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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 4]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 4)

ie. So the saying goes, 'nothing gold can stay.' Or, the Prefect is facing yet another Overblot and it drags some unpleasant dilemmas to the surface.

A/N: I have been fighting this for a solid hour now, and Tumblr is just being an absolute nightmare and not letting me add any more tags without crashing/refusing to save the post, so if you got kicked off the list, my sincerest apologies

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

There was a curt knock on Mozus Trein’s door.

The aging professor fought the inelegant urge to drop his head into his hands. After taking a moment to silently curse every other damned member of faculty at this college, he schooled his expression into a vague attempt at neutrality and cleared his throat.

“Enter.”

Divus Crewel and his ridiculous ensemble strutted into Trein’s office, and the historian barely bit back a sneer. He and the other professor had never gotten on at the best of times. Perhaps they would tolerate one another for the occasional game of chess, but the other man’s opinions on more or less everything (especially dogs. Ugh.) rankled something unpleasant in Trein’s chest. Call him old fashioned, but intentionally sharpening oneself into something miserable, and cold, and alone all in the name of maintaining an appearance of sophistication was something he would never respect.

Lucius growled from his place by the windowsill, and Crewel very noticeably fought to keep himself from raising his hackles in return. The black-and-white monstrosity leant forward and placed a bottle of red whine on Trein’s desk with a clack.

“What is it now?” Mozus frowned.

Divus didn’t bother to sit in the chair opposite him. He never did. He paced along one of the bookcases for a moment, trailing his crimson gloves along the leather spines.

“More of the same, I suspect,” he finally huffed.

Trein sighed and rifled around in his desk drawers to unearth his chest set. Not the good one—the one with hand-carved, stone, pieces that his daughters had given him for his birthday two years ago. This set wasn’t terribly ugly, and it did the job well enough. Plus, the worn colors lining the board always made something in Crewel’s jaw tick.

“Well,” he grumbled, setting the pieces into place and reaching for the wine. Divus Crewel was entirely unpleasant, but at the end of the day, Mozus had never been one to deny a willing student. And oh if there wasn’t so much that this egomaniacal alchemist still needed to learn. “Get on with it then.”

A part of you was sort of expecting to see one of those ‘WELCOME HOME, CHEATER’ banners nailed to the Rogersons’ front porch.

Which, firstly, come on. It’s not like you maybe vaguely starting to not loathe your time spent with Crewel with every fiber of your being was a crime. And you were still miserable and mad. Stupid, no good, stuck up, no-dad-being, emotionally unavailable—ahem. Excuse you. But you had eaten a few of those fancy cookies. And you were certain that Poe and Perdy would smell Jasper and Badun’s cuddles a mile away. And as much as you rationalized it forwards and backwards that you weren’t wrong, a part of you still felt… traitorous.

Secondly, the Rogersons were genuinely nice people. And you should have known at this point that they of all the adults in your life would hardly judge your for accepting any scraps of kindness being offered to you. (Unlike a certain Old Crow with whom you were well acquainted.)

All that being said, you were still a bit hesitant when you knocked on their front door that evening. Nevertheless, you were met you with a wave of enthusiastic greetings (plus a knitted set of gloves and a hat), as they ushered you back out the door with the promise of new and interesting things.

“We thought it’d be a nice change of pace,” Mister Rogerson explained. He and Annie were holding hands as you all walked down their quaint street, tucked up neatly in one of the roomy pockets of his overcoat. “And you didn’t get to come with us over the Holidays either.”

“There isn’t much else to do on Sage Island for most of year,” Annie said. “But the Winter Festival is always really lovely.”

The Winter Festival was like something out of a story book—all toned in watercolors and lit with a golden warmth that didn’t really seem feasible when the weather was otherwise so frigid. Magic, probably. Everything wonderous here was always magic. The air smelled honey-sweet, and you could feel the rising heat from dozens of outdoor ovens warming your cheeks.

“It’s busiest over the holiday period,” Annie explained merrily, reaching out to adjust the new hat on your head. “But most of the stalls stay open a few weeks later.”

“You missed all the rides unfortunately,” Mister Rogerson continued, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “But if you’re still around next year, we’ll make sure to bring you when everything’s in full swing.”

There was a decent sized crowd filtering sluggishly through the faire, happy to meander about with their Styrofoam mugs of cocoa and browse the displays. There were more people your age milling about than you would have expected (as nice as this all was, it definitely seemed more like an ideal outing for a retirement home than anyone young enough to still have their original hip bones). Mostly you recognized the clean, crisp, white jackets of the RSA uniform, but occasionally there was a splotch of a more familiar black ensemble darting about amongst them.

“Have you ever had a fritter before?” Mister Rogerson called from his place by a stall that smelled like Heaven compressed into a cubic-meter.

“Not since I’ve been here,” you practically drooled, feeling very much like one of those cartoon characters who could merrily float through the air after the tantalizing scent of baked sweets.

“Do you want the sugar sprinkled? The caramel drizzle?” A laugh then, quick and bright, as he caught sight of the lovestruck (and ravenous) look on your face. “Both?” he offered indulgently.

There was another laugh then—raucous and loud. And a familiar face darted by with a mouth stuffed full of way too many festively frosted donuts.

“Hey! You get back here!” someone shouted, enraged and shaking their fist. “Free samples’ doesn’t mean a free for all! Did you hear me?! I said get back here!”

But Ruggie Bucchi just kept on running, his fluffy ears perked atop his head and his steel-grey eyes thinned with obvious amusement. He rushed past, and you met gazes just quickly enough to catch a smirk and a wink before he was off and around a corner—surely vanished into areas unknown to enjoy his haul.

You laughed into your gloves and turned back to your escorts for the evening with a beam, ready to suggest maybe just buying out the rest of the stall. Ruggie would love it. He’d probably even help you manage Leona’s tantrums without grumbling for at least, like, a week.

But they weren’t smiling.

The grin on your own lips slowly slipped back down into a flat line, and you fought the urge to fidget. Like somehow you’d done something wrong. Annie just sighed and shook her head. Mister Rogerson pinched at the bridge of his nose with a huff—the picture of a properly disappointed teacher.

“Well, can’t say anyone would expect Night Raven students to not be a handful.”

Something curdled a little in your tummy, and you tamped down the urge to immediately and aggressively rise to Ruggie’s defense. They were only free samples! And he loved donuts! And he never really had much money for anything of his own anyways! And they were free! And!—And…

“Ruggie doesn’t have anybody to buy him donuts,” you said at last, when the vendor handed you your own little paper bag overflowing with fritters.

Annie and Mister Rogerson looked at you curiously, clearly a bit lost, and you huffed.

“Ruggie,” you repeated. “The guy from earlier. With—with the samples.”

You could feel your shoulders hunch, defensive. And you didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like—they weren’t going to be mad at you or anything. And Ruggie was your friend. It didn’t seem right to let them just assume the worst of him.

“Oh,” Annie hummed, face softening. “Of course, sweetheart. But maybe he could ask first next time, okay? We’d be happy to treat any of your friends.”

You nodded and nibbled at your fritter. It was warm and crispy, perfectly fried and with a sugar crust that melted on your tongue like the sweetest kiss. It was delicious, really it was. But still somehow not quite as good as you’d thought it’d be.

When you arrived back to Ramshackle that evening, there was wallpaper on the walls.

You squinted at it suspiciously and tapped one of the glued-down edges with your finger. It didn’t vanish or eat you, so maybe it wasn’t an illusion. But why on Earth would anyone bother to try and give this place a facelift—

The front door burst open and Crowley blew in like a hurricane.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” he boomed. “There’s no one else I trust at this school quite like I trust you, oh wonderful and best of all Prefects! So I’m making you the lead producer for our VDC performance!”

You gaped, too familiarized with this nonsense to be as horrified as you probably ought to be.

“What’s a VDC?” you asked.

“That’s a great question!” Crowley beamed. “But first, let me introduce you to your new roommates!”

When the House Warden of Pomefiore and his entourage walked through your rickety front door, you felt something familiar, and awful, and inky swoop in your stomach.

“This building should be condemned,” Vil Schoenheit sniffed with all the grace of someone who definitely probably had a lot of underlying issues that were about to become your very real problem.

Crowley scuttled forward cheerfully to pin a tag labeled ‘MANAGER’ to your uniform jacket.

“Look how far you’ve come!” he sniffled, wiping dramatically at his gaping, soulless, eyes. “I’M SO PROUD!”

“…You can just put your bags over there,” you mumbled, so far past functioning on autopilot you may as well just ask Idia to turn your brain into an AI and get it over with it.

Epel dropped his suitcase near the living room’s rug and immediately the ancient floorboards opened up like the maw of some ravenous beast to swallow them whole. The group of you watched with varying degrees of distaste as his luggage plummeted to the basement, or… whatever existed below the crumbling wood. You’d never checked.

“I have the upmost faith in you!” Crowley chirped before jetting back out the door as quickly as he’d come.

“You did what?!” Crewel snapped.

“What!” Crowley whined. “Isn’t giving your child more responsibilities a sign of trust?! An act of faith between parent and spawn?! DOES THIS NOT SHOW HOW MUCH I VALUE THEIR COMPETENCE?!”

“No,” Trein groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Vil said, with all the cheer of someone undergoing a root canal. “I have nothing but well-wishes for Neige Leblanche and his many, worthy, successes.”

Buzz buzz went Ace’s phone as another of Neige’s advertisements lit the screen.

Drip drip went the heavy, black, magic curling around Vil Schoenheit’s soul.

You fought the urge to put your head through the wall.

The next evening came, as did another bottle of too-expensive wine.

Trein swirled the crimson liquid miserably in his glass.

“Do you know that I chastised the Prefect once? For calling Crowley incompetent?”

Divus sounded worn in a way that he most likely had no right to be, but progress was progress Trein supposed. The alchemist snorted sardonically into his own glass. Normally the wine was a bribe for the elder professor alone, but tonight it was a truce to be shared in bleak solidarity.

“Time makes fools of us all,” Trein hummed.

“What is he even thinking?” Crewel seethed. “As if the Prefect isn’t under enough stress as it is. What exactly does he think these stunts will accomplish?”

“I don’t think he’s thinking very much at all, to be perfectly honest with you,” Trein grumbled. “But then again, making impulsive decisions in the name of parental affection is far from a novel concept.”

Divus scoffed. “Ah, yes. Because that’s what the runt needs. A mockup of fatherhood bearing down their neck at every turn. It’s like he’s not even bothering to actually try.”

“Someone ought to be,” Mozus said, pointed. (And it certainly wasn’t going to be him. He had two, lovely, wonderful daughters to fill his heart. There wasn’t much room left for anything else.)

Crewel glowered at him miserably and sighed in a drawn-out sort of way that was not dissimilar to someone taking a too-long drag from a cigarette.

“It’s not something that fits with…” he hesitated, as if trying to chew over the words into something palatable. “I have no desire to give up everything that I’ve ever wanted to see in myself, to give up everything I’ve worked for, just to mold myself into some—some glorified babysitter.” Something stuck unpleasantly in his throat and he had to clear it twice before continuing. “Especially for someone who may very well be leaving this world forever in a few months as it is.”

The clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously through the silence. Each little second fell in a heavy clunk. clunk. clunk. that echoed around the room with all the gentility of a gong. After a long moment, Trein sighed into his glass.

“Being a parent is not about sacrificing your own sense of self in order to cater to your child,” he huffed. “It is about being there to nurture the development of their own.”

Crewel pointedly averted his gaze to one of the ugly, cat-centric, paintings on the wall.

“And perhaps for you a handful of months may not be sufficient,” the older man continued, swirling his wine. “But I’m sure for the Prefect, it would make all the difference in the world.”

Detention continued, despite your stacking ‘managerial responsibilities.’

Thankfully, it had mostly turned into you sitting in Crewel’s office while you sorted through whatever paperwork you were expected to file and complete. Sometimes a good chunk of the pages would disappear from your ‘in progress’ pile and reappear—perfectly completely and in order—at the end of the evening. You were dead set on never addressing it ever, because if you did he might stop. And he was probably the only reason you were managing to get any of it done on time at all.

Even with Professor Crewel’s help, you were still slow today. And as the night crawled to a close, you found yourself staring at a stack of blank pages without a thought to go with them. The only thing swimming in your head was murky tar and the cloying taste of black magic that came with it.

“Is there something you want to discuss?” Crewel called from his desk across the room. “You seem distracted.”

“I can’t,” you grumbled, something wobbling in your jaw. “Not to the people I want to talk about it with at least.”

Something shuttered slipped across his expression, and he nodded and went back to his own work. You stared at him for another moment, debating.

“What do you if—” you froze and hurriedly looked back down to the pen in your hands.

“If…?” Crewel pressed.

You sighed. “You know, sometimes you care about people, yeah? And maybe they’re not always perfect, but you still care. But then…” You chewed at your lip. “I don’t know. Can people still be good if they do bad things sometimes? Like, if you’d disagree with them completely, but they see it as right anyways?”

‘They’d be taken away?’

‘I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can. Does that make sense?’

You thought of Riddle, and Leona, and Azul, and Jamil. And now Vil. You grit your teeth so hard they started to ache.

Professor Crewel looked a bit startled, and you couldn’t really blame him. It was the most you’d spoken to him in weeks.

“I suppose that would depend on you,” he said after a moment. “And if that ‘disagreement’ was big enough to change how you viewed them entirely.”

“I don’t know…” you frowned. It certainly felt like something big. But...

“Well, what have you done about it?”

You blinked. “What?”

He waved his hand at you, and that pointer of his snapped across his palm. “Have you told this person that what they’ve said bothered you?”

“…well, no,” you mumbled.

“Then that’s what you need to do first,” he said, firm. “You won’t have an answer to anything you’re fretting about until you can face that at least.”

“And then what?”

Professor Crewel hesitated then, his mouth working as if he couldn’t really decide what he wanted to say. Or maybe like he was thinking over his words very, very, carefully.

“Do they know that they’ve done wrong by you?” he asked at last, not quite as sharp as before. “And—more importantly—if they know they’ve upset you, are they trying to make it right?”

You had a sudden feeling that he wasn’t really talking about your question anymore. The words settled heavily in your gut, but not in a way that was entirely unpleasant. More like the comfort after eating a full meal rather than the all-encompassing dread that so often took residence there instead. You thought of fancy cookies, and dogs, and cozy coats that were warmer and softer than the best blankets you’d ever used.

“Right,” you said after a moment, and glanced away with a secretive sort of smile. “I guess that would be the most important bit.”

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #NRC Staff #NRC Staff x Reader #Divus Crewel x Reader #Dire Crowley x Reader #The NRC Staff's Horrible Parenting #But maybe getting a lil better #Heroes vs. Villains #Crewel x Reader #twisted wonderland OCs #twst ocs #Divus Crewel #Dire Crowley #Mozus Trein #Heroes vs Villains The NRC Staff Part 4

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centipedelightning · 1 year

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Hey, I was wondering if you could do a skeleboys x reader whose gut reaction when the get spooked is to sort of pull their boy back to them not caus they don't trust him their just used to being a protector.

(I request undertale and underfell plus dealers choice :D)

Thanks love your stuff by the way

Waaaa how cute! Ugh I love dealers choice it just means I can write my pookies (today that means the swapfell bros). Yk I always feel bad bc I feel like I write too little. I am used to writing research papers where I just get to the point so creative writing is so painful.

| Ut/Uf/Sf Skelebros x protective reader || super vaguely romantic for a few || fluffy |

Cw/Tw: None

Sans

He’s blushing

I imagine this would be the kind of situation where you two were near some people that got in a physical altercation and you pulled him back. That kind of unconscious instinct both surprises and Greatly flatters him.

He’ll go all wide-socketed and just look at you like you’ve grown extra eyes.

