#anyhow. I think this might be one of the jokes that is only funny to me
Text
Clown to Equine communication failed; They are separate species.
[First] Prev <--> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#season 1#bonus comic#wei wuxian#little apple#lan jingyi#lan sizhui#This bonus comic is for all my fellow little apple lovers#she doesn't show up for quite a while after this so I need to wring out every bit of screen time for her#That's what feminism is about. Equine visibility.#Women need to remain mysterious + unknowable + untethered by rules#Women need to canter across the plains and sleep standing up#Women need to be hand fed apple slices 4 times a day#joking aside I do love the co-chaos of lil apple and wwx#though the new duo dynamic that follows (with LWJ and WWX getting way more time together) its *obviously* iconic#god...to be two cultivation partners following directions from a severed arm...#anyhow. I think this might be one of the jokes that is only funny to me#my realism studies are still in that uncanny/awkward phase but I love the 'detailed version of a very stylized character' visual gag a lot#Taps my blog name again. Don't forget the name on the tin#oh wait lwj should be in this scene too...let's retcon it and say he's bending down to pet his bunnies goodbye
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
based on the addition of this because i think it’s silly
-
It didn’t look my different from the other tapes, and that’s about as far as Ghost’s defence goes.
Dated and labelled accordingly as is every other tape in the box Ghost had unearthed while digging through his old things, he hardly thinks to be deterred by something titled Tommy’s wedding—it sounds perfectly normal, a happy glimpse into a life Ghost misses dearly from time to time, and he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t show Soap what had been recorded of a great memory.
The tapes were the only way Soap would ever get to know the Riley family, and Ghost supposes the wedding would be the perfect captured moment.
Except, whoever penned the label on the VHS thought it’d be real funny to betray the organization system just to play some practical joke on whoever decided to put the tape into the player more than a decade down the line.
Normally, Ghost might blame Tommy—but once the incriminating footage begins to play, the fault is obviously on Beth, because no one else would have ever had the need to see this tape in particular.
Soap immediately curls back into Ghost’s side as he returns to the couch, content to watch as he had all the other tapes Ghost had decided to show—a gentle fondness is inscribed into his expression as grainy chatter fills the space, a soft smile on his lips as a camera is shakily—and stealthily—set up in one of Tommy’s old mate’s living rooms.
Ghost frowns. Because distantly he recognizes the scene as Tommy’s stag, and not at all the wedding.
Though, he supposes, to lend credit—the precursor, ceremony, and reception could very well all just be mashed onto one tape. It’s what Ghost presumes, anyway, until he hears playful jeering and the clunky click of someone pressing play on a CD player.
It happens too fast, and realization comes much too slow as Tommy and a younger Simon appear just off-centre of the screen, entirely unaware of the camera pointed at them. Simon hears the first notes of the song and scrambles for the remote—only to find that Soap is holding it out of his reach, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he seems to come to some sort of revelation, too.
Ghost narrows his eyes. Commands, voice low, “Pause it, Johnny.”
Soap grins. “Don’t think so.”
It’s too late, anyhow.
Ghost is well and truly fucked as the Spice Girls’ Wannabe filters through his TV’s speakers. He’s never been so mortified.
He wishes he could melt into the couch along with his shame, watching his brother and younger self dance to the song in the same way they’d choreographed when the thing first came out. As stupidly drunk as they were at the time of the video playing on screen, Ghost is surprised they remembered any of it at all.
Any being too much, of course.
Soap only pauses when the song comes to an end, looking to Ghost expectantly, biting his cheek to surely keep from bursting into laughter then and there.
Ghost refuses to look him in the eye.
“We were pissed,” Ghost grumbles. “Bachelor party.”
“You still remember the dance?” Soap goads.
Ghost turns to glare at him. “Johnny.”
“What?” Soap’s face twitches. “Just a question. Of which you didn’t answer.”
Ghost folds his arms petulantly across his chest. How he wishes Beth were still around so he could get revenge for this embarrassing incident. Beyond embarrassing, really.
“No, I don’t.” Yes, he does. “A word of this to anyone and you’re dead, Tav.”
“Aw.” Soap folds back into Ghost’s side, and Ghost could never deny the way he softens, even if just a bit. Soap trails a palm from Ghost’s bicep to his forearm, almost soothing if his only intention wasn’t to tease. “You don’t mean tha’.”
“I do,” Ghost insists, but really, he’s always been a bad liar.
Soap shakes his head. “Nah,” he sighs. “But… I won’t tell anyone, swear. So long as I get to see you do that dance—otherwise this tape is getting rewound and shipped to Gaz with the VCR.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“Mhm,” Soap hums. “But only out of love, see.”
Ghost rolls his eyes. He plucks the remote from Soap’s hand and presses stop, not wanting to risk any more condemning footage appear. Perhaps he’ll have to start going through these tapes by himself first, from now on.
“Well, out of love I’ll let you live. How’s that?”
Soap smiles up at him, reaching up an arm to pat Ghost’s cheek twice. “Might be able to convince me.”
Ghost huffs. Convince he must, then.
He knows Beth and Tommy would’ve found this hilarious, the pricks.
In another life, he supposes.
163 notes
·
View notes
Text
ALL 'SECRET' VIDEOS IN THE OPPOSITE AU!
These aren't offical for anything! These are fake scripts for 'secret' videos found on the WH site, but for my AU!
FRANK AND EDDIE
[The scene is a mess of crafts paper, glitter glue, and stickers.]
[The audio opens with a loud, sudden ear-piercing scream from Frank.]
FRANK: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!EDDIE: [throws the door open, huffing as though he ran there. His voice is uncharacteristically worried.] Frank!? What’s going on!? Why.. [his voice relaxes as he sees Frank, returning to montone. He sighs.] ..why are you on your crafts table?
FRANK: That!! THAT!!! [Frank seems to be pointing at something.]
EDDIE: … That?
FRANK: YES YES!! GET IT AWAY!!
EDDIE: ..the tiny little beetle right there?
FRANK: MHM!! It flew into the window and tried to KILL ME!!
EDDIE: … Alright, whatever-
FRANK: NONONONONO!!
EDDIE: What!? You said get rid of it!
FRANK: DONT STEP ON IT!!
EDDIE: Well, what do you want me to do!?
FRANK: just- get it out!!!
EDDIE: mmh.. Alright, give me that. The construction paper.
FRANK: give you what- wha- [Frank lifts his shoe as Eddie takes some paper he was standing on.]
EDDIE: [Eddie grunts as he crouches down, pushing the beetle onto the paper] C’mon, on the paper bud..
[Frank whines]
EDDIE: [Eddie takes the beetle outside, flapping the paper] Go on.. Go go go… C’mon get off- [The buzzing sound of a beetle flying away] There it’s gone- huff!
FRANK: [Frank jumps off the table and hugs Eddie suddenly, his squeaker making a little squee] You’re my herooo!!
EDDIE: yeah, I- okay- sure, [Eddie clears his throat and pats Frank’s back.] You’re welcome.
FRANK: You saved my life!
EDDIE: I just put a bug outside! They ain’t even that scary!
FRANK: but-but those pinchers!!
EDDIE: Its for grabbing things its size! Like– food!
EDDIE: Ugh.. you’re not scared of them, are you Wally?
FRANK AND JULIE
FRANK: Well I think I'm plenty funny, Julie! Barnaby thinks I'm a hoot and a half!
JULIE: Only a hoot and a half? What happened to the other half? [Mean laugh]
FRANK: [frustrated hmph!]
JULIE: That’s not even an accomplishment. Barnaby wouldn’t know a good joke if it walked up to him, introduced itself, and slapped him in the face.
FRANK: [Said with a pout in his tone] yes he would! You know, Julie, you’re not the only funny one in this neighborhood!
JULIE: Oh yeah? You might be right, cloud head! Eddie’s a pretty funny guy too-
FRANK: Not Eddie! Me! I have a joke that will knock your boots off! I’ve been working on it all week!
JULIE: [‘tch’s] Oh good.. all week? It took you that long? [her voice is a little louder as she turns to Wally] You hearing this, creeper?
FRANK: I’ll tell you, listen to this one! [Clears throat] What did the number three say to the number two after beating him in a game of checkers?
JULIE: Oh my lord..
FRANK: I One!
JULIE: [Pretend grunt of pain] Oh my god! That was worse than listening to Howdy explain economics!!
FRANK: Oh it was not, Julie! It was a good joke! Don’t you get it? One is a number but it also sounds like won! You know, when you won a game!
JULIE: [Another gasp of anguish] Now he’s explaining it! Oh- When will the agony stop?! [the sound of Julie falling to her knees, the grass squishing beneath her] Feed me to my venus flytraps, I’m going into the light! Augh! [dramatic gasp as she flops onto her back]
FRANK: Oh Julie, you just don’t understand comedy that isn’t hurting others! It was a funny joke! Wasn’t it, Wally?
HOWDY AND BARNABY
[The scene is what appears to be Barnaby’s desk. Theres two books, a gramophone, and a delightful faint sound of old music]
HOWDY: so.. you don’t charge anythin’ for your products!?
BARNABY: well.. they’re not products, Pillar, they’re just books! People return them, anyhow, why would I charge for something I’m going to get back?
HOWDY: [talking incredibly fast, spouting off his business nonsense] A quick fee! People come by all the time and check out books, 50 cents for each checkout! 50 cents for each book, someone comes by and checks out 3 books, boom, a dollar and a half for you and thats just one person! You can start a library card business, too! More like a subscription, free books! But they have to pay 10 bucks a month to keep the card!-
BARNABY: Pillar! [Barnaby cuts him off, but he continues]
HOWDY: [interrupting, continuing to spout] Would if a book gets damaged?
BARNABY: [gasping, as if Howdy talking fast exhausted him] Well, I-I don’t mind at all! I replace it on my own, sure it takes a bit to find and purchase to replace but-
HOWDY: [astonished, interrupting] It comes out of ya own pocket!?
BARNABY: well- yes! Accidents happen, Pillar, I wouldn’t charge for a simple mistake.
HOWDY: How much does a book cost to replace?
BARNABY: Well I dunno… aah, 40 dollars on average-
HOWDY: 40 whole dollars!? You’re killin’ me, Barn!
BARNABY: I’m sorry my business model is hurting you, Pillar, but that’s how I run things.
HOWDY: If I was in your place I would not run it this way.
BARNABY: You are in my place! [He chuckles, amused. He straightens himself and talks sweetly again] You run that charming bodega.
HOWDY: Well, yes, yes I do!
BARNABY: Quite well, might I add.
HOWDY: [still speaking in his astonished tone] Thank you!
BARNABY: You are welcome!
HOWDY: Yeah- I- what were we fightin’ about?
BARNABY: I don’t reckon we we’re fighting, Pillar.
HOWDY: I was sure we was! I was angry.
BARNABY: I wasn’t! I thought we were having a creative discussion about my business.
HOWDY AND JULIE
[The scene is a close up of Howdy’s products.]
[The bell above the door rings, and the sound of Julie’s heels can be heard as she walks inside.]
HOWDY: Julie! How are ya?
JULIE: Same as always. [Her heels continue as she approaches Howdy’s counter] I’m looking for something to make for dinner for me and Sally.
HOWDY: I was unaware she ate.
JULIE: You’re not funny.
HOWDY: Gotta make sure whatever it is is small enough to fit up her nose.
JULIE: [The sound of her heels walking away as she leaves to explore the aisles]
HOWDY: Oh come back! I got one more!
JULIE: [At a distance] Die!
[Some beats pass, Howdy taps on the counter lazily]
HOWDY: Okay, what are you looking for?
JULIE: Just something that smells good. I don’t want to force Sally to eat, I’m thinking about cooking it while shes on her computer, so she smells the food and comes to eat on her own accord-
HOWDY: So-
JULIE: Make a joke about her snorting it and I’ll tear your antenna off.
HOWDY: Damn, jeez…
JULIE: Hm.. [Julie speaks to herself as she takes items off the shelf] Ah, sweet, here we are.. I can make some fried rice.. Oo, Mackerel.. [She speaks to Howdy] Do you have any jarred Romesco?
HOWDY: Probably.
JULIE: Whatever, I’ll make it myself. [She grabs more items, followed by the sound of her heels walking to the counter]
HOWDY: Right, [beeping sounds as he rings her up] Total comes out to 176 dollars and 32 cents.
JULIE: [Groan] Here.
HOWDY: Thaank you.. Have a nice day.
JULIE: Uh huh. [Julie grabs her bags and leaves the store]
HOWDY: [Howdy hums and taps the counter.] ..Oh! Hey, didn’t see ya there. What do you need, Wally?
POPPY AND BARNABY
[The scene is a close up on a bookshelf, Wally’s hand is visible resting on the edge. The usual sound of delightful old music can be heard faintly]
POPPY: [Distant] Barn? Ya home?
BARNABY: Over here, dear!
POPPY: Ah, whatcha doing?
BARNABY: Oh, I was just in the middle of finding a book for him.
POPPY: Oh- didn’t seeya there. Well, I just thought I’d check on ya. Haven’t spoken to you in a good minute. [Poppy takes a seat. Barnaby joins her.]
BARNABY: I’m doing just fine. How are you?
POPPY: I’m good. Julie’s birthday is in a few weeks, I’m planning for that!
BARNABY: ..it’s not for another two months?
POPPY: Yeah, and Julie likes expensive wine.
BARNABY: Ahah!
[There’s a few beats of comfortable silence.]
POPPY: …You sure you doin’ okay?
BARNABY: Hm? Yes? Why do you ask?
POPPY: I’m just worried about you, that’s all. Y’know me.
BARNABY: I do.
[The comfortable silence melts away, a bit of tension filling the air.]
POPPY: Let’s talk about something else.
BARNABY: Let’s!
POPPY: Whatcha readin’ lately?
BARNABY: Lots of historical fiction, mostly.
POPPY: Ooh!
BARNABY: Are you reading anything?
POPPY: Aah.. eeeh…
BARNABY: Haha.. It’s alright. I know it’s not for everyone.
POPPY: Haha. I’m glad to see you’re doin’ alright, Barn.
BARNABY: Thanks for being concerned about me, Partridge.
POPPY: Of course. [Poppy stands.] Never be afraid to call me, Barn.
BARNABY: See you..
[A few bits of silence. Eventually, Barnaby takes in a breath]
BARNABY: Always nice when she visits! How are you doing Darling?
POPPY AND JULIE
[The scene is a table with a cake. The cake has “HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIE” in pink icing, as well as a glass of wine.]
JULIE: I’m so happy you’re letting me throw my birthday at your place again, Ma!
POPPY: Of course! Why wouldn’t I?
JULIE: Ahaha! Ma, you’re delightful. Seriously, what did we do to deserve such a delightful neighborhood mother?
POPPY: Ya don’t need to do anythin’! I’d do this for anyone. Anyway, let’s talk snacks!
JULIE: Let’s! [Julie is incredibly cheerfully and sing-songy]
POPPY: What ya thinkin?
JULIE: Ooh! [The sound of crumpling paper as she takes something out of her pocket] When I took that quick trip out to the cave, I managed to grab some of my moms old tapas recipes! [She hands the paper to Poppy] It would make me so happy if you could-
POPPY: recreate them?
JULIE: Yes!
POPPY: I’d be delighted! These sound delicious, too! Your mama made these?
JULIE: Mhm! My mom loved cooking, she cooked every chance she got! Any of our birthdays, the-day-after-your-birthday day, the-week-after-your-birthday day, its-a-celebrites-birthday day, fuck-it-I-just-wanna-cook-for-my-kids day.. Any reason!
POPPY: Sounds like she meant a lot to ya.
JULIE: Ah, she did.. She was so sweet. You would’ve loved her, Ma!
POPPY: If it ain’t a sore subject, can I ask how she passed?
JULIE: Natural causes.. She died peacefully in her sleep, and doing what she loved! She made us a delicious feast before she did.. My siblings and I have this joke.. We say she was supposed to die the night before, but asked the angels to give her just one more day to give her kids one last meal.
POPPY: That’s so sweet, Julie.
JULIE: [A small hum as she smiles]
POPPY: I’ll do my best to recreate your moms recpies.. And I’d be happy if you helped me!
JULIE: Oh- Ma! I’d love to!
POPPY: Sounds like a plan. Oh, hey, you wanna help too, Wally?
JULIE AND SALLY
[The scene the outside of Sally’s house. A close up on the chipped purple paint, and a window just barely in view at the top. All the voices are slightly distant]
JULIE: hup- hup!!
SALLY: Huh..?
JULIE: Hey! [Strained] Sorry! I wanted to surprise you, but it is hard to break into your house! Ugh! [A thump is heard as Julie falls inside]
SALLY: [Sally giggles] Are you okay?
JULIE: Perfect. [Julie stands up and poofs her skirt] Okay!
SALLY: What’s in the bag..?
