#imagine there's a pedestal and spotlights too
Text
Yandere! Townspeople Harem x Lucky Reader
Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’
A/N: I have no clue what I was on when I wrote this 💀. This is also inspired by a Reddit post I saw long time ago.
🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who are absolutely enamored by you and everything that you do. They treat you as if you are some kind of entity waiting to be put on a golden pedestal and paraded around town. You are essentially the town’s golden boy/girl/person, a mascot if you can even call it that. In their eyes everything that you do is inspiring and encouraged. It also doesn’t help that you were born with this amazing power that causes you to become extremely lucky. No matter the deed, every action was thrust into the spotlight as if it were a gracious gesture for the community's well-being. Take, for instance, if you ever fatally shot someone the townsfolk would erupt in applause, discovering the individual to be a notorious mass murderer and your action saved the town.
🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who can’t help but gush over every miniscule achievement that you got. You got a perfect attendance award? They wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Did you just get a participation trophy? Well they're cheering for you as if you just won the world cup. To say their actions are embarrassing is definitely an understatement. Everytime they cheer for you, you can’t help but die a little bit on the inside.
🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who absolutely cannot fathom the idea of you moving out of their town. They would much rather skin themselves alive and commit arson than to allow you to leave them. Everywhere you go, there will always be some form of eyes on you. There will always be some type of survance of you at any time of the day. Depending on the person, the townspeople's love for you can either be platonic or romantic. Basically half of the town wants to fuck your and the other half sees you as their beloved child or grandchild.
🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who may or may not be human. Like sure they might have the occasional human sacrifices but what town doesn’t!?!? This is totally normal behavior that people exhibit. What’s that? Did you just see a tentacle coming out from that woman over there? Nahhh. You must be imagining that! What a cute and overactive imagination you have there. In all seriousness, it would literally die for you. You're just a cutie patootie to them. Your small teeth are so cute compared to their razor sharp fangs. You know, you could really use that small mouth of yours and suck on their–
🌟 Yandere! Townspeople have a monthly ritual where they gather around to brag about all of the items that they stole from you. Never in your life will you see someone so happy to own a pair of used underwear that didn’t belong to them or some used pair of socks. If you looked up a textbook definition of “down bad” then a picture of the Yandere! Townspeople would be the first images to pop up. In your presence these people act as if they had never touched grass or seen the sun before. They all seem to have some type of mutual agreement that in your presence, they would try to act somewhat normal in order to not scare/scar you too much.
—
From a young age, your luck was apparent. In school, while others struggled with exams, you breezed through them effortlessly, always managing to stumble upon the exact answers needed to excel. Teachers marveled at your natural knack for stumbling upon solutions, even in the most challenging of situations. As you grew older, the extraordinary luck only seemed to amplify. Job interviews turned into job offers within minutes, as if the universe conspired to ensure your success in every endeavor. Colleagues joked that working with you was like having a lucky charm around, as projects that seemed doomed to fail miraculously turned into resounding triumphs whenever you were involved. It might seem great and all BUT DAMN WAS THIS LIFE SO FUCKING BORING!!!! Which is why you decided to spice up your day a little and rob a bank.
“Oh hello [Reader]! Is this going to be the usual procedure?” The bank teller asks you with a smile on their face as you hold a gun to their face. “You know… the weather is perfectly nice today. It would be a perfect day for a date don’t you think–”
Suddenly a thunderous crash was heard, the police burst through the bank doors, their badges glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Guns drawn and voices booming commands, they swept into the lobby, faces masked with determination. Until the police chief sees you and lets out a tired sigh, “Guns down everyone, it’s just [Reader].” A faint sound of disappointed groans can be heard from the crowd of bank patrons from the back. “Why are the police here so soon, I didn’t get enough time to admire their pretty face.” another voice could be heard, “For real, their never this fast in an actual emergency. I mean they only just shot and killed one person, it's really nothing to worry about like who cares–”
—
“You are free to go [Reader], again.” the police officer states as she releases you from your handcuffs. “Turns out the man that you shot ended up being a drug dealer. You really have a special talent for catching criminals don’t you. She states as she gazes at you with loving eyes. ���You know I’m free after this shift, you think we can–”
Before she can finish her sentence you walk away with a dejected look on your face. You couldn’t believe how boring a day this turned out to be. Seriously, you wished that something exciting would happen in this town for once you think to yourself. Failing to notice a scene behind you. One that consisted of a bunch of monsters eating the souls of the innocent while on their knees for a statue that seemed to look like you. They all seem to be gripping onto something though– HEY, WAIT A MINUTE ARE THEY HOLDING YOUR UNDERWEAR!?!!?
#yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yandere scenarios#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere harem#yandere townspeople
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Racing Hearts - Part 8
A Max Verstappen Imagine
Pairing : Max x fem! reader/driver
End Game
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
Thank you to all you guys for loving Racing Hearts. It was so fun writing this. Ciao!
The paddock buzzed with whispers, and the air was thick with tension as the unexpected twist in the investigation sent shockwaves through the racing world. Red Bull, once on the pedestal of triumph, now found themselves on the precipice of scandal.
Article 1 - The Unraveling of Champions:
In a shocking turn of events, Red Bull Racing's triumphant champions, Max Verstappen and Y/N, find themselves ensnared in controversy. The media spotlight has shifted from their on-track victories to an investigation that threatens to tarnish their legacy.
Every move made by the once-celebrated duo is now under a microscope. From their pit lane conversations to their off-track interactions, no detail is too small to escape scrutiny.
Article 2 - Team Unity Tested:
Red Bull Racing, known for its unyielding team spirit, now faces a formidable challenge. The camaraderie in the garage, once a pillar of strength, is strained as doubt casts a shadow over the team.
Whispers of internal discord circulate as team members navigate the pressure. Will the unity that fueled their victories withstand the relentless storm of criticism?
Article 3 - Champions Under Fire:
The champions who once dominated the podium now find themselves defending not just their titles but their very reputation. Max Verstappen and Y/N are in the eye of a media storm that threatens to dismantle the success they worked tirelessly to achieve.
Critics question every decision, every statement, amplifying the strain on the champions who are accustomed to roaring engines, not deafening scrutiny.
Article 4 - Red Bull's Crisis Management:
With the championship-winning team in crisis, Red Bull Racing grapples with the fallout. The pressure to protect its image intensifies as media speculation reaches a fever pitch.
As the team navigates this uncharted territory, the question remains: Can they weather the storm and emerge stronger on the other side, or will the drama prove too much for the once-invincible Red Bull Racing?
Article 5 - Fragile Foundations:
The foundation of Red Bull Racing, built on triumph and unity, now faces its most formidable test. Max Verstappen and Y/N bear the weight of skepticism, their once unassailable reputation now hanging in the balance.
In the midst of this turmoil, the true measure of champions is revealed. Will they crumble under the pressure, or will they rise above, proving that even in the face of doubt, they remain a force to be reckoned with?
Max and you, once celebrated champions, now faced relentless scrutiny and criticism from the media. Every move was dissected, every word analyzed. The team rallied behind you, but the pressure threatened to tear everything apart.
Yet, the drama took an unexpected turn. A new piece of evidence emerged, seemingly casting doubt on Red Bull's innocence. The media frenzy escalated, and the weight of the situation became unbearable.
The turning point came when an internal audit within Red Bull Racing uncovered irregularities in Max Verstappen's car from a previous race. The investigation revealed a potential breach of technical regulations, raising questions about the legitimacy of Max's victories.
In a surprising twist, the team decided to make this information public before the governing bodies could launch their own investigation. The move was an attempt at transparency, but it inadvertently ignited a media firestorm. Headlines screamed about Max's car possibly being in violation of the rules, casting doubt not only on his recent achievements but the entire team's credibility.
Max, sensing the potential damage to the team's reputation, made a bold and self-sacrificing decision.
In a press conference that echoed with the clamor of flashing cameras and probing questions, Max announced, "To protect the integrity of Red Bull Racing, I've decided to step away from the team temporarily while the investigation unfolds. I want the focus to be on racing, not distractions. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure Red Bull's legacy remains untarnished."
The room fell silent as the gravity of Max's sacrifice sunk in. The farewell was sudden and heart-wrenching.
The racing world, already shaken by the scandal, was now faced with the absence of one of its brightest stars. The headlines screamed of Max's sacrifice, but they couldn't capture the emotional weight of the moment.
Days turned into weeks, and the investigation continued. The absence of Max left a noticeable void in the team, and the once-united Red Bull Racing struggled to find its footing.
But then came the calm after the storm.
Headline: The Unraveling of Baseless Allegations
In a shocking revelation, the evidence that sent shockwaves through the racing world, casting doubt on Red Bull Racing's integrity, has been debunked. An internal re-evaluation by the governing bodies exposes the initial findings as groundless, leaving Max Verstappen and the team vindicated.
“Mercedes Issues Apology”
In an unprecedented move, Mercedes, the team that had been the primary voice behind the allegations, issued a public apology. Toto Wolff, team principal of Mercedes, conveys regret for the premature accusations and acknowledges the lack of concrete evidence against Red Bull Racing.
"In the spirit of fair play and competition, we must acknowledge when we are wrong," Wolff states. "Our initial concerns were based on incomplete information, and we sincerely apologize to Red Bull Racing, Max Verstappen, and the entire Formula 1 community for any distress our statements may have caused."
Max, having withdrawn from the limelight during the investigation, returned to Red Bull Racing with a mixture of relief and determination.
The racing community, having weathered the storm of controversy, was left to reflect on the implications of baseless allegations and the impact they can have on the integrity of the sport.
But you two were far from everywhere. Far from the world of racing, in your world.
In Monaco, you were at Max's house overlooking the azure waters. The racing season had come to an end, and the echoes of the dramatic year lingered.
"I never thought we'd make it through," Max confessed, his eyes meeting yours on the balcony.
"Neither did I," you replied, a sense of shared resilience in your gaze.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the scene. Max wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. "But here we are, stronger than ever."
It was race day. The Bahrain Grand Prix. Max and you were successfully navigating the ups and downs of your life together.
After the post-qualifying interview, Max pulled you away from the lively press room to a secluded, dimly lit room. He pushed you against the wall, sending a shiver through your body.
"So, Y/N, how about letting me win this time?" Max's words, warm against your ear, sent a rush of heat through you.
"In your dreams," you retorted.
Max's grin broadened, "This is going to be so much fun." Without hesitation, he pulled you into a kiss that defied the confines of the shadowy room. It was a fiery blend of desire and an energy that left you breathless.
When the kiss finally broke, Max locked eyes with you, a mischievous glint shining.
"Ready, partner?"
#max verstappen#f1#max verstappen imagines#max verstappen imagine#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Opening line patterns 📝
List the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern.
Thank you for the tag, @bittersweetresilience!
Let’s proceed by order of updates (skipping Shadow Strike because my beloved @paracosmicat wrote the incipit)!
God Games ⚡️
If anyone could fend off an akuma, then surely, it had to be Felix.
So proud of this one. The entire premise is here: Felix just doesn’t get akumatised, so what’s the deal?
It’s also a testament to how strong he is in his cousin’s eyes. Fitting, as this entire fic is about Adrien learning how much Felix actually needs him.
Blueberry passion fruit 🫐🍪
Felix prayed this was not another false lead.
He loves his cousin! He’s been searching for him for so long!! He double-checks even the most improbable hints because Adrien’s absence is a gaping wound in his chest!!! I’m so normal about them.
True to Your Heart ⚔️
The wall had been Fu’s idea.
(So you know it’s a terrible one right away.)
I think there's a flaw in my code (Gasoline/Spy AU) 🔥
“You duped me.”
With this one, we begin in medias res! (That’s actually the title of the first chapter.) This entire first part focuses on the confrontation between Argos and Ryuko, and how we got to that point. Emotions are boiling over, as you can see.
Here’s to Never Growing Up 🧸
“Your niece was uncharacteristically excited tonight.”
You can immediately tell this one is going to be pure fluff! You can also infer Felix and Kagami don’t have children of their own, and they’re perfectly happy with it. Emilie could never.
All the shine of a thousand spotlights 🎼
“Did you know waltzing was once considered indecent?”
It’s about the hypocrisy of ever-changing social expectations. It’s about defiance as a form of love. It’s about holding each other tight and gently all at once. It’s about Felix infodumping, because I do it too!
Turntable 💍
“So, you like to be onstage.”
This one… The torture of your abuser holding and using your very nature against you. This first chapter is one of the darkest things I’ve ever written, but it’s always darkest before the dawn.
Escape from the city and follow the sun 🌅
Kagami only wanted one thing from that evening: to not get akumatised.
This poor sweetheart is heartbroken but trying to put up a brave face… She’s convinced her emotions are inherently monstrous… If only someone swooped in to sweep her off her feet… 🥺
Change targets 💐
“No one can know.”
This one is best explained in context:
“No one can know.”
That ship had sailed already. Knuckles white against the pedestal table, careful not to crease the napkin as another coughing fit broke her, Kagami cursed her own lack of discretion.
What she really meant was:
“My mother cannot know.”
Brave, Truthful, and Unselfish 🧸
“… And they lived happily ever after. The end.”
My favourite of the bunch! 💚💜 Fitting that it would be saved for the end.
Storyteller Felix is so dear to me, because we get to see him breaking narrative rules in his quest for freedom, love and happiness. Here, this is manifested by his starting at the end of the tale, ergo flipping the structure entirely. Iconic.
And of course, it’s foreshadowing for Emotion… All he’s ever wanted was to live happily ever after with Adrien. He’s just a child…
OK now let’s talk ✨ statistics ✨
6 of these fics start with dialogue
5+ begin in medias res (it really depends on your definition of the term)
POVs: 5 for Kagami, 3 for Felix, 1 for Adrien and 1 for Fu randomly
All of these tell us something about the characters’ psychology and emotional state. Yes even the stupid Fu one. He’s so proud of himself and does not imagine for a second this world’s Shan Yu is about to breach through his beloved wall. Pathetic.
No false modesty here: I’m really happy with all of these. I used to struggle so badly with incipits, yet here we are! 💜📝
@paracosmicat @jay--hawk @yardikins @capricious-lily @piromina you should do this too!
#I wrote this half-awake and keep thinking of new writer friends to tag#miraculous ladybug#felix graham de vanily#adrien agreste#senticousins#kagami tsurugi#feligami#colt fathom#master fu#ask games#writing#nina writes
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok so I saw Film Red again today and here are my ramblings about it
Spoiler warning!
-I love Uta’s outfit when she takes out the pirates trying to kidnap her the lance is really cool
-The stamina it’s gotta take to keep the sing-sing illusion going is bonkers Blueno makes a comment about how taxing it is to use the door-door fruit and remembering how little Law could do during Dressrosa and Punk Hazard to save his energy for fighting I think helps put into perspective just how crazy it is that Uta is creating a fantasy world where the people there essentially can have anything they want while also duking it out with the marines in reality and being under the affects of wakeshroom overdose
-Explains why she can save luffy from water despite being a df user herself because his real body is still on dry land
-I just thought it was interesting that when they were younger after Luffy Yassop was the first other pirate to wake up from Uta’s singing
-When asked what the audience thinks of pirates a child screams for the pirates to bring their mother back which makes me think if Uta has enough information could she “Bring back the dead” in a sense?
