#this man's luck this year has been absolutely abysmal

[shitapril]

ollie bearman really went from pole position in an f2 race to an actual f1 race in the span of twenty four hours and that's lady fate for you. regardless i hope he does well :')

#CARLOS BABY I HOPE YOU MAKE A SPEEDY RECOVERY #this man's luck this year has been absolutely abysmal #they did not lie it is indeed silly season perhaps the silliest #formula one #f1 #formula 1 #carlos sainz #ferrari #ollie bearman #jeddah gp 2024

[bespectacled-bookwyrm]

Some Colress Headcanons!

I saw some posted by @colress-commodore-enterprises and was inspired to write some of my own!

Colress squeaks when he's startled or flustered.

He is the second of three siblings: Lusamine is the eldest, Colress is the middle child, and Darach is the youngest.

Cynthia is his cousin; they get on very well.

Colress has long hair! It's mostly straight, but it does curl a bit at the ends. It falls to around his mid-back, but most people don't know about it because Colress usually ties it into a very low ponytail and stuffs it down the back of his shirt, along with brushing his fringe back.

Contrary to popular belief, his blue loopy is completely natural! Colour AND loop! It's a genetic quirk from his maternal side of the family.

Although absolutely terrible at looking after himself, Colress is absolutely amazing with children.

For whatever reason, Colress seems to trigger an instinctive feeling of safety in children. It's to the point where lost kids will approach him for help rather than the very-visible police officer.

On a particularly memorable occasion, Colress took a nap under the shade of a tree and woke up to being used as a pillow by a bunch of sleepy five-year olds.

Colress has quite the sweet tooth! Although fond of most sweets, his favourites are sherbet lemons.

He has been called a human Delcatty on several occasions. Colress didn’t understand why until Rosa showed him the 'Dex entries for said Pokémon.

He has quite a few scars, some larger than others. They're mostly from his experiments or machine mishaps, but he has a horizontal scar across his throat, courtesy of the Shadow Triad.

He is distressingly good at hiding his problems and/or when he needs help. The most notable instance of this was during his tenure as a scientist for Team Plasma. No one had picked up on the pit of apathy and loathing (directed both inwards and towards Plasma, especially Ghetsis) he had fallen into until Rosa all but kicked down his door and dragged the truth out of him.

He prefers to do the "Forehead Bonk of Love" to show Grimsley affection over kissing. He will, provided he's in the mood for it, but he greatly prefers the Forehead Bonk. Naturally, the Delcatty comparisons increased immensely.

Out of the entirety of Team Plasma, he only got on with (and liked) four of them: Aldith, Barret, Schwarz, and Weiss.

He struck up a delicate bond with Ghetsis' Hydreigon. Said Pokémon is now in his care and is basically a house pet. A very intimidating, very traumatised house pet, but a house pet nonetheless.

To Grimsley’s surprise, despite being abysmal at poker, Colress has a terrifying amount of luck when it comes to games that rely purely on luck. As in, win the roulette five times in a row lucky.

Grimsley jokingly calls him a lucky charm and has managed to coax Colress into joining him as an observer for his poker games in the hopes of his luck rubbing off on him. So far, the evidence is inconclusive.

Colress can't bake to save his life. The only baked good he can make is apple pie, and even then it has a 50-50 chance of going catastrophically wrong.

On the other hand, he is a brilliant cook!

Rosa sees him as a father figure, and he in turn sees her a daughter.

Colress LOVES plants. He's an avid gardener, and an anonymous someone keeps on entering him into gardening competitions. Not that he's complaining TOO much; the winnings provide some nice extra income.

It took a long time for him to stop flinching at the sound of someone walking with a cane.

Although very honest about what he did in Team Plasma, he is incredibly reluctant to reveal his personal experiences working for them. Looker can only assume they weren’t good; that scar along his throat is particularly telling.

Colress is actually a very anxious person; he's just very good at hiding it.

He gets on remarkably well with Looker. They inevitably butt heads over some things, but Colress can easily call the man a friend.

Despite being built like a noodle, Colress is stronger than he looks!

Colress used to babysit Lillie and Gladion for Lusamine, back when they were tiny.

He and Darach get along quite well. It's just that they're both so quiet and introverted that people think they're ignoring each other.

He and Lusamine bicker the most; it's usually friendly ribbing or silly spats, but sometimes things can turn nasty. They still love each other regardless.

Colress hums or quietly sings when he's happy during his work. The Frigate never had the luxury of hearing this.

When he squeaks, Colress can sound remarkably similar to squeaky Pokémon toys. On several occasions, Grimsley and Rosa have had to extract the man from underneath the fluffy excitement of their Houndoom and Arcanine.

He and Schwarz once made an unholy concoction they called "The Insomnia Shot". There's so much caffeine in it that only people with the highest tolerance can drink it, and only out of shot glasses. After being kept awake for four days, crashing, and sleeping for a week, the two vowed to never let its recipe see the light of day again.

I may add more as they occur to me.

They were fun to write, too!

#Colress #Headcanons #Pokemon Rosa #Grimsley #Team Plasma Aldith #Team Plasma Barret #Team Plasma Schwarz #Team Plasma Weiss #falsepretensesshipping #(A little bit anyway it's not the main focus here) #Pokemon Looker #Pokemon Cynthia #Lusamine #Pokemon Darach

[palmofafreezinghand]

How do u think the dynamic would change in carlesme if carlisle was a vampire, but esme never had her near death experience? i.e. she's a human if/when their relationship would begin.

I’m so late to this Anon, I’m sorry! Thank you for asking!! 💖

I’m going to tie this into the 1920 Human!Esme AU but I’ll keep it pretty general in case that’s not what you wanted / I’m still working out all the knots of 1920AU.

I wish I could say nothing happens and their relationship never begins, because that should be the answer. Carlisle knows that should be the answer and yet…

There’s a lot of ways this could go depending on very specific details.

If the scenario is everything is the same (she runs from Charles, her son dies) but her attempt is unsuccessful then my answer is directing you to the beautiful “lover of mine” by concretehearts / @shewastheheart. The story follows Carlisle and a human Esme after Esme’s jump from the cliff is intercepted by a certain someone. It’s gorgeous and absolutely worth a read.

But you asked what the dynamic would be like if “Esme never had her near death experience?”

In general their dynamic has a huge power imbalance. There’s already one in canon but it’s even more present in this scenario. (Even removing the vampiric element, because Carlisle would hide that as long as he possibly could).

Carlisle is an affluent doctor, highly respected by general society. Esme is the opposite. The only reason she has a place to live is because an actual widow, and ex-school teacher, pitied her but more importantly needed free manual labor on her farm.

The timeline Stephanie Meyer set up with Esme’s backstory means Esme was pretending to be a pregnant war widow almost two years after the war ended. There is no feasible way for her husband to have fathered her child and died on the front, or in a front related incident, trust me I’ve done the math six ways to Sunday, there is no way. People in town would have done this math as well. This means in 1920 Esme was assumed to have been pregnant with a man’s child, who was not her dead husband, mere months after her husband died. She was in a town where she knew no one, she had little money, and was hiding for her life. She was getting by on pure grit and the occasional luck.

@needahugfromesme did some amazing, easy to digest, research about what Esme’s life as a teacher / teaching assistant would be like in 1920, specifically what her finances were like.

But the thing is everything that got Esme ostracized is a complete lie of her own making. She chose to endure that life to protect a child she hadn’t even met yet. She is living with two enormous threats over head, the public learning her lie, and her very much alive and abusive husband figuring out her lie. She is going to either by publicly humiliated and lose her livelihood, or murdered. Those are the two biggest threats in her life at any given point in time.

Without the near death experience Esme is also a fairly different person. She still has mental health issues and in my eyes some lasting physical health issues but she's not stuck in the worst moment of her life. This scenario also gives her a life outside of Carlisle and Edward, she's not confined to their house for the foreseeable future with no escape, she's not stuck in throughs of grief, she has options in this world. This helps balance out the relationship a little bit more but she still has limited companions and very limited options so not by much.

Carlisle on the other hand, may not have had Alice to play the stock market at this point but he was not pinching pennies in any manner. His biggest fear was people figuring out he was a vampire, but the likelihood of that is abysmal.

He’s also an authority figure in her life. Whether they reunite while Edward is teaching piano at Esme’s school, or at the hospital Carlisle works at. She remembers him as the sophisticated doctor from when she was sixteen. They do not operate on an equal playing field, at first at least.

Add in the fact he is a vampire. Twilight makes it pretty clear if a human learns the secret their choices are to die, or in the singular case of Bella Swan become a vampire. He has an immense amount of power in this dynamic.

Carlisle doesn’t have the same reservations about vampirism as Edward but he has made it clear he will only turn those who’s only other choice is death. That’s not Esme’s situation in 1920. She had a full, albeit hard, life ahead of her. She is pregnant and under no circumstances will he take away a boy’s mother. Telling her his secret will prove Edward right and damn her. And if he becomes close to her he has to tell her his secret, she deserves to know. So it’s all a moot point, Esme Platt or Anne Bauer, whatever she wants to call herself, is just another human he has met in his life.

Well, that’s how it should be. Carlisle is selfish, although I get some funny push back when I call him that. He's also curious to a fault. Which means there’s a part of him that wants to know more about the girl who got him talking and makes him feel funny, a good funny, despite knowing he really really shouldn’t.

There was a reason he ran from her in 1911. I think this post by @gisellelx is likely, that the reason was most likely not a coincidence and instead him freaking out for objectively suspicious reasons and hightailing it. That reason from 1911 is still there in 1920. Whether it be the previous theory, some singer theory, a soulmate thing, the fact he’s a vampire and should not be talking to this human in the ways he wants to talk to her, whatever. But now in 1920 there’s less of those reasons he should run. Now, she’s age appropriate, she’s a beautiful woman, Edward has taught him that he’s not a completely unlovable loathsome creature, ect. There's old issues that have gone away and new issues that have popped up.

They’re both in a position where he can provide an easier life for her. She’s as stubborn as a goat and won’t accept this financial help but whatever he’s going to try. He tells himself he’s being a good person, he’s giving her a friend. (Edward wants to stab him every time he thinks this). He knows he shouldn’t be doing it either way.

So they could quite possibly become friends. It’s an odd friendship for sure. And it may one day develop into something more. But it would require an immense amount of work and a touch of selfishness for it to become anything more than two people who become friends because of circumstances and eventually circumstances change.

It's possible they could somehow figure it out. They make a little human-vampire blended family. Edward is a weird older brother who would kill for this little toddler who knows the scientific names of almost every bug. Carlisle gets to love and cherish the humanity he's spent his entire life protecting, he's a proud dad to the best two sons, and constantly worried about his far too fragile human wife and her affinity for climbing trees. Esme doesn't get turned until Baby Platt-Cullen is 18 - 20. She's drastically older than Carlisle but they pass him off as the young hot stepdad for eternity. Baby Platt-Cullen dies a human. They all make hard choices and end up with a life they like. It is a possibility.

But we know, and they know, that is not what should happen. Esme should die at sixty-seven, deep crow's feet and well worn laugh lines, her son holding her hand. Married or not, whatever she choses. Carlisle Cullen nothing but a distant memory.

But Carlisle is not a man who does what’s right, he does what’s ‘good.’ And it's quite possible this is what feels good for him and he can ignore what's right.

#thank you for the ask!! 💖 #mutals i'm sorry i always tag you but you just have really good thoughts #i think i just talked myself out of writing 1920 au which is splendid... #esme platt #carlisle cullen #human!esme #analysis #esme cullen #queue

[byproducts-of-my-imagination]

Yandere Headcanons {Isashiki Jun and Yuki Tetsuya}

Isashiki Jun

Jun is laughably transparent, with his heart on shamelessly on his sleeve.

Wastes no time and is uncomfortably forward with his advances.  

Noticeably less gruff with you, his teammates always give him shit for it.

Feels the need to assert his dominance and push others away from you like a guard dog.

Yells.  A whole lot.  At everyone.  All the time.  He doesn’t mean to half the time but his volume always rises faster than his temper and before he knows it he’s staring down the frightened eyes of several onlookers.    

A protector of sorts, want to isolate you and “keep you untainted”. 

Tends to jump the gun and turns to violence and bravado to take care of problems.

“Oi!  Get away from her, can’t you see you’re bothering her?”  Jun yelled, pushing himself in front of you ready to fight.  “Jun, it’s okay, he was only asking for my notes, he’s not bothering me.”  You replied, a bit embarrassed at his over the top protectiveness.  The boy in question scurried off before Jun could lay a hand on him.  It’s always like this, Jun always pushed away anyone who came within a few feet of you.  He was like your personal bodyguard who viewed everything as a threat.  Your friends asking to hang out?  A threat.  A classmate asking to borrow a pencil?  A threat.  The Seido baseball team?  Over his dead body he would let any of those rough boys interact with you.  His poor baby would be forced to play shogi, wrestle, listen to endless baseball talk form overexcited first years, or worse, be subjected to “friendly” teasing from Ryosuke and Miyuki.   To Jun, you were something pure worth protecting, and everyone else was just going to taint you.  He refused to let anyone steal your purity.  But as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t resist tainting you himself.  He gave a valiant effort, but in the end he couldn’t protect you from his own desires.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “you’re just too good, I can’t help it.”  His teeth digging into your shoulder marked the start of your hell.  

