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heliads · 3 years

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Secrets Kept

Based on this request: “thomas x reader and one of the other people are being rude and they slap her and they get all worked up and mad? (maybe the person is making fun of her because she got attacked by a griever (she’s a runner) and minho had to help, but minho also stands up for her)”

masterlist

You’ve been running in the Maze for maybe an hour, maybe more. It’s not long enough. It’s funny how every morning, you wake up and manage to convince yourself that being a Runner is easier than you think, that you’ll be able to keep moving endlessly and never have a problem with it. You seem to forget how hard your job is overnight, but you’re reminded of it every single morning. To be honest, you’re not sure what you expected when you signed up to be a Runner in the first place, but the constant exhaustion is just one of the side effects.

That being said, you wouldn’t trade this job for anything. A slight grin appears on your face as you look around you, tilting your head up to feel the breeze whipping around the corners of the Maze. Your mind is turning, thinking of ways to remember every hall and corridor that you cross. Beside you, your running partner turns to you, eyebrows raised over your apparent delight. This causes Minho’s attention to be focused solely on you, which is why he doesn’t notice your boyfriend, Thomas, appearing down a nearby corridor.

Your eyes widen imperceptibly. Thomas isn’t supposed to be here, not at all. You joined the ranks of the Runners a long time ago, way before Thomas even showed up here and wanted to risk his neck with the rest of you. That meant that he would be a part of a different pair of runners, one that wasn’t you and Minho, and that he would be assigned a completely different part of the Maze to run for today. Ever since the Gladers discovered that different sectors of the Maze opened at different times, they carefully divided each sector into runnable routes that were parceled out to the various pairs of Runners. Basically, all of this means that you shouldn’t once see Thomas during the entirety of your daily run, yet here he is now.

You think you know why he’s here, though. Your theory is proven when Thomas stumbles to a halt mid-step after realizing that Minho is seconds away from discovering you, and quickly stumbles behind a wall of the Maze for cover. When he peeks out again, he’s got a smirk on his face that tells you that the added danger of getting caught is only making him more willing to risk discovery.

Why is he here, then? Well, it’s probably because you’re dating Thomas, or at least you have in secret. Once you showed up to the Glade and became the first girl to add to their numbers, Alby set in motion a rule that none of the boys could even come near you. They could be friends all they wanted, but the second they looked at you with a desire for something more, they’d be thrown in the Slammer before they could say ‘I escaped the friend zone’.

You’ve been perfectly fine with this rule. There are enough gaping boys in the Glade that make you more than alright that Alby gives any flirting slintheads a death glare. However, when Thomas showed up, you just couldn’t stick to the plan. He was kind to you, and it seemed like he was the first one to truly listen to you for a very long time. When you spoke about anything, when you even so much as sat next to him, Thomas would look at you with this soft smile that made you want to reach over and kiss him right then and there.

You’d been afraid to do something, at first. What if you misread something and suddenly it was you crossing his boundaries as opposed to any one of the Gladers with you? Then, one night at the Bonfire, Thomas had been walking you back to the Homestead when he’d turned to you with this look in your eyes, one that made you shiver slightly despite the heat of the dark hour. He’d asked if he could kiss you, voice low and rumbling in the shadows, and you’d barely been able to nod your head yes from the thrill of it.

Ever since then, you’ve been happy enough to consider him your boyfriend. The problem is that Thomas still technically isn’t supposed to be seeing you, and the only way you can kiss him is if the two of you sneak out to the Deadheads or find time when nobody is around to reach over and wrap your arms around him. These come with an unsurprising rarity, as the Glade is practically overrun with shanks with little to no concept of personal space and privacy, so you have to make do with what you have.

This means that on days like today, when Thomas had been held back from seeing you even into the late hours of the night, he’s willing to stretch some rules and come find you himself. So, you turn to a still unsuspecting Minho, and gesture for him to go forward without you. “Tell you what, I’m going to fix my shoe. I think there’s something in it.” Minho starts to say something about how he’ll wait for you, but you hurriedly wave his concerns away. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

Minho hesitates one last moment then shrugs, turning to keep running. You watch him go, afraid to make the slightest of motions towards the general area behind you where you spotted Thomas, lest your running partner suspect something and come back to you. Minho’s just disappeared around a corner when a pair of hands descend on your hips, spinning around to come face to face with Thomas, who’s wearing a particularly proud grin at the look of surprise on your face.

You reach forward to smack his arm. “Slinthead. I thought a Griever was sneaking up behind me.” Thomas just laughs. “I don’t think Grievers look this good.” You try to hold back a laugh of your own. “Good to know that your pride hasn’t been hurt by you bending the rules all the time. We could get caught, you know.” Thomas just lifts a shoulder in dismissal. “I’m dating the prettiest girl in the Glade. I’d say that’s worth going behind Alby’s back.”

You fight to keep heat from rising to your cheeks. “The prettiest girl in the Glade? Thomas, I’m the only girl in the Glade.” Thomas smirks. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Just accept the compliment, Y/N.” You open your mouth to protest, but you’re effectively silenced when Thomas leans forward to kiss you. Suddenly, all of your complaints are evaporating into the hot air of the Maze.

You allow yourself a few minutes of this before you reluctantly bid Thomas farewell. Despite being able to throw Minho off your tail for a little while, you can only ‘fix your shoe’ for so long before the boy starts to suspect something. When Thomas finally lets you go with a goodbye kiss and you jog down the labyrinthine corridors in search of your running partner, you do so with a smile. How’d you get this lucky?

You find Minho after a little while, who offers up a few joking criticisms about how long it takes you to tie your shoes. You bear these with a smile, knowing that your real reason for being late is something that far outweighs any of Minho’s sarcastic comments. The two of you run for a little longer before heading further into the center of the Maze. It is only there, once you’re as far away from the Glade as you could possibly be, that you realize that something is wrong. It feels as if you’re suddenly not alone, that you and Minho aren’t the only ones lurking in these corridors.

Seconds later, something heavy comes to an abrupt stop in front of you. You and Minho rear back in identical shock, staring at the Griever, the one that’s just jumped down from the walls of the Maze to land a few feet ahead of you. You gaze at it unthinkingly, unable to move a muscle despite all of your body screaming for you to run. “How is it here? I thought Grievers weren’t supposed to come out during the day!”

Minho gulps beside you. “They’re not, but this one’s here anyway. Run!” That’s all the incentive you need for your legs to start working again, and the two of you turn and sprint in unison. Your feet are pounding down the ground, your body focused on the sole goal of surviving. You thought you were tired before, but all of that exhaustion is gone now, replaced by an intense adrenaline rush that leaves you feeling as if you’ve got all the energy in the world.

You race around corners and down straightaways, your breath coming hard in your chest. Despite the fact that you’re running as fast as you can, you almost get the feeling that the Griever is toying with you, not going after you with as much force as it could truly muster. Indeed, once you’re almost to the final corridors separating you and the Glade, it seems to draw back, disappearing into the halls of the Maze once more.

You turn to Minho, gasping for breath after your abrupt sprint. “What was that about? Why did it stop?” Minho shrugs, hands on his knees for any kind of support. “I don’t know. Maybe it wanted to stop us from going too far. Maybe we were going to see something that it didn’t want us to see. All I know is that I’m pretty shucking happy that we’re still alive.” You manage to limp over to him, slapping him on the back. “You can say that again. Let’s go tell Alby that we’re the two unluckiest shanks in the Glade to stumble upon a Griever in the middle of the day.”

Alby is, unsurprisingly, stunned by this news. This contradicts everything you’ve thought of the Grievers and the Maze before today. No matter how strange your living situation in the Maze is, the rules have never changed- Grievers come out during the night, and the night only. No one has any idea what to think now that this has changed, and to be honest, no one really wants to think about what happened. In the end, Alby decides that there’s nothing you can do about it except tell everybody to be careful.

As a result of this, you see a lot of somber faces around the Glade that afternoon. Everyone’s clustered into tight groups, talking in hushed voices about obviously critical topics that no doubt revolve around your little Griever incident. When Thomas comes back from his run in the Maze, you see his face fall in an instant when he hears what happened. He starts to come your way, expression twisted with concern, but you shake your head once. Technically, you’re not supposed to know Thomas that well at all. Let Newt handle him- despite everything, you still can’t blow your cover and reveal to everyone that you’re dating.

Still, the anxious mood persists around the Gladers. Gally eventually gives in and asks Alby for a Bonfire Night, which the older boy approves. This is basically just an excuse to light things on fire and pass around Gally’s suspicious brew, but everyone’s so keyed up over what just happened that Alby decides everyone needs a night to have fun. Once the glasses of amber liquid start getting passed around, though, you begin to think that it might not have been such a good idea after all.

Once fear mixes with Gally’s concoction, people start getting louder, their friendly punches in the fighting ring less charming and more antagonistic. You decide to leave early, already tired of the signs pointing to the fact that this night will not be going well. However, you’re barely taken a few steps away from your seat before one of the more drunk Builders stops you in your tracks.

“Where are you going, Y/N? Running away again?” You raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” The Builder scoffs. “We all know what happened with the Griever. You saw it and ran away. Big bunch of nothing for someone who’s supposed to be one of the bravest Runners we’ve got.” You fold your arms over your chest incredulously. “Then feel free to take my job. I’m sure all of your experience stacking bricks will help you deal with a monster as tall as a house.”

The Builder’s smug smile drops. “Are you calling me a coward?” You snort. “I’m calling you weak. Get out of my way, I don’t want to deal with you tonight.” You move to walk past him, but the Builder just shifts to block your way again. “Like shuck. You don’t get to call me weak.” You stare back at him, feeling anger starting to rise up in your chest. “And you don’t get to call me a coward. You wouldn’t know bravery if it hit you over the head.”

This is probably a bad idea, you know that. This thought is proven correct when the Builder’s hand moves in a blur across your field of vision, and seconds later, your hand is coming away from your nose. There’s a streak of red across your fingers that tells you that he’s hit you hard, harder than he should have for what was supposed to be a friendly bonfire night.

Already, there are outraged shouts coming from around you, Gladers already starting to come to your defense. The loudest one, though, is from the boy who’s already by your side. Somehow, you’re not surprised that Thomas is already here. He probably would have punched the guy already, were it not for the fact that Minho and Newt both are holding him back. “Don’t you dare hit her. Don’t you dare.”

The Builder chuckles, although you can tell that he’s afraid. “What are you going to do? Hit me? We’ll just be together in the Slammer.” Thomas stops fighting against Minho and Newt, fixing the Builder with a death glare that makes the boy flinch. “You wish. Were it not for the fact that I actually give a damn about what’s supposed to happen around here, you’d be on the ground, trust me.”

The Builder raises an eyebrow, trying to add to his tough-guy demeanor in the hopes that it’ll cover up for the fact that he’s slowly trying to back away. “What do you care about what I do? This doesn’t concern you.” Thomas takes a step forward, and the Builder practically shrinks back. “Actually, it does. Y/N’s braver than you could ever dream of being. Do you know what it’s like to come face to face with a Griever? The fact that she’s not dead should tell you something about how tough she is. And yes, this does concern me, because she’s my girlfriend.”

Silence falls around the Bonfire at Thomas’ words. He glances over at you now, realizing what he’s said. “Surprise.” You laugh in spite of yourself. “Well, it was going to come out eventually.” You reach over, slinging your arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s let Alby deal with this slinthead. We’ve got better things to do.” Thomas allows himself a grin, moving away with you. “That we do.”

maze runner tag list: secret bestie @underc0vercryptid, @ellobruv

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clarissalance · 3 years

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Wolves

Pairing: Kaeya x fem!Reader, Diluc, Crepus

Warning: minor swearing, cheesy flirt, dry humour

Summary: All men are wolves.

A/N: Muahaha I have came back and brought you the blatant cheesy flirt. Welcome to the first lesson of flirting with Kaeya. Lol, guess who is coming next?

Also, I’m planning to write a wind-trace fic because the game is so fun. (p/s: I waste 3 hours playing it) Guess who is in it?

Okay, the first fic for my lover boy. Please give Kaeya a lot of love!! (*￣3￣)╭

Another beautiful day, another day of wasting the lovely weather to stay inside the study room, bury your head into the pile of books next to you. You let your eyes wander to the window again, gazing rays of light fleeting through the window, golden hues on the wooden floor. Tiny specks of dust accumulate overnight, fluttering around the curtain. Outside, the chirping birds bathing under the sun, casually chilling on the window. Oh, how you wish you would be able to relax like those carefree animals.

“You might burn the birds crips the longer you stare at it.” Startled by the quiet voice, your head snaps toward the blue-haired teenage direction, and you can’t help but scowl at his statement. You can’t be the only person in the room who wants to go out and play. Knowing Kaeya, he’s definitely trying to find an excuse to end the class early.

The only person who is diligent, hard-working, and does not have thought about leaving this room is the young master Diluc. The young man is sitting opposite you, eyes burning holes on the thick textbook.

Archon, how can a 16 years old overly enthusiastic person like him enjoy the excitement of reading Descartes philosophy? Maybe he is the only child in Mondstadt, no, maybe in the whole Teyvat who enjoys something torturous like that. Shivering at your own thought, you shift your chair closer to Kaeya, giving Diluc a terror gaze.

“Aren’t you going to finish the essay?” Pointing at the half-full parchment on the table, you ask. “ Diluc and I already finish it.”

“ Oh, how do I know? How am I suppose to understand Kant and Descartes theories, and then link them to deductive and inductive reasoning?" Kaeya lets his finger running through the silky blue hair and pulls them out of frustration. On the other side, Diluc shoots him a glare, annoyed by his brother complaint.

“How did you guys do it?” Kaeya asks boredly, his finger pokes the quill.

You put your hand under your chin, beaming him charmingly. “ You know Kaeya, it is something I call improvisation. Words just flow out of my tip.” Under your lashes, you can see his cheek dusting pink. Cute!

“ Just read the books, and you will get it.” Diluc unhelpful adds.

Both of you stare at red-head incredulously. Is he being serious?

Like always, Kaeya knows he can not take your advice to heart. One is a genius, and the other is just pure luck.

Suddenly, the door is burst open, and you quickly shove your feet into the shoes, eyes darting to see the intruder. Internally, you hope that person is not lady Elizabeth, your etiquette teacher. Your blood runs cold at the thought. You can already imagine her sharp tones commenting how horrendous and un-ladylike your act is.

“How is your study going?” A deep, strong voice booming from the back, and finally, you get let out a breath. Diluc looks up from his book, beams brightly at the man.

“ We are done with homework, father. These are just extra reading.” Well, for the record, these are his extra readings, not yours. And Kaeya hasn’t finished his 2 feet scrolls of essay yet.

Master Crepus nods in satisfaction. “ If that is finished, you kids can take a break. The young lady from the Gunnhildr family is here with her father. Maybe you can give her some accompanies.” The middle-aged man directs the words at you, maybe feeling guilty for leaving a young lady like you in his two sons care.

Your parents left you in the Ragnvindr care every Summer because of their hectic schedules and frequent business trips at this time of the year. In addition, your mother says it is essential for you to have good relationships with the heir of Ragnvindr and his brother. “Maybe you will need their help someday.” She left it vaguely.

“ Are you guys going to drink again?” Kaeya suspiciously questions, his eyes glinting with playfulness.

“ Hey, what’s wrong with men having a drink together?” Crepus defensively retorts, notices how Diluc gives him a disproving gaze.

“ When you guys grow up, you would enjoy it too.” The three let out opposing noises, clearly not having the same idea as him. The man waves dismissively return back the topic.

“ Let’s come down to greet the head of Gunnhildr first.” He heads toward the door, down the hallway.

“And be nice to the young lady, boys.” The master emphasizes the phrase, his eyes pinning at the guilty-looking Kaeya and the absent-minded Diluc. Finally, he exits the room, not forgetting to close the door.

“ Father says as if we don’t treat people nicely.” Kaeya pouts, right after Crepus footstep drifting away from the study. “ The workers never complain anything about our behaviours, right Luc?”

Sitting next to him, you can't help but let out a snort. He dares to say that? Kaeya raises eyebrows at you, annoyed by your shaking shoulder. The boy in red has a blank face, maybe not interested.

“ First, you guys ignore me for 2 weeks when I just came here.” You burst out in laughter, recalling back at the very first memory when you just arrived here.

“When I tried to approach, you both avoided me like the plague.” Your whole body is shaking vigorously, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. This is too hilarious! Somewhere in between, you can spot Diluc burning cheek.

“ Haha, and haha-later,” You can hardly breath, laughter bubbling up. “Adeline told me your reason is ‘It's b-because she doesn’t have a willie.' ” Dramatically air-quoting, you even imitate their stuttering childish voices. This earns you a pointed glare from Diluc and a smack in the arm from Kaeya, but a good laugh is always worth it.

Both of them freeze on their tracks, faces puff red as tomatoes, steaming almost coming off their ears. If the young heir is to wear a red suit, you are sure he can blend in well with the mansion roof.

Diluc shifts stiffly in his chair and abruptly stands up, heading toward the exit. Maybe he is too embarrassed at the mention of his dark childhood.

“Where-haha, are you going, Luc?” You are still in the middle of your giggling, noticing how Diluc is dashing to the door. Letting out a coughing fit, he quietly mumbles.

“ I'm going down to greet the Gunnhildr family.” His figure vanishes right behind the door, not letting you tease him further. Outside, the painful sound of Diluc tripping on his own feet make you almost fall off your chair. You have too many good laughs today.

“Right, I-I should get going too.” Next to you, the blazing Kaeya remembers to dig a hole and hide. His hand slams hard on the table and the youthful teenager stands up, gracefully heading toward the door. Maybe he wants to avoid becoming another joke.

" Ah, wait-" You follow instantly, but the moment you stand up, something slips, and the next thing you know, the ground is shaking, and you see the ceiling is getting further.

Your first instinct is to grab the closest object, and then close your eyes, waiting for the painful impact with your head. Clench your jaw tightly, and you hold your breath, hoping it will hurt less if you tense your body.

Right after tensing up, you feel someone just grab you by your shoulder, and your feet step on something bumpy. And then, your head makes an impact with something hard. A grunting is followed.

Heart hammering in your chest, you cautiously peek, expecting yourself to see the ceiling, but instead, greet with an unusual sight. A pair of dark colour trouser paired with leather shoes. On top of it is your feet, loosely wore low heel is stepping on that leather shoes. Shit, you stepped on Kaeya. In a panic, you rush down from his painful sore feet, but your head jams in his ribs. He just let out another woeful sound.

This time, you carefully keep your position in place, slowly remove each foot one by one, moving away from him. Craning your neck upward, you finally meet his gaze, his eyes are full of concern and uneasiness, spooked out by your sudden incident.

“Did you hit your head hard?” Kaeya asks you nervously, his voice laced with anxiety. He must have been terrified when you slip. You shake your head, hands grabbing his shirt.

" I should be asking you that. Are you okay?" You give him a worrying gaze, your fingers running along his ribs, checking if your stone head broke anything. " I didn't break anything, right?" Hesitantly, you look into his deep blue eyes, noticing the diamond shape. Has he always has this in his eyes?

Kaeya snorts inelegantly, shakes his head. " Your head is hard as a rock, but that much can't break my ribs yet." This earns him a hit on his arm.

"Hey! I'm trying to be considerate, and this is how you treat me?" You jab him, hand purposely smack his chest, but he doesn't budge an inch. How strong is this guy? This time, you put all the force on your arm, slapping hard on his chest again. The young man in the blues shoot you a shit-eating grin, clearly not faze.

"How is my chest feeling?" He pokes, his palm engulfing yours.

" Too hard for my liking." You give him a complex look, trying to escape from his tight grip but fail miserably. You wiggle your hand again, shaking off his iron clad. Why is he so strong?

While you are attempting to flee from his firm grasp, the young man leans down, face an inch away from you. Flushing at the sudden closure, like usual, you avoid his burning gaze. You hold your breath when your noses almost touch. What is this rascal doing again?

" You shouldn't be touching men like that." Kaeya opens his mouth, saying something completely out of nowhere. You tilt your head in confusion, while your eyes travel down, you notice your hands still on his chest. O-oh, so he is saying about this.

" I don't normally touch random people." You mumble defensively, your eyes lower. " I was checking for your injury."

"They will misunderstand." Kaeya cuts in right after, not accepting the excuse. But why would they misunderstand? You are just being nice, right?

Like he can understand what is going inside your mind, Kaeya reminds you.

"All men are wolves, you should be more be careful with them."

You give him a confusing look.

Kaeya is not one of them, right?

Eventually, he let out a soft sigh and moves back, allowing you to savour your personal space. Just right after your throbbing heart finally calms down, he brings your tight-griped hand in his to his face. Your meet with his alluring look in his eyes. It is pulling you in, telling you to give in the temptation. Plump lips brush your knuckle teasingly, he blows a warm breath on the back of your hand. He gives you a saccharine smile.

" And if not be careful." His husky voice ringing in your ears, the numbing spark runs along your spine. "They might devour you."

#kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin impact #genshin x reader #all men are wolves #fluff #romance #implication #bad chilhood memory #willies #clarissalance #diluc ragnvindr #crepus ragnvindr #kaeya ragnvindr

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starglow-xx · 3 years

Text

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 3)

platonic! yosano akiko x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff but trigger warning!! there may be a sensitive topic for others

*getting grabbed and pulled to an alleyway! alcohol mentioned!*

please remember that yokohama isn’t the friendliest place, especially at night.

previous: part 2 : their beloved president

author’s note: same ages as last time!! (so that means everyone is one year younger than canon; that makes yosano 24)

this one is actually pretty long :0

i got info abt her likes on her wiki page (careful! there’s spoilers!)

and yosano is a queen and no one can tell me otherwise

the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

going grocery shopping was an okay chore in your opinion

it honestly depended on your mood or whatever kind of shit happens when you go shopping

cause like something always, always happens whenever you go do groceries

sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, and sometimes it’s just plain weird

one time some weirdo proposed to you in the middle of the store asking for a double suicide

he was good looking you’d admit but it’s not like you’d ever see him again

or so you thought

a n y w a y s

every so often, you’d run out of real person food in your apartment

you mostly survive off all of the leftover bakery treats and ingredients—which works out pretty well actually—but bakery supplies unfortunately also run out quite often

and also unfortunately, one time when both fukuzawa & ranpo took a visit to Sakura’s, fukuzawa argued that “no you can’t live off sweets for the rest of your life”

ranpo was scandalized and scrambled to cover your ears

you guys were at it for a while

in the end you sided with fukuzawa causing ranpo to go off about “betrayal from the people he cared most abt” or smth like that

you guys were okay again after bribing him with sweets :)

for bakery supplies you usually have them delivered bc you order them in large quantities bc ahaha no way were you gonna carry like 15-20 50 pound bags of flour no way

when days like those happen, you close up the bakery early so you aren’t walking home when it’s too dark

you scheduled it to happen every first saturday of the month

on those saturdays, you close at 5 instead of at 8

currently, you were at the grocery store looking for basic cooking ingredients such as proteins, vegetables, fruits, and most importantly, snacks

ranpo’s been rubbing off on you

the sun was starting to set and you were walking home with your two bags of groceries when shit went down

tbh you were kinda expecting it cause your grocery run was peaceful for once

but what you weren’t expecting was a wack-a-do to appear out of goddamn nowhere right when you were opening the side door to get to the staircase up to your apartment

like honestly

let a woman do her own thing

the man who grabbed you tried to covered your mouth so you couldn’t scream but you didn’t exactly make it easy for him

you kicked and thrashed around even using the grocery bags—that were somehow still in your hand—as a weapon and the man struggled but he was still bigger than you and was able to bring you to a nearby alley

he reeked of alcohol and you spotted a wedding band on his left hand

not that you cared about the detail in the moment

you kicked him in the groin and in response he let you go only to fall on broken glass that was in the alley way

using the wall to help yourself up, you grabbed a nearby wooden stick and struck him right on his back

your attacker fell and you immediately turned on your heels to escape only to fall back down on the hard cold ground once again

you lift your face up and look back to see the man holding onto your ankle

grabbing a shard of glass—cutting yourself in the process— you begin to swing it at him only for him to easily grip your wrist and stop you

you get ready try and kick him in the groin again but you’re interrupted as your attacker gets sucker punched and flies to wall

you look up to see your savior and you’re blessed to see a beautiful woman, probably not that much older than you are—she’s probably around ranpo’s age— donning a white long sleeve button up, a matching black necktie, knee length skirt, and gloves, along with tights, red heels, and a pretty butterfly clip in her short black hair

but what you really notice is her eyes

ranpo’s eyes were pretty but you like hers just a bit more

you’ve always liked the color magenta

the pretty lady holds out her hand and you take it graciously and thank her as she helps you up

as that’s happening, your attacker gets himself onto his feet and his groan catches both of your attention

he struggles to stand and the pretty lady simples saunters over to him and delivers an uppercut knocking him out cold

you’re stunned and you breathe out a “thank you” making her turn towards you

she notices the condition you’re in

bleeding scrapes on your hands, arms and legs, small rips in your clothes like your tights, blouse, and skirt, and the ruffled state of your hair and clothing

she asks if you live nearby and you tell her that you own the bakery that’s one or two buildings away

when you tell her that, it clicks in her mind that you must be the bakery girl ranpo’s been talking about and the friend fukuzawa was cat sitting for

it’s been abt two weeks since ranpo and fukuzawa first met you and since then, they’ve seen lucky in the office plenty and the boxes of your signature sweets even more

if those two trust you, she has no reason not to

she smiles at you, holds out her hand for you to shake, and introduces herself as the doctor of the armed detective agency

your eyes widen and you smile back at her shaking her hand

“ah! you must be yosano-sensei then! ranpo-san and fukuzawa-san have talked about you! it’s so nice to meet you! im (l/n) (y/n)!”

