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gallavictorious · 3 years

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Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions.

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

#gallavich #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021 #fic #what have i done #my stuff

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ksyescribe · 4 years

Text

𝐵𝑜𝑦𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑥 𝑆/𝑂 (𝑖.𝑒. 𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠) ♡

Featuring: Nishinoya, Tanaka, Bokuto A/N: I started these headcanons a few days back when I was in the middle of a rest/writer slump and just finished them today. They’re hella messy but I really enjoyed writing them and I hope that you guys enjoy reading them :))

Nishinoya

Y’all we’ve known that Noya is a Latin King himself like cmon now? Do y’all see his energy??

Anyways he would 1000% have a latina girlfriend like I just KNOW IT IN MY SOUL

You never have to feel embarrassed about your family with him because he’s just as loud as they are!!!

He literally vibes with EVERYONE in your family

The loud ass fuck drunk uncles? He’s vibing

Ladies in the kitchen making the traditional food? Vibing. He even offers to help!!!

Little kids playing the weirdest games with a bunch of chairs at the back of the party? Vibing.

Noya would just fit so perfectly in those loud as hell hispanic parties like I can just imagine him being a visual learner and seeing everyone dance like bachata, salsa, and all the other dances

AND THEN he grabs you and just starts pulling you to the dance floor to dance with him

He’s actually so good??? Like he literally watched for a few minutes and just started moving?? This mans hips? Wow they’re out here swaying from side to side be prepared

Wow I went off on the party but like, Noya would just be so happy to be dating you

He really doesn’t care that you’re a foreigner and what not, he just knows your personality, heart, and whole being are beautiful and that he’s so lucky to have you

I think the whole relationship would be filled with so much happiness and excitement because you’re both learning about each other’s cultures and stuff without even trying

Like you invite him over to meet your family one day and it just happens to be the day your mom is making Pan Dulce and like the most traditional plate of food from your country

And when he sits down to eat he just loves it so much!! Literally will not stop eating, your mom’s about to cry because no one’s ever eaten her food with that much gusto before

Idk bout y’all but my parents love to take pictures from ALL our family trips and we have hats and stuff from all that so pops would probably sit down with noya and show them all of that and noya just loves it!! Like so much his eyes are starry eyes (perhaps what inspires him to travel the world hmmm)

If you have siblings he definitely will play with them when he comes over.

Will probably do that plane thing that adults do where they’re just making the kids fly all around (your siblings love him so much it’s crazy)

Never one for giving too many lessons but if you ask him about something in Japanese culture he’ll probably look a place he can take you to show you more

His favorite times are when you ask about anything food related because it means he can take you on dates to restaurants where he gets to see your reactions

He loves taking you to like the Shonen Jump shops or anything similar because just watching you go through all the parts of the store and seeing all these things catch your attention would make him so soft

Probably grabs your hand and gives you a quick cheek kiss when he’s watching you

Would be 1000% down to go back to your home country

Loves you, your culture, and even tries to learn some Spanish for you

(but his accents so thick you laugh every time he tries to speak, it’s okay you give him a kiss and some sweets from your country as a thank you for trying)

Tanaka

*inhale* THIS MAN BELONGS TO THE HISPANICS I DONT MAKE THE RULES *exhale*

Right so

I don’t even know where to begin with Tanaka because I literally have like 75000 thoughts of him at a bull riding event going through my mind

BUT he’s a soft boy I know for a fact, loud on the outside but very soft.

With Tanaka I do see him wilding out at parties

Like imagine him seeing a pinata for the first time?

Better have a separate pinata for him because he’ll go crazy swinging on that thing

Is even more surprised that there’s candy inside!!!! Like what?? He thought hitting it was super fun but now this?

Loves it, immediately wants to break open another one

But I also see Tanaka being super soft with your family

Like have you seen the manga panel of him floating around in an apron?

Your grandma would probably give him one of her aprons and she’ll be teaching him how to make tortillas in such a soft spanish

And he looks so panicked?? Just glancing at you every single second, trying to figure out if he’s doing it right or not.

Constantly asking you “What is she saying? Am I doin it right? Can you please tell her I’m trying my best?”

God I’m so soft like I just love him so much

Your grandma loves him always rubbing his head and pinching his cheeks

He always blushes super hard when she does that and turns even more red when you tell him that she likes him and calls him “Mijo” now

She actually tells him stories about the olden days back home and Tanaka listens so intently even though he doesn’t understand but then turns to you as you translate the story

Warms up to the affectionate side of hispanic families really quick, like he kisses you on the cheek when he meets your family like second nature. He even did it to you one morning and then got all red when he remembered that they don’t really be doing that shiz in Japan

I feel like Tanaka would really really like the traditions hispanic families do or how much emphasis they put on holidays and family together

Like he’ll probably come over on the 24th for Noche Buena and just loves the atmosphere of the holiday and the connection with family (and of course the food)

It’s a really big contrast to the quieter Christmas his family will be celebrating the next day

Will definitely bring a Japanese Christmas Cake from the fanciest store he can afford as his own gift to the potluck

I know we see Tanaka as wild as hell sometimes but I feel like in a hispanic setting he’ll just go soft, or maybe I’m just soft for him who knows

Bokuto

So for all my POC do y’all know when you’re at the store with your immigrant parents and they see a cute boy and they’re like “You see him, I want you to find someone as handsome as him.” (my mom says this to me literally all the time god damn bro pls im trynna live)

This is what every hispanic mother says when they see Bokuto

All the ladies in your family will literally get FLUSTERED when you bring him home

“Ay Mija he’s so handsome why didn’t you tell us”

(This happened to me once never brought a boy home ever again smh)

Anyways he gets the approval from your male relatives when he helps them lug all the heavy shit they work with with no problem

Like he just grabs something that’s 50 pounds and he’s like , “Yeah where do you guys need this?”

He’s so versatile, like I feel like he can vibe with any setting your family’s at

Loud party type? Vibing. Gossiping in the kitchen with your aunts and cousins? Man’s is INVESTED in the chisme! The guys in your family working on home renovations or on any other project? He’s helping them hands down.

Is the type to eat ALL the food that your family offers him. He will literally have a bite of everything even before you tell him what it is. Your mom is beaming when he eats her Arroz Con Leche

Cannot bake for ANYTHING!!! But he somehow cooks meat perfectly?? I’m so?? He literally cannot make any sweets but if you gave him some slabs of meat or a pork shoulder to roast he has that down perfectly.

Your mom actually asks him to come over and help her make the Pernil for special occasions because he’s the only one who can manage to make the skin as crisp as he does. The only one who knows how to do it better is your grandma

Will beg for you to bring him stuff back to your home country. He wants it all: souvenirs, shirts, candy, chips. He even tries to give you money but you brush him off.

Of all three of these boys I feel like he’s the most likely to actually go visit your home country with you!! Like he’s so excited to go out there and see the place where your family comes from

When he gets there EVERYONE will love him.

Somehow makes friends with strangers on the street (something that I’ve done irl when I go back home lmaooo)

He wants to try every single food cart around the area.

Falls in love with the people and food of your country. You’ll probably be on your first trip and he’s already asking you when you can go back.

If you ever take him to all the nature filled areas or just like a random river that runs through a certain area he’ll be enamored!

Loves the country, loves the culture, loves you :)

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anistarrose · 4 years

Text

Part TAZ Graduation, part TAZ Amnesty, entirely an experiment. Consider this a pilot episode for a fic premise I’ve gone and gotten myself invested in, but don’t have time to commit to right now. Were this an official first chapter, it would be tentatively titled “Prologue — The Exiles.”

The point is, I come bearing Amnesty’s plot adapted to Graduation’s cast of characters, not to mention so much lore. Like, way more lore than I could fit into just one fic.

CW: mind control, something that gets briefly mistaken for a suicide attempt (it isn’t, and no one gets hurt)

***

The most famous features of Hope, Oregon are her two distinct beaches, found beneath the cliffs that house the northern and southern halves of the town. A nameless man — and relative newcomer to Hope — is staring into the ocean, but is not standing on either beach, nor atop the cliffs.

Had he only wanted to stare into the Pacific, the beach to the southwest would’ve been preferable. The white sand is dotted with umbrellas and chairs, and the staircase leading down to sea level from the cliffs is well-maintained, making it a popular tourist destination — less so in these days, he’s been told, but when the tourists do come to Hope, it’s usually for her southwestern beach.

The northwestern beach is less forgiving. Though it appears serene and inviting at first glance, countless signs atop the cliffs dispel that illusion with warnings of rocks and riptides beneath the waves — and even if that didn’t deter you, the only way down to this beach is a rusty ladder that no one but the lighthouse keeper has ever attempted to maintain. This beach is why the town was deemed treacherous enough to warrant a lighthouse in the first place, and why it earned the nickname “Last Hope” from sailors in the olden days.

Yet for a competent climber, the northwestern beach is still an adequate spot for staring out into the sea. The nameless man can only assume he wanted something more than just to stare, even though he doesn’t know what — because for some reason, his feet have brought him not to either beach, but to the most dangerous spot in all of Hope:

Between the two beaches is a crack in the cliffs; beneath the crack is a giant chasm; at the bottom of the chasm, a briny whirlpool. It churns with impossible symmetry and silence, without sound or any sort of fury, yet still more warning signs assure him — the fall into the chasm would surely be fatal, regardless of the rapids themselves.

Yet the nameless man stands on the edge of the chasm, hypnotized by the vortex. He was hypnotized well before laying eyes on it, of course, for he never would’ve came here of his own free will — but now, the whirlpool has joined whatever other compulsion makes its home in his brain, and together, they drag his feet forward.

It contradicts itself — ancient but new, violent but peaceful, chaotic but orderly. It’s a death sentence, but he needs to jump. Someone is counting on him to jump. Somewhere in that chasm, there’s something he desperately needs.

He tears his eyes away just long enough to double-check that the lighthouse isn’t lit — and indeed, it isn’t, presumably because Mr. Keene found more important things to do tonight than climb a flight of stairs. A not-too-comfortable dissonance sends a chill up his spine as he thinks of the lighthouse keeper — he likes Argo, trusts him even — but tonight, a voice echoes in his head, warning him otherwise:

If Argonaut Keene and his partners in crime realize who we are and what we’re doing here, it’s all over. Stay hidden from them at all costs, or some of the banished folk might piece it together.

The voice is familiar, but not too familiar. Yet he trusts the voice more unconditionally than any lighthouse keeper.

Once you’re sure you’re not being watched, double-check that the moon is full — and it will be, if you go tomorrow night. Then jump.

Sure enough, the full moon is the only source of light in all of Hope this evening, with the lighthouse keeper slacking and a fog pervading the entirety of the sleepy town, from the cliffs to the forest. At the center of the whirlpool, the moon’s reflection glows bright — sunlight reflected off lunar rocks reflected off churning water — but you could almost mistake it for a distorted glimpse of another world, peering through a portal at its cosmic neighbors.

The nameless man jumps.

The impact with the water stings, but not as much as it should. Worse is the cold, not cold like near-freezing water but like the vacuum of space, like loss and loneliness as you hurtle into a void with no destination in mind —

But almost as soon as the impact takes place, he’s warm again, and he bobs to the surface of a pristine lake. The moon above him is still full, but the pattern of craters is different, and the constellations look nothing like the ones visible from Hope — or even the ones from his home.

The chasm holds no whirlpool resembling a portal. It holds a portal masquerading as a whirlpool.