JULIE: It’s a surprise! [She says sing-songy]
[There’s a few beats of tension, Sally’s breath tightening]
JULIE: [Julie rushes to speak again] ..It’s just some ingredients! I wanted to make you some dinner.
SALLY: Oh! …Can I see?
JULIE: Yeah! [Theres some heel clicks as she walks over to Sally, opening her bag and showing her the ingredients]
SALLY: What’s this..?
JULIE: Oh! That’s for me. It’s a Trinidad moruga pepper.
SALLY: What’s this…?
JULIE: Mackerel. You like fish, yeah?
SALLY: I.. think so.
JULIE: How about I cook up a quick sample right now and you can try it?
SALLY: Oh, okay.
JULIE: Mhm! I’m sure you’ll love it.
SALLY: Hehe..
JULIE: Alright, let me go see if you’re oven still works and- Hey!! [Julie’s heels are heard as she approaches the window and looks outside] Get out of here creeper!!
SALLY: wh-whose there!?
JULIE: Don’t worry! It’s just Wally!
BARNABY AND SALLY
[The scene is a wooden floor.]
[Barnaby can be heard singing.]
BARNABY: Heartaches.. ~ Heartaches..~
BARNABY: My loving you, they're only heartaches~
BARNABY: Your kiss was such a - oh! [He’s interrupted by the phone ringing. He answers.] Good evening. Barns books!
SALLY: ..Hello..?
BARNABY: Hello? [Barnaby is just as confused] Whose this?
SALLY: M..mm…my girlfriend gave me your number..
BARNBAY: [An sound of realization and relief] Hello. You must be Starlet.
SALLY: ..yes..
BARNABY: It’s nice to meet you. My name is Barnaby. Julie has told me a lot about you! What do you need?
SALLY: I just.. I was… I think I’m sick.
BARNABY: Oh! What are your symptoms? [Barnaby pushes some things around his desk, finding a notepad. He clicks a pen.]
SALLY: I just uhm.. M..my heart is beating really fast.
BARNABY: Mhm.. [Barnaby writes it down]
SALLY: and.. I feel really warm..
BARNABY: Mhm.. [He writes it down]
SALLY: and I.. I.. Don’t want to sleep.. Or eat.. Anything..
BARNABY: … [Barnaby stops writing] ..I apologize if this is invasive, but Julie informed me you are an addict.
SALLY: Oh..
BARNABY: Are you currently under the influence?
SALLY: ..why?
BARNABY: You just described very common symptoms of cocaine abuse.
SALLY: …
BARNABY: ..? Hello?
SALLY: Sorry.
BARNABY: No need to- oh. [Sally hangs up on him] Ah.. Well, she hung up.. I hope she calls back. [He hums in worry] Anywho.. Sorry for that.. Do you need anything, Darling?
EDDIE AND JULIE
[The scene almost looks like a spa. There is nail polish, makeup brushes, an ash tray, and bottle of wine.]
EDDIE: So, then he tells me that the money isn’t enough!
JULIE: [gasps in offense] It’s all you had!
EDDIE: It’s all I had, exactly!
JULIE: What did he want
EDDIE: You’re never gonna believe this.
JULIE: Mm?
EDDIE: He tells me.. He can sell my left arm.
JULIE: No!
EDDIE: Yes!!
JULIE: What the fuck!
EDDIE: Yeah!
JULIE: That’s when you jumped on him?
EDDIE: That’s when I jumped on him, yeah.
JULIE: Mm, absolutely deserved.
EDDIE: Mhhhm..
JULIE: Want more wine?
EDDIE: Yesss..
[The wine bottle is taken out of sight]
JULIE: Here you aree..
EDDIE: Mm.. Thanks for inviting me to your girls night.. Even though-
JULIE: Girls night is for anyone, babe. Besides, I wanted to hear the story of you making Howdy your bitch again.
EDDIE: [A shocked laugh, the sound of him playfully hitting Julie] Jules!
JULIE: Ah! Haha! You ass I almost spilt my wine!!
EDDIE: Hah! [Eddie snort-laughs]
[They laugh together for awhile, before calming down]
JULIE: so… Why’d you bring him with you?
EDDIE: Huh? Him? Oh.. Frank couldn’t make it and he seemed like a nice substitute.
JULIE: Awwh.. Why couldn’t Frank make it?
[A pink cigarette comes into view and is flicked into the ashtray]
EDDIE: Some sorta lesson with Barn.. I don’t know.. Can I get a cig?
JULIE: Hm? You smoke Rose Butts?
EDDIE: I know, I know, it’s a [Eddie puts on a mocking tone] “Girl Cigeratte”..
JULIE: No, no, you do you, but I’m more surprised you smoke. Here..
EDDIE: God, in this neighborhood? Who doesn’t?
JULIE: Frank.
EDDIE: I- well- that’s fair
JULIE: Wally.
EDDIE: Okay. So the two innocent guys don’t smoke.
JULIE: Barnaby doesn’t smoke.
EDDIE: Okay, shut up.
[Julie giggles, Eddie chuckles with him]
EDDIE: Mm.. Anyways, you wanna do his makeup or something?
JULIE: Ooh! Yeah! Wanna get your makeup done, Wally?
FRANK AND HOWDY
[The scene is Howdy’s store, once again. This time its a view of an apple display.]
[The sound of Frank humming the tune of ‘There Was An Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe’]
FRANK: Howdy..
HOWDY: What is it, Nuvola?
FRANK: Do you think Eddie has feelings for mee..?
HOWDY: Hun, I don’t think Eddie has feelings.
FRANK: But- like- do you think he.. Like likes me?
HOWDY: He certainly cares about you more others. [Howdy walks away and begins shelving as he talks to Frank]
FRANK: I mean like.. Like.. if you think I asked him to hang out.. Like hang-out hang-out! He’d.. say yes?
HOWDY: Why are you asking me? Not only have I not been on a date in 12 years, [he sets something on the shelf] but Eddie also despises me, almost as much as I despise him.
FRANK: I know! But you know him super well and you spend a lot of time together! I figured he must’ve told you how he feels about me!
HOWDY: We spend a lot of time together, yeah, but we’re not being all buddy-buddy. He spends time in my store because he’s either blacked out drunk, or in the process of getting blacked out drunk. [He sets another item on the shelf] Or threatening me.
FRANK: Hmm.. [Frank pouts]
HOWDY: Eugh.. Listen, if you wanna know if Eddie likes you, why don’t you just march down to that Pot Office and ask!
FRANK: Because I’m nervousss!! [Frank whines]
HOWDY: You ain’t gonna know unless you ask! Just go down to that damn office, grab Eddie by his ugly face and say, ‘Hey! I like you! You wanna go on a date sometime?’ if he says no, move on! You probably doged a bullet! If he says yes, good for you!
FRANK: But I’m nervous!! [Frank reiterated, his voice cracking]
HOWDY: Then stay nervous! If you ask, you’ll know! If you don’t, you’ll be in a perpetual state of non-closure.
FRANK: [Frank whines again]
HOWDY: Just go! Go ask him!
FRANK: But would if- Hey!
HOWDY: [Howdy pushes him out] Go go! Just go ask him, stop bothering me!
FRANK: Okay okay! I’m going!
HOWDY: Good!
FRANK: Aah! [Frank runs out of the bodega and seemingly towards the Post Office]
HOWDY: Eugh.. Finally!! Damn cloud.. How do you deal with em, Wally?
EDDIE AND SALLY
[The scene is the gravel path, seemingly in front of Sally’s house]
[The sound of Eddie’s military-grade boots approaching]
EDDIE: Hm? Oh, hey bud.. ‘Scuse me..
[The sound of the mailslot opening]
EDDIE: Sally?
[Theres some shuffling inside of her house before Sally appears]
SALLY: hey.
EDDIE: There ya are.. Here, got this for you. Oh- [the sound of a paper bag being snatched]
SALLY: Thanks.
EDDIE: I uh.. I put a sandwich in there for ya.
SALLY: Oh-!
EDDIE: I know you like your noodles.. Thought it would be nice to have.. With the noodles, yknow?
SALLY: Thanks.
EDDIE: Course.. Uh.. Take of yourself, Sally..
SALLY: wait, wait,
EDDIE: hm?
SALLY: You.. Take care of yourself too!
EDDIE: Hah.. yeah, I will.
SALLY: I mean it! You always tell me to take care of yourself but I know you don’t.
EDDIE: …Yeah but I don’t care about me.
SALLY: I care about you.
EDDIE: ..yeah.
SALLY: Okay, you eat a sandwich today.
EDDIE: I will.
SALLY: and I’ll eat mine.
EDDIE: Okay.
SALLY: Okay.. Bye.
[The mailslot closes]
EDDIE: Seeya..
[Beats of silence, some sounds of Eddie kicking the dirt.]
EDDIE: Poor girl, right? [He says, speaking to someone else] ..Do you regularly sit outside her house, Wally?
POPPY AND SALLY
[The scene is some grass, Wally’s hand can be visible laying in it]
POPPY: Saallyy.. Sally? [Poppy’s voice approaches, a small squawk as she almost steps on Wally] Sorry, dear, didn’t see ya. Sally! Ya home?
SALLY: Hello..? [Sallys voice is distant and muffled]
POPPY: Hello!
SALLY: ..[Her voice is closer as she approaches the window. It’s still slightly muffled, as though shes behind a curtain] Whose that?
POPPY: I’m Poppy! You can call me Ma, sweetie. Julie tell ya about me?
SALLY: ..yeah, she has.. What do you want?
POPPY: I was comin’ to invite you to a party-
SALLY: No.
POPPY: Wha? I just figured it’d be nice! Get ya out of the house, meet new people-
SALLY: No thanks.
POPPY: You sure? You just wanna stay inside all day?
SALLY: All my life, actually.
POPPY: Ah.. I.. uhm.. Well. We’re gonna have snacks!
SALLY: Cool..
POPPY: Nachos and chips, and I’m gonna cook dinner for everyone and.. Eh..
SALLY: …Can you bring me some?
POPPY: Wha?
SALLY: I have.. A window in the back, that doesn’t have any glass or a screen or anything.. Can you bring me some food to that?
POPPY: Sure! I’d be down!
SALLY: Thanks… Ma..?
POPPY: Thas the spirit! Sorry I tried to make ya come outside.
SALLY: It’s okay.
POPPY: Well, I’ll see- eh.. Well.. I’ll talk to ya later!
SALLY: Bye. [There’s shuffling inside as Sally leaves]
POPPY: What a sweet girl. You know her, Walls?
POPPY AND EDDIE
[The scene is the floor of the post office. Letters are scattered about, along with pens, pencils, highlighters, and two vodka bottles]
POPPY: Eddie? [Poppy’s voice is overlaid with her claws against the floor] You here?
EDDIE: mmgnnm…
POPPY: Ah, there you are.. What ya doin’ under the table..?
EDDIE: Headache.. [he hiccups]
POPPY: ..so you got under the table
EDDIE: Yup..
POPPY: C’mere dear..
EDDIE: Nooo…
[Some struggle as Poppy attempts to help Eddie to his feet. Eddie sits on the table he was sitting under]
POPPY: You alright?
EDDIE: I’m.. peachy…
POPPY: You need’a throw up?
EDDIE: …no…
POPPY: Alright.. Well.. [Poppy sighs] Let’s see if I can get ya to bed. C’mere..
EDDIE: Nooo..
[Poppy helps Eddie away, theres some struggle and shuffling and Eddie complaining, but they make it eventually. There’s a small ‘pomf’ as Eddie lands on his couch]
POPPY: [her voice distant] There you are hun.. [her voice returns with her claws hitting the floor] Well.. I got em to bed.. Let’s just hope he stays there.. Let’s see if I can get this place cleaned up. Ya mind helpin, Wally?
BARNABY
BARNABY: Ah, then I told Pillar he needed to apologize to poor Dear! But he just went on and on about how he was the one that deserved an apology!
HOME: [Sounds of banging can be heard, sort of like agreeing]
BARNABY: I know! I told him that I couldn’t stay with him- i-in the room, I mean, unless he went and said he was sorry!
HOME: [Shutters creak]
BARNABY: Augh, I know, it’s such a heavy ask.. With how much they’re at each others throats! I don’t even understand what could’ve possibly caused such hatred!
HOME: [Lets out an inquisitive door squeak]
BARNABY: I agree. I think I need to sit down with them both and see what on Earth happened- eh
HOME: [Opens and closes its door judgmentally, cutting Barnaby off]
BARNABY: Wha- What do you mean it’s a bad idea?! I’ll keep them off each other, and-and I’ll make sure Dear leaves his pocket blade outside the library. And-
HOME: [Windows open and shut, a bit like laughter]
BARNABY: Wha!? Oh c’mon! Eddie can survive without his knife for one day! And PIllar won’t be allowed to bring that darned shotgun into the library either! He never has been! I’ve never allowed weapons or-or anything of the sort into the library! In fact, he knows all about it! Don’t you?
…Hello? Little one? Pal?
…Hey, y-you stopped painting..
…Everything alright, Darling?
#welcome home#welcome home au#welcome home opposite au#howdy pillar#eddie dear#frank frankly#julie joyful#sally starlet#barnaby b beagle#poppy partridge#wally darling#script#scripts#welcome home puppet show#welcome home arg
88 notes
·
View notes
Text
He hears him before he sees him.
That is not something that will ever change - in a sense it is quite comforting, that even in a constantly mutating world one thing can remain the same: the fact that he is still heavy enough to make his arrival sound like an approaching thunderstorm, that he has not lost the peculiar gracelessness of his brand of speed, that he likes to run his mouth just as much as his legs.
"You're a lot thinner than the last time I saw you," Pohatu tells him.
Krika regards him with half-lid eyes: "And my brother's leash is just as tight around your neck still, it would seem."
"Stop that," the Toa shuts him down instantly, his genuine amiable tone gone in an instant to be replaced by a cold vitriol. If the Makuta had a tongue, he might have considered biting it. "That joke has never been funny in the first place."
"It is no joke, Toa."
"Then find something else to greet me with, Makuta."
To say Krika had felt something deeper, once, for such a sad being - to say any of them had at some point been moved towards him by something other than an awkward pity, a half-hearted annoyance, a slight cautious curiosity - would be maybe not a full lie, but certainly an exaggeration. None of them was attached to him enough to pry Teridax's hold off of him until it was too late to even try to get through to him, after all; so perhaps this sudden rush of melancholic compassion is akin to a crocodile's tears after it has senselessly devoured its own young.
It remains that, for a reason unknown, the towering insect-like being tilts his head to better observe the warrior before him.
"You're much more orange than I remembered," he indulges him: "And somehow even shorter."
A booming laugh: "It's the armor," Pohatu replies so wonderfully earnest and open and bright as though he had never once been angry in his frighteningly bitter life: "Too compact."
He drops from the air onto the sturdiest branch he could have found with his entire weight, bouncing on it as it perilously bends towards the swamp waters before struggling to pull itself back up. He dangles his feet in a carefree manner, like a Matoran who snuck away from work. A tentative fondness that was there many millennia ago rekindles for a moment only within the Makuta, to ache with nostalgia: for a moment he can almost picture his old laboratory, and the suspended catwalk that led to the shelves of viruses and carefully preserved failed attempts upon which the Toa would sit just like that so he could watch him at work without interfering.
"So," Pohatu beams: "It's been a while."
"It has."
"I met Mutran on the way here. Most of the others too - the ones up in the sky. They've gone blind, by the by."
"I was aware."
"Of the Matoran, too?"
"Yes."
The Toa hums. Evidently he does not appreciate the shadow leeches too much.
"I passed through him with my Kakama Nuva," he continues.
"Mutran?"
"Yes."
"Riveting."
"It was disgusting, mostly. Oh, and I saw Gorast. I had to knock out Photok before she'd jump on him - ah, you don't know him, right? No, he's from the stalagmites. Resisting against you. So yes, I had to knock him out and fly him to safety and then get back down. A bit of a hassle."
"How is my sister faring, in your opinion?"
"As positively furious as ever. Maybe even worse."
"She has indeed been degrading."
"Hm. Maybe it's the bog air. Or the humidity. Either way I can't really blame her."
Of course you can't, the Makuta only thinks, keeping quiet.
You are becoming ever more like her.
"Ah - watch for Takua- Takanuva. He's arrived too."
"The fabled Toa of Light?"
A nod. "He isn't supposed to be here. They sent him, I think."
"Who would be 'they'?"
"Probably the Order of Mata Nui - the Turaga don't have the means to set a single foot here, let alone send someone. You'll recognize him immediately, he's gotten huge."
"Duly noted."
"Anyhow, how have things been down here?"
Krika shrugs: "Gorast almost killed your sister," he relays. "Bitil had your Earth brother subjugated briefly, and your Fire brother - Tahu, isn't he? - nearly burnt down the entire swamp."
"Hm," the Toa only hums, monotone. "Shame."
The way he says the word causes the other being to stiffen his spine: "Do not speak like that."