“they’ve talked about you too, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you (y/n)”

after that exchange she insisted on bringing you home to treat you wounds which you told her it wasn’t necessary

she gave you a pointed look and that was when you realized what state you were in

you sighed and weakly gave in to which she only grinned at

before leaving the alley she walks over to the unconscious man and pulls out his wallet for some sort of identification and home address as you try to see if there’s any groceries still salvageable

after texting the details to kunikida, yosano turns to you poking around the now ruined grocery bags

she simply rubs your back and tells you that the both of you could go buy more groceries together as she was meaning to get some anyways; she even said she’ll pay for you

you refused obviously but she, unknowingly, used the same tactic fukuzawa used with you

“so you’re saying you don’t need groceries?”

“...”

*cue an eyebrow raise from our resident queen*

“...you agency members don’t like making things easy for me huh.”

you gave in reluctantly and at this point you don’t even know why you try negotiating with them

and that’s only three of them

apparently, she was on the other side of the street on the way to buy groceries for the agency when she noticed different produce items on the other sidewalk leading to the alley and she went to check out what happened

ironically, the way to the grocery store from the agency makes you go past Sakura’s but she didn’t realize it until after the two of you had met

before you know it, the two of you are in your apartment kitchen as she cleans and patches up all of your wounds

as she does so the two of you have a little girl talk

you find it quite comforting bc since you opened up Sakura’s you haven’t really had the chance to connect to many people much less other women

you definitely see yosano as your cool, loving, badass older sister

she thinks you’re adorable and agrees with ranpo’s opinion

yup

that’s right

the opinion that you’re like a little kid </3

you called it a betrayal and all she did was laugh at you <//3

“awhh that’s really cool yosano-sensei!—MFPH?!?”

*squishing your cheeks the same way ranpo did* “ranpo-san was right (n/n)-chan, your cheeks are squishy!”

“?!”

after that small fiasco, the two of you talked some more and bonded over your love for flowers, japanese sweets, and much more!!

you even made a date to have a girls day to go shopping and eat out!

you’re internally squealing a bit bc it’s been a while since you’ve gone shopping

yosano notices and she giggles behind her hand not saying anything bc she knows you’ll only throw a fit

the two of you came around the topic of ranpo when lucky passed by

lucky quickly warmed up to the doctor and cozied up in her lap

“i wish ranpo-san was able to meet lucky when he came by the first time, but then again, he’d probably throw a tantrum if i don’t pay attention to him for 5 seconds”

she snorted at that and like fukuzawa, she shared stories abt the slightly older male

“ranpo-san doesn’t know how to ride a train?”

“unbelievable right?”

“for someone so intelligent i expected more from him”

“i’ll be telling that to ranpo-san, (n/n)-chan”

“wha—?! yosano-sensei please don’t!”

like ranpo, she’s also a tease </3

but you love her anyway <3

eventually, she finished patching you up and promised to treat you to a new set of clothes when the two of you go out

“you don’t need to lose a good set of clothes just because of a sleazy man (n/n)-chan! you deserve better!”

you were going to argue that the rips in your clothes were fairly small and could easily be fixed—except the tights—but you stopped in your tracks when you remembered that it was practically useless to argue against an ada member

the two of you walked to the grocery store and bought both of your needed supplies—along with some extra goodies—and then she walked you back to your place bc it was already a bit dark out

but even if it wasn’t, she would walk you anyways

besides, if anything happened to you, she’s 1000% positive that ranpo and fukuzawa are gonna flip the fuck out not that she wont cause she most definitely will

speaking of which

you were drinking a bottle of water as the two of made your way back to Sakura’s when all of a sudden

“(y/n) you do realize that i have to tell shachou and ranpo-san about what happened today right?”

you choked on your water

“yosano-sensei you can’t! if you do they’ll freak! they won’t leave me alone for at least two weeks! one if im lucky!”

“exactly the point”

you just accepted your defeat already knowing that you’d lose

but maybe you can simmer down their anger towards the bastard with sweets and lucky

you arrived at Sakura’s shortly after and after bringing groceries in, you packaged a bunch of pastries leftover from today—bc you closed early—and bc you’re well aware that ranpo doesn’t share any of the sweets you send him with

you even gave yosano her own special box filled with goodies she loves, and a thermos of fukuzawa’s favorite, your special hot honey lemon tea

other than the sweets, you prepared lucky to spend the night at fukuzawa’s

you really really hoped that doing these things would make them calm down

you shivered at the thought of what their responses would be

you felt really bad for giving yosano all these things to carry and that you were keeping her very late

she assured you that she was fine and that if someone tried to mess with her she’d kick their ass

and after exchanging numbers, the magenta eyed queen bid you a good night and walked back to the agency with lucky walking by her heels

arriving back at the agency, yosano was greeted with some concerns asking if she was alright bc she came back from her grocery run pretty late

(she usually goes in the mornings but today was pretty busy so she left in the late afternoon but now it was already dark)

she waved off the concerns and plopped a couple boxes of your signature bakery boxes at ranpo’s desk, the one for her at her own, the last few boxes in the kitchen for any other agent or clerk to grab, placed the thermos on the desk fukuzawa was by, and picked up lucky and handed him to the president

the two males were pleased with what yosano had brought them, and pleased that another agency member had the chance to meet you

fukuzawa was rubbing lucky and ranpo already snacking on treats as yosano expected

but here comes the hard part

or maybe it’s gonna amusing who knows

“i met (y/n) today.”

“we could tell.”

in goes another treat in the green eyed man’s mouth

“would you like to know how?”

“you bumped into each other, had girl talk, made plans to go out, went grocery shopping, and you brought me and shachou presents.”

“great job ranpo-san, you’re almost completely correct.”

this caught the attention of basically everyone bc they knew ranpo was never “almost completely correct”

“we ended up meeting bc she got attacked on her way home from grocery shopping, i treated her wounds, then we had girl talk and did all the other stuff”

ranpo and fukuzawa froze right in their tracks

“i sent all the info of the bastard to kunikida”

“kunikida.”

“yes shachou”

“find out everything about that man and bring it to me and ranpo”

“...yes shachou”

“and yosano”

“yes?”

“text (y/n) and tell her that her cat, tea, and pastries aren’t going to work as a bribe”

just as you finished taking a shower you sneezed

<<previous // next >>

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tsunonotarou · 4 years

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Being Childhood Friends to Lovers with...

notes — Bro I fucking THIRST for this man he can rip me open

— Also I think I’m gonna start this series called “Being Childhood Friends to Lovers with...” because childhood friends to lovers shit is my kind of shit

— We’re debuting this series with Leona 🥳

BEING CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS WITH...

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

— AS A CHILD

He cherishes you a lot even though he might not show it

You’re the first ever person who acknowledges him, first ever person who approached him first and talked to the second son

He thought you were strange at first, because why would you talk to a mere second born when the first is right here with you? So he distances himself and avoided you at first, thinking you have ulterior motives

You got the signs and didn’t pester him after that—which he is glad for—but he find himself secretly looking at you or purposely look for you in the castle whenever you come visit (let’s say you’re a royalty too and your parents’ are good friends)

It was when he saw you sulking and pouting by yourself, he felt bad and maybe, you just wanted to be friends

The servants always prepared your favorite sweets when you come visit but you didn’t want any after realizing that he’s ignoring you

So he took some, went to look for you and threw them at you

“H-Huh?—“ you got startled and quickly looked up, seeing his neutral expression on and looking down on you

“So, your parents bought you that whatever thing you want, and then what?”

The way he remembers your one-sided conversation with him before honestly made you tear up, you didn’t think he was listening

From then on, you were also excited to visit the king’s castle because you get to see him, and you made sure to bring various of things over for him and you to play

There was one time he accidentally overheard some servants of yours “advising” you to stop hanging around with Leona Kingscholar, saying how he isn’t worth your time and shouldn’t be influenced by him

Though he was sure of your loyalty and friendship with him, he still has his doubts, maybe, you secretly dislike him too

He waited for your response, your silence only made him more anxious as time pass by

“...Hey.” He bit the inside of his cheek, awaiting for your answer

“I’m gonna ask my parents to fire you all.”

His eyes were wide as ever, and so were the servants’

“B-But please, Princess/Prince Y/N-“

“I will not tolerate anyone who badmouths my friend, moreover, who do you guys think you are? Telling me who I should be friends with now?”

As much as Leona tries to stop it, his eyes watered, lips quivering at your words

He never told you how he eavesdropped your conversation with those servants, because eventually it’ll lead to how he reacted, and he’s never going to tell you he almost cried

He taught you how to roar once, got super red when he himself haven’t even mastered it yet

Glares at your form rolling on the floor laughing

— AS TEENAGERS

He is two years older than you, so he got enrolled into Night Raven College first, during the times he was at the dorm you were bored to death

One of the main reasons (probably the only reason) why he’d go back home during breaks is because of you, he could care less about the grand welcome back party—which he was sure the servants were forced to put up—and the fake smiles from relatives, but he had to see you

Is always prepared for the uncalled tackle hug from you but somehow you always manage to knock him off balance, causing the two of you to fall down onto the sandy ground

You rambled and rambled, he listened but solely focused on how your features changed, you definitely grew up, got more attractive, too

Oh fuck

He mentally cursed when he finally realizes how his heart is beating in an unusual pace, feeling his cheeks warm up and how he felt like melting right there and then

Buried his feelings deep down because of his insecurities and acted as normal as he could with you after

You have never seen him panicked so much, got so angry and frustrated before, it happened once, when the topic of arranging a marriage for you and his older brother, Farena, was mentioned

He strongly opposes the idea but reminding him that he is only a second son, hence have no say in this matter was enough to shut him down

You tried to go after Leona who stormed to his room but decided you have more important matters at hand, matters that you need to clarify first

Politely declining the marriage and telling how Farena is a good person, but you have eyes for someone else

Everyone in the room (which consisted of both your parents and Farena) knew who you were talking about, and they were shocked, to say the least

You can clearly see the discomfort in yours and his’ parents faces, but you also can clearly see Farena’s secret wink towards you, telling you he approves

You and Farena never had any romantic feelings for each other anyway, and he was always teasing about you and Leona when you two were little

Knocking on Leona’s room softly then creaking it open, you peek your head inside to see him lying on the bed on his side with his back facing you

“Leona.”

“Leona?”

“Leooona.”

“Leeeeeeonaaaaaa.”

“LEONA WAKE THE FUCK UP.”

“FUCK-“

He winces and jolted up after you slapped his arm

Snaps and growls at you, rubbing the spot where you attacked earlier

He was all grumpy and upset until you tell him you rejected the marriage

Stares at you for a good ten seconds before sighing, slowly resting his forehead on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you

You two have had naps together, held hands when you were little but have never been this physically close after you two grew up, you two are the best of friends but there are boundaries as friends, so this was new to you, naturally, your cheeks bursted in all shades of red

“I’m glad...” you can hear him mumble, placing a hand on his soft hair and patting it before give it a stroke, calming him down

— AS STUDENTS IN NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE

You teases him so fucking much about being a dorm leader, like- how??? He’s just so lazy and unmotivated to do anything that you’re impressed

Surprisingly takes very good care of you both as a friend and a senior, it was surprising for the Savanaclaw dorm members to see Leona actually giving fucks about someone, a freshman no less, so they got interested in you very quickly

Which resulted in Leona scaring them away because they’re too close for his liking

He always suggests you to take naps and laze around with him though, so it’s no good since you have to get good grades

You’re the one who’s always dragging him to classes (if you’re lucky to get him to move)

You two never bothered to tell anyone that you’re childhood friends, it didn’t seem to have the need to

So everyone thought you two were dating because of how close you are 💀

Definitely got jealous at how you made new friends

He doesn’t mind if you have new friends, it’s natural, it’s only concerning if you don’t have any

But if you’re spending more time with them than with him? Best know that he’d trap you in his room and never let you go out

This won’t stop until you figure out why he’s like this and promise him he’ll stay as number one in your friendship list

You really shouldn’t be but you’re still laughing at how he’s repeating school years to this day

But you’re also kind of glad that he’s still here with you, it’d be boring if he weren’t

Plus, Leona wouldn’t leave you here alone anyway, there’s too many people he can’t trust and he just generally don’t wanna leave you alone

The confession was surprisingly normal and quick, no stutters or nervous twiddles of fingers from him

He kinda just, got tired of you being so physically close and attached to everyone else that he want to call you his and his only

He’s the type that’d suddenly pin you down on his bed while you’re talking about what you and your other friends did that day

Enjoys the deep blush and lip quiver on you as he finally confesses his feelings for you, leaning down onto your ear and whisper huskily about-

His arms quickly wrapped around his stomach and coughs as your strong kick jerked him back, he ended up kneeling on his bed, hunched over as he groans

He thought he invaded your privacy and made you uncomfortable so he quickly look up to check up on you, afraid of the terrified and disgusted look on your face, but what greeted him was a hot, hot face as you refuse to look him in the eye

He stared, and stared, a small blush slowly coming up to his own cheeks before a pillow was thrown at his face

Seeing you so flustered reminded him of the past few days when he debated with himself whether he should go for it or not, he might seem smug for now, but before this cocky smirk appeared he was a nervous wreck

So the two of you kinda just stayed like that in his room, freezing on your spot with dead silence

“A-At least give me an answer...damn it.” A miracle that he stuttered

He watches as you fiddled with your finger, looking down with mumbles he couldn’t make words out from

“I...I like you too.”

This is so lame, you two are like middle school kids confessing your love for each other and yet, those simple words made his heart flip like crazy

Now that he’s confirmed your answer, prepare for a wild but sweet kiss from him

— AS LOVERS

It was a little bumpy at first, mostly from you though, because you’re just so used to being “just friends” with him that you don’t know how to act as his lover

He didn’t change much, maybe a little bit sweeter and considerate than before but he’s just the old Leona you know, which you’re glad for, you didn’t want him to change

He’s more protective now since you’re finally his, and he made sure to let everyone know that

Doesn’t really have a say on PDA, he’s fine with or without it, but he would definitely shove his tongue into your mouth right on the spot if someone even dare to look at you in the wrong way

Really likes wrapping an arm around your waist and put his whole weight on you because he’s lazy and tired of walking

Will actually fall on you when you’re in the botanical garden so that you couldn’t get up and is forced to take a nap with him

Play with his hair!! He loves it to death, though he might grumble and say he doesn’t, we all know he’s lying

You have to reassure him that he’ll always be your number one, he’s already suffered enough, if you end up leaving him he doesn’t know how to cope with it

Cuddles, cuddles and cuddles 24/7, he will not let you go

He sometimes just stares at you as you talk or do your own thing and think about how lucky he is to have you, it might not seem possible but literal hearts appeared in his eyes

If you ever catch him staring at you and tease him for it he’ll growl and pounce on you, how dare you make fun of your king like that? Prepare for a punishment my friend ;)

#leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #leona twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar twisted wonderland x reader

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uomo-accattivante · 3 years

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Great comprehensive interview with Elvira on the making of The Letter Room and filmmaking, in general. One interesting tidbit mentioned: she is currently developing a podcast about sex. 👀🤔

For most of her creative life, Elvira Lind has been behind the the lens compassionately capturing true stories as a documentary filmmaker. Her debut feature, Songs for Alexis, observes two young lovebirds navigating a long distance relationship and challenging views on gender identity in the modern age. While her sophomore feature, Bobbi Jenne, explores the life of a famous dancer fighting for her own creative and personal independence.

Despite her prolific doc work, a story that couldn't simply be told in its raw form kept circulating in her head: a dark prison comedy about the secret life of a correctional officer trying to bring humanity to the prison system. When he gets transferred to a job in the letter room, he finds himself a little too involved in the private lives of the inmates.

Far along in her second pregnancy, and with the support of an incredible team of collaborators, Elvira took on the challenge of writing and directing her first narrative short, "The Letter Room." The film stars Oscar Isaac and Alia Shawkat, and has had an all-star festival run, screening at Telluride, Tribeca, and the Palm Springs International Film Festival. Here, Elvira reflects on the joys and challenges of creating your first short film—putting empathy first, reshaping the tropes around pregnancy, and screening in the COVID era.

vimeo

FTW: How did you become a filmmaker?

Elvira Lind: I’ve always loved film. I was very drawn to documentaries because it felt like you were entering something that was really happening. You opened a door and were already inside the film. You’re just trying to keep up with what’s being thrown at you. As opposed to fiction where you have to conjure it up from nowhere. I loved imagining and writing stories when I was little, but I didn’t have the confidence to pursue it.

I didn’t come from a family of filmmakers. And I came from a time when people had a little shitty camcorder that you borrowed from someone’s uncle, and buying film was expensive. Things opened up and changed a lot when cameras became more accessible.

I could only afford one year of film school in Cape Town, where I met some amazing people and learned about so many different ways of storytelling. I came back to Denmark and found myself working for free a lot for other filmmakers while doing a side job. The paid work was very hard to get, but I’d rather work for free with filmmakers that I loved and have more responsibilities than have access to nothing. It wasn’t easy to find my way in, but it’s so worth it.

And now you live in New York. How does this global background affect your general filmmaking style and approach?

I definitely bring a lot of Danish documentary traditions with me and hold it very dear. There are a lot of kick ass female documentary filmmakers in Denmark that have taught me a lot. There’s a good support system for women there. It’s an incredibly privileged place in that there’s funding from the government to make films. You can make things that, in my opinion, are often far more interesting because it’s not reliant on how it’s going to make money in the box office.

You’ve shot many of your documentaries in the past. So what was it like this time to be working with a cinematographer?

I always wanted to work with a cinematographer on my documentaries; we just couldn’t afford it. Now for “The Letter Room”, I worked with Sam Chase, who has got such a brilliant eye and it was wonderful to have someone to work with on composing the look of the film because I’m usually doing it by myself. It is kind of like a marriage. I work with the same editor on all my projects as well. You enter this symbiotic sort of dance together. For me, it also means you have to fight about things and disagree and then make up and hear each other out. My editor, Adam Nielsen, is the kind of guy who just comes up with genius ideas while in the shower or on the way home from work on his bicycle. You have to find these key people in your life where you can bounce ideas back and forth with.

Where did the idea for “The Letter Room” come from?

It was a story that was brewing in my head for a long time, but I wasn’t sure how to put a narrative film together. I just started to write it down and then it kept developing.

There was a podcast that I listened to that really inspired me. It told the story of different men who were all unknowingly writing love letters to the same woman. She started to ask for money and help with rent, but the letters she wrote were so wonderful and all these men were very in love with her. These very lonely men felt like magic had entered their lives. They all eventually found out that the woman was actually a man writing to different people trying to get their money. They were all heartbroken, but one of the men said that the worst part was losing these letters and that the fantasy was gone. He wished they could just keep writing to each other. So much of life is fantasy and trying to live through other people’s lives. I’m very drawn to stories of loneliness and bottled up feelings.

And then I am firmly against the American prison system. It’s heartbreaking, frustrating, and I can’t make sense of it. How do you even begin to explain this system to a child?

It’s a society that doesn’t care about humanity. I wanted to show the monotony, the repetition, the sadness. I don’t see the bigger goal or purpose of locking people away for countless years and taking away all the things that makes you feel human, that makes life joyous. I really believe that we can all change and this system teaches people nothing. “The Letter Room'' is the combination of these two concepts that I’m very passionate about.

And then I got pregnant for the second time and I hadn’t made a film between the two. It was a crazy feeling to be taken over again by pregnancy. A wonderful friend of mine, Sofia Sondervan-Bild, came to me and said, “I think you should make this film and I’ll make it with you.” Initially, I freaked out and thought I didn’t know how to do fiction and doubted how I could make a film in a prison, but she inspired me and told me to do it. She’s just one of these incredibly powerful people that you want to go on an adventure with. She made me feel like my pregnancy wasn’t going to stand in the way of me making this film. We ended up shooting while I was far along in my pregnancy in a prison in the middle of a summer heat wave. It was crazy, but it was the best thing that I could’ve done at the time.

When you were directing on set at that stage of pregnancy, did you feel like you were reshaping tropes of what women are capable of?

It was insane. The funny thing was that the crew was like, “we can’t complain that we are tired because she is extremely pregnant and still running around.” I was so high off of that experience. When we finished, I collapsed. I fell straight onto the couch and then I have a two and a half year old screaming my name. That was more work for me than directing the short. I edited the film right before I gave birth actually, and then I gave birth and did sound right after. I was pumping breast milk in the corner in the darkness during the sound edit.

I’ve learned a lot from surpassing whatever I thought was physically possible with being pregnant. I learned that being in a creative process gives you so much energy that it allows you to be in whatever shape, size, form, mental space you can. People are ready to give you their support, if you choose the right people. I’m really grateful that I chose such wonderful collaborators who supported me through it all. Even when people were questioning my choice to direct a film while being pregnant in a prison. Why not? Women get pregnant and then we still need to be supported so that we can continue to make the things we want to do.

What was your experience with getting “The Letter Room” funded?

It’s really hard, let’s be honest. There aren’t a lot of people sitting around waiting to fund a short film. We ended up working with Topic, which is a part of First Look Media. They are just incredible and really support filmmakers with whatever their vision is. I’ve had great experiences and some really bad experiences with funding, so I know this was an ideal scenario.

Having a short that is over 30 minutes long seems like a feat. At what stage in the process did you know this was going to be a longer piece? And how did that decision affect the shoot in both positive and difficult ways?

It was way too long at first, and when I shortened it, it was still 32 minutes. We could only afford five days of shooting, and a lot of it is shot on active prison grounds, which have an insane amount of protocol. We almost used everything we shot.

I’m not used to being able to have different angles to choose from in my doc work, so I think I just knew exactly what I wanted. I know that my producers were worried that I wasn’t getting enough, but to me, I was like, I’m getting double of what I usually get on a documentary! Everyone was quietly concerned, but everything worked out when we got to the edit.

The short’s length hasn’t done any favors for me so far, but you need to breathe as an audience, you need to pace it out. If I cut out certain minutes, it would’ve felt rushed and you wouldn’t have believed the arcs that the characters had.

I loved the concept of placing a very empathetic character in a setting that is contrary to that personality type. You included so many details that made the world feel so three dimensional and cared for. Can you talk about those decisions to create that feeling?

It means so much to me that it made you feel that way. What frustrates me about the prison system is that it lacks any empathy or understanding of human nature and nurture and who we are. What we need to become better people. It takes all of that away.

I spoke to people who have spent a lot of time in prison and they told me that you have to hide your feelings and that showing any signs of weakness will be a disaster. It’s the worst possible scenario you can imagine yourself in. Being robbed of every privacy, anything that makes you happy, anything that makes you feel like yourself. I imagined the character of a caregiver in this setting who wants to help and finds a silly way to do so. I was very inspired by that story of the love letters that I talked about earlier. What does it mean to lie if you’re making someone else happy?

