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ahsbitch · 4 years

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Something Strange In The Air-Hawthorne!Michael Langdon x Reader

Word Count: 7162

Summary: Michael will be staying at Miss Robichaux’s for a few months leading up to competing against the Reader in the Seven Wonders Test.

Warnings: NSFW, cursing, dirty talk, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, reader blacks out, also there’s a snake, if you’re scared of snakes maybe skip down to the last section bc pretty much all the others involve a snake, and a snake bite, Hawthorne!Michael deserves his own warning, yeah, also this is very much not proofread so, be prepared for that

A/N: This is written in honor of @guiltyfiend bc, you right, I think everyone wants to dom Hawthorne!Michael a little bit. This took me forever to write and is stupidly long (we love waxing poetic for no reason) but I hope y’all like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was something strange in the air.

There was always something strange in the air, of course. Strange was probably too subjective, anyway. You’d never quite managed to find a place where the air was simply air, and in a city as electric as New Orleans, at a school as volatile as Miss Robichaux’s, there was always something prickling you, needling its way through your veins. It was why you took the time to meditate in the first place, to give you a chance to sort through it all, when you didn’t have to deal with physical world interrupting, when it was simply you and your mind and the universe playing a game of chicken, seeing which would bow to which, in the end.

But there was something that was a different kind of strange today, something that you hadn’t ever felt before.

No, you’d felt it before, you certainly had, but something you’d never felt quite so strongly, that was it.

It was a deep, poignant, throat catching sense of doom.

A hum rippled through the air, someone was taking a deep breath, and you knew in your mind that they were about to call out to you.

“Y/N,” It was Zoe, and there was a grit in her voice hidden so deep she probably wasn’t even aware that she was already annoyed, “The warlocks are here!”

Yes, that was it. That was the presence. The warlocks were here, and more importantly, Michael Langdon. The others had known the sense of doom too, the Supreme Cordelia had even had a vision about it. Cordelia was in fact probably the only person who felt the doom in a similar way to how you did, with her prophetic powers. The others felt it because it was so strong, but you were doubtful that it overwhelmed them like it did you, that they felt it so deeply they could practically taste it.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that now, you needed to go meet this mysterious Boy Wonder that had made some of the women you respected most in the world, leaders in your coven, shake in their boots.

You opened your eyes, finally, your head tilted back to look at the sky. After a moment, you slid down the steepled roof of the school, leaping nimbly to the nearest tree, scampering to the ground as quickly as you could. You took a step, but something squishy was under your foot, and you jumped slightly as you heard a loud hiss.

“Fuck,” You muttered to yourself, kneeling down, coming face to face with a snake, coiled back in preparation to strike, white mouth opened wide. You waved your hand in front of it, once, and as you watched your magic flow a sense of calm through the snake, you reached out to let it sniff you, smiling at it gently, “Hello, little friend. What are you doing so far from the water?”

The animal flicked its tongue out twice, slowly bringing its head back down, touching its face to your hand gently.

“I like you,” Moving slowly, you picked the snake up, looking levelly into the slitted eyes, “You wanna stay with me for a bit?”

The cottonmouth raised and lowered its head, and you pulled your hood back to rest it gently inside, the snake nestling instantly into the fabric.

With that, you hurried to the front of the school, where you saw four men and five women waiting for you.

The women, you knew. Cordelia, the Supreme, stood at the head of the line, her shoulders rolled back. Next to her was Myrtle Snow, then Zoe, and next to her were Madison and Queenie, the witches that Michael had rescued.

The men, you didn’t know, but in an instant you recognized which one was Michael Langdon.

He was beautiful, with fluffed, golden curls, piercing blue eyes, a cherubic face that held a smile so lovely most people would probably miss the sneer holding it up. He wore the Hawthorne uniform, which you’d only seen in photos, a black bow tied at his throat, his jacket thrown over his shoulder.

They had already made introductions, it seemed, all turning to watch you approach.

“There you are,” Cordelia gave you a small, reassuring smile as you moved to stand beside her, “Gentlemen, this is Y/N Y/L/N, one of our brightest witches, who we believe may be the next Supreme. Y/N, this is John Henry Moore, Behold Chablis, Grand Chancellor Ariel Augustus, and Michael Langdon.”

You nodded confidently, smiling at John Henry Moore as you shook his hand, a slightly smaller smile at Behold Chablis, your face dropping all emotion as you shook hands with Ariel Augustus, almost coughing as you were hit with a rush of negative energy.

“Did you just fall from a tree?” Ariel questioned, gripping your hand tightly.

You concentrated on making yourself smile again, and once you had a grin securely in place you shrugged, “I jumped, actually. I was on the roof, but jumping straight off the roof seems like a good way to end up injured, and I don’t like to transmutate immediately before and after I meditate.”

“Why were you on the roof?” John Henry Moore asked, looking amused.

You almost responded, but Behold spoke before you could, “Didn’t she just say? She was meditating.”

Myrtle moved behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder, “Our dear Y/N is very sensitive to the vibrations of the universe. I believe it’s what makes her so good at playing my theremin. She meditates to sort the different callings that pull at her.”

Nodding, you turned to the mysterious Michael Langdon, watching him. He stared back, cocking his head to the side, and after a moment he extended his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N,” He said coolly, his voice strangely melodic.

You shook firmly, not releasing when the shake was done, not intending to fully end the shake until he moved to end it himself, “Hello, Boy Wonder. It’s nice to- no, actually it’s not particularly nice to meet you. But I’m happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard lots of stories, and I’m grateful for what you’ve done for our coven by returning Madison and Queenie to us.”

His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth as if to object before suddenly jerking his hand back, frowning, “I’m sorry, but what is that?”

What was he talking about?

A slight hiss next to your ear explained it. The snake had crawled up to your shoulder, and you glanced to see that it was looking at the Grand Chancellor. It seemed that the snake didn’t trust Ariel Augustus either.

Ariel jumped, staring, his hand raising up and mouth opening, and you could tell that some type of spell was on the tip of his tongue.

“No,” You snapped, reaching a hand up to the snakes head, and Ariel stumbled backwards, pushed back by magic that you hadn’t even meant to send out, “Sorry. It’s a snake. A cottonmouth, although I’ve never seen one this far from water. I just found him. Stepped on him, actually, although he didn’t take it too personally. I mean, he almost bit me, but I wouldn’t have particularly blamed him if he did, and after I calmed him down with a little charm he seemed happy to come with me. I’d like to keep him,” You turned away from the warlocks, glancing at Cordelia, “May I? I’ve already thought of a name for him.”

Madison, Queenie, and Zoe had all stepped away from you, anxiety thrumming through the air from their direction, but Myrtle chuckled, and Cordelia nodded, something inquisitive just behind her eyes, “You may, so long as you take good care of him, and so long as your new roommate doesn’t mind.”

You whipped back around to Michael, beaming, “What do you think, Boy Wonder? Can Richard stay with us?”

A deep frown etched into his features, which he looked annoyingly pretty in spite of, and he turned to Cordelia and the warlocks, “What does she mean?”

“We’re happy to have you staying with us for the next few months leading up to the Seven Wonders test, but there is currently an overflow of witches. Every room is currently occupied, some by multiple girls,” Zoe stepped in to explain, “Y/N had space for a roommate. I’m surprised that the Grand Chancellor didn’t tell you.”

Ariel shrugged, mumbling something about it not seeming important, and Michael looked at you, horrified, as you slung an arm around his shoulder, “I probably could’ve swapped around with someone, but I thought it’d be fun if we bunked together. Give us a chance to get to know each other better, y’know? So c’mon, Mikey, can we keep the snake?”

“Do not call me that,” He snapped, shrugging you off of him and adjusting his collar, “I don’t care about the snake. I don’t like you.”

“The feeling is mutual, don’t worry,” Blowing a kiss in his direction, you whispered a celebration to the snake before turning back to your sister witches, “Let’s give them a tour!”

You were pleased with this interaction. He was taken aback by you, and you could tell just from a single glance that Michael was not one who was easily taken aback. His energy shifted, something hard to determine just under the surface. You were curious to see what you could learn about him, before the two of you competed against each other during the test of the Seven Wonders.

Alongside that was the strong feeling that at some point you would either fuck him or beat him up, and you found that you were also curious to see which it would be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael Langdon was an asshole.

You’d managed to catch him by surprise the day you’d first met him, to get him to stumble, but by the time you’d walked through the front door of the school he had found his composure, and you hadn’t managed to see him without it since then. He was always well put together.

Alongside being an asshole.

The other witches in your coven were finding themselves swayed by him, you could tell. They didn’t want a male Supreme, but they were fading into his easy charm and good looks. Most spent their time flirting with him, and he seemed incredibly smug at all the attention. They didn’t seem to mind how clearly indifferent he was to them, not particularly harsh, but also never making an effort to be nice, either.

The only person he actively disliked? You.

You couldn’t blame him, of course, but he was a huge pain in the ass.

For example, he was stealing your study room.

There were several areas in the school where students could study, of course. Most of the girls just did it in their rooms, and there was one room at the back of the house that was your favorite, holding a large table with bookshelves on either side and a large picture window opposite the door. You were the only one who used it, because there were nicer ones with tables that didn’t have splinters and light bulbs that weren’t constantly flickering no matter how often they were changed.

And then Michael Langdon showed up, and started hogging the room.

It wasn’t as though you really needed the full study room to yourself, of course. But he took up so much space.

He spread books along the entire table, and he always used his magic to adjust the lighting and change the temperature.

“Boy Wonder,” You sighed one day, about a week and a half after his arrival, “Can you please give me some space on the table?”

Michael glanced up at you, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips although he kept the rest of his face neutral, “What’s wrong, little witch? Are you mad that I beat you in here for once?”

“I’m mad that you take up all the room,” You snapped, “And that you’ve made it fucking freezing in here.”

“I can make it snow, too. Wanna see?”

You kinda did, actually, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“No, I want you to put the temperature back so it’s warm enough that I can’t see my own breath. I can literally see the heat waves rolling off of you, Boy Wonder,” And you could, and it was really fucking weird, in a very interesting sort of way.

Still not bothering to turn to you, Michael shuffled his books around until there was a new one in front of him, “Little witch, why do you think I’d give a fuck what temperature you want it to be?”

“Because, Boy Wonder, Richard can’t handle this cold,” You gestured to the snake who was wrapped around your shoulders, shivering along with you.

Shrugging, Michael stood up finally, walking over to you and reaching a hand out. You stared for a moment, slowly reaching your own out and pressing your palm to his, and the two of you stared at each other for a solid minute and a half, his hand searing hot against your own cold palm, and when he finally pulled away he raised a curious eyebrow at you, “I was reaching for the snake.”

He still wore that ridiculous fucking Hawthorne uniform, and looking at him in it made you wonder once again how well you would fare in beating him up.

“Oh. Shit, sorry,” You said hurriedly, pulling Richard off your shoulders and down around your arm, but then you paused and looked at Michael, your voice heavy with suspicion, “Why do you want him?”

“I’m warmer than you. He can hang out with me and you can go study in our room. Or you can take him back to the room and study with in there with him. Either way,” He said simply, as though you were a bit stupid for not knowing that already.

Glaring, you took a step closer to him, trying your best to be intimidating, “I can’t go study in our room, actually, because your shit is all over my desk, too. And I don’t want Richard to spend all day stuck in the room. He likes going other places. Just make some damn space.”

Michael took two steps forward and suddenly your back was against the wall. He looked closely at you for a minute, and then he reached his hand out again, drawing his thumb across your lower lip, “Why do you always wear lipstick?”

“What?” You stared up at him, dumbfounded.

“You wear lipstick a lot,” Michael pulled his hand away, glancing at the residue left behind on his thumb, and then turned it back to you, “I’m curious why. Can you get this for me?”

“What?”

Rolling his eyes, Michael gripped your chin, pushing his thumb against your lips until they parted. Your eyebrows scrunched together, and you closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to concentrate on what the actual hell was happening.

It wasn’t even lipstick, it was tinted lip balm.

His energy had reached a point that was especially strange, still dark and angry like always, but with a type of curiosity to it as well. He was wondering something, and that made you wonder what he was wondering, and there was such a loop of wondering going on that you didn’t even realize that your tongue was swirling around him, didn’t even notice the slight shift in his demeanor as he pushed the two more of his fingers into your mouth, shoving them down your throat.

What the fuck?

You shifted, trying to reach up and push him away, but his magic pinned your hands at your sides and all you could do was gag around him, frantically struggling. Magic, magic, do something with your magic to get him to stop, but you couldn’t get it to work, couldn’t get anything to happen. You bit down, desperate, and he hissed as he raised his other hand to your chin, holding it pulled down so you couldn’t bite anymore, scratching his nails gently across your jaw as he did so.

“You look good like this, do you know that? Gagging. I think you were made for it. It’s interesting, how aware you are of energies, of vibrations in the universe, and yet I don’t think you’re even conscious of the energy you send out. How desperate you are for me. You aren’t aware of it because you don’t want to be. I can read your mind, little witch. You may not like me, but you do want to fuck me. You wear revealing clothes and you act like you’re doing it for yourself, like you’re empowered, but you’re not. You act high and mighty, as though you’re wise and powerful, but really you’re just a dumb, depraved, desperate little whore who wants nothing more than to be dicked down by your rival.”

What the fuck was he talking about? That wasn’t true!

Was it?

He was pretty fucking hot, you had to admit, but you didn’t want to get dicked down by Michael Langdon.

You couldn’t want that.

Fuck.

Finally, finally, when you thought you were going to pass out or puke or maybe both, he pulled completely away from you, stepping back.

You doubled over, catching your breath, and when you straightened up your magic was finally working again, sending Michael flying across the room until he was pressed against the window, and you gasped, “What the fuck, Langdon? What the actual fucking fuck?”

Michael tried to shrug, but his shoulders wouldn’t move, and after a moment you released him, wishing that he would maybe fall over, but he just smoothly stepped forward, making his way back to you, “I’ll raise the temperature back to normal. And here,” He waved his hand in the air and the books in front of one of the seats at the table flew to other spots, clearing you an area, “I suppose there’s room for us to share the table. No promises on my kindness extending to tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll beat you here tomorrow,” You said, thinking through each of your words carefully as you spoke, “And you can suck my Dick, Langdon.”

Richard raised his head up and down as you set him on the table, slithering closer to Michael as if in emphasis to your point.

“Good one, little witch. That’s very clever, for you,” He chuckled, taking the seat next to the one he had cleared space for you at and sliding his fingers into his own mouth, tilting his head back as he cleaned them off and then pulling them back out with a flourish, shooting you a condescending look, “Are you going to sit? If you’re just here to stare, I’d prefer it if you’d leave. You can be very distracting sometimes.

Numbly, you took a seat next to him, trying hard to ignore his cocky grin, and pulled a book out of your bag.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a bedroom with Michael Langdon presented its own challenges. He was an asshole in private just as much as he was in front of others, and it was pretty fucking annoying.

“Are you ever gonna go to fucking sleep?” Michael snapped at you, pulling his pillow over his eyes.

“There’s too much noise,” Sighing, you cracked your knuckles, letting Richard the snake trail across your legs, “And not enough noise, at the same time. Am I really bothering you that much? I turned the lights out and everything.”

He growled, removing the pillow from his head and squinting across the room at you through the darkness, “Doesn’t matter, does it, little witch bitch? You’re still a pain in the ass whether the light is on or off. Can’t you just ignore the noise?”

“Fuck you, Langdon, you don’t know shit. I can’t just-shit! Ow, motherfucker,” You hissed, jumping, as Richard bit your finger, “Why the fuck would you do that you dick?”

