#and wonder if maybe the articles I was reading were exaggerating | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madtomedgar · 11 months

Text

Books Read in July:

All the Weight of Our Dreams: On Living Racialized Autism: I had tried to read this book and bounced off it a few times for personal reasons that had nothing to do with the content of the book, because someone who knew I was getting annoyed about being treated like the Disabled Person who Talked About Disability Things because I was Disabled gave it to me because we'd recently had a conversation about my Autism situation, and it was in a gift-giving situation where the other people getting presents got like. Books about skills and history and other intellectual stuff, and I got. The Disabled Book about Disability for the Disabled Person. Which turned me off of it for a while. I also have mild personal beef with one of the editors. I'm glad I finally made myself read it. There are a couple of good essays in it. Unfortunately, like all anthologies, it's very hit or miss, and this one, sadly, was more miss for me. Part of it, I think, is that the vast majority of the essays focused on the contributors' bad experiences growing up and in school with social alienation and peer and adult harassment. There's definitely a time and a place for these kinds of narratives! It's important to shine a light on the unique experiences that autistic children of color have, and the unique struggles they face. However, a lot of these essays felt more like I was reading someone's therapy journal or tumblr post than like. An essay in a published anthology, and, because the focus was so heavy on the growing up/school experience, I felt like I didn't get any real sense of the lives, joys, struggles, frustrations, etc of Autistic adults of color, beyond the few who talked about being mothers of also-autistic children. And personally, I'm so tired of all the focus being on the pre-22 experience and existence! Also, I understand the logic behind the like... everyone welcome, come as you are approach that a lot of disability justice types have adopted in terms of contributions for published works and public shows, but I disagree with it. I think the lack of editorial eye, rigor, and curation makes us look childish, sloppy, and less-than, and in doing so creates a shanda fur di goyim. And like. Idk. Maybe that's reactionary of me? But the other Autism anthology I've read, Loud Hands, had, I thought, a wonderful balance between scholarly articles, very well written personal essays, more lay confessional type things, and pieces that wouldn't be considered for other types of publications, but nevertheless in context were moving, insightful, and delightful. Like I said, there were a couple good essays, and I think if I'd read it when I was a good deal younger I would have gotten more out of it, but overall, not the book I was hoping for.

Hagseed, Margaret Atwood: A very fun book! The narrative voice was just the right side of cynically arch. It's maybe the first like. "Non-Theater People (or self-conscious theater-people) Write About Theater" book that I didn't feel was making fun of theater and like. Grotesquely exaggerating things on purpose to make theater look ridiculous. It captured the puffed-up silly self-importance of Serious Theater Types while also understanding that they really are brilliant artists, and that brilliant artistry sometimes means doing out-there things that don't always pan out. So that was nice. I thought it worked very well as a story based on the Tempest. My only criticisms are that, at times, I thought the commitment of sticking to the plot of Tempest hemmed it in a little, and that, while I know she said she did a lot of research, I question Atwood's cynicism and assumptions around the inmates' condoning of Caliban's attempted rape of Miranda. In my experience with an admittedly narrow subset of the types of guys who wind up in minimum and medium security prisons, there's a Type who is very attached to a like. Working-class chivalry that justifies his particular brand of misogyny by vocally condemning things like violent rape and wife-beating. So that rang, as I said, a little cynical. Otherwise, incredibly fun read.

Memorial, Bryan Washington: Not a bad book, and I'd be interested to read his short stories, but not for me. I thought he very effectively captured an inured depression that thinks of itself as merely clear-eyed incredibly well. I loved the way Houston felt like a character in its own right. I thought it was an unsentimental and quietly heartbreaking portrait of what happens in the aftermath of a family breaking apart, and of a kind of cold, cynical, detached mode of pre-emptively cutting oneself off from emotions, experiences, and connections that can develop in environments that alternate between cold repression and explosive violence. I also thought it did a good job of portraying a couple who are mostly together anymore out of habit and fear of abandonment/loneliness/being unmoored, but who have different levels of understanding around this, and I liked the way it ended for Mike and Ben. That felt organic, earned, and satisfyingly unresolved. What didn't work for me was the extreme sparseness of the prose. The author avoided adverbs, adjectives, and interiority to an extent that I found disorienting and confusing. Reading the conversations between characters in person felt no different than reading their conversations over text. Because of this, I found it hard to understand the reactions they had to each other. I would be reading a conversaton as closed and hostile, and then everyone would start laughing companionably, or I'd think the conversation was a happy, kind of joking one, and then someone burst into rage or tears. It was kind of like when I meet a new person and haven't developed a baseline for their body language, moods, facial expressions, tones, etc, and so I am never quite sure what they're feeling in a conversation, but taken to such an extreme. I found this style compelling in Yiyun Li's Where Reasons End because of the conceit of that book, but it didn't work for me in this one. Often there would be a conversation of "he said '[neutral sounding] words,' i said '[neutral sounding] words.' we both understood that what we'd said was a step too far. i left to get away from that nastiness." And like. I don't get what happened! Maybe I am stupid, maybe Houston-southern is like. More advanced than Western NC or Eastern VA southern. But it was like they were speaking in a code I didn't have the information to crack. I don't think that makes the book bad, but it does make it not for me.

My Journey to Appalachia: A Year at the Folk School, Ellie Lambert Wilson: So I am not reviewing this like usual because my reason for reading this is I know Ellie Wilson. I would go to singing and dancing nights at the Folk School as a little kid. It was kind of cool getting to read the history of where I grew up and people I know, or people I know's grandparents. Is it like. A great memoir with wonderful insight into the Human Condition? Absolutely not. But I did enjoy seeing old pictures of Keith House and reading about the great-aunt of the neighbor I got a Beagle puppy from when I was a kid.

Eileen, Otessa Moshfegh: I love that there now exists a corollary of Dostoyevsky's Underground Man but this time it's a nasty little rat girl. A lot of the narrator's neuroses around her body were pretty familiar to me, as were her neuroses around the conviction that she was Uniquely Evil when she was just like. Depressed, miserable, and undernourished, and outwardly was just a vaguely off-putting but perfectly normal and straight-laced person. I loved the twists. I loved the way the author blended repulsion with sympathy, for the main character, for her horrible alcoholic father, and for the mother of the juvenile inmate. I wouldn't say I enjoyed how gross the book was, but I did appreciate it, especially the way the narrator's repulsion and obsession with sex led to her describing all body functions and all little indignities of the flesh in this half-grotesque, quasi-erotic way. I very much enjoyed this book but it is very much not for everyone.

The Penelopiad, Margaret Atwood: Frustrating. The poetry and more experimental or theatrical prose sections dealing with the 12 maids hanged by Odysseus and Telemachus were fantastic. However, the Penelope sections were not my cup of tea. I find her decision to use the conceit of Penelope telling this story from Hades after having been dead for a couple thousand years, as a way to allow her a narrative voice most comparable to an embittered, cynical, middle aged, upper-middle-class suburban wife who didn't divorce her cheating husband but really should have, boring and lazy. I don't think we gain anything by remaking Penelope in Carmela Soprano's image. I also didn't appreciate how the author used this conceit to make Penelope relatably cynical and arch about things from ancient sources that modern readers find slightly ridiculous, like the feasting and the focus on material treasure. I found the choice to imply that the adventures described in the Odyssey were fish stories, and a convenient cover for the wayward husband whoring and drinking his way across the Aegean, obnoxious. I tend to find people who pick some atrocity out of the corner of a well-worn myth or legend and demand that it be given its due, not glossed or excused or swept aside to focus on "important" things, compelling and interesting. So I very much liked her doing that with the 12 hanged maids, a footnote, and an atrocity. I don't care for it when people try to make a mythical or legendary woman "more" "interesting" by deciding that she "must" have "secretly" had "something more" going on. And in this case I found that drive on the author's part to be in unproductive tension with the demands that the maids be acknowledged as full human beings with just as much right to exist and speak as Odysseus, and therefore just as necessary to mourn.

Company of Moths, Michael Palmer: I loved it, but I have nothing intelligent to say about it. Wish I was better at reading poetry, though.

#long post

6 notes · View notes

hymuk · 1 year

Note

Soulmates au part III pleasee

If you haven’t read Part I or Part II of this drabble series, you can read them here. Based on the prompt that your soulmate’s first words to you are tattooed on your wrist.

807 words (NSFW), can be skipped plotwise

After the last episode, Petra took it upon herself to make it a goal to tease Levi back in return. Two could play it that game. And she wanted to win.

She sat down next to him in the library with no greeting, ignoring him even though she could feel him watching her as she pulled out her laptop and her headphones, setting them onto the table. He thought briefly about saying something—a quip, maybe, to get a conversation started. But he thought against it, and after watching her for a minute, he turned back to the book he was annotating.

Petra pulled up a Word document, an essay that she had been working on for her gender studies class, and she stared at the near blank page on the screen. It wasn’t due for another few days anyways.

She yawned, raising her hand to her mouth, exaggerating every motion. She could tell it was annoying Levi. Good, all the better. And when she brought her hand back down to her mouth, she rested it on the arm of his chair. It was so slight, that had she not brushed against his arm, he wouldn’t have noticed it. He glanced over at her, wondering what she was trying to do, but when he looked over, she was seemingly busy reading through a research article online. Something about gender studies, he guessed.

When Levi turned back to his book, chalking her odd behavior up to boredom or exhaustion, Petra mentally sprung into action. She waited until he was well engrossed by the pages once again, and she slid her hand down, resting it on his thigh. She began to trace her fingertips lightly against his leg, running them up and down in a slow, rhythmic tempo, the tips of her fingers occasionally grazing his inner thigh, her palm resting flat against his jeans.

Now he knew that Petra was up to something. Even though her gaze was focused on her laptop, he knew her thoughts were elsewhere. He watched her for a brief second, his attention fully redirected from his novel, and he waited to see what she had planned next. His breath began to grow a little uneven as he struggled to keep himself composed in the library. It was a good thing their table was pretty far from anyone else.

“Petra,” he said, leaning close to her. She felt his warm breath against her neck, tickling her ear when he spoke. He pulled one of her earbuds out, the music faltering, and soon it was replaced by his lips against the shell of her ear, making her heart race. “What are you doing.” He couldn’t find the words for some witty banter, and by now, he was too focused on her hand running itself up and down her leg, but never quite beyond…

His voice was almost an octave lower than it usually was, and she felt giddy knowing that whatever she had thought about was working. She kept her head straight, but under her eyelashes, she gave him a half-lidded gaze. She ran her hand up his thigh, and then brushed lightly against the front of his pants without warning, making him nearly jump out of his skin. She heard his breath catch and his body stiffen.

“What are you talking about, Levi?” Her voice low, she continued to stroke his leg, every so often tracing the front of his pants with her fingers. By now, the cool front that he’d had earlier was faded and he was struggling just to look not too conspicuous. Petra traced her finger up his zipper, playing with it. Petra smirked, pressing a kiss against his cheek, just shy of his lips, Levi too distracted to do anything back.

Then she leaned in turn against him, the swell of her breasts pressed against his arm, and she mimicked him from earlier, pressing her lips against the shell of his ear. “Don’t you wish it was my mouth instead of my hand?” She felt him hardening underneath her hand, and she deviously ran her hands down the now stiff part of his pants. “I think you need some relief.”

He let out an involuntary moan, just loud enough for her to hear the pleasant rumble which erupted out of his chest. He was about to say something, tempted to beg briefly, hoping that she would unzip his pants and slide her hand in, or lead him to some empty row of books where she would get on her knees and pull his pants down…

But instead, she removed her hand from his pants suddenly. She used her index finger to trace her bottom lip, as if checking to see if her lips were chapped—they weren’t, Levi had been looking—and she smiled at him. “You don’t look too well,” she said, smirking. “Are you okay, Levi?

Levi struggled to recompose himself, halfway between begging her to continue, and dragging her behind the stacks so he could pay her back in kind. Instead, he tried to bring his breath under control, and managed to croak out, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Petra smiled back. Oh yeah, she had definitely won this round.

#rivetra #levi ackerman #petra ral #levi x petra #attack on titan #my fanfiction #accepting requests #this literally took me two years to respond to omg but here it is #the criminal part is I actually had this drafted up but wasn't sure whether or not to post this #drabble #nsfw-ish

2 notes · View notes

lake-archive · 11 days

Text

Chapter 41 - Being In Love

AO3 Link

Fandom: Ensemble Stars

Series: Alte Liebe Rostet Nicht

Characters: Nyeli, Arashi Narukami, Anja-Sophia 'Ann' Wolff (OC), Izumi Sena (mentioned)

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Things have drastically changed, to say the least. Sisnya seemed to do so much better these days, in a much better mood. He even noticed proper lunch boxes being around and the bags under her eyes were slowly fading. Her mood was more chirpy and she came off as less and less sluggish the more days passed. It was great to see and it made him a very happy kitty. It has been years since Sisnya was this happy. She even played with Nyeli more often and did her work with even more vigor. And when it came to the process of her stories, he got to read something almost daily! And he enjoyed it a lot, to the point he always begged Papa to read them. Even if it took waking him up, it was worth it for the kitty. He loved hearing the tales she came up with after all. And he could draw illustrations based on them too! He was looking forward to chapters on the daily! The last time Sisnya had such a flow was years ago so this was an exciting time!

And yet, why could that be the case now of all things? That was a question the kitty investigated for some days now, ever since Brothnya moved right into her home. The change creeped in, to say the least, yet the more days passed the more visible it became. Sisnya was so happy recently, it was hard to put into words. Nyeli did not understand it at first of course, it could be literally anything. Maybe a good grade? Passing classes with flying colors? Or winning a jackpot and expanding on her merchandise collection of small figures and plushies. It was sure complicated, to say the least, and made the cat’s own head nearly hurt and burn.

That was until he connected the dots, thanks to his Papa a bit. After all, he had pointed out the following one day: “Secchan and Ann–Chan.. They sure are getting close recently, aren’t they?”

It clicked at that moment in Nyeli’s brain. A light bulb suddenly lit up, almost literally, and things started to make sense! Somewhat. It had to do with Brothnya! Yeah, he was the source of this. How he didn’t know but the cat did his research. He tried to read some things on his own but if it got too complicated he made sure to ask anyone. Papa or one of his uncles.

However, the one who gave Nyeli the most insight had to be Auntie Arashi. She was always eager to help so Nyeli was never afraid to approach her with any type of question. So he asked if she could read some of Sisnya’s writing or some articles Nyeli randomly clicked on here and there. Needless to say, her face always lit up with excitement, especially when reading Sisnya’s little stories.

“Oh my, oh my~ Someone is lovestruck.”Auntie once pointed out with a chuckle, eyes sparkling. It only made the kitty tilt his head in slight confusion yet luckily for him she continued talking. “This knight over there reminds me a lot of Izumi–Chan. And how he is portrayed… Very flattering~”

It sounded a little confusing at first. What does that have to do with anything? And he would not hide this confusion, only looking at his aunt with a tilted head, ears wagging non stop. She noticed right away and smiled when looking at Nyeli, having a quick response. Though that is expected from auntie. She knows a lot about those things!

“It’s just a thought but maybe Ann–Chan is trying to express her feelings, you see. She might be too shy to say anything or be afraid. I’m not blaming her, given Izumi–Chan sometimes.”

“Nye?”

“I mean, wouldn’t you agree? You can feel the emotions rushing through, the desire to come closer, an obvious longing. I can feel the tension myself, it is so lively~”

He was wondering for a second if she had just been exaggerating but he remembered something Sisnya loved to tell him when he had conversations with her about art, or when he overheard her talk about it.

“ You can get to know a person when taking a closer look sometimes. Maybe I just love it too much but reflecting on my work helped me a few times. ”

To Sisnya it seemed like a throwaway line but Nyeli took it to heart, always looking through his drawings to see what he could discover and his own findings were interesting. Sometimes he had not thought about these things actively if at all. So what auntie said started to make sense the longer he thought about it. Something not even Sisnya knew yet is trying to express… That or she is just hiding it too well. So it ended with him nodding and wagging his tail eagerly. Auntie Arashi was smart!

The only thing left to do was ask Sisnya. Maybe she was just trying to mask it or she needed someone to give her a bit of a nudge. And this time he wanted to be the one to help her. After all, Sisnya did so much for him, this was the least he could do for her. So he made it quick by tapping on her arm a few times after having scribbled something on a few papers, then holding them up for her to see.

She of course turned to Nyeli, about to ask what was wrong but went silent when reading and then seeing the two sheets of paper. He couldn’t see her reaction though sadly yet the silence meant a surprise in one way or another at the very least.

One of the images was a simple sentence, something he was able to make out easily as he read the sentence over and over. Plus auntie told him what it meant.