It’s the morning of your first day of the shoot — how do you feel?

I was very nervous. I had never said ‘action’ before. I’ve been on a lot of sets, but I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing, but it’s also okay not to know. Mistakes are going to happen, and sometimes they become gifts. At the same time, I was very excited. You come in and there are all these people there with you who are there to make this thing you’ve written come to life.

What are some things you would do on set to create a safe space and vulnerable environment?

We did everything we could to make the set a safe space. It was very difficult and stressful to shoot in an active prison, but we made sure to actively ask our crew if everyone’s feeling okay and if we can do anything to make the situation better. I’m very vulnerable and encourage all of my crew to be vulnerable with me. Mistakes are welcome.

It's a short film, people come and work on this not because they’re making a million dollars, but because they want to be there and are being incredibly generous with their time and energy. It was such a good environment that even when challenging things came up, it was still a lot of fun.

What was it like working with actors for the first time?

That was one of the biggest challenges for me. I’ve heard so many different stories in passing of the least helpful note or worst thing to say to an actor. You want to be respectful and actors have their way of working. Ultimately, they are all really talented actors and all of them came with so much energy and a lot of ideas.

I spent time with each of them talking about their character. Those 1 on 1 conversations helped me a lot in the writing process as well because you’re bouncing ideas off of each other and they’re asking you questions about how they would respond to a certain situation.

I had always imagined Alia Shawkat as Rosita and she ended up wanting to do it and came from LA to film it. I had tears in my eyes when we were filming the scene of her and Oscar. They were excited to do the scene together. It was all a dream.

What was the experience of working creatively alongside your partner like?

We were joking a lot about it before because there was already the stress of being so pregnant and we have a 2 year old at home, and now I was putting us in another highly intense and demanding situation. Either it was going to be great OR we would drive each other nuts. But we had so much fun. It was wonderful to work together. I was so happy to be on set and make my film and he’s just so talented and fun to be around. Those little moments where you know each other so well—I’d give him notes and he just kept surprising me and was so respectful of my directions.

He found this photo for him to connect to the character and it became very fundamental to me. It was this incredible black and white photo from the 70s of a prison guard. I had always imagined that he would have this inner salsa soundtrack playing in his soul and we would play Rubén Blades and 70s salsa music and Oscar just morphed that into music into everything and created this unique character.

And he was wearing a fat suit the entire shoot and I was pregnant and Alia Shawkat had her pregnant belly on. The three of us—it was so funny.

It seems like the perfect first experience of going into narrative with people that you really trust and support you.

Definitely! Find the people that you can team up with that really believe in your vision and who will push you to do exactly what you had in mind. People who never try to push you into these conventional routes. Our creative voices are so fragile. You want to be on the same page so that they see what you’re trying to do and want to bring that out of you. Where they’re treating your film as a sacred thing that you’re creating together.

How do you know when a film is done?

Fiction is very different from documentaries. With documentaries, it never feels like it’s done because there are so many options. That’s also why I love fiction so much; It’s so much faster. It’s a whole different beast to tame a documentary with hundreds of hours of footage where you’re reinventing the wheel every day.

How have you built up your own confidence as a director and your unique voice?

Stubbornness. I’ve had many experiences working with people who didn’t believe in my project. You have to stick to your guns and trust your instincts. Once you find your voice, you find people that want to go on that ride with you and find your vision interesting. It’s a miracle when any of us gets a project made, so your confidence can’t come from how much money your movie made. It has to come from somewhere else. Did you do justice to the people you portrayed in your story? Did anyone walk away feeling like something had changed within them?

What is a good director to you?

Someone who is driven with passion without letting that passion take over and become any source of frustration that’s taken out on other people. It should feel like a collaborative effort. And having gratitude every day that you’re making something with other people who are donating their time. You’d be nowhere without them. One of the most important things is making sure that your crew is treating everyone equally. It depends on the size of the production, but having someone who can sense what’s happening in all different departments and having department heads that are there to protect everyone. Listen to each other, and make sure everyone feels safe and is in the best place to be creative.

With COVID, what has the adjustment been like to being in an online space for this festival run?

I’m really deeply saddened by not having the human interaction aspect of it. It feels so crucial to be in the room together, to meet and see each other's projects and share the experience, to cry and laugh next to people you don’t know. I’m grieving to be honest. We just gotta get through this time. It reminds us of how sacred it is for us to gather and how that feels, and I hope that all of that will come back after this and that cinemas will survive. We really need them.

What’s next for you?

Right now I’m writing more fiction and working on a new documentary feature that I am kind of researching and shooting at the same time. I am also creating a podcast about sex, called “The List” with my friend, writer and photographer Kirra Cheers, based on a book and play she wrote. My husband and I just started a production company together, Mad Gene Media, in order to develop and produce our own material. So. lots of exciting things to continue with in the new year.

Born in 1981 in Copenhagen, Elvira Lind graduated from School of Media and Creative Arts in Cape Town in 2006 majoring in documentary film where she received two awards for her final year achievements. She has worked within that field since directing and shooting documentaries of various lengths for TV, cinema and web on 4 different continents.In 2020 she premiered her first fiction project, a 32 min short film she wrote and directed. The film was sold to Topic and was invited to various festivals including Telluride and Tribeca FF. Elvira's feature doc BOBBI JENE premiered at Tribeca Film Festival in 2017 where it won all awards in its category including Best Feature documentary, best editing and best Cinematography. The film had theatrical release in US, Spain and Scandinavia.Elvira's first documentary feature Songs for Alexis premiered at Toronto HOT DOCS in 2014 and screened and competed at a long list of international festivals. Her 8 part documentary TV series "Twiz and Tuck" was bought by VICELAND and launched in 2017. Elvira now lives and works out of New York.

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#oscar isaac #elvira lind #the letter room #mad gene media #interview

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ansxit · 3 years

Text

Vive La Revolution

"ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ. ɪf ᴡᴇ ɢᴇᴛ ɴᴏ ʀᴇᴠᴏʟᴜᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ. ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴏɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ."

(Y/n) was always loyal to Essemp. For clarification, She is the cousin to the young ruler of their nation, Clay. He wasn't the fairest ruler, but he still cherished his land and his friends. (Y/n) would always stand by her cousin's side whenever skirmishes and war broke throughout the kingdom.

Until she happened to fall for the leader of a revolution.

—

01 - Skirmish

"Flank left!" The smoke from TNT drifted through the air. Explosions rang through the valleys and you felt confident that you were winning. You and your battalion were sent out on the terms of a small uprising in the south. You've noticed for the past few months, more and more uprisings had been spotted in random villages of Essemp.

"Not right!" You screamed into the grey void, seeing the shadows of your troops running about. "Left! Flank left!" A cry to your right caught your attention but you had to keep going. The injured would care for themselves, and you hoped the rebellion knew it was cruel to harm an unarmed man.

Through the dust you could see the outline of a waving flag. The familiar green seemed welcoming in the colorless abyss. You dismounted your trusted steed and dove into the trenches below.

A body was pressed right up against yours and had it not been for the breathing in your ear you would've thought they were dead. You still rolled to your left off of the person and they let out a heaving sigh. Familiar brown hair and eyes was enough to have you recognize who you crash-landed on.

"How are we looking out there," Wilbur groaned, rubbing his rib cage where you possibly elbowed him.

"Not good no thanks to you," You glared and smacked his chest. The young man gave a look of pure shock and sat up.

"What do you mean 'no thanks to me'!" He whined, "I recall being absolutely amazing out there and saving your ass from being shot!"

"You're the reason we are here in this situation!" You reached for a chest sunken into the dirt and pulled out a new crossbow. "Had it not been for your quick draw of a sword and temper, we could be riding back to the palace before dinner."

An explosion in the distance caused you to cease your movements and drop the arrows out of your grasp. You fumbled around for them as a blond soldier next to the two of you laughed.

"She have a point there, Wilbur!"

"Oh shut it, Grayson!" Wilbur snapped at the man before grabbing his own bow and arrow. "Don't pretend you didn't reach for your crossbow when their scum of a leader refused to meet with us."

"And You need to watch your temper," You scolded while loading your quiver with more arrows. "A good General keeps their head cool and doesn't let small comments get the better of them."

"Oh, like how your pride doesn't take a swan dive off a cliff every time someone insults your family?"

"There's a difference between plain insulting and insulting my heritage." You stood up quickly, checking to see if you could spot any enemy advancement through the smoke, before ducking back down as an arrow flew over your head. "When someone runs their mouth, not even directed at you, might I add, you light up faster than a bundle of TNT."

Wilbur snorted at Your comment but made no further argument. He jumped up as well to check and quickly flattened back to the ground.

"Once I retire and you take my place," You continued on, knocking an arrow and firing blindly out into the field. "You need to be the best leader there is in Essemp." You looked over at Wilbur with a slight smile. "That is of course, if you don't lose your head before then."

"Wow, you really think the way I'd go out would be decapitation?" Wilbur questioned in mock-pain. "You wound me, Y/n, at least hold me to a higher standard." He started firing arrows as well. following suit of blind aim. There was only a short pause before He mumbled, "Actually decapitation would be better than getting blown up."

You gave a hearty chuckle and looked over at the soldiers around the two of you. They were still firing away from their positions. Some were recovering from injuries they had sustained with medical supplies scattered in the dirt.

"You would prefer decapitation than to be blown up?" Y/n inquired as you fumbled for some flint and steel. "Decapitation just seems like too much work, you have to pull out the guillotine and there is even a chance the blade doesn't cut all the way through" You finally struck a flame and grabbed for your arrows. Wilbur seemed to understand the idea you were getting at, and lit his own arrows aflame as well.

"Oh of course you don't want the harder option," he grumbled and fired the flame arrows out of the ditch. "You are the type to talk about an explosion-filled death during a battle involving explosives."

"I don't joke about death, I merely discuss the topic with added laughter." You were both firing in unison now, and the soldiers around you copied the strategy.

"You might be on a higher status than me, but Clay would have my head on a nice pedestal if he figured out you died on my watch."

"What if you died as well?"

"He'd kill me once over again."

You went silent for a second. "Well, at least you'd have a nice pedestal." You joked. "And that's King Clay to a soldier like yourself, Wilbur."

"You don't ever see me calling you 'Princess Y/n' now do you?" He responded with his famous cheeky grin.

"No, but now that you bring it up..." You smiled back as Wilbur rolled his eyes. Through the fire arrows lighting the smoke-ridden sky full of color, someone from behind the two of you, out of the ditch, yelled for your name. Alastair, a well known Lieutenant around the palace, was laying down on the ground above you guys.

"Princess Y/n and General Wilbur." Alastair greeted you two. "The opposing forces have reached the main circlet, the cavalry has arrived and are ready to surround them on your command."

"Alright, thank you Eret. Go back and join the others until everyone here is ready to move out. Once I give the signal, only then will you charge out." He nodded his head and started running back where the tree line was. You smirked over at Wilbur, "See, I think 'Princess Y/n' has a nice ring to it." He replied with a middle finger pointed at your face.

You barked a laugh and got into a kneeling position. You called attention to the surrounding soldiers and informed them of the plan that was about to go down. Once you were certain that the uninjured men were ready to go, you looked to Wilbur for confirmation. He stared at you for just a second longer before nodding.

The second you started raising your hand the soldiers around you rushed out of the ditch. Once the majority were out, You and Wilbur hopped out as well; swords drawn and all.

You could spot bright red coats through the haze, and as the smoke lifted from the battle ground you could see the green uniforms of Essemp's soldiers rounding up members of the rebellion. You and Wilbur both ran towards anyone that was trying to escape from the ambush and herded them back towards the main group.

"I've got to say, using the old sheepdog tactic is... beneficial." Wilbur laughed from a few feet away. You looked over at him with a smile. Even though dust and gunpowder dirtied his hair, and save for some tears in his uniform, he still held his glowing aura in the midst of a battle. Seeing his grin gave you the sense of comfort that everything would be okay.

No matter how many times you bickered and teased, as long as you two had each other you were happy.

The soldiers on their horses and the ones in the trees all aimed crossbows and bows towards the rebels, waiting for your next command. You and Wilbur walked over; you had both sheathed your weapons and examined the kneeling soldiers. To the far left, Alastair motioned for You with a tilt of his head.

"What's up?" Wilbur asked once Eret was within earshot.

"We singled out the lieutenants you guys spoke to earlier." He gestured to two kneeling soldiers that were glaring at You and Wilbur. "They still refuse to leak their leader's identity."

"Well alright then," Wilbur glared right back at the two rebels. "I'd say it's about time the bastard showed his face."

"Will you need any uh," Eret glanced from the unarmed soldiers to Wilbur's bow then back to you, "assistance?"

"We'll handle it from here Alastair, thank you." You sighed and nodded at Grayson and Luke. Both of them hoisted up the rebels and you all made your way to the front of the rebellion.

Once infront of everyone, you squared your shoulders. After looking back at the two lieutenants, your eyes darted over to Wilbur who nodded at you. In a blink of an eye, you both had drawn your swords to the soldier's necks.

"Direct us to the leader of this regiment." You commanded. Wilbur pressed the blade closer to their neck and fear shown through their eyes. When neither of them responded, You grabbed one of them by their arm and kept the blade close enough so that a small drop of blood trickled down their neck. Wilbur followed suit and you swept your cold gaze across the field.

You hated violence, but sometimes it was the only answer.

The rebel in your grasp whimpered as you held him in a death-grip. All the soldiers in the field, rebel and your own, looked over to you. The soldiers closest to you all held apprehension in their eyes. You didn't get the title you had now from just being the King's cousin, but from being intimidating, strategic, and all-around terrifying.

"I wish to know the person in charge of these men." You moved your sword across your line of sight before bringing it back to the man's neck. "If they do not step forward you will be comforted to know the King has special spikes for all of your heads." You tilted your blade to catch the falling sun to enunciate your point. "Your leader is a coward," You called out to the men after no response. "He kneels with you, taking no blame and responsibility for any deaths on this battlefield tonight."

"Hypocrisy!" A voice cried far out in the circle. You looked over at where the voice came from. Wilbur quietly gasped behind you as a man rose from the kneeling soldiers. "You admit yourself that a leader takes blame and remorse for casualties amongst men."

You took a step forward and released the man you previously held. He sputtered and coughed, but you ignored him and walked closer towards the standing individual.

"I speak for the men kneeling here before you." His voice rang through the quiet, only disrupted by your footsteps. "We and many more have seen the tyrant's ways. We know who's on the wrong side of history."

He wore no different clothing than the rest of the men. There where no patches nor pins to differentiate his leadership. Instead, he had a single necklace with ram horns on it. You instantly knew this was the man in charge of the uprisings around Essemp.

"What's your name," You asked. Only seven feet separated the two of you, the kneeling men had cleared a path as you walked closer.

"His name is Jay Schlatt." Wilbur spoke behind you. You turned your head to the side in acknowledgement. Only three feet now. "He used to dream of working as a knight in the kingdom." Everyone was staring at Wilbur as he talked. "He trained everyday until one day he just, disappeared."

"I learned the truth." Jay spat; you turned back to him with narrowed eyes. "I learned," he spread his arms out wide, "That the King and his incompetent friends never cared about us!

"Not a single one of these men around us were shown compassion and fairness like he claims. He left us to rot in poverty while he lays in a kingdom of gold!"

Wilbur walked forward, and you saw that his expression was full of hurt. You moved out of the way as he got closer.

"Schlatt you know this isn't true-" Jay grabbed him by the shoulders and instantaneously you whipped out your sword, poised at the man's collarbone. The field once again went silent, not even the birds interrupted with their calls. The two men seemed to hold a conversation with just their eyes, Schlatt's changing from pleading to subtle despair.

After a long, silent minute Jay released Wilbur and slowly knelt back down to the ground. You sheathed your sword once again, only for Wilbur to bring out his own.

"He is an unfair ruler, and is nothing short of cruel." Jay said. The soldiers around him solemnly nodded in agreement. "Surely you've seen the King's ways." Wilbur looked down at the Leader in front of him, and couldn't dare look away. Jay pleaded once again as he stared at Wilbur. "He doesn't care about his subjects, he just wants power."

You looked at all the kneeling rebellions in the field. Wilbur was still holding his sword at Jay's neck, his hands trembling a bit. The convicted leader finally bowed his head and stared at the soot ridden ground beneath them.

"Jay Schlatt, you will be locked up for treason against the King," you stated and motioned for your troops to grab the prisoners. Jay refused to look up as Grayson walked over and hoisted him; tying his hands behind his back. As they both passed you, Jay finally looked up to meet your hardened gaze.

"Down with the tyrant king." He spat as Grayson shoved him forward. The rest of your battalion started escorting the rebels off the field. You let out a long-awaited sigh and looked over to your right-hand man.

"Wilbur?" He still held his sword in his hand, although it was lowered now. "Wilbur?" You asked again. He seemed to snap out of it and moved to sheathe his weapon.

"I'm alright, I just.. wasn't expecting to see an old face today." He quickly turned around and started to walk with the rest of the soldiers. You chased after him, trying to stay in step with his longer strides. When you called for his name again, he just walked faster. In the end, you gave up on trying to follow him.

You and your battalion had won the skirmish. But as you watched Wilbur walk away; you couldn't help but have a feeling that you'd lost something else...

#dream smp #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #lmanburg #fanfiction #fantasy au #revolution

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loving-daisy · 3 years

Text

Cry For Me | George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist | Cry For Me Masterlist

Chapter 2 - Love or Hatred

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: fighting, arguments, scheming, angst

____________________

You don’t know me

Oh great George muttered sarcastically, to no one in particular, standing up from he and Fred’s potions table to sit next to his partner but not before shoving Fred for poking his sides to tease him.

“Have fun, Georgie~!” Fred sang, earning a glare from the younger twin. As George made his place next to the Slytherin that managed to bother him every single day, he huffed.

“Hey, Georgie, what’s up?” Y/N asked, an amusing smile plastered around her face. “The sky.” He answered, causing Icestone to feign a quiet laugh. “Well, you aren’t wrong.”

There was a moment of silence between the partners as Snape went on with his class, muttering about what to do and what not to do. For the first time since forever, the tall ginger actually paid attention. His eyes looking at nothing but his parchment, a hand on his quill as he messily tried to write a transcript of what the potions master was blabbering. The faster we finish this potion, the faster I can get away from Icestone He thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, George stood up from his seat to gather the ingredients, leaving his partner to set up the cauldron.

There was a bit of awkward silence between the Gryffindor and the Slytherin, too focused on working with the potion, until Y/N decided to break it.

“I heard next week’s match would be Slytherin vs Gryffindor. Ready to lose Weasley?” She teasingly said, earning a grunt from George.

The boy laid the Chinese Chomping Cabbage on their shared desk, an ingredient of the Skele-Gro potion, in preparation for the mentioned school game. “Lose? Even if Gryffindor loses, we all know that it would be because of Slytherin’s foul play and not our lack of skills, thank you very much.”

Y/N raised her brows, going up in her tiptoes to reach the ginger’s ears. “I must admit you’re right though. No one can play quidditch like you.” She whispered, making the Gryffindor flustered.

“Quit it, will you?” He deadpanned, earning wide doe eyes from the Slytherin who feigned an innocent look. “Quit what?” She asked.

George sighed, his hands resting on his hips as he turned to face the girl. “Why are you always flirting with me? Trust me, Icestone. You’re a pretty witch but I don’t see myself having a relationship with a Slytherin.”

Silence fell over the pair’s shared potions table. There Y/N Icestone stood. Speechless, frozen, and in disbelief. The ginger took a notice in this, observing the Slytherin before coming into a reasonable conclusion. “Don’t tell me --”

“You must be sick in the head if you think that I fancy you, Weasley.” Icestone cut off, finally giving her attention back into the cauldron sat in front of her, keeping herself busy in an attempt to brush the topic off.

George crossed his arms. “Then why are you flirting with me? You don’t do that to Fred. You don’t do that with other guys!”

Y/N shrugged.

____________________

The day went by nonchalantly with Y/N Icestone, the Weasley twins, and the rest of the students of the wizarding school going through their own agenda. The Weasley twins being unusually M.I.A which only means that they were planning their next mischief or they were busy practicing for the upcoming quidditch game. Most likely the latter one. Due to this, it was not until supper time at the great hall when Y/N saw the Gryffindor gingers again.

“Hey George. Hey Fred.” Y/N said, looking at George and Fred respectively, squishing in between the twins as they made their way to the great hall.

“He’s not George, I am!” Fred exclaimed, his arms crossing causing Y/N to raise her brows, stepping closer to Fred as she had one hand around the older twin’s arm, threatening to pinch his freckled skin.

“You can’t fool me, Weasley.”

“But I am Fred...” George muttered, Y/N giving her signature ice cold stare towards the twins, causing them to whimper.

“Alright, alright, I am Fred.” Fred finally says, shivers in his spine from the look the Slytherin just gave them. “You are one scary woman.” Y/N smiled innocently.

“How do you manage to tell us apart?” George asked. “Even our own mother gets us confused.” Fred continued, both tilting their heads as a sign of confusion.

“I just do.” She said, shrugging as if it was nothing.

“Come on, tell us! We’re really curious, Icestone! How do you manage to do it?” George asked.

The Slytherin looked up at the younger twin, “You…” she began, raising her hand to poke the little mole residing in his neck. “...have a mole right here.” She said, causing the twin to blush.

“But how do you manage to spot that so far away?” The older twin chimed.

“George is a bit taller than you.” She answered the older twin. “And you happen to be more annoying. That’s why I like Georgie more.” She teasingly said, nudging the still blushing ginger at the side.

Fred raised his brows. “Be honest Icestone, have you developed a liking for my twin? How could you! I reckon I’m the more good looking twin. You must be blind, woman!” Y/N just shrugged, a small smile on her face as she teased the twins.

As they turned to the next hall, Icestone spotted her friend, forcing her to announce her departure. “I’ll see you tomorrow at Snape’s, Weasleys! At the match on Saturday, too!” She said before running off to Daphne Greengrass.

The notorious twins stop in their tracks, two pairs of eyes staring at the Slytherin queen who locked her arms with her friend, whispering little nothings and giving one short glance to the twins, before heading to the great hall for lunch.

“I think I’m starting to like her, George.” The older twin stated.

“Agree. She’s not like the other Slytherins.”

____________________

The following day, as Fred and George stride the halls after finishing their Divination class, they were arguing about which twin is the better Quidditch player as their conversation started off with the upcoming match of their team versus the house of snakes.

“George, how can YOU be the better player? I am the more good looking twin which makes ME that better player.” Fred insisted, his arms crossing against his chest as he huffed. George shook his head, his hands placing itself on his hips as he looked at his twin unamusingly. “And how does looks define how good you play quidditch?” He opposed.

Fred raised his brows as he faced his twin. “So you agree?”

“Agree to what?” The younger twin asked.

“That I’m the more good looking twin?”

“Fred —“ Before George was able to give his counter attack, he was cut off by his twin who scanned his eyes from corner to corner as if he was searching for something.

“Hold that thought, George. Do you hear that?” Said the older twin.

The ginger towers stopped in their tracks before looking at each other, having their non-verbal twin communication before running off to the sound of crying first years.

As they turned into the next corner, the twins were surprised, hurt, and outraged to see Y/N Icestone standing in front of a group of Hufflepuff first years, arms crossed as her eyes sent sharp icy daggers.

With George being a bit taller than his twin, he was able to be the faster one who stood before the Slytherin, blocking the crying Hufflepuffs away from her sight.

“Icestone?! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” George bellows, his eyebrows meeting at the middle of his forehead, a rather disappointed and enraged look on his face.

The icy daggers Y/N was sending beforehand was shot towards the younger twin. Unfazed by the tone and having no energy to defend or even explain herself as she herself was burning with fury.

“Answer me.” George orders, earning a snap from the Slytherin.

“You do not tell me what to do, Weasley.” Y/N sternly said, her teeth gritted and her fists clenching.

George was even more wrathful but decided to end their verbal quarrel as his eyes caught the sight of the familiar Transfiguration professor.

