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breanime · 3 years

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Intentions

Okay, here’s my shot at a Tommy Shelby fic... Let me know what you think, please!

Prompt: “You think I would do this for just anybody?”

You weren’t entirely sure what possessed Tommy Shelby—the Tommy Shelby—to assist you, but you decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and just appreciate it. Ever since he’d overheard you telling Ada about the men who harassed you on the streets, Tommy had taken it upon himself to make sure you always had an escort home.

And for the last five days, that escort had been him.

“Really, Mr. Shelby—” you began, holding your purse in front of you as Tommy locked up the office.

“—Tommy,” he corrected you, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Tommy,” you repeated, “you don’t have to keep doing this, really. I can just walk.”

“You live 45 minutes from the office,” he said back, “and that’s not counting having to stop for fucking protests or some pieces of shite trying to pick you up. Then it’s around 56 minutes if it’s raining or snowing,” he went on, “More if it’s doing both at once,” he led you to his car, opening the door for you, “You work hard; you ought to have your boss make sure you get home safe.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your growing smile in check. Tommy had no way of knowing that—the time it took for you to get home—unless he walked the walk himself. “Well,” you said, climbing into the car, “I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well just appreciate it quietly, eh? Don’t need the other girls thinkin’ they can get a free ride out of me,” he glanced at you, giving you a small smile that made your heart flip in your chest. You watched as he started the car, and he turned to you, “Why do you stay in that neighborhood, anyway?” He asked you. “It’s so far from town, the buildings are old, the landlords are pricks…”

“It’s the only neighborhood that houses Blacks,” you answered, “Or at least it’s the only one that houses us at an affordable price.”

“Hm,” he nodded, looking ahead as he drove, the smoke from his cigarette billowing from his lips, “Am I paying you that poorly?”

You laughed, and you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched upwards as you did. “You pay me well above the usual rate. I’m just saving it up, is all. I can’t have you driving me around forever, Mr. Shelby—”

“—Tommy,” he corrected you.

You rolled your eyes, making him chuckle, “Tommy,” you amended yourself.

“I don’t mind it, you know,” he said, turning the wheel, “driving you. These last few days, it’s been… nice,” he paused, “I don’t get a lot of time for good company or conversation on me own.”

“Oh, so I’m good company, am I?” You said with a grin.

Tommy turned to you, those diamond blue eyes staring right into your soul, “You’re a smart girl,” he replied, “Loyal, Trustworthy. Hard working. And you’re bloody gorgeous so. Yes. You make for good company.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and your eyes darted down to your lap. You’d heard that Tommy Shelby was a charmer, and that he’d had pretty much every woman who’s worked for him—minus his aunt and his sister-in-law, of course—but you’d never seen him so… forward.

You liked it.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” He asked casually, as if he was asking about the weather.

“No,” you answered, looking over at him, “You make for good company too.”

He gave a wry smile then. “Fishin’ for a raise, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Either I’m loyal and trustworthy, or I’m bootlicker. Which is it, Tommy?”

He laughed, and the sound made you warm all over. Tommy didn’t laugh nearly as often as he should. “Fair enough,” he nodded, “You’re not a bootlicker, that’s for sure,” he glanced over at you again, “I haven’t figured out what it is you are yet…”

“I’m a girl who isn’t gonna let you fuck her just cause you’ve given me a few rides,” you said back, speaking before you could stop yourself.

He raised his eyebrows, nodding. “Is that what you think is going on here?” He asked. “My driving you home from work? You think I’m doing this for sex?”

You licked your lips, nervous now. “Well, I mean no offense, Mr.—Tommy—but I’ve worked for you for three months now, and I think I know you well enough to know that you never do anything for nothing.”

Tommy smirked. “That’s true,” he stopped the car, letting a mother and her kids pass in front, and looked at you, his eyes staring into yours brazenly, “So, let’s have it. Give me your theories,” he started the car again, glancing back at you as he spoke, “Why, then, do you think that I do this?”

You paused. Maybe you were being presumptuous. Maybe he didn’t want to sleep with you. Just because he called you gorgeous, didn’t mean he wanted to fuck you, after all. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said—although Tommy always meant what he said. Maybe, though, he really was just concerned about your wellbeing. A woman walking home alone at night could be vulnerable to all kinds of dangers, and given the amount of enemies the Shelbys had… You looked over at Tommy. “You do this for everyone,” you surmised.

Tommy turned to you, an eyebrow raised. “You think I would do this for just anybody?”

Again, you paused. “Yes?”

“Well, I don’t,” he said back, “I’ve never driven any of the girls home—except for Lizzie, but that’s only because I fucked her,” he went on, blunt as ever, “This takes up a portion of my time, and I’m not a man who has a lot of time to waste,” he looked over at you, “I like being around you,” he confessed, “I like the way you talk. I like the way you think, and when I think of you alone at night… I can’t sleep. I can never sleep, but still…” He took his cigarette and tossed it, giving a humorless chuckle. “You make me ramble,” he went on, shrugging one shoulder, “I don’t ramble, least not since France...” He paused for a moment. “When I’m busy, and one of the lads takes you home instead, it ruins me night. It irritates me that I missed out on that time with you, and that another man got it instead,” he glanced at you again, “Is that alright to say?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I prefer it when you drive me,” you admitted, “Not that the others aren’t nice and all—they are—but… I do like this time with you, being alone with you…”

Tommy looked at you, his sky-blue eyes staring into yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Wordlessly, he pulled the car over, turning to face you fully. “Tomorrow is Friday,” he said, and you blinked, confused as to why he was telling you something you already knew, “Pay day. I’d like to take you out to dinner. Maybe see a picture after. Would that be alright?”

You felt your lips spread out in a smile, and Tommy smiled back, chuckling a bit at the excitement in your eyes. “Yes,” you answered, “yes, that’d be alright.”

“But I want to be honest with you,” he went on, “I respect you as an employee, and you’ve been a good friend to me these past months, and regardless of what happens tomorrow night, I will still make sure you have a safe way home after work,” he leaned forward a bit, his voice low and deep, “but I want it known that I very much do want to fuck you.”

His words sent a flush of heat through you, and you had to remind yourself that you were a lady, not a whore…no matter how much Tommy Shelby’s glimmering eyes and sharp jawline made you want to be… Biting your lip, you smiled at him, “I’m not going to open my legs for you on the first date, Tommy.”

He laughed, taking out another cigarette and lighting it, the flame reflecting in his ocean-colored eyes. “Mm, we’ll see,” he murmured, “So it’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

The rest of the drive passed quickly—too quickly for your taste. The two of you discussed work and your families and what movie you’d like to see, and before you knew it, he was parked outside of your building.

He opened the door for you and walked you to the front door like a gentleman. And you thanked him—

—with a kiss.

If the kiss took him by surprise, Tommy didn’t show it. As soon as your lips touched his, his arm was wrapped around you, keeping you close. The kiss was soft, but firm, and Tommy’s slender body felt magnificent against yours. You wondered, at the back of your mind, what your neighbors would think, seeing you necking with Tommy fucking Shelby of the Peaky fucking Blinders, but you couldn’t be bothered to care about what the gossips may say.

You were too busy trying to keep yourself from floating off in a haze of bliss.

You pulled back first, and Tommy let you. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. “I’m not letting you up, Tommy.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” you smirked, making him laugh.

“I’m a patient man,” he said back, taking a step back, “I can wait until tomorrow.”

You laughed at that, but the truth was, you were quite certain that tomorrow night, when Tommy pulled up in front of your apartment, he wouldn’t be driving off until the sun rose.

In fact, you were counting on it.

You watched him drive off from your window, a sigh escaping from deep in your chest, the taste of him—mint and smoke and a hint of whiskey—fresh on your lips. Tommy fucking Shelby…

…what had you gotten yourself into?

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Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! You guys know how I get when I write a new character; I always think it’s shit. So if it is, tell me! And if it’s not, tell me why, please! Should I write for him again, or nah? Cause I kind of have an idea for a Part 2, but IDK if anyone would be interested.

And if you really enjoyed it and you can send in a tip here, I would greatly appreciate it!

Everything Taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @mrsjaxtellerfan @rhabakoli @encounterthepast @realduckvader @justvnash @knowles-morgan @ateliefloresdaprimavera @evanlys19 @nyxxnoxx @carlaangel86 @luminex3 @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @otomefromtheheart @lexxierave @amethyst09 @falsehopesndreams @a-dorky-book-keeper @witchygagirl @glimmerglittergirl @fvckthisbxtchup @ben-c-group-therapy @felicity-x0 @amirra88 @yourfellowangel @vibranium-soul @xserenax-13 @woahitslucyylu @gemini0410 @ktiz90 @theoceanhathsolace @starrynite7114 @my-rosegold-soul @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @abbiesthings @peaches007 @ifoundmyhappythought @tegggeeee @bisexual-space-slut @mariaenchanted @thesandbeneathmytoes @sheeshgivemeabreak @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @venusis-inretrograde @shaelivia @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @yourwonkywriter @fear-less-write-more

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby x black reader #black reader fic #tommy shelby imagine

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weaselbeaselpants · 3 years

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Weird week behind me weird week ahead of me but I’ve done a lot of self reflection and came to the weirdest epiphany. The older I get the more I realize all my ‘problems’ with VivziePop - her thoughts on criticism; the choices she makes in story telling; some of the people she’s worked with (not that any of that’s my business; I’m not her mom) really aren’t about Viv, but more about her fandom.

I’m speaking of the preHazbin era Viv here and as someone who’s only watch horny fish jump at the surface rather than jump straight into the Hazbin-fandom, but given my ‘noncritical’ fellow fans have told me that the Vivziefandom now is also terrible - I guess I’ll go over my experience and make the most out of what I do know.

I followed Viv in 2009 and fell off in 2013 cause I kinda just lost interest and found myself wrapped up in other fandoms. I’ve always felt amicable about her content; I could give or take designs or the way in which she wrote characters -- ((Zech represent!!!)) but it’s honestly surreal and really fun seeing this person I recognize make it big and improve so much. Like I’ve said before I am very happy and very impressed with Viv doing all she’s done in the span of TWO YEARS. wow gurl.

Trouble is, there was the particular breed of fan who really made me...uncomfortable. They felt almost possessive of Viv’s attention. They sang praises about her work in a way that just made me want nothing to do with it because I was worried if I drew those characters these people would be like ‘hey, I’M Viv’s fav artist, not you!”. They would unironically write Viv messages like:

“you are a GOD” -- “I’m so not worthy compared to you” --“I wish I was as talented as you” -- “YOU ARE EVERYTHING AND CAN’T DO WRONG VIV”.

The kind of messages which were meant to sound flattering but, intentional or not, came off as gaslighting, like they were guilt tripping Viv about being better than them. This behavior, treating your favorite artist/internet personality like your superior and groveling like Starscream, it strikes a nerve with me; partly because I was this way with my favorite artists and influences back in the day, but also because once I got a taste of that treatment myself I realized just how bad it could be:

There was once a girl on dA who was jealous of me because of the attention I got on my art instead of her. I told her that I wasn’t gonna stop drawing but also that there was nothing wrong with her art and she’d find her place. It was weird being put in that position where someone is very clearly upset at you but also looking for your approval.

The second was some scumball who I blocked in 2016. He wouldn’t speak to me, only write condescending, backhanded comments on my art; check on my profile daily; call me a bootlicker (cuz I took commissions) behind my back; redrew my art and would talk about me in his personal artist notes about how I ‘probably wouldn’t see this’ - oh yeah all the while he did fan art of my characters but again never spoke to me when I replied. When I finally messaged him about his behavior he said he thought I was “really overrated” and “bad for the fandom” cuz I took money and kept him from getting the love he deserved. It took messaging another person within our fandom, one I had been in spats with online before, to finally realize I shouldn't put up with that bs....

That guy who was stalking me btw did so while I was well under 1.K watchers and am still pretty obscure. Anyway, I had one guy unhealthily watching me for the wrong reasons. Just one. This is why when Viv says she “hates creeps” I 150% believe this woman and am not about to call her a liar who just can’t take criticism. Like, if you really think that, I’m sorry but you don’t know what Viv’s gone through from both her critics AND fans.

Of course, a lot of people will be like “I bet you’re just jealous and really just want that kind of attention yourself so you’re preaching to the choir”, but like...no. I am envious of just about any creator who’s the social butterfly I’m not, but, like, if I'm jealous of an artist none of that is that artists’ fault. Ever. It’s my own issues with being comfortable with myself are at stake. If I criticize Viv’s work it’s not because I see her as competition or my Squilliam Fancyson; it’s because I’m a critical fan of animation and cartoons and have my own thoughts to share on the cartoons of an artist I’m familiar with. Jealousy/envy/mixed-admiration/godIwishthatwereme.jpeg feels are totally natural and valid emotions when you’re a creator. Envy becomes a problem when you internalize, weaponize, and scrutinize people on the basis of them being what you aren’t which -yes - some people do in the name of criticism. ((Although, I would hardly say some of the nastiest AntiViv folk are jealous as much as they are angry that this project they think is harmful is getting attention and using that as justification for some really shitty behavior of their own, which no, this post is not a part of by virtue of coming from a critical fan.))

Critique can come from either a good place or bad place; good critique can be used to bad ends and bad critique can come from a well-meaning place, and vice versa. It’s the difference between many a criticalfan having a sour taste in their mouth regarding the Viv’s base but persisting in a critique+admiration separate of that, and this asswipemonster trying to weasel his way into Spindlehorse while also bashing Viv on a public forum for clearly vitriolic reasons. He was a creep.

So yeah um please stop insisting that every Hazbin critic is just jealous’ because a) there are people who have a past with Viv’s base and that clouds their judgement, but in a lot of cases that doesn’t invalidate their feelings or thoughts on her work separate from that, and b) I’ve seen what clingy gaslighting jealous fans are. Spoiler: they’re not so much Annie Wilkes as much as they are Tommy Wiseaus. You don’t want Tommy Wiseau following you.

Another bad vibe I really picked up on that I can kinda confirm is still probably the case now: people think that they know Viv and the Spindlehorse crew and have the right to send them shit they don’t need or WANT to be seeing.

Like, I talked with Viv once ages ago. I don’t remember what I said other than we were talking about Frankenweenie, I think. She was nice. Outside of that she said “thank you” to my comments on her deviations but that’s it. I DO NOT KNOW THIS WOMAN AND unless you’ve worked with or are a legit friend/mutual of hers, NEITHER DO YOU. But I don’t think every Vivzie stan/critic knows this. Whether it be people assuming she MUST think they’re headcanon is now canon-canon cuz she liked a comment they made; or some critic thinking they must have seriously hurt her pride because they’ve been blocked by her on twitter (or you know, maybe she and the rest of Spindlehorse is tired of getting @s and don’t have to time to read through your analysis so they’re gonna just block and move on cuz they’re busy).

Just because the creators talk with fans doesn’t mean fans are literally their best friends and have a part in the show’s direction. And yes, critics and reviewers fit that bill as well. Know your damn boundaries people.

If you find/make some kind of contribution as a viewer that’s awesome but you should never expect nor DEMAND the creator see it. The most obvious horror stories involving this and Helluva/Hazbin have been the Instagrams made by the crew being harassed by incestpedo enthusiasts, but it applies even to just @ing creators as well.