"Like that how?"
"Do not be coy."
"I don't understand what you mean."
"You should not wish death upon your siblings."
"Because you don't?"
"The Toa Mata are following the path destiny has decided for them," the Makuta snaps at last. "Teridax has tried to twist and bend fate to his own ambitions, and in doing so he has doomed himself, the entire Brotherhood and you with him. To wish him dead is to wish for the Universe to keep on living - it is far from a childish desire born of an ancient grudge that has no reason to exist."
"Watch it."
The words coil quiet, dangerous, around Krika's neck much like a noose of rock.
The fallen stalactites groan like suffering Rahi as they shift.
One must wonder, between him and the last of the Makuta's sisters, if this kind of taste for cruelty is something innate or if his traitorous brother simply has a talent for driving people to it.
The silent threat is not quite empty. Yes, Pohatu will not kill him: he is a Toa (he takes pride in that for it's all that remains outside of Teridax he can still hold onto to tell himself he is worth anything) so he observes the code like his life depends on it, and it is not at all in his nature to consider inflicting pain fun, or satisfying; but he can trap him with little to no air or agonizingly crush his limbs flat between walls of stone, and his slowly marinating anger will find it endlessly gratifying despite any aversion to torture.
But Pohatu is, fundamentally, a weak being.
Oh, he has all the power he needs. His mastery over his element is egregious and his speed unmatched. But at the end of the day he is nothing but a soft toy, a spineless marionette to pull the strings of; one day - because it will happen, one day - someone will snip at a wire, purposefully or not, and that will be all it takes to send him tumbling to the floor.
His sharp limbs carve holes into the wood.
Slowly, Krika elevates himself from the bog and comes to stand upon the branch, light and graceful like a terrifyingly posed skeleton, towering over the little Toa.
His head bends down to look into blue eyes.
Pohatu simply cranes his neck and stares back, tranquil, unafraid, like a child.
"We will not leave Karda Nui," the Makuta sentences. His tone is low, funerary. "Our brother has planned our demise the moment he decided to betray Miserix. We are nothing to him, as are his Kraata, as are you. He has no need for a court beside him to rule the universe. We will outgrow our purpose soon. He will leave us to die like vermins. This shall be our grave."
A stretch of silence.
The gaze replying to his own is calm.
"Sorry," Pohatu says without even the vaguest trace of emotion.
Krika leans down, down, down, closer, until his mask grazes the other being's and his already rotting breath seeps into the seams of Artakha's armor.
"You are not exempt from this fate, little Toa." he breathes. "You are no different in his eyes from me. We are pawns. Tools to be discarded for the sake of a megalomaniac's ego. Teridax will suppress you as soon as your bones begin to creak. He holds no love for you."
"Do you?"
No answer.
"Do you love me?" Pohatu repeats. His tone holds the certainty of those who are lied to so profoundly that the truth becomes laughable to their eyes. "Do you?"
The Makuta remains silent.
"No," the Toa answers for him, "No, you don't."
There would have been a time where Krika would have scared him with a simple glare. It was the time where Pohatu was only a pitiful being who'd known nothing but fighting and fighting and more fighting, who was too curious to leave beakers untouched and kept almost dropping them.
"None of you do."
"We were fond of you," comes out of the white mask suddenly, a raucous strained sound, like something he didn't know himself.
"Yes," Pohatu replies: "Like my siblings are fond of me now. So nice, and kind, and gentle, because they don't remember they used to be the scum of the world. They've been getting memories, you know?" he pipes up - he smiles, tilts his head, leans it so close that Krika pulls back, looking almost excited. "They've been remembering things."
"Pohatu," the Makuta struggles to speak.
"They don't remember me, of course," he continues, trampling over the words the other tries to wheeze out. His fingers begin to sink into the wood on which he sits. "They have no reason to, of course. I wasn't them. I wasn't worthy of being with them. I wasn't wise or strong or stubborn enough. I wasn't memorable. Despite being there. Despite being there from the beginning just like all of them. Did you know, while we were on Voya Nui - you do know about Voya Nui, right? Ah, doesn't matter - we had to blow up a rock. A rock! A rock. And do you know? Do you know what my brothers did?"
"Your memories are poisoned."
"Tahu, and Kopaka - because they are the leaders, aren't they? They are the ones who take all the decisions and who everybody follows because they are louder than everybody else, aren't they?"
"Your own bitterness has corroded them."
"They started burning and freezing the rock. Burning. And freezing. The rock. Burning and freezing! Because that's what they do!"
"You can't rely on them."
"Because that's what they always do, that's all they can do! And I was standing there, you know, I was right there. Right there, right there next to them! A step away! Maybe two! I had to walk up to them! And blow up the rock for them! And I had to tell them, you know? Remember me? I am Pohatu! I do rock! For them to realize, oh! Yes! There is a Toa of Stone with us! How did we forget! Must have been because he wasn't in our immediate field of vision!"
"You are spiraling into your-"
"SHUT UP!"
The branch produces a ghastly crack as his fingers pierce it.
Pohato heaves, tries to keep talking, then hushes when his throat catches on a knot and the story he was telling stops sounding funny. He exhales out loud, hard, suddenly out of breath. His head feels like it's spinning and the swamp's odor does not help.
Krika observes him silently.
Hasn't this happened before? Something like this?
He'd sobbed too loud and choked on his own sadness, and the room had gone quiet and dozens of eyes had stared at him in a mixture of fear and concern.
When was it?
A hundred millennia ago?
He did not remember being comforted.
"Everybody is fond of me," he manages to wheeze: "Everybody is fond of me, and nobody remembers me."
His arms are shaking.
"My brothers sleep easy because they don't remember abandoning me and the Av-Matoran. They're fond of me because they don't remember hating me. But I know who they are. I know."
"You do not."
Blue eyes pierce through the Makuta: "And you do?" he asks, mockingly.
Krika stands his ground: "I have given your sister the chance to leave this dreadful place behind before her death was sealed."
"How nice."
"She has refused, for the sake of her brothers."
"Give her a minute."
"You have deluded yourself across these thousands of years."
"I am perfectly lucid."
"As lucid as Teridax wants you to be."
"Teridax cares about me," Pohatu says.
It is not a snarl. There is no anger in his voice. He is calm, reassured. Unshakeably certain.
He stares at the Makuta darkly.
"He's cared about me since the beginning. He has never left me to rot in my thoughts like the rest of you. He has never abandoned me." he murmurs.
His booming voice is so quiet, barely above a whisper, and as horribly bitter as Lerahk poison.
"I don't need your forgetful fondness," he speaks softly. Almost tiredly. Maybe he's done it - he's burnt himself thin at last. "Nor my siblings' two-faced kindness."
"Then you will be alone, little Toa. More than you already are."
"Don't push your own grievances onto me."
The branch sways violently.
Caught by surprise, Krika clutches the bark tight between his claws. It takes him a moment to realize he is now the only being still on it as it lashes out wildly: a flash of orange catches his attention at the edge of his vision and he whips his head around.
Pohatu treats him to an empty look, curled up in mid-air, ready to disappear.
Cold bitterness burns in his eyes.
"He is ripping you from your destiny, little Toa!" the Makuta shouts: "He is leading you to slaughter!"
"My destiny is to serve the Great Spirit; his destiny is to become it," Pohatu replies sharply above the sound of his armor's propellers, letting him know his warning has fallen on deaf ears. "If you can stomach to mention my name, tell your siblings I said hello."
His mask glows for a single instant - then he's gone.
Krika only stares at the point in space that the Toa occupied barely a fraction of a second ago, catching for a moment, impossibly slowed in time, his afterimage; for what is merely an instant it looks small and brown and tan, orange eyes gleaming with a guilt he can't let go off and a too focused vitriol that makes his heartlight stutter sickly, hiding behind a shelf in a clumsy attempt at pretending he wasn't poking curiously at the vats brimming with viruses to watch them swirl towards his finger.
#bionicle#krika#pohatu#random writing#orpiment au#pohatu is slowly losing his mind#hes experiencing mood swings potent enough to knock a man flat to the ground#is it the millenia of manipulation taking their toll? being explicitly told the most important person in his life thinks hes disposable?#the struggle between the bastardized version of his sibs he fuels his anger with vs the reality of them being loving if imperfect people?#a defense mechanism against the doubts creeping in his mind after being exposed to ppl who are not teridax and who also care abt him?#who knows! but he is having the worst time of his life#as am i (<- exaggerating) (stuck in a funk)#anyways if yall could FUCKIN tell me what you think of these i would deeply appreciate it
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eden part nineteen
TW: trauma, bad mental health, Stockholm Syndrome, referenced captivity, referenced stalking, referenced major character death, pet whumpee, multiple caretakers
Note: This is the last of the "Ezra explaining what happened to him" chapters, because I believe in the rule of threes. His online friends get a much more vulnerable view into his mind than his roommates.
While rifling through his old things, trying to regain some semblance of himself, Ezra found his smartphone. It seemed insane that Christopher had returned it here while his roommates weren't home, but it would have been easy after getting Ezra's keys during the kidnapping. He had even bothered to plug it in.
The number of texts Ezra had received while missing was overwhelming, despite being solidily in the double digits. He ignored most of them in favor of messaging the only friends he actually trusted with any of this.
He dropped a text in the group chat. Just a simple "Hey bitches, I lived." He didn't have to wait long until his friends all messaged him back, despite their very separate time zones.
Isadora: 'sup biatch? missed u
Tristian: Oh my God! Are you okay?!
Rowan: oh hey ezra
Ezra: Don't worry. Don't worry. I just got kidnapped. Didn't have my phone for obvious reasons. I'm once again here to grace you with my presence.
Rowan: glad to see youre feeling okay
Tristan: YOU GOT KIDNAPPED
Ezra: I am physically unharmed and mentally destroyed. Thanks for checking in.
Isadora: moood
Tristan: What the hell happened? Tell me everything right this instant.
Ezra: Long message incoming-
Ezra took a moment to sort out exactly what he was going to say, typing and retyping the same message over and over again. He could always get his feelings across much better in text than in person. So much time to rehearse and fact check.
Ezra: I got kidnapped by a man named Christopher. He was in his fifties and lived in the woods. Then I got the usual stalker monolog about how much he loved me and wanted to keep me for himself. (Despite how stressed out I was, this made my NPD very happy) I settled down with him. It was genuinely such a blast. I was basically his pet cat. Don't worry, he wasn't weird or anything. It was totally platonic and you know that made my narcissistic aroace ass very happy. Well, I did think that I had fallen in love with him at one point. But he cleared that up pretty quick. (Clearing it up involved gaslighting but whatever) And I realized that it was just NPD fuelled platonic obsession making me jealous of his fiance. With me so far? - 👀²
Ezra was very aware that he had mentioned NPD three times in this text. But it was imperative that his friends understood this was the fault of his personality disorder, and not some flaw he could be judged for.
Rowan: when you said kidnapped i thought you meant held for ransom not… all that - 👆²
Isadora: im kinda jealous of u lolll
Tristian: Don't say stuff like that, Dora. This isn't funny.
Ezra: …it is kinda funny. How many times have I joked about wanting someone to care enough to stalk me, and it happened. Knock on enough doors asking to see the devil and he might answer and all that
Isadora: i was gonna say that lmao
Rowan: hey ezra, do you need anything? you okay?
Ezra: I just need to talk. Shelly and Harry were supremely unhelpful. Buckle up bitches, because it's only getting worse from here. - 🫂²
Tristan: IT GETS WORSE THAN STALKING AND KIDNAPPING
Ezra: You know it, my good dude.
Tristan: HOW COULD IT POSSIBLY GET WORSE
Tristan: EZRA I WORRY ABOUT YOU - 🤝³
Ezra: Haha me too
Ezra: Anyhow
Ezra: Christopher was engaged to this man named Colt, right? They didn't live together though. Colt was the most obnoxious asshole I've ever met. I don't think toxic masculinity does it justice. Christopher was literally the greatest person ever and he deserved much better than Colt. He was also keeping someone captive to torture them. They couldn't remember their own name so I started calling them Jay. They were in really bad shape, obviously. I tried taking care of them but obviously I couldn't do much. They're what really mentally destroyed me, not anything to do with how I was being treated. - 🫂³
Isadora: hoollyyy fuuckk
Tristian: This is absolutely insane. I'm so sorry you went through that. It sounds like the plot of a horror story, not something you should have to deal with in real life. If there is anything I can do to help, please tell me.
Ezra felt warmth spread from his heart to the rest of his body. Finally, someone had told him exactly what he had been fishing to hear. And he had hardly needed to manipulate them into it.
It wasn't his fault. He didn't deserve it. Colt was the one to blame for Jay's death, not him. His life had always been a bad horror story, and it did wonders to hear it confirmed by an outside observer.
Ezra: You guys are so nice. - 💚¹ 🖤¹ 💖¹
Isadora: well duh i love u
Rowan: we all love you
Tristan: That's right. And don't forget it.
Tristian: Now, are you going to call the police or is it too risky?
Ezra: Fun fact. Jay and Colt are dead. And obviously Christopher is wonderful so I don't want him thrown in jail. I'm hoping he takes me back but I accidentally ran away when I was freaked out about Jay's death, so he might be mad at me.
Isadora: :(((
Tristan: I know you're dealing with a lot. But you need to move on. You were kidnapped. You need to try to be your own person again.
Ezra: But have you considered that. I. Don't. Want. To.
Isadora: fair
Tristian: No. Not "fair". Ezra, you can't spend the rest of your life as the victim.
Ezra: I've spent the last twenty-three years doing just that. Self victimization is an art form that I have perfected to a science.
Rowan: this isnt self victimization. some body else victimized you.
Ezra: hmmmmmm
Ezra: Less work for me then!!
Isadora: agahshsjsjdgaafdsgxbzfafs
Tristan: This is not funny.
Tristan: I believe in you, Ezra. Please believe in yourself. You can have a good life if you just try. You don't need the validation of your stalker. What you do need is time to yourself to recover from the impact Jay's death had on you.
Rowan: seconded
Isadora: dont leave us again dude
Isadora: we missed u
Ezra: It's my choice and my life. I was happier with Christopher than I've ever been with anyone else. Now that Colt and Jay are dead, there's nothing in the way of us being happy again.
Tristan: Ezra, listen.
Ezra: No. You're going to listen to me.
Ezra: You guys just don't get it. I want someone to want me. More than anything. Fucking hell, I've never even met any of you irl, and you're my best friends. I don't really have anyone. Of course I'm willing to excuse kidnapping and shit. I got everything I ever wanted in life, and I didn't have to work for it. I was fucking loved.
Rowan: im sorry
Tristan: Thank you for saying that. It's really important to get your feelings out. But I think that if you really want to be around this Christopher, you need to be on equal footing. Meet up in public. Don't go home with him until you have a chance to know who he is when he doesn't have control over your life.
Ezra threw his phone at the wall. Why was Tristan being so damn condescending? Would it hurt him to be nice?
Well, okay, Tristan hadn't actually been condescending. But someone other than Ezra being right when he was wrong always felt condescending, regardless of actual intentions.
Tristan's plan sounded good though. Ezra might have to try it. He quite wanted to get coffee with Christopher. If only he could find him.
Taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenlyeden @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-clit-loser @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkinz @dokidokisadness @enbygesserit @canislycaon24 @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @a-crumb-of-whump
#Abraham original: Hot off the press#Eden#Whump#Pet whump#Caretaking#Pet whumpee#Multiple caretakers#Modern whump#Whump series
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nellis Fluff - The Stars
-
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41696913
-
“I’m Greek,” Nick had said, like it answered anything. After a moment, he followed that up like Ellis was dumb: “That means I already know all that ‘stars’ shit.”
“Okay, yeah - but you don’t.” Ellis knew that for a fact. “First night without the lights on, you kept lookin’ outside like you’d never seen the sky before. And I know you’re gonna say it was for the zombies -” Nick’s mouth had snapped shut because Ellis had been around long enough to get that exactly right. “- but unless those zombies were in the air, it doesn’t make a lot'f sense for you to be watchin’ 'em looking up. And I know you city types only get - like, four of 'em back home, as if that ain’t saddest shit you’d ever hear.”
“Besides the zombies eating everyone,” Nick had said.
“Nick. Be nice,” Rochelle had warned from the other side of the table. She’d barely looked up from her book until Nick turned back away, and then she was all smiles and thumbs up at Ellis - then back to her book as Nick followed Ellis’ eyes. “Be nice.”
So Nick had let go of his book, purposely folding the page in half - and in exactly the way that would’ve had that old librarian from Ellis’ school throwing him off the roof for just letting it happen - and not-so-politely shifting in the farmhouse’s kitchen chair to face Ellis head-on.
Ellis had smiled at him.
Nick had kinda smirked back.
“Let’s go look at your damn stars.”
“Nick.”
… So.
That was pretty much it: Nick got up, Ellis led him out to the front, and Rochelle suddenly clicked in to go, “Wait - Greek?”