“Fine. Then shove off, Icestone. Mind your own business instead of harming the poor first years.”

Turning her heels away from the infuriated ginger, Y/N Icestone walked away, not sparing another glance towards the twins.

George turned towards the Hufflepuffs who were now smiling brightly as the older twin made a series of funny faces towards them. George’s anger was melting down.

“You guys alright? I’m sorry about the Slytherins. They never change. Always bullying the poor 1st years…” George started.

“Just ignore them.” Fred insisted towards the group before standing up and fishing assorted sweets from his robes. “Cheer up, okay? Here, take this.” He said, offering the goods as it laid on his palm and the red nosed Hufflepuffs gladly taking it from him before uttering a small “Thank you” and making their way back to their house common room.

George sighed. “You okay, mate?” Fred asked, his arm going around his twin’s shoulders. George sighed once again. “Slytherins are all the same.”

____________________

After Icestone’s encounter with the twins at the hallway, she stormed off to the fields to get some peace and quiet. She figured that retrieving back to the Slytherin dungeons would be rather a hassle for her as her fairy or Lixie or even Daphne if she wasn’t so busy snogging off, would question her foul mood. Going to the library wouldn’t be an option as a lot of students spend their free time there. She would just be followed by their attention.

Pulling her scarf tighter around her neck, she sat at the cold ground, her fiery thoughts being cooled down, frozen, and evaporating into gas, leaving her as the wind blew.

“Surprised seeing you here.” Y/N heard a familiar voice. Quickly turning her head, she was even more surprised to see Lixie standing on its four paws behind her, a dead bird in front of him.

“Gone hunting again, I see? Another peace offering for me. What did you do this time?” She questioned, ready to scold her cat for whatever trouble he did this time. Cats have a tendency to show their love by hunting rather intricate objects to offer to their owner. Lixie only does this when he does something unfavorable for the Slytherin.

“This?” Lixie said, looking down at the dead crow, rolling it like a pizza dough using his right paw. “This isn’t for you.”

“Who is it for then?”

The blue eyed cat looked towards his side making Y/N’s follow through the direction. Leaned against the big stone, a small girl sits, her uniform stating that she was a Gryffindor. Y/N scrunched her nose, turning back to her cat with an eyebrow raised.

“And who is that supposed to be?”

“My friend.” He stated before picking up the black crow with his mouth and running off to the girl. The Slytherin contemplated whether or not to follow thinking that she had to deal with another student younger than her. Not to mention someone from Gryffindor. Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t really get along. Everyone knew that.

Observing her pet, she quietly stood at the fields, watching the girl pat Lixie’s head softly and Lixie opening his mouth to talk. With curiosity getting the best of her, she looked at the encounter from a different angle, noticing the non-stop tears from the Gryffindor girl.

Icestone felt her heart burn. Not again she thought.

Marching towards the pair, she sat beside the Gryffindor. Purposely looking ahead to be not recognized.

“Life hasn’t been good lately, huh? That’s just the way life is.” She began. “You’ll get through.”

When she didn’t get a reply, she turned to face the girl, who she noticed was giving her a look of sadness. Her eyes matching her red hair that also matches her cheeks which Y/N assumes was from the cold air.

“I’m sorry for intruding, dear. It’s just that I saw Lixie over here and I saw you.”

Silence.

Y/N sighed, feeling the need to explain her intentions further. “I guess we have our similarities. I also came here to be alone but I figured being alone in the cold isn’t really that healthy so I came to you. You shouldn’t be alone. So I’m here for you.”

“You know Lixie?” The girl asked, her voice hoarse from all the crying. The first word she uttered ever since the Slytherin came.

Y/N flashed a small smile, giving a small nod. “I do. He’s my cat.” She said, earning a shocked look from the girl.

“Wow...my apologies for being rude. I didn’t know Lixie was yours. I mean, all that was written in his collar was his name and a little snowflake. By the way, my name is Ginny.” The Gryffindor said, her mind being distracted by what caused her gloominess as her eyes showed more liveliness, raising her hand to offer a handshake towards the 5th year.

The Slytherin’s smile grew wider, amused by the red head for comfortably conversing with her. “Nice to meet you, Ginny. I’m Y/N.” She stated, shaking Ginny’s hand.

With the mention of the familiar name, Ginny’s eyes grew wide. “Y/N Icestone?” She chimed, earning a raised brow from Y/N.

“You know me?” She questioned.

Ginny enthusiastically nodded her head, her serotonin going up as she talked to the famous Slytherin queen, causing confusion towards the mentioned 5th year. “I do. You’re always the talk on the hallways, including my brothers of course.”

If Y/N was being honest, she was surprised by Ginny. First of all, not being able to recognize her through one look? Icestone could understand that as they are from different houses afterall and the girl must have a lot of thought as she encountered her bawling her eyes out but finally realizing that she was Y/N Icestone and not being scared of her? That’s rare. That made Y/N favor Ginny.

“Brothers?” She asked, confusion even more evident in her mind.

With Ginny noticing the questioning look plastered around the Slytherin’s face, she realized that the 5th year failed to recognize which family she came from. “Oh yeah my name is Ginny Weasley. I’m the sister of Fred and George. And Ron and Percy. Bill and Charlie as well.” She said.

“Wow...you have a big family.” Y/N stated, shocked from the amount of people under the Weasley family but even more shocked that she met the twin’s little sister who was nothing like them or Ron.

The Gryffindor shrugged. “Do you have siblings?”

The small smile Y/N gave Ginny was being offered again, shaking her head before saying “I don’t.”

“That’s nice…” The red head muttered.

“But it’s okay. At least I have Lixie.” Y/N stated, scratching Lixie’s head before fetching something from her pockets.

Turning to Ginny, she offered her hand, a small bracelet with a single snowflake charm dangling from it. “Here.”

Ginny looked up at the 5th year, curiosity in her eyes. “What’s this?” She asked, earning a small chuckle from the Slytherin. “It’s a bracelet obviously.”

Ginny sheepishly smiled. “I knew that. But why are you giving it to me?”

Y/N took a hold of the said bracelet in her hand, the other fetching Ginny’s hand before clasping the bracelet around the red head’s wrist. “This bracelet lets you talk to Lixie over here. When he says something, you’ll be able to understand him. He likes you. You can play with him.”

Ginny took a look at her wrist. The elegant silver band sitting perfectly on her skin causing a bright smile to sit on her face. Once again, she looked up at the 5th year. “Really?”

Y/N nodded, her smile matching the red head’s. “Really.”

____________________

Y/N hastily grabbed the ingredients from George’s hands as he seemed disoriented on what to place in the cauldron next. Y/N looked at the Gryffindor, a concerned look on her face. “You okay?” She asked.

The ginger Gryffindor was surprised to see Icestone talking to him like they didn’t have a messy encounter yesterday. After the twins caught Y/N with the crying Hufflepuffs, George was simply just lost in thought. Never did he hear or caught the Slytherin girl moving like her other awful housemates to the extent of bullying poor first years.

He knew the Slytherin queen moved like a cat. Quiet and swift. Not too showy. That’s also the reason why he wasn’t aware of her existence until that incident in McGonagall’s class. So he had his doubts. Was Icestone really different like he thought she was or was she just the same?

George slowly shook his head, his train of thought departing before giving a small smile towards the Slytherin. “I’m fine. Just nervous for the match on Saturday. I’m sorry I got distracted. I haven’t really been listening to what Snape was saying earlier so--” He rambled, getting cut off by Y/N. “That’s fine, George. I can help you.”

“Icestone...about yesterday…”

“Hush now, George. We don’t want Snape to put us in detention now don’t we?”

“You know, for a Slytherin, you’re pretty nice towards me.” The ginger stated, causing Y/N to look up at him.

“Is that so? And what makes you think that way, Weasley?” She asked, raising a brow. George shrugged.

“I mean, compared to other Slytherins, you’re tolerable. I lashed out at you yesterday but it seems like you’re completely fine. You don’t hold grudges. Even if me and Fred accidentally pranked you, you weren’t as furious as we thought you would be. In fact, you just turned us into cats and acted like nothing happened.” The ginger explained.

Y/N turned her attention away from the potion that they were cooking, a shocked expression around her face as she looked up at the Gryffindor. “Accidentally pranked? You mean to say that wasn’t supposed to be for me?! Then why was it lying on my desk?”

George smiled sheepishly, fidgeting his fingers as he leaned down to whisper. “We thought that was Malfoy’s desk.”

Y/N smirked, her eyebrows raising as an expression of amusement towards the Weasley twins. “You planned to prank Malfoy? Bloody brilliant you twins are. That would have been hilarious!”

George froze, confusion flooding his mind as he looked at the Slytherin in disbelief. “You’re not furious that we planned on pranking Malfoy?” He asked, earning a shrug from Y/N.

“Why would I be? It’s not like we’re close or something.” She deadpanned.

“I mean, you are the Slytherin queen afterall. You wouldn’t be mad if your subject gets teased on? Not to mention how Malfoy is literally your prince.”

Y/N scoffed. “Prince? Prince of annoyingness, prince of being a pain in the bum, or prince of being a whiny bloke? I tell you! He may get the title of the Slytherin prince but he definitely has no chance with me. Besides, haven’t I told you before? Those are just titles. None of it really matters to me. I must say, it is helpful sometimes though. You get the people’s respect for you.” She began.

“Nonetheless, just make sure you don’t hurt innocent Slytherins, Weasley or else I’ll have no mercy on you.” Y/N continued, a threatening tone in her voice as she sent pointed a finger towards the ginger.

George felt a shiver down his spine, scared by the tone used by the Slytherin at her last sentence.

“Yes, ma’am” He muttered before silence enveloped the pair’s table as Snape examined their shared cauldron.

Once the potions master dismissed the class, the students were quick to pack their belongings, refusing to stay a second longer in the dark classroom. Before the Slytherin queen left, she patted George’s shoulder, causing him to face her.

“See you later, George. I’ll see you at the match on Saturday, right?” Y/N asked, her innocent eyes looking up the tall ginger’s. George nodded, a small smile plastered on his lips.

Before he was able to speak, Y/N went on her tiptoes and kissed him on his cheeks, whispering a small “for good luck” before turning her heels to head to the dungeons, leaving George a blushing mess.

____________________

Saturday came with the Slytherin and Gryffindor team, along with a few students, sitting at the great hall for breakfast which was earlier than usual given that the match between the house rivals is about to take place. A few chit chatters and the sound of clanking silverware was the only thing to be heard until the infamous Slytherin prince opened his mouth to spat on the opposing team.

“Hey Gryffindors, don’t want to eat too much ey? Don’t want you puking on the field when they announce Slytherin as the winner.” Draco Malfoy snarled, annoying most of the Gryffindor quidditch team and earning a laugh from his own.

“Maybe if you lessened the gel on your hair, you would actually bring a contribution to your team.” Fred clapped back, making Draco scowl.

Just as he was about to stand up from his seat, a noise came from the doors of the great hall, turning everyone’s attention towards it.

There Y/N Icestone stood, residing in an emerald colored coat and a white scarf, with a Siamese cat dressed in a little white sweater in her arms.

As she made her way towards the Slytherin table, all eyes were on her, watching as she entered the hall, striding as if it was her runway. Noticing this, she gave the prying eyes her famous icy look, pushing away the attention off her. As she sat across Daphne Greengrass, Lixie sat on top of the table, his blue eyes sparkling upon seeing the feast laid out in front of him.

With the silence looming around the hall, Malfoy continued his attempt of bullying their quidditch rival. “Scared, Potter? You better watch out because I will be the one who’s gonna bring home the snitch. I--” Draco was unable to continue as a green apple was shoved in his mouth. Y/N Icestone had her wand up, pointed towards him. She was more irritated than ever.

“Malfoy, do you ever shut up? Don’t you think it's too early for you to be behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons? Eat your breakfast, will you?” She sternly said, her arms descending as she kept her wand in her coat, finally sipping her morning herbal tea but not noticing the look the twins from the Gryffindor house was giving her.

“Bloody hell, mate. She’s even scarier in the morning.” Fred whispered to his twin, who had a rather amused look on his face.

____________________

The quidditch field slowly became full as students of Hogwarts from different houses took their place on the stands to watch the rivalry unfold.

As both teams stood in their starting positions, George looked up the stands, smiling wide as he scanned the Gryffindors who came to support their house, cheering on his team. Looking over to the Hufflepuffs, he spotted some of his friends who were always excited whenever he and his twin managed to pull another successful prank. Moving his eyes towards the Ravenclaws, he saw how most were actually waiting for the game to start instead of catching up on a book like they usually do when their house was not playing.

Finally setting his eyes towards the Slytherins, the house had an expression of confidence, strongly believing that Gryffindor team was no match for theirs. Finding the familiar icy eyes, he spotted her sitting in the first row. Daphne Greengrass and another girl from the Slytherin house on her sides and a cat on her lap.

As the Slytherin queen reciprocated the look the ginger was giving to her, she raised a brow, making the Gryffindor beater smile even wider. Raising her hand, she gave a small wave before discreetly mouthing “good luck”.

____________________

“Angelina, watch out!” Fred called, concerned as a Slytherin player came to shove the Gryffindor chaser, disrupting the team to widen their score against the opposing team.

Most of the Gryffindor players were starting to get enraged. The Slytherin team has been disrupting their play one after the other without the authorities calling it as foul play when it clearly was. Every time a Gryffindor chaser would score the quaffle through the hoops, a Slytherin chaser would come shoving, sometimes kicking their brooms to make them lose their balance and take a hold of the said ball. The Slytherin beaters would purposely hit the bludgers roughly, once hitting their captain, Oliver Wood in the head, making him fall off and make the Gryffindor hoops unattended for the opposing team to score.

“Harry Potter flies through the stands in an attempt to catch the golden snitch. Will he be able to? Will Gryffindor win against the Slytherin today?!” Lee Jordan announces, being the commentator for quidditch games.

The rest of the Gryffindor team gave their effort to do defense against the opposition of the Slytherin team as they managed to get ahead of Gryffindor's points.

“The Slytherin seeker Draco Malfoy catches up to Harry, reaches his hands, and catches the snitch! Draco Malfoy catches the golden snitch! Slytherin wins!” Lee announces, the field erupting into cheers and shouts in different contexts.

The teams descend down from their brooms, the Slytherin team having an annoying smirk on their faces, high fiving each other before their captain, Marcus Flint, faces the Gryffindors, the look plastered on his face not faltering.

“Good game, Gryffs.” He said, laying his hand out for a hand shake but no one accepted. “Good game?!” Fred asked in disbelief. “You cheated!”

Flint raised both his arms in a defensive state. “Woah. Woah. Calm down Gryffs. In no way did we cheat. No need to blame your loss against ours. You should have trained your seeker better then. Good job, Malfoy.” He claimed, praising their Slytherin seeker who held out the golden snitch in a boasting manner, before retrieving back to their tent.

George, enraged from Slytherin’s foul play, looked up the stands, seeing a crossed armed Y/N Icestone, a similar annoying smirk plastered around her face, making him even more furious.

“Icestone.”

____________________

“Marcus Flint.” Y/N called, breaking the little bubble her house quidditch team was in, as she entered the team’s tent. With the captain facing towards her, the team halts their celebration as tension builds up in the atmosphere due to the seriousness in Icestone’s voice.

Standing in front of the sweaty team, she sent a glare towards the captain before looking at each player, one by one.

“Slytherins. I see that you’re celebrating your win against Gryffindor.” She stated, a disappointed smirk plastered on her face.

“Yeah, did you see how Draco caught the snitch? Potter really had nothing against him.” Flint snickered, patting the young boy at the back.

Y/N gave them a small and single nod. “Sure, you won. But do you think it’s a victorious one? Something that would bring you glory?” She scolded.

“I thought we talked about having a fair play? Do you want me to strip off your captain title, Flint? I could easily owl my father right this instant. It would --”

“No, no! I’m so sorry Icestone. I promise to not do it again! I’ll train my team even harder!” Flint cut off, scared of the Slytherin standing in front of him. Y/N gave a stern look towards the Slytherin team, silently threatening them as a warning to be ready for the consequences of another attempt of foul play.

That didn't work for Malfoy, though, as the platinum blonde boy scoffed. “Wait until my father--” Before he was able to continue, the girl cut him off. “Wait until my father hears about this.” Y/N mocked.

“What is he gonna do about it, huh? Your father has no power against mine. Remember that.” She stated, her voice full of venom. Finally turning her heels and making her way back to the comfort of her room but not before Lixie sending the team a small hiss causing them to jump.

____________________

Y/N stride the halls of the wizarding school, cat in her arms, gently stroking Lixie’s head as she makes her way to find a certain Gryffindor ginger.

Turning to the next corner, she was met by unwelcoming looks from the furious redhead twins, one of them being the certain ginger that she was looking for. Opening her mouth to speak, she was immediately cut off.

“That was all part of your plan now, wasn’t it ice queen?” George mocked, an angry tone in his voice. Y/N kept her blank expression, continuously patting her cat’s head to calm her building nerves.

She was shocked by the outraged looks the twins gave her but she was even more shocked to hear the tone George used on her. She understood that the twins would be mad because of the match earlier but she didn’t expect them to pour it down on her. She was lost in her thoughts. A lot of questions building up and her mind trying to conclude each and every one. Nonetheless, she kept her blank expression, showing no emotion towards the two tall gingers.

“I certainly do not know what you are talking about, Weasley.” She answered, her icy eyes digging back at his fiery ones.

“You must have ordered the Slytherin quidditch team to play dirty on us, huh? You must have ordered them like the queen you are! Angelina almost fell from her broom!” Fred exclaimed, causing Y/N to raise a finger at him.

“You do not use that tone on me, Weasley. My apologies for the foul play Slytherin has brought into the table. My apologies to your team, too, on their behalf. But trust me, I was not the mastermind of this.” She sternly said, the Weasley twins unfazed by her stone cold glare. In fact, they were even more furious, if that was possible.

“Oh yeah? Well then what was the meaning of “watch out for the main event” huh, Icestone? Don’t tell me this isn’t the main event you're pertaining to. Don’t tell me that you’re planning something else.” George said, gritting his teeth.

“Clearly you have twisted my words, Weasley. The main event was the pie on your face. Nothing more, nothing less. As for the events that unfolded earlier, none was under my control. You know how Slytherins always play dirty on the field. Now, shove off Weasleys.” She said under her voice, pushing past the Gryffindors as her icy eyes started to melt, water threatening to fall.

____________________

Later that evening, Fred and George sat at the Gryffindor tables at the great hall, bitter at the sight of the celebrating Slytherins. As George scanned his eyes towards the Slytherin tables, he was not fazed by the absence of the Slytherin queen but not until the Slytherins turned down their noise as Y/N Icestone walked in their sight, face showing no emotion.

“Icestone! We won!” A group of Slytherin girls celebrated, following Y/N as she sat in her place, the group sitting across from her. She flashed them a small smile before grabbing her own share of supper.

Fred gritted his teeth, his hands clenching against the fork he was holding. “Can you believe this, George?! Bloody Icestone even has the nerves to deny everything! It’s so obvious!” He ranted, strongly stating his opinion.

George sighed. “I can tell, Fred. I guess what I thought of her was wrong. So, so wrong.”

Silence occupied the twin’s bubble. Both focusing on stuffing their mouths full to distract them from the happy feast their rival house was doing.

Suddenly, as if a telepathic moment occurred between the Weasley twins, they looked up at each other. A smirk plastered around the older twin’s face and two brows raised from the younger twin.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, George?” Fred gushed.

“I think I know what you’re thinking, Fred.” George replied.

“Time to take the queen down.” They chanted.

____________________

Before the twins entered their potions class with Snape, they stopped outside the door, looking at each other.

“Ready, George?”

“Ready, Fred!”

End of Chapter 2

____________________

Taglist: @abrunettefangirlnerd @gloryekaterina @lilypad-55449 @memekingofwwiii @leovaldez37

Author’s note: Chapter 2 finally posted <3 Enjoy!

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agiar2000 · 3 years

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Resistance to Violence

I just saw this video, and I found it very intriguing and impactful, intellectually. It actually did get me thinking differently about the main issue therein. https://youtu.be/YJSehRlU34w

When this video was published, I was probably already quite convinced of the virtue of non-violent resistance.

In recent years, however, I have seen more and more of how non-violent protesters have not only been subjected to oppressive violence in retaliation, but have also been publicly blamed for the violence being done to and around them, so that the corrupt media has successfully managed to redirect the sympathy that ought to be conferred on those who are bravely and peacefully standing in the face of violence and oppression, and twist it into even more support for the oppressive system. I have seen how violent regimes are perfectly willing to brutalize peaceful people just to assert and demonstrate their dominance, and then I see them getting praise from large swaths of the population who support that oppression.

On the other hand, I have also been thinking more about situations where violence was the catalyst to finally make progress for equality and justice. The Confederate States of America, the Nazis of Germany, and the various unconscionable horrors they wrought were not stopped by people protesting peacefully, by seeking common ground, by seeking to understand them better and make them comfortable. They were stopped by a sufficient opposing army slaughtering them until they ceased to be willing and able to pose a continuing threat to humanity.

It's also helpful, I think to contrast the end of the Confederacy with the end of the Nazis. Starting with the Confederacy: While slavery and white supremacy were certainly overtly stated goals of the Confederacy's rebellion, the Union was (and still is) hardly an anti-racist country, and it has been noted that their goal in fighting the Confederacy was more about retaining the Union than about ending slavery. In the end, when the Confederacy surrendered, there was an attempt by the victors to ease the feelings of the erstwhile rebels, to allow them to retain a great deal of "Southern pride". For that, we get the Daughters of the Confederacy whitewashing and rewriting history, the Ku Klux Klan continuing to wage terror across the country, and many of the various monuments and other dedications to honor Confederate leaders. The meaning of these symbols is clearly white supremacy, and not merely "Southern pride", as evidenced by how they're used. Many of these monuments were erected in the former Confederacy as part of the backlash against the civil rights movement in the 20th century, and some people even outside of America proudly wave the Confederacy's navy jack flag. Why would non-Americans wave that flag? Because they want to wave a flag for white supremacy, and they can't legally wave the flag of the Nazis.

The Nazis, by contrast, were obliterated. They were not allowed to retain "Nazi pride" after the fall of their heinous regime. The symbols of their monstrosity were banned. A standard of basic human decency was granted greater priority than the "freedom" of terrible people to do horrible things. Nazism was destroyed, not simply because it opposed other powers that wanted to control them, but because they were evil, and they needed to be stopped for the good of the world. The result is that now, less than 8 decades after the fall of the Nazis, Germany is a far more decent, pro-social democracy than the former Confederate states, which continue to stand for right-wing oppression, even over 15 decades after the surrender of the Confederacy.

Another example, though less of a dramatic one, is that of the Stonewall riot. The LGBTQ community did not start gaining rights and freedom from a horrifically oppressive regime because they were kind, nice, and peaceful, gently appealing to the better angels of their murderers and oppressors, making the effort to try to understand them and to meet them in the middle. What kicked off their victories at this time was Black trans women of color throwing bricks at police.

Considering all that, I found Chenoweth's presentation difficult to reconcile. When the oppressive regime has control over the media, when they make every peaceful protester look like a violent, dangerous terrorist, and they convince large portions of the population to be willing to fight for fascism, convincing them that it is actually "freedom", and that efforts for justice are actually an attack on their very identity, how can one possibly proceed? When those in power do murder peaceful protesters, do you keep showing up to protest peacefully? If you see someone going around shooting people left and right, do you stand there and demand verbally that the shooter stop?

So, what to do? We live in a violent society that has normalized routine violence against the poor, minorities, people of color, and all of the most marginalized and vulnerable in society. We only need 3.5% of the population to actively resist? Already 5.8% of the American population is in deep poverty, with 9.2% in poverty, generally. Globally, these numbers are even more horrifying, with 9.2% in deep poverty and nearly 17% in a state of being "multidimensionally poor", and nearly half living on less than the equivalent of US$5.50 per day. Couldn't we count on those people, at the very least, to oppose their own oppression? No, we cannot, partly because part of being so oppressed is being kept so weak and powerless that you don't have the energy to resist and being provided just enough that you're terrified to lose what little you have by daring to stand up, but also because so many of them have been brainwashed and corrupted into voting against their own interests and being willing to fight against the people who are trying to help them, and blame the even more marginalized among them or phantoms of foreign powers for all of their problems. Maybe if they knew what was really going on, we would have won long before now.