Yuki Tetsuya

Tetsu can hide it well, but his aura doesn't fool anyone.   

The man has a captain kink for sure.

Will drag you away at any given moment to play Shogi, even though he’s absolutely awful at it.  But you should let him win, if you know what’s good for you. 

Quietly watches from afar.  You can always feel his heated gaze at your back, like a warning to behave.  

Anyone who gets too friendly with you mysteriously vanishes the next day.

It’s always there.  You can always feel him.  Staring.  Watching.  At this point, you’re sure it’s not your mind playing tricks on you.  It’s him, with his gaze like a predator, with his heart like a compass that points straight to you.  In a sick sense, you’ve gotten used to it.  The pressure that surrounds you never lessens, but sometimes you can trick yourself into believing it does.  There are good days, there are bad days, and there are days that are abysmal.  Today is a bad day, the day before a big game.  You are his good luck charm, and he makes sure he gets his fill of “luck” every time.  His pattern is evident after the countless times you’ve been subjected to his sin.  You already know the day after will be much worse, as you’re either his consolation or reward.  He takes more and more of you each time, win or lose.  Soon he starts to collect his rewards before and after practice games as well, citing that he needs you to play his best.  You don’t have much left to give anymore and it’s only a matter of time before he breaks you completely.  

#daiya no ace #yuki tetsuya #isashiki jun #yandere #yandere headcanons #diamond no ace #yandere dna

[earthnougat]

Utitur Oratione

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: You can see anything and everything your soulmate writes on their skin.

Warnings: Slight smut scene nearing the end.

Rate: Mature

You frowned down at your book in frustration, you had no idea what Snape had assigned, and you desperately needed help; and a nap for that matter. You slapped your forehead as you had a little Eureka! moment, and you furiously scribbled everything you knew about Draught of Peace onto the parchment and shook your head at your own stupidity. Soon, you grew tired, and overly bored. You dipped your quill into some ink, and began to doodle on your hand, thinking that Professor Snape wouldn’t be overly pleased with flowers covering the top corner of your parchment, even if he did have a soft spot for you.

You slapped your forehead when you realized that your soulmate, wherever they were, was about to have their hand covered in awfully drawn flowers. You shook your head at yourself again, for your own stupidity. Today really just wasn’t your day was it.

Fred Weasley, who was on the other side of the school, sitting in the Gryffindor common room and scheming up pranks with this twin, nearly fell off the sofa when he saw the flowers on his hand. “Freddie?” George asked, concerned. “My hand! My bloody soulmate has written something! Finally!” He cheered, and Harry, Ron and Hermione all ran over to get a look at his hand that was now covered in flowers.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off of them and melted at the sight at the appalling looking flowers, “Man, she cannot draw,” George said, snatching up Fred’s hand and getting a closer look for himself, “Oi! Shove off, I’m in love with her,” Fred said, stealing his hand back. The little group let out a small chuckle, not overly surprised that Fred had already declared love to someone that he had just found out existed, and he hadn’t even met them yet. Fred grabbed a quill that Hermione had been writing with and scribbled a message back onto his hand.

‘Hello, lovely’

He seemed quite satisfied with himself and smiled as he stood up and hauled George up with him, “C’mon then Georgie, time to sleep.” Fred said, and they both walked up the stairs leading to their dorm. “He’s bloody mental,” Ron muttered, as he slammed himself down against a sofa, “But at least his soulmate has reached out, whether she meant to or not. That’s a lot more than any of us can say about ours,” Hermione muttered. Ron shrugged at that, and then nodded his head in agreement.

The next morning, Fred wandered down to breakfast, George by his side like always, and plopped down onto the bench, and quickly started loading his plate with eggs before he realized that he had yet to check his hand. He looked down, and he nearly choked on the bite of eggs already in his mouth.

‘What’s your name?’

“Well, she certainly is blunt, isn’t she?” George snorted, and shoveled some potatoes into his mouth. Fred quickly grabbed a quill and whispered a quick charm so that it had some ink on it and wrote back on his hand with his name.

You looked down at your hand and let out a little gasp, underneath the line of you asking for his name, was Fred Weasley written in blocky letters, and you nearly fainted on the spot. Fred Weasley, The Fred Weasley, half of the Weasley twins, one of the biggest pranksters Hogwarts had ever seen, as well as being one of the loudest students Hogwarts had ever seen, was your soulmate. You panicked, and quickly hid your hand in your robes and took a bite of your toast before you jumped up and ran to the potion’s classroom.

You opened the door to the potion’s classroom, and Snape glanced up, and then looked back down when he saw that it was just you, “Ah, Ms. Black, pleasure.” As much as Severus absolutely, positively, despised Sirius Black, his daughter was quite probably the best student Severus had ever had. She was incredibly brilliant, never spoke out of turn, managed the best potions, and they always came out perfectly, and she was overall incredibly hardworking. She smiled at him, and nodded, and walked to her seat. Despite it being in the back of the class, she still constantly produced the best potions, and Severus hardly needed to go and check on her because they were always perfect, she would seek out extra work just for the hell of it, and would turn it in a day before Severus asked for it, and she did this in every single class, the professors had never met a witch like her, and they didn’t expect to meet one like her anytime soon.

Not to mention that she left everyone alone, and liked to be on her own, Severus liked that too.

She sat down, and grabbed her quill and inkpot, and quickly scribbled on her hand.

‘Afraid I can’t say, sorry.’

She was shy, and seriously did not want Fred Weasley to find out that his soulmate was a measly Ravenclaw girl who didn’t speak to anyone but had top marks and the professors loved her. She was practically the exact opposite of him. She was quiet whereas he was loud, he was constantly surrounded by friends and was loved by nearly all at Hogwarts, she had no friends and hardly anybody knew of her existence except for Luna Lovegood, and possibly Hermione Granger because she seemed to know everything.

Fred glanced down at his hand with a frown as they walked to Potions class, “Hm, we need to figure out who she is immediately,” Fred muttered to George, and he nodded his head in agreement as they entered the classroom. It seemed that they were early, and the only people in there were Snape and some Ravenclaw, the Ravenclaw girl looked up when they entered, and her eyes widened and she quickly looked back down, her hands shoving themselves into her bag, and she kept her head down. Fred shrugged, not overly bothered. Snape, who had noticed the writing on her hand the moment she had walked in, sighed to himself at the stupidity that was Fred Weasley.

Severus had to admit that even with how stupid he found the Weasley twins, they were both actually bloody brilliant. They got top notch marks in potions, and the little devious treats that they had crafted were also incredibly smart, and required some serious potion making skills, and he had to give the two of them credit there. They were still abysmal students, and it was a wonder that they had actually made it to their seventh year without getting expelled with some of the pranks they had pulled. They hardly ever listened in class, normally spending it muttering to each other about the next prank they had, or the next idea for their joke shop or something of that nature, hardly ever did their homework, and if they did, the results were normally god awful, spent a great deal of time in detention, yet they still managed to have some of the highest marks in Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Muggle Studies. It truly was surprising.

As time went on, Fred got more and more fed up, and kept on pestering Hermione to help him. “’Mione! Help please, you know like everyone and everything,” Fred mumbled, as he slapped his hand down on the parchment she was scribbling on. The newest words on Fred’s hand stood out against his pale skin,

‘Best of luck in the match! I’ll be cheering for my own house, obviously.’

“So, she’s in Ravenclaw then, interesting.” Hermione said, and then wracked her brain for every single girl in the Ravenclaw house. “I’ll keep an eye out during the match to see if anyone is acting different,” Hermione said, then promptly took hold of Fred’s wrist, and tossed it at himself so that she could complete her work. Fred clapped his hands, delighted, and then ran out into the hallways in search of his brother to tell the small tale to. He decided to wander past Ravenclaw tower whilst looking for his twin, and he stumbled upon the girl that he had seen at the back of Snape’s classroom, she was pressing her fingertips to the face of the eagle doorknob, and her lips were moving yet nothing was coming out, and then the door unlocked and it was about to open, when she looked up and spotted him, her eyes growing wide.

Fred finally had the chance to take in the girl before him. She truly was stunning, and if rumours were correct, she was probably the smartest student in Hogwarts history, she was in his year, he knew that for sure. She was shorter than him, and her eyes were wide with curiosity as she glanced up at him, and then she looked down, and smiled softly before hoping into her common room, the door closing behind her.

Fred asked Hermione about her the next day. He sat down beside her at the table, “Say Hermione, do you know who that is?” Fred questioned, and pointed at the girl he had seen yesterday. Hermione’s eyes widened as she took in the girl, “That’s (Y/N) Black, Sirius Black’s daughter.” Harry’s head whipped around, “Scuse me?” He said, and stared at the girl, and was about to stand up to go talk to her, “Harry no! She’s mute! Even if you do talk to her, she won’t be able to say anything back!” Hermione said, and tugged Harry back down. “Explain, everything.”

“Rumour has it that before Sirius was cart off to Azkaban, he had a child. Him and Remus were in the middle of a fight really, the relationship was over, and so Sirius went out, found a nice witch, and well, took her back to his room, and well you know the rest. He left, yet she was pregnant, and he had no idea. She died during childbirth, and obviously the baby was Sirius’, so he took custody of her, and him and Remus began to raise her, James was Godfather as Remus was basically acting like a second father. When Sirius was taken to Azkaban, she should have gone to the Potter’s, but due to them being dead, she was given to Remus under the Potter’s and Sirius’ previous request. The Ministry refused to trust the child of Sirius Black, and so they shot a spell at her that left her mute, it apparently can’t be undone. Now that Sirius is back, I am guessing she goes back to his custody, but from what I know, she is of age, and can really do whatever she wants, it could explain why we have never seen her at Grimmauld place.” Hermione said. Fred stared at the girl, “So, she’s my what, God sister?” Harry questioned, “I guess so?” Hermione said, “Damn.” Fred said, and sat back down. “How does she communicate?” He questioned, “Well, it’s not as if she has a lot of friends, or any at all, she has managed to keep her last name a secret, I only heard it walking by a professor, and I think she knows sign language,” Hermione said. “I want to speak to her,” Harry said, “Harry, she can’t respond. She actually doesn’t have the ability to speak to you, or to anyone for that matter,” Hermione said, making him see sense. He grumbled and sat back down.

‘You look anxious, are you alright?’

Fred glanced down at his hand, and his head shot up as he scanned the Ravenclaw table, looking for anybody, boys included, that were writing on their hand, but alas no luck, people were either shovelling food into their mouths, talking, or reading. “She’s in this room, she can see me, but I have no fucking idea who she is. This is infuriating,” Fred mumbled, and scooped some cold porridge into his mouth before grabbing a quill and writing back on his hand.

‘Just learned some new things is all,’

He glanced around the Ravenclaw table once again, trying to see who was looking at their hands, and when he got to the seat where you once were, you were gone, and he was awfully confused.

Gryffindor won, they celebrated, yet Fred wasn’t as pleased as he normally would have been, because he knew deep down that you would have been upset about the loss for your house, and the last thing he ever wanted was for you to be upset, even if he had no idea who you were.

‘Congrats on the win! You played amazingly x’

So, she was there, she had seen him play, and she still wouldn’t say anything to him. He was starting to hate this. He wanted to know who she was more than anything, he wanted to be able to hug her, hold her, kiss her, keep her protected and safe and happy, but he had no idea where to start or what to do.

‘Thanks, love. Why won’t you tell me who you are?’

 ‘You’ll be disappointed.’

‘You’re mad if you think I’m not already in love with you.’

After that, the writing stopped for the night, and Fred just had to assume that she had went to bed. He trudged up to his dorm, sadly, and flopped onto his bed, and just groaned into the air.

The next day, Fred was walking through the halls, George had forgotten his entire bloody bag in the library and told Fred that he would meet him in the common room. He stopped short when he noticed you standing by the door, you looked up and your eyes got really really wide that it was almost comical, but then you pulled out a quill and started writing on your hand and Fred looked down and he found that it matched what you had written and that you were his soulmate and he suddenly fucking realized that his eyes were probably the really wide ones and he was probably looking just a bit more comical than him.

‘Follow me, please.’

Fred was more than happy to oblige. His soulmate was right in front of him, and it took everything in him to calm down the more primal urges which were telling him to run to her, protect her, keep her happy, keep her safe, and he followed after her, trailing like a lost puppy but not seeming to have any problem with that.

They wound up in an empty classroom, and Fred couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. They kept scanning her, wanting to see everything he could. She bit her lip when she realized Fred wouldn’t stop looking at her. She didn’t know what to do, and so she waved, and then signed, ‘I’m mute, sorry,’ before she quickly scribbled it onto her hand so that Fred could see too. “Yeah, I know. ‘Mione told me,” Fred said, “I’m not disappointed, not at all. You’re bloody stunning and the smartest witch at our school, I’m so fucking happy I don’t know how to articulate,” Fred breathed, staring at her. Her lips broke out into a grin, and Fred nearly melted. He opened his arms, and slowly walked towards her, but when she walked into his arms, and they wrapped around her, he had never felt so good, so secure in his entire life. “I’m gonna learn sign language,” Fred told her, and leant back from the hug and cupped her cheeks.

