#I would immediately appreciate if in the future we have more stories of [ship]”

[herawell]

.

#negativity cw #if you are leaving a comment on somebody’s fic #and making an unsolicited request for more fics from them #please have the courtesy to say at least one sentence about the actual fic itself #I just now got a comment which was literally just: #“There are not enough stories of [ship] #I would immediately appreciate if in the future we have more stories of [ship]” #(The comment was in Portuguese and I google translated it so that’s why it sounds a bit odd) #nothing about the actual fic I wrote #and yeah I could take it as a compliment that they want to see more stories for the ship from me #but it just makes me feel like I’m being asked to dish out on demand #you could at least say you like the way I write them and would love to see more #alia talks

[hero2222]

Watching and Dreaming thoughts.

Well, gang... here we are, at our final episode. It's been a long adventure, but we have arrived at the end.

I love how Luz figured out it was all a dream. A singular line that Amity and her shared was so important to her that it was the immediate indicator.

After we see Eda and King's dreams, we finally see them together after so long:

And yes, I had a huge grin on my face. It was so great to see all of them interact and bond, especially considering what comes later...but before that

Eda and Raine reunion! And she gives him a ton of (well deserves) kisses. Even though we sadly don't get much more than this, I still highly appreciate it!

The collector eventually talks with the gang and I honestly really like their POV on death, and it makes a ton of sense considering he not only "broke" other people and put them back together, but they also watched Belos do the same thing to the previous Golden Guards.

This leads to them trying to explain to the collector their stories and such, eventually going into things such as Amity's redemption, which while nice...it led to this frame:

Okay, but seriously, I admire how they kinda laughed at the suddenly redeemed villain trope and not only poked fun at it but made a lesson with it that changed the plot. Luz sacrificed herself and told him he did nothing wrong.

Oh yeah...

Luz died!

Yes, it was temporary but it still gave me this line:

Which tears me up and also:

HER MOTHER KNEW! Which made the moment even worse:

But then we not only get the "best of both things" papa titan (Voice by Arin hanson!) , but:

Titan luz!

Everything from her powers to her design was incredible, including her final move, which is the best callback ever:

Now eat this, sucka!

Okay, and now for the timeskip:

For one:

Huntlow, baby!

We may not get much, but they are so adorable! Even when coming across Flapjack's grave. I was honestly a little worried they were going to revive him, but no, he lives inside Hunter now, And Waffles (the confirmed name of his new Palisman) keeps on his memory.

And now with Luz:

She not only gets to go back and forth between realms, but she also gets to study there, not only in her university but also with King's new Glyphs!

And after all the fun we have, we get to see their amazing adult designs, some hints of Alador and Darius shipping, and a huge celebration for Luz. It's honestly the perfect finale that I could only have dreamed of, I may not be mentioning a lot due to both me forgetting and Tumblr's image limit but I'll be sure to do my best to make another post later, but for now: I would love to thank the owl house and it's crew for everything they brought to this, it not only helped me grow more comfortable with who I am, but give me a ton of hope for the future.

Who knows what cartoon I'm gonna be rambling about next, but until then, I hope you guys stick around and be sure to talk with me about thoughts of your own...and finally:

BYE!!!

#the owl house #toh #huntlow #lumity #amity blight #hunter #luz noceda #reada #raine whispers #eda clawthorne #king clawthorne #camila noceda #darius deamonne #willow park #toh spoilers #watching and dreaming #papa titan

[ghostinthegallery]

tagged by @sarnakhwritesthings, fanfic writers 20 questions!

How many works do you have on AO3?

5! With more on the way.

What's your total AO3 word count?

160,802 but the vast majority of that is for one fic 🤣

What fandoms do you write for?

Warhammer 40k. It's just the perfect storm of stuff I love, stuff I hate enough to fix, and narrative threads underutilized enough that I can pick them up like a crow stealing shiny objects.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lmao, I only have five but in order they are:

The Silence and the Storm- my magnum opus, my child born of spite, the title was too good to pass up, me just writing a novel with necrons because no one can stop me and also some of the robots kiss 💀

Some Inconvenient Insight- I finished the Ghazghkull book and needed to see what would happen if I threw Makari the lucky grot at Trazyn. Trazyn had less fun than I did.

The Warrior- my first 40k fic! What if necron warriors were sentient and one got stranded on a world with a bunch of ad mech plus a very determined Inquisitor. I love this little story, really helped me get a feel for writing in the setting. And there's a scarab who is very cute and helpful

They Will Never Call Me Weak- Just me dipping my toe into Horus Heresy and immediately being annoyed on behalf of my guy Vulkan. So I "fixed" a scene.

Sparring Match- my most recent fic. There is not enough Twice Dead King content!! Oltyx is my child, I just want him to be happy for five seconds.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I love my comments and chatting with folks. Letting everyone know I appreciate them ❤️

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't think any of the endings have been that angsty? I guess They Will Never Call Me Weak wins, considering the fact that the rest of Vulkan Lives probably still happens and...oof

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The Warrior, I guess, but that's just because I love the idea of accidental necron socialism

Do you get hate on fics?

Luckily not. I'm grateful that i write in a comparatively small niche of 40k, which I think helps. People here have been great!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I've written sex scenes as part of a larger narrative. I definitely intend to write some straight up explicit stuff as well in the future. The gay robot pron calls to me.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not really. I think they are fun, I just haven't had an idea for one that tickles my brain enough to write. It would take a lot tbh, one thing I try really hard to do in a fic is match the tone/voice of the original work which is doubly hard in a crossover

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I'd love that!!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. I'm a gremlin, I gotta write alone in my cave before emerging with damp, ink stained pages.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Trazyn/Orikan (but Obyron/Zahndrekh is close). Outside 40k I have a lot of love for Catradora. And Griddlehark

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I refuse to leave a fic unfinished. This is my sacred vow

What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty solid at characterization and dialogue. Honestly fic has been great practice for those elements I feel like I've historically been weaker at. I also think I write a mean action scene

What are your writing weaknesses?

Editing. There is not a chapter where I don't find some typo I missed or word I wish I'd fixed. I lack patience when I want to post 😭

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Not something I'd do unless I knew the language or had someone to translate. Luckily it's 40k, everyone is speaking a made up language that I write in English for convenience

First fandom you wrote for?

If we are being technical, The Chronicles of Narnia around age 7. Gotta love those early self inserts

Favorite fic you've ever written?

Don't make me choose!! I wrote them all for different reasons and I'm really satisfied with my little collection

(it's probably The Silence and the Storm)

tagging: @sixteen-juniper

#necrons #fanfic #tagging game #fanfic is fun

[fluffykitteninabox]

watching Doctor Who for the first time (starting with the 9th doctor)

I'm only doing this because I've developed an unhealthy obsession with David Tennant since watching Good Omens, and I have a need to watch everything he's ever appeared in, and I know he's the 10th and 14th doctor so therefore I must watch 15 seasons of a show I otherwise wouldn't have cared about just to see him for 3 of them and a few specials!

I'm starting with the 9th because it seems like an easier starting point for a new fan from what I've read online

yes I've done research for this!

Plus the 9th doctor only got one season so it's close enough to the 10th that I don't mind watching it.

I am a completionist though so I will probably end up going back and watching the available episodes from before the revival if I like the series enough

so here's my thoughts

episode 1:

I hope we never see moving mannequins again because that shit creeps me out

honestly Rose, same. I too would have chosen the life of adventure and time travelling to infinite universes. Though I do think it felt kinda rushed to have her refuse and then immediately agree after she was told about the time travel part. Would be a cool opening if she refused on the first episode and then she spent the next one thinking about it and then changed her mind by the end. Or if we want to stick to the self contained structure show a bit more about her not liking her ordinary boring life so that it feels like a great offer when the doctor asks her to join him. I mean it does still feel like a great offer after she saved him and saying all that stuff about how she doesn't have anything to lose and gymnastics and all that. It's the back and forth that ruins it a bit honestly. Just have her say yes the first time.

I didn't know the tardis was an acronym! That's kinda cool

so is Rose never going to see her mom or her boyfriend again?

episode 2:

Alright I take it back she has doubts in episode 2 so that's good

that was a hell of an episode I don't know how to phrase it I think it changed my brain chemistry

I might be having an existential crisis?

respect to the tree lady I don't remember her name sorry

ironic how all these aliens exhibited more humanity than the supposed "last human"

kinda sad for the poor plumber that probably died too, we focused a lot on the rich guests but the workers on the ship deserved better

one thing I appreciate is that Rose chose to see the future. my personal choice would have been past but I think her choosing future is really in character for her (I say as if I've known her my whole life when I've only watched 2 episodes)

didn't expect to unlock the doctor's back story so early on. I'm guessing there's more later but for now that's already more than I thought I'd get

um yeah I was going to watch like the whole season in one or two sittings but like... I feel like my brain needs a break after episode two lol

well I was planning this post to have all my thoughts for season 1 but tumblr decided to go ahead and post my unfinished draft AGAIN even though I specifically clicked the SAVE button but anyway

guess I'll have to edit this or reblog as I go

whatever

fuck you tumblr

#krista's doctor who marathon #doctor who #9th doctor

[kamenwriter]

The Church on Ruby Road

I think folks have been liking these? So lets keep going. "Live" reactions to the new Doctor Who behind the cut.

Considering what we've seen from the trailers I wonder if Ruby was goblin food that got away.

A television interview is a nice way to expository dump.

Genderfluid Doctor wearing a Kilt dancing in a club. I sincerely hope Ncuti's Doctor delivers on the promise of his Bi-Generation meaning he's free of all the ANGST that's plagued NuWho

With all the bad luck they're causing Ruby I'd call these Gremlins more than Goblins.

"She's going to say yes" they explain it away with a bit of deductive reasoning but this has flavors of The Eighth Doctor and I'm here for it.

...did that woman just get impaled by a Christmas tree topper?

The Doctor just being in awe of the Goblin Ship

"How do you know all this?" "I don't, it's a new science to me and I love it" holy hell this is good shit.

The Doctor fucked Harry Houdini at some point.

How is that child not crying with all the noise?

I don't hate the musical number but it just gives me Star Wars Special Edition vibes.

The Doctor improvising a song to buy time. Okay, I dig it now

So just damn near everybody is gonna be Horny for the Doctor huh?

"You've got the biggest family in the world" "What about you?" "I've got no one" OH FUCK OFF WITH THAT. YOU'VE GOT COMPANIONS EVERYWHERE AND A GRAND DAUGHTER IN THE FUTURE. OR ARE THOSE ALL THE PROPERTY OF 14 NOW?

"I'm adopted, I only found out recently" seriously RTD? I don't know of anyone who liked the Timeless Child retcon you could just ignore it and no one would mind.

I figured out immediately what happened to Ruby meanwhile the Doctor takes like 5 minutes? Come'on now.

...that was a pretty violent death for the Goblin King.

I appreciate The Doctor respecting Ruby's mother's wishes

"Just wondering, maybe I'm the bad luck" well, yes, that's how NuWho has generally been written and I was really hoping dumping 14 and all his trauma off would have been the end of that and we could get back to some Classic Who style stories.

The TARDIS is like "your turn, Ruby. Come'on in"

Oh there had better be a pay off to that final line.

All in all a strong opener, I'm excited to see where this new era goes. Just wish we could move on from the "The Doctor has a sad backstory, boo hoo hoo" angst.

#doctor who #the church on ruby road

[proton-selfships]

how aboutttt fire, electric and poison for the ask game?? :3

Pokémon Themed Selfship Game

Thank you, @ectoplasmer and @mahitoslittlebird!

[Fire]: Who’s the better chef between you and your F/O? Do you ever cook together? If so, what’s your favorite dish to make?

I'm not too shabby at cooking the few dishes I have in rotation, but I think Laurel would be the better cook! Just look at the delicate way she handles the pipette when working with the nightshade, you can't tell me she wouldn't be a master in the kitchen as well!

I feel like I end up getting a headstart on cooking when I get home before she closes up her flower shop for the day, but depending on how early she finishes she'll join me in the kitchen! ...And get pretty touchy-feely with me, which does get me flustered but also distracts me from the food I'm trying to make for us >///<

When we cook together, my favorites are either pork fried rice, baked chicken, or on special occasions my family's cheesy potato recipe! (All ones I'm good at, but hey, I'm a picky eater who likes simple stuff and I've gotten better at the stuff I like!)

[Ice]: It’s starting to snow! What do you and your f/o plan on doing? Do you go sledding? Build a snowman? Or do you guys stay inside to keep warm?

I always used to love going sledding when the hills would get covered with snow, but there doesn't seem to be all that many hills around the Gates Mansion, so we'd probably end up appreciating the snow from inside while snuggling under a blanket and sipping tea or cocoa together! That is, until the kids enter our lives, then we go out of our way to find a place for them to go sledding!

[Electric]: When did you realize that you were in love with your f/o? When did they realize that they were in love with you?

(This is speaking in-universe and in-character as my S/I, but it has parallels to the period of denial I had before I started shipping, too!)

I had a near immediate crush on Laurel because of how blatantly My Type she was, and how nice she was, and the way that we seemed to click right away as fellow outsiders in a space that was supposed to be for outsiders... Though, of course, I didn't realize at the time that she was deliberately playing that up so she could manipulate me for her own ends more easily.

I didn't realize I was well and truly in love with her until after I learned the truth about who she was and what she'd done to me, when I realized that I couldn't give up on her no matter how hard I tried. ...When I realized how much of myself I still saw in her, as someone else who didn't really belong anywhere. And when I admitted that what I wanted more than anything was a future with her by my side.

Laurel went through a similar realization. She was drawn to me for similar reasons, but told herself that it was because I could be used as a tool for her goals. Maybe in the very beginning that was true, but at a point, she had to admit that her decisions not to manipulate me into doing anything too bad and to protect me from the crusade she wanted to go on couldn't be justified by pragmatics anymore. Wednesday confronting the inconsistencies in her story about why she didn't have me kill anyone was the final straw that made her admit to herself that she'd been in love with me the whole time, and her first public display of that fact was when she stepped in to save me from a meltdown.

[Poison]: Who’s the better caretaker in your relationship and how do you help each other when one of you is sick?

Laurel's the better caretaker, by far. I want to be doting to her in return but honestly the Mommy Energy is just too strong with this woman, I could never beat that. Plus there's the fact that she knows so much more about remedies using her plants or what tea to have me drink to alleviate specific symptoms! I do like to cook something nice and warm for her when she isn't feeling well, though.

And of course, as long as we're not too contagious, we'll both offer each other plenty of snuggles! Or hell, probably even if we are contagious. Some things are worth getting sick for lmao

#finally got around to answering this! woop woop #can't wait to write out Laurel and I's love story in full~ #peyton got mail! #ask game answers #laurelton #ectoplasmer #mahitoslittlebird

[amelikos]

Some character notes and episode notes for HZ040, writing them down for future reference.

Dot went out after Kanuchan by herself, which made Murdock proud. Nice way to tie in with the previous episode since we get to see Dot and Kanuchan and how Kanuchan helps Dot come out of her shell a bit more.