“What happened?” Michael straightened up, “Y/N?”

The snake was slithering away already, and as he did you were flooded with a strange feeling, the metallic taste of magic in the air. Richard hadn’t bitten you of his own accord, someone had made it happen, and that someone was probably Michael.

“Y/N,” He repeated, “Come over here.”

Your feet carried you to his bed without your brain guiding them, and you dropped to the mattress next to him, holding out a shaky hand, “Richard bit me.”

Michael wrapped his fingers around your wrist, his large hand engulfing yours as he brought it closer to his face, examining carefully, “Yeah, you did. Weird. You feeling okay?”

You weren’t. Your mind was hazy, and you didn’t know why. It wasn’t the snakebite that did it, you could just tell, it was something deep in your chest and spreading through your body, making you feel like you were in a great fog, and you stared at him, “I don’t feel great, actually.”

“Would you like me to fix it?” Pressing a kiss to your palm, Michael raised an eyebrow at you.

“I, uh, I don’t know what you, what you mean by-” You cut off, closing your eyes to concentrate, rather than letting yourself get lost looking at Michael.

Dammit, why did he have to be so fucking pretty? It was such a pain.

Night was the only time you saw him looking casual, too. Night and early morning, when he was in bed.

Seeing him unbuttoned like this made a strange flip turn in the pit of your stomach.

“I can make the pain go away, little witch,” His voice was hoarse and whispery, “Just say the word.”

“Okay,” You breathed, even though you probably shouldn’t, you should say no, should pull away, should find a way to fix it yourself or maybe go to Cordelia or one of the other witches for help, you didn’t trust Michael, you shouldn’t trust Michael, but the word came out and you were making eye contact with him and fuck, fuck, fuck what were you doing with your life?

Michael pulled your finger into his mouth, wrapping his lips just below the bite wound, and began sucking gently.

“What... what are you doing?” You asked blearily, unable to break your eyes away from his, “I don’t... I don’t think you can really suck out the venom. I don’t even know if there is venom? He bit so quick, it was more of a nip than anything, I don’t-”

Pulling his head away for a moment, Michael frowned, “Are you ever quiet, little witch? Just hush, for once, and let me make you feel better.”

Why was he being so nice? It wasn’t nice, you knew it wasn’t really, there was some type of trick to this, some type of trick to everything he did, and yet you felt swept away, some how. Overwhelmed, intoxicated, by Michael Langdon.

You nodded, and his lips were around you again, and it was working, you could feel it. The strange pain in your body, that had started to cloud your chest, your throat, stomach, everything, it was fading away.

You weren’t quite sure what was replacing it, as it certainly wasn’t anything you were used to, but it was mostly calming. There was a thrill of adrenaline spiking through you, but something else. Something deeper. There were few emotions that you couldn’t identify, but this was perhaps one of them. Whatever you were feeling, it was not something that you were used to.

When the pain was gone and your head was a bit clearer, you tried to pull your hand away. Michael held firm to your wrist, although he let you ball your fingers into a fist, releasing you from his mouth. “How does that feel?” He cooed, tapping his fingers along your veins.

“Better,” You said slowly, and then, “Weird, though. I feel weird. I want... I’m tired, I think.”

“What do you want?” Michael asked, and there was a smirk on his face that made you want to slap him, and then because your head was still not altogether there, you did slap him.

Your hand, the one he wasn’t holding in place, hit his cheek at an astounding speed, leaving an angry red mark, and before you could even process that you had done so, you threw your leg across his lap, straddling him, and pressed your lips to his.

Releasing your wrist finally, Michael pressed his hands into the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, and you stroked your thumb over the mark on his face, listening to Michael’s growl as you pressed down.

You pulled away after a moment, cupping his face in your hands, panting, “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Which part?” Michael nipped at your bottom lip, smiling a smile that did not soften his eyes at all, “Slapping me? Or kissing me? Because I’ll be honest, I wasn’t fully expecting either of them, little witch bitch.”

“You’ve done something to me,” You mused, beginning to kiss along his throat, “I don’t know what, or how, or why, but there’s something you’ve done. There are a lot of things I want right now.”

“Tell me,” Michael commanded, but then he let out a groan as you brushed your lips over the spot where his jaw met his neck, and his usual suave, intimidating demeanor dropped as you began sucking furiously at the spot. He spoke again, more softly this time, “Stop, tell me.”

Leaning back to glance at him, you smiled sweetly, “Make me, Boy Wonder,” and then you were at it again, leaving a large clump of bruises near his ear.

“Seems like you have feelings for me, little bitch,” With mocking laughter, Michael trailed his hands to your hips, giving a harsh squeeze, “What would your sister witches think?”

“The only feeling I have for you is loathing, Langdon,” You snarled, and in a moment your lips were connected once again, teeth clacking against each other, and when you both paused to catch your breath, you pressed your forehead to his, “Fuck, I really want to suck your cock.”

Michael snorted, “Everyone thinks you’re the future Supreme? You’re just a pathetic little cockslut.”

You ground your hips down against him and reared your hand back, but this time he caught your wrist, glaring, although he bucked slightly against you. “Fuck you, you’re the one who’s all marked up. You’re the one who’s fucking dry humping me. Look at you. You’re the pathetic one.”

“Sure I am,” Michael had a low, snarly chuckle that made a bolt of need shoot through you, and also made you very desperately want to hit him again, but seeming to know what you were thinking, he captured your other hand as well, “Such a fiery thing you are, little witch.”

Scowling, you bit his bottom lip and tugged, licking up the blood that beaded up and began to trickle down his chin. Smiling at the bitter taste, a yawn made its way through you before you could stop it. You felt yourself blushing a little at that, muttering quickly, “Sorry about that. I’m more tired than I thought, I guess. Being this close to you kinda blocks out a lot of the other energy, makes it all a lot quieter.”

“Then let’s sleep.”

You had started to kiss along his collarbones, but you paused at that, murmuring against his skin, “What?”

Michael wrapped his hand around your jaw, pulling you back so that he could look you in the eye, “You heard me, little witch. You’re tired. I am too. As much as I would love to see you gagging on my cock right now, I’d also enjoy getting some sleep. I’m planning to get up relatively early tomorrow to study.”

“I call the study room,” You said quickly, and you hadn’t even realized that Michael had shifted the two of you so that you were laying down, one hand still cupping your jaw, making it a bit difficult to speak, “What are you doing?”

“You really are quite dim, little witch. I’m going to sleep. You should do the same,” His voice was softening, although not in a kind way. It was soft, yes, but commanding, dangerous,and you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Straining against his arms, you tried to stand, “I’ll go back to my bed.”

“You can’t sleep in your bed,” Michael said simply, rolling onto his back, one arm still flung across your waist, holding you in place.

Frowning, you turned your body towards him, curling into his side. He was warm. You didn’t even have a blanket covering you, and already you could feel yourself starting to overheat. You didn’t voice this though, not yet, too confused by the entire interaction to focus on that, “Why do you care so much how I sleep?”

“I don’t,” He said simply, “I care about my sleep. And I’m not going to lose my sleep just because you can’t grasp your own. Now, stop squirming around so much. Are you that worked up?”

“I’m hot,” You snapped.

“And bothered, apparently.”

“Langdon, do you ever shut the fuck up?” You jabbed your elbow into his side, “That’s not the hot I meant and you know it. I’m warm. You’re like a fucking furnace.”

Sighing, getting grumpier by the second, Michael hooked his arm around you and pulled you onto his chest so that you were straddling him once again, arms on either side of his body, head hovering over his chest.

He laughed at the way you yelped, being pulled so suddenly, and his hands rested on your back, bringing one up to guide your head down to rest against his chest, “Did I scare you, little witch?”

“No,” You answered quickly, and then, “Just, this is a weird position.”

“It should be a little cooler for you this way. Just sleep, yeah? Get comfortable, and let’s go to sleep,” Michael’s hand stroked up and down your back, probably unconsciously, and you nodded sleepily.

“Goodnight, Mikey,” You murmured, still largely unable to control your impulses.

“Don’t call me that,” He replied, and then, after a moment, he added gently, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you always here?” Michael sighed the next morning, setting his books down on your table.

“Why are you always such a dick?” You retorted, shuffling your own books to the side.

He shrugged, stiffening a little as you rested your hand on his thigh, “Because it’s fun. Listen, about last night, I don’t want you to think-”

“I don’t think anything,” You reassured him quickly.

“Well that’s obvious,” Michael snorted, “You’re far prettier than you are smart, and far more annoying than you are pretty. I’d be surprised if you used that little head of yours for much more than deciding what color lipstick you should wear and fantasizing about getting fucked.”

Pulling your hand away, you scowled at him, “That’s not what I meant, asshole. I was going to thank you for helping me fall asleep, but now I’d rather just give you another hickey or something, so everyone who looks at you like you’re a god will see what a little bitch their Boy Wonder actually is.”

“I would take that back, if I were you,” He said coolly, his voice deadly calm.

You stood, though only for a moment, and pushed his chair back enough for you to be able to sit, straddling his lap much like you had the night before. Hooking your arms around his neck, you looked at him with a smile, “I have no intention of taking anything back. I said what I said, and I fucking meant it.”

Faster than you knew he could move, Michael stood and slammed your back against the table, knocking the wind out of you. His hands reached under the fabric of your dress and he ripped your underwear off quickly, stuffing them into the pocket of his dress pants as he looked at you, “You have no power here, do you understand that? You may have felt like you were in charge last night, but that’s only because I fucking let you. You’re feisty, and I like that, but you need to learn your fucking place, little witch bitch. Tell me you want that. Tell me you want me to teach you your place, and I will. If you don’t, I’ll leave. But I think we both know which option you prefer.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly, and at his raised eyebrow you spoke, “I do. I mean, I, uh, I want you to show me my place. Whatever. Just fucking do something, Michael.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” He growled, sitting back down in his chair, and he tugged at you, pulling both your legs over his shoulders, your hips lifting off the table, so that his face was level with your pussy, “I’m the one in charge. Get it? I want you to sit there and-fuck, you’re already so fucking wet. You think you want to be in charge, but clearly you know that you’re meant to be at my mercy. I want you to sit there and melt underneath me, and you’re gonna keep melting until there’s nothing left of you. Get it?”

“I get it,” You agreed quickly, although you really weren’t quite sure what he meant by that, and your hips bucked weakly forward at the feeling of his hot breath against you, “Please, Michael.”

“So fucking desperate. You’re fucking dripping for me, and I’ve barely even touched you,” Chuckling, Michael placed a tiny, barely there, ghost of a kiss against your clit, and even though he wasn’t touching you anymore you could feel his wolfish grin at the way you whined when he pulled away.

Michael dragged his teeth against the soft skin of your thighs, nipping at the junction of your pelvis, and you knew as he continued that there were dark flowers blossoming along after his teeth. You squirmed underneath him, and when he finally finished with your thighs he placed his palms against them, holding them open, his long fingers pressed against your hips so they stayed down.

You sat up as well as you could to look at him, and you watched as he stared intently at your pussy, leaning forward after far, far too long to lick a slow, languid stripe up your clit. You moaned weakly, giving a flick of your hand to slam the study room door shut and lock it, and after a moment you dug your hands into his hair, “Michael, wait, the window.”

He leaned back for a moment to glance at the large picture window that took over the wall to your left, and then he beamed up at you, “It’s fine, little witch. No one will walk by, and if they do, it won’t embarrass me, so it doesn’t matter much. That reminds me, if being noisy is gonna make you embarrassed, you might wanna find some way to be fucking quiet for once. I know that’s not your strong suit, but it’s the best you’re gonna get.”

What a dick.

You were about to voice this thought, tell him what a dick he was, but then Michael clamped his teeth down gently on your clit, giving a playful tug, and you let out a shriek at that, bringing one hand up to stop yourself from making too much noise.

Suddenly his tongue was inside you, tracing along the walls of your cunt, exploring, searching for something, and when he found the spot he was looking for you bit sharply into the palm of your hand.

He was masterful in the way he ate you out, his nose still brushing your clit as he fucked you with his tongue.

It didn’t take long until you felt your stomach tightening, ready to burst, and you tugged at Michael’s thick golden curls, whimpering, “Fuck, Michael, I’m gonna-”

“Do it, little witch,” He spoke against your skin, and you shuddered at the vibrations it sent through you, “Melt for me. Let yourself dissolve for me.”

Your orgasm washed over you, Michael attacking your g-spot with a ferocity that you probably should’ve expect but didn’t. He kept going, and you gasped, pulling harder at his hair, “Michael! Stop, you gotta stop, give me a minute.”

He pulled away for just a moment and you gasped, but then his lips were around your clit and sucking furiously. You cursed loudly, another orgasm already approaching, or maybe the first one extending, you couldn’t tell, couldn’t think about it, you were overwhelmed.

For the first time in your life, you could only feel one sense of energy coming at you. Everything else was blocked out, hidden away behind the deep, angry lust that rolled through the air between you and Michael.

He moved back down and began lapping furiously at your folds. Pulling back for a moment, Michael spat on your pussy and then buried his face against you once more, shaking his head furiously, and you struggled to hold back your moans.

You weren’t intending to give him the damn satisfaction.

Michael seemed to realize you were holding back as he started speaking again, his voice muffled against you but bringing another orgasm bubbling to the surface of your skin, electrifying you, “You taste delicious, do you know that, little witch? So sweet. Maybe a little bitter, but so sugary. I could eat you for hours. You know what? I think I will.”

“Fuck,” You let out a hiss as he dove back in, tongue delving into you once more, and you did your best to act smug, like he wasn’t sending shockwaves through your very being, “Is this the best you’ve got, Boy Wonder? You’re supposed to be teaching me my place, right? But I’m kind of-dammit to fuck, holy hell-kind of the one in charge here, huh? I’m the one above you right now.”

You couldn’t even be sure why exactly you were saying this, why you were egging him on when it was becoming painful how much pleasure was running through you, but he didn’t respond. At least, not out loud.

Leaping to his feet, Michael pulled you up closer to him, so that only your shoulders were still laying down. You adjusted your position frantically, scrabbling to grip onto the edge of the table. You were upside down and practically vertical, and he dug into you as though he were indeed starving for you, snarling and slobbering, glaring down the length of your body at you. Your body had started to spasm, and you bit your hand until you tasted blood.

There were explosions going off in your mind, and not just metaphorical orgasmic explosions, but actual ones too, nuclear blasts dancing across your hazy thoughts.

You couldn’t be sure how long this went on, how many times you came, it was all a blur. You’d given up on keeping your sounds under control and were now openly sobbing, shuddering as he continued to devour you.

“Stop, Michael, please, I can’t take it,” You were blubbering, straining hard against him and desperately trying to pull away, but Michael held you firmly in place, chuckling at your desperation.

He pulled your clit into his mouth once more, the suction almost unbearable, and you were smashed with your final orgasm, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he moved to lick at your folds again, a dark glint in his eyes as he watched you pant, watched your own eyes rolling back in your head, and the sight of him smiling against you was the last thing you see before a dark haze overtook you.

You were surrounded by darkness, everything you saw misted in a painful, prickling fog. The air smelled like sulfur, and you looked down to see that you were covered in blood.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A familiar voice rang in your ear, and you swiveled slowly, sluggishly, to see Michael standing just to your right, an admiring grin on his face, “We did very well, my little witch.”

You tried to respond, but your words stuck in your throat, and you simply stared at Michael. He was wearing something other than pajamas or the Hawthorne uniform for the first time you had ever seen. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, but as you stared at him he reached one arm out and entangled your fingers in his.

