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stevebabey · 4 months

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have sum steddie! maybe modern!au, no upside down!au & a meet cute <3

Steve sits in the booth, his foot tapping away mindlessly under the table, with half a mind to abandon the table entirely.

In fact, the only reason he hadn’t yet was because of the $20 he was hanging out for at the end. And the bragging rights, of course.

Robin had set him up on this blind date, plied him with all the promises in the world that he would enjoy it — said she’d spent a decent amount of time hunting for the right first gay date for Steve.

She also conceded that if he, for whatever reason, didn’t enjoy it, she would cough up 20 whole bucks for his wasted time. But he had to actually see the date through for the prize to be claimed.

And the bragging rights were so that Robin — with her uppity, healthy, and happy relationship that Steve was only a little bit envious of — could ease onto the breaks when it came to Steve’s love life.

So it was looking a little bleak at the moment, so what? Every stallion or… lion or whatever had their moments, right? Moments where their mane is a little uncouth and food is low and…. Where was he going with this?

The point was, that Robin got into one relationship and suddenly decided she was fit to become a high and mighty matchmaker. Never mind that Steve had reminded her numerous times that he had dated a lot more than she had.

So, for 20 bucks and the right to stick his tongue out at his best friend when she tried to meddle, Steve could stick one night out.

Besides, she was right about one thing. They weren’t in Hawkins anymore — and San Francisco had a hell of a larger dating pool than his hometown.

Still, that didn’t make people anymore for prompt for dates though, apparently. Steve’s foot taps incessantly under the table, his knee bouncing up and down in his nerves. He runs a hand through his hair and checks his watch again.

7 o’clock, Harvey’s Diner, a cute little Italian place that Steve had begun to frequent since they moved to the city, and a date with a dude called Daniel whom Steve had no idea what he looked like.

This was his Friday night plans.

His watch reads 7:12pm and Steve sighs, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the strap of his watch just for something to do. Great. He had gotten all dressed up for this? To be stood up? How was this any better than his usual Friday night plans that Robin claimed were so pathe—

“Hi.”

Someone sits down in the booth across from Steve, landing with a thump loud enough to give him a fright.

Steve’s head whips up from its focus on fiddling with his watch and— woah. Steve blinks once, twice, and feels his jaw unhinge a little, his lips parting an inch as he gazes at the stranger across from him.

Holy shit, this dude was hot.

He’s got curls for days, dark chocolate ringlets all messy and unkept spilling over his shoulders— long and probably perfect for burying your hands into. Steve flushes a little at the unexpected thought.

He has beautiful brown eyes, widened with a smudge of eyeliner and framed with long lashes. Steve thinks he can spy a smattering of freckles across his forehead. His nose is long and his lips are plush and pink and holy shit, this dude was pretty.

“Oh— hi.” Steve manages to remember his manners. Only after he fully checked this dude out, of course.

God, couldn’t Robin have given him a better warning than just ‘he’s probably your type’? Couldn’t she have warned him that this dude was ‘do-a-double-take-on-the-street type hot?’ What the fuck Robin?

The man across from him grins, wicked and alluring all at once, and shucks off his heavy leather jacket. His eyes do a once-over on Steve, taking his time to check him out— which is great because Steve is stuck on all the glorious tattoos that have just been revealed. So much skin shown in his roughly chopped muscle-tee, swirling ink all down his arms. This dude is hot.

Silently, Steve curses Robin and the 20 dollars that is totally slipping away from him. Why did she have to be right all the time?

“Been waiting long?” The man, Daniel, asks as he makes himself comfortable across the table. He pushes his hair back with both hands, using one hand to gather it into a ponytail, holding it up to air out his neck and Steve now realises he is slightly puffed.

He must’ve run part of the way here, to avoid being later than he was. Steve can’t help but be slightly endeared by that fact.

The man grins again, “Promise I was trying to be on time but, you know how the subway is.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, any annoyance at being kept waiting melting away at his date’s sincerity.

“Not too long,” Steve admits, smiling to ease Daniel’s apparent concern. Across the table, Daniel slumps a little and releases his hair, his curls pooling back around his shoulders. Steve watches, entranced.

“Well, that’s good,” Daniel smiles, eyes bright like he really means it, and his hand darts out to steal the drinks menu from the edge of the table. He looks back over to Steve, a furrow in his brows. “You didn’t order anything?”

“I thought I should wait,” Steve says with a shrug. No point paying for food if your date never shows up.

Daniel looks up from the menu through his lashes and smiles, placing his elbow on the table and dropping his chin in the palm of his hand. “Aw, you’re sweet.”

Steve is a little embarrassed by how easily the compliment makes him blush, feeling his cheeks glow lightly. Across the table, Daniel seems to revel in it, drinking in the way Steve’s face filled with colour with a cheeky smile. His eyes flick back down to the menu.

“You know,” Daniel begins, keeping his eyes on the menu, scanning it with a hum. “Chrissy said you were good looking but I think she seriously undersold you.”

He takes his eyes off the menu to trail up Steve’s body, his gaze heavy. Steve feels a delighted zing go up his spine, feels the way he preens at Daniel’s attraction. Steve opens his mouth to respond, more than ready to return the flirt when—

“Can I get you two started with anything?”

The waitress interrupts. She’s poised with her notepad, standing at the edge of the booth. Daniel perks up and nods.

“Can I get a chocolate milkshake please?” He asks with a polite smile. Steve laughs lightly at his selection and Daniel’s gaze cuts from the waitress to Steve.

“What? Not a milkshake man?”

Steve tries to contain his grin, all too endeared by the man before him. He shakes his head and raises his hand in defense. “Nothing against milkshakes just… for dinner?”

Daniel gasps theatrically and his head snaps back to the waitress. “This man has never had the delight of a Harvey’s milkshake with his dinner. Please bring us two chocolate milkshakes!”

Steve watches as the waitress dutifully writes down the order and turns on her heel, heading for the kitchen. He turns back to his date and gapes, taken aback by the forwardness.

“Did you just order for me?”

“Did you just diss milkshakes?”

Steve scoffs, but even then he can’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He can’t believe it but he’s genuinely glad he waited this date out. It's not at all like he was expecting. Even Robin's short description of this dude pales in comparison to the real thing. Steve nudges his foot forward into Daniel’s shin lightly.

“I did not diss milkshakes,” Steve argues, his smile widening at how Daniel’s eyes dart to the table before back up at Steve with a grin.

“Uh huh,” Daniel nods, his voice sarcastic and 100% unbelieving of Steve’s insistence. “Just wait, okay? You’ll be changing your tune soon enough. Harvey’s milkshakes are class. I’ve had a thousand of my best ideas in here, sipping on a chocolate milkshake.”

Steve grins and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Under the table, he feels Daniel’s boot nudge against his leg gently— and he laughs to himself. This has gotta be the most teenage way of flirting and he’s fucking loving it.

“You know,” Steve begins hesitantly, letting his forearms lean up against the table. “You’re not quite what I expected, Daniel.”

Across the table, Daniel scrunches up his face, his expression one of pure befuddlement. He puts his hands flat on the table and leans forward.

“Wait, you think my name is Daniel?”

Steve splutters for a moment because even though the answer is duh, yes, it’s become increasingly apparent that the man across from him is not who he was expecting. But if he’s not Daniel, who is he?

Suddenly, the door chimes and someone else is entering the diner. It’s a man dressed like Steve — on the preppy side with hair that must’ve taken at least an hour. He scans the booth and spots Steve’s booth, wandering over, his eyes fixed on the man across from Steve.

“Hey, are you Eddie?” He asks confidently, ignoring Steve’s presence on the other side of the booth.

The man — Eddie — freezes as he glances up at the newcomer and then back down to Steve ahead of him. Steve deflates a little inside as he realises abruptly what’s happened— a mix-up of wrong dates that was completely warranted because this dude dresses exactly like Steve. Steve doesn't stare too long to see if he's any hotter.

Instead, he tries to give Eddie the all-clear with his eyes. He smiles polite as he can and gives a little nod to let him know it was alright to abandon him for the date he was supposed to go on. Not to get stuck with Steve.

Eddie clears his throat and smiles, not cheeky like he had with Steve, but stiff and polite. “Ah sorry man, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. My name's Daniel.”

Huh? Steve takes his eyes off the table to steal a glimpse at Eddie (is his name even Eddie?) and something inside him burns hotly when the man glances across at Steve and winks.

The man standing by the booth wavers for a moment, glancing between them in the booth as Steve schools his expression to neutral. After a moment of silence, there's a half-assed apology as the man retreats, heading back out the door he had just come through. The door chimes again on his way out.

Steve straightens up and peers over his shoulder, watching the door slowly swing shut. He turns back to the man across the booth and squints at him. The waitress returns briefly, dropping two large chocolate shakes onto the table, topped with a mountain of cream. She murmurs something about coming back to take their order in a moment.

"Wait, so who are you?" Steve asks, gently sliding his shake closer to him. "Daniel or Eddie?"

His date —well, his new date— has already begun taking a big long sip from his own milkshake, so enamored with it that when he pulls away there's a dot of cream on the end of his nose. He swallows with a satisfied ah and grins across the table at Steve, not noticing the dairy on his face.

"I'm whoever gets me talking with you a little bit longer."

Steve grins, an endeared roll of his eye at the blatant flirting but he can't deny how it makes his chest warm. He grabs one of the napkins and reaches forward, adoring how Eddie goes cross-eyed as he watches Steve smudge away the cream on his nose. He laughs sheepishly, giving his nose a little wipe with his own hand.

"I'm Eddie." He says, finally introducing himself. He doesn't offer his hand, just gives Steve a little nudge under the table and a grin over his milkshake. "And I think you just saved me from a terrible date."

Steve laughs, giving a little shake of his head. He finally goes in for a sip of his own milkshake— and it's just as heavenly as Eddie had promised, glorious chocolate dancing over his taste buds.

Steve groans quietly, eyes bright when he glances at the other man over his glass, entirely amused by how wide-eyed Eddie has become. He releases the straw and sits back, more invested in this date than he has been in... years. Stallion's got its mojo back. Or lion. Whatever.

"I'm Steve," He responds, giving a little nudge back under the table and a grin of his own. "And I think you saved me from being stood up."

#what..... is this????#i haven't really written modern au for them #and i wrote it in about 2 hours so hopefully its like. not terrible #wahoo !#i luv a little meet cute #meet cute #steddie #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie blurb #ummmm i haven't posted in literal eons ive forgotten all my tags oh well #enjoy ?

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shammyb · 10 months

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My mama called me yesterday morning, telling me she had a mole on her face checked out and it is melanoma. They sent out a biopsy to find out what stage it’s at, and we’ll be talking soon, as she shoudl hopefully know within the next couple days tops. We had a really nice, long talk, but every time I think about what she said to me and that my literal creator may be dying (which ya we are always all dying technically but theres something different when you find its caused by cancer), I break into choking tears. Today I took the day off work, road my bike all the way out to the sandy river, wrote a lot about her and other little things, but bringing it back to her, while tears dripped on my pages, and birds flew over the water I was laying infront of, with joy. I biked over to a target nearby after that, to try on a couple bathing suits, because i figured why not, and I was feeling extremely body dysmorphic, not liking how I look at the moment---then it all bringing me back to being a child in the dressing room with my mom, as she looked at herself in the mirror, crying at how she looked, though i always thought she looked so perfect; my creator, my god. I’ll probably have to call out of work again tomorrow, which i’m not looking forward to, as I don’t have that much money these days since I quit dancing, and so much of my money went into fixing my car, literally only for my car to get a mold problem when we had terrible rainfall and make it undriveable (i found out i’m allergic to mold). I also so a doctor the other day at Planned parenthood, after waiting for literally an hour after when my appointment was scheduled, and was referred to an ultrasound tech to check out my uterus, because sounds like I may have an ovarian cyst. I’ve known somethings going on in my body for a long time, and recently I’ve been having my period every 2 weeks. Being on OHP has been frustrating, as it’s already difficult to make doctor appointments for me, as last time I went to get an ultrasound, like in December or something, I never got a call back from the doctors who said they would call me back after my imaging was complete to follow up/make next steps. But this time its with planned parenthood, and they have a more thorough, caring process when it comes to that stuff, so I’m hopeful that this time we’ll figure the fuck out what's going on inside my body. I’ve been wishing I could be held these last couple days. I don’t get to see my partner until Monday, and my parents literally live on the other side of the country, and I just want to curl up and be in safe, loving, arms. It’s difficult to picture life without my mom in it. She’s so sweet, so caring, and I will have to write an entire separate post sometimes about how big her heart is. I held so much resentment for things she wasn’t able to do out of fear in my past, but shes shown me for a while now (since my parents moved away) how shes been trying to be there, and send me post cards about things that reminded her of me, silly little gifts like a mug covered in bees (because I love bees), and just always calls and texts me that shes thinking of me and loves me these days. Shes been actively showing her love and she literally created me, and is just such a compassionate person...I dunno. I feel like I’m going through my 6-year breakup all over again lol, because of how headachy this is making me. For all I know, it could only be stage one and easily removed, but it also could be anywhere beyond, and time is just feeling extra extra valuable now. Lowell hasn’t said much and said he wont be available until monday and im trying not to think too much into that but I feel sad that I can’t be in his arms and that he isn’t willing to be more immediately available. We’ll see how all that works out and what he has to say/how he’ll be there on Monday.. Anyway, ya. scrambled but, after returning home from my bikeride, I decided to walk to the climbing gym, since I’ve not been making the time to go over the last couple months, frequently...But something in me told me I need to start being better at going again, for my mom. Because I love it, and she knows I love it too, and its def a form of self care for me. I’m glad I went, because I ran into a long time climbing pal, Sergey, and told him the news I just found out, and he started tearing up because it reminded him of how his mom passed and we hugged for a moment and it was very comforting and he wanted to give me some strength and yeah, i’m just glad I got to see a trusted community member who was able to give a supportive gesture. Anyway, I walked home after that with a big headache, got home almost an hour later (not a short walk lol), and made myself some ramen and had an apple w peanut butter for desert. My stomach has been in knots the last two days. I have always had bad IBS stuff, but I think its also related to both my maybe-cyst, and def my moms news. Like I’ve said before, when it rains, it pours. Feel free to send any kind words my way. Thanks for reading, if you took all that time to. Writing saves me. Goodnight, maybe.

#melanoma #skin cancer #journal #rant #ramble #ibs #grief #grieving #depression #myself #my mom #I love my mom #My mom is my god

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lovecolibri · 1 year

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SaL anon here friend and while KR may try and very well might suck the joy out of the rest of this season I refuse to let her take away the joy of this last episode, so its song time!! And in honor of the lovely, poignant Chim and Ravi storyline this episode, I think we should talk about The Projectionist. Admittedly I honed in on this one because Chim's "hand it off" to Ravi gave me strong "we're leaving our shadows behind us now" vibes, but the closure they both got definitely felt summed up nicely by "makes us brave again". There start of this one made me think of Chimney Begins, and the "truth is heavier than fiction" struck hard for him and Ravi's story (which for some reason happened entirely off screen and was never mentioned 😠😠😠), so hope you enjoy this one too!!

Also no regrets on you roping me into 911!! Its been frustrating lately but its also has been gratifying seeing what a well thought out drama can be, especially in a wee woo show which normally wouldn't be on my radar. And like you said, we survived RNM and while I may have a lot to bitch about in these last 2 seasons, it hasn't reached that level of terrible with the incredible speed RNM managed it to. Actually now that I think of it all (Eddie getting sidelined reminding me of Alex, Buck's reconned growth being like Michael, BT drug on even though it was painful to watch exactly like you know what, the constant praise of L and inserting her where she isn't needed....) bestie I think I know where KR gets her "ideas" from (hopefully I didn't just totally corrupt our song post)!!

Oh I'm glad you've got a song for me because I am very busy trying to be "I do not see, I do not perceive" about this new woman but naturally no one ever tags for anything so the constant stream of "oh god, they're soooo cute together! She's soooo pretty! I don't mind if we don't get Buddie if he's with her!" (while knowing zero things about what kind of person she is beyond her looks. How very progressive and feminist of you 🙄)

ANYWAY, I started on a fic, wrote some smut for the first time ever, and I'm getting ready to go chill and work on puzzles and paint my nails. Agreed that this show still is able to deliver sometimes which is more than we ever got with RNM after that last episode of season 1 tanked things and never recovered, so at least there's that!

So in the spirit of focusing on the good stuff, lets talk about Ravi and Chim!

When I was young, I fell in love with story With the eleventh hour, with the blaze of glory The theatre lights dim and all goes quiet In the darkest of rooms, light shines the brightest

This is such a good song because it's all about the love of movies and storytelling which is SO good for Chim since we know he's a movie buff! I'm also thinking of little baby Ravi being so sick who probably spent a lot of time in hospital beds, watching movies and imagining being somewhere else. BRB gotta go cry about that for a minute. Also, the idea of falling in love with the last minute save and them both having jobs that are intense and they have seconds to save people, and how this show has a foundation of hope and that light shining through even when things look dark and hopeless.

When hands are tied and clocks are ticking An audience convinced: we're leaning in Holding our breath again Just when we thought the game was over The music lifts and our dying soldier lives And we breathe a sigh of relief we’re leaving, we’re leaving our shadows behind us now. we’re leaving, we’re leaving it all behind for now.

This ties into the hope of the show too, of us the audience holding our breaths through these rescues and breathing a sigh of relief with the character when they pull off a save. But I'm also thinking about holding my breath through Ravi's story and how he thought he was pulling off this heroic save, but not only did he lose a child, he save the man that was trying to kill his kids. He didn't get to have that sigh of relief and he's still be holding his breath this whole time until Chim lets him know it's okay to breathe again.

I love that talk with Chim and Ravi and you're right it fits so perfectly with that last line, and learning to leave those shadows behind so they can work on saving the next one.

but even dust was made to settle and if we’re made of dust, then what makes us any different? i guess we give what we’ve been given: a family tree so very good at giving up when we’ve had enough. though truth is heavier than fiction, gravity lifts as the projectionist rolls tape. and it makes us brave again and it makes us brave again and it makes us brave.