Once the y’all are away from whatever situation spooked you, he’ll start making little jokes non-stop. It’s terrible.

“what was that?” “Wdym what was that?” “were you trying to protect me??” “Tf are you talking about??” “you need a new nickname. i didn’t realize you’re such a guard dog.” “Sans what are you talking about”

Sans tries to keep the energy equal in a relationship. Not one-to-one type of stuff where if you do one chore one day he’ll do it the next, as much as if you put in a lot of work he’ll try to treat you or do something that shows that he knows you did it and appreciates it. So now that he knows you’ll jump to his defense at the drop of a hat, he makes it his mission to Not let you do that. He is flattered of course but he just doesn’t want you to get hurt.

In smaller situations where you just got spooked by something he’ll try to calm you down with jokes and puns.

Papyrus

BLUSHING AND STUTTERING AND AND AND

He’s so flattered he’s just a mess.

Papyrus is the type of person that will jump to anyone’s defense immediately, so you reciprocating the energy means everything to him.

He doesn’t spook very easy, so you’ll probably be the jumpier person. No matter what gets you, big or small, you just randomly pulling him behind you has him blushing hard enough to glow.

Emotional bioluminescence never works in a skeleton’s favor.

I fear that you don’t realize what you brought onto yourself though.

If you weren’t already, Papyrus is staying up planning you an incredibly detailed workout plan to make sure you are capable in combat.

“YOU SHOULD BE PREPARED TO FIGHT IF YOU ARE SO DESPERATE TO DEFEND MY HONOR NYEH-HEH-HEH”

The finalized workout regimen is planned exactly to your physical limitations. Almost to a concerning degree… did he do a secret medical exam or something??

No for the record, but he wouldn’t say no matter what the answer.

Red

Red is pretty jumpy himself so his hackles are already raised as he is trying to drag you behind him, but You dragged him back first??? You want to protect Him???

Swoon

He’s swooning

He still wins this nonexistent battle for the right to protect the other, so he manages to get you close to him. Sorry not sorry but Red’s protective instincts are hard to match, let alone beat.

If the situation was severe enough that you two would need to leave, once y’all do he’s all over you. Laughing and joking about how you’re trying to play guard dog.

He does try to check in a make sure you know you can depend on him yada yada. Please reassure him that you know and whatnot.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you or feels insecure of course—hell one of his many types is strong and forthcoming—he is just also used to being the protector and wants to make sure you don’t burden yourself.

Edge

Utterly flabbergasted.

That’s all.

Confused even

Situationally you have two options: either you startled at something he also recognizes as a “threat” or you jump at something that just happened to scare you. Both of these options end with him looking at you like you are some combination of a deity and an oddly shaped cat. Confusion, wonder, adoration, a touch of horror—you get the picture.

More specifically, for the smaller option he will just straight up ask you wtf, but for the “big threat” option he gloats. Loudly.

He is about to get very loud.

Imagine something along the lines of “NYAHAHA YES FEAR ME AND MY HUMAN HAHAHA”

Edge is a skeleton that loves his theatrics what can I say.

You will also be put through a training regimen btw. It’s about the same as Papyrus’ just with more sparring. You did this to yourself.

Indigo

I’m so sorry but Indi picks fights.

He does

He’s shameless

Maybe you can try to physically pull him away from needling randos? Then again you jumping to his defense might just make him more confident and Worse.

You won’t get a workout regimen out of this guy though! Little victories.

for literally any other time where something just makes you jump and you grab him instinctually, he’ll play into it. You should tell him as soon as you can if that’s something you don’t want.

But he will dramatically jump into a fighting stance the second you start to tug him towards you.

He is always ready to defend his human’s honor.

Cash

He let’s you drag him back with very little resistance.

In all honesty he finds you jumping to his safety quite amusing, especially if it was from something small that just happened to make you jump and grab him with you.

If there’s ever a situation where you aren’t in immediate danger but near some (like some strangers getting into an altercation) Cash will absolutely allow you to do whatever you want.

He’s never gonna let either of y’all get into real danger, so as long as that doesn’t happen you are free to your instincts to try and protect him.

Hell, you might not even need to grab him with how much he loves to touch or hang off you. No sense of personal space truly.

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clangenrising · 24 days

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Month 14 - Newleaf

“Hey, Bee Face?”

Russetfrond had been starting to drift as he watched Mystique train with the apprentices but her voice pulled him back into focus.

“Yes?” he frowned out of habit despite the fact that he and the kittypet had been getting along a lot better lately. They were honestly getting along a little too well for his liking, although the guilt he felt over his first major indiscretion as a warrior wasn’t enough to stop him from continuing to be indiscreet. It had become an excitingly ill advised routine to sneak off with her every couple days for a bit of private fun. She’d promised to keep it a secret even if she didn’t seem to understand why and he had been grateful.

He realized he was drifting again when she said, “Hello? You there?”

“What?” he blinked and Floodpaw and Barleypaw chuckled softly to themselves.

“I said,” Mystique frowned, looking green in the face, “I think I’m done for the day. I don’t feel so good.”

Russetfrond nodded. “Alright, then we’ll break.”

“Aw, come on,” Floodpaw groaned, “We barely did anything!”

“She’s not feeling well,” Sparrowpaw chided him, “It’s not like we can’t train without her.” Russetfrond suppressed a smile of pride.

“Yeah, come on,” Barleypaw said, “Why don’t we take turns doing two on one fights if you really want a challenge?”

“Mm, alright,” Floodpaw relented. Russetfrong gave a grunt to Mystique that meant ‘let’s go’ and she nodded, falling into step beside him. They left the sandy training ground and started back towards camp as the sound of fighting resumed behind them.

“Ugh,” Mystique moaned, “I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“Please don’t,” Russetfrond grumbled. Still, he glanced sideways at her in concern. “Did you eat anything strange lately? Any rabbits?”

“What?” Mystique scrunched her nose at him. “No, why?”

“Sometimes they catch a sickness that can kill the cats that eat them,” he said, “but if you didn’t have a rabbit it's fine, then.”

“Wait, why do you eat them if they could kill you!?” cried Mystique.

“Because we need to eat?” he rolled his eyes. “You can usually tell if they’re sick before you catch them. It doesn’t happen often.”

“If you say so…” said Mystique. She took several slow, deep breaths through her nose as they walked and Russetfrond realized she must really feel sick.

“We’ll have one of the healers look at you when we get back to camp,” he said. “They’ll give you something for your stomach.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding strained. “You guys don’t have any pumpkin treats do you?”

“No, we do not have pumpkin treats,” he growled, “It’s the middle of spring!”

“Why should that matter?” asked Mystique. “The Folk have them all year round.” She dropped her gaze and mumbled, “they always make my tummy feel better…”

“Tummy? Really? You are such a child.”

“No, I’m not,” she said defensively, then flirtatiously, “you would know.” He blushed and lashed his tail, glancing around to make sure no one had heard.

“Shut up,” he hissed, fur prickling with embarrassment.

She snickered impishly. “It’s fine, Russie, there’s nobody around!” That only made him more embarrassed.

“You don’t know that for sure,” he snapped. “We’re almost to camp, just-!” He stopped and took a moment to flatten his hackles and lower his voice. “Just be quiet please?”

“Okay, okay,” she relented with a bit of a laugh. “You’re so touchy, Bee Face.”

He grunted and said nothing else.

They slipped down into the camp. Goldenstar and Scorchplume were sharing tongues by the Stoneperch, Fogkit and Slatekit were picking out prey for their meal, Pantherhaze was sunning on top of the warriors’ den. It was quiet and lovely. Russetfrond nodded to Goldenstar as he passed and she nodded in kind, then turned to listen as Scorch whispered in her ear. She smiled and twined her tail with Scorchplume’s and Russetfrond frowned. He still didn’t like that Goldenstar had fallen for such a scheming fox. Still, it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. When Goldenstar got an idea in her head there was no talking her down.

He and Mystique entered the healers’ den. Aldertail and Oddstripe were talking near the herb stores and when Aldertail noticed them she squeaked and dropped into a frightened ball. Oddstripe sat up straight, his big ears grazing the roof of the den, and smiled awkwardly.

“Russetfrond! Mystique! Oh, what brings you in today?”

“Mystique’s stomach is sick,” Russetfrond said flatly.

“Oh, alright then, why don't you settle into one of those nests and I’ll come help you in a second,” said Oddstripe. He turned back to Aldertail and whispered to her a bit. She nodded mutely and then quickly slank out of the den, hugging the wall farthest from Mystique. The kittypet tried to shoot her an apologetic grin but she wasn’t looking. Mystique sighed.

“I wish she wasn’t so scared of me,” she said as the warrior’s tail tip disappeared.

“She’s been through a lot,” Oddstripe said, lips pursed tight. “We’re working on it. Anyways!” He stepped up to her and leaned in to sniff her breath. “Tell me about your symptoms.” Russetfrond settled into a lean against the wall, watching impassively.

“Uh… I dunno,” Mystique shrugged. “I’ve been queasy since breakfast. It got worse just a little while ago.”

“Any gut pain?” Oddstripe asked, “Dizziness? Fever? Issues making dirt?”

“No,” Mystique looked away uncomfortably, “none of that.”

“Hmm…” Oddstripe frowned in thought. “It couldn’t be… would you mind letting me look at your belly?”

Mystique glanced back at him, tried to hide a grimace, and then said, “Sure.” She settled onto her side and lifted her arm to give him better access. He sniffed around, used his paws to push some of her fur out of the way, and then laughed to himself.

“If I had a mouse for every time this has happened,” he grinned, sitting back.

“Every time what has happened?” Russetfrond growled.

“I’ve discovered a sudden bout of nausea was morning sickness!” Oddstripe said brightly. “Congratulations, Mystique, you’re going to have kittens!”

“What?” Mystique and Russetfrond said at the same time.

“You’re pregnant!” Oddstripe reiterated pleasantly. “Nausea is a totally normal symptom of the early stages of pregnancy. I’d say you’re probably a week or two into it based on how you’re pinking up.”

“That’s impossible,” Russetfrond was on his feet again. “She’s a kittypet!”

“Not all of the Exalted are altered,” Mystique twitched her ear in annoyance.

“Why-!” Russetfrond nearly shouted but caught himself. Gritting his teeth, he said in a more discreet tone, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“‘Cause it’s not a big deal!” Mystique rolled her eyes.

“Not a big deal?!” His jaw was starting to ache with how hard he was clenching his jaw. “Mystique, did you get your brain replaced with bees? Of course it’s a big deal! I didn’t think that-” He stopped himself again when he remembered that Oddstripe was still right there. The healer was staring at him with wide-blown eyes and a mouth pursed into a tiny, scandalized line.

Russetfrond swallowed. “Uh, Oddstripe, look-”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Oddstripe quickly said, waving his paws in front of himself. “I’m not judging you or anything! I just feel like maybe I shouldn’t be here, I can give you guys some privacy-!”

“No!” Russetfrond blurted. “I mean… Thank you, but you can’t tell anyone.”

Mystique groaned loudly. “Ugh! This again!”

“It’s important!” he said to both of them.

“Of course, Russetfrond,” said Oddstripe, “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to, but…” He glanced over his shoulder, “It’s not going to stay a secret for too much longer. I mean, Sagetooth is going to do the math and know it had to have been someone in the Clan, y’know?”

Russetfrond shut his eyes tightly. This was a nightmare. “Right. Of course.” He started kneading the ground in an attempt to calm himself. “Just… I’ll handle it, just don’t say anything before I do, alright?”

“Of course,” Oddstripe said again. “I’ll let you two talk.” He turned and stepped out of the den with a swish of his tail. Russetfrond sighed and started to pace.

“This is bad,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” Mystique said. “Look, I’ll just go back to my Folk and they’ll take care of it.”

“What do you mean, take care of it?” he glared at her.

“If you’re upset that there will be kits around,” she said as if it were common sense, “I’ll just go to my Folk and, once they’re weaned, the Folk will take them and place them with Folk of their own! It’s fine!”

“What? No!” Russetfrond whirled on her. “Absolutely not!”

“Why not?” protested Mystique, “I’ve done it before.”

“I don’t care,” said Russetfrond. “You’re just going to abandon the kits?”

“It’s not abandonment, the Folk find them homes!” Mystique was getting angry now, her claws sinking into the moss of the nest she was in. “If you don’t want kits then why do you care?!”

“It’s not that I don’t want kits,” he said, trying very hard not to shout, “it’s that I don’t want anyone to know that we’ve been messing around!”

“Why not?” she cried again. “Literally, who cares?”

“I do!” he snapped, tail lashing. “You’re a prisoner of war! I’m not supposed to- to- fraternize with you!”

Mystique laughed mean-spiritedly. “Oh, okay. That never stopped you from letting me pin you down and-”

“Stars Blood!” he hissed, blushing profusely. “Will you shut up for once in your life? This is serious! I’m the deputy! My- my reputation is on the line!”

“No one will care,” Mystique rolled her eyes. “Even Odd-face said she was fine with it-”

“He,” Russetfrond stressed.

“Ugh, whatever!” Mystique tore a line through the edge of the nest. “My point is, who’s gonna be mad? It’s fine! Stop stressing out!”

“You don’t get it,” he shook his head.

“Okay, then explain it to me, moron,” said Mystique, her voice catching in the back of her throat in irritation.

Russetfrond snarled, tearing himself away from her steely gaze to start pacing again. “Fine,” he said. “In the Warrior Code it says that our Clan needs to come first. That means we aren’t supposed to form relationships that could compromise our loyalties, with members of the other Clans or rogues or kittypets.” He shot her a stern look. She rolled her eyes. “So when cats find out that we’ve been together, my loyalties will be called into question. I could lose my position as Deputy.”

“Will you though?” Mystique frowned, “Cause Goldenstar is all over Scorch and that doesn’t seem to be an issue.”

“Scorchplume became a warrior of RisingClan,” Russetfrond said, still pacing. “So if you joined the Clan then maybe it would be fine.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Mystique shook her head. “I still wanna go back to my Folk so they can handle all this stuff.”

“First off,” Russetfrond growled, “We’ve already told you why you can’t go home. You would be a liability and that’s not even accounting for what Razor will do when he knows you betrayed him.” Mystique’s ears pressed back against her head briefly. “Secondly, you’re not giving our kits away to become kittypets.”

“I don’t want them!” Mystique protested. “I’m not in any rush to be a mother.”

“So you’re just going to let them snatch your kits away from you?”

“It’s not like that,” she laid her head on her paws, lips skewed to the side petulantly. “I’ve done it before and it was totally harmless.”

“You’ve done it before?” he asked, paling. Did cats in the city just not raise their own children? He was horrified.

“Yeah,” she shrugged like it was no big deal. “I wasn’t even a year old, fooled around a bit too much, got knocked up. The Folk fed me twice as much and gave me extra attention and helped me through the birth. Then different Folk came to visit and play with the kittens and eventually they all went home with a new family.”

“What happened after that?”

“I dunno, I never saw them again,” she shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Would you stop saying that?” he hissed, dropping his chest to the ground in a frustrated arch of his back. “It is a big deal! If you don’t want the kits, then that’s fine,” he spat the word, clearly not convinced that it was, “but they’re my kits too. I want to be there for them.”

Mystique groaned. “Ugh. You’re not gonna give me a choice are you… If I try and leave you’ll just drag me back to that stuffy old den.”

“Yes,” he said, glaring at her. She sighed and spread out over the ground like a kitten throwing a tantrum. It was moments like these where Russetfrond remembered how much he hated her. If only he had been able to remember the whole time, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Then I guess we’ll do things your way,” she said eventually.

“Good,” he said. “And we’re done messing around.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I’m serious,” he said firmly. “I should have never been so weak in the first place. This is StarClan’s sign that I need to get my act together.”

“No it’s not,” said Mystique, “it’s what happens when cats have sex together. Not everything is some magical sign.”