“I want to know everything about you, without having to wait for you to wash off your hand to write something new or for you to waste a bunch of parchment,” Fred declared, and she smiled, and it seemed like she was laughing but no sound came out but the look on her face said it all.

As time went on, Fred began to learn more and more sign language, and had even taught George, Ron, Hermione and Harry some if they were going to ever actually meet her. Harry had been bouncing up and down in his seat like a child when Fred finally decided that they all should meet, he was actually going to get to speak to, well not speak to, interact with someone who was family. He was ecstatic. Right when Harry had learned that you were practically his God sister, AND that you were Fred’s soulmate, he immediately owled Sirius asking for an explanation.

Sirius,

I recently found out that you have a daughter. A daughter that is mute? A daughter that has been staying with Remus ever since you were taken to Azkaban. Why didn’t you or Remus tell me about her? She’s two years above me, and what’s more, is that she’s Fred’s soulmate.  

Fred is over the moon about her, hardly lets her out of his sight. It’s sweet.

 I haven’t gotten the chance to meet her because Fred says she’s really shy, and I guess that’s understandable, so I won’t push the matter, I think we are going to actually get to meet her soon enough.

Where does she stay if I have never seen her at Grimmauld place and if she is of age, so she technically isn’t under your or Remus’ care? Will we see her at Christmas? I hope so.

I was really happy to learn that I have another family member, it makes me feel less alone, even if I have never actually gotten the chance to actually interact with her.

 With Love,

Harry

Sirius had replied within a day.

Harry,

I am incredibly sorry about not telling you about my daughter, we thought (we being Remus and I) that it was best to keep her as a secret. I still have yet to be cleared by the ministry, and people still think that I am a mass murderer, and we didn’t want her to have to deal with the judgement from her peers.

The professors know about her lineage, and about her condition, which is why she probably never gets called on, or you have never seen her actually interacting with someone.

She’s Fred Weasley’s soulmate huh? Interesting. She isn’t allowed to owl Remus or I in fear of suspicion, so thank you for telling me.

He takes good care of her then. He better. Him and I will be having a quick heart to heart when you’re all here for Christmas. And yes, she will be joining us from Christmas. Rem and I discussed it and thought it would be best for all of you to finally meet, formally that is, and so that we can explain somethings about us and about her.

 She is very shy, and when I say very, I mean very very very shy, so be nice about it, don’t push anything because she will probably get anxious and will just up and leave.

 She is also incredibly nice and has been so excited to actually get to meet you since I told her of you being my Godson.

 I love you,

Sirius

Harry smiled at the last line, Harry had never really had anybody tell him they love him, and so hearing it from Sirius was incredibly reassuring and he adored it. Sirius had quickly caught onto the fact that Harry was incredibly touch-starved for affection, and reassurance, so he did his best. He hugged Harry whenever he saw him, would press kisses to the top of his head and forehead, and would keep a comfortable hand on the back of his neck if they were sitting next to each other. Harry basked in it, he absolutely adored it.

When Fred proposed the idea of you meeting them, your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head and looked down. You were sitting in the Room of Requirement where you tended to end up quite a bit, as you refused to go the Gryffindor common room, and the Ravenclaw common room was always filled with people studying so you didn’t think they would take kindly to one Fred Weasley lounging around and making noise.

“C’mon love, they’re all super nice, and you’re practically related to Harry!” Fred said, tugging you into his lap after you had stood up, anxious to get out of there at the prospect of meeting the golden trio and the other half of the Weasley twins. You pushed your head into his neck, and he smiled softly at the light kiss that you left there. You pulled your head out from his neck and looked at him in the eyes, “What if they don’t like me?” You signed, and looked down, suddenly incredibly shy again.

“Love, they will adore you, just like I do. You’re wonderful, and you’re also Sirius’ daughter and Harry’s God sister or whatever, I’m sure they would be incredibly pleased to meet you, Harry hasn’t stopped talking about it.” Fred said, and cupped your face in his hands and laid a small kiss on your lips. You eventually agreed to go with him, and the smile of Fred’s face was incredibly worth it.

He led you up to the Gryffindor common room, his hand not letting go of yours, and the grip you had on his hand was getting tighter and tighter by the minute, and he was pretty sure you were shaking at this point. “Hey, we don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to,” Fred said as he glanced down at you. You shook your head, “No, I need to, and want to,” You signed back to him, and he smiled softly, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head as he whispered the password to the fat lady.

They walked in, and being the incredible people that they were, Harry, Ron, George and Hermione had cleared out the common room so that you wouldn’t get overwhelmed. Harry was practically bursting with excitement, and Hermione had to place her hand on his arm to remind him that you would probably get nervous if he just jumped up to greet you. Harry, Ron, George and Hermione all greeted you and Fred with massive smiled, everyone incredibly excited to meet you. You felt the same, but you were just awful at portraying that. She signed ‘Hi, it’s nice to meet you’ and Fred quickly turned to the group at their kind of confused faces, “She says hello and that it’s nice to meet you all!” He beamed, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, (Y/N),” Hermione smiled at you, and you smiled back, George scoffed, “Truly, I was getting tired of Freddie just rambling on about you when we could meet you for ourselves, so yes it really is a pleasure to meet you,” George smiled, stood up and brought you into a hug. You hugged him back, and then smiled at him when he pulled back and brought you and Fred over to the couches.

Fred, who you soon realized didn’t like it when you weren’t right up against him if you were in his reach, tugged you right down beside him so that you were practically on top of him, and he turned to the rest of the group. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of you, finally meeting someone he could consider actually family. The Weasley’s and Hermione were his family yes, but someone that was actually family, like Sirius was, and getting to finally meet you was incredible. Fred saw the want in Harry’s eyes and he just laughed, “That’s my little brother, Ronald, and then we have your God brother, Mr. Harry James Potter,” Fred smiled.

“Hi Harry,” You signed, and Fred was quick to relay that back to him. “She says hello,” Harry smiled, “Hi,” He simply said, he had so many questions that he wanted to ask, but he knew it wasn’t the correct time, and he wanted to ask them in private, and he couldn’t really do that until he leant sign language so that Fred didn’t have to act as a buffer. As if you could read his mind, she quickly signed a word and Harry turned to Fred for clarification. “She says later?” Fred said, and turned to you, confused. ‘I will speak to him later about whatever questions he might have, because I know he has them,’ She signed to him, and he nodded, and was about to relay it to Harry but Harry had already gotten the point, and smiled as Hermione got to know her.

As time went on, Umbridge just got crueller and crueller and you had been hauled into detention in her office multiple times purely because you couldn’t answer her questions, you had managed to keep your punishment from getting to Fred, as you shared defence with the Hufflepuffs and not with the Gryffindors, but it was going to get harder to hide from him. You had left her office once again and stared down at the scabbing on your hands that were dripping fresh blood.

‘I will respond when spoken to’

She forced you to write lines for hours until your parchment was dripping with blood, and you were starting to get dizzy from the blood loss. You didn’t want to go to anyone knowing that Fred would absolutely freak out and do something major to get himself in trouble, and you didn’t want to bother your other Professors with problems that you viewed as menial. You had been avoiding Fred for days now, wouldn’t look at him in the Great Hall, refused to even come into any contact with him because you needed to figure out what you were going to do with your hand, you guessed you could go to Madam Pomfrey, but you were honestly assuming that the scars were created with dark magic so going to her wouldn’t do you any good anyways.

Fred was just shy from being absolutely furious. He had found out from Luna that you had gotten detention at the end of nearly every single defence lesson, and you were serving it with Umbridge which meant your hand was bound to be bleeding, and you were being hurt for fuck all. He stormed up the Ravenclaw tower, and the eagle head gave him a riddle.

‘I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?’

Fred pondered for a second, “A map!” He exclaimed, and the door unlocked and swung open. He clambered in and right away spotted you, “(Y/N),” He muttered, and you heard him and glanced up, your mouth falling open, and your hand tucking itself into your robs. He saw the movement, and he suddenly saw red, wanting to hurt Umbridge more than he thought was humanly possible, but also wanting to comfort you and make sure you were okay. You stood up, and walked over to him, and he gripped at your hand, the one that wasn’t in your robes, and pulled you out of the common room to the room of requirement. Once the door opened, he pulled you inside, and yanked your hand out of your robes.

‘I will respond when spoken to’ stood out against your skin, and he let out an almost animalistic growl, and banged his fist against the wall, “I’m going to kill that toad bitch!” He angrily muttered, and you quickly pulled your hand out of his, and placed your hands on his cheeks, making him look at you as you mouthed the words ‘I’m okay’ to him, and he shook his head, and pulled you in for a hug. “No, you’re not okay! You’re being sent to detention for something that is so incredibly stupid and beyond your control! Its cruel! You don’t even have the ability to actually respond to her. Georgie and I are going to make her life a living hell before we leave,” You tucked yourself into him, and Fred nearly melted, again.

“You’re too bloody nice, why don’t you just tell her you’re mute and can’t actually respond?” Fred asked. ‘I don’t need the rest of the damn school knowing that I can’t talk because my father is Sirius fucking Black, who is technically, still wanted for multiple murders.’ She signed angrily, looking up at him, while she pulled away from his body. Fred sighed, and sat down on the sofa that the room had conjured up. “What about all of the teachers that know of your condition?” He questioned, and patted his lap, trying to get her to come sit with him, she shook her head. ‘I don’t need their pity, oh the poor little mute girl can’t stand up for herself, how sad’ She signed, and glared at him from where she was standing.

“Love, they won’t pity you. They haven’t pitied any of us! Not even Harry! They all have treated the matter rationally. Now, we all know Snape has a soft spot for you and you’re the only student he actually likes, well maybe he likes the ferret but that’s up for discussion. Snape won’t give you pity, but he will defend you, and you know it as well as I do.” Fred stated, standing up and grabbing her hand, and looking at the words across it. You saw the rage and quickly pulled your hand back, ‘I will go speak to Snape. You will not come with.’ She signed. Fred just nodded his head with a sigh, “I’ll be here when you’re done with the greasy old git.” And then he plopped back onto the sofa and watched you walk out of the room.

When you had finally made it to the potion’s classroom, you breathed in deep before knocking. “Come in,” The monotone voice replied to your knock, and you let yourself in, glancing up at Severus as you walked in. “Ms. Black?” He questioned as he saw it was you. Severus along with many of the other teachers had learnt sign language immediately after they had learnt that you were deaf.

‘I didn’t really want to come, because I hate pity, but Fred said I should, and that you would never even think to pity me. I showed him my hand with the scars from Umbridge and he thinks it’s unfair because I can’t actually respond to her, which is the whole reason I get sent to detention after nearly every class with her.’ You signed quickly.

His eyes hardened, “Show me your hand, Ms. Black,” You quickly walked over, and laid you palm onto the desk. ‘I will respond when spoken to’ was easy to see against your skin, the cuts being red and angry and harsh. “This is ridiculous! Nobody has informed her of your condition then,” Severus said, as he summoned some bandages and some dittany. You shook your head. “Oh, the incompetence of this school truly is tiresome,” He muttered as he took care of your hand. He wrapped it up in some bandages, “Do not, under any circumstances let your father know of this until Umbridge has left the school. I am well aware of just how protective Sirius Black can be, and neither of us, nor Mr. Weasley, need a convicted mass murderer, no matter how innocent he is, storming the castle so that he can kill Umbridge, do I make myself clear?” Severus said as you pulled your hand up to your eyes to inspect it, you nodded, ‘Thank you, Professor,’ you signed, and he just nodded. “Go, you’ll miss curfew.” Severus stated, and then went back to ignoring you. “Oh and Ms. Black, thank you for informing me of the cruelty she has been subjecting the students to. Be well aware of the fact that this will not go unpunished, and she will see retribution for her actions. Now leave.” Severus said as he saw you nod.

When you finally wandered back to the Room of Requirement, Fred had actually dozed off on the sofa, you smiled at the sight and closed the door, making sure it was locked and nobody could even think about entering, you walked over to him and cupped his cheek. You felt bad about being kind of rude to him earlier, and you wanted to make it up to him. You and Fred had been talking about some sort of sexual contact for a while now, you hadn’t really made it past kissing and sitting on his lap due to how shy you were. Yet, Fred being the perfect boyfriend, and just perfect human being for that matter, let you take it as slow as you wanted, and let you have control over the speed of the relationship. It made you incredibly relaxed, pliant and happy, knowing that you got to dictate what happened, otherwise, you would have been far too anxious to even think about doing anything with Fred.

You smiled, and lowered yourself onto his lap, straddling him. Fred roused at the weight being added onto him, and his hands immediately flew to your waist to keep you secure. “Love?” He questioned, trying to shake of the remnants of his nap. You simply shook your head, and started pressing soft kisses to his lips, moving onto his cheeks and then onto his neck. He was confused but craned his neck so that you had more access to the soft supple flesh. You suckled on his collarbone, and he let out a little happy sigh at the feeling. You quickly began to unbutton his shirt, wanting more access to his skin. When his shirt was completely unbuttoned, he shrugged it off his shoulders, but grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “What’s this all about love? Not that I’m complaining or anything,” You smiled at that. ‘I want to make you feel good,’ You signed shyly.