I love that line “even dust was made to settle/and if we’re made of dust, then what makes us any different?” like, nature is pulling everything to settle and you need to accept it and let the shadow go and settle in the with dust where you belong. AND THEN!! You have that brilliant line “I guess we give what we’ve been given: a family tree so very good at giving up when we’ve had enough” like !!! That’s Chim!! He has this family that just gave up on trying to deal with him, and he finally, to protect himself, gave up on trying to reach out to them. And even now, we see that he’s trying to let the hurt go, but he’s not expending any more energy on that relationship. But compare that with Chim and his firefam and his job! He NEVER gives up! He pushes back against a bad captain to make sure Hen has a place, he pushes Hen and Karen because he knows how good they are for each other, he pushes Buck and Bobby, he goes after Maddie because he knows that she needs some space but she also needs to know that he is right there waiting for her when she’s ready.

Then of course you have that whole “truth is heaver than fiction” bit which strikes me as Chim having to pull back from the “movie” aspect of the job (something that inspired Buck to join as well and a lesson he also had to learn) because it’s not always easy to brush off when the perfect movie save doesn’t happen and a patient it lost. It’s not always easy when the one you save is the one that was hurting the one who didn’t make it. But facing that truth, letting it be heavy, letting it carry weight and learning to not let the weight drag you down, is what it means to be brave and do the job.

so we’re leaving, we’re leaving our shadows behind us now. we’re leaving, we’re leaving it all behind for now. and it makes us brave again and it makes us brave. we’re leaving, we’re leaving ‘em all behind for now.

I love this song, I just listened to it the other day and it was such a good one for this week! Chim and Ravi’s conversations really felt like them making the choice to be brave and leave those shadows behind and I love love loved seeing Ravi welcomed back to the firefam with open arms. This episode was a real highlight this season for me, so I’m so happy we got to talk about a song for this one. All the love for Chim and Ravi!

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#my sweet nonnie friends #911 #911 spoilers #sleeping at last #the projectionist #howie han #ravi panikkar

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comfortwriting · 3 years

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Best Friends Boyfriend - G.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Part 2 of my slow burn mini-series, inspired by and dedicated to @amourtentiaa , want to be tagged? Let me know!

This chapter is inspired by @amourtentiaa ‘s Owlery which you can learn more about and access here.

Please read Part 1 if you haven't already!

George Weasley x Fem Reader slow burn

Warnings: Fluff.

You couldn’t get last night out of your head, the sound of George whispering to you, asking you out on a date, how his beautiful face looked from the amber tones coming from the flames that radiated against his face, the way he smiled and licked his lips.

Laying in bed wide awake you kept your hand over your mouth, trying to hold in your giggles so you wouldn’t wake up Hermione and your other dorm mates. You couldn’t believe it - you’re going on a date, with George Weasley, the lad you fancy more than anyone else in the world - the only problem, your best friend, George’s younger brother, Ron, wouldn’t approve and would do anything to make sure the two of you keep well away from one another.

Throughout the whole day, you played it cool when passing George in the common room or the great hall, but as the day moved on and afternoon turned into evening, you couldn’t stop the giggles of excitement from bursting out, and the tint of pink to spread across your cheeks.

You had two hours until you were meeting George, for now, you sat in the common room with Ron and Hermione whilst Harry had Occlumency lessons with Snape.

“What d’you keep giggling about?” Ron hissed at you, scowling “you’ve been at it all day and you’re freaking me out.”

You covered your face with your hands, taking a deep breath and trying to calm the bubbling of nerves and excitement.

“N-Nothing” you replied, “I think I inhaled a dodgy potion somebody was brewing in the second-floor toilets this morning” you lied, avoiding eye contact with your best friend and his crush, Hermione.

Ron gave you an odd look and flashed his eyes to Hermione, who glared at him and shrugged her shoulders.

“Shouldn’t you go to Madame Pomfrey?” she suggested, knitting another hat for the house-elves.

Nodding your head, you got out of your chair and pursed your lips, “yeah, I think I will” you lied again “let me go and get freshened up, she might want to keep me in overnight if the giggles get worse” you smirked, chuckling.

Leaving your friends behind, you hurried off to your dorm room, getting your makeup, clothes, and shoes ready to put on after your shower, placing your clothes and makeup bag on the bed, kicking your shoes on the floor beside it.

“I dunno what's up with her” Ron huffed, slouching in his chair beside the fire.

Hermione continued knitting “Well, hopefully, Madame Pomfrey can sort her out, uncontrollable giggling can get you sent to St. Mungo’s.”

Ron focused on the bobble hat coming together in front of his eyes, trying to make sense of your behaviour today and if there was something else going on after his brother played Hero during the end of your horrific date.

Wearing your best black denim front pocket Pinafore dress over your red and yellow striped turtleneck and black tights, you stared at yourself in the mirror, blushing slightly at the thought of George seeing you dolled up just for him. You pouted, deep in thought and unsure of what hairstyle to do, checking the time you were cutting it close and decided your go-to natural, no school but not overdoing it hairstyle would be best.

“Tomorrow night, where we first met” you reminded yourself, hearing George’s voice inside your head.

Thinking long and hard about when you first met George and where, you closed your eyes and tried to focus, all of your memories whizzing around in your head - you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter knowing that not only did George remember, but he also perhaps thought of that day often.

Hurrying out of your dorm and back into the common room, Harry now sat down with Hermione and Ron, they all seemed taken aback by your appearance, furrowing their brows at you.

“You’re a bit dressed up for a doctors appointment, aren’t you?” Hermione called out.

Ron looked at you from head to toe “I think you’ve overdone it, mate-”

“See you later!” you giggled, a spring in your step as you left the common room, going through the portrait hole.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione exchanged looks, none of them knowing what to think or say was becoming a reoccurring factor today.

“Something isn’t right at all” Ron muttered “she’s up to something”

Reaching the owlery, you felt your excitement and nervousness compete against one another inside of you, being a few minutes early, you had enough time to admire all of the owls around you who were getting ready to go out hunting. Each of them unique and calming to look at, stroke, and hear a hoot. The memories finally coming back to you more clearly.

Your first week at Hogwarts went more awful than you ever imagined, you had got lost on the way to your classes, got into trouble by Percy - your houses Prefect and due to your terrible potion skills Snape put you in a weeks detention, your parents were so angry you received a Howler before anyone else in your class.

Feeling lost, alone, and in need of a friend, you wrote out your worries, concerns and everything else you were feelings into letters, addressed to your friends attending other Wizarding Schools (like Ilvermorny) across the globe.

Writing about your feelings, life, and anything, in general, helped to make you feel better, heard, and less isolated from the impressive and promising classmates that surrounded you.

Walking up the long and steep steps up to the Owlery, your heart melted at the Owls, some sleeping, some bobbing their heads around, and others appearing to be smiling at you. You felt connected to them in some sort of way, and spending time with them, knowing they didn’t care about your house, or how well you could make a feather float in the air made you feel more at ease.

You stared and smiled at your Tawny owl named Penny, you approached her trying to avoid the owl droppings and rat carcasses and stroked her softly, handing her your letters.

“Please deliver these safely,” you told her, tears filling your eyes again “it’s taken a lot for me to write them”

Penny accepted the letters and understood how important this job was, and how much it would mean to you, she pecked at your cheek, little kisses against your tears before she flapped her gorgeous wings and took flight.

Not wanting to go back down to your Herbology class to be a laughing stock, you stayed in the owlery, falling to the floor and weeping.

“If these reports get sent home mum will kill us” once voice spoke out, panting up the stairs.

“Well” replied a similar voice, also panting “we need to change our grades and get one of these owls to send it to her for us, it's why I made a fake replica”

Their voices and footsteps came closer.

“As long as Errol and Hermes aren’t delivering it, we’ll be fine Georgie.”

Two tall twins with ginger hair walked into the Owlery shiftily, both of them stopping in their tracks, noticing you crying on the floor, drowning in your robes.

George’s face and heart softened, he mouthed to his brother ‘leave it with me, I’ll get it sent, let me see why she’s upset’

Freddie nodded and slowly left the Owlery, trying not to make a sound.

You missed Penny with all your heart, after many trips she became so sick and injured no magic, and no amount of Hagrid’s care and love was enough to fix her wings and bring her back to life. When you lost Penny, you lost part of yourself, the Owlery wasn’t the same without her and each time you visited, you would break down into tears.

“You made it, early” George called out, pulling you out of your trip down memory lane, causing you to jump slightly.

You blinked back the forming tears and turned around to face him, the moonlight illuminating his best features through the open arches. “Didn’t want to be late” you replied, smiling nervously, stroking one of the owls.

“You were so little” George chuckled “but even after growing up so much somethings never change”

You cocked up an eyebrow and smirked, slightly confused “what do you mean?”

“The owls” he replied “your love for them, the time you make for them, it’s beautiful”

You could feel your cheeks heating up, your heart rate elevating.

“They’re special to me” you replied, trying not to come across as too shy.

George blushed too, his cheeks mirroring yours as he stepped closer, so close you could count each individual freckle across his face - something you had only done from across the halls or over the table.

“that’s why I asked for us to meet here,” George said softly, stepping closer to you, his breath brushing against you “because you’re special to me”

George took hold of your hand, tracing stars into your palm with his thumb, his eyes taking in your hair, your makeup, your outfit, and shoes. He started to lean in, as did you, your soft lips brushing against his cinnamon scented ones, but pulled away before you could share a kiss, smirking and winking at you.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said nervously “I’ve been trying to give her to you for a while now, but whenever I’ve tried, Ron always got in the way”

You rolled your eyes “he always does” you replied “he doesn’t like the idea of us being together” you frowned, looking away from George and lowering your head, deciding to examine your shoes.

George lifted your chin up with his thumb, smiling at you “he doesn’t have to know” he paused “stay very quiet and follow me” he whispered, still holding your hand.

George walked you over to a very tired looking owl, her wings and body covering something small underneath her. George whispered to the owl “It’s George, she’s ready now”

The tired owl opened her googly eyes, staring at George, slowly and reluctantly moving away from her precious possession underneath her motherly wings. Underneath the wings lay a tiny owlet, its large magnificent eyes opening wide and staring at George, then you.

“I know he’ll never replace Penny” George murmured, wrapping his arm around you “but I want you to have a safe space here, I know how much of that Penny provided for you and I know how much of that changed when she passed away.”

You reached out your hand to stroke the baby, “it’s okay” you reassured his nervous mother “I’m not going to hurt him”

You ran the back of your finger down the Owlets fluffy back, its face showing signs of enjoyment and comfort, something rare amongst owls.

George watched in awe, the memories of you when you were much shorter and quieter flashing before him, now you were a beautiful young woman, with the same heart full of love and nurturing.

Tears of happiness streamed down your cheeks, you leaned into George and cuddled him, your face pressed against his chest, the scent of the burrow engulfing you.

“George - I - thank you, he’s beautiful”

George closed his eyes, taking in your face against his chest, his hand stroking your hair.

“I care for you, Y/N” he spoke out again “I know we were never that close, but you’re not just my little brother's friend to me”

You pulled yourself off his chest, looking up into his gorgeous eyes.

“like these owls, you’re unique, you’re special” he whispered.

“What’s your obsession with these owls anyway?” the tall boy asked, fiddling with his fake report.

“They’re unique” you replied quietly, walking around “they’re special”

George looked down into your eyes, his nose poking yours softly, leaning in, you didn’t pull back and allowed him to pull you gently into him.

His heart and yours racing, as your hand rested upon his chest, and his arm around your waist, your lips grazing against each other, turning into a deep, soft kiss.

Tag list: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @slutforsebstan @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @xmalfoyweasleyx @freddiemylovelg

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #Weasley #ron weasley #ron weasly x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley oneshot #ron weasley fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic

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animayelmao · 3 years

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Inumaki and Curse Seals

JJK Chapter 137 Theories/Questions

I noticed something about Inumaki while reading and.... I’m a little confused about what the implications are? So, naturally, I wrote up this super long post exploring different theories, lmao

Spoilers primarily for chapter 137 of the manga, but there are definitely spoilers for further chapters.

so... what’s going on with the bandages used on Inumaki’s injury?? When I first saw this panel, I was immediately suspicious bc his bandages/wrappings look exactly like a seal:

I even went back to chapter 1 and the markings on Inumaki’s bandages look nearly identical to the seal on Sukuna’s finger:

The previous uses of these type of seal/talisman have been to “seal curses and mediate cursed energy,” and I can only assume that this is a possible use for the seals on Inumaki’s injuries as well.

So, I guess my real question is: why would they seal Inumaki’s injury? I thought about it a little more, and have come up with some possible solutions as to why:

The first (and weakest) theory is:

1. Shoko’s healing techniques use curse seals to function. Or, she just uses curse seals as bandages for injuries done by curses, as a means of preventative care. Meaning, she wrapped Inumaki’s wounds in talisman in order to ensure that no adverse reactions would come from Sukuna injuring him.

This theory is like, the least satisfying. But it would also be super funny if it was correct, because then it would mean that I’m really just overthinking this whole thing. However, knowing Gege Akutami’s storytelling methods, it feels more important that Inumaki is wrapped up in curse seals than just “Shoko is being a cautious, good physician.”

Additionally, Shoko’s technique apparently allows her to “restore destroyed limbs” (not sure how true this is, given that we haven’t seen it in the manga), so... why isn’t Inumaki’s limb restored?

This question leads me to my second theory:

2. Sukuna’s Domain Expansion in Shibuya really fucked Inumaki’s shit up (y’know, past the whole ‘cutting his arm off’ thing) and has left him with some bad cursed symptoms. Since his injury is sealed, this theory assumes that Sukuna’s use of his “Cleave” attack during his Domain Expansion is leeching Inumaki of his cursed energy. These paper seals, in this case, would be to “fend off poison with poison by using one curse [the talisman/seal] to seal another [Sukuna’s hypothetical Domain Expansion curse].”

The issue with this is that nowhere in the manga has Sukuna’s “Cleave” attack left symptoms on its victim.... besides death. Cleave is a slashing attack that adjusts itself depending on the target's toughness and cursed energy level, and it usually cuts its opponent down in one fell swoop. Clearly, this was not the case with Inumaki, who seemed to have barely been in range (literally just his left arm, poor guy) of Sukuna’s Doman Expansion:

So, is it possible that Sukuna’s use of Cleave on Inumaki’s arm is leeching him of his cursed energy and this is the reason why he needs to seal it? I’m not sure; it seems like Inumaki is literally the only survivor of Sukuna’s Cleave attack that we know of. It’s a possibility, and maybe the most probable explanation? This could also be a great explanation/justification as to why Shoko (or even Yuuta?) is unable to restore Inumaki’s limb (again, this is assuming that the jjk wiki is right in claiming that Shoko’s abilities can restore limbs)

However, I have more theories. My third (and most complex) theory is:

3. The elders/higher-ups of the Jujutsu world are terrible (duh) and are using Inumaki as an incentive for Yuuta to act according to their will. The following pages in the manga (chapter 137) seem to support this idea:

This chapter begins with Yuuta killing curses to prove to the elders that he can be trusted as Yuuji’s executioner, and that he will follow their commands. But why would Yuuta even need to gain their trust? Couldn’t they get someone else to execute Yuuji? Clearly not, if they choose Yuuta over anyone else; in my mind, this means that Yuuta is the only person strong enough to execute Sukuna’s vessel, and so, the elders need to be completely certain that Yuuta will kill Yuuji instead of joining his side. In their minds (and rightfully so, lmao), if Yuuta and Yuuji are on the same side and against them, it can mean serious trouble.

So, clearly, the elders need to ensure that Yuuta will kill Yuuji. They even have Yuuta enter a binding vow with them to be certain that he kills Yuuji. In my mind, using Inumaki in his injured state is a perfect incentive to make sure that Yuuta follows their orders. As of right now, the specifics of the binding vow that Yuuta enters haven’t been disclosed; so, perhaps Inumaki is part of said vow?

Binding vows with others have to benefit both parties; if Yuuta kills Yuuji (benefitting the elders), then Yuuta must also benefit from the other party in return. Given the fact that Yuuta brings up Inumaki and his injury right after proposing a binding vow, I want to assume that Yuuta’s profit from the vow would involve Inumaki in some way. Perhaps he gets access from the elders to heal Inumaki? The possibilities are endless.

For a boy who values the relationships he has with his friends (arguably his closest friend?), using a threat towards Inumaki/the promise of helping Inumaki is the perfect motivation for Yuuta to kill Yuuji.

Personally? This is my favourite theory because it’s angsty and I live for this kind of stuff. Not only this, but it also feels like a possibility because of the strife that’s going on in the Jujutsu world right now. If the elders can’t trust Yuuta to perform his duties as Yuuji’s exorcist, then it makes sense that they would use Inumaki as leverage to ensure that Yuuta does what he’s told to.

But, then, even more questions are raised at this point:

1. what do the curse seals do to Inumaki, if they are put on him?

In this case, it seems like the curse seals wouldn’t be used in the same way as the previous theory (which is to fight a hypothetical Sukuna curse off). Rather, these curse seals would probably be used to stop Inumaki from using his cursed energy entirely; just like how they stopped the cursed energy in Sukuna’s fingers early on in the story.

This theory would explain why neither Shoko nor Yuuta could heal Inumaki’s arm-- assuming that the talisman isn’t there directly because of something that Sukuna is doing to Inumaki. We see in Volume 0 that Yuuta’s reversed curse technique saves Maki’s incredibly mangled leg and fixes it to its original state. Additionally, even more recently in Chapter 143, Yuuta uses the same technique to heal Naoya:

This theory leads me to believe that Yuuta can (again, assuming that Sukuna isn’t actively leeching Inumaki’s cursed energy or something else) heal Inumaki’s arm, but is unable to do so because of the higher ups in the Jujutsu world. If they are using Inumaki as a pawn to ensure that Yuuta kills Yuuji, of course they wouldn’t let Yuuta heal Inumaki. (Now, this is all assuming that Yuuta is able to fix injuries hours or days after they occur, as we’ve only seen him heal injuries right after they have been done. This could be another reason why Yuuta can’t heal Inumaki’s arm, lmao).