I’ve seriously had someone tell me to just take my criticisms directly to Viv and like...no. Why would I do that?

I respect Viv and the artists working with her enough to know that they’re working their asses off on an animated series and should not be bothered. I don’t want them to stop all they’re doing and reply to me. I want them to keep working. Also, that kind of logic makes me wonder how many critics Viv’s found because she found it on her own or if some obsessed fan told her about it - which is really messed up cuz if it IS just good critique you’re, again, just pestering her, and if it wasn’t critique but full on harassment WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU MESSAGE HER ABOUT THAT ANYWAY? I’m sure she doesn’t need to be reminded that people drew and said really awful shit about her on Tapatalk. My point being I’m sure what people think they’re doing is

“OOOoh Viv lookitwut this person is doing in our fandom we need to ban together against this toxic behavior”

but what they’re actually doing, and sounding like, is -

“Hey Viv I know you are working so hard on the show and you’re trying to figure out where to go from here but LOOKITWHUTTHISHATERSAID. LOOKATIT! VALIDATE ME VIV AND PUT’EM IN THEIR PLAAAAAACE!”

TL;DR Viv’s fanbase back in the day consisted of everyman artists and interests but there was this one breed of fan -who I hope was just a vocal minority- that ruined it for everything else.

Call it stanning or ‘simping’ or as it’s classically known, ‘white knighting’, whatever it was it really soured a lot of people on her because of those fans.

That’s why the DollCreep drama got so bad from what I can tell. Doll and Viv had a falling out and then called out eachother online where people who took it upon themselves to speak for them starting throwing mud.

Back in the day I remember Viv used to get mad at artists for ‘stealing’ her style. I think this attitude from Viv directly has vanished but I remember it happening because one of the people she thought was stealing her style did art for me at some point and they were basically shamed/chased off deviantART by a gaggle of these really nasty Vivfans.

inb4> “VIV WAS AWARE AND STILL WEAPONIZES HER FANS THO”

I don’t know that. And honestly, where I’m inclined to believe she’d do something like that then I think Viv is really different and has improved her business and public image from her college days. I’d be very disappointed in her if she was pulling a Butch Hartman or Derek Savage, but I just don’t think she is one, k?

Viv is more self critical and aware than any of these uber protective-gatekeeping fans give her credit for. She said on the Pizzapartypodcast that she knows the Hazbin pilot wasn’t perfect; she’s been able to identify the problems with old Zoophobia; this woman knows that criticism of all kinds need to exist and from what I see she sounds like she’s trying to get used to that. It’s just, you know, when you have nasty antis badgering you, stalkers, obsessive yes-mam’ fans, opinionated shit posters, r34 artists, entitled shippers and the NDAs of a company alongside your own branded image - all that negativity, even the constructive bits, tend to clump together and you just want to scream at it so you can finish the damn cartoon already!!!!

TL;DR: PART TWO

VivziePop/mind is basically indie Tim Burton. Her work is fun, shallow and made with love but is marketed as being for everyone when it’s really not. Parts of it I love to watch; parts of it drives me crazy cuz of reasonswhatev this isn’t a review.

BUT any fanbase where people tell me I should just “expect what’s coming to me” when I’m trying to argue against dragging creators into fandrama is troubling. People have a parasocial bond with fandoms and their creators and they need to learn when to back off.

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critical #critical fandom #I'm sorry to all the people I messaged n bothered over the past year bout my stupid thoughts #tw: stalker

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doufuhua · 3 years

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i’m gonna rant a long in-depth opinion about childe’s gameplay, sorry, feel free to ignore, or if you are thinking about pulling for him soon maybe my thoughts can provide insight.

i’m not a metaslave, honestly following meta is dumb in genshin impact, especially when the game is pve, you should enjoy the game the way you want to enjoy it. but, BUT...that being said, with childe banner coming, i have to say he does feel underwhelming to play sometimes. regardless of how much you like his character, the criticisms about his gameplay that people are bringing up have some truth in it. i agree that his kit and constellations need a revamp.

his constellations don’t provide dmg boost but a different playstyle which renders his range stance kind of useless because the constellations favors his melee stance more, hell even his kit favors melee. so in my conclusion, doesn’t it look like the fact that he wields a bow is counterintuitive? he should’ve just wield a spear in the first place if he’s gonna utilize it the most regardless of lore giving a reason why he uses a bow. and there’s the cooldown on his skill, now to me it’s manageable, i don’t have an issue with it, i think it’s a nice challenge to have a time limit, but not everyone thinks my way. actually based on observation, i see that when someone has an initial interest in childe’s gameplay, when they find out that his skill has a time limit, they give up, they just don’t want to bother, which is just a mentality thing unfortunately.

his constellations are i think a great example of how scummy mihoyo can be, they really gave him lackluster constellations at the top, c1 really only shaves off 4 seconds of cooldown and c2 is just...energy recharge....it’s not until c4-c6 does he get something interesting and it’s not more dmg, it’s a different playstyle. it’s obviously a money scheme to entice players to invest in pulling in gacha, it’s nearly predatory. in other words, if you’ve seen his playstyle and you really like it, he requires expensive investment. hu tao at c0 is basically childe’s c4 constellation, it’s pretty unfair. because of hu tao’s kit at c0, childe users feel cheated because his c4 should’ve been his c0.

now, speaking of c4, that is also a separate problem itself, especially if you’re a person who utilizes elemental reactions constantly. everyone knows that vaporize and melt are the strongest reactions in the game, and childe’s c4 has proven to be problematic when it comes to vaporize comps. childe’s c4 ability applies hydro to enemies every few seconds, and on the surface that sounds great, but players with c4 have realized that the comp is difficult to set up because he applies hydro too fast for pyro to take into effect, normally you have to apply pyro and then hydro, not the other way around. you basically sacrifice one playstyle for another, ultimately you have to choose which comp you like more, which is either you play vaporize comp or you pick something like permanent freeze. i don’t even want to get into the fact that, to get rid of the cooldown on his skill requires c6, which to reach that point, you’ll have to whale for it.

i hate to say it but i do feel like childe got powercreeped especially with characters like xiao, ganyu, and hu tao being released right after him, specializing in weapons he uses. ganyu is arguably the better bow user of the two, with her charged attack doing aoe dmg and having huge crit dmg modifiers. xiao’s gimmick is his plunge attacks which hilariously reminds me of the fact that childe’s melee stance has no plunging attack whatsoever. and hu tao...i’ve already said my piece above.

look i don’t hate childe, i actually like his character, maybe not at first, but after his story quest and learning about what he went through at age 14, he seemed like an okay guy. i’ve had him at c1 since version 1.1, he was one of the small amount of dps characters i had at the time who happened to use hydro. i didn’t have diluc, a highly sought for dps unit, at that time, i didn’t have xingqiu, a great support, until last month, i even have mona from losing the 50/50 on some character’s banner, i haven’t even built her yet. childe carried me through all the way up to this point, and yet i still think he can be improved. i’m criticizing mihoyo, which is the point of this post really.

don’t let me keep you from pulling his banner, he is a viable unit. his greatest asset is his aoe dmg, he’s great against large groups of enemies. he also hits as fast as polearm users, giving no chance for the enemy to counterattack. he can reach large numbers of crit dmg when you commit the effort for his artifacts. he works great with cryo and electro users, like beidou and fischl. i bring up his drawbacks because at the end of the day, mihoyo is a company and money is always foremost, they aren’t always on the playerbases’ side. honestly speaking, the decision to give zhongli a buff is an outlier, something that mihoyo didn’t anticipate doing. it wasn’t the efforts of western fans’ criticism that they gave him the buff, because america’s playerbase is small, it was the chinese players that complained the loudest, and god forbid a chinese company pisses of their own native players.

do i think mihoyo will give childe a buff? no. childe isn’t very popular, gameplay wise, on the chinese players side. so they most likely are not listening to any outcry by childe mains for example, mihoyo will keep releasing new characters, and these new characters will most likely powercreep some others. we barely made a big of a crack in the main story, we’re in the prologue stage of a sorts in a 6 or 7 act story, and so that definitely means new characters will just keep on coming. i just want you guys to keep in mind that you should always keep a distance, gambling can become an addiction, and never be bootlicker for a corporation who ultimately doesn’t care about you. like, i have a suspicion that the reason childe has a banner, why rosaria is on his banner, this time around on an event that’s all about mondstadt is, first, yes lorewise he is involved with the main story somewhat, he was accidentally in the abyss (the chasm?) when he was younger, that he was taught to fight by some woman there, and an upcoming main story quest with dainsleif reveals we will be fighting the abyss order at some point. but the second point, the “it’s just business” point, is that they know childe is a character phasing out in players’ interest, they put rosaria on his banner, to entice us to pull for her and by extension, childe, to make sales on his banner. this is basic business strategy. be aware of games like genshin impact, that are free to play on the surface, but have underhanded motives.

#艾美 #long post #gi #childe

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weirdthinkingdragon · 3 years

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Pushed Temptations

Yandere Western Shouta x reader

Warnings of blood, guns, character death, uh… intended weapon harm to reader? Should that be a warning? Quirkless AU

IDEK if you can really call this a yandere. More like highly protective, which is kinda yandere I guess? All I know is I was in a really soft mood when writing the ending. Oops…

It was rather quiet today at the bar. The only thing being the pianist playing their good old favorite tunes. No one seems to mind, and he offers to do the piano at a rather small price. Because of that, my boss decided to let him have a few drinks a day free. He was thankful but oddly declined. He’s definitely an older man, maybe in his 50s. I can’t for the life of me remember his name, but I do remember it starts with a T. He’s definitely an incredibly kind man though.

I clean the glass of the customer that just left incredibly drunk. I don’t care much about doing this job, but I have to because the boss told me I could live here if I do. He knew my family and wanted to help me out after they were killed by bandits on their way home. He’s also worried about me being alone in case that happens to me as well. I don’t really care. We all die at some point anyway. I am rather angry with the bandits though. He wouldn’t let me decline. Seriously, he made two of his strongest bouncers come get me to bring me to him. I’m starting to think he only wanted me for his benefit.

There was a rowdy few in the corner playing poker at the corner. I try to ignore them and stare at the doors to the entrance. One of the men at the table suddenly stands up, and storms out. He yells in fear after exiting. No one bats an eye since yelling is pretty normal around here. From fear? Not really, but it’s not my problem as long as it’s not in here.

It doesn’t take long to know why the man yelled in fear. A very feared outlaw enters through the doors. Shouta, the man feared by all. The only man that wears black everything, including his stetson. Well, the only thing not black was his bandana. That was a medium gray. He’s taken down multiple people at once, and so many Sheriffs and Bounty Hunters have been after him, which lead to their deaths. Only one person has ever been close to doing serious damage to him. From what I heard, they tried to become friends with him over a few days, got close enough, and tried to stab his eye with a knife. The swing hit, but not the way they hoped. The man was found dead a few days later with a bullet hole in his pants. He was shot in his thigh and left for dead overnight. The wolves got to him before he was found.

A chill goes through the place as everyone goes silent and stares at him. They know to not bring their guns out. They stare in fear at him as he saunters up to the booth right in front of me. “Howdy stranger, what can I get ya?”

“Whiskey.” Geez, even his voice is something to send chills down someone’s spine. I grab one of the glasses, fill it, and pass it to him. He goes to pass the money for it to me. I push it back towards him, leading him to have surprise on his face.

“It’s on me. It’s a thank you for getting rid of that group of damn bandits that called themselves the “Iron Will”. It’s nothing to you, but they were a royal thorn in my side. I wanted revenge on myself for something they did.”

His face went back to being stoic, but he did grab the glass. I look at the entrance to see if anyone else entered. No. In fact, the ones at the table playing Poker booked it out of here, so it’s now just him, the pianist, and I.

It stayed quiet between us for a bit. “You know, I don’t think you’re as bad as people say,” He raises the brow with the obvious scar under his eye, but says nothing. “From what I’ve heard, most, if not all, of the people you have killed have deserved it. Yes, even the Sheriffs. They’re usually corrupt themselves anyway.”

“...You talk a lot.” He’s too hard to read to know what he’s truly thinking.

I shrug. “It ain’t much. It just gets pretty boring around here, especially since I’d honestly rather be doing anything else. Kinda forced to be here,” I glare off to the side. “Thank the damn bandits for that one,” I lock eyes with him again. “Uh… nevermind. Enjoy the rest of your whiskey.” I say and go over to the table the rowdy people were t and grabbed their glasses. It might be best to not bother him much more. Maybe I’d be next.

The blond stops playing the piano for now, and he locks eyes with Shouta. Shouta… Gives him a small nod? They must know each other. That would just be further proof he doesn’t kill for no reason.

He asked for another, which I gave him. The blond didn’t continue playing yet. He must be giving his fingers a break. Honestly? About time. That man’s been playing for the past three hours without a break.

At least, it was peaceful until someone slammed the doors open in an obvious frantic state. It was my boss. He has a revolver… It was easy to tell what he wanted to do with it from the way he glares at Shouta. I don’t let worry show, even though I’m worried about him being shot by Shouta, which could easily happen. That and the blood would be hard to clean up. It always is on wooden floors, as well as I don’t have anywhere to go after since my home was already taken from being forced to be here. “Ren, please put the gun away. We ain’t got time for blood to be spilled here.”

That got Shouta to turn around and notice the man. His hand hovers over the pistol in his belt.

“You don’t tell me what to do! This man doesn’t belong here! I want him out! If the bouncers won’t, I’ll do it myself!”

I sigh. “Ren, please. The bouncers left an hour ago. You know you don’t stand a chance, and I really don’t want to clean blood off the floor tonight,” He’s still frantically waving the gun around like a child proud of a new toy. “He also hasn’t done anything.”

“Hasn’t done anything!? He killed Mizuki!” Mizuki? Where have I- oh. That wretched man.

“Isn’t he that man that kept forcing himself on women?”

“That doesn’t matter! He was still a great person!” … Is this man serious!?

If I’m reading Shouta right, he wasn’t too happy about hearing that either. “Why the fuck am I stuck working for you?” I whisper to myself. It’s not loud enough for Ren to hear thankfully. He would have blown his mind if he heard me. In speaking of a blown mind, he’s about to get his mind blown to bits for real. “I’m sorry for his actions. I'm also sorry, but would you mind leaving without spilling blood? I know it's stupid to ask, but I'm sure you know just how hard blood is to get off of things." I lean a bit over the counter.

"Stop being a pathetic bootlicker! He ain't deserving of it! Get. Out!"

"You're always welcome here otherwise." I whisper. Ren didn’t hear it, but I’m pretty sure Shouta did as he turned to lock eyes with me for a second before slamming the glass down and turns to glare hard at Ren. I don't even need to see his face to know. The fearful shaking of my boss shows. He stands up, and heads towards the door. He shakily points the gun at Shouta, but he doesn't even bother grabbing his pistol, just keeps his eyes on Ren. Ren is angering me right now, disturbing the peace between the three of us here. Also for being a darn hypocrite of sorts for not being able to be brave for pointing a gun at Shouta, even though he’d make others do it if they were around.