Friede and Orio were shown fixing the ship together. It's cute to see because the Brave Asagi is kind of their thing since Orio built the ship at Friede's request, and they're taking care of it together now.

Liko made Mibrim and Terapagos take a bath. I think it's the first time we've seen such a scene in Horizons. I love scenes like these since it shows everyday life things with Pokemon. Nyahoja wasn't with them. I like how her personality shines through in this moment. She still has a jealous streak potentially, even though she warmed up a lot to Mibrim and Terapagos. And I also think it's just Nyahoja's personality, she prefers keeping to herself and probably would like to clean up alone. I appreciate that she still has her own pace and keeps a distance sometimes.

Liko and Roy battle together. Liko ends up injuring her wrist when falling as she tried to protect Mibrim and Terapagos (who had walked in on the battlefield). Nyahoja immediately feels guilty and apologetic over it.

Roy held Liko's injured hand and walked her to Mollie so she could take a look at it. It's cute seeing them feel so casually comfortable around each other. Roy also stayed with Liko until he was sure it wasn't anything bad.

Nyahoja left the ship so Liko goes to look for her. She asks Mibrim to look after Terapagos and Mibrim seemed proud of having this kind of responsability. Mibrim is growing a lot lately, she seems stronger around others and grows more courageous with time. It parallels Liko's growth in a way.

Liko goes to the forest where Nyahoja went and comes across a house, which is where Nyahoja was raised. She meets Marnya, who is a breeder specialized in cat Pokemon. She recognized Liko from Sekiei Academy (since she took part in the school interview process). Marnya mentions the possibility of the Pokemon she raised to be separated from their trainers in the worst possible case, which makes Liko worry.

Liko looks for Nyahoja and wonders if she is going to be separated from her. She thinks that she knows Nyahoja better than anyone, and adds a "maybe"... I like that Liko's hesitation still seeps through at times and that she often says things like "I think" or "maybe". Nyahoja is on the roof of the house since it's her favorite spot but she avoids Liko because she still feels guilty about injuring her. She ends up scratching Liko to run away and Liko feels like they are back at square one.

Marnya offers some tea to Liko (matcha flavor, Liko notes it's bitter but it makes her feel relaxed because it's Nyahoja's favorite flavor). Liko seems down and Marnya points out that Nyahoja often wore the same expression too. She starts talking about Nyahoja's past and how she was more solitary than others Nyahoja and kept to herself a lot. She saved another Nyahoja from a fall with her Leafage once, and from then on she made friends with them and other Pokemon were interested in her strong Leafage. I like how this establishes several things about Nyahoja: that she is really observant and cares about others since she immediately protected the other Nyahoja from falling, even though she might seem indifferent and distant at first. I feel like this protective streak also shows through her relationship with Liko since she always watches over her and makes sure she doesn't get in trouble. Nyahoja's Leafage is also stronger than average and Marnya thought that she might have a knack for battling. Liko recalled the events of HZ002 since that was when Nyahoja used a powerful Leafage.

Marnya keeps telling her story. Liko was happy to hear Nyahoja managed to make friends in the past, but something happened eventually.. Nyahoja's friends were trapped by a Wanaider and in an attempt to save them, Nyahoja harmed them with her Leafage. From then on, the other Nyahoja started avoiding her because they were scared of her and Nyahoja found herself alone again and stayed on the roof all by herself. She never used Leafage once after that. Liko recalls the events of HZ001: when she trained with Nyahoja, she couldn't use Leafage properly. This puts the scene in a whole new perspective. Back then, Liko thought that Nyahoja was just not used to it but she was actually holding herself back and made herself not use the move (which parallels how Liko also held herself back subconsciously out of fear of hurting others in HZ020, the Kabu episode). Liko also realizes that maybe Nyahoja though that Liko would abandon her like her old friends did because she hurt her, which is why she distanced herself first.

Marnya admits to Liko that she is glad the two met each other. During the interview for Sekiei Academy, Nyahoja immediately seemed interested in Liko and couldn't stop gazing at her through the screen. Marnya knew that they both would be a good fit for each other, and explains to Liko that the reason Nyahoja came back to her house is probably because she doesn't want to hurt someone important to her again.

Liko ends up finding Nyahoja and opens up to her, saying it's fine if Nyahoja wants to scratch her and recalling their shared memories (Amethio appeared in a flashback too ww), reaffirming that she wants to keep growing alongside Nyahoja and experience new things with her. Nyahoja decided to trust Liko and they both made up and hugged.

Liko and Nyahoja reunite with Mibrim and Terapagos too. The two of them end up being trapped by Wanaider, mirroring what happened to Nyahoja's friends in the past. Nyahoja wanted to save them but was a bit hesitant to use her move out of fear of hurting them both but she eventually manages to free them both with Liko's encouraging words. She learned Magical Leaf because she wanted to save her friends and they all end up cuddling too. Nyahoja really warmed up to Terapagos (she was jealous before, but is now okay with being close and affectionate).

At the end (it feels like this scene happens a few days after the meeting with Marnya since Liko's wrist is healed), Liko and Roy continue their battle. Liko eventually wins thanks to Nyahoja's Magical Leaf. I feel like this battle is the most confident we've seen Liko so far: she genuinely seemed to have fun, quickly made up strategies on the spot, commanded Nyahoja with assurance, and seemed to be going all out. Getting closer to Nyahoja definitely helped. Her gradual growth in this aspect has been so nice to witness.

Overall, this is my favorite from Michihiro Tsuchiya so far! It really has all the elements I love from Horizons: tying in with previous episodes (Dot and Kanuchan), buildup from elements that were sprinkled through in the series (Nyahoja being unable to use Leafage properly in the first episode actually had history behind it), and Pokemon and human focus (Nyahoja and Mibrim both growing in different ways in this episode, as well as Liko)... also love that Liko keeps bonding with all these female characters in the series. And Kabu's episode (HZ020) keeps gaining more depth to it (since that episode established that Liko, similarly to Nyahoja, often held back out of fear of hurting others, even if it was detrimental for her, and she had to learn to be more honest with what she wants).

As a last note, Minori Suzuki (Liko's VA) really recommended this episode and talked a lot about it on her account.

#hz040 #character notes #episode notes

[jeromefart]

Jedi survivor comes out TOMORROW! heres my current thoughts n shit

im excited. not exactly hyped as i could be as im more excited for totk coming out in a few weeks. but ik this game is gonna be awesome. ign and some other game critics rated this game suuuper high. the lowest rating so far is 81% on metacritic, which was bombed by one random whiny 50/100 review. so i think its safe to say its gonna be good lol

i saw another review and i didnt wanna read much for spoilery things, but i read the first 2 sentences which said they wanted to focus on the important quest but kept deviating to explore elsewhere, and said “that doesn’t feel very jedi knight.” but from the interviews i’ve read with cameron, the point he emphasized most was that these are trying times in the universe and we are going to see cal do unconventional things that aren’t what a classic jedi would do, because he can’t do that. plus it’s a video game, if you feel bad about doing side quests, then that’s your problem. games need extra content other than a main story (this was fallen order’s biggest flaw in my opinion).

i have a slight feeling the negative reviews are from people who aren’t exactly attached to the previous characters. a big part of fallen order that made it as fantastic of an experience as it was for me was that i immediately connected with the protagonist and other characters. their emotional journeys meant something to me, and it was a very emotionally impactful experience to see it play out as i progressed. watching cal come to term with his fears and dark past, he was able to reach a new level of strength needed to face darth vader and escape with his life. and while it’s not a dramatic end to the story, they end up back in square one, it’s still important. it’s easy to dream big and want to restore the jedi order. but finding these kids puts them at risk. when they reach the end of the story, they realize they should let the force decide the futures of the force sensitives, instead of deciding it for themselves. i believe cal’s mentality was along the lines of “i don’t want others to experience the same suffering i’ve been through because of my own actions.” and he has visions of himself turning to the dark side and having to kill what he sought out in the first place. the fear and likelihood of failure is too much of a risk, even if it’s the only option they have left.

the whole point of this series is how these characters are entering dark times where they need to make increasingly harder decisions. lines are blurring and survival is slimming. having some sort of attachment to these characters is important. who these characters are and what compels them to do what they do is vital to appreciating any story. so in short, anyone who’s giving an extra low rating probably didn’t understand it.. or care about it. i understand just wanting to play a game, but when reviewing something, you can’t ride off the plot because it didn’t spell out everything for you. im sure this game will also have a heavy deal of nuance, which we saw a lot of in andor as well (which gained the same sort of criticism. people not caring enough to fully understand. just wanting cool action sequences). and we know sw fans aren’t exactly the brightest sometimes😊

anyway im totally just rambling for the sake of making this post longer. i don’t have any predictions, i already know its gonna be good 🤷‍♀️

things i dont want: romance. we just dont need it. (and fans of a certain ship can SHUT UP AND DIE)

[pixeldashblog]

Ikea's Ömsesidig panels for the Symfonisk picture frame finally fulfill the speaker's promise

I've had two Ikea Symfonisk Picture Frame speakers since they launched nearly two years ago and have been extremely satisfied with their performance in my Sonos home theater as rears. I wrote in length about my experience for Input if you'd like to read that review.

The Picture Frame has fluctuated quite a bit in price in its lifetime. When I reviewed it it went for $200, eventually spiking to $260. It's currently on sale for $170 until May 29th if you're interested in it for any of the uses it's designed for. Although the length of the sale does suggest Ikea is trying to clear out inventory for an eventual refresh of the product.

My one gripe with the Picture Frame was always how the thing looked. The default artwork it ships with won't fool anyone, and the power cord will seal it: this is a speaker.

Efforts by Ikea to sell replacement speaker covers never amounted to anything I found attractive. The splatter art and record player designs that launched within a year of the speaker's release were too boring, and a limited run of covers with classic artwork like the "Mona Lisa" and "Starry Night", or the current line of wild animal portrait photographs, were non starters if I ever wanted to change the orientation of the picture frames. My suggestion that Ikea release a line of solid colors or open up a way for owners to print their own photos have yet to be taken up.

Then, a few weeks ago, I got an email from Ikea's US PR team about the Omsesidig collection launch, a collaboration with nine Latin American artists to design various home decor products, including three covers for the Picture Frame speaker.

The covers, designed by artists Trini Guzmán and Diana Ordóñez, were immediately eye catching to me and, most importantly, my partner who had never loved the look of the Picture Frames. So last week I purchased two covers, featuring Guzmán's "Graphical" and Ordóñez's "Mask".

"Graphical"-Trini Guzmán

"Mask"-Diana Ordóñez

I am by no means an art critic and will not pretend to be, but I absolutely love how this art looks on my speakers. The textile of the covers showcases the artwork very well, making sure different types of lighting plays well with the print of each work. The colors are rich and vibrant. Most importantly, they actually make us smile when we walk in to the home theater room.

These pieces were actually designed to be appreciated not just for the gorgeous artwork they feature, but also for the device they'd be sitting on. While I don't expect the Picture Frames to fool my house guests now, they may be fooled just a bit longer than before. And while these speakers are currently in my very dark theater room, my partner is excited for us to move to a space where she can showcase them in an open living room.

My personal favorite is "Graphical" which is shown in a portrait orientation on the Ikea website but looks good in any orientation in my opinion: you can tell Guzmán took extra care to make sure the art design would suit any owner's preference.

I hope Ikea continues to hire real artists to design Picture Frame covers going forward. I feel much better about my purchase knowing the art is original and supports working artists and I think offering a broad selection of Picture Frame covers designed by young artists working today would go a long way to give this line of products a unique story in the tech world. These covers will stay on my walls for a very long time, but if there is a refresh of the Picture Frame speaker in the near future, I hope there's a giant selection of art to choose from for it if I choose to buy more wall art speakers.

#ikea #art #wallart #technology #design #decoration

[meltic-daze]

AITA for getting into a fight with my wife?

u/podracingking19

(This is a long post pls read I'm DESPERATE) 

Me (M22) and my beautiful amazing wife (F27) have been together for about four years. We were forced to secretly elope due to the religion I used to following banning any and all romantic entanglements. For all the time we've been married there hasn't been a single fight. Usually my wife and I are able to sort our differences calmly and rationally and this time our fight has me super worried. 

I've been having dreams of my wife dying while giving birth to our son. My dreams are prophetic and always come true so this is INCREDIBLY horrifying. It already happened to my mom and I couldn't save her (long story) and I can't let that happen again or I might actually lose my mind. She's all I have left. 

I tried to talk to my boss (M877) about it but he just brushed me off. He said "Letting go is the will of the force" or whatever, he's an inconsiderate prick. I've always disliked the little guy since we first met and he made fun of me for missing my mom. My boss was no help and really he's the only one I could ask. My teacher (M38) would brush me off too since mister perfect never goes against what the bossman says. Asshole. He'd also push the same bullshit and expect me to be okay with potentially losing someone I love AGAIN. I guess he wouldn't understand since he never loved anyone at all. 

Due to all this, I decided to leave my former religious apprenticeship behind. My workplace never appreciated me like I deserved anyway and it pissed me off every. Single. Day. My teacher (more like slave master) never sympathized with me and mocked my struggles. I hate him and his stupid beard and haughty attitude and constant judgements. My wonderful wife is the only person who supported me during these difficult times. She has really pretty eyes and hair and she's the wisest person in the whole wide world. Wait where am I going with this. 

Anyway. My new boss (M63) offered me a new position directly under him as his student which I immediately accepted. He showed me that my former leaders were all LIARS who never understood what really mattered in the universe- power and the means by which to grasp it. 

The most IMPORTANT part of this is that under his leadership I would be able to protect my wife from dying. She's all that matters, I would set the world on fire if it meant she'd stay warm. What other choice could I make? 

My boss told me to do some stuff like clear out my former workplace which I agreed to. It sucked herding out the younger members but thinking of my wife's loving hands got me through it. She would be so happy that we could finally be together in public. 

Or I THOUGHT she would be. When we met up again a couple planets over she was furious. I tried to explain that everything I did was for not only our future but the galaxy's - I planned on overthrowing my old boss for her the first second I got- and that we could carry out her dream together. 

BUT she refused to listen. My wife just said stuff about how "democracy is sacred how could you do this?" and "you're going down a path I can't follow."

I SAVED HER LIFE WHY IS SHE ANGRY? I DON'T UNDERSTAND??? 

I just want us to be together again I love her so much. Was I the bad guy here?

Edit: I forgot to mention my old teacher crawled out of her ship which didn't help matters. For a hot second I thought she betrayed me did something wrong but I swear I regretted it immediately and didn't mean it!

#anidala #star wars #prequel trilogy #i had this idea and got possessed #shout out to the homies if u kno u kno #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #am i the asshole

[sturchling]

Peaks out of a bush holding a sign asking for forgiveness.

Not in no hurry just add it to the list. Can I get a maribat. With Alya salt where she applys to a contest to win an interview with Lois Lane or Clark Kent. She doesn't tell anyone as she doesn't want to use Lila connections.

Use whatever lie you want to.

Meanwhile Marinette enters a contest sponsed by Daina prince Aka wonder woman.

Alya is told the reason she doesn't win and is disclfied is cause she not only did fact check a lot of what she put is can and will get her sued.