The sky was thick with grey and black clouds, and Michael’s hand was searing hot against your own. When he pulled away, moving to examine a piece of rubble not far from you, you looked at your palm to see that it was bright shade of pinkish red, as though it had been sunburned.

Michael turned back around to look at you expectantly, and you saw that the piece of rubble he was leaning against had a large sign on it, with a large chunk missing from one of the top corners.

--Miss Robichaux’s Academy For Exceptional Young Ladies--

Holy shit.

When your eyes fluttered back open, Michael was sitting in his chair once more and had adjusted you so that your back was resting on the table again, although your legs were still splayed over his shoulders.

You gasped when you caught sight of his face, your mind still tumbling at the...dream? vision? mirage? You weren’t sure what it was, but you were scrambling to reconcile what you had seen with what was happening now.

Michael merely raised an eyebrow at you, pulling your legs off of his shoulders, “Are you back with me now, little witch?”

“Fucking hell,” You breathed, trying to sit up.

Placing a hand on your stomach, Michael tutted, “Stay down. At least for a few moments. You blacked out and you’re gonna do it again if you’re not careful.”

“I’m okay,” You reassured him, sitting up again after a few moments, swinging your legs down and frowning, “Fuck, I can’t feel my legs.”

“That makes sense,” Michael stood, looking down at you coolly, “I think I’ll go study elsewhere. See you around, little witch.”

“What? You can’t just leave,” You couldn’t believe it, and you tried to stand but fell back immediately, your entire lower body trembling.

Michael didn’t bother to respond, just turned away from you with that ridiculous smirk on his face, and walked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was something strange in the air, but this time you knew what it was.

Desire.

Michael Langdon was an asshole, but you knew from everything that had happened that you two were destined to meet, although you weren’t sure why.

It seemed that you were going to have to figure it out.

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halcyon-writings · 3 years

Text

family

requested?: yes (anonymous) //tldr, if alucard had a sibling (the reader, of course) dealing with the loss of family, both living and not

note(s)/warning(s): canonical character death, spoilers babyyyyy, violence and injury, angst it’s rare for anyone in this series to have a good time huh?, also for this being that the reader can literally look however you want, imma say Lisa isn’t white bc I do what I want and it’s my fic :) this is also the most i’ve written in a good while omg, im highkey proud so pls don’t let this flop

Lisa Tepes is dead.

Your mother, is dead.

Killed, burned alive. Gone to ashes.

All because the church had believed she was a witch of sorts. Several thoughts dance in the back of your mind as you gaze upon the pyre. Smoldering from the heat, the flames gone. Your father leaving his message, no, his warning, that he would act in one year.

“A farce that was!” You hear a shout, and you force down the bitter laugh, throat tight and eyes burning. Especially so when you slowly begin to hear continued shouts of agreement, from voices previously silent.

Here your mother was, her final resting place. Burned to ashes for some sick show of power.

And you could do nothing as she was mocked for it.

Your fist clenched at your side, you feel your nails cutting into your skin, but you walk away to return home.

And to say that the castle was no less better was an understatement. Your father was most likely in his quarters.

And when you finally sit down, the weight of your weary finally settling against your soul, do you allow yourself cry. Quiet tears turning to sobs as you muffle your voice with a pillow.

You had failed her. Missing the chance to save your mother, too late to have done anything.

But you pause, noticing the presence at your door, your brothers familiar knocking pattern resounding suddenly through the empty hall.

“Come in,” Your voice is embarrassingly raspy. As you clear your throat, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. But it wouldn’t hide the redness of your eyes.

Adrian says nothing, and a part of you wishes he did. His larger hand takes yours. A comforting squeeze.

You blink again feeling your eyes burn, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Father is...” He trails off, no doubt thinking of what he could say next.

“What he plans on doing, it’s not justice.”

You stare up at him, But it would be deserving. A bitter corner of your mind supplies.

While Adrian had taken after Mother in his demeanor, much more kinder, more welcoming. You were no doubt like Father. Reserved, distrusting, easily prone to grudges if you were wronged in some way.

But you bite your tongue.

“He gave them a year,” You murmur after some time, “But no doubt he’s ready to calling his armies.”

At this Adrian turns alarmed. the warmth from his hand slips away.

“We must stop him!”

You’re still reeling from the events from earlier today, and a part of you wishes to have no part in his attempt to try and stop your father. But then you remember your mother.

Her kindness, regardless of how she was viewed for being different.

And your warily stand anyway.

If only you had more sense. Your father remains eerily silent as he embraces you both. His hold tighter, and while Adrian seemed convinced, you saw the dark look in his eyes.

The year had passed. You weren’t surprised to hear of the bloodshed.

It was naive to expect otherwise. While reluctantly following your brother, you can only stand, frozen as your blood feels like ice in your veins as your remaining family clashes.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper.

They don’t hear you.

Glass shatters.

And foolishly enough, you rush forward.

With your brother injured and fleeing, and you yourself were not free from any sort of pain.

Stepping in between the two as they fought ended with a gnarly gash on your shoulder, as you fell to your knees and blood slipping past your fingers. Your father stands in front of you, like a protective pillar as your brother stares in shock, quickly wanting to help you in some way.

And then the fight is over. Your brother is gone too.

The castle is much larger and colder now.

As you’re confined to your room, the wound healing into an angry red, then to a muted and dull scar. For a moment you wished it took longer, your father guilty and you were reminded of times you had been sick when you were younger. While you had not been too keen on the typical children’s books, reading theory on physics and other sciences only seemed fun when he would read to you and you’d ask questions in between passages. (Your voice funny from a stuffy nose led to laughter and a small coughing fit but otherwise it was nice).

But now was not the time to reminisce on the happy childhood.

You know you cannot stay. Ultimately, Adrian had been right. Once you feel as though you can move your arm once again, slowly, you begin pack a small bag. You didn’t want to build up any suspicions, finding some money in your room and whenever you could take a few coins or so from your father that he would not miss.

Extra clothes were folded and put away separately.

And you make your escape on a rainy evening, the uneven droplets helping hide your tracks. But you knew now that your father had brought back Hector and Isaac, new generals to help fight in his war, you had to be weary of the night creatures that would no doubt be sent after you.

Well, you were creative. At times flying in a transformed look, no one would suspect a bat in the dark of night afterall. And it was easier to. find good vantage points that way. But to also avoid any people, you didn’t quite trust yourself to not get into an altercation with a bigot.

You rarely slept longer than necessary, especially not when those dreams were memories or nightmares.

Now that you had learned how to walk, you were a right menace. It was an uphill battle in itself to keep you in one place. You were curious and the world you knew (being your father’s vast castle) was huge. Your childlike curiosity was never let down by your adventures.

You laugh quietly, which sounds like small squeaks as you fly up and hide above the gaudy chandeliers. Your father, giant coat gone, hair tied back and in a plain dress shirt and slacks as he searched for a curious toddler.

Snickers continuing as he paces down the hall. You hop down, landing slowly and feet planting into the ground, knees bent. Before you had down the opposite direction.

The lab usually wasn’t a place you could be allowed in on your own. But having heard that your mother was there, you knew it wouldn’t be a problem! So your little legs carried you along. Until you found the familiar doorway.

Dozens of tubes and mechanisms had you turning your head as you wandered in, your shoes tapping against the marble floor.

“Now what brings you here, sweetling?” The warmth of your mother’s voice has you smiling before you see her. As you run forward and hug her side, clutching her dress in your small fists. “Not causing trouble for your father are you?”

You shake your head grin betraying your word, “Nope! I’m not doing any trouble!”

“And how since when did that happen?” She laughs gently.

“Now.”

Your brother looks up from his own books, waving before returning to work. Your nose crinkles, so much for playing experimenting. But before you can say much, your nearly yelp as you’re brought up into the air by a pair of strong arms.

“I’ve found you, little wanderer.” Your father’s voice carries no heat behind it. Then again, he was always soft hearted for you and your brother. But most of all, your mother.

“I’m not little!” You pout, “I’m big now!”

You’re taken away from your reverie at the snap of a twig.

With your lack of sleep, as you had insisted on traveling more, you were less than surprised to have been snuck up on.

“Peace, my friend,” The old man murmurs. You keep your knife in an iron grip in front of you. Who you’re guessing is his son or grandson, has his hands raised the same way, but no weapon to be seen, magic, oh good. Then again, not like you needed a knife when you could make your nails go into claws and the fangs. Don’t forget the fangs.

“I can’t exactly be peaceful when it’s the middle of the night and suddenly figures in blue robes appear out of now where,” You answer dryly. But seeing as how the others behind the main two have not done or said anything noteworthy, nor were their stances make them look like they could really fight, you lower your weapon slightly.

Clearing your throat, “Although, I shouldn’t be swinging my own weapon around either.”

The old man just smiles gently. And you can’t help but be just slightly comforted.

In the end, the speakers stop for the evening. And the Elder, despite looking like a frail old man, is firm in his decision that you stay and “eat properly.” And like a scolded child, you listen. Food and drink all but pushed into your hands as you’re quickly brought into conversation, the previous confrontation all but forgotten.

And then you perk up when he mentions Gresit.

“So... the sleeping soldier,” You begin, slowly chewing on the sweet bread you had been given. “It was true?”

The Elder nods, “My grandchild and a traveller, they had gone to explore it. Well, the traveller had gone to save my grandchild. I will not hide the fact that I was a bit doubtful. But Belmont had proved himself a man of his word. Although, he does need to drink more water.”

You blink, a look of a surprise clear on your face. Belmont...

Fuck.

“Although I hadn’t expected the legend of the sleeping soldier to be realized so quickly.”

At your inquisitive look, the Elder begins to explain. Of a holy warrior beneath Gresit, who would come to save it’s people in their most dire of hours.

“The pair had come up with a man with long hair, like gold.” You couldn’t help but let out the breath you had been holding. So the Belmont didn’t try to kill him. you could breathe a little easier at that fact.

“Where are they now?” You ask, holding the empty cup in your hands, as you stare down as though waiting for something.

Getting your answer, you stand, adjusting your bag over your shoulders. You wave off the concern in staying, if it had already been several days since the Speakers had left Gresit, then you needed to cover a lot of land to get to your brother.

That is, until you saw the expression on the Elder’s face grow stern, as though he was scolding a child. With a heavier bag, one that the Elder insisted that you take some more things you could eat along the way, in exchange you give the Elder a small trinket you had been using to hide from the monsters of your father’s army, you finally set off. While your worries were not completely settled, your shoulders felt lighter. Metaphorically of course.

Of course, giving away the object that kept you hidden made it a bit more, difficult, when it came to trying to hide and travel at night. Much less even try to stop and rest.

It had barely been two days since you had left the speakers, and already, you had run into some trouble, a beastly creature’s claws barely caught on your sleeve, leaving your arm bare as you shuddered from the chill in the air. You can only sigh mournfully, you really liked that coat. But, better your sleeve than say, you actually getting wounded.

Your nails resemble claws, while your free hand holds the dagger in a steady grip. But being surrounded on all sides, it did not look promising.

Well, you thought mournfully, if you died you could at least see your mother again.

Until you hear the sound of what reminds you of a whistle? And then a sword flying through the air, slicing through the night creatures, giving you a chance to get some distance.

You hear the surprised shout of your name, and look up, to see your brother wide eyed, sword now returned to him, and a man and woman standing at his side.

“Um... hi.”

Much to your relief, the night creatures are easily taken care of.

And as you’re finally able to explain your story, you find yourself relaxing into the extra cloak given to you by the Elder.

“You mean you met the Speakers on your journey?!” A woman, petite with short blonde locks, who you learn is named Sypha, asks, and you notice the way her shoulders sag in relief.

You nod, “Yes. They all were safe.” If her shoulders sagged anymore she’d full on be slouching. You leave out the part of leaving a possibly precious trinket with them, not wanting her to think you cursed them or something.

“So you mean to tell me, Dracula, fucking Dracula, had more than one kid? That he actually had a woman not only give him not just one, but two children?” Is incredulously asked next by the scruffy looking man. Trevor, as your brother says.

You only stare in annoyance, sure your father was about to raise an army to annihilate the human populace but he didn’t used to be that way.

Before you can retort with a scathing remark of your own, Sypha elbows him harshly in the side. And you know it hurts from the way he immediately puts a hand where she hit him, eyes widening slightly. Serves him right.

“And what of...” Adrian- no Alucard as he wishes to be called, asks, near hesitant.

“Father?” You ask, arms crossed, “Same old same old. Planning the same amount of destruction here or there.”

As he looks to the snow covered earth, you roll your eyes, “Did you expect anything different?”

It’s quiet, and neither Sypha nor Trevor speak.

“No.”

You all sat around camp quietly for a while after that.

Your lungs feel like they’re being constricted. Your throat burns as you struggle to breathe, claws digging into your skin like knives. Before you’re thrown backwards, landing harshly against the wall. Books fall from the book case and your weapon clatters noisily from the ground.

You take shallow breaths, barely standing before you’re thrown once more. Curse your father’s stature and supernatural strength. You close your eyes, waiting for another attack and at least hoping to brace yourself for it, but it never came.

Instead, your brother stands in front of you, as he and your father remain in a standstill. Sypha and Trevor’s footsteps are rushing towards you three.

It all continues to move so fast, until he stops noticing the painting of your mother, as she had been holding your brother and then you as a baby, and the next thing you know, your father is staked through the heart. And with wobbly legs, you take your sword, and swing. So falls Dracula. But it felt like no victory.

You sit up with an alarmed look, stopping yourself from shouting.

That was... a dream? You rub your eyes, feeling that your cheeks are wet and you sigh.

When you see a shadow looming over you, the light of the fire giving slight visibility, you freeze. Before noticing it’s your brother and not his companions.

“Sorry,” You say, making sure to not look at him, so that he didn’t see your tears.

Quietly, he places his coat over your shoulders, sitting beside you, wrapping his own blanket loosely around his own shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You only grip the jacket lapels tighter, shaking slightly as you hiccup, unable to stop yourself from crying again.

He must think it’s because you miss your mother, and you do. But this dream was far different. And you say nothing as he brings you into his arms. Your tears having long since dried when the sun rises moments later. But you find yourself falling asleep as your brother rubs soothing circles on your back, feeling the build up exhaustion finally leaving you.

When you’re awake much later in the day you can’t help but laugh a little when Sypha scolds your brother for being mean enough to make you cry, he didn’t you assure her quick enough, although you’re back to laughing when she then turns around to scold Belmont when he makes another slight comment.

#castlevania netflix x reader #castlevania imagines #castlevania imagine #castlevania netflix imagines #mine

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fangirlandiknowit101 · 3 years

Note

30 BTS writer asks: 1, 12 + 18? ❤️🌻

Almost forgot to add - thanks for asking<33333

1. What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

Unsurprisingly, it was for Naruto and Sasuke/Naruto. You can still read it in all its glory, even on ao3 lmao. Might be hard to believe but that fic (Unsuspicious title, don't ask why it's called that I have no explanations) is really the absolute first thing I wrote that counts as a fanfic. I didn't write about other people's fictional characters before that. I didn't really write much outside of school at all, not sure how I lived my life tbh...

12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

I answered earlier that I want to write a horse rider au at some point, but what I'd also like is to write a real enemies to lovers fic. Like, actual enemies. But it might be too angsty, so who knows if I'll ever make it lol.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

Aah you guys really want that commentary don't you... maybe one day I'll release a version of tswm with director's commentary for the whole thing hahahahaha (jk I'd never have time to do that)

But alright, I'm gonna take the opportunity to comment on another scene in tswm that I definitely this deserves it, it's the reunion scene between Naruto and Sasuke in chapter 49! I hesitated to pick this one bc it's so long and emotional, and also I don't want to add any accidental spoilers... but oh well. Here we go!