-During the little montage of Gordon explaining Uta’s past when she gets the transponder snails and starts to gain fans she literally starts climbing pedestals as the fans send their love until finally she sits on the very top and all she hears are all the awful things happening elsewhere (mostly due to pirates) which if you think about the fact that Uta KNOWS she was the one who destroyed Elegia (only a year after it happened?) it makes sense why she feels the need to bring a world of peace to these people that maybe it can right her own wrongs (even tho it was really tot musica possessing her as a child and taking its revenge on the island that imprisoned it)
-She isn’t omnipotent in the sing world it being the limits of a df but I imagine her awakened form very much could be
-I love that SunnyKun is a little lion thing but god I wish Law had to carry his ship in a fish bowl or a little room bubble
-WHY DOES SANJI SLEEP LIKE THAT 💀
-The fact that Uta can also use peoples devil fruit powers is crazy wild and the fight between Uta and Fujitora/Kizaru is super fucking cool
-The snails can still transmit videos outside of reality I think it would be cute if you caught a transponder snail napping u could see their little snail dreams (I imagine doflamingo’s transponder snail has nightmares 💀)
-ODA PLS I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE ROCKY PORT INCIDENT QUIT TEASING US WITH KOBY AND GIVE HIM THE SPOTLIGHT FOR A SEC I BEG
-I love that there are people in the crowd for and against staying in Uta’s sing world I imagine if things had gone differently and Uta was upfront about her ability she really could have made a world for people to be happy for a bit even if it is ultimately a dream
-Law putting Luffy in timeout is hilarious but also Luffy breaks out of Bart’s ball and ends up getting put BACK IN TIME OUT 😂
-Ok so they explain that Tot musica is literally man’s fear and doubts given form to this “demon” I love that on the flip side Uta is an angel of hope (but also love the fight between luffy and tot being a god vs demon thing)
-I was surprised for a second when Robin didn’t chew out Franky for destroying the records room but it is only in the dream I imagine when they woke up she took another peak down there 👁
-Going back to Tot being an entity created from human emotions luffys is too? Luffy’s is just happiness
-Oven makes a comment about there being a record because this was an incident that happened before and with how old the music papers were I wonder if this was during the void century ^reasons robin would take another look
-Everyone looks so good everyone looks so hot usopppppppp ♥️♥️♥️
-I like that Luffy actually gives a clear answer on why he wants to become the king of pirates and it’s to create a new era I wonder what it would be called
-Is it just me or did Gordon sound WAY more upset in the dub when he goes “THEYRE DEAD! EVERYONES DEAD!!! THEY KILLED THEM!” Because in the sub he seemed a lot more reserved about it
-I still don’t think the red haired pirates should have left uta I get that what happened is a lot they didn’t want that on her consciousness but I think just straight up lying to her about it was also terrible imo
-“Bad guys need to look like Bad guys” literally makes them look so fucking cool probably my favorite strawhat outfits individually but absolutely my favorite look as a group for suresies
-When Tot Musica shows up the Five Elders couldn’t mute the recording making me think for a second they were asleep too but also where do the people asleep elsewhere go in their dream? And that Tot can manipulate the transponder snails too is scary
-Tot musica is actually super scary ngl
-That flute is way way too loud when luffy and uta make up
-Ben saying our daughter kills me yesss
-Sanji bringing back the “Something only u can do” for Brûlée
-Also can I take a second and say brûlée and oven look so good in this movie I do wish that other characters got more spotlight but I’m glad they don’t look like trash or are used as the butt of a joke
-I could do with less Bartolomeo……
-I loved seeing Koby take charge for the final battle strategy wise I really want to see the Rocky port incident!!!
-Katakuri and brûlée sharing sight is cool but that also makes me think brûlée has observation haki considering katakuri usopp and yassop do which makes sense considering her df powers and how she uses it mostly for intel gathering for mama
-Sanji and zoro cooperating for .5 seconds is always fun
-Usopp finally calming down and using his haki is so so good
-Zues is alive and with Nami pls pls pls pls plssssss
-Everyone fighting simultaneously at the end is probably one of my favorite one piece moments I’m ngl all the build up and then actually knowing the characters it just all fit so well the music fucking rocked and I had a great time
-Shanks being found by Rodger in a chest is super fucking cute but Oda really pulled one over us giving Uta red hair but that makes me think why would a baby like Uta be found in a chest (I’m assuming it’s bc baby uta ate a df so someone was just going to sell her or whatever) but before Uta’s backstory was revealed I was leaning heavily on Uta being something created by Vegapunk a la the seraphim
-Uta looks so tired by the end Jfc let her sleeeep
-Oda really has to kill all of Luffy’s siblings Jfc 💀
-Loved the credit scene now I know that Johnny and Yosaku are just chilling with Nojiko
-Also the after credit scene when luffy tries to talk to sunny again for a second is still cute and I’m convinced this proves that sunny has a soul because uta only affects people’s souls and when she changed the people in the dream she didn’t make them disappear but changed their form into toys etc that’s why I think sunny didn’t just disappear but was turned into sunnykun
#film red#film red spoilers#op spoilers#one piece spoilers#spoilers#uta#luffy#shanks#ignore#i had the whole theater to myself ooooo boy I was having a good time#there’s very little difference between the sub and dub#been on tumblr since like 2013 and I just learned how to use the readmore
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
Surface Pressure (Isabela’s Version)
I changed the lyrics of “Surface Pressure” to fit Isabela in the pre-movie status quo, because I love her, this song, angst and character exploration. And I have too much time. I tried to convey a different tone and type of pressure to Luisa, oriented around the more nebulous idea of perfection rather than the practical responsibilities of strength. Like the original, it’s addressed to Mirabel, though not directly. This is more hearing her unspoken inner monologue. I imagine it’s in response to Mirabel noticing a slip in her facade and expressing worry for her. In fact, that it goes unspoken is an important facet of the tragedy of it for me; she does love her little sister and wants her to enjoy and appreciate her freedom from the glare of spotlight, the soul-smothering expectations and demands and duties that Isabela feels trapped at the behest of, but hiding her own pain and not seeing Mirabel’s for it enables Mirabel just keeps envying her in a self-perpetuating cycle of mutual resentment. Yet showing vulnerability and fallibility is so absolutely terrifying that at this point, she prefers being scoffed at and envied on a pedestal to her anxieties and desires and nuanced humanity being recognized - she’ll take Mirabel hating her false persona over knowing her authentic self because she thinks her authentic self is a moral failure that much. This is what the choruses are saying. When she says Mirabel doesn’t deserve the life Isabela has, she means it in a good way. It just never comes out like that. …I’ll stop rambling now.
I’m the model, I’m not nervous
I’m devotedly, totally perfect
I’m as giving as the earth is
And I glow ‘cause I know what my worth is
I don’t wonder if I’ve earned this
Got a smiling, beguiling surface
Orchids and carnations, with no aberrations
You want flor de mayo, for sure, here’s a mile, but
Under the surface
I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus
Under the surface
Isn’t your concern, as you’ve heard, you do not deserve this
Under the surface
I’m pretty sure I’m worthless if I can’t be of service
A flaw or a crack
The straw in the stack
That breaks the camel’s back
What breaks the camel’s back?
It's pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, whoa
Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip till you just go pop, whoa-oh-oh
Leave it to your sister, your sister's older
Never chance a glance over her cold shoulder
Who am I if I can't run with the ball?
If I fall to
Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won't let go, whoa
Pressure that’ll tick, tick, tick till it's ready to blow, whoa-oh-oh
Leave it to your sister, her life’s all roses
Never mind the hours practicing those poses
Who am I if I can't outgrow it all?
If I falter?
Under the surface
I hide my nerves and it worsens, what are gifts versus curses?
Under the surface
The roots burrow further, don’t swerve and I can’t reverse this
Under the surface
I think about my purpose, how long can I preserve this?
Line up the dominoes
A light wind blows
You try to stop it toppling
But on and on it goes
But wait
If I could shake the crushing weight
Of expectations, would that free some room up for joy?
Or relaxation? Or simple pleasure?
Instead we measure this growing pressure
Keep growing, keep going
'Cause all we know is
Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, woah
Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip till you just go pop, woah-oh-oh
Leave it to your sister, she knows her place
One stumble or stutter from utter disgrace
Watch as she buckles and bends but never breaks
No mistakes, just
Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won't let go, woah
Pressure that’ll tick, tick, tick till it’s ready to blow, woah-oh-oh
Please believe your sister, go back to hating
As long as I stay silent I’m not suffocating
Who am I if I don't have what it takes?
No cracks, no breaks
No mistakes
No pressure
#tried to strike a balance between ‘sounds condescending out of context’ and ‘in context is actually just sad and well-intentioned’#like changing ‘give’ to ‘leave’#thought that changed the tone a little#made it feel more dismissive but like in a self-sacrificial way#also ‘outgrow it all’ means that her plants must surpass the creations of nature itself#AND that she needs to and should already have outgrown all feelings like fear doubt anxiety self-oriented wants etc.#had fun with the rhymes#encanto#isabela madrigal#disney encanto#surface pressure#original lyrics
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
tl;dr fame is weird
it's actually kind of crazy to think about how there's people that almost everyone around the world knows
like
imagine if you tried to explain to someone a thousand years ago that there was this one "Taylor" or "Wilbur" or "Lin-Manuel" that just… internationally, cross-continentially, people know them. and they're not political figures (at least not by definition); they're not famous warriors, or royalty, or emperors-- nope, they're poets. bards. and not only their songs are internationally known, no, their personal lives too-- to varying degrees, of course, but to a point where some of their fans misguidedly feel as though they know them like a friend, because they've grown accustomed to hearing their voice day in day out in their own room, their own house, wherever they go--
like how is society that tilted that the overwhelming majority of people will go forgotten by all but their close friends, their passing acquaintances-- did you know that studies from four years ago show that the average person only makes 29 "real" friends in a lifetime, of which only 6 last? in 2003 there was a study that said you make 400 friends in a lifetime, but only a few close ones. regardless of what the accurate statistic is-- can you imagine that most people will be remembered by maybe 400 people, of which not even half will last a generation down? But there's this handful of celebrities, this select few-- it feels like a lot when you start listing them, but placed in contrast with the 8.1 BILLION PEOPLE currently on the earth? insane. a study from 2013 says 0.0086% of people are famous. LESS THAN ONE-TENTH OF A PERCENT! it's like the world's worst gambling machine, a fucked-up few raised on a pedestal so the rest of us can dream of lives we'll never attain because we were born at the wrong time or were too shy to grab a microphone or just missed an opportunity that one time. They will be remembered, at least for longer than a single generation, because they have a wikipedia page and an album or two to back them up. They are known on a first-name basis across thousands upon thousands of households, part of more inside jokes than they themselves could ever comprehend, mentioned more by strangers they'll never meet than some people will be named by their loved ones in a lifetime. We laugh at the cinematics and television fame of the Hunger Games, we act like we don't put people on spotlights in deathmatches. We act as though we wouldn't throw ourselves forwards as tribute if we were asked to be destroyed by a life of fame, and in fact some of us long for it. We thirst for the thrill of being recognized on the streets, not even realizing what kind of horrors these people undergo on a daily basis because they were Sherlock that one time. The twisted sides of the internet they have to avoid because humanity's most fucked up desires are now projected onto them, the chosen few, the "lucky" ones. We shout abuse at them for being human, for being tired, for making mistakes. We expect them to be perfect, even if many of them didn't ask for this life of fame. Sure, they may still want it-- because who wouldn't? It is the dream of contemporary man to be famous, and if you stop to think about it, it has always been. Hamilton destroyed himself for his legacy, Narcissis died of his own adoration, Nebuchadnezzar had a statue of himself erected so that all might bow to him. We long for recognition of the masses, and today's society makes it look so easy. Look at Ranboo, Tommy, Tubbo, Philza-- all streamers who skyrocketed out of seemingly nowhere, seemingly at random. Just "luck", right? Right place, right time, got in on a famous SMP and BOOM they're famous now, making more money than they'll ever need. You don't see the dedication they put into-- the work, the burnout, the endless grinding and years of nothing that precursored their fame. It makes it feel like you have a chance-- if they could do it, why shouldn't I be able to, right? If I keep trying, maybe I'll hit that same goldmine, right?
But it doesn't work like that, does it?
So we're left with our pipe dreams, our useless aspirations, that little kindling flame inside that believes we could rise above. We cherish it for the rest of our lives, ignoring the odds even when they're glaring at us like the sun. Because if we abandon our hope at fame, then, well, why bother trying at all? Because we're "doing what we love"? In this economy? Hah, nice try.
Yet somehow… maybe there's some merit to it. Maybe, if the odds are really that horrid, we should stop caring. We can keep hoping, sure-- so long as that hope brings us nothing but sweet longing, and none of the sour regret of missed chances and twisted desire. But maybe we shouldn't live on that hope alone, and maybe we should bring back some of that innocent warmth and kind enjoyment that those live laugh love signs are always going on about. Maybe, just maybe, our goal should be our own happiness, not an endless investment in a future that will probably never come. Maybe we shouldn't sacrifice now for tomorrow, every day over again, in the futile hope that one day tomorrow will be today.
Because at the end of the day, we only get one of each. Famous or not, time will keep ticking, so you'd better use it well. Striving for fame isn't wrong, but be careful when you gamble with your life.
If you wouldn't bet your entire fortune on a 0.000086 chance, maybe you shouldn't bet your entire life on it, either.
#in this essay i will#who am i kidding this was already an essay#catbolt essays#fame is weird#celebrities#fame#essay#ramblings#random thoughts
1 note
·
View note
Text
lyrics: my love for myself is intense, no matter what i’m up against / i’m the motherfucking best, the one you losers detest / look at you with no friends, while i’m in a cool band / got my ladle while you’ve got your bare hands / i’m devouring foods with my silver spoon / all you’re eating is your loser peasant finger food / i’m the sweetest, finest delicacy / everything you’ll never be / i’ve got a god complex / simply better than all the rest / that’s right / it’s true, be impressed / i’ve got a god complex / in simple words, i think i’m the best / ‘cause i am / it’s a fact, i am / living like me, it’s exhausting / trust me, i only speak the truth / when i say / i’d rather die than be you / it’s kinda funny how i never need to study / can’t imagine having your weak identity / long ago i found my clarity / it’s being better than you / i’ve got a god complex / simply better than all the rest / that’s right / it’s true, be impressed / i’ve got a god complex / in simple words, i think i’m the best / ‘cause i am / it’s a fact, i am / i’m the one to judge your awful deeds / i’m important, the one you all need / i’m talking when no one’s asking / still i know you’re all listening / they said i was gifted at a young age / spotlight shining on me on the world stage / the star of life’s final act / i make the moves, all you do is react / got a great view from my high horse / of the world’s light, i’m the source / you better keep my pedestal polished / your role’s already replaced / i’ve got a god complex / simply better than all the rest / that’s right / it’s true, be impressed / i’ve got a god complex / in simple words, i think i’m the best / ‘cause i am / it’s a fact, i am / intense, so exhausting / the bowl of fruit is spoiled rotten / built up tears flowing from my face / i’m starting to miss my younger days / i’m rattled to my core / my relations turned nothing more / now the room’s closing in on me / all that’s left is my own heartbeat / but it’s too late to admit / so fuck it, i’m great / i’ve got a god complex / in simple words, i’m the best / ‘cause i am / it’s a fact, i am / i’ve got a god complex / destroy this raging mess / the price of being the best.
#i started with ode to mo since it’s the one i have the most direct involvement in but here come the rest of our songs in ep order!!#this one is fun. none of us are like the character in the song but one of us does have a god complex. the person who does is a secret#i used to hate this song because it’s so mean but once you can view it as a tongue in cheek song (which was harder than it should’ve been)#you can get past disliking the point of view character and decide the song is pretty rad#i hope whoever is out there listening thinks this song is pretty rad#nearly a punk rock girl band#god complex#kill me last#original song#punk inspired#midwest emo#minnesotan punk#art punk#guitar#keyboard#limited percussion#tara on vocals#these are tags for organization on this blog if that’s not clear. hashtag guitar i’m very hip with the kids#and the various punk-related tags are just. a few descriptors i’m attaching to all these posts. don’t think about it too hard#(we aren’t incredibly consistent. each post needs its own genre tags i am just. so tired. goodnight)#scheduled for new years morning from two days prior!! (as well)
1 note
·
View note
Note
You can totally ignore this if you’re just feeling done with the situation (I’m thankful that you give anons a voice in your safe place but it is yours!). (Tw for brief mention of suicide).
I wanted to touch on people coming at others for “defending” Jensen and just say… whenever I see any kind of bullying or shitty rhetoric instead of intellectual discussion and conversation, I’m going to defend the person who is being attacked. (This might be my background coming into play because I work with offenders/in forensics). Someone doing or saying a bad thing doesn’t make them an evil, horrible person. If we look at all the evidence we have of Jensen, he’s a pretty solid guy. What he said wasn’t great… I cannot get over some people in the fandom talking about him sexualising a child/equating what he said to paedophilia. Jack never calls him dad and Jack became God, celestial wavelengths of intent don’t hold ages in the same way humans do? He was played by a 31 year old man? Etc etc etc etc. I think Jensen would be disgusted, and distraught at the thought of people thinking that of him - even in his own panel the audience sexualised an interaction with his children and he shot it down and acted angry “Arrow and JJ love them some daddy… come on THEY’RE MY KIDS!” he has boundaries on that which we saw him assert on the same day!).