Now, regarding the topic of the video, the success of non-violent resistance, I very much appreciate that Chenoweth's presentation relied on statistical data from studies of hundreds of events rather than the mere anecdotes that were foremost in my mind when I started watching, and I also appreciate that she started by talking about the mindset from which she started, which closely resembled my own, including good examples of violent revolutions that ended corrupt regimes. I don't know exactly how the data she used to reach her conclusion were gathered and classified, and I retain some skepticism, but I would very much like to believe that her data are, in fact, representative, accurate, and actionable. I would very much like to believe that we can, in fact, win freedom and justice through peaceful means, though I have a hard time really being confident in it. I want to believe that she's right because otherwise, I see very little hope at all. We are very close to a point at which total environmental collapse is inevitable, with the majority of global power still putting the pedal to the metal to drive us off that cliff as fast as possible. The most aggressive policy proposals to save the planet involve easing up on the gas slightly, far too little far too late, and even those are being defeated by the regressive death cult of neoliberals, conservatives, and fascists. At this point, it is hard to see how any future can exist that does not involve tremendous destruction. Either the forces of evil win outright and destroy everything, or the forces that oppose them are forced to wreak so much destruction in order to stop them that they might as well have lost anyway. It's hard to imagine sometimes that we have not already completely lost, that the world is not already completely doomed, and all that is left is to watch as the monsters responsible for it just keep making things worse until the very end.

I guess the answer is just to have faith and to do whatever we can to give humanity the best possible chance, and that means two main strategic goals: 1. Motivate and influence enough people to reach that 3.5% threshold to actually resist for the change that we all need. 2. Determine an actual action plan for those people to carry out that will have the desired effect with a minimum of collateral damage and harmful side effects.

Sadly, I have no idea how to do either of those things, and anything I can think of still feels either depressingly small and insufficient or worrying for its potential to cause unintended harm.

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

The Married Life

Commission for @useeer !!! Tysm once again for adding more Bloodhound to my ever growing pile, we truly bein sexy out here.

Summary: Bloodhound and you are married, and yet, sometimes they figure out new things about you they weren't expecting. Not that this is a bad thing, of course, just a new kink for the big bad wolf to ruin you with. OR. In which your spouse finds out you're into desperation play by holding your pee and wants to abuse that when you two are on a walk in the woods and you suddenly gotta go.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI or you will be blocked. AGE IN YOUR BIO!

Reblogs > Likes.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Reader (Trans male)

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is a trans male whose parts are referred to as cock/dick/hole, body mods are mentioned like tongue piercings, DESPERATION PLAY/WATER//SPORTS, u and Bloodhound are married and in love, humiliation play

Words: 5.4k

_____________

Marriage was a funny thing.

When you had known each other for a long time, had loved each other for a long time, you wonder if there is anything new about your partner you will discover. For Bloodhound, they had learned they could notice and pick out every little thing you ever did with intense focus. Noting things down to the way you preferred to eat your food or how to watch for your hands to prevent you from picking or gnawing at them when your anxiety struck.

They thought they had mostly figured you out, and yet you surprised them day to day with new things arising. Whether if it was because you picked up on some of their own hobbies or if you simply said a new phrase as if you’d said it all along.

Yet, what had been the most interesting thing to note was a curiosity not even Bloodhound could figure out right away. Something that was subtle and almost slipped under their analytical gaze.

It had all started in the woods one day. Chasing you was part of the thrill of your little hunts. Pinning you down was the icing on the cake of it all. But then something curious had happened.

~Rest under the cut~

When they had been fucking you that night, you had whimpered out as if embarrassed about having to relieve yourself. Any other time Bloodhound would have heeded you and stopped entirely, never wishing to make you uncomfortable, but when they had pressed a little more, all you did was squirm even at their questioning. No safe word, not even when they asked for your color. Bloodhound merely thought they’d play into your love of humiliation- not minding in the end if you pissed on the forest ground while they plowed you, or even on themself. Not as if it was something to be ashamed of.

They thought it had been your love of the humiliation that drove you to be so... into it. And yet, now, they wonder if it had not only just been the humiliation aspect of that night.

Bloodhound watches as you start to withhold yourself if you must relieve yourself in day-to-day life. You sit on the couch despite clearly needing to go to the restroom, cuddled up against their side as they read a book. You squirm and adjust, sometimes your breath will hitch but they could pass that off as you being stubborn of all things. But then they start to notice when your hand presses subtly to your crotch or lower abdomen. You do it so subtly and quietly that even they wouldn’t notice if they weren’t focusing on you rather than their book.

Your breaths are so quiet in the way they hitch, your subtle motions of nuzzling into their shoulder or chest are nothing new, but they find it’s almost as if you’re trying to ground yourself. And when you finally get up with a little squirm and a whine under your breath, they ponder to themself quietly.

How long have they noticed you doing these things and merely thought nothing of it? It is not as if they would judge you, let alone make fun of you for something like a kink. You were very generous in indulging in their own, even if they were sure you were just waiting for someone to offer to do more...intense things with you. Not like Bloodhound minded, they certainly enjoyed everything you let them do to you. And on the occasion, what they’d let you do to them .

They wonder when you leave to the restroom if that moment in the woods wasn’t just a chance encounter to humiliate you. But if all this time you had this little kink of yours and you were too embarrassed to just tell them. And somehow, someway, they managed to nail it on the head in that moment without even their own knowledge.

Healthy communication was important to them as it was for you, but perhaps this was too embarrassing of a topic? Bloodhound could admit their own embarrassment in admitting they had a breeding kink, but that topic had come up on accident after mentioning their own desire to have a family of their own later in life. There had never been an opportunity for you to openly discuss this kink since no leading conversation had occurred to get you there.

But how to start a conversation to make you feel comfortable discussing it?

Regardless, Bloodhound wanted you happy. They weren’t at all opposed to doing things that involved such a kink. But pressing you wouldn’t bode well, they knew that. You’d become shy or possibly shut down and be unable to speak. It’s best to wait for the opportunity to arise, and for now to simply monitor what things you may do during the day they hadn’t noticed that may pertain to this...topic.

When you’d returned to them on the couch, they greeted you with open arms for you to rest your head against their chest. “There is my beautiful husband,” They crooned at the sight of you, relishing in the redness taking across your cheeks as they drag you into a soft, adoring kiss before pecking your forehead.

From there, after that thought had taken root, they monitor you more closely, little to your knowledge.

For you, Bloodhound being observant wasn’t anything new. Hell, they knew your favorite color by the third date without you even saying anything. It started when you made a joke to them after they asked if they could kiss you, telling them teasingly they didn’t even know your favorite color, and when they confidentially stated it, you’d wondered if you actually did say anything. Turns out they knew it just from your outfits, it was a color you consistently had on you. And one you pointed out when you liked things. Go figure.

Their observations were always sweet and accurate. Though, sometimes you worried if you weren’t paying enough attention to them in turn.

What you were hoping for is that your spouse wouldn’t look too far into you after that night in the woods. Or...maybe in some way, you wanted them to look into it so you didn’t have to say it aloud. It was an embarrassing kink for you, hard to even think about let alone trying to figure out how to tell Bloodhound.

But, you’ll admit, you’d gotten off by yourself in the shower more than a few times imagining just how they’d fucked you raw like that. Remembering just how they’d sounded when they crooned out ‘My sweet boy, is that all?’ all condescendingly when you’d whined about needing to pee mid-sex. They hadn’t even questioned you, just asking for your color on the situation.

They wouldn’t mind indulging you, you knew this! You knew this and yet- it still made your face burn. Even when you came from your own fingers and quaking in the shower as you remembered them slamming into you, filthy talking you by your ear and daring you to release. Daring you to make a mess of yourself-

It felt too embarrassing to just...just bring up!

Bloodhound, throughout your entire relationship and through marriage, had always been one to pick up on your subtleties. So, you tried to play into that. You started joking more often about things like that, like when you drank too much water you’d laugh and say something like, “Man, really hope I don’t have to pee in the middle of our walk again, huh?” Only to be disappointed when Bloodhound would kindly state they could wait, or you could merely relieve yourself on your walk.

Or other things like holding yourself for longer, nearly going cross-eyed when you did it. Squirming in your seat next to them and praying they’d tease you about it so you had an excuse to whine for them to do something about it. But they either weren’t paying attention, or ignoring you out of politeness. Even when you would softly whine and give up as you went to the restroom.

Bloodhound was all about communication and being mindful not to overstep boundaries. You knew what you had to do, you just had to talk about it, communicate to them and see if they were interested as well.

But, fuck, was it so hard!

It’s a conversation for another time, another day you try to tell yourself. For the next few weeks after that event in the woods, you try to bring yourself to talk to them about it, but can’t bring it out. Praying and praying another chance encounter would happen, that Bloodhound would bring up their curious nature and question you about it. Yet, you can’t help but feel they did know, but were just...waiting for you to say something.

You liked being their prey, you always did, but sometimes their patient hunter nature was such a pain in the ass.

It was a pain in the ass when you started dating and had no idea how to tell them you wanted them to fuck you raw and they’d been oh so patient for you. Waiting and never going further even if you saw they wanted to, too. And now it was a pain in the ass all because your mouth wouldn’t open just to say ‘Hey, babe, so, funny story. Remember that day in the woods and you told me to basically piss myself mid-sex? Yeah, I was into that. But that part especially. But- wait no, the rest of it was really good too, but I mean, specifically that part was GREAT- not that sex with you isn’t great but--’.

Okay maybe not worded exactly like that. But that was the EXACT reason you couldn’t get it out in the first place! Your embarrassment and lack of ability to word it in a serious fashion made you tongue twisted and. ..and. ..and-

“Your thoughts are loud, my love,” Bloodhound’s voice snatches you from your thoughts where they can be seen in the kitchen packing away things into a bag over their shoulder. You two were planning to go to the nearby waterfall, the warm summer air allowing you two to swim and bathe in its waters in an intimate fashion in the nights. But now, their curious eyes flicker to you, their head cocked. “You may speak freely. Is there something on your mind?”

“No-- well, yes, but-” You pause there when you note Bloodhound’s concern, their eyebrows knitting and approaching you when your hands start to fuss with the other. They take your hands within theirs gently, their cold hands intertwining with yours. They take your left hand, kissing over the simple golden band with the sun etched into it- one that matched theirs with a crescent moon-, making your face burn but your nerves less on fire with anxiety than they were. “But...I’m just not sure how to talk about it? It isn’t even important, just something on my mind.”

“Anything you have to say is important to me.” Bloodhound murmurs, kissing up your knuckle, up the back of your hand, before standing on their tiptoes just as you bow your head to press a warm kiss to your forehead with their full lips. “If it is not upsetting you or something dire in your eyes, I shall let it go so we can enjoy our time together tonight. Shall we talk later?”

“Yes,” You breathe out in relief, your cheeks warming red as their cold hands gently cup them. It’s the look they give you, quiet and full of love. Where you can make out their good eye, golden and bright flickering across your face and that small, dimpled smile on their face. Gods help you, you loved them so much. “Yeah, of course, Hound. Now, quit bein’ sappy, don’t we have a walk to do?”

A sly grin etches across their face when you say the word ‘sappy’. Their eyes flickering down to your lips when your tongue flicks across them to show the stud on your tongue. Their eyes flash hungry briefly and heat rolls down your spine in a pleasant wave. “Sappy? Beloved, we both know that is not nearly as ‘sappy’ as I may be. Shall I remind you?”

Flickers of memories of poems written to you in beautiful ink while they’re away at the games, sealed with beautiful wax with flowery words of them missing you and how whichever raven went with them this time around missed you as well. Poems you had saved in a box- needing a new box soon with how full it was now. Of how they would hold you in bed, stroking along your cheek and murmur of your beauty. Of how soft they got when you could get out flowery words in turn, their cheeks warming and trying to hide in their red curls, only to call you their beautiful husband, their sweet boy-

Your face burns to your ears and you flash an embarrassed smile that makes Bloodhound smile victoriously in turn when you begin to stutter and squeak out, “N-no! No, no, I remember quite well, thank you!”

“Are you sure? We have time-”

“Hound!”

Their laugh is like music to your ears, their smile even more so when they flash their double canines before leaning in to peck a kiss on the corner of your mouth adoringly. There’s a quick double check to make sure you’re ready to begin the hour long walk to the waterfall from your little cottage in the woods.

Your spouse was dressed for the warm night out casually, beautiful as always. A tight pair of black camouflage yoga capris nearly made you want to get on your knees and thank anyone who would listen to you about Bloodhound’s perfect ass and hips. A black sports bra with the Apex symbol in red over their right breast and their fur collared bomber jacket. Their glasses were unnecessary in the dark of the night, the moon was close to Talos and provided plenty enough light, but solar powered lights also led along the trail. Nothing too bright to hurt them.

You were dressed in your normal gray hoodie and casual black joggers, perhaps not the smartest option for a warm night out, let alone such a long walk, but it made you most comfortable. Besides, if any touching was to be had, Bloodhound’s body was naturally freezing and would balance out any overheating business you might get.

The walk is always comforting. The soft chitter and chirping of the insects around and the sound of the winds rustling the trees was always a dream. Bloodhound hooks their pinkie with yours a few minutes in, and when you transfer to grab their hand and kiss the back of it, you smile at the way you catch them turn their head in a flustered manner.

It never felt like a long hour when walking with them. It felt peaceful and invigorating. Small conversations brought up like when you bring up their last game of the season of them being champion, how they clearly preen with pride and kiss the back of your hand in turn and murmur that their victory was a gift for you. It’s the playful little moments of bumping hips and how you’d seen Bloodhound go from being alone and preferring their own company to now wanting you close. The way they smile freely with you, twirling you under the moonlight to dip you and make you laugh as you’re dipped low enough to nearly hit the ground.

Halfway through the walk, you start to feel that pressure building again and curse yourself for drinking a whole bottle of water before your walk. You try to ignore it, just continue walking. But another ten minutes in and you’re squirming, bouncing from foot to foot. Trying to squeeze your thighs together until you’ve clearly slowed your pace. Bloodhound seems to notice only when your hands slip, looking back at you curiously where you flash a nervous smile.

Their eyes flash in that way that screams predatory, which doesn’t help the need to clench your thighs together. Especially when they begin stalking closer, their head cocked and curls falling over their shoulder. “You seem tense. Are you alright?” Their tone is teasing, almost mocking you as they step closer and closer. It makes you naturally back up, taking a step back each time they come forward. “Is something the matter, my love?” Bloodhound presses, their full lips quirking briefly at one side in the flash of a smirk and your cheeks burn all the way to your ears.

Asshole spouse you had. Stupid, sexy brat.

Your face is hot, your legs nearly shaking as you take your next step back. “I-I-uh—I need to- to uh- take a quick break to pee--” You practically squeak it all out, feeling heat race down your body when your back hits the base of a large tree. Bloodhound is quick, chest to chest with you and their eyes screaming hungry and curious.

What was going on in their mind? What were they thinking? Had they...had they been observing you?!

You whimper out when their thigh comes between your shaking thighs, forcefully parting them despite you trying so hard to keep them closed to help the pressure. Your eyes roll back into your head when you feel their hand brushing down your side, resting on your lower abdomen but not pressing. Just a threat. Your heart is racing, your mind racing as embarrassment and arousal shoots through you all at once.

“Then go, beloved. What is stopping you?” They croon in your ear, their other arm resting by your head and keeping you locked in place. Their breath fans across your cheek where you’ve turned your head to not make eye contact, a sob wracking your frame when they lift their powerful thigh to press between your legs and putting pressure against you.

The sob makes them pause, clearly unsure of themself now, but before they can even open their mouth to question you, you’re quick on them already. “Green. Green, green, fuck, am I so green right now, Hound, baby , God-”

“Thank you.” They murmur quietly by your ear, kissing the lobe softly and making you feel praised. It’s just a moment of pause to get themself back into it before they’re kissing down your neck, the lightest amount of pressure starting to be put on your lower abdomen until your eyes are watering and you're squirming to try and get away. A smirk is felt on your neck, their teeth grazing an old scar that was left behind their teeth from before. A mark.

Theirs.

“N-no—no, no, no, baby, please, please-” You begin to sob out, rocking desperately against their thigh as tears fill your gaze. Your hands cling to the sides of their jacket, shaking like a leaf when their thigh presses up harder, making it easier to grind your cock against and using pleasure to distract you form the pressure. If you—if you pissed like this, it’d be all over their leg. It’d be all over them-

Humiliation and embarrassment crack through you like lightning. You sniffle and shake as you plead and beg for them when their hand presses with just enough pressure to feel yourself tightening. “PLEASE! No, no, Hound, please, j-just let me g o PEE SOMEWHERE ELSE!” It comes out rushed, in a high-pitched squeaking cry. But all you hear is them hum as if you’re discussing the weather, licking a line up the column of your neck with their split, pierced tongue. “I-I’ll do anything! Anything, baby, please, please, please-”

“Anything?” Bloodhound croons back at you, easing the light pressure on your lower abdomen and leaving you instead to frantically hump across their thigh. You’re pretty sure you’re drooling, your vision blurry as you look over their shoulder and up at the moon. You felt watched.

What a voyeur the Allfather could be when their Champion was playing.

“Little one, you know better than to say that. What shall become of you if I do anything I wish?” They speak in a condescending tone, leaning back with their hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at them through your desperate humping. Your lips are parted, eyes half lidded as your hips desperately hump across their thigh, using the pressure on your cock as an excuse to forget about the pressure.

“Anything, anything, anything, just- please, please, don’t m-make me here-” You hiccup out, your lower lip quivering. You can make out how Bloodhound’s eyes fall to your lips, never having felt more helpless and like prey then when you are under their gaze. Just a toy for them to use and play with.

You had a feeling they liked you like that the most anyway.

“On your knees, bráðinni minni.” Bloodhound murmurs, pulling their leg from between your thighs and watching as you drop near instantly onto your knees. Your lips quiver, slamming your thighs together and trying to rock against your own thighs to relieve that pressure, or at least distract yourself. Your eyes are teary as you look up at them, your lips parted and undoubtedly drooling on yourself.

You make out Bloodhound’s thumbs hitching in their stretchy pants, pulling them down to mid-thigh and exposing them. Dark red curls already wet at their lower lips, how their fat clit peeks heavily from them and making your mouth water at the sight. Your own cock twitches helplessly, even more so when their fingers curl into your hair and pull you forward.

One of your hands rests between your thighs, trying to use your arm as a place to put pressure and distract yourself. Your other hand rests on Bloodhound’s outer thigh, already eager to feel your nose press to their curls. They smell heavenly, tasting even better on your tongue when you can slip your tongue past their lower lips. Lapping at them in firm swipes of your tongue like they liked, all the way to the underside of their clit to make it stand to attention.

Bloodhound always made the prettiest sounds too. Their soft, huffing snarls with each breath and the way their thighs tremble. Sensitive. You whine against them when they shove your face closer, fingers knitting into your hair to pull you upwards until you take the hint and seal your lips around their clit.

Your face is flushed, heat all throughout your body as you try to hump against your arm and squirm to try and refocus the pressure back and forth. Your distraction lays heavily in Bloodhound’s grasp and how they hold your head still, their hips humping against your face and fucking your mouth. You can feel their slick drooling down your chin, smearing across your nose with every greedy and desperate hump of their hips.

You look up at them and see a god. How their red curls twist wildly around their head, their eyes shut and long lashes casting shadows over their cheekbones. Their eyebrows knitted in pleasure and full lips parted to croon at you in their native tongue. Some of it you can make out, things like, “So good, my love, you are so good at this- ” “That is a good boy, take it.” “Yes, yes, yes -”

Your tongue slides out so you can slide it through their slick folds with every hump against you. You can taste them so heavily, making sure to flick your tongue just right so the metal ball on your tongue swipes across the underside of their clit each time their hips come forward.

“Fuck-” They swear under their breath, harsh and exhaled with pleasure. You swear if hearts could fill your eyes they would be lit up, feeling your own cock jerk and a whine fall from your lips at even the implication that they were the one desperate for you. You try to tell them without words how beautiful they are by sliding your hand up their thigh, catching their free hand over their hip to lace your fingers.

When Bloodhound cums , they squeeze your hand and the hand in your hair holds you firmly in place. Their entire body trembles, their hips only lightly humping against your eager mouth as you lick up what you can. Feeling each jerk and twitch of their clit against your lips, each contraction felt with your tongue and the excess wetness spilling out of them.

When they release you, you sit back on your knees, dizzy and panting with your eyes bleary and slick clinging to your lips and chin. A cold hand cups your cheek, their thumb swiping off your chin and you immediately suckle off the digit offered to you. Licking greedily for more of their taste, not even noticing how your own thighs tremble and clamp harshly down on your arm.

“Such an eager little thing you are. Do you like how I taste?” Bloodhound’s voice is condescending, digging into you as their hand leaves your face. You try to nod, your lips quivering as you look up at them and wishing so badly they’d just fuck your face again. But they keep looking at you, cocking their head lightly and reminding you of their pup-like tendencies briefly. But then you realize they want to hear it out loud.

“I-I--- yes, yes, you taste so- so good,” You try to whimper out, your cheeks burning red as humiliation creeps down your spine. They had to know what they were doing, keeping you on your knees and watching you squirm. You sniffle, “Hound, baby , please, please, I-I can’t hold it anymore, please, wasn’t I good?” You try for the low blow, your lips pouting, tears filling your eyes as if you could win their sympathy.

“Oh? Was that not reward enough? I thought you liked my taste.” Bloodhound croons, a smirk playing on their lips as they tug their pants back up just as you let out a sob. But they don’t leave you alone for long, soon moving to lean against the tree as they sit down. They grab you, maneuvering you into their lap until you’re lain across it on all fours. Your abdomen has zero pressure on it, safely resting in the open space of their parted thighs. A blessing, you assume.

You kick off your shoes just in time, your legs quivering to part enough to let Bloodhound strip you of your lower clothing until you’re just in your socks and hoodie. It hurts. It hurts so bad, but feels so good to hold it at the same time. Easier in this position to hold it, squeezing your thighs together and suddenly aware of how hard and slick you are in turn.

“Spread your legs, little one.” Bloodhound murmurs softly, their nails skimming up the back of your tense thigh and along your ass. You try to shake your head, crossing your arms under your head as you lie them in the dirt. Despite the shake of your head, your thighs tremble like leaves as you spread them apart, your brow furrowing when cool air rushes across your slick flesh and making your cock twitch.

“What is your color?” A quick check in from them, softly murmured as the hand not tracing your thighs gently strokes back your hair from your face. You whine out a ‘Green’ in turn, nuzzling at your own arms to avoid showing them your flushed and teary face.

“You shall hold it then.” Bloodhound says with such casualness, making your eyes widen as their fingers stroke down your sex. Your hips twitch when their fingers stroke across your cock, up to your hole in a fluid motion and teasing it.

“What? N-no, no, nonono, Hound, I can’t - I-I-”

“You can. And you shall.”

You burn all the way to your ears, only nodding your head frantically as two of their fingers slip into you with ease. You hear them hiss at it, curling their fingers towards your frontal walls in a way you know is just to tease you further with the pressure. You sob out into your arms when their fingers go from the soft, testing curls to starting to thrust into you. Fucking you on their fingers thoroughly as if they would on their strap on.

Three fingers enter you, their pinkie skimming across your swollen cock with each harsh thrust into you. Tears pool down your cheeks, your thighs quivering and your hips trying to jerk away or toward them- not even you can tell at this point. All you can think of is the way your body aches and trembles. Or how hot your face is when you feel a bit of wetness you know is not slick dribbling from you briefly.

“Look at you, elsku litli bráðin mín. I did tell you earlier you could release, and you denied me the same way, yes?” Bloodhound’s voice is a dig into you, curling their condescending claws around your heart as you drool and roll your eyes into the back of your head. Humiliation and embarrassment hold you tight, helpless to their digs as their fingers insistently press upwards and cause the pressure in your lower abdomen to tighten, begging for release.