“You make me feel better than any person could ever manage too. You make me feel so good, even when we aren’t doing this okay? Don’t think that just sex or something more than kissing is the only thing that can make me feel good alright? You do that plenty already. Even when you sit on my lap!” Fred said, and leant up and kissed you softly as you nodded. The kiss progressed into something more, and he quickly took control of the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. “Now, I don’t think it’s fair that I haven’t got a shirt on, but you do.” Fred murmured, and you smiled and quickly allowed him to unbutton your shirt and peel it from your shoulders. “God damn it, you’re so beautiful,” Fred said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and then your neck. You arched up into his touch, and he smiled, that was nice, having you react to him like that really was nice.

He leaned you back on his lap, and just drank you all in. A lilac lace bralette covered your breasts, and your skirt covered the bottom half of your torso. He suddenly realized that he really wanted to see the bottom half your torso; he wanted to see all of you. You suddenly got off of his lap, and he whined at the loss, but you just smiled at him and shimmied out of your skirt. It fell to the ground, and you were just standing there in a bra and panties and Fred just about fainted. Your panties were the same colour and texture as your bra; lilac and lace, and you were so very pretty just standing there, all for him. “Pretty girl,” Fred smiled, and pulled you over to him by your thighs. He pressed kisses to your stomach and smiled up at you as you threaded your fingers through his hair, it was soft and flowed really nicely. A thought came to you, and you smirked and slipped from Fred’s grasp. “Hey! You know, I quite like having you on my lap! Stay there would ya?” Fred teased and was going to say something else until he saw you dropping to your knees and all thoughts vanished and his mouth became dry.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, and Fred swore that he could’ve come right there. You were so damn beautiful, “Fuck,” He breathed, and his head fell back to the back of the couch as you slowly rubbed a hand over the tent that was steadily forming in his trousers. You unzipped his trousers, and you tapped on his hips to raise them so that you could slip them down as well as his boxers. You helped them off his ankles, and then you looked up at him and your eyes widened, and you stared, you had no idea how you were going to fit all of that in any part of your body. “You’re gonna be the death of me you know that?” He smiled at you, and ran his hand through your hair, and leaned down a bit so that he could cup your face in his hand. You simply smiled, leant forward, and licked from the bottom of the shaft all the way up to the head, leaving a little kiss on the tip. He groaned, deep in his throat, and his head instantly came to rest on the back of your head, not to force you down or anything, because he would never, ever, force you to do anything, but it was there to guide you if you needed it.

As your head bobbed up and down and your hand quickly went to the base of his member to stroke what you could get at with your mouth, Fred was muttering under his breath, but you could hear all of it, not really knowing if Fred actually wanted you to hear.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby? You know that?”

“Fuck! That’s so good, God that’s good,”

“I’m gonna marry you for Merlin’s sake,”

“I think I’m in love with you,”

That one got you to draw your head up, and place yourself on his lap, lean forward, and mouthed against his lips, “I think I’m in love with you too,” But instead of it just being your mouth moving with no words coming out, sound was escaping your mouth and you gasped, and then began to cough, your throat incredibly dry, and painful after years of disuse. The room supplied you with water, and Fred quickly raised it to your lips, and you drank gratefully, lapping it up. Your eyes were massive, and you looked, not relived, not in the slightest, you looked terrified.

You had spent your entire existence not being able to speak, not being able to articulate your thoughts in the slightest, it was impossible, frustrating, hurtful and you hated it at first, but had begun to get very used to it, but now you had a voice? Why? Where did it come from? You hadn’t been able to talk since you were just a baby, but now suddenly, you can speak? What on earth? He had no idea what to do, Fred looked at you, and your eyes were huge and shining, like you were about to cry. “Come here, love.” He said, standing up as he quickly put on his boxers, you walked over and you were shaking like a leaf when he enveloped in your arms, and you just cried, but instead of you just crying silently, sobs were actually coming out, they were angry, and you sounded so scared as you cried into his shoulder; he hated it, hearing so much pain and fear coming from you. “Fred?” You said, your voice raspy. “I’m here, love. How about we go see good ‘ol Dumbledore, yeah? He’ll know what’s up and will probably get your dad down here.” He said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. You nodded, still seeming fearful, and you refused to move from his embrace, like him keeping you in his arms would keep you from this massive change that had just occurred.

“Let’s get you dressed yeah?” He said, and he saw that you still weren’t moving, but you wouldn’t keep your wide and fearful eyes off of him, like you were scared that he would just up and vanish, he leant down and grabbed his sweater, the one that he normally wore over his dress shirt that he had thrown off when you had originally walked into the room of requirement, and he tugged it over your head, knowing that you would probably feel warmer, more comfortable and just safer in his sweater that was pretty oversized on you. He helped you shimmy into your skirt, and you being you, always having to have your shirt tucked in, tucked in the front of the sweater out of habit and looked up at him as he pushed you onto the sofa and helped you into his shoes, kissing up your legs.

“You’ll be okay, love.” He said, as he stood up and got his clothes on, buttoning up his shirt and grabbing yours and then shrinking it and stuffing it in his pocket. He took your hand in his, and led you out of the room, you were still seriously shaking, and as soon as you had walked out of the room, you tucked yourself into his side, impossibly close. When you had gotten to Dumbledore’s office, the large statue just seemed to open up for you, and you furrowed your brow whilst Fred just shrugged and led the both of you up the stairs.

“Ah Ms. Black, Mr. Weasley! How can I help you? Lemondrop?” Dumbledore said as they walked up, you shook your head, all of your shyness coming back as you tucked yourself slightly into Fred’s side but also kind of behind him, he realized. Seeing that you weren’t going to talk, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to sign, Fred opened his mouth to explain. “(Y/N), well it seems like she can talk,” Fred said, and Dumbledore’s eyes widened, “Sorry?” And Fred looked down at you, and you mustered up the courage, “Hi, Professor Dumbledore,” His jaw dropped. He had known you since you were a baby, and he had never heard you say anything, as you had been rendered mute before you were able to talk. “Dobby!” He called instead of doing anything. “Yes, master?” Dobby said. “Harry Potter is your master, Dobby. But, please go and fetch Sirius Black and Remus Lupin and bring them back here for me, thank you, Dobby.” Dumbledore said, and smiled and shook Dobby’s little hand, as he was looking at you, his eyes wide but twinkling instead of appearing shocked. Dobby nodded, and in a minute, he was back with Remus and Sirius.

“Albus, what is the meaning of this? Is (Y/N) alright? Is Harry okay?” Sirius said, his voice coming our frantic. “Turn around, Sirius, and yes they are both fine.” Dumbledore said, and Sirius whipped around and his face lit up at the sight of you. He grinned, walked over and hugged you hard, and it was exactly what you needed to get the waterworks to start flowing again. You had always felt safe in Fred’s arms, but you had never, and didn’t think you would ever, feel as safe there as you did in Sirius’ and you could bet that Harry said the same. His eyes widened but he just hugged you harder, turning his head to Fred for an explanation as his hand went to the back of your neck, but then he realized that sounds were actually coming from your throat and he gasped, pulling you out of his arms. “Say something, darling,” Sirius said, his hands coming up and cupping your face, that was something that he had learnt that calmed down not only you, but Harry as well. “Dad?” You said, your voice croaky, but beautiful to him, and that was also enough to make him cry.

He cried for you and the fear that must be gripping you, he cried over the fact that he was the reason that you were rendered mute, he cried because one of the things that he wanted most in the world, up there with yours and Harry’s safety, was for you to be able to talk and communicate like everyone else did. He always saw how your eyes would get sad when someone belted out a laugh or told somebody that they loved them.

“Why and how on earth can she speak?” Sirius said, whipping around with his daughter still in his arms to look at the headmaster. “I’m not honestly sure, can one of you please give a recap of what took place before you came here?” Albus said, gazing at the two students. Since you still didn’t look like you wanted to speak, Fred stepped forward again. “We were just chilling in the room of requirement, and I asked (Y/N) to go see Professor Snape,” – Sirius let out a growl at that – “In regards to the scars on her hand from Professor Umbridge,” – Sirius let out another growl and took your hand in his, examining the bandages – “And she came back, and we were just laying around, and – oh my God,” Fred finished, his mouth dropping open as he realized what happened just before, and no, it wasn’t the blowjob. “I told her I loved her, and she said it back, well was going to, but then sounds came out on the last word, and she started coughing so I got her water, and she started crying and I didn’t know what to do, and I thought coming here would be best,” Fred said, glancing down at you in your father’s arms.

Dumbledore looked confused, but Remus’ eyes were widening, and Fred stopped his anxiety just to giggle in his brain for a second, because of course Remus knew what was happening, he was Remus! “What is it, Rem? I can tell you’re thinking something.” Sirius said, placing his daughter back into Fred’s arms, knowing that she would be comfortable there. He walked over to Remus, wrapping an arm around his waist, the other settling on his chest. “Utitur Oratione.” He muttered, and Sirius just looked confused. “Come again?” Remus looked over at you, where you had tucked yourself up against Fred, your hand massaging your throat almost. “It means triggered speech, I don’t know much about it, a curse breaker would though,” Remus replied, walking over and giving you a massive hug. “You’re alright, my love?” Remus questioned. Fred quickly got the idea that your family was very fond of nicknames, and he began to recall any nickname that he had ever heard between you, Harry, Remus and Sirius, he had heard many over his stay at Grimmauld Place over Christmas.

Padfoot, Moony, my love, little one, dear, sweetheart, darling etc.

He also quickly began to understand that Remus was basically your second father. He had raised you since you were tiny, he did everything he could for you, even if you were born out of what was basically an affair on Sirius’ part. The love that Remus and Sirius seemed to have for you and Harry just came in bounds, it was as though Harry finally had an actual family, and Remus and Sirius were the heads of it.

“We can get Bill over here, can’t we?” Fred questioned, as you pushed yourself back into his arms. “Yes, I think that would be smart,” Dumbledore said, and summoned Dobby once again to bring William Weasley over to Hogwarts; they were back in a flash. “Bill!” Fred smiled upon seeing his older brother, Bill smiled at him and tugged him in for a hug, “Heya, Freddie,” He smiled, and then he noticed you and smiled again, and proceeded to tug you in for a hug. “Hi, sweetheart,” He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of you head. Ever since you had met all of the Weasley’s, they were all very fond of you, and loved having you around, so Bill viewed it as a delight to get to see you again so soon. “Hi, Bill,” You replied, and he pulled back, “Well that’s new,” He replied, and turned to Dumbledore, “So, I’m assuming you called me here to figure out what happened with her curse breaking, hm?” Bill smiled. Dumbledore nodded, and then supplied the name of the curse for Bill and everything that led up to the curse breaking.

“Ah, Utitur Oratione, that isn’t a curse we deal with very often. Basically, when a person is cursed with Utitur Oratione, whoever did the cursing, has to supply a trigger for the curse to be broken, we can’t break it, it won’t break unless the trigger has been completed or supplied. In (Y/N)’s case, the curse was done by the Ministry, and the curse trigger must have been her and her soulmate’s – that being Fred of course – relationship reaching a mature stage, and that stage must have been saying I love you. The Ministry must have thought that (Y/N) now has something else to love and talk about, other than her father, and so now she can have her voice back because she now has something else to love. Obviously that plan didn’t work out very well for a variety of reasons, but the Ministry of course wouldn’t have noticed that when they originally cursed her as a baby.” Bill supplied, glancing around at the people in the room, his eyes focusing on you though.

As your eyes became watery again, Fred pulled you right up against him, and brought you to the couch, and as you leaned your head into his neck and started to cry, everyone in the room felt a rush of sadness for you, you had gotten so used to the way that you were living, that when the sounds of your cries actually came out, Fred lifted a hand to his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears that were about to fall. “Can someone get Professor Snape to bring her a potion or something for her throat? It seemed like it hurt earlier,” Fred said, caressing your hair, you nodded your agreement and Dumbledore quickly summoned the potions master; and he was in the office in three minutes with something for your throat.

He walked in, and his eyes landed on you and they widened dramatically, you were actually crying, and he could hear it. He handed Fred the potion, and you drank it quickly, “Thank you, Professor Snape,” You said, the rasp in your voice was gone and you sounded much better. “Of course,” Snape said, and turned to Dumbledore for an explanation, Dumbledore quickly provided one.

“Man, I really am not a big fan of talking, don’t know why some people do it so much,”

The room let out a guffaw at that, and then you suddenly felt content. The one thing that had always upset you about yourself was the fact that you were mute, and now you had the ability to make people laugh, to tell people you loved them, and to laugh yourself.