My biggest counter to this is: what happens if Inumaki just... takes the curse seal off? wouldn’t they stop being effective?

So, (and this makes the most sense, tbh), perhaps the curse seals are there because of some funky Sukuna business (as mentioned in theory 2), which serves as a primary motivator for Yuuta to enter a vow with the elders in the first case. In this way, theory 2 and 3 would be combined. If Sukuna is hurting Inumaki in some way, the elders can be using this to coerce Yuuta into a binding vow that would help Inumaki once Yuuta carries out his executioner duties.

One of the possible problems I have with this theory is that it is maybe very contingent upon where the fuck Inumaki is even at. In chapter 144 when everyone is reunited with Maki, Inumaki isn’t there. But, Inumaki is (probably) awake and recovering from his injuries in the single panel we see of him in chapter 137. So... where is he? If he is anywhere besides at Jujutsu High, I assume he is in the possession of the higher ups. Which would explain a lot, and how particularly downtrodden Inumaki looks in the panel (besides the fact that he got his arm cut off, obviously). Yet, nobody seems too concerned about him, which maybe means that he’s probably (hopefully?) with everyone at Jujutsu High-- just offscreen with Panda or smthn).

But, to defend this theory, Yuuta seems to be in contact with both the elders and Jujutsu High, so maybe it’s the same deal with Inumaki? Inumaki doesn’t necessarily need to be in the possession of the higher ups in order for them to infringe upon him. Especially in tumultuous times like these, in which Gojo and Principle Yaga are not there to protect the students, and there is now some sort of Culling Game going on?? Essentially, what I’m getting at is that the higher ups are extremely in power right now. Even if Inumaki isn’t with them physically, they still may have a large influence over what happens to him.

One of the actual problems I have with this theory is that Yuuta “killing” Yuuji and being unable to supply his body would mean trouble for Inumaki. In chapter 143, Naoya gets healed by Yuuta in exchange for promising to tell his superiors that Yuuji is dead... but, would they believe this without evidence (aka, Yuuji’s body)? If they do, then good! Yuuta saves both Yuuji and Inumaki, and all is well. But if they don’t believe this and demand Yuuji’s corpse, then Inumaki is definitely in danger once the higher ups find out. Or, if the binding vow didn’t register Yuuji’s temporary death by Yuuta, that would mean great harm would be done to Inumaki, probably.

I’m just not sure if Yuuta would even bargain Inumaki like that? But, the fact that Yuuta makes Naoya tell their superiors, rather than reporting directly to them himself seems to prove that Yuuta believes Naoya’s word is enough. Regardless, Yuuta seems confident that the binding vow he made with the superiors was completed by “killing” Yuuji-- regardless of whether Inumaki is involved with the vow or not.

Granted, it seems that Yuuta has changed a bit since coming back, so we’ll see. Maybe he is extremely confident in himself now, to the extent that he is willing to bargain something like Inumaki’s wellbeing in a binding vow. Who knows?

Of course, I have to confess that I understand that I am giving little mind to translation when giving these theories; I read the English translated version of the manga, so I can only make assumptions with the material I have. Maybe I’m missing something crucial because of this?

Anyways. These are the theories I have right now! I know this post was extremely long-winded, but if I didn’t write all this out, I was going to Explode. This is literally all I have been thinking about since I saw the panel with Inumaki. If anyone else wants to talk about this by adding to my ideas or poking holes in them, PLEASE do. I need to know that I’m not the only person thinking about this, omg.

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captainkirkk · 4 years

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So this is a bit more serious question from one writer to another: How can you gain more traction on websites like Ao3 and tumblr? Thing is, I've been writing for years now and while I am no longer bothered by the fact that people mostly lurk (and that's ok, commenting can be its own kind of stressful) it's has become almost impossible to get people to notice I even wrote something new or updated. I update a story by 3 chapters in 1 haul, but barely anyone clicks on it or leaves kudos... (1/2)

(2/2) I wonder if it has to do with the fact that I only write gen or because I have very little reblogs on anything I post these days. I've been trying to link and connect my stuff, invited people to come talk with me on tumblr, but it's just me and some kind mutuals who like my stuff but almost never reblog. Is there any way I can let my voice be heard better in this infinite crushing void? Was there anything you actively did that helped you gain more traction on tumblr and Ao3?

I’m sorry you’re feeling disheartened, anon. Here are some tips, I have no idea if they will actually help though.

Don’t upload multiple chapters at once if you can. I know it sounds like a good idea (more content = more comments, right?), but people are busy. They might not want to consume three updates at once. Also, it might skew your statistics. I know I’ve been hesitant to click on fics that upload multi-chapters at once, but have turned out to be awesome. It’s because I’m used to fics updating one chapter at a time and accruing kudos/comments slowly, so the kudos/chapter ratio seemed off.

I know this sounds totally contradictory to my last point, but try longer word counts per chapter. People really love long chapters.

Uploading during peak-traffic hours. I don’t actually know when this is, which is terrible of me. This person seems to know? Not sure how accurate they are. Might need to have a quick search for this answer, but it’s a good thing to consider!

Write for big fandoms. Write things that big fandoms love. For example, my two biggest fandoms on ao3 were Marvel and BNHA, which are huge fandoms. My kudos count for my smaller fandoms are much, much lower. Pay attention to fandom trends too. You can’t go wrong with the classic, fandom favourites - eg. Dadzawa - but if you see a rise in a certain trend, or you see people on tumblr getting excited about an idea but there’s no one writing for it, then try your hand at it. Don’t force yourself to write something you don’t want. Write things you love. But if your loves overlap with popular fandoms and ideas, then steer yourself towards those.

Tighten up your summary. If it’s too long or not long enough and doesn’t actually hook your reader, then no one will click the fic. Also try not to add unnecessary sentences that will deter readers. For example, writing, “Summaries are hard, just read it” will probably make people steer clear. We all want to write that, but we shouldn’t.

Hopefully some of this helps?? Here’s a post that suggests some more advice.

I really hope you aren’t deterred from writing, anon! Feedback shouldn’t drive us as writers, but I know how disheartening it can be when you feel as though you’re not appreciated.

And a reminder to all the readers out there: Leave kudos and comments.

A good rule of thumb: if you’ve gotten to the end of a fic and you didn’t hate it, kudos it. You took the time to read it, you can take 0.2 seconds to tell the writer you were there, even if you don’t want to comment.

#not sure if any of this will actually help but i hope so!#writing #i'm strongly reminding people to kudos/comment as a fellow reader! not as a writer who wants comments hahaha #look after your writers in fandom #they deserve the love #ask #anon

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poptod · 4 years

Note

hi i wanted to know if you wrote for webb porter? if u do, can u do a webb x reader where the reader is his psychiatrist? not fluff but not angst either. something in between perhaps. surprise me with the plot! you always do anyways. thanks and i love your little elliot drawings!

notes: okay 1. thank u im glad u enjoyed the sketches, 2. i hadn't watched alcatraz before but i just watched it so i could write him and I gotta say, it really freaked me out how many similarities there were between me and him (except for the whole being a murderer thing and stringing bows with the hair of his victims). this is my first time writing psychopath characters. anyway, thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!

WC: 1.7k

It was a bit of an honor, really – none of your friends would agree with you, but working with something so strange, so new, and so, so interesting was always an honor. It wasn't like your friends said anything. Probably because they didn't know, since the Incident was 'top secret'.

The prison, in all its steep, sharp majesty, stood before you. Its height nearly blocked out the grey sky. The men leading you said nothing, and you followed when they opened the door inside. From outside one of the doors you saw the cells, all stuck together, kept in a sterile, white room. You swallowed thick and turned back forward, hand clenching around your bag as you mentally prepared yourself.

You didn't say much. Neither did he, so for the first five or six minutes, you watched him. His behaviorisms, the tics stuck in his restless limbs. Pushing against the floor, flexing fingers, uneven, hurried blinking. Classic signs of discomfort. You couldn't blame him.

"I've read a lot about you," you said in a soft, humming voice that had his eyes flickering to you before landing on the closed notebook in your hands. "I know what they think of you. Do you want to clarify anything?"

He said nothing, returning to his fidgets.

"I also heard you enjoy music," you continued, pushing your hand into the bag sitting on the floor beside you. He watched with curious eyes as you pulled out padded headphones, setting them on the table beside you, before pulling out an older iPod. "I know you've got your violin, but sometimes I find it's nice to listen without having to play. Lets me study."

"How does it work?" He asked, his voice cracked and soft. It was hard to make him out.

"Bluetooth. Connects without a wire," you answered with a half-smile, proceeding to explain the rest of the technology. The guards wouldn't just let you waltz in and give a prisoner a wire, after all, and the extra cost didn't hurt you too terribly.

He didn't really start talking till around the third appointment, which for a patient of his type wasn't all that bad. Even then he kept that soft tone – so low, so smooth, almost like the music he so avidly listened to. You could feel your fingers tightening over your arm rest when he spoke.

"I just wanted to play for people," he mumbled, pinching at the skin of his jaw. "Do you know what that's like?"

"Yes, actually," you said, earning the mild, held-back interest of the prisoner. He stared at you, and with a deep breath, you explained yourself. "I wanted to dance for people. Then I was diagnosed with Meniere's disease, and now it's a struggle to stand. I know what it's like to want something and never be able reach it."

He stared at you with wide eyes. You were starting to get accustomed to the sight of that.

"I also know it's good to start something you can do. Something achievable that can benefit yourself, maybe some friends, maybe groups of people. Some find that comfort in writing, or baking. Things like that," you said, knowing full well he wouldn't take your advice. Still, it was best to suggest something anyway.

The seventh week of sessions with him, appointments twice a week and each an hour or so long. That's how long he let you stay. If it were up to you or the warden, the sessions would be around an hour and a half, but if you tried to push it he would fall silent and listen to none of your words.

"I know this seems a rather foolish exercise," you said as you held out a drawing pad and a pencil, "but it does help some people. It doesn't have to help you, but I think you should give it a try. Just draw anything you want."

Hesitantly he took them from you, holding them in his lap as the eraser edge of the pencil tapped against his cheekbone. Folding your hands neatly on your own lap, you waited patiently for him to begin, a keen sense of curiosity keeping your attention. His head twitched to the side twice before he got sick of it, shaking his head to clear it out. Only then did he begin.

He kept the pad angled so you couldn't see his drawing. For about ten or so minutes he stuck to that activity, beginning to enjoy it about halfway through. When he leaned back, he examined the drawing, drawing a shaky breath as he handed the pad and pencil back to you.

Full body sketches, filled with lines and shadows that didn't quite connect. It looked as though he'd drawn it seven times and erased it six, but as the shapes came to fruition, you found the actual image he had drawn.

Himself in a suit. Nothing too grand, a plain one with one button on the blazer. You were more interested in the second figure beside him – a seated one sitting in front of a grand piano, their eyes closed and hands poised delicately over keys you couldn't see. At the other end of the piano was where Webb stood, his eyes closed as well as he danced to the music humming from his violin.

"You're a pianist, aren't you?" He asked, his voice still low and soft. You paused, looking up at him.

"Yes," you answered quietly. You hadn't ever told him that. "How did you know?"

"Fingers," he said. "You don't tap rhythms. You play them, and your fingers are stretched. You've been playing since you were a kid."

"Also correct," you said as you tried desperately not to give away your discomfort and amazement.

Two appointments later and he started to tell you about yourself. You reminded him gently that these sessions were for him, not you, but the words seemed to not have processed in his head. He just kept listing things about you – things you never told him, things not obvious about you, things your friends and family didn't even know.

"How long did you play bass for?" He asked one afternoon, his finger set against his lip.

"Orchestra in middle school through high school," you said despite not wanting to answer. "I was never any good at it, though."

"Too big?"

"... yeah. Mr. Porter, this isn't -"

"Where's your tattoo?"

You froze.

"I don't think it's appropriate for me to answer that question. How about you tell me about the people here? Do you get along with them?"

"They like my music," he murmured, his eyes directed at your own but staring through you.

"It's nice to have that," you said with a small nod.

Your home was a place of comfort with few windows and double locks on the doors. The only weak spot was the backyard, which was walled in. It'd be easy to break the glass of the wall into your living room, but you made the expense for 'unbreakable' glass, and in the evenings you felt thankful for that decision. You could sip at your tea without worry, turning on the TV and surfing through the many shows.

Despite being curled up for an evening of relaxation, your notebook sat beside you, open to the page of your most recent patient. A pencil sat in the dip of the binding. On commercial breaks you set aside your cup and picked up the notebook, flipping through the pages and trying to figure out exercises that would be good for each person. For Webb you made the special effort to think beyond your specialty. There were a number of things you wanted him to try – painting, stories, baking – just some senseless, harmless activities. Alongside that were a couple tests you could give him once he was ready.

"Even got your piano right," you heard a voice from behind the couch, making you shoot straight up and whirl around, the blanket around your shoulders falling forgotten on the floor. Webb stood in your open living room, his fingers tracing over your black grand piano seated in front of the wide open windows.

"What are you doing here?" You asked in a surprisingly firm voice, broken only by your concentration to get your phone out from between the couch cushions.

"I needed to see you," he spoke softly, almost airy in his tone as he stared at you with empty, grey eyes. When you moved he took a step forward. "I know you're going to tell them," he said, looking you up and down, "but I can't let you do that."

You ran. The front door was so close to you anyway – you assumed you could reach it before he could reach you, but your legs were weak. You'd always been weak, and now he reached for you, grabbing you by the ankle and dragging you across the wood while you did your best not to cry. You did shout, though – hopefully your neighbors would hear, but halfway through your second scream he tore his sleeve, tying it around your mouth.

Writhing on the floor, you felt him push your chest down, swinging his legs so he straddled you. As you began to hyperventilate he pulled rope out – your rope – and tied your hands together.

"It's so easy," he breathed out, and you assumed he was talking to himself. You tried to speak, but with the gag, nothing came out but whines and moans. "You're so easy to... hurt," he murmured as he leaned in, his breath coasting against your cheek, highlighting the tears that fell unwillingly.

"You'll be good for me, right?" He asked of you, caressing your face with his hand, the other dug into your stomach's pressure point to keep you from moving.

You almost sobbed, but instead you tried to form words. Again, nothing but mumbles and cries came out.

"Shhh," he said in a soft, almost comforting voice. A shiver ran through your body, convulsing in your anxious muscles, trying to kick with the legs he sat on. "I won't hurt you," he murmured, leaning even closer to you, till his face rested in the crook of your neck, pressing gentle, fluttering kisses along your skin.

His hand reached from your cheek to your hair, tugging on it so harsh you let out a choked cry.

"We'll make beautiful music," he mumbled. "My violin, your piano, and you can sing... we'll be beautiful."

#webb porter x reader #alcatraz #rami malek #rami malek character #webb porter

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thetimelesscycle · 3 years

Text

Tales of Arcadia Wizards Fanfiction: Hope Dies Last -Chapter 1

‘The Order will surely rip your soul to pieces’ Nari had said, and they had. They did. But he was Hisirdoux Casperan, and it wouldn’t be true to form if he didn’t somehow manage to botch up being wiped from existence too.

(Posting this on Tumblr too, a week late without starbucks.)

Notes: So, it has been a good, sweet while since I last posted anything to an audience outside of my family and friends. This here is my attempt to shake off the rust and be active again, and hopefully get back into the habit of writing on a more regular basis once more. We'll see how that goes, and maybe I'll finish some of those requests/projects that have been on the backburner for far too long.

A couple of free warnings before you start reading:

1. There is angst. This is me, there will always be angst, which will be peppered with comfort and friendship and all those great things this show brought to the table. I am a believer in happy endings, so provided we make it that far I will not leave you wallowing with a tissue box.

2. I'm not being super canon compliant here. The last time I wrote something for a fandom I spent hours researching, rewatching, and analyzing. Not this time. This time we are ad-libbing, and hopefully not completely self-destructing the canon whilst we are at it.

3. I have a buffer of chapters at present and will be spacing posting out to try and keep that. That being said, posting schedules and me have a complex relationship. I make no promises.

4. Douxie does not deserve any of this, but I'm putting him through it anyway, because that's what we do to the best bois.

5. It's been a rough year, guys. Take care, be kind, and stay safe.

Chapter 1

Top Ten Reasons to Avoid Temporal Accidents

It started as a dream.

He knew he was dreaming because just a moment before he had been pouring over a new spellbook, enduring Archie’s indulgent amusement as the fatigue of the day’s activities warred with the excitement thrumming through his veins. He must have been tireder than he realised, he reasoned, to have drifted off in the middle of studying every last detail contained within those precious pages. He was probably drooling on said pages now, and Archie was probably laughing at him. The traitor.

So he was dreaming, even if tonight’s nocturnal adventure seemed to be a departure from the usual fare. He was sitting in the midst of nothingness. Not dark, not light, just absence. Emptiness, yawning and deep, that swallowed all sound when he opened his mouth to speak. He could see clearly enough, despite the lack of light, except there was nothing to see. He didn’t know how he had come to be there, but he knew he was waiting, sitting still with a sense of quiet patience that would have had his master’s eyebrows climbing right off his head in disbelief.

The cold crept in slowly, brushing over his skin like a frigid breeze from an open window, closing about his wrists like icy fingers with a death grip. An uncomfortable sensation of heat sparked beneath his ribs at the same time, drawing his eyes downwards as he blinked in surprise. There were dozens of threads attached to his torso, red and blue lines trailing off into the nothingness. Morbidly curious, he tried to touch them. His hands passed through the mingled colours as easily as they seemed to have passed through him, not ending where they touched his skin, but stretching beyond what his eyes could see.