You sob out when their fingers press and press and press, until you’re forced to piss yourself. The pressure is too much, forcing it out of you and down your thighs and surely onto Bloodhound’s clothed leg. Another sob escapes you when you hear them tsk at you.

“Messy. And you did not even receive permission. How pathetic .” Their voice is dull in your ears that ring with embarrassment and arousal, high off the feeling of their fingers still inside you but just holding there. You choke out an apology, sniffling into your arms despite your hips trying to press back into their hand desperately.

Bloodhound’s fingers start to move again, pounding into you as you let out a muffled scream into your arms. Everything sounded so wet and loud, your toes curling and your legs kicking. Your head is forced back from your arms, their fingers twisting into your hair and yanking you back into a perfect arch just as you cum. The sounds erupting from you are in fact pathetic, high pitched whimpers and ‘thank you’s bursting from you as if praying to a god.

In more than one way, you were.

When you come back to life, you’re blinking away tears, sat up in their lap as Bloodhound cradles you to them. You’re sat sideways in their lap, your head tucked into their neck as they cradle your nape, their other hand gently stroking your inner thigh and making you shudder. You make a soft sound, nosing at their jawline and sigh when they chuckle softly.

“Hello, my love. Are you alright? How are you feeling?” They speak softly, turning their head to kiss your sweaty forehead as you hum in turn.

“’M’ great. A little cold.”

“It is summer.”

“Yeah, but I have Jack Frost holding me right now.”

A laugh blossoms from their lips, icy cold kisses pressed to your cheeks in order to make you laugh and smile, trying to push away from them and whine obnoxiously as you dramatically tilt back in their arms. Inevitably they get you to hold still, their curls tickling your shoulders when they press another kiss to the tip of your nose before their own nuzzles against it affectionately.

It’s your turn to speak first when you settle back down into the quiet, resting your hand atop theirs on your thigh with a satisfied sigh. “Soooo...time for that talk from earlier...you, uh, figured that kink out, huh? Does...Does it weird you out?”

“Not in the slightest. I quite...enjoy new ways to humiliate you. I do not think you have, ah, cum so hard you have passed out in a long time.” They tease you, pressing a kiss to your temple when you let out a noise of embarrassment.

From there, you’re left to settle until you can stand. They offer to carry you, but after insisting you had enough humiliation for one night playfully, they offer your pants instead. Allowing you to see the wet spot covering their thigh, only making you burn red again until they flash you a cocky little smile. “And I thought marking was my responsibility.”

“Hound, please- ”

Their laughter follows throughout the woods. Waiting for you to dress once more before taking your hand and guiding you the rest of the way towards the waterfall for a much, much more needed bath.

You’ll try and... thank them properly once you’re there. For indulging in your little kink.

Marriage was truly a funny thing.

#Bloodhound #Bloodhound x reader #apex lemons #apex legends #nsft #lemon #trans male reader #commissions #princess writing

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second-chance-stray · 3 years

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RP Log: Riylli is worried about Cravs.

Riylli Aliapoh knocks on the door to Cravs room, having grabbed some emergency drinks beforehand just in case. "...Cravs? You in there?" She called out, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "I was thinkin' we could talk a little? About the whole... plan, thingy..."

Cravendy Hound is right about to tuck into a pastry roll when Riylli knocks on the door. Panicking, she grabs the plate and hides it unceremoniously on the ground behind the bar. She then clears her throat and shouts to welcome the miqo'te in. "AH YEAH. I'm 'ere! To talk."

Riylli Aliapoh enters the room, drinks in hand, and gives it a look over. "...Huh. This place is a lot... Cozier than I expected." She muses, stepping further inside. "I was kinda expectin' it to just be a hammock. That's how you folks sleep in Limsa, right?" She asked, moving to take a seat by Cravs' minibar, realizing her grabbing drinks from upstairs may have been a little pointless

Cravendy Hound rolls her eyes. "Did ye expect my room to be an empty space with a hammock in the middle, then? Haha, yer right about 'em being common in Limsa, but mostly cause they're cheap and fit on boats." Behind her is an assortment of bottles, most half empty. She sets out two glasses and pours Riylli a bit of rum.

Cravendy Hound: "So, mind pourin' me a bit of what ye brought?" She eyes the drinks that Riylli has with her.

Riylli Aliapoh watches Cravs pour her a drink, then looks towards her own. "O-Oh, uh, this is just some stuff I grabbed upstairs... Sorry, I only remembered last minute you're supposed to bring gifts to peoples homes..." Riylli mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck. Still, she picked up one of the bottles and pours Cravs out a shot. "It's just some mead. I didn't know what you liked but you brought that bottle yesterday so..."

Cravendy Hound chuckles, but accepts the mead anyway. "Word of advice. If yer regiftin' someone somethin' ye got for free, it's best to not let 'em know. I don't care, but a fancier fella like Mivo would."

Riylli Aliapoh 's cheeks coloured a bit at the gentle scolding. "...Sorry. I don't exactly care what that pompous shitehead thinks, but I'll make sure to bring you a proper housewarmin' gift next time!" She declares with a nod, taking the first sip of her drink. A strained expression on her face makes it obvious she is clearly struggling with it, but she manages to get it all down thankfully. "It's... good." She fibs

Cravendy Hound: "Yesterday I learned the guy ain't a thoroughbred, though 'e might talk like one. But anyway, enough about 'im. Look, Riylli, I literally don't expect anythin' of the sort. I'm not the type to get wound up over 'ousewarmin' gifts or proper etiquette." She gestures over to the pile of dirty dishes stacked on top of a barrel behind her to drive home the point.

Cravendy Hound picks up on Riylli's struggle and grins. "......well, if ye like it so much, 'ow about a refill?"

Riylli Aliapoh hesitates, but nods. "S...Sure." She says, trying her hardest to be a good houseguest. "And, I still wanna get you somethin'! I don't suppose you'd accept an animal pelt or something along those lines? That's usually what we Miqo'te gift when visiting other clans. Can use it as a rug!"

Cravendy Hound: "Could use a rug. Yeah, why don't ye bring me one?" Cravs grabs the bottle of rum and empties what little remains into Riylli's glass. She thinks for a second. "...would 'ave to be pretty big to be used as a rug. Ye 'untin' bears out there?"

Riylli Aliapoh: "Usually antelope and boars, but those won't do as a gift. I could totally get you a bear if that's what you want!" She says with a grin, picking up her glass and holding it for a moment. "Though... Might take a bit. I doubt Ava will let me use one I don't catch myself." She pauses to take a deep breath before once again downing her drink, trying to swallow it before she can taste it and making another face when that plan failed. "...Speaking of. I talked to her like I said, and she seems to agree that goin' about things the legal way is probably the best path... But... I sorta... I don't know." She shuffled in place awkwardly, before closing her eyes and taking another deep breath. "I... Don't think it's a good idea to go through those... 'friends' of yours..."

Cravendy Hound: "Well, be careful? Bears are no joke, and 'onestly...ye'll 'ave the Elementals to worry about too. Stupid forest ghosts sent a buncha bees after me, even though it was just a misunderstandin' on my part." Cravs twitches and looks around herself. "They can't 'ear me in 'ere, can they? Shit. I mean, the blessed, all-mighty Elementals."

Cravendy Hound leans back and focuses on the bits of dust caught on the edge of her glass, the topic change putting her a bit on edge. She sighs. "Well, what do ye suggest then? Go diggin' for a different crime to catch Mindred with?"

Riylli Aliapoh shrunk a bit, feeling the change in the atmosphere. Though Cravs could not see from behind the bar, her tail had ended up in her lap and she was nervously fiddling with it. "I... Don't know. I don't think I have any suggestions really... I just... Don't like the idea of you getting close to them again." She mumbles, deciding the nearby plant had become rather interesting and keeping her eyes on it instead of Cravs. "But... I'm sure we can think of something, right?"

Cravendy Hound raised a brow. Was Riylli...worried? Or jealous? Both, neither, something else altogether? Either way, Cravs was having trouble reading Riylli's reaction. "Eh? Oh, uh, they're really not that bad. I'm sure if ye met 'em ye'd change yer mind. And it's not like I'm plannin' on goin' back to piratin' full time anyhow, I've got responsibilities 'ere now."

Riylli Aliapoh raised an eyebrow, not in disbelief but in curiosity. "They... Aint? But I thought..." She hesitates, not really sure how to put her words together. "Um... Tell me about them then? If they really aint bad, then we can go through them. Just... I don't want you going back to... Y'know..." She mumbled, hoping the implication was enough for her to avoid mentioning anything specific.

Cravendy Hound: "A bandit's a bandit until ye get to know 'em. Not sayin' they ain't crass, violent, or dumb as 'ell sometimes, but at the end of the day, they're just people who value....freedom," Cravs tries, as she attempts to present them in the best light possible. "Don't go lookin' for 'em yerself though. Seriously."

Cravendy Hound tilts her head as she tries to complete Riylli's thought. "...don't know if I can make any promises. I'm naturally....well, I'm not particularly good at bein' good."

Riylli Aliapoh makes a face. "Violent is what I'm worried about... There are plenty of Miqo'te clans and tribes that aren't afraid to kill if someone trespasses or goes against their laws, but... They don't go lookin' for trouble like bandit groups do." She says, before Cravs speaks again. Her frown returns, "That aint true! I know you're a good person! That's why you helped build Dirtpatch back up, and that's why you're helpin' keep Baldur safe to begin with!" She insisted, something about the Roegadyns words seeming to strike a nerve. "Your past don't matter to me, but... I can't let you go back to being bad. So... Please, if working with those people might push you back on that path, can't we just find another way..?" The anger in her voice wavered near the end as she made her plea, a hint of fear in her eyes

Cravendy Hound is silent for a moment. She downs her mead and holds her glass upside down in her hand as she looks away. This isn't the first time she's heard something like this, and every time her gut reaction is disbelief. She can't shake the feeling that she's fooling everyone. Pretending. It'd be easier if no one put their trust in her, let her flail about without pressure.

Cravendy Hound: "I am...already...that's." She shakes her head. "Okay. If we can find another way. But if we can't, well. Then I wouldn't be opposed to bringin' ye along, if yer up for meetin' some unsavory saltfolk."

Riylli Aliapoh's eyes light up. "...Really?" She hops to her feet suddenly, leaning against the bar counter excitedly and absolutely not standing on her toes to do so. "Yeah! We'll come up with a great plan! And, if not, then I'll be there with you when we meet 'em to keep you safe!" She declares, grinning wide enough to show off her fangs. "Rising can help us come up with somethin' clever I bet, I always hear those folk up in Idyllshire are supposed to be smart after all, so maybe some of that rubbed off on her!"

Cravendy Hound lets out a well-meaning laugh at the thought of Riylli and Rising keeping her safe. "Wha? Pf, if I bring ye two to meet 'em, I'll be the one on babysittin' duty! I'm worried one of ye'll rub one of 'em the wrong way!"

Cravendy Hound: "Does it work that way? Don't think I ever get any smarter from talkin' with Lin..."

Riylli Aliapoh: "Course it does! You've learned stuff about earth magic from hangin' around me, haven't you?" She asked, a question that clearly only had one safe answer. "If anythin' bad happens with them, Rising and I can handle ourselves! I aint scared of wannabe bandits, no way they can live up to what we got in the shroud! But... Anyroad. As long as they don't try to pull you back into their mess, I won't start nothing. Even if I really want to."

Cravendy Hound shakes her head with a grin. "Ayyye, I'm really startin' to regret agreein' to this...it's like take yer kid to work day. Ye'll, uhh. Ah," She pauses and a slight blush crosses over her face. "I've got a reputation to uphold in that group, okay? Ye guys see a real soft side to me, but they don't, so don't say anythin' embarassin' and leave most of the talkin' to me when it 'appens!"

Cravendy Hound: "Oi, I've done a lot of watchin', but not a lot of learnin'. And tossin' a rock with my 'ands doesn't count as earth magic!"

Riylli Aliapoh 's cheek colour. "I-I aint a kid! It'll be fine dammit!" She huffed, Cravs striking a nerve. "Though, I aint gonna let them try to say bad things about you, reputation be damned. That's why I'm goin' really, to make sure you remember that you aint that person anymore. Er... But we won't go! We'll come up with a better plan, remember? Solve it the 'lawful' way!" She said with another nod. "Or... At least a way not involvin' them."

Cravendy Hound: "Haha, yeah, that's right. Let's 'ope for the best then," Cravs answers. She doesn't want to get her hopes up, but Riylli makes that hard. "....Wait. Are ye actually a kid? I don't remember if I ever asked yer age."

Cravendy Hound: "Always thought ye were 22 or 24. But maybe...Gods, don't tell me yer actually...older than me..." Cravs trails off, pale as a sheet.

Riylli Aliapoh crosses her arms, giving Cravs a glare. "I said I aint! I'm an adult dammit, this is my twentieth summer." She mutters, daring Cravs to try and say something further about it. "Just because I'm shorter than you doesn't make me a kid. Everyones shorter than you!"

Cravendy Hound lets out a sigh of relief. Then: "Risin' ain't shorter than me."

Riylli Aliapoh: "She aint?" Riylli has to pause to think about it for a moment, it was rather hard to tell from her perspective. "Well, everyone not a Roegadyn then. My point still stands! Don't treat me like a kid just because I'm a Miqo'te, it's not my fault I wasn't born a giant like you!"

Cravendy Hound: "I think she's a little taller than me. Or maybe I'm gettin' mixed up with 'er lance. Eh." She shrugs. "I ain't treatin' ye like a kid! It'd just feel weird if ye were older than me is all!"

Riylli Aliapoh keeps her arms crossed, eyeing Cravs suspiciously for a few moments more before finally nodding. "...Good. We Miqo'te get looked down on all the time, but even if you're my friend I aint gonna let you do it too! It's gettin' late for you though, yeah? Should we make plans to meet up with Rising later to brainstorm? Can get drinks at the same time!" She said, flashing Cravs another bright grin

Cravendy Hound: "'ow else can I look at ye? Yer all the way down there!" Cravs teases, shooting Riylli a smug wink. "Hah, sounds like a plan. Best ideas come while drunk!"

Riylli Aliapoh glares back at Cravs. "Very funny. We'll meet up later then." She says, turning to leave. She opens the door only to pause for a moment, then turning to flash Cravs one final grin. "Enjoy your pastry!" She says, sending Cravs a smug wink of her own as she taps her nose and quickly disappears out the door.

Cravendy Hound 's eyes go wide and her mouth opens to shout something back, but Riylli is gone before she can get anything out. Damnit, how long did she know?! Cravs groans.

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Riylli Aliapoh #the idea of putting food on the floor will always amuse me #that and food in your pockets

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shadowqnights · 3 years

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because you're writing enemies to lovers... how do you determine when two people are enemies and how do you determine when two people are lovers? basically what are the qualities in a relationship that classify people as enemies and lovers respectively? how do they behave and act towards one another?

Oooo okay!!! Not sure if this is advice or just asking for my personal analysis on the topic but I'll gush anyway. I love talking about this because enemies to lovers, despite the name, also has my favourite middle ground "it's complicated", at least when I write it, which is 100% the most fun to write. It really really depends on the author actually. To me, a pair of characters are enemies when on opposing sides of morals or walks of life, whereas rivals is a much more domestic definition. Garroth and Laur are enemies mostly because of a) where they grew up and b)their current positions/affiliations (Laur is a Shadow Knight, Garroth is a Guard and runaway Ro'Meave + O'Khasis is the power city of the region and holds a LOT of control over the smaller towns where Laurance is most familiar). If I was writing for example PDH or Mystreet, I'd refer to them as rivals more than enemies, but once again I think that's a personal thing to the author whether they're enemies or not!

For me, I determine that two characters are enemies when their opposition/standing/affiliations or whatever makes them enemies is actively getting in the way of their daily life. It's not just an afterthought in the back of their mind - it's disturbing them. Garroth felt as if it was his duty to protect his home from the stereotype of Shadow Knights that he was familiar with, and Laurance was frustrated after discovering Garroth's upbringing and felt that life was unfair in that regard. In an enemies to lovers, the enemies in my mind has to last for a long period of time. More than just a few days. Changing your mind about someone you have strong opinions about is not an overnight process in the slightest and in my experience I made it a couple of months. I feel like at least longer than a month is needed to grow. I might become more sympathetic over the span of a few days learning new information about another person, but it will take me far longer to apply that into my interactions with them, and if we're arguing like 24/7 then that's not going to stop overnight. Even playful banter is going to carry on into the middle ground:

"it's complicated"

My personal favourite, because you're not enemies, you're not lovers, you don't know what the hell you are, you're just trying to figure this out. At these point one character might have unrequited feelings for the other, they both might be falling and are in severe denial, one is realising and the other isn't, but either way they're not lovers. They're awkward messes but do Not stop the playful banter no matter what. It's Crucial that the banter pauses. My favourite thing during this phase is to toy with the reader a little bit just as they are toying with each other - make it seem like they're on the cusp of lovers, and everything is going to be okay, then have things crumble for a little while. Ups and downs are key here, make things seem hopeful and then crush some hearts for a bit, push characters to their limits because that is going to inevitably bring them closer together, either by force or simply accidentally. These kinds of scenes reveal that something in a character wants to be close to their enemy, more than friends, and are actively choosing them instead of being forced into interactions with them by those around them.

Eg. Garroth and Laurance spending time together not because they have to, but because they take joy in each other's company. Of course, it's not easy to come to terms with that after spending so long hating each others' guts.

The fun part is figuring out when we're out of 'it's complicated' and into lovers because I SURE AS HELL DON'T KNOW! :D In my experience it's come pretty naturally as a transition because I place a LOT of focus on the "it's complicated" or enemies rather than the resolution of MONTHS of bickering, hatred and at least one homoerotic sword fight scene.

Lovers is the one part I can't talk about so easily because I have NO IDEA how "it's complicated" turns into lovers because everyone writes it differently!! :D I can't even explain how I write most of the time because I really have no idea what I'm doing at any given point in time. It's also a bit different for me because, as tags suggest, I'm writing enemies to lovers with an angst ending. I can't really help in that regard unfortunately I'm sorryHDFJKFD. Behaviour wise I'd say the light bickering doesn't change much, I don't enjoy very abrupt shifts in behaviour and personality after a confession or 'leap of faith' and whilst they might be acting a lot more gentle or warm towards each other, you can also make it fun by dipping in and out of It's Complicated and Lovers. The good old 'pretend it never happened but things are incredibly awkward now and I don't want to admit how much I enjoyed that kiss etc' works wonders for me, but it depends on the person! I classify Lovers as any point past the 'leap of faith' as I put it, and that particular leap I haven't even reached yet so I'm not the best person to ask about the Lovers part. Laughs nervously.......... soon I promise it's soon I swear.

ANYWAY I've already written too much about this so I'm trying to keep it short IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I DONT EVEN KNOW IF THIS IS WHAT YOUR ASK MEANT ANON IM SORRY YOU'RE MY BELOVED :] <3

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filthyfundie · 3 years

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I really just wish both sides would have an open, honest discussion. I am one of the few truly moderate people in this country and both sides are so passionate about their beliefs they end up slinging insults at one another. No dicussions. No open mind to learn the other's pov. A large segment of the population on each side feels their voice is unheard. If people do not shut up and listen, not agree but listen, i worry this will just get worse.

Identifying as a moderate in the current US political climate is interesting to me. I would genuinely like to hear more about why you align yourself with this identity and what being a “true” moderate means.

The idea that a solution can be found if we “just listen” to each side is juvenile at best and arrogant at worst. The polarization in US politics is astronomical, we are not looking at a slight difference of opinion. In 2021 our political differences are not over highway repair budgets. There is no magical middle ground that will lead to peace and resolve, unfortunately.

The “both sides” argument is not without serious consequence. I think it’s most common that we see this fantasy solution come form those who strictly view politics as a theory game and either don’t believe or don’t understand the real world impact (pictures of adolescent to middle aged white folks wearing opposing political merch and shaking hands comes to mind). There is no “agree to disagree” and finding a work around when the topic is civil rights.

“Both sides are so passionate.” Passion doesn’t equal justification and just because one is yelling doesn’t mean they’re right. The left is passionate about people not dying of preventable causes (from COVID to police brutality) the right is passionate about... nothing changing so they can continue to prioritize their wealth and personal interests.

When one adopts the mindset that both sides are equally at fault for the current state of things they are unarguably supporting the oppressors. While ideaologies have drifted further and further apart, the right have always put the weight of peace and compromise on the left but refused to meet even part of the way. The left has been consistently belittled, taunted, and disrespected, no matter what tactics we take or arguments we make. So when we finally say enough is enough and take a stand, showing our anger, that is not equal to the group of people who have been benefiting from oppression being mad that they’re being stood up to.

* This was sent last week but I waited until I was in a better (mental) place to answer. Anon if you’re reading this please see my tags.

#okay so I feel like this comes across kind of cold #I really am / want to be open to a conversation with you about these takes #and I’m not applying any adjectives used above to you as a person #but to the ideas presented #I’m not thrilled with my response but didn’t want to wait longer to post it #I really went hard with the quotations huh #I’ve been editing this for days it is what is #it’s only Tuesday and I’m exhausted #fatigue has been real the past week #anyways #1621

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Why do You dislike Scott Snyder? I mean I have my reasons.. like a lot of the Court of Owls stuff, his convoluted plots, making Dick a punching bag for the broody bats, horrible at writing the family as a family he literally wrote Death of the Family I mean....*kill bill sirens* ... Also the ''son of a Damian'' line from Black Mirror etc. But I'm curious if you have more reasons since I'm pretty new and I'm told that he likes Dick and wanted to write Dick focused books and I don't.. buy it.

LOL yeah, all of that for sure, and I mean.....tbh, I don’t pay enough attention to his interviews and stuff to even be aware that he’s said that about liking Dick and wanting to write Dick-centric books, but I’m with you on that....not necessarily meaning anything.

God knows I’ve lost track of how many fic writers in this fandom swear up and down they love Dick Grayson and yet I avoid their stories with extreme energy, lmao, because I’ve read enough of their takes on DG that I’m like hmmm, yeah, we are not the same, lol. I mean, there’s a certain couple fic writers who just are like....DETERMINED to mention Danny Chase every single time I make a post about why I’m annoyed by the focus on Dick’s allegedly infamous temper. And its always the exact same song on repeat, they’re like “OH-HO, so apparently you don’t remember the time Dick choked Danny, a literal CHILD, just because Danny had the nerve to tell him Jason died, cuz like, I do, and it was AWFUL and Danny could have died TOO y’know, that’s how mad Dick was.”

And then I just kinda stare at these words that apparently mean things, and enter a fugue state where an unknown amount of time passes and by the end of it I feel 80 million epochs older, and its like....no, I absolutely do remember that time when Dick grabbed Danny by the shirt and yelled in his face because he just found out his brother died and Danny said “what’s the big deal, its not like it doesn’t happen all the time” and this was absolutely not an awesome and fun scene for anyone, no matter how understandable Dick’s upset was at the time. BUT, I also happen to remember, since y’know, it was in that literal exact same issue, how then Dick went to see Bruce, and due to BRUCE’S upset about Jason’s death, Bruce literally punched his remaining son to the ground, screams about how it was all Dick’s fault, and kicks him out of the house Dick grew up in and tells him to leave his keys with Alfred.

And its like......the very same people who LOVE to throw around references to Danny Chase in order to puff up the claims about Dick Grayson being volatile and extreme and having a Dangerous Temper like, flat out REFUSE to ever even ACKNOWLEDGE that scene with Dick and Bruce, from the literal exact same issue, because they at the same time claim that THIS was bad writing and OOC and Bruce would never.....but apparently, the writing from ten pages before it was just fine and completely accurate and Dick absolutely would not only ever, he would always, and thus Dick’s Legendary Dangerous Temper is canon and its why Dick can’t have nice things or people being nice to him in these writers’ stories, its too Dangerous, he might get mad I guess.