“Thank you, seriously, all of you. For always being there for me, helping me when I couldn’t speak, Professor Snape, for curing my injuries when I didn’t want to tell Umbridge that I couldn’t speak, Remus for raising me despite the troubles I must’ve caused you, Dumbledore for always clarifying things for other Professors, but making sure I was okay with it first, Bill for actually explaining this stupid thing for me, Dad for everything you’ve done for me because I was mute, and Freddie, fuck Freddie, thank you for being the reason I can speak, thank you so Goddamn much, okay I think that is enough talking for the year,” You smiled. The people in the room smiled at you and didn’t even comment on the profanity.

“Thank you, Ms. Black, for showing us that you don’t need words to be a strong witch, a strong person, and a good one too.” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.

You smiled at him, and turned to Fred and left a kiss on his cheek, laughing when your father fake gagged, beaming when Remus pulled Sirius into him and left a kiss on his cheek, smiling when Snape actually gagged at that, just because he could, just to piss off your father, and twinkled when Fred left a kiss on the top of your head, and whispered ever so softly into your ear.

"I love you,"

#fred weasley x reader #harry potter #fred weasley #reader insert #oneshot

[anubislover]

A Primal Need for a Marine (a X Drake x Reader fanfic)

In the past twenty-four hours, your luck had been, quite frankly, abysmal. First, while in pursuit of the infamous pirate X Drake, a storm came out of nowhere, wrecking your ship and nearly killing you, separating you from your captain and crew—assuming they were still alive. Then you spent hours floating on a piece of wreckage, until you finally spotted land and were able to paddle your way to shore. You thought perhaps things were looking better when you heard human voices coming from the jungle, only to discover they were the subordinates of the man your squad had been hunting. Before you could even attempt to parlay, they’d tied your hands behind your back, hoisted you up and carried you to a cave deep in the jungle, unceremoniously dumping you inside and sealing off the entrance, only saying, “The captain will want to see you.”

The inside of the cave was spacious, several lamps providing adequate light to see by, but also casting long, ominous shadows. There appeared to be a massive pile of plush bedding in the back corner, and some animal bones scattered about; a clear sign that something had decided to call it home. You immediately began looking around for a sharp rock or piece of bone to use to cut your bindings, as you had a lot more faith in turning your situation around if you had use of your hands.

“So, you’re the crew’s solution to my problem?” came a voice from deep in the cave. A figure approached slowly from the shadows, long strides powerful and sure with the grace of an apex predator. Nearly eight feet tall, made of pure muscle, and dressed in deep blue leather pants, gloves, thigh-high boots, and open bolero jacket trimmed with white fur, he cut an intimidating figure. His sunset red hair looked like fire in the lamplight, and the shadow cast across his face nearly hid the black domino mask over his piercing blue eyes. The X-shaped scar on his chin and tattoo on his bare chest were painfully familiar.

Now you knew for sure your luck had completely run out. You, a captured Marine, were alone in a cave with X Drake. The pirate your squad had been tasked with arresting and bringing to justice.

The traitor.

His eyes scanned your face, taking you in. “You look familiar.”

“We’ve crossed paths,” you bit out evasively. You really didn’t want him to remember you—at best, you’d be one of the starry-eyed recruits that had admired him back when he was a rear admiral. That innocent crush you’d once had had gotten you in trouble; he’d caught you and a few others watching him train shirtless when you should have been doing chores, and he’d marched you straight to your commander for a humiliating admonishment.

At worst…well, last time your crews had crossed paths, he’d been seconds away from cutting off your captain’s head with his giant axe. Thinking quickly, you’d jumped between them and blocked the blow with your rifle. It would have been extremely cool if it were your prowess that had truly stopped him, and not the way your ripped shirt fluttered in the breeze, giving him an unobstructed view of your bare breasts. He’d gone bright red, and you swore a slight trickle of blood dripped down his nose before he was distracted by an attack from your captain, who’d caught his second wind.

Crossing his beefy arms, he looked down on you, thoroughly unimpressed at your wet, shivering figure. “Your uniform is a mess. Back in my day, to come before a high-ranking officer in such a state would have earned you at least ten lashes.”

“Good thing there aren’t any officers around, then—just traitorous scum,” you countered, voice full of venom.

A ginger eyebrow arched at your cheek, but interest flickered in his eyes. “You’re a member of the squad that’s been chasing us, aren’t you?”

“Oh, have people been chasing you? I can’t imagine why,” you replied sarcastically. Your captain often complained about your attitude, but he’d also preached defiance in the face of death, and you planned on living up to his expectations.

“That’d be another twenty lashes for talking back. Either the Navy’s eased up on disciplinary measures, or you’re a particularly tough one to break.”

“A little from column A, a little from column B.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and something like approval flashed in his steely gaze. “Do you know why my men brought you here?” he asked, circling you slowly, critical stare sweeping over your kneeling, disheveled form.

“They didn’t bother to fill me in.”

“Since we reached this island I’ve suffered…urges,” he grumbled, frustration lacing his voice. “My more bestial side has been rearing its head, even in my human form, demanding I sate some of its more primal instincts. I’ve hunted and fought and killed, but it’s not enough. It wants to mate.”

A shiver ran down your spine as you finally understood. “And you couldn’t find some nice lady dinosaur to get your rocks off with?”

He actually chuckled lightly as he knelt down behind you, reaching around to untie the kerchief around your neck. “No, those are in short supply. However, a mouthy little Marine should work just fine.” The tips of his gloved fingers trailed across your damp shoulders, down your back to your bound hands. Teasingly, he yanked at the rope that cut into your wrists. “If you’re a good girl and do exactly as I say, you might even survive this. Might. I can’t promise anything.”

“That doesn’t exactly inspire me to comply.”

His hot breath danced across the back of your neck as he whispered, “Then I’ll just have to fuck you into submission.”

You blanched. Of course Drake swore—he was a sailor, pirate, and former Marine. A dirty mouth was practically guaranteed, and even the most formal officer was known to turn the air blue under the right circumstances. But to hear him talk that way, when he was usually so stoic, brought a faint blush to your cheeks that you desperately hoped he couldn’t see. A few years ago, when he was still a rear admiral, you would have given your right arm to be in this position.

Now…well, you wanted to say you were utterly repulsed at the idea, but the spike of heat between your legs would call you a liar.

His hands returned to your front, and you watched as he carefully removed one of his leather gloves. Your heart raced as it morphed into a green-scaled dinosaur claw, wickedly sharp and deadly. Instinctively you flinched away, but Drake’s imposing figure gave you nowhere to go. Carefully, the tip of a curved talon stroked your cheek before sliding down to the collar of your uniform. “Hold still; I’d hate to accidentally slit your throat.” You knew he could do it; you’d seen him rend some of your comrades effortlessly with those ancient talons. Heart in your throat, you did as he said, though your cheeks reddened further when his monstrous claws shredded your shirt and bra into ribbons, leaving your torso completely exposed.

What the hell? you thought frantically. Isn’t he supposed to be weak to a woman’s body? Why would he do that?!

Without ceremony Drake picked you up and placed you on his lap, pressing your bare back to the exposed skin of his chest.

“Wha—!”

Once more gloved and human, large hands slid up your sides to cup your breasts, giving them an experimental squeeze. “You really are such a tiny thing,” he murmured in your ear, hot breath dancing across the sensitive skin as he massaged and fondled you. “So cute and helpless, like a bunny caught in a trap.”

There really was quite the size difference between you, but then again, Drake towered over quite a few people. And good gods, pressed against him like this, feeling his hard pectorals and abdominal muscles flex with every movement, made you feel like a doll, small and breakable in his powerful grip. On top of that, his body exuded heat like a furnace, and had the situation been different, you would have relished it warming your damp flesh, chasing away the chill of the cave.

His nose buried itself in your hair as he inhaled deeply, letting out a low groan as his palms squeezed your breasts hard. “You smell delicious, too. Like fear and sea water and sweet, soft flesh. Like prey.”

“More like bait,” you bluffed, eyes squeezing shut as he ran his teeth across the fragile skin of your neck, latching his hot mouth to your pulse-point and sucking hard. “I—ah!—let myself be captured to distract you. M-my crew’s taking out yours as we speak, and then you’ll be taken into custody, literally caught with your pants down.”

The flat of his tongue stroked the mark he left on your throat. “You had no clue about my…condition, as it were, so there’s no way you could have planned this. Given that storm last night, I’d say it’s more likely your ship capsized, and you washed up on shore, alone and ripe for the taking. No one’s coming to save you, and we’ll be long gone by the time another Marine ship shows up.”

His left hand dropped to press against your stomach, pinning you against him so you couldn’t wiggle free. Still, you made a valiant attempt to break away, twisting and writhing in his lap.

Your efforts were halted when he growled, amusement lacing his voice, “Oh, please, keep struggling like that. Your ass feels amazing against my cock.”

A hot blush painted your face as you realized that you could feel a hard bulge against your backside, and it probably wasn’t a pistol in his pocket. “You’re an absolute bastard,” you cried as his hand shifted to grab your hip, pulling you back to grind against his concealed length.

“What did you expect? I’m a pirate from the Worst Generation. Did you think a man like me would be sweet words and gentle caresses?”

Honestly, you kind of had, given how he seemed so shy around women, even back when you were a recruit. “No—I figured you’d pass out from a nosebleed the second you even touched a pair of tits!” you snapped back.

His right hand abandoned your breast to harshly grip your chin, yanking it up so you hand no choice but to meet his intense blue eyes. They weren’t quite in their more reptilian form, but you could see his pupils were blown wide and the iris had faint specks of yellow. “I remember you, now. You’re the one who flashed me to save your captain.” Blunt teeth caught the shell of your ear, his hot, wet tongue flicking against the delicate flesh. “Bold of you, I have to say. An effective strategy at the time, but I’m only weak to a woman’s body when I’m caught off guard, and definitely not when my Zoan side is impatient to fuck.”

You bit your lip to suppress the small, needy whimper that his tongue nearly coaxed from you. Your ears had always been your most responsive erogenous zone, and his mouth was stimulating it with just the right amount of heat and pressure. When he gave a sharp suck, you couldn’t quite hide your quick intake of breath, though you tried to hide it by renewing your struggles.

Drake didn’t seem to mind as his hips jerked to match your movements, grunting in appreciation. His left hand abandoned your hip to bury itself between your clenched thighs, cupping your hot core through your wet trousers and panties. “Mmmm, I can smell that you’re starting to enjoy this.” The hand at your chin shifted to press two fingers against your plump lips. Scowling, you closed your mouth as tightly as possible. There was an annoyed growl at your resistance, and the heel of his palm ground harshly against your clit, causing you to gasp in shock and outrage.

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he shoved his fingers inside the wet cavern, giving a shallow thrust. Instinctively you bit down on the meaty appendages, but it did little to dissuade him. In fact, he sank his teeth into the side of your throat in retaliation, making you scream in pain around his fingers.

“Bad girl,” he rumbled lowly as his tongue lapped at the sore spot, cleaning up the small drops of blood from where his fangs had broken the skin. “I’ve been restraining myself because I didn’t want to break you too soon, but if you keep misbehaving, you’re going to find out just what kind of animal I can become.”

You winced, finally accepting that you weren’t going to be able to discourage him from using your body how he pleased through resistance. He was a former rear admiral, a hundred times stronger than you, and if you really got on his nerves, he could just turn into his Allosaurus form and eat you.

Sensing he’d broken your resolve, he resumed pumping his fingers into your mouth, the smooth leather of his gloves gliding over your wet tongue. “That’s better. Now suck—unless you’d rather I replace my fingers with my cock and fuck your throat?”  

Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes and focused on sucking his fingers, hoping your skills would be satisfactory. When he gave a pleased grunt you rolled the flat of your tongue against them, imagining it was the hard cock of someone you actually wanted to please and not the traitorous bastard that held you captive. Your cheeks darkened as the fingers at your core curled against your covered slit, pressing into the sensitive flesh as his palm ground against your clit, enticing you to buck against him.

“Look at me, girl. I want you to acknowledge exactly who you’ll be servicing tonight.” His voice was right above you, steamy breath fanning your face. Instinctively your eyes opened, and his mouth stretched into a grin. He chuckled, stroking your nether lips in time to his thrusts, causing heat to coil tighter in your belly.

You were absolutely horrified at your body’s reaction—you couldn’t possibly be feeling pleasure because of X Drake, could you? He was a pirate and a traitor, and he made it clear you were basically only there as his fuck toy! Your crush on him hadn’t been that strong, had it?

Grinding his contained cock against the cleft of your ass, he said, “I know what you’re thinking, and there’s no need to be ashamed—we can’t always control when or how our bodies feel pleasure. A glimpse of bare skin, a touch to just the right spot, a few dirty words—it all involuntarily stimulates us. I used to think that it could be resisted with enough willpower, but after a week of my instincts driving me mad, I’ve realized that everyone has their breaking point.”

With a wet pop, he removed his fingers to stroke down your jaw and throat to once more play with your breasts, this time putting special focus on teasing your nipples. To your dismay, they quickly grew into stiff peaks under his rough pinches and flicks, his thumb circling the hard tips teasingly. “Bet you didn’t think your little flash of chest would result in this, did you?”

When you didn’t answer right away her gave your left breast a harsh squeeze, prompting you to gasp out a weak, “No.”

“Did you get a commendation for your bravery, little girl? A promotion? Or did you reject any praise because you didn’t want to be known as ‘The Tits that Felled X Drake’?”