‘ Are you in love? ’

To top it off he drew Sisnya and Brothnya, or simplified versions of them together, hand holding and putting in every imagery he could. Best way to get it across was with a heart after all. He had learnt this from Auntie as well! She knew so much too after all! But back to the topic…

There was silence for a good few moments, Sisnya not saying a word. It allowed Nyeli to take a peek from behind the paper, wanting to see her face. It was all red and eyes wide, mouth nearly open. He swore that he saw some sweat too while she was shaking in her seat, even if very slightly.

Usually he would panic, afraid that she had caught a cold if not a fever. However, in this context it was different.

“ You see, when you ask someone directly you might see them warming up! Or all red. On top of that they will probably be very nervous. Needless to say, it might be a sign! Especially if they were fine before! ” Auntie Arashi’s wise words!

With those in mind there was only one option for Sisnya. She was a terrible liar after all, literally. Or at least she had a hard time hiding things when she really had to. She was like an open book to people, even when lying. So Nyeli got his answer. But what about her? Could she admit it to him? He will see in a moment, given how eager he looked. He wanted the answer right here, right now! Does Sisnya love Brothnya? It’s all too obvious but—

“Haha, that’s a cute drawing Nyeli.” She responded, him so close to pouting. He believed that she wanted to avoid the topic yet she added the following: “But no, there’s nothing going on between Izumi and me. Yeah, nothing at all. We are just friends.”

As if trying to reassure him she even pat Nyeli on his head, accepting it of course. And yet, he didn’t like her answer at least at first. However, there is one sentence sticking with him right then and there.

“Besides, there’s no way this would ever happen. Not like I’m his type to begin with.”

She’s not denying it. So auntie may have been onto something after all.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

1 note · View note

saintlaurentproblems · 15 days

Note

https://www.intouchweekly.com/posts/olivia-wilde-trying-to-reverse-the-damage-to-her-career/?taid=665629bd3e71f700013f847d&utm_campaign=true_anthem_intouch&utm_content=new&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter

Now before somebody comes on here hating i just was scrolling on twitter and saw this article and read it and i was wondering. Do people agree with this? Like i don‘t believe olivia wilde would‘ve gotten a chance at barbie. It also states that just like jennifer aniston or jlo- ow is not liked by anybody. Jennifer is liked by a lot and i doubt margot would give ow a job offer if she didn‘t like her. And saying that the missed out barbie gig is haunting ow. I doubt it since again i don‘t believe she had a chance. I do however think that people thought greta and olivia were predicted to have the same career. Sorry a lot to read but i didn‘t want to edit in the quotes directly.

Hmmmmmmm I feel like this is an exaggeration of the truth. Maybe her name came up in conversation but I doubt Margot would choose OW over Greta.

#answered

0 notes

randomkposts · 1 year

Note

What do you think of inferiority complex in a fem mello?

K:-What do I think of inferiority complex in a female Mello? I would say Mello has it, girl or guy. And it still acts as a foil to Lights.

Looked up symptoms for inferiority complex

"Insecurity in relationships and low self-esteem

Inability to reach your goals, or feeling “stuck”

Wanting to give up easily

Assuming the worst

Feeling the need to withdraw in social situations

Often feeling down on yourself

Experiencing anxiety and depression

Being sensitive to criticism

Not taking compliments seriously

The following are also signs of an inferiority complex, though they are often mistaken for someone who seems overly confident:

Excessive competitiveness

Perfectionism

Attention-seeking

Very sensitive to criticism

Constantly finding fault in others

Finding it difficult to admit mistakes

Feeling good about yourself when you’re doing better than others."

Looked up for superiority complex too

"A superiority complex is when someone acts better than others to escape feelings of insecurity.

Characteristics of a Superiority Complex

Making exaggerated claims of one’s accomplishments or abilities

Constantly comparing themselves with others

Overcompensating for real or imagined inadequacies

Disregarding others’ opinions or contributions and placing excessive value on their own

Overreacting to situations that dig deep into their insecurities

Dismissing, bullying, or putting down others who may be better at them at something

Engaging only in situations where they feel like they’re ahead or winning"

E:-Okay that makes a lot of sense in Mello and Light.

K:-I think we have made them more confidant as girls in some ways actually.

Or at least more willing to give the social/middle finger, Snubbing wise. If that makes sense?

Of course with Light it's still pretty restrained, where Mello wants to deliberately break convention even more.

Superiority complex could be discussed, but I think its pretty easy to see in Light, who could be hit with so many labels. I'm no psychologist, so it will be up to the writer what they want to explore.

E:-Hell yeah more middle fingers for 2000's society.

K:- Inferiority complex, that's already a trait of Mello. Male or female.

I don't think I've mixed up the core traits for the characters, just how they manifest due to gender expectations and environment.

And sure there will be some changes

And Mello would be a different person if different symptoms of the inferiority complex manifested. As would Light.

If I were doing that though, I would also feel a need to change how other characters' traits came through, and that would probably be a whole other AU.

But like, most of the signs on the second part of the list do characterize a lot of Mellos relationship towards Near... and Light towards L

E:-True true. The whole au would need a revamp for everyone if we did that. Or some characters stay the same except for some.

K:- that could be interesting, but I'd rather not. Not unless your really invested in it, Eclipse.

E:-Maybe not. Seems like a behemoth to do !

K:- I'll make a list to finish this off.

Excessive competitiveness: -

Mello- would rather run away and join the mafia then join forces with the rival.

Light:- oh boy, so many examples. I think I will go with the tennis match, though, as that was loaded.

Perfectionism:- more of a Light thing, or at least seen on screen.

Makes me wonder how that might have manifested when Mello ran the Mafia.

Attention seeking:- the Death Note had potential to be a lot subtler then the way Light used it. That's not even getting Into how L baited him on Live TV. That is very attention seeking.

Mello does not shy away from being flashy either, alongside joining the Mafia.

Sensitive to criticism:- I'm reminded of a scene in the Manga where Light's father expresses negative opinion about Kira followed by Light writing in the Death Note. He did not take that well.

Mello did not take it well that he alone was not enough to succeed L and left over it.

Constantly finding fault in others:-

Oh boy, Light's Ego. Light despairs of most people, but especially girls.

We don't see it as much in Mello, as we just don't see Mello as much on screen, but I would imagine it's there.

Difficult to admit mistakes:- I remember one scene where Misa pointed out something Light had overlooked, and he told her he had thought of it, while internally thinking damn, she caught it and I didn't.

Mello:- let's be real, he kept escalating. So did Light, but let's be real, it's where the drama comes from.

Feeling good about yourself when doing better than others. Ties very much into the first point for both.

Did I miss anything you think is relevant?

E:-Damn K that's a good list. Not that I can think of.

#a conversation with my friend #always a diffrent gender #death note light #female light #light yamagi #death note mello #female mello #random k #inferiority complex #superiority complex

1 note · View note

licensedqueerio · 2 years

Note

hi!! I was wondering if you could write a Fred Benson x gender neutral reader? Maybe something like he’s stressed out from some of the stuff going on with the paper and deadlines and the reader takes notice and then they cuddle. I just need that pure tooth rotting fluff 🤞

Fred would 100% be a perfectionist when it came to the paper, change my mind

---

Word Count: 1k

Pairing: Fred Benson x Reader

Warnings: Potential Stranger Things season 4 spoilers

Request Here

---

Today was meant to be just for you and Fred. You'd both agreed that today would be a stress free day, where you didn't have to worry about any of your problems and simply enjoy each other's company. It had been far too long before the two of you had a day like this.

Yet here Fred was, hunched over your desk and obsessively going over the articles set to appear in next week's paper. He'd been assigning and reassigning topics for the better part of the week, but was never satisfied with the articles.

Selfishly, you wished he'd just leave the articles as is and call it a day. But you knew he wasn't like that. He was never one to half ass things. Especially not the school paper, which was what he was most passionate about.

You sighed from your bed, laying propped up on your side, watching him work. You'd been in the same position for about an hour now. You were trying to be patient and let him work without you distracting him.

"You know, you sighing really isn't helping anyone here," Fred snarked, glancing over his shoulder to frown at you.

You rolled your eyes, taking no offense to the remark. He was stressed out, and you understood that. Which is why you planned this day in the first place!

You sat up, punctuating the movement with another exaggerated sigh.

"Y/N—" Fred began.

You pushed yourself off the bed and crossed the room to where he was working. You rested your forearms on his shoulders, leaning your head atop of his, peering at the paper marked with red pen. Your eyes scanned over the article.

"I think it's good," You said honestly.

"Yeah, sure. It's great if you ignore how no one will read it because it’s so boring," he dryly responded, pushing his glasses up. "I have to get this done before anything else. The editor-in-chief has been bothering me nonstop about making this 'the best' paper of the month. He said my work hasn't been the best. As if it's my fault the journalists are picking boring topics to write about." He aggressively made a clean line through the whole paper.

You reached down and gently took the pen from his hand.

"Hey!" Fred protested, jerking forward with the intent to take the pen back.

You stepped back away from him, capping the pen and tucking it into your pocket. "You're stressed."

"Of course I'm stressed!" He exclaimed, standing up and facing you. "You stole my pen! Give it back." He held his hand out expectantly, his sweater sleeve half covering his palm. You resisted the urge to smile at that.

"No," you responded simply, taking his hand in yours and squeezing. "That poor journalist has rewritten that article at least four times, babe. I think it's good now. You can relax," you tried to soothe, keeping your voice gentle.

"I can't relax. I can't, I could totally lose my job as managing editor if this paper isn't the best. Do you have any idea how many managing editors they’ve gone through? I have to assign better topics and just scratch this whole—"

You pulled him in for a hug, because usually that calmed him down when he worked himself up like this. You learned that after the crash. He found touch to be soothing, and it helped to ground him.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in close against you. You said nothing for a while as silence befell him. The tension in his body released as he went pretty much limp, resting his head against your shoulder.

"...I'm sorry," Fred said eventually, pulling away to look at you.

"Don't apologize," you responded, your hands gently cupping his cheeks, fingertips brushing against his scar. "I understand you're stressed. But this? Now you're just looking for problems in these articles. Problems that aren't there and you're running yourself to the ground," you murmured. "Why don't you come lay down with me. Get a clear head and then we'll come back to making sure all the articles are good for the paper," you suggested.

Fred nodded, pulling away. He adjusted his glasses and immediately went to flop on the bed, adjusting himself until he was on his back, head propped up on the pillow.

You joined him soon after, taking the pen from your pocket and tossing it back on the desk.

You crawled into bed, hovering over him for a moment. You smiled fondly down at him, leaning down to kiss him before settling in bed with him; your head on his chest and a leg hooked over one of his.

You listened to his breathing slow down the longer the two of you laid together in silence. A beautiful thing about your relationship; you could spend the entire day in silence and it would never turn awkward. You both were content to lay together without meaningless conversations filling the air.

But you knew his silence had changed to sleep when the arms around you loosened and went limp against your back. And his breathing went completely even, no longer hitching.

Despite this, you held off on moving for a good while longer lest you ran the risk of waking him from his well deserved nap.

But once you were sure it was safe, you pushed yourself up, enough to reach up and take his glasses off. You folded them and set them on the bedside table.

You looked down at his sleeping form. He looked so peaceful. And so beautiful. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, murmuring, "I love you," against his skin before sliding back to your earlier position.

You joined him in sleep soon after that.

#ransomswriting #fred benson #fred benson x reader #fred benson x gender neutral reader #answered asks #asks open #ask box #reader insert #reader #writing request #writing requests open #fluff and romance #stranger things #stranger things season 4

130 notes · View notes

dolugecat · 3 years

Text

On some Japanese social issues I had learned about at uni and abroad):

(Rb ok!)

Legit had an epiphany about the true hidden meaning of the last arc of Mob Psycho 100. It’s hella projection but for real there is nothing neurotypical about Mob or Mob Psycho. I do not wish to enforce my interpretation on others (ironic bc I do that all the time but this is a serious social theory). There are some interesting and very sad social issues in Japan that the west really doesn’t understand but would I think help people understand a lot of context behind not only Mob Psycho, but also a lot of other anime. I learned this at my shitty university (prestigious but horrific) and while studying abroad in Japan and talking with Japanese peers. Get ready here we go (and tw for bullying and darker things):

Unfortunately in East Asian education systems, bullying can be extremely intense. Growing up I assumed it was over exaggerated extremely in anime for drama but it really can be so horrific. From what I’ve heard, there is often a single kid or so who is just shit on by everyone else, even the teacher. Mogami land *is* the reality of some Japanese kids. I’ve read that in Korea, this social punching bag sometimes is just the darkest skinned person (yayyy colorism /angry) and or someone who does not fit in. I mean, we have that in America too, but maybe not as common for the bullying to be as focused on one misfit rather than several. These kids just can’t escape the stigma too, kids from other schools find out they were a major victim at their old school and it starts anew. Thus there is so much stigma and incentive to join in on bullying so you aren’t the one. Sadly, this also ofc leads to higher suicide rates. That’s where the “shoe on building roof” anime trope comes in, bc somehow taking off shoes is relayed to death (I forgot why sorry)

There is a difference in how intense in general high school vs college is too. In the West, commonly college is the more intense curriculum and is harder than high school, but in Japan it’s usually the opposite. Grind suuuupppeeerrrr hard for entrance exams (huge standardized tests that determines what college you can qualify to) bc unlike the ACT or SAT here, that test is by far the most important factor for college admission. Then chill and relax a bit in college. Can’t relate. Name and prestige is very critical for job application, more important than here. That’s why planning out your future is sooo much more intense for Japanese high schoolers than in America, and why there is sooo much more pressure to excel in high school than here. Japanese school years and holidays are done different than ours, I’d suggest looking it up.

Social prestige of going to an American high school or college is nuts. Like whyyy do you value our shitty education, Japan’s is much higher quality (it’s bc we neo colonized them). Being able to speak English is very, very highly valued and any association with Americans make you cooler. From my experience, some Japanese students got very excited to practice speaking English with us, and their biggest issues with learning it is pronunciation, lmao. Wasai english is unique slang that is indeed English words but it’s kinda different and it’s kinda jarring to remember lol. So, Teru having parents that are working overseas isn’t too uncommon, idk about leaving him absolutely alone, but I did have a ex-friend who just came from Japan in middle school who’s situation probably wasn’t too far off from that. Empty wealth with no love, it’s no wonder those kind of people can end up being huge bullies (minori?)

I did a presentation on 引きこもり(hikikomori) for which means “shut in”, (like Serizawa) and it’s fucked up. It’s a social phenomena where according to some Japanese researchers a mix of undisciplined parenting, guilt/not living up to expectations, and hopelessness makes an alarming amount of youth/ young adults literally never go out side their house/room. Often a parent is “enabling” the behavior by supporting them, but idk the articles seemed a bit victim-blaming to me when I read it, but I don’t think I should make a judgement too hard, not my place. I will say I do suspect and believe I read something to support that ASD might play a role in hikikomoris (there is pitiful resources for autistic people in Asia, much much less support than even here, to the point I don’t think most know it exists). Like come on, with the other points I laid out my personal opinion as an Asian American with autism is that it really seems it’s unknowing ableism against autistic classmates, but I didn’t grow up in Asia so I don’t want to say.

Mental health in general is tragically quite abysmal in Japan, and with it being so hyper competitive and brutal work culture, it’s no surprise birth rate in Japan is so low; some Japanese young adults say it seems unethical to bring a life to such hostile world. Suicide rate is of the highest in the world. It’s fucked, I’ve interacted with some of the locals in Tokyo and they were so nice, but the business men just looked dead inside, it’s so sad.

Relationships between child and parent is also strained bc of this intense work and school culture. Quality time is too scarce when you gotta work so much. And the pressure from parents to do well in education or else you might end up socially stigmatized is rough. Bc your job is who you are, it’s hyper capitalism (thanks us for making them do this)

With autism being so unknown, support for parents in raising autistic kids is almost nonexistent. What happens if the “darker” side of ASD shows up in kids? I used to be a menace when I had meltdowns, I felt so bad but really just became so indiscriminately violent. See where this is going? Legit, I think ESP is a sort of metaphor for neurodivergance to ONE. There is so much stigma around it, and even less way for kids to understand why they are different than the others. My Korean family can’t admit we all got ASD, too much fear and internalized shame.