Alya was practically buzzing with excitement. She had entered a journalism contest and the prize was incredible. The first place winner would have their article published in the Daily Planet and win an interview with Clark Kent and Lois Lane, two of the top reporters in the world. Said two reporters were going to judge the entries and would also notify the contestants if they won or lost. Alya was sure she would win. She had submitted a new article, all about Lila's adventures in Gotham, how she was very close with the Wayne family, had helped with several major Wayne Enterprises projects, and how she had even helped Batman and the rest of the Batfam several times. At first, she had wanted to ask Lila for help, to make sure that she got everything right. But she didn't want to bother her friend, and she also didn't want Lila to use her connections to help Alya win. After all, Lila was very close with both Clark Kent and Lois Lane, and was going to help Alya get an internship with them at the Daily Planet. She couldn't ask Lila for more help. Alya was very proud of her work, and was positive that she would receive good news soon.

Meanwhile, Marinette had entered a contest of her own. Themyscira Industries, the public face of Wonder Woman that handles all her merchandising, had announced a contest. Wonder Woman was going to change her super suit design, and had decided that she wanted the public's input. Obviously her suit wouldn't be an exact copy of the design, they would change what they had to for practical reasons. Superhero suits have to be functional as well as fashionable after all. The winner of the contest would not only have their design as Wonder Woman's new suit, but would also get a private meeting with the Amazon herself.

Marinette jumped right in when she heard about the contest, thinking it would a fun chance to be creative and design something she wouldn't normally. And, if she won the meeting with Wonder Woman, she could get help with defeating Hawkmoth. The Parisian government had kept the whole situation a secret as best they could, so as not to effect tourism. This means, no one outside of Paris, including the Justice League, knew what was happening. If she got the meeting, she would reveal her identity to Wonder Woman. She was sure it would be fine, since Wonder Woman's mother Hippolyta was a Ladybug as well. Then with identities revealed, she would ask Wonder Woman for help tracking down Hawkmoth. It wasn't the greatest plan, but it was all she had.

With that in mind, Marinette quickly got to work. She took inspiration from suits Wonder Woman had worn over the years, and made sure that her design was also protective. Her time as Ladybug had made her appreciate a protective suit. When she finished her design, she submitted her entry and anxiously waited for the results.

Weeks went by, and both Alya and Marinette got the results of the contest. But only one girl was happy. Marinette received an email saying that she had won the contest and that her design would be made into Wonder Woman's new suit. Wonder Woman herself had even left praise for Marinette in the email. She had said she loved the design and was thrilled to see some protective elements already included in the design, which most of the other entries hadn't considered. Marinette was practically glowing, ecstatic with how the contest turned out. Not only did she get some good experience with this design, and get her name out there more in the fashion world, she had also got the meeting with Wonder Woman. She planned her trip to meet Wonder Woman

Meanwhile, Alya was upset and furious. Not only had she not won the contest, she had been disqualified. She couldn't believe it! She put everything into that article. At the bottom of the email that brought the bad news was a phone number for Clark Kent, who had sent the rejection email. Alya immediately grabbed her phone and called the number, determined to know what had happened and why she had been disqualified. As soon as Clark answered the phone, Alya started yelling, forgetting who she was talking to. She demanded to know why she was disqualified and what was wrong with her article. "Miss Cesaire, while you are very talented with writing, there is a major problem with your article. You did not fact check a single thing in that article, which was made up of entirely false statements. There is no record of this Lila Rossi being involved with the Wayne Family, Wayne Enterprises, or Batman. If we had published your article in our paper, not only would you have been sued, but we could have been as well. If you want to be a reporter as a career, I highly suggest you start fact checking all of your stories from now on. This kind of writing will absolutely get you sued and no one will want to hire a reporter with a history of publishing lies and getting sued. I wish you all the best with your future, and hope you can learn from this. Have a good day."

Alya was stunned. How could that be what got her disqualified? She had her source. How much better could you get than a first person account of what happened? Sure, she could have included some extra sources to prove everything, but primary sources are always best! Alya was determined to prove them wrong and show that her article was correct. Maybe if she got enough sources to prove her article, they would reconsider the contest. Maybe she could still win this. With that, Alya took to the internet, using all her sources and researching skills. But the more she dug into Lila's story, the more confused she became. She couldn't find any other sources that even mentioned Lila being in Gotham, let alone doing all the incredible things she had claimed to do there. On a hunch, she looked into Lila's other stories. Her stories about Jagged, Clara, Prince Ali, and many other celebrities. Alya couldn't find any proof. As far as she could tell, Lila had been lying this entire time. Alya was furious all over again, but this time at both Lila and herself. Obviously she was furious at Lila for lying to her. But, she was also angry at herself, for believing in her lies. So, Alya sat at her computer one more time tonight, and got ready to write another article.

Alya spent all night working on her new article. This one revealed everything Lila had ever lied about. All the disabilities, all the celebrity connections, and even where she had really been when she was 'on a charity trip to Achu', which she learned about when she called Mrs. Rossi to tell her what her daughter had been doing. And this time, she made sure gather all her sources and fact check everything. When she was sure about everything she had written, she published the story to the Ladyblog, with an apology for every post she had made about Lila's lies. She also took down all the articles about Lila's lies. She ended up emailing a link to her new article to Clark Kent, with an apology for her behavior when she called. Obviously, this didn't do anything in terms of the contest, but it made Alya feel better that one of her favorite reporters had seen a better article of hers.

While she didn't win the contest, when she got another email from Clark Kent saying that this article was much better, she was over the moon. He even told her about a new internship program that was starting that summer, and if she worked hard until then and kept writing and fact checking like this, he would seriously consider her for an intern position. Alya may have made a major mistake with the article she submitted to the contest, but Clark understood it was a mistake and she was trying to learn from it. Everyone deserves a second chance. Alya was thrilled and determined to work hard for that internship.

On Monday, Alya made sure to apologize to Marinette for not believing her about Lila. The two made up and started to patch up their friendship. Lila's kingdom of lies had been completely destroyed during all of this. The whole class knew she was a liar. The school knew about the lies too and expelled her for the truancy and fake disabilities. And her mother was furious when she found out and shipped Lila back to Italy, to live with her grand parents who could keep a close eye on her until Mrs. Rossi could be transferred back to Italy.

Now, Alya was sitting at her computer, getting ready to submit her application to the internship program that Clark Kent had told her about. While that contest all those months ago hadn't gone as planned, Alya was happy with what happened. If she hadn't submitted that article and got disqualified, she may never have looked into Lila's stories until it was too late. She could have ended up being sued or never made it as a reporter. And she might never have made up with Marinette. Now Marinette and her were friends again, and she had an amazing opportunity with this internship program, and it was because of her hard work.

#ml #ml fic #ml fanfic #ml salt #ml salt fic #ml salt fanfic #lila rossi salt #lila rossi #lila rossi exposed #lila rossi gets exposed #lila salt fic #lila salt fanfic #lila exposed fic #alya cesaire #alya redemption #maribat #ml x dc #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #dc x miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fic #miraculous fanfic #miraculous salt #miraculous salt fic #miraculous salt fanfic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir

[mc-lukanette]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

—————

Luka took a breath as he hit the last emotion-filled note on his guitar. His body vibrated just as his strings did, though he realized soon enough that there weren't enough high notes to lift him from feeling so low.

Marinette was Ladybug. He was still absorbing it, even though a part of him insisted that it should've been obvious; not just because there could only be one girl in Paris who was so brave, kindhearted, and suited for the job, but... well—

There was also only one girl in Paris who could be so unlucky. Luka was upset - angry, really - at all the things he couldn't have known that just proved to put more pressure on her. People idolized and adored Ladybug, but he never once thought that he wanted to be her. She didn't get anything from being a superhero outside of wasted time and the guilt of having to lie to everyone. He'd felt bad enough keeping Viperion a secret from his family, and he was only a temporary hero.

He sighed, setting his guitar down and raking his fingers through his hair. Marinette being Ladybug would've been enough of a shock on its own, but Adrien being Chat Noir made everything both worse and more complicated. In the midst of all the realizations he'd been having at the time, he felt lucky that he was able to get Ladybug - Marinette - to believe that his mind had just drifted for a moment. She'd still looked worried, but there was nothing he could've told her at the time, his mind too scrambled to be certain what the right steps were.

He'd always imagined that past snakes had learned of other's identities before as well, and thus had wondered before what he'd do if such a thing ever happened. Chat wasn't the one "in charge," so Luka wasn't worried about him (at least not in terms of talking about identities), but Ladybug was a different story.

Previously, he would've said that he'd tell her without hesitation, but the problem was that she was Marinette and the way he found out made things messy. If he told her that he knew, she'd blame herself and demand to know what happened for him to know so she could try to "fix" it, except there was nothing to fix and a conversation about his abilities would inevitably lead to talking about Adrien being Chat Noir.

In essence, he was at a roadblock. There was probably no "right" solution either, as he figured Sass might tell him; that even seemed to be the message Sass wordlessly sent him as Ladybug took his miraculous back. He’d probably known, and maybe had intentionally given him the power to see red strings on heroes in the first place. He didn’t know for sure because he couldn’t ask, aware that it would make Ladybug even more suspicious after he’d already tried to assure her.

What he did know was that Chat was something else to think about now. Chat was tied to her, and he knew - everyone knew, really - that there was drama going on in their relationship. He'd done only a little digging and Face to Face was all the evidence he'd needed, as if seeing the two interact in person wasn't already enough.

There was a pressure there, for Ladybug and Chat Noir to be a couple. Chat Noir was a habitual flirt, and most people ate up any drama or “juicy details” about their relationship. Everyone went wild for the hand kisses that Chat gave Ladybug, whether or not she pulled away from it. Add on the red string of fate, and it just made everything worse, making him wonder what the ties meant; did Adrien's string being tied around his ring mean that he became the cat through fate, specifically so—

It made Luka feel gross just thinking about it, and knowing what he knew made it even worse; people were shipping his friend with someone she wasn't interested in, even if it was "one side" specifically that she wasn't interested in.

He shook his head, feeling vaguely possessive. It wasn't about Marinette being his friend; it was about her deserving better than something deciding her fate for her.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a familiar jingle, pulling out his phone to see a message from Marinette.

Are we still on for tonight?

FOR THE FIRE I MEAN.

I just don't want you to get in trouble! You're sure???

He chuckled, his shoulders easing at Marinette's usual enthusiasm. It was adorable that she was worried about him and not what they were planning to do.

He typed back immediately, I'm sure, Marinette. Don't worry.

He glanced at the drawer under his bed, where all the Adrien pictures were. He imagined Adrien's face plastered all over Paris, flashing back and forth between Adrien himself and Chat Noir.

He felt like he shouldn’t be shocked by the revelation, though he wouldn't be able to quite explain why.

—————

Luka looked over his work once more, checking to make sure the fire would start properly. It'd been a while, but he at least hadn't gotten rusty and even got a congratulatory pat on the back from his mother when she'd seen him carrying the supplies. Had she known that it was Marinette's decision to do this, she would've married them on the spot herself.

As he eyed the box of Adrien pictures set out, he had to bury another slew of thoughts. He knew it was right to try and get rid of Marinette's string, but and he felt guilty knowing that he’d be satisfied at seeing the pictures burn for reasons outside of Marinette.

Speaking of whom, he looked up as he heard a familiar set of footsteps to see Marinette herself heading towards the Liberty, having just made her way down the stairs. She was dressed fairly lightly for nighttime, but wore a fluffy pink shawl around her shoulders to make up for it. Considering what they were doing, it made sense that she wasn't concerned about the cold.

The gangplank had already been put up for her, so she walked across with a smile that warmed him more than the eventual fire would. "Hey."

He smiled back, plopping down comfortably on the seat behind him. "Hey."

She gripped her shawl closer to herself as she glanced at the setup for the fire, the moonlight briefly shining off of her earrings. Luka attempted to avert his gaze from them, but only ended up staring at the red string around her neck. He gave up looking at her entirely at that point, checking the setup again as if it was extremely important to do so.

"You can sit anywhere," he offered, gesturing vaguely to all of the mismatched seats he'd placed around the future fire. He'd wanted to make sure she'd have options, though he hoped the designer side of her didn't mind the chaos of it all. He'd just grabbed whatever spare seating they'd had.

Marinette's eyes scanned over the various choices. Giggling, she replied, "Thank you."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He wasn't in any hurry to get the pictures burned, even if burning them was their goal that day. He'd intentionally had her go slowly so as to test the red string as little as possible, and he planned on doing the same here.

"I brought one for you too," she suddenly said off to his side.

He looked over in curiosity and noticed her open purse, a large piece of blue fabric nearly bursting out of it. It took a bit of effort from her - he imagined that she'd wanted it to be a surprise - but she managed to pull it out, presenting him with a shawl that matched hers exactly outside of its color. He smiled in appreciation of her thoughtfulness, then reached for it before realizing with a start, "Wait. Marinette, did you make these?"

Before she could answer, he took the shawl in his hands, turning it every possible way. Without a doubt, it was her handiwork, and along the back was where the design broke with a Marinette.

"Yeah," she confirmed, and he could practically hear her shy blush. "It's just—you're doing this for me, but even if you weren't, I don't want you to get cold, so..."

"It's great," he cut in firmly, leaving no room for doubt on her end. "Soft. Comfortable. I wish I was better with fashion to say more."

"No, you said more than enough," she assured, taking a seat next to him. That fact looked both silly and intimate given the multiple other seats she could've chosen instead, but he tried not to think about it.

Instead, he gave a curious glance at her pink shawl, silently comparing it to the one she'd given him. "...You didn't have to make it blue," he commented, and clarified before she could think anything bad, "I would've happily worn your colors."

She gave him a look, though didn't seem weirded out by the idea. "But... it's pink."

"What's wrong with pink?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's your color."

She blushed, her shoulders hunching forward shyly. He didn't even bother taking back what he said, because he meant it; he might've favored blue when he picked out an outfit, but pink made him think of her.

It was much better than red at the very least.

Marinette pursed her lips in response, idly tugging at her shawl and seeming to be in an internal debate with herself. Apparently making a decision, she closed her eyes and breathed up, letting out a soft, "Okay."

He blinked and gave a tilt of his head to show his confusion. "Okay?"

She turned to him, resolutely pulling the fabric off of her shoulders. "T-then you can wear mine?"

He couldn't get another word out, too distracted by Marinette leaning towards him and carefully settling the shawl around his shoulders. Despite the bold move, she couldn't keep eye contact with him, awkwardly hanging onto the front of the shawl as she stared at his lap. She wasn't exactly warm or exuded any particular body heat - in fact, he was sure that her hands would be cold if he held them - but there was a comfort there that couldn't be matched by anyone else.

It took him a moment to make a move, at which point he remembered the fabric underneath his fingers. In a motion equally as careful as hers, he raised the blue shawl and settled it around her shoulders. She finally met his gaze, surprised, but smiled gratefully and released her grip on the pink shawl.

"You can keep it," she said quietly, with less shyness than before.

"Really?" he asked, placing a hand on the fabric to make sure it was what she meant.

