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unravellingsilencehq · 1 year

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“Oh, Merlin, tell me, does THE FICTIONALIST get what he deserves?” He is NEUTRAL & CLOSED to finding out.

— he walks through the world as ;

name → gilderoy lockhart pronouns → he/him identification → cis-male year of birth → september 1960 - september 1961 face claim → froy gutierrez blood status → half-blood sexual orientation → bisexual occupation → contributing editor for the daily prophet future information → defence against the dark arts teacher at hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

— he is best described as ;

The GLOSSY POSTER pinned to your wall with LIPGLOSS STAINS on his cheek. The SWEET smell of a particular HAIR PRODUCT you know is how he achieves those natural waves & the scent of NEW PARCHMENT you only smell in a BOOKSHOP. He is the DASHING SMILE practised time and time again in the mirror & a CONTROLLED LAUGH that somehow seems SINCERE. He’s the AUTOGRAPH scrawled on a well read MAGAZINE, the MODERN CELEBRITY.

— his story starts with ;

The man, the myth, the legend; Gilderoy Lockhart is a man whose backstory is best described as multiple choice since it changes each time you ask him. The official story is a fairly average one, which is why he’s always preferred to embellish it. The youngest son of muggle Mason Lockhart and his witch wife Madalena Lockhart Gilderoy was raised in rural Hampshire with his two older sisters Lavina and Anika, who were, to his mother’s great disappointment just as normal as his father. His parents had met by chance one night in London, his father had worked at a pub near a muggle football ground and his mother had by chance happened to be in that pub. The most handsome man she had ever met, she told Gilderoy she was proud that they had created three beautiful children, but was clear from the moment that Gilderoy showed magical ability; he was her undisputed favourite, much to the irritation of his father and sisters. In an attempt to ground the Lockhart children in normality, Gilderoy and his sisters attended muggle primary school awaiting their letters to study at Hogwarts that would only ever arrive for Gilderoy.

The sheer attention and adoration Gilderoy received at home, turned him into something of an addict and filled with his own self-importance he desired to be the best at everything. When he couldn’t for obvious reasons tell his classmates his mother was a witch he preferred to lie and say she was an MI5 agent or a runway model travelling South America. As he was young the lies were easily accepted by his equally young classmates, but the older he got and the older his audience became the harder it became.The day Gilderoy received his letter to Hogwarts was the happiest day of his and his mother’s life and the pair spent weeks going to and fro to Diagon Alley picking out the best robes, books and other items money could buy. Hogwarts was fairly anti-climactic to young Gilderoy, starting off as something incredibly interesting before dwindling into as dull of an experience as primary school had been. Starting as a hat stall, the hat went back and forth debating between Slytherin and Ravenclaw before deciding the latter. Intelligence, wit and charm; it was certainly the house for him.

The issue with being sorted into Ravenclaw was however, that it was the house where generally intelligent people were sorted, meaning the thing that made Gilderoy feel special felt less special when surrounded by his fellow academics. In his mind, he’d be greeted by people fawning over him for his mind and his beauty, as he was already a fully-fledged genius with an exceptional magical prowess. But the truth is Gilderoy was not the greatest wizard since Merlin to walk the halls of Hogwarts and whilst he was exceptional at some things, such as Charms and being a quick Seeker for the Ravenclaw team, he tended to fade into the background unless he felt as though he truly was the very best. He also had to contend with the likes of JAMES POTTER [former rival, PETER PETTIGREW [former rival] and SIRIUS BLACK [former rival] in the year above, which was within itself a challenge. Instead, Gilderoy created other avenues to feel impressive such as sending himself eight-hundred cards on Valentine’s Day or appointing himself head of the school newspaper after RITA SKEETER [close friend/colleague] graduated so he could write puff pieces about himself.

Upon graduating, Gilderoy was not considered a popular student, though he did leave with a few good friends including DAVEY GUDGEON [close friend] and ANTONIS MCLAGGEN [close friend] and had achieved small notoriety by carving his signature in twenty foot long letters into the Quidditch pitch before leaving. Finally out into the world Gilderoy was ready to make his mark and he knew exactly how he was going to do it. Procuring a job at The Daily Prophet due to his friendship with Rita Skeeter, Gilderoy began life as the associate of famed reporter ELIAS SPENCER-MOON [former boss], travelling around Wizarding Britain interviewing famous sorcerers about their escapades. It was a brilliant first job for a young wizard and Gilderoy learned a lot from Elias before yearning to go out on his own. Quitting his job at The Prophet who refused to advance him, Gilderoy went out in search of people he could interview with the view of selling their stories to Witch Weekly. Gilderoy had always had a talent for memory charms, he had casually been using them on his colleagues at The Hogwarts Gazette every now and then to make them more susceptible to his wishes, but the thought had not occurred to use them in later life till he travelled to Ireland to interview his first solo speaker.

Sitting across from a frightful witch, Gilderoy listened as she detailed the tale of her defeat of The Bandon Banshee and found himself distracted. She was a horrible storyteller with not an ounce of charisma to say she’d defeated such a horrible creature. Without a second thought Gilderoy waved his wand and her mind went blank and later that day he began work on his first column which would become the beginnings of his first book The Break with a Banshee. The editor of the magazine TOBAIS MISSLETHROPE [friend/former boss] ate up the column and seemingly overnight he became a celebrity. He developed an easy method of working, taking a few months here and there to travel, tracking down an accomplished sorcerer, tricking them into revealing how they had defeated a creature or saved a town, wiping their memory and writing it up in a column for the magazine. The columns were filled with self-promotion and embellished with in great detail, but Gilderoy found his audience devoured them and began turning the columns into books which became best sellers around the globe, but particularly in London. Aged only twenty-five, Gilderoy has accomplished a great deal in the eyes of the wizarding world, but for him there is always a mountain still to climb.

When BARNABUS CUFFE [boss] offered him a contributing editor position at The Daily Prophet, Gilderoy grinned like a Cheshire Cat. His former place of employment was back cap-in-hand dying for his attention and Gideroy was more than happy to give them it. He continued writing his famous column, now for The Daily Prophet, but suddenly found working at a newspaper instead of a magazine was much better for listening out for the biggest stories and who he could likely target next. Although his stolen tales of heroism are readily devoured by his readers, another story is capturing the attention of Wizarding London and it is that of a mysterious dark wizard who is allegedly gaining followers. With the Ministry not wanting to cause panic, the story is still strictly not to be published, but Gilderoy would love nothing more than to break it and hopefully find and wipe the memory of the person who eventually defeats him in order to take the fame that goes song with it. Having been assigned QUIRINUS QUIRRELL [colleague] for help with research, Gilderoy will stop at nothing to get to the bottom of this story, including annoying all of his colleagues EMILIA GREY [colleague], EDWARD TONKS [colleague] and a very suspicious ELIZABETH BRAITHWAITE [colleague] in the process.

— he is a LEVEL 5 WIZARD & readied for war ;

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ofthunderstxrms · 7 days

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[ LEE DO HYUN, 32, CIS MAN, HE/HIM ] Welcome to Antioch, NATHANIEL ‘NATE’ HAN! Local sources report that you’ve been in town for 32 YEARS amount of time and are known to be RELIABLE yet CONTROLLING. Others have dredged up rumors that you’re involved in CLASS OF 2008 as SURVIVOR, but most know you for your work as a DOCTOR at SAINT PETER’S HOSPITAL. We’ll see you around town soon!

Character Name: Nathaniel Han Nickname (s): Nate, his parents call him by his Korean name – Nam-joon Face Claim: Lee Do-hyun Birthday: March 13th, 1992 Place of birth: Antioch, Oregon, the US Zodiac: Pisces MBTI: INTP Moral Alignment: true neutral (before the accident), neutral evil (after the accident) Occupation: Doctor (GP) Place of work: Saint Peter’s Hospital Subplot affiliation: Class of 2008 (survivor) 3 positive traits: reliable, intelligent, analytical 3 negative traits: controlling, cynical, morbid Languages: English, Korean, French Love language: acts of service

Biography: tw: plane crash, injuries

Everything that happened before is a blur. The memories sound of laughter, smell like freshly cut grass, with sunshine brushing its fingers against your skin. You see the faces of your parents before you wake up – now all you hear are screams, the roar of an engine, crashing metal and fire. In seconds, you find yourself still strapped to your row of seats, falling, and then suddenly hanging in a tree canopy.

Somehow you manage to get down, even though you have a broken arm, slight concussion and confused mind. Your BlackBerry can’t catch a signal – of course it can’t – and all you see are the faces of your panicked classmates. And trees. So many trees. At the time, you didn’t know this would change your life.

You also didn’t know you wouldn’t be rescued for 13 months. They would be looking for you, wouldn’t they? You heard planes, but they wouldn’t see you – they couldn’t detect you, and the Canadian wilderness didn’t want to let you go, too. You’ll be stuck here. You’ll have to learn to adapt. To survive.

You’re changed when you come back. You’re still their bright, lovely son when your parents greet you with tears in their eyes – you’ve just lost some weight, this is it, they’d say. And you’d nod and agree, you’d say that the berries and mushrooms weren’t exactly enough to survive, especially during winter; and it wasn’t a lie. You just wouldn’t elaborate.

You wouldn’t tell much at all. A psychologist you saw said it’s trauma, it’s normal – you’ll open up one day, when the right time comes. You quickly stopped seeing them, and told your family you’re fine: you’re doing great at school, you’re ready to study medicine (Where did this fascination with human anatomy come from? Why is there an urge to save lives? – questions that once popped in their heads, but were left unuttered). You don’t need it. You’re fine.

And you seemed fine for most, but not all – especially not those who knew you before; who were aware of more than your facade. You closed down, hanged only with the same five others who came back with you. In a way, you yearned to come back: you forgot how to live your life. Forgot how to be normal; how to be human.

Once again, you have to learn; to pretend. To adapt to this life that’s so unfamiliar now. Mask on mask on mask, and you seem a cheerful and clever GP who has no issues. But at night, you’re haunted by nightmares; by the faces of your classmates you’ve lost.

You swore to never say a word, and you don’t — the stories are only in your journal, the one you wrote during your time in the wilderness. You keep it hidden — the truth can only resurface after your death. It won’t leave your lips, and you surely won’t let others spill it to anyone either.

—

Wanted Connection #1: Other survivors. He’s not exactly close to them, at least not all of them – he’ll see them at class reunions, at the hospital or grocery store, but they’d only exchange a brief nod of their heads and a quick ‘hello’. However, I’d love to explore their dynamic before the accident, in the wilderness, and how they’re getting along nowadays. Maybe something happens that brings them together?

Wanted Connection #2: A journalist. Perhaps he had one too many drinks one night and told someone a bit more than he should’ve, perhaps made a stupid joke, and perhaps – just perhaps – he shouldn’t have trusted them at all: it led to them finding Nate’s journal and managing to read a page or two. Now they know there might be at least some truth to these rumors going around the town, and they know it could make a fantastic front page story, no matter what exactly happened there all these years ago – but will Nate tell them more? Probably not. He’s not pleased with himself for not being careful, and his ‘written work’ has now found a new hiding place. But they can surely try.

Wanted Connection #3: Suspicious colleague. They find Nate a little bit… strange: it could be his mysterious nature, his past, the rumors, or his way of working that makes them keep their distance. However, they have been working together at this hospital for at least a couple of years now, and you cannot avoid each other forever.

Wanted Connection #4: Highschool ex. Someone he was dating before the plane crash – could be another survivor, could be someone who didn’t go on this trip and for 18 months thought that they’ve lost Nate forever. Either way, their relationship completely changed once he got back – he was, after all, a completely different person now. It was hard, and there are still some unresolved issues and angst.

#chronicletask #nathaniel >> biography #nathaniel >> character study #this does need some more details but i'll edit it later <33

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druigswhores · 3 years

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something more

(originally posted by alpha-bug)

summary: where pietro confesses his feelings to you without actually confessing them to you, through a necklace. inspired by this prompt list.

content warning: pietro maximoff x fem!reader (i’ll try to write more gender neutral fics in the future!) obviously set in a world where he survives and civil war doesn’t happen. (friends to lovers, mutual pining and pietro being a sap.)

note: okay so this is my first fic in a while so i’m sorry if this sucks </3 i want to write more pietro/peter fics so please send requests ! (also lemme know if you can guess the movie bucky was confused about !)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

masterlist

"You're staring." Wanda points out, idly watching the older twin stare at the person who clouded his thoughts, not that Wanda needed to read his mind to know that.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Pietro scoffed, unwillingly looking away to glance at his sister. She chuckled, turning away from her brother to check on the pot on the stove, before continuing to chop the vegetables scattered on the chopping board.

"Don't you?" She simply asked, humming to the song playing out loud from her phone, Pietro's eyes were drawn back to you.

You were explaining the plot of a movie to Bucky who stared at the screen in pure confusion. "I don't get it? He killed her but he loved her?" Bucky asked you, in response you shook your head exasperated. "You saw her give birth right after, how could she be dead if she was naming her kids Buck?" You asked, glancing up when you heard the footsteps of someone approaching you.

"You're not replacing me with this old man, right?" Pietro teased, moving to sit next to you, reclining back on the couch, arm around your waist. You rolled your eyes at what he said, automatically leaning into him as the three of you continued to watch the movie playing on the big screen in front of you. The two of you barely noticed when Bucky decided to leave, too caught up with one another to bother caring about what's going on in your surroundings. You pushed him away from you when he tried to steal the m&ms you were currently snacking on only for him to pour most of the packet into his mouth.

"You disgust me Maximoff." You scoffed, biting back the smile forcing its way up. "And you love it Prinţesă." Pietro retorts, his eyes meeting yours. You opened your mouth to say something but nothing could come to mind, it was common for Pietro to randomly call you nicknames but that doesn't mean you were used to it, especially when he'd use pet-names.

Your friendship with Pietro came as a surprise to the rest of the Avengers years ago due to the differences in your personality but if you asked any of them what they thought about your friendship now they'd complain about how clueless the two of you are to the other person's feelings.

Somehow in the chaos that the two of you called your 'friendship', the line between platonic feelings and romantic feelings blurred. Pietro isn't the type of guy to steer away from romance but this situation was entirely different to anything he experienced. He cant just tell his closest friend that he loved you, he couldn't tell you how when he holds you in his arms it pains him to let go. How could he tell you that? After everything that happened to him in the past, the wall he built around his emotions to protect himself began to crumble and you were the cause of it. Pietro always struggled to talk about his feelings, his past. He felt the urge to protect himself and his twin from anything that could hurt them, he didn't want to make the same mistake again.

The unintentional movie night led to the two of you continuing to hanging out in Pietro's room hours later. It was your nightly ritual to watch an episode or two of a show that Pietro usually wouldn't want to watch before the two of you go to bed. Pietro was in the far end of his room, fumbling with something in the palm of his hand while you sat comfortably in the middle of his bed, head resting on one of his pillows as you set up the show on the laptop.

"For someone as quick as you, you sure are taking your sweet time doing whatever it is you're doing."

Pietro glanced back at you in surprise, almost like he forgot what he was supposed to be doing, too busy staring at the dainty chain tangled in the palm of his hands, with a small engagement ring at the end, in place of a pendant capturing all of Pietro's attention. It was fit for a petite woman. The silver was slightly scratched. Two slightly larger silver stones surrounded a slightly larger stone, although quite dull at first glance the engraving on the inside showed was still noticeable.

"I'm in no rush, dragoste mea." He chuckles, shoving the necklace into his pocket before moving to take his shirt off to put on a different one while continuing to speak. Your eyes followed his movements, subtly admiring his body as his muscles unintentionally flexed which resulted in you feeling your cheeks heat up, quickly looking away to not get caught checking out one of your best friends.

"You know I still don't know how I feel about Vision hanging around my sister." Pietro confesses, his overprotectiveness towards his younger sister evident as he continues to replay what occurred during dinner hours ago, Wanda confessing she wouldn't mind moving to a rural neighbourhood with Vision instead of staying at the Avengers Headquarters.

"People can't control who they fall in love with Pietro." You sighed tiredly not realising the irony behind your words, it wasn't the first time Pietro mentioned his hesitation towards the Android.

"People can't, robots can." He scoffed, walking to the dresser to put away his shirt, now wearing a pale blue shirt instead of the charcoal grey T-shirt he was previously wearing.

He moved to the bed, sitting beside you before shifting around to get comfortable. Your hand reaches out to the laptop to begin the episode only for Pietro's hand to place his above yours, stopping you.

"Since we're on this subject..." he paused to pull the necklace from his pockets before holding the necklace out towards you, letting the ring dangle from the chain between the two of you, twisting and turning because of the sudden movements.

You glanced at Pietro in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. He then pulls the hand that was covered by his own and turning it so your palm faced upwards, dropping the necklace in your hand. You held the necklace between your fingers, admiring the gems on the ring before noticing the engraving etched on the inside of the engagement band.

"I+O?" You read out the engraving in confusion, eyes meeting Pietro's soft gaze. He paused for a bit, struggling to put together a sentence that wouldn't cause the wall he created to completely collapse.

"Irina and Oleg, my parents. This was my mother's engagement ring. It was apart of the few belongings they've managed to find after what happened." He gently takes the necklace from you, signalling you to turn away from him so he can put it around your neck. Gently pushing all your hair to the side you felt goosebumps rise wherever Pietro's fingers grazed on your skin, the familiar heat rising in your cheeks once again.