A ripple crosses the lake’s mirrorlike surface as he breaches, and as soon as he’s able to take a breath, he ducks back beneath the water, afraid of being spotted. There’s a bubbling trench at the bottom of the lake, which he instinctively knows is the way back to Hope, but he ignores it at first. The crystals embedded in the floor of the lake are what he’s come for.

He needs to find a green gem with silver veins and bring it back to Hope without anyone spotting him. If he can’t, then —

Then —

He doesn’t know what then. Nothing good, that’s for sure. He won’t let it come to that — and this way, he won’t have to think about it either, or question why he doesn’t know.

Just as his breath starts to run out and his lungs start to ache, he spots it out of the corner of his eye. The particular green crystal is in the shallows, close to the shore, and he can’t stop a few of his limbs from poking out above the surface of the lake as he reaches for it —

Something snags the hood of his waterlogged jacket, yanking him upwards. He emerges in the shadow of a draconic figure standing on the shore, nearly as tall as he is and covered in gleaming silver scales, who exhales a blast of frost and freezes the whole lake solid around him.

Again with the cold. It’s always the cold — maybe there’s a poetic sense of justice about him never being able to escape, it no matter what fleeting hope he finds, but that doesn’t make it any more bearable, and he can’t help but let out a whimper.

The dragon’s expression softens. “Hey, it’s okay. I don’t want to fight you — I just had to be sure you weren’t trying to fight me.” He kneels on the shore to face the nameless man, scales and armor gently clinking against each other. “But I need to know — why are you here?”

“I — I jumped.” His voice is deep, and accented, and just as out-of-place here as it is in Hope.

“That is how most people come through the portal on your end, or so we’ve been told.” A second figure — this one far more humanoid — makes his way to the dragon’s side, holding the staff that must’ve pulled the nameless man to the surface. This one has dark skin, short hair, and pointed ears, but his most striking feature is the one thing he has in common with the dragon — eyes of pure, softly glowing white.

The nameless man is surprised by how little it surprises him. Of course the fae folk of Nua all have white eyes — he’s seen it before, had it explained to him before. He can’t just can’t remember where.

“What Crush and I want to know,” the dark-skinned man patiently goes on, “is why you jumped. Most nights, it isn’t nearly this safe —” He turns to the dragon. “Remind me, hun — how long has it been since a rogue human visited us?”

“Over a decade now, I think,” Crush answers. He inhales, and the ice begins to melt and crack with a creaking noise that, while unpleasant, was a hundred times preferable to being trapped in a prison of cold. “Unless this fellow’s new. Are you new, new guy? Got a pendant?”

The nameless man blinks, still shivering, and slowly manages to shake his head.

“Figures,” Crush murmurs. “Dakota usually comes with the new recruits on their first trip.”

The other fae kneels on the shore, carefully looking the nameless man over. “Did anyone tell you about the portal?”

“I… cannot remember.” He had jumped for a reason, he’d known to look for the crystals for a reason, but that reason is long gone from his mind. He hadn’t even known why he was jumping as he’d done it.

The fae man narrows his eerie white eyes. “You don’t have to lie. You’re not in trouble, we just need to understand how —”

“I did not lie,” the nameless man growls, picking up a floating chunk of ice and crushing it in his fist. “I will not lie. Truth is my honor. I can not remember.”

“Jimson,” Crush hisses softly, but not so softly that the nameless man can’t hear. “It’s not safe for a human to stay much longer without a pendant.”

“Is it any safer for this human to go back alone?” Jimson whispers back. “If you don’t know about the portal at the bottom, there’s really only one reason to throw yourself off a cliff —”

“Shit, you’re right.” Crush’s eyes widen. “Should I keep watch while you go ask Hieronymous? He’ll know what to —”

“He could be busy. I don’t know if we have time to —”

The nameless man dives back beneath the surface of the lake without even taking a breath, ignoring the burning feeling in his chest and frantically paddling for the jagged rift at the bottom. Distantly, he hears Crush shout, but his hands find the edge of the trench and he pulls himself inside, thrashing in the current that suddenly grabs ahold of him —

No one in Nua can be trusted… least of all “Hieronymous.”

He gets a mouthful of familiar salty ocean water, and surfaces beneath Earth’s moon and sky. He’s in the chasm again, the whirlpool behind him and the ocean in front — but the ocean keeps getting closer even though he’s only treading water, as the same current that pulled him back through the portal drags him out to sea —

He hears a dog barking — and then, a voice he’d recognize anywhere yet could not put a name or face to. One moment, he’s struggling to keep his head above the waves, and the next, he’s paddling in air as an invisible hand lifts him out of the ocean, and slowly, back to shore.

It deposits him, kneeling, a few feet from a long-haired collie with a blue bandana tied around his neck, and an elderly man gesturing very carefully and deliberately with his simple wooden cane. For a fraction of a second, the illusion spell flickers, and the nameless man sees pure white eyes behind his rescuer’s glasses —

And that’s all it takes for him to remember everything.

“I… I have brought back nothing, Higglemas,” he admits. “Not one component. This is a great, great shame —”

The collie leaps into his arms, so the nameless man takes the hint and begins to pet him. It is significantly harder to think ill of yourself while holding a dog, and after a few moments, the man realizes that this may have in fact been the dog’s plan.

Higglemas watches with a sad smile on his face and a detached look in his illusion-altered eyes, standing still for close to a minute before slowly angling his head upwards, and staring at the moon as clouds begin to drift in front of it.

“We still have time,” he assures them. “Not all is lost. But… before the next full moon, we’ll need a new strategy.”

Then, he turns to the lighthouse. “We may just have to reconsider staying hidden from the Unbroken Chain.”

***

I have some other projects I’m working on right now that really deserve to be prioritized over this idea, but my outline document is over 2000 words (and that’s really just pre-canon history plus a very brief summary of the first couple chapters) so this has a high probability of getting continued, because there’s no way I can keep all that lore secret forever! This very brief preview already got wildly away from me, after all.

I’m very hyped to get into the Firbolg’s backstory in particular, not to mention Fitzroy and his relationship with his magic (as the resident Aubrey equivalent) — it’s just likely to be a very long wait. Feel free to send me your questions/theories and I will give you cryptic answers!

#taz #taz graduation #taz amnesty #firbolg taz #higglemas wiggenstaff #hieronymous wiggenstaff #jimson taz #frostus crushman #taz graduation spoilers #rosalia writes fic #graduamnesty #i've talked abt this crossover a couple times before #this is the first thing i've actually written for it!

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years

Text

Numb- Epilogue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10- END

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst/ fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sexy times

Word count: 2788

“She’s not here is she?” “Buck, they’re just running late, that’s all.” “No, Steve! She probably has realised what a mistake she’s made and now has run off with the pool boy!” Steve threw his head back in frustration and grumbled out a ‘you really need to stop watching ‘Desperate Housewives’. “Y/N has not run off, okay? Just… let me call Wanda.” But right on cue, Pietro whizzed to them, the man’s silver hair dishevelled, while he tried to smooth down the tux, Wanda standing on her own two feet after being carried by the speedster. The navy dress hugged her sides perfectly, her long ginger hair swept over her left shoulder and bouncing in perfect curls. “You guys need to come.” Bucky immediately straightened out. “Is Y/N okay? Did something happen?” “Yes, something did,” Wanda snapped back as she went to talk to the man standing beside the two super soldiers. “So I suggest you run.” The pair took off in a dead-sprint, eyes of other people following their movements filled with worry. They had just entered the mansion when Steve’s phone rang. “Yeah, Nat. We’re on our way. What’s going on?” The brunet couldn’t help the clench in his heart as he saw his friend’s eyebrows furrow. “Cancel? What?” Bucky’s head immediately hung, eyes welling with tears at the verbal confirmation of what he’d been fearing for the past year.

“How long?” Steve questioned further and that made Bucky frown. Usually, when you call off a wedding it’s permanently. “Ok,” Cap replied, “we’ll be right there.” “What? What is it?” Bucky’s body flushed with fear at the thought of anything bad having happened to Y/N. “She’s locked herself in the bathroom and won’t come out. She threw water on the floor and zaps anybody that even tries to come close.” The two men walked into what was Y/N’s room to find the rest of her bridesmaids all ready to go without the bride herself. “Finally,” Nat stood up and sauntered into the hallway. “Get your girl in check and call us back when things are on track. I have no desire to walk in these heels with my toes fried off.” Bucky quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t question it, turning his full attention to the locked white oak door, where Y/N had barricaded herself in. “Doll? It’s me. Can you let me in?” There wasn’t a reply, only a soft sob, indicating that the woman was crying. “Darling please, talk to me. Why do you want to cancel the wedding?” Suddenly the door sprung open to reveal a dishevelled Y/N. Her makeup was completely smudged, black mascara and eyeliner running down her cheeks and across her temples, her hair was a mess, having come undone from the beautiful braids that had been pinned to her scalp in a bun. The white hotel robe was tearstained and with dark smudges from her eyeshadow, while cream lipstick adorned the collar. “Because everything is ruined.” Y/N threw her body at Bucky and he easily caught her, his strong arms enveloping the woman in a warm embrace. “Shh, nothing is ruined, honey. Everything is perfect.” “No, it’s not,” Y/N pulled back from him. “See that?” the woman pointed at what looked like a giant ball of white lace. “That was supposed to be my wedding dress. Now it’s ripped in half! It was Tony’s mother’s dress! And it’s ruined! I ruined it!” Y/N cried harder remembering how Pepper had been rummaging through Tony’s old storage units and stumbled upon the beautiful vintage gown. Diamond beads hung from the off the shoulder neckline, her fingers trailing the intricate design. She had immediately known that it would be perfect for Y/N. With a little bit of tweaking here and there, it would entwine the modern of the twenty-first century and give life to the olden days. Once Tony had found out about Pepper’s discovery they had given it to Y/N as a wedding gift. “Those were my shoes,” she pointed at the off-white pumps. Well, a pump as the other one was clearly missing a heel, in fact, the whole sole had been ripped open. “But best of all- the engagement ring is missing! I’ve scoured every inch of this place and it’s gone! Buck, it’s gone! Everything has turned to shit and this was supposed to be our special day! And it’s all my fault.” Bucky glanced at her ring finger on which for a year had sat a beautiful silver band with a little diamond rectangle in the centre of it. Yet now there was nothing, only her skin in a slightly lighter shade than the rest of her body. The man still recalled how nervous he’d been when he had uttered those words. He hadn’t planned it, though the little black box had been sitting in the back of one of their drawers for a good five months. It had been a simple evening, the rest of the team were out bar-hooping, while the two lovebirds stayed inside, having come back from a three-week long mission and wanting nothing more than to sleep and cuddle. Y/N’s eyes had drowsily followed along the story of ‘Stardust’ and it was right at the end when Yvonne shone so brightly it obliterated the old witch, Bucky knew that there was not going to be a perfect moment, no matter how hard one tried to make it. There was only now. So with his nose still hidden in Y/N’s Y/H/C hair, he uttered the little phrase that sent her heart reeling. “What?” with wide eyes she looked back at him, now fully awake. “Marry me,” Bucky cupped her cheek. “Y-you’re serious right now?” He was looking over her features trying to decipher what was going on in Y/N’s mind, but he couldn’t, seeing only disbelief. “I've never been more serious about anything in my life.” The girl had looked at him for a long minute without uttering a word, Bucky didn’t think she was even breathing, but then her lips crashed against his and the heavy make-out session turned into the most mind-blowing sex he’d ever had. Only when Bucky felt his brain go back to normal, the stars disappearing from behind his lids as well as the haze from his thoughts, with very wobbly and shaky legs did he stand up, and went to retrieve the ring. He was almost unable to open the drawer as he had to lean against the wardrobe from being a bit lightheaded. He had returned back to their bed, Y/N laying on it still completely naked, her eyes closed as her body spammed one last time from the best orgasm she’d ever had. She slowly looked to her left and felt how Bucky pushed the little silver circle on her ring finger. It glimmered in the moonlight and the soft smile that appeared the man’s face as he looked down at her was the best companion to it. “I love you, Bucky Barnes,” Y/N leaned in and deeply kissed the Avenger before hugging him tightly and stroking his sweat-covered back. They had fallen asleep like that, in one another’s arms, and now, seeing the woman so broken, so frustrated in what was supposed to be their happiest day, his heart hurt with her. “Y/N it’s alright. We’ll figure something out. We don’t have to cancel the wedding.” “Are you kidding me?” she looked up at Bucky. “And what am I supposed to wear? My ‘Ninja Turtles’ pj’s and Sam’s ‘My Little Pony’ blanket as my veil? Should I wear Wanda’s barbie pink flip-flops as well? I was supposed to be walking down the aisle twenty minutes ago. I was supposed to be your wife by now.” Bucky felt his heart speed up at the word ‘wife’, especially with how defeated Y/N looked. “Listen,” he sighed and picked the woman up, placing her against his chest while he himself sat down on a plush chair. Instantly she curled up into his side, the man’s arms stroking down her arms and things. “I don’t know if this is going to help at all, but in the morning, I was ready to call it off as well. I couldn’t find my socks, I looked everywhere, I checked all the bags and there was nothing. My mind kept telling me that if all the little things are not in place, it’s not worth it to even try. But then, when I looked down and saw that they were already on my feet I realised I had panicked about nothing. Because it doesn’t matter if things are perfect. When you’re with the right person, they will be no matter what. I love you,” he brushed away a stray tear that slowly rolled down Y/N’s cheek, “and even if I had to stand in front of everybody in my boxers I would. If that made you happy, I’d do it. I’d do anything. So if you wanna call off the wedding, we can, but I just want you to know, that it doesn’t matter to me if you have the most expensive dress and the most outrageous jewellery. You’re mine and I’m yours. No matter what.” “Yeah,” Y/N whined out, “but the difference is that you actually have clothes to wear. I have nothing. All my makeup is ruined and so is my hair.” Bucky was just about to reply when a panting Natasha burst into the room. “Barnes, get out. We have a bride to prepare.” Wanda barrelled in next followed by Maria and Nakia, all of them carrying different items. “Leave and wait by the altar. She’ll be ready in half an hour. And if you’re not there I’ll rip that metal arm of yours off and shove it down your throat so far, you’ll be shitting vibranium for the rest of your life.” Nat spoke up before pulling Y/N out of his lap. The man chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, barely avoiding the kick Hill sent to his butt.