When you create a hostile environment for people getting things wrong people will continue to get it wrong. Flatlined. It’s not about excusing him and babying him. It’s just general human decency… it’s about standing up for someone who is generally good and kind when they’re being vilified. Yes, he is a 41 year old man, he doesn’t need looking after or babying… but he’s a human being too and also he’s in the spotlight and has had a lot of shit thrown around about him in the last 24 hours and regardless of what he did, negativity online and trolls have a huge impact on someone’s sense of self and mental health, we see what he puts out there but we’ve no idea what his MH is like in response to social media platforms. My guess with him being so quiet and absent from them is that is does impact him. There is nuance and context to what was said at the con…. All words have an impact - his had an impact on us and our words towards him also have an impact on him whether we see it or not. It’s not an eye for an eye. That leads nowhere fast. There have been things said that are just not okay in retaliation. There have been many (tw) celebrity suicides and genera breakdowns because of trolling etc and life in the media in general is hard because you can never get it right. We can lose sight of celebrities as humans when they’re on our pedestals and then attack them when they don’t meet our expectations, that’s not okay. They’re human too and lead a life beyond us and don’t really owe us anything, people are acting like entitled privileged children right now who aren’t getting their own way (sorry I know this is a really strong statement to make).
E.g. imagine just asking him to explain more what he meant by his comments about Jack or the damage control he did for Jared… that creates space for him to think on what he’s said and then alter his perception or narrative or word things differently and explain. Going for his throat shuts that growth, conversation and development down. I imagine Jensen and Misha have had lengthy discussions around sexuality and Dean and Cas’ relationship and we know that Misha is a vehement believer in it and he has complete distance from Jared who is likely of a very different mindset and belief system but has said wonderful things about Jensen’s support.
I don’t know if any of this makes any sense but I just wanted to raise awareness that just as Jensen’s words have hurt people here, our words can also hurt him and it’s not an eye for an eye if we’re actually wanting him to grow and develop and change and feel able to speak on Destiel in the future. I can imagine the fandoms response to this will have completely turned him off, it has turned me off. That “sexy silence” will be back and it’s fandom created and not so sexy.
I am shaking your hand firmly and handing you flowers. ALL OF THIS. Read this y'all.
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
Well, I sort of said it was a thing. Not working from any one list or intending to do all prompts, or even anything in any order. So here’s some Kestral/Crow in which Kestral realises they have a goddam praise kink. Because Kinktober exists.
Although not wildly explicit, it’s still smut. Rated M and all that.
Be gentle with me.
In all the perpetuation of the damned, years old stereotype of the Young Wolf - untouchable, invincible, so far removed from the average person - Kestral had somewhat forgotten that somewhere between all those things that they were still in fact, unfortunately, a person. A person that was extremely desperate for touch, was utterly destructible, and loathed the pedestal they’d been placed upon after the Red War. And yet despite it all, despite their needs and because it’d seemed right, they’d kept so many people at arm’s length, fought even when they felt like dying, and wanted to be loved so damn badly.
And then along came a lover - soulmate, maybe - in the most twisted, fucked up way they could’ve ever imagined and within months he’d somehow ruined the carefully maintained image and distance they’d upheld. Not on purpose, probably without even realising, but damn it all if Crow hadn’t waltzed in, shone a glaring spotlight on the humanity that they’d hid supposedly for the rest of eternity, in all their darkest corners and with the utmost care coaxed it into the warmth like a hungry little stray in an alleyway.
Remembering that they needed affection was humiliating.
Realising that the hollowness and the craving they’d felt for years was easily filled by a benevolent touch had almost brought them to tears at least once.
Crow hadn’t minded. He’d felt the same and it had hurt immensely when he’d voiced it.
But it’d become easier to remember to be a person, at least around Crow. The embarrassment had all but dissolved. No more humiliation. Accepting affection and giving it in return was as easy as breathing with him. There was however, one thing though and Crow had been delighted at finding it.
It’d long passed working hours, the H.E.L.M had cleared out and Kestral was alone at the wartable with a datapad full of reports they’d needed to check up on throughout the day. Besides the very occasional clank of machinery from the Eliksni wing and the soft hum of the portal in the Awoken wing they were fairly sure they were by themself, stood hunched over the table with images and words scrolling by with the swipe of their hand.
Either they’d been completely enraptured with the detailed analysis of the debris that remained from the cataclysmic events of the Deep Stone Crypt that sat before them or they were just so zoned out that the arms that embraced them from behind and the hot breath on the back of their neck had made them jump. Crow chuckled at their jolt and pressed semi-apologetic kisses to the nape of their neck and over to their ear, tugging the shell with his teeth so gently.
“Evening, beautiful,” he laughed under his breath, “You’re working late.”
Kestral huffed out their breath and smiled broadly, confident that Crow had made plans to whisk them away from the wartable no matter what, and leaned back against him, head tilted as he moved to continue with their ear and neck.
“I am,” they sighed, “And I’ll be working even later if you continue to be a professional distraction.”
The same chuckle that had always turned their insides to warm goo whispered by their ear, “What can I say? I’ve missed you. When you weren’t at the apartment I wondered where you were.”
“Unfortunately, doing my job.”
“Hm, you’re such a good girl.”
Kestral couldn’t possibly have reacted quickly enough to choke back the needy sound that had escaped their lips on hearing Crow’s words, their face flushed so deeply red so quickly, guts clenching, body suddenly taking on a tremble. Perhaps he hadn’t…
Yeah, he had. He’d noticed and either out of instinct or desire he’d pulled them flush to him, his chest to their back, burying his face in the crook of their neck and breathing deeper by the second.
“I’m...so sorry. I don’t know...I’ve no idea where that came from...I…”
The sharp exhale at their neck, at the soft point behind their ear, and the hot open mouthed kiss sweetly bruising their skin told them that Crow didn’t mind one bit and that while he’d definitely arrived hoping to initiate some kind of intimacy for the evening what he’d probably not expected was the high chance that the pair were not going to make it back to the apartment. Or...out of the H.E.L.M. Not that this seemed to dissuade him, hands gripping Kestral’s hips while his mouth and teeth marked them.
“Was it...was it the ‘good girl’ thing because I can keep that up.”
They’d almost managed to swallow the groan this time, nodding and placing both of their hands flat against the wartable to steady themself from the pressure of Crow behind them, pressing them between himself and the surface in front. He rested one of his hands beside their’s, finding the comfortable position that Kestral liked with his body fitting against theirs, the other hand roaming along their hip to their lower belly, holding them tightly back against the increasingly obvious evidence that he was enjoying this just as much as they were.
“Fuck, OK good,” he breathed out harshly, fumbling their belt and the buckles with the non-supporting hand, “Because you’re amazing Kestral and if saying it aloud turns you on then that’s just a bonus, right?”
They couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, Crow’s over eager attempts to undress them, his excitement at finding new things to please his lover, the fact that the lightest praise from him went straight to their head. Deciding to end his suffering they turned and perched up on the edge of the wartable, legs dangling slightly. Crow wasted exactly a heartbeat before his mouth found theirs and both hands worked free their breastplate and cloak.
“Are you completely sure you wanna do this on the wartable?” they asked between harsh, desperate open mouthed kisses, “What if…”
“Completely sure. Not like it’s the first time…”
His sentence was cut short by Kestral’s teeth on his lower lip, their hands searching below his belt and tugging fastenings loose. Within seconds their legs were wrapped around his waist, thighs gripping his hips now flush with theirs.
“Say something else.”
Their whispered voice shook just a little with the effort of keeping quiet, something Crow was also decidedly having issues with as he shifted slowly against them.
“You feel incredible,” he sighed, swallowing their groan with a heated kiss, “I love you.”
They’d have returned the sentiment if the soft cry hadn’t slipped out first in response to Crow wrapping his arms firmly around them and picking up a pace. Their own arms held on around his neck as they muffled their rapidly increasing sounds, whimpers and groans of his name, in his shoulder, his desperate mantra of ‘good girl, you’re doing so well’ reaching their ears and fogging their brain.
Much to each of their surprise it was over just as quickly as it’d started, Crow with his face buried against Kestral’s neck and panting, Kestral biting down on the meat of their hand to stifle their noises, the other hand fisted in Crow’s hair.
Eventually he’d untangled himself from the Hunter on the wartable, done his best to make himself presentable and helped them redress as much as they cared to in their pliant, jelly-like state all the while sharing in gently bumped foreheads, noses nuzzled to cheeks, and sweet, slow kisses that lingered until Kestral’s senses returned enough for them to pull back and smile at him.
“You’re wearing most of my lipstick, love.”
Swiping his sleeve over his face and ignoring the streak of vibrant red it left up his arm, he chuckled and cupped their face in the way he knew they loved, using his thumb to wipe away the smears of makeup that had escaped from their lips too. They at least needed to appear to have been working late in case someone happened to be around as they left. Not that their relationship was particularly secret anymore, but Crow could do without the Vanguard finding out about the inappropriate usage of the wartable.
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “Think you can pack up and come home now?”
“That ship has long since flown,” they hopped down off the table, fluffing up their cloak collars to cover the fresh marks Crow had made, slipping a hand into his, “How am I meant to concentrate on space garbage analysis after that? I’ll finish it tomorrow.”
19 notes
·
View notes
Note
I read your entries on Jimin and VL/ML and maaaan, you’re spot on and I’m a HARD CORE Jimin stan though RL are my wreckers. I’ve been following BTS since forever and it’s just fucked up that the rappers aren’t given the deserved recognition for carrying the entire group on their backs, especially j-hope. Yes, I’ve been accused by my fellow PJMs for being a traitor but talent is talent, you can’t deny it. I don’t give a fuck anymore at this point cos all I know is, I worry for Jimin, like A LOT! He doesn’t look too well in recent years and this insane obsession by us Jimin stans to always make him the perfect idol makes it even worse.
I appreciate your honesty anon. It’s hard to admit someone you admire isn’t always deserving of the pedestal everyone attempts to place them on. Yoongi is my bias, but even I can admit he has areas where he’s less than a “genius”. Which is fine because we’re all human and humans have a tendency to not be perfect. Granted, it’s never wise to place anyone on a pedestal, but that aspect goes beyond k-pop, so I digress.
Your last sentence made me realize that often times we reprimand fans for obsessing over their idols, not realizing the ripple effect it causes to the idol’s image. Jimin has a lot of insecurities (like most of his), and being in the spotlight has the tendency to exacerbate those insecurities. As if people watching your me every move isn’t bad enough, imagine if those same people refuse to except you have flaws like everyone else. We can chalk this up to fan culture but I think the biggest issue is when fans constantly make an effort to build and broadcast an image, that even their idol is incapable of reaching.
It’s sad because I’m pretty sure the reason Jimin stopped mentioning making music is because he doesn’t want to give his fans any false hope. It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s lacking in that department and HYBE’s “you guys have to make your mixtapes on your own” policy doesn’t go in his favor. I wonder if he ever looks in the mirror and think “why do people like me?” since the cutie sexy act can only go so far.
It also doesn’t take a genius to know that BTS’s current state of popularity is incredibly unstable and unsustainable in the long run. Their fandom is already split into fractions thanks to HYBE’s marketing and tendency to push some members more than others, and they’ve been leaning (relying) more heavily on shipping content the last recent years. There’s a difference between building an organic loyal fan based off of music alone and using gimmicks to build quicker emotional bonds between your artist and their fans. And if there’s one thing we all know about people’s emotions is that it’s fleeting. BTS can always explore different genres with their music, but the moment any other circumstance regarding their popularity changes, is the moment that parts of their already fragile fanbase collapses. In short, I hate to say it, but there’s a very high possibility that BTS has already peaked as a group, and if they haven’t yet, then they will soon.
It sounds ominous, but for some members, BTS will probably be the end of of their music career as they know it. For others, they’ll reach even greater (or at the very least) more fulfilling heights if they decide to pursue a solo career path. Hopefully, the ones that have the potential to do so can move forward boldly and not allow the less than capable members to hold them back.
#supop thoughts#asks#bts#jimin#vocal line#rapline#maknae line#hyung line#hoseok#yoongi#namjoon#taehyung#jungkook#jin#bts thoughts
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just Friends – Alex Karev x Fem! Reader
Type: Imagine (2,200+ words)
Requested: No
Summary: After being invited to a gala, you beg Alex to accompany you to help soften the blow of your mother's demands of you finding a suitable man.
Warning(s): Grey's Spoilers, Mild Swearing, Smut-ish towards the end
Note(s): You're a Peds nurse, so you and Alex grew close over the years, and your mom is a famous fashion designer. Thank you for reading!
———
I sit behind the nurse's station, going over a couple of charts. I drift my index finger over a few lines, then look up to log the information into the desktop computer in front of me. My ears perk up as I hear a familiar voice coming from down the hallway to my left. I look up from the log and spot my best friend and Pediatrics Chief, Alex Karev.
He enters a patient's room and I duck my head down to continue transfering information from the charts that I have. After a few minutes, he comes out and knocks on the marble island in front of my seat.
I look up and give him a sweet smile. "Hey, Karev. What's up?"
"Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to say hi." He smirks, returning the smile.
"Aw, that's so–"
"Ah, just kidding. I just need the chart for 2211. The kid in there is allergic to a few medications and I just need to look over which ones." Alex leans his forearms against the island and scrunches his nose.
"Rude." I roll my eyes before sifting through my pile of charts on my lap and beside me on the desk. I grab it and begin to hand it to him, but then I remember that I need a favor. "Actually," I pull the chart back, looking Alex up and down, "could you do me a favor?"
Alex reaches over for the chart and shakes his head. "You've asked me too many times for me to know that what I'm gonna agree to is gonna be either embarrassing or go down really badly."
I pull my arm back and feign a gasp. "What? No! It's just a simple, teeny-tiny favor, Alex, please!"
"Let me hear it," he grumbles, standing straight and crossing his arms. "This better be quick."
"Okay, so you know how my mom has these galas a couple of times a year to celebrate the brand and their partners?"
"Yes?" Alex drags out.
"Well, she invited me to one and wants me to bring a date. And I was hoping‐"
"No, no no no no no." Alex turns and walks away briskly. I tuck 2211's chart under my arm and I immediately get up to try and follow him.
I trail behind Alex, pouting. "Karev, please! It's just gonna be for a few hours!"
"Don't you have patients to tend to, L/n?" Chief Bailey turns the corner and stops in her tracks, eyeing the chart in my arm. I wince and Alex shakes his head.
"She's being a brat about her Mom's stupid gala," Alex explains as he leans against a wall a few feet down from the nurse's station.
"Am not!" I scoff and shove Karev lightly. He chuckles and finally turns to look at me.
"Well whatever it is, it better not he interfering with patient care. Hurry on." Bailey continues down the hallway, making a few stops in a could rooms along the way.
I give Alex a lopsided smile before continuing to pester him. "Alex, please. My mom really wants me to bring someone."
"Yeah, and that someone should be your boyfriend." Alex raises his eyebrow as if he's challenging me.
"Alex, you and I both know I don't have one of those. Believe me, I don't wanna go either, but the gala's tomorrow. Please? I'll do anything."
"Whatever," he turns and begins walking away, but I quickly catch up to him.
"I'll do your laundry for a week. I'll pay your rent for three months. I'll buy you a suit for tomorrow!" I finally intercept him and stand in front of him, hugging the chart in front of my chest and keeping my arms tight around me.
"Fine. But you're telling your mom that we're just friends. None of this 'fake boyfriend' crap." He points an accusing finger at me and I nod happily.
"Ah, thank you, Alex. Send me your measurements tonight so I can order your suit so we can have it ready for tomorrow!" I hug him briskly and hand him the chart curtly, before rushing back to the nurse's station to finish with the rest of the charts.
———
I knock on Meredith's front door and open my red velvet handbag, searching for the small comb I had packed before I left my apartment.
