#poor thing she's very exploited you should be nice to her

[thehmn]

I finally got to watch Viften (Empire) and it’s such a fascinating movie. It was written by Anna Neye who also plays Anna Heegaard, a rich free black woman who’s dating the Danish governor of the island.

It’s sold as an absurdist comedy and I think there’s no other way to describe it. There aren’t any real jokes but you often end up laughing at the absurdity of it all.

It’s extremely honest about the horrors Danes put the black population through but thankfully it only shows it in quick flashes of art as seen in the trailer. I once watched a video where they explained why most women aren’t into slasher movies and why black people generally don’t rewatch movies about racism and slavery. It’s because the the horrors shown are very real fears and a fact of life so the only people who can really enjoy watching a woman get horribly murdered as entertaining are men and only white people can watch a black person getting whipped to death with cinematic lighting and have a fun night out. By showing the horrors in art they get to be clear about exactly what is going on without coming off as exploitative.

But it’s also very honest about the ways a society based on slavery fucks with everyone. Most of the servants at the manor are slaves except the cook who bought her own freedom years ago. She tells the housekeeper Petrine that some day she too will be able to buy her freedom and get her own slave. That’s right, the freed black people aspire to get their own slaves because that’s the sort of values a society like this instills in people. And Anna tries to be as nice as possible to her own slaves but doesn’t take her own success for granted and is more afraid of an uprising than her white lover and ends up doing some really horrible things to her slaves to keep them down.

It also touches on how people viewed being black or white back then. That it wasn’t all about skin colour but also status. That’s why all the white people treat Anna as one of them. She’s a rich, educated lady so of course she’s “white”. Even Anna express contempt at being called black because she doesn’t work in the field. The poor freed black people also call Petrine white because she dress and acts like a Dane. Not as in “you are pretending to be white” but as in you are white.

And hats off to the director Frederikke Aspöck. There’s a scene where a woman buys her freedom and they put on a symbolic slave auction where she gets up on the podium and bids on herself. All the white neighbors have come to witness it because it’s seen as this joyous day and they all clap, she’s offered to drink with them and she’s all smiles. The director managed to make the scene wholesome while highlighting the absurdity of it and all you can do is chuckle because what the fuck? The white people think it’s a good thing that she’s free but continue to keep and mistreat their own slaves, and she no doubt dreams of getting her own down the road. It’s very much depicted as institutionalized racism and not just “a few bad eggs”.

And I didn’t know where to put this but there’s a lot of interesting symbolism going on with Anna’s dresses. She always wears dresses that match the colors of the rooms she’s in, establishing her as fully part of the system, but as she begins to realize that the Danish state will never see her as fully equal her colors start to clash with her surroundings.

I watched it on Netflix and it has English subtitles so it should be somewhere for English speakers to watch if you feel so inclined.

#viften #empire #movie #history #Youtube

[weridpersonhelp]

stardom

[oneshot ? idk wally x reader]

un edited so appolgise for things that are spelt wrong, and gramma.

Could not help myself after I saw the Wally Actor AU! AAAAAH so I’m creating this, because I can. I know I should be focusing on red phone, but this next chapter is going to take a bit dudes. So here is this.

“Are you Y/n? my newest inturne?” Their stood infront of you the person or puppet you would be learning from. Julie, from the show welcome home. You had never though a puppet would let you be their intern, Let alone on the show Your nieces and nephues adored but by some mircal you got the job.

“yesh! It’s a pleasure to meet you  Julie Joyful! I’m very excited to work with you and help you with what ever you need! I look forward to learning from you as well Ma’am!”

“Oh don’t worry about formalities! Just call me Julie, Now I do need you to do me a small favour.” My eyes light up when she says this, I know interns are sometimes treated like dogs, but I didn’t care too much since this would be amazing on my resume.

“Sure thing Julie!” She gives me a small smile and her card.

“I would like a Carmel Frappuccino, with sprinkles and two pumps of vanila please! If you could et it here in at least 30 minutes would be-“ “NO Problem ma’am! I’ll get it right away!” I say rushing out the door, to get back in my car and drive to the nearest Starbucks. Ever since I was a kid I wanted to be to work in film, But I wasn’t smart enough too get in to collage. But I was able to do a tafe course and work my way up from their. I’m still shocked she even hired me.

Getting out of the car and into the Starbucks a sigh, seeing the huge line.

“Oh god…” ----

“I wounder where my new intern is.”

“Intern?” Wally asks Julie a little confused, she had never mentioned any intern to him. Let alone hriing one.

“Yes! I just got her today, I saw her before and asked her to get me my drink but she a little late. I hope she’s alright!” Julie says, sighing Wally was not happy with this at all. Late on the first day and why wasn’t he told about this? They where probably just another human looking down on  them. Thinking they could exploit poor Julie.

“MISS JOYFUL I HAVE YOUR DRINK!” The two puppets turn to see who was yelling, it was none other than her new intern! She was sweaty and holding an ice cold drink in her hands.

“I’m so sorry Miss Joyful! There was a massive line! And they stuffed up the order the first time so i-“ “Awe thank you Y/n! it’s no problem I understand, and please call me Julie!”

“Yes Ms. Julie is their anything else I can help you with?” she asks Wally rises an eyebrow at her a little, noticing her good posture and how she kept her hands together in the front folded nicely on top of each other.

“Could you get me some banana bread from the table? Wally, would you like anything?”

“Just a chocolate muffin cut into 4 slices and a silver knife, I can taste it when it’s wood.” Wally says this was a test honestly, he knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep up this good shared for too long. She’s probably heard from the other crew how much of an ass he is and is only being nice to get on his good side.

“No problem, Sir, I’ll get them for you guys!” Y/n stands about to leave before Julie calls out to her.

“And get yourself something! I don’t want you passing out on me!”

“Oh! Sure thing!” she finally leaves.

“Isn’t she adorable! She has a pretty good resume as well!”

“how so?”

“Well, she has done a cert 3 in childcare! So, she has a blue card! She worked in customer service for 4 years! She loved film though her G.P.A is low she worked very hard to be here! Her dream is to work in the film industry-“

“Acting?” Wally asks taking a sip of his mineral water with a lime in it.

“Nope!”

“Then why is her your intern?”

“Well, she said she wants to learn all aspects, she was very eager in the interview my agent said! And all employees described her as hard working!” Julie explains, Julie’s agent wasn’t a ray of sunshine, she would make Julie do some adds she didn’t like and use to force them to model on the side. That was before Wally straightened her out. Would she be happening to do this do make him angry?

“it took my a while to find a Silver Knife but I did! I brought a little butter thing just incase. I didn’t know if you wanted it buttered sorry!” Y/n says handing both of them what they asked for, She even gave wally a Metal fork. He was honestly a little shocked and weirder out.

“This is good! Thank you would you like to sit and watch with us?” Y/n was taken aback HELL WALLY WAS TAKEN ABACK.

“o-oh umm thank you yes please.” Y/n moves from the middle of them to Julie’s left and takes a seat on the ground, she opens the old bottle of water and takes a sip.

“Awe scared of me sugar?” Wally asks teasingly, Julie chuckles along as Y/n face heats up and eye widen.

“OH NO SIR! I DIDN’T MEAN TOO! I JUST-““ I don’t bite!” this embarrasses Y/n further and makes Julie crack up more.

“I- um. I know I just thought-““oh ignore him Y/n! he just teasing he does it to every one! OH my your redder then a tomato!”

“Or a apple!” the two continue to laugh while Y/n left their, but she doesn’t seem to mind all of that. She instead focus her attention on to the set. Soon enough the two puppet go on and talk about something else. That’s when she notices someone struggling with something.

“And then I heard-“ “Excuse me Ms Julie is it okay if I help that poor fella?”

“Oh yes of course, you can do what ever as long as you’re here when I call for you!” Y/n nods and quickly goes to the guy to help him lift the fake trees.

“Hey, let me help you with that!” Y/n says grabbing two of the trees from his arms, The guy looks confused at first but gladly takes the help.

“Thanks, we need to move these over here.” “No problem!” The two walks to the side and place the trees there. She dusts off her hands off from the and a joyful smile can be seen on her face.

“Which department are you in? by any chance?” The employee asks her,

“Oh, I’m the new intern for Julie Joyful I’m Y/n nice to meet you.” Y/n puts her hand forward to shake.

“Jack, you work with the puppets? Good luck ha-ha! See ya later kid.” He says walking. Y/n shows a face of confusion and tilt of the head as he walks away, but she walks back to her new boss.

#frank welcome home #wally darling #wally darling welcome home #welcome home #frank frankly #welcome home eddie #welcome home fanart #welcome home puppet show #julie joyful #welcome home art #partycoffin #WELLCOME HOME POPPY #POPPY #sally starlet #WELHOME COME SALLY #welcomehomearg #wally darling x reader #welcome home wally darling #welcome home wally #welcome home arg #welcome home frank #welcome home fanfic. #welcome home fanfic #clownillustrations #poppy partridge #sally starlight #wally welcome home #red phone #howdy pillar #x reader

[artist-issues]

Did you guys know that even all of Zootopia’s SIDE characters hit the theme right on target? All of them circumvent their species’ stereotypes, for good or for bad.  First one we’re introduced to is Gideon. He’s a fox, and he’s a bully, but Judy nails him right off the bat. He’s small-minded—actually, he’s just not very bright. He’s a bully, so immediately we know he solves problems with his physicality. But that’s the thing. Foxes are supposed to be sly and cunning and sneaky. There’s nothing sneaky or sly about Gideon.

He just shows up and mispronounces words and pushes bunnies around. In fact,  Judy is the sly one in their interaction; even while he’s pushing her down, she’s slipping the tickets out of his pocket to give back to her sheep friend.  Okay so fine, Gideon’s obvious. But what about the next side characters we meet?

Clawhauser! Everybody loves Clawhauser. This one is obvious too. He’s a cheetah—he’s not a leopard, he’s not a jaguar. He’s a cheetah. But what do we learn about him as soon as he actually has to do something for his job? 

HE’S NOT FAST. Cheetah’s are “supposed to be” fast, if they’re anything. But as many character traits as Clawhauser has (loves pop stars, loves donuts, loves his job, willing to help, all-around nice guy) the one that he SHOULD have, as both a police officer who’s job description could be “CATCH” bad guys, AND a cheetah, is speediness! But he’s not a runner. And he’s not even very quick on the uptake, either. When Judy is trying to solve a murder and has the evidence laid out right in front of him, and is LITERALLY connecting the dots out loud, he has no clue what she’s talking about. He’s not quick-thinking. 

Okay let’s do the next one. Chief Bogo! This one is, I think, obvious too, but for funsies, let’s talk about it.  Chief Bogo’s whole character design, as a water buffalo, is supposed to be big, square, tough. He’s scarred up and masculine and authoritative and brusque. He even says several times that he doesn’t care about people’s feelings. But he is not big, heavy, and unyielding like a Cape buffalo should be. They’re literally described as “dark, brooding, tough,” animals. But Chief Bogo gets behind closed doors and he’s like: 

“Ooo, an app where I can dance to mainstream pop music!” And on a more serious note, when Judy totally proves him WRONG and could be seen as having HUMILIATED HIM, he instead proudly walks her up to the Mayor’s office for a promotion. And he even consoles her and calls her a good cop when she’s at her lowest point.

Even the other fox in the movie, Finnick. His whole thing is that he looks small and cute; clever foxes like Nick take advantage of that expectation. Other animals clearly don’t realize that his species, which is totally different from Nick’s, is why he’s so little—they just assume he’s a baby red fox (to their disadvantage.) But even if they did, you see a Fennec Fox and you either go, “aw, cute,” or “foxy tricks!” Finnick has neither. The movie makes it seem like the scheming part of their lives is all Nick’s idea and Finnick is just there playing along to collect the money. He’s also not cute when the disguise comes off—he’s ferocious! A bust-heads first, ask questions later fox with no slyness. 

Let’s move on to some even-lesser-known characters—I’ll try to go faster—

MAYOR LIONHEART! He’s supposed to be an animal associated with great leadership, pride, and honor, and the word “heart” is even in his name. But he has no real heart—he exploits everybody, Bellwhether and Judy included, for his own gain. He’s so self-protective and selfish, two non-leaderly traits, that he even exploits the poor sick feral Zootopians that they recover. 

he doesn’t even seem to care about his actual mayoral duties, which is, you know, the hands-on LEADERSHIP part of being a leader that you’d think the King of the Jungle would be great at.  And what about Madge the Honey Badger? Many people don’t like that her role was made smaller after Pre-production and she became a barely-seen doctor character rather than one of Nick’s closest friends, but LOOK WHAT A GREAT JOB THEY DID. She’s a HONEY BADGER. Honey Badger don’t care. They’re just supposed to be these tough-as-nails, vicious littler buggers who not only have thick skin, but attack predators much larger than themselves—LIKE LIONS. 

But the only time we see this Honey Badger, she definitely cares. She cares enough to sort-of suggest that they get outside help for the sick animals Lionheart is hiding, but when he yells at her? Does this Honey Badger use her thick skin to stand up to him and make a stand for justice? No! She cowers and backs down. And she must have been doing it for weeks, too, because the Missing Mammals have clearly been there for a while.  What about Mr. Big? Clearly it’s all in the name; he’s implied to be a huge threat, very dangerous, but he’s little, sure. Not only that though—he’s implied to be ruthless, a killer, even Nick is scared of him. But instead, he winds up being warm and fatherly toward his own daughter and Judy. He gives wisdom, and helps justice more than once. Also, by the way, a Shrew’s brain is supposed to get even smaller in the winter to conserve energy. There are articles online called “how winter makes shrews stupid,” when I looked it up. But is Mr. Big stupid? Absolutely not. 

What are others known for? Being cute and playful. How many times do you see Mrs. Otterton OR FERAL MR. OTTERTON being cute or playful in the film? This has less to do with their personalities, but the point is, we’re seeing an animal known for it’s cheerful and fun demeanor only in sad or scary situations in this masterpiece of a movie. Not to mention the fact that Emmett Otterton, a “sweet little otter” is basically never sweet until the very end of the movie. 