Bucky fidgeted with the cufflinks until music fluttered through the air, his blue eyes immediately going to where Y/N stood at the end of the aisle. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw her. The ivory dress was light, the pretty much non-existent winds still managed to make it flutter through the air. Her hair was down from the bun and now freely went over her shoulders, a beige flower tucked behind her ear. The smokey eye was nowhere to be seen, her makeup barren and natural, accentuating her already beautiful features. Bucky instantly recognised the gown as Pepper's as she was going to wear it on the second day of the wedding, though now, seeing Y/N in it, there was no doubt in his mind, that this was the dress. Her hand was linked through Tony’s as he led the woman towards who was going to be her husband. Her feet were bare, and soundless making Bucky think, she was an actual angel that had decided to stay on Earth, leaving heaven behind only to be with him. He didn’t hear a word the priest said, his attention fully on Y/N. In a way, he was terrified he’d miss when the ‘I do’s’ were gonna have to be said, but Bucky didn’t spare a second once the question was asked, a blinding grin adorning his face when he heard Y/N reply as well. Wife. She was his wife and he was her husband. He just stared at her, unable to stop his smile and the warm feeling floating through this body. Until he heard snickering and snapped out of the daze. The guests were giggling as was Y/N. Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion, but then he felt a soft tug on his jacket. He looked back and saw Dominic, the boy clearly trying to suppress laughter as he held out the little pillow on which two golden rings sat on. Bucky had watched the boy grow up to be good, nothing like what his mother was. His father had kept in touch with the super soldier allowing him to explain why Katrina was locked in a prison, why she had been forbidden to contact him and when Dom had grown up enough to understand the error of her ways, he forgave the woman, yet told Bucky he didn’t want to have any sort of communication with her. “I don’t want to have her in my life when she hurt you. For no reason at all.” “Dom, you’re young and whatever happened between me and her, it’s our business. She’s still your mom.” “If she truly was, then she would’ve realised how important you were to my me. And how much you cared for Y/N. You made me happy when things were bad, so I wanted you to be happy as well. But what she did made you completely opposite. She's not my mom. Just somebody who pretended to be.” Bucky chuckled as he took the ring and turned back to Y/N. Once the engagement had been announced, he invited both Dominic and his dad to the wedding, asking the boy to be the ring-bearer. “You know, if there was anybody I thought who could possibly lose a ring, I thought it would’ve been him,” Bucky pressed a kiss to Y/N’s knuckles. “Wife.” “Hush,” she shushed him, but the smirk never left her face. Her fingers delicately slipped a copy of her own ring onto Bucky’s finger, the little loop clicking in place when it found the spot. T’Challa and Shuri had specifically designed a new arm for him so that when they married the band wouldn’t slip and fall. So that it would become one with the limb. Like Y/N would become one with his soul. “…. I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the b-“ but the priest didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence when Bucky’s lips were already on Y/N’s, hands woven around her waist and pulling their bodies flush together. And she could reply with nothing else but the same passion.

The newlyweds themselves had slipped away a while back. They sat in one of the swing sofas by the ocean under some palm trees, Y/N’s legs thrown over Bucky’s. His shoes were discarded in the white sand while the jacket covered her shoulder, keeping the girl warm from the gentle winds. “I love you” he whispered, cupping Y/N’s jaw and bringing their lips together as the morning sun peeked it’s head over the water, painting the world in pinks and oranges and yellows. “I love you too,” she replied once Bucky allowed them to come up for air. “And I’m sorry. For this morning. I shouldn’t have said that I wanted to cancel the wedding. It was the last thing I’d ever want to do.” “ ’S okay. What’s important that it all worked out in the end.” Y/N hummed and looked out in the distance “I guess it did…” The unsure response made Bucky look down and he saw the woman chewing on her lip absentmindedly. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t- I,” she huffed, “it’s just that I feel bad for overreacting, but also I have been dying to tell you something and I’m terrified of how you'll react.” “Doll, you know that you can tell me anything. Nothing you say will ever make me stop loving you. Besides, a) we’re married, so breaking things off would be kinda hard and b) I don’t wanna repeat what happened last time when we held on to our feelings.” Y/N snorted and gazed up at Bucky, her palm pressing against his cheek. “No, nothing like that. It’-umm- it’s more important than that.” “Nothing’s more important than love.” The woman smiled and took his hand, placing it on her stomach. “I think taking care of a baby is.” Bucky was stunned looking up and down from Y/N’s eyes to her belly. “A baby?” he managed to get out through a sob. “Yeah,” her lips quirked up. “A baby.” And this time it wasn’t the girl having a full on mental breakdown. But Y/N wasn’t afraid that Bucky didn’t want to have a kid with her, in fact, she was happy as he pressed his lips against her skin, whispering ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’ in her chest. Yet little did they know that in eight months time there wouldn’t be just one mini-Barnes running around, but two, making both adults wish they hadn’t quit the Avenger’s life when Y/N started showing, feeling like saving the world had been easier than tying your shoes. Though for now, they basked in the incredible feeling that was love and their new-founded family.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @ronnierockin @werecookielove @vannavinci @pandawolfunicorn @angelwingsbringmusic @murydedeus03 @lost-and-wandering-alone @bookwarm85 @itsholland-tomholland @thatcluelessone @salty-buchanan @disneychic8 @uwu-sebastianstan @deputyduckbutt @lusite14 @klmpun @severuined @lovely-geek @andrialynnsantana @vodkasindream @fadingculturemuffin @lynnskata @killjoynotes @vogueworthy-barnes @honeymufins @damnbuvky @the-marvelous-mcu @mystic-aly @starkxpotts @all-fandomthings @upremeoverlordletters @silent-world-of-a-deaf-boi @mrscevans @shliic @starks-girl @daysiminsideout @mrsalh32611 @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency @bluebell725 @susmita121 @jamesbuckybananabarnes @mcu-potter-pirate @xxchloegrayxx @teapartydreams @balanced-ram @catthefearless @tokoyamisstuff @alphadareme @minniesugakookie @dustycelt @nephalem67 @sophiatomlinson23 @hellboundblogger @the-witch-of-plum-hollow @culinarycrystals @taylorsbread @slender--spirit @imagine-this-motherfucker @1v-kayla @winters-beauty @capandbuck @chingaderastillidie @csigeoblue @lordemjay @akacalciumhood @foureyedsiopao @savemesteeb @waves-and-sunflowers @alitav99 @phoenix-whiskey-tears @yayaobrien75 @imnotcoolmasterrr @anxietyrosee @yafriendlyfangirl @dean-the-trickster @aleeece17 @mummy-woves-you @bartonsbowandarrow @mdgrdians @rosecoloureddudez @just-an-explorer-2018 @irondadandspidersoncute @jay14616 @thea-marvel @dream45sworld @taylorcat2121 @honeystrawberrys @jentismyname @fridaroland @marsbars101 @nomadicpixel @taosalvation @soniaxmsi @buckysplumpie @bilesxbilinskixlahey @steadypiepsychicflower @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @anxietynt @isnow-0r-never @thepersiangoddess @walkingdeadfan25 @chaosgypsy @cringedylan @yknott81 @xxsukkubusxx @nerissa98 @palaiasaurus64 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @lumelgy @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r

A/N: and this ride has come to an end! thank you for sticking through and I hope you enjoyed it :))

P.S. if you wanna be tagged in future stories or have any requests, drop a message :)

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated

P.S.S.S. please, don’t repost without credit :)

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beepbeeprichiellc · 6 years

Text

Closer

Summary: Richie Tozier has a layover in New York and spends it drowning himself at the bar. He is surprised when a familiar face walks in, even more surprised to find that it was the boy he had left behind long ago.

A/N: I had some extra time tonight so I thought I would dabble a little. This is my rendition to Closer by The Chainsmokers via Reddie. It's super depressing....I regret nothing.

Word Count: 1831

Masterlist

Smoke trailed from his cigarette, his hands bit into his scotch as he swirled it around the glass, watching the tornado diminish every time. The bartended spoke to him but he ignored it, instead focusing on the buzz in his head. Richie groaned, downing the remainder of his drink and gesturing for another. He hated being away from his home in LA, hated staying at shitty hotels with shitty people. There was a bitter taste that lingered in his mouth that he washed down with his alcohol begging for it to take away his anger.

There was small commotion as a group of people entered the hotel bar, the men speaking amongst themselves. Richie shook his head, practically scorning them for interrupting his pity party. He tried to phase them out, pretend that they weren’t even there but their voices carried throughout the empty room.