And then they were outside.
Which is sorta where his plan stopped. Ellis didn’t really think he needed a plan for every step in “look up but bring Nick with you,” yet there he was.
There was Nick.
Here they were.
“I can give you my jacket,” Ellis offered.
It was the one he took from the front closet. Wasn’t the cleanest thing in the world, but it smelled a little bit like home.
“I’m bigger than you,” Nick said.
Again, like that explained anything.
“I guess you got that sweater on anyhow,” Ellis said instead.
It was a nice sweater. Definitely handmade by the lady that lived here. There’d been balls of yarn in the corner where Coach put a crowbar through her head. She was a zombie, of course, but still a hell of a yarn-worker. Ellis hadn’t thought Nick would go for it, what with it being a bright plum purple and baggy. But Nick had said it was the ugliest thing he’d seen all week, so he was obligated to wear it just 'cause it’d be funny.
He liked Nick. He did. But the man had an odd sense of humour at times. Ellis wasn’t sure if Nick got offered a potato sack, whether he’d wear it 'as a joke’ to bitch about it the whole time or punch whoever was asking. It probably meant something that he could go either way more and more lately.
He wondered if it meant Nick was loosening up.
“Okay. The stars are observed. I am counting more than four.”
Nick didn’t even finish the rest of that, which would’ve been, “When we go inside, can you tell the others I was playing nicely out here? Or they’ll be on my ass about it.”
The part that wasn’t loosening up was still this bit. Rochelle kept swearing up and down that Nick liked him a lot more than he was letting on, but it wasn’t in a way that someone from his part of the country might pick up on. Then she swore side to side that she wasn’t saying Ellis couldn’t pick up on things, but that people in big cities tended to do things differently. The signs were more subtle than handing somebody a frog.
Ellis couldn’t argue that too much. Nick had not appreciated the frog.
He still thought it’d been a good idea, though. Maybe another time.
Until then, Ellis settled on trusting Ro and decided to do what he’d do if any girl had sent along her interest - or, as he’d been in the process of learning before the world’s supply of people went to hell, what he imagined he would if it’d been a boy or something.
It just turned out the 'or something’ was Nick.
“How about we sit for a minute?” Ellis sat first, planting himself right on the front yard. “You look at more than four stars with me, and I’ll tell 'em you were so nice, you even let me get a story in.”
“Yeah - you can’t sell that, kid.”
But Nick sat in the jeans they’d raided from a store yesterday. They fit him well. They were like that weird blue-grey colour - quiet on purpose, making them loud all over again because they were on Nick.
“The first one,” Ellis began, “is the Big Dipper.”
“Ursa Major.” Before there was time to reply, Nick tacked on a lazy, “It’s a bear.”
“I mean… yes,” Ellis said. “That’s around the Big Dipper -”
“It is the Big Dipper. It’s Greek. It’s the bear’s ass.”
“- but I figured we’d start small.” Ellis vaguely gestured to the sky. “I don’t think you know how to tell a constellation apart from the Milky Way -”
“That’s also Greek,” Nick said, finding new interest in constantly cutting Ellis off. “It’s breast milk from Hera. Zeus stuck a kid on her tit while she was asleep, but she woke up and flipped out. Threw that kid right across the room and splashed everywhere.”
Ellis tried to follow along with that story. He wasn’t sure what the point would be in asking, since it wasn’t like he could double-check, but he asked because…
He liked Nick.
And he wanted to know more, too. It wasn’t like he did everything purely for Nick.
“Was that real?”
“Hm? Yeah,” Nick said. “It’s the story behind it. Don’t worry, the kid was fine. He was Hercules, actually, which is his Disney name.”
“Zeus stuck Hercules as a baby onto some lady while she was asleep?”
“Oh, he was always doing shit like that,” Nick breezed on by. “Zeus would knock someone up, have a kid, Hera’d make trying to murder it her new past-time in-between cursing everyone who wasn’t Zeus, and then sometimes you’d get a constellation at the end.” Nick had leaned back onto elbows, looking generally across the night’s show. “Ooh. Asteroid.”
Ellis perked up.
“Actually, that’s a meteor -”
“Thanks, nerd.” The silence that followed it hung between them for a while. At least until Ellis felt a nudge at his side and saw Nick smirking at him. Softly. “I’m joking. Meteor. Not an asteroid.” But just before that sounded sincere, Nick’s tone switched back and he let out an antsy, “Also not a star, though, I noticed…”
“I was gettin’ there.” Apology accepted. “So you know about the Big Dipper. The bear. Its ass.” Nick’s smirk brightened closer towards a real smile, and Ellis felt it warming him in a far-off way. “Right. So the constellation itself - it’s really famous so you probably already know what it looks like, and now it’s down to helping it stand out for you amongst all the - uh…” Ellis wanted a complete smile. “The breast milk.”
There it was.
Warm.
All the jokes, all the snark - it always lost its bite once Ellis could see the warmth coming out from it.
The trouble was when that warmth took too long to shine through. Maybe it wasn’t faster or slower than it usually was, with how it curled around the corners of Nick’s eyes and moved along the bottom of his lips - like he would stop and stare and wait for Ellis to catch on so the snark was free to come back without having to apologize for it every minute… but Ellis was searching for it more often lately.
Rochelle said it was there.
Ellis hoped it was there.
Coach and Ellis had a 'talk’ about respecting the whole group, then went off to take a nap while saying something about locks on doors.
It wasn’t like he wanted Nick to change or suddenly be nice. He liked Nick the way he was already.
Ellis just wanted in on the joke.
And maybe not to be the joke as much.
“This has been a lot of eye contact,” Nick said.
… Shit.
“The stars,” Ellis said, looking up, not at Nick, “are in this kinda pattern right here -” And he looked down, not at Nick, trying to find a patch of dirt to scribble in and only coming away with remarkably well-watered lawn. Nick held out his hand. “What?”
“Use my hand,” Nick replied, continuing to hold it out to him, palm up.
The thin flash of metal drew his eye and caught it.
Rings suited Nick. Not because Nick was already wearing them before they met, but because they looked like the sort of thing someone as fancy as Nick would wear. And Ellis supposed that coupled with the lovingly knit sweater Nick had taken from the house as well, the cold coil of purposeful metal did seem a little funny to Ellis too - Nick cleared his throat, so Ellis tapped out the pattern.
“These,” he said. “This is what you wanna look for. You get it?”
“No. That was a terrible drawing.” Nick took his palm back. “Just point 'em out to me.”
“I can’t point to 'em, Nick - there’s a lot of stars, and I’m sittin’ over here. I’ll just look like I’m pointin’ at the whole sky.”
“Alright, well, fine -” Those words, and those words alone, were all the warning Ellis had before Nick moved. In a split between a second and an eternity, Nick was in front of him and leaning his back against Ellis’ chest, tucking under Ellis’ chin, and staying there. “Great. Problem solved. So point 'em out the way you see 'em, and I should be close enough for it to line up.”
Ellis managed to make himself blink.
Not to breathe - that still took another second - but he did blink.
He kept staring on right ahead, damned by how great he could see from the corner of his eye. He knew Nick wasn’t looking at him - and they’d been walking together long enough for him to know that’s when Nick’s paying the closest attention to everything.
And probably had a smirk on his face.
Probably did this on purpose.
Ellis wasn’t mad if that was the truth, but…
… he wasn’t sure how to feel about -
“Ellis,” Nick said. “Today please.”
That was sure as hell one smirk in his voice. And like he knew Ellis was thinking it, Nick somehow leaned even farther back, relaxing the rest of his weight onto Ellis’ arms. Which, by the way, were trapped under Nick still.
Which, Ellis realized, was probably what Nick would be smirking about, expecting Ellis to have to wriggle out from under him now.
Which Ellis did, not letting Nick get the better of him like that.
… Which meant Nick - impossibly, magically, purposely - got to lean farther back. The man silently closed the rest of the space like water filling up a cup, moving as Ellis’ arms got out from underneath, and seeming to make damn sure there were shoulders directly pressed against his ribs.
Nick’s hair tickled Ellis’ chin.
Which Nick must’ve thought was hilarious.
“Um -” Ellis wasn’t making that up, by the way, or trying to sound sour. Nick, tucked up with the back of his head resting on Ellis’ neck, was quietly laughing. And that’s why Ellis’ chin tickled. “Okay. The - uh… The first one was -” What the hell was he doing again? “Oh! Yeah, yeah - the stars -”
“The stars,” Nick echoed, apparently needing to cut in and make fun of him. “Baby steps, huh?”
His heart was pounding.
Oh.
So that’s what was funny.
“We’re not all as fast as you are, Nick,” Ellis casually tossed out. “Not all of us wanna rush back inside to read a book only our grandma would ever read.”
He tried to bend forward a little, keeping Nick’s head where it was, but with a bit of room between Nick’s back and Ellis’ heart and how it was hitting against his ribs -
“You’re moving me,” Nick said, with his low note of annoyance.
So Ellis stopped moving him.
And Nick did a little wiggle to settle in again like he was.
“The stars,” Ellis said. Finally he pointed at a set. “Big Dipper. Leo. Gemini.”
“Ooh. Slower,” Nick purred.
Ellis tensed up.
Because that was it.
“Look - I ain’t gonna do this if you gotta keep makin’ fun of me. I’m not gonna tattle to Ro but she’s gonna ask, and I 'can’t sell’ that, remember?”
Nick, whose own arms were crossed because he wasn’t even trying to sit up by himself anymore, gave a little wave like that was the end of it. Better than nothing, Ellis guessed.
“Big Dipper.” He took his time with it. “Those ones there. That one. That one.” He pointed them out. “And that one. See them?”
“No.”
“Nick, come on -”
“I’m a little low,” Nick said, like it was a simple thing with a simple fix. “That, or you’re bad at pointing too. But I think it’s the 'low’ thing.”
So Nick, with his rings shining under the starlight, put his palms upon the grass, and as his wrists flexed, he lifted himself up.
“… Nick -”
“That’s better.”
Nick’s ear was on Ellis’ cheek.
His cheek.
His cheek.
And - just…
He sighed and felt Nick’s head getting in the way of him shaking his own.
Their stubble twirled around each other’s. That was a dumb thing for him to notice.
“That’s not funny,” Ellis said.
“What’s not funny?”
Nick was looking up. At the sky - not at Ellis - but still, the man was probably laser-focused on him anyhow.
“I get what you’re doin’,” Ellis started.
“What am I doing?”
Like the answer was 'nothing’ - the question rolled right along from Nick’s mouth like it was asking about the weather.
“You’re tryin’ to get a few laughs out of me,” Ellis said, second-guessing it with how Nick had asked. “I just wanted to be nice to you -”
“You’re showing me the stars,” Nick said. His arms moved so serenely in the night that even though Ellis was watching them, he didn’t notice where one was going until after it had Ellis’ other arm in his grip. “That’s very nice. Not as educational as you promised, but nice enough.”
Ellis’ arm was being moved to wrap around Nick’s waist.
And somehow, despite the flood of thoughts dumping out from his ears, Ellis still came up with dumbest thing to go out through his mouth.
“I can’t point if I’m holdin’ you like that.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “'Cause I gotta use my other arm to keep us sitting up.”
“Well,” Nick replied, “good news: there’s a solution for that.”
Huh?
And again, worse, because this one was outloud.
“Huh?”
Nick leaned back. Pushed back, more like.
“Lie down,” the man said. “I’ll try not to crush you.”
“I’ve carried you a few times, Nick. You’re not gonna crush me,” Ellis kept talking. But good Lord, at least his body knew what to do and took over, lying down. With his arm still tensely around Nick’s waist, they both got situated, Ellis almost tucking his other arm behind his head as a pillow before he remembered that that was his pointing arm.
'Pointing arm’.
Shit - no wonder Nick thought he was dumb. All of Georgia would’ve disowned him if they weren’t… well. Zombies. He supposed that made him the smartest one left from his hometown. Well - except for Coach. Then again, Coach was a different kind of smart, so if they ever gave out two prizes -
Nick’s-hand-was-on-his-hand-and-he-just-felt-Nick’s-thumb-stroll-across-across-the-back-of-his-knuckles -
“We gonna do this or what?”
Okay - that had to be on purpose, but Ellis felt Nick giving his hand a quick squeeze. Just like that wave, this was meant to be the end of it. Unlike that wave, Nick was laughing again.
… Nick was laughing.
“I’m gonna - uh…” Ellis’ thoughts had gone the other way and now they were cramming back inside his brain. “… gonna need you to use your arm like a pillow or something so… y'know - so your head doesn’t have to stay lifted up like that.”
“Aw. What a gentleman. Making me do the all the work.”
But Nick did like he was asked and tucked his arm back under his head - and a little bit under Ellis’ neck for extra measure. The side of Nick’s face was still cozied up to Ellis’, and with an arm holding onto him above his hips, Nick seemed to balance pretty leisurely on top of him.
“Thanks.”
And then Ellis moved his arm - the not-pointing one - to rest his hand - their hands - over Nick’s hip properly.
“Easy, tiger.”
“Sorry.”
Still, Ellis didn’t move his hand.
Nick didn’t make him move it, either.
He chanced it, took a breath, felt his heart pounding, felt that thumb run over his hand again -
-
Nick was Greek.
So he probably knew all of this 'stars’ shit anyway.
26 notes
·
View notes
Note
Had some motivation to draw your Kashmir OC, and I know it’s not the best but I enjoyed drawing her lol :)
AAAAA OMG THA K YOU YHABK YOU THANK YOU QWQ I NEVER THOUGHT ANYONE ELSE WOULD WANT MY OC THAT EVEN I SOMETKMES FORGET ABOUT. SHES SO PRETTY OMG
SO HERE ARE EXPANDED KASHMIR HCS they were meant to be hcs but kinds if got out of control
She is short, 5'3 only, and pretty slight all things considered, unlike Haryana. Who for that matter always absolutely stuffs her if she ever comes over because Punjab needs backup bc Haryana is in her shit shit shit I need to feed everyone stage which happens at least once ever 2 to 3 years.
Speaking of her relationship with Punjab, which is to be fair one of the only things I have fleshed out here, they get along in the way that the enemy of ky enemy is my friend but in a joking way, ish, neither particularly want to be part of India, both have strong separatists movements (I personally have severe beef with both movements but thafs just personal reasons) they both have a history of religious violence, incredible pain during the partition (what used to be punjab before the partition was much much larger, and a lot of it got split into pakistani punjab, his sister, who is constantly sick and not having a good time)
idk I think he might have tried to substitute his sister with Kashmir, who has a brother of her own, Jammu, who has the capital for half the year and she has it for the rest, he cares for her deeply, and has ended up caring for punjab a lot too because that man is fucking lost and he needs help.
The three have a type of "Oh shit you're nearly as fucked up as I am going on." They all got fucked severely by the partition, thus having too many seperationist movements, religious conflict, not so great infrastructure and a general hatred towards the main government.
J&Ks infrastructure has gotten a lot better in the past decade, it is no longer a state per se since 2019, union territory but shut up, apparently when my mum got married you couldn't even reliably drive a car because the roads were so bad you would kill the suspension in a moment so horses were still main modes of transport, this wasn't even that long ago, late 90s early 2000s.
Which is a shame, J&K is so fucking pretty, natural beauty a plenty, mountains and all, and comparatively to places like dehli, Mumbai amritsar etc Srinagar is very, very clean, she feeds all the stray dogs, she has befriended them, I hc her to have one, a Bakherwal (?) Dog, very friendly to most people, has particular beef with India and China, they know its personal, he is spoiled rotten by Jammu and punjab who keeps on giving him roti.
Both Jammu and Kashmir have a fondness for mutton and chicken, they eat so much rice that its not even funny, so much bloody rice. They are not good at making dhaal but make very good sabjis. But make them wet bc they eat it with fucking rice (I'm sorry I'm pissed that my dad manages to make aloo gobi a fucking curry how di you do that??)
anyhow I might elaborate on these later. Maybe
#Hws Kashmir#Damn I have ocs now#The heam speaks#A lot of bad waffle about Indian history#Also funny thing. You wrote Kashmir did you eat MY laddus again which makes it even funnier
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey virtuo so firstly i might be drunk maybe i dont know and i won't tell you
And secondly like see how gorgoes i might be at jokes, hold up wrong term, see how processional im trying to be at jokes
Please acknowledge it im trying my best to make you laugh im not so funny but see how great im trying its funny right ?
Anyhow nice kitty you got there
Man if only i can pet it
Mioletta
Mioletta,,, babe,,, where was the warning I'd have taken shots to catch up,,,miolet and mirtue drunk hours one day
You're fucking hysterical Vio,,, you know I think that right?,,,
Baby, baby come here, imma hold you and get you drinking water okay. Do you need me to hold your hair back? Rub your back a little?
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Vicious
Part III
Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader
Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, brief mentions of blackmail and prostitution, all characters are adults.