Ren steps away from the door as Shouta exits. It doesn't take long for the loud pounding of horse hooves to drift away until they’re no longer heard.

Ren puts his gun away, but glares at me. "Why did you not tell him to leave when he entered!? Men like that ain't welcome around here.”

I look at him like he's stupid, probably because he is. "What in tarnation did you want me to do about it? Money is money, ain't it? Even then, a simple person such as I had no chance against a man such as that. Do you even see a gun around me!?”

He swears under his breath. “Close up early.” He leaves. ??? What? Just comes in here to disturb us for that? It’s confirmed, he’s not stable.

Despite everything I could do, I decided to just listen and close it early. I grabbed the glass Shouta used, and started to clean it.

“You’re right you know,” I stop cleaning the glass and look at the blond. “About Shouta. He’s a kind man, just given odd cards for his life. All it takes is one bad doing to make someone thrown in the dark. He’s saved me more than once before. Unfortunately, one time he did accidentally kill a good man. Hizashi was his name. At least, that’s what everyone believes. Someone else shot him, but pinned the blame on Shouta. Everyone believed the other man before they believed him. There’s no way he’d purposefully kill his friend though. Sure, Hizashi was a troublemaker at times, but he had a heart of gold. Friendly to all.”

My brows crease. “Why have I never heard about this?” This seems like something that really should be known.”

He grows a saddened expression. “Many have simply chosen to forget or listen to him. Shouta gave up trying to convince people and just accepted his new way he has to live.”

I’m angry at people for doing this to him, and also sad for him. Just thinking about how bad and painful it would to be not be listened to when telling the truth and no one believes me would be devastating.

He leaves, and I leave a bit after finishing cleaning up.

----------------------------

For the past few months, Shouta has visited a few times. Luckily, Ren never came around, so he must be rather stealthy coming here now. I’m sure he comes for the free drinks. Who wouldn’t use that offer? I also started staying open a bit later than normal just for him. Still pretty sure he doesn’t like me too much from constantly trying to talk to him more with no success. Only a few nods or shakes of his head as replies.

Tonight was no different. I kept it open late on the twelfth day of the month. He’s had a pattern of coming on this specific day. Toshinori, the man I finally remember the name of, left not too long ago. I’m all alone now. The eerie silence is rather unnerving when being so used to hearing the piano playing so often.

Sadly, he doesn’t enter the saloon after a while of waiting. Maybe he’s busy tonight? Or maybe he got injured? There’s no way he could have been caught, right? I really hope not. I close the saloon and start to head home. It’s really late at night with the moon at its highest point in the sky. It’s a full one tonight, showing everything around me rather brightly. I pass a house on my way to mine, only to be suddenly slammed into the wall of it.

There was a familiar face to the body. Ren!? He holds a gun right up to my neck. His breath is shaky and obviously full of anger. “You… Stupid… Did you really think you could keep going against my back without me finding out!?” He pushes the gun harder on my neck. “I really hoped to be wrong that you were helping that.. Filth of a man. Oh no. No, no, no, no! You’ve not only kept serving him, you’ve been doing it free. You deserve to be fucking executed for that!”

He wasn’t alone. There were three other silhouettes that revealed themselves as men in the shadow of the building next to this one. They were close friends of his, and I’m pretty sure I remember the one farthest from me being rather close to Mizuki. The situation started to show, and fear quickly started rising. I’m going to die. “No, you deserve to be killed now for stealing from me! I give you a place to stay, and you steal! I should have left you to the bandits.” He seethes.

“Heh, I reckon we use ‘em as bait. We could pin the blame on them instead, and maybe their new “friend” will be angry enough to kill them. He’s had no problem killin’ people close to him before” Ren grows a sadistic smile. “You know? That’s the best idea!” He leans dangerously close to my face. My body recoils at the stench of his breath. It’s foul enough for my stomach to want to release everything in it.

The sound of two guns being cocked brought my attention to behind the man farthest from me. It’s Shouta. “There’s one problem with that plan.” He says. His tone seems a bit sharper than what I’ve heard though.

All the men sharply turn around with their guns held, pointing at Shouta.

“Oh, hey, Shouta. Sorry for-” Ren pushes the gun hard enough on my neck that it cuts me off from talking. “Shut it.”

I’ve never seen Shouta’s face so angry before. “Let them go, and maybe you’ll be spared.” He nearly hisses, but is trying to stay level-headed.

Ren suddenly starts laughing. “Aw, does the murderous outlaw have a big ol’ soft spot for this pathetic thing? How touching!” His finger on the trigger twitches. “Just makes me want to kill them more!”

Gunfire rang out. Something warm hits my face. I cringe at the quick realization it’s Ren’s blood. Ren’s body collapses to the ground. The others try to shoot at Shouta, but he dodges them all and shoots all of them through their heads. People’s lights started to turn on and others were coming out of their houses to see the commotion.

Shouta holsters his guns and whistles for his horse. A black Arabian runs up right next to him. “Thanks for saving me. You might want to leave though before you get more involved.” I try to walk away, but he grabs onto my arm, pulling me towards his horse. “What are you doing!?” I ask as he pushes me towards his horse.

“Something I should have done months ago. Get on.” What is he making me do? People will get the wrong idea if they see me with him.

“But-”

He nudges me by the horse again. “Get on.” I comply with a bit of difficulty from not used to being on a horse. He then gets on the saddle in one quick movement. The horse takes off as bullets from others whiz by us. I hug his rather well-toned torso to hold on. Luckily, none of them hit as we got far enough away.

It doesn’t take long for us to get to a house that looks abandoned. It was a rather small house with only a window on the front right next to the door. It’s hidden incredibly well by a few large hills.

He gets off the horse, ties the reins up, and nudges me towards the small house. "Why did you make me come with you? Now people will get the wrong idea."

He opens the door and allows me in first. Moonlight sone through the window enough to make the inside visible. On the left is a decent sized bed that seems a bit worse for wear, but still sturdy with rather clean looking sheets. The only other things in here was a wardrobe against the wall farthest from the door, and a chest under the window on the right side. “They would have gotten the wrong idea anyways. It wouldn’t have been the first time.” He ends up saying with his voice a bit strained. No doubt he’s remembering his friend.

He closes the door, and surprisingly, hugs me from behind. “Not again. I’ll make sure of it.”

I quirk a brow. The attention isn’t unwelcomed, but quite a surprise.. “You DO know I could have been shot as we left, right?” I ask. Wrong thing to say. His arms tightened substantially as he buried his head in my neck.

“They’d all be dead.”

“Wait, but they wouldn’t have done anything.” A bit of fear laced through me. Not for me, but for the others.

“Someone injuring or threatening you deserves death.”

“You’re supposed to be a good outlaw, what happened?” I ask, already kind of knowing the answer, and angry with myself for being so nice in the first place.

“Today happened. Those… things that nearly harmed you were right with their thoughts. No matter what I do, everyone is going to think I’m bad. It’s time for me to be a bit selfish for once. That selfish want is wanting you close to me.”

My heart is torn between melting at how cute that kind of is to still being fearful for others.

“That’s sweet and all, but you and I both know this isn’t gonna work for many reasons. One being we both can’t keep riding the same horse. It ain’t fair to the poor thing.” I felt him smile on my neck.

“We’ll get you one at some point. Judging from your struggling earlier, we have a ways to go first.”

I smile. This could be fun. What’s not fun is the mostly dry blood cracking on my face. “Sounds like fun, but uh… Got anything to clean this blood off?”

He tenses. “Blood?” The way he said it made me wish I didn’t say anything about it. He stops hugging me and turns me around, closely examining my face.

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine. It does feel gross though.”

Within a blink of an eye, he pulls out a rag and goes over to the chest to see a rather large jug of water. He dips it in the jug and comes back to wipe it off my face with a deep frown on his face.

In an odd form of suddenly feeling silly, I poke his nose with my right pointer finger. He blinked in surprise at me. He grows a soft smile that almost doesn’t seem suiting of him. It makes me chuckle.

“You know, It’s surprising to me you actually care. Or uh… Love me? Or whatever it really is. For the longest time I could swear you hated me.”

“I did at first,” Okay, points for honesty. “I expected you to be like an earlier nuisance I had to take care of. That changed especially after my third visit. I noticed you weren’t acting like it just to me. You were genuine with everyone. Toshinori helped by informing me more of your... issue that you told e a bit about,” He leans in close, fully cutting the conversation. “I think this is long overdue.” His lips touch mine. It was a really quick kiss that I barely had time to register.

I smirk. “So you DO love me, or am I looking too much into it?”

He’s not amused. “You already know the answer to that.”

Now I know I have a deadly outlaw that loves me. I guess in a way I should thank Ren.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#yandere western shouta #yandere mha x reader #shouta x reader #western au #outlaw shouta #yandere shouta aizawa

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the-order-of-fools · 3 years

Text

Stage Enemies interacting with the Knightfucker (AKA reader)

King Knight, of course, has his goldarmors. They were meant to serve King Pridemoor, but since a fool is now running the kingdom, they have to adapt. They're all tired and just doing their jobs in order to support themselves and their families, but the shit they have to put up with is incredible. The whiny little manchild king changes his mind over and over again when it comes to banquets, festivities and everything alike, and then has the royal audacity to criticize them instead. Due to the circumstances, some of them have resorted to becoming bootlickers, it's the only way they can survive. Though, bootlickers or not, they all agree on one thing: You're far better than their king.They were shocked when you complimented them for the first time. They thought King Knight could only get with someone as annoying and unpleasant as him, but luckily for them you're the loveliest person to have around. And you care about their feelings, damn. Finally, someone who has the sobriety of a responsible adult. Finally, someone who actually respects them and praises their efforts. They're pooling all their efforts into convincing King Knight to marry you. They don't want you to leave, please, stay with them.

Polar Knight isn't known for being the warmest out of the Order. He lets the ice creatures do their thing, he welcomes the Spinwolves with gentle pats and watches them roam and play around the desolate, frozen lands that surround the Stranded Ship, when they're not busy fighting off nosy intruders. He doesn't do much else. He's caring towards them, but they always find themselves craving more - the harsh climate and lonely scenery must weigh on them as well. All of this, until you found your way into that forsaken place and, most importantly, into the heart of its lord. Now, the wolves keep running towards you for their daily dose of pats and belly rubs and someone to play with them in the snow. You're the perfect source of warmth for such a cold place like the Stranded Ship - and now that you're here, it seems like Polar has become a little bit warmer as well. A win-win for everyone.

Tinker Knight has three types of companions: Cogslotters, electrodents and you. His workers appreciate him quite a bit. He's truly a hardworker who puts a lot of effort and creativity into his gadgets, not to mention his giant robot. He's just and fair with them, praising those whose work he admires most. All of those who have worked for him have mostly pleasant occasions to recount. Even if he may be the shortest thing alive, he is still their number one dad. Your appearance startled them a little. Work is work, but you? How could they not raise a brow and whisper among themselves when they figured out that you and Tinker were more than friends. Debates took place, investigations were ran to see if you were truly who you pretended to be. As all the results came clear, they more or less stared at you aghast, suddenly realizing that their boss fucks. The electrodents cannot think or feel, they only move around, oblivious to the fact that their creator is fucking in the same room as them.

The Gulper Mages weren't so keen on accepting a stranger on the Iron Whale the first time they saw you. They're greedy things just like their captain, they don't want anyone to come and try steal their gold. The fish? They don't care, they simply swim around peacefully as long as they don't perceive any foul presence - and they seem to have a sixth sense for that. Still, the normally attentive Serprizes seemed not to be bothered by you, which caused great confusion among the Mages who largely relied on them to spot enemies. With time, even the most distrustful among Treasure Knight's ranks learned that you weren't someone to worry about - you were never interested in the Iron Whale's gold, but its captain. Soon, they came to know you better and realized how much of a pleasant presence you could be. Grapps came out of their dens just to look at you with their big round eyes and earn a good pat, Serprizes and Martars swam around you peacefully as you stretched out your hands to caress them as they crossed your path. Even Treasure Knight seemed more... peaceful around you, if not happy. The only thing that could make him happy was gold, and once the Mages saw that in him, they understood you valued just as much, they couldn't help but accept you with all the rightful honors - and no one had anything to object for.

The Flying machine is organized in the exact purpose of making the life of all intruders completely miserable. It's rather unsurprising that Hoverhafts are ready to slice and dice whoever comes through, minus the ladies and gentlemen Propeller Knight brings onto the ship. They're quite content with him as their captain. They all came here for adventure and they're sure as hell enjoying life to its fullest. With a such a suave and charismatic captain, their lives have reached higher than the sky. Thanks to this, they have managed to meet quite the interesting creatures in during their travels. Floatsomes are rather docile in nature unless an intruder is nearby. They can spend as much time as they want petting the harmless jelly blobs. Plantos are rather strange but adorable creatures that seem to be around the airship wherever they go. Their captain seems very fond of them, so very fond that he makes a point of showing you the dancing Plantos every night. It's quite a sight really, seeing them twirling in the skies above the lights of the Flying machine. The care their captain takes to invite you out every night makes them ponder: are you truly the one? You have been with him much longer than any other partner, is it truly more than a little romantic adventure of his? They're not here to judge, they only await their captain's commands.

Plague Knight doesn't seem to be very keen on taking care of his subordinates - some of the Plague Minions even seem to be scared by him, as he supposedly used to experiment on those who weren't efficient enough for his standards. However, they are slowly warming up to him again now that he has found someone to soothe his frustrations and convince him to turn a blind eye to their minor mistakes. You have become their angel and their best friend, and they couldn't be happier to welcome you in the Explodatorium and escort you to Plague Knight's lab every time you visit. At first, they weren't sure how to welcome a stranger - Plague Knight seldom lets people in, so it was only natural for the guardians to mistake you for an enemy. A Macawbe almost hit you in the head with a poisonous potion once, which taught you to always look up when you enter Plague Knight's not-so-humble abode. Ratsploders now run to you and then around you, waiting for you to lean down and pet them, Fairies (which normally are the most aggressive and unapproachable creatures in the kingdom) fly to you and swarm around you peacefully. If even Fairies accept you as part of the family, you have nothing to be scared of anymore.

The Leech Yard has, what the kids call, "spoopy vibes". Its inhabitants are usually undead monsters. That isn't to say that there aren't adorable little critters who you would absolutely die for. Tadvolts will zap you if you touch them, but gosh, look at them, they even have little crown-like crests. How can you not pet them? You're not quite sure what Invisishades are (as you have cleverly called them much to Specty's chagrin), but gosh, you love these things. You're at least partially sure that they're not actually the ghosts of late mortals (still, Specter Knight refuses to answer you thoroughly), so you try and fail to pet them every second of your trip. Man, you sure hope you aren't petting the ghost of a human or animal or else that would be weird, unless they're furies that is. Boneclangs act more like... servants. They're weird, and they stare at you through their eyeless sockets most if not all the time. Specter can turn their heads with a flick of his finger, but you like to keep them that way. You like to think they are appreciating you in their own weird, spooky way. Zambies are even weirder. They shuffle around awkwardly around the swamp. You have tried talking to one once but then he decided that your face would look better pressed against a gravestone. Thankfully, you happen to have the speend and energy of a living person. Sucks to be dead, Zambies. Of course, you have had more than one interaction with Super Skeletons. You're not quite sure why they call themselves that, but they might as well call themselves super if they're giants. You suppose they're Specter's right hand men, but they're also lovable doofuses that are dimmer than a candle in the rain. Still, you're quite fond of these giant babies.