You were secretly relieved that he couldn't see your reaction, the unspoken tension between the two of you currently was unbearable. You looked down at the ring, twirling it around with ur fingers while Pietro continued to speak.

"We decided that Wanda should keep our father's ring since he barely acknowledged me as his son, let alone a person." Pietro chuckles dryly.

Pietro turns you to face him, palm resting on your left cheek. "It looks good on you Draga Mea." He compliments you, eyes glancing down to your lips ever so often. "Why did you decide to give it to me?" You whispered, struggling to find your own voice.

Pietro's mouth curved into a smile, his thumb gently stroking your face

"Can't you tell?" He asked.

"Hmmm i think I'm going to have to hear you say it." You teased, smiling up at him, arms sliding around his neck pulling him closer towards you. He rolled his eyes feigning annoyance before telling you what you wanted to hear.

The next morning Wanda lightly knocked on her brother's door, wondering why he wasn't at breakfast. Waiting a couple moments for a response Wanda slowly opened the door only to be met with with the two of you lying in bed in each other’s arms, the laptop ended up at the edge of the bed as you completely forgot about it after the events of last night. Pietro had his arms tightly wrapped around your waist while your head rested on his chest, the two of you smiling contently.

"They're good for each-other." Wanda whispers to her partner who stood beside her.

"They are indeed."

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inabottlelikelightning · 3 years

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10 fandoms, 10 characters, 10 tags :)

got tagged in this a While ago (@grenadinepeach thank u <3 <3 <3) and i thought i’d give it a shot since i’ve been in Quite a few fandoms

rules: show us your ten favorite characters from ten fandoms and then tag ten people to do the same.

1. theo raeken — teen wolf

yeah this can’t be a surprise to anyone. this man somehow inspired me enough to actually Start Writing. absolutely wild. love him to death. bamf dumbass. also it doesn’t hurt that he looks Like That.

honorable mentions: allison, lydia, kira. (sorry liam)

2. steve rogers — marvel

some of you may not know this about me but i was into marvel for Quite Some Time. i have to say 💓💗💖💞💝💘💕steve rogers 💞💓💗💖💕 in both the mcu and 616. and, like. avengers assemble. there is just something so.. [chefs kiss] about someone who has suffered So Much and still strives to just be a really good fucking person. i could write a whole essay on this mf. i love him a lot

honorable mentions: peter parker (SUCH a close second, not mcu because Yikes but aaaa 616 peter my beloved), peggy carter, miles morales, natasha romanoff

3. arthur ?????

i have seen inception an unspeakable amount of times and the most interesting thing is the Crumbs of information we have about all of the characters. he’s resourceful, he’s competent, he’s a great dresser. 10/10 don’t know anyone else who could take down a hotel full of men in a three piece suit with spontaneous changes in gravity. like godDAMN that’s attractive.

honorable mentions: i mean. there are only 7 total characters so, like.. eames i guess??

4. minerva mcgonagall — harry potter

oh MAN she was the Original bamf. screamed every time she came onscreen/on the page because i knew shit was about to go down. the only unproblematic character, and the only one fandom hasn’t absolutely Ruined. an accidental gem in the series, there’s no way joanne knew what she was doing here

honorable mentions: luna lovegood, neville longbottom, remus lupin

5. magnus bane — shadowhunters (TV)

okay so i just watched this series and good GOD it was so much better than the books. i felt like in the books magnus was always sidelined but the show really let him shine in all his warlock glory. absurdly powerful + very nice blazers + kickass eyeliner + amazing jewelry + cat dad + disgustingly kind + adopts various individuals as children as he goes through life because 💖💕💓💗found family💕💓💗💘. bisexual poc king. fucking love him, 17,000 exes and all.

honorable mentions: alec lightwood, izzy lightwood, raphael santiago

6. jared dunn — silicon valley

if you haven’t watched this show i would actually recommend it. it’s impressive. but jared is, by far, one of the FUNNIEST characters i have ever experienced in my whole life. the only reason he isn’t #1 on this list is because i feel a duty to everyone ^^ up there, but jared is. GOD. physical depiction of “perfectly pleasant and put together until he goes APESHIT”

honorable mentions: gilfoyle, bighead

7. crowley — good omens

true chaotic neutral at its finest. a bastard of a man, who Tries To Be Good Anyways. sad and pining. mortals believe he’s mafia, which is fucking hysterical to me. SINCE I STARTED THIS I FOUND OUT WE ARE GETTING A GOOD OMENS S2???? RISE TF UP

honorable mentions: aziraphale, anathema device

8. mazikeen — lucifer

she’s just.. uhhhh. she’s SO…… G O D. no words except that she’s the only reason i got through the 2nd season. so happy that she finally got a gf ❤️ she absolutely deserves it

honorable mentions: ella, trixie

9. toph beifong — avatar

absolute fucking legend. blind and kicked ass 24/7. this is my daughter and i love her very much. also apparently i’m an earthbender???? not too sure abt that one tho

honorable mentions: sokka, katara

10. alaric saltzman — the vampire diaries

okay couldn’t put a gif for this one bc of the tumblr limit but vampire hunter sticks around and acquires a vampire bro and a vampire daughter and trains a vampire hunter son and then acquires a vampire coparent to his 2 biological witch daughters… fantastic trope. i feel bad for him because his wives keep dying but he was a GIFT in the vampire diaries, no one did it like him

honorable mentions: bonnie bennett

tags: @attempted--eloquence @frustrateddumbbar @thecenturiestrickle @rohesiawrites @ttp5000 @cordelia---rose @songbvrd @li0nh34rt @edge0fmydesiree @lucilucialu

#theo raeken #❤️ steve rogers ❤️#arthur #minnie mcG #magnus bane #jared dunn #crowley #mazikeen #toph beifong #alaric saltzman

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tiphprince · 3 years

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I have many thoughts and feelings about snape leaving Hogwarts. (I would write it but one I am well lazy and I have this weird internal conflict but yes anyways) I will be signing of as 🤺 (this is so long I am so sorry)

So for scene + background purposes : both the mud blood incident and the werewolf prank happens at the 5th year and I guess eileen leaves him. And snape is in this absolute bedroom depression because rn he can't stand himself, there is no scope and like he knows what possibilities lies in both sides but rn he's craving for fimilarity and the only person who he hates that he's connected to is his father right. They both have this anger that eileen leaves them in spinners end and one of them is free. So he does something he hasn't done ever since he met Lilly : he takes a chance and applies to ilvermony he knows he won't get in he's so sure (until he gets proven wrong). And when he gets that letter that says ACCEPTANCE he somehow empathizes with the women who first introduces magic and the same women who ran away from this horrid place and figures that eileen is a clever witch and she's probably okay of not she'd be back or they would find out that she's dead.

He knows that he's meant to be alone (he does the paper work for a transfer alone, he packs alone and he celebrates alone on his departure by allowing himself to feel something when he buys himself a small plum cake) and he feels incredibly small when he enters the ministry where he meets the headmistress but he's hopeful.

And ilvermony is big and it's grand and it's so much more accepting. On his first day he meets a brown eyed girl who's made him feel absolute concern and exasperation in 14 minutes of meeting her (why do you think that England is a sad place he asks her and she simply looks at him dumbly saying your two weather's are rain and heatstroke, and he can't help but agree with her) but he can't help but feel light. There is no Potter, no black no werewolf and maybe his life is worth something. And he's less alone (he doesn't ever say it out loud because he's scared after all he is someone who's great at ruining friendships) because he makes friends some who understand the guilt and the shame and the anger he is carrying while others (and some really good adults) just know that it's not fair that you should treat your own life like this and now he's able to speak about his regrets his guilt to those closest to him 'what you did was wrong but I also think it's wrong that you have been told that holding on to the guilt is the only way you can forgive yourself, I think you have hurt yourself enough' she says to him and there is an absolute pin drop silence until severus takes all the courage to say i think I need help.

Flash forward it's 2 years later in Hogwarts and a ripple effect occurs.

Regulus black feels at first a great deal of anger towards snape because he managed to escape this. Narcissa and lucius understand but they will never admit it. But snape left their snape this tiny greasy kid from coke worth felt his life was worth more or if not he believed in enough spite to take some direct action. That spite is what drove them to stay effectively neutral and hint on supporting dumbledore despite a war that there in the horizon. James and Lilly are together, the loss of friendship leads to a kinship which lead to a romance while Sirius and Remus are okay but they aren't. And Peter well he's shifty ( some days if not most days they all find it liberating to pretend that snape doesn't exist)

And now they all in this campaign to promote unity are in advanced muggle studies class, regulus black is the only slytherin and its painfully obvious on what's to come. And charity Burbage who is this cheery hufflepuff decides to do her video essay on schools but she has this pen pal who is in ilvermony and who's willing to help to show off her school and the people she loves (do you fucking see where I am going with this?????)

And BAM it's this heartfelt Supercut of her favorite places and the people she loves and meets there are snippets of their endearing conversations. And everything is okay until severus snape the boy who left at 15 is smiling at the one recording the video and is sitting casually at a sofa 'hey sev what do you gotta say about Americans' your tea sucks, and to think you would learn from the Boston tea party incident. And the rest of the video shows more people but it's severus who makes the video so much better and so much worse. Because she records his laughter, his joy but it's them who have this weird gut feeling and Lilly cant help but hold James hand tightly and James can't stop staring at the same boy he hurt.

And Lilly comes into this horrible but truthful realization that she's feeling what her ex best friend feels (the disbelief when she can't understand why can't she see him like this, the same way snape felt when he couldn't understand what Lilly saw in James) because there is so much betrayal she feels when he watches him smile at other people and can't understand why couldn't the snape that they are seeing in this video be the one who went at Hogwarts with them??? and James has to see this version of snape he hasn't seen before and thinks maybe they could be friends. And Lilly at that moment doesn't want to answer the question : he's happier because he's away from this place, the same place you love. Would you ask him to leave earlier knowing he could be happy like this?

The video is over and its regulus black who looks so pensive and has this look of hope that maybe goods thing can happen says in a too quite class because everyone knows : I haven't seen him smile like that at all. The bell rings and they just go on and walk a little bit more heavier because all they can think of Severus snape, the boy who escaped and the one who isn't coming back .

🤺🤺🤺🤺

Okay so... this was a completely unsolicited surprise in my inbox the other day, but damn if I didn’t love every single part of it!

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT OUR BOY SAYING FUCK IT AND LEAVING HOGWARTS

For the the other characters it doesn’t change that much, Lily still ends up with James, the Marauders are sad that their favorite target is gone but they get over it quickly, the other Slytherins don’t give a fuck about the poor and dirty halfblood, and the teachers... well, they’re as useless as usual.

But our baby! It’s awful for him at first, the fact that he suddenly finds himself so far away, and so alone, from everything he’d ever known, even the bad. Because at least he knew what to expect at Hogwarts and at home, it was all about the evil you know, and adventure is definitely not his thing.

I’ve always been in love with the “was gone for several years, and came back a changed man” (must be the Naruto fan in me), it’s a bit like anon’s video here, a way to show everyone what they missed, the huge mistake they made in hurting this kid who just wanted to be left alone

I want to see the Marauders praising this dude from America before learning that it’s Snape because he doesn’t look anything like what he used to (meaning he actually looks like a functioning human being).

I want to see Lily, high and mighty with her perfect husband and her son on the way, frown when she recognizes her former best friend laughing and smiling with another girl, looking happier than he’d ever been with her.

I want to see Slughorn in shock when the best potions master of his generation is revealed to be the weird ass teen he’d dismissed on the first day because he didn’t have a powerful family name.

Basically, I want every character who ever underestimated Snape, who ever hurt him, to, if not regret their actions, then at least realize that there was something more to him even back then, that if only he’d been given a chance he could have become that amazing person right here in the UK and not halfway around the world.

Also, I want Snape to not forgive them. Maybe he has to work with them for one reason or another, and he acts just civil enough to not outright provoke and insult them, but he’ll never forgive and he’ll never forget.

#lots and lots of feelings #Anonymous #snape #severus snape #ask #pro snape #snapedom #harry potter

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overobsessedfanboy23 · 3 years

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Why I Can’t Read the Harry Potter Series the Same Way Anymore

(I know this is different from the stuff I usually post on this blog but… frankly I wrote three pages to vent about this and I wanted to publish it somewhere so just bear with me.)

So, I know what this looks like. However, this is not because of the… real life misgivings of J.K. Rowling. As a trans person myself, yes, she is transphobic. Also, she lies about what her books actually contain to seem more progressive than she actually is, like claiming Hermione was always black when she was described and pictured as white in the books and then played by Emma Watson in the movies that Rowling was personally involved with the production of. But that’s not what I’m here to argue because frankly, that’s an old argument and while it does taint my view of the author, it’s not what taints my view of the books.

I should preface this with this: I don’t hate Harry Potter. I read all the books and watched all the movies. I was an active fan of the series for a long time and I still enjoy the world and the characters. Heck, I still sort my friends and characters into Hogwarts houses for the fun of it. However, overtime, some of my issues with this series have started to weigh on my mind more and more as I’ve gotten older. I mentioned the Hogwarts Houses, which while it’s fun to sort characters outside of Harry Potter into these houses, the way they’re handled in the series is lazy at best and problematic at worst. First off, nearly every good character is in Gryffindor, while Slytherin is almost entirely made up of villains. Gryffindor is the designated good house where all the “brave” people go when barely anyone there actually embodies the house traits, besides Neville, Hermione, and maybe Harry. If you wanted a variety of personalities in one place, maybe you shouldn’t have made your sorting system based on personality!

In fact, here’s a whole list of characters who should not be in Gryffindor:

-Ron Weasley (Hufflepuff. He’s super loyal to the point where him leaving his friends in the final book felt out of character)

-Fred and George Weasley (Slytherin, they are some of the most ambitious, cunning characters in the whole series. Opening a joke shop IS an ambition and is a great example of a non-evil ambition.)

-Ginny Weasley (Also ambitious with her Quidditch to the point of spending years sneaking out to practice on a broom before she attended Hogwarts.)

-Percy Weasley (Ambition is his whole thing. He’s even a darker side of ambition. Him coming back to his family would be more meaningful if he were a Slytherin!)

-Dumbledore (Ravenclaw or Slytherin. He manipulated the ever-loving hell out of Harry, which I’ll get to, and is known as clever, wise, and a little eccentric. Either house could’ve been a better fit for him than Gryffindor.)

-Hagrid (Either Hufflepuff or Slytherin. Hufflepuff seems like the best fit for his current personality but Slytherin makes the most sense considering his backstory and history with Tom Riddle. The SuperCarlinBrothers made a really good video explaining this called “What House Was Hagrid in.” Go watch that.)

Leading into my next issue with the Hogwarts Houses, I have a serious issue with how Slytherin house is represented.

This has been said multiple times but the fact that every single Slytherin in the series is either evil (Voldemort, Bellatrix), assholes (Draco, Snape), morally gray (Slughorn, Regulus Black), or not in the core seven books (Albus Potter, Scorpious Malfoy, and Merlin), is extremely problematic. It makes the line between good and evil incredibly obvious and clear cut, with hardly any effort to blur those lines. The closest thing we got, especially in the author’s eyes, was Snape, who was not redeemed. He just wasn’t. He was a bully to his students, emotionally and physically, to the point where Neville’s biggest fear was him, and yet it’s suddenly all okay because he was in love with Harry’s deceased mother? That’s not how this works. His actions are not suddenly all okay because of that and frankly, he didn’t do enough to warrant saying he redeemed himself, besides indirectly letting Harry know that he needed to die to defeat Voldemort through the memories in the Pensieve, which just isn’t enough. Draco had more of a redemption and frankly proved he had good in him, yet we never got a true redemption from him because apparently all Slytherins are evil. Sure, there is a total of… one evil Gryffindor: Peter Pettigrew, who is pretty awful, but is there a single fully good Slytherin? No, they’re all either assholes, dabbled with evil, or are full on evil. Not only is it basic black and white morality, but it’s also downright harmful. The kids are sorted into their houses by their personalities and values. Some of the Slytherin traits are ambition, cunning, cleverness, resourcefulness, and leadership qualities, all pretty positive traits. The thing that divides these houses are their traits and values, so this is sending a message that traits such as “ambition,” “cleverness,” or “resourcefulness” are bad or evil, when they’re not. This is especially problematic when you remember that there is an official Wizarding World quiz that sorts you into a Hogwarts house based on your personality and likes and one of the houses you can get is this designated evil house. So if kids take this quiz and get Slytherin, they’re going to be disappointed and possibly think they’re evil. I’m especially annoyed at “ambition” ALWAYS being represented as a negative trait. That’s not just a Harry Potter problem but it still bothers me. Having aspirations and the guts to pursue them is not a bad thing, having evil aspirations is a bad thing. Ambition is a purely neutral trait, it can be positive or negative depending on what you’re pursuing yet it’s only ever shown as a “villain” trait.

(Look at this wonderful tweet I found while looking for images for this by the way:)

(Way to be even more blatant that you hate Slytherins and also have a poor understanding of racial issues. Speaking of which...)