“I think that Janet woman form Milwaukee has a thing for you. She was practically undressing you with her eyes.” A man said, jeering with confidence. “If it were me I’d have her up in my room without a second thought.”

The group laughed, amused by the crude joke. A soft voice replied, “No, I’m okay. She’s not my type.” Richie’s head snapped up, instantly recognizing the voice. He turned to the group, eyeing them from across the room.

There on the far end sat a well-dressed man, the top two buttons of his shirt was undone, his tie hanging loosely form his neck. He was much shorter than the rest of the men, and considerable smaller but he was more beautiful that anyone in that room, including Richie himself. The DJ eyed him, taking him in.

It had been four years since he had last seen Eddie Kaspbrak. Four years since he had left for Los Angles, only leaving a note to be found that next morning. It had been a shitty thing to do but Richie was just a kid, barely 24. He had been so completely head over heels for that boy and knew if he waited any longer he would have missed his chance for the career he had dreamed of. So he left him without a goodbye and now all Richie dreamed of was the small boy who he had loved, lost in Derry, Maine.

Eddie’s eyes met his and the DJ could feel his blood run cold. The smaller man cringed, still nodding at the conversation around him. Richie turned back to his scotch, feeling his heart pound in his ears. “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, taking a long drink form the liquor.

“I need a gin and tonic” The familiar voice announced from beside him. Richie looked over, noticing Eddie standing a few feet from him, speaking to the bartender who smiled and nodded. Eddie ignored him, pulling out his wallet and paying for the drink.

“Oh my stars, is that Eddie Kaspbrak?” The former trashmouth found himself speaking before his mind could catch itself. The pitiful southern accent caused them both to flinch.

“Yeah it is.” Eddie replied coldly. Richie opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off by the bartender as he handed him his drink. “Thanks, keep the change.”

“How’ve ya been?” Richie asked, forcing himself to smile. “It’s been a long time huh?”

“Sure.” He replied, taking a sip of his toxic drink. “Excuse me.” He muttered, turning back and heading over to the group.

Richie shivered at the cold shoulder Eddie had given him, practically icing him out of existence. He watched the man leave, smiling at his friends as if the interaction between them had never happened. There was a gnaw in the DJs chest, an underlining emotion fighting to break through. With a boast of confidence and an extra shot of liquor, Riche stood up and made his way over to the table, putting on his best smile.

The others in the group instantly recognized him, practically fawning over him. “Oh my god, your Richie Tozier!” One of the other men cooed, “I listen to you every day!”

“Well thanks for keeping my pockets fat and my belly full.” Richie joked, earning a laugh form everyone except the smallest man. “I just wanted to pay my regards to my old friend Eddie here, haven’t seen him in what? Four years?”

“You know Rich ‘Records’ Tozier? Why in the hell didn’t you tell us? He is fucking famous!”

Eddie huffed, throwing daggers in Richie’s direction. Grinding his teeth he replied, “I guess I forgot.” There was a pause as he took a drink, letting the glass linger at his lips. “That was a long time ago.”

“Still, I mean this guy is a legend. He’s broadcasted all over the United States! I heard he slept with Madonna!” One of the other men bellowed, stars dancing in his eyes. “Madonna Eddie! I’d give my left nut just to talk to her.”

Eddie flinched, recoiling at the man’s statement. Richie cleared his throat, feeling his head spin from his intoxication. “All false allegations. That guy in the sex tape doesn’t even look like me.” The DJ replied, smirking. “Although I practically did give my right nut for Winona Ryder.”

The men laughed and Eddie rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disgust. “Hey man, sit with us. We will buy you a drink.” One of the stars struck men practically begged, pulling out one of the chairs. Eddie narrowed his eyes, his lip curling up in anger.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Richie replied, winking at the angered man.

“I need a stronger drink.” Eddie grumbled, standing from the table.

“Oh grab me a whisky sour will you Eds?” The DJ called, the old nickname sliding off the tip of his tongue effortlessly. Eddie recoiled, muttering something under his breath as he walked towards the bar. Richie’s focus returned to the men who lived and breathed for his every word. Smiling he said, “So the thing about Winona Ryder is-“

The men staggered as the left, unable to hold anymore liquor. A cab was called and they pushed their numbers onto Richie, pleading for him to call them if he ever came back into town. He accepted the gesture, stuffing the paper into his pocket, knowing that he would only toss them when he got back to his room. Everyone left, well everyone except Eddie.

The Kaspbrak kid held his own, able to keep his head level no matter how many drinks he downed. Richie was somewhat proud, in the olden days Eddie would have been gone just like the rest of those suburban men but now it looked as if he could drink the older trashmouth under the table.

Richie strolled back into the bar, noticing the smaller man nursing a new scotch. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sat back down, smirking. “Tell your friends it was nice to meet them but I hope I never see them again.”

Eddie scoffed, not looking up. “You didn’t have to do that you know?”

“Do what?”

“Barge your way into my life, you could have just let me enjoy a night out with friends.” Richie felt his heart twist in his chest as Eddie took a drink, hissing at the burn in his throat. “It’s been too long and I’ve come too far for you to pull shit like that.”

The DJ licked his lips, leaning back into his chair. “I wanted to talk to you but I knew you wouldn’t give me the time of day unless I took advantage of your friends.”

“They ate you up.” Eddie bit, “Just like everyone else. Richie ‘Records’ Tozier, American treasure my ass.” There was a mocking tone in his voice, sneering the words in the other man’s directions. “Screw you.”

Richie sighed, running his hands through his well-groomed hair. “I’m sorry about what I did okay? I was just a kid and-“

“Oh, shove it up your ass Tozier.” He barked, dropping his empty glass onto the table with a harsh clang. “Save your lying and jokes for your radio show, that shit doesn’t work on me anymore.”

“It never really did.” Richie corrected, ignoring the ping of guilt in his chest. “You always saw right through me.”

“Not when it counted.” Eddie muttered, shaking his head. “Never when it counted.”

There was a lingering silence between them, their past like venom in the air. The bartender called last call, shutting off the lights in the back. Richie looked at his old lover, taking in the way he had aged over their time away. He had lost his boyish charm, growling into his face and maturing his features. He was still so utterly perfect that it made Richie sick.

Richie took in a long breath, settling his nerves. “I did love you, you know.”

“Don’t even-“

“I have never loved anyone like I loved you Eds. Never.” Eddie remained silent, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Richie couldn’t take it so his mouth continued to vomit his feelings. “I was so stupid to leave, I should’ve talk to you, told you about the job offer but I-I didn’t want you to uproot for me so I just left and I’msofuckingsorry.” He managed to choke at the end.

Eddie looked up at him, frowning at the tears that had fell from the DJ’s face. Slowly he reached across the table, erasing the water with his thumb. Riche’s breath hitched at the tenderness in the action, feeling his lingering touch against his skin. “Do you have a room here?” He asked, gesturing to the front lobby. “We can go up there and talk.”

Richie nodded.

The sun beamed into the room, spilling across Richie’s face. He groaned loudly, rolling over to snuggle the other side of the bed. His hand lifted, searching for the body that had been there that night only to find it empty. “Eddie?” He called, his fingers biting into the linen. “Are you up already?”

There was no response, and a sense of fear rushed through him. He lifted his body from the bed frantically begging whatever deity that he believed in this week, praying that the small man was still there. What he found though was a note, written in fine, almost flawless handwriting.

‘It was my turn to leave.’

‘Eds.’

Richie couldn’t help the tears as they came barreling in. He sobbed, pathetically clutching the note in his hand, whimpering the man’s name. It was what he deserved but not what he wanted. He had wanted Eddie, but that ship had sailed long ago with his own note. The effect of his decision had eaten away their chance together, ending their relationship for good.

Now all that remained was a battered DJ and a lost limo driver.

All that remained was two lovers, separated by circumstance.

All that was remained was their own heartache.

All that remained was Richie and Eddie.

Tags: @decaffeinatedpostmoon @hausofnikyhausofu @lizwillstealyourgirl @longlostlove

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #the losers club #angst #lovers

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loveinthebones · 6 years

Text

Let Them Think What They Want

Prompt: 2. Things you said through your teeth

Rating: T

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Alpha! Phil and Alpha! Dan

These are you WARNINGS: Slight scuffle between Dan and Phil, mentions of blood

-Let Them Think What They Want-

There are certain…expected…qualities that Phil lacked from an outsider’s perspective and it never failed to set Dan’s teeth on edge when others’ made assumptions about where the boy with the startling eyes fell without a second thought.

His quiet, thoughtful countenance let him fade into the background, if he wasn’t careful.

Dan was trying to encourage Phil to speak more. He knew from experience that his flatmate’s soothing northern twang would turn heads without him even trying but Phil merely giggled in response, lips stained from the shaved ice they had been sharing, and laid his head on his shoulder, radiating heat and unspoken adoration.

“Let them think what they want, Dan.”

Aside from being a small tree, Phil wasn’t a physically commanding presence.

Dan didn’t mean to draw attention to himself as much as he did, but he had always been a bit more impulsive, a bit freer in letting that mysterious pull drench his words. His power of persuasion was less of a suggestion and more of a demand…and it had caused problems when their business partnership had started to solidify.

He remembers the startled eyes of the Beta secretary who had frowned deeply at the compulsion to loosen her posture, despite her will to maintain her strict professionalism after he had jokingly told her, “You can relax. We don’t bite.”

“Stop that,” Phil scolded, swatting his shoulder, as he came to stand behind Dan. He offered his hand to her with a charming, apologetic smile. “I apologize. He hasn’t gotten the hang of his vocal training, just yet.”

It was lie and they both knew it.

Dan used to have trouble controlling his Alpha voice when he was overwhelmed and back then, he had been a terrified nineteen-year-old about to sit in his first official business meeting with his friend and the creator he was working to establish a brand with in the possible future.

Her eyes had drifted across his form with a surprised gaze. It wasn’t often that an Alpha struggled with vocal training but it was speculated that those who did would be the ideal candidates for leadership positions, even when pitted against other Alphas.

“My apologies.” She replied instantly and courteously as she grasped Phil’s hand. “How do you deal with it? He certainly is a strong one.”

Dan’s own hand flexed at the sudden spike of annoyance flooding his system.

Does she not realize…?

Phil only smiled back politely and answered, “Exposure, I suppose. Should we get going?”

Phil reached for his jumping fingers to give them a reassuring squeeze while the Beta hesitated for a split second.

When Dan growled at her reluctance, Phil dropped his hold to fall in place beside his friend as they started to make their way down the corridor, following the Beta who was chattering about the recording spaces, sound equipment, and green screens that would be available to them after the meeting, if they were interested.

His fingertips scraped at the small of Dan’s back as they walked and if she noticed anything- she didn’t say a word.

Dan couldn’t help but wonder if she picked up on the fact that she had folded easily to Phil’s influence.

“You worry too much, Danny.” Phil told him as he clicked away at the controller determinedly. His eyes were glued to the screen where his character was shooting rainbows and jumping hastily to escape the water hot on his heels. “Let it go.”

“I just…why do people assume?” Dan sighed, helplessly searching for the words to explain why it bothered him so much. “Seriously. It’s idiotic and irritating.“ Dan ran his fingers through his fringe, flicking the tickling strands out of his eyes peevishly. "You are just as much of an Al—”

“Shit!” Phil whined, lifting his controller up with angrily shaking hands, and a warning growl ripped from Dan’s throat before he could call it back.

Phil clamped his teeth on the unmoving plastic, an answering rumble vibrating his chest.