The miners in the Lost City usually don't expect visits (unless it's another one of those annoying heroes), as Mole Knight is known for his dedication to his work and consequent lack of interpersonal relations. That seems to be a recurring topic among the members of the Order of No Quarter, although it's not commonly tackled. Mole Knight seems not to mind, he gets the most happiness out of an ancient artifact or peculiar stones anyway - until he met you, of course. Now, the most valuable of gems seem mere pebbles in comparison to you, and he is always happy to show you around the mines (that's how you discovered the wonders of Big Bohto rides) and share his knowledge with you. Molers pop out of the ground from time to time to greet you, others -the shyest- hide in the ground whenever you approach them to give free pats. There are even Molers that hide their face behind their claws whenever you kneel in front of them to pet them and compliment them for their hard work, and you can bet your knightfucker ass they're absolutely adorable. If Mole Knight had a face, he'd aww too. Blorbs are the most peculiar among all, and they all seem to have quite the jolly personality. Some of them jump right into your arms (unless they're Blazorbs, of course - they wouldn't want to set Mole Knight's beloved "friend" on fire, now would they?). Good thing that they're gummy and you can squeeze them as much as you want, they're the perfect anti-stress balls.

Terrorpin may seem intimidating at first glance... afterall, it's a spiky turtle mixed with a rhinoceros, it looks ready to impale everything that treads on its path. For that reason, you give it the best pats. You're already hanging around Black Knight, you're used to small intimidating things. Still, Terrorpin is huge, but like anything related to Black Knight, you find it absolutely adorable. You would die for it. It's huge and dumb and it likes salads and god you keep its shell shinier than Treasure Knight's gold. Black Knight may (not so gently) order you to stop spoiling it, but fuck him, this is wholesome turtle time and you refuse to stop kissing and snuggling the giant spiky turtle. Don’t lie Black Knight, you want the kisses and the snuggles too. -Mod Tinker and ~Mod Propeller

#shovel knight #headcanons #mole knight #black knight #plague knight #specter knight #propeller knight #polar knight #king knight #treasure knight #tinker knight

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rhetoricalrogue · 3 years

Note

“things you said when you were drunk” for Vincent/Roz pleeeaaassee

OKAY, so this has sat in my inbox for THREE WHOLE YEARS, but I am finally getting to it. And while it’s with Roz, Rolfe decided he was going to kick the door in and go “hey there, pretty lady” so now it’s a Roz/Rolfe prompt.

Special guests: the majority of Rolfe’s Super Secret Spy Squad.

As much as Josephine would like for the Great Hall to be the seat of the Inquisitor, the third floor of the Herald’s Rest was Rolfe’s domain. Instead of the heavy silks and ornate stained glass that took up most of his private quarters - decor he hadn’t had a hand in picking, though he was so rarely there save to sleep and bathe that it didn’t matter to him - it was simply furnished with pieces that had been brought up from the lower floors of the tavern. A large round table took center stage on one side of the room with smaller tables littered here and there. Seeing that Cole had taken up residence in the opposite side, Rolfe had offered to furnish him with his own bench and booth, but the spirit had politely declined, happy enough that Rolfe had thought to include him. The decorations amid the candelabras hung on the rafters were a mishmash of styles, which perfectly suited the people who called the uppermost level their home base.

Those same people were currently crammed around the largest of the tables, laughing uproariously as cards and tankards clacked on the scarred wooden surface.

“And then this one,” Bruno said, pointing over to Martin, who was busy grabbing empty tankards and stacking them on a tray to take downstairs for refills. “Tried to climb out of a window when his cover was blown and managed to plummet like a rock for at least three stories before a tree broke his fall. Maker knows how he’s still alive.”

Martin rolled his eyes and snatched Bruno’s tankard out of the bigger man’s hands. “Oi, careful who you tell embarrassing stories about. I’m the one getting you a new ale.”

“Bless the barkeep for letting you brew fresh stock, Boss,” Gerard told Rolfe, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and covering a belch. “The watered down piss they were selling was downright tragic.”

Roz, who had been silently absorbing all the different conversations, let out the tiniest of giggles. “He actually let you get behind the bar?”

Rolfe, seated close to her, looked down at Roz and grinned. “I’ll have you know that I can be very persuasive. After the first batch met his approval, we worked out a deal: I spend as much time as I have available brewing with all profits going to his establishment and my people get to drink anything he stocks for free.”

Roz finished up her glass of mead, nodding as Martin took it from her with a flourish. Leaning against Rolfe, she reached out to run a finger over the knee pressed against her leg. “You certainly can be persuasive.”

Rolfe’s grin turned into a genuine smile, his eyes crinkling as he leaned back on her. Roz let out a satisfied hum when he dropped a quick kiss to the crown of her head and wrapped his arm around her to press her more securely against his side.

“Aren’t we cozy,” Anamaria teased, propping both elbows on the table and batting her eyelashes at them.

“Leave off,” Bruno said, nudging the teen with his elbow. “It isn’t often we get to see the boss look so content.”

“And I have every right to be,” Rolfe replied, giving Roz another squeeze. “Between fighting all our enemies, dodging bootlicking nobles, and keeping up with political intrigue, I think I deserve to enjoy an evening with some of my favorite people.”

Gerard laughed. “Appreciate the compliment, Trevelyan, but I reckon Bruno was talking about the lovely lady you’ve got at your side. It’s been too long since that seat’s been taken.”

“I don’t think it’s ever been taken,” Anamaria mused. “You know, I didn’t know what to make of you when I first showed up, Roz, but I have to say, you’re good for him.”

Roz looked up from where she had rested her head on Rolfe’s shoulder. “I think he’s good for me too.”

Rolfe, who had been relaxed and loose by her, suddenly froze. It wasn’t much, and had Roz not been all but pressed against him, she wouldn’t have noticed. “And when we start getting to the sentimental portion of the evening, I know we’ve all had too much to drink.” Standing, he offered a hand to Roz. “Care to take a turn outside for some air?”

Roz blinked up at him, but put her hand in his, enjoying the way his thumb rubbed against the back of her knuckles. “Something bothering you?”

He shook his head. “No, just thought that it was getting a little too warm in there.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Warm as in temperature or warm as in sentiments?”

“Both?”

She laced her fingers with his as they walked along the ramparts and down the stairs into the courtyard. It was late enough in the evening that there weren’t many people milling about, and Rolfe nodded to those who acknowledged them. “Your people care about you a great deal.”

He nodded. “And I care about them. We’ve been through a lot, they’ve been my personal squad of spies, pickpockets, and information gatherers for nearly two decades.” His fingers tightened around hers. “At this point, they’re more family than anything.”

“And they show it by teasing you about...this? Us?”

“I hope you don’t mind.” They climbed the steps to the keep, skirting around the main hall to one of the side hallways that Roz knew would lead them to the gardens. They were still mostly empty planting beds, but Roz had spent a lot of time and energy - not to mention late nights when sleep proved elusive - to turn hard packed dirt into soil fit for plants to thrive in. Her efforts were starting to take root too, if the multiple rows of healing potion ingredients that were beginning to flourish were anything to go by.

“Why would I mind?”

He shrugged. “What we have, it’s still so…” he searched for a word. “New. I didn’t want to presume anything, or step over boundaries. The last thing I would want to do was scare you away.”

“Rolfe.” She stopped walking so that he would look at her. “I don’t scare easily.”

He let out a huff of laughter. “No, I guess you don’t.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

Rolfe opened his mouth to say something, but shut it. “Absolutely nothing.” It was a lie and Roz saw through it, but before she could argue, a cool breeze hit her face and sent her swaying backwards, reminding her that she had been matching the rest of the people at the table drink for drink.

Roz’s spine may be made of steel, but for someone who rarely got to imbibe but the weakest of watered down wine on special occasions in the Circle, her tolerance was nowhere near the others.

“Do you know,” she started, staring up at Rolfe with a soft smile on her lips. “Do you know how handsome you are?” Roz sighed as she snuggled closer to him as they resumed walking through the gardens, Rolfe leading them up another flight of stairs towards the little room she had taken as her own. “You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever known.”

His eyebrow rose. “Why Mistress Marlowe,” he teased. “While I am acutely aware of how pretty I am, I never thought you would think the same.”

Roz made a face. “You’re making fun of me!”

“Never.”

She reached out and traced his chin with a finger, her touch light as it slid around to his jaw and up his cheek. “You make jokes when people give you compliments. Why?”

He circled her wrist with his hand and brought it to his mouth to press a kiss against the fluttering pulse there. “I don’t know. Perhaps I’m not used to receiving genuine ones.”

She made a little harumph noise. “Then you’d better get used to it, because you have a beautiful face. I’m very fond of it.” She wiggled her hand out of his grasp and carded her fingers through his hair. “I would like it to be closer though.”

“Oh? And just how close would you like it?” Steering them towards her room, he crowded her up against the wall right outside her door. “This close?”

Her hands grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket. “Closer.”

He pressed his hands on the wall at either side of her head, his nose brushing against hers. “This close?”

“You’re getting warmer.” She went up on the balls of her feet and closed the distance between them, savoring the way Rolfe curved into her, his hands leaving the wall to tangle in her hair and press against her cheeks. She was giddy, both from the honeyed wine from before, but mostly at the fact that running her tongue over the seam of his lips could make him groan and deepen the kiss, shivers running down his spine when she wrapped her arms around him and splayed her palms across his back.

Eventually, the strain on her calves from standing on the tips of her toes for so long made her sink back to the ground. “But why you had to be so tall and handsome is beyond me.”

Rolfe laughed, reaching behind her to open the door. “I can’t help being blessed with so many appealing attributes.” He sighed as he closed the door, moving out of her range as she reached for her. “And as much as I would love to continue this, you, my dear lady, are drunk.”

She frowned. “You mean, you don’t want me?”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t say that. I just said that you are in no position to tell me yes or no to continuing this with a clear head.” He reached out and held onto one of her hands, bringing it up for another kiss. “And as much as I would love to continue this tonight, I would rather have you remember it.”

“You know, you have a reputation for being a scoundrel,” Roz grumped. “And here I thought I could seduce you.”

Rolfe pulled her close. “Oh, my Rosebud,” he breathed, bending his head to nudge his nose along hers. “You have seduced me completely. I don’t think you quite know the power you hold over me, or the things I would do for you if you merely wished me to.” Bringing his hands up to her shoulders, he gave her lips a quick peck before slowly turning her around. “Now, let’s get you out of at least one layer of clothes so you can sleep peacefully. I may be a bit tipsy, but I think I can work my way around a few laces.”

Roz hummed contentedly as Rolfe made quick work of the outer layer of her dress, hands slowly pulling cloth down until it pooled at her feet, before working on the laces to her stays.

“Better?”

She backed up until her knees hit her bed and sat down. “Much, thank you.”

“Have I ever told you how much I admire your ankles?” Rolfe asked, sinking to his knees in front of her to carefully pull off her shoes.

She bit back a sigh as his thumbs found a tight spot at the arch of her foot. “My ankles?”

“Well, to be fair, they are connected to your legs, and I have an immense fondness for them.” He continued to talk while slowly rucking her shift up and over her knees as he rolled her stockings down and off her legs.

“Are there any other parts of me you admire?” She leaned back on her hands and gave him a come hither stare. Or at least she hoped it came across as a come hither stare.

Rolfe moved up her body, hands ghosting over her hips and sides before grazing over the outer curve of her breast - far too quickly for her liking, but enough to make her bite back a quiet moan - before reaching up to grab hold of the decorative pins she used to keep her hair up, sending the long, crimson mass of it tumbling heavily down her shoulders and nearly into her lap. “Oh, many, many other parts,” he told her, smirking against her throat before placing a warm kiss there, then nibbling at her jaw, his hands braced on the mattress on either side of her. “And I’ll be glad to give each and every part of you the attention it deserves.”

His lips hovered over hers. “On another night.”

She flopped back against the pillows. “You’re a tease, Rolfe Trevelyan.”

He grinned before moving away from her. “You knew that coming into this, my dear lady.” His eyes darkened as he reached out to run his thumb along her bottom lip. “But I’ll have you know that you’re not the only one affected. I doubt I’ll get much sleep tonight, I’ll be too busy thinking of you.”

“Good.” She rolled over to her side, her arms snuggling into her pillows. “At least I know I won’t be the only one awake.”

It would have been more believable, had she not yawned and nearly immediately fallen asleep. Rolfe gave her a fond smile before rolling off the mattress as carefully and quietly as he could. “Rest easy,” he murmured, leaning over to press the lightest of kisses against her forehead. He moved stealthily through her room before closing her door behind him, the latch not making the slightest of noises to disturb her. It wasn’t until he was well enough away from her rooms that he let himself lean against the stone wall, the chill of the night air and a sudden realization sobering him up quicker than anything else ever did.

He was in love.

#rolfe trevelyan #rosalind marlowe #inquisitor rolfe au #thank you for being so patient with me I hope this is worth the wait!#alittlestarling

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senlinyu · 5 years

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If you're still taking prompts: Dramione, "Tabula rasa"

Warning: sad.

Tabula rasa. Those are the terms.

Get out of Azkaban, work at her insipid house-elf charity for a year, and pretend they’ve never met before.

It’s weird but anything is better than sitting in Azkaban for a second year.

It’s like a fresh start.

The concept is tantalising.

He refrains from rolling his eyes as he agrees to the terms. “I’d love to act like I’ve never seen her before.”

“The terms will be magically binding. Violate them and you will return to fill the additional year of your sentence,” the weevil-faced lawyer says.

Draco glances at his mother who sits eagerly beside him and is nodding encouragingly.

“Fine. I’m legally bound act like I don’t know her. Sounds ideal. Where do I sign?”

He doesn’t know why the clause even exists in the agreement. Three weeks on the job and he hasn’t even laid eyes on her.

The day he arrived, he’s shuffled off into a cramped office in the basement and, after they try giving him a variety of different tasks, he ends up being assigned to write thank you letters.

It’s his entire job.

Excellent penmanship is apparently the only usable skill that he possesses.

He assumes at first that it will be easy. He’ll come in late, leave early, and spend a matter of minutes charming a couple dozen notes tops.

“Dear Bootlicker, Thank you terribly much for your generous donation if 500 galleons. I’m thrilled there was literally nothing else you could conceive of to do with your money. It will assuredly be used by yours truly to improve the lives of the sentient abominations called house-elves. Sincerely, love and kisses, the Wizarding world’s favourite buck-toothed harridan, Hermione Granger.”

No. It’s not easy. Granger has elaborate requirements for all the thank you letters that she doesn’t even bother to personally write.

He has to go through the society papers and Granger’s detailed personal calendar to make references to the donor’s last meeting with her. He’s expected to ask about children and grandchildren by name, and discuss the inner-workings of the charity as well as to relate anecdotes about all the sad little elves the donor’s money saves.