And each time this comes up on this site, I’m always like....hey, science side of tumblr, is it possible that insisting on vilifying Dick for his reaction to someone in the wake of Jason’s death whilst simultaneously refusing to acknowledge the scene of Bruce’s reaction to Dick is canon or in-character despite existing in the exact same issue and written by the exact same writer.....like....could this be one of those double standards I’m always going on about? And isn’t it in fact reasonable to question just how much or how little someone actually means it when they say they love a character but want that character flogged in the middle of the town square for a Bad Reaction to something that also prompted a Bad Reaction from another character but this character, they’ll like, throw themselves in front of a moving train if it keeps someone from daring to even suggest that THEIR reaction was canon and in-character and might potentially say something damning about their temper or behavior with friends or family?

*heaves endless sigh of endlessness*

Sorry, that example was right there on the tip of my brain today because like....I literally just saw another post around this oft-deceased and resurrected and killed to death again dead horse like, five minutes ago and then came to dip into my ask box for the first time today and it was like.....destiny. Assuming destiny has some free time to kill and nothing better to do, which, I mean, hey, everyone’s allowed a hobby is all I’m saying.

LOL sooooooooooo, ANYWHO, its just like.....ugh, I’m so over being expected to take at face value any writers, whether professional or fan, saying “oh but I love this character or that character, and due to that being my preface to everything else I say or do in regards to this character, you have zero basis for claiming that you do not like or trust my depiction of this character because ummm, read much? I literally JUST said, I love them though? Wow. Insert scoffs of incredulity here, I don’t even know how to talk to someone who thinks I don’t like a character I claimed I like just because literally everything else I say or do about them paints an opposing picture to the contrary.”

LMAO. Sorry. Had to get that off my chest. But yeah, like, I think EVERY canon Batfam writer has made a similar claim in recent years about pretty much every Batfam character, and at a certain point it starts to be like....okay, if all of you are telling the truth here, shouldn’t we see more canon evidence of like....these characters that you’re writing, like....actually even LIKING each other? At what point are we allowed to question the legitimacy of you saying oh I totes love this character, that’s why I write their family as abusing them, that’s just love, baby, that’s what it looks like.

Personally, I’d like to see more of us at least using qualifiers? I mean, I do say I don’t hate Tim, or Bruce, or any of these characters, but I get how people could be dubious about that and be all, umm, you rant about them a lot, because like...yeah. Fair. That’s a valid critique. SO its a lot more accurate for me to be like, I love 90s Tim and I just have become increasingly less enchanted with the character over the past twenty years since then, enough so that my knee-jerk reactionism to people bashing Dick’s character BECAUSE of what Dick did or didn’t do to Tim in their eyes, is like.....disinclined to view the situation or his character these days through 90s-Tim rose-colored glasses.

Similarly, I truly don’t hate Bruce, at least not when he’s not being written as physically and emotionally abusive and/or just plain neglectful, BUT I absolutely despise the abuse apologism rampant in most fandoms, but particularly in this one, where people will make like Cirque-de-Soilei contortionists in order to prove that Bruce beating this kid or that kid isn’t actually abuse, its cuz they made him do it....rather than people just being like, no, that’s abuse right there on the page and I don’t stand for it or stan that Batman, so I have zero desire to defend that scene or his actions there from his perspective, and am totally fine with taking a seat when someone speaks up about how much they hate what Bruce did to his kid there in that scene and how it affects their read of the characters as a whole.

Its like....that too, is a thing you can do, instead of just.....trying to explain why Bruce isn’t abusive see, because what happened there wasn’t actually abuse, since it couldn’t have been, because Bruce isn’t abusive, see, he would Never.

And yet so rarely do people actually do that, and we have people literally championing themselves as members of the Good Dad Bruce Protection Squad when the frank reality is there CAN BE NO GUARANTEE of him ever and always being a Good Dad, when like....his characterization, ultimately, is dependent on how he’s written by canon writers who ARE NOT US. Which makes that desire to see him as just a good dad and nothing but a good dad always, like....not quite as understandable as it otherwise might be, and instead just kinda....willful, an admission that a lot of fans in this fandom will just flat out ignore all evidence to the contrary of this stated claim about what Bruce inherently IS, when inherently all he is happens to be a character who manifests whatever those in creative control of him choose to manifest via him. Like.....there are ways to go about that kinda thing, its just....that isn’t it. Something like “Proud member of the Keep Bruce Wayne a Good Dad Squad’ or something along those lines? I’d have ZERO issue with, because that’s ACTIONABLE, not WILLFUL. It posits not that Bruce simply IS this way and there’s no ifs, ands or buts about it, but rather that just because he isn’t this way in some instances, that doesn’t mean we have to agree with it or condone that interpretation of him, y’know?

But people are like....unwilling to make that distinction or hold that nuance a lot of the times, so my dislike of Bruce as he’s written in certain ways or by certain writers like....grows and evolves and mutates into Godzilla rampaging through downtown New York, until its understandable that people reading my blog intermittently and who don’t follow everything I say on the subject are like.....”Bold of you to claim you like lizards in this one post when I have here nine other posts where you’re just like, FEAR the murderous monster-lizard destroying New York for it is Dangerous and Fearsome. Cuz one of these things is not like the others, bud.”

*Shrugs* Anyway, all of that’s just my allergy to Staying on Topic, so make of it what you will, hopefully you get what I mean though even if you don’t have like, the requisite Kalen-Garbled-Nonsense Secret Decoder Ring. Back to Snyder though....yeah, he can claim he likes Dick all he wants, because y’know what, Tynion says the same thing and its been well established by moi that my fondest wish for Tynion is that he be kept far, far away from Dick’s character whenever possible. And I’m pretty sure Tom King claims he loves all these characters and we’re all like HAHAHHAHA and we know Lobdell insists he loves Jason Todd and its like wow how curious then that hardly any other Jason Todd stans love you.

The ironic thing about my random bouts of ugh Snyder in a lot of posts however, is that......tbh, its not even his depiction of Dick that makes me dislike him as much as I do? LMAO. I mean, I’m not a fan of it personally, for a lot of the reasons you mentioned, but I don’t like a lot most canon writers’ depiction of Dick these days and haven’t for years. The thing I really dislike Snyder for, personally, is his depiction of Damian.

Its just.....its very Not Good, a lot of the time. Oh, there are moments here and there, but you could claim that for any writer, really, but for the most part, like.....ooof, I haven’t read Snyder’s work on Damian recently enough to really cite specific moments off the top of my head, because I’ve been avoiding anywhere he’s writing Damian for awhile now BECAUSE of it, but....a LOT of the ‘demon brat’ shit in regards to Damian comes from Snyder’s work, and like, I’m always kinda like “hey is making Demon anything the go-to nickname for a kid of Arab descent who is already compared to a terrorist enough as it is like....really the best we can do” to begin with, and Snyder absolutely 100% does not help with that.

To be fair, its not remotely like its all just on him, the stuff that has had a lot of us complaining for years about the blood son crap and the insistence on acting like there’s this stark divide between Bruce and Damian and the rest of the Bat siblings, I mean, see: Tom King again, its just. Ugh, okay, Im gonna have to get back to this in the near future with actually sourced gripes about why I think Snyder’s Damian in particular is absolute crap and could he just not, though. Because it really is my chief complaint with him, like I was never gonna be a fan of his in general just because he’s someone who's like DARK MULTIVERSE BATMAN FUCK YEAH and I’m someone who’s like DARK MULTIVERSE BATMAN UGH FUCK WHY.....lol....BUT like I mention in other posts.....its not like he’s incapable of doing decent stuff or that he’s never written anything I like, because ironically, he IS the biggest canon backer of Duke Thomas and pretty much single-handedly responsible for Duke retaining as much of a presence as he has in recent years instead of just appearing and blipping out of existence like a one-hit wonder, and that can’t be overlooked or considered inconsequential.

That just also kinda makes it all the more annoying that his Damian is so very.....objectionable to me, but yeah. Anyway, that’s the curious case of my very mixed feelings on Scott Snyder, with a side dish of generalized “lol oh, so you do in fact love this character? Well magically all my criticisms of your take on them have now disappeared!”

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

heart of stone (9/?)

AO3

The whistle blows just as Regina tosses the ball to the goal, and it sails past the keeper as her teammates are already packing up and the coach isn’t even looking. Last year, or hell, even a few months ago, she’d have been furious that no-one noticed or counted such a good shot; she’d have thrown her stick on the ground and probably screamed her head off until she got her way. But a lot happens in a year, and now she’s pulling her red vest off and shaking hands with the opposite team, other girls clapping her shoulder as they congratulate each other. What’s more, the smile on her face is real, despite her burning limbs and tangled hair. It’s the realest it’s been in a long while.

“Okay, good game girls,” their coach calls from the side of the field. “Go hit the showers before we go over the play. And George!” Regina turns around, greeted by the sight of her coach giving her the closest she can get to a smile. “Good game out there. Keep that up!”

Like her smile, the pride that flutters in her chest is real and it isn’t going to fade later on.

The changing room is already steaming up when she enters; towels thrown over the sides and mud-splattered uniforms crumpled on the benches. She’d laugh, but she doesn’t look much better. The weather’s been going downhill lately, making for some risky playing conditions, and the trail of mud across her shirt and caking her legs and nails are proof of that.

“Did I cause that?” Hannah asks, gesturing to Regina’s leg.

“Probably,” she replies with a grin. “You’re a little violent sometimes.”

“You’re one to talk, George,” she says. “You’re a beast out there.” Regina chuckles and turns on the tap, letting the hot water warm up her icy hands and get as much dirt as she can off her hands. Hannah isn’t wrong; her anger tends to manifest itself most when she’s on the field. But as she learned in physio, and from experience, it’s better to take it out on the sport than on the people around her. At least now, after a hard first few weeks, she’s learned how to channel it, rather than just playing while being angry. Which is why coming finishing off a game often makes her feel calmer and more in tune with herself than anything she’d tried before.

“Lucky she’s held onto that edge,” Kimberly comments, appearing at the sink beside her. “We need someone like that with championships coming up. Maybe that’s why we lost the last few years.”

“Or we just lost because you suck,” Hannah teases. Kimberly’s mouth falls into an ‘o’ and she flicks water in Hannah’s direction, right over Regina’s head. It’s practically nothing, especially when they’re so used to training in the rain, but Hannah takes it as though it was a speeding bullet and reaches for the other girl. “Little bitch.”

Regina slips into a free shower before the two of them can start a full-scale scrap. They’d surely ask her to take sides if she stuck around.

The hot water and steam is heaven for her rattled body, bringing life back into her limbs. The time is limited with the whole team needing to get in and notes to be given soon, but she makes the most of it. Even as the water scorches her scalp, it’s bliss to her, and she takes a minute to just stand there and let it hit her before grabbing her towel and heading back.

Sitting on the bench, she pulls her still-damp hair into a tight braid over her shoulder as they wait for the last of the team to come back out. The rain is letting up outside now and will probably be completely gone once they’re finished. Thank God, otherwise she’d definitely catch something walking home. Sure her mom could pick her up, she’s reminded her of that often enough, but she prefers walking. At least when she gets home she and her mom can have stuff to talk about rather than wasting it all in the car.

“Okay girls, listen up!” Coach Keller calls out as the last stragglers squeeze onto the bench or drop on the floor beside them. “Okay, we’re seeing a lot of improvements from the last time. There’s still a lot of work to be done vis-à-vis on-field communication. And some of you need to remember exactly what position you have on this team. Because too many times I have seen people changing mid-game.” There’s no prizes for who that’s directed at. Kimberly is already turning her head away.

“But we’ll be ready for when championships come around, and I’m expecting us to take home the trophy this year!” A cheer erupts from the bench and Regina’s right there with them. The idea of winning a trophy does do something for that competitive part of her brain, that can’t change, but the feeling she gets when her teammates scream out in united excitement does even more for her as a whole.

“Okay, okay settle down!” Coach calls above the noise, half laughing herself. Smiles are rare on that woman, which makes them even better. “And there’s one more item on the agenda to discuss before I let you girls go. I was talking to a buddy of mine recently and he gave me some information about a charity tournament coming up in the next few months. Now I know we don’t normally do friendlies, but I thought this year we could make an exception. The cause is cancer research.”

Regina can’t speak for the rest of them, but the word ‘cancer’ snaps her to attention and makes goosebumps prickle on her skin. Sure enough, the noise quietens down as the girls grow serious, which is something in itself. These girls often act like the word ‘serious’ doesn’t apply to them. Regina pulls her jacket tighter around herself as Coach’s next words confirm everything.

“I know you’re all missing a classmate this year,” she goes on. Regina wonders if she’s imagining how her voice wavers. “And it might mean a lot if we went and did this.” She bends her head enough so they won’t see the smirk on her face. This wouldn’t mean a lot to Janis. Not that she wouldn’t care; she simply wouldn’t get that sentimental. Not publicly anyway. She bets Janis will respond to this with nothing more than finger guns and the phrase ‘cool beans’. “So if we all rally to this, we could raise a lot of money for a good cause. And it would be good to put in the extra training.”

The team chuckles at that and then Coach lets them go with the reminder that they’ll be here again same time next week and to drive safe.

“What do you guys think of that?” Hannah asks as they all get up. They seem to instinctively form a little huddle as they walk, something else she hadn’t seen in her old friendships. Until recently, there was always a structured hierarchy with Karen and Gretchen, as opposed to the natural way she falls in step with the team.

“I think it sounds great,” another teammate, Zoey, adds. “I mean, it would be great anyway, but especially, you know… with Janis.” A murmur of agreement passes around them.

The first time they heard about Janis, it took a second for Regina to process it. The whole idea seemed so bizarre that it didn’t really hit her until she got home. How heartless she must have looked. Karen was close to tears in homeroom and Gretchen had looked pale, like she was the one ill, so she had stepped up. Done what she had always done. Taken charge of them.

The collective student body has gathered around her. For a few days, any and all mentions of cancer were met with hushes and raised eyebrows, as though it were something taboo. Now they can at least mention it and it’s become synonymous with wide eyes and sighs of sympathy. It’s still hard to talk about, and not just for her.

“What do you think about it, Regina?” Hannah asks, nudging her with her elbow.

“Hm?” She pulls on the strap of her bag. “Oh, yeah. I’m totally for it. That would be awesome.”

“Have you spoken to Janis? Like, at all?”

“Spoken to her?” she repeats.

“Yeah, I mean aren’t you and her-” Kim stops, but Regina can work it out for herself. The answer is no, of course. She and Janis aren’t friends, everyone knows that. Karen and Gretchen are friends with Janis. Regina is friends-miraculously-with Cady, and Cady is dating Janis. That’s their connection. It was different once upon a time, but then it fell apart.

Fell, she thinks. As if she didn’t pull it apart herself.

She pulls her sleeves over her hands and wraps her arms around her body, fully aware of the number of eyes on her. Contrary to popular opinion, she’s never really liked this much attention. Not even when it was her perfection being looked at, but especially not when it’s her flaws.

It takes a while, but she manages to say, “no I haven’t really spoken to her”. Her voice catches in her throat and she can only hope she manages to sound normal to everyone else. She clears her throat and tries again, trying to find that confident part of herself. Or at least, tries to fake it well enough.

“That kid Damian has though,” she continues. “He’s really close with her. He said she’s doing great.”

The faces before her break out into relieved smiles and she can calm down.

She walks the last stretch of road to her house alone, the few people who live in her direction having disappeared down their streets a while ago. While the topic of conversation had quickly changed, Regina’s mind hadn’t managed to wander away from Janis.

She’s thought about her a lot since Spring Fling. She guesses she thought about her before that, but she always pushed it down, along with all that gross guilt she was feeling. It was far easier to be cruel back then. Until it wasn’t.

At the dance, she could tell Janis was having a lot more fun than she was. Spinning in careless circles with her hair flying all around her, busting out the worst dance moves she had ever seen, twirling Karen around the floor, slinking off to a corner with Cady and coming back holding her hand. She had been glowing, well and truly glowing, something she hadn’t seen since middle school. Not looking over her shoulder for something, or someone to take it all away from her.

And somehow, Regina ended up smiling at it. Janis deserved that, after all.

That was the beginning of the end for her. The end of her reign over North Shore and the end of her being… that way. It was a long time coming. She meant what she said to Cady in the bathroom that night. She’d had enough of being the Queen Bee. She’d hoped they’d all go into senior year with clean slates for the future.

She should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. Even if things were normal for Janis, that wouldn’t be the case. She hurt her, plain and simple. Hurt her in the deepest, worst possible way and the worst part is she didn’t even realise she was doing it, not completely.

Her mom is sitting at the kitchen table when she gets in, a glowing mirror propped up on a stand and dozens of lipsticks strewn across the table. She puckers her lips as Regina approaches her and sets her back on the table, the pink glistening underneath the overhead light.

“Oh hi baby,” she greets. “How was school? How was practice? You need me to wash your gear for you?”

“School was fine, practice was fine.” Her mom abandons the lipsticks in a second and is by her side and picking up her bag before she can protest. She has to lunge forwards in order to grab it back off her.

Breathe she tells herself. A lot of this change stuff is a constant effort.

“Um, it’s okay, Mom,” she says. “I can do it myself.”

“Oh, only if you’re sure sweetie, I don’t want you straining yourself after practice. Besides, with this new job I have plenty of time to do your laundry for you, also I can rearrange your closet for you because it’s looking a little-”

“Mom!” she snaps. She shakes her head, her mom freezing where she is. “It’s okay, really. I’d prefer to wash it myself.” She cracks a smile and after a moment, reaches out and puts her hand on her mom’s shoulder. It’s the most natural-feeling thing she could do. “Besides, remember what happened last time you washed my lacrosse stuff? It’s best they go in on their own.”

“Well, if you’re sure honey.” Her mom’s eyes follow her around the room, no doubt thinking she’s being subtle. “Do you need a snack? I can whip up those little baby quiches you like so much after practice.”

“That’d be great, Mom, thanks.”

Her mom breaks into a smile that’s as relieved as the girls on the team were when she told them about Janis. Regina sits herself on the counter, shakes out her hair and runs her brush through it. She watches her mom buzz around the place, looking to her for approval when she places three mini quiches on the tray.

“Are you sore hon?”

“Not really. I will be tomorrow, probably.” She rubs her shoulder, feeling the onset already. It’s a good kind of pain though, if there ever was one. It means she actually went and did something.

Silence stretches between them, echoing off the white walls and the chrome of the kitchen. It demands to be filled with something real, not the nonsensical babble her mom likes to fill the empty spaces with. It’s not that she’s short of things to say, but it’s like everything else she’s started lately; a learning curve. She wants to take the steps, but the steps feel more like strides.

“So Coach thinks we have a shot at championships this year.”

“Oh, that’s exciting,” her mom says. “So you’d be playing then?”

“That’s the plan.”

“So when do they start?” she asks. “I want to be able to take the time off work to see you.”

“You don’t… You don’t have to. Not if it’s too hard.”

“Oh don’t be silly, I wouldn’t miss your games. That’s something lame moms would do.” She throws up a peace sign and an exaggerated wink. “And I’m a cool mom, right hon?”

“Yep,” she says through gritted teeth. They may be trying to rebuild their relationship, but that doesn’t mean that the idea of her mom at her lacrosse games doesn’t make her cringe. The image of her mom sitting in the stands with her fur coat and her sunglasses and her loud voice pops into Regina’s head and she’s glad her mom is turned away so she can’t see her shudder.

“There’s this other tournament she asked us about,” she goes on. “It’s a friendly one. For charity.”

“Oh, well that’s nice. What’s the charity?”

She takes a swing out of her water before answering.

“Cancer research.”

“Oh.” Her mom nods, the movement just as big as everything else she does and her mouth opens without a word coming out. Regina avoids her eyes. “Is that because of poor Janis?”

“Yeah. Well, she knows the person organising it and she thought it would be good.” She drums her nail on her thigh. “But I think it might be a little because of Janis.”

“Oh, it’s just awful what happened to her, isn’t it?” her mom asks. Regina can only nod. She doesn’t even notice her mom moving until she’s standing right in front of her, eyes full of sadness and a heavy pout on her lips. “How are you holding up with this?”

“Fine.”

“Oh honey, you don’t have to pretend to me. I mean, she’s your friend, isn’t she?”

“Sort of,” is her answer. It’s easier than the truth is in any case. Her mom never knew about what went down in middle school. She probably never will. “I heard from her other friends that she’s doing pretty well.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She picks up a kitchen towel and moves towards the oven. “You know, I was actually reading this article about teenage cancer on my tablet, and it was saying it’s about all these greenhouse gases in the air. You should go on Twitter and talk about that. Start a whole conversation over it. You have a lot of followers over there. They’d listen to you. Get the President on your side.”

“He blocked me,” she replies. She crosses her arms over her chest and smirks at that. As for her mom, she lets out a long sigh and shakes her head.

“And she’s such a nice girl too. She doesn’t deserve that. Not that anyone does, obvs.” She turns and looks at Regina with more severity than she’s ever seen in her life. “You be careful, okay?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Her mom squeezes her hand and Regina realises why she’s making such an effort in the first place.

“Okay, can you keep an eye on the mini quiches? I have to go finish up over there if I want to get everything in on time. They come out when it says 20 on the little clock.”

“Cool. Thanks mom.”

Her mom squeezes her face, and for her sake, she fights the instinct to roll her eyes and bat her hands away. It actually feels pretty nice.

When she pulls out her phone, the team chat is already popping off. Someone shared a-admittedly funny- meme. Amidst all the chaos, someone posted the details of the charity tournament. It starts in January, with quite a few other schools already signed up. She’s glad they’re doing it, and that everyone else is so onboard with it. Sure, they all have at least one personal stake in it, but it would feel good to do it either way.

She moves out and checks her other messages. The chat she’s in with Cady, Damian, Gretchen, Karen and Janis was alive just minutes ago, Karen asking their opinion on a skirt. Janis had sent in a message saying she liked it and joked around with everyone else, calling Damian a king and shamelessly flirting with Cady. Regina pushes away the feeling that she missed out and tells herself Janis must be feeling good today if she’s active.

A message Regina sent to her still sits in their private chat, unopened and unanswered. Their chat is almost barren and she’ll admit the reasons for it are good. But she had felt optimistic that day when she texted her. Naïve even, for the first and last time in her life. There’s still a lot of work to be done, but she actually wants to do it.

*****

Her legs do hurt the next day. She feels it the minute she wakes up and it follows her around throughout the day. She gets understanding smiles and eye rolls from the girls on the team, though, and Karen and Gretchen wince along with her in sympathy. And she’s almost gotten used to it, so she can only take it in stride for the rest of the day and curse the new warm-ups Coach gave them.

She’s walking down the stairs to free period when she spots a bundle of caramel-coloured curls a little ahead of her, falling over a denim jacket, and suddenly her palms get sweaty. People might not believe it, but she’s capable of being scared, or at least nervous. Even of sweet and soft little Cady Heron. She doesn’t slow down, she never does, but she does consider it. Instead she keeps going and watches as Cady perks up as she passes her.

“Hey,” she greets, slipping her phone into her pocket.

“Hi.”

Regina’s pretty fascinated by her relationship with Cady. Next to Janis, Cady is probably the person she’s done the most harm to. After all, she got suspended for the Burn Book. It should have been her. That fact was one of the hardest to take responsibility for, but it should have been her suspended. Now who knows what could happen to Cady. Cady has every right to hate her, and yet she has gone out of her way to integrate their two worlds. She lets Regina sit with her at lunch and added her into the groupchat and lets her see her private story (it’s just pictures of her with animals from Kenya). Even outside of lunchtime and groupchats, she treats Regina like she would any old friend. There’s no hostility or distrust on her end.

It’s weird.

“Hey, did you get that American Lit essay back yet?” she asks. “Because Mr Greer takes forever to hand them back.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t given me mine back either,” she sighs. “I don’t know. I think I did okay in it. It wasn’t that hard.”

“Seriously? I thought it was so hard,” Cady responds, pulling her bag up on shoulder. “I’ll never get all this literature stuff. There’s just so many meanings and stuff. It’s why I prefer math.”

“Yeah, because you’re good at calc,” Regina says. Her chest eases the longer they speak. “I’m sure you did fine, though.”

“Thanks.” She drums her fingers on her file as silence falls between them. Not even Cady can keep up conversation forever, especially if there’s not a third party here to bounce off of. There normally is, and the space next to her feels distinctly empty.

The lack of talking suddenly gets to Regina as she looks down the long stretch of hallway they have to go to study hall, and panic stirs up in her brain, forcing her to blurt out the first thing that comes to her head.