Yax the Yak is supposed to be big, slow, dumb—he even has hair covering his face, as if he’s not all that observant. But who remembers every little detail about his interactions with Emmett Otterton? Even when Nangi, an elephant who is supposed to remember according to stereotypes, remembers nothing, ever?

YAX DOES. And not only does he remember, but he remembers about interesting things, like being able to tell by the sound of a car which cylinder is firing incorrectly. He’s smart.  We also have Mr. Manchas, the panther, who is shown to be less an apex predator (which is what panthers are) and more a traumatized, suspicious, mild-mannered driver. Oh, and he and all the big, stronger animals work for the tiny little shrew, remember that too. 

Sheep are also supposed to be followers, and stupid. They’re supposed to go toddling after one another, and sometimes just straight up walk over the side of cliffs to their deaths out of idiocy. But the only sheep we see in this film, BESIDES Bellwhether, are not only rebels trying to undermine Zootopia’s whole system, but smart. 

Doug, Jesse, and Woolter are all lab geniuses cooking up government-toppling terrorism serums. 

Gazelle, also, by the way, is a gazelle. They don’t stand up to anyone or anything in the wild; they run away from problems and conflict with other species. Yet here she is, not only being a graceful dancer, but spearheading peace rally’s and speaking out against conflict. 

And of course, Flash. He’s slow physically when he’s at the DMV, but it’s implied that he’s no dummy—for all we know, he was helping Nick stall. Because at the end we learn he’s sort of a criminal, too—because he loves to do what ladies and gentlemen? SPEED. 

So. What I’m saying is, there’s a REASON Zootopia’s so good—it just keeps smashing the theme out of the park with every single character that comes onscreen. They don’t stop at Nick being helpful at heart instead of selfish, or Judy being a clever detective instead of dumb. This movie’s a masterpiece right down to the most basic characters.

#Zootopia #nick Wilde #Judy hopps #judy #nick #nic and judy #hopps #wilde #disney #nick and judy #judy and nick #nicholas p. Wilde #chief bogo #officer hopps #bellwhether #mayor lionheart #Finnick fox #clawhauser #meta #analysis

[abitohoney]

WEREWOLF SEVIKA WITH HER MECH ARMMMMM!!!!

Does her werewolf form have a tail? Does it wag when she's happy or excited? DOES SHE LIKE RECEIVING BELLY RUBS???

I'd be the idiot who would get a squeaky tennis ball to torment her with, and she'd eviscerate me for it, and it's be so worth it XD

This is fun and silly and I love it! Also, gonna paste a screenshot of your other ask here because a) it's related and b) I already started technically answering part of your second ask before you even asked it!

Side note: this is my first... HCs? Imagines? IDK WTF this is even called. Let's just say here's my chaotic dumpster fire of unorganized thoughts on this. Enjoy! (No refunds)

Also, probably won't have the next chapter of my werewolf!Sevika fic out tonight so y'all get this instead. 😭

Should probs throw in a warning too. Some NSFW at the very end. MDNI, 18+

Hell yes werewolf Sevika with her mech arm!

I mean, how could she not have it?!

It's cool as hell and would make her unique and give her an advantage over the other werewolves

It's not organic so it wouldn't make sense for it to change with the rest of her body

How much would that suck if the nerves and tethers to the flesh were separated each time she transformed? Poor woman would have to reattach the damn thing everytime. Sounds far more painful than just the transformation alone! I could not do that to our babygirl. 😭

She could play fetch with herself so much easier!

She could still choke us in her werewolf form

OFC she has a tail!

How cute would that be? Now Sevika is a stubborn, prideful and grumpy lady and that applies to her werewolf form as well. She won't admit to enjoying anything other than killing, and she's going to try her damnedest not to wag that tail or let you even do anything that might trigger that response. But she is a woman, er... werewolf, with urges and instincts. Will power and stubbornness can only go so far before it's overpowered by the more natural responses. So if you know some of her secret weaknesses, and you can get close enough to exploit those, you better believe you're gonna see that tail do a little dance.

Belly rubs? Oh she LOVES those!

Again, you're gonna have to be sneaky to get close to that fuzzy belly. She's got sharp canines and is not against giving you a warning bite if you get too close to her soft spots.

You're best bet is to catch her while she's napping in her gigantic doggy bed at the foot of your shared bed. (You've forbade her from sleeping on your bed while in her werewolf form. She sheds profusely and has an annoying tendency to kick you with her hind legs when she dreams about chasing prey, which is probably you considering all the annoying things you do to her. Not to mention the one time you were rudely awaken to the mortifying realization that she was humping the back of your leg like a bitch in heat. Not that you have any right to complain when you take into account how much you like to grind on her thigh when she's in her human form.)

She's snoring deeply, belly fully exposed, as she sleeps in her plush doggy bed when you cautiously sneak closer. You sit cross-legged in front of her and ever so slowly reach a hand out. Your palm rests on her soft, warm belly and your eyes flit to hers. They're still closed, so you start making, slow sweeping circles. Her breathing shifts and a hind leg twitches. Before long, the bushy tail that hangs over the edge of her bed starts swaying. The moment you add some light scratching to the belly rubs her tail really starts wagging. You can't hide your adoring smile, even as her eyes suddenly shoot open, purple glowing orbs locking onto yours immediately. Her struggle to react in anger is apparent by how her upper lip twitches as if she's trying to snarl, but she just can't fight how fucking good the tummy rubs and scratches feel. Slip your other hand behind an ear to give it a nice scratch and she's good as yours, tail swinging so hard it's smacking your knee. You might even get a little kiss on your arm from a big ol slobbery tongue.

Fetch? She can't resist.

You're not the only fool who would buy their sexy werewolf GF a nice, loud, squeaky ball to play fetch with. We all would, cause that tail wags so damn hard her back end shakes with it. This, however, is the one she's least happy to admit to enjoying, but all it really takes is throwing the damn ball. Just know that you'll pay for it later (You'll be her pet, on all fours wearing a collar and leash, for at least a day. But don't worry, she'll feed you real well).

Flea collar, or any collar for that matter? Hard nope

Don't even bother trying. You'll be the one in the collar if you do. She doesn't do flea baths either, so you better just get used to your hundreds of new insect buddies.

Good girl? Hahahaha... Nope!

Whatever you do, do not, I repeat do NOT call her "good girl", or you'll be the one in the dog house!

"Hey, babygirl, c'mere!" Sevika calls from the bedroom while you're finishing drying off after showering and you freeze in terror. You know that tone. That condescending, slow sneer. You know you're in trouble. "Need to talk to you about something."

Maybe if you go out there naked, you can make her forget whatever you'd done wrong, which you admittedly have forgotten yourself. Swallowing the lump that formed in your throat, you cautiously step past the doorway and into the bedroom. Sevika, in her human form, sits on the edge of the bed, glowing purple eyes on you and sharp canines poking out from her wide, devious smirk.

"Yes?" You ask sweetly albeit shakily, with false innocence as you step further into the room so she can see your nude form. Your eyes drop to her lap where you find she's already packing her fav strap. Thick, ribbed and curved for your pleasure. Heat rises to your cheeks.

"Do you recall what you called me last night?"

Too distracted by the thought of what she has planned, you shake your head. A movement catches your eye and you realize she's swinging a pair of handcuffs from one thick finger. Heat drops between your thighs.

"When you were petting me in my werewolf form?" She reminds you, tone noticably sharper when she mentions that particular act which was also one of her no-go rules.

Oh. Oh fuck. That.

In the same moment you recall what you'd said, you see the spreader bar, collar and leash lying on the bed beside her. Your doe eyes flit to hers, realizing just what you were in for.

"Good girl?" You squeak out.

"Mhmm. And are you supposed to call me that?"

"No!" You answer quickly, shaking your head profusely. "I'm sorry Sev-"

"On the bed sweetheart. Head down, hands behind your back and on your knees. Oh, and spread them real wide for me. Let's see who's the good girl."

#arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika imagine #arcane sevika x reader #honey writes

[ryuichirou]

Replies

More replies! We have a couple of asks about Jack today~ Talked a lot about the good boy of the cast lol

Oh, and spoiler warning for Kuroshitsuji and twst ch7 for the second reply (the first one under the “read more”) thing. Kind of sort of?? Just to be safe.

Anonymous asked:

"I try not to spend more than one hour per day on writing replies." Omg, ryuichi, you spend almost 1 hour replying to asks?! Are you ok?! Don't push yourself.

Also, femChenya, being able to change her breast size, is so cursed that i love it. Thanks, i won't stop thinking about that for the rest of the day lmao.

(related to our hc post)

Aww thank you for your concern, Anon!! I’m just very slow at writing things, and I tend to talk a lot, so it takes longer than it should. But I really want people to get their replies + I really enjoy writing them, so it’s fun! If I get tired, I’ll just skip a day or two… As long as people don’t mind me replying after like a month, it’s all good lol

I’m glad you enjoyed that Che’nya headcanon! She is one cursed cat, I’m 100% sure she has startled Riddle with this trick multiple times…

Anonymous asked:

Silver 🤝Snake

Being cute silver haired boys mentally broken  by Yana Toboso by finding out the truth about two conflicting sides related to their family/found family

TRUEEEEE!!

Every time we talk about Snake we keep calling him Silver :( This is a curse that cannot be lifted, and of course both of these calm and quiet silver haired babes are going to suffer emotionally in the worst way possible. Poor boys (they look so cute when they suffer though)

Anonymous asked:

Hehe...Vil and Azul being in-laws will be hilarious. Like if it is Christmas and that all those two did just bicker and argue. Idia too scared to confront them while Ortho cheers for Vil. Also a way to get Azul to exploit Vil...

(related to our previous repliy)

God how much I want to see them celebrate Christmas together lol it really would be a disaster. Poor Idia just wants everyone to disappear, he has games to play and anime to watch.

I wonder how long it’d take for Azul to stop trying to act like the slimiest smiling nice guy in the world and start getting openly irritated by Vil who doesn’t buy his bullshit. I guess spending Christmas holidays together would be enough lol

furubatsu asked:

I just read Jack's dorm vignette and idk if you ship them or not but I need your take on whatever the fuck he and Ruggie have going on. He's insane in that story.

*addendum of my prev ask: I meant I now you don't ship them, I just wanted your take on Jack and Ruggie because what the fuck is that vignette? (Also even with some of your ships I don't like, I am very into your takes o  the chara ters and their dynamics)

Sorry for the late reply, but we FINALLY watched that vignette, and it was so funny and weird. Just like you said…  Jack is insane TwT

Just like you said, we don’t ship these two, but that interaction gave us quite some food to chew on. And ironically, the only thought I have in my head after watching this is “wow, Jack really is just a puppy”. Maybe it’s because with Jack I always get this weird desire to treat him like a pup, he is surprisingly cuddable for a guy his size. In a “gosh how pwecious you are, with your floofy tail and ears awwww who’s a good boi yes you are mister doggie sir”. And Jack’s behavior in this vignette certainly didn’t help with that at all lol

But overall it’s just cute that he has this dog (wolf) mentality of trying to find order or hierarchy in a group that he is a part on. He needs the structure of a pack, I guess it’s just more natural to him. What’s also interesting is that while he admires Ruggie and I guess has chosen him as a leader (congrats on being an alpha, Ruggie…?), he doesn’t want a boss. I think the guys nailed it when they realised that Jack is acting like a little brother who has a lot to learn from Ruggie.

Which is suuuuper ironic because while being a good older brother for his own younglings, Ruggie really doesn’t want to get all familial with the guys from NRC. He wants connections and useful friendships, but when it comes to the type of dynamic Jack asks for, Ruggie is like the one person who wouldn’t want this type of closeness. And it’s very interesting to see how he just doesn’t get Jack’s desire to help him out and protect him selflessly and gratuitously.

So yeah, they’re interesting! We also liked their interactions in the Portfest event. Jack is super stubborn with his morals and his urge to do good things to people he respects, and it’s hilarious how Ruggie can’t really fight it and is visibly uncomfortable with it because of how unusual it is to him.

(Also, thank you so much for your kind words, I am very happy that you like the way I talk about the characters even if you don’t like some of our ships <3 I appreciate it a lot!)

Anonymous asked:

how do you feel about jack/epel? is a vanilla but sweet ship imo, and i think epel definitely would have a thing for buff men

i also may or may not hc rook has an interest in everyone’s “mating habits”, especially the non human students. he’d find it interesting watching his junior take on a big beastman

They are kind of too vanilla for us because Jack is general is kind of vanilla despite his animalistic side, so it’s not a huge ship for us, but it’s still a very good one! Epel absolutely has a thing for buff men, it’s funny how pretty much all of his ships are just him + huge animalistic guy… Epel would try to act like he’s “one of the dudes”, just another buff bro in his soul, but we all know how giggly he would get if, you know. Things happened.

And the Rook hc is pretty much canon, at least in my head lol There is absolutely no way he wouldn’t get interested. What a blessing it is that Epel’s potential mates are wolves, eels and all kinds of animals~ It makes the whole experience even more beauté

#replies

[sizeable-star-wars]

Major Ahsoka Episode 1 and 2 Spoilers below.

This is my brief review of the first two episodes.

Ugh, Disney. For five minutes, can you not write formulaic, predicable stories. FOR FIVE MINUTES?!

I'll start off with things I like:

1) The Fan Service is strong with this one. Ahsoka is good, Rosario Dawson once again delivers a good performance. Having Hera featuring so heavily in it is great too, her actress does a good job. They even get a very good facsimily of Ezra, which was a nice bit. Hopefully they put him to good use.

2) The supporting cast have given good performances too. The male "Jedi?" seems cool, and his Apprentice is interesting. Though I predict she is going to change sides down the line. She just has that air about her.

3) The effects are good, on par with usual Star Wars. However some of the practical alien costumes are a bit... stunted. There's a Mon-Calamari officer at the start who can't seem to flex his lower arms or his fingers, just like the Rhodian guy in Book of Boba Fett.