This series tries to tackle racism… and it didn’t do it well. At all. It didn’t even tackle racism itself, it used elements of its magical world as an allegory for racism and these allegories just don’t work. The two that are most well-known are the wizard/muggle tension and the house elves as a whole. The pureblood purists are essentially an allegory for white supremacists, which has some troubling implications since wizards are literally genetically superior to muggles. Even if it’s not an objective fact, the books do imply that wizards are better than muggles from the story alone so this racial allegory doesn’t work when you’re saying one side is more powerful or better! The house elves are even worse. Their entire species is enslaved to these “genetically superior wizards.” In fact, if I remember correctly, house elves are enslaved mostly by rich pureblood families like the Malfoys and the Crouch’s, similar to slavery in the real world. But apparently, the house elves are happy to be enslaved (besides Dobby, who died) and were insulted when Hermione tried to free them. Winky in particular was horrified when she was freed by her master, treating it like a horrible punishment. Surely I don’t have to say how messed up that is.

Finally, my biggest problem with the Harry Potter series and the main reason I can’t stomach reading or watching them anymore, is the treatment of Harry himself. Harry was abused by the Dursleys. This is not me reading too into the book of reinterpreting anything, this is what is told to us directly. Harry is thin from being underfed in the first book, was forced to live in the cupboard under the stairs for eleven years, is frequently yelled at and berated by the Dursleys, heck Petunia and Vernon practically encourage their son to beat up Harry and frequently show favoritism to Dudley over Harry to an absurd degree. They make it clear to Harry that they don’t want him there. They also lock him in his room in the second book, literally boarding up the window and not letting him leave, passing him soup cans under the door. And all of this is just off the top of my head. Dumbledore left Harry in this environment. Dumbledore is fully aware of how Harry is being treated. Harry’s acceptance letter into Hogwarts literally has the address “the cupboard under the stairs” written on it. Yet they leave him in this physically and emotionally abusive and neglectful environment because the Dursley’s treatment somehow humbled him and made him the hero the wizarding world needed. Let me repeat that loud and clear: Harry is a hero because he endured abuse. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. I don’t care what your justification is, it is never a good thing to leave a child in an abusive situation. You are not good or noble or heroic or anything for staying with people who hurt you. And it’s not just Dumbledore. I understand that Harry living with Sirius wasn’t much of an option with him on the run from Azkaban and then dying in book 5 but what about the Weasleys? Why do they let him return to the Dursleys when they know full well what he’s going through there after Fred, George, and Ron bust him out? Oh yeah, he can’t leave because Lily’s love spell protects Harry when he’s in a blood relative’s house. He doesn’t have any other choice. This is a lazy excuse from the story to justify Harry staying with his abusers and frankly, doesn’t even work since he’s constantly trying to avoid his house, a pretty common response to domestic abuse by the way. So it’s not “protecting” him, even by that stupid logic. Harry was left with and forced to return to the Dursleys year after year solely because he’s the chosen one and needed to be put through hell because abuse apparently molds people into heroes and if Harry was even a little arrogant, he wouldn’t be a hero. And he wouldn’t have been prepared to die to Voldemort to destroy the horcrux in him. The story is framed in a way that glorifies Harry for being abused and I despise it. Dumbledore used Harry as a tool to defeat Voldemort, never taking his feelings into account and he’s just forgiven for all of this in the end. Everyone says Harry shouldn’t have named his kid after Snape? What about Dumbledore? Harry basically named his child after two of his biggest tormentors. It sickens me. It’s like the series is supporting and glorifying abuse, even if that wasn’t the intent of the author (and I doubt it was, since she was abused herself) that is how it feels. So yeah, I can’t really enjoy Harry Potter anymore the way I used to.

(On a side note, I hate “destiny” stories and Harry Potter is a good example of a terrible destiny themed story. Harry didn’t have a choice in anything. He was just forced into this scenario and twisted by the plot to be what it “needed” him to be, having no agency of his own. Great inspiring hero. -_-)

#harry potter #harry potter books #harry potter movies #slytherin #gryffindor #hp #albus dumbledore #severus snape #fuck both of them #the movies are decent adaptations honestly #I wouldn't mind watching them if they were on #but I wouldn't go out of my way to watch them #or even read the books #the fanwork is better than the series 90% of the time honestly #like lupin and sirius raising harry #that's a great AU

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roselightfairy · 3 years

Note

A,B,D,L,X for the fandom asks!

From this ask meme.

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

Well, haha. For LOTR: Legolas/Gimli, as everyone knows. Lately I’ve been having lots of feelings about various OC pairing, and I have particularly strong feelings about Thranduil and his wife – feelings that are only growing stronger, really. I really love a triad with Frodo&Sam/Rosie, where Sam and Rosie are romantically and sexually involved and Frodo is a queerplatonic partner to them.

Outside of LOTR, the only main pairings I really have strong feelings about are all the canon pairings from ATLA – Katara/Aang, Sokka/Suki, and Zuko/Mai. I just think those couples are so lovely and well-executed (unpopular opinion, in some cases!) and I love them all very much.

B - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

This one would be Gimli/Eomer! I hadn’t thought much about it (I didn’t even notice the incredible innuendo the two of them trade in my first read because I was so occupied by Gimli and Legolas) until I read “A Question of Honour” by Honesty and it changed my life and now I need more fic of Gimli and Eomer making out rightnowrightnowrightnow.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t (again: be nice)

Unfortunately… basically any ship that includes Legolas but not Gimli. Most of them I don’t particularly wish I liked, but every now and then, someone comes around with an OC that they’ve clearly put so much thought and care into, who has a really thoughtful backstory and worthy relationship (no I’m not addressing this at anyone in particular why ever would you think I was) and I just wish I could engage with it, but . . . the NOTP feelings are real. Somehow, as we have discussed, I am able to simultaneously hold the belief that romance is not inherently more important than other relationships – and the utter inability to picture Legolas romantically with anyone else. (This would be the case with any long-term pairing with Gimli, too, but he doesn’t really tend to get paired with anyone else so I don’t run into the issue. My theory is that by the time fandom came around to recognizing the inherent attractiveness of dwarves, most of those people had also come around to recognizing Legolas and Gimli as a forever love.)

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves (chars you’re neutral on are fair game, as are chars you dislike)

I am not generally a big fan of Angel from the Buffyverse, but I really genuinely enjoy watching him when he’s being goofy with his friends on his spinoff show. The moments are fewer and farther between than I wish they were, but they always make me smile and I wish the show had leaned into them more, because he can really be sweet and silly when he’s with people he has a good rapport with.

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM

(Note that for this question I am making a distinction between favorites specifically and characters I would die defending – there is certainly a lot of overlap, but there are some characters I adore but don’t perceive as needing defense, and others I adore but who don’t deserve my defense – and others who need defense but I do not consider my children. It’s actually a very convoluted question!!)

Aang. AANG AANG AANG. He is my SON and my CHILD and my LOVE and as soon as I see anything that has even the slightest whiff of disfavor I’m climbing that hill, knives out.

Korra, also. I’m not as involved in LOK fandom, but I’ve definitely seen some stuff that makes me want to shield her with my own body (though she’d never let me).

Buffy Summers. She has suffered ENOUGH; stay AWAY from her.

The following are characters who specifically need my defense from Peter Jackson and the ensuing fanon:

4. Legolas

5. Gimli

6. Frodo

7. Sam

8. Merry

9. Pippin

Thank you for asking! Some of these took quite a bit of thought!

#ask #ramblings #whining about the lotr movies #shipping

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ultimate-fangirl34 · 4 years

Text

Hello, Goodbye- a Steo fic

1655 words

(Sorry about the weird spacing)

Theo was nine when he first met Stiles. He'd just moved to Beacon Hills, anxious to be starting at a new school.

"You'll be fine," his parents had said as they ushered him out the door, out the car, up to the front gate.

Theo was not fine.

He'd never been popular. Asthmatic, scrawny, weak. He was terrible at sports, always last to be picked, always pushed to the back. He'd barely made friends at his previous school, years of scraping and bowing, finally earning himself a seat at the table. Any table. And now he had to start again.

Cursory introductions, assigned seatings, new books. And assigned to Scott McCall.

Theo wasn't stupid. Far from it- he liked to think he made up for his lack of physical prowess with his mind. Intelligent, sharp-witted, and more cunning than any nine year old had a right to be. He knew he'd been paired up with Scott because he was also asthmatic.

Despite his condition, Scott was very athletic. He was tall, lean. Theo could tell he was gonna grow up to be a heartbreaker. He was kind, too. He showed Theo round the school, introduced him to classmates, to teachers. To Stiles.

Stiles Stilinski. Scrawny, goofy, with a dark sense of humour that Theo could appreciate. And those eyes. Bright, fiery, rebellious. From the moment Theo laid eyes on Stiles, he felt a pull, like a magnet. It was the effect he had on people. Popular yet not popular. Known but not seen.

Ingratiating himself into Scott's friendship circle was easy. Scott liked people. He was so trusting, quick to smile, slow to anger. Steady. Polar opposites with his best friend. Stiles trusted very few people. Suspicious of everyone, quick to anger- to feel any emotion, really. They were suited for each other. And, Theo thought, suited for me.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion. Festering. And yet, so empowering. Theo felt only satisfaction at alienating Stiles from Scott. Splitting them up would leave them alone, hurting. And who be there to soothe their pain but Theo Raeken? Scott fell into his trap- sweet, gullible Scott. All that was left was for Stiles to do so too, who, if Theo was being perfectly honest with himself, was his preferred target.

But Theo had underestimated Stiles. For Stiles had seen right through his trap. Theo knew this the moment Stiles stepped into the classroom, eyes hard as steel, face set like stone. He looked at Theo only once, the rage in his eyes so intense Theo was sure he would combust on the spot.

It was weeks until Theo really saw him again. He was stood by Scott, head down, shoulders slumped in the first sign of defeat Theo had ever seen in the boy. Scott was smiling gently, one hand rested on Stiles' shoulder. In that moment, Theo knew he had lost. Somehow, despite everything, Stiles had still beaten him.

He had been so angry, so hurt. He'd run to the woods, face wet with snow and definitely not tears- Theo Raken does not cry- and screamed into the trees.

That night, Tara Raken froze to death in a river, leg broken, lips blue.

Theo moved away three days later, eyes alight with the promise that one day he would return. And then, he would win.

————————————————————

Theo returned to Beacon Hills nine years later. He'd started planning it ever since he'd left, young and foolish and ignorant. Nine years to refine his wit, sharpen his mind. Nine years to win back what he'd lost.

Nine years to win back Stiles Stilinski.

He was certain that it would work this time. He'd use the same tactics as last time, then go to Stiles instead. Stiles knew how to hold a grudge- there's no way he'd let Scott back easy.

Theo wasn't expecting Stiles to still hold a grudge against him.

"I remember Theo in the third grade!"

Theo wasn't expecting that sentence to make his heart flutter so. Making use of his extended heading to keep up with what was happening to his former friends. Stiles remembers him. Stiles remembers him.

But then there was Lydia. The moment that annoying, ginger haired bitch walked in-scene, Stiles' eyes filled with the most disgusting display of love Theo had ever seen. Even after all these years, Stiles was still in love with the wrong person. Not that he knew who the right person was, of course.

And then Stiles killed Donovan. Theo had to admit, he was kinda proud. His little Stiles was all grown up, had taken the final rite of passage. Stiles, of course, didn't see it as an achievement. He would need comfort, kindness. Not critique and scorn. Not for Scott to find out.

So Scott had to find out.

It was so easy to convince Scott of Stiles' anger. He wasn't exactly known for his calm and peaceful temper. And Scott wasn't exactly known for changing his views. He had a stick so far up his ass it was a wonder he could sit down. For all Scott preached tolerance and understanding, he sure was stagnant in his opinions.

And now Theo could step in. Words of comfort, of understanding. "Wouldn't my eyes be blue too?" And Stiles seemed so grateful. Especially since Theo had pulled him from the burning truck. He finally had what he'd always wanted. He finally had his Stiles.

Naturally, everything went wrong.

Stiles, being the kind, golden boy he is, naturally didn't like what Theo was doing with the Dread Doctors. And, being the best brothers they are, Stiles and Scott naturally made up. And, being the outsider, Theo naturally had to leave. Again.

What would it take for Stiles to see him as someone he can trust? Someone he can rely on? That Scott taking up his loyalty. That Lydia whore taking up his love. They were two very long, very sharp thorns in his side. Why couldn't Stiles see that everything he did, he did for him. Scott and Lydia, they didn't have his best interests at heart. Theo did. He would do whatever it took to show Stiles that.

But then Tara was there. She was dragging him down, down, down, and all he could think was "now I'll never have him".

————————————————————

"You remember Stiles?"

One of the most terrifying sentences Theo had ever heard. Of course he remembered Stiles. His fast mind, his fidgeting hands, his intelligent eyes. Why wouldn't he? Why didn't they?

Theo changed his mind. Being told that Stiles been erased from existence was the most terrifying this he'd heard. His sweet, clever boy was suffering. Was gone. That simply wouldn't do.

But of course, no one could keep Stiles away from his friends for long. He'd exploded back into existence, wielding that ridiculous baseball bat, and had saved his friends' lives. Yet again. Those monsters didn't stand a chance against him.

Running around that hospital with Liam was more fun that Theo expected. Fighting the hunters, like the games of hide-and-tag he used to play with Tara. And then he'd seen Stiles- beautiful, beautiful Stiles- stood beside Scott, almost glowing. Theo could swear his heart stopped. But, of course, he was stood next to Scott. So Theo did what he did best.

He disappeared.

————————————————————

Never did he believe that he'd be fighting alongside Scott. And against Gerard, no less. Theo had to hand it to him- the old hunter had the survival skills of, well, Theo.

It definitely seemed like an ending, with old foes and allies alike appearing out of the shadows. While the McCall Pack set off to fight the Anukite, Theo helped keep the hunter army at bay. Argent kept shooting him distrustful glances- as did the Sheriff, amusingly resembling his son for just a moment. Theo rolled his eyes. He wasn't gonna screw this up. Keeping his father safe would definitely put Theo in Stiles' good books.

And then it was over. A weight lifted from Theo's stomach as he watched Stiles bound towards his father. He shot Theo a grateful glance, a little nod, before turning back to that ginger Lydia hag. She caught his glare, a small smile playing her lips. Of course she could smirk and grin. She had Stiles. And, suddenly, she didn't, because she was pushing him away, towards- towards Theo.

Theo blinked, Lydia winked. She mouthed at him don't screw this up, and then she was gone. And Stiles was here. Stiles was here.

"Hi," Stiles seemed uncomfortable, but Theo didn't care. Stiles was here.

"I see you survived," stay calm, Theo, stay neutral.

"Yup. My, er, my dad said you did pretty good. Thanks for, y'know, for looking out for him." Theo had never seen him so flustered. His cheeks were tinged pink, eyes unable to stay still. Then they did it. His eyes dipped down, staring at Theo's lips, before raising to meet his eyes, then looking away quickly. And Theo finally understood.

"I remember Theo in third grade."

"Don't screw this up."

He glanced down at Stiles' lips, then back up to those dark eyes. Stiles had definitely noticed and yet, he didn't move away. If anything, he leaned in closed. Theo set his mind.

He wouldn't fail this time.

————————————————————

"Um, Lydia?"

"Hmm?"

"What the fuck is going on?"

Lydia smirked, following Peter's gaze. Theo and Stiles seemed to be devouring each other, lustful and needy. Lydia laughed.

"I always said I was attracted to the gay ones," she sighed. "First Jackson, now Stiles... I can't complain though. This just means I'm ready for another steamy romance."

"But..." Peter still seemed stunned. Lydia laughed, patting his back. A quick glance round the room showed that Scott had now noticed, as had the Sheriff, both wearing identical expressions of shock, mouth agape, eyes wide. She sighed, nudging shoulders with Peter.

"Everything is as it should be."

#stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #tw #steo #slash #x #fanfic #fantiction #mieczyslaw #gay #meme #incorrect quotes #funny #steoday

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basicjetsetter · 4 years

Text

At the End of the Day (I)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: Lil Fluff, Lotta Angst, Language, Violence – an extremely violent scene, might not be suitable for some, don’t continue to read if it triggers you.

Summary: All Bucky wants to do is protect his family and keep them happy, keep them safe. But no matter what he does, danger hunts him down and makes his life a living hell. It has a name. Baron Zemo.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Bucky. I hope y’all love it as much as I do. If you want, you can listen to Sometimes by H.E.R. The fic isn’t inspired by the song, but I felt like it fit. (Gif not mine, all credit to its creator). Also I apologize if the translation is wrong. Happy Reading!!

Part II

Bucky had it all planned out.

Race out of the debriefing room as soon as the meeting adjourned, jump into his car, still grimy and clothed in tactical gear, and gun it to his house to get there in time for dinner. For the most part, the plan was successful. He left the Compound at 3:45 p.m. and made it to the driveway by 5:50. The clock on the dash reads 6:18. He can’t get out of the car. Every time he attempts to unfasten the seatbelt his muscles lock up until he caves under the exhaustion.

Missions never take this much of a toll on his body, but to be fair, he did hurl himself out of a ten-story building like an idiot. He remembered how the world outside swayed, remembered hearing Sam shout into the coms, telling him that everyone was safely out and that he needed to get out too. There was nothing else they could do.