Words: 1135.
Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.
Part I
Part II
___________
Bewildered by Steve’s words, you froze, still hoping it was all a joke. He had literally made a schedule for you. What then? Were they going to assign each other roles or something? Make a play out of it?
“Of course, I will finish working on a set of rules soon. I need a couple more days, I think.” Rogers said, and Bucky’s eyes rolled skyward.
“Steve, please. Don’t you think it’s too much?” He breathed out tiredly and rubbed his face, others staring at his best friend with the same expression of disinterest.
“I’m not going to set some draconian rules to make your life more difficult. But we need to know when most students leave the main building, when it's safe to be in the library, and so on. That’s what I’ll be working on.”
Well, that didn’t sound too bad, but you thought that Steve, someone who was used to being a leader, could also get used to giving orders to all of you. You certainly did want it to happen because now it looked more and more like some police operation rather than a school play you thought of first.
“Anyway, it’s getting late.” Loki got up the sofa, and you stared at his well-cut black jacket and pants that fit him perfectly - no doubt, they were made specially for him by a tailor. “Since it’s Tuesday, I guess it’s my turn to walk the lady back to the dorm.”
He sounded very sarcastic, and you shivered, not very eager to stay alone with him, but others were already getting up, intending to leave. Dammit. Out of them all Loki seemed the least harmless, and you dreaded walking the empty corridors with him. Why nobody objected to him being in this protection squad?
“Don’t try anything stupid.” Bucky snorted as he passed by the guy who was supposed to be your personal guard for this evening, and Loki sent him a sly smile as if he definitely wanted to try something others wouldn’t like.
“Let’s go, shall we?”
Nodding, you left the student council room and tried to keep your distance - you hoped he wouldn’t curl his arm around your waist or touch you anyhow because the thought made your stomach churn. Loki definitely saw it in your face, and his smirk got wider.
Keeping quiet, you were walking together until you left the main building. Out of all people, why did he agreed to something like that? Maybe you could understand why Peter got involved, but Loki? He seemed the misanthropic kind who wanted to do nothing with people. Judging by the way he looked, talked, and moved, he was brought up in a wealthy family. Loki had an air of superiority around him the way Steve had, but he was different: while Steve seemed to be carrying a burden, Loki enjoyed the effect he had on people.
Why somebody like him was getting involved in your mess? For the sheer sense of control?
“No need to be so afraid.” He said nonchalantly, and you pursed your lips like you’d been chewing a lemon rind. Yes, it was definitely for the sense of control.
“I’m not afraid. Not of you, at least.” You sighed. “You don’t look like a person who’d be walking around stealing girls’ lingerie.”
“What if I am?”
Scoffing, you raised your head to look him in the eyes - Loki was rather tall, and you were forced to look up at him.
“If you ever needed a girl’s underwear, I bet you’d just go and ask for it. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a girlfriend or something.”
Funny enough, now his attitude was making you act way braver than in the student council room just a couple of minutes ago. For some reason, just his expression alone was making you want to stand up to him, despite the fact Loki didn’t say anything offensive to you. You didn’t feel scared at all as if all fear vanished once you left the room.
“Can’t say you’re wrong. Although I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment, I could take a taxi to the city right now, go to a club and pay some girl to do whatever I want.” The naked truth made you frown, but Loki carried on as if nothing had happened. “But it's getting... old.”
Was he so rich to the point he would do this? Was it something so casual to him he spoke of it freely? You thought you’d never really met a person who openly admitted they paid to a prostitute. Well, obviously, Loki couldn’t care less about opinions of others, you included.
“This doesn’t explain why you agreed to help me. I don’t think you’d come just because Steve asked you to.”
“True. I just thought it would be entertaining.”
Watching the dormitory building growing bigger in front of you with your every step, you bit down on your lower lip. It was exactly as you thought, Loki simply wanted an entertainment while having someone under his control to please his ego.
Although it didn’t look nice, at least he wasn’t among those creeps who had been following you and stealing your things. If any of them were to disturb you, you had a feeling Loki would me most displeased - if you were to be in his care, somebody messing with you would probably make him feel like he's not in control, and it would make him furious, you thought.
“Listen, I’m being serious. I know what effect I have on people, and I’m not surprised you don’t like me.” He suddenly said, and you tensed again. “But I’m not the one you have to be worrying about. I’m not here to trick you into thinking I’m your knight in shining armor. You better be careful around the others. They’ll do whatever it takes to gain your favors.”
Suddenly stopping before you two could enter the dorm, he asked you for your phone number and gave you a quick call to ensure you would have his contact details when you might need him.
Perplexed by his words to the point you lost your vigor, you wanted to ask him who exactly he was talking about, but then you thought Loki meant all of them, all other four guys who seemed more or less harmless to you. Did he say that because he wanted to gain your favors? Or was it because he knew something about them you didn't?
____________
"Just don't act like a silly little sheep around them. I know you got a sharp tongue, so you better remember it when they'll try to force you do something they want. Steve's right about one thing: people need to know you can protect yourself. Those four have to remember it, too."
Part IV
Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegarden @goodgodimaweirdperson
#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x reader#thor x reader#loki x reader#peter parker x reader#dark steve rogers#dark bucky barnes#dark thor#dark loki#dark peter parker#yandere
342 notes
·
View notes
Text
PI 4.16 - Evil Walks Softly review
This week was very serious. And sure the premises; a bomb going of that’s for serious, but it was serious in tone too. Which Magnum often isn’t. I mean even poisoned Magnum was cracking jokes. No jokes in this one. Magnum and Higgins were just 100% focused on the case (well Magnum was having some guilty-sad-regret-y feeling about his mom too). Which I liked but made the episode feel a bit different from normal.
I love that it got us the end scene which kept that tone but let us get a little bit more insight to what Magnum was thinking and feeling through-out as well as giving us soft Higgy. Both of which I’m here for.
I mean… Juliet not only saying yes to staying for beers, being all feelings=not running away but also a comforting hand squeezes?
How could I not be here for it?
Is just so nice when they have end of case/episode moments and talks.
Side plot wise… while they are helping out at the disaster site TC gets to make things right with fire fighter lady he ghosted a year+ ago.
It too felt really both funny and serious because Rick and Kumu are so amused but TC was clearly feeling bad about it even after a long time and was super awkward. It was a bit of a random thing to throw in too, she super stunning and seems cool (fire fighter!!!) though so I guess I’m not complaining.
Especially as she did agree to go out with him again. Wait? Are they’re pairing everyone up this season? Why does this make me worried? Like are they scared they’re not getting a season 5 and wants to give everyone HEA? (Also why does HEA always require a BF/GF?)
The case this week…well, I guess it was interesting. I like cases where the person in question really can’t got to the police because they have (or in this case that someone they love have) done something slightly shady.
Magnum and Higgins once more think it’s a good idea to lie to Gordon and get chewed out for it…
(But he forgives them, as always. I mean they so pretty I’d forgive em too…)
Bad guy being the neighbor using the kid to rob a bank and threatening his mom felt like a bit obvious. I mean, not the robbing a bank part, but because no one else was introduced in his life as a possible red herring it was him or no one. I guess better obvious than totally out of nowhere random stuff though.
This scene where Rider is all confess-y when Bad Guy (who was threatening to kill his mom) was right there cozying up to her, well, I think just maybe-just maybe a slightly unstable mourning teen whose just been through some serious shit would have said or lashed out or done something. But maybe not. Maybe he was sure it would all go wrong and his mom would die, so he confessed. That might have made sense to a teen brain as well… (Or was just more convenient for him not to speak up… because Magnum and Higgins needed to solve the case and save the day.)
Anyhow, the solving of case was not really the focus, it was all about saving the kid even if it was from his own actions and words. But I liked it. I felt pretty bad about it all. At least they got the bad guys and hopefully a lawyer got Rider some sort of deal.
Least favorite part of the episode was the start; Higgins run with Maleah. IDK but to me it felt very disjointed from the rest of this serious episode, also while it’s funny with Juliet going “why is everyone shipping us these days” those are def. not words I imagine coming out of Juliet Higgins mouth.
Further there was no real call back to anything related to their little chat, which just made it feel strange… I guess someone just wanted to have the line “We gotta talk about Miggins…” in an episode and they’re building up to something Miggy for the finale so they’re add little bits like this in. But I mean for as much as we got out of the interaction, we could have had Maleah asking Juliet for tips on yoga studios or new computers or healthy smoothie recipes!
(If she had show might have finally passed the Bechdel test… because I’m frankly not sure we have and it’s been 4 seasons, but I could be wrong maybe we have some scene with Kumu and Higgy or a client and Higgy talking about something not to do with a guy?)
Juliet not giving an inch or sharing any of her actual thoughts or feels was in character though. And it was fun. BUT it would have fit better in another episode IMHO.
Or if there had been some little call back to Kumu asking Maleah “how’d it go?” “my ass is sore” and Kumu going “not that part” and then Maleah smiling and the scene ending, so it’s hinted that Kumu is the one to have pushed her to ask. Because does Maleah spend enough time around Magnum and Higgins to notice? Maybe… it’s pretty obvious at this point.
Anyways, this despite the banter (?) with Maleah and spending the whole case together and then having a moment there at the end (still smiling about the whole “my mom would have really liked you”) this was not an overly Miggy episode to me.
Like even when she stays for beers, it’s not actually (as much as I’d like it to be) her being ready to take a step forward in their relationship. It’s her seeing that her friend and partner is hurting and wanting to stay for him, to comfort him and help him. At least that’s how I read it. It was still a super nice moment and shows how much she’s grown even in just like the past year when it comes to reading his feelings.
So, low on the UST in this but high on the BFF/best partner energy and this is why they’re my OTP. I love them just as much when they’re just being there for each other as we’re they’re giving each other fuck me eyes for 42 minutes (I mean there is one or two hungry eyes in this too, but not nearly as many as some episodes).
Looking forward to 4.17 but also sad because dang, we only got what? 4 episodes to go? But my birthday is the 31th so I’m going to pretend 4.17 is a special late birthday gift to me and thus very much worth waiting for!
#magnum PI#Magnum PI my review#my review#magnum pi 4.16 review#thomas magnum#juliet higgins#otp#miggins#miggy
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Friends, foreigners, countrymen. It's time for another edition of...
The Worst Movie on Netflix Right Now™
Alright, tonight we're going to talk about a movie called:
The Royal Treatment. This movie is the latest entry in the Netflix Royal Cinematic Universe. Is that a real thing you might ask? Yes. Yes, it is. This movie centers around Thomas, the Prince of Lavania, and Izzy, a hairstylist from Queens. Lavania is apparently next door to Aldovia of A Christmas Prince fame, so I guess we're somewhere in Europe where there are still small monarchies with enough royalty to go around for every type of single girl you got. Journalist? Check. Baker? Check. And now hairstylist. CHECK.
Alright here's the plot (if you need me to warn you about spoilers, I don't know how to fucking help you cause everything that happens here is 100% predictable as if someone wrote one fucking movie back in 1992 and we're just repeating them with a different lens filter ever since). Annnnnnyhow.
Izzy owns a salon in Queens. She saunters about her morning to the usual up-tempo pop beats, gliding through the city streets like weather does not exist, establishing her character with a series of only semi-believable interactions with the people of her neighborhood who all adore her of course like this is the opening to fucking Mr. Rogers.
She arrives at work to find her salon on fire. OH NO!
The property manager shows up to deal with the electrical fire and tells her it will cost her $2,000 to fix it. And because she's a responsible and experienced and successful business owner, she says, "Wow, that seems high. Let me check my lease to see if this repair should be covered. Also, why don't you show me the electrician's receipt and I will pay you for the actual cost. Or, how about I call around to some electricians and get a few estimates."
LOL. No, that's not what she says. She goes and gets the cash from her travel money and while all the equally oblivious quirky side characters in the salon gasp at this injustice and sacrifice, she hands over the cash. But because she's paying the property manager in cash, she asks him to sign a receipt and... LOL no.
It is in this state of financial desperation that the phone rings with a request from the visiting Prince of Lavania's butler. He needs a haircut. At first she thinks it's a joke. Then she starts to wonder... so she looks at her phone and asks the quirky salon side characters "Hey, what's the country code for Lavania?" At which point she realizes woah this is the real thing. And all of that would make sense IF SHE WASN'T ON A FUCKING LANDLINE FROM 1985.
...the fuck are you looking at Izzy? There's no screen there!!??!?!?11?
Alright, so she goes to give this haircut. Meets the prince who looks pretty bad and I guess that's supposed to be funny and is sort of the point, I don't know here he is, you come to your own conclusions.
That this movie has anywhere to go from this point is a small miracle. Anyhow, they have a little cute exchange, but then Thomas sort of rudely ignores a staff member and allows another staff member to be mean... in other words there's an incident, and Izzy walks out. I mean, that's what I would do too if I had witnessed something unsavory after I had just paid my entire $2,000 savings to a crooked property manager. NO I WOULDN'T. JUST DO THE JOB AND GET PAID GIRL. RUDE IS NOT THE SAME AS CRUEL OR EXPLOITATIVE. GET PAID.
Blah blah blah, she goes back to her salon and the Prince eventually finds her and she gives him a better haircut, and then this happens and that happens and before you know it she and her quirky salon sidekicks are heading to Lavania to be the stylists for the Prince and his fiance for his upcoming royal wedding.
(fwiw, the haircut is a definite improvement but I'm still not buying what he's selling)
Are you getting annoyed with my pace here? Yeah me too, we're only like 12 minutes into the movie at this point.
The thing is, the rest of this movie doesn't fucking matter. Like there's nothing to this movie. There's no real villain. There's nothing particularly interesting or romantic. The Prince is no more intriguing than soggy cornflakes. Like nothing is happening in this movie. Big takeaways from this movie?
#1 - Izzy is very Italian. Is this a caricature? I don't know, ask someone else.
#2 - Izzy's sidekicks are very Queens. Is this a caricature? I don't know, ask someone else.
#3 - Thomas is the most boring prince to ever prince. Does Thomas have hobbies? Does he have aspirations? Does he have any goals or desires other than not to follow through with his arranged marriage? I DON'T FUCKING KNOW.
What I wouldn't give for some Prince & The Revolution halfway through this movie.
It is absolutely baffling to me that Izzy grows to seemingly like or even BLEH-GAG love this guy. But here's the worst part:
By the end of the movie, it comes out that the royal coffers are fucking empty. Tommy's stuck in this arranged engagement (to a perfectly beautiful and lovely young woman with more life goals than he has) because his parents are penniless and need some Texas billionaire to bail them out. YOU GUYS.
Prince Tommy is BROKE.
So... the upshot of this fantasy romance movie is that Izzy winds up with a BROKE-ASS PRINCE who has NO MARKETABLE SKILLS. I... who... what... why... what...!?!?! Is this a fantasy or a fucking horror movie?
(Worth noting that there's a whole bunch of weird stuff in the middle of this movie that I ignored like the fact that Lavania is portrayed as some sort of multicultural 1950s Roma-inspired fantasy-land:
I don't know quite which culture we're referencing/stealing here, but uh, it sure is colorful!)
The one thing I somewhat enjoyed in this movie was the 1950s/1960s (I think) Italian music. There are at least three music cues in this movie that are a lot of fun, and that's because of the music.
But that all entirely disappears when the film ends with some KNOCK OFF version of Whitney Houston's classic "I Want to Dance with Somebody," which is such a straight rip of the song in the chorus in this weird almost-maybe sort of way, that you will be like uhhhh what copyright-slagging-shenanigans is this shit?!?!?
Just you know... here, around the 1:16 second mark:
youtube
Like... wtf is even happening here? Welp, just went down a brief rabbit hole and discovered that the singer is also the actress who plays the main character.
*deep sigh*
*pinches bridge of nose*
Anyhow. To recap - Izzy has ended this movie in love with a Prince with no money and she now has responsibility for supporting a grown-ass man with no job and no ambitions.
I'll pray for you Izzy.
#ptpt reviews#the worst movie on netflix right now#i need a radio station#with all 1950s and 1960s italian hits#cause those are a good time#unless they're not real#which is possible#cause i'm not researching this#but i did enjoy#Youtube
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 1):
The Gifted Child Syndrome is Real with this One...
*Rubs hands together in preparation for some juicy data and in-depth analysis of the typical member of the DTeam Tumblr community*
Ooooooooh boy! Here we go!
I want to start of by thanking you guys for over 400 responses to the demographics survey! Y’all have no idea how much I appreciate it! We have so much to cover, so I’m going to divide up different sections of the survey into several posts to make it more digestable and do justice to each topic explored in the form! We’re going to start of with, you guessed it, personality types!
Strap yourself in because we’re about to thoroughly dissect your sub-conscious innerworkings and find out how the typical DTeam Tumblr Fan thinks! (And judging by the majority personality types, you guys will probably enjoy it)
The Delicious Data
From the 449 responses we received, this is a pie chart displaying the personality types of all respondents.