4) Chopper is a highlight, a fun highlight 😄 You can tell what he's trying to say. Hopefully we get to see him commit more w*r cr*mes! 😄

5) The HK Droids are awesome. While they're not like our beloved HK-47, they are still decent side-adversaries.

Now for the things I don't like:

1) It is so, so predictable and formulaic. Ahsoka shows Sabine the show's first McGuffin device (more on that later) and tells her to stay put. Sabine did not stay put.

Sabine makes the McGuffin work, only for the enemy to show up and steal it. Things go bad. But luckily they left behind a clue for them to follow!

They go to the place, and surprise-surprise, people loyal to the bad guys are there! The bad guys escape, but not before a tracking beacon gets put on their ship!

It's just so formulaic and by the numbers. Andor didn't have this, I didn't predict much about that. This was entirely predictable, like they read a book on story tropes and just put it all in there!

2) Sabine gets stabbed through the stomach by a lightsaber. And she's fine! Totally fine after what, a day in hospital? No lasting injuries, no death, barely an inconvenience. First Reva (a literal child) and now Sabine. Poor Qui-Gon must be very grumpy after all these others surviving being stabbed! Her internal organs should be cooked! She should be dead!

But nope, Lightsabers just aren't what they used to be. Yet all those soldiers at the start die instantly from being slashed across the chest or arm. They forgot their plot armour!

3) The typical "Estranged Master and Student" thing with Ahsoka and Sabine. So predictable, they seem to do this all the time. They waste a good portion of time with them arguing or speculating about whether it's worth reuniting again. And they resolve that after two episodes, which is at least brief by most arcs.

4) The fight choreography isn't great. Not as bad as the Sequel Trilogy, but not great either. Gone are the days of the beautiful prequel fights. There's a point where Ahsoka is fighting the "Not Inquisitor" and is in a lightsaber bind with him, but one of her sabers is behind his. So she just had to flick it, and he's decapitated. Same goes for Sabine fighting the Apprentice. Very, very stunted and plenty of exploitable moments from both fighters. Sabine being out of practice, I can understand. But the Apprentice was giving her plenty of openings and also ignoring Sabine's lack of experience too.

That's my basic summary, I'm happy to discuss more with people who want to 😊

5) The McGuffin device! Yet another star map which leads to the person everyone is looking for! Just like Luke Jake Skywalker! How did they even know that was where he went? He got sent there by Ezra and the magical Hyperspace Whales! Did the Ancient Nightsisters forsee it somehow? Or did they know that the Hyperspace Whales would go there? Is that their home?

Disney, please stop with the McGuffin devices! Please, come up with something original! 😭

#Ahsoka #spoilers #Ahsoka spoilers #Discussion #Mun Speaks #Mun Reviews

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Brigitte Empire needs money, which can be exchanged for goods and services. Turns out, so do a lot of people! Some of them need it to live, and some of them need it to keep their shareholders happy, and some of them need it for blatant self-promotion. Watch the video and try to pick out who's who!

Then, if you feel like it, meet me under the cut for a little more on MARKETING!

All right all you cats and kittens, I got two discount bellinis in me and a silly topic that could still end civilization as we know it if we don't deal with it appropriately. Take my hand, and let me tell you the story of Capitalism figuring out that marginalized people buy things too!

Capitalism exists without the constraints of morality. If people are willing to pay for a thing, you should let them buy it, and jack up the price as much as possible. Regulations that prevent you from selling your child as hamburger meat are not a feature of Capitalism, but a constraint placed upon it by the rest of society. Thus, as soon as there is money to be made, multiple individuals and corporations will try to make as much money as possible. The only political consideration is, "What do I need to SAY I believe to maximize the profits?" It doesn't care about you, it just wants your money. We are all here to be exploited, no matter our various intersections.

Thus, it only fails to market to a specific group if it doesn't seem like that group would buy a specific thing, and/or if the consequences of the marketing would eat into the profits too much. A baby isn't going to buy a Virginia Slim cigarette (babies prefer Marlboros)

...and such a campaign would make mommies and daddies very upset, so they don't run ads with smoking infants in Highlights magazine.

But a funny thing happens when, all of a sudden, someone smacks themself on the forehead and cries, "Oh no! Babies DO buy Virginia Slims!" Or, more plausibly, "Wait! WOMEN BUY CARS!" Nobody has been marketing to that demographic, there is no playbook to follow, and they scramble for a strategy.

Oh, and it is hilarious watching them trying to figure out what a new demographic wants out of their product.

Uhhh... Pinkness and an automatic transmission, you guys? Is that good? Bill, would your wife buy one of these? If you let her, I mean, ha!

Likewise, in Brigitte's early strawberry ad: Uhhh... Glitter! The "tran"s love makeup and glitter! And a relatable, pretty nobody, and donations to worthy causes!

They're still dialing it in. Even poor Dylan up there doesn't seem to have much idea why someone who likes her brand would like a cheap, lite beer. She decided to just be honest and relatable too. "Well, it's nice having my face on a product, and one assumes you drink this while watching a sport...? Ha-ha-ha, this is kinda silly, but I guess they're trying to be nice. Well, anyway, Bud Light exists!"

It's really quite cute. It makes me like HER, but I'm not gonna buy a Bud Light. Likewise, that Gillette commercial was super sweet, but it didn't make me wanna go out and buy a Gillette razor, or anything at all. Conversely, when Goya foods shot their mouth off, I didn't stop buying them. I never started buying them. If they didn't have what I wanted in the store brand, I might have gotten a can or two of Goya, if they were the cheapest. After the beans hit the fan, I quit doing that with no more effort than moving my hand a few inches to one side or the other. No hardship to them and no hardship to me.

Me, and my friends on the left, are not big name-brand fans, or big Capitalism fans. These things are notable as cultural bellwethers - "Ah-ha! Someone did a thing! Now let's see how everyone reacts!" - but not as something we're going to go out of our way to spend money on. We define ourselves by the media we consume much more than the physical products.

The people who market physical products do not know how to handle that. It's kinda freaking them out. That's why we get all those stories about "MILLENNIALS ARE KILLING [THING]!" No, they're just not willing to be ride-or-die with a brand, or even a type. "Hmm, these ciders are all too expensive... How 'bout some box wine?" We don't have the disposable income to be picky, because Capitalism will devour itself for profit as much as anything else.

The throwbacks who are still willing to define themselves via a brand tend to skew right, but they're volatile as hell. Anything that looks like progress or "wokeness" makes them SCREAM. The pundits and politicians like it that way, it keeps them in power - the corporations, not so much. It's getting less and less feasible to be an AMERICAN [or other national identity] brand. There's a culture war in progress - but no matter which side you pick, they will not remain reliable, complacent consumers.

That's why corporate culture is involved in this weird "two steps forward, two steps back" dance. When it's clear who's winning, they'll pick a side. Until then, they're like a bunch a little kids at a party who really want to pick up the pinata candy, except the kid with the blindfold is still staggering around swinging the stick. Meanwhile, the leftists are busy looking for hot dogs in the trash, and the conservatives are screaming, pointing, and throwing more candy on the ground, so they can demonstrate how much they hate the latest evil product.

That last one doesn't make any damn sense, right? Boycotts are rarely effective, and buying more of a thing is not even a boycott. Bud Light will take your money whether you love their beer or hate it. You can throw it at a cop if you want, they just want your money.

Guess what? So do the conservatives. Also, your attention and your validation. That's why they're yelling so loud. All of us need to be heard and seen. All of us perform to show others who we are on the inside. When you film yourself performing and post on social media, though, you can make actual cash. Build enough of a following for your content and Bud Light will show up on your doorstep and offer to put your face on a can!

You're reading this on Tumblr right now, you are at least somewhat aware of how algorithms serve up content, and that the search function will serve you more engagement if you're doing something popular. I already know this post is gonna crash and burn, too, 'cos I don't have a lot of followers and it doesn't involve a fandom. Maybe later the Tumblr goblins will find it and like it, but not for a long while. If I wanted clicks (and I do) I'd give you something on Guardians of the Galaxy, or Spiderverse, or more Kung Fu Panda. If I were branding myself as a conservative gun nut, I'd get a lot of eyeballs on me if I bought a case of Bud and assassinated it right now. I don't want those eyeballs, but some folks sure do.

It's exploitation all the way down and we shouldn't be surprised. People need money to live, and if they have a little extra, they can have fun with it. Bud Light hires themself a trans spokesperson, as an investment, and she needs the money so she does an ad for the beer, and herself. Conservative culture warriors launch themselves at this latest target, every one of them also doing an ad - for themselves and their entertaining and justified outrage. And the platforms that host them rake in engagement from both sides, and more money. All that commerce, all that profit, all that potential, springs from the body of one trans influencer who likes to purchase goods and services - as one does.

In this instance, the beer people freaked out and spent a lot more money taking two steps back. It ain't always gonna be like that - and the next folks who want money from the trans demographic will have some valuable marketing data for the future - but we'll have to wait and see.

Now, I did say this was a silly topic that could end civilization as we know it if we don't handle it right, so picture some scary music right here. There is a market for grinning white faces who shoot guns at "wokeness," and the people with grinning white faces and guns know that, as do the platforms that host them. They make money for the platform and the platform makes money for them. Without intervention, this is a closed circle that only requires a new, popular thing to be mad about, and they can manufacture those at will. Violence and outrage are becoming a commodity, and people are already buying it.

It's popular to be mad at trans folks right now, but "woke" can be anything. They do not actually care what they are mad about, or what anyone who consumes their content does with that anger, they just want your money (clicks, attention, data, etc). Say what you will of the stochastic terrorism of the past, at least it had a political agenda. A privileged politician isn't going to turn on you nearly as fast as a social-media-climber looking for clout. Do you think you're stealth, invisible, acceptable? Do you wanna find out what happens if suddenly you're not?

Regulation and deplatforming are the only way to keep the outrage machine from eating up real human lives. But we are not asking sociologists or internet scholars or anyone who might have a clue to regulate anything. Regulation is something politicians do, and I wouldn't trust any of 'em to set up a wireless printer. As for deplatforming, for now, that's in the hands of the platforms, and they just want your money.

I'm just talking about one potential brand of annihilation, here. Capitalism will sell us everything we need to destroy ourselves, for as high a price as the market will bear. It doesn't care.

If we want it to stop, we have to care enough to apply the brakes. Ai-yi-yi, but I know we've already been trying, and we're not getting much traction.

Better get yourself one o' them pink cars with the automatic transmission, and buckle in.

#brigitte empire #marketing #capitalism #violence and outrage as a commodity #got a couple vintage car ads for the ladies too #i drank prosecco and sugar and wrote a thing #woo #i didn't say anheuser-busch or whatever because bellinis and i don't wanna copy and paste to spell #i don't like beer but that's not even a good beer if you do like beer right? #if your beer ain't good enough for people with no taste buds who like beer you done fucked up #Youtube #edited in the morning because it needed a marlboro baby

[foundgirlpigeon]

Poor Things is really well made I love it so much will be watching it again but.... Why is it that one of the major plot points that affect bella's understanding of the entire world and her own philosophical world view be sex work.... It's so frustrating.

Thematically I understand, one must go through the lowest of lows to understand the world etc etc. But. You shouldn't have to. No one should.

Why is that never the point of a media. It is instead shown as something revolutionary, worded nicely into her "taking charge of her own sexuality, her own destiny", while at its very base, she was exploited. Bella would not have had to get into prostitution as a means of survival if her money was not stolen by Duncan or if she had other means to earn.

(Bella learning about racism and colonisation was not shown by her getting captured and enslaved.)

I would like to blame the fact that at the end of the day, the story was originally written by a man, directed and adapted by men, who somehow made prostitution a capitalistic (and fetishist) fantasy of women gaining their own independence through this means, but I don't know. I just... Sigh.

#This somewhat turned into a vent #vent #poor things

[starlightrealmofficial]

Mob Psycho 100 III- Episode 3 Review

Intro:

Hello ladies, gentlemen, and all those in between from all across the multiverse! My name is Rouga and today I bring you the third installment of the Mob Psycho 100 III reviews. Last episode expanded our world with the addition of the Youkai Hunter, a man equal parts bizarre, incompetent, and wealthy which poor Reigen did not get to exploit. Let's see what this episode brings to the table. For those unaware I feel I should point out, I write these as I go through with the episode so as of right now, I do not know what is going to happen today. I typically go by section or scene, write down my thoughts and move on. Now, without further ado, let's get into the episode.

Episode Review:

.We start the episode actually focusing on Tsubomi, which is a weird change of pace because, for as much as Mob likes her, we as viewers have little reason to actually give a flying fart about her. altho for the beauty and if I remember correctly, the second-best student in school, she seems rather insecure by the looks of things. I am starting to wonder why, and if it were a deeper series I'd start theorizing. Seeing the small exchange between Mob and her was really sweet, altho it was strange seeing the typically dense Mob actually know she needed tissues. I wonder if he actually made up the teacher called? Such a short time into the episode and yet ever so many questions, with probably ever so few answers. And the strangeness continues with multiple ladies interested in our plain-looking psychic lad. Altho granted not one of them is really interested in him as a person it feels like The return of Minori is a neat thing to see, especially with the indirect lead into the comedy bit of what I like to call "Kageyama Shiego's delusions of popularity", It's hilarious to me how a boy with little imagination still manages to completely misread the situation that isn't the least bit about him, and somehow start hearing things. 100% High Horse Mob, or as I shall forever call him "100% Jojo Artstyle Mob" is an absolutely unexpected 100% that I am having trouble not laughing about. And as I wanted last episode, Dimple-related things are starting to happen with him absorbing the prayers of the followers of the divine broco-tree, shades of World of Darkness here for those familiar with the system .and of course, he wishes to utilize Mob to be the leader of the Psycho Helmet dudes, probably a leader with some Dimple-colored strings attached. Poor boy cannot catch a break. That said he did rather expertly talk smack at Dimple in the most deadpan of all possible ways, which was very entertaining to witness, I particularly like it when characters don't realize the full extent of fact or irony juice they are spilling at someone. Makes for good comedy in my humble opinion As usual, Reigen is up to his scammy ways trying to use Mob, I'd say it's a regression but honestly it's on brand with him, and he did give the guy a pretty sum for some nice clothes so there's that. And besides, Reigen is rather benign as an individual. so I guess it's kind of okay? It feels wrong saying that about a conman, Am I going nuts? Questions for later. A light-hearted return of Teru for a silly shopping trip aside, we get to the meat and broccoli that I'd been waiting on. Dimple showing himself and leading the Psycho Helmet peeps. That's one hell to close off the episode, I swear we're gonna have 50 thousand people do something chaotic and possibly dumb next episode and I cannot wait to find out what. Overall I very much liked this episode, it was nice to watch Mob be a normal kid some more and his interactions are becoming very interesting as he develops, which I hope continues on till the series' conclusion. With that. This will be all for this review. I hope to see you all in the next one when Episode 4 drops. I have been Rouga, and thank you for reading!