[My comments will be in bold text, this starts almost at the beginning of the chapter, right when Sasuke meets Naruto in Kaguya's place.]

He reached out with a hand, the bright light reflecting in the half-moon in his palm. It glowed, and just like that, his hand wrapped around another’s.

Naruto.

He sucked in a breath, lungs desperate for air. Naruto stood before him, chest heaving, hand clutching Sasuke’s so hard he feared it might break.

Their shared beat rang loud in his ears, eyes wide as they drank each other in. The darkness had given way to white, fuzzy light, their bodies floating, suspended in air.

“Sasuke,” Naruto whispered, as if afraid to drown out the sound of their connection.

Honestly, I tried my best to make it as painful as possible. That's all I wanted lol. At first I had no idea how to write this scene, but then I just got a feeling and tried to write it in words.

There was no hiding in this place. It was similar to that strange place that seemed to exist between them when they fought, blows connecting, hearts open. Between one breath and the next, it would be gone, their shared hearts lingering long after.

Nothing more poetic than that special place Kishimoto created for them when they exchange blows... extremely gay.

Here, there was only the two of them, the heat of their bodies as Naruto reached for his face.

“Am I dreaming?” Naruto wondered, fingers stroking along Sasuke’s cheekbone. “You look so real…”

They sank down, slowly, until their feet touched solid white. He shivered, the tips of Naruto’s fingers touching his chin, his mouth.

“It could be a dream,” Sasuke said quietly, exhaling as Naruto came closer.

“I can feel your heart,” Naruto murmured, his forehead coming to rest against Sasuke’s temple. “I missed you so much.”

Images flashed before Sasuke’s eyes, impressions of the world from Naruto’s perspective. Menma as the kyuubi. Kakashi, entering through a window. Iruka, hand gentle as he reached over the table.

Sakura, pain drawing her face tight. A mountain of paperwork. Snippets of conversation. The overwhelming pain of loneliness, like walls closing in on him.

He puzzled together enough pieces to make sense of the days since they separated.

Must be convenient to just read each other's minds... I should stop making fun of my own writing. But anyway, I felt very clever when I realized I could skip explanations between them and just let them see each other's memories of the past few days. I think it fits that they could see it through the other person's eyes, all the emotions too. Especially how painful it was for Naruto and how much he was trying to keep it together in front of his friends, and still failing. It gives Sasuke a better understanding of what would have happened if he'd decided to leave after one year passed (and I'm still bitter at Kishimoto for doing that in canon.)

“Naruto,” he sighed, lifting a hand to sift through soft strands of hair, closing his eyes as Naruto pressed into him.

Hearts bared, he felt Naruto’s desperate longing as his own. It mirrored his own pain, the aching emptiness filling his chest. Little by little, the cold was pushed away by warmth, Naruto’s mouth touching his cheek, his jaw, his throat. It burned against his skin, each point of contact erupting into tendrils of heat that seeped into his body.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Naruto confessed, lips shaping the words onto Sasuke’s throat. “I couldn’t go back to you, I-“

Sasuke turned his head, capturing his mouth. The words were lost between their lips, swallowed by the sudden surge of need. Naruto’s arm wrapped around his neck, keeping him in place. A fever caught him, leaving him dizzy and faint. He felt emotions between them like a physical caress, like they swirled in and out of their bodies, like a strong wind playing with fallen leaves.

Pain. Longing. Fear.

Happiness. Comfort. Love.

Naruto kissed him like he’d die if they stopped. He might, for all Sasuke knew.

Don't mind me, I was just crying buckets as I wrote this.

Their hands were still clasped tight, their palms pressed together, keeping their marks in contact. Teeth dug into his lower lip, but he could barely feel the pain over the onslaught of emotion. It was overwhelming, to share Naruto’s heart so fully. Was this how Naruto had felt, when Sasuke had touched him by accident? When Sasuke had shared too much of himself, and Naruto had been unable to give him the same in return.

I think it actually wasn't as overwhelming for Naruto when Sasuke accidentally touched him. This place that Kaguya controls just amplifies things a lot.

No such restraints now.

Their souls were on fire, like chakra flames billowing around their bodies. It was too much to make sense of, and yet it felt as if they’d always been this close, always been one and the same. Naruto fit inside him like a key, like Sasuke was now unlocked, his body no longer keeping him prisoner.

“Naruto,” he breathed out, over and over again, every nerve ending alight as they held each other.

I was listening to this song called Heat Up by Giant Rooks as I wrote this (that's where the chapter title comes from and honestly the lyrics are just *chef's kiss*) and I really tried to use as much metaphor as I could, idk if that makes it sound boring haha but for once I was definitely thinking very hard about every single sentence. And I tried to make it as "alive" as I could, so you'd feel it rather than have it described to you.

An eternity later they calmed down, mouths sliding lazily over each other, heartbeats finally finding their shared rhythm. Their foreheads pressed together, Sasuke’s eyes fluttering open to meet deep blue, their usual strength faded into self-doubt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, running his fingers through Naruto’s hair, thumb tracing the shell of his ear. “Don’t hide from me, not here.”

Aww look at Sasuke, so in tune with his emotions. He really is an all or nothing kind of guy. If they already share everything in this place, there's no point in having secrets. Besides, his worst fear is Naruto losing confidence because of something he said or did.

Naruto let out a sharp breath, lifting their clasped hands between their chests.

“I missed you,” he said again, eyes closing in pain. “I’m so happy you’ve been okay.”

So much pain. Sasuke struggled to make sense of it, so much of it reflected inwards, towards Naruto himself. He could understand the longing, the absence of him like a gaping hole. It mirrored his own pain, pain he’d locked inside his heart within a steel cage. It flowed freely now, wrapping around Naruto’s in recognition.

But the rest… Naruto let out a sob, and yet he was smiling. Sasuke pressed another kiss to his lips, unsure of what to say.

I know Naruto did that whole waterfall thing where he embraced his evil side and totally let go of all his negative energy... But you can't tell me he's 100% okay and only happy and never feels pain. When will Konoha start offering therapy... Jokes aside, at this moment in time Naruto is so conflicted. The whole time he's been worried about Sasuke leaving him, and telling himself that Sasuke would be happier in the other dimension, and that logically he should let Sasuke stay, but he absolutely doesn't want Sasuke to leave him. It's the most selfish thing he's ever felt, I think, this need to have Sasuke by his side. And he's got so much on his shoulders, just piling up, everyone relying on him to somehow magically fix the world. And he's afraid of failing, of acknowledging to himself that there are parts of him that aren't ready to shoulder this burden, that he's still hurting, that there's still a part of him that could have become like Menma. He's supposed to be completely selfless but he isn't, and he thinks of that as a character flaw, a personal failure. And that's kind of where his resolution to not become hokage comes from. Because he doesn't think he can remove this selfish parts of him, and so maybe he should embrace them instead.

“Sasuke, it’s so strange…” Naruto started, his words slow, carefully chosen. “You understand Charasuke so well, but Menma… I can’t accept him. And now I realize, he shows the ugliest parts of me. The parts that I’m afraid of.”

They both leaned back a little, to see each other’s faces. Light played over Naruto’s features, blurring him at the edges. Sasuke cupped his cheek, tilting his chin up so that their eyes met. Now that he knew what to look for, he could feel Naruto’s fear.

“It’s always there,” Naruto confessed, raw honesty in his voice. “The fear of losing you. The fear of not being strong enough. The fear of becoming hokage, and failing.”

Sasuke opened his mouth to say something, to reassure him, but Naruto shook his head quickly.

Sasuke, on the other hand, he never held himself up to be a good person. He's well aware that he has weaknesses, that he's putting up walls so he won't have to deal with emotions and stuff. But he does believe (a bit blindly) in Naruto, I think. Even though he thinks Naruto won't succeed, it's not because of anything that Naruto does or fails to do. He thinks it's because the world won't follow him, that Konoha isn't capable of change. But he never thought that Naruto would actually give up or have these kinds of doubts.

“Let me say this. I didn’t understand it at first. Menma always rubbed me the wrong way. I know you don’t like him either, but for me… It’s like looking at myself and knowing I gave up.”

He drew in a deep breath, his fingers trembling around Sasuke’s.

“And now, here, I can’t avoid that fear. Because all of it… all of it is for you, Sasuke.” He swallowed, and through the fear, Sasuke saw his determination. “You asked me, if there’s any room in my head for anyone but you. And there isn’t.”

Naruto's brain is 99% Sasuke and 1% ramen, that's just fact. That aside, this might be one of my favorite quotes in the fic.

Frowning, Sasuke bit the inside of his cheek to stay silent. Naruto was working up to something, he could tell, and part of him couldn’t help but think it would end the two of them.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Naruto said, drawing the pad of his thumb over Sasuke’s eyebrow, the touch equal parts reassuring and painful. “I can hear your thoughts, you know. Do you really believe that I would choose anything else over you?”

A lie caught on Sasuke’s tongue. He didn’t want to believe it, but what place did he have by Naruto’s side? How could he be all that Naruto wanted him, needed him, to be? How could he be someone that others would accept walking by his side?

Oh, Sasuke. Always so ready for Naruto to cast him aside. He doesn't want to stand in the way of Naruto's dreams *wipes tear*

“I don’t believe that you would want to,” he replied, eventually. “But maybe you should.”

They stood for a long time, looking at each other. Sasuke felt torn in two directions. He wanted to tell Naruto to never leave him. He wanted to say that he’d accept anything. That he’d remove himself from Naruto’s presence to make the choice for him. That he couldn’t, wouldn’t, stand between Naruto and his dreams.

That he’d known, all along, that the other dimension was only a dream. An impossibility. That he accepted this, and wouldn’t resent Naruto for choosing the village over him.

I think the difference between Naruto and Sasuke here, is that even though they both think the other should maybe leave them for better things, Naruto is much less ready to actually give Sasuke up. Sasuke is more of the martyr type lol.

“You deserve me,” Naruto said, voice dark with conviction. “Don’t you dare think otherwise. Don’t you understand? If you saw what I’ve been doing the past days…”

Naruto lifted their joined hands higher, shifted his grip until he held Sasuke’s palm open in front of himself.

“I thought only of you. I cared only about you. What good is the village to me, if you’re not there?”

His heart felt too heavy in his chest. Naruto’s words rang through his ears, the implication behind them ensnaring his heart until Naruto held it in his hand, too.

“I don’t want any of it, if you’re not with me.”

Sasuke lowered his eyes. He couldn’t allow himself to give in. He’d already given so much, and although he knew that Naruto would have this, too, it was too much in this moment.

“Sasuke… When are you going to recognize that you’re a good person? That even if our relationship hadn’t changed like this, I’d still need you beside me?”

I wanted to write this part so badly... To make Naruto tell Sasuke that he's a good person. That Naruto thinks so, at least. It's one of the first things I thought of for this scene. Not that Sasuke agrees haha.

“Me, a good person?” Sasuke raised his eyebrows, meeting Naruto’s gaze again. He recognized the stubborn glint in Naruto’s eyes, and sighed. “Even if that was true, you’re smart enough to know it’s not enough.”

Slowly, Naruto pulled his hand closer, his grip turning gentle. Sasuke caught himself holding his breath, as Naruto’s lips connected with the mark on his palm.

“You still don’t understand,” Naruto murmured, the movement of his lips tickling Sasuke’s skin. “The past few days, what have you been doing? Caring for the children, when I wasn’t there to do it. Putting Charasuke before yourself, comforting him in the ways he needed you to. Holding yourself together. Trusting me to come back.”

This is where we acknowledge exactly how much Sasuke has changed. Naruto spent the days apart thinking only of Sasuke, even to the point where he was neglecting his friends and duties. Sasuke, on the other hand, stepped up to fill the role he thought Naruto left behind, hiding his pain behind helping others. Ultimately trusting Naruto to hold his promise to come back. Also, I just want them to be soft with each other T_T

Staring at him, Sasuke’s breath caught in his chest at the swell of pride Naruto felt for him. Was it true, that he had changed so much? In Naruto’s eyes, he had. It was startling, to realize how Naruto thought of him. But Naruto had changed too, he thought. They had grown closer, in a way he didn’t think they could have in their own Konoha.

“I think Charasuke is a bit like you,” Sasuke said, lips twitching upwards at Naruto’s affronted look. “He needs physical comfort. I don’t mind giving it to you, and I guess I don’t mind giving it to him either. You both tend to do whatever you feel like, anyway.”

“You used to mind.” Naruto looked serious, reaching out to touch Sasuke’s mouth as if to prove his point. “Suddenly, you didn’t.”

The smile slipped from Sasuke’s lips. Naruto was right. A few weeks ago, he did push Charasuke out of the window. To be fair, Charasuke hadn’t liked him much back then, either, and the circumstances had been very different. He did understand him better now. If Menma represented Naruto’s fears, Charasuke represented everything Sasuke wanted in life. But Charasuke didn’t have Naruto, didn’t have Menma with him either, and maybe that was why Sasuke wanted to be there for him. His connection with Naruto was precious to him, had kept him going, had kept him questioning himself even in his worst moments of darkness. Had given him a reason not to give up on a life that wasn’t filled with pain and hatred.

Naruto made it worth it to change. Was he hoping to help Charasuke change, too?

Spoiler alert... yes you were, Sas.

Perhaps Kaguya had something to do with it, but maybe, even without her influence, he would have reached this point anyway if given enough time. Time they didn’t have back home. It surprised him to realize that Naruto had thought of this already. That he felt selfish for wanting Sasuke to go back with him, when he knew it would be painful.

“You minded when I touched you, too,” Naruto added, as a reminder that they were talking about the two of them.

“I didn’t.” It was easy to confess. “I couldn’t allow myself to accept it, but I never minded. And now…”

Even if Naruto could read most of his thoughts in this space, it was difficult to say the words.

“I was afraid to have more of you. I still am. Because I know they’ll never accept it.”

Sasuke vs homophobia :( Can't really kill that with a sword. Sasuke was definitely in love with him before they went to the RTN dimension, he'd just buried it so deep that he had no idea it was there or what it was. If you separate love from attraction it's not really gay, is it? (It is)

Naruto kissed him again, desperately. There were so many thoughts swirling between them, a mess of images and emotions overshadowed by the overwhelming fear of losing each other.

Naruto’s guilt, for not being able to reach Menma like Sasuke reached Charasuke. Their worry for each other. The frustration of being forced to wait. Sasuke’s slow realization of how much Naruto meant to him. How much his family meant to him, even a different version of them.

“I can’t be without you again,” Naruto said, swallowing thickly. “There’s so much I want to say and I don’t know how.”

“I’m here,” Sasuke promised. “Any way you want me to be.”

Even though it hurt, knowing the struggle that lay ahead of them, how Naruto had struggled only the past few days.

He wasn’t sure when he’d closed his eyes, but Naruto’s hands holding his face between them made him open them again. His expression was serious, almost solemn.

“I think you’d be happier if you stayed there,” Naruto whispered, searching his eyes. “You can’t deny it. I know they’d take care of you, and I can tell that your bond with your family is important to you. In a different way than ours, but still. I’d forgive you, if you chose them.”

Stop sacrificing yourself, Naruto. I don't like it.

“How could you say that?” Sasuke grabbed Naruto’s wrists, glaring at him. “Even after everything you said about how you can’t be without me, how you’d never choose anything over me, and you still think I would leave you? Even when you can feel my heart, you think I won’t choose you no matter what?”