"Who is it?" I hear Meredith shout from inside.
"Your favorite nurse!" I yell cheerfully. I straighten my dress, it's black with small red roses trailing around the skirt.
A few seconds later, Meredith opens the door and looks me up and down. "Hm, I don't think so..." I scoff and smile, she giggles at her joke and steps aside. "He's figuring out his tie, maybe you should help him. Upstairs bathroom."
I walk in and thank her before making my way up the wooden stairs and to the upstairs bathroom. I knock on the door before entering and swing the door open. "I'm here!"
Alex whirls around from looking at himself in the sink mirror and lets his tie rest on his shoulders. "Jesus Christ, knock much?" He grabs the black fabric from his shoulders and holds it out to me. I leave the bathroom door open a few inches and take the undone tie from his hands.
"Uh, I did knock, Karev. Maybe you're just deaf." I drape the tie around his neck and begin.
"Whatever. Anyway, what time are we heading out of there?"
I pull back, having finished tieing his tie, and gasp, hitting him on the shoulder softly. "We haven't even left for the gala yet and you already wanna leave!"
He chuckles and I smile. Alex turns around to look at himself in the mirror once more. He tries shifting his tie around and I reach my arms over his shoulders to fix it for him.
"Quit it, I wanna do it..."
"It looks fine, Karev, calm down." I scoff and lightly slap his hands away from his tie. "So, you ready to go?" I ask, moving beside him and looking at him through the mirror.
He lifts his chin and turns his head from side to side before nodding and looking back at me through the mirror. "Yeah, let's get this over with, I guess."
———
The valet takes my car keys, tipping his head to Alex and me before rounding the front of the car and sitting in the driver's seat.
Alex and I walk up and gawk at the size of the venue. The building is about 5 stories tall and looks large enough to host a carnival and then some. Freshly-cut bushes line the front walls by the large double doors, and leading up to those doors is a mini red carpet. Two men guard the door, while another waits and is taking the names of who is arriving, he stands at a pedestal holding a pen and clipboard.
While marveling at the sight of spotlights dancing along the outside walls, I feel Alex's hand slip into mine. I take a deep breath, It's just the lights, it's just the lights.
Alex nudges me with his elbow, letting go of my hand, making it seem like an accident. "You ready to go in? You've been staring at the stars for a few minutes."
I don't bother correcting him and just nod, looking down at my feet and smoothening out my dress. Others walk past us, mostly couples my mom's age and younger, business partners, former models, employees. All are in their elegant attire, chatting away and it makes me feel small, insignificant.
Alex hooks my arm into his and I smirk slightly as we walk in together. After passing through the security, Alex and I make our way inside and the scenery is just as bright and fancy what was outside.
Another red carpet is lined up, but it instead leads to a large ice sculpture in the center of the building, with three more on the sides of it. Mini chandeliers hang over a few of the tables with the largest at the end of the hall, hanging over the large stage. Tables that seat 8 are sprawled around the venue, around 50 to 70 of them, covered in white table cloth and fixed with a wine glass, plates, utensils, and napkins.
"Oh, shit. This is a gala." I hear Alex mutter under his breath.
"You bet'cha. Crap, I need to find my mom." I bite the inside of my cheek and stand on my tippy-toes for a bit, looking around the large room as we continue to walk in.
"Look at that sculpture, how is it not melting?" Alex continues to marvel at the many exclusive items inside the vicinity while I scour the room for my mom.
"Y/n! Y/n, darling! Over here, honey!" I could hear my mom's voice from across the building. I spot her past the sculpture and right by the stage.
"Okay, Alex, you're gonna stay quiet and only talk when spoken to. If not, we'll be talking for a while and this gala will never end. You understand?"
"Loud and clear, captain." Alex sneers and I elbow him in the side. He crumbles over for a split second and groans before standing up straight again.
I walk up to my mom and smile, my arm still looped in Alex's.
"Y/n, I'm so glad you made it. And who's this?" My mom asks, eyeing Alex up and down.
"Oh this is Alex, my be–"
"–Boyfriend. Nice to finally meet you, Ms. L/n." Alex smiles shortly and shakes my mom's hand.
Boyfriend?
"Boyfriend? You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend, Y/n?" My mom questions, raising an eyebrow and looking me in the eye.
"Well... I was..." I look from her to Alex and bite my lip. "You see, I was going to, but I've just been so busy, y'know, at the hospital." I exaggerate to try changing the subject. I can feel my face going warm and my hands becoming sweaty.
"Okay, okay. I guess it's valid enough. I'm glad you could make it, we missed you at the last one." My mom pouts and rubs my arm, giving it a squeeze before pulling back. "Well, going to go get a drink. Would either of you like something?"
"No ma'am, but thank you." Alex smiles and shakes his head. My eyes almost widen in shock, but I keep my composure.
"Alright, well, I'll be with Ricky and Delilah by the stage if you guys need me. Have fun you two!" She waves a good-bye and makes her way back to the large stage, weaving her way through small crowds of people.
I wait a few seconds before turning to look up at Alex with wide eyes and my jaw dropped. "Why would you do that? Now she's gonna keep asking me questions about you all night!"
"Don't worry about it, just follow my lead, okay?"
"You're supposed to be following my lead! What happened to 'Loud and clear, captain'?"
Alex shrugs nonchalantly, "I got bored."
"You got- You know what, never mind. We just have to get through the first few hours, and then we can sneak out of here."
———
I stumble with Alex at my side into the unisex bathroom. I pull us both inside and lock the door.
"Alex, what happened to Following. My. Lead?" I pinch the bridge of my nose and look down, my back against the brown door.
"'Your lead' was about to get us busted. You should be thanking me! I just helped convince your mom you aren't a lonely loser who can't get a guy." He smirks and crosses his arms in front of his chest.
The few glasses of wine make me push him back harder than I intended, which makes him hit the restroom sink on his backside. He groans and rubs his side, probably where the sink jabbed him.
"Hey! No need to get violent! It's the truth!" He jokes, moving off the sink and taking steps toward me.
I laugh loudly and he covers my mouth, pushing me up against the door. "Shush! They're gonna think there's a comedy show in here." Alex whispers, slowly removing his hand from my lips, but not his eyes.
I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing and stare into his eyes, though he doesn't stare back into mine. I notice his hands have moved down to my waist and his fingers are slowly tapping at my dress. He looks up to my eyes, then down to my lips and I nod. Alex kisses me harshly, squeezing my waist as I tug at his dress suit.
We can taste the alcohol on each other's lips, but it doesn't stop either of us.
I can only think of how badly I've wanted this. To be able to kiss Alex Karev without the fear of him not wanting me back. Now that it's happening, I'm praying to God to make it last forever.
Alex moves one hand to my neck, the other on the back of my thigh. He lifts me up and holds me steady, my hands are in his hair and my legs are wrapped around his waist.
We continue making out for a few more seconds before I pull back. "What about 'just friends'?"
"Screw 'just friends'." Alex kisses me again, rougher. He takes a few steps and sits me on the bathroom sink, taking off his suit jacket.
We continue making out until we aren't "just friends" anymore.
287 notes
·
View notes
Text
careful son (you got dreamer's plans)
Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.
Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.
Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.
(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)
Chapter Word Count: 8,147
Chapter Warnings: swearing, referenced past suic.ide, referenced past character death, mentioned nausea, blood
Chapter Summary: In which things start coming to a head, and not everything is going according to plan, but they’re trying.
(masterpost w/ ao3 links)
(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)
Chapter Nineteen: wake the beast
His mind races.
If the enchantments are gone, someone must have destroyed them from within their bounds. Tubbo said as much, said that it was the only way. And now Ranboo stands by Dream’s side. Ranboo stands by Dream’s side, Dream’s hand on him, and he would not have thought it of Ranboo, of the awkward kid who so often sticks close to Techno or to Phil, of the person who they both obviously care for. He would not have thought it—and that was his mistake. He should have been more watchful, more vigilant, should not have dared to let his guard down in the slightest, because this is what it gets him, time and time again—
(all eyes on him and his people turn against him in a blink in a second and a sentence and he feels dead even before the arrow tears through his heart)
(and it was never meant to be, says a trusted friend and he is numb numb numb even as his comrades his friends his brothers his family die around him and he has been betrayed and he dies terrified and knowing that he has failed and the memory of that first death has never left him nor the pervasive thought that it could happen again that any valued companion could hide a traitor’s heart)
“Ranboo wouldn’t,” Phil says, as if reading his mind. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but Ranboo wouldn’t.”
“Just because you think someone wouldn’t doesn’t mean that you’re right,” he hisses back. “People stab each other in the backs, Phil. It’s what they do. You ought to know that.”
Phil looks at him, eyes wide and wounded, but he pays him little mind, creeping forward to peer further over the side of the roof. He stays low in an effort not to draw attention; the longer Dream doesn’t know where they all are, the better.
“How did you get in?” Eret is asking below, their voice steady, commanding. They are still a monarch in their own castle, though the wolves are inside the gate. Beside them, Sapnap takes on a battle-ready stance. There’s no sign of anyone else yet, and Wilbur is torn between hoping that the others will be out any moment and praying that some of them have the good sense to stay inside.
(because he closes his eyes and sees Dream shooting Tommy dead where he stands and he sees the blackstone walls of the final control room and he sees the vine pull Tommy away from him and Dream lunging for him with an axe and it is all too easy to imagine a sword at Tommy’s throat at Tubbo’s throat at Fundy’s throat and he won’t let that happen but he couldn’t prevent their deaths before but he has to now he has to)
Dream laughs.
“I’ve said before that I’ve got eyes everywhere,” he says. “It still counts if the eyes don’t know you’re watching through them. I have to say, that was a good trick, with those enchantments. But people go wandering sometimes. All I had to do was wait until Ranboo stepped back outside.” He tugs Ranboo closer to him. Ranboo moves with the pull, completely unresistant, like a rag doll. “Don’t worry, I’m taking good care of him. We’re great friends.”
Wait. That almost sounds like—
He turns to Phil again.
“Can he control other people?” he whispers.
Phil shrugs helplessly. “I’ve got no fucking clue,” he says. “But Ranboo sleepwalks. I dunno, maybe that would make it easier. But Ranboo would never betray us of his own free will.”
The cacophony of whispers in his mind, the storm that swirls and tosses and insists that he has been betrayed, that the world is out to get him and that this only confirms as much, quiets. Dies down at Phil’s insistence and at the scene before him,
(and you would not have allowed this months ago would not have allowed someone to talk you down did not allow anyone to talk you down so perhaps you do not quite know what better means but that is not to say that you have made no steps toward it toward that nebulous and far away goal even if you have difficulty in recognizing it you are different from how you were you are)
because Phil could be right.
(and it would make sense, perhaps, because even from here he can see the way that Ranboo’s eyes stare straight ahead, unseeing, and it is not like how he met him in the corridor last night but it is how he was in the Egg’s chamber, and he has wondered for quite some time now how Dream knew to break out of the prison when he did, how he knew to take advantage of their ill-fated attempt, and maybe there has not been a willing betrayal at all)
But if Ranboo is an unwitting accomplice, is somehow under Dream’s control, then that only complicates matters further. He’s not sure how many complications they can afford before all their planning falls apart at the seams.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re right, we need to move.” He glances back down at Dream. He’s still talking, though it doesn’t sound like anything too important anymore. Nothing they didn’t already know. “He likes to monologue. We can use that.”
Phil nods, and together, they inch back along the roof and toward the stairway. He breaks into a run as soon as he’s sure no one below will see or hear them, and Phil keeps pace with him. They careen through the hallways at breakneck speed, and the further they get back into the main corridors, the more people he can hear, moving about, their footsteps rushed, their voices frantic.
“Wilbur!”
The shout echoes, ping-pongs off the stone walls, loud and overwhelming all else. That is no surprise—Tommy has always known how to make himself heard, even when the moment does not call for it, and he trained himself a long time ago to respond to Tommy’s voice above all others.
(because even when they were younger, even when they were children, brothers by choice taken under Phil’s wings, Tommy always looked to him before anyone else, before Techno, before Phil, and that was even before the other two began leaving so often)
(for better or for worse, your little brother has always believed the sun shines through your eyes and you have him caught in your orbit just as surely as he has caught you in his and perhaps you are twin suns circling one another but then again perhaps not because you crashed and burned and you know better than to believe that it was anyone’s fault but your own and no one’s gravity was powerful enough to help you not when you denied them all)
(though your beliefs once rock solid are shaken and unsteady and the fault lies with you to be sure but you have always assigned yourself more blame than you ought so sure are you that you are at the center at it all that you are on a pedestal the spotlight shining down and some of the fault is yours but not all not all and it is growth to accept responsibility but also growth to let some of it go to let slip from your shoulders that which is not yours to carry)
Tommy all but barrels into him, panting, and he reaches out on instinct to steady him, placing his hands on both his shoulders. Tubbo follows shortly behind, but at a slower pace, his face pale and wan.
“You weren’t in your room,” Tommy gasps out, “you weren’t—where the fuck did you go? And the bell, we heard the bell, and Tubbo said he could feel the enchantments going down, what the fuck is—is he—?”
“Dream is here,” he answers, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “Inside the gates, and he’s not alone. The vines haven’t reached the castle proper yet, but they’re making an effort.”
Tommy draws in a sharp breath, and Wilbur hates this. Hates that this is happening, that any of them are being put in these positions at all. Hates that Tommy is confronted with this danger time and time again, that Tommy never seems to get a rest, never seems to have time to heal, that he and Tubbo both have never had the opportunity to escape the solder’s uniforms that he dressed them in, he in all his misguided hopes and dreams.
But he’s thought as much before. It never stops the hated thing from occurring.
“So is that it, then?” Tubbo asks quietly. “It’s all coming down to this?” His voice is bleak, and Wilbur wishes he could understand all the weight behind his words
(a weight that comes from being a soldier a spy a president an executioner a leader of so much rubble, that comes from exiling his best friend for the good of his nation, that comes from being trapped in a box with nowhere to run, that comes from no walls being strong enough and no weapons powerful enough to protect himself, that comes from seeing it all come crashing down again and again and being helpless to stop any of it, and it is easy to allow Tubbo to slip to the sidelines when Tommy is so much louder, so much more overt with his fears and his pains, but Tubbo has been hurt just as surely, and he needs to remember that, when all of this is over, needs to remember that Tubbo needs healing and safety just as Tommy does, and he needs to remember and so he will)
but now is not the time to over-analyze, to pick through tone and cadence until the true meaning is laid bare.
“What about our plan?” Tommy says. “What about—do we still try? Or do we just have to go down there and—”
He’s trying not to act panicked, is trying to disguise his quick breaths, his shaking hands. Is trying, and failing, and Wilbur continues to grip him by the shoulders, even if it doesn’t seem to do anything at all.
“We were too slow with it,” he says, blunt. “We’re being pushed into reacting rather than instigating ourselves. But we have to work with it. We don’t fall here. We fight—”
“We go through with it.” The voice is confident, steady, brooking no room for argument. He looks past Tommy’s shoulders to see Techno striding down the hallway, hair loose, armor already on, shining netherite sword in hand. He doesn’t know if this is his typical gear or spares—he doesn’t remember whether anyone thought to pick up his scattered inventory or not, when he died. But it doesn’t seem to matter.
“Do we?” Tubbo asks. “Seems like it’s gone a bit pear-shaped, Technoblade.”
“Yeah,” Techno says, “but we were plannin’ to lure some of them away from the Egg anyway. They’ve practically done our job for us. Sure, we’re on the defensive, which isn’t—I won’t lie, that isn’t fantastic. But we can still work with this, as long as we’re quick.” He draws up short next to everybody and levels a stare right at him. “Phil and I will go out there and help hold them off. Wilbur, can you do this?”
He knows what he’s asking.
“Hold on,” Phil says, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Maybe we get someone else to—”
Techno shakes his head, visibly frustrated. He doesn’t have the context that Phil now does, doesn’t know what the Egg whispers to him, doesn’t know that he nearly gave in, doesn’t know that he did.
Wilbur sort of regrets telling Phil any of that, now, in retrospect.