Russetfrond lashed his tail one last time and said, “Just keep your mouth shut about our activities together. I’m going to handle this.”

“Whatever,” she groaned to the ceiling. “I don’t caaaaare.”

He shook his head and stalked out of the den. Oddstripe was sitting a short distance away and looked up as he did, offering a hopeful smile.

“So?” he asked.

“I’m going to talk to Goldenstar about it,” said Russetfrond. “Just keep her and the kits healthy, alright?” He made sure to lower his voice just in case.

“I will,” said Oddstripe dutifully.

“Thank you,” Russetfrond sighed. At least he could take solace in that. His head was swimming. He was going to be a father. A single father, at that. He didn’t feel ready. He felt a thousand different dreams and plans shattering away like ice under his paws. He had dreamed of meeting someone strong but gentle, someone devoted just like he was, and courting them like a proper warrior until they were certain this was what they wanted. He had dreamed of raising kits with someone his mother could be proud of. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what she must think of him now.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Oddstripe said, brushing his tail over Russetfrond’s paws reassuringly. “I’m sure everyone will understand.”

“It’s over anyway,” Russetfrond said, feeling sick himself. “I never should have been so foolish but I’m certainly not going to let it happen again.”

“I know what you mean,” Oddstripe said, a pained smile on his face. “But have faith. Kits are a gift, even if they come from less than perfect circumstances. I’m sure they will be a blessing to you when they arrive.”

“I know…” he sighed again. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh, of course, Russetfrond,” smiled Oddstripe. “Don’t let me keep you.”

Gratefully, Russetfrond stepped away to go find Goldenstar. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. It was time he started acting responsibly, though.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Russetfrond #Mystique #Aldertail #Oddstripe #TW Vomit #Kit Announcement #clangenrising

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wannaeatramyeon · 10 months

Text

Eli Jang x Reader: Daddy

G/N. Silly.

The one and only time you called Eli 'daddy', he felt his soul depart.

You tried to protest that it was only a joke, but the fact that he sat there facepalming and looking like he wanted to crawl out of his skin got your hackles up.

It wasn't that bad, was it? A spur of the moment nickname that was more for fun than anything sexy slipping past your lips. It's not like you actually had daddy issues. You didn't think he would react like this.

Mood completely ruined, you watch your boyfriend with your shoulders inching to your ears and arms crossed tight. Feeling more embarrassed and bewildered with each passing second-

"...Don't. Yenna calls me Daddy."

Oh. Laughter bursts out of you. You didn't even think.

Still chuckling and giving Eli a fond shove, "Sorry, Big Daddy."

Ugh. Eli feels his face prickling with heating and the tips of his ears burning. He really regrets picking that particular name.

You hear the muffled sigh, his face never having lifted from his palms, "Stop, please."

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism fic #lookism fanfic #eli jang #eli jang x reader #jang hyun #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #wannaeatramyeon

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

Text

The Other Half Part Six

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Notes: This is going to feed into an ask that was sent to me. Just needed to build that bridge, ya know.

Warnings: Some fluff; mostly angst. Soz. Whoops. Not beta-read.

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Minors interacting with this work will be blocked.

Summary: You can’t know what he does—you can’t ever know. You could be in enough danger as it is if you’re ever connected to Bruce Wayne; he can’t imagine the repercussions if you were somehow associated with Batman.

“So, who is she?”

Liz asks it with a knowing, cat-like smile on her lips, brow arching. The question raises Bruce’s hackles, but he manages to keep a calm, serene smile on his lips.

“Who’s who?” He bats back unblinkingly. It takes everything in him to hold still, to keep his gaze on Liz’s, his hand steady on his glass of wine. She doesn’t blink first; she doesn’t laugh it off or change the topic. She waits. For ten long, uncomfortably quiet seconds, they both wait—until her boyfriend asks Bruce to pass the bread, and the date that Liz arranged for Bruce comes back from the bathroom, asking what she’s missed.

“Why are you still up?”

“Why are you calling if you didn’t want to talk to me?”

Bruce can’t help but smile. Sure, he’d asked a stupid question, but you sound so damn sleepy and soft. He can just imagine you at his place, curled up in his bed, wearing another one of his borrowed shirts. He leans against the wall of one of Liz’s bathrooms, eyeing the door.

“I want to talk to you,” He murmurs. “But I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I was just watching tv.”

“You sound like you were sleeping.”

“I was just resting my eyes.”

“Sure you were.”

“Don’t get sassy with me, Bruce Wayne. I know where you live. Hell—I am where you live.”

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything. If you do, tell Alfred, he’ll—”

“It’s late. I’m not makin’ Alfred do anything. ‘Sides, if I want anything, I’ll get it for myself.”

“So stubborn.”

“Stubborn?”

“Stubborn, yes you are.”

“This from a man who rented out an entire restaurant and then took me to Burger King because I said he wouldn’t.”

“That’s not stubbornness. It’s being decisive.”

“Well I have decided that if I want anything, I’ll get it myself, and I won’t ask Alfred.”

Bruce chuckles softly, scrubbing his hand over his eyes.

“Alright,” He concedes, nodding and looking down at his feet.

“Are you having a nice time with your friends?”

Bruce glances toward the door, pursing his lips and considering.

“Yeah,” He says, “Liz’s boyfriend is nice.”

“Mind telling the paparazzi that?”

Bruce smiles. “I’ll send out an email.”

“Perfect.”

“‘Liz Wyatt is unequivocally not dating Bruce Wayne’.”

“Should be enough to satisfy Mich.”

“Is that what matters to you?”

“No, of course not.”

He tries not to find the way you rush over your words so precious.

“I was teasing,” He offers before you feel the need to explain yourself.

“Ugh—That is not nice, Wayne. Wake a girl up and you start teasing her.”

“I thought you were just watching tv.”

“...I’m hanging up now,” You grumble. “Go—Be fancy-schmancy and rich and attractive with your fancy-schmancy and rich and attractive friends.”

“Text me if you need anything before I come back. ‘kay?”

“Not Alfred?”

“Not Alfred.”

“I will. Keep it down when you come in?”

“Sure,” Bruce smiles, shifting from foot to foot. Then, against his better judgement, “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“Don’t tell me what to do…Mwah.”

Bruce chuckles before he hangs up, lowering his phone. He looks down at your contact, and the little photo he has of you there. He draws in a deep breath before he reaches down, unlocking the door and opening it.

“Shit—” He hisses, jumping as he catches sight of Liz standing there, waiting. “This apartment is huge. Do you not have any other bathrooms?”

“So who is she?” Liz plies.

“How thin is that door?”

“Bruce.”

“...Just someone I’ve been seeing.”

“Who is…?”

“What’s it matter?”

“Explains why you didn’t so much as glance at Cici at dinner.”

“That’s not true. I glanced at her plenty.”

“C’mon, Bruce, you know that that’s not what I mean.” She glances over Bruce before proclaiming: “I wanna meet her.”

“What for?”

“Because when was the last time you ever dated someone? You didn’t even do that in college. Besides, you’ve met my boyfriend.”

“And that was your choice.”

“Are you ashamed of her or something?”

The question punches him in the middle of the chest, his expression hardening. He’s taken hits from crowbars, guns, and baseball bats that have hurt less.

“Of course I’m not.” It leaves him with a thread of steel that he’s never heard in his own voice—not outside of the suit, anyway.

“Good,” Liz’s smile is as bright and as steady as ever. “I wanna meet her. Bring her over here for dinner, we’ll double.”

“If I bring her, I don’t want this to be an interrogation.”

“It won’t be an interrogation. It’ll be dinner.”

Liz is still pointing that smug, satisfied little smile at him. She knows he won’t back down from a challenge, not like this.

He’s too damn stubborn.

Dawn is just beginning to creep over the city as he climbs into bed with you at the penthouse. The room is pitch-black; he can hardly make out your form under the sheets. He feels your warmth as he lifts the covers; he cuddles in close, curling his body around yours. He smiles as you stir, as you press back against his chest and rest a hand on his.

“Bruce?”

You're mumbling, and your voice is a little rough in a way that it wasn't on the phone last night. Maybe you had only been resting your eyes when he called, just on the edge of sleep on his couch.

“Mhm,” He hums, gently wiggling his fingers against yours.

“You just gettin’ in now?”

Bruce rests his head between your shoulder blades, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Of course not.”

The lie is as blatant, as plain to him as the nose on his face. But you can’t know what he does—you can’t ever know. You could be in enough danger as it is if you’re ever connected to Bruce Wayne; he can’t imagine the repercussions if you were somehow associated with Batman.

“Just got up to use the bathroom,” He tacks on. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” You murmur, pushing back against him again.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmkay.” Your grip tightens on his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. Bruce smiles, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He’ll worry about Liz and everything else in the morning…Well. Later in the morning.

“You busy tonight?”

“You sound like you’ve been gargling with rocks,” You laugh, glancing up toward the door of the stockroom. “Are you just getting up now?”

“No. No, been up before, and then uh…Down again. What time is it?”

“It’s almost two in the afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad.”

“Frickin’ billionaires,” You mutter, scrubbing your hand over your face.

“So?” Bruce pushes on, “You busy?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What you have in mind.”

“Dinner with Liz?”

You blink slowly, stunned. Dinner with her? Why the heck would Bruce want to bring you to dinner with Liz Wyatt? She’s all glamorous, and cool, and you’re…You. You work in a store, you’re not like Liz. You’re not even like Bruce. You don’t realize how long you’ve been in your own head until Bruce says, “...Hello? Are you—” The words drift away, like he's looking at his phone, then back in, “Are you still there?”

“Yes! Yeah, sorry, I was, uh—” You clear your throat. “I got distracted.”

“So? You busy?”

“Uh…” You glance around the room, like there’s a good answer scrawled on the wall somewhere. Your mouth works wordlessly for a moment before you manage, “N-no. I mean, no, I’m not busy.”

“Great. I can pick you up from work?”

“I should get changed after work, not, uh—My place? I mean, what time does she expect us over? Should I bring something? I can get a—”

“Okay,” Bruce chuckles on the other side of the phone, halting your panicked questions. “We don’t have to go.”

“No, we can go, I just—”

“Take a deep breath, sweetheart.”

“I’m breathing just fine—”

“We’ll do it another night—or not at all, if you don't want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t wanna go, I just—You know, I’m processing.”

“Sounds like you’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out! I’m asking questions. I am asking relevant questions.”

“You’re also repeating yourself.”

“...We can go,” You insist. “I just need to get ready.”

“Alright.”

“How fancy should I dress?”

“It’s just dinner at her place, you don’t have to get all…you know.”

“Well, what are you wearing?”

“Right now? Not much.”

“Bruce.”

“You should come back.”

“What, right now?”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Alright—Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“...It’s gonna be fine.”

You nod, though Bruce can’t see you.

“I know,” You agree. “I wasn’t worried. I’m not worried.”

“You’re doing that repeating thing again.”

“Really hanging up now.”

You draw your phone away from your ear, peering down at it warily for a moment. Dinner with Liz Wyatt. What do you wear to a model’s house? What do you bring to a model’s house? Oh, there’s gotta be answers for this all over Quora.

“You look beautiful.”

“...Well don’t sound too surprised,” You grumble, straightening your sweater before turning to go back into the apartment. “I need like two more minutes, I just have to get on my earrings and my shoes.”

“Those flowers for Liz?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nice choice. She loves carnations.”

“I know. I did some googling,” You admit guiltily, taking up one of the earrings from the table and putting it in.

“Are they in a vase?” Bruce tacks in, tapping his finger against the glass of it.

“Mhm. Keeps her from having to go and find one when we get there.”

“Clever.”

“I’m very smart.”

“I know that.”

You smile as you raise your other earring, fastening it. You glance back as Bruce cuddles up behind you and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“...We really don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, brow furrowing.

“...You’re making me think that you’re the one that doesn’t want to go,” You manage after a moment, glancing back at Bruce. He shakes his head, resting his hands on your hips.

“I’m just making sure...Guess it’s time you met a couple of my friends, anyway. I’ve met yours.”

“You’ve met one friend,” You argue, chuckling.

“Mm. Where is Michelle?”

“Work.”

“She know where we’re going tonight?”

“Nope, I just said we were getting dinner.” You reach out, taking up your jacket from where it’s hung over the back of your kitchen chair. “If Liz is amenable, I’ll send Mish a selfie later, maybe surprise the shit out of her.”

“All set?—I’ve got them,” Bruce reaches out, taking hold of the flower vase before you can pick them up.

“Thanks. Is Alfred downstairs?”

“Nope, I’m drivin’.”

“Fancy.”

“...Is Liz’s apartment like yours?” You ask, shifting in the passenger seat.

“What do you mean?”

“Just, you know…Big, and…Nice.”

“Yes, it’s both of those.”

“Okay.”

“Why?”

“Just—Need to prepare myself so that my jaw doesn’t drop when I get inside.”

“Your jaw didn’t drop when you got to my place.”

“It was frozen shut at that point...Speaking of which,” You tack on, “Power’s fully up and running again, so I’ll get out of your hair.”

“...You can stay if you want.”

“In your hair?”

Bruce casts you a side-long smile. “I just mean you can stay over whenever you like.”

You smile, sliding down in your seat a little. “Noted, thank you…And you’re always welcome at ours, though it’s not as nice.”

“Your bed’s comfy.”

“That’s true.”

You glance out of the tinted window, watching the swankiest skyscrapers in Gotham fly by. You feel Bruce take your hand, and a smile unwittingly grows on your lips.

“Shouldn’t you have both hands on the wheel, Mr. Wayne?”

“I’ve got it,” He reassures. You hum in concession, grasping his hand with both of yours. You close your eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

“We can—”

“Don’t say we can still turn around,” You warn.

“Alright.”

You open your eyes, tipping your head to the side and watching Bruce.

“Do you want to turn around?” You offer.

“No.”

“Okay, so…We’re agreed.”

You loosen your grasp on Bruce’s hand, sliding down in your seat a little more and resting your head on your hand. It’s a moment before Bruce pats your thigh, then draws his hand back. You’d actually managed to shake some of your nerves, but Bruce’s repeated insistence that you don’t have to go to dinner is making you more and more nervous. You draw in a deep breath and hold it for a few moments before you slowly push it back out.

“Okay,” You hear Bruce mutter. You frown as he pulls into a street space, and glance around.

“We can’t be here already,” You frown as he puts the car in park.

“Listen,” Bruce turns in his seat to face you. Your stomach flips with nerves, and you brace yourself. “I’ve never introduced anyone to Liz—Or, to most of my friends. Not anyone that I've been more serious about.”

Your brows raise at his admission. He's serious—about you? Bruce reaches out, taking hold of your hand again.

“I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out," He adds, "But I don’t know what we’re in for, either.”

“...You’re nervous?” You realize, stunned.

“Am I not allowed?”

“Come on, you know that that’s not what I mean,” You mutter. You sigh, looking down at his hand again, turning your hand over in his, intertwining your fingers.

“...I didn’t even consider the fact that you might be nervous,” You admit. You raise your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. Your nerves flare as Bruce slips his hand from yours, but he takes hold of your jaw, turning your head and leaning in. He gives you a gentle kiss, thumb sweeping your cheek. You smile, patting his cheek as he draws back.

“We’re gonna be fine.”

Dinner’s not bad—in fact, it’s quite nice. It’s catered. You’d typically ask if there’s anything that you could do to help with prep, but there’s an officious staff of three flurrying around Liz’s restaurant-grade kitchen. Liz is quite nice herself, but she and Bruce can sometimes make you feel a little on the outside. You don’t think they’re doing it on purpose—they have a shared history, a longer history than you have with Bruce.

On the other hand, Liz’s boyfriend is lovely. He gives you smiles when the two of you are in the same conversational boat, watching as Bruce and Liz chatter on on topics that neither of you are familiar with. He lobs easy questions at you, backs Liz down from touchier questions, and keeps the wine and conversation flowing. You actually start to enjoy yourself, until—

“So you two are going to the gala together, of course.”