“So, um, we might be doing this charity tournament,” she says. “The lacrosse team, I mean.”

“Oh,” Cady says, her mouth falling into a small ‘o’ before she smiles. “Hey that’s really cool. What’s the charity? Or are you allowed to say anything about that yet? I know how exclusive the jocks can be.”

“I’m not a jock,” she says indignantly, only for Cady to laugh and bump her shoulder against hers.

“Well, you know what I mean,” she says. “Sports person. You guys are like your own little society.”

“The one clique you couldn’t break,” she says.

“Yeah.”

Regina presses her palms together, nervous and unable to understand why. Surely Cady would love this, right? It’s her girlfriend who has…

Oh. She gets why now. Even now, when ‘cancer’ isn’t treated as a dirty word, it’s still so charged with meaning, especially around Cady and Damian. On more than one occasion, conversation has died down when they enter the room and they know what they had been talking about. It’s not out of disrespect, but out of concern for their feelings. That’s why she’s biting the inside of her cheek now. Tiptoeing around such a delicate subject and hoping she doesn’t break Cady by doing so.

“It’s cancer research,” she says after a while. Her voice is as cheerful as she can make it, hiding all the tremors and cracks that might appear and show what’s underneath. She subtly watches Cady’s movements, anticipating the slightest twitches or changes one way or the other.

The first is her lips pressing together. The second is a tight nod. The third is her hand flexing at her side.

“Oh, that’s cool,” she says. “That’s really cool.”

“Yeah, it is,” she replies. “I mean, we don’t usually go charity tournaments or friendlies, but Coach thought it might be good for us. You know, extra training and all that. Plus it’s you know, a good cause.”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounds so lost and faraway for a girl standing right beside her that it almost makes Regina grind to a halt. She clears her throat and turns to face her, her smile open and breathless and real. That’s something she likes about Cady, always has. She’s real. Even when it would be easier to hide it, she’s real. “That’s great. I mean… I take it it’s because of Janis.”

“Yeah.” Janis’ name hits Regina in the chest like a little bee sting, not unbearable, but noticeable and she knows it will be there for the rest of the day.

“That’s awesome.” Cady’s eyes shine with gratitude. “She’ll be really happy to hear that.”

“Sure just don’t tell her I’m doing it,” she says flatly. “Then she’ll think it’s a scheme.”

“Oh come on,” she laughs. “You two aren’t nearly as bad as you used to be. And maybe when she hears about you doing this, she’ll warm up to you even more.”

“You have a lot of faith in me,” she tells her. Which is both another thing she admires her for and something she’s fascinated by.

Cady simply shrugs.

“Well, you know how it is,” she says. She doesn’t, but she nods along. “You’re not such a bad little egg.”

“Thanks?”

Cady opens her mouth, probably to say something else, but her hand flies to her back pocket and all at once her attention is diverted to her phone. She does a quick check of the hallway, knowing they’re not meant to have their phones out during school hours. Regina had her phone confiscated countless times before she knew how to hide it properly. Cady has yet to master that and so she pulls her to the side and blocks her phone with her shoulder, pulling her arm down so it’s less visible. Cady doesn’t seem to notice at all, her eyes glued to the phone screen and her whole face softening at whatever it was. Regina doesn’t look at it. Whatever it is, it’s obviously not for her. Cady taps out a quick response, fingers flying over the keyboard and stops to proofread it before sending it off.

They stand in the silence together, Cady’s phone casting the smallest bit of light on her face and wait until the screen fades to black.

“Cady?” Regina asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine,” she says, putting her phone back in her pocket and looking back up at her. “It was Janis.”

“I guessed,” she says, pulling Cady along. Feeling brave, she asks “How’s she doing?”

“Oh, she’s good. She just sent me a selfie of her in the hospital,” she says. There’s a small, wistful sigh after it, and her hand reaches up to twirl her necklace. “She looked cute.”

“That’s good,” she says. “That she’s doing okay. Would you uh… tell her I was asking about her?”

“Oh, sure! Yeah absolutely!” There’s the slightest hint of surprise in her tone, but Regina can’t complain about it, instead nodding gratefully and the two of them setting off down to study hall, picking up the pace a bit so that they’re not even later than they already are.

*****

That evening, she comes downstairs clad in her leggings and a sweater, the rain picking up on the window and her phone buzzing in her sweater pocket. Her mom is laying on the couch and running a sparkly pink brush through the dog’s hair humming some old, dreamy song under her breath.

“Hey sweetie!” she says, her voice melodic. “How’s the homework going?”

“Fine. Just getting some coffee.”

“Oh would you make me one too?” she asks. “Just a little cappuccino. If I get up Boba might pee.”

“Sure.” She keeps one eye on her phone and one on the coffee maker, watching the groupchat as she foams up the milk. It’s the one of her, Cady and the rest of her friends, and most importantly, Janis is active in it. She was always the life of the chat before, keeping them up at two am with some wild theory or weird joke, but they’ve all noticed how she’s sort of wavered since this year started. Not tonight though. Tonight she’s so alive that Regina almost forgets how silent she can be some days.

Janis: I wonder which one of us will break first and get TikTok.

Janis: To be perfectly candid, my money is on Damian.

Janis: Damian’s gonna be on theatre kid TikTok.

Damian: I am disgusted by the very idea. It could well be Regina. She seems dramatic enough for it. No offence, babe.

Followed by a kissing emoji off all things. With a grin and a laugh, Regina grinds the coffee beans and gets out two mugs before sending in an ‘In all of your dreams’. She means it. Instagram and Twitter are more than enough for her and frankly, TikTok kind of scares her.

The phone buzzes again, this time a picture from Janis; a picture of fries and what are probably vegetarian nuggets.

Dinner for tonight 😊 she says They finally got veggie nuggets :D

That’s an overabundance of emojis Cady says.

No it’s not. It’s perfect Karen argues. She adds that the dinner looks puppy emoji plus sparkle emoji, which must mean good. Anyone can tell that.

It is Janis tells them. They took on my suggestion to expand their vegetarian menu.

You’d think as a hospital they’d already know how to do that Regina says. There’s a ten second pause before anyone responds and she tries not to let it bother her, pouring the milk into the two cups instead.

You would think Janis responds. I got like three people in the ward on my side.

Vive la revolution, Cady adds in, with an emoji of a French flag. Damian responds with a GIF from Hamilton and Regina can feel them rolling her eyes along with her.

Miss Caddy don’t you have homework to do? Janis asks. Actually don’t answer that because I know you do since you were complaining about it to me two minutes ago.

I’m all finished Cady says. Janis’ response is a screenshot of a text Cady sent her two minutes before according to the timestamp.

“Oh, you’re in trouble, Cady Cady,” Regina mutters as she sprinkles cinnamon and chocolate over both mugs and takes them over to her mom. They’re pretty good, especially with her lack of barista skills. Definitely going on her story.

“Oh thanks hon,” her mom says. When her phone buzzes in her hand, both her mom’s and her dog’s head perk up. “Anything interesting?”

“Just my friends,” she says. Her mom nods, taking a long sip.

“Oh, this is real good, Regina.” Regina nods again and snaps a few pictures of her own mug, testing out about four or five angles and two filters before settling on one that works. She probably would have gone through more if Janis hadn’t sent in another message into the chat, so she saves it to work on later.

Lies. I know those are lies, she says. The veggie nuggets aren’t as good as the ones at home ☹

I’m sure that’s the saddest part about your current situation, Regina says. Once she says it, she wonders if a line was crossed. If not, no-one tells her.

If someone were to drop a bag of Grandma Eden’s vegan nuggets to the front desk and say it was for me, I would not be opposed, Janis says instead. To be honest, kind of offended about the lack of PTA moms dropping casseroles on the doorstep.

The chat keeps going, the phone shaking and lighting up in her hand, but it melts away from her, Janis’ message sticking out to her. Out of nowhere, she remembers her mom making lasagnes for her aunt when she was sick a few years ago and dropping it off on her doorstep. Regina never went with her, the idea of seeing her sick aunt making her stomach uneasy, but she remembers her mom doing twice the cooking she normally did. And how happy it made her aunt’s family, according to her mom. She didn’t appreciate the value of it back then, it’s crystal clear now.

“Hey, mom,” she says after a while. “Could I… could I maybe use the kitchen at some point?”

“Oh sure. What do you need it for?”

She looks back at the group chat, the topic having changed to Cady’s love of math and the other’s lack thereof, but she scrolls back up a few messages.

“Do we have any vegetarian recipes?” she asks.

*****

Her arms are aching by the time she gets to the Sarkisian’s house on Saturday. This is what she gets for using the nicest-and heaviest- dish her family owns, she supposes. Standing on their doorstep, she awkwardly shifts it onto her arm, her breath catching as it tilts before steadying, and reaches out to ring the doorbell. She presses it quickly, not leaving herself enough time to change her mind.

She won’t deny that her heart clenches as the handle turns, even if she masks it behind her charming smile. The same one she’s used with almost every adult since she was fourteen.

“Hey, Mr Sarkisian,” she greets. A kind of polite confusion clouds Mr Sarkisian’s face, which swiftly turns to recognition, and then even more confusion.

“Regina?” he asks. “Regina George.”

“Mm-hm.” Thank God she’s practiced this over and over before she came. “I made you guys a lasagne. Could I come in?”

He eyes the dish in her hands like she’d just told him she was dropping off a baby wildebeest for Janis. But he nods and steps back, letting her into the hallway.

It hasn’t changed much since she was here last. The hallway is still the same at least, although there are now photos of the Janis she wasn’t friends with. Her at the middle school graduation, her on the beach what must be the summer after freshman year, her with her parents and Damian at last year’s art show. Regina’s watching her old friend grow up before her eyes, looking through a window at everything she missed.

“Oh, you redecorated!” she exclaims as they step into the kitchen. She remembers the walls here being white as opposed to the blue they are now, plus there’s a new oven and fridge and kitchen table. She must remember more than she thought she did. “It’s really nice.”

“Yeah. We did.”

His flat tone pulls Regina down a bit. More than a bit, although she refuses to let it show. If there’s one thing she has learned, it’s that. She knows how to put on an act, and so she turns to face Mr Sarkisian with the same smile plastered onto her face. He just continues to look at her with an unreadable expression and stands as far away from her as he can, all the while the ticking clock punctuates the silence between them.

“So um, I made you this lasagne,” she tells him.

“You did?” he asks.

“Yeah. I mean I got a little help with it; you know how it is. My mom refused to let me fool around in the kitchen alone. But it’s my grandma’s recipe. It’s vegetarian, because… I mean I know; Janis is one.”

Is this babbling? Is she babbling right now?

“Janis isn’t here.” He folds his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Oh.. I know,” she says. “I know, but just in case you want to give her some when she gets back. It’ll keep for a good while if you freeze it.”

He pushes himself away from the counter and moves over to her. It’s getting harder to maintain this demeanour, what with the suspicion she can see in his eyes from here. He does at least take the dish out of her hands and she doesn’t bother hiding her sigh of relief as she shakes out her arms.

He slides it carefully into the fridge and turns to look at her, his arms over his chest. He isn’t playing by the script Regina had prepared. She assumed he’d either see her out or get her a drink and invite her to sit down. Instead he regards her like she’s an interrogation suspect. And her gut tells her he’s being bad cop.

“Why did you do this?” he asks her.

“Oh, I… I just thought it would be nice.” Honesty isn’t her strong suit. Neither is vulnerability and those are the two things he’s likely expecting from her. Unfortunately, she still has the fatal flaw of pride. “And if there’s anything else your family needs, you can ask me.”

He coughs, but it sounds suspiciously like a laugh. She presses her palms together and continues.

“I mean the whole school is getting behind Janis,” she goes on. “The lacrosse team is doing this charity tournament and the Mathletes-”

“Janis isn’t a charity,” he tells her sharply. His hand curls around the counter and holds it tight enough to turn his knuckles white. A nerve apparently got touched here.

“Okay...” She clears her throat and pushes her hair off her shoulder. “I just wanted to help.”

“Yeah you helped Janis a lot back in middle school,” he says. He locks eyes with her and a chill runs down her spine. “Didn’t you?”

She opens her mouth, but then closes it again, knowing there’s nothing to say here. Her first instinct is to call him rude, tell him she went and made him and his family a lasagne and offered him help. But thankfully it fades before she can act on it, and the truth stares her in the face. She deserved that. She deserves the anger in his gaze towards her and the feeling of invisible ants crawling over her skin.

She pulls her sleeve over her hands and clenches her fists tightly.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is pathetically small and it comes out as more of a question than an admission. Mr Sarkisian nods slowly, his fingers tapping against the counter. She could tell him that she’s trying, that she does regret what she did, but she’s pretty sure it won’t make a difference to him.

“Thank you for the lasagne,” he tells her. There’s more honesty in that than in anything she’s said so far. “I’ll tell Janis you came by.”

“She might not eat it if you do,” she says quietly.

He laughs at that, even if it’s half-hearted.

She gets the bus back home, finding a route on her phone that goes to the top of her street. Luckily, she has change in her purse, because she’s certain that she wouldn’t have the guts to ask Mr Sarkisian for some after what just happened.

His words follow her around like a persistent little bee that buzzes in her ear. She wants to dismiss him as a dick, but unfortunately, despite the work still needed, she can’t find it in her to do it. A lot of the time, she wishes she could just wake up an effortlessly good person. Other times she wishes she was still a bitch.

She sits down heavily on the bench and takes out her phone, tapping open Facebook (thank God for infinite data). It’s not really for the app, she just wants to focus on something. Her feed is mostly full of shit she saw on Instagram last week; mirror selfies, heads of clubs promoting their events, those idiotic memes her mom likes to post. It flies past her eyes in a blur and lets her brain turn foggy for a few moments.

But then out of all the black and white and blue, something catches her eye and she scrolls back up. It was shared by Caitlyn Caussin, advertising some hair salon. She wondered why the hell that would catch her eye, until she realised that’s not what it was. It was a charity, one where you donate your hair for cancer victims.

Regina keeps looking at the ad, so captivated by it that she would have missed the bus if the driver hadn’t honked at her. She looks at it closer as she rides home, her gut pulling her towards it. According to the text on the poster, you need at least 8 inches of undyed hair, and she’s glad when she sees she ticks both boxes. And then it’s shipped off to wigmakers and given to cancer patients. And if the grinning kid in the picture is anything to go by, it does its job well.

Regina touches her own hair. Up until now you’d have to kill her if you wanted her to cut any of her hair off. After all, something like this doesn’t just happen and she would not look good with a bob. But this feels different and she won’t pretend she doesn’t know why. She won’t get up and do it tomorrow, but she won’t completely dismiss the idea either.

She takes a screenshot of it and feels a small flush of excitement as she thinks about it. Well, not excitement, but something close to it. Something warm and light and fuzzy that she can’t quite pin down.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis ff #janis sarkisian #regina george #fic: heart of stone #mean girls

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l-sincline · 4 years

Text

Cybernetics- Cyberpunk!Sonic AU- Chapter 8

Amy Rose has been working tirelessly at her broken down booth for as long as she can imagine. Ever since Tails left their work to join forces with the revered hero of Mobius, ‘The Blue Blur’, she’s grown lonely and desperate to make her life exciting. A strange customer comes in one day asking her to fix his cyborg arm, what she didn’t know was that he would be the catalyst for a brand new life.

AO3 Tags:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Amy Rose/Shadow the Hedgehog, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Amy Rose (Sonic the Hedgehog), Shadow the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog, Miles “Tails” Prower, Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik, Rouge the Bat, Whisper the Wolf, Cream the Rabbit, Knuckles the Echidna, Badnik (Sonic the Hedgehog), E-123 Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Angst, Slow Burn, Partners in Crime

AO3 Link

Previous/Next

Bugs buzzed monotonously by her ear, body truly screaming at her to stop moving and lay down now.

“We’re almost there.” He’d promised quite a few times.

She’d at one point exasperatedly asked how he made this trek. He pointed out that he had the chip, and that also when he chose not to use the chip, he had the shoes. Amy supposed she’d have to figure something out. But until then, she was stuck feeling like death while the sun slowly left them less and less light. Her feet felt about ready to fall off, and at this point she wouldn’t be opposed to it, then she would have to lay down and take a break until her feet got replaced by cyborg parts. Unfortunately, unless there was a saw around here, she got the feeling that though they hurt, her feet were firmly attached to the rest of her for many years to come. She stopped when she bumped her head on Shadow’s shoulder blade on accident, not realizing that he had stopped. She looked up and saw him glancing back at her, silently pointing to the building ahead of them. The outside looked just as old as the rest of the buildings, vines and moss grew up the side, but the difference would be that this building had no cracks, no holes, and even had glass in the windows. The thick vines had been pushed away to grow around the doorway, which held a black, steel door.

“This is it?” She whispered. Shadow nodded and beckoned her to follow once more, stepping up to the door and opening up the scanner attached to it, allowing it to scan his face. Once it had, she heard the soft clicking of the mechanism allowing it to unlock, and soon she was following him inside.

The inside was clean, fixed up just like he’d said. The floor was tiled and a round, maroon carpet sat in the middle of it. To the right was a couch with two love seats and a coffee table, as well as a large ProjScreen attached to the wall, the furniture sat on top of a rectangle rug that was the same color as the round one. To the left there was kitchen, complete with an island and any appliances one would need to cook as well as a fridge- she had no idea how they got any power out here, but she’d ask about that later. Lights dotted the ceiling to make up for the lack of windows on the first floor, and in the middle of the back wall there was a staircase leading up. Amy looked over to see Shadow had taken off his cloak and hung it on a hook on the wall.

“Shadow! Watch out!” A voice cried from the steps, and Amy found herself being tackled and pinned to the ground. She cried out in pain, she wasn’t sure how much more of a beating her body was to take today, but she hoped it wasn’t much more as clenched her teeth and squinted in pain.

“Rouge! She’s no danger- get off.” He demanded exasperatedly.

‘Rouge’s weight left her and she opened her eyes, taking Shadows hand that he offered and allowing herself to be pulled up. Then, she looked over to see who exactly ‘Rouge’ was.

She was... an Android. White metal, bright blue, glowing eyes. Equipped with fake lashes and makeup. Two wings protruded from her back and her ears gave away that she was modeled to look like a bat mobian. She currently wore a robe- it looked soft, and it was pink, matching slippers she wore on her feet. Aside from all that, she was much curvier than your typical Android would be, at least from what Amy had seen before.

“Rouge, this is Amy. She’s coming on board as our mechanic.” Shadow introduced her. Amy held out a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you...” She spoke softly, and cautiously, not wanting to incite any more anger from the Android woman. Rouge was silent, studying her up and down. Judging her. Amy couldn’t tell what the Android was thinking- it was strange, Androids tended to be easier to read because they weren’t actually mobians.

“I like your pants.” She said suddenly, crouching down to grasp one of the straps. “They’re practical and yet, very stylish.” Rouge observed before standing back up to look at Amy. Her facial expression didn’t give much away, but her body language told Amy that for now, Rouge would leave her be.

Amy let out a breath of relief as Rouge turned to look at Shadow.

“Does that mean Omega can finally be fixed...?” She asked hopefully.

“I do believe so.” He replied.

“Omega?” Amy wondered aloud.

“Don’t worry about it for now, you need to rest up, you’ve been smacked around a bit more than I think you’re used to today.” Shadow nodded to Rouge, and the bat android stepped forward and lifted Amy’s bag from her shoulder.

“I’ll take this to your room and get everything ready for you.” She explained before turning and spreading her wings, flying up the stairs. Shadow chuckled.

“What’s funny?” Amy asked.

“I think she’s excited to have another girl in the house.”

She ‘ooh’ed quietly, following Shadow as he walked over to the kitchen.

“Sit.” He gestured to one of the stools that sat at the island. Amy sat down gingerly and put her hands in her lap, watching him open the fridge and stare at it absentmindedly. She couldn’t imagine it was easy to get food out here, but then she remembered his teleporting trick and supposed that it was quite possible that he... went grocery shopping? That would be a funny sight to see. He shut the fridge door and leaned down to the freezer door, pulling it open and selecting something from it before tossing it on the table. He pulled out a toaster from next to the fridge and plugged it in before getting to work on unwrapping the food while beginning to speak to her once more.

“The room won’t be great, but you can start to get your own stuff to put in there once you... adjust to our living style.” He explained, popping what she now saw were frozen waffles into the toaster. “ProjScreen- on.” He called, louder than he had been talking to her previously, and she shifted slightly to turn and watch the ProjScreen as he continued to shuffle around in the kitchen. What she saw made her stomach turn.

“-from what we can see, this woman and her partner made a complete fool of the Blue Blur.” The female cat gossip show anchor chided.

“While we up here in the neon city aren’t exactly big fans of any criminal, watching these two lay waste to the Blue Blur is exceptionally funny.” The male deer replied, partially to the camera. The woman laughed.

“As part of our ‘down with the Blue Blur’ campaign, I just want to play that absolutely humiliating clip again!” She cried joyfully, clapping her hands together before turning in her chair to watch the screen behind them.

The screen showed a projection from the angle of what seemed to be a surveillance camera. It was a slow-mo shot of her rolling and shoving herself off the Blue Blur, immediately followed by Shadow’s cyborg hand appearing on screen and hitting the Blue Blur square in the back, sending him tumbling forward and scraping on the ground. Thank god the camera panned towards the blue hedgehog instead of her and Shadow, or else there’d be video proof of them just disappearing. But instead it zoomed in on the Blue Blur, who struggled to get up before collapsing. The video cut off just as Tail’s feet came in frame.

“Now that is just too funny!” The cat woman cried again, smile wide on her face.

��I have to agree with you there- but now we have to get to the more interesting topic- who was that woman?” He asked enthusiastically as a grainy, zoomed in projection of her face from when she was falling came up behind them.

“Now, thanks to some intelligence we do know she ran a shop in the outer ring, but the real question is how did she get wrapped up in all this drama? I mean, Mobius’ most famous vigilante scooping her up and trying to take her away from the mystery cyborg man- what do you think happened?” She questioned her cohost.

Amy grimaced, they were making it out to be some sort of romantic triangle from what she could tell, and before she could hear what the deer had to say, Shadow cut in.

“ProjScreen- off.” He called out. “Sorry, I don’t know why Rouge watches that crap. It was probably uncomfortable to see your face like that.” He apologized gruffly as she turned back around, watching him slide a plate across to her.

“It’s fine.” She reassured, “It was honestly kind of interesting to see how they talked about me- us. They... liked that we knocked down the Blue Blur.”

“Of course they did.” He snorted. “Inner ring folk hate him.” Amy shrugged in response, not knowing what more to say on the topic.

“So, what have you made for me, chef?”

“Toaster waffles with peanut butter on them for protein, plus some apple slices for some good sugar and vitamin intake. Just something to get you through the night, there’ll be something better in the morning.”

“Thank you.” She smiled slightly, glad to be digging in to the food. The waffles were a bit stale and the apples were a bit mushy, but it was better than what she usually ate, so she continued to munch on it happily as Shadow walked over to the living room half of the bottom floor. By the time she was finishing up, she heard Rouge land on the tile at the bottom of the stairs.

“Your room is ready.”

Amy looked over with a tired smile, standing and putting the plate by the sink she had spotted earlier before walking over to Rouge.

“Thank you... for all this.” She turned back to Shadow before stepping up the stairs. “I know this is weird... for both of us, but thank you for giving me this chance and keeping me from getting arrested.” He merely grunted in response and Amy assumed that was the best she was going to get and followed Rouge up the stairs.

They went up two floors before stepping out of the stairs and into a hallway, Rouge passed one door on the left before coming to one slightly past it on the right and pushing it open.

“Here you go, call me if you need anything- I’m a floor down.” She explained as Amy stepped in the room, closing the door behind the pink hedgehog. Amy could hear her slippered feet walking away.

Too tired to care about what the room looked like, Amy leaned against the wall and unlaced her boots, kicking them off before walking over to and collapsing in the bed. She let out a deep sigh before almost immediately falling asleep, too exhausted physically and mentally to even consider what her day had been.

#cybernetics #my writing #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #Amy Rose #sonic fanfiction #Shadamy

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