[semi-imaginary-place]

dgs2 case 4 twisted karma and his last bow. that chapter title is so ominous!

murder is still murder but wow yeah ryuunosuke (and the player by extension) really might have jeopardized the british justice system. because sithe was very good at her job and she was helping both with individual cases as well was forensic science as a whole quite a lot. but also because of the professor that system would always have a weakpoint that could be increasingly exploited and corrupted like drebber's hush money to murderer pipeline.

i wonder why they changed stronghart's name in the eng localization. he does have such a strong sense of justice. i did get some spoilers but i wonder if he hate ryuunosuke right now? i would if i were him.

mr vigil quit 10 years ago and has been supporting an upperclass lifestyle since then without a job. suspicious as hell.

they killed gregson! D: they actually killed off a developed character! im kinda sad. i kinda hope he's still alive but this matches with the spoilers i got (thing with spoilers is you never know if they're real or not).

why did they make asogi's new jacket skin tight? this hasn't happened to any other character. also if he's the prosecutor i cant decide which outfit naruhodo should wear. hmm should he wear the canon black gakuran which gives a nice white/black contrast between the two representing how they have ended up on opposite ends of the coutroom. or the dlc outfit to parallel asogi's outfit change from a gakuran to a western suits as they have both left their idyllic university days behind. this is the most important decision in the game to make. "go to london. thats where your destiny awaits" i mean spirits and magic actually exist in this universe but i think this is more likely a memory of asogi's which makes me wonder, who said that to him.

the actual murder(s?) reaper is getting desperate. why try and pin down van zieks now of all times. a better time to pin murder on him would be after another reaper victim. gregson's murder is a little out of left field (from the info i have now). i might have been spoiled on the reapers identity its hard to say.

i am very excited.

the music! lol asougi is using the exact same bullshit tactics that naruhodo does in court where he keeps making accusations and speculations that are just plausible enough to always keep the other party on the defensive. Always keep the opposition reacting to what he is saying, control the narrative. how's it feel to have a taste of your own medicine ryuuosuke?

aw poor beppo's homeless now and his shaking got worse.

how the hell is a gossip peddler supporting an upperclass family. is his family rich? is he massively in debt? surprised he couldnt find a higher paying job, unless streetcorner gossip really did pay that well

[writingwithcolor]

Tragedy Exploitation and Characters of Colour

hi! i've browsed your blog for a while now and it's been really helpful to me, so first off, thank you. i was wondering about something tho, i recently saw your response to a person explaining their story idea that revolved around two lovers, where one was cursed to kill the other and the other was always resurrected only for it to repeat, and i believe the characters were POC. in your response you seemed quite upset that such a plot was happening to POC characters specifically and it confused me because it sort of read as if you were mad that a bad thing was happening to a POC character in a story, which i genuinely didn't understand (i really don't want to sound rude, i'm being sincere), because it came off as advocating for only good and happy and nice things to be reserved for POC characters and if an author dared write something bad or traumatic happening to a POC character it's immediately 'poor narrative', and i personally don't agree with that take, because i feel like that reduces a POC character to just being POC instead of a person, which I feel like hurts POC rep in fiction, because being upset someone wrote something bad happening to a POC character makes it all about just that character being POC instead of just a regular person something bad has happened to in the story that just happens to be a person of color at the same time. my god this has gotten long, i got very interested in hearing more about this because i personally didn't quite understand and it sounded wrong to me, your original response. if you do reply to this, thank you, i hope i didn't sound rude, i do genuinely want to learn, because even tho i typed all this out i still feel like i'm wrong about this & missed the point somewhere

Disclaimer: please do not pile onto the ask about a Black woman murdered by her lover, as the asker has realized the issues with the ask. We are presently addressing the attitude of “why can’t bad things happen to PoC?” in this comment, with the name retracted, because it’s an attitude that crops up every once and awhile.

-

You have missed our extensive backlog of posts about double standards re: PoC and white characters, wherein we describe, at length, how we are uncomfortable that PoC characters get extra bad stuff that’s treated as “organic” because our history is full of suffering, when white characters often don’t get that same thing.

like White Authors and Topics to Avoid/Tread Carefully

and Writing About PoC Trials and Tribulations

We ask that people question why they decide to automatically make someone suffering a violent constant-death-loop be a person of colour, especially multiply marginalized (Black, woman, LGBTQ+). Because there are already too many stories of characters of colour (especially multiply marginalized) suffering needlessly and oftentimes worse than the white characters for the sake of a plot.

You completely misread the heart of the reply, which was “why are you forcing Black women to suffer the worst fate imaginable (murder) in one of the most emotionally heartbreaking way imaginable (at the hands of your lover) multiple times in order to “earn her happy ending”? this is tragedy exploitation and is making a mockery of trauma”

PoC already have enough stories about us traumatized by circumstance. And while we can suffer, narratively, part of systemic racism is only telling stories of PoC when we are suffering as the sole marker of the plot. Especially when characters of colour are suffering disproportionately to lighter skinned characters.

You also missed the part where Marika said that even if it were white characters, they would be uncomfortable because constantly pulling out murder as a curse is lazy writing.

All we ask is: why did the asker decide that a woman of colour must suffer to the point of repeated murder before she can be happy? Why does she have to forgive the person who did it to her? Because that is a logic born of passive racism that tells people: women of colour, especially darker skinned/Black women, can “handle anything”. And that is a lie.

~Mod Lesya

Echoing Lesya, I’m puzzled as to how you came to the conclusion that “If an author dared to write something bad or traumatic happening to a POC character, it’s immediately a poor narrative” when I explicitly said I thought this was cheap theatrics and tragedy exploitation even if both characters were white, particularly as the ask had given me no conception of the author’s motivation in using the curse as a dramatic device. In Japanese, we jokingly use the word 中二病 (Chuunibyo) or “8th grade disease” to describe edgelord phases for teens. This is a 中二病 plot device. It’s perfectly fine for niche angst addicts on ao3, but not something I would be able to take seriously in a more substantive work aimed at a larger audience. I think it is also telling that even the original asker has commented that they independent of our answer concluded this was a poor plot choice.

Finally, with respect to your question of the usage of negative tropes like the ones mentioned in this ask (Misogynoir and Bury Your Gays), I am concerned that you do not understand the motive for this blog. Our purpose is to provide instruction to those who wish to use diversity in their writing in an inclusive manner in ways that resonate with marginalized populations. We are not proposing a ban on tropes. They are tools, but like all tools, they have appropriate forms of use. Do you honestly think that many BIPOC individuals would be happy to read a story with this kind of tragedy exploitation? And how would you, as an author, factor in their impressions when writing your own works?

No one can stop a writer from pursuing the narratives they wish to pursue, but the opinions a writer is primarily concerned with says a lot about who a writer believes their work is for. Let us say I were to write a story with a gratuitous depiction of sexual assault purely for the shock value, despite never having experienced sexual assault myself? How might survivors of sexual assault regard both me and my work? Now imagine BIPOC individuals whose main experience with representation in media is seeing characters look like them die from the kinds of violence that are common for them to experience, and it should become clear that an author who adopts these approaches, at a bare minimum, is being exceptionally tactless. A writer who finds no issue with tragedy exploitation involving BIPOC characters is likely not a writer who cares about what the BIPOC members of their audience think, or, even worse, does not even factor BIPOC perspectives into their writing.

- Marika

#can I write about x #tragedy exploitation #misogynoir #creator responsibility #double standards #plot #characters #characters of color #racism

[stressedoutcanary]

Do You Ever Feel Like A Misfit (Everything Inside You Is Dark & Twisted)

Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K (I don't know how tf that happened)

Warnings: Explicit language, Blood and Violence, lots of angst, Hurt/Comfort ✌

A/N: Guess who's back! Just for some context the reader is a magic user and her style is similar to that of Zatanna <3

•°•°•°•°

She’d have reasoned with herself that stealing from one of the most secure and heavily guarded safe-houses of a deranged sociopath was probably not the brightest idea she’s had all day. It never even made it on her to-do-list for the weekend, but here she was, running across rooftops, holding on to the stolen totem like her life depended on it, it probably did. The three assassins sent after her were no Lady Shiva or Talia Al Ghul but they weren’t exactly amateurs either. The deep cuts and two broken ribs she got from their earlier encounter were proof of that.

She glanced back and even though there was no sign of her would-be-killers she knew better than to assume they’d just let her be. They were sticking to the shadows, exploiting her blind spots. The only thing she was sure of was that they were still hot on her trail and would happily plunge a dagger into her back given the opportunity.

She was right. As of this moment she hated being right.

She caught the glint of the two sharp objects slicing through the air, hurtling towards her at full speed. A slight shift of her upper body was all she could manage as one of the daggers got embedded right into her scapula while the other one, fortunately so, whirled past her, slightly grazing her left hip. The impact of the blade on her shoulder made her lose what little balance she had left. Despite her best efforts, when the wounded shoulder made contact with the hard concrete, a loud, ear-piercing cry ripped out from her throat before she could push it back down.

Cursing under her breath she knew, she knew all she had were those few seconds of numbness and disorientation to get a grip and figure out her exit strategy. However, all her hopes started to sink as she saw one of the assassins come closer, appearing more of a blur than a person. Then again that was probably because of the nice, little concussion she got from her fall. The assassin walked over to her, unsheathed their sword and placed it right on her neck, blocking any and every way out.

“You were warned. The Demon’s Head does not tolerate treachery. We are here under his orders to bring back the totem along with the witch’s head; your head”

If she could, she would’ve rolled her eyes at the classic villainous dialogues thrown at her.

“Witch? Who’re you calling a witch Snow White? I’m clearly a sorceress, don’t they teach you the difference between the two in assassin school or something? Hell, I’d even let you call me an enchantress, though that name’s already been taken but you get my poin-” 

The remaining words died in her throat as the sword on her neck shifted slightly. She knew she had extremely poor self preservation skills considering she’s clearly been instigating the very person sent to kill her, but even she wasn’t dumb enough to keep talking when the tiniest movement on either part could result in her having a severed jugular or carotid. 

‘This is a pretty shitty way to die’ 

She thought back to how she used the last of her mystic energy to hide the totem away before her fall and how stupid that decision really was because now she could actually feel the agonizing pain coming from her shoulder. It started to spread throughout her back like wildfire, eyelids grew heavy against her wishes. Suddenly she felt really tired and the idea to close her eyes just felt so goddamn appealing. 

‘No (Y/N) that’s the blood loss talking. Blood loss doesn’t get to make decisions’, she mentally scolded herself, still not breaking her eye contact with the person standing above her.

“Give us what you stole and we shall grant you the mercy of a quick death.”

That made her raise an eyebrow, “Ah, lemme think...the correct response here would be…”, she hummed, making a show of how hard she was thinking about the offer she was granted, “How about a fuck you? How would that do for you?”, she gave them a vicious grin, it was all teeth.  They probably weren’t impressed by her response and it showed.

She knew there was no way out but she had promised herself once that if she were to die, that if she ever goes out, she’d be anything but a whimpering and sobbing mess. She was scared shitless, more so than she’d ever been while fending off the league, she won’t deny that but she would rather die than let them know that.  ‘Well at least I got that ‘rather die’ part down to a T.’ she thought, eyeing the sharpness of the blade which was now raised up in the air

She felt bad for just giving up the way she did. Her whole life she was told to fight her way through the impossible, to attain the strength rivaling that of Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine and Doctor Fate himself. To be better than them, and there she was lying on the ground limp as a sword came down on her throat; all for a silly necklace. She would’ve huffed out a laugh if only her ribs weren’t broken, if only her body wasn’t screaming in pain, if only she had a way out. She didn’t. She was too tired, too drained, too numb to do anything else. Closing her eyes she stopped fighting, she let her growing unconsciousness claim her.

‘This is what you deserve anyway’, her barely there conscience remarked.

‘Fuck you too.’ she replied.

Everything went pitch black. The darkness encompassing her was peaceful, unlike the pain she had felt before. It was nice for a change. It sounded pathetic  but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

•°•°

 When she came to, the first thing she observed was the feeling of something soft against her back, next was a dull rhythmic sound which she realized was her own heartbeat. Though opening her eyes was a tiring task. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. She used all the energy she had into it and her eyelids fluttered open. She stared at the white ceiling and stayed like that for a few seconds; a few minutes? She couldn’t tell, but the pain was back now, not too much but enough to tell her it was there, to tell she was still alive.

She saw something shift in her peripheral vision and her body instinctively went stiff. Her mind which was blank before now ran in all directions.

‘Could be Ra’s Al Ghul… Could be worse’, she tried not to think about the worst case scenario, but she knew she had pissed off a lot of beings, beings far more powerful and far crueler than Ra’s himself. An involuntary shudder passed through her at the thought. That must’ve caught her captor’s attention as she felt the person move closer to her. Begrudgingly, she tore her gaze from the spot on the ceiling which she had been staring at this whole time and tilted her head. The man in black and blue who appeared, was probably the last person she had expected to see.