She nodded, gripping her own as she replied, "A-as long as I can keep this one in exchange?"

He snorted, even covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. "You made them, Marinette. Of course you can." He gave an obvious glance at the shawl to admire it. "I'd be happy to match with you."

She beamed at him. "Me too."

That topic officially concluded, his mind went blank for anything more and both of their gazes drifted to the unlit fire. He didn't have to look to know that she was shifting in anxiety in her seat, either wanting to back out or just get it over with.

"Are you ready?" he asked experimentally.

"Yes," she responded, perhaps a little stiffly but the resolve was there. She wanted this.

Luka stood briefly, and within the next few moments, the fire had been lit. The flames started out faint at first, then grew until it was something respectable, easily illuminating the small area around them. The slight chill from the wind dissipated as the fire warmed their skin, Luka hearing Marinette sigh in content harmony with him.

Neither of them took their shawls off despite the increased warmth.

The additional light from the fire made the box of pictures more obvious, with it sitting on a table not too far away. Luka took a step towards it, but Marinette was faster, grabbing up the box and turning to him with a determined expression.

"I have to do it," she insisted.

He didn't exactly disagree - this wasn't his battle - but it didn't stop him from looking nervously at the red string, the dangling part of it laying across her hand and dipping itself in the box, taunting him.

"How many do you want to do at a time?" He was careful in his wording, not wanting his tone to imply anything.

She furrowed her brows, staring down at the box in deep thought. Her fingers flexed against the cardboard, a small gust of wind blowing by and causing the fire behind her to whip around in protest.

"...All of them," she muttered, then met his gaze cautiously. "Will that be okay?"

Luka glanced at the fire, but it wasn't that he was worried about. The string would try to fight her, he was sure of it, and the only thing he wasn't sure of was if it would be better or not to let her go with her wishes. He half expected the string to physically drag her off the Liberty, and the mere thought caused his neck to sting.

But, he also believed in her. She was fighting fate herself without having used the snake even once, and he wasn't going to deny her if she thought this was best.

"Yeah," he assured. "Just don't get too close. I don't want you to get hurt."

She nodded, obviously not catching onto what he really meant.

Luka sat down on his chair, toying with the rips in his pants to keep his hands occupied as he watched her. Her posture was straight and confident as she faced the flames, despite the shake in her hands, and he was sure the fire in her eyes wasn't just a reflection.

He didn't see Ladybug in her place. There was only Marinette and everything that he already knew about her. Knowing what he did now wasn't surprising, but heartbreaking, and he couldn't be prouder of her for doing what she was trying to do.

To go against what everyone - even fate itself - expected of her. He couldn't relate on her level, but looking as he did and having the mother he did, he understood.

Finally, Marinette stepped forward, and the string was already tightening around her neck. She froze, shutting her eyes and clutching the box tighter as she mentally fought the sensation.

He barely managed to keep himself still.

She swallowed, taking another step and managing to open her eyes again. She squinted at the fire, either from the light or from her own resolve.

Then, all at once, she thrust the box forward, the pictures flying out and mingling with the flames. The fire flared up in response, practically roaring, and the string tightened further in protest. Marinette even let out a cry as she tossed the box aside.

Luka barely had time to react when she suddenly rushed towards him. He outstretched his arms and she filled up his lap, her heart seeking him out as she clutched his jacket. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping his comfort came through without words.

Her breathing was ragged, and he couldn't tell whether it was from the string or her emotions running high. He brought one of his hands higher up on her back, knowing that he could do nothing more for her but wishing he could.

He took solace in the fact that the worst of it was over.

Staring over her head, he watched as the pictures burned, blond turning black as the flames singed the pictures and reduced them to ashes. Marinette, meanwhile, remained against him, desperately clutching his fabric for wordless support. He honestly would've been okay being the only spectator to what she'd done, but she then shifted in his lap to glance behind her.

They watched the sight together, the fire whipping about with the wind like it was making sure the job was done as they'd wanted. In no time at all, there was no evidence of the pictures left outside of what was allowing the fire to burn brighter.

Marinette let out sigh of relief, collapsing against him again and nuzzling his chest. "What's wrong with me...?"

"Nothing," he replied, clutching her tighter. "You were amazing."

She looked up at him, possibly searching his expression to ensure he meant it, then offered a tired smile. She shifted again, but this time without any urgency or need. Luka sucked in a breath as she nestled her head against his shoulder, making herself comfortable on his lap while still being in a position where they could watch the fire together. Slowly, he relaxed, and they ended up not needing those other chairs after all, neither moving from their comfortable positions.

And, maybe it was just him, but the string seemed looser around her neck than it ever had before.

#au: Dread String of Fate #Dread String of Fate: writing #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

[panda-noosh]

the game {draco x reader}

  masterlist

---

 you’ve been tormenting the malfoy family for what feels like forever.

   it’s become a kind of game at this point, a game everyone is involved in. the malfoys pretend they don’t expect your presence, and you pretend you are tormenting them because you don’t like them. it’s back and forth, back and forth, and you’ve been doing it too long to back out now.

   it starts the same way every time - the gate is open, and they pretend it’s because they forgot to close it. nobody mentions the fact that lucius malfoy hasn’t forgotten a single thing in his entire life. nobody mentions draco’s blonde head peaking out from behind the living room curtains, waiting for the arrival of a person he claims to despise. 

   you stroll in with the ease of someone who owns the place, smiling and waving at the white peacocks that have become so familiar with your presence by now that they don’t even make a noise upon seeing you. they lift their graceful heads, and then they bow them again - it’s as simple as that.

    you knock on the door, grinning even wider when you hear narcissa’s faux exclamation of, “who could that possibly be?” you know for a fact that draco has warned her of your presence already, that all three of them have been expecting your arrival since they woke up this morning. 

   and then the door opens, and narcissa stands there in all her glory. such a tall, graceful woman, and you tell her that on a daily basis, making her blush because you  are her favourite little Mudblood, and she lets you get away with things like that.

    you lean against the door frame, spinning your wand between your ringed fingers. narcissa glares at you without speaking, her jaw working as she inspects you.

    “evening,” you drawl. “how are you today, my dear?”

   her nostrils flare. “how many times have we told you to stay away from our home?”

    “oh, plenty of times. i’ve quite lost count.” you straighten, craning your neck to see over her tall frame, into the hallway beyond. standing in the foyer, just as you predicted, just as he always does, is draco. you give him a wave before turning back to face his mother. “is he alright? i haven’t seen him much at school recently.”

    “my sons wellbeing is none of your business.”

   draco appears at his mothers elbow. “you can tell professor snape i’ve been feeling ill.”

   you smile - draco giving you orders is moreso his way of answering your questions without looking like he gives a shit. you appreciate it, this code you two speak in, because in all truth, you do worry about the malfoy boy quite a bit.

   you met him in school, your very first year at hogwarts. you were crushed beneath adrenaline, having found out about your powers only a few weeks before being shipped off to this strange and wonderful new school. you had a wand, and a robe, and there was a giant man ushering you into a tiny boat, ready to take you to the future. 

   and then draco appeared, and he knew who you were. he must have looked through the first year list, must have looked you up and realised you were a muggle-born. he did his research, and that was the first point of respect he earned off you.

    “let them in, mother,” draco says now. “the elves made too much food anyway; might as well put them to use whilst they’re here.”

    you give a mock bow. “much appreciated, malfoy.”

   he snarls, before mother and son turn on their heels and lead you into the home you have become so familiar with these past few years. you’ve traced these walls with your fingers a thousand times before, and you do the same now. upstairs, you hear the elves marching around, putting stuff back where they belong, chuntering amongst themselves; silently, you wonder where lucius is. 

    draco and narcissa lead you to the kitchen, where stacks upon stacks of food are set up along the grand dining table. draco hands you a glass of water before gesturing to the plates and saying, “dig in. and be grateful we haven’t got the ministry involved.”

    “the ministry?” you raise a brow, taking a long, loud sip of your water before continuing. “draco, what would the ministry possibly do? you’ve been letting me into your home for years - it’s starting to get a little old hearing you say you don’t want me here.”

    draco blinks, startled. 

   narcissa steps in, grabbing the water from your hand and slamming it upon the table. “we don’t want you here. the last thing we need is some filthy mudblood knocking on our door at all hours of the morning.”

    the word doesn’t even sting any more - it’s a wound that has been closed long enough now to no longer hurt. so instead, you smile and say, “very true, narcissa. i’ll have my water back now, if you please.”

    narcissa growls, turns and walks out of the kitchen. she always does this. it’s become part of the routine.  

   you grab the water yourself and take another sip. draco continues staring at you, a habit he adopted only recently. you remember the first time he did it, the first time it was more than a glance, more than an accidental brush of eye contact between you; he was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, those slim fingers tapping a rhythm against the expensive granite. you and lucius were chatting, lucius asking - yet again - why you’re here, why you can never leave them alone, why you aren’t at school. you were going to answer, but draco’s gaze was burning a hole into the side of your face, and you truly felt as if you had no choice but to pack it in early and go home, just to recuperate. 

    you’ve gotten better with it. you don’t have any plans of storming out any time soon, though his gaze still makes your face heat up and your stomach squirm.

    “so, you’ve been ill, have you?” you begin. “i won’t lie, draco, you look pretty spritely to me.”

    “i wouldn’t expect you to understand,” draco shoots back.��“you should just mind your business.”

    “i never asked you what was wrong. i was just saying - seems like you’re looking for a muggle excuse to get out of going to school.”

   draco glares, though the expression has less effect now that he’s taken to never taking his eyes off you, no matter what his emotions towards you are in the moment. “i’ve told you not to call me that.”

   “didn’t call you anything.”

   “you called me a muggle.”

   you narrow your eyes in faux confusion. “i said your excuse was muggle. don’t blow it out of proportion, mate.”

   he throws his hands up, turning away for what feels like the first time since he laid eyes on you. “why are you here this time, y/n? what could you possibly want from us now?”

    “i’ve never wanted anything from you.” you inspect the endless plates on the table. “although i will pinch a scotch egg, if you don’t mind.”

    draco watches as you reach across the table, picking at the assortment of foods. you don’t break the eye contact, because that’s what he wants you to do. he wants you to show some sign of intimidation, some sign that he has wriggled beneath your nerves in the same way he manages with everyone else. you’re determined to show him you’re not afraid of the malfoys, have never been afraid of the malfoys, and that’s exactly why you’re here. you wanted something, and you were willing to go to the highest rank to get it.

    “you know, if my father finds out about what you get up to, you’ll be sent to azkaban with a life sentence.”

    you freeze, scotch egg halfway to your mouth. “so you’re bringing that up now, are you?”

    “i’m just warning you.” draco shrugs, the sleeves of his black blazer stretching against the motion. “one day you’re going to walk in here, and he’s going to know. he’s going to see it in your eyes that you’re guilty.”

   “he’s going to figure me out.” you scoff. “you really think the sun shines out of your father’s arse, don’t you? he’s not as smart as he likes everyone to think, draco. i’ve been running circles around that man for years now, and he’s none the wiser.”

    “and what if i tell him?”

   the room falls silent. your heartbeat rings in your ears. you hate talking about this with draco, because you never know whether or not to take his threats seriously. 

    he folds his arms over his chest. “you’re lucky i haven’t blabbed yet.”

   “are you threatening me, malfoy?” you lean forward, lowering your voice to a purr. “why don’t you tell me the real reason you’ve taken two weeks out of school, hm? then we’ll both have stories to tattle to the ministry.”

    draco pales. he glares at you for a moment longer before the kitchen door opens, and narcissa malfoy strolls inside once again. you straighten up, schooling your expression into one of immediate calm, like not a single thing is wrong. you pop the remaining scotch egg in your mouth and say, “i should get out of your hair now.”

    narcissa simply scowls.

    you give her a grin, nod at draco once before walking out the door, trying to ignore that blue-eyed gaze still burning into the back of your head.

   ----

    it gets easier over time.

    all of it does, really. the guilt becomes non-existent, and the act itself becomes second nature after a few good attempts. you’ve nearly been caught a handful of times, and you know if your actions were to come to light, you would be expelled from hogwarts in a heartbeat; not even dumbledore could show you mercy, no matter how much he likes you.

    it’s easiest when the streets are full. muggles are so careless, clumped together with wallets jingling in their pockets, unprotected. they don’t even think about what might go wrong, don’t even think a wizard may be lurking amongst them, ready to snatch their belongings right from their person.

    you don’t need it, of course. muggle money means nothing where you come from, but there’s some wizards and witches who would pay hundreds of galleons in trade for the things collected off muggles. it’s a black market kind of situation.

   tonight, you are dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, wand stowed in your back pocket. you don’t need it; you’ve mastered the magic-free manoeuvres of sneaking things from people, and you use such skills to your advantage tonight. a man by the name of richard carpol has put in a request for a muggle passport - an irish one, preferably, but he’ll take anything you can get your hands on.

    you search for what feels like hours before zoning in on the dark red booklet peaking out of a teenagers jacket pocket. their source of ID, you assume, and you feel no guilt whatsoever when you stroll past them and pluck the book free. you stuff it in your hoodie pocket before picking up your pace, ducking into a dark alleyway.

    you flip it open - it’s a british passport, but richard will still pay. he’s not a picky customer, which makes your night ten times easier.

   you make your way back to hogwarts, waving at people in hogsmeade before you disappear for the night. you sneak into the slytherin dormitory with no problems, stuffing the passport beneath your mattress. you wriggle beneath the sheets, ignoring pansy’s insistant questions about where you have been, if you’ve seen draco, how you managed to sneak past filch - she asks this every night, and you have never replied. you just fall asleep, another day successful.

  ----   

   “he’s back.”

   like he’s some kind of god. you nearly roll your eyes, the whispers repeated over and over again throughout morning breakfast. all around you, the slytherin table is alive with anticipation, waiting for draco malfoy to stroll in through the double doors, head held high in that way it always is.

   you knew draco was returning before anyone else did, as he told you the night before in a fit of faux rage at the sight of you in his bedroom, yet again. you had offered to leave, leaned casually against his mahogany wardrobe, and it could almost be considered hasty the speed at which he rushed for his door to close it, uttering a quiet, “no, you’re here now, so you might as well stay.”

    but now he’s back in school, and you’re sick of him. you haven’t even seen his face once, but the whispers and the praise from your house mates is enough to set your teeth on edge. it reminds you that there is indeed a draco living outside of the malfoy manor, a draco you cannot tease and torment as easily.