Liz’s boyfriend grimaces, eyes flicking to you apologetically. It seems he can’t back her down from that one quickly enough. Your brow furrows, a smile frozen on your face as you repeat, “Gala?”

“For the Wayne Foundation! Oh, don’t tell me Bruce didn’t tell you,” Liz glances between you and Bruce chastisingly. You turn your head to look at Bruce. He still has a smile on his face, but it’s that plasticized smile he gave your manager, and accompanied by a tight jaw. He won’t even meet your eye—hell, he’s not meeting anyone’s eye.

“Bruce,” Liz tacks on scoldingly, “You haven’t even given her time to prepare. She’ll hardly have time to get a dress now—Leave that to me,” She adds, leaning in and resting her hand atop yours. “I know all the designers in Gotham, I’m sure they can rush something by the 21st.”

“Oh,” You force yourself to laugh, shaking your head, “You know what—He did, but I’ve got work that night.”

“Surely you can take off.”

“I really can’t,” You insist. “My manager doesn’t like me very much. She barely forgave me for disappearing with Bruce for my lunch hour.”

“What!” Liz’s eyes brighten as she leans back. “Oh, I have to hear that story.”

It’s a safe enough diversion. You feel Bruce watching you; you don’t dare turn to fully meet his gaze, though you glance at him every now and again. Your mouth works on autopilot, but your mind is racing. Was Bruce even going to tell you about this? Or was this going to be one of those things that he does—those nights when he just goes off and acts like Bruce Wayne at before crawling into bed with you just before dawn?

Frankly, you’re not sure which you’d prefer.

Next Part

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #The Other Half

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 8 months

Text

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 3

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 09/13

Word Count: 5.7K

Masterlist

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You stiffened at his rude inquiry, your spine straightened, hackles raised instantly. His tone sounded offended, rude, as if you had no right to be here, as if you hadn’t been invited. Maybe he didn’t know you but was that really how he greeted somebody new? Not so much as a hello or a nice to meet you? Who in the hell did this guy think he was?

Clearly, you’d been suffering temporary insanity brought on by big brown eyes, long brown hair, full lips, and a leather jacket. Teenage you had come out to play for just a moment, flashing back to all those teen romances you’d read, the movies and t.v. shows you’d watched, getting lost in fantasies of misunderstood bad boys who just needed the right girl to love them. This guy definitely looked the part but adult you, rational you, quickly slammed back into place at his rude question.

“This is Y/N,” Steve answered before you had a chance to rip the guy a new one, a warm hand coming to cover your own that was still resting on his arm as if he could sense your sudden tension. He probably could with the way your body had snapped rigid like a wire pulled taut. “She’s new to Hawkins. She doesn’t know many people yet so she’s hanging out with us tonight. And if you hadn’t already guessed, this would be Eddie.”

Those mocha colored pools, depths you’d almost lost yourself in, narrowed, his nose wrinkled up as if he suddenly smelled something bad, “Didn’t know you had a new flavor of the week, Harrington. What is she doing here? I thought we all agreed that we didn’t bring extras to our annual bonfire?”

Extras? Flavor of the week? Was he being serious right now? Fuck him and his ridiculous jawline and his lashes that should be a sin and his tantalizing neck with those thick tendons running down the side that you were just now noticing as he lifted his chin toward the sky, as if asking the heavens to answer his question.

Ugh, he wasn’t even that cute anyway. His attitude and tone were definitely making it easier for you to get control of yourself once again. You stepped forward, noticing how silent the entire group had suddenly gotten in the last two minutes. Mindless chatter, a variety of conversations murmured around the fire, had filled the air prior to this Eddie guy’s arrival. Now everyone stood silent, suddenly very interested in the exchange in front of them as if they were all waiting for your reaction.

“I am no one’s flavor of the week. Trust me, I have far too much self respect for that shit. I’m also not some stray cat that you didn’t want but your girlfriend picked up off the street anyway and brought home so now you have to tolerate it,” you seethed, fist clenching at your side, nails digging into your palm, your body struggling against the anger and annoyance coursing through you. “So sorry if my being here is a problem for you.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitched, as if he were on the verge of smiling, but just as quickly his mouth was set in a hard, firm line once again, his jaw clenching, “Never said it was a problem for me. You’re not impacting my evening. Just thought we’d already agreed on the rules. This night is not for outsiders but clearly Harrington disagrees. Man can’t seem to resist a pretty face.”

“Steve wasn’t the one who invited her. I did,” Max interjected, stepping forward into Eddie, blocking his view of you in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. “She came into the diner earlier to grab some lunch and we got to talking. She’s new in town and I thought it would be nice for her to meet some people, make some friends. So stop being such a dick, okay?”

“Not gonna happen. You should know me better than that and I don’t need anymore friends, Red,” he muttered, stepping away from the fire, toward the water’s edge, into the darkness.

All you could make out was the outline of his back against the moon that was slowly rising over the water and a faint orange glow as he lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling a plume of smoke above his head.

“Jesus, what the hell is his problem?” you muttered softly, annoyance still present, an insistent pulsing against your temples.

Steve shrugged a shoulder, his lips pursing to the side as he tilted his head, considering his answer, “He’s just…he’s Eddie. I don’t know. He’s got a massive chip on his shoulder these days. He didn’t used to be so…”

“Assholey?” asked Max.

“He’s not an asshole,” argued Dustin, jumping to his friend’s defense instantly, surprising you with his vehement tone. “He can be moody but he’s been through a lot of shit. He kind of has every right to be and you all know it.”

“We’ve all been through a lot of shit,” Lucas stated, leaving you even more confused.

It only served to remind you that you were exactly what Eddie had said, the outsider. You didn’t know any of these people. Clearly, there was something that bonded them together, something this Eddie guy didn’t want you to be a part of. Something that had changed him, if Dustin and Steve were to be believed.

“That’s no excuse for him to be a dick,” Lucas smiled, lips tight, at you. “I’m sorry. He’ll come around. He just struggles a bit with anyone new. He’s more comfortable with his close circle. He always has been but it’s just…whatever.”

You weren’t sure if you should ask but your curiosity was getting the better of you, especially with all the cryptic comments, “When you say you’ve all been through a lot, what do you mean?”

“Oh, you know,” Dustin scoffed, shrugging but you noticed his voice was a little too high, as if he were suddenly nervous, the young guy sounding like he was going through puberty all over again. “Just normal life shit. Lucas just means we’ve all been through stuff but that doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk, you know?”

“Yeah,” Robin piped in, her smile just a tad too wide, only adding to your suspicion that something more was going on here. “I’m sure you’ve been through stuff too. Everyone has a sob story, right? I mean, I know I do. I’m gay so, like, that really sucked for a while. I had this crush on this girl in school but I could never tell her because if it came out then they would be coming with pitchforks and torches for me, you know? So, I was single for, like, ever because it’s way harder for someone like me. You can’t just tell people you like them. Rejection is actually the best case scenario for me. The worst being me strung up, ready to burn at the stake and I have just met you and I probably didn’t need to tell you all that. I’m sorry.” She cringed, clutching her first with her other hand. “I tend to ramble, like the words just keep coming and I don’t know how to stop them and…”

“Robin,” Nancy said gently, her hand coming to rest on Robin’s shoulder, instantly quieting the anxious girl who just laughed uncomfortably.

“I didn’t scare you off or anything, did I?”

Your eyes were wide, but you shook your head, “No. You didn’t scare me off. I mean, that was a lot all at once but it’s okay. No worries. I’m not running to get a pitchfork or a torch.”

“Oh good. That’s a relief,” Robin giggled, the sound almost ear shattering, it was so shrill. “I would hate to run you off when we’re just getting to know you. Unlike tall, dark, and grumpy over there…” She hitched her thumb in Eddie’s direction, “...the rest of us like to meet new people. At least, cool new people and you definitely seem like a cool, new person, you know? Not the ignorant, judgy, dingus kind of people.” Max groaned, “I am really sorry. I probably should have warned you a bit more about what you were getting yourself into with this group.”

“No need to be sorry. I am loving everyone here,” you assured her.

Well, maybe with one exception, the exception that was making his way back over to the group at the moment, keeping his eyes down on his hands, messing with one of his rings that appeared to be a large skull. He came up next to Dustin, his eyes flicking up to yours for just a second before pointedly turning away, leaving you embarrassed that you’d been caught looking at him again.

“New girl,” came a voice from your left as an arm slung around your shoulders and you looked up to find Argyle smiling down at you. “You ready to partake in some Purple Palm Tree Delight, my friend?”

“I don’t know because I still don’t know what that is,” you laughed.

Jonathan leaned forward, pulling a joint from the front pocket of Argyle’s shirt, presenting it to you with a grin, “This, my friend, is Purple Palm Tree Delight. It will make all your worries float away like the seeds of a dandelion.”

“Ahh, see, back home we just called it pot,” you told them. “We didn’t have different kinds of names for it. Everyone got theirs from Billy Bud and it was all the same.”

“Billy Bud?” snorted Eddie, hands deep in his pockets, shaking his head. “What a stupid name.”

“So says the guy who used to get all his shit from a guy named Reefer Rick,” Steve ridiculed, holding his hand out and looking to the rest of the group for support. “Because that’s so much cooler.”

“Reefer Rick sounds a hell of a lot better than Billy Bud,” Eddie hurled back. “Where in the hell are you even from? Hicksville, U.S.A.?”

“Seriously? From a guy that lives in Hawkins, Indiana?” you snapped. “I’m from Galena you prick. It’s a small town in Illinois, pretty damn similar to this podunk town you live in. Sorry my weed dealer’s name isn’t up to your standards. I didn’t know there were different social classes for low life criminals.”

“So someone dealing a little pot makes them a low life criminal?” he demanded, those eyes flashing at you, burning brighter than the flames between them.

“No, but dealing drugs laced with shit that causes kids to O.D. is. My friends bought weed from him until he got locked up for lacing his coke with fentanyl. He got busted after some kid two towns over died.”

Eddie’s tongue ran along the front of his teeth, his hands slipping from his pockets, arms folded over his chest, “Okay. Yeah, that would make him a low life piece of shit. Sorry princess. Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers, there. I’m surprised you even knew the name of the local drug dealer in your town. Wouldn’t think a girl like you would partake in a little law breaking and possibly tarnish your reputation.”

“A girl like me?” you mused, your head slanted, a tight smile on your lips. “Please enlighten me. What kind of girl am I since you seem to think you know me so well?”

“Yeah, I think I do. See, I knew tons of girls like you in school, the kind of girls who flinched when I walked by, the big scary freak.” He wiggled his fingers, eyebrows lifting. “The girls who didn’t want to be seen with me and have someone think they’d lowered their standards. Let me guess. You were the good girl, the one who always turned her assignments in on time and couldn’t go to the party on Saturday because there would be drinking.” He gasped, covering his chest with his hands. “You dated the jock, the all-American good boy that the whole town loved, the golden boy who could do no wrong. You wore his letterman jacket around school and giggled with your friends after the night he popped your cherry, probably saved it for after prom which you thought was so romantic just like the walking stereotype you were. It was a magical night, the perfect night with the perfect guy.” His voice rose three octaves, hands clasped in front of him as he batted his eyelashes. “You were probably crowned the King and Queen of your little townie school and you just knew you would live happily ever after. Am I close? Did you marry that guy, princess? Huh? Did you get your happily ever after with Prince Charming?”

His words were choking you, lodged so tightly in your throat that you couldn’t catch a breath. You swallowed hard, pushing them down, even as they bruised painfully on the way down, scraping harshly against the sides like shards of broken glass. You would not allow this dickhead to make you break in front of him. There was no way you were giving this smug bastard that kind of satisfaction.

“Actually, I did marry that guy and I thought I had my happily ever ever…that is until I walked in on him fucking my best friend in our bed,” you spat through clenched teeth. “All-American boy turned out to be an All-American asshole. And now my happily ever after has turned into me divorced and moving to this town after he left me with nothing. Happy now? Feeling pretty proud of yourself for your assessment?”

Eddie’s mouth snapped shut, his head whipping back so quickly that you were surprised not to hear a crack. His eyes darted around the group as if seeking help but none was to be found as everyone else just stood silent, staring between the two of you. Apparently his little monologue hadn’t gone the way he planned.

“Oh? What? Are you actually speechless now?” you snarled. “Nothing else to say to me? You can wipe that look off your face because I don’t need any fucking pity, especially not from an asshole like you. And just so you know, you were a bit off. Yeah, I was Prom Queen but my cherry got popped in the bed of a Ford pickup truck after a football game. I was never one for stereotypical traditions. And yeah, I was a model student and a good girl but I’ve never been afraid to break a few rules.”

You held your hand out to Jonathan who quickly passed over the joint, digging a lighter from his pocket to hand over as well, clearly anxious to do anything to break the tension that was as thick as the smoke billowing off the bonfire.

“Thank you,” you snapped, suddenly desperate for the head numbing buzz the joint would provide.

You brought it between your lips, lighting it and taking small puffs, inhaling slow and shallow. The last thing you needed was to hack up a lung and look like an amateur after you had talked such a big game in front of that jerk.

You hadn’t been lying. You had never been what you’d call a bad girl, but you hadn’t exactly been squeaky clean either. You’d smoked your share of weed but it had been years since the last time. Proud of yourself, you took a couple puffs before you passed the joint to Argyle’s waiting hand, giving Eddie a superior smile. He surprised you when he gave a little half-smile and a nod, his tongue darting out from the corner of his mouth before he looked down at the sand, pushing it around with the toe of his boot.

The joint made its way around the group, almost everyone partaking. Nancy, Robin, Dustin, El, and Will passed on it. When Max offered it to Steve, he accepted it with an eager smile.

“Really?” you teased, your eyebrows raising in surprise. “Mr. Police Officer, aren’t you supposed to uphold the law, not break it?”

Steve snorted, shrugging, “I’m the police. What are they going to do about it? Arrest me?” He inhaled deeply before handing it back to you. You took another hit, passing it back to him so he could hit it again before he passed it over to Eddie’s outstretched hand. Steve slung his arm around your shoulders, whispering, “Hey. You want a s’more? Because I really want a s’more.”

“Yes!” you shrieked, giggling. Damn, maybe that hadn’t been the best idea after all. It had been so long you could already feel the effects hitting you, your brain a warm and fuzzy place, comforting and quiet for once. Never mind. That had been an excellent idea because this was exactly what you needed.

“It’s s’mores time!” Steve yelled, arms over his head as he raced back through the woods, re-emerging a moment later, his arms full with a graham cracker box, a bag of marshmallows, and a package of chocolate bars. “Eddie! You got the pokers?”

“Yeah, man,” he chuckled. “Let me go get them out of the van.”

You made your way over to the sand, dropping down next to Robin and Nancy. You dropped onto your back, looking up at the vast sky, the stars innumerable above the lake, away from all the light pollution. It was positively beautiful, vast, a world of endless possibilities that stretched on forever, so many pathways just waiting to be chosen. You got a chance so many others didn’t, a chance to start over, to do it right, and you had no intention of throwing that away.

“Life is so funny…” you mused, turning your head to look at Nancy and Robin. “You think it’s over, you know? You think it’s the end. Boom. Book closed. That’s it. Your story is done. But then you move somewhere new and there’s all these doors…these doors you can open and start a new story. Maybe I’m starting a new story and you’re all going to be characters in it too. Maybe this book was just sitting on the shelf, waiting for me to crack the spine and dive in.”

Nancy laughed softly, patting your arm like a mother with a silly child, “When was the last time you smoked, honey?”

Your lips came together, a pfft noise releasing between your lips, “Long time…like so long…but it’s nice. My brain is quiet finally. No bad thoughts. No noise. It’s so fuzzy. I like it.”