“Nightwing…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and the hoarseness with which it came out it took her by surprise, but her body visibly relaxed at the sight of the familiar figure, at the sight of someone who would never hurt her.  

She watched him pull out a chair from the desk nearby. He sat next to the bed she was lying on and gave her a soft smile, a smile that spelled one word ‘relieve’. She remembered how when she first met him two years ago, she found that particular smile extremely annoying, she had no reason to, but she did. What she couldn’t remember was when she had grown so fond of it.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

He snorted a laugh which made her pout. She was planning to point out how he was being mean; laughing at her when her response truly defined the way she was feeling, but any words she thought of were cut off by the change in his expression. His smile faltered, lips were now pressed in a thin line, face contorted in a way which showed his genuine concern.

“This is the second time, this week.”

That you almost died, he didn’t say. That I had to save you and bring you back from the clutches of death, he didn’t say.

“I know.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“I know.”

The silence that settled, stretched far too long for comfort, but she wasn’t going to be the one to break it. She wanted to, but there was nothing she could say, that would make it better. Nightwing ran his fingers through the locks of hair, burying his face in his hands.

For the first time since she woke up, she took in his appearance, he looked disheveled,  his suit was torn in different places along visible faint cuts, most likely he got them when he rescued her. She felt a pang of guilt rising in her chest. He risked his life for her, she knew he had done it before, she didn’t get it then and she didn’t get it now. Why would someone do that? Why would he? She was pulled back from her spiraling thoughts when he spoke again, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“Why are you so reckless?”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at him like he had grown another head. She wasn’t ready for this conversation but by the looks of it they were gonna have it anyway.

“What if I hadn’t been there today? Or any of the other days you almost died. What then?”

“My best guess? I would’ve been dead.”

“And that fact doesn’t bother you at all?!”

She flinched at little when his voice rose, but she stood her ground, at least figuratively since she was still in bed.

“I don’t know, should it?” She didn’t try and tone down the venom dripping from her words. Her words cut deeper than the wounds he got from the assassins; she saw it clear as day on his face. She let out a deep sigh but continued. She had to get it out and he had to hear it, that’s the reason she gave herself for the confession that followed.

“I don’t need your help, Dick. I don’t know what gave you the impression that I did but I’ve never needed it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Why was it getting harder to speak?’ “I don’t need you to save me every time. I don’t need you to risk your life for me and I definitely don’t…” She moved to sit up straight, her back resting on the headboard. She shifted her gaze on her open palms resting in her lap; palms covered in blood, in her blood, not very long ago.

“I don’t need you to care...”

The last part was a whisper and Dick was silent, so silent that for a brief moment she wondered if the man she’d come to care about even heard her, admitting something that was so painful for her to say out loud.

Dick moved to sit beside her, his shoulder bumping hers. He didn’t know where all this was coming from but he knew better to leave it unattended.

“(Y/N) I help you because I care about you. I always will, you know that.”

“Why? You have nothing to gain from it”, blinking back the unshed tears in her eyes, she looked at him with a hurt expression as if she couldn’t bring herself to understand.

“Why… as in why do I care?”, Dick tilted his head to look her in the eyes, trying to understand what she meant all the while making sure not to let his own surprise at her words show. She nodded not trusting her voice to not betray her anymore than it already had.

“I don’t care about you because I feel like you need it nor because I would gain something from it”, Dick knew he shouldn’t have to explain it to her. He briefly wondered what she had gone through to make her think that she needed to be useful to be cared for or that she had to need it to be cared for. He felt something pull at his heart at the thought; It was sorrow.

“I care about you because… well I do and there’s nothing you could or couldn’t do to change that. And it is because I care about you that I ask you to be better at taking care of yourself. Now I know for a fact that whatever you stole from The League’s safehouse definitely did not belong there, but I also know that whatever it was, it wasn’t worth your life (Y/N) It never will be.”

Dick grasped one of her hands, interlacing his gloved fingers with hers; she hadn’t even realized she was shaking until he did so. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take a deep breath despite her protesting ribs. Opening the palm of her free hand she muttered an incantation with practiced ease

“Eveirter tahw saw neddih “, her hand glowed, the golden aura taking the shape of a object. When the light subsided, Dick saw the object in her palm as she rubbed her thumb across it, quietly leaning her head on his shoulder.

“It was this totem. It belongs to Madame Xanadu. Don’t know what Ra’s wanted it for though”, she shrugged as best as she could with an injured shoulder then continued, voice firmer than it had been the whole evening,“ She asked me to retrieve it in exchange for information on a girl I was looking for. The girl was somehow sucked into some other dimension, a mystic one and her mother was so desperate when she approached me that I just couldn’t say no. So when I say the Totem was important, then I want you to know that it really is.”

Dick shook his head at that. “Still not worth your life.”

“Dick…”, she sighed. It was all she could do at the moment because she was really getting tired from all the arguing.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“You mean the time I met the infamous vigilante Nightwing in a dumpster of all places.”

“In my defense I was badly injured”, she hummed in agreement.

“You smelled bad”

“You try smelling like flowers after falling from a building and into an open dumpster.”

His playful grumbling pulled a short laugh out of her. She was more than a little confused at the sudden trip into the past but happily accepted it as a change of topic. She should’ve know better than to think he’d have let the matter go.

“Anyway my point is when you saw me that day, you first instinct was to help me. You pulled me out and used your magic to heal my wounds. You didn’t have to. You could’ve dropped me at a hospital. You could’ve even walked away and pretended that you never saw me, but you didn’t. Why is that?”

“Because I thought you were handsome?”, she said trying to lighten this too-heavy-for-comfort conversation he was trying to have.

“Nice try. I know you. You saved me because you cared. You helped me and the Titans save the city more than once because you cared. It is who you are. I’ve seen you care about and worry over complete strangers without conditions. So why do you think that there has to be some kind of a barter system when it comes to you? Why think that I would want to gain something if I cared about you?”

“Because everyone else did.”

The words shot out from her mouth quicker than she realized. She had voiced her greatest insecurity to the one person who never had anything to add to it and Dick’s heart clenched at the implications of her words, ‘She has never been loved unconditionally before’ his brain provided.

The tears she blinked back earlier came back with full force. She felt two strong arms that wrapped around her, all the while being mindful of her injuries. Dick pulled her into a hug and that was it. She couldn’t control the sobs that tore through her throat, the pain in her body flared due her erratic movements. She knew once the tears started flowing they wouldn’t stop at least not for a while, but now that her façade had been broken she couldn’t bring herself to give it another thought.

He waited for her to let it out, let out all the pent up emotions she had. Now that he thought about it he had never seen her cry. He never questioned it, maybe he should’ve.

“I don’t know who’s responsible for hurting you (Y/N), God, how much I wish I did”, his arms slightly tighten around her at that. “I am so sorry that you have felt like you have to have your walls up all the time, even around me and I should’ve seen that, I should’ve realized that before but I didn’t and I am so sorry for that. I can’t undo the damage you’ve endured and I will not pretend that I can. What I can do is promise you that I’d never let you down like that, never.”

The words he spoke were clear. He didn’t try to tell her to put her walls down, to trust him when she had no reason to. He also didn’t need to justify himself or make such over the top promises but it felt nice to hear it. She had already stopped crying the moment he started speaking again but she still had her forehead pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, it was calming in a way she couldn’t describe. She pulled her head back to look at him, and the honesty in his voice earlier matched the one in his eyes.

“Okay”

Hearing her response, he gave her his signature grin. It sent unexpected warmth through her, he always had that effect on her. She was sure she was just blushing at this point and was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the room. 

She ended up composing herself rather quickly, jabbing a finger at his armored chest with her usual smirk plastered on her face.

“Now that you’ve made that promise, know this, Dick Grayson, if you let me down I will drop a mountain on you.”

“You mean that figuratively?”

“No I mean that geologically”, he waited for her to say she was kidding. She didn’t.

“Alright, alright”, He held his hands out in mock surrender. After considering the look in her eyes, Dick refrained from questioning the feasibility of that action nor did he want to question her magical abilities or intent. Last he remembered, Wally did that and that conversation ended with him being teleported to Sahara and Dick would very much like to avoid the same fate as his best friend.

Deciding that was more than enough exhaustion for one night, he got up from the bed and kissed her goodnight, informing her that he’d be sleeping on the couch so that he wouldn’t accidently hit her injuries in his sleep. She agreed and watched him slip out of the room before falling into the blissful sleep she had been putting off since forever.

•°•°

She knew Dick Grayson was full of surprises but the next morning when he put forward the offer of become a full time Titan, in front of her, she wondered if she fell from the bed in her sleep and ended up  getting another concussion because he was so not making any sense.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to come live with you and your superhero friends, in the Titans freaking Tower?!”

“I was hoping for a little less yelling after an emotional evening but yes that is exactly what I’m asking.”

“Dick that’s just ridiculous!”

“Look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He looked like a kicked puppy which made her feel kinda guilty for all the yelling.

“It’s not that…It’s just there is still a lot about me I haven’t told them. There is still a lot I haven’t told you. I don’t see a reason why you all would want to trust a possible threat, let alone live with it”, she gestured to herself.

Dick felt like there was a deeper meaning behind her words, as if she was voicing her own fear rather than theirs but he trusted her enough to tell him about it when she was ready, on her own terms. He could wait till then but for now he crossed the short distance between them, going around the breakfast table till he stood in front of her. He grasped both of her hands in his and ran his thumb soothingly across her knuckles. He bent down to place a soft kiss on her forehead, and then moved to meet her gaze.

“(Y/N), I know you and I trust you and…It sounds silly considering I was raised by the worlds greatest detective but I believe that you don’t have to know every little detail about someone as long as you already know what’s in their heart.” Bruce probably would’ve disagreed but he wasn’t Bruce.

“And you know what’s in mine?”

“And I know what’s in yours.” His statement was firm and left no room for argument, not when it came to this.

“If you’re sure about this, then I guess...”

“Is that a yes I’m hearing?”, There was that smile again, seriously what was up with him and his smile that made her giddy inside.

In between thoughts she realized he was still waiting for a response so she nodded. Any underlying doubts she had about her answer vanished when she took in how happy it made him. As cheesy as it sounded seeing him happy made her happy. A part of her said it wouldn’t last long, but seeing her boyfriend hop onto the couch full of joy as he called his friends about the latest development in their lives, she wanted to believe otherwise.    

°•°•°•°•

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[keijislove]

Challenging Fate: Tom Riddle X Reader

A/N: warnings: LONG ASS

“S’cuse me Professor!” a timid looking first year poked his head in through the door of your Potions class, “May I borrow a Y/N L/N?”

“Well, yes, of course.” Slughorn said impatiently, “Miss L/N, you may go.”

You rose to your feet and left after the first year in confusion: what did he want you for?

As if he’d read your thoughts, the tiny boy squeaked, “The head boy’s been asking for you... he said he’d curse me if I didn’t call you.”

You scoffed in utter disgust: how very like him. You crouched down to the boy’s level and spoke gently, “I’m sorry... but I don’t exactly think it’s a good idea for me to see him right now. If he dares to curse you, I’ll jinx his tongue off.”

Seeming frightened, yet not wanting to argue with a full-grown sixth year like you, the boy scurried off down the corridor.

Watching him leave, you muttered to yourself, “Nice try, Riddle.”

------------

“Y/N!” your friend Margot chanted, “C’mere!”

“What?” you asked, walking over.

“Your rounds have changed,” she explained, “We’re not together any longer. I’ve got to be with that swotty Hufflepuff prefect and you’re set with the other Slytherin prefect. Head boy.”

“What?!” you groaned loudly, “What for?! I know he’s perfectly capable of doing his rounds himself! He just wants to - I dunno what he wants from me!”

“I reckon he fancies you, mate,” Margot seriously spoke, “And I don’t see what you’re complaining ‘bout, he’s perfect.”

“A perfect arse, yes,” you said dismissively, “And he doesn’t fancy me.”

“Maybe he wants to be friends with you?” she asked.

“He’s lost his chance,” you fiercely said, “And these rounds are going to be murderous.”

-----------

As predicted, your prefect duties made you want to commit murder. To kill this stupid, arrogant, full-of-himself Slytherin standing beside you with an irritating air of superiority and smugness.

“Did you honestly think that you could evade me forever?” he asked you in what you thought was more of a sneer than anything.

“You’re exploiting your privileges as a head boy,” you pointed out in anger, “You’re supposed to take care of the school, not annoy some poor girl to death with your endless ‘peace offerings’!”

“Why have you been ignoring me for the past five years?” demanded Tom in a voice that shook the corridor.

“Because you’re an arse,” you said indifferently.

“You-” Tom drew his wand and made a sort of strangling gesture.

Your eyebrows rose up questioningly as you stood your ground, unflinching and not intimidated by his superior persona.

“Touché, Riddle,” you said, “Threatening people to get what you want. Real mature.”

Tom made a sort of hoarse grunt, dropping his arms limply to his sides before speaking, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done.”

“That is exactly how I felt five years ago,” you deadpanned, checking your watch, “And our time’s over. Goodbye, Tom Riddle.”

----------

“But I don’t get what he is supposed to have done.” Margot muttered as you climbed into your four-poster bed.

“That is something strictly private,” you curtly said, wrenching the hangings closed and burying yourself into your blanket.

Lying there, you thought back to the torturous year you had endured after what seemed like an unbreakable friendship suddenly went horribly wrong.

Your next few rounds with Tom continued smoothly, him bugging you and you refusing to talk to him.

“What’re you gonna do after school?” Tom had abruptly asked one day when you were patrolling the corridor.

“Certainly not what you are going to do,” you muttered.

Tom looked confused, “Huh?”

“Oh, you know,” you dismissively said, “Lord Voldemort.”

“How do you know about that?” he demanded furiously.

“I may be a year younger than you, but we’re still in the same house,” you coolly spoke, “I didn’t see you fancying the former when you were in your second year.”

“I told you, that was not my fault!” Tom angrily snapped at you. He hated it that you were pointing out his faults. Because you were right.

“Was it mine, then?” you asked, “My fault?!”