Sasuke calling him out, as he should.

He knocked their foreheads together, tightening his grip.

“You think I’d choose happiness over you?”

How could he be happy, if Naruto wasn’t there with him? It wasn’t even an option. He cared about Charasuke, that was true. And the other version of Itachi, of Shisui, his family… Even the Sakura of that world. But how could they compare? Losing Charasuke would hurt, but it wouldn’t rip his soul apart. Staying with them would be a life, but it wouldn’t be living. How could Naruto think of himself as selfish, and still be so incredibly selfless when it came to Sasuke? What was he supposed to do, to make Naruto trust him once and for all?

“If I deserve you, why wouldn’t you deserve me in turn?”

Naruto didn’t have an answer to that. Sasuke hadn’t expected him to, and he felt him struggle with the concept. Naruto’s hero complex wasn’t doing either of them any good.

Like, I personally don't like the concept of anyone deserving love or not deserving it. Love is something you give, freely, regardless of how society values the other person. The love you give isn't less worth depending on the person receiving it. But I think the both of them are so traumatized that they need to make peace with this concept. They kind of need to be told - yes, you do deserve love, and I will give it to you. Naruto's hero complex is like... we don't have time to unpack all of that.

“You want to do this the hard way?” Sasuke continued, tone sharp. “I’ll do it with you. I don’t think you’ll succeed but I’ll do it.”

He gathered up all his resolve, all his conviction, pushed aside his own reservations.

“Saying you’ll forgive me… that’s a lie. You wouldn’t. You never would. And I wouldn’t want you to, anyway. If you wanted me by your side and I couldn’t do it, you’d be right to hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

“Then I’d hate myself.”

Bearing each other's burdens and all that...

Naruto made a face, as if to disagree, but Sasuke felt him smile despite the topic of their conversation.

“What kind of role reversal is this,” he muttered, pressing his thumbs into Sasuke’s cheeks childishly. “I don’t even know why I’m arguing about it.”

“Because you love me.”

They stared at each other. Naruto’s eyes widened in shock, but Sasuke held his ground. What was the point in pretending anything else? It all made sense like this, and perhaps deep down Sasuke had always suspected it, even before he returned to Konoha.

“Y-you can’t just say it out loud!” Naruto spluttered, slapping his hands onto his own face instead, hiding behind them with a groan. “Stop being so smug about it!”

Me, while I wrote this: Yeah, you can't just say that out loud! The pain of being perceived. I am suffering with Naruto.

“I won the argument, didn’t I?”

“Ugh, shut up!”

Feeling lighter, Sasuke wrapped his arms around Naruto, leaning his cheek against the top of his head, Naruto burying his nose in his neck. He’d deny it when they were back in reality, but he could feel that Naruto wanted the body contact, and he was unable to resist it. It didn’t take long for Naruto to calm down, releasing a huff into Sasuke’s neck.

“Maybe we can just stay in this place forever,” he said, sneaking his arms around Sasuke’s back.

“You’d miss ramen too much.”

If an emotional scene doesn't end with a joke, what are you even doing with your life. But writing them hug was like, releasing so many endorphins. I'm weak to it.

It was strange, to talk and immediately feel every thought behind the words, every emotion on full display. Naruto’s amusement radiated off him, and it was his turn to feel a little smug as he concentrated on everything that Sasuke felt for him.

When Naruto started imagining long days spent in bed, Sasuke rolled his eyes and decided they’d been emotional enough for the time being.

Sasuke like, I can accept the lovey-dovey stuff, but I draw a thick line in front of the bedroom door. He's got some work left to do lol.

Idk if any of this made any sense but... there you have it!

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halfhappyhooligan · 4 years

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a voltron au? in 2020? it’s more likely than you think

look. LOOK. i know that voltron is stupid and we hate it but lets be honest: everything up until season 3 was pretty good and had lots of potential !!

today i was rewatching voltron and a thought struck me: what if, instead of shiro being cloned, he was chipped and turned to the side of the galra?

so here it is, i did not blink since i thought of this

(warning, i have not seen voltron in a while and this is just knowledge i have stored in my moss brain and stuff i know from rewatching the first season)

au where shiro goes evil bc of what happens @ end of season one instead of the clone thing bc 1) haggar rly could not have made thousands of shiros after bumping into team voltron like what twice? its hella improbable and 2) just… weird

so instead they insert a chip in him that helps them spy and control him just like kuron (the clone) did minus the unlikely storytelling

eventually after the convo with sendak when he was in the pod trying to temp shirp, he does have thoughts about helping zarkon

(“im already infiltrated with the arm, i could just speed up the process by leaving now. save the team the trouble of investing in a leader that’s doomed to fail from the strart.”)

shiro ends up leaving team voltron in season 2 after zarkon goes crazy w the black lion n stuff

^^ this adds to Keith’s reasoning of joining the Blade of Marmora (shiro is his main stability and one of the main reasons he even stuck around with team voltron, so with shiro gone and keith questioning his place as the leader and paladin of the black lion, he decides the BoM is just.. what’s best for him)

obviously lance isn’t happy with this (“you just told me that i’m a valuable member, now you don’t think YOU are? what logic is that?”)

ofc keith goes anyways

lance becomes paladin of the black lion

allura takes on the red lion

who has blue lion? ...idk this isn’t that thought out (maybe matt after pidge finds her family) (which will happen earlier in the plot since we can forget about the miniplot of black no longer responding to shiro)

enter lotor only this time he has a sidekick and what omg its shiro wow

shiro has that bigger version of his arm that was once offered to him

he’s stronger and scary, but his eyes aren’t the same, he has the strength of a galra but lacks the passion

in the fight between lotor and zarkon, (and after, of course lots of self doubt and questioning) shiro comes between them and convinces lotor NOT to kill zarkon

then zarkon kills lotor

everyones like oh shit bc surely someone who’s life was just spared wouldn’t kill the person who seems to have the most power

but he did. bc he’s zarkon. and he’s fckn crazy.

shiro doesn’t go back to team voltron bc its too much too easily

instead he takes the place of lotor in the group of gals

he convinces them all to rebel against the galra

eventually they teach him all about quintessence and all the shit lotor had planned that they can’t do anymore

(lotor wasn’t harvesting alteans in this universe bc what the heck even was that subplot that had little to no relevance to the main storyline?

instead he was trying to find a way to technologically bring back alteans (kinda like how allure’s dad was originally preserved in s1)

i know nothing about How Stuff Works and i dont remember much about quintessence n shit but the basic idea is that when tying in some of a persons artifacts with technology stuff and some quintessence then boom. a weird route from astral projection land to the team is created and ppl can come back or smth idfk

but lotor was never able to get the comet so shiro decides he and the gals will get that comet and try to bring back as many alteans as they can

^ all this while infiltrating as many galra fleets as possible + saving planets under galra empire

they personally visit every planet that lotor was in charge of and release them from galra control

they are able to bring back an altean (its romelle) and she talks abt her friend who lives on the balmera and they go to the balmera and its revealed that it was shay’s great grandmother so romelle asks where shay is and shay’s family is like with team voltron of course

they take her

obviously team voltron, the BoM and the Rebels r very hesitant to make contact but they decide to try it out

keith refuses to meet, instead he’s on the team that stands guard

reunions !!

romelle and shay hit it off and hunk makes a dinner much like roselle’s past (allura and coran also hang out and they all vibe)

lance talks to shiro abt everything to do with keith and shiro is like dude do u??? like him?

and lance is like what? no ofc not—oh shit.

and keith ✨overhears ✨

pidge matt and shiro catch up n shit

meanwhile keith is like Hey Lance Uhhhhhh What The Fuck

they end up being like hey since we’re all here and we hate zarkon what if we make a plan to end the galra’s reign Right Now

so they do

and y’all.. it’s hella baller plan

except something is going wrong and in the middle of an attack zarkon is able to get the upper hand

due to haggar’s magic and lance’s mental and emotional instability, zarkon is able to get in his head

everyone is trying to talk him down but they’re all under a lot of pressure

allura is also conflicted bc she wanted to be black lion bc she wanted to rub it in to zarkon’s face that she was stronger than he and that she could beat him at his own game

but the negativity and instability feeds into zarkon’s power and makes him and haggar stronger as they pull in voltron to finally take over the team and regain their status as the most powerful alien race

hunk realizes this and is like okay can y’all stop being negative? its clearly affecting them in a good way and it makes us an easier target

and pidge is like im literally a child pls i don’t wanna die i just got my family back it can’t end like this

shiro realizes what’s going on and he goes to save them

he uses all his energy, pulling in the positive memories (everything: first learning about space, becoming a teacher, meeting adam, meeting keith, first making team voltron, his friends and family--all of it) to push back zarkon and haggar’s powers and battle once more in the astral realm

in defeating zarkon, shiro loses his life

afterwards keith enters the ship in a hurry and is like where the fuck is shiro where’s my brother what did you do what happened

and team voltron is like hey man.. we are so so sorry

and keith cries because the last thing he ever said to shiro was mean

lance feels like its all his fault since he was supposed to be a good leader

they talk about separately while hunk pidge and allura discuss

krolia is like keith we, ur family, are here for u

and axca is there and shes like um?? hey?? sry for trying to kill u bro

and he’s like i absolutely do not wanna talk i just lost my closest friend

they talk about it later

axca tells keith abt shiro finishing lotor’s work and abt bringing people back and well..

they use the methods to help keith visit shiro in the astral realm

shiro is like oh uh hey i was just having a drink w adam we r happy

and keith is like shiro u fuckhead why would u sacrifice urself

shiro sighs bc cmon keith you KNOW why “remember what i always said? we can’t focus on what went wrong..”

“we’ve got to figure out how to make it right” keith finishes

keith breaks tf down crying and screams apologizing

“i love u shiro. ur a like a big brother to me.”

and shiro is like yeah i know and ilyt but hey. everyone’s safe and happy. im safe and happy. & you deserve to be too. you don’t need me anymore.

so the galra rule is over and everyone goes to their respected planets

romelle and the other alteans as well as some galra babes hang in earth

romelle and shay r in an apartment together and have a garden

allura realizes she may not have been the strongest leader for voltron, and couldn’t stop zarkon on her own but that physical strength doesn’t define her as a whole

her heart is strong enough to care for everyone, so thats what she does

allura starts running an inn for alteans filled with painted sceneries like altea in case anyone ever needs a reminder of home

when lance reunites with his family its a real tearjerker

rachel finally gets her jacket back and veronica is like So.. Axca 👀

the McClain’s host a huge party for everyone and it’s filled with lots of hugs and loud music and even tho lance was way too tired, he danced all night

he wouldn’t trade his family for the world—genetic and chosen

when hunk reunites with his parents they don’t let him out the house for hours, he tells them all about his new best friend shay as well as hundreds of his favorites stories from space

they are so, so proud of him

hunk spends the next days playing minecraft and animal crossing with pidge, giving their brains a rest from being on hyperdrive for 3 yrs straight

when pidge gets home she finally gets grounded by her mom, only being allowed to leave the house to see her old teammates

(same for matt and her dad)

(her mother cries so hard when they opened the door to the home)

the holt family holds movie nights filled with popcorn, cuddles, and tears

keith moves in with the holt family, and finally accepts that he has a home as well as a family

he often goes on trips with the BoM but mostly just stays on earth

after a Team Voltron sleepover in the altea inn keith and lance decide to get an apartment together and live their lives in love and in peace

everyone gets together once a year in celebration of shiro and the sacrifice he made for them

they use the ship to visit Astral Shiro and once they even met adam

everyone laughs and catches up and just... live their lives

everyone is happy

pls ignore any and all errors lmao

again, just a thought !! maybe i’ll write a fic abt it idk for sure but yeah

feel free to add anything <3

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rithmeres · 3 years

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long rant abt sh.ades of m.agic under the cut sorry

i’m 150 pages into the last book and honestly.............. this trilogy not that good lmao. maybe some my complaints will be resolved by the end of the series but seeing how things have gone so far i really doubt it. the premise and worldbuilding were so promising and i really like the whole concept of the four londons, i like kell’s character design and coat, and i like the way blood is used for magic but that’s where the good stuff ends. it’s a shame that the plot and cast can’t hold up to the core concept. lila is SO annoying and the way that the only major female character in these books has a hUGE ‘im not like other girls’ complex and actively derides other women and anything feminine and it’s presented as girl power is so bad and cringe. she walks around doing whatever illegal or self-entitled things she wants with no regard for the consequences and she never faces any consequences, from the law or from the narrative or from the people who care about her. her relationship with kell is weird too like they met and barely interacted before she kissed him and they suddenly start acting like their whole world revolves around the other. she’s sooooooooo mary-sue gifted like kell has trained his whole life to do magic so of course he’s amazing but lila has two (2) lessons with some annoying pirate and suddenly she can go toe to toe with kell and do insanely difficult magic without even knowing what she’s doing. it’s bad writing brent.

i do like kell though, even if he is a little boring, and i like the tight bond he has with his brother. i think kell is the only person with any common sense in this book and he’s a breath of fresh air. but DO NOT GET ME STARTED on the blatant favoritism the king and queen show for their biological son. the way they treat kell as inferior leaves such a bad taste in my mouth like it’s bad enough that you would have a blatant favorite but on top of it kell saved rhy’s life three different times and they can’t even say thank you or acknowledge his sacrifice?? they’re so cold to him and for what. kell basically died to save his brother and the parents respond by essentially grounding their adult son and it’s gross. and then rhy is every pretty flirty privileged boy stereotype rolled into one and he grates on my nerves and what’s really bad is that he has the EXACT same personality as his love interest which makes reading these books SUPER WEIRD because the two of them look physically similar and have become literally interchangeable in my mind. adding alucard (i hate that name so much omfg) to the cast was just adding a second rhy to the mix and he seems to have very little bearing on the plot. would it kill authors to not make every bisexual character a flirts-with-anything-that-moves stereotype. you should be ashamed of yourself.

also literally nothing of importance happened in the second book until the very end and there was actually no point to that entire tournament and most of the stuff could have been cut. holland is the only mf in this city i respect and the only one with nuance and a compelling character. i feel so bad for him bc he just cannot catch a break and everyone hates him so much even though he was being controlled against his will, and the other characters know this but they still abuse him. and there r a bunch of unexplained issues with the magic system (like how did athos dane summon a big snake???) and the power scaling (or maybe it’s just all thrown off because of lila’s supernatural gifting).

it feels to me like schwab was just like ‘uhhhhhhh what do people like these days ... people like boys with mysterious backstories so i’m uhhhhhhhh literally never gonna explain how my main character got his powers or where he came from. people like uhhhhhhhhhh strong female characters so my one and only female character of importance is gonna hate everything about being a woman. people like diversity so im gonna give them uhhhhhhhhh two horny bisexual poc men who are nigh indistinguishable from each other’ and hoped the story would write itself

#for a moment i thought maybe im just getting old and jaded and ive outgrown ya but then i remembered THIS IS ADULT FICTION #this is shelved alongside gaiman and pratchett and sanderson and le guin so like. step it up miss schwab #i really liked vicious #like A LOT #vengeful didnt do it for me tho #so i had hoped that i would like schwab's more recent stuff even if i didnt like vengeful #but nah #i should go read some stiefvater next because her prose and characters are incredible incredible INCREDIBLE #some of schwab's stuff reads kinda fic-ish #and not the tightly wrought fics that blow your socks off #it's like...... common phrases and conventions that i p much only see in amateur online spaces when describing characters or writing romance #i don't really know how to explain it i need to just go to bed