“Oh boy,” Robin chuckled. “I’m sure you do.”

“Is she alive?” came Eddie’s voice and you straightened your head, blinking and struggling to look up at the face looking down at you from above. “You doing okay there, Prom Queen?”

“Shut up,” you groaned, slapping your hand at nothing but air. Of course he would be amused at your inability to handle your weed. He was such a jerk, a beautiful, annoying jerk. “Don’t call me that. Aren’t you supposed to be roasting marshmallows or something?”

“Yeah, I suppose that I am,” he replied, the amusement in his voice just grating your nerves even further. “I’ll bring you one if you’re still conscious, little rule breaker.”

“Fuck off,” you muttered, rolling over to your hands, pressing yourself into a sitting position, watching his shoulders rise and fall with his laughter as he made his way over to Steve. “He’s so annoying.”

“He’s really not that bad,” Robin countered, wrapping her arms around her knees. “He seems prickly but he’s really a teddy bear under all that growling and snarling.”

You rolled your eyes, thinking Robin was giving him more credit than he deserved. You barely knew him and he’d managed to piss you off multiple times already. It was like he was on a mission to press every single button of yours that he could find, his own personal game of Whack-a-Mole, seeing how many he could hit before you finally cracked and came unglued. It was a game he was very close to winning.

“He really isn’t that bad but I am sorry for those things he said to you. He shouldn’t have done that,” Nancy told you softly. “Him and Robin share the unfortunate trait of not having a filter. They tend to just say whatever they’re thinking whether they should or not. Did you really catch your husband with your best friend?”

You pressed your fingers against your eyes, wishing you could press away the question, press away the image that would forever be burned into your mind. Once again you were cursing Eddie. He was getting under your skin again and he wasn’t even near you because now he was forcing you to share your moment of mortification. You did not want to talk about this. You’d had no intention of sharing it and never would have if he wouldn’t have pushed you to be so angry, to forget yourself. But the weed was quickly working its magic, all of the pain, shame, and anger melting away, replaced with a heavy sense of calm.

“Yeah, I did,” you answered finally. What did it matter now? They’d all heard you say it anyway. There was no locking up that particular box again. “They’d been sleeping together for a year and I had no idea.” You smashed your lips together angrily, held your hands out. “Pretty stupid, right? Who doesn’t know that the two people they trust most in the world are betraying them for a year? An idiot, that’s who.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Nancy argued, shaking her head. “No. They’re idiots. What horrible excuses for humans.”

“Assholes!” Robin huffed. “All of the people on this planet and they chose each other? How could they even look at themselves in the mirror after doing something so awful?”

“I don’t know…” you sighed, having asked yourself the same question multiple times. How could they? It was enough that Cam had cheated but if you were honest, it didn’t really surprise you that much. He’d always been seeking the new, shiny thing. But Cassie, your best friend, the person you turned to for everything, the person you’d shared your concerns about your marriage with, never knowing she should have been one of your concerns. You still struggled to believe that Cassie, someone who had been like a sister to you, was capable of such treachery.

“So, that’s why you’re here?” inquired Nancy. “You left him?”

“Obviously I left him. There was no way I was sticking around after that. He tried. He tried to tell me it was just sex but he really loved me. But how could that be true when they’d been screwing around for a whole year? They lied, told me it was a one time thing, but I found out. No way was I staying with him. And how could I ever look at either of them again and not see…what I saw. The divorce was just finalized yesterday but I walked out a year ago.”

“A year ago? But you said you only moved here four months ago,” Robin commented.

“I did. I lived with my parents for a while.” You groaned. “I know, even more pathetic. I knew it was pathetic. I did not want to be thirty and still living at home with mommy and daddy. Hell, I didn’t even want to be in that town anymore so I found a teaching job here and then I bought a house and here I am.”

“Well, I for one am really glad you’re here,” Nancy told you with a warm smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in tight.

“Me too,” Robin added.

“I’m starting to be glad I’m here too,” you admitted softly, enjoying the pleasant feeling of finally belonging somewhere.

“Hey, I brought you a s’more,” Steve interrupted, dropping down next to you on the sand, holding out the gooey treat.

“Thanks,” you said, accepting it with a smile and taking a bite. Oh, it was so good, like the best s’more you’d ever had but it could just be the weed talking. The chocolate melted in your mouth, sweetness coating your tongue. The melty marshmallow was sticky and delicious. You scarfed it down quickly.

“Oh, you’ve got some…” Steve gestured toward your mouth with his finger. You attempted to swipe where you thought he meant. “No, it’s…uh, here. I’ll get it.” He smiled softly as his thumb brushed over the corner of your mouth, your lower lip. “There you go.”

“Uhh…thanks…” you whispered awkwardly.

Your skin prickled and you glanced over, noticing a dark pair of eyes watching you from across the fire where he sat between Mike and Dustin. As your gaze met his, Eddie quickly looked over toward Mike as if he’d been caught and didn’t want you to know he was watching. You hated the way your brain wished for him to turn your way again, hated the pull you felt toward him even knowing what an asshole he was.

“You’re welcome,” Steve murmured. His eyes darted around the treeline before returning to yours. “Hey, uh, do you need a ride home from here?”

“No, I’ve got my bike,” you answered quickly, not wanting Steve to get the wrong idea.

“You probably shouldn’t ride home in the dark,” he insisted.

“Or high,” Robin teased.

“Oh come on. In Hawkins? What could possibly happen to me here?” you snorted.

The look they all shared sent a shiver of fear racing along your spine. You didn’t know why. There was no context behind it, nothing about this place that seemed sinister, but that look they shared spoke volumes. It made you think something could be lurking in the shadows, something they all knew about that you didn’t.

“Small town or not, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Bad things can happen anywhere,” Nancy told you.

“Eddie could take her home,” Dustin offered, cutting in on the conversation from across the fire. “He’s got plenty of room in his van for her bike.”

“Oh no,” you argued, shaking your head. Maybe you shouldn’t ride home after smoking. Maybe there were things to be scared of waiting in the dark of Hawkins. But you would face any monster over having to get a ride home from Eddie. The guy clearly couldn’t stand you. You did not want to be stuck in a van with him. “Seriously, I will be fine.”

“Yeah, I’m guessing the Prom Queen would prefer it if the King took her home,” Eddie muttered without even looking up, the toes of his boots digging into the sand, fingers messing with one of his rings again.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It’s a dig at me,” Steve explained, his eyes rolling back. “They called me King Steve when I was in high school.”

“Yeah, see? Lucky you. You didn’t even know when you moved here that Hawkins has its very own King for you,” Eddie told you, lifting his head, eyes meeting yours almost as if he were challenging you but you didn’t know what exactly he was challenging you to.

Was he trying to hook you up with Steve? You could not think of anything you wanted less. Steve was good-looking. You’d have to be blind not to see that. He was beautiful and kind and everything you should want. But you were not looking to date anyone, not even the gorgeous but extremely rude jerk that was currently glaring at you.

You obviously couldn’t trust your own judgment. Of course you��d been attracted to the jerk. That seemed to be a theme in your life. But you didn’t move to Hawkins to start some romance. You’d moved here to start over, to find yourself. You’d been with Cam since you were fifteen and you wanted to know who you were without him. That girl was hiding, buried somewhere deep, and you needed to find her, to finally let her breathe.

“Steve’s car isn’t going to have room for her bike,” Dustin pointed out, sounding like they were all idiots for not having thought of that, clearly thinking he was being helpful when he was being anything but. You had to fight the urge to pick up a rock and throw it at him. “Your van is the only thing big enough to fit a bike.”

“I can just bike home,” you insisted. “Really. I appreciate the offer but…”

Eddie sighed deeply, rising to his feet, “Come on, Prom Queen. Get your bike.”

“You don’t…”

“Just get the damn bike,” he huffed, swinging his arm in the direction of it.

You rose to your feet, fists clenched at your sides. “Don’t tell me what to do, you dick. I am perfectly capable of riding home!” You swayed on your feet and Steve’s hands shot up, grabbing onto your calves to hold you steady.

“You can hardly stand, Prom Queen, you ain’t riding a bike anywhere,” Eddie pointed out, one eyebrow lifted, looking so adorable. No, damn it, he was not adorable. He was annoying, infuriating.

He walked over, grabbing your bike himself when it was clear you weren’t going to and started wheeling it toward the woods. You growled in frustration, stomping off after him, trying to ignore the laughter of the group still back at the fire. You had to half run to keep up with his long strides. He was moving purposefully, clearly eager to get you home and be done with you.

“You don’t have to drive me home,” you huffed.

“Look, Prom Queen, I am not any happier about this situation than you are,” he ground between clenched teeth. “But I also don’t need to hear shit from them when you ride into a tree or off into a ditch and break something.”

Flinging open the back doors of the van, he lifted your bike up and in without any struggle. Damn, he was obviously fit. Your eyes roamed from the top of that mop of waves to the tip of his steel-toed boots, wondering what his body looked like under all that leather and denim. His shirt rode up, revealing plaid boxers, pale skin not touched by the sun, and you pressed your thighs together against the deep tingle that was your body responding to him.

Eddie hopped down and you averted your gaze quickly, but not quickly enough for him not to notice the way you’d been lusting after him like some horny teenager.

He smirked, tongue slipping over his top lip, “See something you like there?”

“You mean an arrogant, judgmental asshole who doesn’t bother to get to know someone before making assumptions about them? No thanks. Maybe you should get your eyes checked, Eddie. They’ve got to be playing a trick on you if you think I like anything about the sight of you.”

“Uh-huh…whatever you say.” He chortled as he closed the back and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door and waving his hand, “Get in.”

You stomped over, grabbing onto the frame to climb up and in the passenger seat. Eddie started the van. The music roared, causing you to jump and he chuckled as he flipped the volume dial down a bit. Eddie pulled away, driving slowly over the uneven ground until you reached the road and he floored it, shooting off down the asphalt.

“Where am I taking you?” he asked simply after a few minutes.

“444 Euclid,” you answered shortly.

Your eyes roamed over the side of him, falling on those pale ragged lines on his throat. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, folding your hands to keep from reaching out and tracing those lines with your fingers.

“Can I ask…uh…what happened?” you queried, your voice nervous and quiet.

“What happened to what?”

“Your…your neck?”

His knuckles tensed on the steering wheel, jaw clenched, and you watched his throat move as he swallowed. Your question had caused him anxiety, that much was obvious. You sat silently, gripping your own hands tightly, hoping you hadn’t managed to just piss him off again.

“Raccoons,” he muttered.

“Raccoons?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, rabid raccoons in the woods. Guess they had rabies or some shit. I had to get shots,” Eddie stated in a way that let you know the topic was closed.

Rabid raccoons? Was he for real? You supposed it was possible but that sounded crazy. You tried to picture a bunch of raccoons just going insane and attacking some random guy in the woods. Regardless, you obviously weren't getting any more answers tonight.

That was the entirety of your conversation. You sat, arms folded, eyes focused on looking out the window as you tried to make sense of the conflicting responses you were having to this guy sitting less than a foot from you. It didn’t matter. No matter how hot he was, he clearly couldn’t stand you and had zero interest in getting to know the new girl who’d invaded his friends group. Well, that was fine. You weren’t exactly keen on getting to know him right now either.

You breathed a sigh of relief when he finally pulled up to your house, glad to get out of this awkward situation. Silently, he got out and got your bike out of the back for you, setting it down on the driveway. You hopped out, taking the handlebars in your hands and making your way toward the garage before turning to him.

“Uh, thanks for the ride,” you mumbled, thinking that even if he didn’t deserve it, you should at least be polite after the guy hauled you and your bike home.

“No problem, Prom Queen,” he replied with a roll of his eyes and a snort, unable to even be civil for a moment. Eddie turned away from you and climbed into his van without so much as a goodbye.

You put your bike in the garage, teeth grinding over his rudeness, and then closed the door, digging in your purse for your keys. You glanced up as you made your way to the door to find Eddie still sitting in the van in front of your house. He didn’t pull away until you closed and locked the door behind you.

Chapter 4

Taglist

@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @strangerfreak @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles

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sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee · 7 months

Note

Oh i have a good one, rogues gallery, which other rogue would they get jealous of you spending your time with? (can either be from a platonic or romantic place)

only asking because I think it would be kinda hilarious if you're chilling and chatting with one of the lankier rogues like Riddler or Scarecrow and one of the bigger scarier guys like Bane or Croc just lowkey pouting in the corner.

"Ugh, not them!" Rogues Gallery x Reader

I did both platonic and romantic since it kind of depends. Hopefully this comes out okay because tumblr is being a little sketchy at the moment.

TW: Jealousy, mentions of unhealthy dynamics, a smidge of smut, knife stuff

The Riddler

Platonic? Joker. Do not associate with that buffoon, you're HIS friend. Zsasz it's mild disapproval because of his weird bullshit. Croc because of some past jealousy issues, but he'd get past that.

Romantic? hoo-boy. Lowkey he gets a little jealous of a lot of his peers because despite the image he wants to put out there, he is so self-conscious and petty. Might end up getting a little shitty about it unintentionally if it's too much time spent with them. Definitely something that would need to have a sincere conversation about how that's not okay but also you're the person he wants.

Penguin

Platonic? Perhaps some of his more charismatic peers, but it would be really easy for him to get past it.

Romantic? His "pretty"/charming peers- i.e. poison ivy, Riddler, Scarecrow, Harley Quinn. He wouldn't get to a toxic or shitty point with it, but you might notice him grumping about and getting self-deprecating. It's happened before, you know. Someone using him and then hopping to someone beautiful as soon as the better opportunity arose.

Mad Hatter

Platonic? Zsasz, eugh. Does anyone like him? A lot of that is because Zsasz is possessive and plays for keeps. More worried Zsasz would do something rather than you not being his friend anymore. Black Mask because Roman thinks Jervis is "goofy" and "ridiculous" so Jervis would worry you think that too.

Romantic? No one and also everyone. If it's any of his faithful comrades, he's actually really chill about it. All of you are friends! Especially Jon. If you wanted to kiss Jon, it's alright as long as Jervis is also there. Strangers though? He's hissing, hackles raised and draping his body over you until he's established they aren't trying to steal you away.

Scarecrow

Platonic? Music Meister simply because Clarence is a fun time but not like. A pain in the ass like some others in the gallery. Joker he'd genuinely consider fucking that man's day up.

Romantic? Jonathan isn't really the romantic jealous type. He could joke around about it, but genuinely he's older, been through a lot and if you wanted to leave him, you would. He would get possessive if one of them hit on you, though. Edward might try it just to get on his nerves so he has to straighten that shit out.

Victor Zsasz

Platonic? No one.

Romantic? You're his. He doesn't think of it as jealousy. He thinks of it more like... disliking other people trying to play with his favorite toy. It sure fucking looks like jealousy, though. He wonders if you'd be opposed to him carving his initials into your hip? No? That's fine. he'll definitely be carving someone if the others don't back off, though. Particularly that Scarecrow fellow. Too much psychobabble.

Killer Croc

Platonic? He's not crazy about that Black Mask. Way too much of a rich prick.

Romantic? Ra's al gul because of how well-spoken he is. Worldly. Who wouldn't want to be with that guy besides the whole weird pit thing? To a way lesser degree, Bane sometimes? Bane is his friend so it wouldn't get awkward or anything but the guy is incredibly intelligent AND just as strong. Makes you feel a little lacking sometimes.

Harley Quinn

Platonic? Joker. Fuck that guy. Straight up tells him politely to fuck off, you don't need his bullshit. Gets mama bear protective as your friend. Ra's al gul also kind of creeps her out.

Romantic? Joker. If it came up, she would make it very clear she's not jealous of you, she's jealous of him- There's no feelings for him anymore but she'll be damned if he gets his claws into you. She knows how he can manipulate things. Bane if only because she kind of thinks he's hot.