Image Description: INFP (40.5%), INTP (15.1%), INFJ (8.9%), INTJ (8.9%), ISFP (6.9%), ENFP (4.2%), ISTP (4.0%), ENTP (3.8%), ESFP (1.6%), ISFJ (1.6%), ENTJ (1.3%), ENFJ (1.3%), ISTJ (1.1%), ESTP (0.4%), ESFJ (0.2%), ESTJ (0%)
In comparison, this is a pie chart displaying the personality type percentages of the population as a whole according to the MBTI website.
Image Description: ISTP (14%), ESFJ (12%), ISTJ (12%), ISFP (9%), ESTJ (9%), ESFP (8%) ENFP (8%), ISTP (5%), INFP (4%), ESTP (4%), INTP (3%), ENTP (3%), ENFJ (2%), INTJ (2%), ENTJ (2%), INFJ (1%)
I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing a tiny difference here... Oh, right!
INxx’s on the Loose!
It’s funny. When I first found one of the 18+ DTeam fan servers through Tumblr, I asked everyone what their personality type was. I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of them told me they were INFPs like me!
It actually reminded me of MatPat’s (Game Theory) survey for one of his Life Is Strange theories that found the majority personality there was also INFP...
Funny enough, can you guess what the second leading personality on that survey was? The third? The fourth?
You probably guessed it right. MatPat found that out of the fans who responded, the leading majority was INFP while INTPs came in second, INFJs came in third, and INTJs came in fourth. The exact order for the personality types in DTeam Tumblr.
But why is it that some of the rarer personalities of the world are dominating DTeam Tumblr or Game Theory’s fanbase? What is it about these communities that attract the rare introverted Intuitive Perceivers (INxP) and Intuitive Judgers (INxJ) of the world like magnets?
The Gifted Kid Syndrome
To answer this question, first we have to examine our leading personalities. As we can see from the data, INFPs and INTPs make up 55.6% and INFJs and INTJs make up 17.8% of the total respondents. That’s nearly 3/4′s of the DTeam Tumblr population made up of INxx types!
Now, here’s me calling y’all out.
A lot of you probably relate to the quiet kid sitting at the back of the classroom who’s put into some type of TAG, gifted program, or some authority figure has probably called you smart and/or “gifted” at some point in your life. Academics probably came easy to you at one point, maybe they still do.
You’ve probably felt your chest swell up at the shower of compliments about your intelligence and at another... you’ve probably felt like people put you in a pedestal and overrate you so you’re stuck with this inherent fear of failure, and it causes you to completely shut down when the things that came easy to you at one point no longer do so.
It’s gifted kid syndrome hitting you like a brick to the face. And if it hasn’t yet, oh you’re in for a surprise, honey.
And I’m sure many of you have come across funny, relatable posts like this:
And you want to know why most of you relate?
Image Description: INTP, INTJ, INFP, anf INFJ’s rate the highest in a giftedness per MBTI Type chart
No. You’re not hallucinating. It’s not even a joke at this point. It feels true because it probably is true.
(Granted, the study that captured similar results to this graph is long lost to the internet, but the best source I found with it was a reddit post I will be citing in the reblog.)
Now, my next point is where we find a split.
INFPs and INTPs and their Need to Question Everything (even if it’s about one sentence [insert creator here] said that one time during a 4-hour long stream)
The strongest connection I found between the two leading personalities of DTeam Tumblr is they share Extraverted Intuiting (Ne) as their auxiliary cognitive function.
I’ll use a quote that explains Ne better than I could ever explain it in my own words:
“Extraverted intuition or Ne is very much focused on patterns and making connections from information they gather... Ne dominant users enjoy being able to explore things in a much more open manner, not wanting to feel closed off to the possibilities around them... They are also highly imaginative people, who enjoy being able to come up with unique hobbies and experiences... They are not afraid of imagining things which seem almost impossible to others... [For INFPs,] Ne is what creates this detailed and incredible thoughts process which keeps them busy for long periods of time.”
And another:
“Auxiliary Ne manifests in people constantly questioning the world around them, but unlike ENxPs, they can be more pick and choose about this. But generally, they don’t take people, things and events at face value.“
Now, think about the community you’re in right now. Think about the post you’re reading at the moment.
DTeam Tumblr is full of over-analysis posts, whether about Dream and George’s secret love for each other or about the inherent problems with Dream’s shipbait and gay jokes or theories about what’s going to happen next in the dream SMP lore and the dramatic betrayals and creator’s descend into madness and more theories about sexuality and charts depicting creator’s personalities and what they’d be likely to do in different scenarios and... ooof, I’m out of breath here. You get my point.
DTeam Tumblr is literally a group of ex-gifted or gifted introverted people who love to read or write analysis, theory, and discussion posts about sweaty Minecraft Youtubers because they’re probably too overwhelmed by real life and find joy in obsessing over “dumb” things.
That’s it. That’s literally the post. I might as well end there.
But I won’t.
Because obsessions is exactly what I want to focus on next.
The Inherent Nature of the INFP and their “Micro-Obsessions”
This is me having a one-to-one conversation with all my INFPs reading this.
Do you sometimes just set your mind on a goal--like, let’s say, writing a book--and you spend so much time obsessing over it to the point where you burn out and suddenly it never sees the light of day because you move onto your next goal or obsession because now you’re getting ready to launch your freelance website so you can start a business on [insert new hobby here]?
Or do you just suddenly find a fandom or a show or a channel you really enjoy and you spend the next few months doing nothing but engaging with it and reading fanfiction and drawing fan art or making dumb analysis posts on your main Tumblr account where suddenly you get an influx of followers from that community and now people are expecting you to just post about MCYT!?
Oh, sorry, I got a little carried away at the end there...
Anyhow, my point is, do you ever develop an obsession over something all the sudden only for it to just disappear when you find something new or just fall into the deep crevices of your mind only for it to maybe reemerge a few years later after you get a deep sense of nostalgia remembering it?
I call them micro-obsessions. And I recently found out, I’m not the only one who does this!
Here’s another quote for you:
“According to Carl Jung’s theory of cognitive functions, when an INFP makes a decision, Ne comes in second to another process known as Introverted Feeling (Fi). Fi does not use logic to make a decision. It uses how we feel about the decision according to our values. In other words, it asks, “Which choice feels right for me?”
Ne, on the other hand, craves new ideas and experiences to explore, which causes INFPs to always be on the lookout for something novel.
Unfortunately, INFPs can get stuck in a loop, going back and forth between their Ne and Fi. They search to understand their values by constantly trying new things. They ask themselves, “Does this feel right?” then throw it over their shoulder as they move on to something else.”
So, you’re probably asking right about now, Light, how the heck does any of this have anything to do with the Dream Team and MCYT!?
Well, my friend, it has EVERYTHING to do with the Dream Team and MCYT and DTeam Tumblr as a whole.
Because INxx’s are predisposed to end up in places like this--fandoms on Tumblr, channels that speculate whether Mario is evil, watching dramatic Minecraft smp wars and elections as opposed to looking at the news that depicts Murphy’s Law as 2020′s new favorite epigram.
The introvert in them causes them to prefer socializing in small communities online where they’re not forced to engage in conversations if they don’t want to or put into uncomfortable situations where they have to talk to that one friend of their friend who wants to make meaningless small chat.
Their Intuition causes them to wonder into places like Tumblr where they can engage in deep discussions about their newest obsessions, and they won’t be judged for writing a 500+ word post about why Dream’s shipbait tactics are a genius algorithm strat or simping over sweaty Minecraft boys.
DTeam Tumblr is a safe haven for INFPs and INTPs who might be placed in the “other” category or marked as weird for being interested in “childish” entertainment or being different from the general population overall, whether that’d be sexuality, point of view, age, gender, etc. A place where you can fully be yourself and not have to worry about disappointing people.
INFPs are predisposed for drowning themselves in their micro-obsessions to avoid all of the madness in the world--even if that means giggling like a little girl while reading memes about your favorite Minecraft YouTube creators.
That is a deep-dive into the mind of a typical DTeam Tumblr user. What do you think? Is it accurate at all? Is it completely off? Let me know in the comments!
And with that, I digress. I’m not sure whether I’ll be covering general demographics next week or diving into the topic of ships (could be a mix of both), but I will be posting about it eventually, so make sure to hit the follow if you got to the end of this post and enjoyed it or learned something new from it!
Friendly reminder that this survey and post is in no way supposed to be taken 100% seriously. These are just the ramblings of a math major INFP with too much time on her hands and way too big of an obsession for MCYT. My asks are always open for literally anything, whether if you want to ask me about this or any DNF related subject, my own opinions, or just criticize the whole of this post and tell me it’s complete trash! I’ll answer as long as it’s appropriate!
And, again, thank you everyone who filled out the survey. Without y’all, this post wouldn’t be possible. I really enjoyed writing it! Adios!
#dteam#dteamblr#dttblr#mcyt#dreamwastaken#georgenotfound#sapnap#dreamnotfound#dnf#dream team#dream smp#dteamblr demographics survey#analysis
526 notes
·
View notes
Text
M is for Maybe One Day
Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid
Warnings: Discussion of marriage and children.
Word count: 1.7k
Summary: Spencer and reader have a conversation about their future.
A/N: This is the angst free version of part M! If you’re looking for the version that contains angst, that’s here. This is the main scene from the story and is designed so that people who don’t feel comfortable with the potentially upsetting content from the angst-version are still able to enjoy this version. Let me know what you think! :)
Part of The A-Z of Spencer Reid but works as a stand-alone.
You’re awake before Spencer is. You don’t want to risk waking him up by disentangling yourself, so you stay right where you are, unsure of what time it is. You’re infinitely happier curled up in his arms than you would be by being bestowed with that knowledge.
It can only be early, anyhow. There’s only a trickle of light pooling under the curtains. The big living room light got left on last night, you knew Spencer needed it to keep the darkness at bay. It pokes into the room through the gap in the not-quite-closed door, allowing you to get a relatively good look at him.
His hair is a wreck. Even in sleep, you can see the bags firmly indented under his eyes. His mouth is open. No snores come out, only tiny breaths escape the lips formed into an ‘o’ shape.
He looks peaceful.
Unencumbered by any of the worries from yesterday. You close your eyes, deciding that getting a few more hours sleep can’t hurt.
It’s then that he moves. He wiggles his fingers, more than likely trying to wake up the arm that’s gone dead with you lying on it. You open your eyes, and his face floods with guilt. The exact face he makes when you find him hobbling around the apartment without his crutches.
“Sorry,” He squeaks, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“I was awake already,” You reassure him, adjusting your position so that he can move his arm, “Did you sleep well?”
He visibly relaxes, his voice raspy with sleep, “I slept okay. Better because you were here.”
You hum. Opening your arms, you nod for him to move. He does, coming to settle himself with his head resting on your chest. There’s a peaceful lull. The residents of Virginia aren’t awake yet, so you’re enveloped in the kind of quiet that only comes with the early hours of the morning. No cars racing past or mothers upstairs on a mission to suck every piece of dust out of their apartment, and potentially yours too.
You feel the low rumble of his throat before you hear it, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
You’re not quite sure how long you lie like that. In this liminal space between asleep and wakefulness, night and morning. Your brain starts to wander, trying to settle on anything to use as a rope to escape the reality of last night that bites at your ankles.
For some reason, it settles on Derek. The image of him at his desk.
Planning to raise the next generation of Einsteins?
“I was thinking,” You murmur, playing with a piece of his hair, “I was talking to Derek last week. He was talking about Garcia, and how they’ve spoken about having kids. I mean, I know they’ve been together a lot longer but, it got me thinking.”
He pulls back. For a moment, you’re afraid you’ve gone too far. Then he swallows, his lips curling upwards into a small smile.
“Would you want to-” He cuts himself off, clearing his throat, “Would that be something you could see yourself wanting someday? To marry me?”
“I’d love to marry you,” You tell him, lifting your fingers to his face to trace over the familiar lines of his cheekbones, the points of his face a dot-to-dot you could connect in your sleep.
He smiles, “Would you be Mrs Reid?”
“Of course I’d be Mrs Reid. I’d hate to disappoint the aquarium.”
“Well in that case-” He pretends to move, as if to shift towards the bedside table.
“You don’t have a ring in there.”
“Not yet.”
“It’d be a bad place to keep it.”
“Or it might work as a double bluff.”
“I know your bluffs. Double or triple or quadruple.”
He scrunches his nose, “I don’t think I’ve ever quadruple bluffed.”
“You might one day.”
“I suppose if you’re going to be Mrs Reid you’ll get the chance to find out.”
"I’d like to be Mrs Reid,” You tell him, sincere once more, “I can’t imagine myself ever being with anybody else.”
“I can’t imagine what my life would look like without you in it now,” He says, his voice painfully earnest, cracking a bit at the end.
“Neither can I.”
There’s a shift in atmosphere. Small but significant, one that has you staring at him. Trying to piece together how this ended up being your life. How you went from co-workers at desks next to one another exchanging pleasantries, a man you called Dr Reid for the first week of knowing him until he cracked and insisted you called him Spencer. How you transformed from that to this, caterpillars entering a caramel chrysillis and making it out the other side, soaring through near death experiences and aquarium trips and job offers at Caltech.
There’s been a lot, really.
He interrupts your thoughts, so softly it barely jolts you, “I-I’ve known it for a while now. I’m not sure when I realised but I think that, that we just make it work.”
“We do,” You agree, “That’s what I said to Derek. I think we just understand each other.”
“I never really felt like anybody ever understood me,” He mumbles, his voice dropping as it becomes more sincere, shifting his face more into the pillow, “My whole life I um, I sort of felt out of place. I didn’t always understand peoples jokes or know how to talk to them. I didn’t think I’d ever find somewhere I felt like I belonged.”
His voice wavers. You kiss the top of his forehead, not interrupting, just reassuring.
He continues, “Joining the BAU changed things. Meeting Morgan and Garcia especially. They made me feel like, for the first time in my life, I had friends. Who weren’t annoyed by everything that I said.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” You tell him, your hand coming to rest at the nape of his neck to play with the stray hairs there, “You never do and I understand why. But you’re more than smart. I love your brain, and your memory, and I admire all of that. But you’re also thoughtful,” You punctuate each assertion with a kiss to his knuckles, “And kind. And funny. And you make me feel so loved.”
He sniffles a bit, lifting his head. You can see the tears sparkling in his eyes, and you bring your interlocked hand to his chin, your thumb resting there. He swallows, and you pause for a moment before speaking again.
“And if I was ever going to have a family, there’s nobody I’d rather do it with than you.”
“Really?” He’s winded by the assertion, his breath catching in his throat, “You’d want a family with me?”
“Of course I do. love you. You’d make the most amazing dad in the world Spence.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know so. Look at how you are with Henry and Jack. You’re the best Uncle ever,” You murmur, “Raising kids with you is the best decision I could make.”
He‘s quiet. Soaking it in. He holds you tighter against his body, essentially putting you back into your place against his neck. The comforting scent of him, and the feeling of his big hands rubbing steady circles on your back, is grounding in the extreme.
Though you’re soothed, you can tell when he’s thinking. His jaw tightens, just a little bit. As if he’s chewing the words. Trying to decide whether to swallow them or let them slip out.
“I think I’d um, I’d retire.”
Slip out.
“You’d what?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice but it filters through.
“I’d probably um, I’d probably look into teaching. I don’t think I could ever leave our children. Not,” He sniffles, and you know without looking that there’s a tear making its way down his cheek, “Not when there’s a chance I might not come home. I couldn’t do that to them.”
“Okay,” You say, “I’d support you whatever you wanted to do. I was only surprised because I know how much you love the job.”
“You love yours too. I’d never expect you to give it up so we could have children. Not unless you wanted to.”
Of course that’s part of it.
“I know,” You reply, “I know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about the practicality of it. But I know what you mean.”
He swallows, “It’s more than that. I just um. I’d want to be around. All the time.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you can tell there’s more he’s not saying. You adorn his Adam’s apple with a soft kiss, and he lets out a puffy exhale.
“I um, I never thought that this is something I’d get to want. Kids and a wife and a family. Now that it is, now that I get the chance,” He trails off, swallowing, “Now that I have that chance I would never do anything to risk losing it. Or missing a single moment of it. I want to give them a happy childhood. I want to teach them to play chess and watch cartoons on a Sunday and just give them...give them a lifetime of good memories. Not a lifetime of them staring at the door wondering if I’m going to make it home.”
He wants to give them what he never had.
Shifting, you adjust, looking him in the eyes. A tear is making its way down his cheekbone, one you thumb away. Cradling his face in your hands, you can’t help but smile. They aren’t sad tears like you’d expected, his eyes gleam with pure adoration. He’s not sad about the past. He’s happy about the future.
The realisation brings a tear to your eyes, and you can barely get the words out past the lump in your throat, “Maybe one day we’ll be waking up on Saturdays to take our kids to the park.”