There’s something laying heavy and hot in his chest and it urges Dan to stand so he does, drifting to Phil unthinkingly.

His hand rests on locks dyed in the blackest black that can be bought in a bottle and the spell is broken when Phil’s breath fans across his wrist.

“Ah—” Dan squeaked, jerking his hand away as if he had been burned. “Sor—”

Phil chucked the controller at him with a laugh that flashed just a bit too much bite. “Piss off.”

“What is it like living with a Beta?” Dan read and he pressed a hand to his temple with a wry laugh. “Well, HowellattheMoon, you see Phil is—”

“Daniel.”

His name was muffled but it seemed to carry an uncanny echo that had the hairs at the back of his neck standing at attention.

Dan’s lower jaw moved subtly as Phil continued from his place behind his closed bedroom door: “Let it go.”

“You want to go, mate?” There’s a playful lilt to the vowels of his sentence but it’s distorted because Dan is speaking through the barrier of his clenched teeth and his blood is rushing through his ears violently but he remains sitting in his butt chair, leaning on his elbow with a strained smile and glowing eyes.

It isn’t the first time he has used his Alpha voice during a livestream but it’s the first time that it’s laced with something…dark.

The chat is going crazy but Dan’s senses are fixed on the gentle protest of his door’s hinges and the man who has let himself in to his room.

Phil’s fingers open and close at his side as he huffs, a single brow arched in a silent challenge.

“Bring it on.”

So much for the challenge being silent.

“I will murder you,” Dan retorted, flicking his gaze to Phil pointedly. The other shoves his shoulders back at the action, meeting his scrutiny unblinkingly.

There’s that something again—hot, distracting, undiluted but Dan manages to keep himself in check by sheer willpower. “Want to come say hi?”

It’s less of a question and more of a demand and Phil’s tricolored eyes flash as he rolls his shoulders stiffly before he saunters over to kneel beside Dan.

He grins at the chat and chirps out a happy, friendly and infuriatingly relaxed, “Hey guys!”

The air crackles between them.

There’s teeth digging relentlessly into that spot on his neck and Dan raked his blunt nails down the warm skin under his fingertips, distantly worried that he might have drawn blood.

Phil hissed against his sore neck. “You’re the one who wanted to do this, love.” He reminded Dan, flesh still trapped between painful points.

“I know,” Dan panted, digging little angry half-moons where his hands have come to rest just under Phil’s scapulas. “I just—”

“Alphas’ don’t normally have their bonding gland stimulated.” Soft lips pressed against his bruised and tender skin, followed by the slimy scrape of a playful tongue, and Dan snorted as he canted his head backwards so the column of his neck stayed exposed, despite the little voice screeching in his head that he was being reckless and in danger.

“I know,” Dan repeated his earlier statement, bumping his chin against the top of Phil’s head. “I still have that bruise on my hip.”

“I warned you,” Phil giggled, nuzzling into the juncture of his shoulder, before he raised himself up to press his forehead against Dan’s. “I am stronger than I look.”

The pads of Dan’s fingers ghosted along the pretty purple starburst on Phil’s own bonding gland, admiring the indentations he left behind.

Phil growled but it was more of a gentle, loving purr than a warning snarl.

“People have forgotten that in the olden days,” Phil’s lip is split from their tussle, cheeks rosy, and he winces as he talks.“Alphas used to take Alphas for mates.”

Dan’s chest heaved harshly as he cups his throbbing nose, grimacing. “I doubt it’s healthy to take an elbow to the face.” He commented dryly, catching the sparse droplets of blood in his palm. “I’m just saying.”

“We got carried away,” Phil shrugged nonchalantly. “It happens. Aggression hormones, adrenaline, and all that.” He wiped at his bottom lip with his sleeve, smearing crimson along the fabric carelessly as he chuckled. “Though I didn’t expect you to slap me-”

“It was an accident!” Dan protested, panting and exhausted after their brief struggle. He didn’t want to admit that Phil’s scent was pleasantly scrambling his thoughts…and that their little squabble hadn’t helped…. the now familiar heat sizzling and scorching the walls of his veins. “I really didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Phil hummed, lips quirked in one corner in a lopsided, forgiving smile. “It happens.”

"You say that…” Dan muttered, licking his lips, as his heart thudded against his ribs. He shook his head to clear away the fog covering his mind. “…Did Alphas really take other Alphas as mates?”

“Oh, yeah.” Phil laughed with a suggestive eyeroll and Dan’s tongue suddenly decided it wanted to stay glued to the roof of his mouth.

“Why?” The single word escaped before his internal filter could catch it and Dan uncovered the lower portion of his face, eyes cautiously curious.

“Because the two partners had to be evenly matched.“ Phil answered softly, combing his fringe back into a messy quiff. "Though, I do believe that you can choose your mate, regardless of where you or they fall.” Phil stood, dusting off his trackies, before offering to his left hand to Dan. “Are we good?”

“We’re good, Philly.” Dan kept his eyes on their bland carpet as he accepted Phil’s help. “Would you?”

Phil pulled him to his feet and they were so close that Dan could see the individual flecks of gold and green in the electric blue depths of Phil’s irises.

“Would I, what?”

“Date an Alpha.” Dan whispered, still holding onto Phil.

The air buzzing along his skin dotted his arm with goosebumps as Phil squeezed his fingers gently.

“I would.”

“Mine,” Dan murmured, caressing the mark reverently. “People will know you’re mine.”

Phil dipped his head and the tip of his nose tickled Dan’s skin as he made his way down. “And you are mine.“

"Even if people assume I’m the sole Alpha?” Dan teased and his breath stuttered as Phil bit that spot again, mewling in pain.

Phil kissed away the sting before baring his teeth at Dan, showcasing the jagged ends and slight unevenness.

“Let them think what they want, but make no mistake I can take you on, Danny boy.”

#phan #phanfiction #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #kat's writing #ambrose's writing #friends to lovers #Things You Said prompts

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coolstoriesbyj-blog · 5 years

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The true Alpha

Many werewolves and their packs knew that their time might come to an end due to the advent of technology and population boom that was happening in Earth. People were moving away from god and that meant that they moved away from the world of supernatural too. It was a good and a bad thing. It was a good thing because people believed in a savior and fairy tail less and it was a bad thing because now humans tried to be god themselves. Their rapid advancement of technology and warring gave an impression that they wanted to be god. Just like Lucifer they wanted to sit on the throne of heaven regardless of how many lives were lost

A simple camera in the phone today which could be a worth 10 dollars would bring the werewolves out faster than drinking a cup of water which was filled with pure silver back in the day, it was because their eyes would shine. To survive the werewolves had to abandon their beliefs and choose “effeminate” ways to survive by using contact lenses to hide this shine of their eyes but even then, technology caught up to them and their contact lenses became useless

It was said that fear brings people together but with time and rapidly advancing technology it became true for the werewolves too. it brought many warring packs and separate packs to bring them together and they agreed one thing. To have their own weapon of mass destruction, their own blood line limit. To have it they had to do something they had never done before two alphas mating like humans to make the ultimate progeny who would carry their legacy. Many alphas tried but failed or produced stillborn till the strongest female alpha and the oldest alpha who was over 150 years old who was famed to battle Dracula and ripped him in two mated. And a prodigy was born.

A werewolf who was not a born alpha but had all the abilities of an alpha. He was named Maddox, within a week of his birth he started to walk and within three weeks he understood how to speak, when to shit and how to control his bodily functions. During his first anniversary of birth a red super moon was out and the little infant started to change into the beast his clan had hoped for He was indeed the bloodline limit, who was the wolf of god, Lupus Dei.

He was taught how to hunt and to control himself through the test of fire because his hunger was unlike any other and when, his lust for blood was unlike any other, when he changed his human epidermis was visibly ripped off and a wolf would carve himself out of the skin, each time he changed it was like an infant coming out of a woman’s birth canal; blood was everywhere, a true monstrosity of a change he’d go through as his skin was ebony in color yet it had a shine on it, there wasn’t a single set of hair upon it except the elongated hair off his head. https://youtu.be/YNieysjSZW4 His canines were more visible and longer, like a saber tooth lion of the olden times.

https://goo.gl/KMjFPc

His actions after transformations resembled a crazed wolf yet there was sanity in the actions and the way he hunted.

His eye color unlike any other werewolf had ever had, purple. The omega werewolves had orange eyes, the beta werewolves had yellow eyes and the alphas had red eyes. Werewolves who had killed humans and were turned mad by blood lust had blue eyes. So, it was indeed a unique eye color to have when he was turned. When he came of age, his strength was tested and he would defeat alphas and betas easily purely on his ferocity and having the same personality of his father which was refusal to be defeated by anything.

As he grew up he learned the reality of what being a werewolf is a prime predator who could not eat humans for the blood lust and power which came with it was maddening, a werewolf could not live out in the open world even though he was a prime predator who sat on top of the food chain because walking sheep’s in two-legged meat suits were more in number and had technology on their side the situation was maddening and a young Maddox had to find some answers from himself. He’d kill himself before curiosity killed him, he had to see what the world was like but tt was forbidden to leave his village without permission even though he was bestowed upon such a title, even though he was stronger than most of them and just like rebel humans breaking curfew and planning, he would too.

On the night of the 13th new moon, the so called unholiest night for the werewolves. Everyone was in their huts and forcing themselves to sleep which was his perfect time to venture out. He put on the most modern clothes possible and ran fast. He ran for 40 miles and reached quickly. It seemed that he beat his own personal record. He looked around and found the city billboard which said, " Moscow" so they were in Russia, he concurred. He walked around the city, he could hear the footsteps, the car buzzing, people fighting, guns going off in corners, sound of people fighting, baby screaming, people making love at all the same time.

Humans themselves were in stuck in a rat race to own the best socioeconomic conditions and continue their own legacy in an already flooded seven billion plus small planet. He realized human consciousness was a tragic misstep in evolution. They became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself - They creatures that should not exist by natural law. They are simply things that labor under the illusion of having a self, that accretion of sensory experience and feelings, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everybody's nobody. The honorable thing to do with humans was to kill them like Hitler handled Jews, if they were not killed soon the entire life force of the planet would be drained for their foolish self-satisfaction. This was all overwhelming at first but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was taught how to control his senses and within seconds everything was normal and now all he could hear was the sound of heartbeats and his nose taking in all the scents that city had to offer but one scent that struck him the most was a certain scent that smelled like roses which came from a mile ahead. His curiosity peaked and he ran towards it only to find a 6-foot blonde waiting at a line to a place with loud music was coming from. He walked up to her and at that moment all he could hear was her heartbeat. She looked at him from top to bottom and so did he, and like him she was instantly hooked to him like she was hooked on heroin. She left her friends and walked with Maddox. Their hormones mingled like sodium reacts with hydrogen and it was purely exothermic within a moment they were making out and even though he was a virgin he knew what to do, his animal instinct was guiding him. She barely managed to push him off to say with a labored breath, let's go to a hotel. He could smell the want in her legs and obliged since he knew humans didn't find it nice when they mated openly. She took him to a suit and the moment they entered the suit he pushed her on the bed and jumped on her. Tearing her clothes off. He was not making love to her but rather showing who the alpha is and marking his territory.