Poison Ivy

Platonic? Joker. Fuck that guy. She'll make it clear she disapproves and probably threatens him if he gets too chummy. Black Mask but mostly because of how he dislikes Harley.

Romantic? Joker. After everything with Harley, she'll murder the clown if he tries getting some level of closeness to you while you're in a relationship. Mr. Freeze because there's something so charming and alluring about him. Sensitive. Maybe to some extent Selina only because she's so beautiful.

Two-Face

Platonic? Harv doesn't like Riddler much and hates Joker even more. Snakes in the grass. Harvey doesn't mind Edward but is in agreement about Joker.

Romantic? This might come as a shock but- Penguin. They actually find Oswald charming and enjoyable to be around to an extent, so if you were to get a little too friendly, they might need some reassurance. Riddler again with Harv specifically because of his charm and looks.

Black Mask

Platonic? Harley Quinn. She's way too fun and bubbly, he'd be paranoid about her turning you against him.

Romantic? Again Harley Quinn, same reasons. Poison Ivy since she fucks with people's head plus attractive. Catwoman and Riddler because of the looks department. Anyone who looks at you longer than a minute. Maybe if he put a collar on you or a tattoo, people would get the fucking hint. Or fuck you high up in public where they can see. That'll teach them.

Mr. Freeze

Platonic? Poison Ivy. They've had some run-ins before where Pamela got a little too Close and then got stabbed in the back so he'd definitely be jealous and on edge that she'll do it to you.

Romantic? hahahahahhahahahha. Look, Victor has a LOT of issues in the romance department. The truth of the matter is, he gets easily jealous because he's had the greatest love of his life ripped from him without warning. It doesn't make it okay or healthy, but it is a truth. Almost everyone on the rogues gallery barring perhaps Ra's and Zsasz are potentials for stealing you away. He doesn't get a certain way with you, obviously you're not the problem. It's everyone else.

Ra's al Ghul

Platonic? While there isn't anyone in particular he's jealous about, per say, he might wonder if you prefer the company of the more... lively personalities such as Riddler and Mad Hatter if you spend a lot of time with them.

Romantic? Where Edward plays up his swagger and confidence, Ra's actually has it. Why should he worry? You would be a fool to leave him. You would be a bigger fool to cheat on him, for both you and a hypothetical lover. And despite it not being a fear of his, he makes it clear he would find out should the topic come up.

Bane

Platonic? Doesn't feel a need to be jealous over compatriots. He doesn't own your friendship. Will disapprove of Joker or like. Condiment Man or something. Idiocy.

Romantic? Penguin because he recognizes the threat that man could really be if he wanted. Poison Ivy because of her immense allure. Doesn't get super jealous, but definitely casts some side eye if people get too close.

#foxwriting #Riddler #mad hatter #scarecrow #Harley Quinn #poison ivy dc #penguin dc #killer croc #victor zsasz #bane #ra's al ghul #mr. freeze #black mask #two-face

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zeestarfishalien · 7 months

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Part 12: Share with Silence of the Trees

Master post

Jason has found a way to cross their language barrier! Danny still remembers how to spell things…he thinks he does at least. He knows letters and that’s important. There’s so much paper taped to the floor just so Danny can get across some sort of message.

He’d make an ouija board joke, but he’s more worried about Jazz right now, her blurry face and cries of pain are all he can think about. The sounds of his memory-nightmare repeat over and over in his mind.

Consequently, ‘Jazz’ is the first word he spells.

And of course Jason doesn’t know what he’s trying to tell him.

‘Help’ is the second word but that just makes Jason more confused. After some questions he narrows it down to a person named Jazz, but he’s not quite getting the picture. Jason thinks that Jazz is someone who can help Danny.

“N-O”

“U H-E-L-P J-A-Z-Z”

After a second, he tacks on, “P-L-Z”

There’s more questions and Danny doesn’t know the answers, he just keeps hearing her cries of pain in his mind and they need to make sure she’s okay.

Something in his eyes must spur Jason on, because he decides to tackle the questioning a different way. He has Danny describe Jazz.

“R-E-D H-A-I-R G-E-N-T-L-E H-A-N-D-S F-A-M-I-L-Y”

“What about a last name? Do you know their last name?”

And Danny tries. Oh does he try but his mind won’t give him that.

“D-O-N-T R-E-M-E-M-B-E-R”

“Okay,” Jason let’s out a reassuring hum. “That’s alright let’s see if we can’t figure out any details that might help me find her.”

“B-I-G-G-E-R T-H-A-N M-E” Danny roots his nose in the direction of his real body.

“Do you remember who you are?”

“S-O-M-E” Danny only hesitates a moment before adding “I A-M D-A-N-N-Y B-U-T A-L-S-O P-H-A-N-T-O-M.”

“Do you know where you came from? Gotham?”

He shakes his head. “N-O-T G-O-T-H-A-M I D-O-N-T K-N-O-W”

They go through a few more questions, most of which Danny doesn’t know the answer or has only a vague niggling memory he can’t access. It’s frustrating for both him and Jason. That Jason is so patient with Danny’s non-answers has him feeling grateful. He knows his faulty mind is not helping. He has memories but no context, no names and blurry faces and gaps where he has no clue what happened.

Their charades/ouija board session is interrupted by one of Jason’s phones going off.

“Ugh, Christ on a cracker…Firefly broke out of Arkham,” he says, looking up from the phone with a sigh. “I better make sure they get him roped in before he burns down half the alley.”

Danny nods. He hates that Jason goes into such danger, but he understands that he would be just as bad if their situations were reversed.

As such, when Jason leaves, he settles into his routine of pacing the border closest to where he can feel Jason. He flows down the side of the building and into the alley, then back up again. Crossing gaps that mortal creatures would never dream of leaping. He’s dead though and the dead don’t heed the laws of gravity or pesky things like physics. He’s dead…

…and why does that sit wrong in his mouth, on his brain?

Because he’s not.

His hackles flare as rage and panic flare from Jason. That he can sense it so strongly from this far away speaks volumes to how strong Jason’s emotions are raging right now. They hit him again, stronger.

Protect.

Failed once. Never again.

Protect.

PROTECT

Danny bolts towards Jason only to dissipate at the edge of how far he can be from his body. He growls at the invisible edge of the barrier as he reforms but it trails off into a whine as Jason’s panic escalates. There’s only one way to reach Jason.

To protect…

He doesn’t hesitate this time, when he dives into his body with the intention of coming back up with bipedal limbs and a mouth that can use words. He doesn’t get lost in the melded and warped memories that bombard him. He fights through emotions both new and old, fighting through his old self and swimming ever deeper into his body and mind.

He gasps awake with a sound like a drowning man coming up for air or the dead rising to life. It’s a breath that rattles his ribs and aches across those muscles between each one. His eyes flash open and his body feels wrong wrong Wrong but Jason’s call to protect is louder and more important than this minor inconvenience.

He can sense it better now, the details of Jason’s angry war cry. His brother, his kin is in danger.

He flexes fingers just to feel them working and he bolts. He doesn’t bother to go around anything, not when he’s used to being mostly incorporeal. The scenery blurs by as he races on and on, hoping beyond all hope that he can make it in time.

The smoke lingering in the air is the first sign of trouble. The second being Jason trying to throw himself into the burning building. The building his kin is most likely in.

Danny doesn’t hesitate, he takes barely even a second to get a sense of the most likely locations to search based on the flames and to decide the best way to sweep the warehouse fully before diving into the smoke.

He can’t miss. He can’t fail.

Not again.

Intangibility keeps the flames from burning him but the heat of the air is still stifling and the smoke tickling at his nose, daring him to breathe it in. He’s lucky he doesn’t need to breathe like this. It still burns his eyes but that’s fine because crying from smoke will hide the tears of fear. Fear that he won’t find Jason’s sibling in time.

The fear only grows the longer he searches without result. The creeping dread of what he will or won’t find crawls up his spine, and he has a spine it can crawl up now. He would almost rather go back to his spectral form, save for the fact that he would be unable to touch Jason’s brother.

On another pass, he spots Jason struggling through the smoke and flames. He shoves him back out of the building with stinging eyes and tear stained cheeks. He cannot fail but he also cannot lose Jason so he returns to his search with a dogged determination.

He’s nearly keening aloud by the time he finally stumbles across Red Robin crumpled in a storage closet. He can hear his heart beating and it looks like he’s breathing. Danny doesn’t have a good way to cover Red Robin’s nose and mouth. Neither of the fabrics they’re wearing are conducive to breathing through and it will take too much time to rifle through all of the pouches on the bird’s belts intangibly. He finally decides on covering the little exposed skin with his cloak and rushing out, hopefully fast enough to avoid damage.

Humans can’t take heat like he can. How hot does the air have to be before it burns the lungs inhaling it?

He flies straight up and through the ceiling. There’s more smoke but it’s safer in Danny’s eyes. Once they’re clear of the building and the reaching flames, Danny darts towards Jason. He can sense him trying to climb back in and then he can see it.

His feet make no sound as he lands on the street behind Jason, so he lets out a crooning sort of croak.

~•~

Jason spins, eyes wide and searching, landing on the glowing white haired teen and his unconscious brother draped across their arms. Even with the cape still covering Tim’s face, he knows it’s Tim.

And the teen…

oh…

The teen is Spooky, Danny. He’d recognize that funky jumpsuit anywhere and those eyes are the same Lazarus green eyes he sees on a canid face every damn day.

He’s frozen mentally. Physically he’s moving forward to check Tim’s vitals and look for any obvious signs of injury but it’s all autopilot, all things that were drilled into him so that it became second nature, so that he could function even when his emotions are running wild like they are right now. He’s furious and relieved and anxious and surprised and ecstatic and so much more nuances of the same. It’s a cyclone of vicious emotions attempting to claw their way to the surface, fighting each other for the top spot.

His instincts purr, they’re safe they’re safe family is safe, while he gets on coms with Oracle to make sure she knows they’ve got Tim and that he’s alive.

He gently takes Tim off of Spooky’s hands and hoists him onto his hip like he’s a sleeping toddler so he can free one of his hands.

He gently reaches out to ruffle hair that has the same wispy feeling as before.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. Family, his instincts say. I love you, says the odd rumbling tone that ripples out from somewhere in his chest.

Danny clicks and a similar rumble in higher pitch comes from him and somehow Jason knows that it means, I love you too. Family.

Sooo… hey…

Life has been crazy for me this past month and a half and I’ve barely had any time off between taking care of my mom who’s been injured (broke her back), working a lot more hours bc my mom can’t, and then just a whole slew of family events, weddings, funerals, the whole shebang. I quite literally skipped a funeral this weekend so I could actually rest for a sec (to be fair it was set on a Sunday afternoon at a place thats like a 4-6 hour drive away and I can’t really afford to miss work since, well…my mom broke her back (she’s fine and recovering well so far we think). Gods I feel like one of those ao3 authors that shows up out of nowhere with some wild story but like this is my life rn.

But yeah, I’m still working on this and I have a plan for where I want this to go so it’s gonna keep going. I’ll either get way more productive in October/November or way less productive since I’m prepping for nanowrimo.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #church grim danny au #the black dog danny

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princecharmingwinks · 1 year

Text

Sterek Fic Rec - December 2022. Is it still December? Yes, for about 5 more hours, oops! Here is the final monthly rec list for the year. I hope everyone is doing something nice to bring in the new year (snuggling into bed absolutely counts!).

Many times, Many ways by Jmeelee (1/1 | 3K | Mature)

He turned around and stormed toward his Jeep. Derek called out his name, but Stiles flipped him off over his shoulder. He jabbed the key into the ignition, roared the engine, and smoked the tires as he peeled out of the parking lot, but not before he cranked down the glass and screamed at Derek from the driver’s side window, “Merry Christmas, motherfucker!”

Five times Stiles and Derek ruined Christmas, and one time they fixed it.

Build A Wolf by PalenDrome (nerdherderette) (1/1 | 5K | Teen)

Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.

[Excerpt]: "Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Derek asks, his hackles rising. Besides, Boyd has it all wrong. Derek has Die Hard on his Christmas queue.

Yippee ki yay.

Boyd holds up both hands. "Not me. If you want to be a bachelor forever, I'm not one to judge."

"But I am," Erica says. "You don't date anymore. Hell, when's the last time you even got laid? Which would also be fine, except it's not, because you're miserable and it's obvious that's not what you really want."

Sometimes Derek has a hard time following Erica's logic. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.

"It doesn't matter," he says, digging the excess rice out from his wrap. "I'm better off alone."

Mint Condition by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 955 | Teen)

He checks the clock, frowning in concern. Stiles had said he was going to change and that he'd be right back, but that was over twenty minutes ago. He's about to get up and go check on him, when the all-too-familiar tune of his least favorite song in the entire world starts playing on the stereo, and out comes Stiles wearing nothing but a jauntily perched Santa hat and a pair of the tiniest shorts Derek has ever seen — bright red satin to match his hat — and when Stiles twirls around to give Derek the full effect, he can make out the words naughty elf emblazoned across his asscheeks. Derek can do little more than stare open-mouthed as Stiles saunters toward him, sucking on the end of a candy cane in what he probably imagines is a seductive way, shaking his ass in time to the music — which, ugh. (As far as Derek is concerned, if hell had a soundtrack, it'd be an endless loop of Santa Baby…but it's Stiles, so he'll make an exception.) Overall, the effect is actually quite charming, and Derek would be lying if he said it wasn't doing something for him. And then Stiles starts talking.

lube and determination by bleep0bleep (2/2 | 4K | Explicit)

It's a holiday classic: homesick boy wants to make a pumpkin pie while studying abroad, boy realizes the only place to find vegetable shortening is a sex shop, and boy makes fool of himself in front of other boy.

Little talks by Vendelin (1/1 | 5K | Mature)

“Your favourite is here,” Danny says, smirking. “I tried to steal him away by giving him some extra attention, but he just looked uncomfortable.”

Stiles snorts, though he’s secretly pleased by his regular rejecting Danny. “He always looks a bit uncomfortable. I bet he’s married with a kid and a permanent guilty conscience when he’s here.”

It had been quite the surprise for Stiles to realise that he had a regular. A pretty young, hot regular, on top of that.

In which Stiles is a stripper, and Derek is the always-polite regular at the club where he works.

Depth of Field by midnitekween (1/1 | 7K | Explicit)

Stiles loves taking pictures of his pack.

Kiss It Better, Kiss It Back Together by crossroadswrite (1/1 | 3K | General)

For the tumblr prompt: stiles is cursed by a witch to forget the person he loves the most so everyone thinks it's Lydia but it's not and the only way to get the memories back is through a kiss

i see forever in your eyes by hufflepuffbaby (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

Stiles looked at his big bad Alpha, with his blush and his thumbhole sweater, and Stiles found he didn’t care if it was a bad idea, he was going to relationship the fuck out of Derek for as long as he was allowed.

Flufftober Day 5 : "Oh, no, you're a morning person"

Make You See It by sparkandwolf (thatnerdemryn), thatnerdemryn (1/2 | 2K | Mature)

Stiles didn’t say anything and Derek was grateful for leaving him speechless.

“Your mind, the way it pieces together every last puzzle piece, the way it connects dots that the rest of us didn’t even know were there, it’s--” Derek let out a breath against Stiles’ ear and reveled in the chill it sent through Stiles. “You are the most powerful of all of us.”

no matter how far away you roam by elisela (1/1 | 2K | General)

Stiles regrets not getting a tree.

He hadn’t been feeling very festive—decorations were reminders that he was spending the holidays alone, so he’d decided not to put them up, but now it’s Christmas Eve and there’s not even a strand of lights around the room to cheer him up. Watching Die Hard hadn’t worked, neither had The Grinch, and Derek hadn’t answered his phone the last three times Stiles had called him today.