The love in his eyes is mirrored and magnified in your own. You can’t be certain whether it’s that or your words that coax another tear out of his eye, but it’s barely passed the bridge of his nose before he’s giving you the biggest wateriest smile, “I’m looking forward to that day.”
So am I.
-
Next part: N is for New Place (i promise it’s onwards and upwards from here!!)
78 notes
·
View notes
Note
I would kill for some awkward sex headcanons with your faves. Who has trouble getting it up? Who applies the condom on wrong? Who yells out the wrong name in the heat of things? Also, who cums in your eye and y’all have to come knocking on 4th division, blinded as you are by the wet ass money shot 👁👁
I can not express how much I fucking love this ask. Here are your unfortunately spicy takes below. @tater-tati come get your juice. please don’t get it in your eye. <3
Features: smut. not the fun kind but the funny kind. sometimes the sad kind.
Who has trouble getting it up?
1. As Nodt. Not only is he scared of death, but of ‘the little death’. He fucks like its the last thing he’s gonna do and will probably not have the courage to go all the way anyhow. RIP to anyone who wants to get nutted in. Your man gets soft the moment you ask him to cum.
2. Mayuri Kurotsuchi. It is truly painful how much this man wants to be above sex. He takes anti-depressants just to flaccid and Logical when you won’t leave him in peace. He’d be first place, but he refuses to permanently fuck with his huge wrinkly brain (tm).
3. Jushiro Ukitake. Poor guy just gets really worn out some days and either can’t start or fizzles out before he can finish. Just reassure him it’s fine and allow him to finish through with his fingers and mouth so he can salvage his dignity and it should be alright.
4. Ulquiorra Cifer. It’s not something with a firm explanation or cause. Sometimes he just can’t keep in the moment or the bodily feelings he has will just...leave. There’s really no tell or situation that keeps these bouts of numbness from happening, so sex can be a real roll of the dice. He’ll shrug it off and continue on without his third leg (wing?) though.
5. Ryuken Ishida. He’s become very adept at shoving the majority of bad thoughts and feelings down with keeping his mind on work. Unfortunately, this means sex can be a struggle when visualizing how busy he is gets in the way of visualizing you on top of him. Isn’t usually a problem since sexual escapades with him don’t usually involve his dick. (Kink master works around emotional and bodily problems: more at 5.)
Who applies the condom on wrong?
1. Byakuya Kuchiki. He isn’t ignorant about sex per se, just the particulars of casual sex, since he was groomed to be a squeaky clean figurehead. And you can’t really produce an heir while using a condom, can you? He doesn’t even know to where begin. He takes the unopened condom with absolute confidence despite his ignorance and pointedly does not look at you when you fix his handy work, which is so heinous you have to use another one. (He fucking bunched the extra latex at the base for some reason, leaving the head of dick no breathing room and it ripped.)
2. Keigo Asano. He’s just extremely nervous and keeps putting it on too quick, catching it with his nails, and ripping it each time. He makes a joke about how his cock is just ‘sort of a monster hahaha’, but he is getting sweatier and more desperate and oh no, oh no, he is getting soft.
3. Gin Ichimaru. Absolutely is on purpose. He knows how to put on a condom thanks to being forcibly detained by Unohana and given a menacing demonstration on a banana after pressuring a 4th division woman to fuck raw. Purely scumbag tactics.
4. Riruka Dokugamine. What, like she’s supposed to know? What’s she supposed to do? Watch porn or something? Disgusting. Learn how to do it yourself. She screams into her pillow later because she absolutely googled how to put on a condom and just fucked it up.
5. Like, every Arrancar. Szayelaporro is the only exception. Ulquiorra commits to learning after the first fumble. Grimmjow doubles down and insists its fucking dumb in the first place. Luppi refuses to wear one unless it’s an appealing color and probably flavored. Nnoitra hates it on principle--its like you’re trying to oppress his dick or something?? Harribel says--with a completely straight face--that the pull out method will be fine.
Who yells out the wrong name in the heat of things?
1. Momo Hinamori. She apologizes the moment she realizes and is fucking horrified. Really, she has no feelings for [redacted] anymore. She doesn’t know what happened. If she could, she’d go into witness protection.
2. Shunsui Kyoraku. Especially if you’re not romancing something heavy and are a one night stand. He tries to laugh it off, rubbing the back of neck and shrugging like it’s a ‘what can you do?’ moment. If you are romantically involved he will get drunk and depressed about it later on--just another reason he doesn’t deserve you.
3. Shuhei Hisagi. He might be thinking about the Seireitei Bulletin or about that party later tonight that you were both invited to and blurt out a name. Like, ‘holy shit titstitstitstits also the captain invited me to drinks later holy FUCK wow that feels soooo good -chan you fucking goddess fuckfuck oh right Captain--’, kind of train of thought. He boards the apology train and makes all the stops--flowers, heartfelt words, physical affection, an alright song cover with his guitar.
4. Uryu Ishida. In his defense, you were roleplaying and he simply called out your character’s name. This will happen a lot. It’s pretty hot, actually.
5. Isshin Kurosaki. It doesn’t happen a lot but sometimes he calls out his first wife’s name and it’s just something you have to live with. Just sad and unfunny and horrifying.
Who sends you to the 4th division via indecent blinding?
1. Renji Abarai. King of awkward good intentions, he leads your blind ass to the 4th division and waits by your side like a puppy waiting for punishment. He just gets really excited and forgot aiming was important. You insist it wasn’t as bad as the time he shot his load up your nose, though.
2. Akon. In his defense, you were playing with VR headsets and he shot his load in good faith while getting an imaginary face full of 3D anime waifu titties. He can’t imagine taking this to his captain and rushes you to the 4th division before anyone in the 12th can spot him.
3. Nanao Ise. She holds a lot of stress, so when she lets go, the result is usually a ridiculous amount of squirting. She leads you down deserted streets and disappears when anyone shows up, leaving you standing while blinded for like minutes at a time. She would rather die than have her peers find out and leaves you at the 4th division the moment they’ve written you down for intake.
4. Rangiku Matsumoto. She really likes to ride your face and it is simply not her fault that you aid and abet her. Of course if you’re going to play slip’n’slide so often, something is bound to go wrong. She leads you down to the 4th and if she sees someone she knows she’ll call out like ‘haha, guess what?’. It is the second time this month.
5. Shukuro Tsukishima + Gin Ichimaru. They didn’t do it on accident. Gin probably did it out of boredom, just to see you squirm and try to make your way to the 4th with him assisting....barely. Shukuro does it because you tried to tease him about his cooking or something and this is revenge. Have fun finding your way to the 4th by your own power.
#smut#bleach headcanons#this was so fucking funny to do#some of these were immediate fill ins#thats how confident i was#mars speaks#tater-tati
213 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cadence
Pairing(s): Saiki Kusuo X Gender Neutral! Reader | Onesided! Saiki Kusuo X Teruhashi Kokomi
Summary: When Kusuo feels, he feels with all of himself. It bleeds into everything, from exasperation to pining. Two things that came to him this special afternoon... The afternoon he’d told his mother he’d confess to his crush.
Warning(s): Unrequited Love. Slight Angst.
A/N: I'M SORRY KOKOMI... This is a fandom I haven't written for in a while! I know some people probably don't like her that much?? But it came to me. Think of it like Conan Gray's "Heather", just that Heather isn't the one our love interest has affections for. Oh - the reader is a musician here!! This is longer than usual.
(P.S. The last line of it probably doesn't make sense unless you've watched the Saiki K dub.)
“bolded italics” is Saiki speaking via telepathy, “italics” are thoughts.
“Amorous feelings were something hard to harbor.
Especially if they're directed towards someone that feels unreachable.
Like no matter how far you stretch, you can never reach them.
With heart in hand, ready to give.
Though the seeds of concern at possible rejection, the sting of heartbreak is painful. As is losing the receiver if your relationship predates the confession, if they were close already.
Unshakeable worry.
Even for someone like the invincible Saiki Kusuo.
Settled in his slightly uncomfortable desk, head resting on his palm. His gaze settled on the rolling clouds, thoughts filtering in and out of his head. Half-lidded violets sleepily dreaming of drizzling rain, of huddling close under an umbrella. Spending time under dreary skies with the one to brighten it all.”
"Well her thoughts aren't exactly far off."
A chill washed over his skin, his cryokinesis calming the blood about to rush to his cheeks.
Teruhashi's gaze felt heavy on his back, her commentary matching his recent feelings word for word. Sweeping strands of blue over her shoulder, she discreetly watched him from the corners of her eyes under a veil of lashes.
"Of course, the thoughts of a boy are always so predictable," She nearly giggled "especially when they're in love with someone like me."
His face dropped into a deadpan.
"She's way off though... I feel kind of bad honestly."
Kusuo shook his head, brow furrowing as he slid his gaze down to his desk.
Or rather, what was sitting in it.
"My mom told me not to be ashamed or feel guilty for not reciprocating someone elses' feelings." He breaths in, sliding his ring into his finger.
"Especially when I'm not responsible for them."
The tone of the bell filled the airways, signaling dismissal for students - voices of relief and rejoice. A long school day dragging to a close, its occupants reader to leave and relish in the weekend.
But there was a mission Saiki was on.
One that would have him stay after school as opposed to his want to escape the clutches of his friends.
Most of which were aware of his plans.
He left before he even questioned or asked about plans, skillfully dodging the flow of the crowd. Of course, with the ring, it makes it the slightest bit harder to discern the best route to move through them. But it wasn't a problem for him despite the handicap on one of the more useful powers he has.
The lack of knowledge of those around him in that moment was a little nerve racking(though not any less when it came to matters of the heart), though his general instincts were aware about those on his tail.
He paid it no mind.
He was on a mission.
The light taps of his shoes stopped right at the door, squeaking lightly on the linoleum. Fingers running along the edges of his already immaculate blazer, he slid it open and peered inside.
Notes of music thrummed from within, melody flowing into harmony soothingly.
"Oh, Saiki - san."
The club's president was first to notice him, having been near the door.
Gesturing him inside and quietly pestering him again with a mumble, "I don't mind you coming here but have you reconsidered join -"
"My answer is still no."
This time, Saiki doesn't wait to hear the boy's thoughts even if he could. Instead shifting his attention to the reason he even came to the music room.
Basking under the glow of the window, swaying just slightly with a serene calm. In rhythm with the mellowing sounds of music blending together, he feels his heartbeat sync with it. Then skipping for one or two as he slowly walked across the room, careful to not disturb the other practicing musicians. Though their eyes were also taken.
Fingers skimming over strings, its noise vibrating throughout the guitar as chords shifted and moved.
It didn't stop as the fingers' owner, you, smiled at him. Soft and easy going, silently acknowledging his presence before going straight back to playing.
He didn't mind, no, not at all.
Instead, he set himself down at your side.
He could wait.
It was you after all.
As the arrangement ended, notes left ringing out to leave his head and body with a nice break. No thoughts flooding and bashing at the insides of his skull, no need to strain himself or his powers.
The light round of applause was also not as jarring as loud cheers or things of the sort.
It was one of the reasons he'd come to this club, enough for the President to ask him if he'd like to join due to their frequency.
"Came about as early as I did this time."
Stashing the guitar in a case and stretching aching fingers, you smiled again at him. Shimmering gaze and soft features accented by filled windows, his heart fluttered gently from it's place. Thudding against his sternum like a drum.
Fitting.
But the music was only one of the reasons he visited so often.
"What, excited to see me, Saiki - kun?" You jested, his breath hitching just slightly at that.
He contemplates the question. The stares on him burn a little, with a short glance at the door, he can see the pair that took the risk in following him. There was no way to stop them anyhow...
Yumehara was a horrible gossip monger - and Teruhashi?
... He knew of her crush on him.
There is something in his chest that moves along with the speeding of his pulse.
Vindication?
Satisfaction?
How petty of him...
As he shifted his rose tinted gaze back to you, he can't really find it in himself to care.
"What a pain." He thought, quite derisively.
Removing the ring, he gorged himself on the sweetened sight of your sleepy eyes and smile - full of cheek.
It's pleasant.
Seeing you was just what he needed - his racing heart petering to a mellowing flicker. A warmth washing through his veins, breathing and thriving in your scent and calming presence.
This is a nice feeling.
Having a crush like this.
Being surrounded and swaddled in the fuzzy feelings of pining hit him a couple months back, when he'd first grew privy to the melody playing in your head. Naked truth and honesty, utter genuinity from every pore - matching actions to words.
Hearing and sitting and watching you play... It made him grow endeared to you over the time you'd spent with each other, even if it wasn't long.
"You don't have to answer, I was just joking."
"... But I was excited."
You blink.
He only lifted his hand, pressing the back of it to his mouth in slight abashment. He really isn't good at this.
But he's trying.
With the color tinging the tips of your ears, it seemed to fell through. Making a look, though shy, appear 'pon your face. Now less drowsy.
"I'm glad you came," You admitted, turning away to try and hide the timidness you suddenly felt "always am."
Saiki's stomach did flip flops, hand falling from his now smiling lips.
"Perhaps I would do it a lot more often, that is, if you were interested in filling a position." He is somewhat aware how funny it is for him to be making music jokes, "It's first seat - just for a guitarist."
Fiddling with the collar of your uniform, quietly, you mumbled, "It sounds like... You're trying to ask me out -"
"I am." Kusuo ignored the squeaks he most definitely heard on the other side of the door. "Only if you're interested."
"I am." You parrot, honeyed confession interlacing in softened tone in difference from his. Paired with a expression of such tenderness any ice lingering on him melts away.
"So..." He trailed off.
You laugh a little bit, still somewhat sheepish as a warm color washes your soft cheeks. "My answer is yes, I will happily take that position."
He can't help it.
Your hand is warm as he took it in his own, heating in contact, darkening flush sweeping down your neck in response to the showcase of affection.
“Cute."
Playfully scowling at that, you only huffed.
"Shush you."
He felt the hodge-podge of emotions flooding from behind the door; hurt, anger, disbelief. Guilt pulled at his strained heart strings, knowing full well that just beyond the door was someone vying for his affections.
"She never respected how you felt."
The intrusive thought of his making was snuffed faster than a candle, fingers shifting and locking through the spaces in his.
"Saiki?" You spoke, brows knitting. "You okay?"
His troubles were showing on his face, huh?
It was hard to remain dishonest around you.
"Kusuo... Call me Kusuo."
Surprise filters over the shyness, but you positively titter at your new boyfriend's insistence.
"This means you gotta stop calling me your senpai." The comment leaves butterfly wings fluttering in his belly.
He tested your appellation on his own lips.
Though he was unsatisfied, now rather irritated with your voyeurs despite his previous guilt. Especially at the insulting thoughts he now hears in your name - subject to Kokomi.
It came to him as he moved closer, soaking in the music playing again you both watched someone seat themselves at the piano.
Petty?
Yes.
But they were the ones that decided to follow him in the first place.
So he might was well hit two birds with one stone.
He indulged in the sticky, gooey feelings you'd plagued him with. Pressing his lips to your cheekbone in a display of his devotion, relishing in the gasp of shock he tore from you.
Kusuo squeezed your hand, charoite eyes promising a little mischief.
"Does that mean I can call you my baby doll?"
#saiki k#saiki kusuo no ψ nan#the disaster of psi kusuo saiki#saiki kusuo#saiki kusuo x reader#Teruhashi Kokomi#yumehara chiyo#gender neutral reader#reader insert#x reader#xreaders#x reader insert#saiki k x reader#dari writes
347 notes
·
View notes
Text
Poppy Pomfrey Hates Werewolves
Summary: The year is 1971, and Madam Pomfrey is finding it more difficult than expected to care for an eleven-year-old werewolf student. She turns to a late-night conversation with Minerva McGonagall in order to soothe her frustrations.
Wordcount: 3843
Poppy Pomfrey hated werewolves.
No, that wasn't the right wording. Poppy loved Remus very much; she thought that he was a clever, lovable boy who deserved to be at Hogwarts more than some of the other ridiculous buffoons (ahem: Potter and Black).
In fact, the Lupins in general were lovely people. Poppy remembered Remus' father, Lyall Lupin, from her first year at Hogwarts—he’d been six years older than she was and in a different House, so they hadn't been close. Yet she did remember that Lyall was a lot like Remus in the sense that he'd received very good marks and was usually quiet and mild-mannered. But his temper! Arguments with Lyall were bound to lead to a fight—either the Muggle way or the wizarding way; Lyall was willing to participate in either. Poppy saw Lyall in Remus often, even though she hadn't known Lyall very well. They looked alike, yes, but there was also something deeper. Both had odd interests and were a bit eccentric. Both were clever. Both had an unexpectedly honed sense of humor. And both (as Poppy knew from some of Hope's letters) were very prone to guilt.
