stuff and try to start fan wars. Sadly, we cannot really convince some people who are really hard-headed but we DON’T ENCOURAGE THEM TO CONTINUE WHAT THEY’RE DOING. It’s just like a president governing a country. No matter how many times the pres. says, “Don’t do drugs”, some stubborn people will steal do drugs sneakily. But the president always reminds their people to do good deeds and they don’t encourage them or support them into doing bad things. Of course. If ever a fan of another artist/group/human/s tries to start fan wars or said shitty stuff about your faves, don’t ever try to deal with them by bashing their own faves too because obviously, their idols don’t even know that they’re doing this stupid sh*t nor did they even encourage the fan to do so. It’s that fan’s own perspective of their idol and opinion that is wrong or the issue and we should just try to educate them to not add fuel to the fire. Don’t even start me with “Maybe that fan reflects his/her faves’ bad actions” kind of b*llshit. Each and everyone of us doesn’t know each of our whole lives so don’t ever judge people. But if you still insist, then go ahead and freaking put a bomb in each other’s mouth. Come and join in the fun of the wars that are also happening in this world. Do enjoy wasting your time for all these nonsense. You can start educating the artist if they are the ones who did something wrong. (FOR EXAMPLE: Sorry to drag ya into this but J@ke P@ul who allegedly recorded a dead body in the suicide forest. Not hating on the guy entirely. But he really did something wrong and disappointing) But if you’re just going to go all Charles Darwin, who created the Theory of Evolution (no hate. just kind of a metaphor), then you can shut your fricking mouth or stop tryna post what you’re thinking. Your faves are also supporting the people you dislike and they are also in good terms. So, why don’t you do the same? I mean, I’m not tryna convince you into liking a group you already dislike but if you dislike them just because you believe in rumours without even a single VALID evidence, please have your “hating” checked. That’s it. That’s the post. drops mic Spread love not hate. Stob it. Yamete kudasai.

#fanwars #fanwar #fandom #bts #exo-#kpop #hallyu #kpoplover #armys #bts army #exo-l #open letter

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nanyoky · 6 years

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hey gang guess who’s sick in bed and therefore not drinking but is definitely getting Fever Weird which is the next best thing really

No it’s not i’m sick as a dog and fucking miserable and probably not going to be as much fun as usual, full disclosure. Instead of sushi and cider like my usual wednesdays, i’m having tang and saltines so.... cheers.

also i want you all to know there were no working links so i had to wait for the official cw stream to go up like a pauper come on team it’s 2018 we’re better than this

mayor mac and the lodges are still in cahoots and now v knows why but you know who doesn’t yet? ME THAT’S WHO

oh wow so that’s penelope’s deal now

this is- in a darkly hilarious way- the photo negative of season one keller boys “no cruising guys today kiddo” “good GAWD dad”. “i may be a widow but i can still fucking PULL” “good GAWD mom”

i should not be laughing but oh my god CHERYL’S FACE jesus h christ

it’s veronica’s job to keep next gen riverdale chill “when the news breaks” ruh-roh

did archie say he’s going to start a band “of redheads”? so just- him on guitar and cheryl screaming into the mic like a kraken? that’s the only possibility i can envision

“are you upset?” “upset? ronnie, i’m crazy about you” that is a suburban white mom level of non-answer, archie- stop hanging out with alice cooper

RED ALERT KEVIN READS CLIVE BARKER NOVELS AND MY LOVE FOR HIM GROWS EVEN MORE

awkward betty and archie eye contact is almost as obvious as veronica’s stilted forced “we should probably all stay calm....” to the room at large

((the saltines went over pretty well so i think i’mma try some chicken nuggest pray for me team))

“my home is a dickensian nightmare- i won’t have my school turn into one too!” there is just... so much here. short version: cheryl’s origin story is that of the classic highschool bully: not in control of her home life, so enacts violent control over her school. in this way she has not changed. also jesus christ she’s so fucking dramatic i love her like this is in any way her problem but she’s automatically FURIOUS about it. but also just: wow cheryl hates poor people.