It’s 7:34pm on Christmas Eve, and Stiles is ready to give it up and call it a night.

princecharmingwinks special mention (Oh my gosh I love the smut in this and the humour and everything else.)

Come Fly With Me (Or Don't) by stilinskisparkles (1/1 | 15K | Mature)

Stiles is overworked and stressed out when his flight home gets delayed due to copious amounts of snow. He finds entertainment with one Derek Hale, whom he hasn't seen since high school but really doesn't mind getting reacquainted with.

Especially when it turns out Derek is surprisingly hilarious and will reluctantly play snap with him. And can walk on his hands.

Made it through another year team, well done one and all. Happy holidays and see you in the new year ;)

#sterek #fanfiction #fic rec #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #princecharminglists

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bestworstcase · 6 months

Note

Quick question: When and how did you start realizing that fandom tends to be hostile or anti-analysis? Was it just something that happened overtime?

i mean. have you ever made a textually-supported point contradicted by popular fanon? people seethe

but it’s also just sort of baked into what fandom is. the whole concept of ‘headcanon’ is inherently antitextual—things held to be true irrespective of the text—and the whole point of fanworks is to engage transformatively with the text. fandom is explicitly not a community oriented around textual analysis, and while analytical readings can (and do) support and enrich transformative works, they are also just not what fandom is about.

so within fandom receptivity to textual analysis is generally lukewarm and varies widely depending on how closely it happens to align with the fanon, and in my experience fandom has a particular difficulty parsing character analysis outside the blorbo framework (ie liking / disliking / personally identifying with a character).

there is in particular a tendency for analytical readings to get parsed in fandom spaces as critical of the story or the characters being discussed; for example i’ve had explicitly positive character analysis of mine (as in, posts where i directly state my appreciation for or enjoyment of the thing i’m talking about) get reblogged and tagged ‘anti-whatever’ because the thing i’m talking about is, like, a character flaw. or something bad that a character did that caused conflict in the narrative.

and i think that really gets to the heart of the, like, cultural divide between transformative fandom and analytical engagement, because in fandom spaces if you say, for instance, “yang has a hot temper she works hard to keep in check” that is generally going to be understood as a value judgment (either a positive remark on her maturity and emotional discipline or a complaint about her expressions of anger) whereas in an analytical context it’s just an observation that needs to be evaluated in terms of whether the text supports it or not.

the consequence of that is that if i write analytically about the role of anger in yang’s character arc—which is a facet of her that i personally really enjoy and think is done quite well—and if that breaks containment and travels outside of my immediate circle of followers (who presumably follow me because they like reading my analysis and who obv know what i’m about) then odds are it’ll land in front of someone who goes “UGH not ANOTHER person picking on yang for bEiNg AnGrY, she’s got good reasons to be mad when she gets mad and also she doesn’t get mad NEARLY as often as these assholes think” (which is true) (yang almost never loses her temper and she’s very quick to check herself on those occasions; and when she chooses to let it out she’s always justified)—because anger is culturally perceived as bad and the social norm in most fan spaces is that you don’t write lengthy posts focused on a character’s flaws (or ‘flaws’) unless you just think they suck.

(<- this isn’t a hypothetical btw. like i’ve gotten blocked over my yangposting being interpreted in exactly this way grbfksj)

the funny part is that while my analysis intermittently makes people SPITTING MAD, the fanfic i write (which follows from my analysis!) doesn’t. i’m sure there’s plenty of people who don’t like my fanfic, but if i write a character in a way that contradicts the popular fanon what happens is folks will comment stuff like “this is such a cool unique take on this character” brfhkg. and that’s primarily why i think it’s a cultural thing, where textual analysis—with its strict grounding in textual evidence and dismissal of ideas that can’t be supported by the text—gets people’s hackles up bc it’s a) examining the text at an emotional remove and thus hard to parse in a social environment where the primary mode of engagement is driven by emotional attachment to specific characters, and b) often perceived as telling people their headcanons are wrong, which is rude.

(sometimes headcanons ARE wrong, in the sense of being textually refuted. that is the entire point of headcanon. i think the experience of fandom is much improved by keeping this in mind. analysis is never a threat to headcanon because headcanon is supposed to be transformative. equally, headcanon is irrelevant to analysis because analysis is strictly concerned with the text.)

more broadly i just find fandom culture to be interesting in and of itself. so in addition to participating in fandom directly i also lurk a lot and pay attention to cross-fandom phenomena (e.g. migratory sapphic and slash shippers) and read discussions about fandom and that sort of thing. and i think approaching fandom from that perspective, it’s sort of a what it says on the tin situation; fandom is transformative by definition, ‘fuck canon’ is an ubiquitous meme, fanon… exists at all as a concept and is widely celebrated as superior to canon, AUs are terrifically popular, “fix-it” fics are terrifically popular, etc etc.

so i don’t think my view here is even unusual necessarily except insofar as i articulate it in a very precise (and perhaps pedantic) way. like the average person in fandom is probably aware that playing in the sandbox is different from constructing a lego set and that people in the sandbox are, as a general rule, not all that keen to make sand castles in strict accordance with the lego instructions. because it’s sand. lmao

#for the record i recognize the hypocrisy of bringing legos into the sandbox and then complaining that there’s sand #however this is my house #and the important thing is i’m having fun

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mikuchan · 20 days

Text

bonus short piece (850 words)...where Alfira once again has to tell Minthara to just be nice already

taking place between chapter 4 (Lakrissa leaving the Elfsong table) and chapter 5 (Alfira approaching her the next morning) of Something to Play For

because @gaeldricge and I were talking about it!

Words, Alfira thinks, can solve a lot. Poetry, songs, long deep talks…even arguments have their place at times.

Her brother once told her she should go into law. With her mind and her social attitude, she’d be a pip of a trial lawyer. She could even, he’d said, become a magistrate like their uncle – but that sort of thing has never interested Alfira. She’d rather write ballads about a person’s daring deeds, not use it against them in some stuffy court.

Still. It’s thoughts of her uncle that circle her mind now, and she emulates him as best she can. Shoulders squared, chin held high. Firm logic, fair results. No singsong silliness now. It’s time to lay down the law.

“Minthara,” Alfira says, “you can not be rude to Lakrissa like that.”

Minthara’s sitting in bed, one leg crooked at the knee. A book’s propped against it: an undercommon novel Wyll found her at some shop or another. She looks up sharply at Alfira’s approach. “I don’t recall being rude. The wine was fine. Your company was enjoyable.”

“Lakrissa’s company was enjoyable, too.” This comes out less judicious and more childish, and she shores up her voice. “She’s important to me, Minthy, and you hurt her feelings. We hurt her feelings. It was unacceptable, and we need to do better going forward.”

“Lakrissa’s feelings are not for me to concern myself with.” Minthara’s tone is casual, but the words needle Alfira’s heart.

Ugh. She’s being awful – but she’s right. Kind of. Alfira was so glad to have them both with her, hands firm and warm and safe in hers, she didn’t stop to think about their relationship. If she’s being honest, she kind of didn’t want to.

Of course Minthara wasn’t going to be pleasant. Of course Lakrissa was going to raise her hackles and throw up every emotional wall she has. They’re practically strangers. (And, to be fair, their introduction was…less than ideal. But the Grove situation wasn’t really Minthara’s fault, because it wasn’t really Minthara. It’s all in the past now, anyway.)

Alfira’s the only tie that binds them now, and she’s somehow been taken as object to fight over instead of delightful bard who brings everyone together. She recalls Lakrissa’s face – grinning and warm, then so shuttered as she left the table – and her chest constricts. No, that can’t go on.

“I’m your concern,” Alfira says strictly, “so Lakrissa is too. You have to be kinder. No more antagonism.”

Minthara rolls her eyes, and Alfira frowns. They’re two peas in a pod, honestly. Her prickly, stubborn, temperamental women.

They’re both smart, too, which Alfira admires – but sometimes they’re a little too smart. Lakrissa’s always getting in her own head, and Minthara forever thinks she alone knows best. Wish all she wants, Alfira can’t force them into getting along.

But she also can’t let Minthara run roughshod over everything.

Minthara has ostensibly returned to her book, but she’s not really reading it: she’s been on the same paragraph since Alfira approached. The bard joins her on the bed, settling herself cross-legged on the comforter.

“What’s it about?” she asks, nodding at the novel.

“A fictional House,” Minthara says. “Their Matron has been granted the ritual of Zin-carla, but struggles to wield it effectively.”

“Ooh! Exciting. I hope she figures it out.” Alfira lets this hang in the air, then says: “Lakrissa loves adventure novels.”

“Hm.”

“You could talk to her about them.”

Minthara finally flips the page. Huh. Maybe she is just a slow reader. “I doubt we have the same taste.”

“Well, you both like me.” Alfira says. “She’s really wonderful, Minthy, and so are you. Just give her a chance, and be nice. No name-calling, no squabbling, no making her uncomfortable on purpose. I’m serious.”

Minthara frowns. “I do not intend to play nicely with the opposition.”

“Gods, will you just stop!” Several others glance over at Alfira’s raised tone. She takes a deep breath, and continues in a lower voice: “That’s my point. Lakrissa isn’t your opposition, Minthara, and I’m not some housegirl to be fought over.”

Minthara arches one eyebrow.

“I’m not,” Alfira says firmly. “Minthara, please. You didn’t like me either at first. You thought I was silly. You said you’d toss me to the spiders.”

“I’m still considering it,” Minthara says. Alfira ignores this.

“I’m not saying you have to love her,” she says instead. “You don’t even have to like her, I guess. But I do, Minthara, and I’m telling you: be polite. Don’t play big-scary-drow with me, I know you’ve got it in you. Be nice.”

Minthara’s eyebrows crease, and her lips are turned down in displeasure – but Alfira holds her gaze, and eventually she nods. “If you insist.”

“You’re lovely,” Alfira cries. Shifting onto her knees, she leans forward and kisses Minthara’s cheek. “You really are a sweetheart, you know.”

Tomorrow she’ll find Lakrissa. She’ll apologize, they’ll talk, and everything will work out just fine. Before long, it’ll be just like old times again – except it’ll be even better, because now Minthara’s here too.

Everything will be good, in the end.

She knows it.

#bg3 #something to play for #minthara's reading book two of the drizzy do'urden series lolol #mine

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contrappostoes · 3 months

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I like Jolyne a lot and I think she’s one of the better protags but I’ve always felt kind of bad for completely understanding why some people don’t like p6 (not talking about people complaining in bad faith who partook in the hate train it had a few years ago).

I think there’s a certain subset of fans who’re very overly-defensive as a result of said hate train who accuse any criticism or dislike of the part of coming from misogyny though and it really gets on my nerves because.. people can just not click with certain parts, it’s not uncommon for a Jojo fan to not particularly like at least one part and that’s not any different with p6. Idk it’s just not 2018 anymore, most people moved past that ‘Ugh Jolyne is a Mary Sue Jotaro with boobs, skip part 6 it’s boring as hell.’ mentality a good while ago.

yeah, as someone whose love for jojo is more rooted in the way we can see araki continue to grow and improve as an artist/writer with each part, I definitely find the defensive way some fans react to simple disinterest exhausting. I've said it a lot on here but this is pretty much how I feel about part 4 - story structure issues aside, there's just something about the setting/genre/tone that doesn't appeal to me. meanwhile it's possibly the most beloved jojo part, which is fine lol!

jumping off what you said though, I find the way some fans selectively mishear legit criticisms of araki's writing exhausting....like one of my biggest gripes with stone ocean is the way hermes is completely sidelined for a large chunk of the part. she has such an interesting setup, araki totally fumbles her story and she ends up being one of the most underwhelming jobros because of it. this is a criticism of the way araki's sexist writing makes stone ocean a weaker (and to me, a slightly less enjoyable) part, it's not about thinking hermes isn't a good deuteragonist because she's a woman lol, but that's what some people choose to hear

and of course I do think that even if a lot of the fanbase is past that overt sexism about stone ocean/jolyne, misogyny absolutely tints the way many people read and talk about the part (or neglect to talk about it), so I completely get the frustration and why some fans might have their hackles raised about certain statements....the people who you're talking about are unfortunately a loud minority 😕 which sucks because all the stocean enthusiasts I follow are actual scholars and philosophers

#also this feels unpopular to say on here. but I get very little enjoyment out of things like making headcanons & the act of fleshing out #characters who have very little going on in-text. it plays pretty much no role in how much I enjoy a story #on the other hand I think a lot of people find that this is where they get a LOT of their enjoyment from and on some level they think that #if you're uninterested in that it speaks to something suspicious lol. when it's really that if the meat isn't there for me to #chew on I'm not forcing it as a rule. like do your thing but it's not problematic for me to be uninterested in factoring that stuff into my #assessment of a story. you know #jjba

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litfeathers · 2 years

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Ooo maybe a Huntlow/Gustholomule double date? Where Huntlow tries to help Gus out and everything goes downhill but ofcourse, end up good? 👀👉👈

The drabble ended up slightly different from your request, but I really hope you still like it!

-----

“Why did I agree to this?!”

“Because I’m so devastatingly handsome you can never say no to me?”

Gus helped Matt straighten the lapel of his dress shirt before changing his mind and flicking it back to the way it was.

“Nah. Guess rumpled little gremlin is just your look!”

He flicked his own suit coat before posing like the coolest of cool guys, shooting Matt a finger gun as he pulled down his shades.

“And I guess heartthrob is mine.”

Matt scoffed, looking away from Gus to hide his smile and blush.

As Gus left the room to find his wallet, Matt started pacing on the Porter's living room carpet.

“Alright. I just have to be normal for three or four hours,” he fretted. “This will be fine. It'll even be...fun? Just a double date with my boyfriend. A fancy dinner and a movie. It’s fine. Willow’s pretty cool. And…Hunter’s…uh."

He groaned.

“This is gonna be so awkward and dumb.”

Matt’s wild thoughts were interrupted by his boyfriend’s father.

“Well, don’t you look sharp!” Perry said, poking his head into the living room. “You need to be back by ten thirty, Augustus.” He added as Gus reentered the room.

“Sure, Dad.”

“And if you’re running late, remember to text.”

"Yeah, Dad."

Gus hugged his father, and Matt gave him an awkward hand shake as they left the house.

“Have fun, kids!” Perry said, waving from the doorway with a fond twinkle in his eye.

The boys settled on the porch steps to wait for their friends as the door clicked shut behind their backs.

“Hey…I didn’t wanna bring this up with Dad around…but are you okay? You’ve been acting weird,” Gus said, tapping his boot on a step.

“Yeah,” Matt said, avoiding his eyes. "I’m fine.”

“Nah, you’re not. Spill.”

“Ugh. Do I have to?”

“Well, I'd like it if you did. As long as it’s nothing major. You don’t want to chew on it all evening, right? It’ll ruin your night.”

“No. It’s nothing major, Gus. Just…okay. Let me try to get it out.”

Matt took a deep breath.

“When I was younger…I kinda had a…THING for…uh. I’m not gonna name names, but it was so dumb. Just a celebrity crush when I was a kid. I was like twelve, okay? A whole year before I met you. And let’s just say I got reminded of it earlier today, and it’s kinda driving me bonkers.”

“Ohhhkkaaayyy. So a typical Matt freakout. Gotcha.”

Gus cocked his head.

“Now I’m curious. Who was it? Can I get a hint?”

“UGH, GUS.”

“Hold on. Let me think…huh. Having trouble thinking of famous guys who might be your type. You’re hard to pin down. Your proclivities are mysterious. And unknowable.”

“Guuuuussssss.”

“Well, if you won’t tell me or even give me a hint, this might be an all evening game for the dinner table!” he laughed with a charming wink. “Just kidding. I’d never do you dirty like that, boo. Especially in front of Willow and Hunter.”

Matt involuntarily squeaked.