“Who?” Techno says. “Who else, Phil? The options are they go try and make that omelet, or they stay here and hope that we can hold off Dream and his goons. If the castle is breached, I’d feel a whole lot better knowin’ they’re not in here.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tommy jumps in. “What do you mean, they? I’m not hiding in this fucking castle, Technoblade, what the fuck are you on?”
“You’re not fightin’ Dream,” Techno shoots back. “Don’t try to argue with me. You’re not. You’re not gettin’ anywhere near him. So your choices are, you go with Wilbur, or you stay right here, inside.”
Tommy gapes, mouth working. There is some kind of realization dawning behind his eyes,
(and there is only one realization to come to, really, and that is that Techno does care about him, that Techno is trying to protect him in his own clumsy way, and it doesn’t make up for everything or for anything, really, but they’ve already made a start already laid the foundations for forgiveness, and he can only hope that Tommy sees it that way)
but there’s no time. Even though this feels like it’s all happening far too quickly, there is no time. There is no time for any of this.
“I can do it,” he says, and prays he’s not lying. “I’ll take Tommy and Tubbo with me. They’ll be safe, Technoblade.”
He meets his brother’s eyes, and sees there
(determination and anger and hope and a thousand cuts crusted over and not stitched closed and perhaps a lingering flicker of gold from a death that is sure to have scarred him even though he hasn’t spoken on it and will likely refuse to do so but there is trust there against all the odds there is trust in Technoblade’s eyes trust in the eyes of the brother who he has called his twin who he has used and strung along and not apologized to nearly enough but despite it all there is trust)
an emotion too deep to interpret.
“Why are you talking like that?” Tommy demands. He shrugs off Wilbur’s hold. “Why are you talking like you might—”
Die is almost certainly the word he intends to finish that sentence with, but he cuts himself off.
“I know they will,” Techno says. To his side, Phil sighs, closing his eyes, and then, Techno looks to Tommy. “Technoblade never dies, Tommy. Don’t worry so much. Dream’ll get what’s comin’ to him.”
Tommy flinches. “I’m not worried, dickhead. Who’d worry about you?” His voice cracks.
(Dream’s axe buries itself in Technoblade’s throat, and the red blends with the rest of the room)
“If we’re going, we need to. Like, now,” Tubbo says. Ever practical. Ever responsible.
“We do,” he agrees.
(it’s not a farewell it’s a see you later but he hates that phrase because you never know when it is a farewell, no one ever does, and a see you later never gives the closure that people so sorely need)
(and he never said goodbye in any way that counted)
They’ll be heading for opposite stairwells then, from here. Phil and Techno will go for the front, he and Tubbo and Tommy for the back. This is a separation, even though so much of his mind is screaming not to let them out of his sight, to not allow them to split up, not when there’s every possibility that this will end poorly, will not go in their favor.
(this will not be the end the story will not end here and they will see each other again there is war and there is the other side and there is a new sunrise and they will live to see it)
“Wilbur,” Techno says, and then, he’s pressing something into his hand. He looks down, and it’s a totem. Golden and whole, eyes of emerald. He looks back up.
“I have another one,” Techno says. “For me or Phil. This one’s for you. Or Tommy, or Tubbo. Call it insurance. But dying at all would be pretty cringe. Y’know?”
“I know,” he says, and closes his fingers around the figurine. “So don’t you dare. Either of you.” He flicks his gaze to Phil. Phil nods at him, and the same message is reflected in his eyes.
“That’s the plan,” Phil says quietly. He’s been quiet, this whole time. Tommy makes a soft, choked noise, making an aborted movement as if to step forward. But then, Techno and Phil are turning, striding down the corridor, to where the sounds of battle outside are growing louder by the second, and they’ve lingered here for far too long. Somehow, he doesn’t regret it.
(it’s not a goodbye but just in case it is, just in case, just in case, he has braced himself for the worst)
“They’re going to be alright,” Tommy says, voice pitching higher. “They’re going to be alright, aren’t they?”
“Technoblade never dies,” Tubbo repeats quietly. “And Phil doesn’t either.”
“They’ll be fine,” Wilbur says, and tries to believe himself, tries not to think of Dream lying in wait for them, Dream who has already managed to kill Techno once, Dream who is making what he surely believes will be his final move, the checkmate of his game,
(but this is no game)
Dream who may no longer be a god but is surely something other than human, something stronger, something else. And it has been a long time since he was able to truly believe his family invincible. The events of the past few days have only compounded that.
But there is no time for these considerations. They are all in it now. In his heart of hearts, he knows that this, come what may, will be the end of the ordeal. Someone will come out victorious this morning. And if it is to be them, they have no time to delay. So he jerks his head in the direction of the back stairwell, and his walk becomes a sprint, Tommy and Tubbo following behind him, their footsteps pounding against the floor. He takes the last few stairs at a jump.
(a realization, sudden as he impacts: he forgot to tell Techno their suspicions about Ranboo, but it is too late to turn back and catch up, and surely Phil will, surely, and it’s probably for the best that he did not say it aloud in the presence of the other two, because Tubbo and Tommy both seem to be friends with the boy to some extent, at least, and it would be unwise to cause them more anxiety, unwise to present them with yet another problem that they can do nothing about, especially when they may already be running full-tilt into their deaths as much as he will attempt to prevent as much)
As far as he remembers, the swords were left in the throne room, on the table where they were dropped, where a god bent reality to place them. So that’s where they need to go. Get at least one sword, and then, it’s off to the Egg, and he can only hope that he will have the strength to do what needs to be done. It was not meant to be him in this role. Was meant to be someone else, someone more resistant to the Egg’s call, because even he can admit when someone else would truly be a better fit for the task. Someone like Techno, who discards the voice as just one among many, or someone like Puffy, perhaps, who, as it turns out, has fallen under its sway once and uses that to form her resolution to never allow it in again. But they left it too long, and their base is under attack, the assault happening on their enemy’s terms and not theirs, and Dream must be held at bay here. The best fighters are needed.
So he’ll take up the sword himself, drive it into the Egg’s shell before it has the opportunity to tempt him. Hopefully the rest will fall into place.
(though when, when is it ever that simple?)
And then—
“Tubbo!” someone calls from down the hall. “Tommy!” And then, a beat of hesitation, and a slightly softer, more hesitant, “Wil!” And Fundy is running toward them, from the direction they’re heading toward, armor half on and half off, and he supposes he should be glad that he received any acknowledgment at all. “I was looking for you guys. I don’t know what’s going on! What’s going on? Are we under attack? Is that what’s happening?”
He’s frantic, panicky, his words falling out rapid-fire, and—Wilbur can’t leave him here. Separating from Techno and Phil was bad enough, and he knows that they’re capable warriors, have decimated armies between them, that their monikers are no empty threats. Fundy—Fundy can take care of himself. He has proved that much, even if the thought makes his heart wrench painfully, even if he blinks and still sees his darling boy interposed over the man he has become, even if his mind struggles to accept that his child has grown up without him,
(perhaps in spite of him but that hurts worse so he refuses to let the idea linger)
even if the feeling of failure is absolute, all-encompassing, chains wrapped around his chest and squeezing. Even despite all that, he knows that Fundy is strong. Is grown. Is far from the days where he needed a father’s protection. But he cannot leave him here, in a castle that might fall to the enemy. Cannot leave him where Dream might get his hands on him. Cannot abandon him again, even if it’s what’s expected, even if it might be what Fundy wants. He cannot, and perhaps bringing him to the Egg is a worse idea, but Fundy can defend himself from dreamons, knows all the same tricks as Tubbo. He could be of help, perhaps.
(though that is an excuse because the desire to bring him along to keep him in his sight is far from rational is born of fear and protectiveness because even if Fundy hates him even if Fundy wants nothing to do with him he wants to see him safe and some part of him still believes even after everything even after disowning each other even after the betrayal he felt in the ravine as Fundy licked the boots of a tyrant and even after the betrayal Fundy must have felt in turn after he refused to believe him and tossed his efforts aside even after all of that he still believes himself the most capable person to keep his son safe and he must see with his own eyes that he is well)
“Dream’s attacking,” he says, and does not slow to a stop, even as Fundy comes up to them. Instead, he grabs Fundy’s wrist, ignoring his startled noise, and changes his momentum, taking him along with them. “We’re enacting the plan as best we can. We’re going to the Egg. Will you help us?”
Fundy doesn’t reply for a moment, and the only sounds are their feet against the stones. They’re deep enough in the castle that the battle out front no longer reaches their ears.
“You want me?” Fundy asks. “Really?”
(the doubt in his voice is an arrow to the back is water rising around his ears is sinking and falling and hitting the ground too hard)
“Of course,” he says, and even though now is not for a conversation like this, he opens his mouth again, and starts, even as they keep running, “Fundy, I—”
But then, he stops abruptly, because suddenly Eret steps out in front of them, their shoulder bleeding heavily but their posture still erect, still lordly, still every inch a king. And Wilbur should despise them, but now is not for that, either, so the anger washes away, and he skids to a stop in front of them and feels only confusion for the fact that they are here and not outside, where he last saw them.
Eret steps forward, and proffers to him a sword, gleaming, electrified with an otherwordly aura, the presence of the universe contained in glowing runes and the sharpened point, and—ah. So Eret had the same idea.
“Good luck, all of you,” they say. Wilbur takes the sword, and for a moment, his fingers brush against theirs. He does not recoil from the contact.
“How is it looking?” he asks.
“Not amazing, but not terrible,” Eret answers. “I came to find you and to down a potion. It seems to be only the six of them at the moment, seven counting Ranboo, which I’m not sure whether we should or not—”
“What do you mean, counting Ranboo?” Tubbo demands. He shakes his head, trying to convey now is not the time without so many words, and Tubbo subsides, though reluctantly.
But Tubbo’s always been good at compartmentalization.
“—and they don’t seem to be trying to surround us,” Eret is continuing. “Not yet, at any rate, so if you go out ‘round the back, you should escape detection. Though I find it unlikely that they left the Egg completely unguarded. This has trap written all over it.”
He nods. It has occurred to him, of course, and Eret’s words only solidify his belief. If Dream wanted to take them all out here, now, he’d be smarter about it. He wouldn’t announce his presence, wouldn’t focus his attack in one spot. This maneuver is just asking for someone to escape, to head for the Egg, and he can only hope that they’re several more steps ahead of Dream than he believes them to be. If they are not, then Dream will be proven correct, and it truly will be checkmate.
Really, it all comes down to whether he knows they have these swords or not. Whether he knows that dreamons are not invincible. Whether he knows the universe has intervened.
(humming a tune)
“So, it’s a regular day, then,” he says. “I assume you’re taking the other?” He indicates the sword, and Eret’s lips twist wryly.
“That was the original plan, wasn’t it?” they say. “One for the Egg and one for Dream.” Their posture shifts a bit, almost imperceptibly, but suddenly they remind him far more of a soldier than a monarch. The soldier that they were, once, under his command. “We’ll handle things here, Wilbur. You all take it to the Egg. We’re finishing this today.”
He regards them. There is no sign of duplicity in their bearing. But then, there never was before, and perhaps it is not a good idea to allow them to take the second sword after all, because how sure can he truly be that—
No. No, he will not spiral down that road. Not now, not today. He is making a choice. And trust is not entirely built on choice, not really, because trust is a fragile thing, formed gradually, of shared experiences and opening up far more than he is comfortable with, but in an instant? In a singular moment? He can choose to trust. Can choose to have faith. And he doesn’t know whether Eret has earned it or not. But he doesn’t know that he has, either, and he will not be the one to deny them the opportunity to grow. To be better. He will not.
(and just maybe it truly is time for the old song to receive another revision)
“Yes,” he says. “We are.” And he meets Eret’s eyes, as best he can behind the glasses they perpetually wear. “Good luck, Eret.”
Eret smiles at him, small but genuine. And then they, too, turn on their heel and run off, back to the front, back to the chaos. He has stared at a lot of retreating backs today. He hopes that’s not an omen.
But then, he’s not one to believe in omens.
“Wait, we’re just going to let them go?” Fundy asks. “On their own?”
“They won’t be on their own,” he replies. “And neither are we.” He looks to the other three, to his son, visibly shaking, to Tubbo, face set in a hard expression, to Tommy, who is desperately trying to mask his fear. “You heard them. We go out the back and circle back around to the Egg’s chamber. Tubbo, Fundy, is there anything you can do to hide us on the way there?”
“We can try our best,” Tubbo says. “Right, Fundy?”
“Oh! Um, right, right, yeah, we can do that,” Fundy says.
“Then equip everything you need, and let’s go,” he says, the general’s orders coming easy in this moment. He still holds the sword in his hand; it weighs on him more heavily than it should, but he doesn’t know whether it’s the material it’s made out of or his mind playing tricks on him, something to do with a metaphor about the burden of responsibility. Heavy lies the head that wears the crown; heavy falls the hand that bears the sword.
He only hopes that the blow he strikes will land heavily enough.
--------------------
It is easy to leave the castle. Too easy, perhaps, and all of his nerves are a clamoring mess, insisting that this is wrong, wrong, wrong. In this, at least, he is inclined to listen to his instincts; nothing in war ever comes this easily, and Dream is too smart to leave them such a simple way out unless he wanted them to take it. Wanted someone to take it, at least. Perhaps not them specifically,
(but you have never been one to believe in coincidence)
but the danger of falling into a trap is very real and present. Because it is, undoubtedly, a trap. Of what kind, he doesn’t yet know.
They slip out the back entrance. Fundy and Tubbo have a muttered discussion
(and Fundy keeps shooting looks at him, looks that he has to force himself to ignore, because he doesn’t know what they mean doesn’t know what Fundy wants from him and if Fundy would tell him what he wants then he would burn the world to give it to him even if what Fundy wants is for him to leave him alone he will do it no matter the part of him that such a deed would crush because it is no one’s fault but his and it is about time he began to respect his son’s wishes)
and then begin chanting under their breaths, words in a language that he does not recognize, but soon after they start, the static recedes from his mind, the Egg held at a further distance—and it is probably concerning that he didn’t notice that it was there again in the first place. Tommy sticks close by his side, staring at the other two with an unsettled expression and every so often brushing his fingers against the sleeve of his coat, as if reassuring himself. At any other time, Wilbur would tease him for it. As it is, he rather likes the reassurance himself.
The vines are crowded, clustered, making their progress slow. They writhe on the ground like snakes, or like worms, wriggling and oozing, and though they don’t actually seem to be secreting any sort of substance, sometimes he blinks and sees them covered in blood. But at least, they don’t seem to be interested in them, all of them stretching and straining and growing toward the castle, even before Tubbo and Fundy begin their incantation. And after that, some of the vines part before them, rearing away from their approach.
Picking their way through them is still difficult. And whenever he looks at them for too long, nausea rises in his throat.
But they manage to arrive at the entrance to the spider spawner completely unimpeded, and he stares down into the familiar hole. He’s been here thrice now. Both visits before, it all went terribly, horribly wrong. The first time, he was dragged out screaming. The second time, he stumbled into the sunlight having just watched his brother die.
“Third time’s the charm?” Tubbo suggests.
“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy returns, though there is little heart in it.
“Are we actually going down there?” Fundy asks.
“You don’t have to,” he says. “None of you three have to. You could all stay up here. It might be safer. I don’t know.”
He doesn’t want to force them to confront the Egg again. Doesn’t want to bring them back to that room. Or in Fundy’s case, doesn’t want to expose him at all. Doesn’t want him to have to confront the evil that lies down there. But he can’t guarantee that it would be any safer for them to remain above ground. Can’t guarantee that no enemy would come along.
He can’t guarantee anything. He doesn’t like the feeling.
“Like hell,” Tommy says. “You are not going down there by yourself. What kind of idiots do you think we are?”
“Yeah, big man, you’re not going in without us,” Tubbo says. “Not after—literally everything that’s ever happened down there.”
“What did happen down there?” Fundy asks. “I mean, I know Techno died. You guys told me that. But like, what else? I guess it was bad?”
He closes his eyes.
He’s already told his father. Tommy and Tubbo have been there for all the worst of it. But does he really want to tell his son?