The human woman was shocked at first but with time she absolutely loved it the way she responded in the womanliest of ways, letting her man guide the ship of lustful pleasure and aid him in any way possible by holding and moving in sync with him. As he progressed with his mating; her scent, her heartbeat, her heat was turning him, his stomach growled with hunger and his soul wanted much more than just her bodily orgasm and moans for him, he wanted to taste her flesh, he wanted to satiate his thirst from her blood. He wanted her, completely. He could feel his fangs dropping and his eyes turning, he could feel his claws coming out and the only thing now he could focus was her beating jugular in a split second he tore her neck out and consumed every bit of her. Not even giving her the chance to scream or plead, the more flesh and blood he consumed the more powerful he felt, the lore of blood lust was true after all. He looked at the mirror and he was fully turned. Realizing he didn't need the full moon to trigger himself into turning into a full werewolf. A blissful discovery indeed. Most of the werewolves could partially turn without the moon and could only fully turn with the help of the moon, it was their handicap but he was the blood limit of the werewolves, he didn't have any.

A sinister plan hatched in his mind. When he was partially turned, he could defeat alphas and could almost take on his father. He wondered what the result would be when he was fully turned. He broke out of the window and landed from 22 stories like a feather hitting the ground without making a sound. He rushed back to his village. No one knew that he went somewhere but the smell of blood was enough to turn their lights on and break them from their slumber. He smirked inside they were wolves they didn't need lights to see what was going on. They were truly infantilized and now it was time for them to learn what happened to infants when they would meet a REAL wolf. He howled on the top of his voice to announce his presence and to tell that he was fully turned. The first person that came out was the youngest alpha among all. He leaped over him and killed him within seconds, his wife and children ran inside in horror. His purples eyes shining like amethyst under a light, just like a beta takes a power of an alpha the beta's eyes shine and turn. He took his power too even though he was an alpha himself. The sudden rush of power felt amazing and he reached inside the house slaughtering children and the wife taking the power that they never used. He did this under a minute but it was more than enough to alert all the alphas who partially turned and waited for him outside. He took them all without having a scratch. He saved his mother and father for the last. They tried to reason with him as they knew the discontent he had with this way of life but it fell on deaf ears. He killed them, committing matricide and patricide together. The moment he did he felt a surge of power flowing within his body. He howled with his blood covered body, his howl so strong that it made the birds fly off and ground shake with a tremor. He was the bloodline limit but now he had the power of 12 alphas within him. The morning came and he didn't feel bad at all. He was the wolf of god and gods destroyed what they didn't like. He found a pair of clothes and started a new journey. 10 years later, He was in the land of brave and the free. Working as a forensic investigator. He knew if he had to survive he had to mingle with them and wear the clothes of a sheep. Working as a forensic investigator had it's benefits as he could access all the databases to hit on the perfect prey. He didn't hit people that would be missed, he hit criminals and scumbags who slipped the justice system. He could have eaten other animals and vegetables unlike any other to hide even more but he needed the power of blood lust knowing one day his match would come for him and with each human consumed he grew powerful. He would not eat the humans like a savage. He would cook them and then eat them and many times he would even serve it to his human co-workers themselves, the dumb humans would eat them lovingly. In many ways, he was like his favorite character, Hannibal.

But, every reaction had an equal and opposite reaction. His power had grown in an unprecedented tangent. The only ones who had any idea about it were dead and were simply serving as fuel of power to him. Whenever he walked he felt something following him, he would turn around only to see it was his own shadow but the shadow of the beast within him. He would look at his human compatriots and they would ask what’s wrong? Meaning it was his own head.

He would glance at the mirror and see his beastly form but whenever he looked at the mirror with full attention he would see his face. The beast was consuming him or he was was becoming the beast, the blood lust was finally taking over.

To make matters worse, other wolves were picking up on this. Supernatural started to come into the city he worked in, supernatural started to come to his territory.

Many lone omegas came but before they found him, He found them. Instead of simply killing them he consumed them. Taking their powers and becoming stronger then he was before. Packs of werewolves led by an alpha came along too and they met the same fate.

Which only fueled his blood lust like a burning match being thrown in a liquid oxygen tank.

If humans cannibalized too much they would be diseased just like cows biting other cows getting mad cows disease. Prion diseases, a group of uncommon and deadly brain diseases, can be spread by eating the contaminated flesh of humans or other animals. The human brain is more contaminated with prions than other body parts, though bone marrow, the spinal cord and the small intestine also contain these fatal brain-eating malformations. Prion diseases occur when the prion protein misfolds, causing a cascade of misfolding prion proteins that clump in the brain and damage or destroy nerve cells, creating sponge-like holes. Current examples include kuru and Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease in humans, and mad cow disease in animals, both of which cause brain deterioration, loss of motor control and ultimately death. In the early 20th century, a kuru epidemic devastated the Fore, a tribe of cannibals in the eastern highlands of Papua New Guinea. The kuru epidemic was linked to a Fore ritual of feasting on the brains of the dead.

Just like humans having side effects he started to have them too. Whenever he worked around humans he would hear voices in his head telling him to kill everyone and everything around him. His hand would shake and his human epidermis would fall on its own as his body felt compelled to change.

The Bloodline limit of werewolves had started to fall apart in his lust for strength and trying to control his external environment.

But, unlike humans, cows, and werewolves. He wasn’t scared. He simply saw this as a challenge to win. His confidence in himself told him that he would win in the end. Was it his growing insanity saying that or was it his sanity trying to keep himself sane ?

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recentnews18-blog · 6 years

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New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/storytime-a-decade-on-heres-what-life-looks-like-for-career-youtubers/

Storytime! A Decade On, Here's What Life Looks Like For Career YouTubers

We went to VidCon Australia and talked to YouTuber veterans like Hannah Hart, Hank Green and Thomas Sanders about the weirdest job in the world.

At Vidcon Australia, I’m flung against the glass revolving doors as a pack of aggressive teens stampede past me. They think they’ve seen a famous YouTuber, and want to mob her with furious affection and awe. It is not a famous YouTuber however, it is just a tiny baffled looking blonde boy, and everyone is disappointed.

Later on that day, I exit the hotel after interviewing some of the VidCon celebrities, and a very tired mother points me out to her pre-teen daughter. Who knows how long they’d been waiting outside, hoping to catch sight of someone important.

“Is that a YouTuber?” she asks, wearily but with hope.

“Omg, no mum,” answered the daughter with infinite disdain.

“Oh, he just has the pants for it,” she answered.

It seems that everyone is looking for YouTubers — but as I discover over the weekend, maybe there’s maybe no such thing as a YouTuber. Not really. Not anymore.

But it’s fine! That sounded way too dramatic.

My idea of what constitutes a YouTuber is about ten years out of date.

YouTube as a medium started back in the fabled days of 2005, and anybody who uploaded videos of themselves at the zoo or falling over on the snow was technically a “YouTuber”. But by around 2010, there were a handful of regular users with widely followed channels, who were given the title of YouTubers. Some of them fell to the wayside or segued out into other careers, and others are still on the site today, still making videos.

There’s a very good chance you’d recognise some of them, even if you aren’t amongst their fan group — they have millions of followers and a whole bunch of viral content.

You probably have seen in passing some of the astronomically big names — the controversial people like Logan Paul or PewDieiePie, who individually can boast over 66 million followers, but if you’re not in that space, you could easily forget that there are thousands of other YouTube based celebrities making a career (and often a very good one at that).

“I guess it’s like I think the biggest misconception about YouTube is that people think it’s one thing,” Hannah Hart tells me.

Hannah is one of the vanguard YouTubers from the olden days, made famous for her excessively funny My Drunk Kitchen series, which she first started uploading in 2011. I used to watch it a lot, instead of doing my extremely repetitive captioning job at the time.

This sort of introduction makes her sound venerable and aged, but it’s not actually true. It’s just that she’s been using YouTube as a big part of her career for over seven years, and has kinda been watching the whole thing mutate and evolve to what it is today. Also, a lot of her newer peers on the medium are literally 16 years old or younger. YouTube is massive with the youth.

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“Broad strokes, I feel like people refer to YouTube and ‘YouTubers’ as if they are a type. Now, you know, YouTube has become household, mainstream, and so, of course, we have all the same iterations as in mainstream pop media. You know, we have your superstars, your pranksters, your this-that, your musicians… like whatever, it’s just a different set of people using the same tool, I guess.”

YouTube is huge these days, and varied like Hannah says. There are multiple genres, from the million dollar makeup YouTubers to the insanely popular people who play games to an audience, to those people who open up boxes of things and earn money from it. Arguably, the only thing that connects them is a shared medium.

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“There are lots of online video communities,” says Hank Green. I’ll explain who Hank Green is later. “It would be like saying, what’s going on in the music community this week. No, there’s no music community. Like, country western singers are different from hip-hop artists, and don’t hang out with each other.”

But that doesn’t particularly interest me — YouTube is a huge baffling multi-million dollar industry, filled with an upsetting number of rich talented teens who I don’t know.

What interests me is those early days, when YouTubing was only new, when you could list the rising stars of the medium on two hands and maybe an errant foot, when everything just seemed like a weird scrappy accident, and some video weirdos who did odd shit in their rooms suddenly found themselves with a weird career.

It’s Hannah Hart’s seven-year YouTube anniversary this year.

Her first video was simply called ‘My Drunk Kitchen’, and it was scrappily recorded on her Macbook’s Photobooth program, as a homesick way of saying hi to her friend back in San Francisco. It was halfway between a private joke and a parody of a cooking show. In it, Hannah paid homage to her habit of attempting to cook things by getting drunk and trying her best to cook a grilled cheese sandwich, without any cheese.

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The results are a pretty spectacular mix of messy and hilarious. It’s very funny, and managed to hit that sweet spot of showcasing Hannah’s natural charm and wit in a cool and shareable idea. Whatever! The point is, she didn’t make the video in an attempt to become a viral YouTube hit.

It was a happy accident.

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Those first few years of YouTube have this scrappy and DIY attitude that’s markedly different to today — nobody really knew what they were doing, and there was no established formula to follow. People were doing weird, funny things, without the wealth of trendsetters there are now. Hannah wasn’t even one of the first people doing it — but she is one of the older names recognisable in the community.

It seems that the idea of a “YouTuber” kinda grew organically, as soon as the tool became popular, became mainstream.

“It was just all collaborative, all just encouraging, all okay,” says Hannah Hart about those early years.

“Everybody was just like, ‘Oh, how cool that you’re doing something. How cool that you’re making something. What technique are you using for this? Oh, wow!’”

There was a spirit of collaboration, a sharing of how to use this strange new format. Hannah gives us an example:

“Beauty YouTubers brought the ring light to everybody, because they were the first ones to use ring lights in their videos for lighting.”

The ring light is a fairly established tool for lighting in Vlogging now, but it’s kinda indicative of the pioneering attitude to the entire YouTube process that happened. They were all finding out shit together.

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“I don’t know, I guess I’m just really happy that I had the generation I had, because it was like we were all going to school together and we were all graduating. Nobody was watching, you know what I mean? Nobody was saying whether or not we were at a good college. There was no competition with each other at all. Nobody cared about being the number one YouTuber.”

There wasn’t as much scrutiny.

While Hannah Hart didn’t start YouTubing with the intention of building a career, it was pretty quickly obvious that it was a thing that was happening.

She first noted that things got real “when I had reputable organisations like Time Magazine asking for interviews, that was really disorienting — I had like six videos out the first time that ever happened.”

Obviously, she had to adapt quickly.

“I paid a photographer to take a picture of me because I didn’t have any headshots or anything. I was like, literally — I’m not in entertainment.” Hannah worked three jobs at the time. The opportunities not only gave her the opportunity to eventually leave those, but also to work creatively, and to change her life.