The floor underneath his boots shuddered. Stairs were out of the question and there was no time for Sam to figure out which side of the building Bucky was in. So he jumped.

By now he’d thought he’d be used to imminent death. After all, it came with the job. And yet this knowledge didn’t keep him from squeezing his eyes shut and holding his breath until his lungs cried for air. It didn’t help his hammering heart or the tight clench of his gut as he plummeted to meet the concrete.

Everything had gone a bit fuzzy afterward. A lot of people rushed in to see if he was still alive. He thought he saw a familiar face, but chalked it up to be a trick of the light. Sam and Wanda hovered over him, repeatedly asking if he could hear them and if he was alright. Nothing hurt too bad. He somehow managed to rotate enough so his left side took most of the impact. His head hurt like a son of a bitch, though, and his mouth tasted metallic and felt like sandpaper.

Medics pawed at him the entire way back to the Compound, checking his vitals, shining bright lights in his eyes to rule out concussions. One of them suggested he be left in their care for the night.

What he needed was a goddamn aspirin and a nap. If he let them hook him up to all those machines, he’d be stuck in there for… Christ knows how long. Hours? Days?

Bucky just wanted to go home to his girls.

Instead of listening to the docs advising him to do such and such, he thought of you seeing him like this, bruised from head to toe, covered in rubble and blood. You’d seen him look worse, but every time he came in with even a cut you worried at your bottom lip and a small crease of a frown darkened your features. But he knew you’d be relieved to have him at home in one piece.

So he disregarded their caution. Within 48 hours he’d be right as rain. The perks of being a souped-up solider, he thought ruefully.

Only one good came out of this mess. Bumblebee is going to go through the roof with excitement. He can hear her screams now, “No way! That’s so cool! Mama! Mama! Did ya hear that? Daddy jumped out of a building!”

6:32 p.m.

He wouldn’t be able to tell her anything if he couldn’t haul his ass out of the car.

Bucky groaned as he grabbed hold of his canvas bag and slung it over his shoulder, then kicked the door of the Jeep open. He gingerly climbed out, whimpering with each movement. He shouldn’t have sat in there for so long. All his muscles are stiff as a starched shirt. He leaned against the car door to close it.

As Bucky limped up to the front door he heard the sounds of Bumblebee and Tater, their golden retriever puppy, running around and you laughing as Bumblebee huffed in frustration, “Give me back my shoe, Tater!”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth curved into a large grin despite his crushing headache. He put his key in the lock and frowned when it didn’t click. Already open. Sighing deeply, he twisted the knob and pushed open the door. Scampering feet ran out of the kitchen into the foyer. “Daddy’s home!”

Sure enough, Bumblebee, and Tater right on her heels, dashed into him just as he dropped his canvas bag on the ground and jumped into his open arms. He grunted in the effort to keep her up in his aching arms, staggering back a couple of steps. “Jeez kid, you’re getting big on me.”

She pouted. Miniature versions of your eyes examined his face. “Are you okay, Daddy? Why’re you all purple and blue?” Her smooth, chubby hand brushed away a stray hair from his face. “Does that hurt?”

Had he winced?

In front of him, he heard a sharp inhale. Shit. Reluctantly, Bucky lifted his eyes and met yours. He’s probably not his usual sight for sore eyes. In fact, he’d be willing to bet that he’s the cause of those sore eyes.

You assessed him from head to toe, no doubt noting how he shifted your daughter to his right side to protect his left.

“James.” Your tone is viperous.

He’s in for it. “Don’t say it,” he pleaded.

“Buchanan.”

Bucky hid his face behind his daughter’s shoulder. “Doll, I-“

“Barnes. What the hell happened to you?” You didn’t wait for an answer, striding over and taking your daughter out of his arms and setting her down. “Honey, why don’t you go finish up your dinner. Daddy and I need to talk about grown-up stuff.”

The girl looked up at her dad with a defiant set of her mouth. “I want Daddy to come and eat with me.” She is her mother’s child, but the way she held herself reminded Bucky so much of himself before he became a pawn to Hydra. Cock-sure and confident, ready to hold his own. That’s his little Bumblebee.

You sighed. “He’ll be there in a minute, baby. I promise. Go on,” you smiled sweetly. He knows you don’t want her to worry, but you aren’t doing a good job at neutralizing your frantic expression.

Your daughter still didn’t budge.

“Celeste, please. For Mama?” you supplicated, leaning down to meet her stricken gaze.

“Is Daddy in trouble?” she asked, her voice now small and quavering. It broke his bruised heart.

Bucky’s knees buckled as he kneeled and he did his best to minimize the sound of his groans. “No, no, Bumblebee, I’m fine. Mama just wants to take care of me, that’s all. As soon as we’re done, I’m all yours.”

“Promise?”

He nodded and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Super promise.”

She perked up as if her mood hadn’t soured at all and skittered off into the kitchen, Tater trailing after her with a tiny shoe in his mouth. Bucky waited until he heard her chair scrape across the floor then peered up at you. “Might need some help getting up here, Doll.”

Despite your apparent anger, you giggled lightly and held out your hand. Bucky grabbed it with his right and pulled himself up, but leaned against the wall adjacent to the front door for support, panting.

“God Bucky, you look awful,” you whispered, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Did you get hit by a train?”

“Sort of.” At your stern frown, he confessed. “I-uh… I may have jumped out a ten-story building and the ground might’ve broken my fall. It’s nothing,” he rushed. “I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

He sucked in a breath as you softly pressed a hand to his left side. You set to work on undoing the harnesses and buckles of his vest. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Lie to me.” Bucky fixed his mouth to deny it, but you continued. “We’ve been married for six years… Don’t you think I know you like the back of my hand by now? You aren’t fine. It’s not nothing. You’re human, no matter what you or anyone else thinks. You can still feel pain.” Your voice dropped to a murmur.

At first, he thought your silence resulted from the weight of your words because now he certainly felt like he got hit by a train. But he followed your eyes. You’d successfully ridden him of the top half of his tactical gear, laying everything in a heap at the bottom of your feet. Angry welts, cuts, and bruises smattered down his chest in an intricate pattern, ranging from red to purple to blue. The puffed scar connecting his cybernetic arm to his shoulder paled in comparison.

Hearing you sniffle brought him back to the present.

“Jesus Bucky.” Tears shone in your eyes, pooled, then fell down your cheeks.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to come home after being away for three weeks and immediately upset his girls. The sheer sadness laced in your words hurt him more than his wounds. And that sadness wouldn’t just go away in a few hours.

Bucky pulled you into his arms, welcoming your soft body against his like a heat compress. You smelled like roasted garlic chicken with a hint of buttery, herbed mashed potatoes, and lavender soap. His stomach growled.

“Remember that time we took Bumblebee to Wollman Rink and she accidentally fell on her head and got that nasty bruise?” Bucky asked, resting his head on your shoulder and pressing small kisses to the side of your neck. A small sigh of contentment sifted into the air.

“Yeah.” Another sniffle. “Sam, Wanda, Peter, and Rhodey all bought her big teddy bears and ice cream to cheer her up. My poor baby. I never wanted to hear her cry like that again.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, recalling how every rational thought fled his mind as he rushed to his daughter, cradling her small body to his chest. They took her to the Med-Bay and she stayed there for a week and he never once left her side.

“We didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Sam all but locked us out of her room and told us to take a shower and change into some fresh clothes.”

You cocked your head back and gazed confusedly into his pale blue eyes. “You going somewhere with this?”

“We can’t…” he paused, clearing his throat. “There is a healthy amount of worry we’re allowed to give before it becomes too much, you know. We’ll go mad wanting to keep each other out of harm’s way and that’s exactly what you’re doing. This is my job, Doll. I get hurt. We just gotta accept that.”

You pulled out of his arms and crossed yours. You didn’t damper the bitterness as you spoke. “You’re such a hypocrite. What would you do if I came home covered in bruises and cuts every night? Huh? Shrug it off? That’s what you’re telling me to do?”

Bucky didn’t know if he should answer, so he kept his mouth shut, down-casting his eyes. That’s not quite what he meant, but it’s in the same vein.

“Alright. Fine.” You turned away from him and walked out of the room, into the kitchen.

That didn’t turn out how he wanted it to, but Bucky didn’t have the energy to go after you. You need time to simmer.

He picked up his stuff and dropped it off on the foot of his office, quickly showered and changed into a pair of gray sweatpants. His muscles appreciated the warm water and comfortable clothes.

The lights in the family room and dining room were shut off by the time he finished, leaving only the kitchen to be illuminated in a faint glow. A stack of dishes sat in the sink and the leftovers were contained on the counter, ready to be put away in the fridge. On the other side of the house, down the hall, the light in the second guest bathroom gleamed. He heard the splash of water and giggles. Bath time.

Despite his cloudy mood, he smiled. Bucky missed this.

After he scarfed down some microwaved chicken, mashed potatoes and carrots, he got to work on the dishes.

The act always soothed him. When every second of his day had to be calculated down to the last minutiae, taking the time to listen to his thoughts became a welcome gift. But all his thoughts led back to you. Your warm body in his arms, your head propped against his chest as you made little sighs of happiness. He understands why you’re upset, and no, he wouldn’t like it if you came home hurt every night as he does. Hell, he wouldn’t be able to stand to be away from you as long as he does now.

You’re concerned for him. The least he can do is empathize and lessen your fears. Him not saying anything translated to you as, “Yes, I’d prefer if you didn’t care about me.”

“I’m such an asshole,” he muttered, tossing the dish towel onto the counter after drying the last plate.

He heard you shuffle behind him and he turned in time to see you drop an armful of blankets and pillows onto the couch.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, acknowledging the clean dishes. “If you need some more pillows there’s a couple in the hall closet.”

Before you could lope off into your bedroom, Bucky called out, “I’m sorry.”

That stopped you short.

He chanced a step forward, then another, until you put a hand out to confirm the distance. “About earlier… You were right.” Bucky itched to hold you, but instead, he settled for pulling his hands through his damp hair. “If the situation was reversed, I know I wouldn’t be able to handle it and the fact that you’ve been doing it every day since we got together… I’m gonna be more careful. I promise. I can-I can request some time off. We can—”

You interrupted him, so quiet even his enhanced hearing strained to pick up the noise. “Do you know why I handled it, Buck? Why I never complained?”

He shook his head, again finding his tongue too tied up to answer.

“Because it’s your job. You’re an Avenger. You’re this awesome superhero who saves hundreds of people every day. How can I complain?” Your words choked off with emotion, yet somehow you managed to push past it, sounding rugged and defeated. “H-How can I be so selfish to want to keep the Winter Soldier safe? The craziest thing is, I never see him when I look at you. The soldier, I mean.” You bowed your head and swiped away ceaseless tears. When you brought your eyes back up to meet his, both of your eyes glistened. “I see you, Bucky. And you’re someone I can’t lose.”

Bucky didn’t react fast enough. As soon as he took that last step forward to stand right in front of you, you turned and dashed into your bedroom, shutting the door. He didn’t hear the lock turn.

He walked over to the door and placed his hand on the knob. Pressed his ear against the wood. You sounded close. Crying with your hands clamped over your mouth to muffle the sobs. Nothing would be able to stop him from going in the room to comfort you, locked door or not. But if you wanted him to be near you, you’d have left the door open.

How had this whole day turned to shit?

He went into his daughter’s room. You being upset with him and him landing himself a night on the couch were huge setbacks, but he’d be damned if he didn’t tell Bumblebee a good-night story. She loves those. He loves telling them to her.

They have their ritual every time he’s home. She’s usually sitting up against the headboard, wearing a toothy grin. He’d come in and she’d scoot over to the side to let him lie on the bed with her. Some nights they’d doze off together.

When he cracked open the door and peered in, her back faced him and the blue covers were drawn up over her head.

Bucky took a seat on the corner of her twin mattress, feeling how it slightly bowed under his weight. Tater is curled up on the other corner. His head rested on his paws and his eyes dolefully glanced up at Bucky.

“Bumblebee,” he whispered, stroking her head. “Hey, kid. You sleep?”

Silence. He heard her breath quicken. She’s still awake.

“You mad at me too?”

He held his breath. Utter silence.

“Guess I can’t blame ya.” Exhaling slowly, Bucky leaned in and kissed the back of her head. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I love you.” Then he got up, turned on her rainbow nightlight, and delicately closed the door.

The family room felt too small. Too still. Too vacant. Trying to sleep on a couch, especially this one, in particular, had to be the worst sleeping arrangement he’s ever experienced, on par with sleeping on dirt floors and metal cots.

A previously recorded football game is playing noiselessly on the TV. All the lights are turned off. The exhaustion Bucky warded off earlier returned in full force. He blanked out by the time the game reached the second quarter.

“Good evening, Sergeant Barnes,” a distant voice lulled. It’s familiar. Accented. It stood nearby, standing right above him. “Or would you prefer Winter Soldier?”

Bucky’s eyes opened as slow as a stream of molasses. His head swam and his body felt out of place. He didn’t know what was up or down, left or right. That wasn’t what shocked him, though. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t even twitch his pinky.

Isn’t he supposed to be in jail? How did he find me? How the hell did he even get in here?

As far as Bucky can tell he’s still in his family room, laying on the couch. The covers around his body have been thrown back. A needle is sticking out of his right arm, connected to a small drip bag.

“Whahh—” he slurred. It took him a while to pull his eyes away from the needle and up to the man looming above him with a gaunt smirk.

God no.

“Oh good, you remember me.” Zemo pulled up a chair and sat right by Bucky’s head. He’s wearing a plain black sweater and dark jeans. “Don’t worry, it isn’t poison. Simply a temporary sedative. The effects will wear off as soon as I take out the needle.”

Bucky tried to scream with everything inside of him. He called your name over and over again, but nothing came out higher than a whimper. Even if you heard him, he doubted if you’d be able to alert the others in time. What if he already got to you? Or Bumblebee? A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

Zemo watched in amusement at the emotions flitting over Bucky’s face. “You’re a hard man to find, but easy enough to keep track of. Your little band of do-gooders always makes the front page. But you know what those covers don’t show? Hm?”

He held up a picture frame level to Bucky’s eyesight. It was you, him, and Bumblebee, all going down a slide together. Sam took the picture a year ago. You were at the top, holding up your then three-year-old daughter, and Bucky at the bottom. Bumblebee gripped his long strands of hair with a vicious glee in her eyes. Your eyes are closed from laughing and Bucky is looking up at his wife and daughter with a rapt smile.

“You have a lovely family, Sergeant Barnes. Reminds me of mine.” He pulled out a small folded copy of a photograph, creased due to the course of time.

Bucky saw a family, but he didn’t take them in. He didn’t want to care.

Zemo paid him no attention as he stared fondly at the picture, taking them in for himself and then comparing it to Bucky’s family.

“You see, I went about this all wrong the first time around. Taking on the Avengers as a whole resulted from my hubris, if you will. I saw the potential to exploit a weakness and work around the outside. Some might say I instigated the War. No,” he smiled and took the needle out of Bucky’s arm. “I merely set them on the right path.

“Captain Rogers was indeed quite fond of you, but I knew Stark wouldn’t be so disillusioned to your heinous crimes. Though, I admit I may have given him too much credit. A tin man set up to fight against two of the world’s best super soldiers? A failed endeavor, yes, but necessary. It brought me reason. Why influence a whole and almost succeed when I can influence one at a time. Leaves less room for marginal error, don’t you agree, Soldat?”

As the sedative ebbed away, feeling gradually flooded into his fingertips and toes. In a couple of minutes, he’d be free from the immobilizing numbness. He prepared his body to spring.

Zemo pulled one more object from behind his back. A red book. An old, red book with a black star branded on the front.

An icy gust of recognition shot shards of panic through his system. It couldn’t be. He’s fixed. Shuri fixed me.

The man went on in relish. “Of course you recognize your creator’s book. A handy thing, this is. Hydra is many things, Sergeant Barnes. Many things. But one thing they remain to be is prepared.” He thumbed through the pages, stopping to the last several pages. “Two steps ahead and all that stuff.”

Bucky forced out the word, “Why?”’

“Why?” Zemo mocked. “Why is it that an abomination, a murderous machine such as yourself, can have this type of happiness at the end of the day? Doesn’t it strike you as unfair, Sergeant Barnes? Why should you have this beautiful family while mine doesn’t even get an ounce of recognition? No front covers. Not even an obituary. I’m simply taking matters into my own hands and dealing justice where justice is due. And Sergeant Barnes, you have over 70 years of undue justice stacked against you.”

Tears stung Bucky’s eyes. Every inch of his body trembled. His teeth painfully chattered. He felt his lips move. “No, please. No, no, no, no, no. God no. I can’t. I can’t.” Not to them.

“This is the way it has to be, Sergeant Barnes. I truly am sorry.” Zemo rose from the chair, walking around to the back of the couch. “Возвращение (Return).”

Bucky’s whole body drowned in a cold sweat and the blood drained from his face. Those bastards! Those goddamn fucking bastards! He pushed off the couch on jelly legs, falling in a heap of blankets.

“сброс настроек (Reset).”

Anger propelled him to his feet and he staggered drunkenly around the couch, standing arms-length away from Zemo. Only a few feet stood between him and the front door.