The first tug took him wholly by surprise, a flash of terrible pain making his sight white out as he threw a hand down to catch himself. The pressure eased in the next moment, though the threads remained taut. He had barely had a chance to regain his breath before they started pulling again, viciously hauling on something beyond the physical, as if they were trying to pry his spirit out of his body.

He toppled forward on hands and knees, submitting to the pressure in an effort to relieve the awful tearing sensation inside his chest, but it made no difference. He grappled to hold the bindings, to tear them away. His hand passed right through the threads again, as insubstantial as the part of him they seemed determined to claw free, deaf to his pleas to stop, immune to the magic he slammed against them in a frantic effort to halt their steady pull.

“Please.” He was sobbing now, the pain overtaking all else. He needed it to stop. It had to stop. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. “Please, don’t...”

Pale green washed over him in a gentle wave, a bubble of safety that encased both him and the instruments of his agony. He drew in a wheezing breath, fighting to get upright as the soft touch of kind magic slowly enveloped him, the scent of old wood and ancient greenery as familiar as it was strange. There were flowering vines wrapping around his limbs, twining around his arms and curling in repeated circles about his waist. Their grip was careful but unyielding. He had only a moment of dawning horror to realise what was coming and try to prevent it.

“Wait! Stop!”

The vines wrenched him backwards, painfully fast. Perhaps it was meant to be kindness, salvation, but the threads still caught. He was torn to ribbons, pieces peeling away in strips like he was made of parchment. He felt the fracture of something that was never meant to break, a pain that went far deeper than any physical wound could. His magic flared in panic; A wild, desperate attempt to save himself from certain death.

Too late. Too late. He had already lost too much, and still they tore at him, taking more and more and there would be nothing left...

He came to shrieking.

This was a vast improvement on not awakening at all, a miracle he was not in any position to appreciate as he opened his eyes to find himself floating amidst a maelstrom of miscellaneous objects. The moment he came awake the magic gave out beneath him, dropping him like a stone to crash against the floor. He hit his head on the descent, a minor complaint drowned out beneath far more immediate concerns.

Everything hurt; A terrible, all consuming agony that bloomed outwards from his chest and set all his nerves alight. He knew he was screaming, knew the sound grating against his ears was his own piercing voice mingled with the shouts of others. The world was awash with vibrant blue and that was his fault too. He just didn’t have the presence of mind to stop it. He wanted to crawl out of his own body, except he was fairly certain that had already happened. Ice in his chest and fire in his veins and a broken voice screaming his name.

He could still hear the echoes. The voice was different now. Less of devastation and more of brimming alarm. Magic crashed against his own in a tidal wave of calm that made the colours swimming before his eyes flash from blue to gold. He was being smothered, crushed beneath a weight that was meant as kindness, arms wrapping around him and pulling him upright. He cut his own screams off in a breathless gasp when the motion tipped excruciating pain back towards inescapable agony, a hand — his own — trying to burrow into his chest to find and destroy the source of his torment.

There was nothing there.

There was nothing.

He had failed.

He had failed and there was no fixing this.

The arm curled about his spine tightened, the hand to which it was attached gripping his waist firmly as he was pulled closer and tucked gently against the source of the voice now peppering his name through nonsense sentences that would have meant something at any other time. He could feel the vibrations of speech, hear a heartbeat thudding slightly too fast that was not his own, and belatedly realised that someone was gently running their fingers through his hair.

“It’s alright.” Clarity of thought was returning as the pain eased to a manageable level. Enough for hysteria to try to creep in in its place. “It was just a nightmare. You’re alright. You’re safe.”

He wanted to laugh; He wasn’t safe, none of them were. It came out as a sob instead. The soothing words continued above him as the arcane light in the room faded away, his own magic wilting beneath the determined presence of another’s. He turned his head on instinct, hiding his tears in fabric and distantly hoping whoever’s shirt he was ruining right now wouldn’t mind too much.

His companion started rocking gently, humming a soft tune that was as familiar as it was wrong. He hadn’t heard that song in centuries; Not since the last occasion he’d spent time with Morgana, right before things started going horribly awry. It shouldn’t be possible to hear it again now, and certainly not from her.

“Breathe.” Oblivious to the fact she shouldn’t exist, Morgana continued to cradle him gently as they both knelt on the uncomfortably hard floor. He could feel her magic still drifting lazily over them, the calming enchantment she was weaving into her voice. “Just breathe, Douxie.”

It was easier to do as she said than question what was happening. He was absolutely exhausted, still aching, and suffering the fleeting remnants of a terror whose source he couldn’t quite remember. Focussing on his breathing, on counting each inhale and exhale, was far safer then prodding the sleeping beast lurking at the back of his mind.

“You’re bleeding.” Untroubled by his lack of response, Morgana moved to brush his hair aside, her fingers treading carefully around the edges of his self-inflicted injury. “Archie, do you have anything to wrap this with?”

“Uh, oh, yes. Yes, of course.”

There was a clatter, the sounds of someone rummaging, a quiet ‘thank you’ from Morgana as she accepted whatever offering had been brought. Fingers again, this time unwinding fabric about his head, pressing against the source of sticky dampness. It stung, he recognised that much, but the ability to react, to do anything other than maintain his stuttering breaths was absent. He felt like an observer in his own body; An observer who couldn’t see a thing.

“There you go.” Morgana finished her ministrations, settling beside him as she moved a hand to his back, rubbing soothing circles through the thin fabric of his shirt. His shoulders were still hitching on every second inhale, but her spell had done its work, and the sense of wild panic had been muted by a fragile veneer of calm. “Why don’t we—”

The door swung open with enough force it crashed against the stone wall. The noise startled his companion, her arms closing about him protectively once again. His own nerves were too numb to respond to the intrusion in any way beyond slumping further against the source of his support, letting her shield him from the coming storm.

“What in the name of—”

“Don’t you dare!” Softness gave way to sharpness in an instant. “Close that door.”

There was an awkward silence, broken only by his ragged breathing and a rumbling that had settled against his folded legs in the interim. Then the door closed with far more care than it had opened, green light expanding slowly to fill the small space as the intruder spoke in softer tones.

“Hisirdoux?”

That was his name, wasn’t it? Though there was really only one person who used it like that. The thought hurt, he didn’t answer, and the next words were sharp again.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Footsteps drew nearer, steel striking against stone, pausing a short distance away. He didn’t lift his head. “I found him like this.”

“And that?”

“Archie said he fell.” She paused, awaiting another question. When none was forthcoming she asked her own, “Where is Arthur?”

“Handled, for the moment, though who knows how long that will last.”

“I could hear the shouting from here.”

“The entire castle just got turned inside out.” He knew that dry tone, all too well. “You’re lucky he wasn’t the one kicking in the door.”

This... this was wrong. Impossible. Neither of these people should be here, though he was struggling to remember why. Everyone had been dying, hadn’t they? He had been dying, he was sure of it. Not with the blissful unawareness of his first go around, either. This had been vengeful, painful. ‘The Order will surely rip your soul to pieces’ Nari had said, and of course she was right. So how? How was he still alive, still breathing when he shouldn’t even exist anymore?

“Douxie?” The voices above him were still arguing; This quiet inquiry came from below. He blinked, bringing some focus back into his world of blurred colours, and chanced a glance down into worried eyes. “Are you alright?”

The last time he had seen those eyes they had been wide open and blank. That had been his fault as well. So many mistakes. Except a wizard didn’t make mistakes, so what did that make him? What did that make this?

It wasn’t real. That was the only explanation he could think of. This was an... an illusion, a refuge he had created for himself in order to escape the pure horror of his last moments. But there was something else. A lingering memory of golden eyes, filled with grief but equal parts determination, and powerful, ancient magic wrapping itself protectively about him, binding him together as other hands tried to tear him apart.

‘You can’t have him!’

Nari. Nari had been there, and she had done something. To save him? He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t make sense of any of it. Couldn’t comprehend how this could be happening. They’d already done this, hadn’t they? It had to be an illusion, a—a mirage, a refuge his mind had created. A falsity that felt real.

“Douxie?”

Archie’s soft bunting against his hand prompted him to respond, illusion or no. His body didn’t feel like it belonged to him, moving parts that no longer worked together as they were meant to, and it took more effort than it should have to make his hand drag its way along his familiar’s spine. He doubted it was comfortable for Archie either, despite his obnoxiously loud purring.

The gesture, clumsy though it was, was enough to quiet the conversation happening overhead, and coax an effort at softness out of his most certainly dead master.

“Hisirdoux?”

He swallowed, acutely aware of how raw his throat felt. He had been screaming, hadn’t he? Because he had been dying. He hadn’t imagined that. It wasn’t the type of experience one forgot in a hurry, and the second time hadn’t been any more pleasant than the first. Worse, actually. He’d kind of slept through the first.

“Hisirdoux.”

Fingers closed about the hand not currently locked in Archie’s fur, the hold gentle yet firm. That was oddly patient of his master. Merlin had never shied away from being hands on when he thought his apprentice was moving too slowly. A tug here, a shove there. Maybe that’s why he’d been too slow to dodge that last blow. He was still waiting for Merlin to push him out of the way.

Bodily.

With his staff.

“I don’t think he’s all the way back yet.”

That’s right, Morgana was here too. It was probably her shirt he’d ruined. Or nightwear, at this hour.

“You don’t say.” It was nice, having that droll sarcasm pointed at someone else for once. “Hisirdoux, look at me.”

He could do that. Probably. Even with the strange disconnect between his body and his thoughts right now. If he had been brought back from the dead he had a feeling they’d done it wrong. Put his soul in upside down or something. That would be just his luck.

The hand on his cheek was more demanding than gentle, drawing his gaze up and away from Archie’s mournful stare to the judgemental blue of his master’s usual scowl. He hadn’t seen Merlin this angry in centuries. Oddly enough, the elder wizard didn’t seem to be glaring at him. He was still holding Douxie’s hand, gaze intent, staring at something other. He didn’t realise what until a magic that was not his own probed against the brittle edges of his soul. What had been holding together through dumb luck and desperate hope just splintered, and his magic flared to life of its own accord.

He didn’t blast the entire castle this time. The wave of energy was more contained, weaker, sending Morgana and Merlin back no more than a few steps as Douxie fell onto his side, hands tearing at his own clothes in an effort to rip out the burning brand that had impaled his breastbone.

Fuzzbuckets, but that bloody hurt.

“—told you to be careful! Douxie? Douxie! Can you hear me?”

“Arch...” he croaked the word, reaching out blindly until he felt his feline companion slip beneath his fingers, instinctively drawing the familiar’s warmth close.

“I’m here. We’re here.” Archie’s cool confidence was missing from those shaking words. “Can you tell me what’s wrong, Douxie? It’s important.”

“I think...” Speaking was painful. So was everything else right now. He persevered. “I think I messed up, Arch.”

“Messed up? How?” The familiar was being awfully pushy, wriggling his way closer so he could stare pointedly into Douxie’s blurring eyes. “Doux?”

“I let you all down.” He couldn’t tell if his fading eyesight was due to the fresh tears or the slow darkness creeping in. This all had to end soon, surely. How much longer could he really expect to avoid the truth? “I’m sorry. Tell Nari... I’m sorry.”

“Nari? Wait, who is Nari? Douxie? Douxie!”

He closed his eyes, and the pain finally ended.

#wizards toa #hisirdoux casperan #morgana la fey #archie toa #merlin toa #nari toa #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #friendship #time travel #angst

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mocha-sim · 4 years

Text

For a while now I’ve wanted to write out a post concerning where I stand on the whole issue with YanSim and its developer (in short: neutral, leaning heavily towards the negative side, but I like the potential of the story and characters). There are a lot of problems and I really want to throw in my two cents

This might not be necessary, but I need to get it off my chest, and hopefully make some people think about other points of view

Warning: long post ahead

1. Six years and still in development

I can really see both sides here

On one hand, six full years without even one rival - the single most important part of the game - and a game still full of placeholder assets, and terrible code on top of that, is pathetic

On the other hand, Yandev is working with only a small team of volunteers and himself, who (no matter what he claims) knows very little about game development (from what i’ve seen, he’s made one before, but it looks like a very small-scale and basic fighting game, unlike YanSim which is much more large-scale and has a lot of features)

Professional game teams do have full, high-quality games made in less than six years, but that time is also a product of game company employees being extremely overworked. Lately I’ve seen a lot more people talking about this issue, which is good, but isn’t it hypocritical to not also apply that logic to Yandev?

Again, though, I’m not sure how much time he spends actually working on the game - to me, it seems like he spends a lot of time on discord, reddit, etc. even if he does only stream for a few hours every night. Maybe the “harassment” that’s “slowing down game development” wouldn’t be such an issue if he didn’t spend so much time online interacting with these people?

2. The writing and characters

I’m not a huge fan of how the game’s story is handled, either

I don’t think it’s 100% fair to cast a final judgement with the game the way it is now - Osana not being out is in no way a good thing, but it also means that there hasn’t really been any opportunity for story or character development yet, especially for the rivals. That being said:

I feel like there’s a lot of wasted potential with characters’ individual stories and with the game’s story as a whole, like the “Aishi curse” - I just can’t think of many good stories with a main character who’s basically an empty husk. If Ayano had emotions from the beginning, and actually had to struggle with them, she could be a much more interesting character. There doesn’t even need to be a magical curse for it to run in the family - the way children are raised has a serious impact on the person they grow into. If Ayano is raised by a crazy, abusive stalker of a mother, she may well turn into the same thing.

Taro, too - he has so many contradicting character traits. He yells at Ayano for “scaring him” when she’s carrying a box cutter or laughing, but has the courage to run right up to a murderer and take off their mask?? He doesn’t care about reputations for Osoro or Oka, but won’t love Ayano if her reputation drops too low?? We’re told that he’s “friendly and respectful”, but we’re never shown that part of his personality. On top of that, we’re not really given a reason to like or pursue him as the goal of the game - when he’s not interacting with Girl of the Week, he doesn’t really do anything except sit by the fountain and read. I feel as though Taro should have a routine that involves interacting with other characters and gives us more of a feel for the personality we’re told he’s supposed to have

Raibaru as a whole makes no sense and feels like a satellite character to Osana. In Osana’s shoes, I would want to have a word with her about personal space. There’s not a lot to say about her aside from that, because... she doesn’t really do anything except follow Osana around all day and shut down the player’s attempts to kill her. She feels more like a soulless obstacle than a character

I think there should be more true pacifist options than just matchmaking - even the befriending elimination route will, in Yandev’s own words, involve someone getting hurt. If we’re supposed to have a choice on whether or not to hurt and kill people, there should be more variety in our options

3. The game’s code sucks/it’s poorly-optimized

Yeah.

I don’t know much about coding but the amount of awkward stretching/bending limbs on corpses, clipping through walls, low fps, etc. makes this obvious. It was definitely a bad move on Yandev’s part to start a project like this without at least taking a coding/game development class or something

I think the best course of action for Yandev would be to get a professional programmer on board after Osana is released and spend a few months fixing the game’s code before he starts work on the next rival

4. The character models are just stolen Unity models

They are just unity models, but not “stolen” at all - YanDev paid for them.

That being said, they’re sort of ugly and inexpressive, and personally i’m hoping they get replaced soon

5. The characters are all minors

They’re not. It’s in flashing red letters on the screen when you open the game. I can’t help but feel like the reason people keep insisting that the characters are minors is so that they can feel like heroes for defending them or something

It doesn’t make a lot of logical sense, but there’s still plenty of time for this to be fixed. I think it was recently confirmed that Akademi is called an “academy” now and won’t be referred to as a high school again

Imo YanDev should just change it to a post-secondary school, since that’s probably the most seamless way for all the characters to be adults

One last thing I want to say on this is that, when it gets brought up, I often see people use the excuse “the age of consent in Japan is 13″. 1: it isn’t - the Japanese government lets each prefecture decide its own age of consent, but 13 is the minimum. As far as I know, no prefecture has set it below 16. 2: even if 13 was the age of consent, that doesn’t mean we should accept and defend it as “part of a different culture”. It’s still pedophilia. 3: Japanese people actively protest against things like this

6. The uniforms are middle-school uniforms/don’t look like they belong in a prestigious school

Yeah

However there are multiple uniform options, and it looks like the default uniforms will be completely changed in the final game

7. Panty shots

YanSim is an 18+ game, but there is such a thing as too far

I’ve seen people who tolerate it, but I haven’t seen a single person who actively likes the panty shots and would complain if they were removed. Imo the part that makes this bad is the fact that we, the player, actively have to point our camera up a girl’s skirt and take a photo of her underwear with it being in full view; the whole way this works makes it obvious that the feature was put in there for titillation more than anything else, and it just feels uncomfortable. If it were more like Uekiya’s key-stealing minigame where all we have to do is push a few buttons, the whole gross/uncomfortable aspect could be taken away and a lot of people would probably be fine with it

It would also be better to replace it with an expanded version of the phone-stealing feature: this would let the player get “points” for students of both genders, plus it would still make sense to gain more points for certain students, like the student council or the bullies. Maybe you could even steal teachers’ phones under certain circumstances?

8. YanDev is homophobic

Again not too sure on this one

Iirc, most of the comments people bring up on this are from years ago when he still went by EvaXephon

But speaking as a wlw, I think some of the ways I’ve seen him talk about f/f relationships are pretty creepy. And on top of that, he seems to be considering adding a “female senpai” option to the game, but no male player character? (though i guess i can see the point of view that a male mc would need a lot more new voice lines, animations, etc. while the senpai follows a mostly fixed routine and would only need so many. still, it seems wrong to have one without the other). I hope I’m wrong about this but his support of the LGBT community seems mostly focused on the L and more for his own entertainment than any actual support

9. YanDev is making more money than he should (and handles it poorly)

His Patreon may be dropping, but his YouTube channel is raking in even more money with 2M+ subscribers, and he’s making even more money from things like merch and donations... all while apparently still living with his parents (which i don’t find hard to believe). He’s also apparently bought 2 switches and a sex doll instead of using the money to hire the help he desperately needs with his game

Assuming he really does still live with his parents, I fully support the petition to get his Patreon suspended until he at least finishes Osana. Most game devs don’t make any money off of their games until they’ve finished it completely

10. YanDev wrote rape fanfics

So I did briefly check his old ffn profile some time ago, and as far as I could see everything had the proper ratings and warnings

Tagging/warning/rating is a fanfic author’s only responsibility to you. You make the choice on whether or not to read it. If everything is appropriately tagged and you read it anyway, that’s on you, not the author. If you are mature enough to be on the internet unsupervised, then you are mature enough to curate your own experience.