Within a few weeks he’s maintaining a full-fledged correspondence between the most bizarre assortment of Wizarding folk, a centaur, two vampires, and an alleged forest troll. A correspondence that he is maintaining as Granger, whom he hasn’t laid eyes on in years.

Supposedly she looks over all his letters before signing them and sending them off, but Draco doubts it. After weeks there, he still hasn’t so much as caught sight of her bushy head.

He torn between a sense of outrage and admiration over what a slick ship she runs. He doesn’t think she even shows up in her office most days. If she does, she never slips so much as a toe past the fourth floor, certainly not to any floors Draco’s allowed on.

Granger has a matronly personal assistant the size of a mountain named Charlotte. The woman is like the female version of Crabbe and Goyle simultaneously. Draco is convinced she must be at least a quarter troll. She glares at Draco whenever “passing on messages” and makes clear to Draco that she’d gladly snap his spine if Granger ever gave her the go-ahead.

Draco accepts his “job” with his head down. He just has to endure it a year and then he’s free. Maybe once he’s not at risk of returning to Azkaban, he can expose what a fraud Granger is.

He finally sees her after two months.

She’s walking by with her assistant when he’s standing in the hallway, taking a break from his cramped office’s inadequate air flow.

Granger catches sight of him all the way down the hallway and without hesitating, bolts up to him.

“Hi, I’m so sorry. You’ve been here for over a month and I haven’t said hi.” She’s beaming at him as she takes hold of his hand and shakes enthusiastically. Her assistant comes thundering down the hall after her. “I’ve been admiring your penmanship for weeks. I’m Hermione Granger, and you must be Draco Malfoy. I’m so pleased we could have you on the team here.”

Draco stared at her blankly while she pumps his hand up and down.

Tabula rasa.

Everyone at the charity knows who he is, even though they make a show of not. There are loud comments about the kinds of people who would become Death Eaters. The receptionist pretends to be unable to recall his name or that he has a job there. Draco is obliged to go through the full sign-in process every morning as though he’s a visitor.

However, Granger has no idea who he is. It’s not an act. There is not even a flicker of recognition in her eyes as she grins up at him.

He’s imagined their fake “meeting” a dozen different ways but this iteration isn’t one that occurred to him.

“Granger,” he says as she continues wringing his hand. Charlotte is ten feet away, her footsteps shaking the hall, and her eyes are threatening a slow and painful death. “It’s been a��pleasure.”

“Miss Granger, you have a meeting with Gibbling to review charity finances in five minutes,” Charlotte says as she reaches Granger, trying to tear her away from Draco.

“I do?” Granger’s hand slips out of Draco’s and she looks chastened, as though she’s been slapped. “I didn’t remember—“

“I apologise, ma’am,” the assistant says smoothly, inserting herself between Granger and Draco. “It slipped my mind, I only just remembered he sent a note this morning. I’m sure it will only take a few minutes.”

Granger is craning her neck to look back at Draco as she’s being herded away. She side-steps her assistant and cuts back.

“It was nice meeting you, Draco. I’m having a little party at my flat this Saturday with some of my friends. Would you want to come by? It’s the least I can do after being so rude.”

“I…” Draco glances back and forth between Granger’s hopeful face and the venomous expression of Charlotte behind her, who is shaking her head warningly. “—don’t think I can make it.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

Draco watches Granger trot off with her assistant in tow feeling incredibly confused about what’s going on.

He feels like if anyone were going to tell him, they would have already done so. He’s legally bound to play along with whatever this ridiculous farce is.

His mother has to know, but her lips are apparently sealed on the matter.

“You’re out of Azkaban, darling. Focus on that and never mind anyone else.”

He wants to, but he can’t help but try to figure it out. Why doesn’t Granger remember him? It feels like he’s been personally and exclusively excised from her life and he hasn’t the foggiest idea why he was the only one singled out.

Granger clearly knows his mother. She’s an active participant post-war rebuilding and gives speeches from time to time about things like the Battle of Hogwarts.

Granger isn’t the type to fuck with her memory based on anything and everything Draco knows about her. If she were, he doesn’t know why she’d choose to forget him. And if she did choose to forget him, he doesn’t know why her weird melange of employees and friends would let her hire him.

It feels personal and he can’t bring himself to leave it alone. Is there anything else she doesn’t remember?

When he isn’t ghost-writing her correspondence, he starts going through the newspapers and her old calendars trying to pinpoint exactly when Granger may have forgotten his existence.

He thinks it happened about six months after he was imprisoned in Azkaban following the war. Granger’s exhaustively detailed calendars start immediately after that and her public appearances were sporadic and odd up until then.

He starts hanging around in hallways when he thinks he might run into her. Her assistant is always a few steps behind her, glaring at Draco as though she knows why he’s there and inventing meetings and events in order to get Granger away from him.

He’s been there four months and has barely spoken to her for more than ten minutes in the entire time.

He’s in the middle of writing a sarcastically cordial letter to Romanian vampire when his office door cracks open and Granger sneaks into his office.

He looks at her as she drops into the chair across from his desk and lets out a heavy sigh of relief.

Draco eyes the door, waiting for Charlotte to burst in like a raging erumpant.

Granger notices where his gaze is directed. “Don’t worry. I sent Lotte on an errand. We have at least fifteen minutes before she comes looking for me.”

Draco looks back to Granger. He doesn’t know what to make of her.

This version of Granger is weirdly cheerful, like all her prickly defensiveness has been smoothed away. She still looks frightful, as though she suffers a phobia of hair potion, she’s still bizarre and obsessed with things like saving house-elves and everything else in the world. But he feels like she’s an entirely different person around him.

Maybe he’d just never known her without her claws out.

Granger shifts and looks slightly uncomfortable. “She’s very protective of me. I—I lose track of things sometimes.”

Draco just nods, not really sure how anyone who keeps records of their daily activities as exhaustively as Granger does could possibly be accused to losing track of things.

She glances around his office. “Why on earth did they put you in here? This room looks like a storage closet.”

Draco refrains from telling her that it literally is a storage closet and the absolute farthest room from her office. He measured one day, just to confirm it to himself.

“I’m not picky,” he lies. “It’s more comfortable than Azkaban.”

Her mouth purses. “That’s hardly a commendation. I’ll have you moved upstairs. I’m sure we still have a few extra offices. Somewhere with a window and plants! My friend, Neville, is a genius with plants, once we’ve moved you, I can get a few.”

She pokes around in his office for a few more minutes, interrogating him about how he likes his job and how his “co-workers” are treating him. Draco lies his way through her questioning until she stands up looking at him thoughtfully.

The next day, Charlotte appears looking enraged while he’s at the front desk filling out the visitor sheet for the hundredth time.

“Miss Granger wants your office moved to the fourth floor,” she says, looking as though someone has force-fed her a lemon.

Draco’s new office is two doors down from Granger’s. He has an entire wall of windows.

Granger pops in relentlessly, bringing him plants and a knitted tea-cosy, and “Lotte” looks more and more as though she wants to throttle him.

Granger takes to sneaking into his office whenever Lotte is out running errands. Which seems to occur suspiciously often.

Draco is certain that Granger’s aware that there is something odd going on. Her eyes are sly and calculating. She knows she’s being “handled” and that it involves endless attempts by all her employees to keep her as far away from Draco as possible, which makes her obstinately seek him out all the more.

At first Draco tries to ignore her, but she is his boss. He feels obligated to talk to her whenever she shows up.

Eventually they talk about all the letters he’s writing on her behalf. She looks down at her lap and spends several seconds straightening her skirt.

“You must think it’s odd that I don’t keep up with the donors personally,” she says looking up at him.

“Not at all,” he lies. “I’m sure it’s common for charities of this size. I’m happy my handwriting can be of some use.”

“I used to—“ she says, her voice somewhat halting. “But—“ her head jerks slightly, “my—my memory can be rather—that’s why I keep so many notes in my calendars, to keep track.”

Her expression is visibly strained, her beaming effusiveness gone.

“You’re a very busy person,” he says, eyeing her carefully.

She gives a stiff little nod and her eyebrows furrow. “I think—I used to remember things better. Now, if I don’t have someone to remind me about things”—her head jerks—“I forget details.”

“It’s probably just stress.”

“Maybe,” she sounds unconvinced.

She has all the traditional symptoms of someone who’s been extensively and powerfully obliviated. Absent-mindedness. She’s chronically forgetful, Draco realises over time.

Charlotte does invent excuses to get Granger away from Draco, but many reminders are for real events that Hermione forgets she’s headed to. On several occasions Draco finds her standing alone in the hallway, trying to remember which door is her office.

She’s still smart. Still blisteringly smart, but it’s like watching a bird with its pinions clipped. It’s clear she’s intended to be airborne, but someone has hobbled her.

It’s painful to witness, and it’s made worse by the fact that she’s clearly aware of it.

The memory loss somehow seems to centre around Draco, which he cannot understand. If someone malicious were to go and wipe something from her memory, her best friend’s school rival is not the person Draco would pick.

Obliviation is self-protective. The mind will not consider the idea of tampering or let her realise her memories are incomplete. Whenever a conversation strays anywhere near their shared past, her attention abruptly, almost violently pivots to a different topic.

However, despite how obstinately her memory keeps her from suspecting any past acquaintance with Draco, she can’t seem to stay away from him. As though she can instinctively tell he’s a missing piece.

One day she tells him about a potion idea she has, and it’s almost brilliant except she’s clearly forgotten a brewing idiosyncrasy of a key ingredient. She realises she’s missed something and just comes to a rambling halt in the middle of her explanation, a drawn, embarrassed expression sweeping across her face.

“Never mind. I think—I should...maybe it will work out if I write it down—“ she looks down and her cheeks are stained scarlet.

“Sting slime needs to simmer for six hours uncovered,” he says. “Unless you want the potion to result in weightlessness.”

She stares at him for a moment and then her face breaks into a beaming smile. “Yes! Six hours of simmering. That’s when you leave it under the full moon and gather fresh asphodel.” She sighs with relief and presses a hand against her head. “That’s what I was missing. I thought—thank you, Draco. I thought—I thought maybe I’d gotten it all wrong again.”

Her exuberance causes Draco’s entire body to grow warm and a weird bubbling sensation in his stomach.

He avoids her eyes. “I haven’t brewed much since leaving prison, but everything else sounded correct. If you want to send it on to a potions journal, I can look it over if you ever write it all out.”

Her eyes are shining and she grins at him. “That would be so helpful. My friends didn’t really care much for potions class. I’m so glad I found you.”

She skips slightly as she leaves his office, which causes his entire face to twitch repeatedly as he witnesses it.

Granger spends increasing amounts of time in his office and Draco doesn’t—well, he doesn’t exactly mind.

She’s infinitely better company than dementors, he tells himself.

She incredibly interested in him, in a way that he has no idea how to handle. She wants to know what he’ll do once his contract with the charity is over, and he finds himself trying to come up with ideas to share with her that don’t don’t merely involve him indolently frittering away his time on his family’s properties.

It isn’t as though he’s not allowed to be friends with her. The terms of his contract simply require him to give no indication of any prior acquaintance with her.

They can be friends, he tells himself when she invites herself into his office to have lunch with him.

Good friends even, he reasons, when she invites him to her flat for dinner one evening.

Or more than friends...

Hermione is perched on the arm of his desk chair.

Their faces are getting slowly closer and closer until he can feel her nervous breathing. She has the most beautiful eyes. Her hair falls forward as his nose brushes against hers.

His hand ventures up until his fingertips trace along her cheek.

She smiles. Her smiles always start in her eyes and the corner of her mouth curves faintly up as she dips her head lower.

Their lips are almost touching when the door bursts open and Charlotte storms across the room.

“Miss Granger is supposed to be at a board meeting,” she says as she rushes Hermione away.

Draco has barely gotten his heart rate back down to a steady pace when Charlotte returns in a state of seething rage. She grips him by the robes and physically drags him from the building.

“You’re contagiously ill. Bed-ridden. I don’t want to see you set foot in this building for a month,” she says, glowering at him. “Stay away from her, you Death Eater bastard.”

Draco goes home sulkily. His mother is in France visiting a cousin and he has nothing to do but lie about indolently drinking.

The attempted separation goes as well as Draco expects. Charlotte may be obsessively loyal to Hermione, but she clearly didn’t think through what sending Draco home sick would result in.

Hermione shows up at Malfoy Manor through the floo after three days. Draco has to bolt through the manor and dives into bed mere seconds before she comes trotting into his bedroom, carrying a basket packed with soup and potions.

She fusses over him for several minutes while he lies and pretends to be languishing. Finally she sits down, looking endearingly awkward and starts updating him on the various going ons at the charity.

As the minutes tick by, Draco can’t help but develop a sense of unease. There’s something off about her.

Her eyes begin darting around. She speaks faster and faster. Her hand rises up and touches her throat before twitching up to her temple. Her head jerks.

It finally dawns on Draco why she doesn’t remember him.

She breaks off mid-sentence, her eyes darting around wildly.

“Draco—have I—have I—been here before?”

Draco sits up instantly and reaches for her, trying to keep his voice steady. “Hermione. Hermione, look at me. Focus on me. You were telling me about the elves that came to you yesterday. Don’t look around. Focus on the elves. Let's get you back to the office. I’m feeling better. Let’s get out of here.”

She doesn’t seem to hear him.

She glances up and catches sight of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A whimpering gasp escapes her and she falls backwards off her chair.

Draco lunges but she stumbles to her feet and skitters away from him.

Her head starts jerking violently.

“We didn’t! We didn’t—“

Her voice breaks off with a sob.

Her face is turning white and her eyes lock on his. Her voice drops into a ragged, pleading whisper that pulls up memories that Draco has tried to bury in depths of his mind. “Please… Malfoy... Malfoy…please—”

Her head jerks. “We didn’t! We found it—”

She starts screaming at the top of her lungs.

It’s one endless scream that vibrates and tears the air apart. Draco doesn’t know what to do. Hermione keeps screaming until her whole body starts shaking violently.

Her voice abruptly cuts off and she drops to the ground.

Draco has to leap to catch her.

He’s shaking with panic and seething with rage as he carries her downstairs and through the floo to St Mungo’s.

He nearly decks Potter when he and Weasley come bolting down the hallway into the Janus Thickey Ward.

Draco wants to murder them both. “You couldn’t have bothered to explain that the reason she doesn’t remember me is because you obliviated her entire memory of Malfoy Manor?”

They just shove him out of the way as they rush into her room and leave him waiting outside.

Potter is the first one to re-emerge, more than an hour later. He stands staring at Draco for a minute. “She’ll—she should be fine,” he says in a dull voice. “The mind-healers will just have to reseal the memories.”

Draco glares at him. He’s still shaking. He doesn’t think he’s stopped shaking the entire time. “Why didn’t anyone just tell me why she didn’t remember me? And why the fuck did you obliviate her at all? Do know what you’ve done to her mind?”

Potter’s expression turns deadly. “Do I know what I’ve done to her? Why do you think it happened, Malfoy? Did it never cross your mind that there might be long term consequences for telling your insane aunt that Hermione was Muggle-Born.”

Potter’s face starts turning white with rage. “If you want to know whose fault this is—try looking in a fucking mirror.”

Draco stares at Potter in blank horror.