“не помнить. Добро пожаловать назад зимний солдат (Forget. Welcome back Winter Soldier).”

Zemo closely watched the man standing rigid in his sweats, chest heaving. Bits of his hair is in his face and one blanket is caught around his ankle. He heard the harsh grinding of his metal palm curling into a fist. The asset’s face smoothed over into a mask of stiff submission and indifference.

“Ready to comply.” Mechanical, detached, lethal.

“Terminate everyone inside the house.” With those final words, Zemo withdrew from the house, exiting out of the front door. It slammed shut.

You weren’t really asleep.

Even trying felt like a waste of time. The king-size bed swallowed you with its vast amount of unfilled space. Sleeping in an empty bed was hard enough not knowing where Bucky was. Turns out it’s even worse when he was just outside the door and down the hall, sleeping on an uncomfortable couch.

You knew that he knew the door wasn’t locked.

Relief and an inkling of regret settled your nerves thirty minutes after you closed the door. He wasn’t going to come in. He was giving you space.

Is it wrong to want Bucky laying here with you, even though your heart wasn’t ready to face him? Maybe you’re being ridiculous. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s an amazing father to Bumblebee. He’s an amazing husband. Work doesn’t consume him and if it does start to become an obstacle in your marriage, Bucky’s quick to rectify the problem.

You inched over onto his side of the bed and buried your face in his pillow, taking in his heady scent. Were you too hard on him? Were you irrational? Bucky can’t help who he is.

He’s your daughter’s hero.

He’s yours too.

At 2 a.m. you fretfully turned back over to your side of the bed when you heard one of the doors slam shut, ringing out like a shotgun

You’re on your feet and rushing out without a single thought of caution to stall you. Bucky is out there. So is your Bumblebee.

Bucky stood in the middle of the room. Blankets are strewn around and one of them wrapped around his ankle.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

His head swiveled up at the sound of your voice. Empty, calculating eyes snapped to yours.

Something’s wrong.

You tripped back a little, finding your balance against a wall. Fear mounted in your chest. “B-Bucky?”

No reaction.

“Buc—"

In an instant he advanced towards you, stepping out of the blanket as if it was never there. A scream caught halfway in your throat as metal coiled around your neck. Squeezing. Squeezing. Squeezing.

Black pinpoints and stars shaded your vision. He watched you splutter. You’re sure he didn’t feel your nails clawing at his shoulder.

None of the things Bucky taught you about self-defense came to mind. You couldn’t think, but you had to act. Instinctively, you kicked out. One kick landed dead in his hard abdomen. It felt like kicking at a boulder. He coughed out a surprised grunt and his grip slackened. You aimed another kick at his crotch, dead on the center, and the hand around your neck loosened enough to send you scrambling on the ground.

Your lungs scorched. Your palms and knees ached from landing unceremoniously on the hardwood flooring. By the time you began to crawl away, it was too late.

Bucky regained himself quicker than humanly possible. His hot flesh hand snagged your ankle in a bruising grip and yanked you back.

You cried out, hoarsely. “Bucky stop!”

He paid you no attention. Almost didn’t seem to hear you at all.

His hair fell into his face, darkening the mask that slid into place. He barely struggled to pull you underneath him. Strong, thick thighs caged your lower half to halt your flailing legs as he straddled your hips.

The pressure instantly returned. Both hands crushed your windpipe. His fingers dug into your skin. The wedding band fitted on his flesh hand bit deeper than the metal of his cybernetic hand.

In a last-ditch effort, your fingernails impaled his forearm, breaking the skin. Five half-moon crescents beaded up and trickled in lines of scarlet red, slicking along his arm and on your fingertips.

He never flinched.

Tears streamed out the corners of your eyes.

Darkness bled into your vision, starting at the corners and then filling in the rest as the seconds ticked by. Each beat of your heart painfully thudded in your chest, each thump clunking slower and slower. More spaced out.

Numbness spread until you resigned to it.

Your lids slid shut. You didn’t want those eyes to be the last thing you saw. Those arctic blue, barren eyes. Not Bucky’s eyes.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

“Stop it, Daddy! Stop it! Get off of Mama!”

You wrenched your eyes back open in time to see your daughter smacking her father over the head with her rainbow nightlight.

Hope and absolute dread wracked your body as Bucky unclasped his hands and turned to look at the small girl standing her ground behind him, nightlight half-raised in the air for another strike. Tater is in front of her, barking viciously at Bucky.

“Run!” The word tore itself out your mangled throat. “Run!”

Bumblebee watched in horror as Bucky rose to a towering height, and she let out an earsplitting scream as he ripped the light away from her, then gripped the front of her Avengers pajama shirt, lifting her into the air.

“BUCKY NO!”

Past the rush of oxygen flowing back into your lungs and the thunderous beats of your heart, you heard terrified crying.

Your baby.

Wailing. Scared.

For a second, you’re back at the skating rink and your eyes land on Bucky, sitting on the ice, cradling her to his chest. Nothing else mattered.

Bucky frowned.

The first sign of emotion flickered over his features since you came out of the room.

Confusion.

You saw his eyes drop to the ground, saw him shake his head. Then he looked at the girl in his hold.

Recognition.

Grief.

Fear.

Horror.

Agony.

Bucky trembled, slowly and shakily lowering Bumblebee back onto her feet. She skittered around him, putting as much space between them as possible, and stumbled to your side. Tater is still growling at him.

You watched his eyes reluctantly settle on your body, watched his face crumble.

Bucky choked out. “I’m sorry.” He took a step back. He looked at his arms and saw the indents of your fingernails. Saw the imprint of his hands around your neck. Took another step back. “I…I…I didn’t—”

He turned and ran out of the house.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x you #dad!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #post endgame #baron zemo #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier

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whatsortofschoolisthis · 3 years

Text

HPHL Profile

Name: Maran Magdalene O’Malley.

Gender: Female

Age: 17

Birth Date: July 22.

Species: (Human, Lycanthrope, Metamorphmagus, Vampire, ect):Human

Blood Status: (Pureblood, Half-Blood, Muggleborn): pureblood

Sexuality: Straight

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Ethnicity: Irish

Nationality: Irish

Residence: Hogwarts/Hogsmeade with her Aunt Irene during breaks. Previously lived on a homestead in Oregon.

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ISFJ- The Protector

THE MAGE

Wand: English Oak

A wand for good times and bad, this is a friend as loyal as the wizard who deserves it. Wands of English oak demand partners of strength, courage and fidelity. Less well-known is the propensity for owners of English oak wands to have powerful intuition, and, often, an affinity with the magic of the natural world, with the creatures and plants that are necessary to wizardkind for both magic and pleasure. The oak tree is called King of the Forest from the winter solstice up until the summer solstice, and its wood should only be collected during that time (holly becomes King as the days begin to shorten again, and so holly should only be gathered as the year wanes. This divide is believed to be the origin of the old superstition, ‘When his wand’s oak and hers is holly, then to marry would be folly,’ a superstition that I have found baseless). It is said that Merlin’s wand was of English oak (though his grave has never been found, so this cannot be proven).

Thestral Core.

Animagus: A black cat.

Misc Magical Abilities: (Legilimen, Seer, Parselmouth, Obscurial, ect): None.

Boggart Form: Her stepfather, Alive.

Riddikulus Form: Her stepfather, Dead.

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?): forests, woodsmoke

Amortentia: (What do they smell?): Whatever their love interest smell like

Patronus: An American Jackrabbit.

Patronus Memory: The first time she held Robyn.

Mirror of Erised: Her whole family alive,

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim:

Voiceclaim: Saoirse Ronan

Height: 5 ft tall

Weight: 99 pounds.

Physique: thin

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Blonde

Skin Tone: Pale

Body Modifications: None.

Scarring: Several on her back, incurred from beating from her stepfather.

Inventory: (what do they carry on them?):

Wand.

A Grimoire.

An Adder Stone.

Her MAUSCA Wanted Poster.

Fashion: Wears a pinstripe dress with plain black shoes and a white apron over that, when not in uniform. Also has several blue and pink dresses she handmade.

ALLEGIANCES

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor.

Ilvermorny House: Wampus

Affiliations/Organizations: Hogwarts and her Aunt Irene.

Professions:

HOGWARTS INFORMATION

Class Proficiencies: DADA, Charms,

Astronomy: E

Charms: O

DADA: O

Flying: P

Herbology: E

History of Magic: A

Potions: O

Transfiguration: A

Electives:

Ancient Runes: E

COMC: A

Divination: O

Quidditch: No.

Extra Curricular: Potions Club

Favourite Professors: TBA

Least Favourite Professors: TBA

RELATIONSHIPS

Misc Siblings:

Robyn Ann O’Toole

Robyn was born to Mary and Jonathan O’Toole on Christmas Day and is Maran’s only other living sibling besides Michael, half or otherwise. Her mother died in childbirth and Jonathan did not believe Robyn was his because she had blond hair (never mind the fact Maran and her own mother have blond hair) . Her often abused and mistreated Robyn, which nearly rendered her a Squib. This worsened the abuse. After escaping, it turned out she was not, in fact, a squib and was sorted into Gryffindor at 11 years old.

She is constantly afraid Maran will be taken away and hung and is a gentle, slightly nervous little girl. Brave in spite of it all and more daring than other little girls her age.

David John O’Malley:

Maran’s older brother, he died of Cholera on the Oregon Trail. He was only 15 at the time and was very close to Maran. He wanted to be a Potioneer.

Michael Devin O’Malley:

Maran’s brother, younger than her by a year and born on June 1st. Michael is very fond of Robyn and Maran but is a little afraid of the latter. He is kind and gentle and was no match for his often brutal stepfather. Not at all sad the man died. Sorted into Hufflepuff and was in Pukwudgie before the escape.

The Littles: A collective term for the three babies that died before and after Robyn. Aideen (aged 3 years, died of the Cholera with David), Joshua (one week, SIDS), and John ( contracted Scarlet Fever on the homestead, age two)

Father (s):

Sean O’Malley

He was a good man from a moderately wealthy pureblood family that loved his children dearly and was especially close with David and Maran. Died from Typhus. Irene is his sister. Former Hufflepuff.

Peter ‘Pete’ O’Toole

A pureblood wizard with Purist beliefs, extreme even by the standards of the day, and the black sheep of the family. He was disowned by his family as he was suspected in the death of his muggleborn sister in law Ellen and was generally an asshole. He met the recently widowed Mary, married her, then took her and her children and their late father’s house elf Ichabod across the ocean to America to make his own fortune on the Oregon Trail. While using most of hers.

Mother: Mary O’Malley/O’Toole (Maiden name: McCarthy)

A kind woman that loved all her children. She was wrecked by her first husbands and Children’s deaths and died not long after having Joshua. Former Hufflepuff.

Love Interest: None Yet

Best Friends: Michael.

Rival: None

Enemy: Maran’s stepfather, who is dead.

Dormmates: (Who’s in your MC’s dorm with them?): TBA

Pets: Her Owl, Minerva. Ichabod Technically but he’s not a pet and is more like a parental figure, especially to Robyn.

Closest Canon Friends: TBA

Closest MC Friends: TBA

BACKGROUND/HISTORY

One day he decided he was going to kill Robyn and tried to strangle her with a Garrote after sending Maran and Michael on an errand. Michael came back early and managed to get Peter off his sister and ran into Ichabod’s quarters. Because Mary had, wisely, never transferred authority to Peter for Ichabod, the house elf refused to let him in. At this point Maran came home. She often carried a rifle when going to the neighbors and there was an argument, during which Peter revealed what he had tried to do.

Pre Hogwarts:

After a series of tragedies, including the deaths of his stepson and stepdaughter and two sons, Peter made it to Oregon with his family. Peter O’Toole then proceeded to isolate his family from others and was often physically and verbally abusive. He favored Michael (who did not reciprocate) and sent him to Ilvermorny but kept Maran and later Robyn at home. Mostly because he was sexist but also because Maran...unnerved him. She seemed to know some wandless magic, having learned it from a witch from their wagon train, and was practicing it when he wasn’t in the house. She would occasionally use it to indirectly threaten him and he sensed the events were somehow connected to her.

- Not afraid to stand up for herself or her siblings and often takes on a protective/maternal role with Robyn.

So Maran shot him and made it look like a muggle robbery. When the truth finally came out, they were already in England and living with Aunt Irene.

1st Year: TBA

2nd Year:TBA

3rd Year:TBA

4th Year:TBA

5th Year: TBA

6th Year: TBA

7th Year: TBA

Post Graduation: She became a Potioneer in Honor of her brother David and had one son, Aiden, with an unknown man. Robyn lived with her until her death from Typhus at 32 and Michael lived next door with his wife Niamah until his death at age 75 and her death at age 98.

Old Age & Death: Maran lived to be 101 years old and died surrounded by her grandchildren and Great Grandchildren. Was pardoned for the murder of her stepfather after she died.

PERSONALITY

- Can be absolutely ruthless when she needs to be.

- Doesn’t understand the difference between Light and Dark magic (This distinction didn’t exist out west until the early 1900s) and she often experiments with Dark Magic as a result.

- Genius at potion making and is very intelligent.

- A tad paranoid, she did murder her stepfather. Looks over her shoulder a lot and is distrustful of people at first.

MISC

- Hecate and Sean are partially named after Maran and Michael.

- Maran tries to introduce her English classmates to the newly invented game of Quodpot and it often ends badly.

- Has a negative view of marriage, which is why she never marries (that anyone can tell).

- Wrote a book about her life as an old woman and it caused a stir in the pureblood community due to the many negative things she says about pureblood culture and purist beliefs in the book.

- Maran loves sketching ad painting.

#harry potter hogwarts legacy #hphl #maran o'malley #robyn o'toole #michael o'malley

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whatta-babe · 5 years

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When Life Gives you Lemons| Peter Parker x Gender Neutral Reader

WARNING: THIS IS SET POST-ENDGAME! CONTAINS SPOILERS SO READ WITH CAUTION! Also, super mediocre writing, so I’m really sorry.

Summary: It’s hard trying to go back to the way things were before the Snap, but hopefully with Ned and MJ’s meddling, Peter can start coping and even be happy again. Maybe the dog named Lemon and her pretty owner can help with that...

As much as Peter tried, he couldn’t quite get used to his new life. How could have the five hours he was gone really be five years?

Losing Tony was even harder for him. His father figure and role model was now gone for good. Sure Happy was trying, but it would never be the same. No one could ever rival Tony’s personality, jokes, teasing, nicknames, aura. The only one who came close was Morgan, and he was excited to see how she would turn out to be. Luckily, Pepper and her would drop by once a week or so to catch up.

A week after the second Snap, school resumed as if it had never even stopped, but the world around Peter had changed. With half of the world population gone it wasn’t like there were any technological advancements or anything but still. For example, his chemistry teacher had grown significantly wrinkled and gray- not from just age but with the grief of losing everyone he loved.

And Aunt May, oh god, it was impossible to imagine what she had to go through in those five years alone- first she had lost Uncle Ben and them her precious nephew, no, son. That had been a very tearful and unforgettable reunion.

At least the teen had MJ and Ned. With them, Peter could almost pretend that everything was normal, that he wasn’t falling apart inside, but they noticed that he was not the cheerful naive little nerd they knew and loved. And when it became clear that their dear friend still wasn’t adjusting to their new reality, they did what any concerned friend would do: put up a Facebook ad to find some cheap one-on-one dog therapy sessions. What? They had been all over the Internet before the Snap!

They knew that Facebook was an old people site, but one has to admit, word travels fast there, and so two days later, there was no surprise when a promising application came in.

Y/N L/N was a sixteen year old just like them, and while their dog wasn’t technically an official emotional support animal, they were offering a super affordable price. Ned booked two sessions a week for one month to start out- he had to see where it was going to go before booking more. He was really hoping that it would- one, because he wanted his best friend to feel better, and two, because-

“Not gonna lie, that puppy’s hella cute. I would totally steal it.” This type of praise from MJ was unprecedented.

Ned couldn’t help but agree. “I texted May and Old Captain America for permission- which I still can’t get over. How is he still so handsome when he’s practically one hundred years old?”

“Focus, you dweeb!”

“Oh- right, right- sorry. Hmm- yeah. The first session is in two days, so now we just need to somehow get Peter to the Avengers’ Compound 2.0 without being too sus or him figuring it out. It definitely would have been easier if we could do it at a park, but he needs some peace a quiet for this type of thing, you know? The dog owner won’t be too questioning about the location, right?”

Thus, operation “When Life Gives You Lemons” commenced. MJ, being the clever and sarcastic girl she was, had come up with the name- the dog’s name was Lemon.

Somehow, some way, Ned and MJ managed to get Peter to Upstate New York without him getting suspicious. Well…

“Where are we going, guys? To the Avengers’ Compound? Why would we be going there? Happy would have texted me to let me know if I had to come up-” The poor boy was squeaking himself into a frenzy.

After many more anxious questions (which received no answers to Spider-Man’s great annoyance), the three teens finally arrived, and it was just after they got out of the car when Ned put his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“Look, bro. You’re my best friend, so you must be dumber than Jar Jar Binks if you think that I, your Man in the Chair and most amazing guy on the planet, didn’t notice that you were really struggling. You should have told me, Peter.”

The boy being scolded could only look down in shame. “I know. I should have… I’m sorry.”