I got finally diagnosed with ASD as an adult and I’ll tell ya, I relate too much to Mob hurting Ritsu. I felt so bad, but also not in control, I knew what I was doing but not how to stop. Luckily, is was blessed in that my hyperfixations involved science and logic, so I did well at school. Sadly, our boy Mob just don’t got the passion or ability to do well at school. His kanji is very bad, even to point of not being confident he wrote a kanji (世) they learn when they are 9, in elementary school (thanks @katyatalks). Him being a bit berated by his parents for having bad grades and bending spoons seems harsh to Westerners I think, but IMO it’s pretty tame from what I’ve seen of some Asian parents (I get to say that lmao). Ofc, however the shaming is very real and Mob just agreeing with them about how weird and stupid he thinks he is so sad. There is even more pressure for the eldest to be better than here, I feel from some interactions. Nonetheless, it’s implied Mob is quite emotionally detached from his parents, even though he loves them, which also adds to his emotional complex. Combined with originally fragile self esteem and feelings of worthlessness, we got one emotionally stunted boy. However, contrary to common belief people with ASD are sometimes hyper empathic and experience emotions very intensely. We are prone to having “meltdowns” which if not assisted with can be quite violent if very intense. For me, my worse meltdowns as a kid came from when I didn’t understand why I wasn’t getting what I wanted, it seemed selfish and cruel of me but I couldn’t control it. I wanted to be a good kid, so why did hit my moms leg at target when she refused to buy me Pokémon toys? I couldn’t come up with a good reason for why my mind just commanded my body to do bad things, just a single thought was controlling me, I want I want I want I want I want ____. Which I argue could be what ???% represents… bc well…. Yeah….. hmm….. not in control of self (mob unconscious), selfish (not actually, I’ve forgave myself but my “normal” kid self was so ashamed), destructive, hurt family, wanting to stop but can’t, that’s kind of…. Too relatable.

But legit, since realizing my new HC, I’ve started to think of the last chapter of mp100 when I “explode” and it helps me feel better and I do gain “control” a bit easier. I don’t feel so bad anymore either, Mob!

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #my post #mp100 headcanons #welcome to my hc #asd #autism #actually autistic #kageyama shigeo #mob #mp100 meta #Japanese society #japanese culture #meta #mp100 analysis

585 notes · View notes

m0srael · 3 years

Text

Drunk Texts

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Love Letter

One balmy night in June, Harry’s lying in bed wide awake--unable to sleep again--when his mobile lights up on the nightstand. The only people who ever contact him on his mobile are Teddy (“All the cool wizards have them these days, Harry, please get one so I can send you memes!”) and Hermione, and neither of them would be texting this late.

Friday, June 6 2008, 1:27 AM

+445195555555: I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since we were sixteen, won’t shut my bloody mouth about you actually, can I take you on a date? I’m still very rich, all things considered, and know all the best restaurants in Wizarding Britain.

+445195555555: Maybe just a shag, then?

Harry: bloody hell, who is this??

Harry: This number is unlisted, I don’t know how you got it but I’m blocking it now. Kindly, fuck off.

+445195555555: WAIT

+445195555555: What do you mean, who is this? I thought muggle mobiles know who you’re talking to already.

Harry: Not if a strange person is texting in the middle of the bloody night from a number I’ve never seen before!

+445195555555: If you don’t want to date me or shag me just say so, Potter. No need to play hard to get and toss around insults

+445195555555: Unless that’s a thing for you, cheeky ;) ;)

Harry: Last chance, tell me who this is or I’m blocking your number.

+445195555555: Draco

+445195555555: Obviously ;)

Harry: Draco...Malfoy?

Harry: You expect me to believe Draco Malfoy is confessing his love and hitting me up for a shag at 1am. On a *muggle* mobile.

+445195555555: Believe it scarhead, now answer the question do you or do you not want to shag me

Harry: Look, you’ve obviously read one too many Prophet articles…

Harry: Somehow found my number...did you confund someone I know??

Harry: And thought that...pretending to be Draco Malfoy, of all people, would entice me to meet up with a total stranger?

+445195555555: Ooh, the logic of it all, Potter ;)

Harry: Stop doing that

+445195555555: what ;) ;)

Harry: The emojis. Malfoy would never use emojis.

+445195555555: You don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do anymore Potter. Would you like to learn? ;)

Harry: Fuck

Harry: Even if I believed you, I’ve never given Draco Malfoy my number. My *muggle* mobile number.

Harry: I’ve never given him my number because Draco Malfoy would never use a *muggle* mobile.

Harry:...among other reasons

+445195555555: Always so preoccupied with blood purity, Potter, haven’t you learned anything?

+445195555555: And there you go again, assuming that you know what I would and would not do

+445195555555: It really would be much more efficient if you just let me demonstrate

Harry: oh my god

Harry: I can’t believe I’m still messaging you

Harry: ffs, you have one chance to convince me that you’re really Malfoy otherwise I’m blocking you immediately

+445195555555: You are a tetchy one, hm?

+445195555555: Fine. You cornered me in a bathroom in 6th bc you were *obsessed* with me and tried to murder me using sectumsempra (which you claimed not to know the effect of, pft) but only because I tried to Crucio you and I would have died if Snape hadn’t found us and cleaned up your mess (again)

+445195555555: They definitely didn’t print THAT in the Prophet. Unfortunately.

Harry: Bloody hell um...okay…

Harry: Look, about that, Malfoy…

Harry: Wait, unfortunately…??

+445195555555: So you see, Potter, it is in fact I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, confessing my love and “hitting you up for a shag at 1am” as you so elegantly put it.

+445195555555: ;)

Harry: Okay. Malfoy, then. Jesus.

Harry: How exactly did you get my number?

Harry: For that matter, when did you get a mobile?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I got it from Pansy, who got it from Ginny, you recalcitrant twat

Draco Sodding Malfoy: See, I can do the sexy insults thing, too :*

Draco Sodding Malfoy: And if you must know, Potter, I purchased a mobile years ago to stay in contact with my cousin, Teddy. Teddy Lupin. I think you’re acquainted? The little brat refuses to owl, apparently it’s “sooo medieval”.

Harry: Oh. That...actually makes sense. He said the same thing to me.

Harry: Hang on, Teddy isn’t a brat. I thought you two got on rather well…?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Whatever, the point is I’m mad for you and I never told you because, well, there was the whole war thing and then the whole trial thing, and since then I’ve become a bit of a self-righteous coward. Also, I fancy myself something of a martyr. I think the constant pouting makes my mouth look more kissable, don’t you?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: We could do the dinner thing if we must, or you can just come round mine I can meet you there right now

Harry: Oh. You’re drunk.

Harry: Never pegged you as the type to get sloshed and text your ex-childhood-nemesis for a hookup

Draco Sodding Malfoy: not with that attitude you haven’t

Harry: Hah

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Not drnk

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Honestly, Potter

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Harry

Harry: weird

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I’ve seen the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking. You look at me like some lovesick teenager. Why deny what *literally everyone* can plainly see?

Harry: I do not look at you like a...lovesick teenager, Malfoy.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Draco ;)

Harry: I do not watch you, DRACO.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I only notice because I’m watching you too, Harry. All the time. I’ve been watching you for as long as I can remember.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: You’ve practically been the center of my universe since I was eleven years old, for Merlin’s sake. I think about you all the time. I miss you all the time, even when we’re in the same room.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I mean I LITERALLY do not shut up about you I wasn’t exaggerating about that. It drives Pansy and Blaise, who have the patience and constitutions of actual saints and who are very, very good friends, absolutely mental and they’d like nothing more than to hex my mouth shut permanently.

Harry: um

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Admit it.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: You’ve wondered what it’d be like.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Imagined it.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Us

Harry: Malfoy…

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Draco

Harry: Draco…

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Yes, Harry? ;)

Harry: I...could do dinner.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: You could “do” dinner? That’s all, after everything I’ve just said, you can “do” dinner??

Harry: For the love of Merlin

Harry: Fine. You’re right, Draco. I...have wondered

Harry: About us, I mean

Harry: Ahh and actually Draco sometimes when I look at you I just want…

Friday, June 6 2008, 2:15 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: what

Draco Sodding Malfoy: you want what

Friday, June 6 2008, 2:48 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: harry

Friday, June 6 2008, 3:09 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: harry, bloody hell

Saturday, June 7 2008, 6:45 AM

Harry: Draco, I’m so sorry

Saturday, June 7 2008, 8:18 AM

Harry: My mobile died and I didn’t have my charger

Saturday, June 7 2008, 9:23 AM

Harry: Draco

Saturday, June 7 2008, 11:47 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Potter, why on earth are you contacting me so early on a Saturday?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Scratch that, why are you contacting me at all? Where did you get my number?

Harry: Oh, so you were drunk

Draco Sodding Malfoy: How is my present or past level of intoxication any of your concern?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Oh.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: No.

Harry: Draco, what’s wrong? What happened?

Harry: Draco…?

Harry: I’m sorry, if I said something…

Harry: Look, YOU’RE the one drunk messaging ME at all hours of the night looking for a shag!

Saturday, June 7 2008, 7:08 PM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Dear Harry,

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I hereby formally apologize for my previous messages. They are inappropriate and entirely out of line, do forgive me. Although it appears that Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson absconded with my mobile yesterday evening to, “have a bit of fun”, I take full responsibility for what has transpired. Do not report me, or something. I do hope you were not too offended. I will henceforth refrain from contacting you by this, or any other, means. I assure you that my traitorous, juvenile, back-stabbing, inconsiderate, so-called friends have been soundly reprimanded. You may expect their formal apologies via owl, posthaste.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Apologetically, Draco L. Malfoy

Harry: Wow, uh, ok. I’ve never gotten a formal apology over text before. Did it take you...8 hours to write that?

Harry: And for the record, I knew something was up. We may not be best mates or anything but I know you wouldn’t use emojis like that.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Oh, bugger off, Potter you had no idea it wasn’t me. You were ready to spill your innermost desires to a stranger on your mobile! Stupid Gryffindor.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Ah.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I mean, goodbye! So sorry, again, for the inconvenience! We will never speak again from this moment on!

Harry: Draco, wait

Draco ;): Merlin, what, Potter?

Harry: Harry

Draco ;): No.

Harry: Fine. Look, if you accept full responsibility, does that mean your offer still stands?

Draco ;): What offer?

Draco ;): No. It doesn’t, whatever it is.

Harry: Your offer to take me on a date.

Harry: ;)

Draco ;): Bloody...Potter, that wasn’t MY offer!

Harry: Perhaps not, but I’ve seen the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking...Draco.

Draco ;): Who is this? I’m blocking this number. I’m going to ask Pansy how to block a number.

Harry: Draco, I’m serious.

Saturday, June 7 2008, 9:14 PM

Harry: Draco, I can tell that you didn’t block my number.

Saturday, June 7 2008, 11:47 PM

Harry: Fine.

Harry: Draco, could I take you out for dinner some time? I know someone who knows all the best restaurants in Wizarding Britain.

Draco ;): …..

Harry: ?

Draco ;): If you must

Harry: If I must?

Draco ;): It's true that I'm still rich, all things considered, but you’re paying

Draco ;): ;)

#drarrymicrofic #drarry drabble #drarry #harry x draco #texting au #hey harry u up?#pansy and blaise got bored at a party #they were trying to help #they promise #minimose

217 notes · View notes

jabbagabba · 3 years

Text

La La Land

Read Prologue, One

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, gaslighting (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: Spoilers (up to episode 7, just to be safe) cheesy sitcom talk, the fifties, the ‘dinner table’ scene, The nickname ‘kiddo’

Oh, Kiddo

“Uh oh.” You didn’t need to check the recipe book to know that cookies weren’t suppose to make smoke invade the inside of the oven.

“Still better then the last batch.” Wanda said, a small cough falling from her mouth as you tipped the burnt treats into a small bin under the counter.

The sight of the now empty tray made you sigh sadly, the burnt pieces of dough was going to take decades to scrub off!

“I’m sorry about the tray.” You let it drop into the sink. “I promise, as soon as mom comes back, I’ll get you a new one.”

Wanda scoffed playfully, a point of her finger making the tray levitate in front of her. “Don’t be silly, kiddo!” You watched in awe as it turned back to its shiny silver. “I have an amazing cleaner.” You both giggle.

“Well I should at least do the dishes myself.” The sight of Wanda trying to argue made you hold your hand up in silent protest “No, no. You aren’t the only one who has hands.”

“You wash, I dry?” The perfect compromise.

The kitchen fell into peaceful silence except for the bubbly soap that filled the sink. It was the perfect start of a new day (maybe not for the oven) and you couldn’t help smile at the warmth that swelled through you.

“Busy hands make the heart grow fonder” Your mother’s words echoed inside of you as you finished the final dish.

The thought didn’t stay for long before the sound of a plate breaking made you jump, turning quickly as it hit the floor.

“My wife and her flying sources.” Vision quipped as the last of the shattered plate fell off his shoulder, dressed in a respectable suit and dress shoes.

“My husband and his indestructible head.” Wanda replied with a teasing smile. The perfect couple was a sight to behold as you grabbed the glass from the air above her and placed it back in the cuboard.

“Aren’t we a fine pair?” Vision gave his a wife a small kiss on the head and turned to you with a small smile. “Good morning, Kiddo.” You greeted him, drying your hands on the skirt of your dress. “I’m starting to think you came with the house.” Wanda chuckled.

“Mom will be back soon, I promise, the house will be teenage free before you know it.”

“Oh, don’t be silly!” He lets the newspaper in his hand slide across the countertop. “I’m only teasing.”

“What do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice, and black coffee?” Wanda’s words made your mouth water, it felt as though you hadn’t eaten in days and a full breakfast was just what you needed.

“I say. ‘Oh, I don’t eat food.’” He smiled.

“Well, that explains the empty refrigerator.” Her words confused you. There wasn’t even the carton of milk you were sure was there earl-

“Wanda?” Vision’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, she simply hummed in question.

“Is there something special about today?”

“Well, I know the apron is a bit much, dear, but I am doing my best to blend in.” You watch as she crosses the kitchen.

“No, no, there on the calander. Someone’s drawn a little heart right above today’s date.” He lets his chin rest on her head while you move closer to see. Sure enough, there it was.

“Oh, yes.” Wanda said with tense shoulders. “The heart.” She looked over at you for some guidance, the confused look she saw didn’t help calm her nerves. “Well, don’t tell me you have forgotten, Vis.” She turned in his arms with a look of accusation and hands laid on her hips.

“Forgotten?” He scoffed. “Oh, Wanda, I’m incapable of forgetfulness. I remember everything. That’s not an exaggeration. In fact, I’m incapable of exaggeration.”

“Well, then tell me what’s so important about today’s date.”

You had to stifle a laugh when you looked at him; mouth blown out like a fish and eyes wide, a stern look from Wanda made you cover it with a cough.

“What was the question again?” Vision turned quickly. “Oh, well. Perhaps, you’ve forgotten yourself.”

“Me? Heavens, no. I’ve been so looking forward to it.” You let Vision pass you, choosing to keep to yourself and take a sit at the table.

“As have I.” He said proudly with arms folded. “Today we are celebrating...”

Why were you so hungry?

“You bet we are...”

Why were you always, so hungry?

“It’s the first time we....have ever celebrated this occasion before.”

“It’s a.... special day!”

Something doesn’t feel right

“Perhaps an evening... of great significance...”

Can you feel her clawing?

“Kiddo?” Her voice makes you jump in your seat, letting out a small hiss from hitting your knee underneath the table. “You alright?”

“I...” Silly you, always dozing off. “I’m just peachy keen, Wanda!” A series of knocks on the door makes her pause and you’re quick to stand. “I’ll get it!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that...” She trailed behind you, a polite smile on her face as you open the door.

You barley grab the large plant that’s shoved in your face, the woman breezing past you with her hand out.

“Hello. dear, I’m Agnes. Your neighbour to the right.” Wanda lets out a awkward laugh but takes her hand anyway. “My right, not yours.” She’s loud and very, very talkative. “Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother in-law was in town, so I wasn’t.”

You pull the plant away from you with a huff. Wanda gives you an apologetic look, grabbing it from your hands, both of you watching as Agnes makes her way through.

“So, what’s your name? Where are you from, and most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?”

Very talkative indeed.

Wanda laughs as she crosses the room -leaving you to close the door - and sent Agnes a friendly smile.

“I’m Wanda.” She gestures to you over the woman’s shoulder. “And we call her ‘Kiddo’.”

“Easier that way.” You add as you smooth out your skirt once more, choosing to sit on the edge of the couch. Agnes turns to you with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear!” You wave her off with another friendly smile. “Wanda, Kiddo, lovely names for two lovely ladies.” You all share a small giggle.

“Golly.” Agnes’ eyes scan the room. “You settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?”

“I sure did.” You wanted nothing but to rip off that stupidly large bow off that equally obnoxious plant, but you didn’t want to be rude. “Those boxes don’t move themselves.” Agnes chuckled and you were itching to move it from the table Wanda placed it on.

“So what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house? With a daughter no less.” You and Wanda were quick to explain.

“I’m not her daughter.” You move back as her dress skirt fills your vision, looking over at Wanda. “Just visiting.”

“I’m married.” She added with a gleeful shine in her eyes.

“Oh, I don’t see a ring.”

“Well, I assure you I’m married.” She covers her hand with the other. “To a man. A human one and tall.”

Agnes was a very suffocating presence; her dress bold and checker patterned, your polka dots looked rather bland compared to it and when she took a seat next to you - practically in your lap at one point of readjusting - you had never felt so small.

“As a matter of fact, he’ll be home later tonight for a special occasion. Just the two of us.”