    “i saw him in the common room this morning putting his robes on. i think his parents got him new ones,” a fellow slytherin whispers. “and his hair has been cut a little shorter - he looks so grown up!”

   you snicker into your porridge, smothering the noise to no avail. the slytherin girl singing draco’s praises shoots you a glare before noticing who you are; her glare folds in on itself, and she quickly retaliates by pretending she didn’t hear your snicker in the first place.

    breakfast ticks by, and it’s only near the end does draco finally decide to grace the dining hall with his presence. the double doors open, and the chatter amongst the slytherins falls short almost immediately. you’re ashamed to admit that even you look up at the speed of light, catching one of the first glimpses of draco malfoy as he returns from what many people assumed was the dead.

    his fangirl certainly wasn’t lying, you notice; his hair has been cut shorter, and he does look plenty grown up. he walks with a fresh confidence that makes you want to roll your eyes - it’s not like he needed a further confidence boost. his robes are clean, brushing the floor. his eyes are trained on the head table, though they linger there for only moments before snapping to where you are seated.

   you raise a curious brow. he blushes, looks away, and takes his seat next to crabbe and goyle, both of whom clap him on the back like he’s just returned from war.

    you ignore him the rest of breakfast, which is a rare action for you. you used to revel in tormenting him, coming face to face with him at every corner just to give another snide remark; it was a game back then, back when the two of you were younger and felt as if you could get away with it. 

    breakfast ends shortly thereafter, and you hurry to gather your things. swinging your bag over one shoulder, you duck your head down and escape into the crowded corridors, losing yourself amongst the sea of black clad students. 

   but you’re a fool to ever think you - of all people - could escape draco’s magnificent return to school. his cold fingers wrap around your wrist before you have a chance to turn the corridor to your next class, stopping you in your tracks. part of you wants to spin around and punch him, just floor him in front of everyone, show him that you’re not just some silly person showing up on his front doorstep every other night.

    instead, you slowly turn and give him a smile, one of your big ones to let him know you don’t mean it, that you’re being hostile.

    his face is set in stone, that frown so perfect and soft looking it makes you want to sob. 

    “where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asks, keeping his voice low because god forbid anyone catch him speaking to you.

    “class,” you reply. “so kindly let go of me, malfoy.”

   “not until you tell me where richard got another muggle passport to sell.”

    you freeze, though you knew this would be coming eventually. richard is one of your best customers, but he’s not very bright; he’s never understood the concept of subtlety when it comes to the trading of muggle artefacts. 

    “he has a new one, does he?” you say. “good for him. his collection must be getting awfully big by now.”

   draco scowls. “my father is starting to get very suspicious, y/n, and i don’t know how much longer i’ll be willing to cover for you.”

    you pry your hand out of his grip, nearly stumbling from the momentum. “is that a threat?”

    “it’s a warning,” he says. “i might not like you, but i don’t need you going down for something like this. people know we’re familiar with each other, and i don’t want you tarnishing my family name.”

    you scoff. “your family name has been tarnished since you-know-who was in power.”

    “shut up. don’t talk on things you don’t understand.”

    “all i need to do is pick up a history book.”

   draco scowls, those blues eyes ablaze. you’ve seen this look on him when he’s speaking to those gryffindors he hates so much, when a teacher takes someone else’s side over his own. you’ve seen this look on him plenty of times, but never aimed at you; for some reason, his expression is always so soft around the edges when trained on you.

    “i’m trying to do you a favour,” draco mumbles. “because i’m serious when i say my father will snap you in half if he finds out you’re the one providing these artefacts to the dark market.”

    “i’m not afraid of lucius,” you reply. “and i think you’re kind of forgetting the fact that your father actually likes me. at least a little bit.”

    draco’s eyebrows fly up in amusement. “what’s given you that idea?”

   “the fact that i’m still allowed in your house after all these years.” you grin, basking in the way draco’s own smile fades at the realisation you have indeed recognised this behaviour within his family. “yes, malfoy. you all try so hard to convince me i’m the scum of the earth, but the truth is, you appreciate my company. the truth is, you make me tea every time i visit. the truth is, you’re all a little fond of me, whether you want to admit it or not.”

    his face pales even more, a feat you didn’t think possible until seeing it with your own two eyes. it’s a delicious win, a point for you in a competition you didn’t even realise you had entered.

    “you’re delusional,” he mumbles. “you say you picked up a history book, then you must know how my family feel about your kind.”

   “my kind?” you raise a brow, feigning ignorance just to annoy him. he hates outstretched conversations, especially with you. “are you talking about half-bloods, or pickpockets? oh! or people who can run circles around you without fear?”

    you don’t give him a chance to reply, because quite frankly, you’re done with this conversation. you’re done with him for today. you prefer it when you’re in control of your daily draco interactions. 

    you turn on your heel and leave, rushing for your next class even as he calls your name. you can’t believe the nerve of him, approaching you like that, telling you to quit the job that’s gotten you off the streets, that’s helped you fund an education for yourself. these robes you’re wearing, the books you read in class, the wand that is an extension of your arm by now - all of it was funded by you, from your own pocket. just because the business is ruthless, not some posh, clean dealing that malfoy is used to, doesn’t mean it’s any less important.

   you want to shove that explanation down his throat, just so he’ll finally look past his own privileged little bubble. you hate admitting it, but the truth is, draco wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so blinded by his upbringing. he knows how to be nice - you’ve seen it before, experienced it before, though you never talk about those experiences with anyone. there have been a few times where draco has seen you walking past his house, soaked to the bone from the rain, and he’s let you in, warmed you up by the fire, placed a hot chocolate in your hand. he’ll insult you and call you stupid and claim he wants you out of his house as soon as possible, but he was still the man who made the move to get you out of the rain.

    your feelings for draco are a jenga tower. built up to full form, but slowly, pieces get chipped away until the entire thing is falling, and you have to rebuild it and try again. 

    you don’t know why you keep rebuilding it after so many disasters, but as he calls your name at your retreating back, you can feel yourself already putting those blocks back together.

   ----

     charms class really is a pain.

   flitwick is nice enough. he’s patient, which is good, and very much needed when it comes to your skills in the classroom. you’re an intelligent person, always studying because you want to be the best. you love seeing the look on draco’s face when he looks over and sees you’ve got a higher grade than him. it gives you such a thrill.

   but charms is your downfall, because nothing makes any sense. flitwick explains the spell, and the hand movements, and he leaves you to your own devices, and you always somehow end up messing everything up.

   today, all you’re doing is tossing a pillow to the other side of the room. it’s a simple spell, a simple gesture, and yet you still manage to smash a window in the process. flitwick merely sighs, explains the charm again, and gets you to repeat the process until you’ve got it right.

   it takes a while. you don’t like it when things take a while.

    by the half hour mark, sweat is running down your face, and your teeth have been gritted for so long it’s starting to hurt. you throw your wand down on the table, rake your hands through your hair and say, “i’m taking a break.”

   “please do,” flitwick grumbles, rubbing the spot on his head where a vase smashed into his skull, thanks to your handiwork.

   you slump down on one of the pillows you have failed to charm and run a hand along your brow. it’s actually disgusting how much energy gets taken out of you from doing such a simple thing. it’s also very confusing, considering you’re able to master the most difficult spells in defence against the dark arts without so much as a second thought. why tossing a pillow to the other side of the room is getting to you is both a joke and a mystery.

    as you pull yourself together, savouring your moment of rest, someone slumps down next to you. you glance over, an eyebrow raised at bailey o’boyle, a boy you’ve done business with a few times in the past. he was only dabbling in the black market at the time, too young to understand what it was actually all about, but you weren’t going to be the one to ward him off, not when he had a good few galleons with your name on it.

    he looks at you now with a smile, big and dopey, just as it always is.

   “can i help you?” you ask. 

    “yes.”

   you wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. he just keeps staring at you.

    you grit your teeth. “with what?”

    “i need an electric scooter.”

    you raise a brow. already the word ‘electric’ has got your attention, because that’s not something the wizard world is very familiar with. what bailey is doing right now is forming a business deal. you’re not usually a fan of bargaining in the middle of class, but since you have nothing better to do. . .

   you turn, ducking your head and lowering your voice. “what the fuck do you need an electric scooter for?”

    “to sell,” he replies. “i’ve got a man who collects them. he’s willing to pay big money, y/n. big, big money.”

    you like the sound of that.

   “i’m a pickpocket, you know,” you say. “it’s not going to be easy pickpocketing an entire scooter from a muggle.”

    bailey shrugs. “i said i’d see what you could do. but if you’re not up to it. . .”

   your eye twitches; you hate that phrase. realistically, you know this is far beyond your expertise. you steal wallets, and passports, and house keys, tiny things you can sneak away without detection. trying to get something like an electric scooter from a muggle without being caught is close enough to impossible that even the lure of galleons isn’t enough to convince you to do it.

   still, of course you’re going to think about it. there are many different side streets in muggle london that you could go down, and if you do it at night, the shadows could be used to your advantage. nobody would even bat an eye if you wore-

    draco grabs your wrist and pulls you from the floor.

   you yelp, stumbling into his chest. he lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you’re more surprised at his strength than you are at his actions.

    bailey’s eyes widen. he stutters, trying to feign innocence, but neither you nor draco are interested in him any more. you whirl on malfoy, shoving him away.

   “what the hell?”

    “what the hell, is right.” he grabs your arm. “come with me.”

   you struggle against his grip, but truth to be told, you’re not really putting up much of a fight. you’re still in shock at how easily he was able to lift you, at the feel of his fingers around your upper arm. 

    he drags you from the classroom. flitwick being flitwick doesn’t even bat an eye; he’s probably relieved that’s two more students he doesn’t need to worry about.

    in the hallway, draco finally lets go of you. you jerk away so fast your back hits against the wall. draco raises a brow, but he still looks furious. his nostrils are flared, his face is pale, and god, he keeps clenching his fists like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat.

    god help you, you kind of want him to. just to know what it feels like.

    “again,” you say. “what the hell?”

   “i knew you were stupid, y/n, but that’s bad even for you.”

    “excuse me?”

   “you do realise blaise was listening to every word you and bailey were saying in there?” he shakes his head, jaw clenched. “i was trying to talk over you, but your loud mouth is quite difficult to ignore.”

    you blink. firstly, wow. bargaining in class really isn’t a good idea, and you really should have known better.

   but also, wow, draco actually tried helping you out.

   you swallow and fold your arms over your chest. “i had it under control. blaise isn’t gonna do shit.”

    draco laughs. “blaise’s dad is in the ministry, idiot.”

   “stop calling me that. i’m smarter than you!”

    “do you understand what i’m telling you, y/n? if blaise says a word about what he heard to his dad, that’s you done. there’s no getting out of that.”

    a chill runs down your spine. draco glimpses the movement, and you swear his features soften slightly.

    “i just can’t believe you were so careless.”

   “why do you even care?” your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. you kind of hope draco doesn’t hear it, but his eyebrows shoot up, and his cheeks gain a tiny red tint that lets you know he doesn’t really know the answer to that question. 

   you swallow, looking up to meet his eyes. “why do you care, draco?”

   “because.” his throat bobs. there is a moment of hesitation where you think he’s going to tell the truth. maybe he’s going to shock the world and just tell the god damn truth, but then he clears his throat, pulls his shoulders back and says, “i’ve already told you, y/n; if you go down, you’ll tarnish my family name. i can’t have that.”

    your insides wilt like his words are acid being poured down your throat. you laugh a little too loudly, a bark more than anything close to amusement. it’s so vicious, so filled with hatred that draco actually flinches away. in that moment, you want to give him a real reason to flinch, a real reason to be afraid.

    but you don’t, because he’s the boy who pulled you out of the rain.

   instead, you shake your head and say, “tell flitwick i’m ill. and don’t bother talking to me ever again. let me handle my own business, thanks.” and without another word, you rush down the hallway to the dorm rooms, refusing to look back at him. this time, he doesn’t call your name, doesn’t chase after you in that hopelessly stupid way you want him to. of course he wouldn’t. 

    you throw your robes off the minute you burst through the doors of your dorm. it’s empty besides a fellow slytherin’s cat laying on the bed. the black and white feline lifts its head at the sound of you, and you ignore it’s confused little mews as you scramble into your own bed, pull the privacy curtain over and bury your head in your pillow.

   you hate him. you really, really hate him, and that’s not even an exaggeration. he’s the worst person you’ve ever met. he’s this tormented little shit who thinks he has every right to throw his anger at everyone else, just because he isn’t tough enough to stand up to mummy and daddy. he’s so desperate to stay in line with everything his parents say, and it’s ridiculous. it’s embarrassing. it’s a cowards move.

    there are so many things you wished you said to him before storming off, but there’s always that moment of hesitation when it comes to anything you want to say to draco. you either have to check it’s not too nice, and even when it’s mean, you have to check it’s not going to actually upset him, because you don’t want to do that either. you don’t know why. you should spit in his face for the shit he puts you through, the confusion he makes you feel. and he doesn’t even care. he just carries on being a little prick, like nothing is wrong in the world.

   but surprise, surprise, draco. not everyone can live a lavish life, worry free. 

   --- 

    you manage to ignore draco for the rest of the day. it’s easily done, considering draco doesn’t like to make a big deal out of the fact that you two actually have history; he likes to pretend he associates only with people of the purest blood, the most talented wizards, ones that come from the old families.

    but he can’t keep his eyes off you.

    he knows he’s hit a nerve. the way his eyes follow every movement you make, the way his jaw ticks when you don’t even give him the time of day - he’s not a stupid boy, as much as you like to tell him he is. he can see when he’s upset you. 

    classes drag in the rest of the day, and it’s a massive relief when you’re finally released from the confines of lessons, free to do whatever you want. after stealing a bit of food from the dining hall, you head up to the slytherin dormitory; you like it best when it’s empty, when you can just sit with your own thoughts for a while. you need it today, because today you actually let yourself be a normal teenager, and you hate it. you hate the feeling of hormones and overreactions, but sometimes it’s hard to help it. sometimes you need to let yourself feel emotional.

    alone in the dorms, you reach under your bed and pull out your handy box of trinkets. most of the contents are just things you’ve stolen that never found a home - a penny from a london sidewalk, an old napkin with a mystery person’s phone number scribbled on it, a black and white photo of a couple standing in front of the ocean. however, tucked away amongst those simple, boring things is a green emerald - one you stole from the malfoy manor a few years ago.

    you got it from draco’s room, because you weren’t meant to be in there, and you wanted to let him know that you had, in fact, been in there. the emerald was stitched into the collar of one of his shirts, all expensive looking and wasted. you nearly scoffed at the sight of it - when would draco ever get to wear something so glamorous anyway? plus, the emerald looked far too heavy to be confined to a shirts collar; it would be very uncomfortable, you assumed.

   that’s why you grabbed a knife and cut the stitching to shreds, plucking the emerald from it to claim as your own. you tossed the shredded shirt back into draco’s wardrobe, tucked the emerald into your pocket and then walked out, content with the knowledge that draco would be yelling at you in due time once he noticed his missing jewel.

   but the yelling never came.

   draco knew you had stolen it. again, he isn’t stupid. his shirt was shredded, and the jewel was missing, and it was obvious who had done it - the known pickpocket who was strolling through his house every other night. 

   he just never said anything, like he wanted you to keep it, like he didn’t mind it was in your hands now.

   you stare at it, legs crossed beneath you. you’ve always prided yourself on how little you care for expensive things - you don’t complain that you haven’t got much, that you grew up poor, never able to afford the grand things draco has. but you still handle this emerald with so much care, flipping it round in your fingers, looking at every curve and delicate groove in it’s cut. 

    the dormitory door opens. you trust it’s just someone who’s eaten too much and wants an early night, so you don’t panic or falter. you listen to their footsteps patter across the room, the thump of their robes hitting the floor, followed closely by their shoes. you listen to their privacy curtain screeching open, their sigh of annoyance at something you can’t see-

   and then draco pops his head round your privacy curtain.

   you yelp, fumbling with the emerald. it slips from your fingers, however, and crashes to the floor at draco’s bare feet. he stares at it as you curse, an eyebrow raising, and you don’t even try and hide it. you just let him stare, arms folded over your chest, annoyance brewing in your stomach just at the sight of him. 

    finally, he slowly looks up. “mine, i take it?”