“Did you think people just get over torture? Since the war, St Mungo’s has discovered there’s an entire spectrum of brain damage that the cruciatus can cause, prior to reaching the point of insanity. Your aunt didn’t torture Hermione to insanity, but just—barely. We thought she was fine. The first couple months afterward—she seemed fine. She started having neurological issues a few months after the war. When she got them checked here at St Mungo’s, they found out the cruciatus had fried parts of her brain. That’s—apparently that’s how it works.”

Potter pulls off his glasses and wipes them. He refuses to look at Draco. “The only way they could contain it was by walling off the damage with magic, by using targeted obliviation. So—that’s what we did. It was just coincidental that she forgot entirely about you. I guess, for her, you were just as much a part of it as your Aunt.”

Draco stares at Potter and doesn’t know what emotions he’s experiencing. A lot. An entire maelstrom. More emotions than he knew he had. More than he ever wanted to feel.

“Why—Why did you let her hire me?” he finally forces himself to ask.

Potter’s face hardens. “That—was your mom’s meddling. Your release was conditional on your ability to secure a job. To the surprise of no one, nobody wanted to hire you.” He scoffs and looks down, his voice becomes mocking. “She’ll do anything to protect her son. She’d heard Hermione didn’t remember you, so she went to her with a whole sob story about her poor son who’d been forced to take the Dark Mark before he was an adult and now he was rotting in Azkaban because no one would give him a chance.”

Potter stares bitterly at him. “Hermione can never say no to a lost cause.” He gives an empty laugh. “We couldn’t explain to her why she shouldn’t without endangering her. We thought if you and your mother were both magically gagged, and Hermione was kept away from you, that it would be doable. But of course she noticed how lonely you were, and decided to take you under her wing.”

Potter exhales slowly and swallows. “Stay away from her, Malfoy.” His voice wobbles slightly. “The healers say you and your house are her main triggers. If you hang around her, she will inevitably relapse again. Every time they have to re-obliviate her it’s going to carve away a little more of her mind and memories. If there’s even a shred of anything decent about you, stay away from her.”

Draco manages to nod once before turning and walking unsteadily away.

When he’s home, he floo-calls his mother and yells at her until his throat gives out.

He packs a bag and gets a cheap room in Diagon Alley. It smells and there’s noise from the bar below, but it’s not screaming. There are no chandeliers.

He returns to “work” after a month and is informed that his office has been moved back into the basement. He doesn’t even blink at the news.

He resumes corresponding with Hermione’s growing donor list.

He doesn’t see her again.

Charlotte no longer bothers with passing on messages personally in order to communicate her utter loathing of him. She doesn’t ever leave Hermione’s side.

Draco only has to work at the charity for two more months. He puts up a calendar and X’s off each day.

He’s walking back from his lunch break two weeks later when he catches sight of Hermione’s bushy hair all the way down the hall. He ducks quickly into a nearby closet and waits until he’s certain she’s gone.

He nearly crashes into her as he steps back out.

Her eyes are bright and she’s slightly breathless from running. Charlotte is thundering down the hall after her.

Hermione beams up at him as she sticks out her hand. “Hi! Hi, I’m so so sorry. You’ve been here for months and I haven’t even said hello. I’m Hermione Granger, and you must be Draco Malfoy. I’m so pleased we could have you on the team here.”

Draco stares down at her.

There is not even a flicker of recognition in her eyes as she smiles up at him.

His throat’s so tight it’s as though he’s being strangled to death as he stands looking down at her.

A second year in Azkaban would have been infinitely less painful than this.

He sneers down at the proffered hand. “If you don’t mind, I just washed my hands. I don’t want filth like you sliming them up.”

#dramione #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #senlinyuwrites #asks #prompts #anthology collection

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fugitivestogether · 4 years

Note

3, 44, 46!!

First off, thank you SO much for the prompts - I’m so sorry that it took forever to finish this. It’s pretty long, but I enjoyed working on this. Whether this is canon to their story and how it goes down 100%, I’m not too sure, but the sentiments behind it for sure are!

I love thinking about Sparks and Anders post DA2 so these prompts were a great way to write about that. 💗💗 Please don’t feel obligated to read this...gush nonsense. (it’s pretty much just gushing, TBH) but I felt like I wanted to post it to feel like I ‘finished’, if that makes sense. Thanks again!!

Hawke’s never been good with words. Not when it comes to goodbyes. But it’s not a real goodbye. Not really.

Then why does Anders look so forlorn? Why do they feel like their heart is tearing in two straight down the middle at the thought of having to leave their beloved mage?

It isn’t that Anders is weak - far from it. He’s way more powerful a mage than they’ll ever dream of being, magically and mentally. And they know that Justice is still there, keeping his friend safe. Hawke trusts Isabela and Fenris, both whom Anders will be staying with while they deal with this mess - far, far away from Skyhold and Orlais.

It’s their own fear; fear that something will happen and this will be the last time they’ll ever see one another. Hawke can’t stand being apart from Anders; they hate it.

But they hate the idea of Anders and Carver being susceptible to this fake ‘Calling’ even more. And if Corypheus really is behind it…well, they’d just have to kick his bony ass again, wouldn’t they? No one messes with their family and gets away with it.

“I wish I could come with you,” Anders whispers next to them, breaking their Darkspawn murdering thoughts.

Hawke immediately turns toward him, despite not having much light to see. “I wish you could, too. But besides Varric, we don’t know if we can trust the Inquisition,” they offer, letting one hand pat its way in the dark before finding and cupping his cheek. “He says the Inquisitor is alright, but…what’s his face is there - Meredith’s old bootlicker, and I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

Anders lets his own hand rest over theirs, nuzzling their palm and sighs, the sound resigned but empty.

“I just…I hate thinking about what could happen if you come with me. I can take care of myself…but I’d die if something happened to you.” Hawke takes hold of his other hand, lifting it to their lips and kissing the back. “And Skyhold is so close to where all this bullshit is happening, y’know? I remember what happened with Corypheus…” Hawke closes their eyes and the memories flood back just at the mention of that freak’s name. “I don’t want him to hurt you again.”

The vivid image of Anders holding his head in agony, voice laced with pain and begging for their help before Corypheus managed to take hold for even that quick moment...it’s just too much. It still brings Hawke nightmares, only they didn’t expect the reality of that horror could happen once again.

“I won’t let him,” Hawke murmurs, kissing Anders’ knuckles. “He’ll hurt you or Carver over my dead body.”

Anders slips his hand out of their grip, his arms wrapping around them and pulling them flush against him. “I don’t want it to be over your dead body,” he says, his forehead pressing gently to theirs. There’s a pain in Anders’ voice along with fear, and Hawke doesn’t doubt that it’s like the one that’s bubbling in their own heart at the thought of losing their beloved. Hawke’s hands rest on his back, sliding up to cup his neck. “Then it won’t be.”

Hawke moves as Anders does; they both must have the same idea, feeling his lips press just barely against their own. They kiss him back, tentatively, a few light pecks back and forth.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Anders whispers with another kiss, this one lasting longer than the others.

Hawke responds in kind. “You never will.”

Their drawn out kiss eventually melds into a series of rapid, messy kisses - desperate, as if this is all just reassurance that they’re still here, together. Their hands wander to any place they can touch, mapping one another’s bodies and committing it to memory.

They soon feel Anders’ hands on their face, and in that moment, the clouds break. Moonlight streams into their tiny room and illuminates them both.

“Kiss me,” Anders pants breathlessly, but his demand is clear. From the look in his eyes, Hawke realizes: he doesn’t just want them to kiss him.

He needs them.

That’s more than okay. Hawke needs him, too.

“Always,” Hawke replies, leaning in to kiss him: sweetly. Completely.

“Everything’s just about finished,” Isabela says while approaching. “You ready to go?”

Anders shakes his head, his hand grasping at Hawke’s just a bit more tightly. “I’m sorry, Isabela. Please, I need a few moments.”

“I’d normally say it’s rude to keep a lady waiting…” Isabela trails off.

Fenris huffs, folding his arms. “You are no ‘lady’.”

“True. I’m a Captain,” Isabela states while reaching over to flick his ear, which only causes him to scowl even more. She turns back to them and winks. “Ready whenever you are. Let’s try not to prolong the goodbyes, hm?”

Hawke watches both Isabela and Fenris walk back to her ship before turning to Anders.

“At least you won’t be bored with them around,” Hawke chuckles, their laugh dying down when they see Anders’ expression. “Hey. Everything’s gonna be alright,” they tell him, taking hold of his other hand, swinging both their arms gently from side to side. “I’m gonna be back to annoying you so fast that you’ll wish that I was still at Skyhold bothering Varric.”

“Any time spent away from you is too long for me,” Anders says plainly.

Hawke can’t help the pleased giggle that escapes. “Ooh, look at you being romantic. Well, the feeling is mutual, hon, but my statement still stands.” They lean in closer, standing on their tip toes and smile up at him. “When all this is over…we’re going to free mages everywhere and nothing will ever keep me from you again.”

Anders’ head leans in, his hands leaving theirs as his arms wrap around them, and Hawke lets their arms rest over his shoulders.

“Promise?” Anders whispers, brown eyes searching theirs.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, kissing them like this really will be the last time they’ll ever see each other. Hawke doesn’t want to think about it too much. They have to be positive. They’ll have someone waiting for them to come back, after all. Hawke returns the kiss with as much of themself as they can pour into it, to let him know just how loved he truly is.

Hawke honestly could have stayed there in his arms for eternity but Isabela’s wolf whistle interrupts.

“Looks like fun,” she calls out from the side of her ship. “Is sharing an option?”

Hawke laughs when they break the kiss, shaking their head. “Only if he gives permission, ‘Bela!” Their laughter only growing louder when they hear her groan in frustration.

“Hawke?” comes Anders’ voice, claiming their attention once again. He leans down and kisses them on their forehead. “Come back to me,” he pleads, murmuring against their skin.

Nodding, Hawke grins. “And let me guess; that’s an order, not a request?” ”You know me so well, love,” he pulls back and smiles gently in return.

Parting from one another after one last kiss, Hawke winked. “I’ll be back faster than you can say ‘Templars smell like bronto breath’, you’ll see!”

The laugh they get out of him is worth the pain of leaving. Hawke steps back, hating how they feel him squeeze their hand one last time. They hold on, even until it’s only their finger tips, and finally, (unfortunately), they let go completely. Hawke watches helplessly, heart wrenching with each step Anders takes toward the boarding plank.

Once he’s on board and Isabela’s crew starts moving about again, Hawke cups their hands around their mouth, calling out to the Captain. “Take care of him for me, ‘Bela! Fenris!”

“In more ways than one!” Isabela calls back and Hawke can only imagine the look on Fenris’ face.

They stand on the dock, unable to help blowing one last kiss to the love of their life, waving goodbye as long as Anders does once the boat leaves harbor and begins to set out toward open water. They continue waving, even long after Isabela’s boat is a black speck on the horizon. Only after then, does Hawke adjust the bag strapped across their chest and sigh, readying for the pain-in-the-ass trip it’ll be to Skyhold.

Damn…they miss their beanpole.

Anders leans over the stares back in the direction of land. “...templars smell like bronto breath…” he mumbles into the wind, thumb rubbing the golden band on his left ring finger.

“Hmm? Did you say something, sweet thing?” Isabela asks, still manning the wheel.

Bringing his hand up to his lips, he smiles against the ring. “Nothing, Isabela. Nothing,” Anders reassures her.

#thank you for the ask! <3333 #this was so lovely to work on <33 #fugitives together #My writing #fictometry

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yankyo · 4 years

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The day started off like any other, Beetlejuice rolled out of bed, pulling the covers up over his babes so that she could sneak in a little more sleep - Rem worked so hard throughout the week, so she deserved to relax on her days off. With the holiday season, she had a good couple of days to enjoy the festivities, and Beetlejuice had a few days with her all to himself to brush up on his pampering skills. First on the docket was, of course, getting breakfast together - Rem had a lot more patience with his lack of culinary talent, but he was still banned from cooking without supervision, so that meant hopping out to steal them something from the nearby diner. Well, _stealing_ wasn’t allowed so he instead ordered by possessing the waiter and left a fistful of dollars on the counter behind. He wasn’t the best, but he was getting good with this human shit, oat least, that’s what he thought. One hop through space later and he landed back in the kitchen, where he began setting up the table for them - or at least that was the plan before he felt the telltale tremor of a Netherworld portal being opened. Ever since his little adventure with the Deetz-Maitland household, his business had boomed, apparently his defeat of Juno had made him something of a legend and the demons who had ignored him before were flocking to him for advice now.Which was all good and dandy, but he had thought he had laid down clear ground rules: don’t fucking bother him while he was with his babes, dammit! He didn’t doubt in his ability to protect his Rem, but that didn’t mean he wanted every Beelzebub, Lilith or Alastor breaking down the door and dragging their slimy bodies all around their living space! So when the small imp crawled though the door, dragging along a group of his bretheren, Beetlejuice was clearly less than impressed, scowling down at the small gathering with his arms crossed over his chest and murder on his mind. The leader of the group was a slightly taller imp, with three glowing silver eyes and torn leathery wings dragging behind him as he walked up to the clearly less than happy demon, already starting with the bootlicking bullshit Beetlejuice had recently found himself faced with. “M-Milord Shaggoth.” the imp chittered, bowing so low his nose brushed the ground. “Out.” Without even letting the imp finish his driveling bullshit, Beetlejuice was already grabbing him by the scruff of his neck in preparation to throw his happy ass back through the portal - or, at least, that was the plan before he heard a sleepy voice from the doorway. “Beej?” His babes, his doll, his _precious_ stood in the doorway, an oversized shirt skimming her thighs as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “What’s going on?” upon seeing the scene developing in the kitchen, she blinked in confusion before she let out a soft noise and rushed forwards. “How _cute_!” She exclaimed, easily taking the imp from his hands into her arms to hug. Glancing between the welcoming human and demon about to throw them out, the rest of the imps swarmed Rem, all clamoring for her attention. “Hey!” Beetlejuice snapped, glaring at these rodents touching his babes with their greasy little hands. “Oh, don’t be mean to the little guys!” Though her voice was soft, Rem chastised him, kneeling to pet the heads of each imp, the little bastards purring for her, all the while sending smug looks back his way. He was gonna punt the little fucks halfway across the Netherworld when he got his hands on them. “What brings y’all here?” she asked and the leader of the group pulled a pitiful expression. “He promised scaring lessons to any demon who needed it. We’ve been chased out of our home by a bunch of mean humans and need help getting it back.” A pack of six imps couldn’t scare off some humans? _Really_? “I don’t remember promising shit” Beetlejuice snapped, “Now if you’ll excuse us, breakfast is getting cold and I know damn well I told everyone to keep business to the Netherworld.” He tried to urge them along once more, but they clung to Rem, whining in protest, the leader practically diving into her lap. “_Hey_!” His shout made the group jolt, Rem’s eyes widened with surprise while the imps chattered with excitement. “That's exactly what we’re looking for! No! No! The roar!” They clamoured. Beetlejuice just rolled his eyes and took Rem’s hand to urge her up onto her feet and behind him. “I already said no! _Beat it_.” He snarled. “Oh come on, Beej, just help them out. I can heat up breakfast and get everything ready.” “Yeah! Yeah! What the breather says! Teach us! Roar! Roar!” The imps swarmed around them, grabbing not only at Beetlejuice, but at Rem as well and the irritation that had already been bubbling forwards snapped. He snarled, the sound vibrating through the kitchen as it made everything stand still. “You want a lesson?” He growled, with a snap of his fingers, the imps were all thrown back against the wall “Beej, c-c-come on, thats too far.” Rem spoke up at his side “Just sit the fuck down, I’ll finish this bullshit right now.” He snapped, nudging her back to the kichen table before he rounded on the irritants fucking up his morning to begin with. “You want a roar?” His words came out garbled as his fangs grew larger, his mouth splitting open to accommodate the growth. His hair and his eyes glowed a blood red, his form glitching and twitching as he gathered in energy before he expelled it in a blood curdling roar, his body splitting apart at the seems to reveal tentacles and shattered bones before he settled back to his original form with a huff. “Now can yall get the fuck out?” he turned on his heel, the self satisfied smile spreading across his face quickly falling as he saw the look on her face. “Babes?” He reached out, only for Rem to jerk back, frightened tears falling down her cheeks. “Rem?” his voice was less than a whisper, but she covered her ears with her hands, her entire body trembling. “_No_!” The scream made him take a startled step backwards. “_Stay away from me_!” “Remmy? Please?” He tried again, his voice so small and broken even he thought he sounded pathetic. “Beetlejuice!” His eyes widened with shock. “Rem, wait, please!” “Beetlejuice!” “Babes, don’t do this, please just look at me, I-I didn’t mean to, I’m _sorry_!” “_Beetlejuice_!”