“Oh, is it someone’s birthday?”

“Not a birthday.”

“Well today isn’t a holiday, is it?”

Were there any holidays in March? You - like most days - were left completely blank.

“No, it’s not a holiday...” Wanda’s hands fidget, you couldn’t help but join, opting to pick at a thread on your sleeve.

Today was.... hmm, what was today? You tried to remember if Vision or Wanda spoke of anything special, but nothing really stood out from the crowd.

“An anniversary then?”

“Ye... yes!” The relief on her face was almost comical. “Yes! It’s our anniversary!” Agnes couldn’t hide her excitement, grabbing your hand mid pull of the thread and held another one for Wanda to take.

“Oh, how marvellous.” She turned forward, putting both of your hands in her lap as Wanda joined on the couch. “How many years?”

“Well, it feels like we’ve always been together.”

“Lucky gal.” Agnes shook your hand with a smile. “Isn’t it just, having such a wonderful influence like that?” Wanda blushed. “The only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer named ‘June 2nd’. “ At least she was entertaining, right? “So, what do you have planned?”

“How do you mean?”

“For your special night. A young thing like you doesn’t have to do much, but it’s still nice to set the scene.” You and Wanda shared a glance as Agnes turned once more. “Say, I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article -“ She gave you both a playful slap on the thigh as she stood. “- called ‘How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband,’ and let me tell you, what Ralph could really use is, ‘How To Goose Your Wife So You Don’t Lose Your Wife’.”

Maybe you were just a bad judge of character or you were simply just insecure, but Agnes, to her credit, had quickly found a way to pull on your hearstrings in a perfect way.

Or maybe she was just very funny.

“Hang on. I’ll go grab it and we can start planning.” She turned to you before leaving and pointed a perfectly manicured finger. “Now, I hope you don’t have plans, Kiddo! Suducing a man is a lesson no school could teach you, Though a pretty gal like you shouldn’t need a whole lot.” She laughed and you couldn’t help but feel the warm rush to your cheeks at the compliment. “Oh, this is gonna be a gas!”

With a final giggle and smile, Agnes was gone. You moved closer to Wanda as she let out a happy sigh.

“Before she comes back,” She turns to you fully. “- can I throw that horrid plant out?”

———

“-and you don’t have a song? Nothing special you played at your weddding?” Agnes asked, the magazine sitting on her lap.

“No, nothing special.” That seemed to be the go to answer for Wanda; no song, no inside joke and not even a favourite date. Maybe that was the new era of marriage?

“I’ll just loan you some records then.” Agnes said before pointing to the notepad in your hand. “Mark that off the list, Kiddo.” You nodded and did just that. “What are we up to?”

“We’ve got wardrobe, music and...” God, you had horrible handwriting. “Oh, decor!” Agnes let out a happy hum and looked back at the article.

“Hmm... oh, what about seduction techniques?”

“Oh, I have those.” The loud chuckle made Wanda frown, suddenly unsure.

Agnes was really good at that.

“Of course, you do.”

“Just out of curiosity, what does it say?” You both leaned in, the chair you were sitting on unfortunately made it impossible to see over her shoulder.

“That you should stumble when you walk into a room so he can catch you. It’s romantic.”

“Any other tricks?”

“You could point out that the death rate of single men is twice that of married men.” She suggested with a smirk.

“Now, that’s romantic.” The shared laughter is quick to die down when the phone rings. “Oh.” Agnes hands you a glass of apple cider, a small enough glass to blur the moral line of underage drinking, and raised hers with a grin.

“Drink up, dear.”

“Vision residents.” Wanda said politely over the phone, the voice of her husband making her grin. “Vision, sweetheart.” You had to stop yourself from grimacing at the bitterness of the drink, not a hint of apple was in it. Alcohol was truely disgusting.

“Don’t worry, dear. I have everything under control.” She turned towards you both with a knowing smile, debating whether or not to wrap the cord around her fingers like the giddy school girl she felt like.

Agnes took another sip and clicked her tongue. “Oh! I knew you looked familiar.” She said, adverting you attention. “You’re Lori’s girl, aren’t you?” You couldn’t explain why your stomach dropped. “Lovely woman, real smart cookie. Didn’t she want to be an actress or a.... hmm, oh....um -“

“A journalist.” The bitterness of the cider in that moment seemed like heaven, and you downed the rest in one go. Agnes giggled and nodded.

“That’s right, a journalist, very modern.” The conversation died after that, instead filled with tonight’s plan for Wanda. But even when you laughed and giggled along, deciding which record of Agnes’ to put on, that pit of dread remained.

You just wanted to know why.

��——

So maybe baking wasn’t your strong suit, or even a decent hobby, but you did know how to set a mood. The candlight that filled the living room and the smell of vanilla (Agnes had enough of it to make you dizzy) was just the right amount of sweetness and romance.

“All done!” You call with a proud smile on your face. You turned as Wanda peaked her head out from the kitchen door.

“Aw, Kiddo, what would I do without you?” She had her hair curled to perfection, and makeup that made her look like a porcelain doll. She was the perfect wife and you had to admit, Agnes was right about you taking notes. “Are you sure you’ll get home okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” You grab your coat from the dining chair and give her a final smile. “Have fun.” She disappears back in the kitchen and you try to hide the knowing smirk on your face as you hear the front door. “I know, I know, I’ll be gone in two min-“

“You never told me you had kids.” A male voice, one you had never heard before, interrupted you. Your coat buttons were long forgotten as the couple strolled in; Vision looking just as horrified and confused as you.

“I... uh.”

“I didn’t know you were joining us for dinner, Kiddo.” Vision said with a nervous laugh. “Mr. Hart, this is my...”

“Cousin. Just flew in.” You can’t stop your hands from fidgeting as Vision nods.

“Yes! Yes, my cousin, Kiddo.”

“You’re name is ‘Kiddo’?” Mr. Hart is hostile, and his wife has to slap his shoulder when he glares at you.

“Oh stop it, it’s a lovely name.” She steps from behind her husband and lets out a small gasp. “Oh, how every atmospheric.” You forced a polite smile, blowing out one of the candles when she turns.

“What’s going on here, Vision? You blow a fuse?”

“Why don’t you take a seat...” You are quick to grab onto Vision’s hand and pull towards you with a smile. “And we’ll go and fetch the lady of the house.” Vision almost trips on the way to the kitchen behind you, you were a lot stronger then you looked.

“What’s going on?” This was not at all what you thought was going to happen. Maybe you had too much cider? “Where is she?” Vision didn’t wait for you to answer, already out of the kitchen before you could even think of a answer. “Wanda!” She was only there a moment ago.

“Vision.” Her smile fades to horror and she’s quick to move her hands away from Mr. Hart. “Oh! Oh!” She looks back and fourth from Vision and the Harts. When she caught glimpse of you, she nearly fainted, covering her chest as her cheeks bloomed a bright red.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, what is... yeah, what is the meaning of...” His stammering wasn’t helping, at all, to calm anyone’s confusion. “Oh, the meaning of it! You want to know the meaning of it.... and the meaning of it is that this is the traditional Sokovian greeting of hospitality.” Wanda nodded, quickly making her way over as Vision covered her eyes. “Guess who?”

“Is that my host behind me?” She faked a laugh and you chose to find interest in your shoes.

“It certainly is.”

“Lovely to make you acquaintance.”

“Yes!” You wished the floor would suck you down to a hole in the ground, the awkwardness almost suffocating. “See, I forgot to tell you my wife is from Europe.” You look up with a grin as Vision put a hand on your shoulder. “And... so is my cousin.”

“Oh, how exotic!” Mrs. Hart said with a grin of her own, how on earth did they buy that?

“We don’t break bread with Bolsheviks.” Her husband grumbled.

“Oh, hush, Arthur!” She slapped his chest playfully with a chuckle. “Have you no culture at all ? And that dress!”

“Yes! It’s... “ Vision can’t help but take a double take at his wife’s appearance. “It’s so... Sokovian, Is what it is! Yes!”

“Can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?” Wanda was light and fast on her feet, making sure to pull the fabric from a lamp before going to the kitchen.

“Oh, Yes!” Vision gestures to the candles and follows his wife.

You turn to the couple, with the brightest smile you can muster.

“Please.” You say with arms wide. “Take a seat, make yourselves comfortable.” The minute they reach the couch and sit, you get to work on the candles. You only get five done before Vision barrels through the door.

“Can you help Wanda? She’s just... “ Mrs. Hart glances over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “- finishing dinner.”

You are quick to excuse yourself.

———

“Oh, where is she?” Wanda tightens her apron for the third time, eyes glued to the door. She had changed from the silk, now wearing a modest evening dress.

“Oh, thank heavens!” Agnes had barley even walked past the window and Wanda, wasting no time, opened the back door wide. “Oh, Agnes! You’re a life-saver.”

“What kind of housewife would I be if I didn’t have a gourmet meal for five just lying about the place?” Both you and Wanda grab for the various tins and trays, trying to save the poor woman’s arms. “Not that Ralph ever wants to eat anything but baked beans which explains a lot about his personal hygiene, mind you.”

“I can take that.” You weren’t expecting her to drop the large pot so carelessly, not being able to catch it in time as it hit your foot with loud bang on the floor. “Ow.”

“Oh, my!” Agnes dropped to her knees, wiping off your shoe and picking up the pot and lid. “Butter fingers.” You chuckle and wave it off.

“It’s okay.” She gives you a bright smile and placing everything properly on the bench.

“- sure she’s absolutely fine in there!” The sound of Vision’s voice booms through the kitchen, a warning that made you both flustered.

“Oh, thank you, Agnes. I think we’ve got it covered from here.” Wanda said, placing her hands on the woman’s back and pushing gently.

“Are you sure dear?” Agnes asked, getting a small “mhmm” back from her. “Many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip.”

“You’re so naughty.” Wanda scolds playfully, you were kept busy with unpacking several vegetables from her wicker basket.

“Oh, shall I pre-heat the oven then, dear?” The witch was quick to steer her around from it as you moved out of the way.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh, alright then. Well I know you’re in a pinch so this menu can be done in a snap.” Agnes made sure to snap her fingers, always one for the theatrics. “Lobster Thermidor with mini-minced turnovers to start.” She moved back towards the counter, Wanda letting out a breath as she followed. “Chicken à la king with twice-cooked new potatos for your second course.” She gave you a pat as she passed you. “And steak Diane and mint jellies for your main.”

Wanda had to move back as Agnes turned once more, finger inches from her face. “Do you set you own jellies, dear?” You both nod. “Good girls.” Wanda grabs her waist again and pushed but as she inches from the outside, she calls out to you. “Recipe cards are on the counter.”

Wanda closes the door, hands up as you read one of the cards.

“So, I guess we should start with-“

“No time, Kiddo.” With a flick of her wrist; every cuboard opened and you had to duck your head down to advoid getting hit with a frying pan. “Sorry.”

The kitchen quickly was in complete chaos; the smell of various veggies and seasonings overwhelmed your senses, and while you tried desperately to grab a wooden spoon from the air to stir, the kitchen bar devider opened.

Yeah, take out the papers and the trash, or you won’t get no spending cash

You and Wanda both watched in a mix of confusion and fear, apparently Vision could sing. You reached up on your toes once more and pulled the spoon down with a satisfied grin.

If You don’t scrub the kitchen floor, you ain’t gonna rock and roll no more

Oh, right. Mrs. Hart was inches away from a stressed out witch and her teenage sidekick surrounding by levitating kitchen supplies.

Time to close the shutters.

Yakety yak! Don’t talk back

You closed them with a sharp slam.

———

The past ten minutes had to be on the list of “worst moments ever” of your life, the world felt a little too off center and you had to remind yourself that breathing wasn’t just a personal choice. Wanda wasn’t doing too great either; the chicken went from borderline ash to newly laid eggs, it was starting to feel a little too warm in here. If you weren’t panicking so much, you might have remembered that the large coat you wore that had wool lining was easily removable.

“How’s the potatos, Kiddo?” Wanda turned to you with a frown at your apparence; you were covered in flour and unmoving from the corner, bowl in hand and eyes shinny.

“Am I moving?” You ask.

“No.” She gently grabs the bowl from your hands, grimacing at the mush inside and pulling you to the table. “Why don’t you have a seat? Hmm, take a few deep breaths and just re- oh no!” It was too late to save the cream from spilling on the floor.

Wanda almost wanted to join you at the table.

“Oh, what was I supposed to do next? What was the main course again?” She let the cards float around her, hands quickly turning them.”it was... steak.” Wrong card. “No. Steak...steak Diane!”

“Yes?!” You manage to look over at the closed blinds, Vision’s voice following again soon after. “I’m just coming... Fred.”

Wanda - after taking her own advice - had finally managed to put the kitchen back in order, all pots and pans back perfectly in their cupboards. You were finally calming down, able take a minute to process as she floated the lobster to the pot of boiling water.

But both of you felt the familiar panic burn through your veins when someone came rushing in from the living room, Wanda letting out a startled gasp and throwing the meat out the window. It was only after the window slammed shut that you realised it was just Vision.

“How can I be of assistance?” He asked with huff. Funny, you wouldn’t think a robot would need to take a breather.

“Well, the chicken is no longer a chicken and the lobsters just flew the coop so the steak is the last man standing.” Wanda replied, grabbing the recipe card from the counter. “It says here I can cut down the prep time with a meat tenderizer.”

“Excellent plan. Where’s the tenderizer?”

“I’m looking at him.” He gingerly took the mallet with a small “ah” and was forced to look up when the divider opened once more.

“Hoo-hoo in there!” Mrs. Hart’s head popped in and Wanda was quick to move, almost ruining the poor woman’s curls when she closed it.

“Hoo-hoo back to you!” She pulls at the strings of her apron with a sigh. “Finish the meat, find the lobsters.” She turned to you. “Lose the coat, Kiddo.” Her apron is pulled from her hips and Vision barley catches it. “We’ll be right back.”

You stand, pulling off the emerald green coat. One look at your dress and Wanda lets out a gasp.

“Can’t go out like that.” She grabbed the coat from you and folded it on your chair, the dress was covered and she had hoped that the coat would have been an effective shield.

“I can go home and change.” You say with a wipe of your cheek. Wanda stops you from moving.

“No, allow me.” She clicks her fingers and - with a dramatic puff of smoke - your old dress is replaced with a beautiful turquoise one, white lining on the collar and floral skirt to match. It was gorgeous. “Perfection. Now, lets go.”

You give a quick “sorry” at the door, startling Mrs. Hart as you trail behind your frazzled friend.

“I hope you’re hungry.” She said with a smile.

“Starved, is more like it.” Mr. Hart replied as he pushed off the couch, a frown permanently placed on his face.

“My head is starting to feel woozy.” A low growl from your stomach seemed to agree with Mrs. Hart, luckily a loud bang from the kitchen covered the sound.

“Were either of you aware that married men are killing single men at an alarming rate?” Wanda’s hands never stopped moving, and the nervous chuckle only made Mr. Hart more frustrated.

“What are you going on about?” Another loud bang made you all jump and you had to stop yourself from cursing. “And what’s going on in there?” You luckily didn’t have to stop him from moving as Wanda fell ontop of him, his hands catching her by the arms.

The room seemed to spin, things were moving so quickly you could barley keep up. Wanda was still in the man’s arms when a loud knocking filled the room, you were sure you were going to faint.

“Who could that be?” Wanda practically ran to the door, happy for the distraction and Vision was quick on her heels. Mrs. Hart pulled at your sleeve, a kind smile on her face.

“Are you alright, dear?”

“I... uh,” The words got lost in your mouth. Could everyone just calm down for a second? The slam of the door forced you both out of the small moment.

“Who was that?” Her husband asked.

“A salesman”

“Telegram!” Vision felt the glare of Mr. Hart. “A man selling telegrams.”

“Wouldn’t you know it.” Wanda added, hands behind her back. “Good news is more expensive.” You couldn’t hear what Vision said after that, but by the way his wife frowned and pulled her apron off him, it must’ve been yet another problem. She glided past you, the sight of a pineapple behind her back didn’t answer any questions, but you let her go on her way regardless.

“Well.” Vision said, hands on his hips proudly. “I think tonight’s going swimmingly. Anyone for Parcheesi?”

“My head is spinning.” Mrs. Hart replied, feet dragging her to the couch.

“Oh, Mrs. Hart -“ You grabbed her arm, gently helping her down as Vision fanned her face.

“Did you hear that? My wife’s head is spinning. Generally speaking, I don’t like her head to do that.” You could feel the annoyance radiating off him. “You know, I’m beginning to think you’re not management material, Vision.”

“Sir, if you could just wait a few -“ The glare he gave almost made your knees buckle, looking at Vision for help as he continued.

“You know, I had high hopes for you. But from what I’ve seen here tonight, you can barley keep it together. I mean, look around.” He gestured around him with his hands. “There’s all the chaos going on in your household. Now, when are we gonna eat?”