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savrenim · 4 years

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mx savrenim! mx. savrenim! I have a writing question: Im writing a story about people who can see the future, and I'm wondering how you made it feels more like a memory not like, a gut wrenching tragedy? Its deffo painful, but Im pretty sure you mentioned wanting to give it a happy ending? If so: how. The concept of future vision is so cool but the implications and the way it plays out is horrifying and heartbreaking rip. I just wanna give my characters some chance at a happy ending

gods okay this is a good question that I have a lot of Weird Strong Feelings about bc time is the single thing that I have the strongest opinions about let’s go under the cut

so the thing that makes your question interesting to me-- “how do you make a story with future powers not a gut-wrenching tragedy”-- is that..... to me, at least, there is absolutely nothing inherent in the setup of future-seeing powers that should imply that the story should be a gut-wrenching tragedy? your problem is assuming that there has to be anything tragic involved. free yourself from that perception and you will be free to write whatever you want.

ifmlam is a gut-wrenching tragedy right now because the feeling that I was going for was “hmmmm the exact gut-wrenching feeling that The World Was Wide Enough makes me feel” and it’s having a happy ending because I decided to write a fic bc “goddamnit I need a fix-it, like, right now.” Seeing the future is cool but it’s also just a plot-and-setting device. and the story feels the way it feels because I designed how it works around exactly how I wanted it to feel?

my current other major project, trash novel, is about a seer who hunts down other seers for dramatic stop-the-world-from-devolving-into-war-and-maybe-ending reasons. except the vibes are... SO different. the vibes are “shit there’s like a dozen way way overpowered teenagers and twenty-something-year-olds who hold the fate of the world in their hands except they’re being dumb assess getting overly involved in personal drama with one another and are maybe going to blow up the planet.” and so instead of this quasi-religious worldwide honor around a single Seer and visions of the future that work one particular way and the main character being this poor fragile darling that needs to be protected and the reverence with which the plot treats the usage of future-powers, the main character of the opus series named herself “Fuck You” and has the power to see like ten seconds tops into the future and uses it to be really fucking good at magic fistfighting and accidentally gets involved in trying to take over a foreign/soon to be enemy government while trying to make friends with the ambassador that it’s her mission to protect him and like spy on that government to make sure they’re not messing with the future, but because he’s really pissed off at his ex and his shitty parents kind of for trying to force him to marry his ex and also his entire home country for siding with his ex he decides to take advantage of the fact that Saes thinks that overthrowing a government is maybe appropriate friend bonding activities to Take Revenge. and overthrow the government. meanwhile his cousin just outright admits in her second scene that she is trying to take over the first their government in then the world and is like 90% of the way there and really isn’t trying to hide the fact that she has committed to a plan that makes everyone think she is The Villain but Saes in particular bc Saes doesn’t want her home country to be conquered, but while Saes thinks this makes them moral enemies Asterna thinks that Saes is very hot because Saes is the single person who can beat her in a fistfight. they get into a misunderstanding fake-dating relationship for at ~80k words of the first arc. the ex is also trying to take over the government partially bc he feels the family pressure to continue their influence and partially bc he’s still in love with Luka and wants to try to win him back. at least three main characters have very poorly thought out one-night stands with other characters just for spite. there’s a character whose name is “Godkiller.”

you can probably tell from the description that it’s very VERY different vibes from ifmlam. there are seers with more longreaching abilities than 10 seconds in the setting, who are trying to use their powers to seriously manipulate outcomes of events, and some deep political implications of that; it’s not all flashy ridiculousness. there are parts of it that get tragic (gods do parts of it get emotional and gods are some of those emotions tragic), but it’s never terribly tragic for very long, and it never feels like a heart-wrenching tragedy as a genre. everyone is a gay mess, extra emphasis on the gay AND the mess, and it reads like ridiculous action drama intrigue almost like a DnD campaign?

and it’s because of both (a) the seer powers that are being highlighted work differently but also (b) the seer pov character has a fundamentally different perception of themselves. Aaron Burr sees himself as pretty much a McGuffin and he hates it and there’s a large portion of his character and character arc and hence the plot itself that revolves around him not feeling like he has any sort of control over his life or the impact of his powers. he’s afraid of himself and what he can do, he’s afraid of letting people in and being used, he’s afraid of the impact that he or someone wielding him might have on the world, and he doesn’t quite see himself as a person, more like a glass statue of one housing powers -- and that contributes to the tragedy and vastly affects the tone of the whole thing. when the viewpoint character feels helpless, when the viewpoint character doesn’t believe in themselves, when the viewpoint character is pretty much a McGuffin: incredibly powerful and useful to powerful people, but unable to control their own fate -- that gives the story a certain feeling.

Saes Imirin is nothing like Aaron Burr because Saes isn’t afraid of herself. Saes is completely at peace with what she can do, and actually thinks it’s pretty cool. She’s working for the people she’s working for because she’s decided that’s probably where she’ll do the least harm in the world, and also because she likes her apartment. if she changes her mind she changes her allegiance. she has stared down armies and has never really feared for herself, because she’s a fucking badass, and she knows that she can always pick the future where she wins so why should she ever feel afraid.

if you don’t want your characters to feel tragic, then don’t have them be afraid of themselves. don’t have them doubt themselves. but also, construct the way that future-seeing powers work so that they’re not set up to be a tragedy. the biggest being the most important pair of questions: how accurate/specific are the powers? and how unchangeable is the future?

Saes Imirin’s powers are 100% accurate and 100% specific, albeit contained to usually one to three but at most ten seconds. The future is also 100% changeable; the way her powers works is that she sees all possible futures and then physically moves the way that she did in the one where she’s won. Aaron Burr’s powers are..... death visions I’d put at, like.... 90sh % “accuracy”? in that they always show a possible and in fact usually most probable for the timeline we’re on now sort of death for someone. but they’re also very changeable. but time itself has a momentum and “pushes back” against those changes in the plot of ifmlam (someone doesn’t die in one duel will die in another, etc) which lends to a strong feeling of inevitability despite the relative amount of freedom those powers have.

imo, future-seeing usually lends itself to tragedy when it’s about seeing something terrible/attempting to subvert something that cannot be fixed because it is the future. if you establish early on that all visions/prophecies must come true exactly, that will usually put a fair amount of tension on your plot and it will make things feel tragic, especially if characters end up getting a future that they really really don’t like. the more unchangeable things are, the more it usually tends towards tragedy.

(I say “usually” because, like. I’m still waiting for a story in which future-seeing is absolute and someone gets a prophecy that “and if you choose to go forward and step through this room your fate will be sealed, you will die on this specific day in this exact way and nothing in the universe can change that”, the character goes “cool”, does it, and promptly begins taking advantage of their immortality up until that day to do Utterly Ridiculous Things to become a weird hyper luck-based superhero of, like, “I can jump off this building bc in the vision I was fine and unhurt so I can’t get wounded in any sort of way that’ll make me unable to run and jump around” “I can totally try eating this mystery goo let’s see what it does” “hmmm the enemy fired their superbomb into the heart of our capital guess I just have to sit here next to it so that it will keep malfunctioning in some strange unspecified way and not going off because it can’t kill me here and now my fate is set in stone” etc. just. someone give me that comedy p l e a s e. I’m picturing Monty Python level of shenanigans.)

but yeah, usually, the more set in stone a future is, the more likely a story is to take a turn for the tragic, because when the future isn’t ~set in stone~ prophecies function more as useful warnings that can be interpreted to do useful things and save the day and not terrible foreboding omens of doom. high accuracy with high changeability is a cool superpower. low.... specificity, at least, leads to stories where usually you go “oH SHIIIIIT” afterwards as you get the end and the last thing clicks in place and now the entire plot in hindsight is So Much Different and they only lend themselves to tragedy if they’re useless as warnings and are just “fuck oh THAT’S what it meant and if I understood it I could have changed it”. and then inherent low changeability is both easiest to lend to tragedy and imo the hardest to write because you write yourself into a corner? (and you also make some pretty deep philosophical statements about determinism and free will depending on how you characterize time.) but so long as everyone has a chance to change things, the story won’t feel hopeless.

this has gotten long and rambly bc it’s ungodly o clock in the morning and, like, if the heart of the thesis of your story is “knowing the future is Fucked Up and Fucks You Up” and your story is on the deep seated societal implications about a world where some measure of seeing the future exists, like.... there are ways in which things might be tragic, but there are ways to counter that by making things mundane? a la lightening benders in legend of korra working at electricity plants. having seers with tiny mundane powers and/or who don’t really care about their powers and don’t use them too much or who just think of them as annoying side noise, but at the heart of it, oops stealing also from mob psycho 100 bc oops I just rewatched it and am mildly obsessed with it and its message and just dear gods how it manages to pull off its emotional impact....

psychic powers are just another trait. like people who can run fast or who study hard or sing really well or have strong body odor, or have psychic powers. they don’t make you any more special than anything else. who you are and what you do isn’t set in stone, it’s choices that you can make.

and finally, if your world is tragic bc you’ve decided to lean into the “the public perceives seers as special / dangerous / other “ and so you don’t want to adjust how the powers themselves work and how the public sees it, there’s always the trick of just, like.... let characters’ actions have meaning. let them win. and it won’t be a tragedy, not really.

#loooong post below cut #my writing #advice

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midnight-circus · 3 years

Text

sometimes you just gotta meme for the new guy.

this is two memes combined so sorry if theres similar questions i couldnt be bothered to post them separately lmao

it’s fuckin huge My Bad

Names? If you were to choose another name for your oc, what do you think it would be? Did you choose their name for how it sounds or for its meaning?

Tbh it was a toss-up for a long time between Mallory, Felix and Everaud, and eventually the first two won. I chose it for how it sounded, but as it turned out the meanings of his first two names juxtapose pretty well together (first name Mallory - ‘unlucky’, second name Felix - ‘lucky’). His surname, Valkner, I also picked for the sound - the meaning of ‘warrior’ doesn’t really pertain to him lmao

He hasn’t gone by his legit first name of Mallory since he was about 12, and has used Felix almost exclusively since then. he fuckin hates it. most of the time.

Can your oc play any instruments? Have they ever wanted to learn how to play any? Why?

No, he grew up without much money and instruments would have been a luxury. He’s vaguely considered it as an adult, but is pretty certain he’d be useless so hasn’t bothered trying.

How does your oc fare in the dark? Are they scared? Do they trip over things really easily or navigate like they have night vision? (Or do they have night vision?)

He doesn’t like the dark much, but he’s not scared. He’s just got bad eyesight.

How well would your oc fare as a teacher? What subject would they be best at teaching? What about the worst?

tbh he’d probably be pretty good as a teacher to a group of like...primary school kids, maybe from 5-11 in age. He’s quiet-voiced, fairly mild-mannered, and has a strong sense of fairness and justice - the problem would arise when it came to older pupils, teens and up, trying to get the upperhand, bc he’s not authoritative in the slightest and would probably cave. Give him a room of toddlers tho that he’s only responsible for in short bursts and he’d cope pretty well. Either history or english lit would be his forte; sports would be worst. the boy can’t run.

What was your oc’s relationship with their parents like? If they didn’t have any parents/didn’t know them, who in their life was the closest to a parent to them?

It’s...good? I guess?? It’s complicated. his parents love their kids dearly and Felix didn’t go wanting for affection, but if anything it went too far the other way. He was absolutely smothered as a kid - after several near-death experiences with childhood illnesses (bacterial meningitis, which developed into encephalitis, then sepsis in his leg), his mother wrapped him up in cotton wool and never really let go. He couldn’t leave the house alone, he couldn’t go outside on cold days, he couldn’t move at anything faster than a walk - after being in and out of hospitals from 5-years-old to 8, and then being kept on a shelf from then, it really had an impact on how he learnt to interact with other kids his age. It’s also given him an unstable footing in life itself - he’s never quite certain if he’s going to lose everything at the drop of a hat, because that’s how they used to act around him. Now, with the distance of adulthood, he loves them and appreciates that they were trying their best, but he can’t help but resent them a little if he really thinks about it. He gets around this by not thinking about it.

Does your oc have any allergies, intolerances, or other sensitivities? How dangerous is it? Does this affect their daily life in any way?

he’s got an allergy to letting himself be happy it’s very serious

Does your oc prefer being in a crowd or being completely alone? How many people can be around them before they get uncomfortable?

Generally he’s more content alone - conversation doesn’t come naturally to him, particularly if it’s a crowd of strangers, and he’s more content in his own company. If he does find himself in a crowd, he will take himself to the edge of the room and people-watch rather than mingle.

How open is your oc to trying new things? Are they the adventurous sort, or would they rather stay in their comfort zone? Why?

He needs to be talked into things, otherwise he’d never try anything - he knows his comfort zones and he’s very comfortable in them, and is not inclined to venture outside. If he’s nudged into doing something, he may end up finding that he enjoys it - doesn’t necessarily mean he’d do it again under his own steam, but he doesn’t always regret the experience.

Does your oc have any best friends? Who was/is their closest friend? What about their worst enemy?

Pathetically enough, he doesn’t, really. Sylvia was his best, and to be honest his only friend, and when she left his social life left with her. He loves her still, but he loves her platonically (even if he hasn’t realised that yet) and that wasn’t enough for her, understandably. Outside of her, there’s not really anyone else.

No enemies. He’s not important enough to have enemies.

How dangerous is your oc? Are they completely innocent, or someone to be feared? Do others know?

tbh Felix’s level of danger is about the same as a puppy with a knife in its mouth. like yeah it might get you by accident but its way more likely to hurt itself and its not really done anything to deserve that so really its more important to get the knife away from it for its own benefit than yours

What is your oc’s vision like? Do they require glasses, are they completely blind, or do they have 20/20 vision? Does this have an effect on their life?

He wears glasses for pretty much everything - he’s not blind without them, but his vision’s bad enough that he wouldn’t be able to cope for the whole day if he left them at home.

If your oc were to be arrested for something, what would it be for? For being too kind, for a legitimate crime?

Probably for getting mixed up in something he didn’t mean to get involved in - Felix is the sort of person to say ‘yes’ to one request because he felt pressured and then find himself 20 ‘yes’s down the line embezzling money from the government for the Serbian mafia with no idea how he got there. He’s quite easy to manipulate - a person who knows how to press his buttons can generally work the answer they want out of him.

How quiet or loud is your oc? Are they easily capable of sneaking around without being heard, or do they feel it’s impossible to stop talking?

He’s pretty quiet - tries not to draw attention to himself if he can avoid it, and he doesn’t really speak unless he’s spoken to.

How stylistically fancy is your oc? Or would they rather go for comfort and plainness instead?

His primary concern is durability and price - he needs something that will either last for as long as possible so he doesn’t have to replace it any time soon, or something that is cheap enough that it doesn’t matter if it wears out, and ergo, Primark. He oftens window-shops for nice-fitting, fancy clothing in the London boutiques he passes on the way to work, but has never bought anything like that in his life and can’t bring himself to even consider it.

What’s your oc’s preferred mode of transportation? Walking, vehicle, (or in a sci-fi/magic setting) teleportation?

His preferred mode of transport is a car, but his isn’t always working properly so when he has to, he takes a bus - he doesn’t like walking if he can avoid it, partially because it wears him out and partially because he’s kind of physically lazy.

Is your oc always late, always early, or always right on time? Is there any reason for this?

He’s always early, because he leaves early, because he’s already envisioned about 20 different disasters that could make him late on the way and he’s trying to circumvent all of them.

How empathetic is your oc? Or are they closer to being a sociopath? Any reason why?