Fiction is the place to explore controversial themes and topics. It doesn’t mean in any way that a content creator would condone the things they write about in real life

11. YanDev steals art/assets

He does, and still hasn’t apologized for the DLC rivals thing. In fact he made a post defending himself for it, and even compared himself to Andy Warhol in the process (lol)

I’m not sure but I think I heard something recently about him continuing to do this type of thing (the grass, etc.). In which case we should continue to put pressure on him until he credits the creators of whatever art/assets he stole. Art theft is inexcusable

12. The fanbase is mostly kids

This is unfortunately true, and it’s a big problem (i’ve had to deal with it myself on my youtube channel)

However I would personally say that this problem is outside of YanDev’s control. Kids seem to be drawn to edgy/violent things, or things they shouldn’t be allowed to see (just look at Call of Duty). I put the blame for this on the parents who aren’t monitoring their kids’ computer activities. As for YanDev, he’s not a babysitter and it’s not his responsibility to censor his content for kids who shouldn’t be viewing it in the first place

Underage or not though, he should really avoid calling his fans things like “fuck kittens”. Even from the perspective of an adult that’s super creepy to hear

13. The character designs suck

Some are alright, others are absolutely awful

I think that, in a game built on anime tropes, characters should be allowed to have unnaturally-coloured hair. I mean, a lot of characters in anime do have weird hair that you wouldn’t see in real life (seemingly without any dye), and it can add a lot of personality to their designs

But some YanSim characters push that too far. The science club is the worst of the worst imo, despite being otherwise one of my favourite clubs. The neon streaks are ugly, and what’s up with the visors? Why are they allowed to wear those outside of club time? Why do they wear them during club time, as opposed to actual goggles or something? (i have this issue with a lot of club accessories, imo the accessories are unnecessary in the first place)

The bullies and the light music club also take things too far. Their designs are crowded, hard to look at, and out-of-place. Nothing against characters with multi-coloured hair, but there’s a time and a place and a “prestigious” school setting isn’t it

(also, slightly off-topic, but why does almost every “intended couple” look like they could be siblings?)

I could probably make a whole separate post on the character designs in YS, but I’ll save that for another day. (i’m just very passionate about character design)

14. YanDev has collaborated with porn games 3 times now

Once I could overlook (after all, the characters are 18+ and YS is already not for kids) but a third time? Seriously? And so soon after the last one?

Not only do I have mixed feelings about Yandev doing crossovers when his game isn’t even in the demo stage yet, isn’t this game supposed to be taken seriously as a horror game? I can’t think of a single other horror game that has willingly put its characters in porn.

Also I can’t help noticing that he advertises the porn game crossovers a lot more than he did with that one Dark Deception crossover. Did he ever even mention that one? I only ever saw it on the Dark Deception Twitter

15. YanDev is rude to his fans

I don’t have a lot to say against this one. As far as I’ve seen, he is, and he doesn’t take criticism well at all (just look at the subreddit - yes, a lot of the things that were removed deserved it (unfunny cum chalice jokes, etc.) but there have also been completely innocent questions, fanarts, jokes, and fanfics that have been removed. Not to mention mods going through peoples’ post history and banning them for being active in r/Osana. Both he and his mod team seem insanely paranoid)

I think he’s going to have to grow a thicker skin and stop censoring critiques if he wants to get anywhere with this game. Not just fans who bring up tiny details that might need changing, but also big, glaring issues like the code and character designs and such. He also doesn’t seem that professional for a game developer who wants to be taken seriously

That being said, if you’re the type to spam the discord server/subreddit/fan communities who have nothing to do with Yandev like the amino, you deserved that ban

16. YanDev defends pedophiles/the “sex license” thing

“No adult ever has any excuse to do anything sexual with a child. As soon as you touch a kid, you have crossed the line from being someone with a mental disorder to being the worst scum imaginable. Having a mental illness is involuntary, but touching a kid is a choice. If you have a mental illness, I feel bad for you. If you violate a child, I feel disgust and contempt for you, and I think you deserve the death penalty.” -From YanDev himself on this page

The sex license thing is also debunked on the same page: the whole conversation was taken out of context and the hypothetical “license” was supposed to be something that only an adult could meet the requirements for

17. “Corona-chan”

This was a really insensitive move to make in the middle of a pandemic, and I agree that the design was racist

However, YanDev listened to the fans’ complaints and removed the easter egg a day later, plus gave an apology. I think that this was the best thing he could do in that scenario and idk what else people are expecting him to do about it

18. YanDev’s general portrayal of high schoolers

Honestly, it’s not 100% realistic (especially in some of the dialogue. you know what i’m talking about)

I’m surprised that more students don’t seem to have friends outside of their clubs. It seems like all the students mostly stick within their club/group - walking to school together, spending their breaks together, etc. A lot of the ways the characters behave are very robotic, like walking in a perfectly straight line everywhere they go

That being said, a lot of the things i’ve seen criticized in regards to this are not part of the problem. By the time you’re in high school, you’ve probably hit puberty. It doesn’t make a character automatically sexualized if they have bigger breasts (though some designs in the game are over-sexualized, like a few certain staff members)

19. Muja, Mida, and Hanako

Let’s start with Hanako: Yandev has already said that she’s not romantically interested in her brother, she’s just insanely clingy and doesn’t want him to get a girlfriend out of fear that he’ll forget about her. If you still insist that she’s in love with Taro, then that’s on you

Muja and Mida I have mixed feelings on.

If every student is 18 or older, meaning that the first-years are 18, that makes Taro, a third-year, 20-21 years old. If Mida and Muja are in their early 20s as Yandev has said, that means that the age gap isn’t an issue. However, it’s still wrong for a teacher or a nurse to pursue their student/patient

I don’t think Yandev should need to spell out “hey, Mida and Muja are not good people” in flashing neon signs. The game is rated M and anyone who’s old enough to play it should be able to understand that without it being said. If you need morality in fiction spoon-fed to you, you probably shouldn’t be watching/reading/playing anything rated above PG

On the other hand, YanDev has a nasty habit of making these things into a joke, which is really insensitive and creepy. Like saying that Mida’s favourite food is “the spit of a younger man” (yikes), that she’s tried to seduce her own students 69 times (haha 69 so funney right guys XD), or that whole confession scene mess. It’s less of a problem with Muja, but it’s still there. As much as the audience shouldn’t need everything served to them on a silver platter, issues like these should still be treated with respect, not made into gags

20. Yandev wastes time on “Easter eggs”

I have to agree that he does spend time implementing unnecessary things sometimes (like the abc challenge), but as far as I know the Easter eggs are what he does in his spare time while waiting for assets from volunteers. However: snap mode, which was hyped up for years, turned out to be a flop with zero purpose, disappointing a good portion of the fanbase.

21. Love Letter

So far I’m really liking the look of this game: I like the models and the school environment they’ve shown, and it seems like they’re doing a lot of things in better or more interesting ways than YanDev, like not outright telling us who the rivals are. I don’t think it’s fair to accuse them of “stealing” anything, when it seems like most of the assets the games have in common are the things they bought from the Unity store (Love Letter even changed the base Unity model to have a more appealing look)

I'm glad to see that they actually listened to criticism from fans on things like Setsuna’s design (I love her newest look and I hope it’s the final one). From design alone she’s already a more interesting protagonist, and she looks like the sort of character you’d actually enjoy playing as

Not sure I totally buy the claim that it was all done in two weeks, but even if it was over the span of months, that’s still miles better than YanSim’s six years

Knowing that Dr. Apeis has already ditched one project I’m staying open to new information on this, but as of right now I’m looking forward to playing the demo!

Overall: A lot of the hate against the game and the dev are unnecessary, but some is justified and we shouldn’t blindly defend everything he does (seriously, you can admit that the character designs are shit. no one is going to stone you for it). There are a lot of improvements Dev could make, both on the game and on his behaviour towards fans.

I think that the biggest improvement would be for the game to just stop taking itself so seriously. At this point, it’s so full of memes, cringy google translate names, excessive edginess, and gags that it may as well just be a fun ridiculous anime game instead of a serious horror game. I feel like taking this approach could make it more successful (plus, it doesn’t really have a lot of horror elements aside from the gore)

There are a lot of cases of people taking things too far. Like spamming YanDev with explicit gore/animal abuse, trying to swat him, spamming volunteers with weird porn, trying to hack into volunteers’ accounts (including bank accounts), etc. That is going way too far, no matter how awful or pathetic you think a person is. If you are doing these kinds of things, you are doing more harm than Dev or his volunteers

Attacking YanDev’s appearance is unnecessary and not related to his behaviour or skills. Same with the chalice memes

However, I’ve seen a lot of YanDev’s defenders lashing out against “gremlins”, lumping all of them in with the kinds of people who do these things. If you check r/Osana, you’ll see that most if not all of the people there condemn this behaviour: the gore and porn spammers are a loud minority (and i’m willing to bet most of them are the basement-dwelling losers from KiwiFarms and 4Chan)

Attacking and/or spamming fans who are just trying to enjoy the game is also unnecessary. Someone liking a video game you don’t like is not doing you any harm. Be mature and move on

I’m not sure if some of what I’ve said above is 100% accurate so if anyone actually read this and has evidence against it then feel free to add

I think that’s about all I have to say on that. Again, i don’t know if it will change anything in the fandom but i really just wanted to get this off my chest

#yandere simulator #yansim #yanderedev #yandev #not sure if i should tag this as crit or not

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strawberrymeriadoc · 4 years

Text

Just a little drabble. Merry’s feeling sick and explores his feelings for Pippin a bit.

Merry’s hands were shaking. He wasn’t sure if it comforted him or annoyed him that Peony was just asleep on the kitchen counter like he wasn’t having (what felt like) the biggest crisis of his life. Merry took some medicine to calm down. He reasoned that the throat tightness and pain might have as much to do with anxiety as anything else.

If Merry could do this night over again he probably would have gone to the house of healing over two hours ago when it first started. But he didn’t want to go. He was terrified of doctors and waiting rooms and being called by his deadname and having to try to back pass. Hopefully it just gets better with time, he thought for the tenth time that night. Merry hadn’t bothered Pippin with this nightmare of a situation. He has his own shit to deal with and he would think I was strange to bring this up so suddenly, Merry reasoned. Merry vowed to call his doctor first thing the next day.

Merry tried to calm down but he didn’t know how to be calm. He hadn’t been allowed to growing up. One time in college when he was home for break, he went to take a nap and as soon as he lay down he got in trouble with his mother, for even considering such a thing. Sometimes Merry would read while he ate, but as soon as he was done eating he was told he wasn’t allowed to read anymore. And many times he wasn’t allowed to eat to begin with. Merry’s mother took it as a personal insult if Merry wanted more than his allotted 2 meals a day. And she would yell at him and shame him if he ate anywhere near her because she hated the sound.

Even Jamie had a similar issue. He didn’t begrudge her sensory issues around his eating some foods, but she didn’t have to be so mean about it. He would sometimes be forced to eat in the hallway outside his apartment. As a result, Merry was probably the quietest eater in all of the Westlands though he felt like the loudest.

Merry shook himself out of his thoughts. He really wanted to say goodnight to his friend. But he realized with his pain he couldn’t talk. But still he came out of his room and knocked on Pippin’s door. “Come in,” Pippin called. Merry smiled and waved and showed him the message he had written on his phone:

“I can’t talk because im having a terrible flare up in my throat. Im having a really rough night, could i just sit with you?”

“Sure,” Pippin responded aloud. Merry had planned to sit on the floor, but Pippin motioned for Merry to sit next to him on the bed. Merry felt a small flash of warmth and love. He sat down next to his friend and hesitantly leaned against Pippin’s shoulder. Pippin leaned into him in response.

Merry felt a desire to rest his head on Pippin’s shoulder but he restrained himself. He didn’t think Pippin would approve and Merry couldn’t really talk in order to ask. But maybe I could write another message? No, I’m being weird again, he chastened himself. However, before he could stop himself he wrote: “Could i rest my head on your shoulder?”, sat for a minute worrying about it, and then showed it to his friend. “Uh, yeah” Pippin said.

Merry just felt at home with Pippin. He didn’t want to have sex with him, he wasn’t really sure that romance existed in any way that mattered to him. But he wanted to cuddle Pippin and be close to him and hold his hand. He wanted Pippin to know he cared about him very much. He didn’t know if that still counted as platonic or if it was its own separate thing. Merry had heard of sensual attraction as well as alterous attraction. And something called queerplatonic. Perhaps he was feeling some combination of these things.

Merry leaned his head on Pippin’s left shoulder. He felt a little awkward at first and worried he was making Pippin uncomfortable. But then Pippin leaned his head on Merry’s and the two sat there in silence not doing anything for a while. Then Peony jumped up on Pippin and they both laughed quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Merry woke up to the sun shining through his window. The yellow light burst through in beams that turned the sheets and the wall behind the bed bright white. Merry could hear a few birds chirping.It was around eleven o’clock. Pippin was still asleep on the couch in the living room. His chest rose and fell with his breathing as he dreamed peacefully. Peony was lying in the sun in Pippin’s bedroom. At least someone was making good use of the room.

Outside, Minas Tirith was brimming with life. Merry’s favorite flower shop had been open a few hours and was filled with customers. Its purple and green awning swayed in the breeze. Men of Gondor and Rohan and the occasional dwarf were also streaming in to Pippin’s favorite cafe to try all the different teas and have the bacon and waffles which were especially sought after around brunch time. The occasional student or professor could be seen crossing the campus grounds mainly grad students going to their lab or to the library to work.

Merry sat up in the bed, but he realized he felt rather faint. His throat still hurt tremendously. Let me just try drinking some water, he thought, reaching for the glass by his bed. Merry was starving and he remembered that he hadn’t been able to eat dinner last night because of the pain. Merry was truly sick of all this. He grabbed one of his books that Professor Borormir had assigned and decided to move to the couch in the living room.

He still wasn’t quite awake but he was certainly not going to chance how his throat might react to coffee. He started reading the book as he was walking--he couldn’t wait to dig in from where he had left off. He went down the hallway, across the living room, turned around, and plopped right on to the couch. Now, Merry was expecting the couch to be somewhat firm, but the couch was actually lumpy and hard in some places and squishy and soft in others. Merry let out a yelp and just as he leapt up, the couch shouted “hurrmmppphhh! geeerraaaa!” Merry was even more mortified than he was startled.

“Sorry! Sorry, Pippin!”

“Eru, what was that for?”

“I didn’t see you!”

“Didn’t see me? I’m right here!”

“I know I just...I was reading while I was walking and I’m half asleep”

“Huh, well I’m not asleep anymore, that woke me right up.” Pippin crossed his arms and scowled.

Merry’s face and ears had turned bright red. Pippin had never seen him blush. He wasn’t so much mad as he was surprised but he realized how he had come across.

“Oh Merry…” then he laughed, “It’s alright, you just startled me is all” Merry relaxed. Pippin thought for a moment and realized he was hungry for breakfast.

“Alright, I’m making omelets, want one?” Pippin asked, whisking off into the kitchen. “Thank you. I wish! But I can’t eat,” Merry said sadly. Pippin stopped what he was doing and turned around. “What do you mean you can’t eat?” he demanded. Pippin was used to his friend struggling with food but this had gone too far for his liking. Then Merry explained more about his throat pain that had flared up the night before and how he had attempted to eat a small dinner and that had tremendously backfired. “I just need to wait it out until I can go to the doctor tomorrow afternoon,” he finished.

“I could help you with that if you like!” Pippin offered. Merry didn’t know how to respond. People didn’t really tend to offer to help him. He felt thankful but a bit ashamed, after all, he didn’t want to trouble Pippin. But right now he needed to say something that adequately showed he appreciated the thought even if he didn’t know how to take him up on it.

“Thanks!” he started, “I...uh...just knowing that you’re there for me really helps”.

“Why don’t I make you some soup, you should be able to manage that at least” Merry wasn’t so confident, but he was too famished to care.

“That would be lovely,” Merry replied.

Pippin had noticed that “lovely” was the highest form of praise Merry would give anything. He would use “good”, “great” or even “amazing” and “fantastic”. But none of them meant so much as “lovely”.

After he ate the soup, Merry distracted himself from the pain by running a load of laundry and starting the dishwasher. It also seemed to help his throat to stand up. Then the hobbit went out and stood on the balcony for a while.

The street below was fairly busy. Most people were walking, but a few rode bikes and even fewer rode horses. Then Merry saw coming over the rise a small company of Men on horseback. All the horses were black and the man at the forefront carried a rounded shield. Merry guessed they were Men returning from their shift on patrol on the outskirts of Gondor along the Anduin.

Merry thought about his horse Sorin. Well, not his horse. He supposed they were all Theoden’s. But the one that he rode every week. The hobbit hoped that he would be able to go riding in a few days and that things would clear up.

But, Merry began to feel very hopeless indeed and thought about how much easier things would be if he just ended it all. A much smaller voice in his mind pushed back: It’s just a passing thing. You’ll feel better soon. You don’t want to make a decision that you can’t unmake! Besides, there is good in this world. There is. It’s worth fighting to stay alive for.

But Merry thought about what was really in his life and he didn’t see anything good, certainly nothing that convinced him. He felt truly hopeless. But once back inside, he felt a change. Something about the laundry machine and the dishwasher running quietly in the kitchen calmed him. There’s something good, he mused.