“Dinner is served.”

Oh, thank God.

The table behind you was set to perfection; each plate the perfect distance apart, and each with a set of cutlery and wine glass. You’re stomach was growling and you were quick to move to your seat - the only glass filled with some kind of juice - and gave Wanda a grateful smile.

“Breakfast for dinner? How very-“

“European.” Mrs. Hart interrupted, eyes glued to the table.

“Ohh! Let’s have a toast!” Vision moves to his end of the table, the Harts following as you raise your glass. “To my lovely and talented wife.”

“To our esteemed guests.” Wanda adds with a smile. You all clink your glasses with a small “cheers” and take a sip of the juice. It was sugary sweet, but did nothing to fill your belly. “Well, please eat before it gets cold.”

You don’t have to be told twice; sitting besides Mrs. Hart - who Vision was quick to offer a chair to like a gentleman - and letting your napkin rest on your thighs.

“So,” She said as everyone settled properly in their seats. “Where did you two move from?” She grabbed her napkin. “What brought you here?” You cut a small piece of the sausage and raised it to your mouth. “How long have you been married? And why don’t you have children yet?” Wanda let out a small laugh, so many questions!

“I think what my wife means to say is that we moved from...” You took another bite, warmth filling your body, and it took everything in to not gulp down the whole plate.

“Yes, we moved from...” Wanda’s face was a exact mirror of her husband’s, both struggling with empty memory.

“And we were married...”

You couldn’t stop eating, fork always full of egg and toast, the conversation becoming background noise.

“Yes, yes, we were married in...”

“Well? Moved from where ? Married when?” Mr. Hart’s voice snapped you back, another bite and you swallowed it down with a gulp of juice, eyes now between each end of the table.

“Now, patience, Arthur. They’re setting up their story. Let them tell it.” His wife waved him off with a smile and bite of food. Wanda stumbled once more, her fumbling only causing the tension to rise.

“Yes, what exactly is your story?”

“Oh, just leave the poor kids alone.” You took another sip, gagging as you felt something on your tongue.

“No, really, I mean,” It was slimy and thin, and as you pulled it out with your fingers, confusion filled you at the sight of a brown leaf. “I think it’s a perfectly simple question. Honestly.” It dropped to your plate and you picked up the almost empty glass, the bottom was a dark orange, and the hundreds of little pieces floating in it made you feel sick. “Why did you come here? Why?”

Something’s Wrong

Mr. Hart slammed his hand down on the table, startling you to the point of completey dropping your glass, juice staining the carpet by your feet. You were left helpless as you stared at the man in front of you.

“Damn it, why? Why did you...” The air from his lungs vanishes, face turning red as he chokes.

“Oh, Arthur, stop it.”

Why won’t you move?

“Stop it.”

This doesn’t make sense

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.”

Mr. Hart grips the table, letting out another failed attempt of breath before vanishing under it, still chocking.

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.”

This is wrong, all wrong

“Stop it.”

I want to go home

“Vision, help him.”

And just like that, the world makes sense again.

You let out a shaky laugh as Vision helps the man up from the floor. You take one more bite of food as Mr. Hart checks his watch with a sigh.

“Well, would you look at the time?”

“Yes. We’d better be going.” Mrs. Hart replies, standing as you follow suit, making sure to tuck your chair in.

“Well... are you both alright?” Wanda asks, giving you a small smile as they walk to the door.

“We had such a lovely time.” She turns quickly and wraps her hands around Wanda’s eyes. “This guest is leaving your home.” She laughs.

“Yes, thank you for coming.”

You pay them no mind; body moving passed them on autopilot, you didn’t care to hear them say goodbye, didn’t care when Mr. Hart told Vision about a promotion, or when Wanda offered you the guest bedroom since it was just “too late to walk home alone, you didn’t care.

And when you finally slipped into the covers, eyes shutting as sleep took hold of you, you finally felt at peace.

Your mind was yours, and yours alone for the first time that day, and you wanted nothing more then to wake up under the star-lights in your bedroom.

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @fruitiseavey

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read

Off to the sixties we go

#daughter!reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #wandavison x reader #wandavision imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #teen!reader #stark!reader #marvel x y/n #wandavision x you #marvel x you

215 notes · View notes

fandomsnfluff · 3 years

Note

May I request 8 (scenarios) with Diavolo? It can be with anyone it just seems like something he would do (●´ω｀●)

OMG U KNOW I HAD TO DO THIS ONE WITH LUCIFER 😭

tickle prompts/scenarios

8: tickle hugs

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Diavolo never came off as a particularly needy person. Except in this instance, when for some reason he just couldn’t stop bugging Lucifer.

The two of them were in a meeting in a room of the prince’s castle, and it was only supposed to last for about half an hour. However, a heated debate had started and never really ceased between two leaders of clubs at RAD about how the extracurriculars were going to get more resources, and the two of them had wasted at least forty-five more minutes of other speakers’ times by chiding in and interrupting each other when they proposed their own ideas.

At this point, Lucifer knew Diavolo well enough to be able to almost read his mind. It was clear that the demon prince was becoming restless; every few minutes or so he would kick at Lucifer’s foot or squeeze or prod at his knees and thighs, even leaning over to press his shoulder or even his face against the side of his arm. It took every once of energy for Lucifer to hold back from snapping at him in the middle of the meeting, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that anyway; he could never imagine getting angry at his closest friend. Frustrated and annoyed with him, yes, but never outwardly angry.

After a few more moments, finally, the near two-hour-turned meeting ended.

Once he left the room, Lucifer grabbed his things and prepared to head back to the house; he only told Mammon that he would be gone for a little more than half an hour, and his skin crawled at the prospect of him getting into any kind of trouble.

A hand grabbed his forearm, and he whipped around to meet the soft golden gaze of the demon prince.

“Lucifer?” Diavolo’s voice came out small, almost shy. “Would you...would you like to come up to my room, just for a moment?”

Lucifer was so, so close to denying the offer; he really didn’t want to see the shit that Mammon had gotten up to when he was away. However, seeing that endearing, desperate look in the demon prince’s usually harsh golden stare sparked something within him, and he found himself smiling softly at him.

“Oh, all right. But let’s make it quick.”

With that, Diavolo instantly took his hand and nearly pulled him up the stairs to his room, the speed at which he was moving surprising Lucifer quite a bit. As soon as they arrived in the demon prince’s room, he closed the door and sat on his bed.

“Okay, what’s this thing that you wanted to show me?” Lucifer asked.

Instead of pulling out a shiny crown or a new article of clothing, Diavolo stood up and began approaching the black-haired demon, a serious look on his face. Lucifer blinked, wondering if he should stay put or back away; he had never seen such an expression directed at him and only him from the demon prince. Was he in trouble for something? Was it something that he said or did recently or during the meeting? He couldn’t stop himself from swallowing, feeling the sweat form on his forehead.

But the demon prince didn’t do quite what he was expecting. Instead of leaning down to stare him in the face, pin him against the wall, or even strike him, he had reached forward and enveloped him in one of the softest, most comforting hugs he had ever received in his 5000+ years of living. Of course, he would never, ever admit this verbally, not even to Diavolo, his closest friend.

“You looked like you needed one of these,” Diavolo mumbled, his voice muffled by Lucifer’s clothing as he pressed his face into his shoulder.

“Are you sure it wasn’t just because you wanted my attention?” Lucifer asked, recalling how touchy the demon prince had been during the meeting.

“Maybe.” That was the only response he got. Lucifer awkwardly wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders and gave a slight squeeze, but after a few moments he began to feel a bit awkward from all the contact.

“O-okay, Diavolo, that’s enough,” Lucifer commented after a few moments. But the demon prince didn’t respond, and it didn’t feel like he was letting up, not even a little bit. In fact, it felt like his grip was becoming a bit...firmer, as time went on.

Then Lucifer had to bite back a gasp as Diavolo straight up squeezed him, feeling a stab of alarm. He tried to squirm away, but Diavolo was faster and stronger, so Lucifer could only really resort to begging at this point. “Okay, Diavolo, that’s en-- mMMPFH!!”

There really was nothing Lucifer could do to bite back that horribly embarrassing half-squeal kept back just enough by his sealed lips as he suddenly felt fingers jabbing and poking at his sides. A fresh wave of alarm made its way through Lucifer’s body, accompanied by goosebumps and a tingly sensation at the contact, and it only rose as the touches continued. He fought with all of his being not to laugh at the tickles, but it was becoming increasingly harder as he was almost being forcibly pressed against Diavolo’s chest.

However, he lost the fight, the dam breaking as soon as the demon prince playfully nibbled at the side of his neck. The Avatar of Pride quickly lost his composure and broke into breathy giggles, squirming as much as he could in Diavolo’s arms as he fought for breath through his laughter. It wasn’t fair; Diavolo knew how sensitive his neck was! But this was the Diavolo, the demon prince who, despite his upbringing as the future ruler of the Devildom, loved to have his cake and eat it, too, poking fun at his closest friends whenever it was appropriate. And, of course, Lucifer was no exception. Perhaps he was his favorite target because of his strict, unforgiving, intimidating stature?

But he couldn’t think about that now. All Lucifer wanted to do was get away from the relentless demon prince and his tickly fingers. He gasped and let out a sudden squeal of alarm when Diavolo’s hands moved from his sides to his hips, squeezing at the bone and allowing his fingers to trace the curvatures of his pelvis. He really couldn’t do this for much longer; why did he have to be so sensitive to Diavolo’s touch? Why hadn’t he known he was this ticklish before? He could do nothing but laugh and squeal with mirth as the demon prince trapped him against his chest, torturing two of his most sensitive spots mercilessly as he refused to let Lucifer go.

“Dihihiahahaha!” Lucifer cried, his voice coming out as an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal of mirth. “Lehehet gohoho!”

“What’s the magic word?” Diavolo teased, bringing one of his hands up to spider his fingernails against the side of Lucifer’s neck, making him outright shriek and jerk so hard that he crashed into Diavolo’s chest, nearly bowling him over onto the ground.

“Plehehehease!” There was no hesitation in the plea; there were little things that tickled more than those torturous fingernails the bare skin of Lucifer’s neck. As the incessant fingers finally eased up, he could finally pant and sigh in relief. Lucifer wasn’t the kind of person to exaggerate; he genuinely felt like he was going to die during that.

“You all right?” Diavolo asked, but there was an uncanny note of laughter in his voice.

“No.” There was no hesitation in Lucifer’s response. “It was all torture.”

“Was it, though?” Diavolo cocked his head to the side. “I don’t even remember the last time I hugged you. You sure you didn’t enjoy it just a little bit?”

“The hug was fine. I do not, however, appreciate being mercilessly tickled like that.”

“Then why don’t I just hug you without any tickles?” Diavolo offered.

Lucifer glared at him. “You’re planning something, I know it.”

“No I’m not!” the demon prince protested, opening his arms wide. “I promise you.”

Lucifer hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should trust Diavolo. Unsure if he should trust Diavolo. Shame washed over him as the thought echoed back to him. This was the person he had bestowed his undying loyalty to in perhaps one of the most desperate and devastating times of his entire life. Of course he trusted Diavolo; he promised him to do so in every move he made.

So that was what influenced his decision. Walking towards the demon prince to meet him, he was embraced by not only a warm, comforting, soft hug around the shoulders, as if Diavolo wasn’t going to let go of him, but also of any internal warmth that spread all throughout his body and made his heart expand to fill his entire chest. Was this what true, undying loyalty felt like? Was that what Diavolo was trying to convey to him in this very moment?

Lucifer couldn’t tell outright what the demon prince’s motivation was in that moment. But what he did know was that the two of them would be inseparable, bound by their undying loyalty to one another, until the very end.

#obey me #obey me fanfic #anime tickling #my posts #ask #anonymous

80 notes · View notes

true-blue-megamind · 3 years

Text

FAN THEORY THURSDAY: Megamind’s Connections Beyond the Film

Before we get started, it’s time for the obligatory SPOILER WARNING!

In case this hasn’t been made sufficiently obvious by the fact that this is a post about Megamind written in a fan theory series about Megamind and published on a blog dedicated solely to Megamind, please let me just assure that this article is, in fact, about Megamind.

If you haven’t seen the film yet yet, I have to question why you’re reading this in the first place. As well as your taste in animated movies. I’m definitely questioning that.

Over the years I’ve heard several fan theories concerning connections between the film Megamind and various other forms of media. Today, let’s delve into just a few.

The first one is so obvious it’s almost painful, but it has to be mentioned. Megamind is a Superman spoof. Metro Man is clearly based on the Man of Steel himself, with a hefty dose of Elvis Presley and a larger range of character flaws thrown in for good measure. (He also seems to contain quite a lot of the Popular Jock archetype.) The character of Megamind is more complex still, combining elements of Alice Cooper and a nineties Goth theater kid with several comic book supervillains. The best known of the last include alien genius Brainiac and mad inventor Lexx Luthor, but they aren’t the only ones. Some of Megamind’s engineering and technological inventions call to mind Spiderman villain Doctor Octopus even more than Lexx Luthor, and he also shares some parallels with the mad inventor Dr. Sivana in the SHAZAM comics.

Megamind’s most notable of the latter is the similarity of attitudes toward society. Both Megamind and Dr. Sivana started off trying to use their inventions for good—the first in the classroom and the second for the betterment of mankind—but both became bitter when people mocked and shunned them. For Dr. Sivana, this led to a desire to conquer all of Earth while for Megamind, in a sort of microcosm, it led to a similar drive to take over Metro City. Both Lexx Luthor and Dr. Sivana have, perhaps, the strongest connections to Megamind as share, deep down, a desire to help or protect mankind, and as Lexx Luthor, like Megamind, harbors a secret love for the reporter damsel in their respective stories. (This desire to do good, especially in the face of corrupt officials, ties into another Megamind fan theory that I will likely discuss in more detail in a later post.)

The connection between Megamind and Alice Cooper, by the way, was extremely intentional. The creators stated in an interview that, like Alice Cooper, Megamind’s dark, evil self is, in fact, a stage persona. (Even their clothing, consisting largely of black leather and spikes, is similar.) That fact is illustrated in the film as we can see that Megamind’s behaviors on- and off-camera tend to be vastly different. Even as a villain, he is merely playing a role, although in the case of Megamind that role has begun to merge with his self-identity.

There are, however, hints within the world of DreamWorks that Megamind has other connections as well. The first is fairly recent and intensely interesting. In the Rise of the Guardians, Jamie Bennett, a young boy who still steadfastly believes in the seemingly impossible, mentions “aliens in Michigan,” only to be scoffed at by his friends. Because Metro City is located in Michigan, (as can be seen briefly when the Death Ray is fired from space,) many fans theorize that the “aliens in Michigan” are none other than Megamind, Minion, and, perhaps, Metro Man.

This would indicate that the two stories take place in the same world, and that Megamind’s adventures, while well-known in Metro City itself, have been covered up and kept secret from the rest of the world. (Imagine moving to a moderately-sized city only to discover that—surprise!—there’s an extraterrestrial supervillain in residence and, oh, by the way, if you live downtown homeowners’ insurance is ridiculous!)

The second inter-film connection is less clear, but has spawned some interesting fan theories as well. The idea is that, like Rise of the Guardians, Monsters VS. Aliens also takes place in the same reality as Megamind. It’s not too far fetched—after all, both films involve extraterrestrials and amazing inventions—but there is one specific theory that really ties the two together. Consider this for a moment: Megamind is a blue alien with incredible intelligence who hails from a destroyed planet. Does that sound like any other DreamWorks character you know? If you’ve seen Monster VS. Aliens, the antagonist, Gallaxhar, probably springs to mind.

According to Fandom.com, Gallaxhar’s official backstory is that he “destroyed his home planet” for the implied reason that “he experienced bad childhood and unhappy marriage.” The fan theory is that that Gallaxhar’s planet was, in fact, Megamind’s home world, and that the former created or harnessed the black hole which destroyed it. This would explain why Megamind’s people—as well as Metro Man’s—didn’t have time to escape despite being space-faring. You see, black holes take millions of years to develop, and even a rogue black hole would take about a million to shift and swallow an entire solar system, so if the event had occurred naturally, there should have been plenty of time to build an entire fleet of spacecraft and leave for Earth or another safe planet. (The fact that Megamind’s parents set his escape pod’s navigation system for Earth indicates that they knew of its existence.)

Of course, despite their large heads and blue skin tones, there are quite a few physical differences between Megamind and Gallaxhar. The first is humanoid while the second has four eyes and tentacles instead of legs. Fan theories have explanations for that, too, however.