(he can look at you no worse than he already does though you’re not sure that’s true and you do not want to see his reaction to knowing just how much of a wreck you still are the wreck that the Egg appeals to and you do not want to see horror on his face and you do not want to see pity and you do not know which would be worse but you would take cold anger over either of those)
“It got the best of us, and of me, specifically. Multiple times,” he says. That will do. Not a lie, but not too specific. But Fundy’s ears twitch, his eyes narrowing, and he knows that he’s about to ask for more details. “Now’s not the time to get into it further. We need to move.”
“It’s never the time,” Fundy mutters, and it takes all of his self-control to prevent himself from flinching, because that—is not about this, surely. But Fundy subsides, and Tubbo has stepped up to the edge of the entrance, staring down in concentration, and Tommy has a sword in his hand. Not the sword, but a sword, netherite and clearly well-used.
He has the sword. And a bow. No armor, though the rest of them are all kitted out. Full netherite. They’re as safe as they can be
(though that didn’t save Technoblade)
and they have no more time to waste.
So down they go.
The room containing the spider spawner, enchantment table and anvil and all, is choked so completely with vines that it is difficult to see past them. But there is a clear path, leading right to the Egg’s chamber, possible for people to traverse, and it has so obviously been left open as a walkway that even his instincts fall quiet, because it doesn’t get more clear than that. No sense in his mind shouting trap! at him over and over again when the bait is plain as day.
“This sucks,” Fundy says. But he makes no move to retreat.
(he thinks he might want him to, actually, thinks he might want all of them to go back, to climb back out and into the morning sun, despite the danger that no doubt still exists above, because there is danger and then there is danger, and though he wants to keep them all safe keep them all close to him he does not know that this is a danger that he can protect them from and perhaps he should have admitted as much earlier and perhaps this was all a mistake the greatest mistake he has made since his return and perhaps they need to run they all need to run and perhaps he cannot do this at all perhaps it is only hubris that has led him here and perhaps Icarus would have learned his lesson had he been granted a second chance but it seems it seems that he has not that he is facing the red sun knowing full well that it will melt his wings and he is only pretending that there will be any other outcome and)
Tommy snorts. “You can say that again,” he says, but he just sort of sounds tired.
“Nowhere to go but forward,” Tubbo murmurs. “You taking point, Wilbur?”
He can delay no longer.
He nods, and strides forward, wincing every time he treads on a vine, which is about every other step. The air grows warmer, more humid, more stifling. Each breath requires more effort. The air becomes a red haze, shimmering and distorted like heat coming off metal or pavement on a sweltering day.
The Egg’s chamber is more cluttered than he remembers it. The red vines sway gently, and make no move to attack them, to strangle them as they
(Technoblade dangling a snap of his neck and then a moment later the brilliant gold the phoenix rising the god deathless until he was not)
step inside. The Egg itself is unchanged, sitting in its corner. Blood red. Almost innocuous.
Static presses in around him, just barely kept at bay by the enchantments that Tubbo and Fundy laid. And even those will give out within minutes. He’s not sure how he knows,
(you do not bring a sword to a duel of bow and arrow and you do not hope to lay down magic against a dark void thing in the thing’s own lair)
but he is sure of it.
And the Egg is not alone.
“Fuck,” Tubbo murmurs. He echoes the sentiment, but all his words are caught up in his throat and tangled in his chest, a web beyond saving, beyond saving him or anyone else, thread that is too coarse and too rough and too fragile to have any hope of mending this.
To one side, there is a boy, one that he vaguely recognizes as Purpled. He seems bored, watching them with sharpness, but also some degree of indifference. But Wilbur cannot focus on him, even though from what he knows, the kid is a dangerous mercenary.
Flanking the Egg itself, there is Jack Manifold. And there is Niki.
Jack Manifold seems unchanged, though the lenses of his glasses are both red, now, where he was sure that one was blue before, and his expression is set into something harsher than he ever recalls him being. But then, he never paid too much attention to Jack Manifold. Niki, though, Niki—the bags underneath her eyes are prominent, dark and deep, and he almost takes them for thick eyeliner at first. Her face is more lined than he remembers it, her hair a different color. And her eyes are red. Red like fire, red like blood, red like the shards of a shattered mirror, red like a thousand broken things.
Around her shoulders, she wears the hood of his coat. Slowly, his hand comes up to feel around his shoulder blades, and finds the hood missing. He’s not sure how he never noticed that before.
(he gave her one of his coats, didn’t he?)
They both grip swords. Purpled has one too.
(there is a creature living in his chest, wounded and desperate and howling, but for once it does not slam against his ribcage, seeking its freedom, but curls up in a corner, whining, pitiful)
“The Egg said you would be coming,” Niki says, and somehow, her voice is both flat and trembling with restrained emotion. “It said—you were back.”
His tongue lies like lead.
“Niki?” Fundy asks, and steps forward. He shoots out a hand to hold him back, to keep him from going too far, and Fundy glares but does not fight it. “You’re really with the Egg?” And at the same time, Tubbo starts on something: “C’mon, Jack, why’d you think joining up with the breakfast item would be a good idea?”
Tommy, conspicuously, remains silent.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jack Manifold snaps. “Tell me, Tubbo, what other options did I have? Did you even think to come and tell me about literally anything that’s been going on? No? I don’t think so.”
“We’ve been overlooked,” Niki says, and her voice is quieter, but there is no softness in it. Only anger, and he does not know whether the emotion is the Egg’s or hers. Or both. But he would deserve it, if it was hers. He knows that. “Forgotten, cast aside time and time again. Abandoned by the people who were supposed to care about us.”
(the creature whines again at the word at abandoned at abandoned because he didn’t mean to he wasn’t thinking about abandoning anyone he just knew that they would be better off without him without him and his corrupted creation without him to drag them all down because he was the villain he was)
“But the Egg’s going to give us what we want,” she continues. “Joining it was the best choice for us. The best choice for me.” And she speaks it so defiantly, as if daring him to argue, and there’s a trap in that, a trap in trying to tell her that it’s not a good thing, that she should have chosen something different. Because he has no right to dictate Niki’s choices. Nobody does.
But that includes the demonic egg.
“What’s it going to give you, Niki?” he asks, finding his words at last. Jack scoffs, and Niki’s eyes flash.
“What’s it going to give me?” she parrots. “How can you think that you of all people have the right to ask me that? I mourned you, Wil. I mourned you for so long. It was hard to eat, hard to sleep. For the longest time I couldn’t even accept that you were gone, that that—that ghost took your place and forgot all about me. But that’s—I don’t need you. I don’t need your promises, and I don’t need your lies. I’ve got the Egg on my side.”
(that’s wrong wrong wrong because he never forgot about Niki not even once even when he willfully let the rest of his memories slip through his fingers like the blue that stained his skin even then he never forgot the scent of freshly baked bread never forgot her smile her steadfastness and never forgot missing her either missing her when it was too dangerous to come for her when one wrong move would mean getting her killed never forgot stepping up and offering his final life for hers because she was always worth so much more then he ever could be and even when he forgot everything else he never forgot a thing about her)
(and the irony of her statements is not lost on him, because perhaps he is a liar perhaps he is built of empty promises promises that scattered like ash in the wind over the cliff top but if he is that then what is the Egg)
“We’ve got the Egg on our side,” Jack says. “You want to know what we want? It’s simple. We want Tommy dead.”
The words land like a rockslide. Or too much TNT.
His fingers twitch, a second away from calling a weapon to his hand.
Tommy is still silent.
“You what?” Tubbo says. “Jack?”
He sounds like he’s hoping it’s a joke. But Jack just crosses his arms.
“We’re tired of him doing whatever he wants and not facing any consequences,” Jack declares. “He keeps on getting away with everything. He literally killed me and didn’t even apologize for it! And he was one of my best friends! I went to hell and had to claw my way back out, and that’s his fault.”
“Everywhere he goes, there’s conflict and suffering,” Niki says, and her voice is filled with less hatred than Jack’s, but that’s not saying much. “Until he’s gone, there will be no peace on this server.”
“We’ve tried before. We even tried to nuke him, and somehow we managed to fuck that up,” Jack says. “It never seems to work. But with the Egg’s help, it will. We’ve made sure of it.”
“You tried to—oh my god,” Tubbo says. “Oh my god, did you—did you actually—I trusted you!”
“And I trusted you,” Jack says. “You’re a good sort, Tubbo, really. I do like you. ‘S why I never wanted you to find out like this. But in the end, you still let me down. I don’t hold it against you, because everyone does it. The only one who ever looks out for me is me. Niki and I have that in common, see? But Tommy needs to go. And I’m sorry if that’s going to hurt you, but I’m not sorry for doing it.” He pauses. “And if you join the Egg anyway, it can make sure it doesn’t hurt, actually, so you should really consider it.”
Tubbo’s face is a mask of horror, tears glimmering in his eyes. There’s something here that he’s missing. But now hardly seems like the time to ask.
“He never takes any responsibility,” Niki says. “He needs to. For once.”
Beside him, he hears Tommy draw in a shaky breath, and—he’s not actually believing any of this, is he? But he’s not denying it, as he might expect, and looking to his face, to an expression that reads like sorrow and resignation but no shock at all, he realizes that Tommy knew, to some degree. Knew that Niki and Jack have been—have been trying to kill him, and he’s just accepted that, and that breaks Wilbur from his stupor, draws him from the sea of guilt that he’s been swimming in ever since he laid eyes on Niki’s face. Because he has wronged her. Has hurt her. And he needs to make it right, as best he can. But that doesn’t mean she gets to take it all out on his little brother.
“Never takes any responsibility?” he repeats sharply. “Never—do you know Tommy at all, Niki? Or did you forget the time he was exiled and abused for the high crime of—oh, let me see, griefing someone’s house? Or the time he was chased out of our nation for the fact that he was my running mate? Or the time—I mean, are you even hearing yourself? You think Tommy doesn’t take responsibility? You think Tommy’s never suffered? He’s a teenager, Niki! And he’s been through worse than any teenager ever should be. You can’t blame him for things that were never his fault in the first place.”
Tommy stiffens. And for a moment, she seems to waver, glancing at him, and then at Jack, frowning. For a moment, he thinks he might have broken through. But then, she hardens.
“I’m sick of everyone making excuses for him,” she says. “I won’t take it any more. And you—you have no right.” Her voice breaks. “I think we’re done talking.” Her fingers flex around the hilt of her sword, and that is all the warning he receives before she charges forward, weapon held high, Jack at her side, and he goes for his bow, goes to take a shot,
(though it might fly wide because he doesn’t know that he can bring himself to injure her even for Tommy’s sake and he thinks he will if he has to but whether the fortitude it will take is beyond him is difficult to say)
but then a weight hits him from the side, sending him flying, and he pulls his head back up, expecting to see the vines twisting, dancing, slamming into him, but instead, it is Purpled, now standing over him as he’s sprawled on the ground, sword in his hand. And he’s between him and Tommy, him and Tubbo, him and Fundy, and now Tubbo is yelling and there is the clash of metal on metal as Niki and Jack attack, as Niki and Jack go in for the kill that the Egg has promised them, and he is on the ground and Purpled blocks his path, blocks his way, blocks him from helping them.
“Sorry, Wilbur,” Purpled says. Cool, casual, perhaps vaguely apologetic. “Business is business.”
And then, just as he’s pushing himself to his feet, unsteady and desperate, the enchantments give out. The protection that Tubbo and Fundy attempted to give them, gone.
So, here you are, the Egg says, and here I am, as I ever am and always will be. Hello, void child, will you let me bring you home?
#mcyt#dsmp#dream smp#dsmp fic#wilbur soot#tommyinnit#tubbo#technoblade#philza#eret#fundy#nihachu#jack manifold#/rp#cat writes fic#long post#yet again another cliffhanger lmao sorry bout that#next few chapters are gonna be. A Lot
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Remember YFIP?
My Year of Grief and Cancellation
What was I trying to accomplish with my anonymous Tumblr?
By Liat Kaplan
Feb. 25, 2021, 5:00 a.m. ET
https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/25/style/your-fave-is-problematic-tumblr.html
If you were on Tumblr in the early 2010s, you may remember a blog called Your Fave Is Problematic. If not, its content should still sound familiar to you. The posts contained long lists of celebrities’ regrettable (racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, ethnophobic, ableist and so on) statements and actions — the stuff that gets people canceled these days.
That blog was my blog. I spent hours researching each post; as you can probably imagine, my search history was pretty ugly.
Your Fave Is Problematic had around 50,000 followers at its peak, in 2014, when I was a high school senior, but its influence was outsized. I got in a feud with a prominent young adult fiction author over his inclusion. One actor submitted himself, perhaps as a dare (or a plea) to dig up his worst. “Problematic fave” became a well-worn meme; even after I stopped posting, my blog was cited in books, articles, podcasts and think pieces. Through it all, my identity stayed private.
The blog started, as so many anonymous online projects do, as vengeful public shaming masquerading as social criticism. I was fine-tuning my moral compass and coming into my own as a feminist. So when I noticed classmates making sexist jokes on Facebook, including some about me, I started taking screenshots to post on a Tumblr called Calling Out Sexists. My policy was that I would take down a post only if its author publicly apologized.
A group of students brought the blog to the attention of our school’s administrators, who threatened to take legal action if I continued to write about them. Meanwhile, other Tumblr users had begun submitting screenshots featuring statements from minor celebrities. With graduation hanging in the balance, I shifted my focus away from my peers and toward public figures. I rebranded. Money and fame had protected them since time immemorial. What harm could my little blog do?
So I posted photos of Lady Gaga in V magazine with her skin bronzed to an unnatural brown. I pulled out troubling quotes from an essay Lena Dunham had written about a trip to Japan. I noted Taylor Swift’s since-changed homophobic lyric in “Picture to Burn.” My most popular posts tended to be about women — which makes sense, because the celebrity press tends to be more critical of them.
As it turned out, I had bigger things to worry about than dissecting the careers of celebrities I’d never met. On a winter morning, I woke up to the news that my older sister, Tamar, who was studying in Bolivia, had been in a bus crash, and the outlook was not good. I pored over research to escape from what felt like an impossible situation: my sister slowly dying of treatable injuries in a rural area thousands of miles away.
We held a public memorial service for Tamar in our hometown. Some of my classmates showed up, including a few who had written nasty things about me online. I found their shows of kindness insulting now, during what was quickly becoming the worst year of my life.
I tried going back to school after a few weeks, but I found myself picking frequent arguments with classmates and teachers. The school made an arrangement with my parents: I would be placed on “medical leave” for the remainder of the semester. I would graduate on time, but I wouldn’t return to campus.
Stuck at home, I devoted myself to Tumblr. What was I trying to accomplish? Mostly, I was interested in knocking people off their pedestals. I also enjoyed being popular, controversial, discussed. When a comedian I had posted about name-checked my blog on Twitter, I was giddy.
Then I started receiving threats. Someone sent me a screenshot of a house from Google Maps, claiming to have found my IP address. It wasn’t my house, but still. I realized that for every person on Tumblr who looked up to my blog, there were many more, online and offline, who hated it — and me. I started posting less and, eventually, stopped posting at all.
In the years since, I’ve looked back on my blog with shame and regret — about my pettiness, my motivating rage, my hard-and-fast assumptions that people were either good or bad. Who was I to lump together known misogynists with people who got tattoos in languages they didn’t speak? I just wanted to see someone face consequences; no one who’d hurt me ever had.
There’s something almost quaint about it all now: teenage me, teaching myself about social justice on Tumblr while also posturing as an authority on that very subject, thinking I was making a difference while engaging in a bit of schadenfreude. Meanwhile, other movements — local, global, unified in their purposes and rooted in progressive philosophies — were organizing for actual justice. Looking back, I was more of a cop than a social justice warrior, as people on Tumblr had come to think of me.
These days, there’s no shortage of online accountability efforts, the large part of them anonymously run. Some accounts post typically anodyne but occasionally explosive celebrity gossip. Others are explicitly aimed at naming, shaming and punishing people for all kinds of actions and missteps. My own work fell somewhere in the middle, I think; the information I posted was out in the open, but I was cataloging it to make a case against the veneration of the rich and famous.
As many have noted, the coronavirus pandemic has pronounced the distance between celebrities and the rest of us. And their actions have been subject to greater scrutiny — the vacations they’ve gone on, the parties they’ve held, the access they’ve had to testing and care during a health crisis that has taken millions of lives.