“No hard feelings. Just talk to me next time.” Their “secret” handshake sealed the promise.

“This is tooth-rotting stuff, dorks, but there’s an appointment that can’t be missed.” Of course MJ decided to interrupt the moment. This was totally the opposite of the pain and suffering she loved to witness.

“Wha-” A dog’s bark cut through Peter’s confused exclamation.

The friends looked around to find a gorgeous teen jogging slightly towards them as a puppy pulled on the leash.

Once there was only a twenty yard gap between them, the newcomer released their grip on the leash and therefore released the only thing between the group and the hyper dog.

Lemon's brindle colored fur blurred into a streak of brown and black as she galloped towards them. On instinct, Peter kneeled to the ground with his arms open, and not 2 seconds later, she was in his arms, yapping happily as she licked and nipped at his chin in delight.

Peter giggled his cute little giggle as Ned and MJ quietly began to walk to the compound in order to let him be alone with Y/N and Lemon. It was only after they stopped in front of him that he looked behind him for support and found his friends gone.

He gazed up at you, but due to the harsh sunlight coming from above, all he could see was a halo of light as the rays hit the hair surrounding their face a creating a shadow that obscured their features.

Oh right! You have to introduce yourself, you idiot! "Hey! I'm Peter Parker." He clumsily stood up after putting the jumping dog to the ground.

His heart stuttered in his chest when he finally made eye contact with the stranger. He has never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. Sure he was Spider-Man and had amazing vision, but he hadn't been paying much attention to anyone but the dog when they were initially walking over. It was only now, face to face, that he could see them clearly.

You're body tingled at his stare, and you stuttered a soft hello before introducing yourself. You had not been expecting to see such a handsome boy, and you ached to thread your fingers through his wavy brown hair.

A hacking cough interrupted both teens’ daydreams, and they looked to down to see the pup chewing away at the grass. With a clear tsk of disapproval from her owner, Lemon stopped immediately, and they took this as their moment to explain what the situation was because Ned had let them know of the surprise part of the situation.

"This is Lemon, my 3 month old Dutch Shepherd, and your friends hired me to bring her here for a little bit of puppy therapy. Do you know what that is?" Peter's nod prodded them to continue. "For sessions of one and a half hours, two days a week, you can play with Lemon, hold her, talk to her, pet her, let her lay on top of you, anything like that. I always say that she loves strangers more than she loves me, and I can already tell that she’s obsessed you." Like me.

As a hopeless romantic you always wanted to believe in love at first sight, but the realist in you constantly nagged against it. But here this was, a feeling that you had never felt before, to the boy that was a stranger.

But you weren't going to let go of him easily. No, you had one month's worth of appointments that had been booked, and you were not going to waste any time in wooing him.

Peter was sure he was in love with this angel, and he was convinced that (eventually) he would win you over with his adorkable personality. His strategy? He could definitely use this dog as a way to both cope with the changes that coming back from the Snap brought and connect with her owner too. You know, when life gives you lemons...

#peter parker x reader #post endgame #gender neutral reader #peter parker x gender neutral reader #dog #dutch shepherd #spiderman x reader #marvel #mediocre writing #tom holland x reader #tom holland #avengers endgame #marvel endgame

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tlbodine · 4 years

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Three 1970s Horrors Worth Watching (that are not part of this film series)

The Horror by the Decade series started innocuously enough, with someone requesting some recent film recommendations. That got me to thinking about trends, and recommendations from previous decades, and how many movies that were true classics I was familiar with but had never seen, and thus the idea “hey, let’s watch movies from every decade!” came into being.

But obviously you can’t watch every horror movie from every year, so there had to be a selection process in place. Here’s roughly how I’ve been choosing movies:

Search Google for “horror movies {year}” for each year of the decade

Research them a bit and pick out everything that is familiar, historically significant, or seems especially interesting, and put them on a list

Pare the list down to 1-2 of the most interesting titles per year

Look for themes and pair movies up according to theme (since we watch two movies a week)

In order to save time, any movie that both I and @comicreliefmorlock have seen recently/a lot gets knocked off the list. In the 1970s, that means removing three extremely good, extremely important movies, so I wanted to talk about them a bit here.

Follow below the cut for thoughts on Jaws, The Exorcist, and Alien

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Jaws, made in 1975 by Steven Spielberg, is based on a novel of the same name written by Peter Benchley. Richard Dreyfuss and Roy Scheider team up to kill an unusually large and aggressive great white shark that is terrorizing the beach in a quiet New England town.

Fun fact: Until Star Wars was released two years later, Jaws was the highest-grossing movie of all time! This is probably due in part to how much money Universal decided to sink into its distribution and marketing, but the film’s quality has to play a big part too. It really is a magnificent movie and is probably a big part of why people are still scared of sharks.

Some things that are notable about Jaws:

It has one of the most iconic and effective film scores in cinema. Everyone knows the Jaws theme, and it’s been used to basically mean “impending danger!” in a jokey way for...I mean, at least 30 years, because I know that was a meme when I was a kid. I imagine it has been since 1975. That’s just a really impressive feat, and John Williams (yes, the Star Wars guy) deserves acclaim for it.

Music aside, Jaws is an excellent study in suspense and restraint. Technological limitations meant they couldn’t show the shark as much as they’d wanted, so scenes had to be filmed suggestively to ramp up the tension. (You do still get to see a lot of wonderful big scary shark, though, and honestly the effects still hold up pretty well to this day)

The performances are really good, too. The leads have a great chemistry and play off of each other really well. The script was a joint effort, getting passes from several people (including the book’s author), but a comedian Carl Gottlieb got a pass at it, and that humor really helps to elevate the film.

The most powerful thing about Jaws, though, is that it taps into a mythic seed that renders it utterly timeless. There is an echo of Moby Dick in Quint’s character and motives, with a similarly tragic arc. But it draws on something older and deeper, too. The premise of “man-eating wild animal terrorizes a community, a bounty is put on its head, only a hero can kill it” has been a staple of mythology for thousands of years.

Man-eaters are real, and they become the stuff of legend -- dating at least as far back to the monstrous Nemean Lion that could be slain only by Heracles. Historically, there are accounts of man-eating wolves, lions, tigers, etc. terrorizing locals, sometimes inspiring local werewolf legends - you can read about just a few of them here: https://listverse.com/2010/10/16/top-10-worst-man-eaters-in-history/

I think I watched Jaws for the first time when I was 8 (I saw all the sequels too, there was a cable marathon) and I was utterly captivated. I feel pretty confident if I showed it to an 8-year-old today, they would be too. It’s just that kind of movie.

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The Exorcist, released in 1973 and directed by William Friedkin, was based on a novel by William Peter Blatty, who also wrote the screenplay.

The story is about a 12-year-old girl, Regan, who begins acting strangely after playing with a ouija board. Once medical causes are ruled out, her mother turns to two priests for assistance; they come to perform the exorcism and have a harder time than expected with casting out the demon, to say the least.

The film is still considered one of the most frightening horror movies of all time by some, and at the time of its release it was a sensation. Movie-goers were said to have all sorts of reactions, from fainting and vomiting to having miscarriages and heart attacks. Contemporary psychologists even wrote about “cinematic neurosis” in people who had watched the film: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/1151359

The story crossed a lot of boundaries (even for the 1970s) and you have to bear in mind that this was a major cinematic release, not a grindhouse exploitation film. Most film-goers in 1973 were absolutely not prepared to see an innocent child spouting off vulgarity, urinating on the floor, and masturbating with a crucifix. And some of the practical effects, like the famous head-twisting scene, are still really creepy.

This is one of those movies that’s hard to watch with fresh eyes because it was so influential on all of cinema to follow. If you like demonic possession movies, this is the film that started it all. I know religious people who are deeply afraid of this movie and won’t allow it in their home for fear of inviting real demons, so, that’s the kind of staying power the story has.

** As an atheist, I am not particularly frightened of demon movies, and I suspect I will never fully grasp the real terror of watching something like this for people who believe that these types of things happen in real life. The Exorcist is definitely not the scariest movie I’ve ever seen, but I can respect that it definitely is for many other people.

Fun trivia: The Exorcist is considered by some to be cursed because the cast and crew had an unusually tough time with filming: the set caught fire (but Regan’s room was undamaged), several actors were injured during practical stunts/effects, several people died during filming or in post-production (not on set), and the demon’s voice actor experienced an awful tragedy years later when her son killed wife, kids, and himself: http://www.the13thfloor.tv/2015/12/02/is-the-exorcist-movie-cursed/

The events are all most likely coincidental (and on a long enough timeline, everyone involved with a project will be dead!) but it lends power to the suspicion that this was A Very Cursed Movie That God Doesn’t Want You To Watch, which makes it all the more frightening.

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Alien, directed by Ridley Scott, came out in 1979 and is so powerful that it’s still a popular franchise today, spawning books, movies, video games, merchandise, and more.

The story is essentially a haunted house film set in space. A commercial space crew is woken from stasis by the ship's on-board computer to answer a distress signal, discovering a derelict alien ship and founding a chamber of eggs belonging to an aggressive, parasitic alien creature that infests a crew member with its egg, which later hatches violently from his body, grows up, and proceeds to terrorize the ship.

It's a tense cat-and-mouse game of searching for the alien as it picks off crew members one by one, and the music, atmosphere, and visuals are all compelling, with effects that still hold up pretty well for modern audiences. But what makes Alien especially significant is the performance of Sigourney Weaver as Ripley.

We’d had scream queens before -- female horror protagonists who survive as “final girls” against the mayhem and slaughter -- but Ripley is something different. She is badass, heroic in a way that girls rarely got to see themselves, and laying down a template for strong female characters in future cinema (for better or worse).

The script was reportedly written to be gender neutral, with no assumptions about casting, which allowed Ripley to defy gender norms and expectations. But despite this supposed gender neutrality, there is a definite flavor of female horror in Alien -- which is, after all, a movie about forced impregnation and death at the hands of a decidedly phallic monster.

And that is, I think, probably right at the heart of the film’s sticking power. Science fiction can swiftly become dated as our knowledge of the universe expands, but the horror of Alien isn’t really the aliens so much as what they represent -- and sad to say, sexual violence is something we humans may never understand. Here’s a fun essay on the topic: https://www.newstatesman.com/culture/film/2019/03/forty-years-what-can-ridley-scott-s-alien-teach-metoo-generation

So, there you have it. Three movies we will not be watching in our film series, but which you absolutely should check out if you somehow haven’t seen them.

#horror movies #horror by the decade #horror through the decades #jaws #the exorcist #alien #i love these movies #so much

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froggybaek · 5 years

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poor unfortunate souls - lee minho

♛➩ genre: Disney!au, hella fluff, minor angst?

♛➩ pairing: neutral!reader x lee minho

♛➩ warnings: this is a rewrite of the original story, “brawl” that I posted ages ago on @kamino-ink

♛➩ summary: you’re not exactly the most interesting of fairytale characters in town, the offspring of a couple that maybe appeared once or twice in a background illustration; but that was it, nothing special. yet, somehow, you’ve managed to catch the eye of ursula's son - and he would do anything, anything to protect you.

♛➩ word count: 6.8k

You are just fifteen when your mother and father practically drag you through the dense forestry of Neverland, their lips pursed into thin, worried lines. Your own lips are parted to release desperate cries of confusion and anger - a mixture of emotions that you would choose to never feel again if truly given the option.

You have barely lived long enough to understand what was happening. All you know, for the record, is that something big was coming - something so big, so dangerous, that it had the entirety of Neverland running for cover... for safety.

You also know that your parents won’t be coming with you, wherever you’re going. They tell you that you’ll be on your own in this - this “new world,” according to what Pan told everyone. He had been able to locate the curse before it had been enacted and read the foreign language on the scroll; what he read, well, it would be the thing that condemned your world.

“Ursula, Cruella, and the Evil Queen all came together to write this curse,” Pan had spoken to the crowd of creatures, his voice reaching the deepest, darkest depths of the mystical island, “their powers combined have made it so our entire universe will fall victim to its bounds. In a few weeks time... our youngest will be casted away into a new world - from what I know, their own children will likely be the top dogs in this place. They call it a restart.”

The man - or rather, the eternal boy, paused for a moment. His gaze wandered over the frightened beings of his people, of his land. How he hated this - this absolute madness. Once upon a time, Peter Pan himself had been a curse to Neverland, so he understood the everlasting consequences of the three women’s actions. Perhaps they knew of this as well, what effect it would have on their lives and the lives of their own children - but maybe it was part of their plan.

A plan that not even Peter Pan, the King of Neverland, could come to comprehend. “Families will be separated during this curse. Your children will be sent to their created land, but those of us who have surpassed the certain age of youth... we will stay here-”

“What do you mean?”

“We came here to never grow old, to stay together forever - will we have to live without our own children as they grow old!?”

“What of my son? He is ill - if he continues to age in this new land, won’t the sickness spread and k-kill him?”

The brunette boy stares down at the rumbling crowd, listening closely to the worried complaints of humans, mermaids, and fairies alike. Should anyone else have been in his place in that moment, they would assume that most everyone there would be sent to the new land together - after all, there were many, many younger looking boys and girls in their midst. Unfortunately, many of those inhabitants had ventured to Neverland decades ago - if they stepped off of the island at any given moment, they would promptly revert to their true age, likely surpassing the stages of youth.

Pan was like them, of course, having become a resident of Neverland when he was very young; why, by now he would surely be into his fifties or sixties.

“I am afraid that I don't have all the answers to your questions. I can try my best to give you all comfort, but I suggest preparing yourselves - and your children, for the worst possible outcome.” He continued his solemn announcement, his eyes following and meeting the others of random creatures crowded beneath the spire he stood on. When his own sad gaze happened to catch your own frightened one, your felt the hands of your parents squeeze you tightly between their bodies; in Neverland, you would forever be fifteen - but you three had only arrived a mere two years ago.

If the curse was as he described it, then you would surely be sentenced to whatever evil it held.

“I don’t know the cut off, but we should all be ready just in case. My best guess would be around the age of twenty-five, although if you are eighteen or younger it is guaranteed you will be sent off. Say your final goodbyes, and... know that us who stay will never forget your legacy here, in Neverland.”

You are only fifteen years old, technically seventeen if time had not been paused in Neverland, when your small family reaches a familiar campsite in the middle of the dense, lush forest. A few other families and their children hold each other tightly, clinging to one another as the dark, purple cloud - otherwise known as the curse, floats closer and closer to the inner parts of the island.

Pan himself seems to be lecturing the “youngest” Lost Boys, or rather, those who had come to Neverland far later than the others and would likely be swept up by the curse. The older Lost Boys do the same, rounding up their youngest boys - some cry, some don’t, but the depressed and anxious atmosphere hanging in the air is enough to hint at what is soon to come.

“Y/N, you are our only child,” your father begins breathily, dropping down to his knees so he can be at eye-level with you, your mother quickly following his actions and grasping at the palms of your cold hands, “no matter what - no matter what the goals of those other children are, the ones born from the evil monsters who cast this curse, you must protect yourself and no one else.”

“Try to seek out anyone from Neverland once you arrive. Stick together, but don’t forget-”

“- to protect myself.” You breathe out quietly, glancing upwards to see that the cloud has reached the camp, just feet away from swallowing you whole. Just as the purple haze begins to touch the toes of your parents, you meet their watery gazes once more and give their hands a gentle squeeze.

“I promise to keep myself safe.”

————————————————————————

You kept your promise.

The second you were transported out of Neverland, out of your home and away from your mother and father, you had cautiously looked around your new, foreign surroundings.

You had dug your toes into the gritty sand beneath your feet by the ocean’s edge, steadying yourself in the case of a surprise visitor or attacker; after all, who were you to trust other than those who you knew from Neverland?

Luck had a fifty-fifty chance of being on your side that fateful day, truly. A couple of days before the curse was set to reach Neverland, a good majority of its inhabitants had decided to group their children or their youngest into the camp of Peter Pan himself - that way there could be at least of sliver of hope that you all would wind up together from the very beginning.

Unfortunately for you, and likely the others who had been transported by the curse, you had ended up completely and utterly alone.

You weren’t sure how or why, but you had ended up alone on the beachside. It had been very, very quiet, with only the occasional call of a bird or the ocean lapping at the sandy shore being your source of company. There is a small, slighting movement between your toes still bare from the process of going through the cloud, to which you tilt your head down and find yourself spotting a little crab. Its bright orange shell contrasts immensely with the pale grits of the beach, the claws attached to its body trying to snap at your exposed skin.

Crabs were not new to you, obviously, but this little creature was from an entirely different world - maybe even a different universe. After all, you had lived on an island for the past two years of your life, accompanied by a beautiful beach all for itself.

But... would everything else in this new place be the same? You couldn’t be sure, and in all honesty, you weren't quite sure if you wished to venture beyond the comfort of the oceanside. You had promised them - you had promised to your mother and father that you would keep yourself safe before anyone else.

You don’t even wince when the crab’s sharp claw pierces the skin of one of your toes, instead finding yourself leaning down and opening the palm of your hand. Reaching down slowly as to not frighten the creature, you manage to scoop it up into the now sandy palm of your hands. For some strange reason, it suddenly ceases in its furious little attacks on your body.