There appear to be two schools of thought on the subject. The first is that Gallaxhar was another breed of alien living on the planet, possibly a servile race different from Minions, and the second is that part of Gallaxhar’s “bad childhood” involved being experimented upon, thus giving him his bizarre appearance and his seeming obsession with experimenting on others. (There is some disagreement in the Megamind fandom about exactly why Gallaxhar was subjected to such treatment, ranging from falling into the hands of an unscrupulous scientist to being part of an experimental medical program. The latter fan theory suggests that Gallaxhar was both blind and paraplegic, and that his additional eyes and tentacle “legs” were meant to rectify that, but that those physical differences made him an outsider, thus leading to his unhappy life and ultimate hatred for his own planet.)

If that were true, many may wonder what, exactly, Megamind might do if he ever found out about Gallaxhar. Well, good news! Just like there’s an app for everything, there’s a fan theory for that, too! I will warn you, however, that this one is, frankly, build upon pretty thin evidence. However, it’s interesting enough to be worth relating.

There is a character in Monsters VS. Aliens named General Warren R. Monger who, on the surface, is exactly what he appears to be: a high-ranking military man. However, there are a few things that fans point to as possible evidence that Monger isn’t what he seems.

The first is so simple that, alone, it would be inconsequential. Monger rose through the ranks uncommonly fast, so much so that it caused some comment among others. The second is significantly odder; Monger claims to be ninety years old despite looking like he is in his late forties. Now, of course, this may have simply been the character exaggerating or messing with the “monsters” under his care, but some fans say it’s more than that, and claim that Monger chose that age because he was unfamiliar with human lifespans. Next there is the fact that Monger is so intelligent that, despite one of the beings in his containment facility. Doctor Cockroach, being a super-genius, Monger outwits every escape attempt the monsters can make. Then, of course, there is the fact that, despite his brusque manner, Monger seems to actually sympathize with the inhuman people he is charged with containing, and even pushes for them to be given a chance to prove themselves. There is the oddity that, although he is assigned to the secret military base at “Area Fifty-Something,” Monger seems to disappear a lot, often for days at a time. Finally, there are a few key physical and technological attributes: Monger has some odd and incredibly energetic facial expression—including a nearly maniacal smile and a dark scowl—as well as a jet pack that he appears to have constructed himself and green eyes.

I’m still not certain I see the resemblance, but maybe there are some similarities? What do you think?

If you’re familiar with Metro City’s resident blue alien, you can probably see where this is going. Although it’s not a popular theory, I’ve heard it suggested in the Megamind fandom that Monger is, in fact, Megamind disguised using his holowatch. (This is why the green eyes are significant; Megamind’s eye color is the only aspect of his appearance that the holowatch doesn’t change. However, I feel compelled to note that the shade of green appears to be different.) Fans insist that it would have been easy for someone as incredibly brilliant as Megamind to hack government systems and forge documents such as birth certificates thoroughly enough to dupe even U.S. Military Intelligence. The two jet packs, some have contested, look different either because of the disguise or because the one featured in Monster VS. Aliens is an older model. I’ve even seen the fact that both Megamind and Monger begin with M being pointed to as possible evidence that the latter is no more than an invention of the former.

The argument is as follows: as Monsters VS. Aliens takes place in 2009, one year before events in Megamind, it’s possible that Megamind, still being a villain, created an alter-ego which he could use to help him search for and deal with other alien life. (He is shown to be painfully lonely, and the Megamind comics reveal his desperate desire to find other survivors from his home planet.) Upon figuring out who Gallaxhar was, and more importantly what he had done, Megamind wanted to be part of taking him down. But he couldn’t be too open about it; he was, after all, still a “Bad Guy.” This theory explains Monger’s frequent long absences—during those time Megamind was back in Metro City taking care of his regular business— as well as why Monger had a secret soft spot for the “monsters.” Megamind, having always been treated like a monster himself, would naturally want to give them a chance, but wouldn’t dare behave in too overtly friendly a manner as it would have aroused suspicion.

As I said, support for that particular theory is, perhaps, a little thin, especially given the fact the Monsters VS. Aliens preceded Megamind, so character designs from the former are unlikely to have been influenced by the latter. Nonetheless, I admit to appreciating the complexity and creativity of it. It’s an undeniably fun theory. If they haven’t already, maybe someone will write a fan fiction about it one day.

Those are only a few of the theories out there connecting Megamind with other fandoms. One could go on and on about the subject, but I won’t torture readers by doing that. Nonetheless, it illustrates once again the immense love and original thought that Megamind fans put into developing their theories! I dare say that few other animated movies have earned a following so dedicated and inventive… But, then, any of us who love the film Megamind will tell you that it has more than earned the consideration!

#Megamind #Megamind fan theory #Megamind movie #Megamind fan theories #comic books #comic book #superheroes #supervillain #DreamWorks #DWA #Monsters vs Aliens #Rise of the Guardians #Rise Guardians #Monsters #Aliens

134 notes · View notes

lumina-rose · 3 years

Text

Tear You Apart

Chapter 3/4

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32168824/chapters/80048179

Pairing:

Laszlo x Reader

Summary:

Mere months after the conclusion of the Beecham case, Dr.Kreizler and his associates are asked once again to solve a new series of murders that plague the streets of New York. They are joined by the alienist’s new assistant, who’s presence soon unravels startling revelations. Not only within the case, but also within the mind of one of their own.

(This story is set between the events of Season 1 and Season 2)

Warnings:

Murder Mystery, Graphic Description of Corpses, slight dark!Laszlo (kinda. Think Will “This is my design” Graham), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Minor Violence, Friends to Lovers,Assistant, Boss/Employee Relationship,Tension, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining, Kidnapping, Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Abuse

(More Future Warnings TBD)

Notes:

Adding an extra warning for this chapter, just in case.

This chapter deals with themes of violence, kidnapping, captivity, non-consensual touching, non-consensual groping, and implied abuse.

Chapter 3: Lily

Dr. Kreizler was not a man who considered himself superstitious.

Ever since he was a boy, he clung to his curiosity, searching for answers through science rather than religion in order to understand the world around him, even if it left his reputation tarnished to the more traditionally-raised, God-fearing socialites of New York. Yet, even as a child, there had always been a darkness that surrounded him, drawing in trouble wherever he went. No, Laszlo was not superstitious, but there seemed no other term to describe himself other than cursed.

You had been missing for two days, and even logic and reason could not explain why history seemed destined to repeat itself.

Following your night at the opera, Kreizler had thought it odd that you had not appeared at the Institute the following day. You had not seemed unwell, during your outing- quite the opposite, actually- and yet the fact remained that your presence was notably absent. At first, the alienist pushed his worry aside. After all, you had spent what was supposed to be a night of rest by his side. He reasoned that perhaps you had simply drained yourself, driving yourself to exhaustion with both the investigation and the concern you had displayed for him. But what truthfully unsettled him was the lack of warning of your absence. It was unlike you.

Regardless, even with your absence, Kreizler quickly worked through the day's sessions and duties, leaving most of the day free to continue working on the investigation. Your theory the day before had intrigued him, and gave valuable insight into what the killer's motives and background could be. With a newfound momentum, Laszlo called for Stevie, sending the ward to gather his colleagues here at the Institute, in order to follow this new train of thought. He also instructed Stevie to find you, deciding that it would be best to check on you, if only to calm his own anxieties. With that, all that was left to do was wait.

Marcus and Lucius were the first to arrive, punctual as always. Not wishing to waste any time, the twins immediately went to discuss their new findings with the doctor, picking out bits of information that may be relevant to figuring out the killer's identity. Kreizler listened, drawing connections to their findings with the theory you had created. John was the next to arrive, quickly followed by Sara. The two had not had much to work with, in terms of narrowing down who the killer may be, but found a couple police reports and articles that had spoken about similar incidents. Laszlo nodded, giving his own opinions and comments occasionally, but his mind continued to drift elsewhere. He had pulled out his pocket watch, when he heard a new set of footsteps. Quickly, he looked up, only to see Stevie once again. Ushering the boy inside, he asked if he had found you.

"I tried, Dr. Kreizler, but I couldn't find her anywhere." Stevie explained. "Even went by the house a few times, but no one ever answered. Her door was locked, so I thought maybe she came back here."

Laszlo sighed, audibly upset by the news. "Right, thank you Stevie."

This caught the attention of everyone in the room. After the boy left the room, Sara turned to Laszlo.

"Has something happened?" She asked, sensing Laszlo's growing worry. "How long has she been missing?"

The alienist simply shook his head. "Since this morning. At first I thought I was simply overreacting, but now I'm not so sure..."

Saying his admission aloud, Laszlo realized how troubling the whole situation had seemed. He explained where you had been last night, and how Kreizler had made sure to get you home safely after the opera, only to find that you had not come to the Institute today. John stood up from his seat, sending a glance to Sara and the brothers. They stayed silent, throwing silent glances back and forth, as if talking through looks alone. Finally, Sara stepped forward.

"I believe we should go to her home, ourselves. If we find that she is safe, then we can continue our investigation."

"What're you saying?" Lucius interjected, stunned by Sara's proposal. "What would you have us do? Having the five of us show up unannounced to (y/n)'s home might be an overreaction, considering it hasn't even been a day."

"You may be right," Sara starts. "but I'd like to make sure nothing has happened to her. I won't be able to shed the guilt if the worst has come."

Laszlo's heart sank at her words, reminding him of the very same doubts and worries he had told you of the night before.

Moving quickly, Laszlo went to grab his jacket, placing it on as he spoke. "I'm going-"

Once more, Lucius was wary. "Dr. Kreizler-"

"-stay here if you must, Lucius." He turned, leaving no room for argument as he walked towards the exit.

Reluctantly, Lucius followed after Laszlo, with Marcus's hand on his shoulder. Sara and John were already standing, ready to leave with the doctor, the same memory of the Beecham case fresh in their mind. With that, it didn't take long for them to reach your home, a mere few blocks away from the Institute. It was a relatively small building, not like the towering apartments that surrounded it on either side. It was as though someone had taken a cottage from the countryside and placed it right on the streets of New York.

There were no lights on, by the windows. A fact that shouldn't have been strange, considering it was now late into the day. Even so, it caused a sense of looming dread to enter Laszlo's mind. It felt so similar when he had returned to his own home all those months ago, as though time was repeating itself. First with Mary, now with you. As the group called and knocked on your door, drawing the scrutinizing and curious stares of the people passing by, Laszlo concluded that he must have been cursed. How else could he explain the events unfolding? Truly, everyone that was drawn towards him seemed destined to either leave or be taken from him.

There had been one thing that gave him hope that it would be different.

With Mary, she had been a constant, comforting presence. What he felt towards her had not always been there, not until much later after their first interactions, but it had been a source of happiness and warmth. The feeling of being known so completely, without needing so much as a word being spoken. Mary had brought out a kindness in him that even he had feared he did not possess. It had been sweet and somewhat innocent love, regardless of the rather unusual dynamic.

With you, it was a similar feeling, but not entirely the same. Where his feelings for Mary were more subtle, there had always been an underlying want in his relationship with you. At first, it had simply been a need to understand you. How you could be so similar to him, sharing that same curiosity for the human mind, yet still be able to catch him by surprise with your insights. He wanted to know about you, every little detail. Learning what made you tick, what made you happy, and what parts of your mind you had not shown to anyone else. Yet, even that wasn't enough. It wasn't until much recently, had Laszlo deduced the source of this incessant need for you. Where his feelings for Mary had made him recognize the lighter side of him, you made him realize that perhaps the darkness there was deeper than he knew. But he welcomed that new feeling just as enthusiastically, after the events of the opera.

What he felt for Mary and for you were very different, but just as intense. He had hoped, foolishly, that those differences would change something. And yet it seemed as if history was playing out again, as it had before.

"Unlock the door."

Laszlo's words were met with hesitation by the group, before they noticed the clear distress in his expression. Marcus nodded, placing the bag he held down in front of the door, before crouching down to pick the lock. Once unlocked, Sara opened the door, leaning in through the frame to look inside. From what she could tell, the study and kitchen were empty, and she could hear no sounds of movement, even after she called your name. Slowly, one-by-one, the five of them entered your home.

"Marcus and I will check upstairs," Sara decided, earning a nod from the Isaacson brother. "I believe there are a few rooms further back."

As they split up inside the house, Laszlo found himself at a loss. Although he had stopped by a couple of times, he had never truly taken the time to examine the home. Outside of the paintings that decorated the walls and the furniture provided to you, the home was extremely bare. Only a handful of personal items were scattered about, as well as a couple of books he had given you to read. For each and every room the doctor passed, it dawned on him that you had not been exaggerating when you had told him you dropped everything to move to New York. He wondered just how much you had left behind.

"Dr. Kreizler!"

Marcus's voice called out, clearly alarmed, causing the air to still throughout the house. Rushing upstairs, John, Lucius, and Laszlo all went to join Marcus and Sara, only stopping once they saw the man exit what appeared to be your bedroom. A small bouquet of roses in his hands.

You awoke with your eyes closed. The only thing grounding you to reality was the steady, throbbing pulse in the back of your head, causing a dull ache to pass over you with every beat. With a low groan, you blinked, as you thought about how rough work at the Institute was going to be, if this headache was going to plague you. As you shot up from the bed, letting out a painful cry, you went to raise your hand to you head. Only for them to be pulled back harshly, by a binding pressure against your wrists.

You blinked, and suddenly the pain in your head was in the back of your mind. Your eyes shot to your hands, ignoring the sting of the sudden action. A bundle of knots bound you, as a rope dug into your skin, leashing you to the unfamiliar bed frame behind you.

No. no. no no no. You thought in a panic, realizing the gravity of your current situation.

You took in your surroundings, seated on a small bed in the center of a room. There were no windows, and only a small lamp by the door lit the small space. The walls were bare, save for the portrait of a young woman. The only exit was a wooden door, with cracks forming from the bottom. Your heart racing, you tried to recall your memory of the events last night. What had happened to you? Where were you? Who brought you here?

You remembered the opera, and your pleasant time with Laszlo there, and how he had escorted you back to your home. So why couldn't you remember falling asleep there? Why were you still wearing the same dress you had spent hours deciding on? You had watched the carriage ride far out of sight, Stevie at the reins. You had opened the door to your home, without the use of your key, as it had been unlocked already.

Unlocked. Despite having purposefully locked it before leaving for the night.

"Stupid." Your breath hitched, as you cursed yourself for not noticing such a mistake. You hadn't even realized. Too giddy and tired from the emotional events of the opera.

Your heart raced, as you grew more and more frustrated, causing you to tug at your bindings. But no luck came. You thought back to what you did after entering your home. You had placed a few things down, before retiring to your bedroom, in order to change into your night clothes and sleep. But you never made it that far. In a sudden moment of clarity, a memory returned to you. You had sat down in front of your vanity mirror, before noticing a flash of red in the mirror. A bouquet of roses. Perhaps it was the fear and shock of the realization that the killer they’d been hunting had been in your home that caused you to lose consciousness. However, the pain in your head suggested otherwise.

Whatever the case was, you were now trapped in a room, after being taken from your home by the very person you had spent months trying to find. But aside from the distressing predicament of your kidnapping, what unsettled you most was the sudden deviation in behavior. If you truly had been taken by the killer you were searching for, why were you still alive? Why did he take you? What did he plan to do to you?

You didn't want to wait to find out, but found that you had little choice in the matter. No matter how many times you tugged and pulled at your bindings, the restraint never weakened. You had tried untying the knots on the bed frame, in hopes that you may be able to escape, even if your hands were tied together. The knots however, were tight and overlapping each other, and no amount of strength that you possessed could undo them. In desperation, you looked at the wooden door, knowing that it was all that stood between you and freedom. If you only could unbind your hands. But even if you had escaped, you didn't know where you were, or who's home you were in.

The answer didn't come till what felt like hours later. You had sat yourself up into a more comfortable position on the bed, where the rope would not pull at your now-aching wrists, and jumped as the wooden door suddenly opened.

Your heart leapt to your throat, and all you could seem to do was stare at the figure in the doorway. You were shocked. Your were speechless. You wanted to deny it, to try and lie to yourself by saying that he couldn't be the one who took you. That his presence here was merely some miraculous coincidence. But you weren't that naive. Still, never had you thought the same man who would regularly stop by your house could potentially be a murderer.

"Mr. Arnett." You breathed out, finally.

"Good evening, my dear." He greeted, his tone just as casual as any other time you had spoken. As though it was normal, to have you tied up in a room against your will.

As he stepped into the room, you found yourself growing more and more anxious with each of his steps. He had asked you something, a question you couldn't recall. You couldn't even find it within you to respond, knowing that anything you said might make your situation worse. If Arnett truly was the same man who’d been killing the women of New York, then it’s likely he’d have no issue using that same violence against you. Although, he had already changed his behavior, choosing to attack you in your own home, rather than on the street. That alone revealed that he was unpredictable.

"What..what am I doing here?" You asked, fearfully. You wanted your tone to come off as more questioning, rather than upset. You knew that if Laszlo’s theory was correct, the only reason you weren’t dead yet was because the fantasy behind the murders relied on your acceptance of the man. Still unsure of his intentions with you, you shuddered at the thought of letting the man do whatever he wanted.