You whimpered, though mostly in humiliation. He’d hit the nail on the head. You’d been mocked by your shipmates for nearly a month over that, and even though the captain had been grateful, he’d kept your involvement out of his report for that very reason.

“Well, now you’ll get to be ‘The Tits that Fucked X Drake,’” he chuckled, rolling his hips for emphasis. “In fact, that sounds like a great way to start.”

Before you could question him, he pushed you out of his lap to the cave floor, flipping you onto your back. You attempted to sit up, but a large boot rested lightly on your stomach, pressing down just enough to make it clear how easily he could crush your torso. There was no choice but to look up at him, and for a moment you couldn’t help but stare at the prominent bulge between his legs straining against the tight leather of his pants. Blushing, you forced yourself to look further north, landing on Drake’s unusually expressive face, his lips quirked in an amused smirk and a hungry gleam twinkling in his eyes. Your gazes locked as he palmed his belt buckle, undoing the clasp and allowing the long strip of leather to fall to the ground with a clatter. Next, he grabbed the zipper of his tight pants, pulling it down bit by bit, the clicking of metal teeth deafening in the silence of the cave.

As he freed his length, you swallowed nervously. Of course a man his size would have a massive cock to match. At least nine inches long, roughly two inches thick, and perfectly curved, he’d be like something out of a wet dream if the circumstances hadn’t been so horrible.

“Like what you see, Marine?” he chuckled, giving it a few teasing strokes, running his thumb over the already leaking tip. “Just imagine how it’ll feel inside you.”

His foot vacated your chest so he could straddle your hips, pinning you down with his superior body weight. Blue eyes stared, mesmerized, at the twin peaks of flesh before him. Your chest was flushed and swollen from his earlier attentions, nipples hard and practically begging for his touch. A pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, then he leaned down, wrapping them around a straining, rosy bud.

“Ah!” you cried, overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth on your sensitive areola.

Your chest was completely at the mercy of his ravenous mouth and tongue. Alternating between sharp sucks and soothing licks, his attentions sent sparks through the soft mounds of flesh, making you arch further into his mouth, your body wordlessly begging him for more. He eagerly complied, and you were ashamed at the surge of moisture that pooled between your thighs when he brought his teeth into the mix, shallow bites and taunting scrapes of his incisors both frightening and thrilling you.

Trailing his mouth down the silky peaks, he lavished the valley between your breasts with long, slick strokes of his tongue. Your nipples weren’t abandoned for long, however, as his hands returned, the leather deliciously smooth in contrast to the sharp pinches to your straining buds.

This time, you couldn’t quite suppress the little sighs and whimpers that bubbled up in your throat as his arousing actions. For all that the situation demanded you resist, Drake played your body like a harp, strumming your taut strings of desire and producing a symphony of lustful sounds.

Finally, he leaned back, critically studying the wet trail between your tits before nodding to himself in approval. He lifted himself from your lap to straddle your ribcage, resting his straining cock in your cleavage and pressing your swollen mounds of flesh around it for extra stimulation.

“Brace yourself, dear—I’ve been dreaming about this since you first flashed me.”

There really wasn’t much you could do to brace yourself with your hands tied and back pinned to the ground, but you lifted your knees and planted your feet as best you could, praying that the stone floor wouldn’t tear up your skin too badly. His grip on your breasts was harsh, squeezing them together so tightly you were sure he’d leave finger-shaped bruises behind. Each thrust rocked your entire body, his long cock peeking out from between your breasts to brush your chin. Blue eyes fixated on the drops of precum left behind, and you watched his pupils dilate until his irises were nearly overtaken by the black.

“Imagine if your superiors could see you now,” he panted, a few drops of sweat trailing down his temple. “Helpless, at the mercy of a pirate, being used as a fuck toy and loving it.”

“I’m not—” your whimpered denial was cut off by a particularly brutal thrust and a massive hand yanking your hair.

“I told you that I could smell your arousal, little one. Lie to me again and I’ll hand you over to my men to have a turn with that cute body of yours. Now open your mouth.”

Being used by one horny pirate was bad enough, and your luck had been so awful you dared not call his bluff. Instead, you silently obeyed, parting your lips as he released your hair to continue tit-fucking you. If his erratic thrusts were any indication, he was close to climaxing, which meant it was nearly over. Closing your eyes and taking as deep a breath as you could with the massive man straddling your chest, you forcefully pushed down the disappointment that the fire he’d stoked between your thighs wouldn’t be sated.

With a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a shout he came all over your face, his hot, sticky seed splattering across your chin and lips, but mostly shooting inside your waiting mouth. Salty and thick, you had to swallow several times to get it all down.

Panting and wiping the sweat from his brow, Drake leaned back to study you, grinning at the drops of cum that dappled your cheeks.

“Aren’t you a sight?” he purred, wiping a sticky glob off with his finger and painting it across your lips. “I’m glad I started with tit-fucking you instead of finishing.”

Your eyes widened in horror, even as your cunt clenched in anticipation. “You…you’re not finished?”

The tips of his fingers stroked his still-hard cock. “Do I look finished? If this problem were solved by a single orgasm, I would have just jerked off and been done with it. No, I need to properly mate, and even then I doubt I’ll be sated until I’ve fucked us both unconscious.”

If the way he’d used your chest was any indication, it wouldn’t be hard for him to knock you out, and once he had his fun, what did he plan to do? Ransom you? Interrogate you? Kill you? Behind your back, your nails dug into your palms, wishing your hands were free so you had a better chance of escaping.

Eyes capturing yours, he raised his left hand to his lips, white teeth catching the leather encasing the middle finger, pulling slowly to expose pale skin and thick, calloused digits. “I wonder if you can even take me,” he murmured, more to himself than you as he pulled of the other glove. “You’re such a little thing…”

You seriously doubted you could. He was twice the girth of any man you’d ever slept with, and long enough that you were positive he’d wreck your insides if he bottomed out. The fact that he was still hard even after already cumming indicated his stamina was nothing to scoff at, either.

You were, figuratively and quite literally, fucked.

Removing himself from your torso, he crawled down to your legs, hooking his now bare fingers into your waistband to slowly peel your trousers from your legs. You tried to kick at him, to fight back and wiggle away, but he grabbed your thigh, nails digging into your skin in warning.

“Behave, girl,” he growled, eyes flashing with something fierce and primal as he ripped off your panties, nostrils flaring as he caught the undiluted scent of your womanhood.

“Please, let me go,” you tried to reason. Drake was a traitor and a pirate, but surely he hadn’t lost all of his honor? “You’re not the kind to take an unwilling woman, right?”

“But you’re not unwilling,” he chuckled, leaning in to lap up your juices with a long, luscious stroke of his tongue. Your back arched at the delicious sensation, cheeks flushing and toes curling as the coil of arousal deep inside you tightened. “You’re impossibly wet. You smell like a bitch in heat, waiting to be mounted by a worthy male. You’re aching for me, aren’t you?” he growled before nipping at your sensitive nether lips.

Head shaking in denial, you closed your eyes in hopes of blocking out the overwhelming pleasure the sweeps of his hot tongue brought you. That only made it worse, though; your body’s sense of touch heightened, making your empty cavern ache to be filled.

For his part, being so close to the source of your womanly scent was driving Drake’s beastly instincts wild as he feasted on your arousal, your cream thickly coating his tongue and dripping down his prominent chin. The flexible appendage delved deep, teasing your inner walls as his fingers tightly clutched the meat of your ass, lifting your hips so he could get a better angle. It was when his nose brushed your clit, though, that you finally unleashed a lustful cry, hips bucking, unconsciously chasing that intense spark of pleasure that rocked your entire body.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he purred as he pulled away, licking at the juices that coated his lips. “I can’t wait to hear what other noises you’ll make.”

He turned his attention to your swollen pearl, teasing it with the tip of his tongue while one of his long, thick fingers leisurely penetrated your molten core up to the knuckle. “You’re going to be a tight fit, but that just makes it all the better,” he groaned, deep voice practically reverberating through you.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you felt your inner walls clench around his finger. It was nearly as wide as two of your own, hot and wonderfully rough, massaging the sensitive tissue of your core.

As he experimentally began pumping his finger in and out, his tongue flicked your sweet little bundle of nerves, chuckling at the strained sounds that slipped from your lips. He dragged the calloused tip along the top of your passage, licking and teasing your sensitive nub.

After a minute or so, pleased at how wet you were for him, he forced in a second finger, curling the pair against your G-spot while suckling your clit when you let out a whine of discomfort.

“Just relax,” he murmured, dropping a brief kiss to your thigh as if in apology while he scissored his fingers, stretching your tight hole. “If you’re too tense to take my fingers, how can you hope to handle my cock? Take a deep breath and relax.”

You wanted to argue that there was no way you could relax when you were being molested by a filthy pirate, that you didn’t want to take his cock, but then his lips wrapped around your throbbing clit and sucked hard, and your mind went blank as you were momentarily overwhelmed by white-hot pleasure.

“That’s it,” he rasped, lips barely pulling away long enough to speak before diving back in, sucking in time to the thrust and curl of his digits, coaxing your hips to match his rhythm.

Against all decency and logic, your walls clenched around him as your body sang, coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your belly with every heady bend and eager suck.

Just when you thought you might reach that peak and finally climax, Drake completely stopped. You whined, bucking your hips in hope of taking your own pleasure from the slick fingers that rested motionless inside you, but his free hand grabbed your hip in a bruising grip. Sluggishly, you opened your eyes, meeting his intense gaze as he gave you a feral smile.

“Beg me to let you cum.”

Despite your flushed cheeks, humming nerves, and aching cunt, you refused to give him that victory. You may be his prisoner and a slave to his desires, but you wouldn’t beg. Steeling yourself for whatever he had planned, you defiantly shook your head, provoking a low, menacing chuckle.

“I was being nice, little one. I don’t have to give you pleasure at all—I could just flip you over and start fucking you. Are you denying yourself out of pride? Think you’ll get a moral victory by refusing to give in to your urges like I am? You think your will’s stronger than mine?” he snarled, suddenly angry. Your heart sped up as you realized you’d unconsciously touched a nerve—X Drake was famous for his composure since his days in the Navy. He was a man who strove to be in control of his emotions; to not give in to vices like lust or anger like his father had. That his Devil Fruit had driven him to this was a testament to how frustrated he was, how powerful the urges were, and how insulting it was to think that you could hold out when he couldn’t.

His hand started moving again, brutally ramming inside you as his fingers slammed against your G-spot with every stroke. “If you won’t beg me to let you cum, then I’ll just make you cum. I was giving you a choice. Something you’re never going to have again.” His mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard, overwhelming you with sensation as his fingers continued to piston in and out. Captive to his touches and powerless to do anything but lay there and feel, your mouth let out little wordless cries, and even you couldn’t tell if they were meant to be denial or encouragement. It was when he started humming, sending sweet vibrations straight into your throbbing clit, that you finally felt your climax hit, pleasure shooting through you like liquid lightning, your walls clenching around his digits while your back arched.

The second he felt you spasm around his fingers Drake pulled away, grabbing your hips and refusing to let you ride out your orgasm, watching you writhe hopelessly under him.

“That’s enough foreplay,” he rumbled, tossing you over his shoulder and carrying you over to what could only be described as a nest of pillows, blankets, and other bedding. It made for a soft landing when he tossed you down, flipping you onto your stomach. To your surprise, you felt his fingers at your wrists, and the harsh rope tying your hands behind your back fell away. “It’s time we got to the main event.”

Wincing at the awful pins and needles travelling up your newly freed arms, you managed to brace yourself on your elbows and look up at him over your shoulder. His eyes had turned fully yellow and dangerously reptilian, and his ravenous gaze was fixated solely on you as he peeled off his leather bolero. You could feel his eyes caressing the smooth expanse of your back, your pert ass, quivering legs, and flushed face like you were a feast laid out just for him. His attention dropped briefly to his thigh-high boots, bending down to remove them, and you grasped at your chance, clumsily darting to your feet and attempting to make a run for it while he was distracted.

You didn’t even make it out of the nest before a beefy arm wrapped around your waist, swinging you up into the air before slamming you down into the bedding. The soft blankets and pillows prevented any injury, but the air was knocked out of your lungs, rendering your immobile while you struggled to regain your breath.

“At any other time I’d commend you for not giving up the fight, but right now all you’re doing is making this harder than it needs to be,” he growled as he rolled you back onto your stomach, prying your thighs apart so he could settle between them and elevating your hips with a pillow. One hand seized your right wrist, pinning it behind your back while the other grasped the back of your neck, pressing just hard enough to ensure you wouldn’t even dream of moving. Like this, he had full control, completely dominant and ready to claim his prize.

The hot tip of his erection teased your dripping entrance, and you let out an involuntary whimper. “Please…” You weren’t even entirely sure what you were begging for. Sure, you’d just tried to escape, but had you really thought you’d get away? Had you really wanted to, with your core aching to be filled? Or had you just wanted to see just how far you could push him?