Pippin was still a little flustered from being sat on and then hearing about his friend’s sickness. He had made an omelet with cheese and red peppers in it and enjoyed a cup of green tea and now he was deciding what to wear for the day. He rummaged around in his closet and eventually settled on a white button down shirt with red pants.

This needs a belt, Pippin thought, grabbing a light brown one with an ornate silver buckle. Pippin didn’t have anything to do until his lab started after around dinnertime. I’ve got to get out of here, he thought, maybe there’s a museum or a bookshop I can go to? I wish Frodo and Sam were here, we could all go together. Pippin didn’t want to go alone, but he guessed that Merry would be too sick to go with him. That’s right, he thought, kicking himself, I said that I’d help him.

Pippin was still deciding what to do exactly when he went back into the living room. “You wouldn’t want to go somewhere, would you?” Pippin asked hopefully. Merry, who had been dissociating while standing at the kitchen counter, started. “Aah--what?” he centered himself, “I don’t know. Like where were you thinking?” “Oh I don’t know. Maybe the new bookshop next to campus? It looked pretty cool when I walked by”

Merry frowned. “I’m not sure I can afford any books right now.”

“Hmm, well it’s a second-hand bookshop, so it should be better anyway”

Merry perked up. “Oh I love used bookstores. They always have the weirdest stuff. I like to look at the really obscure books that you kind of can’t believe would ever need to be written or read.”

“Excellent! Well let’s go shall we?”

After Merry quickly got dressed, he said goodbye to Peony and joined his friend by the door. Stepping out into the crisp Autumn air, the two linked arms and walked up the winding side street lined with orange-leaved Plane trees.

#merry brandybuck #pippin took #modernish au #merry x pippin #they have the horses for the aesthetic and they dont like cars for environmental reasons #a hobbit in minas tirith

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lxvesickreality · 4 years

Text

mistakes 1/4

Request: Hi this is very long but i need to get this off my chest can i request for a Stevexreader where they are married but its falling apart with Steve forgetting their anniversary, reader cooks dinner but he comes home late and he gets pissed at her until one time she discovers he’s cheating and she forgives him but she isn’t the same anymore. What’s worse is that she gets fatally injured and hydra kidnaps her. You can decide whether it ends in fluff or angst.THANK YOU SO MUCH

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, talk of miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy, terrible writing

Word Count: 2,061

Add on: My computer has completely took a shit so I have been writing everything on my phone which has been really hard. I’ve had a lot of family issues but hopefully I can get to writing some more.

Add on number two: This is a little different than what requested, just a little. Part two is already in the works.

gif is NOT mine, credits to owners

Steve Roger's married Y/N L/N out of love and being only 2 years ago when he did, he still loves her with every fiber of his heart and soul, hur he did something he knew would break her entirely. Steve didn't want that-his actions and words said otherwise though. The first time he did it was an honest mistake; he was reeling from the argument he had with Y/N and it was a really bad one so he went to let off some steam at the gym with a tall bottle of cheap whiskey to take the edge off. She came at the wrong time, she took advantage of his vulnerability and his drunken state. That was his strategy, to blame everything on her; she did initiate the first kiss between them. His brain was foggy and his vision was blurry from the amount of alcohol he'd previously consumed. Their actions did not go far before Steve was already pushing her away. He had realized what he had done and how it wasn't right. All he did was get a little carried away.

The second time was in fact her fault. Desperate for his affection that should be directed towards his wife, Sharon had climbed on his lap with lips puckered and had her bosom popping out from her tight fitting tank top, the one usually wore on missions to seduce targets, she purposely wore to seduce Steve instead. Y/N had gone to the bathroom when Sharon did this to Steve and it made him uncomfortable to ever be alone with her but since the first incident, he felt extremely guilty even looking at her so he tried to keep his distance.

The third time it happened, Steve refused to admit it was his fault but he showed up on Sharon’s doorstep demanding to be with her. Something was off with Y/N and he believed his wife was seeing someone behind his back. He decided not to confront her and to get back at her instead. Some might say he was looking for an excuse to be with Sharon. She was more than welcome to lead Steve into her room where he touched every part of the woman’s body with his fingers, palms of his hands, his lips, his tongue and the part he shouldn’t have ever let happen; his member that was happy to get attention from someone new. He was guilty, he has been all along.

He stuck with his strategy through the next few months. Y/N became distant and cold to Steve leaving him alone and confused as to why she was doing this. He knew for sure she has no idea he had cheated and he planned to keep it that way because even if she did cheat, he still couldn’t tell her he did it too so he started staying late at work after he had enough of not feeling wanted at the place he called home and the guilt was following him everywhere he went. Of course this did not go unnoticed by Y/N, she took note of every time he did it and her heart slowly went piece by piece the more he did. Their anniversary of their marriage was around the corner and Y/N knew she had to tell him at some point as to why she was so distant and cold. He deserved to know. She cooked him his favorite meal and that’s when it turned to hell.

Y/N messaged Steve around 4:15pm to let him know she was making dinner and not be home late so she wouldn’t have to put it in the microwave for it to grow cold with time. She didn’t get a response back but at 4:55pm, she began preparing the meal slowly to give him some time to reply. Not too long after, she finished and she set everything out; candles surrounding the table; wine poured into two glasses; his favorite meal set on a plate; the card reading “Happy Anniversary!”; and the reason why she was cold and distant inside the card. Y/N sat there for many hours, awaiting for her husband’s arrival and it was very late by the time he entered their home.

“Where were you?” Y/N questioned when he strolled into the open concept involving the kitchen and dining room. Steve jumped back, startled by the voice of his wife. He would’ve thought she went to bed.

“I had some work to catch up on,” was all he replied with.

His wife rolled her eyes at the response and scoffed, “Sure, and I wrote an entire book on why pigs can fly. Cut the shit, Steve. You’ve been coming home late the past few weeks. You have not had that much work to do,”

“I have and quite frankly, it’s none of your business.”

“Are you serious? I’m your wife, Steve.” said Y/N. Steve took the now room temperature wine off the table and downed it. “There is no way you were at work catching up on stuff when you haven’t had a mission since the one a month ago and no one is targeting the world right now. Cut the shit, Steve! What is going on?”

“I cheated on you, Y/N! I cheated and I feel guilty but you know what, you did it first! So, none of it really was my fault at all.” there was nothing Steve could've done to take back what he said because Y/N's heart and soul broke just like he said it would. It hurt like hell to see the look on her face when he realized he'd used that as an excuse to see Sharon. At first, before he did it, he wanted to ask Y/N to see if it was true. Deep down, he didn't think she could do it. Y/N didn't have the heart to do so.

Y/N stuttered, taken aback by the turn of events, "Y-you what?" tears pricked her e/c eyes as it slowly dawned on her, her husband had been unfaithful to her and all she ever did was love him. Was she that distant and cold to turn him away? Did she do this? Did she drive him away? The first thought wasn't why he did it, she instantly turned to herself and blamed herself. It was her who did caused it. "I-I never cheated on you, Steve."

"Why have you been so distant? You barely would look at me. You slept clear on the other side of the bed. Every time you got dressed, you'd go into the bathroom. I'm married to you, Y/N! I've seen your body thousands of times. We're in love and you can't even look me in the eyes? What the hell, Y/N,"

"I hadn't been feeling well and I was concerned. I hid it from you because I didn't want you to be concerned yourself so I started to distance myself. I got worse and I went to the doctor. He said I was pregnant and it wasn't normal. It was an Ectopic pregnancy in which the fetus is in the wrong place, one it shouldn't be in. You had to leave for a few days because of the one mission from a month ago so I was going to have it taken care of but I fainted at work and they rushed me to the emergency room. They had to cut out a fallopian tube, Steve. I had surgery and I distanced myself to heal." Y/N stopped talking when she noticed the look on Steve's face. She could tell the guilt caught up to him and it made her feel a little better, but not enough. She gave him a few moments to process the information she gave him.

Steve was astounded. He didn't expect this answer to come from his wife, his wife that should've talked to him about this instead of holding it in. But he never gave her chance because he set about to stay at work late. He couldn't pin point which emotion he was feeling the worst but guilt was a pretty big one along with despair. Could she have any more kids? He doubted she'd want to after he told her about his adultery.

"Can you have any more kids? Can-can we?"

"The doctor said it'd be really hard to conceive but I could try. I still have one fallopian tube left." Y/N answered.

"At least you can accomplish your dream of being a mom,"

It became silent afterwards, a deafening silence that had so many emotions in it but it didn't feel awkward. It felt like a processing silence in a way. Y/N was still letting it sink in about her husband cheating on her. Was she that distant to the point where he shifted towards someone else. Wait, who was it, she thought.

"Who'd you cheat on me with?"

Steve's head snapped up after looking down during the silence and he winced from the stiffness in his neck. His heart raced, "Sharon,"

"Sharon Carter? Seriously, Steve? You still love Peggy, don't you? God, I'll never live up to her. Ever! It's always going to be her. Pretty perfect miss Carter. Now, it's Sharon. I'm nowhere near being those girls. I'm the polar opposite. Shit, I'm really not good enough for you. How did I not see this?" as Y/N rambled on about how she wasn't good enough, Steve was tearing up at the cracks in her voice indicating she was crying as well. He broke her just like he knew he would. He made her think she wasn't enough, he did this and she didn't.

He shouldn’t have told her who it was with and if he was being honest, he didn’t think of Peggy at all. It was an honest surprise because he pined over her for so long, Peggy was his true love to him or that was until he met Y/N L/N. She was so much more magnificent than Peggy, she was beautiful and smart. She knew what she wanted at all times; she was brave; she was so generous and selfless. Y/N put everyone and everything above her and Steve took all of that for granted. His wife didn’t deserve any of this, he was putting a lot of pain on her and add ten more pounds to her shoulders because of him being unloyal. Steve’s stomach was tightening and it felt like he had been punched in the gut, he felt as if he needed to throw up. It was guilt.

Only a few months ago did they purchase this house, they redid the whole house in the way they wanted it to make it feel like home. They talked about having kids, specifically three kids; two boys, one girl. It was perfect because Steve could name one boy after his best friend and Y/N could name the girl after her mother that passed four years ago. Steve and Y/N planned their future together up until death do they part but now he ruined that all with just one petty woman.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," Steve apologized.

There was a fire in his wife's eyes suddenly and she yelled, something she rarely does, "You're sorry? You're freaking sorry? Is that all you fucking got, Steve? No 'I didn't know what I was thinking' or 'it was a mistake'? All you have to say is I'm fucking sorry! I-I need you to get the hell out, Steve. Now, please,"

His heart was breaking in a million pieces, heartbreak being something he hadn't felt since Peggy passed away, but this was different. This was strong, intense heartbreak that made his chest clench and he thought his heart stopped beating for a moment. Everything seemed to stop in place after she said that because everything went silent. There were no more tears falling from her e/c eyes, the ones that now look dull and sad, she was just staring at the wall behind him. Neither wanted to make the first move, but he knew he should leave so with a heavy heart, he began to walk towards the front door of their now torn home leaving his wife.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america imagines #captain america

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neuro-whump · 4 years

Text

Lost In Transit, Part 3

This is my entry to the Box Boy Extended Universe which was originally created by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and written by @shameless-whumper and I’m using a lot of world-building which was done by @ashintheairlikesnow. Still somewhat vague on hospital procedure here, only semi-deliberately.

CN: Dehumanization, human trafficking, mass casualty events (referenced), dehydration, amnesia, mistaken identity, box boy universe, vomiting, bed-wetting, IVs

Part 2

Kenna was already having a bad second unsupervised day of work ever when she left their nameless patient to run his blood to the labs, and and do all the things that her regular assigned patients in the neuro ward still needed even when there was a all-hands-on-deck, honest-to-god mass casualty event filling the ER and flowing out into the hallways, failed to get the charge nurse to find an empty bed, and finally to go back to the ER, which was still overflowing - but maybe, finally, was beginning to overflow less - and managed to look in on him for just a moment before rushing off to take care of all the tasks and people who were more urgent than the scared, disoriented kid huddled in a corner behind a hastily erected curtain.

He didn’t seem better, and she made a note in his chart like she’d been taught and meant to find Joey or Dr. de Courcy and ask about it but Joey was up to her elbows in a code and she couldn’t even find Dr. de Courcy before the next set of ambulances arrived and then she was pulled into a trauma bay with a medical resident and neither of them knew where the burn dressings were and by the time she had time to check on or talk to anyone she had blood spattered on her scrubs and their mystery patient was doubled over being violently sick.

No one else really seemed to have noticed. He was out of the way without a call button and, compared to the general hubbub, not making much noise. And sitting, terribly precariously on a gurney without the side rails up (she should have put those up, why did she forget to put those up). She went over to him and braced his shoulders so he wouldn’t tip off onto the floor. Finding a basin seemed like a waste of effort anyway, he was already a mess.

“I’ve got you,” she said to him, “I’m right here, just just let this happen. It’ll be over soon.”

“I need a hand,” she yelled, and she hoped her patient was too preoccupied to notice how squeaky her voice had come out.

One of the ER nurses - Dana, or was it Carla - stuck her head around the curtain.

“I need -“ Kenna started, then took a breath and tried to sound like a professional, “Joey and Dr. de Courcy assessed him earlier but he’s deteriorating, and de Courcy wants him admitted to neuro and I can’t find a bed.”

Dana-Carla nodded briskly and left again and Kenna, who went back to trying to comfort her patient.

He was still retching periodically, even though he didn’t seem to have much left to bring up, and sobbing pitifully.

“S-sorry,” he gasped, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “you just got a bit sick, is all.”

Really, he was more than a bit sick, and covered in vomit and dried-on salt and amber coloured urine. Why was he still so dehydrated?

“Is that why you’re upset?” she murmured to him, “because you had an accident? These things happen, no one’s mad, we’ll get you cleaned up right away. Just hang in there.”

She leant over to check his IV, but it was working fine. She opened it up wider anyway and hoped it would help.

“I’m sorry, I - ow,” he started again, and then shuddered and trailed off into a thin, pitiful whine and gagged again, curling up with his arms around his stomach.

Kenna stroked his shoulder a little bit, and tried to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do. He needed a bath, before the stomach acid started burning his skin, and clean bedding and a damn hospital gown because he was still naked under the soiled sheet, and she knew that and knew how to get all those things done in a real ER room, but to get any of those things right now, she’d have to leave her sobbing, disoriented patient unattended because she was actually standing in a corner of the waiting room with a curtain around it which hadn’t come up at any point in training because this whole day was insane.

Kenna was still standing around being an indecisive lump about what to do when Dr. de Courcy swept in. She’d been hoping for Joey.

“There’s an open bed now in 281,” she said, with no preamble, “don’t let them brush you off just because you’re new. When did this start?”

“Sorry,” Kenna sputtered, “um, he was about - that is, unchanged about an hour ago, and he was vomiting when I next saw him.” She could feel herself blushing, she felt like an idiot.

Dr. de Courcy looked them both over, and bent down to talk to their patient. He was already looking at her, he’d quieted and had his eyes fixed on her since she walked in.

“Do you remember swallowing anything before you arrived here 798591?” she asked.

He nodded miserably, with tears streaming out of his eyes.

“Can you tell me what it was?”

“There was some water,” he whispered, “and I thought I was supposed to.”

“And did that taste salty, or unpleasant?”

He nodded, “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I was bad, I’m sorry.”

“You’re just confused,” said Dr. de Courcy, soothingly, “I don’t think you’ve done yourself much serious damage, now, I need you to lie down so I can examine you, and then Kenna is going to take you upstairs and get you properly settled, and hopefully more comfortable.”

It was pretty clear that the last thing he wanted was to have someone press their hands into his obviously tender abdomen and Kenna wished she could stay and hold his hand through it, but he needed the be admitted properly and the ER needed the space and she could, occasionally, take a hint.

When she got back with a wheelchair he was sitting back up with his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach, still staring at Dr. de Courcy while she wrote out a prescription.

“You can give him an H2 antagonist for a few days, for any lingering gastritis,” she said, and handed Kenna the prescription, “I’m not changing Joanna’s prescription for the dehydration, it should work better when he doesn’t have a gut full of salt water and I’ve put in an order for repeat labs.”

Kenna looked at the orders and devoutly hoped she’d be off shift before it was time to redo the labs in the middle of the night.

Dr. de Courcy did help her get their patient into the chair, which Kenna appreciated, and then walked off without any indication of what she was planning to do with him other than store him in the neurology unit, which she did not.

The patient, who still didn’t have a name, Kenna supposed they should be calling him John Doe really, sat quietly and let Kenna dress him in a hospital gown and wrap the blanket he’d been brought in wearing around his shoulders so it wouldn’t get lost, and take him up to room 281 where the hospital gown was promptly tossed in the laundry and the blanket was tossed onto a chair until she could store it with the rest of the patient’s belongings.

“Alright, 79- um, oh boy I wish I knew your actual name, I’m going to give you a shower and get you your medication and then you’ll feel much better, sound good?”

He didn’t answer. He was crying quietly again.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, while she wound plastic around his IV port to keep it dry, “is the pain really bad? Can you tell me if its bad?”

He shook his head, which might have meant it wasn’t, and might have meant that he couldn’t tell her.

“Can you stand up,” she asked, “just until I get you into the shower.”

He nodded.

She got him into the shower and cleaned him off and tried to examine him properly and usefully, like a real nurse. She had definitely been taught how to do this without spattering herself with water, but she needed clean scrubs anyway.

Under the layer of salt and grime he was covered in superficial scrapes and bruises she tried her best not to put any more pressure on them than she had to. He’d obviously fallen forward at some point, there were a matched set of deep grazes on both his knees and the palms of his hands.

There was also a barcode tattooed onto his left wrist, with a tiny neat string of numbers underneath it 7-9-8-5-9-1.

It made a curl of anxiety form in her belly, which, in turn, made her feel a bit like a hysterical little girl.