"I'm taking care of you."

The vagueness of the answer, and the emptiness in his tone, as he spoke sent a wave of fear over you. The man took a step towards you, right next to the bed you were tied to. You sat up, moving away from him, by instinct. You had hardly noticed the tray Arnett had been carrying, until he placed it down on the foot of the bed. A wide assortment of fruits, breads, and foods were placed onto the tray, along with a single red rose. Taking a seat next to you, he lifted something off of the item.

"A strawberry, from my garden." He explained, as though that was the cause of your nervous behavior.

You didn’t feel hungry, but felt a sense of relief at the act. Only because that meant he didn’t plan on harming you…yet. Once more, he placed the strawberry up to your lips.

Arnett's jaw tensed, as he spoke again. This time he sounded as though he were trying to restrain himself. "You don't need to be afraid of me."

Afraid to anger him, you took a bite, before attempting to distance yourself from him further, if that were even possible at this point. He praised you for the action, as an owner would praise a pet. Bitterness rose from your chest, creating a bad taste in your mouth. Whether it was the fruit he gave you, or the reaction you had to his words, you weren't sure.

"See, I knew you'd be good," He spoke, condescendingly. "just like my Lily."

You swallowed back a grimace. "Lily?"

Arnett blinked, as if confused for a moment, before giving a forced chuckle. His eyes turned to the portrait in the room, of the young woman. "I must apologize, it's rather rude of me to compare you to my wife- ex-wife. "

He quickly corrected himself, before looking back at you, his eyes falling to your wrists. More specifically, the red burns on them, from your previous attempts at escape. He reached out, without warning, before scolding you profusely. He spoke only about how should be more careful, as to not harm yourself further. In your upset state, you didn't even think before instinctively ripping your hands from his hold, not wanting him to so much as touch you.

Arnett's almost-caring expression fell in an instant, before revealing an angered scowl. He grabbed your arms again, only now his grip was harsh and painful. There was no doubt in your mind that you would have bruises later.

"Don't do that." He hissed. "Don't you ever do that!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, shaking as you quickly apologized in an attempt to calm his sudden temper. Blinking, you searched for any excuse that might help you. "I'm sorry.. I.. It's inappropriate, I wasn't expecting you to.."

Once more, you cursed yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse. However, even as you closed your eyes, you felt the grip on your hand lose its hold. When you looked back at Arnett, his scowl had disappeared. He thought for a moment, before a slight smile crept over his lips.

"You don't need to worry about such things anymore, my dear." He sighed. "Now that you're here with me, you won't have to feign innocence for the sake of appearances. We can speak freely now."

As you stared into his eyes, you came to understand that in some twisted way, his mind had made up a lie: making him believe you held some form of silent connection with him. Twisting your interactions into subtle advances, when they had merely been polite conversations. Every small talk in the study of your home, he had taken it as a sign of reciprocated affections. Rather than what they were. And he truly believed that lie, which was what frightened you the most.

You were silent, as he ran a thumb over your injured hand. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but you viewed it more as a threat. You knew that if you pulled your hands way, as you wanted to, you'd be met with more aggression. Eventually, his focus returned to the tray he had brought in, handing you the rose as he placed another fruit to your mouth. You were fighting back a mixture of emotions, as you attempted to process the situation. You wanted to snap, and tell him that he didn't need to feed you himself. You wanted kick and fight, if only to save your pride. But you knew that none of these actions would help you, and would more likely cause Arnett to harm you.

Instead, you tried to refocus your frustrations into questioning Arnett's plan for you.

"Mr. Arnett, I..I find myself at..at a loss as to why you've brought me here." You muttered, weakly. "Surely, it's not simply to 'speak freely', as you put it? I can't help but think there is another reason.."

The older man scoffed, as if surprised you even had to ask.

"Well, I've been left with no other choice, haven't I? You're forced to spend every day and night fretting over the little problems of a half-crazed alienist, who insists on keeping you by his side." He grit his teeth, looking around the room for a moment. "But that no longer matters. You won’t need to worry anymore about Kreizler taking his liberties with you, my dear."

The bruising grasp on your hand returned. His voice and expression reflected anger, though it didn't seem directed at you this time. His eyes were still staring off at nothing in particular, and it seemed as though he wasn't even aware of the venom in his tone. Ignoring your pain for a moment, you feared what he meant, upon mentioning Laszlo. Was he merely speaking his suspicions out of a jealous delusion? Or had he known- had he seen- your actions with Laszlo at the opera last night?

You let out another pained gasp, causing Arnett to release his hold on you. This time, he stood up, staring down at you with regret and fear. Almost dejectedly, he grabbed the tray once more, and made his way back towards the wooden door. But not without looking back at the portrait once more.

"Lily was as delicate as you."

A time passed before the door opened again.

You had fought to stay awake, in order to try and defend yourself against Arnett, even though you were essentially at his mercy. But the reality was that you were exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. The stress of the case, Laszlo, and your own current situation had left you utterly broken. As sleep came for you, your eyes fogged with tears, as you thought back to the happiness you felt just a night before.

When you finally awoke, you heard a loud thud, as though something had fallen somewhere in the building you were being kept in. Your heart pounded, half hopeful and half afraid. The wooden door to the dim room opened, your heart sinking as you faced Arnett once more, his face red with anger as he began yelling out, seething with every breath.

"He comes to my place of work, accusing me!"

Arnett raves, red in the face, as he circles around the room. His sentences slur together, his words coming out faster than you can understand them. You sit up quickly, bracing yourself, as it's all you can do in the moment. The man's eyes were wide and his gaze flicked from place to place, as if searching for something as he continued to ramble on. You noticed how his hands were clenched, his fingernails digging into his palms and his knuckles becoming a white color. Fearing what he may do, you kept your mouth shut, hoping in vain that he might forget that you're there.

"-Slandering my name and reputation!” He heaved out a heavy breath, before his stare finally finds its destination on you.

Whatever pleasant facade the man placed on for you before was gone now, overcome by his anger. He rushed forwards, pushing you back against the headboard of the bed, placing a hand on your face, pressing hard on your cheeks and jaw. Startled, you froze, unable to even move, except for the trembling throughout your body.

"Who is he to you?" He demanded, an accusatory glare cutting through you.

You choked out a reply, asking who or what he was talking about. That only made his grip stronger, squeezing against your bones enough to make them ache.

“That damned Kreizler!” He spat. “Is he truly so dependent on you, that he cannot go a single day without you?! Is your company so enjoyable that he cannot help himself?”

Arnett’s words were spiteful and insulting. Not only towards Laszlo, but yourself as well. It seemed that while Arnett did not seem to know the extent of your relationship to the alienist, the suspicion was enough to drive him over the edge. You only feared what would happen, should he learn what occurred at the opera. As your mind raced with your thoughts, you hadn't noticed how your captor now moved over you, trapping you under him. His spare hand trailed over you, his glare burning holes into you as he grabbed at your form. Your mind went blank, and all you could hear was the heartbeat that now pulsed in your ears. You twisted and turned, biting into your cheek as your body moved on its own, trying to do anything to get him off of you. A quick slap stunned you, causing you to recoil from the force.

Still, Arnett seemed lost to his ramblings. “He claims himself a gentleman! Tell me, do you enjoy the attention he gives you? Perhaps I’ve been mistreating you, perhaps you enjoy the way he takes advantage of you-“

Mistreatment was an understatement, but you dared not speak your mind in this moment. The feeling of his spare hand pushing a trail up your leg sent a wave of disgust and fear through you. Desperately, you spoke, saying anything that came to mind, hoping to calm the clearly unhinged man.

“No, no Mr. Arnett, please!”

You cried, gasping as your throat seemed to close off on its own.

“You’re- you’re right! He’s- He’s not a gentlemen, not like you. Louis-“

You barely registered what you were saying, only focusing on pleading for your life. You continued, speaking whatever you thought the man would want to hear. As soon as they left your mouth, you hated every lie you spoke about Laszlo. How you were catering to Mr. Arnett’s sick fantasy. It seemed to work, however, as the man paused his assault on you. His grip on your chin lifted your gaze up to him, making you stare through tears to look him in the eye.

Your voice shook as you spoke, going on and on about how you were being mistreated and how Arnett was a gentlemen, as much as it pained you to do so. You empathized the phrase, hoping it might somehow make him stop. His actions were abhorrent, yet he seemed to pride himself on being the gentleman he had tricked you into believing he was. You played into Arnett's fantasy, making yourself appear as some damsel in need of saving and that Arnett was the man who would do it. All you could do was hope your words satisfied him.

His hand released its hold on your leg, but you did not allow yourself to sigh in relief. The hold on your chin disappeared, as he gently placed his palm against your cheek. A soft smile met his lips, yet his eyes remained vacant and cold. His voice was distant once more, as if remembering something.

“You truly are just like my Lily.” He pressed his lips against you, holding you there. You didn’t move. When he finally parted, he gave a reassuring smile, something meant to comfort you, before saying: “He won’t mistreat you anymore, my dear. I’ll make sure of it.”

The older man stood up, smoothing a hand over his suit, before turning from you. Your heart sank at his words, leaving you in despair even as he left the room. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you cried into the wrinkled fabric of your dress, muffling the sound in order to keep Arnett from hearing you.

It felt like years, as another day passed. Your heart ached along with your shoulders and wrists, as you stared blankly at the wooden door. There were moments when you asked yourself if this barren room would be the last thing you saw. If the painted, empty eyes of Lily Arnett would be staring down at you, as you joined her in death. But there was hope.

Arnett’s outburst had been sudden and terrifying. But in his state, he’d given you the knowledge that Laszlo and the others were close, already questioning the man. Already suspecting the truth. You just needed to keep him satisfied, until your friends could figure out how to find you. If they found you.

When the wooden door opened once more, Arnett was bringing in another tray of food and water for you. As he came into the light of the lamp, your attention was drawn to the cut along the man's temple. Given your situation, this shouldn't have surprised you, but in all the time you've known the man you’d never seen the man with even a scratch on him, despite the violent attacks he had carried out. Before your abduction, you knew the man to be of good standing in the eyes of society. Someone obsessed with his reputation as a proper gentleman. Someone who’d never be caught up in a fight, not one that would cause such a wound.

You ask what happened, less out of concern and more out of curiosity, desperately wanting to learn what you could about the events playing out in the world outside of the small room. Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears however, as Arnett silently approached, not answering you. Instead, he lifted the food for you to eat. Slowly, you took a bite, not wanting to upset him further. After finishing the bits fruit and bread he initially offered, you found yourself growing more and more restless, due to his unsettling silence. As he lifted another fruit to you, you turned your head slowly, until eventually you found yourself looking up at the woman in the portrait.

Twice now he had mentioned his late wife…Lily. Some deep-rooted part of you felt as though her death had not been some random accident or illness, given how Arnett had consistently been comparing the two of you. No… By now, you suspected that perhaps the poor woman had shared your fate, falling victim to her husband's erratic behavior.

You opened your mouth, your throat dry as you carefully said: “I…I realize I never asked about your wife, before. If it is not too upsetting, tell me, how… how did she pass?”

Arnett blinked, as if snapped from his silence. A vacant expression crossed over his face, sending a frightening chill through you. It was identical to the one Laszlo had at the morgue, as the alienist was trying to gain insight into the killer’s mind. You had trusted Laszlo, but it was different now. Now you looked that very killer in the eye.

“I believe I told you. She was delicate." He paused, staring you down, before glancing away quickly. "Now eat.”

A horrible pit in your stomach grew, as your mind raced to create images of what you suspected befell the late Mrs. Arnett. If his lack of hesitation of using force against you was any indication…It was slowly becoming evident that perhaps she may have been the first. The catalyst that created the man you faced now. You swallow back the lump in your throat, speechless. In your shock, you had forgotten what Arnett had ordered you to do. It was too late to fix your mistake, as the man quickly took your silence as refusal. In an instant, the tray was shoved aside, slammed to the floor, as his form climbed over you.

"You ungrateful bitch!" His hands clamped down on your throat, using a strength that felt as though it would snap your life away at any second. You hands pulled down on the ropes, having enough length to allow you to claw at his grasp. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?"

You struggled for breath, your heartbeat becoming the only sound in your ears before a slam at the door snapped you from your panicked state. A voice- no, voices- spoke loudly. You didn’t process what was said, only that the weight of Arnett shifted. You found yourself placed between Arnett and the unknown parties, a sharp pressure against your neck. As you gathered your senses, you realized the pressure was a knife, one Arnett had kept hidden away. You weren't sure if he had it before, or if he had planned to use it against you before being interrupted.

John and Sara stood before you, the woman aiming a gun towards Arnett. Though, with you placed in between them, the weapon was also directed towards you. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. If you weren’t so focused on the knife’s weight against you, your heart surely would have leapt with happiness. They had found you! But the confrontation was not over.

"You have no right, breaking in here!” Arnett seethed. “I’ll have you arrested!”

Sara was quick to respond, not even flinching from his words. “Call them if you like, but I doubt the police would be interested with us, upon finding a woman unwillingly locked up on your property.”

Arnett shook his head, his breath coming out in heavy exhales. His voice was shaking. Out of anger, fear, and confusion. “No, you’re wrong! She..she wants to be here! Tell them!”

The knife pressed harder against you, as Arnett whispered unintelligible words against your ear. You gasped, closing your eyes, as if everything would disappear if you didn't watch. Another sound of footsteps grabbed your attention, forcing you to look up once more. A third figure emerged through the door, joining John and Sara. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, upon seeing the tense stand-off between them and Arnett. With you at the center.

“Laszlo!” You called, the name falling from your mouth before you could stop it.

A vice grip found the back of your neck, making you gasp in pain. His whisper was erratic but you could just make out: "How dare you say his name in front of me-"

The knife pressed harder, a small sting followed by a warm trickling feeling. His cheek pressed against your ear, speaking lowly. “Tell them you want to be here. With me.”Another pause of silence made him seethe. "Answer me, Lily!”

Arnett’s grip on reality, whatever remained, was slipping as the scene played out before you. Still, you refused. Laszlo was here, They were all here! You were so close to freedom that you couldn't bare the thought of him taking it away. Tears reached your eyes, as you glanced at the faces you've grown to know.

“There’s no where to go, Mr. Arnett.” Sara said, regaining your attention. She looked back at you, rather than your captor. She looked unsure, as she aimed her gun toward the two of you, in contrast to her confident words. “If you truly care for her, as I suspect you do, then let her go.”

“No, nonono..” Arnett’s breaths became erratic. “She belongs with me! Tell them, my dear, now.”

Still you remain silent, biting back a cry.

Arnett snapped, cursing you, as the knife lifted for a moment, before turning fully towards you, intended to pierce your throat. In that split moment, you heard the loud blast of gunfire, followed by the metallic smell of gunpowder. A ringing overtook your senses, followed closely by a burning in your shoulder.

Then...

thud

Your heartbeat signaled to you that you were alive, but you couldn't help yourself but think it was a trick. One last cruel joke for the entertainment of a higher power.

Your mind and vision seemed to blur, as each passing moment came by in flashes. You no longer felt Arnetts breath against your ear, yet the intense pain in your shoulder remained. You felt a pair of arms reach around you, as the restraining pull of ropes on your wrists disappeared. The cool breeze of air hit your face at some point, before the rest faded away to darkness.

#The Alienist #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo x you #Daniel Bruhl

56 notes · View notes

wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Group Project (Shino x Reader x Kisame x Temari)

Request:

Word Count: 2,282

Tags/Warnings: Language, Alcohol Mention, Gender Neutral Reader @brokennerdalert @narahanabi

Notes: I have never written for Temari before. I think I got her spot on tho. This was actually too fun to write. Enjoy, y’all.

The only time that worked for everyone was 10 o’clock. Which, by the way, sucked ass. At least, that was what Kisame said in the groupchat just ten minutes before you dragged yourself out of your dorm and into the rain. You trudged through the puddles, holding your jacket closed over your body to protect your backpack-encased laptop. Shino had a night lab. The earlier he finished his work the earlier he could leave. Temari had been insistent about that. She had some sort of circle and you remembered Kisame asking her why she couldn’t just skip for the week only to be met with a passive aggressive response. And Kisame himself had hockey practice. Even the sports houses were off campus, only impeding your scheduling efforts.

When you got to the longue, Temari had already set up all of her belongings. She sat herself in a cluster of four shallow armchairs and spread out a flurry of papers on the long coffee table. With the packed schedule that she threw into the chat, you wondered how she got there so quickly. Temari looked up at you with one long, slender brow raised.

“Oh good, at least you’re here.” Unsure, really, of what to make of her backhanded compliment, you sat down in the chair across from her and wordlessly unpacked your laptop.