   “good guess, rich boy. can i have it back?”

   he picks it up and tosses it into your lap. you’re pleasantly surprised at his cooperation, but still keep that frown on your face.

   “what do you want?” you ask, violently stuffing all your belongings back into the cardboard box. 

    “you weren’t at dinner,” draco replies. “i wanted to make sure you weren’t causing any more trouble.”

    you scoff. “oh, trouble, yes. tarnishing the malfoy name. the end goal for us all.”

    draco stares at you, lips pursed. his gaze is always so warm, a physical thing that makes your skin crawl. “that comment bothered you, did it?”

    “nothing you say bothers me, draco. it just baffles me how you can be so dense sometimes.”

    “ouch. that one hurt.”

   you roll your eyes. “why are you here? i have nothing to say to you.”

   “you don’t have to say anything. i just wanted to make sure you’re alive.”

   “not like you care, though, is it?”

    draco’s nostrils flare. his throat bobs, eyes tracing the length of your throat like he’s a hungry vampire. his lower lip slips between his teeth, the expression startling you. he looks like he’s trying to reel himself back, like some unwanted emotion is fighting for dominance in his brain.

    “you’re really stubborn, aren’t you?” he asks after a moment.

   “you think?”

    “i still don’t know what i did to piss you off so much.”

   you bark out a laugh. “no, of course you don’t. god forbid a malfoy is self-aware for once.”

    he groans. “can you not just make things simple? why do we have to go around in circles like this? it’s a waste of time!”

    “is that meant to be an apology?”

   “how can i apologise when i don’t even know what i did?” he’s starting to sound desperate, like this conversation is taking the life from him. 

    you lean back, pulling the box into your lap protectively. in truth, you don’t even know how to word why you’re so upset - it makes sense in your head, but articulating it to someone else is just going to make you sound stupid, maybe even a little delusional. you should know draco by now, people will say. you should know what he’s like, that he cares for no one besides himself. getting upset over him showing his true colours is stupid, a waste of time and energy.

   but you look into his blue eyes right now, wanting nothing more than for him to just understand. understand what, you don’t even want to admit, not to yourself or anyone else. 

   “you hurt my feelings,” you mumble. 

   draco inhales sharply. “i didn’t think i could do that. i never thought you’d let me.”

    “well, you did. congratulations.”   

   “jesus, y/n, it’s not like i wanted to. what did i even say?”

   you stare at him. he stares back. the ball will drop eventually, you know, because draco is smart, smarter than you’ve ever given him credit for. he examines your expression, and you watch the moment his eyebrows start to relax in realisation, the frown form on his face. it makes anxiety coil in the pit of your stomach, because maybe this is just a little too vulnerable. maybe letting draco figure this out on his own was a bad idea.

    but it’s too late now. he draws back slowly, hands curled around the privacy curtain until the fabric is creasing and knotted in his fingers. “wait. . .”

    “go, draco,” you demand. “i have shit to do. business to take care of.”

    “y/n-”

   “go, draco!”

    he stares at you a moment longer before running a hand through his hair and walking out the room. you wait till the door is closed, and then you wait till his footsteps can no longer be heard, and then you throw the box of trinkets to the ground, watching the emerald slip across the wooden floor.

    ---

     the streets of london always look a little different when you’re angry. a little more violent. a little more real.

   muggle london in itself has always felt like a very hostile place to you, but when you’re angry, things get clearer. you notice the vomit stain on the curb, the neglected baby pram in the bush, the beer bottles smashed beneath window sills. it becomes a different place - it just depends on how you’re feeling.

    tonight, you are angry, and everything around you is angry, too.

    you just want a set of car keys, not the actual car. muggle car keys sell at a good price, depending on who you’re dealing with. nobody has requested them, and usually you don’t go out unless asked to do so by a client, but tonight, you just want to be out. you want to be away from the wizarding world. you want to cause havoc with your fingers in the best way you know how.

    it’s busy. it always is. you can guarantee that almost everyone around you has car keys in their pocket - that’s why global warming is so bad. some of them even wear them around their neck, dangling from multicoloured chains with little souvenirs banging against their chests. those would be so easy to just rip off and run away, but you’ve decided to be subtle, which means your eyes are trained on the bulges in people’s coat pockets. so many of them, so careless. 

    a man in a tracksuit seems like the best option. you follow him for ten minutes, keeping your head down, before he finally breaks away from his group of drunken friends. he laughs to himself, stumbling just the perfect amount - he’s drunk, but not drunk enough to be falling over himself, which makes slipping your hand into his pocket a pretty easy deal.

   you go for the kill, quickening your pace, dipping your hand into his pocket-

   he grabs your wrist, and before you even have a chance to blink, you’re on the ground.

    a gasp is ripped from your throat at both the shock and the pain that spears up your spine. the guy is yelling, stumbling back, and holy shit, if he doesn’t shut up right now, the whole of london is going to be on you.

   gathering as much strength as you can, you roll onto your side and push yourself to your knees. “hey man, calm down. sorry. i thought you were my friend.”

    “did you just try and rob me?” he yells.

   “no! no, of course-”

    “you psycho bitch!” he lunges for you, all drunken vowels and grabby hands. you have no idea what to make of his intentions, you just know you’ve fucked up, and you need to get out of here.

    his hands slam into your shoulders, knocking you on your ass. a cry escapes you, but not from the pain. a tiny snap sounds from your back pocket, and you know without having to look that your wand has just broken in half - yet again. dumbledore is going to start getting very suspicious.

    “son of a bitch,” you growl, before raising your hands. “listen, hey. i’m sorry. i’ve said that already. you need to calm down before-”

    “before what?” he howls. “you kill me? are you threatening me?”

    your eyes widen. “no! would you just-”

    the man opens his mouth to say something else, but his words are sucked back in when a hand wraps around his arm and yanks him back. you wince at the sound of his head cracking against the tarmac, but you don’t get a chance to comment before draco is kneeling beside you, one hand cradling your head, the other resting on your knee. his touch alone is enough to spread warmth through your previously frozen limbs, and you hate that. you hate it so much.

    you tug your knee from his grip. “what the hell are you doing here?”

   “are you bleeding?” he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. when he pulls away, his fingertip glows with a red liquid. 

   “oh. i guess i am.”

   “christ, y/n. do you ever just...” he closes his eyes, taking a moment to redirect his anger. it’s an amusing sight, and you almost smile until you remember you’re mad at him. forever mad at him.

   you jerk your head out of his grip, too. “i’m fine. stop worrying.”

    “clearly i have to, or else you’re going to get yourself killed.” he glances over his shoulder, where the drunken man is struggling to sit up, still slurring protestations. “by a muggle.”

    “he wouldn’t have killed me,” you grumble. “although my wand is broke, so maybe he would have.”

   draco’s eyes widen. you wave him off before he has a chance to chastise you again - in truth, you just want to get out of here, car keys be damned. hastily, you push yourself to your feet, wobbling only slightly, but draco must see this tiny action as a full-on collapse risk, as he wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you close, grumbling curses under his breath. you’re such a pain in the arse, apparently, and god, he wishes he wasn’t stuck with you all the time, and he’s so baffled by the fact you’re still alive, it’s probably all thanks to him, blah, blah, blah.

   you listen to him rant the entire way back to malfoy manor. you don’t argue his choice of location, because you can see narcissa standing in the doorway, hand over her mouth, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise, and you already know she’s got a cup of tea waiting for you in the sitting room. you almost smile, but that would ruin the effect.

    she rushes out to meet you and draco halfway, immediately grabbing your face and tilting your head back and forth. you can taste blood on your teeth.

    “what happened?” she breathes, but doesn’t give you a chance to reply. “draco, take them into the lounge.”

   “oh, the lounge,” you coo. “you are spoiling me!”

    “be quiet,” draco hisses, doing as his mother says. he tosses you unceremoniously onto the plush sofa, and you have to ignore the inappropriate thrill that shoots up your body. 

   narcissa appears not ten seconds later, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. you give her a grin, which she rolls her eyes at, even as she sits beside you and brushes your hair away from your face. you take a sip of the tea, smile in thanks, and then lean your head back.

   “sorry about this.”

   narcissa sighs. her breath tickles your cheek, smelling oddly of incense. “i don’t know what we’re going to do with you, y/n.”

   “put me down.” you make a stabbing gesture into your arm and mouth lethal injection at draco. he purses his lips, clearly not taking the joke in stride. “i didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

    “you’re always worrying us,” draco hisses, which earns him a sharp look from narcissa. he meets his mothers eyes and his shoulders deflate. he runs his hands down his face. “you’re just . . . always doing something.”

    “i know,” you mumble. “sorry.”

    “draco, don’t stress them out,” says narcissa, which surprises you; you’ve always known narcissa has a secret soft spot for you, but she’s always tried her hardest to keep it just that - a secret. yet here she is, combing your hair back, giving you a cup of tea, telling her son to treat you nicely. it’s like you’ve entered a different world. “i’m gonna go and make some calls. keep them comfortable, okay?”

   draco nods, lips still pursed, forever displeased. you used to laugh at that expression on his face, but now it just makes you feel bad. 

   narcissa leaves the room, and then it’s just you and draco. you watch as he watches you, eyes never wavering, shoulders never relaxing. he’s got his arms folded over his chest like he’s keeping guard. 

    “i meant it, you know,” you say. “i didn’t mean to worry you. i thought it would be an easy job.”

    “who are you doing business with now? bailey again?”

    “no.” you look down, surprisingly shameful. “it was just for myself. i needed out of the castle, and. . .” you shrug. “you know me. i can’t do anything easy.”

   he scoffs. “yeah, i know.”

   “so i’m sorry.”

   draco closes his eyes and rubs his temples. the rings on his fingers glisten beneath the fancy lights. his knuckles pop, the veins in his arms protruding. “please stop apologising.”

   you blink. “alright.”

    “you act like i don’t understand why you’re doing all this, but i do.” he looks at you, hands dropping to his sides. “just because i don’t have to do it myself, doesn’t mean i don’t understand. why else do you think i haven’t stopped you?”

    your breath catches. you raise a brow, tilting your head cruelly. “you wouldn’t have been able to stop me. you think i’d listen to you?”

    “yeah. i think you would.”

   you reel back, jaw dropping open. “excuse-”

    “you always act like you hate me, but you forget you’ve been coming to my house for years. you forget i’ve known you since we were eleven. you forget that i don’t just put up with anyone. i’ve had time to figure you out, y/n, no matter how much you like to pretend i haven’t.” he folds his arms and leans against the door. his hair is rumpled, along with his shirt and jeans. so casual, so unlike himself. “but earlier on, in the dorms. . . you surprised me with that one.”

    your stomach curls. oh, good god, he’s bringing that up now. you’re sat here with a busted chin and a potential criminal charge, and he’s bringing this up. you could headbutt him.

    despite your glare, he continues. “i knew you didn’t hate me, but i never thought. . . i never thought you liked me, you know? especially not-”

   “don’t say it.”

   his lips twist. “i have to.”

   “no you don’t.”

    “do you love me?”

    your heart falls into the pit of your stomach, which is answer enough for you. love is such a strong word, and you could easily say no, that what you feel for draco is nothing more than a little crush. he’s got the nice blue eyes, and the money, and the perfect hair. he’s got a smile that lights up rooms. it’s a crush. you fancy him, and that’s all there is to it.

    but love sounds pretty accurate. more accurate, actually.

    you swallow. draco watches the bob of your throat, and you watch his. above your head, the massive clock ticks, ticks, ticks. 

     slowly, he reaches forward and swipes his thumb over your chin. it stings just a little, but you’ve felt worse pain, so you let him do it without jerking away. 

     “cat got your tongue?” he whispers.

    you shiver. “i don’t. . . i don’t know what you want me to say.”

    “it’s not about what i want. i was asking a simple question. just give me the truth.”

    “you want the truth?”

   he inhales, hesitates, and then nods.

    “yeah, draco,” you whisper. “i think i love you.”

     slowly, draco draws away. his eyes never leave your own, that frosty blue colour reminding you of the winter sky, or a cold december morning. you remember all those christmas’s at hogwarts when draco would stay at the castle, waking him up because you thought it would annoy him to have your face be the first thing he sees. you always commented on the dreary smile that played on his lips when you did that, and he would always say, “i thought you were someone else.”

    but that dreary smile is returning, pulling across his face, and it doesn’t falter. right now, there is no mistake. his eyes are on you, and he knows it is you, the person who has apparently made his life a living hell for so many years. you’re the ache in his spine, the one he can’t wait to get rid of.

    but you’re also the one he rescued from the rain. 

    you’re the one who cursed hermione granger when she punched him in the nose.

   you’re the one who’s just confessed your love to him.

   shit.

   “don’t look at me like that,” you say, voice hoarse. “don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

   “i didn’t know,” he says immediately, like he’s desperate for you to know he was clueless. “did you know?”

    “kind of. i wanted to ignore it-”

    draco shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. “no, no. did you know that i love you, too?”

    you open your mouth, but no words come out. your brain just short circuits, taking a second to catch on to what he’s said. that dreary smile is still playing at his lips, and you’re waiting for the moment it turns into a sneer, a mocking little smirk.

    it doesn’t.

   “oh right,” you mumble. “no. i had no idea.” you pause. “are you taking the piss out of me?”

    he laughs, a rare and pleasant sound. he approaches you, kneels at your side on the sofa and cups your head in his hands. you melt into him, even though every instinct in your body is telling you to pull away, to run away, because this is nothing more than false hope. he’s playing a trick on you. you’ve annoyed him to breaking point, and now he’s found the perfect chance for revenge.

    but his hands are so warm, and nice, and your cheek dips into his palm so easily, like it belongs there.

    “you’ve always been kind of not smart in my eyes,” he says.

   your eyes widen. “hey!”

   “kidding. i’m kidding.” he chuckles, running his thumb along your lower lip. “but you’re not doing your intelligence any justice right now. i thought i was making my feelings pretty clear.”

   you glare; he knows full well he hasn’t made his feelings clear. neither of you have. you’ve spent the past seven years pretending to hate each other.

   he grins. “okay, maybe i didn’t make it so easy. but you didn’t make it easy for me, either.”