“of course. we’re fine.” kevin’s skeptical face (tm) is mint. top shelf. the good shit.

“jones- this is very lovecraftian, which i’m sure was the intention.” toni has jughead Figured Out, and i’m not sure he’s comfortable with that.

*jake peralta voice* toni- first off your insinuating voice is way too high you sound like meryl streep in mama mia

oh my god sweetpea and fangs are just so dumb. so pretty and so dumb. just because you two wear leather jackets and flannel doesn’t mean you’re not dumb jocks. i’m calling it: sweetpea/reggie. can you imagine the angry makeouts???? so much angry repressed sexuality.

toni’s face of “oh god why are you morons celebrating” is some of the best we’ve seen of her so far my hopes are high for next gen serpent characterization with this plotline

WHAT DOES HIRAM NEED ALL THIS LAND FOR?!?!?!?!?!

POLLY MY GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh wow yeah actress must have gotten a better gig or something and is only available for a cameo or two if a show as drama loving as RIVERDALE is keeping the birth of twins offscreen

THE LEADERS OF THE FARM?????? NO. NO. UNACCEPTABLE.

“juniper and dagwood” *betty face*

also yes polly you are in a cult get your babies and LEAVE. go hang out with smithers and joaquin whom i command are safe and happy and healthy wherever they are

“that’s mine by the way” FUCKIN COLD.

FINALLY someone other than the sheriff’s office is getting involved in how fucking SHADY this “small” town is

“is this even legal, what you’re asking me to do?” SMART, REASONABLE ARCHIE IS HERE TO STAY I LOVE SMART, REASONABLE ARCHIE WHO HAS LEARNED NOT TO JUST ACCEPT EVERYTHING ADULTS TELL HIM AT FACE VALUE

oh nevermind one seed of doubt and he’s back. poor boy. sweet boy. dumb boy.

oh nooooo freddddd

fp in his adorkable pop’s uniform smugly nudging about betty is a great moment everyone deserves an in-law that loves them like fp loves betty

please tell me “doctor beeker” is their actual science teacher’s name

we all know that finding the lost cooper brother is going to do ANYTHING but make alice a happier, more stable person right this is not going to end well

i mean even if he wasn’t a minor and using him to get information from a dangerous criminal was a profoundly shitty thing to do, the fbi could have picked literally anyone in town that would have been a better double agent because this is.... not a subtle conversation.

GREAT SONG CHOICE FOR THE SERPENTS’ INTRO TO RHS ((my mom had a tape with this song on it that she’d play to get me pumped for kindergarten))

okay i’m only going to say this once and then probably once more in the scorecard but: how much better would this mixed school plot have been if JOAQUIN WAS STILL IN TOWN?!?!?! the joy and comedy if he and kevin got back together?? the ANGST IF THEY DIDN’T?!?!?!?!?! i am CHEATED. LAID LOW. BITCHSLAPPED.

THAT BEING SAID: this is so good already. serpents swaggering in. veronica’s stepford forced cheer. cheryl and reggie STRUTTING to create conflict.

toni’s face upon gazing at cheryl once more is just so very gay. angry gay. furious that she has to see those mile long legs again.

“no one invited facist barbie to the party” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! "ragamuffins” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh archie. so pure. so ineffective. as always.

did jughead just sidehug sweetpea away from conflict are they there now

i haven’t been paying enough attention to outfits so far but the placement of cheryl’s iconic spider broach not over her heart like a normal broach, but ON HER SHOULDER LIKE IT’S CRAWLING was a topnotch choice by wardrobe

again this is some classic response to sexual assault in the category of “well that’s unfortunate” until it’s about someone close to you come on archie you’re better than this.

which of course reinforces cheryl’s “me against the world” attitude because NO ONE SEEMS TO FUCKING CARE that she was attacked except veronica and the cats