Felix doesn’t really realise that he’s empathetic - he thinks he’s just doing what everyone does, but in fact he will go out of his way to improve a situation for someone if he thinks they’re being hard-done-by for no benefit to himself, even to the extent of bending or breaking rules. It’s partially why he got into the law-scene - he wants to see things bettered for people who need it.

How much does your oc swear? Or do they keep completely clean? Why is this? Is there any situation where they would be the opposite?

Swearing doesn’t come naturally to him - he’s one of those people who will swear only under their breath and still manage to feel guilty about doing it. If he is going to swear out loud, he does it in German and it always comes out clumsily.

How does your oc’s own perception of themselves compare to how other people see them? Is your oc aware that other people see them differently (if it’s different)?

It’s pretty different. In his mind, he’s pretty useless - a bit of a waste-of-space who has coasted through life by pretending to be better than he is, kind of dull, kind of boring, kind of unattractive, altogether too much of Nothing Special for anyone to really be bothered with. Realistically, he comes across as responsible and competent at his job, perhaps a little highly-strung and nervy but nevertheless perfectly capable of managing the responsibilities he has. It’s his own self-doubt that cripples him, for the most part - people see it in him, and perhaps it makes them wonder if there’s a reason for it.

Is your oc a workaholic, or do they find it hard to be busy at all? Do they find it easy to relax, or must they have something to do at all times? Why?

if he’s not working, he’s thinking, and that simply won’t do. Felix’s whole life is work, for the most part - he throws his all into it, and isn’t sure what to do with himself when he’s sitting at home alone in a dead-quiet flat.

How energetic is your oc? Do they have trouble sitting still or do they feel low on juice all the time? Any reason why?

He’s constantly exhausted. It’s because he’s depressed. He hasn’t figured that out yet.

How does your character sleep? Peacefully, fitfully? What position do they sleep in? What is their typical bedding like?

Not very peacefully - Felix is a light sleeper, so although capable of getting to sleep relatively quickly he wakes up in fits and starts throughout the night. He tends to sleep curled on his left side, on bedding that is cheap, serviceable and durable. He can’t afford to buy anything decent. He finds it easier to stay asleep if there’s ambient noise in the room - white noise, the TV, whatever.

Does your oc have dreams or nightmares? What are they like? Is there a recurring one?

He’ll suffer a pretty bad nightmare here and there, generally to do with hospitals or medical procedures, but they aren’t chronic.

How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

he’s real easy to annoy lmao. He’s got a list of pet peeves a mile long and he’s very easy to get a rise out of, so people who enjoy getting a reaction (Lyon) find him very entertaining pickings. He keeps telling himself not to get so worked up because it only encourages things, but he can’t help it.

How does your oc view housework? Do they absolutely hate it? Do they enjoy having their surroundings neat and tidy or do they not notice?

He hates doing it, but he really enjoys a clean space afterwards and goes a long way to keep things organised. Disorder stresses him out - he particularly can’t bear people coming into his space and messing it up.

Your oc has to make something for an art exhibition. What would they make? How terrible is it? Would they enjoy making it?

oh christ. the thing is, he’s actually not that bad at art - he’s got a good handle on anatomy and perspective and can reproduce images or photpgraphs fairly well - but he thinks he’s useless and has never shown anyone anything. he’d produce a pretty solid sketch of like a coffee shop at 5pm or something dull like that, apologise profusely for the result, and hate every second of it.

What is your oc’s vocabulary like? Does it match the way they talk? How would you describe their speech?

He speaks pretty well - he’s precise with his words and keeps a quiet, even tone, and his vocab is fairly developed. If there’s a flaw with his speech, it’s that he speaks rather too quickly, because he’s used to being constantly interrupted - it becomes a race to get the sentence finished and his point across, before someone can cut him off.

He has a south German accent, but it’s a little softer for years of living in England - it gets stronger when he goes back home to Munich.

Is your oc more likely to follow instructions exactly, throw them out and figure it out on their own, or make it all up? What are the results like?

He follows instructions to the T, and doesn’t have the impulse to experiment and mess around with them for fear of making a mistake that he’d then have to clean up; that being said, if it becomes a matter of fair treatment, he may be inclined to bend the rules here and there.

Is your oc afraid of touch or do they actively seek it out? Is there a reason for this? What are the exceptions?

lmaoooOOOOO he’s petrified, whilst at the same time desperately craving it. He’s horrendously touch-starved, but his childhood lizard-brain learnt to associate touch with painful medical procedures, so he shies from it by nature.

How is your oc about medical care? Do they avoid any form of healthcare that they can, do they seek it out over every little scrape? Do they treat their injuries/illness all by themselves?

Felix carries an awful lot of medical trauma with him; he’s terrified of medical care, whilst simultaneously being something of a hypochondriac convinced he’s got some sort of Terrible Disease at all times. to be fair, this is because he once had a Terrible Disease, which then led to a second and then a third Terrible Disease before the first could even be treated, so he does have form for it. He also can’t handle blood and has been known to pass out at the sight of it, but would rather do that and recover on the floor than go to hospital.

He will avoid hospitals At All Costs.

How competitive is your oc? Is every little task something that they can win, or are they just in competitions for the fun of it? Is there anyone they’re most competitive with?

He’s sort of competitive accidentally - he doesn’t want to be, but he feels like he needs to be in order to succeed. He is desperate to prove himself, desperate to show his mother than he is more than capable of managing his own life, but he will run himself to exhaustion trying to get there. He’s happiest when he’s left to do his own thing without feeling like he’s competing against others, when he’s content that he’s appreciated by the people around him and is able to take that appreciation at face value, but he hasn’t come to that realisation in himself yet - he just thinks he’s doing it wrong.

How skilled at lying is your oc? How frequently do they lie? For what reason? What situations would be the exception?

lmao he can’t lie to save his life it’s actually kind of sad to watch. he’s a Blusher, for one, so he’s already tripped coming out of the gate, and then he starts falling over his own tongue the second he’s asked a question he can’t give a truthful answer to until it’s painfully obvious to everyone. it’s just sad.

What is your oc’s immune system like? Are they invincible to illness, or are they compromised completely from the slightest of dirt?

His immune system is terrible - a side-effect of his childhood. If there’s an illness going around, he will catch it.

Does your oc do anything “just for the aesthetic”? Or are they completely practical in everything?

Totally practical by habit, but perhaps he’d be happier if he wasn’t. He’s not used to doing things just because he wants to, because he’d enjoy the experience - there has to be a reason for it, else he’s not justified in doing it. Same goes for purchasing things that he wants - if he can’t come up with a good, solid, practical reason to buy himself something, he won’t buy it. ‘Because you want to’ is not reason enough.

If you had to choose a single object to act as a symbol for your oc, what would it be?

One of those candles that re-ignites itself when you blow it out.

If your oc could only eat one thing for the rest of their life (while miraculously not suffering from malnutrition), what would it be?

He’s got a massive sweet tooth and spends a lot of time baking, so probably cake - he’s fond of little gay French patisserie nonsense.

How prepared is your oc? Ready for the worst no matter what, or completely lost in every situation? Would they have a medkit when it was needed? Would they have an umbrella if it rains?

As much as he panics, in a legitimate bad situation he is capable of keeping his head - he runs on adrenaline and suffers the consequences later. He carries a first-aid kit in his car, but has never needed to use it, and yes, he always has an umbrella.

How charitable is your oc? Or are they more stingy with their resources and money?

god. He is stingy, but not out of a miserly nature - he just legitimately does not have much money. He never has, ever since childhood, and that shit is ingrained in him - you watch what you’re spending, because you never know when you’re going to need to make an emergency payment.

If someone was describing your oc to someone who had never met them, what distinguishing features would they mention? How would one identify your oc in a crowd?

Short guy, kind of round-faced, round glasses - kinda looks like he’s lost even when he isn’t. Jumps if you bump into him.

Does your oc have any pleasure that embarrasses them so they keep it secret? Or are they open about all the things they enjoy?

literally everything that he enjoys, he’s embarrassed about. He likes old black-and-white movies and he’s embarrassed about that. He reads shitty romcom fiction and he’s embarrassed about that. He enjoys cooking, he’s embarrassed about that. He actually enjoys sex, believe it or not, and he’s embarrassed about it. Don’t even fuckin get him started on his kinks because he’s embarrassed about them. tbh Felix doesn’t really know how to enjoy himself without guilt or shame, because he always feels like he needs to justify the things he likes and he doesn’t know how to do it. He’s just embarrassed.

What is your oc’s stamina like? Would they be able to run a marathon, or not run at all? What about walking/another physical activity? How are they with exercise in general?

Shitty stamina - he’s got weak lungs and the extent of his running ability is running for a bus and then needing literally four hours to recover. He sort of makes a vague attempt to exercise at home, but is easily discouraged and would just rather lie on the couch having a crisis of body-image.

How long can your oc stay focused on one task before they get bored? Do they constantly have to switch things up or do they hyperfocus? What sort of things is it the opposite for?

Felix is the king of repetitive, menial tasks. Set him in front of a diary or a spreadsheet and he’s well away. He really doesn’t mind thoughtless admin labour, even as he insists that he’s capable of handling more responsibility - and although he is more than capable, he also feels comforted by the predictability of data-entry. A nice mix of both would be ideal.

What smells bring back specific memories to your oc? What are those memories like?

Antiseptic and rubber floors, with that underlying stink of sickness. They’re not good memories.

How jumpy or easily spooked is your oc? Do they have a fight or flight reflex to being startled, or are they never startled at all?

He’s super-jumpy and easy to startle, which is delightful to some people. Between fight or flight, he’ll fly.

How polite is your oc? Do they do everything with the utmost courtesy, or do they completely refuse to say please and thank you?

He’s unfailingly polite, because his mother would have beat him with a shoe if he wasn’t.

How flexible is your oc? Can they touch their toes or do they have trouble just sitting down because of how stiff they are?

He doesn’t think he’s flexible at all, but certain intercurricular activities with Lyon suggest that he’s more flexible than he thinks he is.

What is your oc’s typical walking like? Do they speed-walk everywhere, do they take quick short steps or long paces? How loud are their footsteps?

Because his legs are kinda short, he walks pretty quickly just to be able to keep up with people - quiet steps, because he’s trying not to draw attention to himself.

If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be?

Cleaning his glasses, putting them back on, squinting through them, then taking them off and cleaning them again ad infinitum.

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

He’s a talented cook and has absorbed quite a lot about flavour profiles and all that shit that I know nothing about so I’m not going into details lmao. He’s also got a bank of knowledge about classic films that he keeps to himself, as he’s never convinced anyone would be interested. He’s got a lot of shit that he keeps to himself for this same reason, and therefore there’s quite a lot he could surprise people with if the right topics came up.

What time of day is your oc most awake? What about most tired? Do they get up at the same time every morning without need of an alarm, or is their sleep schedule all over the place?

Tries to tell himself he’s a morning-person. He isn’t. Left to his own devices he’d wake up about 10 and fall asleep about 2am, but he’ll insist if asked that he’s naturally inclined to wake up early.

What would someone blackmail your oc with? Would they be successful in getting what they wanted?

they’d get hold of a list of his pornhub browsing history and yes, they would absolutely be successful.

How easily does your oc get attached to things? Does everything have a sentimental value to them, or do they see nothing as more valuable than its practical use? What about with people/animals?

He gets attached to people and animals very easily, but as for things - he gets angry when he breaks or loses items, but that’s more to do with being stressed about having to pay to replace them than anything sentimental. He’s thrifty to a fault and won’t throw anything out until it’s absolutely unusable, to the point that he’s gotten pretty skilled at sewing repairs in order to avoid getting rid of clothes. He does have sentimental attachments to a few things, but not the majority.

How stubborn is your oc? Are they easily convinced of the opposite opinion, do they not agree but let it happen anyways? Or do they cause conflicts with their inability to budge in their decisions?

He’s not stubborn, as such, but he does know his own mind. He can be talked around or into things quite easily, but he does like to feel as though his voice has been heard.

How much has your oc traveled? Why is this? Would they like to travel more? Or are they perfectly fine with staying home?

He’d prefer to stay home - there’s too much room for error travelling abroad, and the risks don’t really outweigh the benefits for him. He travels back and forth between England and Germany, and he has visited France before as a boy, but that’s about it.

What signs tell that your oc is nervous? Do they fidget, is it in their expression or the way they say things? Or are they very skilled at hiding it?

He fiddles with his glasses and fidgets his hands around, and is also (as mentioned) a blusher - he’s Not Subtle when he’s nervous or flustered, which in turn makes it worse.

How superstitious your oc? Do they end up following them ‘just in case’? Or are superstitions incredibly important to your oc? What are some that they believe? What about the ones they don’t?

He says he isn’t superstitious, but I’m not certain that’s true - I think he’s superstitious despite himself. He follows them, then gets annoyed with himself for following them and assures himself that he won’t do it again, but then when it comes to it next time he follows them again anyway. He won’t walk under ladders, won’t open an umbrella indoors and he broke a mirror once and almost died. The only one he doesn’t believe is unlucky black cats, because he’s never met a black cat that was unpleasant.

#felix1 #god PLEASE let the cut work this is huge

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unfortunatelyilikebnha · 3 years

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I say the sports festival arc is my favorite but in reality we all know that just means “‘it’s your quirk not his!’/‘it’s your power Todoroki!’ lives in my head rent free” I don’t even necessarily like the other parts that much.

I mean don’t get me wrong the other Midoriya-centric parts? Love those. Him strategizing his way to first place in the first round without ever using his quirk? So fucking cool I’m proud so proud of him. Him in the second round choosing his team, specifically picking some people and having some people come to him and then figuring out the most effective way to use all their skills (and Iida having his moment to shine on Todoroki’s team)?! Incredible thank you. Midoriya inspiring so many characters to do their best to beat him including Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki?! Amazing 10/10. Him fighting Shinsou and sympathizing with him but being unable to reveal he understood how he felt and the fact that what provoked Midoriya to get brainwashed wasn’t an insult about him but one about his classmate/friend? Super interesting (though how he broke out of Shinsou’s control was weird & kinda unsatisfying & confusing but whatever I wanted him to win sorry Shinsou)!!!

But like,,, if it’s not about Midoriya, chances are I didn’t like that part of the arc (and I swear this isn’t just me being a Midoriya stan, the parts that didn’t involve Midoriya were just generally disappointing to me) like,,, Midnight???? She’s “the R rated heroine”, who decided it was a good idea for her to work at a school for children? She made a comment that a student’s decision “turned her on” like wtf they’re 15 that’s nasty and illegal? Why can’t Horikoshi write female characters right wtf. I don’t have a problem with her being sexual but her being sexual in an environment with kids and especially towards the kids is gross af!! Even if her comments are just part of her hero persona (which is something I’ve seen people argue), that’s not acceptable in an environment where there are children and she needs to be replaced (also not relevant but her costume is ugly af and horikoshi apparently doesn’t know how boobs work).

The fact that class 1B actually had a really good plan and effectively used their teamwork skills was really cool but of course since they decided to go against Bakugou, they had to fail despite their extensive pre planning. Yes I know that Bakugou is really strong and super determined, but Monoma had figured out almost to the exact number how many students would make it to the next round and analyzed 1A’s quirks and specifically chose his team to be the most effective so I think it would be so interesting if they could’ve made it to the next round (and I’m not even saying Bakugou shouldn’t have made it to the next round, there’s four spots available. Could’ve had him run into Shinsou during the cavalry battle which I think would actually be super interesting considering how easily provoked he is, and if he won against Shinsou it would’ve been interesting to see him go against Monoma in the tournament, if he didn’t win against Shinsou he would’ve gotten the learning experience of actually losing and realizing he can’t just assume he’s better than everyone and can automatically beat them).