“It’s insane to me, you know? It’s too good to be true and I feel like I cannot speak for any other creator, but for me, I feel like all of this privilege is responsibility. I choose to be … I’ve been given so much and I’ve got to be the best version of myself. You know what I mean? I’m like, ‘Oh my God, so wait, I’m sorry I get to pursue my dreams and I’m making more money than I ever thought I would make?’”

There still seems to be a problem of categorisation for YouTubers — at the time, it was particularly difficult for mainstream media and the hordes of offline folk to get their heads around the concept of an online celebrity, of a niche superstar.

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Hank Green and his brother John Green basically helm an entire media empire now, including the popular Vlogbrothers channel.

They started off with the very popular Brotherhood 2.0 project late in 2006, which was a series based on the premise that the brothers would cease all text-based communication for one year and, instead, converse by video blogs every weekday. One of their first viral videos from the channel was a very cute ode to the final Harry Potter book (’twas the times) — the first Vlogbrothers video to make the front page of YouTube, and a starting point of the brothers’ success as Vloggers.

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The Brotherhood 2.o project is a great example of their work — it’s funny, goofy and somehow personal, without giving too much away. You feel like you just picked sat down with two nerdy brothers having a nice chat.

It seems that even now, it’s that idea of connection with another person that drives the popularity of YouTubers.

Hank Green kickstarted his career from his YouTuber popularity, but for him, the happy accident was always in the back of his mind.

“Before we were getting paid, I felt like it was important and interesting and cool. I didn’t think it was a career. But I figured it would help me with my career, you know? Like if that was going to be, you know, working in media or consulting with magazines or online publications or whatever, this would be a good way. If I did this for a while and I had an audience, I’d be able to get a job. And then we started making money. That’s when it was like, oh, can I not have my other jobs? Can I stop freelancing? Can I just do this? And that was wonderful.”

YouTubers are entertainers first and foremost, and that means they spend most of their time doing really silly stuff.

Most of the people I talked to at VidCon worked in comedy or comedy adjacent video, so pretty stark examples of people who got to enjoy their jobs. But, even for people whose schtick is literally getting drunk on camera like Hannah Hart, it’s important to remember it is still a job.

“It’s a funny show but it’s also funny because of the rhythm, the timing and the editing. People are like, ‘Oh, my God how drunk do you get?’ I’m like, ‘I don’t know, pretty drunk. Anyway, it takes me like four hours to edit. That’s not the important part!”

A career in YouTubing requires a massive amount of hours, some business savvy, a ton of creativity and talent. But one place where it differs from other jobs is in the weird opportunities it offers. I wanted to find out whether the sheer amount of fun that people imagine YouTubers have all the time actually happens. I asked everyone about it, and the answers were frankly quite uninteresting: yes, they have fun. All those videos we watch of them having fun? They’re fun.

Revolutionary.

“I’m literally so thankful that my silliness that I did on Vine and on YouTube has gotten me the opportunities like coming here to Australia. Which I never thought I would have that chance, in this capacity. And it is just a whirlwind of wonderfulness. There’s so much more of that good that outweighs any of the scariness or carelessness,” says Thomas Sanders, one of the worlds biggest Vine (RIP) and now YouTube stars.

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He is a ball of sunshine, a real Labrador boy, and his content is generally wholesome and funny, as best evidenced by his ‘Storytime’ series, which could be best described as a concerted effort to make the world a better place.

During our interview, we’re cloistered off in the corner of the ‘Instagram Lounge’, a bizarrely curated playspace for influencers and stars (and the media) to get away from the fans. Literally, every corner of it is optimised for visual content and selfies, and we sit on a bench surrounded by a literal garden of emojis, bathed in flattering purple light.

He tells me a story about the time he filmed himself out the front of someone’s house while singing a jingle for one of his regular video series, and was questioned by the owner. Sanders found it difficult to not only explain exactly what he was doing at that moment, but also what he did in general.

“And I explained. Because I was like, this is pretty ridiculous. This is a very ridiculous thing. I know it. And I tried to explain it. I showed them as much as what I could, they went back to their house, and then shortly after, I’m at church. And I get a call from my mom and she’s like, ‘Thomas, we have two police officers here who say that you have been outside of somebody’s property acting sketchy.’”

“My parents tried to explain who I was, because my parents still, it’s hard for them to explain what I did. And so one of the cops was like, ‘Oh, Thomas Sanders. Oh, I know him.” He turns to his partner, is like, I watch his stuff. He’s a Viner.’”

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But, as the famous saying goes, along with great silliness comes great responsibility. It’s not news that entertainment in all its glittering facets has the power to educate and inform, and YouTube is no different.

Six years ago, Hannah Hart posted a coming out video on her channel.

It was before the era of coming out videos as a kind of standard for Vloggers, and hers was a heartfelt, personal, beautiful thing. It meant a lot to me at the time, being a weirdly repressed, semi-closeted queer who didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything. I was able to relate to a stranger’s video somehow.

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It’s an experience shared by lots of other people. YouTubers have a powerful ability to talk directly to fans, in ways that are more intimate and less curated than other mediums.

Ashly Perez explains to me that my experience isn’t really an outlier, that queer people are drawn to YouTube for a reason.

“The LGBTIQ community helped build so much of what YouTube is, because it’s a niche community and that’s why so many people went there. Tyler Oakley, Hannah Hart, all of these big first creators who were first there helped create that.”

Ashly Perez uses her platform to talk all things feminism, body-positivity, queerness and race among other things. She started out making sketch-based comedy videos with BuzzFeed, before leaving and focusing on her own channel, wanting to diversify out of just one medium. She is passionate about using a digital medium like YouTube to reach places like the queer community.

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“Frankly, marginalised audiences need digital. It’s free, they have access to it, it’s global. I’m in Australia right now and I have so many fans here because I’m on YouTube and if I was on TV it might not be the same because you don’t know what the pick up’s gonna be.”

She also points out that as YouTube grows in popularity, it provides a larger platform to help spread social messages.

“The one thing I will say about causes and being political, particularly in America in this day and age, with Trump as our President, I do think that social has provided me with the best place to have a direct audience with people who are hurting right now and who don’t feel heard, and who don’t feel like their voice is being made a difference.”

That said, she also tells me that there are problems with YouTube doing shifty things like de-monetising and de-prioritising videos from creators with specific LGBTIQ content.

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“And I think the thing for me too is, I have tried specifically to make content and to make things that are still positive and that remain positive in this environment and I think that’s the coolest thing about social. And, you know, even if I, I’m working on TV deals now and books and things that belong to the traditional world, but I’ll always, always make content for digital because there’s no audience like it.”

These days, pretty much every long-term YouTuber is better described as an entertainer — they have multiple book deals, they have TV shows, they appear in films, they have podcasts and businesses. They’re highly diversified media stars.

Hannah Hart, for example, has two books and has appeared in two fan-funded feature films and had a show on the cooking channel. She’s working on a new project with Ellen Degeneres, as well as a really cute podcast called Hannahlyze This. YouTube is just one feather in their big flamboyant hats.

YouTube itself is only growing in popularity, but it’s skewing younger than ever before with its audience. According to this article, in March of 2018 alone YouTube drew 31.8 million US users aged 18 to 24, who spent an average of 10 hours, 15 minutes on the site. For this generation, you can argue that YouTube has replaced regular usage of most social media, as well as filling in for things like network television. It’s huge.

This is reflected not only in the median age of the people at VidCon, but also the extreme youth of the huge amount of wannabe YouTubers attending the conference. VidCon acts both as a venue for fans to meet their favourite creators, as well as a kind of professional pathways experience, with lessons from more experienced creators, with introductions to brand, with marketing and branding workshops.

YouTubing is seen not only as an extremely cool career option, but also a viable one. Whether or not that’s actually true is debatable, with statistics that show that more wannabe YouTubers are gonna live below the poverty line than make the desired millions, but that’s pretty true for all creative industries really. The dream is real, and young idealistic idiots are always gonna throw their hat into the ring (I can call them idiots because I WRITE for a living, like a fucking doofus).

The goal is to be a YouTube superstar.

As someone who’s been extremely involved in the rise of YouTubery as a career, Hank Green believes that the new fervour for the job can be dangerous:

“Yeah. People are working very hard and it is seen as a career. And especially for young people. It’s not just seen as a career, it’s seen as one of the most desirable careers. And so people will work very hard. And I worry about that. I worry about how hard people will work. And I worry about sort of like the things that they will do to get that.

“Whereas, for people in my generation, it was like, oh, this thing. This dumb hobby we had turned into a job. And there was a lot of complaining about not feeling legitimate, or not feeling recognised by the traditional media industry. But now that it is recognised by the traditional media industry, it’s actually much worse.”

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“It’s just a lot harder. There’s a lot more pressure. And you have to not worry about whether you’re being recognised but how you’re being recognised by the media industry and what data points are they looking at, what matters to them. And so instead of being like, nobody’s paying attention, it’s like, they are paying attention. And it’s a pretty intense kind of scrutiny…”

But it’s not just about the danger of struggling and failing — the older YouTubers I speak to are worried about the cost of very young people trying to become famous online personalities.

“I don’t know, I get worried about the generations that are growing up having to define themselves,” says Hannah Hart. “I feel really lucky that I was in my early 20s when I started, because I got to have that. A lot of these kids they are sacrificing the privacy of their learning curve.”

I note that where once a coming out video like Hannah’s was a fairly new and revolutionary idea — something that really helped both the people posting their experience and the small community of queers who would see it, nowadays its almost expected for every gay personality to contribute to the form, to brand themselves through that format.

“I’m trying to be delicate because again I’m not trying to necessarily shit on it,” says Hannah. “The commodification of these moments, I think for me it’s like I would never share something because I should share it — I only share things because I want to share them.”

Daily Vlogging is not only the most popular form of YouTubing at the moment, but it’s also almost the only way to create enough video content to actually create a sustainable channel in terms of growing and retaining an audience, and getting those lucrative clickies. That means that a trend of sharing, revealing and above all commodifying your life and personality has become accepted and standard.

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“They’re Truman showing themselves, it’s so weird. I mean not weird. It’s interesting but also that was kind of Livejournal for my generation. We all wrote embarrassing shit, posted it, thought we were geniuses, etc.”

I had a LiveJournal too. But we take a moment to relish in how easy it was to delete those, and how few people ever saw them.

It’s unclear what the future holds for YouTubers (if they even truly exist anymore).

Some people are convinced that YouTube will die like Vine did, or suddenly get populated by every mum in the world like Facebook, and the children will flee onto other, hypothetical platforms. Perhaps Instagram will take over with a more intuitive video interface. Perhaps there will be a completely new social media platform. Perhaps swarms of the walking dead will rise up and eat our faces.

Or, recently there’s been a rise of massive media companies taking over from individual personalities, such as the behemoth T-Series company, who just may knock PewDiePie off his perch as most followed content creator. Perhaps conglomerates will be the death of the YouTuber.

Regardless, it’s clear that we’ve already passed through a certain era — the time of the accidental YouTuber, of the vanguard YouTube star. They’re obviously still around, still doing their thing, still being successful and making great work across new and exciting mediums — but everyone proceeding in their wake is an entirely different animal.

Not better or worse, but definitely different. It’s worth taking a moment to note exactly how weird and wonderful their whole business was.

Patrick Lenton is an author and staff writer at Junkee. He tweets @patricklenton.