She focused on talking him through the shower, and getting all the salt out of his hair, and coaxing him into rinsing his mouth out - he seemed uneasy about the mouthwash, which made her think he was still nauseated - and then drying him off and getting him into bed and a clean hospital gown. He was quiet through it, leaning on her a little while she transferred him into the bed, still staring at her with sad dark eyes like a fawn. He looked a little bit like a fawn actually, skinny and wide-eyed. The caramel coloured hair, currently dark from the shower, didn’t help. The thought caught in her head and jammed.

“I’m going to get you that medication now, alright,” she said, “I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t think she likes me,” he said suddenly.

“What’s that sweetie?” she asked.

“She’s going to send me back,” he whispered, his lower lip trembled, “I don’t want her to send me back, I don’t want to be r-refurbished.”

The curl in Kenna’s stomach curled a bit tighter. But she was the professional here. She comforted people while she was at work. People could comfort her when she was off the clock - whenever that actually was today.

“Do you mean Dr. de Courcy?” she asked.

He nodded. Two big tears dripped out of his eyes.

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, “No one’s going to send you anywhere. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.”

More tears. She decided that, given it was late and they were both having a crappy day, that a few half-truths probably wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Besides,” she continued, “I think Dr. de Courcy likes you just fine. We’re just having a bit of a crazy night, and she’s just sort of scary like that all the time, its just her personality. She scares me too.”

That seemed to work. He nodded and tried to give her a watery little smile. It wasn’t a very good attempt. But she patted his forearm and left to get the prescription, and bandages.

Fawn stared dubiously at the pills when she brought them back.

“I know,” she said, “I know you don’t feel like swallowing anything right now, but these are to help your stomach feel better.”

He took them with a vague look of hurt in her general direction but by the time she’d got him medicated, and settled into bed and dressed the worst of the cuts so he wasn’t bleeding onto the sheets he seemed calmer and better focused.

“What’s this, sweetheart?” she asked him, picking up his tattoo’d wrist.

He looked at it like he’d just noticed it was there.

“The identifying bar code means I can be returned if I am lost,” he said flatly.

Returned to who? Kenna wondered, but she didn’t ask, because she was afraid to hear the answer.

“Well, you’re safe here tonight,” she said, and smoothed the blankets down around him, “and the call button is right here,” she pointed, “so if you need anything at all, or if you’re feeling too unsteady to get to the bathroom and manage the IV pole you can just press on it, and someone will come and help you.”

He nodded, but Kenna had a weird feeling about it, so she said again, “you can press the call button for whatever, okay, even if you’re just afraid. Its okay, its allowed.”

Okay, so, possibly the night-shift staff were going to hate her, but she really wasn’t sure he believed her about the button, and he looked so pitiful.

While she was fussing over him, Joey walked in.

“Carla said there was an issue with the IV?” she asked.

“Oh,” said Kenna, “no, he wasn’t hydrating well, but it turns out he swallowed a bunch of salt water, we think, well, Dr. de Courcy thinks. Dr. de Courcy said the original IV should be fine, but I turned it up bit.”

Joey came over and checked the line, and then bent over to talk to Fawn.

“Feeling any better?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Got a name for us yet?” Joey asked.

Fawn shook his head, “Dr. de Courcy didn’t want to give me one.”

Joey grimaced. In fairness, Kenna also grimaced.

“Well,” she said, “I’ll ask her about that. Maybe she’ll come up with something.”

Fawn sat up and smiled at her, “really? Is she going to come back?”

“Sure,” said Joey, “ but she’s going to come see you sometime tomorrow and its late now, so you should just try and have a good sleep okay? Would you like Kenna to turn the light off for you?”

“Can it stay on?” Fawn asked in a whisper, lying back down and curling himself up around the pillow and shutting his eyes.

“Sure hon,” said Joey, and left.

Kenna wished him good night, which he didn’t respond to, and went to talk to Joey.

“Everything okay,” Joey asked her, when she caught up.

“I am,” she said, “freaking myself right out.”

“What’s up?” said Joey.

“Fawn - um - John Doe, has a barcode tattooed on his wrist with that number he answers to under it. And he insists he was inside a box and he doesn’t want to be sent back. And its just, way too much.” Kenna explained, all in one go so she couldn’t chicken out half way through, “today is insane. Today is just insane right? People don’t get shipped around in boxes. Right?”

Joey looked at her and just sighed.

“Today is, in fact, insane,” she said, “but I don’t think you are. You need to tell Dr. de Courcy.”

“What,” squeaked Kenna.

“She’s his attending physician,” Joey explained. “Besides, if there’s going to be, like, legal weirdness, we won’t have to wrangle any lawyers if she’s there to do it.”

Kenna gulped, “where do I—“ go tell the most intimidating person in the hospital my insane-sounding, and possibly straight-up insane theories?

“If she’s not still in the ER or in her office she’s probably gone back to lay down in her coffin,” said Joey.

“Why does everyone make that joke?” Kenna asked, “I think you’re the third person I’ve heard say she does that.”

“Oh you don’t—“ Joey started, “I’ll tell you later.”

Kenna found Dr. de Courcy in her office, so at least she didn’t have to make a spectacle of herself in the middle of the ER where people could see her.

“Kenna. Come in,” she said, before Kenna could ask.

“I’m worried about our John Doe,” Kenna started.

“Is he displaying new symptoms?” Dr. de Courcy interjected in the space of Kenna gathering her thoughts.

“No, — I mean —“ Kenna babbled, and then tried to sound professional, “the patient’s condition is unchanged, but some of the observations I’ve made —“ she gave up, it was too late, and she was too tired, and she was going to sound insane either way, “I think John Doe might actually have been, being, you know, um, shipped in a box?”

Dr. de Courcy looked up from her computer and stared at Kenna, “which observations?”

“He talked about being in a box,” said Kenna, “and when I spoke to him earlier he was really scared of being ‘sent back’, and I know he might just be delusional, but he is responding to a string of numbers he has tattooed onto his wrist instead of a name and - and I know I’ve been watching stupid videos on Youtube, and believe me I’m going to stop, but he’s got a really weird form of amnesia right?”

“He does,” Dr. de Courcy said, “and I will be interested to see how many of my residents are able to make the same observation. And while I do not have what could be reasonably described as an appreciation for your taste in media, I do agree. I’ll write the hospital legal department. How widely have you discussed this?”

“I talked to Joey,” said Kenna.

“That’s fine,” she said, “but please refrain from talking to anyone else until we’ve got either ironclad confirmation . I’d prefer the public outcry to be over facts, rather than speculation, if at all possible.”

“Yes Doctor,” said Kenna, which made her sound like a nurse in a starched cap from an old movie, but honestly Dr. de Courcy just had that effect on people, the more experienced nurses all did it to, and most of the doctors here went by their first names.

#lost in transit #whump #box boy universe

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justincourtneypierre · 4 years

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In 2007 I was recording part of the third Motion City album “Even If It Kills Me” in New York with Eli Janney and Adam Schlesinger at the helm. My memory is not my greatest asset, but I believe it was winter and I believe it was a cold and miserable experience. New York. Not the recording session. Recording with Eli and Adam was one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had working with Producers. Eli was very soft spoken, calm, and chill compared to Adam’s intense, and frenetic (dissecting and reassembling several ideas in the blink of an eye whirlwind) force of nature. They were a good team.

I did not know Adam outside of making this record. I enjoyed his music, his many bands, the songs from movies and television shows he wrote, and the music he produced. So I guess maybe I did know him - through all that. I don’t know. The point here is that I wanted to offer a little moment behind the curtain to let you all in on what I experienced working with the man, to celebrate his essential brand of brilliance in the studio.

There is a song that stands out for me from that session. It’s called “Antonia“ (you can find it anywhere if you’re interested in hearing what I’m about to write). The original idea was fairly straightforward in terms of structure. Again, apologies if any of this is inaccurate... For once I had a great problem. I had too many options for lyrics, as the song is a laundry list of things I loved about a certain imaginary woman, the nuances, the weird stuff (I borrowed heavily from Tom Waits’ “First Kiss” in this respect). Anyway... I really only had an A part and a B part and they went back and forth for an eternity. Matt Taylor ended up writing the chorus music, which solidified the whole thing.

Then Adam got a hold of it.

He ripped the entire thing apart and dug around in its guts, throwing what felt like hundreds of ideas at us at warped speed, eventually helping us reassemble a far superior version of the song (you can listen to a live demo we did of the track on the 10th anniversary reissue of the album if you want to compare and contrast). It was amazing. He suggested that we do the little walk down B part on EVERY rotation instead of just the last two. When going to the chorus for the first time he had us not sing for two rotations, which was fucking bonkers. But it totally worked. Blew my mind. He had us add a solo (I’ll get to that in a minute), and before the solo had us double the little tag that would normally lead us back into the next verse. But instead of doing that, I got to lay down a “ripping” solo (which led to me on future albums doing way more of that sort of thing). I had never written a solo under duress before. He had me just play along (terribly) and improvise solo takes. He recorded maybe 8 takes in total and then cut and pasted the parts he liked together, even moving parts around to the front that I played at the end. It happened so fast. Then he played what he thought the solo should be back to me and I was floored. It was incredible. My only request was that I be given some time to learn this new cut and paste solo so that I could do it for real in a single take (if possible).

That day is suddenly coming back to me, flooding waves of nostalgia, a moment in time I didn’t pay enough attention to when it was happening (story of my life). Maybe that’s just what happens when someone dies. Things that you chalked up to just another winter day in a studio in New York now have more weight. I was working with, and I rarely use this word, a true genius, an artist unparalleled, a great fucking man, and I didn’t even realize it fully until years later. I’d run into Adam at festivals in Europe or randomly in New York here and there and it was always great exchanging brief and simple pleasantries. We were not close, but when you work intensely with someone on a piece of art, and you pour your soul into their hands, and allow them to reshape it into something new, something excellent, something you couldn’t have done on your own, you become forever tied to them in a way.

He will be missed by so many. He leaves behind a continent sized hole where his magic used to reside. My heart goes out to his family and close friends. I can’t imagine what they are going through on top of this slow motion horror show we all find ourselves living in. Please take a few hours and listen to some of his work and share it with others. Turn people on to him, rediscover him, or simply continue to enjoy the art he put into the world. My buddy Tony Thaxton put together a great Spotify mix of songs of his. You can check it out here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/22qybPKx9zwSMXvBh9nLWX?si=dM9Y2IKnS_KQLhpP1UbTBg

Also, here is the only footage I could find of myself with Adam in the studio: https://youtu.be/499HPJ_rI1Q

I was working out a guitar lead for the song “Can’t Finish What You Started” around the 2:45 mark. We lost a lot of footage after Hurricane Sandy, so unfortunately these 8 or so episodes are all we have of that recording session.

So yeah... Maybe you’re a fan, maybe you’re a friend, maybe you didn’t even know who Adam was. Hopefully this tiny glimpse of my experience with him fills your heart with a little more joy. There is definitely sadness when I think of him, but there is much more joy. The world was made better by him having been in it. We still have his music. We still have his essence. Let’s listen. Let’s love. Let’s feel. Stay safe out there, good people. I hope to see you on the other side of this when all is said and done. Much love. -JCP.

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makeste · 5 years

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some Monday morning follow-up thoughts on BnHA 245

mystery of the 4+ hour translation time: solved lmao.

you know, for all that I’ve complained about various Viz translation issues over the years, I have to give credit where it’s due. this really wasn’t necessary in order to understand the chapter, but he went and did it anyway. that’s some dedication to your craft. and apparently Horikoshi actually went and wrote way more of this book than he strictly needed to as well, because of course he did.

also, in Viz’s version, Hawks’s “secret message” is so overt that there was like zero chance of Endeavor not putting two and two together. “that’s my SECOND!!! recommendation, in so many WORDS!!!!! MAKE SURE YOU READ WHAT I HIGHLIGHTED WELL ANYWAYS BYE.” for all I know the original Japanese may have been much more subtle, but this is nonetheless my new favorite translation on account of its implication that Hawks really didn’t have any faith in Endeavor’s intellectual capabilities at all lmao.

other follow-up thoughts on 245! well really just two thoughts, but one of them is a list of things and the other is a long tangent!

so, (1) the following is an incomplete list of events which are coming up in canon roughly at or around the four-months-from-now time period, which in canon will be the end of April:

the start of the new school year, and Shinsou’s transfer to the hero course

the next U.A. sports festival

Bakugou’s seventeenth birthday (420 blaze it)

Golden Week (starts April 29th)

possibly the next Hero Billboard Chart event. the previous one was at the end of November, and it’s stated that the rankings are updated twice a year. normally one would then assume the previous rankings came out at the end of May, i.e. six months earlier, but it was implied that the event in ch 184 was delayed due to the events at Kamino, so it’s possible that the Spring rankings actually came out earlier

and last but not least,

[Marge Simpson noises] [worried glances toward Horikoshi's frustrating poker face] ...

and (2) where does Endeavor go from here?? what’s his next move? he now knows (a) that the League of Villains has taken over the Liberation Army and now numbers 100,000 strong, and (b) that they have something big planned that’s going down in four months. but he also knows that Hawks went to great lengths to tell him all of this secretly. “there was something he couldn’t say outright.”

he knows there is some shady shit going down, for sure. the media’s version of the Deika City incident isn’t telling the full story. Hawks is out here shilling Re-Destro’s book and praising the Liberation ideology despite knowing they’re secretly a front for the League of Villains. but clearly the most glaring signal of all, the hint that even Endeavor should be sharp enough to catch despite being a few Bradys short of a bunch, is the fact that for whatever reason, Hawks wasn’t able to just tell Endeavor all of this outright. not even in private. that is big. what that should tell Endeavor, if he has any detective instincts at all, is that Hawks has been compromised in some way. it’s not just that he doesn’t trust anyone. it’s that he can’t communicate at all without risking something.

and once he puts all that together, it’s not that much of a stretch from there to puzzle out that maybe, just maybe, there might be some secret agent stuff going on. because where else could Hawks have gotten this information? and maybe, if he decides to put his conspiracy goggles on, he might even get to thinking about the incredibly suspicious timing of that High End Noumu attack back in November. anyways, the important thing is that he has enough information now to make the correct leap here. and assuming that BnHA continues its trend of letting characters actually be smart about this sort of thing, I’m going to assume that he will do just that as soon as the next chapter.

so then, the question is, what does he do with that knowledge? your little bird buddy is working undercover and spying on the League of Liberators and is probably in terrible danger! well, then! that’s not ideal!! so he has a few options here, I think. one is that he can check with the HPSC whether they have anyone working undercover. buuuuut, that’s risky though. because the thing is, he doesn’t know for sure whether he can trust them. so even though they actually are clean as far as we know, I'm not sure Endeavor will go this route, because he doesn’t know that, and the last thing he wants is to accidentally get Hawks exposed and killed.

option two is that he can keep it on the dl but tell a few other heroes, ones he actually trusts. this in practice would probably be a pretty short list, though. the other U.A. alumni, possibly, if he makes the judgement call that they can be trusted since they’ve all fought against the League before. or if not, then he can at least tell All Might. I do think him going to All Might for advice is a very strong possibility regardless of whatever else he decides, because he’s clearly in over his head here, and he needs to tell someone.

and the third option is that he keeps it even more on the dl, and decides to put his agency to work quietly investigating the leads that Hawks has given him, starting with the Deika incident. this should hopefully lead to him figuring out the connection between Detnerat and the villains, and they might even manage to learn the actual details of what really happened if they can manage to talk to someone from Deika who wasn’t on the Liberation Army’s side. back in chapter 224, Hanabata said that 90% of the population were secretly MLA soldiers. but that still leaves 10% who weren’t, so there’s a chance that some of them might have a very different tale to tell if Endeavor can manage to track them down.

anyways, my guess is that in the course of their investigating, someone on Endeavor's team, which could be anyone but will absolutely be Deku, will stumble across something big which will subsequently land our heroes in Big Trouble, and provide a focus for the rest of this arc. and while I almost feel like it’s jinxing it to hazard a guess, I will say that the traitor plot could very well finally play a big role here, particularly if the Terrible Trio gets involved in this whole thing, which, again, they 100% will. needless to say, I hope the kids are as tight-lipped about what’s going on in their internships as they were during the Basement arc, or else we might really be in for some trouble.

and the other possibility is that the traitor doesn’t come up again in this arc (lol see how I covered my bases there. "the traitor will definitely play a role in this arc, unless of course they don't"), and we wind up focusing on the Noumu instead. either way, hopefully Hawks will focus on unraveling more of the League’s plan, because it would really come in handy to know just what kind of “power” Tomura is going to be acquiring in four months’ time. is it Noumu-related? are they planning a prison break? or is it something else entirely? there are just too many possibilities right now, which yet again serves as a reminder of just how many cards the villains currently hold up their sleeves. the heroes really need to get their hands on a few cards of their own. godspeed.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 245 #endeavor #hawks #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #long post #sorry I was gonna put some of this under a cut but it never seems to work on mobile for some reason #I feel like the next chapter is gonna be a crucial one for laying the brickwork for the rest of this arc #right now so much of it is still up in the air #which is both exciting and exasperating #I just want to know everything that's going to happen right this second #is that so much to ask #lol

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bucky-iss-bae · 5 years

Text

Smirking Idiot (Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader)

A/N: So, I just wrote this up whilst taking a break from applying for jobs and having interviews bc apparently that's what happens when you leave university. Although I have no clue what I want to do, making money is something.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Fandom: MCU/Marvel

Prompts: “You look like hell.” - “What are you doing here?” - Non-Avengers AU

Warnings: Hella amounts of swearwords - arguments???

Word count: 1950ish

I want to hopefully write more shit like this to just gain confidence and get better so hope you all enjoy xoxo

Masterlist Fandom list

Getting home from work on a Friday evening was supposed to be the best feeling, yet you still felt like shit. Mainly because your plans for tonight had been cancelled only hours before. You felt frustrated, another night with a bottle of wine, and watching trash TV with your roommate... hopefully.