“I never said-”

“Oh really?” you spat, “You didn’t say? Because if I recall correctly, Tom, you did say. You said a lot of things.”

“Do not shout at me,” Tom’s face morphed into a snarl so revolting that even you had to take a small step back.

Pleased that he had frightened you, he spoke, “Come do your rounds like you’re asked to. Time’s over for now, you can leave. And take this.”

He thrust a lopsided package at you. You furiously opened and closed your mouth several times, Tom’s sneer widening with each one, before you gave up and glared straight into his face before whipping around and out of sight.

Tearing open the package once you had reached your dorm, you found the shard of a mirror, as if it had been cracked into two. You had a sneaking suspicion what it was and that theory was confirmed once you saw a single, dark eye whip in and out of sight. Roaring with fury, you threw it into your trunk, ignoring Margot’s snap of, “Really now!”

What had happened between you and Tom, nobody knew. In fact, you didn’t think there was a soul at Hogwarts that knew what had happened. Thinking back to the days when you were both young, tears often stung the corners of your eyes.

You and Tom were best friends. Perhaps even closer – like a half without which the other always remained incomplete. What happened? Where had it gone so horribly wrong? Easy. Magic.

----------

Your school day were finally over – you were a full-grown witch who had come of age. As you had told many people earlier, it was your ambition to become a Healer. Yet you sat here in a small yet comfortable house with your house elf, Hokey.

“You is looking nervous today miss,” Hokey remarked. You were kind to house elves in general, leading to this bond between you and Hokey.

“Anxious, Hokey,” you muttered, “I don’t feel so good.”

“Is you ill, missus?” Hokey worriedly asked, “Hokey can make tea-”

“No, no,” you tried mustering a smile, “I just... my cousin Hepzibah is meeting someone today, and I don’t have a very good feeling about it.”

“She is upsetting you,” Hokey angrily said, “That miss Smith is upsetting my mistress.”

“Nobody’s upsetting me,” you hurriedly said, “The man she has asked for... I... I know him.”

“The young Master Riddle?” Hokey asked, interested, “Hokey likes master Riddle. He always knows what to say to Hokey.”

“Yes, he does that,” you muttered in distaste.

Finally deciding that you couldn’t take it anymore, you sat up, “Hokey, I have a job for you. You will hide in Ms Smith’s Manor and tell me exactly what takes place between her and Tom Riddle.”

And with a sort of gratifying salute, Hokey disapparated with a loud crack.

---------

After about two hours of nonstop pacing and wringing your hands together, your elf apparated into your living room.

“Well?” you asked, “Did you hear anything?”

“Yes, miss, Hokey is hearing lots, miss!” she squeaked, eyes shining with excitement, “The young master Riddle has asked Ms. Smith to show him her two prized possessions!”

“Er, what were these possessions?” you asked, steadily growing more anxious, terrified your suspicions might be correct.

“A locket, miss,” Hokey earnestly said, “And a cup. She – she says the locket is his, miss, Salazar Slytherin’s! And the cup! Very pretty cup, miss, she says it belongs to-”

“Helga Hufflepuff?” you asked in a horrified voice.

Hokey nodded.

“Hokey, was he.... was he wearing some sort of bracelet or- or a ring or...?” you breathlessly asked.

“A ring, miss,” she answered, “Black stone, miss, looked expensive to Hokey.”

Trembling slightly, you nodded, “Thank you Hokey, you may leave.”

TWO DAYS LATER

THE DAILY PROPHET

RESIDENT OF DIAGON ALLEY – HEPZIBAH SMITH, 54, FOUND DEAD INSIDE HOUSE

“Oh my god,” you whispered, laying the newspaper feverishly in front of you. You buried your head in your hands, thinking back to the time you’d been extremely confused to have found a talking diary in your friend’s trunk. It all added up now, what he was doing, where he was, what he was.

Grabbing the shard of a mirror you had sworn to never use, you desperately looked into it. You were uncertain as to what you should do, so you resorted to lamely calling, “Um, Tom?”

No response.

You could’ve sworn you’d seen a small dark eye flash into sight, but you couldn’t be sure, for it was gone the moment it came.

“I don’t have time for this!” you whispered angrily to the wretched mirror, “I know you’re there! I know you’re listening! And I... I know what you’ve done.”

A flash of brown – gone.­

“Tom,” you desperately said, “Tom, please listen to me. If maybe we could just... talk this out?”

For the first time in what felt like hours, a pair of cold, dark eyes flashed into the mirror.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The voice was monotonous, constricted and cold as the eyes on the handsome face it originated from.

“I think you do,” you quietly said, “You did it, didn’t you? You killed Hepzibah Smith.”

“How did you-”

“Because I know you, Tom, I know you. I know what you’re really like!” you angrily cried, “You think you’re so secretive, which is true, I doubt your ‘Death Eater’ friends can tell if you’ve done something. But I know you. I know how you go about things; I know what you’re up to, I know what you’ve done and what you’ve become. And I know what this will lead to.”

“You don’t know anything about me!” his voice snarled with fury, “You, sitting there, you-”

“Tom, please just – just come over to my place for, even a few minutes if that suits you,” you desperately said, “Please.”

“Whatever you’ve got to say won’t change me-”

“I’m not saying it will,” you quietly said, “But I want to do what a friend does-”

“Now she wants to be friends,” Tom furiously bellowed, “Six bloody years of trying to convince her – but no! Let me tell you this, L/N, Lord Voldemort does not have friends. Lord Voldemort is a frankly terrible friend-”

“But Tom Riddle is not,” you spoke.

This statement seemed to have some impressive effect on him, for he said nothing for a solid five minutes. Then, voice quavering in the slightest, he said, “Don’t freak out if I Apparate.”

--------

Sure enough, a few seconds later, there was a crack and a man wearing the Borgin and Burke’s employee T shirt appeared in your living room.

“Make this quick.” Tom said seriously.

“You have something to do?”

“No, but I’d rather not stay too long with you,” he snapped.

Ignoring this unnecessary jibe, you guided him to the couch. After a few minutes of a deafening silence, you spoke, trying to keep your voice even, “I know you’ve been making Horcruxes.”

If there was anything he’d expected you to say, it was certainly not this. His eyebrows rose to a point where they disappeared into his neat, dark hair and he asked, “How in the name of Merlin’s saggy left trouser legs-”

“Secrets if the Darkest Art,” you explained, “You left it open on the common-room table one night.”

Tom swore loudly.

“And, I found your ‘amusing’ talking diary.” you snapped, “D’you have any idea how long it took for me to find out what you were up to?”

“You did though, that’s amazing in itself,” Tom breathlessly said. Suddenly, his face shifted into the grin you knew so well, “I knew you were smart.”

“And I though you were too!” you spoke, “Apparently not, if you think this is what you’re going to do with your life!”

Tom’s grin faded instantly.

“I don’t-”

“- want to listen to reason,” you firmly stated, “Come with me.”

Several protests later, you had managed to wrench the boy out of his seat and into your bedroom.

A shallow stone basin lay there, with odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols. A silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, neither liquid nor gas.

“A Pensieve?” Tom asked inquiringly.

You placed a finger on your lips and dragged him over before extracting a long, silvery, thread-like substance. It swirled in the basin menacingly as Tom saw a younger version of himself floating in it.

Giving you a questioning look to which you nodded, he ducked inside the Pensieve.

A small boy was sitting on a bed in a greying room with a book in his hand. This mundane occurrence was maddening and he found himself constantly glancing at the door, as if waiting for someone.

Sure enough, the door opened and a small girl of around ten with H/C hair and E/C eyes walked inside.

“Hi,” the boy grinned, “What do we do, then?”

“I wanna eat something,” the girl pouted, “They gave us horrible food for lunch today.”

“Rightfully said,” the young boy muttered, “Let’s sneak out, the old cat’s got sandwiches stashed up inside her personal pantry.”

The girl gasped, “Tom! We’ll get caught!”

“You doubt me too much, Y/N,” the boy faked hurt.

-         

A woman was shouting at two meek children at the top of her voice.

“Sneaking out! What were you thinking! No supper for both of you-”

“But Mrs Cole,” the young boy called Tom interjected, “Why does she not get any supper? I led her here myself. It was me.”

Mrs Cole and young Y/N gasped at the same time.

“You – you nasty boy!” Mrs Cole yelled, “You trick all my poor children into your little schemes! I’m telling you, you’re not right in the head!”

-         

A slightly older and more-haughty looking version of Tom Riddle was striding up the orphanage’s hallway, disgruntled.

Upon entering his room, an eleven-year-old Y/N flung herself upon him in a hug, saying, “Oh Tom! “I missed you so much since you left!”

“Get of me!” Tom shouted, throwing her off with all his might, “Don’t talk to me, you filthy muggle!”

“Filthy mug- what are you saying?” the girl asked, “What-”

“I don’t know you,” he coldly stated, “And get out of my room.”

-         

A much more reserved eleven-year-old Y/N was moodily stabbing her potatoes at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

Beside her, a dark-haired boy occasionally kept poking her side to get her attention.

Refusing to listen, she resumed a deadpan stare at the plate in front of her, disgusted at the boy next to her.

How could he think all was forgiven when he had said such horrible things to her?

Landing straight onto the bedroom floor, you pointedly looked away, refusing to meet the eyes of the man next to you.

You could practically hear the cogs turning over in his head as his eyes bore into your stiff figure.

“I-” he thickly began.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you waved off, “But that was just part of it. I showed you a bit of your past... now let me show you a bit of your future.”

Tom looked mildly confused for a few minutes, but his expression cleared as you pointed to a glass ball on the table.

“Ah,” he spoke, “You were always good at Divination.”

“Thank merlin I was,” you muttered, “Look in here.”

Muttering an incoherent incantation under your breath, you watched, satisfied, as a face swam into focus inside the glass ball.

Well – if someone was kind enough to call it a face, that was.

It’s skin was paper-white and tautened, with two slits for nostrils, a thin mouth and a pair of cold, red eyes with vertical slits for pupils. The cruel-looking mouth opened and whispered an unfamiliar name – “Harrrrrrrry Potterrrrrrrrrrr.”

There was a sharp gasp next to you as the ball nearly went flying. Not caring, Tom looked at you in a mixture of disgust, revulsion and horror, “What – what was that thing?!”

“That was you,” you quietly said, “It’s where you’re going.”

“That was me?!” he asked in a horrified whisper, “That – that – monster?”

“Yes,” you moaned into your palms, “It was.”

“What did it – what did I say?” he asked, “A name... I don’t recognise it...”

“Harry Potter,” you spoke.

“Who?”

“He is born about forty years later or so,” you explained, “I looked into his future as well.”

“And?” his patience seemed to be wearing off.

“And you attacked him. Every chance you got, because he deprived you of your power when you tried to kill him. You know why? Because of love. Love, Tom, this baby showed you sense when you were too blind to see it. And you know what happens in the end?” you whispered in anguish.

“What?”

“He kills you, Tom, he kills you,” you miserably said, “You ruined your own life and this poor boy’s as well – I – Oh, just look!”

Repeating the incantation, you gestured Tom to look into the ball once again. The adorable smiling face of an eleven-year-old swam into focus – one which quickly morphed into horror and uttered out a bloodcurdling scream. An innocent boy.

“Please tell me this isn’t true,” Tom whispered, “No, it can’t be, it-”

“It is Tom, it is you!” you said desperately, “This is why – I’ve been telling you all along that-”

“I think.” Tom said loudly, voice shaking, “I told you that nothing you would say would change my mind?”

And you watched in absolute horror as your once childhood best friend, now unrecognisably inhumane, Disapparated out of your house.

------------

Working as a Healer in St Mungo’s was fairly fun, just as you’d expected, and you were perfectly content tending to your patients all day, buzzing from ward to ward.

"Healer L/N." a crisp, abrupt voice startled you out of the little daydream. "New patient. It's extremely critical." 

 "Can't it-" you asked, gesturing to the occupied beds in your ward. 

 "Wait?" the head Healer asked, "Afraid not, Y/N. This one insists to be attended to by you." 

 "Well, okay." you muttered, nonplussed. 

 Following her into the magical maladies ward, you gasped at the sight of the frail body in the bed. The head Healer swooped out, slamming the door as you took in what you were seeing. 

 Tom Riddle was lying down, thin as a twig, pale as a sheet and trembling, but his features still forced into what was evidently a pained smile. 

 "I-you-what on Earth?" you sputtered. 

 "The cu-" he winced in pain, trying to sit up as you rushed to help, "The cup is the only one left." 

 Realisation washing over you like an icy wave, you nearly burst into tears. 

 "Oh -  god, not so much as a warning, Tom..." you muttered, "I could've helped and-" 

 "And nearly died in the process?" he scoffed, "Haven't I put you through enough grief?" 

 He stated right into your eyes with a blazing passion. You didn't know what happened, somehow your lips were now glued together and moving in sync, not a care in the world. 

 FIVE YEARS LATER 

 "Daddyyyyyy!" your bubbly daughter, Merope, was speeding around the room on a toy broomstick. "Daddy look, I did it!" 

 "Amazing, sweetheart." Tom smiled at the child, "You'll grow up to be a proper woman like your mother, one day." 

 "Daddy, how did Mummy and you fall in love?" Merope abruptly asked out of nowhere. 

 "Ahh..."  Tom muttered in embarrassment as you stuffed your knuckles into your mouth to suppress your giggles, "Daddy made a lot of bad choices, darling. Mummy helped him see that." 

 "Ooh, so you were like the mean Prince?" Merope asked excitedly. 

 "Yes, exactly. And your mum was the princess." Tom smiled. 

 "Yayy." Merope squealed, "I'm gonna get married one day, watch!" she ran upstairs, humming loudly. 

 "Princess Y/N?" you asked, cringing. 

 "Oh cmon what else was I supposed to say?" Tom demanded. 

 "That's true." you agreed, "But try not to call me that. Like, ever." 

 "Alright, beautiful." Tom pressed a swift kiss to your temple. 

 "Princess." he added before running for it as you scrambled furiously after him. 