   “i still don’t believe you.”

   he raises a brow. “why?”

   you shrug. “it just doesn’t seem possible that someone like you could fall in love with someone like me.”

    his eyes soften. “wow. maybe you are not very smart.” 

   before you have a chance to protest, he kisses you. just like that, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, or maybe like it’s an action he’s been waiting to do for years, and now he’s finally got the chance. that’s what it’s like for you, this coil unravelling in your gut after years and years and years of ignoring it’s existence.

   you run your hands through his hair, tugging on those pesky strands at the back that always stick up because he refuses to wear anything other than collared shirts. he growls into your mouth, pulling you closer, closer, closer, until your legs are tangled with his, and his fingers are tracing a line down the centre of your throat. he stops at the hollow, just to feel the bob of your throat as nerves spiral through you. he grins against your mouth, pulling away to see the shock in your eyes.

    he’s so proud of himself. he’s made you a mess.

    you smile awkwardly, trying to regain some amount of composure. he watches you, heavy lidded, one hand still clutching your knee as the other curls around your throat, just where your neck and shoulders meet. the way he stares at you, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

     “so,” you begin. “you’re worry wasn’t actually just for your family name, was it?”

   draco sighs, plonking his forehead against your own. “no, y/n, it wasn’t. my worry was losing you. which i very nearly did tonight.”

   “don’t be so dramatic. i wouldn’t have died.”

   “you could have.”

   “but i wouldn’t have, because that guy was drunk, and a muggle, and-”

   “are you two arguing again?”

   you and draco jump apart as narcissa storms into the lounge, wand clutched to her chest. her narrowed eyes are firm on draco. 

   “i told you to keep them comfortable!” she exclaims. “can you not put your differences aside for ten minutes?”

    you grin, teasingly running a finger along draco’s spine. “yeah draco. listen to mummy.”

    he growls, but turns to narcissa and says, “sorry, mother. you know how y/n gets.”

   “yes, i know,” narcissa mumbles. “but they’re injured. now, let me take this phone call, and then we’ll set up the guest bedroom. can i leave you alone for ten more minutes?”

   “yes,” you and draco both reply immediately. narcissa hums, and walks out.

   draco immediately spins, grabs your wrist and pulls you to him, slamming his lips to yours. you laugh against his mouth, melting into the embrace for only a second before pulling away and saying, “she’s trusting us to behave for ten more minutes, draco. this isn’t behaving.”

    “oh, fuck that,” he scoffs. “come here.”

   you let him pull you closer, closer than you have ever been with him before, because you’ve always been so convinced he never wanted you more than a few feet away from him. suddenly, everything draco has ever said to you is reconstructed in your mind, every action, every little look. 

   you wonder if he’s doing the same. 

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp fic #hp #draco x reader

[saphirered]

Can I request the Mighty Nein funding out the reader had been hiding a kinda injury

I hope it turned out the way you wanted it! Thanks for requesting 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb is no stranger to physical injury and has embraced his squishy wizard nature. You however have covered up many injuries in the past, letting them heal on their own as you always had before you had handy clerics around to fix you up. Old habits die hard and unlucky for you, when he’s not nose deep in a book Caleb will see right through your brave face act.

Upon finding out you’re injured Caleb would simply sit you down. He’ll take it upon himself to tend to your injury despite your best efforts to convince him you’re fine and it’s just a scratch. He knows better.

Silence. You’ve never managed to get a word out of the wizard when he’s caring for your ailment. He’s completely focussed but will listen to you talk so his silence is not rooted in concentration.

Caleb won’t mention your injury to anyone. It will be your little secret but you’ll be able to catch him staring at you, and when you meet his eye he’ll give you a little half smile; a nonverbal ask to see if you’re alright.

(Beau)

Training accidents happen but hardly ever exceed bruises. A sparring match gone wrong may have ended with you getting a bo-staff to the ribs with a little too much force but you play it cool. It’ll be fine. Just some bruises. You assure Beau you’ll sleep it off and it wasn’t that bad.

Beau’s not entirely convinced and definitely pries until you come clean. Persuasion isn’t Beau’s strong suit but she makes some solid arguments, and threats that leave you forced to reveal your secret.

Upon seeing the injury Beau will curse like a sailor, telling you you should have told her. Best not to mention the trouble breathing… Wether you want to or not she’ll go get the clerics to fix you up despite any and all protests.

Beau will keep grilling you for weeks, bringing your injury up as ammo in any argument she needs won and will keep a close eye out. She’ll refuse to spar with you but we all know Beau likes her training and with you being one of the very few actually able to keep up (sorry Fjord) she’ll give in and beg you to train with her again, this time more mindful of her actions.

(Fjord)

Fjord may play cool but he tends to be a worrywart and when he already has enough on his plate you be mindful not to stress him out by facing him with anything else. That includes you getting a pretty heavy hit from an enemy in combat.

Back on the ship you resign yourself to the lower deck and cargo hold duties as to stay clear of Fjord’s direct line of sight. You’d take the crows nest but an injured leg will do you no good climbing.

Bad weather and a leg injury at sea do not mix well and you, being slammed into the side of the ship unable to get back up sends Fjord in overdrive. He’ll help you below deck to a safe spot and prepare for basic care until one of the clerics can come fix you.

Fjord’s seen enough injuries; others’ and his own and knows well enough what you got didn’t come from your little tumble. He’ll be extra tentative but scold you for not saying anything and telling you you should tell him in the future.

Regardless of the clerics’ opinions he puts you on bedrest for the next few days until he feels like you’ve learned your lesson. Don’t count on being allowed to go up to the crow’s nest for a while though.

(Veth)

Having taken a tumble down the stairs while reading a book and conversing with Caleb (who you had to swear to secrecy) you deliberately stayed clear of Veth unless you had any sort of object to lean on to support yourself.

It’s more out of embarrassment you’re hiding this one even though your ankle hurts like a bitch. Every time you, Caleb and Veth are in the same room you’re sending the wizard death glares when he holds back a comment or laugh at your desperate attempts to keep this a secret.

Veth’s a mom and if there’s one thing moms are good at it’s figuring out when someone’s hurt. The moment your facade falls through, she’ll go into overdrive, pushing you to lay down on a couch or similar soft surface area, rushing to get you extra pillows and the likes.

Be prepared to have Veth hoover over you until you’re in the clear. She’ll do whatever she can to make you comfortable and brings you some trinkets to pass the time. Maybe don’t ask where she got them because they were definitely not in her previous possession.

(Jester)

It was gonna be an epic move! You’d jump down, weapon at the ready to stab down into the creature; death from above! Didn’t go as planned as you got swatted out of the air by the creature before you could strike down.

Luckily no one saw. After the battle you just claimed the plan fell through and you had to improvise. Meaning, you gritted through the pain of being rag-dolled into a cavern wall, got back up through the pain and back to battle.

If only Jester hadn’t asked you to help harvest the monster parts so you could sell them. You could barely carry your weapon, swinging it; different story. But Jester is persistent and you couldn’t just refuse the cute blue tiefling so you obliged gritting through the pain hoping no one would notice you taking a quick breather every so often.

Jester did notice and came to inspect your work, with a tap on your shoulder you feel a radiant warmth spread through you, making breathing and moving in general a lot easier. A thanks is in order and you’re sort of glad Jester keeps this on the down-low.

“Next time just tell me, okay?” Jester makes you pinky promise and you know that’s binding so you better keep your promise.

(Caduceus)

There’s a reason why you leave the cooking to Caduceus. You’ll happily cut some vegetables but try to stay away from anything else throughout the process of preparing food. When Caduceus asked you to watch the stove and add some spices to the food as he rushed to the pantry to get some more ingredients you were worried…

What should you do? Caduceus didn’t tell you how much to add of anything. Maybe you can just sniff the spices? Yeah, that sounds right. Opening the small jars and pouches one by one go through. You add a little of the fragrant ones and a bit more of the neutral spices.

One sniff of a red flaky powder sends you into a coughing fit, your airways burning like a blazing fire. Water doesn’t help. If anything it makes it worse. You get your breathing and cough under control but you do not trust your voice and scalding throat so when the firbolg returns you keep quiet.

No responses from you are a bit odd and what were you thinking you could keep anything from this man. Caduceus calls you out on your behaviour asking questions that need words and not nods, shakes, shrugs or the likes.

Upon you trying to talk he immediately knows what happened. Putting on a quick brew, in a short time you’re presented some tea to remedy your burning throat. It may not be your worst injury ever but it surely is an uncomfortable one. You gain a new appreciation for the dead people tea.

(Yasha)

You felt like you couldn’t do anything but try to hide the bleeding gash on your side, luckily covered by your clothing. Yasha had already gone through enough, last you needed her to deal with is the knowledge she injured you severely when under the control of someone else.

Back to normal you head into the next fight. For some reason you’re faltering and making mistakes you otherwise wouldn’t. Yasha notices and will be at your side in an instance to defend you but a single enemy blow sends you unconscious.

You can confidently say that opening your eyes to a raging barbarian pouring the contents of a healing potion down your throat is one of the most terrifying and admirable moment’s you’ve witnessed in your life.

Yasha asks when you got the cut since your bloodstained clothes don’t 100% add up. Tempted to come up with an excuse Yasha has you figured out. Prepare for endless apologies and a guardian angel watching over your shoulder threatening anyone with even remotely malicious intent into thinking twice about their actions.

(Mollymauk)

Molly will pretend he hasn’t noticed you’re hiding anything when he’s caught on you are being secretive. You’re entitled to your secrets.When he finds out you’re injured that’s no different. Unless it’s something that could be the death of you he’ll play along. You’re stubborn so you get to feel the consequences of your stubbornness.

He’d ask you to help him with this new routine he’s been working on or push you to spar with him. He’d make sure you have to pay extra mind as to not make it hurt as bad as your injury does when resting because that’s when the severity of your injury becomes clear to him.

Molly would deliberately make everyday tasks a little harder. You’re doing dishes? could you carry the heavy tub of water? Setting up camp? Keep pressure on this or hammer that into the ground. Will put your things out of your reach where you’d have to climb or jump to get them.

He’ll keep these shenanigans going until either you come clean about your injury or he really gets worried to the point he’ll have to step in for your own wellbeing. The former usually occurs leaving him smug and willing to carry you claiming to be your daring saviour.

Depending on the severity of the injury he’ll be a pretty decent caretaker spending time with you and assisting you whenever you need it. When it’s not as bad anymore he’ll be teasing you as much as he can. He won’t make you forget your stubbornness and pride gets in your way of admitting defeat and we all know he loves winning the game.

#critical role #critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #beau x reader #beauregard x reader #veth x reader #nott x reader #jester x reader #caduceus x reader #yasha x reader #mollymauk x reader

[seyaryminamoto]

As someone, who's favourite character is Zuko, let me just say that your analysis about the Southern Raiders is spot on. Something about that episode (especially the way Zuko acted) always felt a little... off to me. And I could never figure out what it was exactly and considering the fact that discussion about this episode centered around the Kataang vs Zutara, I thought I was the only one who felt that way. So, I guess thanks for putting my thoughts into words.

Oh, I really feel ya, anon. If you actually don't look at the episode from a shipping point of view, which seems to be the focus of most the fandom, a lot of unpleasant things really start sticking out. I'm personally neutral to the Kataang vs. Zutara debate, I see good points and drawbacks to both ships, and no one's going to convince me that this episode proved the superiority of either pairing, especially when the shipping interpretations have never been important to me when analyzing this episode. People can say Aang is right in the end, they can say Zuko understands Katara's plight better (which, considering Aang has lost even more people he loved than Zuko has, he certainly should have understood Katara's suffering quite well too), but focusing on whether Zuko or Aang are the angel or the devil on Katara's shoulders practically blinds everyone to the very glaring and mindboggling flaws in this episode's writing, imo.

In general, the concept of Zuko's life-changing field trips with the three Gaang members he'd wronged the most is fine and fun for most people, but from the first time I watched the show it felt like the production team knew they were pressed for time and needed some veeeery quick and effective solution for Zuko to gain acceptance in the Gaang ASAP despite all the bad blood there. I can imagine a lot of people love these episodes, but admittedly I wouldn't rank any of them among my favorites because, as interesting as some of their concepts could be, if executed right, my immersion certainly wasn't as strong as with the rest of the show due to the nagging feeling that this was all for the sake of redeeming Zuko in the eyes of each Gaang member... and not necessarily in the eyes of the audience.

They get away with it, of course, because by this point in time, the audience is 100% conditioned to love the Gaang and Zuko, and if you see them getting along, you should be rejoicing in their team-up... but if you put some emotional distance between yourself as a viewer and the events of these episodes, their writing leaves a lot to be desired, especially in the concept of giving Zuko a quick whitewashing in the eyes of Aang, Sokka and Katara, one after the other, so they can genuinely accept him as a teammate and friend. If we'd seen similar trips frequently or occasionally in the rest of the show, with two specific members of the team taking off on an adventure by themselves, it might not be so glaringly obvious (and even... artificial? I guess?) that they're trying to quick-redeem him for each of them here, but on top of it happening thrice, it's literally happening one after the other, too. There's no episodes in-between, it's just literally a four-parter arc of "let's help Zuko become friends with these three".

The plotlines to be dealt with in these episodes are basically catered to each Gaang member, tailor-made life-changing field trips based on whatever they'll value the most, all of it conveniently possible and doable in the span of time they have between Zuko's joining of their group and the show's finale. Aang needs to learn firebending, Sokka needs to save his dad, Katara is permanently grieving for her mother's death. And so, Zuko to the rescue! If he helps them with their personal character quests, he gets 50+ approval points! :'D Honestly, I'm absolutely not against the notion of Zuko befriending them, obviously not, but the methods through which they chose to make it happen simply might not be the finest...?

Zuko loses his ability to bend because he "lost his rage", but he's still angry pretty often, the show even spoofs its own writing by showing him losing his patience at Sokka... while at the same time trying to sell that Zuko "isn't angry" anymore? Zuko helps break out random prisoners from the Boiling Rock without taking a single moment to actually learn who they are, why they were locked up, and without pondering if they deserve to be helped or if perhaps they're genuinely dangerous? Zuko gives Katara every possible tool and information she needs to take revenge on Yon Rha, because, loosely quoting his own words, he "cares what she thinks of him"...?

How about if we'd seen Zuko trying to connect with Fire Nation people, to help his fellow Fire Nation citizens, especially the ones who were living in dreadful conditions, like the ones in the Jang Hui river village? How about if we'd seen Zuko saving lives rather than threatening to take them? How about if we'd seen Zuko actually reasoning with his anger, and either working his way out of it, or repurposing it consciously, or making legitimate, personal efforts to find a new source of strength for his firebending through self-reflection, above all else?

We didn't really need sudden one-on-one field trips to teach Aang, Katara and Sokka to trust Zuko: we needed Zuko to prove himself worthy of that trust, to show how much he has changed, to literally contrast his new behavior with the old, to actually see that the guy no longer jumps into violence-mode 24/7, that he's willing to listen to other people's opinions or wisdom, that he wants to learn better when he knows he's misguided or misunderstanding something or another. Would he have become BFFs with any of them in four episodes if this had happened? Well, it definitely would have happened with Aang, the other two would have been trickier, but they definitely would have been more willing to accept him if they actually got to SEE that the changes in Zuko weren't skin-deep. Katara can be as thick-headed and stubborn as she may want to be, but I have no doubts she wouldn't have been able to hate Zuko as much as she used to if she'd seen him helping people, much like she often wants their group to do. But instead, they don't get to see the actual changes and growth... they just get their biggest goals and wishes satisfied, and that's enough to decide Zuko's trustworthy, no matter whatever sketchy behavior he displays in later episodes.