“Hey hun, you good?” Wanda asked once you threw your bag down and kicked your heels off,

You pulled a face at her and shook your head, “Honestly, want to cuddle up on the couch and drink a bottle of wine, have a tub of Ben and Jerrys, and maybe, just maybe, fall asleep there and worry about being wine hungover tomorrow along with a bad back”

“Wow, looks like you’ve got all your plans sorted out. Did you do a BuzzFeed quiz to decide what your plans are for a Friday night?” She asked laughed,

You snorted at that, “May as well have that’s how last minute it is” you walked across to your room whilst talking to her, but left the door open just so you could hear here. You’d changed in front of her a hundred times before so now wouldn’t make any difference,

“What happened to date night? Thought you and Bucky were going out, and then probably back to his place?” She asked coming to stand in your doorway,

You had already stripped down to your underwear and grabbed an oversized top to throw on before putting on some shorts,

“So did I” You grumbled, “But he’s tied up in work. Got a lot to sort out at the gym, and I just don’t care at the moment. Well clearly I do, he fucking bailed on me like an hour ago, I now need to cancel the fucking reservation, and I was so excited to eat there as well. It literally got me through the whole day” You wanted to rant and rave because it seemed like Bucky forgot who you were.

“Have you spoken to him since?” She asked,

You shook your head, “Nope. I’ll talk to him later. When I’m not as pissed I guess, but how about you? What are your plans?” you asked walking out of your room and towards the kitchen, you were feeling a sandwich right about now,

“Welll....” She dragged out, “I invited Vis over”

I looked across at her over the fridge door and smirked slightly, “So, either I be a cock block, or a good girl and sit in my room, ensuring I have my earphones in. And making sure I have everything I need so I don’t need to leave my room, and if I do need to leave, well I’ve got a fire escape I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“Without me sounding like a terrible friend, preferably the latter?”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, a smile still on your face though, “Sure babycakes. What time is he getting here?” You asked,

“About half 7ish” She said looking up at the clock

You looked up at the clock groaning at how late you realised it was, it was half 6, and you could tell the evening was going to drag.

“I might just go bed after eating this” You decided,

Before half 7 came around the two of you watched a bit of TV and caught up for a while before you went back to your room. You did feel a little disappointed at how abruptly your plans got cancelled, you got a text from Nat asking if you were ok because Wanda told her you were feeling a bit shit, you were fine and she offered to take you out after her shift ended or if you wanted to join her at work. You declined knowing that her bar wasn’t going to close till late and sitting alone at a bar would probably feel worse than being at home would be. What you also found frustrating was that the two of you had been together for nearly three years, yet at the moment it felt like your relationship was going nowhere.

You two had talked about moving in together but it never felt like the right time, with you working your way up at work, recently becoming a team leader, and with him opening his own boxing gym you were both constantly busy. You took time out for one another but lately, it had become less and less. You sometimes complained about it to the girls, but then felt bad because they’re friends as well, both you and Nat became friends with Bucky at the same time. But then at the same time when you two were together, things were perfect. Better than perfect. You trusted Bucky with anything and everything, he was, is, your best friend. But that just makes feeling the way you do now worse because you’re pissed with him.

You ended up falling asleep quicker than expected, hating that you don’t even fall asleep that early on work nights.

Getting woken up by someone knocking on your window rather than your door was enough to put anyone in a bad mood, as well as scaring the shit out of them.

You glared at the window, grabbing the baseball bat from next to your bedside table. The sun was only just rising, and who the fuck would be knocking on your window at this time,

You pushed your curtains to the side, one hand holding the bat ready to swing, your left hand pulling at the curtain.

Crouched down looking around was your dear boyfriend. The one you’re extremely pissed off with. You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him waiting for him to realise that he had in fact woken you up,

He rose his hands again ready to knock on the window but paused when he saw you stood there.

He had a sheepish smile on his face and motioned towards the window for you to open it up,

You huffed and rolled your eyes but opened the window, “What are you doing here?” You bit out,

“To see how you are... how everything’s been?”

“Everything is fucking splendid thanks for asking. How’s work? Isn’t the place caving in without you?” You couldn’t help but ask,

He opened his mouth ready to say something but sighed, “Can I come in, or you going to make me sit in the cold?”

You pretended to think about it for a minute, before motioning your head for him to come in, “I’m still pissed at you”

“Really sugar, I hadn’t noticed”

“No, no pet names James,” You said putting emphasis on his name, but he just stared at you with an amused smirk, “Also, do you hate me that much that you had to come here at, what time is it, what the fuck, 4am? Really?”

He just shrugged at that and threw himself on your bed, still staring at you with that same smirk, you hated it. That’s a lie you fucking loved it, he just got under your skin, the way he did before the two of you got together. But right now you hated it because he knew he was getting under your skin, he knew that you were pissed at him, but he also knew that you would probably forgive him soon enough,

“Really really” He replied back, “Nothing wrong with wanting to see my girl right?” He asked,

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and throw your arms up in the air, “You are so annoying. Wow! What about when I want to see you huh? What about when ‘I want to see my man’ I can’t even go on a date with you at the moment, everything is work, work, work. Then we all go out, but its more about a drink with the boys and then you cancel on me an hour before I have to leave work. I then had to cancel our reservation. Do you know how much I was looking forward to eating a good fucking steak and dessert! But no, because we only see each other when it suits you, and then, then I was in bed for half 7, how early is that, and I was asleep before 9. What the fuck is up with that! Because I was pissed and upset, and annoyed. And now you woke me up early which is even worse. But I just...”

During your rant he sat up a bit straighter, sometimes you wondered whether he even listens to what you have to say.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I was just busy with work. I wanted to see you as well ya know, why do you think I’m here”

You just stood there your arms still crossed against your chest, “I don’t know. To annoy me some more”

“Of course sugar. Cause’ that’s my life aim, to constantly try and annoy you” He said raising his eyebrows at you,

“Bucky” You groaned, sitting beside him,

“Y/N” He groaned back, “You know I prefer when you say my name like that when we’re in bed. Not when you’re trying to start an argument with a baseball bat in your hands” He said reaching over to grab the bat from your hands, instead your jaw just dropped as you stared at him,

“Trying, trying to start an argument. How am I trying to start an argument? You started it when you bailed on us last night for your precious work!”

“I know, and I said I’m sorry. I mean... how about I make it up to you. We’ll go for breakfast together. Grab some nice food. My treat. We’ll have date night tomorrow night as well. The gyms closed on Saturday nights anyway”

“It’s going to take more than just breakfast to make it up to me Bucky” You mumbled feeling defeated,

“I know sweetheart. But I gotta start somewhere right” He asked putting his arms around you and kissing your shoulder,

“Starting by waking me up at 4am is not the best way to start” You reminded him,

He just chuckled against your shoulder at that, “Yeah, after finishing up at the gym about half 2, I went home, showered then went for a run and somehow ended up here”

You spun your head around to face him, another glare set on your face, “James Buchanan Barnes. Have you not slept?” You asked sounding more like a mother than a girlfriend,

He just grimaced at you, “I have a reasonable excuse”

“Uh huh, what’s that?” you asked,

“I mean, I pissed off my girl last night. And I wanted to make sure she’s good, ya know what I’m sayin’”

You shoved his shoulder, “I hate you, why do you make me feel bad?”

“How’d I make you feel bad?” He asked, his smirk back on his face, “Because of all the shoutin’ you done at me despite not having slept in over 24 hours”

“Yes James! Exactly why, but this explains why you look like hell”

“You still love me though Sugar.”

“Mhmm, I do still love you, but no more bailing on me”

“I’ll pinky promise it” He mumbled sticking out his pinky finger, you chuckled and intertwined your pinky with his.

“Now lay down, you need to get some sleep before we go out for brunch” You told him pushing him onto your bed. He took you down with him and you ended up with your head on his chest, and your legs intertwined.

“Love you” He mumbled,

“Love you too” You replied back smiling a little to yourself as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

A/N: So, I want to write up a Bucky x Reader Fic, but like I just, I want to make sure it’s perfect. Like planning the storyline and everything like that. I just want to push this blog farrr because I’m enjoying sharing my writing.

But any feedback will be greatly appreciated xoxo

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #James Barnes #Bucky Imagine #The Winter Solider x Reader #Bucky Barnes Imagine #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes One Shot #Bucky One Shot #Bucky Barnes Drabble #MCU #marvel cinematic universe

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mythiica · 5 years

Text

Reader x Jumin Han - Mine

Title: Mine Fandom: Mystic Messenger Character: Jumin Han Genre: smOOT with plot™ (reposted from my dA) Warnings: leMON SMECCI WARNING AND language i think, minor spoilers from zen’s route cause i was doing it when i wrote this Intended Gender Audience: Female audience Other comments: For story purposes, each ‘day’ is equivalent to a month. Yes, a month. It will make sense in the story and description. on a side note i wrote this in 2016 and i just edited it slightly before reposting and goOD LORD IT IS CRINGEY TO REREAD YOUR OWN SMUt hopefully youll enjoy more than i will

Elizabeth the 3rd jumps onto the bed, looking for the master that spoils her. She mews in disappointment when she finds him missing. Instead, you sit under the covers, reading the terrible news accusing Zen of sexually harassing that Echo Girl. Of the few weeks you’ve come to know the people of RFA, Zen is pretty full of himself, but he would never do something like that. Plus, you had spoken with Jumin, and he believes strongly that Echo has only fabricated lies because she did not get what she wanted.

A constant flow of news reporters trying to squeeze out a story from Jumin have been lounging around outside the penthouse for a few hours now. They wish to wait for his return from the office, were, no doubt, even more media has accumulated.

In your opinion, the entire incident is completely idiotic. Why must news reporters but in on every small story they hear of? Do they not understand the pain it could bring to their targets?

Your phone pings, snapping you out of your thoughts. Jumin will arrive home in a few minutes. He wants to know if a crowd has gathered at the front of the building.

Should I tell him it is fine? you ask yourself. Or should I break the news to him gently and tell him?

Fingers flying across the small keyboard, you let him know that most likely reporters would be throwing questions at him as he tries to get in the door. And to get back safe. And perhaps a kissing emoji.

About an hour later, you hear the alarm chirp and the door slam shut. Footsteps sound heavily as Jumin drops his work bag onto the counter. Elizabeth the 3rd brushes herself lovingly against his legs, her way for asking for food. “Elizabeth,” he calls softly, turning his head over to her food bowl, “you have plenty of food over there. You do not need more.”

When the feline meows, Jumin crouches down and strokes her soft fur. “Do you know if (Y/n) sleeps already?”

Swishing her tail, Elizabeth turns around with a huff and saunters away.

Jumin chuckles to himself before making his way to the bedroom.

A wave of exhaustion from the long day hits him hard. He pushes the door to the bedroom open to find the lights off and you sound asleep. Stepping into the room, he kicks off his shoes and begins to leave a trail of discarded clothes to the bed. Jacket thrown onto the armchair, vest on the glass table next to the chair, tie in the middle of the floor, shirt at the base of the cabinet, belt into the darkness, pants at the foot of the bed, socks next to the night table, and watch in the drawer.

He pushes the sheets back and crawls into the warmth radiating from your body. Once he has put an arm around your waist, Jumin buries his nose into your neck and places a quick kiss on your skin.

Clamoring voices shout from down below, all asking for opinions on the news about Zen. Most probably, the would wait until morning to catch Jumin once more for questions. You turn over, now awake, and wrap your own hands around his bare waist.

“Long day?” you ask in a soft and soothing voice.

“The longest yet, so it feels like.”

Sighing, you press gentle kisses to his chest and nuzzle into him for more warmth. “It’ll get better. It will.”

Jumin places a kiss on the top of your head in return. “I hope so.”

You wake up abruptly when the sound of breaking glass fills your ears. The time on the digital clock shows 2:44 AM. It’s barely been two hours since Jumin returned from the office. Looking at him, you find he too is startled and awake.

“Stay here, I’ll go and see what’s the matter. Call the head of security.” He pulls a bathrobe over his boxers and heads downstairs.

Doing as told, you worry about what has happened.

“Hello? Mr. Han?”

“It’s me, Jumin’s gone to see what happened. We woke up because glass broke. Could you come over please?”

“I’ll be there before the next hour.” And the line disconnects.

The police have left and so has the security team. A paparazzi attempted to break in and take candid photos of the two of you, but didn’t make it far. He could be spending a nice time in jail for his actions.

Jumin closes his eyes momentarily and breathes slowly. You click the light out and joke, “Should I be jealous you’re getting so much newfound attention?”

A smile dances across his face. “Not at all, (Y/n).” He licks his lips. “I’m sorry for this. I know you have a busy schedule tomorrow and this is not helping it.”

Pushing your leg onto his, you offer him comfort. “It is not your fault. Don’t apologize. And don’t think any less of yourself either. I love you.” You inhale sharply after saying these words. This would mark the first time saying it aloud. The silence clings to the air and hurts more and more with every moment passing.

“I–I don’t know, how you’ve done it, but I’ve fallen so deep in love with you, (Y/n).” He turns and faces you, grey eyes peering into your own. “I love you,” he responds. “And tonight, I need you.”

Your heart swells and his hands trickle across your skin like nectar. They pull the hem of your silk camisole up and over your head, allowing Jumin to drag his tongue over your bare skin. He takes hold of your left nipple with his teeth and sucks slowly on the sensitive area. Not daring leave its twin forgotten, Jumin twists his index finger and thumb around the bud, only satisfied when the both are erect to their fullest.

Throwing your head backwards and letting out a low moan, Jumin smirks and trades treatments. Your face flushes when you feel the heat growing in between your legs. Upon letting go of your breast, he shifts and aligns himself overtop you.

He tastes different places on your neck, searching for your favourite spot. Releasing a sharp breath when his nose grazes a sensitive area, Jumin takes the opportunity to leave a dark hickey. You rake your fingers through his hair and bring his lips down to yours, demanding his tongue in your mouth.

When he gives you what you want, you trail your hands down his sculpted abdomen and play with the elastic waistband to his underwear. Before you have the chance to relieve him of the fabric, Jumin breaks off the hungry kiss and flips you onto your stomach.

With a leg to your left and right, he keeps you from moving away. “Jumin,” you whisper, “do not tease me please.”

He smirks like the devil. “Then where would the fun be?” he replies, sly as a fox. Your panties are torn away, leaving you completely vulnerable to him and his wishes. “Do you wish to know what I plan to do with you now?”

“Tell me, my love,” you purr in response.

A wet sound breaks the silence. Jumin pulls his fingers from his mouth, saliva dripping generously from the tips of his digits. Pressing his index finger to your slit, he whispers into your ear, “I will make you mine.”

As the words roll off his tongue, he inserts an index finger into your core. You squirm as the heat grows stronger and you inch closer to pleasure. He watches you in your submissive state with lust blazing bright in his eyes. Quickly becoming bored, Jumin adds another finger and begins to pumps the two around in lopsided circles.

Your breath catches in your throat, a strangled moan trying to escape your lungs. Panting, you force yourself to turn over onto your back. Once you’ve managed to flip, Jumin pulls one of your legs over his shoulder and roughly holds onto your other. A third finger thrusts into your core.

Taken by surprise, you moan out loud – much louder than you intended.

“Don’t suppress it,” he smirks, “Let me hear it…”

“You tease me, I tease you, Jumin,” you say back, dragging a hand along the side of your body.

His eyebrows furrow and he frowns for a moment. Then, he smiles. After pumping fast and hard for a minute and leaving you on the edge of a climax, Jumin pulls his hand away. He then continues to lick off his fingers and then leave to fetch something in the dark.

Jumin returns holding a small, reflective packet in one hand and a towel in the other. Already knowing the contents of the object, you move to the edge of the bed, sling your legs over the side and pull his body towards your own. His chest muscles align perfectly with your face, allowing you to drag your tongue across his porcelain skin. Every so often, you kiss him tenderly. His arms fall limp with the torn open wrapping hanging loosely from his hand when you twist your tongue around his own nipples. Jumin inhales sharply, to which you smile, pleased with your revenge.

Moving up slowly, you are eventually standing upright, directly in front of Jumin. He watches you silently as your fingers twine around the band of his boxers and pull them down. His erect member nearly stands perpendicular to his body.

He then lowers you gently back onto the bed and slips the condom out of the wrapping and onto himself. Licking your lips slowly, you watch eagerly as the plastic stretches over his hardened member.

“Are you sure?” Jumin asks softly, gently touching your cheek.

You place a kiss in the centre of his palm and nod. “I love you.”

Jumin smiles – he has a beautiful smile. “I love you too.”

With that, he pushes himself inside of you.

Unlike you thought, pain slaps you hard before the wave of completeness fills you. You cry out and then moan as Jumin grunts. He slowly begins to thrust further into. Upon seeing you are doing alright, he pushes harder and faster.

Not after long, he manages to hit your G-spot and you release a loud scream. “Jumin!”

Still moving, Jumin digs his fingers deeper into your hips and forces you to sit up with him. You press yourself closer to him and drag your nails across his back. Short shouts fill the air as you draw closer and closer to your climax. Sweat trickles down your body and you struggle for oxygen.

“J–Jumin,” you pant, “I–I’m going to cum!”

He does not respond verbally; instead he thrusts even harder and even faster than before. His grunts all sound as if they are being cut off, they are so short. “Aah–,” he sounds.

With the last thrust, you feel as if the pit of your stomach releases everything it holds and you are rewarded with a feeling of satisfaction and happiness. Jumin, not quite there, pushes twice more into you before letting out a shout and releasing his seed as well.

Jumin pulls out, reaches for the towel and hands it to you. You take the item and wipe yourself off. He takes the cloth back and removes the condom and cleans himself up as well. After slipping on your panties, you lie back in the bed and watch as Jumin changes into a fresh pair of underwear. He pushes the covers over and nuzzles next to you.

With his arm protectively around you, he kisses your face gently. Your temple, your forehead, between your eyes, your nose, your jawline, your lips.

Sleep falls heavy over the both of you.

In the silence, when the land of dreams is ready to pull you under, Jumin whispers.

“I love you.”

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysmes jumin #jumin #jumin han #jumin x mc #mm #mm jumin #smoot

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