“of the park avenue lodges” juggie. not helping. although i’d like to think jughead has mentioned veronica enough that toni knows this is just mild teasing between unlikely friends

josie’s awkward “now just... josie...” BROKE MY HEART

“joaquin and i used to hang out. talked about you all the time” OF COURSE HE FUCKING DID THAT POOR BOY WAS *ELIZA SCHUYLER VOICE* HELPLLLLLEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS. also i’m so happy joaquin has FRIENDS that hopefully still keep in touch please just someone check on him i miss my gay biker leo

godfuckingdammit reggie

“no more serpent jackets” okay- okay- i really need to ask the writers to go to a real high school just once. once. in what world would they have not made this a rule already???? i got in trouble in middleschool for wearing a bandana okay and i was a weird horse girl and LOOKED IT.

is josie hanging out with the core four+kevin because cheryl’s weirdness was scaring her off and the cats have cut all ties? has she lost her entire support network??? i’m worried about alpha kitty guys include her in stuff

jughead is #worked up and toni is having none of it thank god for toni

“i just need to borrow one of jason’s blazers” thank GOD they haven’t abandoned creepy ties between jason and archie. please someone share my half baked conspiracy theory that they were switched at birth and archie is the real blossom twin

juggie. i love you. i genuinely do. but you are being a prime fucking asshole right now.

i was rolling my eyes so hard at jughead’s bullshit i almost missed sweetpea’s turtleneck which would have been a TRAGEDY

this separation between jughead’s attitude and the rest of the serpents is finally bringing to light what has bothered me about his plot this season so far. he’s so fucking desperate to fit into his role as the heir apparent to the gang but he doesn’t actually know shit about being in a gang and being in danger all the time. for all he grew up poor his has this really privileged attitude and i can’t wait for toni and co. to just tell him to sit down and shut up because believe it or not his actions have consequences

OH MY GOD VERONICA’S SOLUTION IS MAKEOVERS BECAUSE OF COURSE IT IS

i was going to say “what they didn’t call ahead???” but of course not. cooper women do not call ahead

i mean we all knew this wasn’t going to go well and i think a lot of us thought it might be a possibility but...... umm.... heavens.... golly.... that.... that uh... looks like.... ayoungblondskeetulrich. .....jinkies.

oh god why do we have two prostitution plotlines in one episode why why is this a thing in riverdale now

on a lighter note they are hitting into my nostalgia funny bone hard this ep with the game in the whyte wurm being mortal combat ii it’s been years since i’ve gazed on those pixilated icons of my childhood

fp giving you advice on doing the smart thing instead of your kneejerk reaction to a shit situation is a real lowpoint i hope you realize that juggie

again, as heavy as it is, i’m glad they don’t shy away from the dreaded “R” bomb with this nick plotline. like characters seem hesitant to say it in a realistic way, but they do use it which keeps it from feeling like the creators trying to write around controversy

i like that they’re acknowledging it’s pretty shitty of archie to not care until it’s about veronica it feels like brewing #character development

BAHAHAHA TONI AND SWEETPEA LOOK ADORABLY HORRIBLE THIS PLOTLINE IS BLESSED

I mean don’t get me wrong, i love seeing nick get beat up as much as anyone else, but archie should have def talked to veronica before all that and she’s right to be upset

yess betty goin to rescue her bro and showing up in the suspiciously convenient nick of time i love it

archie being a good boy and clearing the air about the kiss before things get out of hand but also.... not mentioning the fbi agent after her dad is such a very riverdale thing to do

omg they’re making a d&d cover group i lied i’m bringing it up again HOW DARE THEY NOT HAVE JOAQUIN HERE FOR THIS WHEN HIS BOYFRIEND IS A CERTIFIED D&D NERD CAN YOU FUCKING IMAGINE THE BANTER

BLOSSOMS JESUS H CHRIST

god this poor lost cooper boy this is the most awkward situation ever because you know alice and hal are not going to handle this well and you know betty is going to try too hard to make it work and you know chic is probably involved in some stuff that will be Plot (tm) later on and this is just A Lot

archie.....

chic..... (we’re supposed to find this threatening, but psych, chic is noticing all the suspiciously different features they have almost like they might be half siblings instead of full siblings.....)