Source: https://junkee.com/career-youtuber-interview/174121

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ramblingsbyrhi · 7 years

Text

some spoilt brat type wall of words

What I’m about to write isn’t going to be pleasant or enjoyable or uplifting in any way, shape or form, so consider yourself fairly warned before you complain about my whinging as the ability to stop reading is entirely yours.

This stems from the troubles I’m having with my iphone.. hear me out, a web has begun. I’ve had iphones since I was 17, I’ve been through a few of them. I’ve never had major problems though until recently when my camera started malfunctioning for absolutely no apparent reason. At first it was only through apps and then the actual camera itself started shaking and wobbling, so any time I wish to take a photo I have to use the front camera. Which I understand is absolutely the biggest first world problem, but still, I paid over a thousand dollars for a product that I expect to work for a very long time, not for a couple of years then “HEY! We’re releasing unnecessary new products.. oh, whats that? Your phone broke? Well, my! How convenient!”.

Then the classic YOU ARE LOW ON STORAGE annoying as all fuck message started appearing contiiiinually no matter how many things I went through and got rid of (funny how it used to hold over 1000 photos and now it struggles at 5.. just saying is all). I thought, okay, I’ll try the update, that might fix a few bugs, right? Wrong. Try as I might, the iOS update WOULD. NOT. INSTALL. for various reasons, including but not limited to: lack of storage, no internet connection (the wifi was full, hmm), ERROR *insert some number that I googled how to fix, to no avail*, and pretty much no reason at all, just “failed.” Thanks Apple, I really appreciate those hours of my life you wasted. No, really, I probably wouldn’t have done anything productive with them anyway and the anger inspires me.

Everyone’s saying things to me like “Ohhh my god rhi, why don’t you just get the new phone when it comes out?!”. Yeah, that’s all well and good for the average Joe Blow who doesn’t mind the monthly hundred dollar bill. And you know what? That was me not all that long ago. In fact, earlier this year I did try to update my phone and plan however had a MAAASSSSSIVEEE battle with optus who a. sent me the wrong phone b. could not help me in getting the right phone c. agreed to cancel it and nevermind the upgrade because I was over it by then and they said they’d send me a satchel to return the phone in d. never sent me the satchel e. instead sent me a fifteen hundred dollar bill f. finally understood why I didn’t deserve the bill and sent me a satchel g. sent me more ridiculous bills h. sent some debt collecting company after me i. FINALLY helped me get to the bottom of why the fuck I was being sent the bill j. FIIINNALLY agreed to me paying thirty dollars and the account’d be settled k. didn’t bother clearing things up with the debt collectors who wouldn’t leave me alone no matter how many times I explained to them that I literally owed no money as it was Optus’ wrongdoing (I was given various instructions as to clearing my dads [oh yeah, to make matters worse optus refused to put the phone into my name but were more than happy to have me open up a new plan under it] name by several employees of this company, none of which worked). BIG BREATH. So in the end I was glad because instead of paying almost a hundred per month to have a flash new phone, I kept my (what WAS) in-perfect-condition existing phone, and saved money by only paying for the calls and data etc. per month. So now my response to the upgrading suggestion is why? Why should I have to pay more money because of something I already paid a lot of money for that isn’t working, when it should be in order? Why would I pay thousands of dollars for something, only to have to pay thousands more to replace it when it should last, being worth a thousand dollars and all? What the fuck? CONSUMERISM IS INCREDIBLE!

So you can imagine my feelings towards Apple and Optus right now. Which got me thinking about how reliant we are on these absolute piece of shit companies who cannot get it together despite how large they are and how many people have come to depend on them. DEPEND. It’s true, it really can’t be denied. We have come to RELY on always having phones and internet with us, one hundred percent of the time. I toyed with the idea of not having a mobile, because fuck it and fuck them taking all my money for me to still lose. Plus, 10 years ago I got by fine without having one so why can’t I now? And that’s the thing. I’m honestly starting to feel like as a society who have been spoilt with technology, we have become so dependent on it and every single thing we could need being accessible, that it would be weird and at least difficult to live without. Imagine my boss when I tell her I don’t have a mobile anymore, and she’d have to call me in on my home phone (which yes, we do have, but I know many people now do not. WHAT?? HOW?! because on the internet they are RELIANT!). I can’t imagine she’d be very pleased if I were out doing groceries or at the gym or, I don’t know, just enjoying my day off, and she needed me to come in ASAP but I was not at home to answer her phone call. But that’s how things worked not all that long ago, people lived that way and dealt with it. And imagine if I had no/no access to social media. How would I make friends or remain in contact with people, or start “talking” to a guy? That’s how it goes now, isn’t it? You meet or hear of someone you take an interest in, and straight to facebook or Instagram you go, and the rest is history. We joke about it, but it’s true! Is there another way people get to know each other now? Do people even text anymore now that everyone’s all over messenger?? TEN YEARS AGO PEOPLE!!! Life honestly changed in the blink of a fucking eye. A generation ago people kept in contact without all this shit, and they managed to marry and have babies and maintain lifelong friendships! CRAZY. I honestly feel like if the internet and social media were stripped away we’d be beside ourselves (especially those who go t rid of their home phones ;) ).

It’s all too easy and far too accessible. You really can find out too much about someone so quickly now, I imagine privacy and its definition will soon work itself into language of history alongside all that Shakespeare mumble that I regretfully do not understand. And I thoroughly believe that not only is our reliance on the ease and accessibility overall negative, but as is the impact it has upon everyone’s mentality and relationships. Or, what relationships have become with the bittersweet evolution of the www. Which would be what? What are they? What do young, and even older people want these days in regards to a relationship? Let me rattle off a few ideas, great suggestion you! The term “facebook official” is no longer a joke, it’s become a serious indicator about everyone’s status, which, is now apparently the business of everyone they know and a few randoms they’ve accepted in their friend requests along the way. Once two people’s relationship is officially recognised on the FB, I think they’re supposed to chuck up a few pics (ones with kisses on cheeks and selfies in adventurous looking locations, so people know they’re blossoming) and tag each other in emotional statuses, and memes of course. That way everyone can monitor that they’re still happily in love and evolving as a couple. Instagram pics a must as well, and a little mention of each other or at least the inclusion of each other’s initials in the little bio are also a standard requirement I believe. And that way, once the pics stop being uploaded or are deleted, along with the initials and the “SHARE WITH: PUBLIC” relationship status, everyone can know that things didn’t quite work out and they’ve dived back in with the other fish and considered a potential catch until they decide to have a bite of the next one, and the process repeats.

And repeats. And repeats. Or, doesn’t repeat. Because all of that really IS a huge commitment. Like, not only is keeping up appearances online an awful big exercise, but so is the stuff from the olden days that unfortunately we’re still supposed to do a little bit of, like spend genuine time with your SO, surprise them with gifts and flowers, introduce them to your family, begin your futures together, not jack off over other people’s instagrams, commit. Oh, my apologies, how silly of me to suggest that nan and pop jacked off over other people’s instagrams! Hahaha. No, back then these factors never came into play, because they didn’t exist. And by no means am I saying that pop never had a look up another girls ankle length skirt as she paraded up the staircase with a boy from out of town at the local dance, hell, he probably did that several times. PER DANCE. Or flirted with the bar lady at the pub after work, before he came home to nan’s incredible cooking and kept home. But he didn’t get the barmaid’s name, he didn’t look her up on facebook later and sneakily chat with her on MESSENGER while nan did the washing up god bless her. He went home and they became your grandparents because they committed to each other, despite nan checking out the milkman’s bum as he trekked back up the driveway of a morning, or pop watching the perky young woman next door whose bedroom window was positioned in his viewing favour.

They didn’t have the ease of access that we have not only taken for granted, but have let shape us in shitty ways. I truly feel like, and disagree if you want but I know it exists, we’ve become so used to accessing unlimited amounts of people, that we’re always wanting more. If Beyonce is going to get cheated on, who won’t? Is cheating nowadays even the same as it was twenty years ago? Ten years? Is flirting and or exchanging nudes over snapchat cheating? Because nothing physical happened, right? People these days ask for “nudes” (and I can say this with experience) before hardly getting the name of the nude-ee, and I can only imagine the number of requests sent to various people, and the variety they’ve seen, or unfortunately kept. With accessibility comes a massive lack of respect, and it has to go without saying that the concept of respect, and where it is given and deserved, has changed dramatically since pop first kissed nan’s hand at the dance. A “nude” back then would’ve had to have been strategically photographed, developed, enveloped, stamped, sent, waited for, received, and then cherished and kept under the bed, whereas now one could’ve requested and received ten different ones in the time it took me to write this fucking sentence, and even sent two on to his or her equally tasteless mates.

Not to mention the fact that he or she asked ten different people for them would go unquestioned. What is this “talking” that people do anyway? Any time someone has suggested that they and I did “talk” or are “talking” I shudder so hard Christchurch would prepare to rebuild. I think commitment is completely different to what it once was, what with tinder and the like and phones with locks on them and snapchats that disappear, no one has to be loyal to any one person if they don’t want to, and why would they? Why commit to one cake when you could taste a few on the regular, then replace them with the right swipe of your index finger when you feel like it? “Talking” doesn’t refer to anything serious, I don’t think. It’s like when you could probably get it on with someone but you aren’t letting people know about it because you’re “talking” (fucking, I presume) to a couple of other people as well, but you aren’t doing anything wrong or disrespecting anyone really because you aren’t dating you’re only TALKINNNGGG. Have I got it? Can someone confirm, or correct me? I’m so dying to know. And there are that many gorgeous humans in the world, no one can blame you for wanting to window shop and even go try on some things whilst doing so. There’s always going to be a prettier dress, or a comfier hoodie, or a new colour of vans. You can’t just buy the first or fifteenth you see, just in case. Missing out would be THE WORST. And you don’t owe it to any of them to discuss the predecessors or… (what’s the word for predecessors but happening at the same time? anyone? no word? funny that) if you are only talking and you’ve made it clear that that’s all you want. No commitments or relationships here, no sir-eee! And then suddenly your 30th birthday is coming up and you kind of feel like maybe you should have built a life with someone by now but you were too busy gaining notches in your belt and you still aren’t sure which dress you want the most so maybe you’ll give it until 35 before you make a massive decision and settle down and stop unknowingly spreading chlamydia. Maybe. There are far too many babes on Instagram to get through but hopefully another five years will get you close.

I do apologise for the tangent and apparent change in tone, but like I said earlier a web really formed in my mind at the shit performance of my phone. I suppose what I’m kind of but super not really getting at (or trying to, at least), is as great as technology is, I do think it’s really fucked up (a better term cannot be accessed at this time, not unlike the iOS update, strange). The idea of growing up around the time that my dad did, or even before, constantly lingers in the back of my mind. And yes, believe me I realise how pathetic that is coming from me as a type this contradictory slab of words; please understand that I’m grateful for the ease in which I can type up my thoughts as they occur, then share them and quite possibly connect with someone anywhere in the world who can relate at the mere click of a button and copy of a link (poor old pop might think I’m talking about imitating a chain). But I do sometimes feel like a lot of us have missed out on developing respect for each other and relationships of our own in ways that we’ll never even come close to within our society. We don’t put up THAT much of a fight at the fact that companies suck us in and take us for all we’ve got because they KNOW we can’t live without them and the latest and slimmest ever phone in existence. And I can only imagine living like this will only intensify and worsen as we advance in technology and the speed in which we can slide into people’s “dm”s. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s all in my head, but I decided a long time ago to stop holding my breath if even Beyonce had to.

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