Also the Bakugou vs. Uraraka fight? She should’ve won. Bakugou had been using his quirk a LOT throughout the sports festival and he SUPPOSEDLY gets backlash on his hands when he uses his quirk too much. Uraraka was smart and had a solid strategy, one that nobody predicted, and she utilized a LOT of rubble, yet Bakugou, after using his quirk numerous times to explode her, was apparently able to summon a giant explosion which he seemingly received no backlash for at the time. It just doesn’t seem right, and I personally think it would’ve been much more interesting for Bakugou “I’m gonna win” Katsuki to suffer an actual loss & start to realize that he can’t just look down on everybody and assume he’s better than them. Also I hate that people use this fight to be like “omg feminist king Bakugou!” as if he didn’t 1) change his entire fighting strategy (mostly staying on the defensive, only exploding when Uraraka got near, letting her rush him vs. his usual charging at other people, explosions blazing) for his fight with Uraraka, something he didn’t do for any of his male opponents, and 2) assume Midoriya gave her her strategy, not that she was smart enough to come up with it herself.

While we’re talking about unsatisfying fights involving girls, the whole last part of the sports festival deserves a mention. Yeah Shiozaki and Ashido easily got through round one, but then they were pretty much immediately picked off after that so what’s the point? Shiozaki beat Kaminari easily, but then was pushed out of the ring by Iida (no hate to Iida, love him & he deserved his third place win, but it just seemed a bit too easy for him to beat an opponent who had almost effortlessly beaten Kaminari the round before). Ashido won against Aoyama, but similar to Shiozaki, Tokoyami beats her easily. Momo, who up to this point had been pretty confident and sure of herself and her abilities, and had been shown to be pretty adept at using her quirk and thinking on the spot, was suddenly overcome with self doubt and was beaten by Tokoyami in the first round in like 8 seconds like wtf. Mei, who it would’ve been interesting to see what she did if she advanced in the tournament, voluntarily stepped down in the first round because she was only interested in showing off her support items. I know the series isn’t focused on the girls but seriously none of them made it past the second round of the tournament (not to mention the fact that way fewer of them qualified for the third round than the boys)?

Since I’m talking about the girls in conjunction with the sports festival, I feel like I’ve got to briefly mention the cheerleading outfit scene, which I obviously hate for multiple reasons (m*neta being gross, kaminari going along with m*neta despite the fact that he’s actually FRIENDS with the girls and in doing so he is betraying their trust - I could write a whole separate post about kaminari and why he interests and frustrates me but in not gonna do that here cause this post is already too fucking long -, some of the girls being uncomfortable in the outfits, especially after realizing they’d been tricked, etc) but I feel like those r obvious problems so I’m not gonna spend time unpacking that cause it’ll just make me angry. Neways.

The Bakugou vs. Tokoyami fight was kinda disappointing in that he had been such a tough opponent for the girls but is easily defeated by Bakugou (and yeah I know it’s cause Bakugou’s quirk was a bad matchup for Tokoyami but how convenient it was that Bakugou’s quirk just HAPPENED to be Tokoyami’s one weakness (and how come Dark Shadow was that strong earlier, it was really bright out and he even fended off Bakugou, explosions and all? But I digress)).

In the Bakugou vs. Todoroki fight I don’t necessarily disagree with Bakugou winning since it made sense for Todoroki to use only half of his power bc you don’t magically get through trauma in a day (although tbh I think if Todoroki was completely on his game and not distracted trying to start processing the fact that his fire is his he could’ve won against Bakugou, fire or no fire, BECAUSE they’ve both been using their quirks all day, BUT while Bakugou’s quirk had a physical drawback that should’ve weakened him, aka the aforementioned joint pain or w/e - and reminder that Bakugou used his quirk a LOT in the first and second tests, as well as a LOT against Uraraka, and a LOT/for a long time against Kirishima and some against Dark Shadow, so even with resting periods in between matches, unless he got healed by recovery girl which I find unlikely both because I think he would’ve seen it as an insult implying he couldn’t win in his current state and because UA and recovery girl both have a concerning attitude towards healing children, his hands should be in a LOT of pain and he should be over his limit - whereas Todoroki, while also having used his quirk a lot, had the advantage that the drawbacks of his quirk cancel each other out, and even if he wasn’t using his fire DURING matches, he obviously used it some in between - for example, to melt sero out - so he doesn’t have lasting drawbacks in the same way that Bakugou does, AND he trained for 10 years with the number 2 hero, which while end//vor is an absolutely awful person he’s obviously good at fighting meanwhile Bakugou’s only “training” that we know of prior to UA was using his quirk to bully people and even if he HAD trained I don’t think his training would match end//vor’s training so yeah that was a really fucking long winded way of saying I think Todoroki would win if he wasn’t distracted) and it made sense for Bakugou to not think of his win as a win because Todoroki wasn’t trying his best (and had brought out his full power against MIDORIYA, who Bakugou hates).

That being said I obviously have problems with how Bakugou treated Todoroki cause like,,, what the fuck he overheard him telling Midoriya about his trauma and then was a complete and absolute dick about it. Granted Midoriya didn’t handle it quite right either, but he was mostly doing it to help Todoroki rather than prove himself by beating him (don’t get me wrong Midoriya absolutely wanted to win, but once he found out Todoroki’s story he deemed helping Todoroki was more important than winning whereas Bakugou’s first priority was obviously still proving himself) so I still don’t really like that fight (and another thing: it’s really hard to watch Bakugou be so aggressive towards Todoroki after he decides not to use his fire like ik he’s mad bc he thinks Todoroki insulted him by not trying his hardest but that’s uhh none of his fucking business he even fucking KNOWS why Todoroki has such hang ups about using his fire and still!! Registers it as an insult!! He’s smart he should be able to see that some of the reason Todoroki used fire against Midoriya is Midoriya fucking SURPRISED HIM. Even if the people in the stands/watching the broadcast couldn’t hear what they were saying - I don’t remember if they could or not - it should’ve been obvious that Midoriya said SOMETHING that impacted Todoroki enough to get him to use his fire. Bakugou’s approach of yelling at him about it obviously wasn’t gonna work like it worked for Midoriya because Todoroki had already been thrown off too much by Midoriya and hadn’t had time to process it, and nothing that Bakugou said to him was a new emotional revelation. Todoroki himself later states the reason he used the fire at all in the Midoriya fight was that he forgot all about end//vor) and anyways I think the final shoudve been Todoroki vs. Uraraka.

Finally, though I’m obviously not a Bakugou stan, the fact that they fucking muzzled and restrained him just so they could force him to accept a medal he didn’t want? That’s fucked up like I know UA does a really bad job of caring for its students but who thought that was a good idea. Who?!?! It’s probably pretty fucking traumatizing to be muzzled like an animal in front of a crowd of LITERALLY MILLIONS OF PEOPLE and have that played off as a joke, not to mention the fact that I seriously doubt being restrained is a good experience for him after the sludge villain. If he doesn’t want the medal he doesn’t want the damn medal, either give the gold to Todoroki and the silver and bronze to Iida and Tokoyami or just don’t hand out the gold medal your ceremony isn’t more important than the well-being of your students!

(Also while I’m talking about the well being of UA students uhh why the fuck did UA think HAVING the sports festival was a good idea in the first place? They hype it up so much that students are willing to seriously injure themselves over a fucking sporting event in the name of “plus ultra”, not to even mention the fact that it SHOWCASES THE QUIRKS AND BY DESIGN DISPLAYS THE WEAKNESSES OF THESE STUDENTS WHO ARE TRAINING TO BE HEROES WHICH IS A HIGHLY DANGEROUS JOB ON LIVE FUCKING TELEVISION SO THAT ANYONE COULD EXPLOIT THEM - something literally every other school takes advantage of at the provisional license exams! Like,, literally Who thought this was a good idea???)

In conclusion, I hate love hate the sports festival arc and the writing really annoys me

#this was supposed to be me love posting about ‘it’s your power Todoroki’ and midoriyas determination to help people no matter what #but it turned into me talking about how much I hate the rest of the sports festival like. how #i turned this so long wtf i am ANNOYING #bnha #I didn’t even go into the fact that ever since Todoroki’s backstory was revealed he keeps losing #and his trauma keeps getting framed as the REASON he’s losing so it seems like he’s getting punished for being traumatized or some shit #& like ofc everyone should lose at some point and obviously he’s had a lot of character development but uhh that seems not great #long post #in today’s episode of ‘long rambly posts from my drafts that nobody asked for but I’m gonna post anyways...’

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codevassie · 4 years

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Code’s Top 5 TS Fics

[***Let me know if I’ve missed anything on the Content Warnings!]

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The Consequences of Sound by Acantha_Echo

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: Anxiety hurts Thomas. It's just what he does, what he has always done. It's not what he wants. He only wants to protect him but that is easier wished for than done. When the opportunity to prove himself opens up to him, he grabs it, for once not caring about the consequences. Things go downhill from there. The fall, rise, fall (and rise again) of Virgil.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP

CW: Toxic Friendships, Headaches and Migraines, Anxiety Attacks, Manipulation, Depression, Unsympathetic Deceit, Unsympathetic Remus

My thoughts: This fic is So Freaking Good, my friends. It has real estate in at least 86% of my brain. I love going back to reread my favorite parts, and sometimes when I’m rewatching episodes I’ll catch myself thinking of the fic. Right now it’s the Christmas episode bc I’m in big time daydream mode about what the current arc is going to bring. It’s got big Found Family energy, and I eat that stuff right up. It is so heart-warming to watch Virgil grow closer to them. And, yeah, the Prinxiety owns my ass. It is some real Slow Burn shit, and the little glances and soft interactions.... oh goodness. And there’s suspense too, with all the barriers Virgil has built, and the secrets he keeps. For the love of everything, give this fic a try.

To Build A Home by AValorousChoice

Status: Completed

Summary: "There was a long silence as Virgil processed the words, his eyes darting between the pair of them. “Y-You-” he swallowed heavily. “You want to adopt me?” This was a joke. Surely, it was a joke. Nobody ever wanted him. Nobody had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in adopting him. Virgil never believed he was good enough for a loving family until the day that Patton and Logan walked into the orphanage.

Relationships: Logicality

CW: Child Abuse, Alcohol and Alcoholism, Panic Attacks, Car Accidents, Swearing, Homophobia, Minor Character Death, Animal Abuse, PTSD, Violence, Murder, Attempted Murder

My thoughts: Another Found Family for y’all. So this one is a kid!fic, which I don’t read a lot of, but have found some Really Good ones over the years. I grow really attached to characters when it feels like I’ve watched them grow up. Probably has to do with my love for character development, though not every kid!fic will have that. This one, actually, takes place over the course of less than a year of Virgil’s life after Logan and Patton adopt him. It deals with trauma and finding a place Virgil feels he belongs and is equally full of hope as it is fear. Again, watching Virgil grow close to his family - Patton, Logan, Roman, and some marvelous OCs - is so precious. And shout-out to Roman in this one bc he is the cutest, weirdest freaking kid you will ever read, and I would protect him with my life. The next one in the series is actually all about him and advances forward to when they’re teens (at which point I come across a lot of moments where I’m like “omg they’ve grown so much my heart”).

(i’d never) want once from the cherry tree by ace_corvid

Status: Completed

Summary: Of all the notable Youtubers active today, none are perhaps as popular as Roman Prince, beauty guru extraordinaire. From small beginnings, rising popularity from his vlogs brought him to the fame he never doubted he’d relish in. But also on the up and up is the conspiracy theory and cryptid lover known by his online alias ‘Virgilant’, who reveals little about his personal life and shies from the spotlight.Despite clashing fandoms and their own preconceptions, they're dragged into a somewhat whirlwind collaboration between channels. Sparks fly, but with Virgil desperately afraid of coming out and pining for his room mate, can anything really happen? With Logan, Patton, Remy and Deceit along for the ride, watch as fear of being who you really are blossoms into something new… With more than a little romance along the way.After all, is there anything more terrifying than showing the world who you are? Alternatively; a meta media fic following the journey of Youtubers, who just so happen to be characters we know and love.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality

CW: Anxiety over Coming Out, Fandom Discourse Commentary

My thoughts: The funniest thing in my GD LIFE. Get this; they’re all in character, but the author has amped up their chaos levels times 100. They are undeniably themselves and it’s to an extreme. I freaking love it. And the multimedia style is so entertaining. It keeps the story at a fast pace and creates a great setting and diverse character interaction. That interaction includes banter and absolutely absurd and relatable content. Everyone’s friendships are undeniable bc they’re constantly roasting one another but you can tell they’d kill for each other. So good. This fic is so good. Please go read.

lavender for luck by lovelylogans

Status: Completed

Summary: Virgil's uncle can cast spells, and read fortunes, and hear houses talk through their noisy creaks. Virgil's father had, too, when he was alive, and their mother before them. Virgil was born with the family's tawny eyes, the family's pale skin, and the family's magic. And the people they fall in love with—or, at least, the ones who love them back—all die, which is why Virgil knows he can never take the chance of having that for himself. A Practical Magic inspired au

Relationships: LAMP

CW: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Parental Death, Spiders, Animal Cruelty, Swearing, Arguing, Physical Confrontation

My thoughts: Magical realism, secrets, excellent characterization. The border between reality and magic in this AU is seamless. I love the normality of magic in these types of stories, and this one didn’t even have magic as a Thing for most of the world. Magic wasn’t a regular thing, yet the author made it so normal to Virgil’s life... it was phenomenal. And the character interactions... they are so sweet on each other omg. And it isn’t really rushed either. There is time skips, but they don’t break apart the fic too harshly, instead enhancing the time they’ve gotten to know one another. Deceit’s character is so much fun too. He doesn’t take shit, but he also really cares. And the whole uncovering Virgil’s life is so interesting, both what we know and the characters don’t, or stuff we don’t know and Virgil won’t talk about. It creates excellent tension. So I guess I have to go read Practical Magic now (which this fic is based off of) and you have to go read this.

dreams are the second form of reality by Flooftheriver

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: Roman’s creative capabilities stretch further than anywhere any of the sides realise he can go- sometimes even Roman himself. He can craft intricate worlds from nothing, invent people out of mere whispers of an idea, all for the purpose of filling the night with adventure. His dreams are so strong in fact, that they can unknowingly pull others in, bending them to the will of the story he is creating. So what happens when he dreams up a Prince, and finds he needs somebody to play the role?

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality

CW: Possible Character Death, Weird Shadow Monsters, Minor Violence, Blood and Violence

My thoughts: So it’s set in canon in place of AA. Which means we get some lovely angst in the form of Virgil thinking everyone hates him. And I’m super stoked to watch him get that Acceptance he deserves. You know what we call that? Growth. Let’s get that character development y’all. For now, however, he’s in Roman’s dreamworld and trying to make sure Roman doesn’t realize it’s actually him or he’ll get kicked out of the best thing in his life. So we have secrets, which creates great tension, and things going... strange in the dreamworld. Also, the Prinxiety is cute as heck - loving that slow burn holy crip - alright go read it.

#fic recs #ts #sanders sides #prinxiety #ts lamp #february fic recs #friday fic recs #thank you authors for tagging your CWs and making my life easier #listen i know tagging can be hecka difficult #i am constantly afraid i'm not tagging everything i should on fics and fic recs #but just this much is enough to help me not go bananas #the BF rec list was so difficult #thanks TS authors i love you #i digress #next week is aph!

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