Darkness. Gone. Alone. Invisible.

Thrown back into obscurity, he could see into the room as if from a distance, but he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t reach her, couldn’t speak to her. All he could do was watch as Remington fell to her knees,her breath coming out in harsh, raspy sobs. A panic attack, he knew the signs quite clearly. He did the only thing he could, he ran to the only people who could see him, bursting into Lydia’s room to beg for her help. Everything seemed to pass in a haze, following behind, helpless and useless as Delia and Lydia rushed to help Remington. Watching from a distance as she sobbed into Delia’s chest, at least until Lydia came to him with a cold expression.

“I think you should leave for now, just knowing you're close is scaring her.” He didn’t have anything to say in response, only giving a short, jerky nod, unable to tear his eyes from Rem’s trembling figure even as the world melted away in a cloud of green mist.

Ruining everything wasn’t new, ever since he was born Beetlejuice had a knack for destroying everything around him - hell, he ruined his mother’s life just by being born. No wonder she didn’t love him, no wonder no one could love him! Why did he keep on trying? What was the point, why even try, all he did was hurt the people he cared about. If he wasn’t in her life to begin with, Rem would be happier, dating someone much better for her, someone alive. Not something like him. Useless. A waste. Disgusting. Lazy. Worthless. Why did he think anything had changed? Why did he allow himself to hope that he could be better? Why was he so stupid?

Three months. Three long months he stayed in the Netherworld and threw himself into his work, though everyone could see that his heart wasn’t in it. How could he try and scare anyone when he still had Remington’s scream in his ear? When he could still see the fear in her face as she jerked away from him? Three months, he looked at himself, seeing only the shadows of his mother in his face. Funny how much he turned out to be just like her after everything. Just fucking hilarious. He used to watch as creatures scuttled around Jno with such envy, everything used to see the disdain she treated him with and would ignore him in return. Now, they bowed as he walked past. Now they bent backwards to obey. Just because he had ‘power’, how ridiculous. As if he was any different from the demon they all mocked. From the demon who was banished all those years ago. But just because he had some stupid status, that was what got him respect. Lydia would call him every now and again, giving him a status report of what was happening up on the surface, letting him know how Rem was doing. Thankfully, she seemed to be continuing on life without much problem, she kept going to work, kept coming around the family to meet up, apparently she had even asked about him at one point. Lydia said Rem missed him. He doubted it. Every now and then, Lydia would ask him to come up and visit, but he refused, it was better for him to just stay where he was. Of course, saying no to someone like Lydia could only go on for so long, as he found himself forcefully summoned up to the surface to see the teen glowring at him before long. “You need to talk to her.” Was all she said, her tone holding no room for argument, not that that stopped him from trying. “Kid, _I can’t_. You saw the way she looked at me, I _terrified_ her. It’s better that I just stay away.” He brushed off his suit with a sigh, his shoulders sagging, “It's best that she never has to see me again.” “_No_.” The fervent voice from behind him made him jolt, whirling around to come face to face with her. Rem’s eyes were filled with a soft guilt, tears threatening to spill over as she took a step forward. “That’s not better. Beej, I...” She cut off, her hands clenched at her sides. “You scared me bad, that figure, that roar, the way you snapped at me. I... I’ve had bad experiences in the past, and seeing you like that brought me back... but that wasn't just you.” With every step she took forwards, he stumbled back until he was backed against a wall. “But I also hurt you.” She whispered. “The look on your face, I... knew how your mother treated you, knew how much you just wanted to be accepted and I still hid things from you, still pushed you away. I’m -” “_Don’t apologize_. Please, you have _nothing_ to apologize for.” He couldn’t hear her apologize for something that was his fault to begin with, he should have known, should have been more careful. For a moment, they were both silent, Rem breaking the quiet by holding out her hand. “Beej. I love you, I don’t want things to end like this, please come back home.” He trembled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll just mess everything up again. I’m no good, I’m, I’m-” She cut him off this time. “Do you love me?” The answer was simple. He nodded his head. “Do you want to come home?” Another nod. “Can I hug you.” He nodded so hard he thought his head might fall off and she pulled him into tight, firm hug that made him let out a weak sob, burying his face in her shoulder to inhale her scent for the first time in such a long time. “It’s going to be ok, Beej, I’m here, i'm not going to leave.” He hugged her tighter. “I missed you.” He admitted, his voice small and weak. “I missed you.” She repeated, squeezing him all the tighter as if she were afraid he’d disappear. “Let’s go home.”

#beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice x self insert #beetlegeuse #yan writes #comissionwork #tw panic attack #tw slight body horror #yee

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ramblian · 4 years

Text

Jericho Thoughts

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh

okay so. i’m rewatching jericho. i first watched it sometime around 8th-9th grade, I think maybe somewhere in the first half of 2014. I basically remembered this: the main character was the black sheep of the family, he came back to town, and atomic bombs destroyed most of the US, and the show was about the town dealing with the aftermath. the guy from continuum and one ep of flashpoint played a character i liked named dale (eric knudsen) who liked a popular girl who ended up befriending him, and the asking-for-flowers flashpoint ep guy was the responsible brother. Someone used to be a teacher. The main character looked like Skeet Ulrich, but i didn’t know who that was, just the name.

turns out the main character WAS Skeet Ulrich, and 2 characters (heather and emily) used to be teachers, and i apparently forgot almost all of the major characters. I’ve been rewatching it with the knowledge of which characters die, so that’s good. the show is really good, and it’s really intense. I’m almost done, and it’s tough to keep watching both because it’s so intense and because i know a character i like is about to die tragically.

watching this show makes me so TENSE. i think it really got bad when goetz showed up and i knew bonnie’s death was coming up. i’ve been watching the same episode for like an hour and i started 6 minutes in from another viewing. i don’t know why i’m so stressed. well actually i do it’s because things in this show are AWFUL but i know that no one dies after bonnie.

i also really like that the plot is very much what drives the show. romantic relationships somewhat matter (eric/april/mary, dale/skylar, and stanley/mimi in particular get screentime, while jake’s relationships with emily and heather are there and meaningful but not something that drives the story or gets a lot of attention. dale and eric’s relationships have also been less important in season 2) but they are regularly sidelined while the character deal with the latest crisis. characters have backstories that aren’t always super expanded on, like johnston’s chaotic neutral dad or stanley and bonnie’s parents, because they don’t have a meaningful impact on the plot- how mimi grew up isn’t going to change how the Greens deal with food shortages.

also, i love that it’s a post-apocalyptic show where there’s a lot of fighting and lawlessness and not once have they used rape as a plot device. the closest it ever came to being mentioned was when maggie, a survivor pretending to be military to get towns’ supplies, said that ‘out there, men only want women for one thing’ and that’s IT. i respect that so much. way too many shows and books and movies are like ‘things are bad... and we can only express that through rape’ but this show never does

also the grey morality is very well done in season 1 (the bad guys are clearer in season 2). characters fight and do shitty things because everyone is just trying to survive. Constantino was wrong to start a war with Jericho, but i also understand where he was coming from. Ravenwood ransacked New Bern and left them with almost nothing, and Jericho never bothered to warn them. There were some people considering not honoring the deal to repay the windmills in food. New Bern was on the brink of destruction and Constantino tried to get the resources for survival where he could, by force. The thing with the refugees too. There isn’t really enough food for everyone, and it’s true that Jericho’s been getting a lot of refugees when it’s barely managing to sustain its own population. Some of the refugees have been stealing from them, and sometimes you have to make tricky decisions to survive. But the refugees are also probably going to die if they get sent away, and understandably they cannot accept that. they’ve been stealing food to prepare for this possibility, and they are willing to be violent to secure their place because jericho is much better off than just about anywhere else and they don’t want to die. Roger gets in a fight with Gray and accidentally shoots him, but then actively chooses to hold him at gunpoint and refuse him medical help unless he guarantees the safety of the other refugees. That’s obviously awful- but he’s also trying to protect the lives of the 50 innocent people he brought here. In the end, the refugees get to stay because some Jericho residents volunteer to share their rations, but Roger does not because he obviously committed a terrible crime. He’s not a bad person, but of course he can’t just be forgiven and integrated back into Jericho like nothing happened, and he accepts that and leaves with only a gun from Jake to protect himself because at least the others and emily will be safe.

also that emily and roger’s relationship wasn’t made meaningless in order to further her relationship with jake even despite their history as high school sweethearts.

oh god i just watched the scene where stanley’s talking to bonnie in the morgue and it’s so well done and i’m just in bed crying- not sobbing or anything, but plenty of tears. i don’t know what the last show to make me cry like this was; i’ve been watching so much youtube that i haven’t been watching a lot of hard hitting shows lately i guess. Barry was extremely Fucked Up, that might have made me cry, but it might not have- it had me fucked up for weeks, but i don’t know if i cried.

anyway the scene with stanley and bonnie in the morgue is so good. Stanley talking to her like she’s still alive the way they always did for their parents, and talking to her sign language bc that’s her language. Telling her to say hi to their parents. Letting her know that mimi is still alive, that she succeeded in protecting her, and thanking her for it. Still joking around a little even though he’s obviously heartbroken and just being so genuine with her. Neither of them deserved this.

wow can’t believe heather is a fuckin bootlicker, knowing that the government is extremely corrupt and that she and beck are destroying new bern and choosing to continue to work for that government.

oh beck just has to be some sort of a stupid son of a bitch. absolute goddamn buffoon. siding with the govt, arresting jake in the shadiest way possible in the middle of a crowd, choosing to torture jake (which if he knew a goddamn thing like hawkins did he would know was ineffective), and then thinking that after everything this town and those rangers have done to protect themselves and their loved ones that it was just going to work out for him like the others aren’t going to come for jake immediately and efficiently. i liked beck well enough before but any fondness or respect for him is fucking absolutely gone.

at least eric is really getting to show off his leadership skills now. johnston’s dead, jake’s been arrested/kidnapped, hawkins is busy with other shit. eric’s always one of the second-in-commands but this is one of the few times he’s just plain in command.

“your friends have escalated this to a level i will not tolerate” right but you dragging jake to a fuckin blacksite to torture him was fine???? YOU ESCALATED THIS YOU DUMB STUPID SON OF A BITCH. you have really been given so many chances this season to not serve an evil government and try to protect these people and you’ve failed almost every time, huh? he’d also have to be some sort of an idiot to think that a clearly faked note with jake’s signature saying ‘this bad’ would stop anyone. god i haven’t escalated to hating someone this much so quickly in a long fuckin time.

love how beck is leveraging the entire town of jericho and choosing to oppress them in order to get the rangers to turn themselves in <3 i love punishing innocent people to use them against others just like goetz did last episode <3 what a good guy

i dont know why there are so many beck fics on ao3 because this man fucking sucks. like, can you imagine refusing a whole town food, power, and lights as a bargaining chip, blaming someone else (”don’t forget, you caused this”) and then still thinking you have the moral high ground? incredible mental gymnastics when will beck be in the olympics

heather: your actions are so blatantly terrible that i am just now beginning to consider not defending you to everyone. take responsibility for what you do

beck: hmm. no. my choices are jake’s fault

i know beck is probably going to ‘redeem’ himself by the end of the episode but i don’t fuckin care. too late for him now he can’t just say ‘oops’ and pretend he hasn’t done all of this shit. wild how his actions are now literally being compared to those of nazis during wwii and people still like this guy.

hey do you think beck is an idiot asshole or just pretending to be one for fun

commanding officer: go ahead and destroy everything in the area

beck: 🤔 is killing all those people wrong?

oof rip eric sure is rough when you have to ally with the guy who tortured you and killed your dad to protect ur city but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. also where the hell has dale been? i’ll let it go bc the show isn’t consistent on when he shows up and is a major part of town but in universe it sure is fuckin weird, and you know beck would have dragged him in for questioning too

oh wow beck finally decided to actually try thinking critically and addressing the obvious evidence about cheyenne’s corruption. that makes up for everything and i can stan now /s

‘i’m no longer taking orders from the cheyenne government. i believe it’s corrupt at its core. its actions are criminal’ oh so like everyone’s been telling you this whole time? the actions like the ones you’ve taken, not even at anyone’s command? idiot.

lmao i’m not as opposed to constantino’s methods as the show thinks i’m supposed to be. a revolution against a corrupt, oppressive government is not peaceful. it cannot be. the only good fascist is a dead one.

#jericho #jericho spoilers #in case this shows up in the tags and someone sees it or smthn

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epic-potato-crisp · 7 years

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Is Sokabe their future enemy? - Foreshadowing in Ch. 50 (Promised Land)

Even at the beginning of Ajin, Sokabe had never appeared like a particularily pleasant person. Perhaps it was the constant, wide smile, designed expressively to please, that was so off-putting about him. Perhaps it was him behaving like a slimy bootlicker.

But back in those times, Tosaki and Izumi themselves were still a large enough threat to Kei on their own, so his importance was dismissed. But now, that Team Tosaki and Team Satou have both formed and all alliances are established, the question remains where Sokabe fits in this scheme. He’s a member of the Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare’s Ajin Monitoring Committee run by Tosaki, so it’s quite unlikely he’ll ever form an alliance with Satou. It is not excluded, but unlikely regarding his work position.

At least, so far, Sokabe was never considered a major threat. But perhaps that was a very false assumption to make, and in Chapter 50 - Promised Land, we learn why.

Tosaki, Sokabe and Izumi are making the last preparations for their plan to intercept an attack of Satou’s on the minister and all of a sudden, Sokabe makes a first vague comment.