“I warned you,” he growled. “Let’s see how much of me you can take. And just so you know, I will be cumming inside you. Every. Fucking. Time.” With deliberate slowness he pushed his stiff, throbbing cock into your tight, wet sex. Inch by inch he filled you, penetrating your womb as he finally bottomed out.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he said with a deep, relieved groan, stilling his hips to savor your walls clenching him. “Such a tight little cunt. Here I was wondering if I’d split you in half, but you took me like a champ. Like you were made for me,” he finished with a possessive, rumbling growl, slowly rolling his hips back before plunging back in.

Your free hand clawed at the bedding beneath you, caught between pain and pleasure. He was stretching you to the breaking point, slamming against your cunt like a battering ram, speed increasing with every rotation of his hips. At the same time, each thrust hit that magic spot inside you, and you were already so sensitive from your earlier orgasm, you couldn’t help but let out helpless little mewls as you squeezed him tightly. Pinned beneath him like this, helpless as his rough treatment stoked a fire in your belly, you wondered if, should you survive this, you’d ever be able to lay with another man again.

Hips snapping against your backside, the sharp slap of skin on skin echoed through the cave, accompanied by your needy cries and Drake’s terse grunts.

The hand pressing down on your neck tightened slightly as he growled, “That’s it, little one; you’re taking my cock so nicely. Should have known you were meant to be a pirate’s whore. It’s probably your dream, isn’t it? To get fucked day and night by a Navy traitor. Well, congratulations, dear; mission accomplished!”

You’d never imagined being degraded like this would get you off, but it was like his words were the catalyst you needed to cum so hard stars filled your vision. Your silken walls desperately milked him as your orgasm and his thrusts rocked your body, screaming his name like it was the only word that mattered anymore.

The sensation of you milking his cock sent Drake over the edge after you. With a nearly inhuman roar his seed filled your womb, hot cum painting your inner walls in thick spurts as he buried himself as deeply into your eager cunt as he could.

For a few moments the two of you just lay there, panting heavily and basking in post-orgasmic bliss. You whimpered a little when he pulled out, strangely mourning the sudden lack of heat and pressure, but soon found his arm wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up so you were vertical and pressed to his chest, legs spread as he lowered you back onto his cock. His free hand played with your breasts as his teeth latched onto your ear, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Drake~” you moaned, hypersensitive but matching his thrusts as best you could.

“Finally giving in, huh?” he panted in your ear, rutting up into your aching cunt. “I knew you would—you can only deny your instincts for so long.”

Hand encircling your throat, he pressed your head to his shoulder, looking down at you with fierce yellow eyes. “You’re loving this, aren’t you? Getting railed by a pirate’s cock. You greedy little slut. You make a hell of a sight right now—needy juices dripping down your thighs, eyes glazed with pleasure, face covered in my cum.” He leaned down to lick away one of the milky droplets that clung to your cheek. “I should take a picture to send to headquarters; show them what happens to cute little Marines that fall into my clutches.” The hand supporting your waist slid down over your sweat-slicked stomach to the apex of your thighs, mercilessly grinding his thumb against your clit.

You didn’t even try to fight your orgasm this time, letting it wash over you, bouncing on Drake’s cock to draw it out while screaming your throat raw. Sharp teeth latched onto your shoulder as he released, hips snapping up hard as he came.

Drake wasn’t quite done yet, though. Somehow, despite two consecutive orgasms, he was still hard inside you. You mewled helplessly, too worn out to even rock your hips. Sensing you were at your limit, he pushed you back onto your stomach, hoisted up your hips, and proceeded to fuck you into the mattress.

Covered in sweat, stretched to your limit, limbs weak, overstimulated and hypertensive, all you could do was lay there, ass in the air as Drake continued to pump his massive cock into your twitching hole. However, the pathetic sounds of pleasure that you let out at every snap of his hips seemed to egg him on, and before long he slammed himself inside you with a penultimate, animalistic groan, emptying the last of his hot seed inside you.

At last sated, he removed you from his softening cock to wrap you up in a loose blanket before laying down beside you.

“Mmmm, can’t wait to do this again tomorrow.”

“To-tomorrow?” you gasped, forcing yourself to stay awake even as exhaustion darkened the corners of your vision and your limbs grew heavy and lethargic.

“I was eager to fuck you and rid myself of these damned urges, but now, I think I rather like them. I haven’t felt this relaxed in years.” Muscular arms engulfed you as he pulled you to his warm chest. Glancing up, you could see his eyes had returned to their normal, intense shade of blue. He purred, “And for such a little thing, you’re surprisingly durable. I’d be a fool to give you up. When my crew and I leave this island, you’re coming with us.”

“I can’t…”

“Your squad’s most likely dead, and the survivors would be trapped here until another ship stumbles across them. Even if they all lived, they couldn’t stop me from carrying you off.” His thick fingers combed through your hair, not caring that they were still damp and sticky with your juices. “You can’t go back to the Navy, anyway; the anti-fraternization laws are rather draconian, and if you don’t get court-martialed just on the off-chance that I could have recruited you as a spy, you’ll be looked down on with disgust and suspicion, passed over for promotions and missions for the rest of your career. Join my crew, and you’ll at least have my men’s respect.”

“I’m not a traitor,” you insisted, even as you buried your head against his chest to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Damn it, he was right—if the Navy found out that you’d been involved with X Drake, even under duress, you’d be branded a pariah and, at best, shuffled to some out-of-the-way base doing paperwork until judgement day.

His large hand cupped your chin, lifting your face so he could press a gentle kiss to your brow. “Then I guess you’ll have to spend your days as my captive and feisty little bed warmer.”

“Better keep me in the brig—otherwise, I might slit your throat in your sleep.”

“You can try, dear, but if I have to tie you up and fuck you into unconsciousness every night to ensure my safety, well, that’s a cross I’m willing to bear.” Tilting your head, he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’d advise against killing me, though. If you prove yourself trustworthy, I’ll let you in on why I became a pirate. It’s a fascinating story, and it might just make you realize I’m not as bad as I seem.”

Your brow furrowed. What could he possibly mean by that? You wanted to question him, but the strain of the day was finally catching up to you, making your eyelids heavy. It was even harder to focus with the soft bedding underneath you and Drake’s bare chest keeping you warm.

He chuckled softly as you began to drift off, murmuring, “Get some rest, little one; that’s an order from your captain.”

#x drake #diez x drake #diez drake #one piece x drake #x drake one piece #red flag x drake #one piece reader insert #reader insert #smut fic #shameless smut #not suitable #lemon #One Piece Fanfiction #one piece fanfic #op fanfic #op fanfiction #size difference #size kink #one piece marines #lemon fanfic #one piece lemon #citrus scale #dino daddy drake

[ofregiums]

all the world’s a stage, and VIOLA RYU is merely one of its players. the twenty-five year old bartender is called the chameleon by most that know her. loyal to no one, she’s certainly a force to be reckoned with, considering that she’s rational and sincere. however, if you want to bring her down, i’ll have you know she’s reticent and delicate. – played by park sodam.

— THE BASICS

full name: viola ryu, born ryu jae-hwa  alias: wren 
date of birth: june 9th, 1995 place of birth: chicago, illinois 
age: twenty-five 
star sign: gemini reimagined: viola from twelfth night 
profession: bartender faction loyalty: neutral alignment: lawful good mbti: intp spoken languages: english ( native speaker ), korean ( native speaker ) talents: creative writing, mixology, factory work, shoplifting mother’s name: unknown father’s name: unknown siblings, if any: sebastian jung ( twin brother ) height: 5′5″ hair colour: black eye colour: brown

— THE BACKSTORY

from the very beginning -- from the moment that jaehwa entered this world -- her twin jaeyoung had been the center of her entire universe. but for twelve whole minutes, the same could not be said about her brother to her. . . and perhaps that was the tragic indication of what was to come.

she never met her parents. some days, she wondered who they could possibly be. were they drug-addled ? heartless ? teen parents who simply could not handle such a responsibility ? regardless of the identity, their decision landed the two infants at the local orphanage.

the conditions of the orphanage was abysmal. the beds were hard and the food was tasteless. and my god, the other kids could be needlessly cruel. jaehwa, with her knobby knees and sweet, meek disposition, was an easy target to pick on. they liked stealing her meager possessions and yanking on her impossibly long hair. thankfully, her brother was always there to defend her. every single time.

in hopes of making them more approachable when it came to getting adopted, the wardens of the orphanage told the twins to change their names. after much deliberation, viola and sebastian were decided on and with that, there came those silly hopes that finding a family would be one step closer.

viola survived her time in the orphanage with her brother by her side. he was everything she was not, and therefore everything that she wished to be. there was always a part of her that was convinced that she needed sebastian far more than he would ever her. that had it not been for the womb they shared, he would not have even looked her way. it was a silly thought, really. her brother loved her. but she was so used to people not wanting her and sometimes that fear manifested even on the quietest of days.

they didn’t have much luck getting adopted as they grew up. most families only wanted one, not two, but weren’t cold enough to separate the clearly co-dependent twins. it wasn’t until the jung family arrived one day, so elegant and so fabulously dressed, when absolutely everything changed.

viola remembers the excitement clear enough when the head warden pulled both her and sebastian into his office. it was happening ! she had seen the family’s interest since the very first day. they were finally getting adopted ! at least, that was what she thought until the head warden gently ( perhaps, sadly ) informed them that the jung family only wanted one -- sebastian.

she would be lying if she said she couldn’t remember every single detail of what happened next. every moment felt permanently ingrained in her brain despite the hysterical sobbing, pleading, clinging. her brother -- her only sense of purpose -- was ripped from her and off to god knows where without as much as an address or even city to go off of. after twelve years, viola’s biggest fear manifested into reality: she was alone. 

any sense of protection that her brother provided her was instantly gone. the taunts of being unwanted followed the little girl everywhere. kids shoved her face into her meals for a cheap laugh. and on open house days, some of the older boys would even grab a screaming viola and throw her into the locked closet. no one would miss her, they would say. she spent every night for a month crying herself to sleep.

she turned to books for comfort. despite the mediocre education, viola had always been a very intelligent young girl. literature in particular sung to her soul. she desperately grabbed any novel, no matter how torn and stained, as a form of escape.

viola expected sebastian to come home. sometimes, adoptions didn’t work out. maybe, just maybe. . . her brother could find his way back to her. they could be together again like it was meant to be. but as the months turned to years, the stupid dream of hers began to fade.

at the age of fourteen, viola was placed in the foster system in hopes that a family would take to her enough to adopt her. the family she was placed under ended up being far worse than some mean kids at the orphanage. they made it quite clear that they considered viola an absolute burden, that they were only in it for the paycheck they received from the government every month. it wasn’t long before she started to flinch at lifted hands and raised voices.

she endured eight months of it before she knew that she could not take anymore. if this world would so cruelly treat her as if she was alone, then alone she would be. in the middle of the night, viola packed up her bare belongings and ran away from her foster home. far too hesitant to return to the orphanage, she took to sleeping in parks and under bridges as a means for shelter. and with no real need to call chicago home any longer, she hitchhiked with strangers to get from state to state.

viola took to stealing for clothes and food, very narrowly missing law enforcement countless of times. but it was the only option she had -- it wasn’t like she had any money and who the hell was giving a homeless high school drop out twig of a fifteen year old girl a job ? absolutely no one. it wasn’t until she passed by a job recruitment flyer that an idea formed: a local factory was in search of male workers from the age of sixteen onwards.

being a girl had never gotten viola anything. it was the reason the kids at the orphanage thought they could bully her. it was the reason sebastian was chosen over her. it was the reason her foster parents thought they could lay a hand on her. if anything, being a girl was a curse. so as the wheels turned in her head, she took a pair of broken scissors and hacked off her beautiful hair ( that reached the small of her back ) until it was nothing more than a pixie cut.

she marched up to the factory and introduced herself as WREN. her gamble worked. she ( well, wren ) was hired to sweep the floors.

factory work was grueling and despite how meager, it was the first paycheck viola had ever seen in her life. much like her true identity, wren didn’t have much luck in making friends. fairy and pussy were just a few of the colorful words used to insult wren’s “effeminate” appearance. when viola moonlighted as her counterpart, she found it easier to keep her head down and not attempt to reach out to anyone. 

after a while, it became easier to just be wren full-time. yeah sure, there were some taunts. but for the most part, viola noticed how far more regarded a man was compared to a woman. it felt like the only way to protect herself from a world that had proved time and time again that she was worthless.

however, all good things come to an end. close to her twentieth birthday, a factory supervisor uncovered viola’s secret and chased her out of town. with the little bit of savings that she had, she had to start over and over from city to city until something stuck. wren was at the forefront to help her with possible jobs and protect her when needed. 

she didn’t lay down roots again until she found herself in verona at the age of twenty-two. wren got a job as a bartender and viola could continue her solitude in a new place where no one really knew her. it’s been three years now and she still has barely made any friends or offered anyone information about herself. she wakes up, she goes to work, she sleeps -- and repeat.

in verona, she is strictly known as wren and even then, the word known is a bit of a stretch. sometimes, she finds herself lost in the role she’s now playing. little does viola know, she is about to receive the cruelest reminder of who exactly she is.