The orange crab manages to comfort you, in a way, just as the waves of the ocean and the gentle breeze sweeping across the shore did. This singular area of the new world helped you feel closer to home - and home... was always safest.

“Thank you, little crab,” a breath of air escaped your lips, a sense of relief washing over your bones, “you may not know this, but you have helped me feel safe.”

————————————————————————

Three years. Thirty-six months. One-hundred and fifty-six weeks. One-thousand and ninety-two days. Twenty-six thousand, two-hundred and eight hours. One million, five hundred seventy-two thousand, four hundred eighty minutes.

That is how long you and, from what you happened to understand, the rest of the fairytale characters had been stuck here - on a planet called Earth. To be more specific, you all were located in a place called Maine in a country the humans from Earth called the United States of America.

Only a select few from your world had been able to find out this information after having gone past the boundaries of the designated area - or town, if you could call it that. From what they had learned, everyone who had come from your world into this one were recognized as fairytale characters in children’s tales.

For instance, your beloved Peter Pan had a book published about him some decades ago, though it had been dumbed down for the sake of the younger kids who viewed the fairytale as something more, something hopeful. To be frank, this world wasn’t exactly familiar with the actual children of their beloved bedtime story heroes and villains, more so the parents instead. Not that any of them would recognize you, as you had been born to what they called “background” characters.

In your mind, that was perfectly alright - being the offspring of two people who weren’t exactly heroes nor villains. That in itself meant you could be whoever you wanted to be - whatever you wanted to be, especially in such a foreign land; you call it foreign, anyways, as you rarely, if ever, ventured away from the beach that you called home.

Yes, home... while it could never compare to the simple yet wonderful paradise that was Neverland, it suited you well enough. Not even a yard away from where you had first appeared after the effects of the curse, there had been an abandoned hut of sorts all for the taking - your taking, to be precise. Made of driftwood and other oddly natural resources, the hut offered you shelter and safety while you found your bearings all those years ago.

“Stop pinching me, you little demon.” You break yourself out of your mindless thoughts as a familiar stinging sensation erupts from your ankle. Glancing down on the wooden steps of your porch, your bored gaze spots Sebastian clawing at your raw skin. The damn crab always pinched at you whenever he wanted something nice to eat, mainly algae, though.

Ever since you had first picked him up when he was just a miniscule, pretty harmless crab, the damn thing had stuck by you and went everywhere with you - and yes, that did include the occasional trip to the market when you had to pick up some food or anything of that manner. Some people gave you strange looks every now and then, although most of the population had already been so used to animal companions back in the old world that it wasn’t much of a hot topic at this point.

Although you did have to admit, spotting a local resident who rarely left their home on the beach carrying pounds of food with ease, along with a strangely protective fiddler crab perched on their head most certainly had to be a sight to see.

There’s another pinch to your ankle, making you groan under your breath as you look down to scold the crab again; and then you hear it.

Or rather, them.

“Ohhhh Y/N! We’ve come to annoy you!”

“No, Jisung - you dragged me here so they wouldn’t beat your ass again. You alone came all the way out here to be annoying, as usual.” Seungmin grumbled, sending you a tired grimace while his wild companion darted across the sand, sending it flying comically into his front side.

The younger boy raised by silverback gorillas and just two humans stumbled a bit as he ran closer and closer to you, his toes catching on the sand (somehow) more than once; then again, he had been trained to walk and run a certain way for a majority of his life. How his mother never bothered to teach him to be a bit more careful or proper, you would likely never know.

“Look out, Ji,” you say in an otherwise monotone voice, the corners of your slightly chapped lips twitching into an amused smirk as he nearly falls into a quick stop just a foot away from your form sat on the porch, “Sebby here will not hesitate to pinch you.”

“I don’t get why that - that thing hates me.” He whined, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes, glaring at the crab that had taken the liberty of perching himself on top of one of your feet as if to guard you - not that the poor thing could, but it made your heart flutter in adoration for how he tried.

Seungmin, who had been a wee bit preoccupied with sweeping the microscopic grains of sand off his shirt and pants, walked up to the two of you and managed both a soft look to Sebastian as well as a nasty glare to his comrade. “You were literally raised by gorillas most of your life with the exception of your parents, Jisung. To be frank, you have zero grounds to wonder why a crab doesn’t like you, of all things.”

“Okay first of all, neither of these cases have anything to do with each other, Mr. Witch-”

“The fuck do you mean it has nothing to do with - whatever you gremlin, don’t call me a witch. I am a fairy!”

“Ohh, because that is so much better-”

You let out a pitiful sigh once the two start to bark at each other, arguing back and forth as they usually did. How they never actually fought, you would never know. Figuring that they might want a bite to eat or at least a drink to sooth their soon to be sore throats from all the yelling, you heave yourself off the top step of your porch, getting ready to turn around and head inside when a hand suddenly rests on one of your shoulders.

“They are... quite the pair, aren’t they?” The newcomer hums in utter amusement, their long fingers squeezing your shoulder, their footsteps somehow being heard by you even over the consistent arguing going on just a mere foot away.

“Mhm, they sure are. Although it is a bit entertaining, seeing them fight and all, it does hurt my ears.” You reply with a little more volume than usual so you can be heard by the man who now comes up to stand next to you just on the front porch of your hut, with him using your shoulder to push himself up right beside you. “What brings you here, Minho?”

The slightly older man grumbles at your all too formal tone. He had, on many occasions, especially when you first met, asked you to not use that bland tone of voice when speaking with him; mostly because it felt so weird for a friend to address him as if he was someone of importance. Which, he arguably was, to a degree.

He parts his lips to chastise you for the same issue once more, but the words he was about to say wither into nothing when he sees your lips pulled into a smirk filled with mischievous delight. Damn you for being so - well, you.

Speaking of you, you had started to wave a hand carelessly in front of the man’s face, one eyebrow quirked in amusement as he simply stares off into space as if he had some sort of vision. “Hello? Earth to Minho?” When he still didn’t manage to utter a response of any kind, you step closer to him and poke at his nose, “hey, octopus, you still there?”

“I told you to stop calling me octopus,” he retorted quickly, snapping out of his daze within mere seconds, “you got that stupid name from Chan, didn’t you?”

“Course I did - he gave me a cookie to seal the deal of me calling you octopus. I never turn down food, Minho.”

The silver haired man groans quietly under his breath, silently cursing Cruella’s son for using his own best friend against him. “He only does it because I called him a bastard when we first met, you know; rightfully so, too!”

You snort in disbelief, already making your way back into your home with the complaining man following closely behind. “Uh huh. Tell me again, why did you resort to calling him a, and I quote, ‘half-and-half bastard’?” You question him, hearing his footsteps on the wooden floorboards of the shabby hut while you wait for his answer.

“Cause’ of his dumbass fucking hair, love. I mean, black and white hair of all things? I get his mother is literally Cruella de Vil, but I don't think that’s how genetics work.” Minho continues his miniature rant with a hint of whine to his voice, unknowingly causing your lips to curl into a small smile, “the whole bastard issue arose when he lunged at me for petting one of his thousands of cats. Said’ that my ‘fishy stench’ would rub off on them, or some bullshit like that.”

“You know, you sure do curse an awful lot, Minho.” You point out with an airy laugh, bending down to grab a pair of spare, sand-covered shoes.

He actually whines out loud this time at your comment, all the while resisting the strong urge to stare at your backside when you bend down - bloody hell, why was he so disgusting? Before he could usher out a snippy retort, he was interrupted by the sound of two other pairs of feet walking into your hut.

“Alright lovebirds, we need to go to the store before it closes. And knowing Jisung, well, we’ll be held up for at least twenty minutes looking at the mangos so he can find the perfect one.” Seungmin announces suddenly, although it left you mildly confused; had they all really come down to pick you up and drag you into town just for a grocery run?

As if he could read your mind (in reality he could simply read your expressions like an open book) Minho explained what was happening, “Chan is having a big party tonight to celebrate Jeongin’s crew returning from their voyage. Apparently the kid might have found a way to get back home.”

Home... that’s right - you weren’t truly at home, watching two of your closest friends bicker almost on a daily basis outside your front door. You weren’t technically back home where you originally came from, feeling your heart race even the slightest bit when the only son of Ursula made eye contact with you while you spoke with him. The little crab, now having perched himself on a makeshift “bed” of sand and pebbles by the front door, did not come with you all when the curse had hit the other world.

Having mostly isolated yourself from the rest of the new world, not including the few friends you had somehow made, you sometimes forgot that a good majority of them had always desired to go back to where they came from. Jeongin, who was the offspring of the great yet foul Captain Hook, frequently took his crew across the ocean as far as they could go in search for any clues to get home. You see, there was technically a limit to how far any of the fairytale characters could venture outside of town, lest they wish to lose all of their memories (which had been learned the hard way, unfortunately,) though the pirates had somehow found a loophole in the town barrier. They could sail the sea with no issues, for the most part.

Sometimes, you wished that you could have been born in this world. You felt much more at peace, here, not having to worry about warlocks or evil queens threatening to curse everyone at a moment’s notice.

A hand cautiously finds solace in wrapping around your wrist, nearly making you jump a good foot into the air. You glance to your side, breathing a bit heavily from having been brought out of your thoughts.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Minho asked you softly, a great contrast to his normally sarcastic tone. Knowing that you were, in fact, not quite alright, you go ahead and nod anyway just to reassure the worried man. Though, from the way he narrows his eyes, you can just tell that he knows you’re outright lying to both him and the other two concerned boys.

But he doesn't call you out on it.

Instead of pointing out your blatant lie to avoid talking about whatever had suddenly begun to bother you, he pushes himself in front of your body and hunkers down. Before you can process what in the world he’s up to now, he had somehow managed to grab your arms and haul you onto his back with ease.

The single shoe you had shimmied up to the end of your ankle falls to the floor with a distinct ‘plop!’ and you, of course, huff in annoyance and surprise; even so, you don't hesitate to gingerly wrap your arms around his neck, curl your mostly bare legs around his waist, and tuck your face into the crook of his neck just above his shoulder.

“Minho, what’re you doing?”

“I’m carrying you while we go out, obviously.” He replied almost softly, his voice laced with a foreign sort of tone that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It sounded akin to a sense of caring and gentleness, very warm - it reminded you of how Peter Pan used to talk to everyone in Neverland. “Now hold on, love, we’re probably going to have to chase after that damn monkey and Seungmin.”

————————————————————————

You had to make a mental note to yourself to never, ever go shopping with those three hot messes ever again.

Minho had refused to put you down the entire time you lot wandered around the grocery store, stating each time you complained about wanting to walk that it more than likely had a policy where you couldn't just - wander around barefoot; and yes, that meant you had to scold Jisung for wanting to rip off his shoes and climb on the shelves instead of shopping like a normal person on more than one occasion.

Then there was the little monkey demon himself, resisting the urge to hop around and swing from the ceiling lights a majority of the time instead of actually helping to cross items off of the list. The other percentage of the trip in his case meant staring at a box of mangos and arguing with the nearest clerk about their ripeness and making sure the one he wanted to purchase was “absolutely perfect with just the right amount of mango,” whatever that meant.

And finally there was poor, little Seungmin - not so much poor, really, as he too started a plethora of arguments with the sales clerks at almost every corner. The feisty fairy boy would point out the tiniest of flaws in how they arranged and organized their products, even going as far as to scold fucking adults for putting a single jug of two percent white milk in front of a row of whole milk cartons.

From what you could recall, you had left the beach at some point early in the morning, as you had been watching the sun rise over the blue ocean with precious Sebastian at your feet; that was just when the trio had arrived. And now it was around midday from what you could tell. You would have resorted to taking a quick glance at your mobile phone that you totally weren't still getting used to, but Minho had snatched it the second you attempted to use it to distract yourself from the chaos that was the grocery run.

Understandably enough, you had at least tried to sneak the phone out of his pants pocket at least four times during the passing hours, although your attempts had left Minho with a noticeably flushed face.

Now, here you were, practically glued to the man’s back as he walked a couple of feet behind Jisung and Seungmin, who were bickering yet again about god knows what while carrying the many bags of food and drinks to Chan’s house so they could start to set up for the party.

Every now and then, you would feel a strange shiver run up your spine - as if someone was staring daggers into your very soul. You had brushed the creeping sensation off for quite some time now, figuring you might have been feeling a little paranoid being out in the public since you didn't make it a priority to head into town too often.

At some point, though, the feeling of being watched so, so closely had overwhelmed your senses, sending you into an overload of confused emotions - mostly worry. While Minho diligently walked with a certain pep in his step, his hands resting just tight enough on your calves to help keep you steady on his back, you suddenly twisted your head back just enough to look behind you.

Almost immediately you had made eye contact with some of the most repulsive boys you had ever seen in your lifetime - not to say they were ugly, no; rather their hungered stares that had previously been aimed shamelessly at your backside made you shiver in disgust.

“Minho, please put me down.” You turned back around, knowing full well the little perverts had gone right back to eyeing your rear, your words hushed and soft.

To Minho, you sounded like a kicked puppy. “How come, love? You aren’t wearing any shoes, you’ll end up with blisters.” He pointed out quietly, slowing down a bit and almost melting in with the rest of the crowd.

For some odd reason, he felt like he had to slow down even though you weren’t trying to keep pace with him; that in itself made him worry just a bit. “Y/N? Hey - what’s wrong?” He pressed on gently when you didn’t come up with an excuse, as he could now only feel your somewhat labored breaths brushing the shell of his ear.

“... c-could you hand me your coat, then?”

“Are you cold?”

“M-my legs are a bit chilly, I just want to wrap it around my waist is all.”

Lying has never been your... strong suit, to say the least. If anything, trying to get away with anything that wasn’t the truth was your weakest point, to put it nicely. Most of your small group of friends knew this all too well, considering you tried (keyword tried) to fib about the most miniscule of things, and usually they would let it go - no big deal.

But not Minho - he could read you like an open book, and he dared to call you out on your bullshit ninety-nine percent of the time.

“If you were cold, you would've been nagging me about giving you my coat ages ago when we first left the store,” he places a certain annoying amount of emphasis on the single word ‘nagging’ as if to mock you for constantly nagging him - which you did on occasion, not all the time, “tell me the truth right now or I’ll make sure to tell Chan about the time you had a wet dream about him-”

“Okay, okay! Just - shut up, octopus,” you interrupt him quickly, cheeks flushing a deep red as if the older man mentioned was able to actually hear what your friend had just announced to the public - those who cared to listen, anyway, “those two boys behind us are... they’re um - they’re staring at my ass and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Both you and the man carrying you fall completely silent, with you nervously nibbling on your already chapped bottom lip and your companion slowing to a total halt. The crowd parts around the pair of you, some small curses flying your way from the sudden stop, but Minho doesn't seem to care at all.

In seconds he has taken the liberty of obeying your quiet request from just moments ago, promptly helping you slide down his back and stand steady on the warm pavement of the sidewalk. You think, just for a moment, that everything has gone by smoothly enough; that Minho will simply ignore the two culprits and walk with you to catch up with Jisung and Seungmin.

Oh, you couldn't have been more wrong.

Slowly, almost comically, Minho turns on the heels of his shoes to face the notably younger boys dead in the eyes. “Apologize.”

They both stop dead in their tracks. “Uh - what?” One of them asks loudly, the other echoing his words like a parrot.

“I said, apologize to my friend here,” Minho presses on with a sickly smile, verging on the definition of wicked as he steps forward to the frozen pair and places a hand on each of their shoulders to prevent them from possibly escaping, “or would you like for me to beat the word ‘sorry’ into your empty heads?”

“H-hey, it isn’t our fault that they chose to wore pants that showed off their ass, man-”

“Excuse me?” Your huff of offense goes unheard, having been immediately overpowered by the literal growl that emits from Minho’s throat. His fists clench once, twice, and then one final time before he lunges at the two boys, showing no mercy to them as he absolutely pummels them with zero hesitation.

The crowd that had previously been focused on walking around the four of you now begins to form a sort of circle, encasing you all in a ring. No one dares to try and stop the fight, more than likely because they all recognized the instigator as the very son of Ursula himself, who was notorious for picking fights and always winning them.

In the distance, you can hear the muffled voices of Jisung and Seungmin coming back to search for where you two had gone off to, only to see their elder beating the shit out of a pair of boys their ages.

For a split second you just watch. You watch as the two boys begin to bleed from the cuts inflicted by the few rings your silver haired companion wore on his knuckles. You watched in eerie silence as they cried out for help, their lips being busted with ease from their assailant’s precise punches.

Then you can’t take it anymore. The crowd’s attention pans from Minho to you, as if somehow knowing that he had started the brawl in your name - which, he had, and rightfully so; you knew this fact deep down in your heart.

But you hated so much attention being brought onto you, no matter if it was deserved or not in any circumstance. You had spent most of the past three years making sure a select few, special people knew who you were and where you came from - no one else did, nor did you want them to.

You take a tentative step forward - not in fear of the possibility of Minho accidently swinging at you in his fit of rage, but because all eyes had now definitely switched their attention to the smaller person reaching out to the cursing man still on top of the two boys crying out in pain.

Your hand mimics his actions from earlier that same day, gently going to rest on one of his shoulders, squeezing him reassuringly. “Minho... please, let’s go.” You utter quietly, nearly inaudibly, but he catches your words.