At this moment, it doesn’t seem that unusual. His “it’s all going to end now” might easily refer to the fight against Satou finally ending.

It’s only in the context of what follows that it sounds rather foreboding.

How interesting that the surname Sokabe “mistakenly” almost calls Izumi by sounds a lot like her dead name.

An accident?

Keeping Sokabe’s unreliable character in mind, it’s most certainly not.

No, Sokabe knows things about Izumi’s past he shouldn’t know. And if he knows her past identity, there is a 99.9% chance he’s aware of her being an Ajin.

And he is planning to use this information against them.

Out of the blue, he starts questioning Izumi for personal details that he practically has no use for. Or does he?

It might be to test her reaction to her dead name and see if he managed to intimidate her, or because needs her body measurements for something else.

And I have a feeling that it’s not for tailoring her a new suit.

Izumi, bless her, doesn’t seem extremely mistrustful, rather a bit confused. It’s not indicated whether or not she heard his “accidental mishap”.

But Tosaki has, and he is not pleased about it.

Quite the opposite, he is boiling with barely suppressed anger.

Sokabe’s further explanation that he merely wanted to “start learning what I could” offers anything but reassurance - for what would he need Izumi’s personal details for, if not too harm her?

Now, there are several possible reasons for why on earth Sokabe is aware of Izumi’s dead name and likely, identity

Did Tosaki show him her governmental file? Did Tosaki slip up during conversation? Did Sokabe discover the file himself? Did Sokabe conduct his own research? Did Sokabe overhear a conversation between Izumi and Tosaki?

While it is extremly unlike Tosaki would be risking their secrecy by involving a third party from within the Ministry, number three to five are all equally possible.

Which leads us to the question of Sokabe’s motivations.

What gain could he possibly have from exposing them?

We don’t know enough about Sokabe and Tosaki’s past to be aware of past grudges, but what we do know is that Tosaki is direct superior, a fact that’s likely bothering Sokabe.

The fastest way to change their hierarchical positions, and additionally get rid of Tosaki entirely (they never really seemed to be on friendly terms) would be to reveal that he was working with an Ajin all along.

Sokabe very much appears llike an oppurtunist, one working for his gain and his gain alone. Tosaki, having worked only for his own gain for a very long line, likely understands his way of thinking, and realizes what consequences Sokabe’s subtle threats could have.

But as of now, there is nothing he can say or do.

What would a confrontation bring, if not if Izumi, himself and their entire team into danger?

Even Tosaki’s position as the Commitee leader would mean nothing once the Ministry discovered that he was hiding the Ajins he was supposed to deliver to them. If all comes down to it, Sokabe has the entire Ministry backing him. Tosaki and Izumi only have each other and their steadily decreasing team.

So Tosaki, despite being now - if he wasn’t already - painfully aware that Sokabe might become their future enemy, he can only grit his teeth and bear it for the moment. There is no other option that seems logical.

But in Tosaki-style, that Nagai and Nakano have already experienced enough for a lifetime, he can do one thing.

Telling him to shut up.

#tosaki yuu #tosaki #shimomura izumi #ajin meta #ajin #sokabe #izumi #izumi shimomura #ajin chapter 50 #ajin demi human #ajin manga #gamon sakurai #sorry its late #but better late than never #had to get it out for chapter 53 #bon appetit

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prinzenhasserin · 7 years

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Yuletide!

Dear Yule Goat/Creator/Person I Will Love Forever,

I am very excited for anything you write for these fandoms. Please feel free to take my prompts and likes any way you wish, as long as you stick to my dislikes. Don’t feel like you have to stick to the prompts! I’m always open for other characters. Generally, I will be delighted with any rating from gen to explicit. I hope you have fun creating!

My AO3 name is Prinzenhasserin, here. If you want to browse more of my letters, here are some at my exchange letter tag.

Likes:

fake/pretend relationships, arranged marriages

loyalty

odd couples

found family, dysfunctional families that nevertheless love each other

historical stories for same-sex pairings that aren’t unhappy but that fit with the society of the time (so like, spinster ladies living together; bachelors-for-life)

cultural differences, age differences, height differences

heists, rescue missions, case fic

dragons, fairy tales, magical realism, urban fantasy

competent characters

people not realising they’re the most competent at their job/hobby

people failing their way to success

happy endings, earning your happy ending, open yet hopeful endings

cynical humour

mutual pining

suits, corsetry, fancy dresses

Identity shenanigans (secret identities, mistaken identities)

Blatant Lies

Enemies finding common ground and becoming friends/lovers; rivalry

outsider POV, 1st person narrator

epistolary, fictional non-fiction, worldbuilding, interactive fiction, poetry

orange/blue morality (that is, not entirely human morality); grey/grey morality

people not usually found in law enforcement solving crimes

non-verbal expressions of affection

contradictions: that is, I like my fantasy with the mundane (doing taxes in a mythical land of dragons, or space pirates!) and I like my mundane fiction with outrageous happenings.

Kinks:

wall sex! overcome with sudden desire! sex with clothes on!

shifting power dynamics (outside the bedroom, and inside the bedroom), actions on both sides, basically

stiff characters letting go of their iron control inside the bedroom; characters feeling guilty of their desire but not guilty enough to stop; coming to terms with the guilt

lots of foreplay, drawn out orgasms, edging

desperate sex, drunk sex, we-just-can’t-help-it!sex, sex for life-affirming; sex pollen

sex toys

Dislikes (Do-Not-Want):

rape played for laughs, or as backstory

sexuality, or gender as the focus of plot or used for drama

suicide

tragic endings (ambiguous endings are fine, though!)

RED (Movies)

(Characters: Victoria, Sarah Ross)

This movie, goddamn it. It’s so silly, and so! much! shit! explodes, but I can’t help but find it charming and adorable.

If you want to write me Victoria teaching Sarah how to handle her weapons and shoot shit up, I am absolutely here for that. I would also love secret spy shenanigans, or a situation where only the secret skills of the customer service person Sarah or the filling skills of a bored bureaucrat (also: Sarah) save the day in a spectacular manner.

Or Victoria taking Sarah under her wing and teaching her everything she knows about life, men, and how to end both. Or trying to protect her from the fucked-up shit in her life, and then maybe realising that maybe Sarah doesn’t need to be protected.

I am a fan of the age difference, too, and I do ship them together, if you rather want to write that. Give me all the fucked up femslash! Going on murderous rampages together, and having sex amid the slain corpses of their enemies, yes, that. Bedsharing because circumstances have them hiding out in the Siberian Tundra. Victoria dressing up Sarah and taking her as a trophy wife to diplomatic functions? Seducing Sarah so Victoria can rub their togetherness into Frank’s face. Taking people of guard, because the expected a toy boy, and not -- whatever Sarah is.

DNW: mommy kink

Gokusen (Manga)

(Characters: any -- Fujiyama Shizuka, Kuroda Ryuuichirou, Sawada Shin, Yamaguchi Kumiko)

How do I love this manga so much? I have no idea. I’m not even near high school age anymore, and yet the plot (and tbh, sometimes its ridiculous nature) always gets to me. I’d read more about any aspect of this canon, and if you want to bring in any other characters, and leave others out, feel entirely free to.

Post-canon would be great, but anything goes really. Focusing on just one character would be terrific. Having all of them would be great!

Kumiko has adventures with another class, or her minions! Does she continue with being a school teacher? Maybe she starts leading the Yakuza group, and still goes to school to teach her kids manners, and morals, and how to fight the system?

Shin goes to law school/Africa/some place, but gets lost on the way there! Will he come back to Yankumi? Will he eventually lead the Yakuza group?

Fujiyama Shizuka doesn’t get why she’s the one without the beautiful student toy-boy, and tries to find one herself, and instead falls in love with, idk, the new female teacher? one of Yankumi’s brothers? the new janitor? Or she watches and cackles a lot as Yankumi and Shin date, and then maybe found a Yakuza orphanage, and/or marry.

Kuroda Ryuuchiro and his quest for the rightful heir to his Yakuza group! How does he feel about his granddaughter running around with the police chief’s son — does that bother him more than the whole student thing? Does Shin really inherit the Kuroda family group? Does he become a Yakuza lawyer? Or does Yankumi make him stay away, or maybe Kuroda makes them stay away?

I ship Shin/Yankumi but gen is delightful also.

How does Shin convince Yankumi to have sex with him? Is he getting kidnapped left and right before they actually get together because all and sundry already think they’ve been doing each other for years?

If they are already in an established relationship, how does Shin deal with Yankumi’s students (especially when one of them develops a crush)?

I have no problems about depicting violence, or graphic criminal activities, but please keep the violence perpetrated by the nominated characters within the spirit of the manga? I like to root for morally ambiguous characters, but not if they are truly evil.

Roundtable Rival - Lindsey Stirling (Music Video)

(Characters: Durango Black, The Violinist (Roundtable Rival))

I love this music video! It’s so silly and fun! It is here, if you want to watch it yourself, but basically, people are fighting each other with music instruments to a jaunty tune, set in the Wild Wild West.

Basically, fighting with music! Foiling dastardly plans! I want to read more about this! And anything goes, really. If you want to focus more on one character, or want to show this from an outside perspective, either would be great.

Lowkey, I’m really a fan of rival-dynamics, and love to ship enemies, so bringing a lovestory between Durango Black and the Violinist would make my day. Or if there’s a dynamic like "You are the only one allowed to catch me"? —Perfection

Maybe they know each other from before? Maybe there’s epic discussion about different ways to fight each other with music (I’d be into reading about that!).

Would also be into PWP where the Violinist dominates Durango Black. Some Bootlicking, maybe? Or creative uses of the music instruments. Or clothing porn!

Or case fic where The Violinist tours around the country, catching criminals; or just a glimpse into how music developed its own fighting style — or performing tricks like shooting an apple out of the air, just with music instruments!

(Additional question for worldbuilding: What is that clear liquid they serve in beer humps?)

DNW: rape (dubcon is fine, though!)

British Romantic Writers RPF

Characters: John Keats (British Romantic Writers RPF), Lord Byron (British Romantic Writers RPF), Percy Shelley (British Romantic Writers RPF)

Okay, I’m not even vaguely sorry. Here’s my confession: I ship all of these with each other, as pairs, or as threesome. I’d read them writing spite!fic, or rather spite!poetry, about each other, though! Or a zombie!AU, in which they are all stumbling incompetently around the dead suddenly among the living. Or maybe they turn out to be surprisingly competent at killing/evading zombies! (I’d expect nothing less from Percy Shelley who seduced people on graveyards, tbh)

Hey — at least they knew of each other! I am into the really very dysfunctional relationships with each other, here. Who is to say they wouldn’t have been very happy with each other in various constellations? Lord Byron seemed to have detested Keats — or at least thought his poetry as "mental masturbation" — I’d dig them in a rival relationship, that suddenly develops into a sexual relationship. Maybe even romantic? (Definitely romantic in the original sense)

And I can definitely see Lord Byron condescending down on Keats for his poor upbringing, without being aware that this is what he is doing, and Keats so not having that. And Percy Shelley with his continued efforts into giving all his money to charity while having the luxury to seduce women and traipse around the continent!

How about an AU in which Keats doesn’t die and joins Percy Shelley in Pisa (and for some reason Lord Byron is there, too — I will not read this for the historical accuracy, believe me)

Basically! Literature! Orgies! Seducing people in graveyards, and skinny-dipping in French rivers, that’s all I really want. I’m not saying no if you do decide to go down the historical accurate road, but I’ll also read all sorts of wild AUs.

Or adventures in Greece during the revolution in an Everybody-Lives!AU?

Percy Shelley wrote an elegy about Keats, and said this when he invited him to Pisa: "I am aware indeed that I am nourishing a rival who will far surpass me and this is an additional motive & will be an added pleasure." Added pleasure? (He means fucking! says me) I am just very into rival relationships that turn sexual or more.

Look, I’m just here for Lord Byron and Percy Shelley seducing a reluctant Keats — and Keats maybe anchoring them a bit down to earth. Or various combinations.

I am not into the long-term effects of drug use and the suffering thereof, but if you want to mention it, that is totally fine. I wouldn’t want it glorified.

DNW: contemplation of suicide, vore

Miss Marple - Agatha Christie

Characters: Jane Marple

I am a fan of Miss Marple. I, too, have lived in a quiet town where you can see into the abysses of the human condition :D

I’d love to read something that lead her to the person we know her as, maybe when she went to the girl school in Switzerland? Maybe during her time in the cypher division, during the war — maybe the cypher division was really a cover for Miss Marple’s spy activities for the war office?

I’d also love fic about her as we know her: spending time in St. Mary Mead’s and solving crimes, quietly knitting her nephew another sweater. Holiday themed fic! Somebody keeps stealing the geese for the holiday celebrations!

Honestly, I’d also really like to read about her in a relationship, especially one that people wouldn’t expect of an elderly woman. Did she have a youthful indiscretion with the prime minister, and now that he is widowed, he visits her again, and Jane’s nephew is entirely shocked by the whole thing?

Was she maybe in love with a woman the whole time? Did she quietly retire into a cottage with her best friend, and they have a romantic relationship with each other?

(Or crossovers! It would be super interesting if Miss Marple knew a wizard from the Harry Potter universe, or maybe she’s a squib or a with herself? Or maybe she knows Phryne Fisher, or Lord Peter Wimsey!)

Island of the Aunts | Monster Mission - Eva Ibbotson

Characters: Dorothy (Island of the Aunts)

Look. This is one of my favourite books. I would read absolutely anything about every single character— I choose Dorothy, simply because she’s my most favourite, but if you want to write a story where she’s not the focus, I’d still be ecstatic.

That said, omg, Dorothy. I love her (and her wok!) and I would read countless stories on adventures she had while going off of the island in a rage to be angry at polluters, or hunters of endangered species, or both. I like that she seems to be the most competent in dealing with outsiders, even though usually she rather likes to resort to violence.

So! Pre-Canon, or Post-Canon, whatever; either would be great!

How is the work on the island? How is Dorothy dealing with her piranha farm? Maybe she decided to pursue some other, even stranger, protection against various and sundry? Does the Kraken return to the island?

How does Dorothy deal with the mermaids? Is she tolerant of their foibles, or is it a similar relationship to the one she has with her sister Betty, that is: polite bewilderment?

How does Dorothy feel to be suddenly the responsible one, who didn’t kidnap children and make them work with her? How’s her relationship with Etta, and does Dorothy milk it for all that it is worth?

Did Dorothy ever fall in love? Was it someone off the island, campaigning for more environmental protection? A mythical creature of her very own?

Who did she meet in prison? (Was Archie someone Dorothy pulled in?) How did she deal with prison in Hong-kong? Is Dorothy the reason there are now forest cities in China (— this is maybe a bit of a reach, since Hong Kong isn’t really mainland China and all, but I’d love if the Aunts have a bit of an influence on the world, even though Fabio is probably never going to be Brasilians prime minister. Though I would read a story about that.)

(Burning questions I have that aren’t relevant to Dorothy as a character: Is Herbert ever going to return? Is the younger Kraken?)

DNW: unhappy endings

If there’s something confusing, please don’t hesitate to ask! (Anon happens to be open, too.) And I hope you have a fun Yuletide!

#exchange letter #yuletide 2017

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