A/N: WHOOO I HOPE YOU LIKED THATTT. Also, I’ve noticed that the most popular oneshots are my Tom Riddle ones...

#Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x yn #oneshot #angst #fluff

[tripleaxeldiaz]

like it’s a little secret, like it’s all he has to give

for @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels <3

read on ao3

He didn’t mean for this to happen.

Well, no. He wanted it to happen, had been planning to make it happen with a lot more wooing and sweeping off of feet to get them to a perfect moment where he could tell Buck exactly how much he loves him and needs him in his life.

So he did want it to happen, of course. He just didn’t expect it to happen like it did — after a night out with the team, in the dim light of his living room, during a tipsy game of Truth or Dare like they were in high school again. Buck had said, “Dare”, and the three beers and two shots swimming in Eddie’s brain said, “I dare you to kiss me.”

And he did.

And one kiss turned into two, turned into making out on Eddie’s couch, turned into stumbling blindly toward the bedroom, turned into fingertips burning trails up backs, whispered confessions into necks, and muffled moans of yes and more and please and Eddie.

So it happened. It’s still happening.

That isn’t the problem. 

The problem is that it happened six months ago and they still haven’t told anyone.

It’s not that they don’t trust their friends or that they aren’t serious about each other. In fact, they’re probably too serious about each other, about making this the thing that sticks. The morning after their first night together, they talked for hours about their past failed relationships and insecurities, laying every, ugly part out for each other to see.

“I just want to be enough,” Eddie said, throat as raw as his insides felt. 

Buck’s hand slid up his back to scratch through his hair. “You’re more than enough for me. And I’d like to stick around and prove that to you, as long as you’ll let me.”

“Forever, ideally.”

“Forever it is.”

“I’m gonna fuck this up.”

Buck shrugged. “So will I. Maybe we give ourselves some time — fuck things up quietly before we let other people know?”

Eddie kissed Buck again, softly, soundly, relief surging through him because Buck gets it and wants to make this work and, this way, he feels like they may actually have a chance.

So that was that. Nothing really changed — Buck was still at the Diaz house more often than not, but now sleepovers meant Buck was in bed with Eddie instead of on the couch (except for the half hour before Chris woke up when Buck snuck out to the living room). They were still a dynamic duo on calls, they just also had each other after calls now too, especially bad ones. They were able to get to know each other as boyfriends instead of just best friends, figure out what they wanted and needed from a relationship, and smooth out the bumps they hit on their own, without any outside influence.

Now, they’re in a good spot. The best spot. And six months is a long time to keep quiet about something that makes Eddie so happy he could explode. But—

“They’re gonna be mad,” he says, head pillowed in Buck’s lap, absently picking at the label of his empty beer bottle. Buck hums, fingers combing through Eddie’s hair, the TV softly playing some reality show about a yacht crew.

“You don’t think they’ll be happy for us too?”

“They probably have a betting pool going on us. Then they’ll be mad and gloating.”

Buck’s hand stills on his head. “Eddie, if you don’t want to—”

Eddie scrambles up to sitting, taking both of Buck’s hands in his because he’s stopping that train of thought right now. “I do want to. I really do. I’m just—”

“Nervous?”

Eddie nods, absently placing a kiss inside Buck’s wrist as he gathers his thoughts. “I trust you. More than anything. And I trust us. I just don’t trust anything else, not yet. We’ve been in our own little world for a while, I just need to get used to that not being the case anymore.” 

Buck’s quiet for a minute before he leans forward, kissing Eddie’s forehead. “I don’t really trust anything else either. I’m happy to wait and follow your lead. As long as you know you’re stuck with me.”

Eddie kisses him quickly before laying back down, Buck’s hand automatically threading into his hair again. “You’re stuck with me, too. Even when cute, injured bikers try to steal me away—”

He feels a sharp tug on his hair. “I knew you did that on purpose!”

Buck’s jealous streak is a mile wide, Eddie’s known that since the day they met. So what if he’s exploited it a little while they’ve been sneaking around? How could he have known for sure that a little extra flirting on a call would get him blown within an inch of his life in a storage closet as soon as they got back to the station? He’d surely expected it, but…

Whatever. Sue him. His boyfriend’s hot when he’s territorial, and he’s only a man.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie should have known the universe would start fucking with them almost immediately.

The team has never been shy about trying to set both of them up — there’s always a friend of a friend or a second cousin or a neighbor that would be perfect for, as Hen so lovingly puts it, “our hot and lonely coworkers”. It’s only gotten worse in the past month or so, when a team trivia night turned into a team-and-significant-others trivia night, “forcing” Buck and Eddie to pair up to even things out. Ever since, he’s been cornered almost every day by Hen and/or Chim, each with a handful of people that would love to take Eddie out to dinner, and he knows they do the same to Buck. He’s pretty sure they have a shared spreadsheet about it.

“Come on Eddie, Nick is great! He’s tall, he owns a gym, his dog is cute—”

“Chim,” Eddie cuts him off, pulling his head out of the fridge to face Chimney and Hen seated at the island. He could end it now, just tell them I don’t want to go out with your new personal trainer because I already have a boyfriend, but it’s the middle of shift and everyone is still lingering from lunch and...it’s too much right now. Over Chim’s shoulder, he can see Buck looking at him from the couch, probably thinking the same thing (because they do that a little too often). Buck just raises his eyebrows and shrugs, saying I’m following your lead. Eddie falls a little bit more in love with him.

He focuses back on Hen and Chim. “I appreciate you guys worrying about me in your own weird way, but I’m fine. Plus, I have a thing and Chris’ school Thursday night anyway.” 

He does not have a thing at Chris’ school, and he feels bad using his kid like this, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

Hen holds up her hands as Chim deflates just a little. “Fine fine,” she says. “We know you’re busy.” She looks at Chim, and they have a quick conversation with their eyebrows before he gets up and slowly walks toward Buck.

“So, Buck, my dear pseudo brother-in-law. How’s your Thursday—”

Buck doesn’t even look up from his book. “No. Maddie and I are having a wine night, and we’re gonna talk shit about you the entire time.”

Chim squawks at that, and Eddie does a bad job of turning his laugh into a cough. It does get them to back off for the rest of the week, though Eddie resigns himself to this vicious cycle of theirs until he can finally shake the feeling that everything he and Buck have been building will dissolve through his fingertips as soon as they let anyone else in. 

It’s vicious but predictable. Easy to follow, easy to get ahead of. It gives Eddie a little room to breathe while he sorts his head out.

Naturally, that’s when Abuela decides to get involved.

Eddie’s never been able to refuse her anything — that’s how he ended up at her house on his day off in the first place, fixing a broken dryer and tightening cabinets and anything else she happens to remember she needs while he’s here. He really doesn’t mind, and he’s happy to spend any time with her that he can, but she’s been...prying. All day. As casually as she can, but he can tell she’s fishing for something. 

“Edmundo,” she says as they sit down for lunch. “You’re telling me you can’t even remember the last time you went on a date?”

Of course he can — he and Buck haven’t been able to go on many “normal” dates since they got together, but they did manage to coordinate a weekend in Ojai a few weeks back where all they did was eat, lounge by the pool, and have sex in their much-too-fancy-for-them hotel room. 

That counts as a couple of dates, right?

He shrugs instead. “I’ve been busy. Between work and Chris, I’ve just got a lot on my plate. I don’t really have time for dating.” And I don’t think my boyfriend would be too happy about it, he thinks.

“Of course,” she says. She keeps eating like that’s the end of that, but he knows there’s something else. When she finishes, she pushes her plate aside and looks at him dead on, with that There’s no way you’re getting out of this look in her eyes. “You know, if you did want to get out there again, my friend Diana has a granddaughter around your age that just moved to LA and wants to meet some people.”

There it is.

“Abuela, I really don’t think—” 

“It doesn’t have to be a date, it can just be dinner! The two of you getting to know each other. She’s sweet, she’s beautiful, and she’s a teacher, so she’s great with kids. At the very least, she could be a good friend.” She reaches across the table and grabs his hand in both of hers. “You work too hard, Edmundo. You deserve to do something nice for yourself, and that can be as easy as going out to a nice restaurant with a pretty girl for one night.”

He should tell her. He should tell her everything, even though Buck’s not here, even though he still has a stupid voice in his head telling him that as soon as their bubble pops, the likelihood of everything going belly up will skyrocket. He doesn’t want to lead this poor girl on, but Abuela is also looking at him all sad and hopeful, because she does want him to be happy, and—

“Fine. One dinner.”

Abuela cheers, actually cheers, and hugs him tightly before getting her phone. She calls Diana to set everything up themselves, rather than giving Eddie the girl’s — Chelsea’s — number. By the time he leaves, they’re set for 8pm next Friday at an Italian place downtown, and they each have a description of what the other will be wearing. “Like a real blind date,” Abuela says, and Eddie tries not to actually kick himself for falling into this trap.

He needs to get out of this. Abuela wouldn’t give him her number (“so your first meeting will be as magical as possible”), so he’ll just have to tell her right from the start on Friday. He feels bad, but hopefully she’s as nice as he’s been told and she takes it okay. And should he tell Buck? Probably, but is it even an issue if he’s not actually going through with the date? Buck’s working an overnight on Friday, so he won’t even be around when he’s supposed to be out. He could smooth it all over himself and then really sit down and get his shit together to figure out how they’re going to tell everyone, so no more fake dates happen ever again. 

He’s got this. It’s not his best idea ever, but it’ll have to do. Everything will be totally fine.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Eds? You home?”

Shit.

Eddie scrambles to shut his bedroom door, tripping over himself in the process and landing flat on his back. That’s how Buck finds him, and his stomach drops as he watches Buck’s face switch between worry and confusion as he takes in Eddie’s button down and slacks.

“Uh, hey,” he says. Buck offers a hand to help him up. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I’m on my way, just needed to grab my phone charger,” Buck says as he pulls Eddie up, checking him out again like he’s confirming that his brain isn’t playing tricks on him. “You’re awfully dressed up for your night off.”

Eddie sighs heavily through his nose. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid, and if he had left 10 minutes earlier like he meant to it would have been fine. But now Buck’s here, and he refuses to lie to him. He’s already been lying by omission enough this week.

“Abuela kinda set me up for dinner with her friend’s granddaughter,” he says quickly, panicking when Buck’s eyes go wide and his cheeks go pale. “But,” he moves closer, placing both hands firmly on Buck’s shoulders, taking it as a good sign that he doesn’t pull away, “I’m just going long enough to tell her that I’m very taken and this whole thing was a mistake. I promise, nothing was ever going to happen.” Buck does pull away then, and Eddie’s hands fall heavily back to his sides. “Buck, please—”

“I know,” he says quietly. “I know you wouldn’t do that to me. But Eds, I told you I’d follow your lead when it came to telling people about us, and if that meant fake dating other people that’s cool, I just wish you talked to me about it first. We’ve got to communicate and stuff, we’re on the same team here.”

“You’re right,” Eddie says. He slowly reaches for Buck’s hands, relieved again when he lets him. “I should have told you. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, and I didn’t want you to worry or think things were bad with us, because they’re not. But still. I’m sorry.” Buck doesn’t move, just stares at the floor. Eddie squeezes his hands. “Are we good?”

Buck finally looks up, and Eddie can’t get a read on his emotions like he usually can. But he squeezes his hands back and gives him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’re good. But I should get going.” He slips out of Eddie’s hands and out the front door without another word. 

There was no yelling or accusations or anything bad, really, but Eddie still feels gutted, like every fear he had about messing up is starting to manifest like he knew they would. He should go after Buck, tell him how much he loves him, how much he trusts him, but he’s 20 minutes late now, and when he pictures Chelsea standing all by herself in a crowded restaurant looking for him, he feels a whole different wave of guilt crash inside him.

He’s going to fix this, all of this. He has to. And he’s got a 30 minute drive to think of a new plan.

~~~~~~~~~~

The drive ends up being closer to an hour, and all Eddie does is convince himself that the next time Buck sees him, he’s going to realize that Eddie’s not good enough for him and break up with him on the spot.

The restaurant is loud and crowded, lit mainly by the low candles placed on each table. Eddie’s eyes scan the room until he spots her at the bar — emerald dress and gold heels, just like Diana had told him. He slides into the empty seat next to her, awkwardly waving to get her attention. “Chelsea?”

She looks at him with a warm smile. “Edmundo, right?”

“Eddie’s fine.” He steals himself, figures ripping the band-aid right off is probably the best thing to do. “Look, I’m really sorry—”

“That’s not a great way to start a date.”

Guilt curls tighter in his stomach and up his arms. “This has been a huge misunderstanding. I’m kind of— I’m already in a relationship, and we haven’t told anyone, and my abuela was just trying to help, and she knows I can’t say no to her, and now everything is falling apart.” He feels even worse dumping all this on a woman he’s known for three minutes, but his brain seems to be doing its own thing at the moment, he’s just along for the ride.

She looks at him for a minute, before waving the bartender over. “Well, you’re here, and you sound like you’re about to lose your mind. Have one drink with me, and tell me everything.”

So he orders a Jack on the rocks and spills his guts — tells her about Buck, about why they kept everything under wraps, his plans to fix everything, how he’s so fucking scared that once everyone knows and their little fantasy world is gone, Buck will realize that he can do better, that he deserves better, and Eddie will have to put himself back together somehow. He’s not sure exactly how long he talks, but Chelsea listens intently to every word, and Eddie actually feels better when he’s done.

She finishes the last of her gin and tonic and looks him right in the eye. “I know we just met, but can I be real with you?”

Eddie nods as he knocks back his own drink.

“Your plans suck.”

He laughs and almost shoots whiskey out of his nose. “Yeah, I think I’m starting to figure that out too.”

“Look — you love your boyfriend, right?” she asks as she hands him a napkin.

“Of course. More than anything.”

“And he loves you.”

He thinks about the way Buck looks at him, no matter where they are, like he's the only person worth looking at. How it took a little while, but now he actually feels worthy of a gaze like that. “Yeah, he does.”

She shrugs. “Then it sounds like you have nothing to worry about. You have each other — everything and everyone else is just background noise.”

It’s such a simple thing, something Eddie’s known for months now, but hearing it come from someone else gives his mind that final shove that makes everything click into place and finally stick. They do have each other, he and Buck are a team, on and off the clock. That’s not going to change, if anything because they’re both too stubborn and in too deep to let it change.

“I know you’re already a teacher, but you should seriously consider becoming a therapist if you ever switch careers.”

“Believe me, this is nothing compared to the middle school problems I deal with on a daily basis.”

He shudders at the very idea of dealing with that many 13 year olds. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but thanks.” Slumping back in his chair, he scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t even know how to start fixing this.”

Chelsea hums, face scrunched as she thinks. “You said he’s at work right? With all your friends too?” Eddie nods. “Sounds like as good a time as any to tell them. And remind Buck that you're with him one hundred percent.”

Eddie’s never been one for big, romantic gestures, but she’s right, and this is for Buck. He’ll do pretty much anything for Buck.

He stands, takes some cash out of his wallet for their drinks and places it on the bar. “Thank you Chelsea, seriously. This was...weird, and not a good first impression of me, but you’re a lifesaver.”

She smiles that warm smile again, and it feels real, no trace of pity or awkwardness. “No problem, I’m happy to help. Maybe we can get coffee sometime, as friends? I didn’t get a chance to dive into my own relationship woes.”

“Deal,” he says, laughing as he hands her his phone to actually get her number. They hug goodbye, and he all but sprints out the door and back to his truck, mind already racing trying to figure out what the hell he’s going to do once he gets to the firehouse. 

If he’s honest, this “date” really couldn’t have gone any better. He hopes the rest of his night turns out just as positive, too.