In no time at all, as if you had pressed a button on a remote that controlled his every action, Minho finally climbs off of the bloodied and bruised boys. He scans the gawking crowd, his fiery glare enough to make them stop staring and move on with their lives.

He doesn't even spare his victims another glance, choosing to go ahead and turn his back to them and grab one of your hands, intertwining your fingers together with his own. Not a word is spoken between you two as he quietly leads you away from the scene, carefully brushing past a stunned Jisung and Seungmin.

“C’mon, we have a party to get to.”

————————————————————————

You never made it to the party, or rather, you never went with the other boys in the first place. The entire encounter from just hours ago had made you feel so gross, so violated and objectified; and you had promptly concluded that going to a party filled with drunk, likely hormonal boys and girls alike wouldn't have been the best idea at the time.

As opposed to a crowded, booming crowd cramped inside one singular structure, you had found a familiar comfort in sitting on the front steps of your hut. Sebastian was sprawled out between your bare, sand covered feet, his orange shell shining in the gentle moonlight that cascaded down onto the peaceful beach.

Leaning into the warm side of the man sat in silence beside you, a wave of safety nets over your body.

“You know, you didn’t have to stay here with me tonight. I know you were looking forward to seeing Jeongin and Felix again.” You breathe out into the night, unconsciously nuzzling closer into the oddly quiet man’s chest as a cold chill wafts over the shore.

He has one arm slung securely around your shoulders, his hand hanging in the open air. Yet as you scoot closer to him for warmth, he lets his lonesome hand drop down to your waist so he can fiddle loosely with your fingers that rested on the top of your thigh, having been covered with his coat like a fluffy blanket.

“I’d much rather be here with you, truth be told,” the man admits to you, letting his head fall on top of your own since it had drooped onto his shoulder, “not to mention that half and half bastard would lecture me in front of everyone after what I did to those dirty perverts.”

You hum softly in agreement. “What poor, unfortunate souls. I’m sure they’re in a bit of pain right about now.”

Minho chuckles from above you, his rumbling laughs causing both his and your bodies to vibrate. “Hey - what gives?” You whine, tilting your head slightly to get a better look at the amused man.

“Ah, sorry love - just reminded me of my mother is all.” He responds with a smaller laugh, lips still curled into a warm-hearted smile as he looks down to meet your bright, slightly tired gaze. You swear that, in that moment, you heart skips a beat. His gentle yet somehow mischievous brown eyes seem to twinkle in the moonlight, the reflections of the thousands of stars in the night sky sparkling like diamonds in his gaze.

What was so different now? Why had Minho started to affect you in ways you didn't even know were humanely possible?

You had known each other for almost three years, after all. Back then, when he had gone out of his way to make flirtatious jokes with you and banter with you about the silliest of matters just to rile you up, nothing had felt the way it did now.

These days, you often caught yourself smiling stupidly at any little thing he said, may it be a bland joke or a witty reply that would send anyone else into hiding out of sheer shame and embarrassment. Perhaps it was because he had so quickly come to your defense just that same day; no, that wouldn't make any sense at all, as the man had vehemently done the same thing many times beforehand.

Like the time where the child of Jafar had innocently enough offered to show you a good time - mind you it had been playful banter, as you had actually been quite close with the man known as Hyunjae for years, since before the curse had been enacted. Yet Minho, not knowing this, had just about called the other man every curse word in the dictionary. Of course, he had ceased his onslaught and even took it upon himself to formally apologize after you’d stopped him and explained the whole situation.

Then again, there had been another time when a group of “b-listers,” as he had called them, tried to convince you to let them put sunscreen on your back just last summer. Each time you said no, and politely so, one of them would whine like a toddler and insist that you would get a horrid sunburn if they didn't help you out. Within milliseconds of noticing how uncomfortable you were, Minho had plopped down behind you on your towel and applied the cream himself, all the while smiling wickedly at your harassers until they ran away with their nonexistent tails between their legs.

“Hey, Min?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Why do you always feel like you have to stand up for me?”

Your sudden question stuns him for a few seconds, as made obvious by the way his lips part in surprise. He doesn't necessarily hesitate to answer your question, he just didn't know why you would ask - and it flusters him to his very core.

He recovers from the odd question quicker than you expected, shaking his head at you and your damned curious expression. “Isn’t it obvious, love?” Minho breathes out, although he doesn't give you enough time to answer. “I stand up for you because I need to... not that you can’t do it yourself, I just - I suppose I feel like I have to protect you because all the princes do it.”

“W-what do you mean by that?”

“I - well, I am no fairytale prince by any means, given my bad reputation around here and my ancestry... but all those princes protect their partners because that’s what you do when you love someone. You want to protect them from the world and everything bad about it, you want to make them feel safe at all costs.” Minho explains with a quiet, demure tone, becoming more and more shy with each word that spills past his lips. “I stand up for you because I love you with every fiber of my being, Y/N; and if you don't feel the same way, I would still fight for you.”

“Who said that I don't feel the same way?” You retort immediately without thinking, not that you truly needed to. You knew that you loved him, that wasn't something you had to ponder about inside your head.

You don't need to think about your next move, which involves you tilting your head up a bit further and scooting so close to the stunned man that you were practically on the verge of sitting in his lap. You don't have to wonder if it’s the best idea to trace his jawline with one of your fingers, if it’s in your best interest to tilt his head down just enough so you can finally connect your lips with his own.

There aren’t fireworks when you kiss him. There isn't a cliché spark that booms in your chest at the feeling of his plump lips melding with yours.

You feel safety wash over your body when he makes a small noise of appreciation against your lips.

You feel love rushing through your veins as he raises a hand to cup your cheek and deepen the kiss.

You both feel at home as you kiss under the moon and the stars, the sounds of the ocean falling deaf to your ears in favor of the shared love that becomes one with true love’s kiss.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

645 notes · View notes

scarlxtleaves · 4 years

Text

Misc Muses

Name: Nero

Age: 17-20

Origin: Devil may cry 4

Icons: Yes

Icons credit: Myself

About: Nero is one of the main protagonists of the Devil May Cry series. He first appeared as a playable character in Devil May Cry 4, and later in Devil May Cry 5. He is the son of Vergil who is raised in Fortuna and serves as a Holy Knight in the Order of the Sword, a religious group that worships Sparda and fights to protect the world from demons.In Devil May Cry 4, however, he is forced to fight against the Order after encountering Dante and uncovering a conspiracy to conquer the world using The Savior. In Devil May Cry 5, Nero is a more seasoned demon hunter that has since changed his operation to being a mobile Devil May Cry branch. He finds himself fending off a demonic invasion as he chases a mysterious figure (later revealed to be his own biological father Vergil at the end) that severed the Devil Bringer.

Note: For storylines outside of DMC I will portray him post DMC5 unless we’ve discussed something.

Name: Arthur Pendragon

Age: 30′s (Appears mid teens)

Origin: Fate/Prototype

Class: Saber

Icons: Yes

Icons credit: Myself

About: Saber's True Name is Arthur Pendragon, otherwise known better as King Arthur. Approving of the virtuous and correcting atrocities. A hero who is like a knight in shining armor that anyone would dream about as a child. Also called the wielder of the holy sword of the planet. His true identity is that of the “King of Knights” of a parallel universe, who reached this world by chasing after some sort of existence.

Name: Arthur Pendragon

Age: Eternally youthful

Origin: Fate/Prototype

Class: Archer

Icons: Yes

Icons credit: Myself

Note: I will portray him a little more tamed than the way he’s portrayed in UBW. Whilst he might still seem tyrannical, in his mind he is doing the world justice because that’s just how much he loves the world which is, of course, his garden.

Name: Frank Morrison

Age: 19

Origin: Dead by daylight

Icons: No

Icons credit: n/a

About: Frank Morrison was nineteen and had little to show for it. He'd stopped attending school after being kicked out of the basketball team for shoving a referee into the stands. Yet Frank was a man of potential, who could light up a room despite his bleak childhood. At six years old, he'd been taken away from Calgary to start a circuit of foster homes. No matter how many times he'd lashed out, threw tantrums and got into fights, they'd kept moving him to new, unfamiliar houses. His last move had been three years prior when his last foster dad, Clive Andrews, had picked him up from the adoption centre. They'd been on the road for seven hours before reaching a small bungalow in Ormond. It would be the longest time they'd spend together.

Clive was too busy trading cheques from Family Services for drinks at the bar.Ormond was a small, stale place; a remote town of six thousand inhabitants where grey winters drag on for most of the year. Frank did everything he could to get into another adoptive family, but he changed his mind when he caught the attention of Julie, a beautiful girl who was convinced that she deserved better than a life in Ormond, and Frank, as an outsider, was her ticket out. Frank attended the parties she threw where everyone was younger than him and easily impressed, which he liked. He met the impulsive Joey, who liked to show off, and the shy, naïve Susie, who was Julie's best friend.They would hang out at an abandoned lodge up Mount Ormond. Their time together was the perfect break from the boring conformity of their small, insignificant everyday lives. Frank saw it as an opportunity to shape their lack of experience into something powerful. He lined up nights of debauchery and rampage, testing their limits.

Bullying , vandalism, and theft were essentially their weekend plans. It came to a point where they would do anything he asked. Nothing was off-limits when they put their masks on. One evening, Frank dared Joey to vandalise the store that had recently fired him. They snuck inside easily enough, as the building was supposed to be empty after closing hours. But a cleaner who was still there grabbed Julie as soon as she came near. Hearing her stifled cries, a dark impulse took over Frank. He rushed to her aid, knife in hand, and without hesitating, planted the blade into the cleaner's back.As the group stared at Frank in shock, he ordered them to finish the job. Joey clenched his jaw, grabbed the knife, and stabbed the bleeding man in the ribs. Susie didn't want to do it. Frank shouted at her; they had to finish what they'd started. Julie closed her eyes and slid the knife into the man's chest. She handed the wet blade to Susie: they were all in this together now.

Susie stared at Julie in disbelief as Frank grabbed her trembling hands and inserted the knife deep into the man's throat. Frank told them to move fast; they mopped the blood off the floor, stashed the body in the trunk of Joey's car, and drove up Mount Ormond.All four were digging in the muddy snow to dispose of the body when Frank spotted something moving through the woods. He grabbed his knife and broke from the group to check it out. The Fog thickened around Frank, becoming so dense that he soon could no longer see ahead. He retraced his steps and stumbled onto an ominous trail. He followed the eerie path, as if called by the darkness. Julie, Susie, and Joey finished digging, but Frank was nowhere to be seen. Julie spotted his muddy footsteps in the snow and the three of them followed the trail, which took them deeper into the woods. When Julie, Susie, and Joey did not return home that night, their parents thought they'd run away with Frank. Each family came up with a different theory. The mood in the town changed, however, when a body was found by an abandoned lodge up Mount Ormond.

Name: Gohan Son

Age: 17-30s

Origin: Dragonball Z

Icons: No

Icons credit: n/a

About: Son Gohan is the elder son of the series' primary protagonist Goku and his wife Chi-Chi, the older brother of Goten, the husband of Videl and father to Pan. He is named after Goku's adoptive grandfather, Gohan.Unlike his father, Gohan lacks a passion for fighting (although, he does possess a strong power within him) and prefers to do so only when his loved ones are threatened. Nevertheless, Gohan fights alongside the Dragon Team in the defense of Earth for much of his life.

Name: Trunks Brief

Age: 17-40s

Origin: Dragonball Z

Icons: Yes

Icons credit: A friend of mine (proper credit later bruh)

About: Future Trunks is the Saiyan and Earthling hybrid son of Future Vegeta and Future Bulma from an alternate future. By the time Present Trunks was born, the timeline had been altered by Future Trunks' and Cell's trips to the past. Therefore, the two Trunks had completely different lives (as opposed to those who lived before the Time Machines arrived, they lived exactly the same lives as their counterparts until the point at which the two timelines diverge: three years before the androids arrived).

Well-mannered, serious and very cautious, Trunks hails from an alternate timeline in which Future Androids 17 and 18 murdered the Dragon Team and proceeded to create apocalyptic hell on Earth. Trunks is trained by Future Gohan as a teenager and become a gifted fighter, swordsman and a Super Saiyan; traits that aid him greatly in the battle against the Androids after traveling back in time in order to save his own future.

Years later, Future Trunks would return in Dragon Ball Super, this time fighting against a mysterious entity referred to as Goku Black (and later his partner-in-crime Future Zamasu) wreaking havoc in the future. In the end, Trunks (with the help of Goku and Vegeta) neutralizes the threat, though unfortunately, Fused Zamasu not only survives the ordeal, but his essence began to merge with the universe itself, to the point that Future Zeno had to erase the future timeline completely. Trunks himself is one of the three survivors and is currently living in another future timeline where another Future Trunks exists - created in the anime by Whis warning Future Beerus ahead of time to eliminate the soon-to-be rogue Supreme Kai, while in the manga Trunks and Mai travel to their timeline's past and prevent Future Shin's death with the blessing of Beerus as it will save his counterpart, thus eliminating the possibility of the Project Zero Mortals.

Name: Peter Parker

Age: Mid-late 20′s

Origin: Marvel Spider-man

Icons: Yes

Icons credit: Myself

About: While attending a public exhibition demonstrating the safe handling of nuclear laboratory waste materials, sponsored by the General Techtronics Corporation, the 15-year-old Peter Parker was bitten on the hand by a spider that had been irradiated by a particle accelerator used in the demonstration. Unbeknownst to him, after the spider fell from his hand, it bit a girl, Cindy Moon on the ankle before it died from the radiation. Making his way home afterwards, Peter was almost hit by a car; when Peter jumped out of the way, Peter discovered he had somehow gained incredible strength, agility, and the ability to cling to walls, spider-like traits that he immediately associated with the spider bite.

Note: I roleplay as Peter within Insomniac’s Spider-man canon. But always willing to world hop a great type of crossover/au.

Name: Vincent Phantomhive

Age: 20-30s

Origin: Kuroshitsuji / Black Butler

Icons: Yes

Icons credit: Myself

About: Vincent was the head of the Phantomhive household and acted as Queen Victoria's Watchdog. As a young man, Vincent attended Weston College with Alexis Leon Midford and Diedrich. He was the prefect of the Sapphire Owl dormitory. Vincent was idly reading a book on the lawn, while neglecting the preparations for the annual cricket tournament on June 4th, when he was approached by an exasperated Diedrich. Vincent made a snide remark that "everything German is pretty tough to handle," fueling Diedrich's anger. Diedrich swung his cricket bat, and missed Vincent, hitting his book instead. He complained that he was forced to handle all the preparations himself, and commented that since the leader is representative of the pack, the rest in Blue House must be awful as well. Provoked, Vincent proposed a contest: whichever dorm is the winner of the tournament will have the loser perform a free request for him. Later, Vincent led his house to their only triumph in the annual cricket tournament—this astounding event was dubbed as the "Miracle of the Sapphires." Afterward, at the Swan Gazebo, Diedrich accepted his loss to Vincent and asserted that he will carry out Vincent's one request. Vincent then told him to become his fag, much to Diedrich's alarm as they are from separate dorms; however, Vincent stated that he must keep his promise regardless and that whenever he is to call him, Diedrich must come without question. He added that their affiliation will continue past graduation and drifted on a boat away from Diedrich (though he was pursued by him), relishing in his success at finally attaining a "loyal German dog."

Note: Should I roleplay with anyone within kuro’s present canon I will simply use an au in which Vincent is still alive. The events that transpire still happens, he’s merely saved last minute and was kept away from London but relocated into Italy where he becomes the head of a mafia group that keeps the city safe from the shadows. Vincent, of course, is told that he is the only survivor, at the time of the murder the group that found him searched for his wife and child(keeping it spoiler safe just in case.) but none were found.

Name: Byleth

Age: 19

Origin: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Icons: Yes

Icons credit: Myself

About: Born to Jeralt and his wife on the 20th of the Horsebow Moon 1159, Byleth lost their mother shortly after their birth. She was buried at Garreg Mach Monastery. Some time after her death, Jeralt left the Knights of Seiros, taking his newborn child with him to travel Fódlan, becoming a mercenary in the process and starting his own mercenary company.

During Byleth's childhood, Jeralt shared little information about the world, the Church of Seiros and especially his past. Byleth either forgot or never learned their true birthdate, Jeralt claiming they were born years after the fire to a woman who supposedly died of illness. Jeralt trained Byleth in combat, eventually joining his band of mercenaries and gaining a fearsome reputation for their unflinching courage in battle. They would soon be known as the "Ashen Demon" as a result.

Name: Cabba

Age: 19+

Origin: Dragon Ball Super

Icons: Yes

Icons credit: @startnone

About: Cabba is a Saiyan born in Universe 6 on Planet Sadala. Cabba was trained by Renso, and the latter was his captain. At some point in the past, Cabba fought alongside Frost to stop space pirates on the planet Mayonnai, a group Frost is the leader of in secret.

Name: Victor Frankenstein

Age: 25

Origin: Code Realize

Icons: Yes

Icons credit: me

About: Victor Frankenstein is a researcher who once had ties to the British Government. Though his knowledge and intelligence are unrivaled, he is genuinely humble and self-deprecating. In addition to being very sociable, he is easily swayed by others. After an unfortunate series of events, he is now a wanted criminal.

#tags tbd #musings

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