But celebrity culture began to crumble long before Covid-19. Mounting accusations of many kinds, whispered between industry professionals, had become too loud to ignore. Social media, which gave celebrities more control over their images and influence over their fans, also opened them up to new kinds of criticism. People have lost jobs and entire careers because of the kinds of errors my blog cited. Others have apologized for work and behavior that, re-examined in a contemporary context, just doesn’t hold up.
For years, I’ve regretted the spotlight I put on other people’s mistakes, as if one day I wouldn’t make plenty of my own. There can be an unsparing purity to growing into one’s social conscience that is often overbroad.
My brain wasn’t ready for nuance. I was angered by hypocrisy and cruelty; what I did about it was apply a level of scrutiny that left no room for error. I’m not saying that I should be canceled for my teenage blog. (Please don't!) I just know what we all should know by now: that no one who has lived publicly, online or off, has a spotless record.
For these reasons, I’ve thought about deleting my Tumblr. But doing that would mean erasing my own errors of judgment. I almost feel like I need to leave it up to punish myself for having made it in the first place. That, and I know someone could (and probably would) just pull it up on Wayback Machine. The internet, after all, never forgets.
~~~~~~~
60 notes
·
View notes
Note
this IS LONGER THAN I THOUGHT 😭😭
my studying is long gone and I’m here reading a-list I don’t even know how to being how much I like it no I LOVE IT. the way they had the tension from the fucking stART LIKE URGHHHHHDHNDJDMD yes beautiful.
“I know you do, princess,” Jongseong replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve always loved being on Gossip Girl’s A-List.”
oh to be called princess by him 💳💳🗣🗣 I’m not even a fan of pet names but if it was him sign the fuck up.
I LOVE JAYS CHARACTER SO MUCH YES !!! i want a best friend like him ??? no imagine jay as your bestie like it would be so cool. random drives or just randomly spoiling you. he would be such a great listener and giving advice like omg !!! THE HUGS HE GIVES OR RANDOM KISSES. 🥴🤍 ALSO LIKE IMAGINE CALLING HIM AT NIGHT AND HE SINGS FOR YOU or talks about the most random thing at 3am on a school night AHHDINDKEKEK my guy friend could never 🙄 WAIT IM OFF TRACK I SWEAR THIS HAPPENS WHEN IM TALKING ABOUT JAY 😭😭. no i literally re read it cuz I wanna show my favorite parts, and like, how am I supposed to even supposed to take few parts from the whole masterpiece???
ok enough talk of jay, let me give some spotlight to my girl. pls I love her character so much urgh!!!! like she is kinda spoiled but she is considerate of things nice of you and thank you for having an idea of jay actually being head over heels for you. she gave off a lot of girl boss vibes minus her chasing hoon. stop flexing you got the PARK JONGSEONG wrapped around your fingers we KNOW 🤧🥲🤚🏽🤚🏽 give me a chance ig or something I can be your maid thank you 😊 ALSO STOP CHASING MEN THAT DONT LOVE YOU BAVK LIKE JAY PLS BABE !!! no I REALLY LOVE HER CHARACTER ITS SO NICE ?!??!! You SHOULD HAVE CONFESSED SOONER LOVE 🗣🗣🗣🗣 ngl this part made me laugh a little
“I’ll bite you,” you taunted. “Let’s see if you can even do that with my cock down your throat.”
ok I’m big curious but do you write these filthy part and be like damn,,,,, I just really wrote that, woah that’s cool 👍🏽👍🏽 or something but I’m curious what’s your thought process after writing any story like, do you stare at what you wrote and be like “damn that was something” and ignore your assignments???? the songs gave more feels to it like sexy. i loved how you described all the scenes so well and gave the feel to imagine it like hdjdjdk. maybe we deserve a small bit of jay and sunghoon “fight” or whatever. don’t you think 🤔🤔
OH MY GOSH 😭😭😭 YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH IM GUSHING OVER THIS ENTIRE ASK RN LIKE ??? YOU WROTE ALL THAT FOR ME:?;9;8 😭🥺💖
thank you so much for reading angel :(( and ditching your studying to read 😭😭 i’m honored BUT ALSO ITS OKAY U CAN READ AFTER STUDYING 👉👈 and pls i’m so glad you could pick up on the sexual tension i was hoping i wrote it well :’)) AND THE FACT THAT YOU TOOK THE TIME TO PICK OUT A QUOTE YOU LIKED ILL JUST CRY RN BYEE E 🏃♂️😭💝
sorry this is long i must read more this 😞
but pls i hate pet names myself but oh 2 have park jongseong call me princess 🧎♀️lord i’ve seen the things you’ve done for others 🙏
PLS IF JAY TREATED ME LIKE THAT AS MY BESTIE HE BETTER CUFF ME RIGHT AFTER BC THATS TOO BOYFRIEND FOR ME 🥸 but pls i would Love to have him be my bestie :((( like late night drives at night and getting food together and watching movies together <33 that’s how my friendship w my guy friend kinda is except i question his driving so midnight drives r me holding on for dear life 🤕 but it’s spooky szn now so my thoughts r simply best friend or boyfriend jay helping u hand out candy or watching horror movies together 😞😞 ITS OKAY MY THOUGHT OF TRAIN GOES OFF THE RAILS BC OF JAY TOO :’)) also you reread it 😭😭😭 i’m so touched rn oh my god 💗💗💗
AHHH IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED THE MC :’)) her character is very blair-esque in that she’s pretty self absorbed but the pedestal she holds herself at makes her just want to be loved bc it’s lonely at the top yk D; so that’s where she’s coming from with chasing after sunghoon (esp when she has that competitive nature and sees him so enamored by ningning). BUT THIS WAS SUCH SELF PROJECTION I JUST WANT JAY TO BE IN LOVE W ME 😞 in reality i am the one wrapped around his finger
LMAODJF MY SMUT DIALOGUE ALWAYS NEEDS HUMOR IN IT HERE AND THERE 💀💀 like is that sexy ?? maybe not but 😀 also OMG so i was kinda surprised by the turnout of my smut scene in this fic because i usually don’t write multiple orgasms (??) LMFOAJD BUT NO I GET MY WORK DONE 🤧 like yesterday i had finished my assignments due on that day and i had to wait at school for like 5 hours for a meeting so i sat down and just wrote :’)) the smut turned veryyyy self indulgement LOLL also it makes me so happy that you think my scenes are vivid ☹️💝 i draw a lot of inspiration from real life and i guess just have a good imagination LMAOAO so it’s p easy to write :’))
as for the sunghoon and jay fight :o i didn’t write it since the fic is from mc’s point of view and i didn’t want her intervening in their convo but the way i envisioned it was just sunghoon and him hanging out like they usually would, and then jay just dropped the bomb. sunghoon was just shocked, anger building up, but he knew jay’s feelings from before so he didn’t explode. the black eye was kind of provoked by jay, like him egging sunghoon on to just punch him, half for sunghoon to have an outlet for his anger and half for him to feel less guilty about his feelings for mc. afterward they would just laugh after their little fight and go back to talking about how they made mistakes in past relationships and should’ve been more communicative with each other :’)
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
[🍉] Not Good Enough [🍓]
💥Summary: Katsuki is unable to come to terms with his feelings for Reader-chan and ultimately, his jealousy consumes him at the possibility that he lost his chance with her.
💥Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/Reader
💥Word Count: 3,862 words 20,633 characters
You were a popular individual. Your parents were top heroes and you were now in the spotlight to become a top hero. Therefore, you got into U.A. with a plethora of recommendations. You were often compared to Shouto Todoroki because of your raw power and ability. By being opposite gender, it was natural to get “shipped” with him by the class.
It was also rumored that his father, Flame Hero Endeavor, approved of you. It wasn’t said explicitly but in events during the Sports Festival, he implied that you and his son would do great things together.
Your quirk was called “Aura”. You can channel your emotions and aura (along with others’ emotion and aura) to create armor and super powered punches, kicks, etc. You were definitely a fighter. You were the only girl that had gone through training before attending school.
Just like Shouto, your father had trained you in mastering your quirk but he was a lot nicer than Enji. You really did come from a good home. In class 1-A, you made tons of friends with the exception of Mineta. The little guy made you feel really uneasy and it didn’t help that he was always trying to look up your skirt.
Your best friend was, of course, Shouto. You both shared the same burden of being put on a pedestal for greatness. Bonding came naturally. During some of your conversations during any sort of recess such as lunch or to dorms, Shouto would tell you that your classmate, Katsuki Bakugo, would stare at you a lot and would try to show off and be fancy with his quirk.
You had thought it was a coincidence because you knew Bakugo-kun to always show off. It was just apart of him to act like he’s better than everyone else. How could someone like him be attracted to you?
Katsuki liking you back gave you a glimmer of hope on the inside. Your crush liking you back was something you felt only happened in movies and cheesy romance novels. You had only exchanged a few words with him but you observed a lot of his personality from being in the 1-A friends circle.
His quirk seemed generic at first but you saw the way he handled himself. He was definitely pro material. Not only was he talented, his raging always made you giggle and laugh. You didn’t know why but what’s funny is funny.
He was kinda cute as well. His spiked hair and red eyes were to die for. It was so easy to imagine yourself with him while you were in private. Sometimes, you would daydream, looking out the window, thinking about Bakugo. Your imagination ran wild. Having him confess to you when you were alone. It was blissful.
The reality was that your father and Shouto’s father would compromise on an arranged marriage if you couldn’t find a boyfriend your father approved of. You hoped that maybe things could change. Shouto didn’t mind though, of course, he would never tell you. He had an attraction to you of his own right but he knew that you could never truly return his feelings.
On the other side, Bakugo was plotting. He had been for a long time. He had to tell you how he really felt. You were too close to “icy-hot” and the “Shouto-(y/n)” ship didn’t fly with him. He tried his best not to show his anger for Mina’s teasing because he’d indirectly confess before he felt ready.
Kirishima gave Bakugo some tips on how he could confess. His first idea was to visit her dorm at night and leave a letter. Bakugo declined.
Second idea was to tell you in person after classes had finished. He declined.
Third idea was to take you out on the weekend and do it then. He also said no.
So, how was he supposed to do it? That was just the tip of the iceberg. He was out of luck on what to do. No idea suited his style. Until one night in the dorms.
Mina and Momo put together plans for a game night. It was an off-day and you guys spent the day doing indoor activities. At the end of the night, everyone was tired and talking amongst themselves. Bakugo wasn’t talking to anyone. He was just watching you.
Icy-hot was trying so hard to flirt with you and from what it looked like, you were going for it. The way you laughed at what he was saying, the whispering, the casual arm touching and contact. Not to mention, you didn’t have some ordinary pajamas on. After game night, you were going to poke around for a little, so instead of skimpy pajamas, you were wearing a beautiful cherry blossom kimono. It ended at your thighs so you were able to show off your thigh-highs. You took inspiration from Kimetsu No Yaiba. The female Hashiras were so pretty to you.
The two of you were dating. You had to be. Even the class thought you were dating. Why were the two of you so close? Why did you have to touch him? Your thighs were touching. Was he not impressive enough? Was Bakugo not good enough for you? Why were you giggling so hard? Surely, Shouto wasn’t that funny.
These questions just ate at him. He didn’t even realize how much time had been passing. It was about 2am. Normally, Bakugo would have went to bed around 8pm. This was very unlike him. Was he really ruining his perfect sleep schedule over you? Luckily, Shouto informed you that he was getting sleepy and would take it in before you. You were sleepy as well but had decided to stay in the living space. You wanted to take some snacks to your room before bed.
When one does it, the rest are soon to follow. One by one, everyone had scattered until it was just you and Bakugo. He was too attractive, you could never look him in the face while alone.
You yawned. “Ara~ Baku-chan. I’m extremely tired. I’ll be off to bed, now.” You stood up, adjusting the length of your skirt. Bakugo had only grunted in response until you turned away.
“Why Icy-hot?” He was also standing now. You didn’t quite catch what he said. “Hm?” You tilted your head, smiling warmly at him. He hated that. He hated how smug you were sometimes.
“You heard me. Why Icy-hot?” He questioned harshly. From watching you, he noticed all of the smallest things. He suspect that you do, indeed, have feelings for Shouto and he’s doing no good job of covering it up either.
“Why? Like, what? Is Icy-hot supposed to be Shouto?” You asked. “Well, that’s clever, I suppose. Are you asking why I chose him to be my best friend? Its a bit...personal.” You giggled at your own rambling.
“No-” Katsuki blurted out, cutting himself off at the sound of his uneven voice volume. “I know you’re dating icy-hot, okay. I don’t know what you see in him but...” his mouth was dry. Was he really going to confess to you right now?
“Me and Shouto?” You repeated, wondering what else would come out of his mouth. “We aren’t dating. That’s absurd, Baku-”
“Cut the crap, (y/n)! You can stop lying to me now. I don’t know if you wanna fucking protect my feelings or what. I never asked you to do that shit. All this time, I would do so much for you and you never even gave me a thought. At the sports festival, I made sure to beat that Icy-hot freak so that I could give you a chance. I took that stupid internship with Best Jeanist so that I could impress you. Anytime you wanted extras at lunch, I gave them to you. On the train, I would give up my seat for you.” Katsuki put a hand on his head to silence himself.
What the fuck was he saying?
You did notice that Katsuki would have your back, but you just felt like he was being nice. I mean, you were THE (y/n) (l/n), Aura Guardian and daughter of two notable heroes. Who wouldn’t do nice things for you? But you failed to notice that random nice gestures wasn’t Katsuki Bakugo’s style.
“Bakugo-kun, what are you trying to say? I don’t understand.” You frowned at the ruined atmosphere. Why was he so angry? You always thanked him.
“I....I FUCKING LIKE YOU, OKAY?” Bakugo shouted, surely the others heard. Who wouldn’t have? His raise in octaves pierced your sensitive ears. No ones ever yelled at you like that, nor anything that nice.
“Y-You like me?” A dusted pink tint covered your cheeks. Maybe crushes liking you back wasn’t something that just happened in movies?
“Yeah, I fucking said it. I like you and all you do is ogle over a dumb ass like half and half! What the fuck does he do for you that I haven’t done ten times over?”
You took in this information, piece by piece. His emotions, the words he was saying. It was just...a lot.
“I-I like you too.” You said, nervously. Your voice was significantly quieter than this. “Everyone does nice things for me, so when you were doing favors for me, I just thought it was you having my ba-”
“Shut up!”
You were stood there, startled like a deer in headlights. “You think I believe that crap? I’m not good enough for you. I’m not good enough for anybody. I got captured by villains, fucking, twice, I failed the licensing exam and needed to do it over, I put an end to All Might. I just fuck everything up!”
“No, Katsuki, you don’t..fuck...everything up.” You cringed at yourself for using such foul language. “You don’t have to blame yourself for All Might, he knew what he was getting into. You don’t even have to blame yourself for being captured. Nothing is your fault.” You reassured him, moving closer. “I’m deeply sorry for ignoring you. It was just hard for me to believe that you would like someone like me. Legitimately. I don’t have a boyfriend because I’ve always run into partners who just see me as an asset.” You explained.
You really didn’t expect to open up to him.
“Well, you’re fucking not. You’re a lot more but that doesn’t explain why you been all over that freak. What the fuck does he have that I don’t? HUH?”
He raised his voice again, causing you to back off a bit. Now, he was realizing that he was pushing you away. You returned his feelings but why was he still angry?
Was he upset that you were clueless? You had a good reason but he was still angry.
“Shouto isn’t a freak! We’re just friends and he knows that. We just share similar history and when I came here, he was familiar to me. No one can understand what it’s like having everything you want and still being unhappy. My father is friends with his father. They have the same way of thinking. I was kept away from my siblings, my mother and any friends I made to just train and master my skill. I felt so e-empty.” You whispered, your eyes were glossy from holding back tears.
Shouto was the only one who understood.
“You can trust me, idiot!”
Now it was your turn to get angry. “And how was I supposed to know? You do all of these nice things but you barely say anything to me. You could just be another person trying to get close and use my name for leverage.” You spat, but your voice was still quiet. You could never ruin your vocal cords with meaningless screaming. Not now, anyway.