Hope was Remus' mother, and Poppy liked her just as much as she liked Remus. She was a wonderful mother and a lot of fun. A stereotypical doting mother, really. Hope, like Lyall and Remus, was very funny, and Poppy often found herself laughing out loud at her letters. Poppy probably learned much more about young Remus than Remus would have been comfortable with, but Hope just couldn't help oversharing. Poppy suspected that she'd never before had anyone to talk to about Remus without fear of his lycanthropy getting out. Poppy liked Hope so much, in fact, that they had plans to meet during Christmas holidays. Poppy could see the two of them becoming very good friends.
Yes, Poppy was fond of Remus, as well as both of his parents. But she hated werewolves.
Not werewolves. Not really. Poppy hated lycanthropy. Poppy hated the fact that Remus had to go through unimaginable pain every single month. And he was so young! Four years old, that's how old he had been. It made Poppy feel ill sometimes, and it was the type of illness that even she—the most experienced school matron in the world, probably—could not cure.
It had gone relatively well for the first couple of months—well, not well, per se, but they’d survived. At least Remus had always been conscious and somewhat coherent afterwards. Remus had a habit of making jokes when he was uncomfortable, and it always made it easier to stop feeling so horrible when he was making the odd sarcastic comment. But the first December full moon was far worse than usual.
When Poppy crawled through the tunnel the morning after the December full moon and saw Remus, unconscious on the floor and bleeding out, she nearly vomited. She wasn't ready for this! She couldn’t! She’d never had to do anything like this before, and this was absolutely terrible. He shouldn’t have to deal with that every month. She shouldn’t have to deal with this every month.
How dare Dumbledore ask her to help him? She was only human. She couldn't see this, month after month and day after day. Such a young student. So small and thin and delicate. This was horrible for her, too!
And no one even asked her! It wasn't as if Dumbledore had said "Good morning, Poppy, would you be willing to care for a werewolf in September 1971?" No, he had flat-out told her that there was nothing she could do about it. She still remembered his exact words. A very special student... infected with lycanthropy... deserves a chance to learn, as all children do... Poppy will be caring for him after full moons... Don't try to protest his coming here, I have made my decision. Ridiculous. The man never asked anyone else's opinion.
Poppy wouldn't have protested, though, and she felt even worse when she realized what she was insinuating. Remus, stay home and never come to Hogwarts? That wouldn't stop the transformations; that would only make them worse. Besides, having to see it was nothing compared to actually going through it... But still. It was so hard to think of it all—so difficult to be given a burden that no one, be it child or school matron, should have to carry.
Poppy was used to being able to help people. That was her job. She loved helping people. But there was no cure for lycanthropy, and it was far beyond Poppy’s abilities to comprehend, even, how terrible it must be for the eleven-year-old child... for a five-year-old child. Remus had endured countless full moons, and each one left him with injuries worse than some of the worst accidents that Poppy had ever seen. It made her sick.
Regardless of her feelings, though, Poppy now stood in the Shrieking Shack. Her wand was dangling limply from her hand as she stared at the deep gashes in the wall and the equally limp boy on the floor who had somehow—somehow—made them.
She couldn't help it at that point. She left. She couldn't look at him any longer; it was driving her mad.
She'd always thought magic to be a wonderful thing: capable of healing and helping and loving. But it wasn't. Magic wasn't all good at all. Here was the darker side—the horrific, awful, terrifying side that left eleven-year-old children so ill that they couldn't eat, turned them into horrifying beasts against their will, and then left them bruised and broken on the floors of their own torture chambers. Why did she even try? She couldn't change anything. She'd never help Remus Lupin, no matter how much time she spent soothing his worries and healing his injuries. He'd always have to go through this. There was no cure, and Poppy felt helpless. She hadn't felt this awful since she'd failed that student who spent half a year as a rock.
She’d only meant to leave for a bit (she needed more potions for Remus, anyhow, and she also needed a bit of air. Remus would be fine). But then she came across a panicking Slughorn who professed that a girl had drank too much of a potentially deadly potion and needed to be taken to St. Mungo’s. The girl’s parents weren’t available. Someone would have to take her.
When Professor John Questus, current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, offered to stay and look after Remus, Poppy couldn’t help but seize the opportunity to take a breather.
So she took the girl to St. Mungo’s herself and left Remus with the Defense professor. She needed some time away—some time to think things over. She knew that it was probably the better option to stay with Remus, but she couldn't. She couldn't help popping in every few hours over Floo to make sure that Remus had not died due to her negligence—but she stayed away, for the most part. And she talked to Remus' toad that had crept into her apron. He really was good conversation, even if he was slimy-looking and warty.
"What was your name? Bufo?"
Bufo blinked.
"Do you think I've failed?"
Bufo cocked his gross little head.
"People trusted me, and I just left. That's unacceptable."
Bufo croaked.
"I'm a terrible matron." Poppy felt tears well up in her eyes. She'd left Remus to John Questus. John Questus! He was probably asking Remus all sorts of uncomfortable questions and snapping at him for being too emotional when Remus needed love and comfort and care. Because that was what John Questus did. As a former Auror, he knew Healing magic, to be sure... but he just wasn’t the type of person to care for a scared child.
Remus was injured, and Poppy had left him—left him!—all alone on the floor of the Shrieking Shack—the Shrieking Shack!—with no one to help him. What if he had woken up all alone and scared and in pain and waited, but no one came, and then the most horribly unsympathetic professor at Hogwarts showed up and told him that Poppy had left! Just left! Poppy didn't want to think of how awful Remus, who already mistakenly assumed that most everyone hated him, might have felt.
Suddenly, she felt a small weight on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw Bufo snuggling against her neck. Poppy sniffed and patted his leathery skin a bit—he wasn't so bad, after all.
And Remus seemed mostly okay when she'd returned to Hogwarts. John had missed one of his wounds, and it ended up becoming terribly infected. Poppy was angry with John at first, but it didn't take long before she realized that it was her fault. The man wasn't an experienced Healer, after all, even though he did know a bit of Healing magic. Remus was her job, and she'd abandoned him just because she was feeling emotional.
Now it was Tuesday, and Poppy was certain that Remus would sleep through the night. He was looking so much better, and Poppy had no doubt that he would be all right upon going back to classes on Wednesday. Even his arm was healing up, and he'd managed to walk around the Hospital Wing the other day without any problems—he even took a bath all by himself. So she left him in her office (under the watchful eyes of Bufo), and went to talk to Minerva McGonagall.
Minerva and Poppy had been in the same year at Hogwarts and had been acquaintances (despite the fact that they were in different Houses). Since Minerva had already been teaching when Poppy had become the matron, they'd only gotten closer. Poppy would consider Minerva to be her closest friend, even—they certainly saw a lot of each other. They'd been colleagues for about twenty years now. It was mad, how quickly the time flew.
Poppy knew that Minerva was uncomfortable around Remus (she never liked werewolves much), but it was clear that she was trying—Poppy appreciated that. And Remus seemed to enjoy Minerva's company (but then again, he seemed to enjoy everybody's company. Even John Questus', for some reason). Poppy had never spoken to Minerva about Remus one-on-one (though she tended to chatter about him during staff meetings), but she was sure that Minerva wouldn't mind.
She knocked on Minerva's door, and Minerva let her in with a smile. "Poppy. May I help you?"
"I... only need to talk." Poppy often came to Minerva to chat; despite Poppy's no-nonsense exterior and usually-immaculate bedside manner, she was frightfully emotional. Anyone who told the students that, though, would be getting a rather nasty hex that Madam Pomfrey "wouldn't be able to heal".
"Of course," said Minerva. "Come in; I'll make tea."
"Are you sure? It's late, and I don't want to keep you up."
"I'm sure. I was having trouble sleeping, anyway."
"Yes, I noticed that your hair is still up."
Minerva smiled and undid her bun. "It's been a long day. Do you know, Potter and Black still insist on calling me by my first name? Those insolent, disrespectful..."
"I can't believe that Remus is friends with them."
"Is this about Remus, then?" said Minerva, nearly laughing. "You have that same look on your face whenever you talk about him during the staff meetings."
Poppy rearranged her face. "Look? What kind of look?"
"You worry about him. Understandably so, of course."
"Yes, yes." Minerva offered Poppy a teacup, and she took it gratefully. "I just... I can't. Minerva, it's awful!"
Minerva sat back patiently with her own cup of tea, not even batting an eye. "Yes, I know."
It all came spilling out at once. "I've done research! We all have! Did you read the article in the paper? The Shrieking Shack, they call it. Shrieking? Wolves don't shriek, Minerva—people do! It's painful; it's hurting him! And his pain threshold is so incredibly high that I... I can't even... I can't even imagine how bad it is, to make him hurt enough to actually cry out. He's so thin and sickly and pale all the time, and he's so small and delicate for his age, and he... I can't get over his pain threshold! He doesn't even flinch when I heal a broken bone, Minerva. Doesn't even flinch. He walks all the way back to the castle, month after month, with worse injuries than... than anything, really.
"And he just has to live with it—wounds all over his body all the time, can't even heal up completely before the next full moon rolls around, can't eat properly on the day before, can't even attend class because he's feeling so sickly. He gets through injuries that would cripple a grown man... and complains less than a miffed Gryffindor when Slytherin wins the House Cup! And he has to live with it! All the time!"
Minerva looked appropriately saddened and kept listening silently. She was good at that.
"He was four, he told me. Four, nearly five. He was attacked by a fully-fledged werewolf—and he let slip that said werewolf attacked him on purpose!—when he was a little more than a toddler. I've seen the scar, and I know enough about injuries to know that it must have been life-threatening. And most of it is on his shoulder, just near his neck! Just... can you imagine? Being a four-year-old child and a werewolf biting you—only inches away from snapping your neck... and then living as one? He's traumatized! He has nightmares, Minerva! Still! After six years, and he flinches whenever I get close."
Minerva pursed her lips and refilled Poppy's tea, which she had spilled all over her lap. Poppy didn't even care at this point.
"I hate it. I hate it. I hate coming to the Shack and seeing him half-dead. I hate his complacent expression, like he's been through it many before... because he has! He has! It's... what, eighty times now? I don't know! And he probably doesn't even keep track, because it's such a normal thing now! That sort of thing should never be normal! And not for a child, especially. A child! Eleven, but he looks so much older—he's so much more mature than he should be—he's seen more than children should, been through more than I have! Merlin's beard. Sometimes I want him to yell at me and get angry over it all, because he never really has. Cool as a cucumber about the whole thing. He's FINE, he says!"
Tears were running down Poppy's face now, but she made no attempt to stop them. Minerva had seen her cry many, many times before. In fact, she'd cried most recently when she'd lost her favorite pair of slippers. It was hard, keeping it in all day for fear of frightening the students.
"And no one ever asks me how hard it is. No one ever talks about me. Plenty of people say "poor Remus", and goodness knows he deserves it, even if he doesn't want it. But no one even thinks about how hard it is for me—to help a child—with an incurable illness—that I can't do anything about! To watch him fight through unimaginable pain, to see him suffering, to watch him get feverish and pass out in the middle of a sentence and refuse to eat and drown his pain in books! He's just... in my office... for days, every single month... and I just have to go about my business, knowing that there's nothing I can do. There's no cure! He won't even let me help him before a full moon because potions and things irritate him on the full moon. There's nothing I can do! Think about it! I can't get over it!"
Minerva wordlessly handed Poppy a handkerchief, and Poppy blew her nose. "It's not just about him," Poppy said, calming down a little. "It's not just about me, either. It's just... it's something that made me realize how much darkness is in the world... how unfair things are... how people can suffer so much without deserving it. I knew, before. But I didn't really believe it... and now it's just all so overwhelming. There are so many hurting people in the world. Remus isn't even the only werewolf in Britain. And I can't help everyone. I'm confined to this school—this small school in a world full of billions of people—and I can't... even... help everyone... in the tiny school! I hate it."
Minerva spoke for the first time. "I know," she said, and stood up to embrace Poppy tightly. "I know." A minute later, she pulled away, and the front of her robes were wet from Poppy's tears. Poppy could sense helpful advice coming. "Do you want to know what I think?" Minerva asked quietly, and Poppy looked up at her with watery eyes.
"What?"
"We all have varying levels of pain. I think that all of us have a sort of pain that unimaginable to another. Such is life. We shouldn't dwell on the pain that we all inevitably have: instead, we should focus on the good things that we have. Remus Lupin is a... well, he's ill. But he has two wonderful parents who love him. His 'normal' is different from ours, but that doesn't mean he has a completely awful life. It's just a different kind of normal—a new normal."
Poppy nodded and sniffed a little.
"And he has three friends who accept him."
"We don't know that."
"For right now, they do. And he has plenty of intelligence and activities that he enjoys. And he plays outside with his friends—did you see his face at the last Quidditch match? Or on Halloween?"
"No, I was sitting with the Hufflepuffs. And the full moon wasn't until November second."
"I've never seen him so happy," Minerva assured her. "It isn't the dark that we should focus on, it's the light that cancels it out. With all people—everyone that you can't help. It's just life, Poppy. Just life. No matter how much we think about how awful things are, they won't change... but thinking about how wonderful things are can change our mindsets, at least."
Poppy granted her a watery smile. "Thank you. That helps."
"Of course it does. I'm a very helpful person, you know."
Poppy nodded, ever thankful. "Now that I've done my ranting," she said, feeling a lot better than she had been feeling mere minutes ago, "I'll give you some time to rant about Potter and Black."
"Oh, thank goodness." Minerva straightened up and immediately went off on a tirade about their shenanigans: disrespect, loud voices, lack of motivation, disregard for the rules... et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Poppy had heard it all before.
"I think you like them," said Poppy slyly once Minerva had finished.
"What? No!"
"Oh no, you definitely like them. Potter is fantastic at Transfiguration, is he not? And flying? Both things that you're talented at, yourself."
"Well... maybe I do like them a little," admitted Minerva with a heavy sigh, "merely because they're Gryffindors through and through. Don't tell anyone."
Poppy hummed her consent and took a sip of tea. "So... that game you play with Remus that you mentioned earlier...? Tell me more."
Minerva laughed. She didn't laugh often around students, and Poppy loved to hear it. "I wasn't very comfortable around him at first; you know that. And he knew it too. He was obviously uncomfortable around me, too—things were awkward at first. Classes consisted of avoiding eye contact, mostly. It was distracting. So I told him that we'd play a game of sorts: whichever of us can act normally around the other first wins. We've been giving each other points. I'm winning."
"Not what he told Albus."
Minerva sipped her tea. "He's deluded."
"So... any reason why you aren't comfortable around werewolves? It seems a bit odd for you of all people to be afraid..."
"Not afraid!" protested Minerva. "Just uncomfortable. As you know, I'm half-blood, and my mother—a witch—took pride in her heritage. She told me stories of the wizarding world all the time—trying to bring me back to my roots, even though we lived in a Muggle village. I heard so many tales of werewolves being a danger to society, even from an early age. They're bogeymen, Poppy. The monsters under the beds. Children grow up with an innate fear of them... They ask their parents to check their closets for them before they go to sleep. Their parents tell them that that a werewolf will eat them if they get out of bed or disobey the rules. I was so afraid of werewolves as a child that I hated going outside at night. There's a fear instilled in young children, and it takes a while to shake off. That's all. It's not that I'm afraid of him—you know me, I'm a proud Gryffindor. I just don't like... the idea of it."
"Even though he's so small and harmless?"
"Yes. I'm not proud of it." Minerva finished off her tea. "But I can stand to be around him much more easily now. I like him, you know. Quiet, calm. The exact opposite of Potter and Black."
"Do you ever shut up about them?" Poppy teased.
"I'll shut up about them when you shut up about Remus. All you ever talk about these days."
"He's the only company I have these days!"
"Except when John Questus visits..." teased Minerva. She knew all about Poppy's hatred towards John Questus—he had, in fact, been the subject of Poppy's last after-hours rant.
"Ugh! Don't even talk about him. The horrible, insensitive..."
"Yes, I know. You've ranted about him to me before. I think you fancy him, don't you?"
"Who, John?" Poppy gagged. "That's too far. I'm going to bed now."
"You accused me of liking Potter and Black. I'm only returning the favor."
"It's not the same thing! I do not fancy John Questus!"
"Sweet dreams," called Minerva. "I'll plan the wedding."
"You're such a child!" snapped Poppy, opening the door to leave. "You sound like Potter."
Minerva feigned disgust. "You'd better leave before I hex you."
Poppy obliged, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary and heading back to the Hospital Wing to check on Remus.
Minerva, she reflected, was a wonderful friend, and she was glad that Remus had a few such friends of his own.
Everybody needed friends, didn't they?
AN: Another scene from my fanfic (link in blog description). I don’t think John Questus has ever made an appearance on my tumblr before, just because he’s an OC and hard to explain in short snapshots like this—but he’s my favorite character lol and I was waiting for a good moment to mention him!
#poppy pomfrey#remus lupin#marauders era#minerva mcgonagall#harry potter fanfiction#late-night complaining
23 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