Gus froze and slowly turned to stare at a bright red Matt.

“Woah, woah, woah. Wait. Matt. MATTHOLOMULE. DID YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON HUNTER???”

Matt’s eyes bugged out.

He shook his head hard, his mouth smushed into a thin line.

“Matt, it’s totally cool if you did. Like you said, that was what...almost four years ago? Even if you still think he’s an attractive guy, that’s fine! And I mean…I’m not jealous.”

The way he said that made the hackles on Matt’s neck rise a little.

He could always tell when Gus was lying.

They sat together on the steps, pointedly avoiding each other’s eyes.

“It…was just…” Matt grumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Was he your first crush?”

“…yeah.”

“Well, that’s way better than mine. Mine was Bria.”

“WHAT?!”

“That one only lasted maaaaaybee a few hours. But yeah,” Gus shrugged. “Like you said. Wasn’t a big deal!”

“Oh, Gus…she suuuuucks.”

“I know. Guess I have bad taste.”

“Yeah, you really-HEY!”

They shoved at each other for a second, play fighting with big cheesy grins.

“First crushes can be a little weird,” Gus said. “Let’s not…I dunno. Get jealous or upset about all that? All that matters is the awesome crushes we have now. On each other.”

“That sounds amazing,” Matt said, deflating a little in relief. “Please let’s just do that.”

A shout in the sky made them both look up.

Willow and Hunter were flying in on their palismen, waving at them frantically and dressed to the nines.

“Well? Is he still smoking hot?” Gus cackled out of the side of his mouth.

“Shut up,” Matt grumbled, trying desperately to hide his small grin.

-----

My askbox is still open for short fic requests ! If your idea tickles my fancy, I may just write it! I mainly write Huntlow and Caleb/Evelyn, but I'm also down for Raeda and Gustholomule!

#gustholomule #my scribbles

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simpyshrimpy · 1 year

Text

The Demon Fox of Twisted Wonderland: Chapter One, The Ramshackle

Trigger Warnings: Cannibalism, Death

After your initial meeting and getting to know of Kumiko, you both agreed that staying in her mountain den was going to be the safest bet until you could figure out how to use all of her powers. While you hadn’t initially liked it because you were worried about missing meeting all of the characters that you so loved in Twisted Wonderland, the worry was squashed after she explained how dreadfully lacking in technology the people were, that and magic wasn’t even like… much of a thing. Humans didn’t really have magic unless gifted it from a magical being capable of such themself (Kumiko being one of them able to do so), or if they were descended of magical beings.

So one, not only were you not in the original Twisted Wonderland, you were so far back in the past that humans didn’t even have shoes for most of the part. Kumiko was actually rather surprised they’d figured out how to make homes at all even, though she suspects it was partially due to the aid of those rather annoying and generous elves. (Yes. Elves.)

With that being said, you didn’t find it rather necessary to venture out. One thing you did ask Kumiko about was Malleus Draconia and Lillia Vanrouge. Seeing as she was familiar with their countries (the names were still the same thank goodness), but the names of the characters were unfamiliar, you could only assume that if they were to be born in this world, it wasn’t yet the time. That brought you great comfort.

If those old biddies weren’t yet born, that meant you would have time to train to your heart's content, and then, after that, you would be able to find and stal-... Okay maybe not stalk but at least get to know your favorite people from Twisted Wonderland.

It took you 10 years to get through the basics and master those alone of Kumiko’s powers, enough so that you’d be able to do everything, at least, though you weren’t quite the master she previously was. In those 10 years you were able to figure out that you could briefly allow Kumiko to take control of some of your powers though not the body. That made the idea of fighting easier, as she would be able to cast magic at the same time you do as well, and it made you both a far more formidable combination together than Kumiko ever was alone.

With that in mind, you set out on a task. In those 10 years you spent in semi-isolation, you told Kumiko everything you knew about your Twisted Wonderland, and she made it her mission to point out the similarities. Like this.

On Kumiko’s mountain was an old castle. She had actually made it herself actually, with the help of an old friend she said. An old friend named Grim. An “Amalgamation” (whatever that is), who had then gone on to name the castle Ramshackle.

She was rather excited at the prospect of making a castle, so when she learned from Grim that he intended to destroy bits of it to make it look old and stuff she nearly had a conniption and killed him, especially after working so hard on it. But that had been nearly hundreds of years ago, and it showed on the castle. She said he didn’t come to visit it often, as he had been looking for something, but wanted a home to rest in occasionally. That said, the last time she saw Grim was about a hundred years after the initial building of the castle. Makes sense that she got lonely if that little shi- if Grim just up and left for hundreds of years.

“I didn’t even like him. He was such a- UGH. Just thinking about him raises my hackles. I can't help it.” After spending so much time with you, Kumiko had sort of slid out of her usual way of speech, though you kind of missed it.

“If you didn’t like him then why did you hang out with him?” You asked as you trodded along in a much smaller form than you had on your first day, you had long since mastered shapeshifting, even able to manipulate your gender at will and switch into a more humanoid form with your ears and tails and even a human form as well.. Right now though, the smaller fox form made traversing nature far easier.

“You know why! You’ve spent plenty of enough time going on and on about Malleus enough for us to both know that when you get lonely you’ll latch onto anything, and you’ve spoken so loudly and angrily about Riddle and his mother that it could even be something bad or that you don’t like as long as you get the approval or attention you want.”

You stopped in your tracks and dug your claws into the ground nearly huffing and puffing, “OH. MY. GOODNESS. Kumiko do not get me started on Riddle's mom. I'm actually going to kill that woman if she’s the same as she is in the original universe. Like I'm serious- Kumiko, don’t play with me.”

You didn’t get a reply but a simple foxish laugh that you couldn’t help but growl at. You made a particularly harsh swipe on a nearby tree as if in revenge before yelping lightly as a claw chipped in the bark. You grumbled with little tears in your eyes as you began to make your way back on the path of the castle.

The castle was actually already in sight but the entrance was a fair bit off, and Kumiko was not helping in the matter either since she kept distracting you as you went along. But at least nature was nice. The grass was a whole lot greener than you were used to, perhaps magic or something, and the trees smelled amazing, but you didn’t know what kind they were or what the smell was either. (They were fir trees and spruce trees you would later find out) And the flowers- oh gosh all of the violets and orchids you could name, but the other ones you couldn’t remember off the tip of your tongue, they smelt and looked beautiful.

As you got closer to the castle gates, you could see how dilapidated it looked already. The moss and other miscellaneous plant life already took it over with incredible vigor over the years.

“Just look at this place. I can’t believe he let this place he wants to call home fall to such ruin! What a brat!”

Now that you were at the gates you made a quick slip in through the gate bars. You had to agree with Kumiko. The castle kinda looked like that one big famous castle from Germany that you remembered in your previous life. Wasn’t that the one that they based the Disney castle off of? But seeing it now… Somehow it looked even worse than the real life castle you used to see. There were holes in the walls and probably all over the roof as well. You could see some cracked or just straight up missing windows, and one of the towers was actually just completely destroyed and toppled over falling into the abyss below the castle.

“What the hell did he even do to that tower over there? Did it get bombed or something?”

“No. That was me. I did tell you I was upset when he announced what he was going to do, so I decided to help.”

“Of cour-”

All of the sudden, you weren’t alone. It was like one second you could feel not a single presence save for a few lingering forest animals, and then there’s a cat right next to you.

“Oya Oya? Did Kumiko forget the love tap she gave our little castle? You were so proud when you did it. You didn’t really-” His words seemed to cut off as your eyes met.

As soon as you felt his presence you jumped back, having been trained enough to at least do that much, but after your eyes met, that small grin on this new Grim grew even wider, much like the Cheshire cat.

“You’re not Kumiko, are you?”

Grim is, as usual, both a blessing and a curse.

Not only does he immediately recognize that you’re not Kumiko, yet in her body, he can also immediately tell that she’s still in there and that your soul is from an entirely separate world.

You’re not entirely sure if you can trust Grim, but in the game he was a good guy at least even when he started going feral from blot, and Kumiko said he’s suspicious but she trusts him with her name, but she also said that you can’t tell him your name either.

(Grim has taken to calling you various other nicknames, like sweetcheeks or darling or pumpkin, or- or even master? You don’t know what's up with that one but the look he gave you is pretty weird.)

After you explained the situation to Grim, he nodded his head a bit and then looked behind him at the castle, then looked back at you, then the castle again, before finally going. “O. K.” and then he immediately ran off towards the castle, flinging magic at stuff as he passed.

You ran after him rather confused although quite adorably with a little bounce in your steps. Though you’d been working with Kumiko’s magic for the past 10 years, it still excited you, especially on such a large scale.

Grim was using his magic to fix the castle.

Oh and on the inside, Kumiko was raging.

“WHY DID HE DESTROY THE CASTLE IF HE WAS JUST GOING TO FIX IT BACK UP I- [Y/N] I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS I’M GOING TO KILL HIM-”

Que your magic piloted by Kumiko firing off at Grim. He didn’t seem to mind and caught on rather quick that it was her doing.

“Te he, Kumiko are you upset or something? I’m just fixing it up for our cute new friend. Don’t tell me you plan on making them live in your little cave for eternity.”

The rage you felt in just one of Kumiko’s screams nearly gave you a headache.

“Both of you please, I think I’m going to be sick…”

Immediately both of them calm down (only after throwing a quick “it’s your fault maybe if you didn’t do it-” back at each other). Kumiko started to use a bit of a baby voice saying she’s sorry and didn’t mean to make you get a headache and grim is bowing his evil little kitty head asking for repentance.

After the castle is all fixed up, everything calms down more. Though Grim and Kumiko both throw barbs at each other as much as they can without being able to directly communicate, you and Grim get along rather fine.

He’s rather excited at the prospect of having better company than Kumiko was, she was such a grouch and too proud to have fun.

Everything was all fine and dandy and you stayed in his company trading stories about your training and some of your own universe as well (though never anything about the game Twisted Wonderland) and he told you lots about all the countries on this continent.

Pretty much all of the same countries existed as they did in the original canon, except they were all closer together and not separated by ocean at all. Although the ocean nearby did have its own cities underground with aquatic supernaturals, which did include mermaids, but also kelpies and sea dragons and any other sort that existed beneath the waves.

It was all exciting to learn about. Everything was fun with Grim until he mentioned he was going out for food one day and game back with a human corpse. Yeah. That was a thing wasn’t it…

“Grim I can’t eat a human. Dude I used to be one, did you not get that part of my stories?” You were in your human form this time, covered in the softest fabrics Grim could make, he said it was made of arachne silk or something, with your ears and tails out, both of which were twitching wildly at his idea.

“Well you can’t not eat humans. They’re like the staple of your diet.” He was actually rather clean right now, the body was too actually. Grim went out of his way to clean both himself in his human form and the body before even appearing in front of you to try and get you to eat it. “What have you even been eating for the past 10 years, Master? I honestly don’t even know how you're still alive.”

You frowned, crossing your arms and stomping your foot. “Well I’ve done it! I’ve been eating rabbits and all the other wild animals in the forest.” And it’s true, you had been. While you could eat berries and fruits and stuff, no matter how much you didn’t want to, you had to eat the animals. The fruits never filled you up, it didn’t even feel like it did anything actually. You could eat an entire tree bark and all and you’d still feel like you hadn’t eaten in days.

“And how much have you been sleeping? Probably days on end right? I dare say you might even sleep through the change of seasons at this rate. Does your fur feel rougher as the days go on? I bet it's far more coarse than it was the day you entered Kumiko’s body. And how brittle are your claws? Honestly I’m amazed you still have them.”

You couldn’t help the scrunch of your eyebrows and purse of your lips at the realization. He was right. Just earlier your claw chipped on the tree. Your fur was more coarse than it used to be. And… sometimes you didn’t even know how many days passed when you woke up, and you never woke up rested.

“He’s right, [y/n]. Humans are a necessary part of our diet.”

Kumiko’s words only made your frown deepen. Looking at Grim, he was looking at you with a sort of pleading expression. He was clearly concerned about you, enough to go and hunt… food… for you. But… “Why? Why do I have to eat them?”

“It’s their magic. For pretty much every species, humans are the prime source of their diet because they’re rich in magic. Even if the human themself can’t use magic, they’re made of magic. When a creature gains sentience,growing beyond that of a normal animal or a plant, their magic reserves and abilities skyrocket. You could, in theory, eat other sentient beings like say elves or dragons or mermaids or whatever,” Grim shrugged here and shook his head, “but they put up more of a fight than humans do. That’s why we all eat humans. They’re the weakest on the food chain and it’s a lot easier to swipe a human than a dragon. Even if the dragon has ten times the magic, they won’t go down without a fight, and that fight may end in your death.”

That made sense. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, it all added up. Which meant… “F-,” You took a deep breath before steeling your nerves, looking at the dead body that had been stinking up the room (you didn’t want to think about how that “stink” was far more appealing to your senses than you wanted), “Fine. I’ll eat the human body. But from now on I only want to eat criminals.”

“Ha!” Grim’s previous worry melted the moment you agreed to eat real food. “That’ll be easy. If humans are good at one thing, it’s being horrible.”

You let out a long suffering sigh. “Sure. Yeah.” You didn’t want to debate humans and morals right now, even if Grim’s statement left you with a sour taste in your mouth. “Let’s just… do this.”

You ate the human after that. And to be frank, it was really hard to think about how bad it made you feel to eat something you used to be when all you could think about was how good it was.

After that, your body seemed to get… better. Like it used to be. Silky smooth fur, sharp and deadly claws that could cut through steel, and even your previously sluggish reflexes grew sharp like the edge of a blade.

It was only after another year of recovering in Ramshackle to a state Grim and Kumiko approved of that they both thought it was a good idea to travel.

There was a lot of discussion on where to go Grim threw in his two cents, explaining the state of all the countries that he’d been too before, but it was mainly a discussion between you and Kumiko, because there was one place you really wanted to go, where all the action would begin.

“Briar Valley” you would tell Grim when you finally steeled your nerves

“Ooh, you want to see that old dragon’s country? I believe the Queen right now is Maleficent.”

Perfect. Then you’d subtly slide yourself into her court (if you could) and wait for your favorite old grandpa to be born.

Although… wouldn’t you be the grandparent this time around?

Author’s Note:

I actually had this all written out when I made the og posts lmao, but I’m really glad I decided not to post this until today, cause on the way home from work I came up with the idea for Grim to be more than a monster cat thing, but rather an Amalgamation. I’m working on the idea of expanding what exactly that means, but so far it’s pretty much a creature that grows in power by eating and assimilating other beings. The Grim we know now is more akin to the creature we see in the very beginning of Twisted Wonderland, who we all assume to be Grim at this point, considering all of those blot crystals he’s been eating have been adding up.

I’d love to expand more on the idea of who exactly this Grim is, but I’ll save that for later posts about the characters themselves. Next thing I plan on working on is a Character intro to Grim. The way I’m kind of moving with this that’s easiest for me is essentially write chapters/headcanon posts until we meet a new character, and then come out with character intros as we go.

Although I do encourage you all to send asks and ideas to me because If I do end up writing more about a character and get particularly inspired by a certain character I might skip chapters and stuff just to be able to write about them lmao. I’m not afraid to skip around to get to certain points, especially if I’m inspired. Right now though, as is, I’m going in order.

Order btw, last note, is going by age. So Lilia > Malleus > Third years > Second years > First years, with the exception of Silver, who I still have yet to figure out where he’ll be, since I haven’t decided if I want him to be human yet or not. If he is, he’ll have to be with the first years era. So far though, I kinda wanna try and get everyone to be a race other than human.

That’s it! Thanks for reading yall! Hope you look forward to more parts!

Tag List: @nxns3sne @lunavixia

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twstdemonfoxau #twst demon fox au #twst x reader #demon fox!reader #twst grim #grim twisted wonderland

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