Episode Scorecard:

# of Sick Beat Drop Editing Sequences: None

Do I Still Miss Joaquin: Do i have to fucking elaborate YES okay goddammit someone better be working on a “joaquin never left” au to fit in with this serpents at rhs plot as we speak or i will be MOST CROSS.

Episode Hair MVP: Toni’s was looking particularly nice today

Episode Outfit MVP: sweetpea’s turtleneck. hands down. but with a close second being the placement of cheryl’s spider.

Episode Cast/Crew Shoutout: soundtrack was better than it has been this season- good choices there.

#nell liveblogs #long post #unsubtle highschool suburban gothic of my dreams #riverdale #riverdale season 2 #riverdale spoilers

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mercurialsmile · 6 years

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What are your top 5 notps

tHANK YOU for asking me I woke up this morning still kinda salty so like.

These are gonna be in no particular order btw so ye! Also Ma/bill and Mab/ifica aren’t gonna be included as I already talked about why I don’t like those ships and why are they are part of my ever-growing notp list.

1. D/rarry (Harry Potter)

Honestly? Just don’t like it. Like... that’s it. I like Dramione well enough, it was actually one of the first ships I started reading fanfiction for (as I just so happened to find a fic that sounded interesting that had it, read it, and was hooked) and I am a multi-shipper with certain characters, so by all means I should like d/rarry but I just don’t?

My theory for why I dislike this ship is easy: I find protag/antag ships kinda boring now after doing like. Everything with bill/dip. Don’t get me wrong, bill/dip and d/rarry are. Very different in numerous ways, but d/rarry reminds me of bill/dip and I already played and read about the dynamics of a protag/antag ship like this, so trying to get into d/rarry, which is similar, was boring for me.

Also, in general, I don’t ship Harry with anyone? Like I dislike h/inny too, but that’s more of “I don’t like it, but it’s canon, and I have to deal with it so might as well just Not Care” instead of outright hating it. And though I say I would’ve preferred Harry to end up with Hermione, I don’t ship those two together either!

The only ship with Harry I kinda sorta like is Harry/Luna and even then, I see them as being something really low-key. No sexual relationship, just them being good friends and being borderline, what they would consider “romantic” once in a blue moon. And that’s it?

Anyways, I find d/rarry boring and I feel like there isn’t anything new to the ship for me and shipping Harry w anyone sexually or in a heavily romantic way makes me kinda uncomfortable and I Don’t Like It so yeah.

2. Amenadiel/Linda (Lucifer)

God. Idk how many people who follow me watch Lucifer but this ship is. No. No? Nooooo?

They’re just. So awkward together. They’re kinda awkward together as friends but their awkward friendship is more kinda cute than anything. But together like... romantically? No? Pls no?

I also ship Linda with Maze like. A lot. A lot a lot. I ship Linda w Maze more than I do Chloe w Lucifer at least like. I am actively talking to the TV when I see Linda and Maze together to PLEASE KISS PLEASE YA’LL ARE SO GAY FOR EACH OTHER ITS OBV PLS KISS

Hasn’t happened yet but. But. It could happen. I am really hoping this ain’t q*eer/baiting tho. I r r r hope so. I mean. Maze and Lucifer are both confirmed to be bi/pan basically (tho Lucifer seems to have a pref for women) so there are technically lgbt+ characters in the show already but like. But. B u t.

Anyways. Luckily for me, it looks like Amenadiel/Linda won’t be canon at ALL and I really hope it stays that way and they stay kinda awkward friends. That’s cuter and a lot more interesting than shipping them together in my book.

3. Hermione/Snape (Harry Potter)

Is anyone surprised this is a ship, really? I mean if you’ve been on tumblr for any length of time you’re prob sayin’ nah. Thing is, I found about this ship years before I had a tumblr and on ffnet so I was kinda. Shocked? As I didn’t realize how. Weird ships could get.

And I can’t really say much about adult/minor ships or teacher/student whatever. I really can’t. But this is just so. Fucking random? Like. I guess bill/dip is random too.... but also i feel Hermione/Snape is even more so.