“I-” Now Katsuki was out of things to say. You had good reason to not associate with him. You had every right to be with Shouto instead of him. You guys were just... made for each other, ya know? Quirk marriage babies seem to get along just swell.
Was that just their thing? If they’re made right then they get all the sympathy points? Attractive, untouchable, powerful, tragic backstory and are able to just be better than everyone. It fucking sucked that he couldn’t relate to you or comfort you in any way. He just fucked things up and a possible relationship with you was beginning to be one of them.
“Don’t say anything.” You used the long sleeves of your kimono to dry the tears before they could spill out of your eyes. You told yourself that would never soil your perfect skin with salt angel tears.
“I’m sorry for getting emotional. This isn’t about me. You were just upset that I didn’t acknowledge you the way you did me. I did appreciate you very much. I can say that now that I know how you truly feel, I can make a decision.” You informed him.
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Katsuki asked. By this time, you could hear birds chirping and the sun beginning to rise with the black of night turning dark blue.
“My father told me that he would marry me off to Shouto if I couldn’t find a partner he approved of. I was hoping that maybe I could give us a try.” You muttered with a smile, playing with loose strands of your hair. You never asked anyone out but this felt good. It gave you a rush of excitement.
Katsuki’s eyes widened. Were you really...?
“Ah, shit, I really gotta get some sleep. I’m not thinking straight.” He told you before swiftly walking by. He even made sure not to brush you when you went by. He hasn’t been up this late before. Surely, he was dreaming. He had to be.
“Baku-chan.” You called, reaching out for him but your arm fell short. It was better to let him sleep off the anger. You forgot about your snacks and went to bed. That was so emotionally exhausting. You had so many mixed feelings.
Bakugo confessed to you but also kinda rejected you? Well, he didn’t say no but there was no ‘yes’ as well.
You just decided to get to your room and sleep for the night. Maybe you both were just tired.
In the morning, Mina came to wake you up as usual while Momo made breakfast with Ochaco and Toru. You were asked to help but you weren’t too experienced in things such as cooking and cleaning. It was usually done for you, but you gave it a try.
The boys were doing morning stretches so you didn’t see Katsuki at all. Honestly, it made you nervous. You had been cutting fruit when the boys came back to eat before class. No one showed you how to but you were kinda figuring it out. You cut enough for everyone when you came to the conclusion you wanted more so when breakfast was being served, you went to cut yourself some more when someone had entered the kitchen.
It was Katsuki. He was returning his dishes to the sink. At the sight of you, he was visibly moved and didn’t speak first. You figured that you should be nice until the awkwardness went away.
“Good Morning!” You greeted his cheerfully, raising the knife instinctively. “Would you like some more fruit? It’s fresh and seems to be quite alright.” You said, referring to the sweetness.
“Shut up.” Was all he said. “Oh-” You raised your eyebrows and cut yourself off when you had processed what he had said. “You’re cutting it wrong.” He added. “Who the fuck holds a knife like that? You’re gonna cut your damn fingers off.”
He put his dish in the sink and went over to your side of the table, taking the knife from you and swiftly dicing the pineapple you were dicing before.
“Oh, thank you.” You said quietly, blushing from the embarrassment of needing him for such a simple task. You took some ate in silence while he stood there, a bit dumbfounded.
Why the fuck were you blushing? And why did you look so cute? He fucking hated it.
“About last night...” You swallow what you were eating and looked down. “I’m sorry for pushing my feelings onto you like that. You were pouring your heart out to me and I was being insensitive.” You sighed.
Why were you the one apologizing? To him, you asked him out and he was too emotionally immature to realize what he was really getting angry about. Katsuki dropped the knife on the table. As you spoke to him about how sorry you were, his eyes traveled from yours to your lips.
This was it. He could fix his mistake. Why do you have to apologize for how he acted? Your voice was like white noise when he moved in to roughly press his lips to yours. Your lips were sweet just like the pineapple you had. He loved it so much. He grabbed your face by your chin and squeezed lightly as he went deeper.
Wait? Was Katsuki Bakugo really kissing you right now? How did this happen? Why?
You placed your hands on his chest, pushing lightly and signaling him to stop. He moved away and was surprised by what happened next.
“Katsuki!” You cried out, signaling for the others to come investigate your scream. “Shit!” Katsuki yelled, jumping away from you with a huge blush on his face.
‘the fuck did he just do?
Toru revealed herself and Mina had also come out of the woodwork. “Wow! He actually did it!” she cheered. Kiri came into the kitchen too, giving Katsuki a thumbs up. “I knew you had it in you, man.”
“You guys knew Katsuki would kiss me?” You cried, trying to hide the red in your face. “Well, no. We didn’t think he would kiss you, but I’ve never seen Bakugo eat so fast after you went into the kitchen. Clearly, it was to get some alone time with you.” Mina explained. You glanced at Katsuki, his face turning a deeper shade of red when your eyes fell on him.
“GODDAMIT!!” He yelled out. “STAY OUT OF MY DAMN BUSINESS!!” He yelled at the others.
Shoto was in the other room, enjoying his breakfast with a smirk on his face. He knew acting close to you would get under his skin.
After a bit of teasing from your friends and yelling from Katsuki, everyone cleared out and did their own thing. That left you alone with Katsuki again. You felt so disconnected from him. The kiss said he liked you but the pulling away signified otherwise.
“Why did you kiss me, Katsuki?” You asked, eating the left over fruit from the cutting board. There was a brief moment of silence between you two before he answered.
“I fucking like you, okay?”
This made you gasp. It was making sense now.
“I....I FUCKING LIKE YOU, OKAY?”
He was just bad at returning the feelings. You smiled at him and gave him a big hug. You could his men’s body wash through his shirt mixed with a tiny bit of sweat from morning exercise. Or maybe the sweat was from being so nervous around you. Who knows.
Katsuki just grunted in response, thinking of how he could replicate without seeming desperate. The boy was a bit touched starved. The only contact he got from a girl was when his mom would smack him.
“If you wanted to get to know me, you could have just asked. I told you last night. I like you too, Katsuki. It was just hard for me to tell that you felt the same. I was being dumb.” You admitted, snuggling into his chest a bit more.
This made Katsuki frown. “You weren’t being dumb, idiot. It’s not like I made it easy for you. I just didn’t want to tell you how I felt when you and icy-hot were all buddy-buddy. Then I would’ve been the idiot.”
You giggled. “Maybe you are the idiot for worrying so much about him.” You could hear a quiet ‘tck’ come from Katsuki at irony of you calling him the idiot.
After that, the school day was normal. You were tired from staying up so late, so Katsuki insisted that you spend the evening in his dorm to ‘make sure you don’t go late night snacking’ and ruin your sleep schedule with your bad eating habits.
His room was neat and cooler than you thought it was be. Knowing him, you thought it would be messy, hot and bothering but it seems like he was brought up in a good household. It made him attractive. He was skilled in cooking and keeping up a basic room. Definitely husband material, but maybe it was a little too early to be thinking about that?
“Did you bring something to sleep in?” He asked, firmly but politer than usual. You nodded. “Yeah, I did.”
He replied with a grunt. “I need to shower so just wait here or whatever.” He instructed before disappearing into his bathroom. You used this as a time to get changed, being too awkward to change in front of him.
While the shower was going on, you let your eyes wonder around the room. He had a few All Might things, it was very minimal. He was clearly a fan. This only made excitement grow inside of you. You would really be cuddling with Katsuki! At least, you hoped it would get that far.
When some time passed, Katsuki came out of the bathroom, dry and dressed with the exception of warm water droplets around his neck. All he wore was solid black joggers and he looked good.
“‘The hell you lookin’ at?” He commented, using his towel to get remaining water. “You.” You answered, teasing him. “You look good!” You added, giggling as well.
A light pink dust covered his cheeks. “Shut up...” He replied but it wasn’t as harsh as he would usually say it. You patted the empty spot in bed next to you, telling him that it was okay to sleep together. He complied and you immediately scooted closer to him and laid down.
“You’re very kind for letting me sleep here. But there is no need to regulate my late night eating habits. I think you just want me here.” You squinted your eyes at him, letting him know you were onto his ideas.
The two of you were so close...you could kiss him. When he laid next to you, he was ever closer. He faced you as well. You tried to be smooth and steal a kiss, inching closer and closer...
Were you really doing it? Were you really going to kiss Katsuki first?
This is all Katsuki had dreamed of in the past 4 months.
You peppered his face with kisses, but it was clear you wee in a sleepy state. Your body was giving out on you.
“Fucking sleep, idiot.” Katsuki spat with a huge blush on his face. He was still trying to be a tough guy. You said nothing and giggled, drifting off to sleep.
#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugo katsuki#bnha x reader#Katsuki x reader#Bakugo x reader#bhna bakugou#katsuki bakugo headcanons#BNHA Headcanons#bnha manga#bnha imagines#bnha au#bnha+imagines#bhna reader insert#mha#mha imagines#katsuki bakugo angst#bnha scenarios#mha scenarios#katsuki x y/n#bakugo
316 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cosmo Series: Displayed
Prev Next
Taglist: @rat-father
Fanart for this chapter
Another chapter of Cosmo suffering! To better visualize, here’s a link to what he was wearing and what his pose was, and here’s one about the house so you’re better situated and can better imagine where he is
CONTENT WARNING: nsfw mention, nudity (kinda sexual), noncon touch, displayed whumpee, humiliation, fear, anxiety, electric shock, stress position (kinda), tied up, drooling, gagged, conditioning, creepy whumpers, intimate whumpers, dehumanization
Displayed
Cosmo hadn’t been thrown back in the basement for its last mistake and it was extremely grateful. But deep down, it still thought about how at least the basement didn’t have those pictures of it framed on the walls.
Now it couldn’t walk around without seeing itself in its weakest moment, forced to remember that horrible day over and over again.
It remembered how bad its arms hurt even days after, and since then Master forced it to do yoga everyday.
It was growing a bit more flexible and even made some muscles, but it was scared because that meant Master would put it in more uncomfortable positions.
•
Lately, Cosmo felt even more anxious than usual. Master kept rearranging things and being on his phone, something that he usually didn’t do. It had no idea what this was about and really hoped it wasn’t about it.
Master kept pacing around and it had to follow him since he was holding its leash. Its knees hurt and it was tired, but it didn’t dare make a sound.
He was on the phone with someone and though his tone was happy-sounding, Cosmo could see how stressed out he actually was.
“Yes, it starts at 5pm.” Pause. “No, you don’t have to bring any food or drinks, I’m taking care of everything.” Pause. “Yes, there will be cages and display devices.” Pause. “No, this is not a sale event, just a celebration.” Pause. “Of course, thank you.” Pause. “Yes, see you tomorrow.”
Then he put his phone back in his pocket.
“Okay, finally, everything is set.” He turned towards his pet. “You better behave well in front of the guests tomorrow, darling.”
Its heart skipped a beat.
Guests?
What did he mean, guests?
“Oh, come on, darling, don’t be like that! It’ll be fun, I swear! You’ll get lots of love and attention and you’ll maybe even make new friends!” He crouched and patted its head.
“M-Master, please...”
“Please what? They— well, no, I was gonna say ‘they won’t bite’ but I can’t guarantee that.” He chuckled. “But they won’t hurt you, I’ll make sure of that, okay? You don’t want to make people think you’re a useless pet, right?”
“N-No..! It-it’ll be good, Master! Good-good pet!”
“You better be.” He threatened with a smile.
His entire energy in that moment sent a shiver down its spine.
•
Master had just spent three hours dressing it and putting on its makeup. It had an extra long stretching session this morning and it was already tired before the guests even arrived. It was terrified of messing up and humiliating Master in front of everyone, and even more terrified about the punishment it would get if it did afterwards.
It looked at itself in the mirror while Master made sure it looked presentable. Its eyelids had been painted with a purple and blue shiny gradient and so did its lips, its cheeks were a dark purple and its hair was loose except for two buns on the top of its head, and Master had added washable blue to make it match with the rest of its outfit and makeup. It was wearing a long glittery and flow-y purple and blue dress with shiny blue high heeled boots that stopped under its knees. The boots were secured with locks so it couldn’t take them off, but the heels weren’t too high and Master did teach it how to properly walk in them after he saw how much it had struggled at first. Everything matched together and fitted it perfectly, accentuating each of its features and would surely put it in the spotlight.
“Okay, that’s good, you look divine, darling.” He smiled as he kissed it on the shoulder from behind.
“T-Thank you, Ma-Master...”
“Now, come on, our guests should arrive soon.”
Its stomach felt as if it was tied in a knot. It was about to meet people who were similar to Master and it couldn’t be good. And they would apparently bring their own pets too... it didn’t know what to expect, Master did say that they wouldn’t hurt it, but who knew what his perception of hurt was?
It reluctantly followed him outside of the bedroom and into the open place that had been rearranged to become a display room.
There were lights shining on pedestals with food and couches all around, there was even a kind of cage on one side where there was a sign in front of it saying ‘for sale’.
It had seen the room like this before, but it was still as horrified, especially knowing it would get put on display.
“Get up there, darling.” Ordered Master once they were in front of the pedestal in the middle.
It got up without a word despite feeling sick and scared, and looked anxiously as its Master circled it with blue and purple Christmas lights.
“King Dancer Pose.”
Master had made it practice this yoga pose a lot so it wasn’t hard to do.
It lifted its right leg and arched its back, passing its arms above its head and folding them towards its back, holding its right feet.
“If you move, I’ll let everyone punish you in their own way. Do you understand?”
It couldn’t talk. It was too scared. So it nodded and closed its eyes.
It wasn’t tied too tightly, though it knew if it relaxed, the rope would dig in its skin and cut its circulation. It had no idea how long it would have to stay like that, but it didn’t dare ask.
Once Master was done, he shoved a spider gag in its mouth, making it whimper.
“You look so beautiful like this, darling.” He stroked its cheek and then went beside it.
He plugged in the lights, lighting it up like a piece of art.
Then it heard the doorbell ring. It felt its heart sink to its stomach as Master left and went downstairs to let the guests in.
After a few seconds of silence, it heard him talk with people, but the sound was too faint for it to understand any words.
It heard more and more people come in, loud laughing and talking, and it was just there, all alone and waiting for this night to end.
It didn’t want to be alone, but it didn’t want to have strangers look at it and touch it.
It just wanted to be with Master.
The only thing it could do while waiting was to try to stop drooling and look at itself in the mirrors that were placed around the pedestals. It hated being like this, being so vulnerable and unaware of its fate, but it couldn’t get away and didn’t even dare to try.
It stayed alone for what it assumed was over an hour and its body was starting to get tired.
Then, it heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a lot of chatter. It felt its heart rush and beat loudly in its chest as it looked from the corner of its eyes the people coming towards it accompanied by Master.
It heard people exclaiming and talking about it as if it was just some piece of furniture.
“Wow, truly beautiful!” One of them said as they approached it. “How did you even find one so spectacular?”
It started sobbing. It hated this, it hated this so much.
People were circling it, commenting on its body, mocking it as it helplessly drooled and cried.
They passed behind it where it’s dress was lifted and passed vile comments on what they’d like to do to it. It was thankful it at least was allowed to wear a thong, but it still felt so naked and exposed.
Then people started touching it. Caressing its leg that was holding all of its weight, stroking its face and wiping its tears away, while Master just watched from afar.
At some point, it couldn’t take it anymore and started squirming and whimpering loudly, trying to tell them to stop and to get away.
The only response it got from this was getting shocked.
It squealed and its whole body tensed up as people were laughing at it, and when it was finally done, its entire body went limp. The rope started digging in its skin but it didn’t have the strength to hold itself up anymore.
Silent tears ran down its face as the guests started touching it again and talking about how misbehaved it was.
Its mind went blank as it gave up, finally accepting its place. It couldn’t fight anymore, fighting only meant more pain.
It was a pet, something to put on display, something to touch and mock, and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.
#cosmo series#pet whump#display whump#captivity whump#conditioning whump#intimate whump#intimate whumper#creepy whumper#multiple whumpers#nsft whump#whumpee#whumper#whump#whump story#whump writing#whump fic#whump blog#whumblr
28 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
isalisewrites
Isalise
trestonpoison
Lazy Treston's Poison arts
jeneveuxrein
here, but not really
amatstyle
AMATstyle