I absolutely appreciate the worldbuilding context we gain for the raids on the Water Tribe through The Southern Raiders, but I don't think this was an organic way to tell the story of how Zuko became friends with the Gaang. If pressed, I'd even say that Zuko's overt desperation to be their friend is OOC, to a degree: if this guy actually knows how dangerous his father's plans are (and he's supposed to :'D), how isn't he focusing on that side of things, when he's always been such a go-getter? It's not like he grew out of this sort of ends-justify-the-means behavior, seeing as he's absolutely obsessed with stopping his father ASAP, by any means possible, in the finale, when there was no such urgency to be found ever since he joined the Gaang. How isn't he more worried about stopping Ozai than about becoming best friends with the Gaang? Immediately sharing everything he's learned about Ozai's intentions of destroying the whole world might not make them friends instantaneously, but it would certainly get someone like Sokka to take his information seriously and immediately begin strategizing how to counter Ozai's plans. Instead, Zuko spent all those weeks, over a month, even, teaching Aang firebending, going on field trips and hanging out with his new friends in Ember Island. Once you have all the cards on deck and you actually look at all of them at once, doesn't it feel like there were so many more ways to achieve what the show was going for, far more effective ways than through the "let's be friends with Zuko" arc?

Ultimately, there's very little display of growth, in my opinion, in this small arc, on Zuko's side, despite the most obvious and reasonable way to earn the trust of the Gaang would be by outright showing them how much he's grown. I won't deny I appreciate that the writers respected his personality and didn't just warp him into the perfect good softboi the way the fandom apparently interprets him, but even if Zuko was going to be cranky and speak one-liners like "I'm never happy", it wasn't impossible to write better situations for him to connect with the Gaang's members and gain their trust. Even if the writers were set on having these episodes happen exactly as they did, they absolutely could have been written in a much better way, to create an explicit and direct contrast between Zuko's early behavior and the new Zuko's behavior when it comes to things that matter (most the parallels I've seen the fandom drawing are things like "oh look he hated tea before but now he brews it for his friends! So much growth!"... would've been nice to see the growth when it came to a lot of other things, too, if the growth really was there? Am I rite...?).

I may just be influenced by other redemption arcs that focus mainly on characters having common goals and working together to achieve them, then becoming friends in the process... but I really don't see how Zuko's character benefited from these episodes. Yes, bridges were built... but they absolutely could have been built in a more organic way that didn't make people like myself (and a few others) question if Zuko had learned or grown at all, considering the way he behaves isn't all that distant from the Zuko we've seen and known throughout the rest of the show. And the fact that he really seems to have learned nothing in The Southern Raiders once you reach the show's finale... you're basically asked to take for granted Zuko did learn a lot of lessons because he says he did, to assume he's going to put them into practice sometime in the future despite he has chances to do it during the show itself but never does, simply because they drop the ball upon every opportunity to show how much he's changed.

I really don't blame his character at all, when it comes to these shortcomings... it's seriously, genuinely, a problem with the writing department. Take a look through the fandom and you'll see thousands of people who claim Zuko's character arc is the most touching, complex and beautiful writing they ever have seen... and why? Because we're in the face of tell-don't-show :'D most people's perception of Zuko's character are based not so much on HOW Zuko displays his growth, it's strongly based on him stating he made progress, even if there's too many instances where the growth simply seems to have fallen to the wayside or gone forgotten for the sake of a plotline or another. Zuko absolutely could have been written far better than this, he could absolutely have the redemption arc his fans are sure he does have, but for me... there's way too many gaps in logic, too many missed opportunities, to truly think his growth was as extraordinary as a lot of people are hung up on saying it was.

#anon #woops #I probably shouldn't have written this much here but what can I say #I've got beef with these storylines #and I unfortunately can't bbq it (?) #so instead I ramble and ramble and hope you guys forgive me for how long-winded I can be :'D

[wintervvidow]

apricity

part one.

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, blood mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 2,364

A/N: hi! welcome to part one of apricity! set in mid-captain america: the winter soldier. this idea has been in my head for a very long time and I am super excited to finally get it out. in this story I use the term “winter widow” , similar to the “winter soldier”, it has no correlation to bucky and natasha here. prolonged italics indicate a flashback.  friendly feedback is appreciated! thank you! <3

ALSO: please know that future parts will take a WHILE. I just want to get the first part out to get the ball rolling.

MASTERLIST 

The silence is what breaks her. She swears she would have been fine if it weren't for the silence, the screams of innocent bystanders no longer existed, the smell of gunpowder burning her nose and stinging her eyes. Aside from the erratic breaths coming from both their lips, you could hear a pin drop as their eyes stared at each other in a blinding intensity as Steve Rogers called out to him, “Bucky?”

The gun feels entirely too heavy in her hands as her lungs expand rapidly, eyes unmoving from the ghost of a man in front of her. Except he isn't a ghost anymore. He's here, alive. James Buchanan Barnes, her Bucky, alive.

He’s clad in all-black tactical gear, metal arm glinting blindingly in the sun. His eyes are a stormy shade of blue, same as the ones that haunt her in her nightmares, not the kind blue she wishes she could have back. The Winter Soldier is the shell of the man she was in love with, the man in front of her was the man she learned to love all the same. He protected her even when he didn’t remember her, even the brainwashing couldn’t fully get rid of the love they both had for one another. Although HYDRA fought like hell to make them both forget. It never worked though, fragments of memory always littered their conscience. 

His brows furrow, overgrown hair in his eyes, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Deep down in her bones, she knew he was alive. The last time she saw him he was being wiped by HYDRA, his screams masking her disappearance into the winter weather. HYDRA searched high and low for her, yet they forgot that they were the ones to train her. HYDRA perfected her, taught her how to disappear into thin air, and that's just what she did. They went as far as to send the Winter Soldier to find her, but even he couldn’t track her. Florence was a ghost. 

Florence Morozov was many things before she was an assassin; she was an immigrant daughter, a friend, a nurse, and her greatest title of all, the love of Bucky Barnes' life, his fiancée. The couple, along with the third wheel Steve, were inseparable in their younger days before the second war. Where there was one, the other two were usually not far behind. 

The trio had gone to the Stark Expo the night before Bucky got shipped off to the war. That night Bucky had proposed with a small emerald ring, promising her that when he got back they'd get married, move into a little white picket fence house, and settle down. They dreamed of growing old together surrounded by their kids and grandchildren. Only that dream had been crushed under the heel of HYDRA, not long after Florence enlisted as a nurse and Steve became Captain America, notably leading the Howling Commandos. Florence worked closely along with them, acting as a medic when needed. 

When Steve woke up from his 70-year slumber on ice, Florence had a lot of explaining to do. How she was alive, what she had been doing, where she had been. She told Steve what he needed to know, leaving Bucky out of the answers. She had to protect him, even if it meant lying to their shared best friend. She would do anything to protect Bucky. 

Florence explained to Steve that when she fell off the train with Bucky, she had been captured by HYDRA and experimented on. She was sent to the Red Room to be trained and then sent back to HYDRA in the ‘50s. She was their puppet for 46 years, coined the name the Winter Widow before she disappeared in late December of 1991. Florence was on the run for 17 years before she was taken in by Clint Barton, joining S.H.I.E.L.D along with Natasha Romanoff. 

Natasha and Florence grew to be very close over the years, the trauma they both shared bonded them. Natasha was the only one to know the full story of Bucky, every nitty-gritty detail that haunted Florence in her dreams. When Nick Fury had been killed, both Florence and Natasha immediately recognized the ballistics information, a silent agreement between the two redheads to only tell Steve what he needed to know, no more than that. Florence only told Steve that she knew the Winter Soldier, nothing more. Natasha understood her secrets, she had them herself, her response of, "That's not my story to tell, we all have secrets for a reason."

Florence quickly tracked everything up to this moment. Fury being attacked, Steve's description of the shooter, the Winter Soldier attacking them on the highway only minutes ago. And then there was the chase between the soldier and Florence, trying to divert him. And it worked, Florence had managed to distract him until he got too close, the pair of lovers engaging in hand-to-hand combat until Steve intervened.

And now here she was standing in the middle of the street with a bullet in her shoulder from none other than the Winter Soldier. Flashes of the mission in Odessa running through her mind, he had shot her in the thigh then, Natasha in the abdomen. Steve stood in shock as the ghost disappeared, leaving Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Florence to be surrounded by HYDRA agents and arrested. 

Blood trickled down Florence’s shoulder as she was seated between Sam and Natasha in the back of the truck. Her shoulder felt white-hot as she grits her teeth, Sam nervously glancing at her every second. Steve sat across from them, visibly upset, lifting his head to glare at Florence, eyes cold, "You said you knew the Winter Soldier, that you two had a history, not that it was Bucky!" Steve felt betrayed, his oldest friend lying to his face for years about his best friend.  

Sam angrily glared at Steve as Florence rasped her response with a shaky breath, "Steve, I'm kind of bleeding out right now. This is going to have to wait, just know I had my reasons. I did it to protect him. And you." 

Florence knew this day would come. Bucky wouldn’t be a ghost forever. She fought herself internally every night, dreaming of him. It was always him; the good and bad, the Red Room, what happened after the Red Room, their mission in Romania, and every second in between. She was permanently trapped in her own personal hell.

Steve continued on, “It was him. He looked right at me and he didn’t even know me.”

Florence knew the feeling. Every time Bucky was reprogrammed, she had to convince him to loosen his grip around her throat, begging him to recognize her before he killed her. And every time he did, his eyes flashing in recognition and guilt. And then he would hold her shivering body against his in the confines of their shared cell, murmuring in her ear that he was sorry. And she knew he meant it. Even if his mind barely recognized her, his heart always did.

Sam questioned Steve loudly, causing Florence to flinch as she fell back down to reality, “How is that even possible, that was 70 years ago.” Florence felt bad for Sam, he just jumped headfirst into a dark world with more questions than answers. 

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. Florence, how are you even alive? Zola didn’t get to you before the fall?” Steve just asked the golden question.

Florence took a deep breath in, “I don’t know. There are gaps in time, I don’t remember much from it. They all said that the fall should have killed me but it didn’t. Then I became a lab rat. The end.”

Steve looked her directly in the eye for the first time the entire day, “They must have found him and…”

Natasha interrupted him, she knew where this conversation could lead, “None of that’s your fault, Steve.”

Florence shifted slightly, sharing a look with Natasha, silently thanking her for diverting the conversation. 

Sam shifted beside her as another wave of blood oozed out from her shoulder, he turned to the guards, "We need to get a doctor here. If we don't put pressure on that wound, she's gonna bleed out here in the truck." Florence appreciated Sam’s protective and caring nature as Steve continued glaring daggers her way. Florence knew Steve wouldn’t understand her reasoning, too set in his ways of complete honesty all of the time. He didn’t understand what it meant to lie to keep those you loved safe.

The nearest guard flinched forward, flashing the taser at Sam before turning the taser on the second guard and kicking him unconscious. The guard pulled the helmet off of themselves, revealing Maria Hill, “God, that thing was squeezing my brain.” She motioned at Sam, “Who is this guy?” Everyone shared a collective sigh of relief at the sight of Maria. 

After ditching the car, the team arrived at an undisclosed location. The doors of the truck opened, allowing sunlight to flood in. Steve helped Florence down from the truck, supporting her weight with ease. Blood continued to trickle from her shoulder as she leaned against him for support as Steve spoke while he half carried her forward into the building, “I’m not mad. I get why you didn’t tell me.”

Florence laughed slightly, her body weak, “Are you just saying that because I got shot and I’m currently bleeding out all over you?”

Steve scoffed, his body vibrating with the action, arm tightening around her, “No, Flo.”

Behind her and Steve, Sam called out for a doctor. People ran towards them from the opposite end of the hall, Maria Hill speaking over the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall, "Natasha, there's something you're going to wanna see. Steve, get Florence patched up."

The group broke apart for a short period of time, Natasha reappearing with a hopeful expression on her face as Florence grimaced in pain next to the doctor stitching her up, "Fury is alive."

All eyes remained on Natasha as she explained how Fury was alive, a medication Bruce Banner had come up with did the trick to fake his death. Florence looked to Sam as he digested this information, he didn’t know what he got himself into. She could feel Steve's eyes boring into her head, but she didn't dare look. Her mind was a constant loop of Bucky. 

Flashback: 

His calloused hand led her through the crowd of people, Steve trailing far behind. The trio had just gotten finished dancing and now they were wandering aimlessly through the busy streets of Queens. The air was brisk as it blew through Florence’s auburn hair, her dress fluttering around her calves. Bucky stopped in front of a movie theater, the lights casting a warm glow over his face as he turned to face the girl. Her cheeks were blushed pink from the chill of the air and a smile had been permanently etched on her face all night.

 The news that Bucky was being shipped off in the morning loomed over them like a rain cloud but Bucky was determined to keep her smiling; at least until the morning. His hand abandoned hers, reaching down to fish in his pocket. He found what he was looking for quickly, the velvet box small in his hand. Florence gasped at soon as the box came into the light, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew what this was, she accidentally stumbled upon it when she was putting away clothes last week. A small emerald ring.

Bucky knelt down on one knee, flipping the box open, “Flo, you’ve been by my side through everything. You’re my best girl, always there keeping me in line. I love you more than words can say. I know I leave tomorrow and I should have done this years ago, but will you make me that luckiest man on earth and marry me?”

Florence flew into Bucky’s arms in a flurry of kisses and agreements, Bucky lifting her up and twirling her. He gently set her back on the ground, slipping the ring on her finger as she giggled. Bucky met her eyes, tears glimmering in them, “I promise you, when I get back you and I will get married, we’ll buy a house and we’ll make it a happy home; kids, dogs, a garden, all of it. I promise you.” By the end of Bucky’s promise, both he and Florence were crying in each other’s arms, each one clutching the other tightly, both hyper-aware that the future wasn’t promised. 

Steve stumbled his way through the large crowd, catching sight of his two best friends hugging each other. He didn’t have the heart to break them up at the moment, so he watched on with a smile. It would all be okay.

Bucky sat in the test chair underneath the bank piecing the remnants of his memories together. He knew them. The man knew his name, or at least what he thought was his name. And he knew the girl he shot, memories of her smiling flickered through his mind. Yet they were complete strangers, their faces foreign yet home all at the same time. 

Alexander Pierce was terrified of this day, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He knew of the attachment Bucky had to the Winter Widow, ever since she disappeared in ‘91, the soldier was harder to control, more agitated and violent. He screamed her name in his sleep and when they wiped him he was always mumbling about her when he became coherent. They tried to program it out of him, and when that didn’t work, they tried to beat it out of him, hoping she would vanish from his memories the way his blood washed down the drain. Nothing ever worked. The Winter Soldier was irrevocably in love with Florence Morozov and Alexander was going to use that against him.

The Winter Soldier’s mission was to kill Steve Rogers and Florence Morozov.

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