And idk most the fics I’ve seen of this ship is just standard student/teacher shit nothing all that. Interesting I guess to me? which is if you like standard student/teacher whatever I guess but that doesn’t cut it for me.

But again. Why? Is it because Hermione is muggle-born and Snape an ex-magical na//zi? That’s.... even I wouldn’t touch that can of worms Jesus Christ. Like. I don’t get it. I don’t get it, I don’t wanna get it, and I’m gonna continue disliking it from my own corner and mind my own business ‘cause I don’t even wanna know.

4. Kat/aang (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Z/utara should’ve been canon

No really I grew up watching A/tla and like. It was my fav show and I. Really liked Katara and Zuko together esp as I only shipped canon ships at that time for the most part (or if I didn’t like it I’d just ignore it but not actively ship those characters with anyone else) as I was young and didn’t think you could. Ship two people who aren’t together in canon I guess.

But then. Kat/aang happened and I went “Wtf” and “that’s not right Zuko and Katara should’ve been together wtf wtf” I felt really cheated. And so Z/utara was the first technical non-canon ship I ever had.

Another reason I dislike kat/aang is that, for me, it felt forced, and the kat/anng episodes (like cave of two lovers or whatever its called) are just. Boring. And dumb. And not that good. I felt like they ended up together bc protagonist and deuteragonist not because I felt they went well together.

Idk! I felt like Aang and Katara had a more sibling relationship together! Like she was more of an older sister to Aang than anything else! And his crush on her was more like the young boy who has a crush on his older babysitter sorta thing but obv that would never go anywhere and it’d fade.

That’s the general vibe I got so when they got together I was. Kinda uncomfortable. Because I felt they had a sibling relationship. And I felt it kinda came out of left field, was forced, and just. Stereotypical? Boring?

I mean I still enjoy the show and it’s, again, kinda like a “well it’s canon so whatever” but I still dislike it a lot and still feel like z/utara should’ve been canon.

5. Ma/korra

I liked Korra well enough, but lets be real, the first season had some MAJOR issues trying to include a stupid love triangle like they were adapting some shitty YA novel. And even tho the second season was kinda blah as well, the third and fourth season made up for the previous two in my book.

But... ma/korra was just. A fucking mess. I hate this ship as I hate the things is stands for.

The girl hate between Korra and Asami, Korra being a fucking asshole to Bolin (WHO IS A SWEETIE PIE HOW COULD YOU) and just. Me sitting there. Going “Are we really doing this. Are we really. How could you write a series as amazing as a:tla and think that a short sequel series needed something as complex as a LOVE TRIANGLE.

(and yes: proper long triangles are very hard to pull off, very complex, could be a plot in itself, and that’s why most everything fails when incorporating one as a subplot lol)

When the love triangle popped up, I just. No. No. Mako isn’t a bad guy ‘cause he liked Asami instead of Korra. Asami isn’t a bad guy ‘cause she liked Mako back. And the narrative kinda painted both of them as being “bad” because... idk Korra didn’t get the guy? Like Christ. Please stop. Please stop characterizing Korra as a fucking asshole and some sort of girl version of a Nice Guy TM.

And though I think Korra and Mako did get some nice moments between each other once together, and though overall their relationship, on paper minus all the other shit wasn’t like. Pure garbage or anything, I def ship Korra with Asami a hell of a lot more. And the entire love triangle bullshit just. Ruined Mako and Korra, at least in my opinion. (Bolin and Asami came from that unscathed for me). It took me quite a while to start liking Mako again ‘cause of the love triangle and same with Korra.

So I guess for ma/korra it’s less the ship itself (tho imo the ship itself isn’t that special and kinda whatever) I hate the ship for what it did to the show and what it reminds me of. If that makes any sense.

THIS IS SUCH A LONG POST I’m sorry but. Yeah I was salty last night and had a LOT to say.

And I have more notps for sure but I have to... remember them. I tend to kinda forget my notps as well. I don’t like them. Why remember them?

Anyways, thanks for the ask!!

#my notps #/fandom hate #longpost #about me #Anonymous #lbanswers

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