~~~~~~~~~~

The team’s in between calls when Eddie finally arrives, which is great but also does not give him a lot of time to prepare himself for whatever comes next. Rationally, he knows everything will be fine — the team will be thrilled for them, Buck will be thrilled — but there’s still that nagging voice telling him that Chelsea was wrong and that everything’s going to blow up in his face.

He shoves that voice as far away as he can and walks into the station.

There’s no plan this time beyond “find Buck”, which he does pretty quickly once he gets up to the loft. Everyone else is up here too, it seems, but he sees Buck first, curled up on the couch and watching Hen and Chim play Super Smash Bros. He has that same blank look he had on his face when he left Eddie’s earlier, and Eddie hates it. But that’s exactly what he came here to fix.

Buck double takes when he notices him at the top of the stairs, slowly unfurling himself to stand. “What are you doing here?”

A thousand thoughts fly through his head, trying to coalesce into some sweeping romantic speech that would reassure Buck of all the things Eddie’s sure he’s doubting right now. But nothing feels right, nothing even begins to scratch the surface of what Eddie’s feeling, has been feeling for the past months. Everything is fleeting and empty, pale in comparison to the technicolor love he feels every time Buck so much as looks in his direction.

Words aren’t working, but Eddie really isn’t a man of words anyway — he is, however, and man of action.

“I’m communicating,” he says, taking three long strides across the loft to Buck, grabbing his face in both of his hands, and kissing him hard. He tastes like smoke and peppermint and something fundamentally Buck that Eddie’s addicted to, and he feels a smile against his lips as Buck kisses him back in earnest. He’s not sure if it’s been seconds or years when they finally pull away from each other, but they’re both breathless and Buck is glowing and Eddie doesn’t care about anything else.

“I love you,” he says, hands still on Buck’s cheeks. “And I’m sorry. I’m always on your team, as long as you’ll let me be there.” 

Buck’s smile somehow gets even bigger. “Forever, ideally.”

Eddie’s laugh bubbles out of him as he leans back in, but stops when he hears a throat clearing somewhere to his right. He looks, and everyone — everyone, including people who were definitely downstairs when he got here — is staring at them with varying degrees of shock and excitement on their faces. Ripping the band-aid off works in his favor again.

“So,” Hen says slowly from the couch. “This is new.”

Eddie shrugs as he grabs Buck’s hand. “Not really. Unless six months old is new, I guess.”

“Six months old?”

“Closer to seven, actually,” Buck says.

There’s a clatter as Chim drops his controller and stands, arms up over his head. “That means I win!”

“Whoa, hold on, you do not—”

The loft erupts as everyone swarms Hen, talking technicalities and logistics of what was apparently a very elaborate betting pool. Buck hides his face in Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs.

“Do you think they’re actually happy for us?” Eddie asks. “Or mad that we screwed up their winnings?”

Buck looks up, resting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Probably both. But I’m the real winner here.”

“And a huge cheeseball,” Eddie says.

“Better get used to it, because you’re not getting rid of me,” Buck says, winding his arms around Eddie’s waist and kissing him again.

“Forever, right?” Eddie asks as they break apart, foreheads resting together. All he sees are Buck’s eyes, sparkling blue in the light of the loft and so full of happiness — happiness because of Eddie — that he wants to drown in them.

“Yeah. Forever. No turning back now.”

Eddie likes the sound of that.

#buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #911 fox #9-1-1 #happy season 4 everyone!!! #can't wait to see these idiots again in 7ish hours #ficcery

[haikyuu-bf-scenarios]

Iwaizumi Hajime: Second Encounter

First Meeting

*not edited*

Ever since Kiyoko joined the team back in first yr, you’ve been karasuno’s hype man 

(she was nervous about committing to something again and asked you to do it with her)

You weren’t a manager in the beginning, you just went to every practice and game for moral support

But then you started learning about the game and became a sort of coach for the team

Studying other teams and helping them train as best you could

Once you became invested (which honestly didn’t take very long) you signed on as manager

Of course you weren’t an actual coach, so there was only so much you could do

And you were relieved when Coach Ukai came back to the team.

You got to see how an actual coach worked and were less involved in training and more involved in side work

Now that he’s gone again, you’ve taken over again

It’s also why you’re standing w/ your teacher, Takeda, to shake Seijoh’s hands

The coaches were confused, to say the least

But you don’t think the team saw you

Which was a shame

You really needed to return this jacket

You had noticed him while surveying the team

Jersey #1, the guy who hit you w/ a water balloon

You recall his friend calling him Iwa-chan, but you know from the team roster that is real name is Iwaizumi

You weren’t going to interrupt a game to return a jacket, tho

So you’d have to wait ‘til the end

Through out the match you judged your team’s skills

You almost busted a lung when Hinata hit Kageyama at the end of the first set

You had lost that set, but you took it back in the second set

In addition to judging your team, you also payed attention to the other team

Who to look out for, who was a threat

Who was a minor inconvenience, at best

Not to mention flinching every time Iwaizumi spiked the ball

bara arms 🤤

You rubbed the spot the balloon hit, wondering why there wasn’t a hole

And then things got interesting

As Karasuno was about to take the second set, Seijoh’s captain finally showed

Apparently he had a knee injury and had to get it checked

You had an intense moral battle over whether or not you should exploit that

But you sympathized, you had a knee injury too

Yours took you out off the track, however

They brought him in as a pinch server at the end of the third set to score the last few points

You actually had faith in your boys up until Oikawa served

Then like the air that left you, you lost all hope

On the inside

On the outside you were still cheering

He may have had a killer serve

But you had a freak quick

And the feeling of satisfaction you got from the looks on their faces- 

Godtier

Finally, the match was over

And your team lined up in front of you

After Sensei’s ‘speech’, you merely mentioned the amount of training you were going to put them through

They were not looking forward to it

Once Seijoh was done thanking you both, Sensei fumbled his way through another speech

Meanwhile, you assessed everyone on the team

Matching faces to the roster

Once you got to Oikawa you were startled to see him already looking at you

Smirking - he didn’t take his eyes off you the whole time

When Sensei finished he turned to you and asked if you wanted to say anything

“Why are you smirking at me?�� You glared at the captain

If possible his smirk get wider

“Sorry, you just look so different when your not drenched”

He turned to his friend

Who just now seemed to realize who you are

“Right, Iwa-chan~”

Taking sympathy on the poor guy-

Who honestly looked like he was struggling between killing Oikawa and being embarrassed - 

You cut in

“I bet I do, Shitty-kawa. But that reminds me.”

You mak ethe executive decision to ignore is whining

and the confused people around you

Grabbing the jacket from your bag, you toss it to it’s real owner

“Thanks for letting me borrow it, Iwaizumi.”

“Right, yeah, of course”

An attractive person being mean to Oikawa

And nice to him

The world has flipped on it’s axis

“Yah, don’t ignore me!”

“I’ll ignore you all I want!”

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Your glaring contest is setting your teacher on edge, stop it

“Maybe we should get going”

Reminded of where you are & who you’re w/ you regain your composure

Clearing your throat, you say “Yes. I need to start making a plan for Hinata. Bc as funny as hitting Kageyama was, it can’t happen again!”

You say the last part loud enough for him to hear you from where he is.

When the rest of the team starts sniggering you added

“The rest of you need work too, don’t go thinking your off the hook.”

You glowered at them and jerked your thumb over your shoulder

“Now get on the bus, we’ve taken up enough of their time”

“Yes, Coach”

At their sarcastic response you deepened your expression and they hurried away

You bowed w/ Kiyoko at Seijoh’s coaches then started off after the team

As you turned away gave Iwaizumi a smile and peace sign

and sneered at oikawa

Poor guy, so slick w/ friends and on the court

Immediately flustered by you

You gorgeous thing you 😘

Fortunately for him their coaches prolonged the inevitable teasing

“They seem really young for a coach”

“Oh they’re not actually” Takeda supplies

One look at their lost face had him explaining more

“They signed on as a manager w/ Shimizu their first year. But I’ve heard from the third years that they took on the role bc they didn’t have a coach.

“They learned everything they could about volleyball to make sure the team had a fighting chance”

He looked over to where you were messing around w/ Yamaguichi

“They’re the teams main support stream, They’re really reliable and admirable” He finished w/ a fond smile

Before turning to Seijoh and apologizing for rambling

But good on you for being such a good person

👏👏👏

As soon as Karasuno was fully out the door the team rounded on Iwaizumi

“You saw them drenched in water?”

“How do you know them?”

“Can you introduce me, they’re hot!”

“Now, now everybody one at a time. You’re going to overwhelm him. It’s not everyday someone attractive notices our Iwa-chan~”

“Shut up, Crappy-kawa! You were there too!”

Rubbing his now bruised shoulder, Oikawa made it known that “I’m not the one who hit them with a water balloon”

“You hit them with a water balloon?!” The team exclaimed

“It was an accident!”

He’s too flustered to even try and look intimidating

And of course was adding fuel to the fire

“But you did stare at their chest”

“I did not!”

He was about to hit Oikawa again

Except the coaches managed to get everyone’s attention

Effectively silencing all the howling from the rest of the team

“As entertaining as this is; Karasuno still managed to beat us, despite their inexperience”

“So let’s get to work”

Iwaizumi let out a breath of relief to get the attention off of him.

Of course the other third years will never let him live this down

“So did they look good wet?”

“I didn’t look! Shut up!”

And for all you being like ‘he so looked’ if you go back you’ll see that he actually didn’t

Bc Iwa-chan is best boy

The Kirishima of Haikyuu

masterlist

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu preferences #haikyuu bf scenarios #haikyuu boyfriend scenarios #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizume imagine #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi preferences #iwaizumi x reader #x reader #anime #anime x reader #second encounter #gn!reader #haikyuu x gn!reader

[write-like-wright]

I'm still dying over those excellent should you date them bullet points – how about a bonus round for Klint and Sholmes? :o

Thank you!! <33

Should you date them: TGAA bonus round

Below the cut for potential spoilers!

Klint van Zieks

more a matter of if you could than if you should

Klinty boy is the heir of a noble family, the crème de la crème of the British society

you would have to be a person of excellent standing to even get the chance to court him

but hypothetically speaking, let's say you do meet the standards

a total gentleman

very idealistic

lives for his job

dog dad!!! cute!!!

...right?

I imagine he would be a charitable man

hereditarily great legs

family man

imagine coming for a visit one day unannounced or maybe you're a bit early and the maid is like "I shall go fetch master, he is out training with his brother" and you look outside and they're kicking a tree akdjakjnag

what is that hair colour though?? I don't get the Van Zieks genes

also no offence, he's a cute boy, but the way he's built and those two front strands of hair make him look like an ant lmao bug boy

seems troubled at times

stays out all night and comes back... disturbed

doesn't want to talk about it

don't have his baby it will eat you from the inside twilight style poor lady b convince me this isn't what happened

I'd reluctantly say date him, but keep an eye on what he does and where he goes

Herlock Sholmes

you will know literally no peace

manchild

needs attention 24/7

stroke his ego or he sulks

may or may not be on a constant sugar rush capcom we all know he's doing cocaine it's okay

you can't tell if he's genuinely a dumbass or if he's playing around

a bit of both probably

a DILF

nice legs (I'm sensing a pattern here)

you never know what to expect from him

at some point, you just stop paying attention to his shenanigans

you walk in and his hair is blue? just a regular Tuesday

he is offended by this

Iris loves you

you consult her with whatever Herlock-related issue you may have because she's a walking talking "How to deal with Herlock Sholmes" manual

you sometimes forget she's the child in that dynamic

he's very supportive of your exploits

has an excuse for everything

"Herlock? Did you eat the entire tea cake? I just baked it!"

"Ohoho, my dear! Great detectives are wont to eat tea cakes! I have second-degree burns on my tongue now, hail me a coach for the hospital, won't you?"

just pops out of nowhere

weird money-making schemes

he's overall pretty goofy but when push comes to shove he will get serious and do the right thing

knows everything about everyone

breaks an average of two laws on the daily

will lie and forget he lied

doesn't remember your birthday or anniversary

doesn't remember his own birthday probably

mood swings

listen........ he's a mess but he's a himbo and I'd date every himbo presented to me

make sure you tell him off tho, he needs a handler

great morosexual representation

#ace attorney #the great ace attorney #herlock sholmes #klint van zieks #dai gyakuten saiban #headcanons #ask