You never liked general classes. At the end of the day, you worked on a few big, group projects, ultimately learned nothing, and your grade depended on the work ethic of others. You glanced over at Temari. She likely didn’t even have the same major as you. Granted, that was probably the point of the class, but nonetheless, it weighed on your already drooping eyes knowing that you’d have to pour so many late night hours into a project that would amount to nothing.

You pulled up your school account and sifted through your notifications.

“I signed us up for a research question. I thought that censorship in the classroom was an easy and relevant one. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to get into the intricacies of drones at this time of day.” You couldn’t help but nod. Temari sure pounced on top of things quickly and for that, you were thankful to have received an easy prompt.

“Sounds great,” you mused and the heavy door from the outside to the longue slammed shut. You glanced over your shoulder to find Kisame, still in athletic clothes grinning as he approached.

“Well this is bullshit, isn’t it?” Those were the first words to come out of his mouth and you could practically hear Temari groan in exasperation. Kisame plopped down in the armchair beside you, offering you a wink as he did. “What kinda professor assigns a project on Tuesday only for it to be due Thursday? Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

You averted your eyes back to your screen, pretending to sort through your notifications. You hummed in response, too easily flustered and too tired to process. Temari’s fingers flexed over her own keyboard.

“It’s the beginning of the semester. It’s to test out organizational skills and teamwork,” she managed through half-gritted teeth. You looked between your two teammates, wondering what exactly happened between them that made them so hostile to each other. You made a mental note to not get in the way of whatever that was. Kisame scoffed, sitting back in the arm chair and reaching for his own computer.

“I don’t really care what it is and why it is. What I care about is that I’m wasting my Wednesday night…”

“Ah, yes, Wednesday night,” Temari repeated mockingly, “Because I know that I like getting plastered in the middle of the week.” Kisame leaned towards you on his left arm cushion.

“Soy Sauce over there is just sore that her brother picked a fight with one of my boys and lost. Sasori’s a short guy too, you should link with us sometime.” You heard Temari scoff.

“Yeah, like Kankuro would lose to any of the thugs you hang around—”

“Who are you calling a thug?” Temari met Kisame’s pointed glare. Even so, he sank farther into his seat, lifting one ankle to rest on his knee. “Though, I think it says something that you knew exactly what I was talking about—” He punctuated every word with a smug swing of his head before Shino walked in.

“Nice to see that things are lively in here.” He made his way across the lounge before plopping down next to Temari. A white piece of cloth hung out from his backpack, something that Temari didn’t miss as Shino prepared his materials.

“That’s a hazard.” She bit the inside of her lip.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s been grumpy since before you came here,” Kisame quickly explained, much to Temari’s disdain.

Looking across from you, you almost wished that you had just been paired up with Shino. You didn��t know him that well, but he seemed smart, capable and overall, quiet. Temari had drive, but her approach felt intense. Meanwhile, Kisame seemed like he couldn’t care less about the project. Or perhaps, it was more that he couldn’t care less about Temari.

“So the paper,” you began out of sheer nervousness. “And the presentation…” The three sets of eyes turned to you. You glanced at the clock. You had already wasted more than a half hour.

“Let’s be real here, a five page research paper is nothing,” Temari said, also crossing her legs. “It’s the presentation that we should worry about.” Kisame let out a breath.

“Well, here I was about to say the opposite.” He turned his neck to the side and you heard a few audible cracks. “What about we split it up if the paper is so easy for you?”

“I’m not just doing the paper by myself. Besides, I’d need to find sources and by the time I’ve found sources and written everything up, I’ll have done most of the work.” Temari wrinkled her nose at your partner next to you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what you were banking on.”

“Here.” Shino’s low voice broke through the room. With one exaggerated click on his keyboard he looked up at the three of you. “I just put a list of sources in the shared doc. There’s ten of them which should be more than enough. I pulled a few articles and a few academic papers which should meet the criteria from the rubric.”

Temari blinked down at her computer, furiously switching tabs. Her lips formed a round ‘o’ shape.

“Nice work, Shino,” you praised only to receive a shy nod. “I think if we take an anti-censorship stance, it’ll make out work easier given the time that we have to finish. Maybe Temari, you can start the paper and I can start the slides.”

“I can help you with that,” Kisame offered and you typed his email into the share box.

“I’ll help Temari with the paper,” Shino said with another nod.

“Start with the counterarguments. I’ll work from the top, you work from the bottom.” Temari gestured widely to Shino’s screen and you let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you’ll be able to get all of this done after all.

Time flew during the late hours of the night. You didn’t know what it was about the nighttime that made time feel quicker than usual. Soon enough, the clock struck one. Temari plucked ferociously at her laptop and it surprised you that Kisame hadn’t asked her what she was punishing her keyboard for. Shino, on the other hand, liked to stand. About an hour ago, he had stood up from his seat, and with one foot on the low level of the coffee table, kept at writing his part of the paper. Temari and Shino didn’t speak much. Rather, their side of the table mostly sounded of clicking.

Meanwhile, you and Kisame were having a great time. He made you laugh much to Temari’s annoyance, but knowing that you were getting your parts done, she didn’t comment. Despite his outward physique, Kisame had a sense of style when it came to design and organization. You flew through fonts and images quickly and by the time you had cleared the first few slides, even you were impressed by how professional it looked. The clock read two o’clock.

“This was your conclusion, right?” You turned your screen in your hands to face Temari. She squinted over and her eyes lit up.

“Actually, that’s a way better wording. Imma just steal that…” She clicked some more. “That’s some great work.”

“It was actually all Kisame.” And to your surprise, he didn’t gloat. Instead, he remained eerily focused. Temari glanced at him before glancing away.

“Like I said, great work…” she muttered.

“We’re almost done with the slides,” you announced, “Do you guys need help with the paper?” Shino shook his head. You found that he preferred non-verbal answers.

“We’re wrapping up over here, too,” Temari answered.

“Good, because I’m fuckin’ starving.”

And with the one mention of food, you all looked up at each other.

***

There was only one place open this late at night and it was one block away from campus. Fast Food, of course, but no one in your group complained. The dining halls were closed and most of you didn’t keep your rolling pantries stocked with anything worth eating at two in the morning, so you packed up your things.

It felt odd walking down the road with this group of people. You chattered amongst yourselves about anything other than your assignment.

“Me? I’m a biology major. I want to study beetles but I have to get my undergrad before I can do anything really specific.” By far, Shino had to be the most interesting of you all. You made your way off of campus, the restaurant in your sight. And as the walk continued, so did your conversation.

“I’ve wanted to try the new place that they opened up by admissions but they’re always closed when I try to go.” Temari pouted and you crossed the street together. You wondered if spending four straight hours having to communicate with any three people could make talking to them this easy.

“Marine biology?” You stared up at Kisame. “I don’t think I would have guessed.” He let out a hearty laugh that sent a few birds flying.

“Oh yeah, they have us go out of labs for the whole day. And when I say the whole day, I mean the whole day. I’ve always loved the ocean, but I think I’d have to transfer if I had to wake up at seven and come back at eight for more than one day a week.” Kisame reached for the handle, only for it not to budge in his grip. He tried again.

“Are they closed?” you asked, getting slightly agitated at the prospect.

“No.” Shino cupped his hands around his eyes as he stared through the window. “Wet floor signs are out. This must be the time that they clean the dining room.” Shino hardly had to finish his sentence before Kisame was already on his way to the drive thru.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Temari yelled after him as she jogged to catch up. “You can’t just walk through the drive thru.”

“Sure you can.” Kisame stood directly in front of the speaker with his hands in his pockets. “There are no cars around and even if there were, they’d have to take our order to get us out of the way… Hello?” The speaker crackled and Kisame shot a pointed look at the rest of you before moting for you to come closer to order.

“What can I get you?” the apathetic worker droned.

“Can I get a number nine?” Kisame started.

“Oh me too,” you whispered to him, not entirely sure why you spoke with such a hushed tone. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Make that two number nines? One large—” He stepped back to let Temari come up to the speaker.

“May I please get a number six with extra sauce, please? And, uh, a number seven too, please.” Like Kisame before her, Temari stepped to allow Shino to talk.

“Two number forty-fives, one with cheese and a large soda.”

With nowhere else to sit, you claimed a spot in the empty parking lot. Temari ended up paying. You put up a fight, but she insisted. You were secretly convinced that she was loaded anyway.

“You two got a lot of food.” Kisame handed you your fillet burger. Temari hummed, taking one of her backs and folded it behind her.

“One’s for my boyfriend,” she said, and before Kisame could get out a snarky comment about how Temari could ever land a boyfriend, Shino answered,

“I just usually eat all at once. Can’t usually grab dinner while doing night labs.” You all grimaced to yourselves. You knew the feeling of skipping meals because of your schedules.

You looked out at the city. Your school sat on a hill just outside of the twinkling lights. You found comfort in the blinking that came from below and your surroundings made the atmosphere feel completely still.

“You know, if we have a choice, we should just stick together for the rest of the semester.” Shino’s monotone voice cut through the air. You turned to the rest of them. Temari shrugged.

“It’s less of a gamble since we know each other, I suppose. I know that most of you won’t mess up our assignments…” You and Kisame nodded along, both stuffing your faces with french fries.

The decision was unanimous.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes:

Shino’s lab coat was in with his regular supplies which is technically a hazard when working in chem and bio labs since lab coats should be sealed.

Not all fast-food places well take your order without a car, but if you block the line they’ll give in (that’s what I did). Don’t blame me if you get arrested for doing that though.

"I'll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda."– Melvin "Big Smoke" Harris

120 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Compliment Battle ~ Lee Felix [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 1.8k

↬↬↬Genre: Fluffy!!!

↬↬↬Pairing: Lee Felix X Latina!Reader

↬↬↬A/n: Hope this is okay for you love! Had a lot of fun writing for the guys as I feel like I haven’t written fluff for them in a while! I promise to write more once my requests are down!

The press was good at over exaggerating things whenever they could, it was what they did all of the time you knew and everyone else knew it too but knowing it was different when you were reading something about yourself. Another day another dumb article from one of the online magazines that everyone seemed to adore so much, always sharing it with one another despite the contents either being completely made up or turned on their head so they were no longer facts. You laid awake while Felix was asleep beside you, he'd gotten in late with Chan last night so you weren't about to wake him up and show him yet another article about your relationship. The only reason you were up so early was because of the sun peeking through the blinds in the window which Jeongin had neglected to shut - again - the night before. Through every muscle in your body, you slowly and quietly got out of the bottom bunk of the bed and walked towards the door - being careful not to trip on any of Jisung's clothes as you went, he told you the reason they were on the floor was that it kept things organised for him, you would have accepted the excuse as well if the boy didn't wear the same four shirts over and over again. You'd been staying over at the dorms while you came to visit Felix for a couple of weeks, trying not to get in the way while they trained and got things ready for STAY.

"You okay?" A voice called out as you silently shut the door behind you, your hand landed on your chest to calm your heart that was now pounding against your chest thanks to Chan who was sitting in the kitchen. He'd heard someone waking up and he knew it wasn't going to be any of the boys - not yet anyway, he placed is earbuds down onto the table and stared at you waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I was going to take a shower. You slept yet?" Stupid question. He'd probably been sitting in the kitchen working from his laptop all night - you knew all of the boys like the back of your hand since you met them when Felix did. Chan eyed you up, he could already tell there was something on your mind by the way you were avoiding his eyes and holding yourself up. Your arms were folded across your chest to block out any body language to give yourself away but in doing so it gave it away that something was wrong.

"I'll make a drink, sit down and tell me about it." You sighed you hated how well he knew people, how quickly he could decipher when something was wrong with someone but at the same time you did love him for it. It was like having a caring older brother there to watch out for you, even if you were older than him Chan would still feel like the older brother type. He flicked the kettle on while he watched you from the corner of his eye, you were sitting at the table while nervously playing with the sleeves of Felix's hoodie you'd worn to bed.

"What is it?" He questioned, he'd made you a drink then set it down in front of you while he waited for you to speak about whatever it was that was bothering you. You knew that Chan and the boys had had their fair share of press coverage both negative and positive but you didn't know how to bring it up with Chan without him running to Felix. It wasn't something you wanted to bother anyone with but it was starting to bother you to the point where you dreaded going online. The constant sprew of articles being written about you was insane, you would have thought they'd have better things to do than write about you and your relationship but apparently not.

"Have you seen the articles?" You could already tell by the dejected look on his face that he'd seen them already and you groaned laying your head down onto the cold wooden table. It was cold enough to relieve some of the tension headache you had but it wasn't enough to completely pass it away.

"It's every time I come to visit, they seem to pick up more and somehow get worse." You whispered looking up at him through your arms to see him giving you a sad smile. You had been visiting the boys a lot more than you used to since dating Felix and since your relationship was outed to everyone. Once it was out you and Felix saw no reason to hide that you were together anymore and continued life as normal together.

"They have to talk about something and unfortunately it's not always good." Your mind flashed back to all of the articles talking about you, how you didn't fit the 'Korean Beauty Standards' and that you were different to who they wanted Felix to date - as if it was down to them anyway. Felix could date whoever he wanted and you were lucky enough that he chose you - though he'd convinced you that he was the lucky one to be able to date you.

"I'm going to go and shower, thanks for the coffee," You whispered taking the mug with you as you headed for the main bathroom of the dorms, it had the largest shower which would make you feel better after the morning you'd been having.

"Hi," Felix's voice was warm as he came up behind you in the kitchen wrapping his arms around your waist as you stood at the sink washing up the breakfast plates and pans you'd used to cook for everyone.

"Hi," You whispered back to him as you felt him leave a small kiss on the back of your neck, he turned you around and you groaned as your hands were still wet from the soapy dishwater.

"Changbin already moped this morning don't make him do it again," You squealed through your sentence as he picked you up and placed you onto the countertop ignoring the protest he got from Hyunjin and Jisung who were still trying to eat their breakfast but finding it hard at the sudden display of affection.

"I'm showing my girl how much I love her-"

"Yeah, well, you have a bedroom for that." Jisung groaned shoving a bit of toast into his mouth watching as Felix took you towards the dorm room he shared with Jisung and Jeongin.

"I missed you this morning." He whispered as he laid you down the bed beneath him his arms either side of your head as he looked down at you, you sent him the warmest smile you could manage with the articles playing in the back of your head. Whenever you looked at him you could somehow feel the words all creeping into your head and clouding your vision of you and him together,

"Sorry, I wanted to do something nice since it's my last week." You knew you were lying. He knew you were lying. He could read you like a book. He collapsed down onto the bed beside you and patted his chest wanting you to cuddle into him while you spoke about what was troubling you. There was no getting out of it, once Felix knew something was bothering you he wouldn't stop until he knew what it was and could fix it for you. He was the little ball of sunshine that tried to make your day better all of the time.

You sat crossed legged in front of him though wondering how you were supposed to bring something like this up to him, he was used to articles being written about him and the boys but you weren't. You weren't used to waking up to the internet exploding about your body - the week before they'd done nothing but analyse the way your body was shaped, the way your hips would move when you walked and the way you wore your clothes. It was different to what they were used to, sure, but you assumed they'd get over it sooner or later. This week however it was about your personality, it was no secret that you were extroverted but with friends like Felix and the guys you had to be. You were all loud and rambunctious together as you all fed off of one another's energy, competing to see who was the loudest out of all of you.

"It's the articles isn't it?" He sat up and came face to face with you, you looked at him eyes dancing over his face to see his freckles you loved so much and his dark brown eyes. His blonde hair was getting long again and fell into his face, you pushed it out of the way and he sighed knowing the answer to his question already without you even saying a word to him.

"I just-"

"Come here," He pulled you to lay down next to him and you sighed, laying here in his arms seemed to melt everything away around you. Suddenly you weren't in the Stray Kids dorm you were just alone with Felix in your own little world being able to just be yourselves without having to worry about anyone else.

Felix knew that there was nothing that he could do to prevent the articles from writing about you or to stop what they were writing about but he was going to do his best to make you feel better about them whenever he could. That was the price for dating an idol when they were in the limelight so were you and if you were going to be seen together it was going to happen a lot more.

"I love it when you're loud by the way," He mumbled into your ear an hour later. You'd both fallen asleep curled up in each other's arms only to wake up with Jeongin come in from losing a video game against Chan.

"Someone can give us all a run for our money, I thought we were loud but with you, we could cheer on a whole basketball team and maybe a football team." You gently poked his side as he playfully teased you trying to cheer you up and he chuckled kissing your cheek as he drew you closer to him, your head was resting against his chest just listening to his heartbeat as you cuddled together.

"Don't even get me started on the way you move your hips - ugh so gorgeous." You groaned at him for being so gross this early in the morning, you took a pillow out from behind you and began smushing it against his face as you got up to get away from his constant compliments, he continued yelling them as you ran towards the door.

"Come back in here and let me compliment you!" He yelled as you shot out of the room into the living room where the boys all let you hide behind them so Felix couldn't get to you.

Tagline:

@snowy-meowl @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @jooniesdarlingdimples

474 notes · View notes