#abuse tw #( * now i’m left here in the dust with the taste of broken trust | viola ryu. ) #( * introductions. )

[introvertguide]

Sunset Boulevard (1950); AFI #16

The next film on our AFI list is the film noir drama Sunset Blvd. (1950). This movie was directed and part written by Billie Wilder. It was nominated for all of the acting categories, best director, and best picture...but won none of them. The movie was up for 11 Oscars but only received technical awards because of the very stiff competition that year from the likes of All About Eve, The Third Man, and Harvey. This film is often called the best movie about Hollywood ever written because it bravely looks at the life of a star and how they can be chewed up and spit out of the system when they get too old. This is not an aspect of movie stardom that Hollywood generally likes to advertise, so it is not surprising that this film was not as recognized. I would like to go over the plot before further discussion, so...

YOU KNOW THE DRILL! PREPARE FOR SPOILERS! THIS IS A MYSTERY SO DON’T READ FURTHER UNTIL YOU SEE THE FILM!

At a mansion on Sunset Boulevard, the body of Joe Gillis (William Holden) floats in the swimming pool. Long before it was done in American Beauty, the movie is narrated through a post mortem flashback of the main character.

Six months earlier, down-on-his-luck screenwriter Joe tries selling a story to Paramount Pictures.  Producer Sheldrake (Fred Clarke) is somewhat interested but looks to the advice of a script reader that walks in on the conversation. The woman who comes in is Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson) and she harshly critiques the script, unaware that Joe is the writer. There is some awkward banter and Joe leaves in a huff. He is driving home and sees some repossession men seeking his car, so he flees only to barely escape by turning into the driveway of a seemingly deserted mansion. After concealing the car, he hears a woman inside call to him, mistaking him for someone else. Ushered in by Max the butler (Erich von Stroheim) , Joe recognizes the woman as long-forgotten silent film star Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson). She seems to believe that Joe is bringing a coffin for her dead monkey (that is not a typo), but becomes interested when she learns that Joe is a writer. Norma asks his opinion of a script she has written for a film about Salome, which she plans to play the role herself in a return to the screen. Joe finds her script abysmal, but flatters her into hiring him as a script doctor for enough money to buy back his car.

Norma insists that Joe move in and she has Max secretly get all of Joe’s things and move him in. Joe resents this but gradually accepts his situation as her boy toy because Norma is psychologically fragile. He sees that Norma refuses to face the fact that her fame has evaporated and learns that the fan letters she still receives are secretly written by Max, who explains that he has had to hide all of the knives and remove all locks on the doors as Norma has attempted suicide. Norma lavishes attention on Joe and buys him expensive clothes. At her New Year's Eve party, he discovers that he is the only guest and realizes she has fallen in love with him. Joe tries to let her down gently, but Norma slaps him and retreats to her room. Joe visits his friend Artie Green to ask about staying at his place. At Artie's party he again meets Betty, whom he learns is Artie's girl. Betty thinks a scene in one of Joe's scripts has potential, but Joe is uninterested. When he phones Max to have him pack his things, Max tells him Norma cut her wrists with his razor.  

Norma has Max deliver the edited Salome script to her former director Cecil B. DeMille at Paramount. She starts getting calls from Paramount executive Gordon Cole, but petulantly refuses to speak to anyone except DeMille. Eventually, she has Max drive her and Joe to Paramount in her 1929 Isotta Fraschini. The older studio employees recognize her and warmly greet her. DeMille receives her affectionately and treats her with great respect, tactfully evading her questions about her script. Meanwhile, Max learns that Cole merely wants to rent her unusual car for a film.

Preparing for her imagined comeback, Norma undergoes rigorous beauty treatments. Joe secretly works nights at Betty's Paramount office, collaborating on an original screenplay. His moonlighting is found out by Max, who reveals that he was a respected film director, discovered Norma as a teenage girl, made her a star and was her first husband. After she divorced him, he found life without her unbearable and abandoned his career to become her servant. Meanwhile, despite Betty's engagement to Artie, she and Joe fall in love. After Norma discovers a manuscript with Joe's and Betty's names on it, she phones Betty and insinuates what sort of man Joe really is. Joe, overhearing, invites Betty to come see for herself. When she arrives, he pretends he is satisfied being a gigolo, but after she tearfully leaves he packs for a return to his old Ohio newspaper job. He bluntly informs Norma there will be no comeback, her fan mail comes from Max, and she has been forgotten. He disregards Norma's threat to kill herself and the gun she shows him to back it up. As Joe walks out of the house, Norma shoots him three times and he falls into the pool.

The flashback ends. The house is filled with police and reporters. Norma, having lost touch with reality, believes the newsreel cameras are there to film Salome. Max and the police play along. Max sets up a scene for her and calls, "Action!" As the cameras roll, Norma dramatically descends her grand staircase. She pauses and makes an impromptu speech about how happy she is to be making a film again, ending with, "All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up." as she makes a series of exaggerated swooping steps towards the camera, an equally exaggerated 'come-hither' expression upon her face. 

Gloria Swanson was in fact a silent film star that was having difficulty finding work. She was very well aware that the part was poking fun at people like herself and old Hollywood in general. She had worked with Cecil B. DeMille and he was happy to be part of the production for the right price. He was paid $20,000 for his cameo, which says that even he was glad to get work but still expected full price for his participation.

As mentioned in the recap, the idea of the post mortem narrator was taken full on by American Beauty. Arguably, so was the idea of somebody dealing with their growing irrelevance as they age. But it is fantastic that the movie can reveal the end result in the opening scene and yet there is still tension and it can act as a whodunnit. It becomes a question of who is going to kill Joe. The jealous butler/director/ex-husband? The crazy out of touch actress? The confused new girl? Artie the spurned fiancée? The repo men? Or maybe a distraught Joe takes his own life? As mentioned it was Norma, but I legitimately did not know the first time I watched the film and it was great.

Some more recent critics have not been kind to the acting of Gloria Swanson because she overacts to the point of camp. Yet that is exactly what you would expect from an emotionally fragile, silent film era actress that was once the biggest star and had lost her fame. She is a total drama queen and that is appropriately so. The reason that it works is that people point it out and she seems weird next to the other actors. She is like the character of Ms. Havisham in Great Expectations, but instead of tempting Pip with the love of Estella, she tries to do it herself. One part hilarious, but three parts absolutely fascinating. 

There is quite a bit of dark humor in this movie and much of it is through the campy acting of Swanson. I am glad to say that she owns it and doesn’t back away at all. There is a scene where she puts on a Charlie Chaplin outfit and attempts to entertain Joe. Also, the entertainment of the evening was watching her old silent movies and she reacts emotionally to her own portrayals. It is fantastic. I think my favorite part is that she thinks that Cecil B. DeMille is trying to get her back for a part and it turns out that an AP simply wants to use her car. 

So should this movie be on the AFI list? Without a doubt. It is brilliant mystery that takes a deep look at the downside of stardom. It was so accurate and appealing that the Academy had to take note despite likely not wanting to. It was one of the first movies to examine the fragility of an actor’s ego. It also has some of the very best single lines in cinema history. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. It might not interest younger viewers and the strange gigolo implications might not be appreciated by all, but it is a pretty fun (and funny) movie that find enjoyable every time. Well worth a watch. 

Side Note: There is a monkey burial scene when Joe first arrives and it might one of the strangest and funniest scenes in cinema. I just wonder...why did she have a monkey and how long did she keep the dead body before the burial? Yet another reason to check out the movie.

#sunset boulevard #william holden #hollywood #1950s #gloria swanson #afi films #film noir #camp #im ready for my close up #dead monkey #stardom #introvert #introverted #fame #cecil b. demille #cameos #film review #movie critic #great movies #Oscar winner

[linkspooky]

I absolutely adore your Medaka Box Metas. Honestly reading you talk about the series got as much of an emotional response out of me as reading it myself. So now I'm curious to see how you'd tackle Iihiko, a character I've never quite come around to. What's Iihiko's Meta?

Thank you!

I have written about Iihiko before [here]. Since you bothered to send the ask though let’s approach it from a different angle. I’ve already talked about character so let’s talk theme. 

Medaka Box is a story about a story, as pretentious as that sounds. It’s also a manga about shonen manga. It’s a story that constantly comments on the fact that it is a story.

There are several characters who act like the archetype they are usually presented as in manga, Kumagawa is the antagonist who believes he could never win because he’s not a main character, Ajimu is the last boss/mastermind, Medaka is the main character, Zenkichi tries to become the main character. 

For some of these characters the roles they inhabit are a relief, a comfort even. Seeing real life through the lens of a narrative can give meaning to what is otherwise meaningless and senseless. In stories everything has a purpose, everything happens because the author wrote it that way with intention behind it, and in comparison the world is meaningless. Medaka Box is a manga that toys with the idea that it is a story over and over again, but eventually asserts life is nothing like a story and that it’s real. It rejects the idea of seeing life like a story. 

Center to all of this is Medaka herself. She is the typical shonen protagonist in almost every way, she’s pure, ditzy no matter how smart she is, kindhearted and willing to help everyone, she fights for her friends, she always wins every battle and gets a new power up whenever she needs it.

Yet, Medaka Box the manga is about how terrible it is to be a main character. Yes, it may be empowering to see yourself as the main character of your own life, but that narrative ultimately harms much more than it helps. 

Here is how we are introduced to Medaka at the beginning of the manga. She loves people apparently, but she also looks down at them the same way a god would a mortal. She is incredibly distant from them. 

But, in Zenkichi’s mind she is always right. The world seems to be rigged in her favor, as if she was a main character with an entire story written around her. Ultimately, even if she’s misguided, even if she has her flaws, she’s still always right in the end, because that’s what it means to be the main character. 

However, as good as this may seem it’s a role that is ultimately more restricting than freeing to Medaka. After all, Medaka’s view of her own birth is abysmal, she calls her mansion a coffin. She acts like this role is something that liberates her, but instead it’s a crushing burden that warps and isolates her. 

Main characters are terrible. Thinking the whole world revolves around them, how selfish really. In a more serious sense though we get the impression as Medaka’s mindset is further and further deconstructed as the manga goes on, that she really is selfish in a way as all of this exists not to really help other people, but to give herself her own personal meaning, to make sure she has somewhere to belong in the world, so humankind does not reject her.

The Ajimu arc is really where the idea of being a main character really starts getting deconstructed. Ajimu says it straight out, that if this world were a manga Medaka would be the main character. 

Ajimu is the most blatant one about it, but in a sense all of these characters to some extent apply narrative terms to real life like this. This is how Zenkichi sees himself, Medaka is the main event, and he is the sidekick, he is her pitbull, he’s the one who is supposed to help her with her ideals less of his own person and more of an extension to Medaka.

This is also the arc where Nisioisin starts to heavily show the danger of Medaka’s mindset and that Medaka’s role as the main character might not actually be a good thing. Once again, the villain of this arc is using all these narrative terms. When the villain tempts Zenkichi to her side, she doesn’t ask him to be a villain like her, she tells him to become his own main character. Being a main character is a bad thing. 

Being a main character does not help Medaka in any way. It makes her lonely. It makes her unable to understand other people because her own viewpoint of the world is so self centered, like the world is a story being told about her and everybody else is just side characters. While Medaka is a selfless person, the mindset that she embodies is unhealthy and even self destructive as she erases her own identity to try to fit into the role of a main character. It’s why even Zenkichi eventually turns against her for her own sake.

Medaka’s mother even lectures her about that. In the end there’s no good, or bad, reality is just reality, without any particular meaning, rhyme or reason to it. If you give yourself a role and stop being yourself, you’re not going to be embraced by people it only drives them away because they no longer see you as a person. Medaka in her attempt to find meaning in her life, actually made everyone else around her reject her even more even though she wanted them to accept her as a human.

Medaka thought it was wrong for someone like her to have been born with so much talent and privilege in life by what came down to nothing more than pure luck, she felt guilty just for living because she did not have to struggle with what everybody else did. Therefore, she tried to give a meaning behind her birth and desperately searched for that. She adopted the role of a main character, but that too was just another chain on her that made it harder to be herself. 

It’s a terrible thing to be a main character. It warps your perspective. It makes you egocentric and unable to empathize with others. You stop seeing them as people. 

So, Iihiko himself is not really a person. The reason you don’t understand him as a character is because he doesn’t really have one. He’s an entirely empty being that just occupies a role.

Iihiko is introduced as the opposite of Medaka, if Medaka is someone who was born to save the world, then Iihiko is a man born to destroy the world. 

Iihiko actually has a lot more in common with Medaka, or at least the Medaka we were introduced to at the start of the manga. He’s a “main character” in the sense that Medaka is, because he has an egocentric viewpoint of the world, and whatever he tries he suceeds at. In a way he’s a Medaka from the first few arcs who never grew up.

Just like Medaka he sees everyone as beneath him. Just like Medaka he doesn’t understand other people at all. Just like Medaka he forces his viewpoints onto others. He’s battle crazy like Medaka and seems to enjoy getting in fights with strong opponents, because otherwise there’s nothing to challenge him in this world. 

It’s explained that he’s a hero from a story book, and that’s why he does not fit in at all with reality. For example heroes from the greek era hardly match our modern definition of hero, heracles, theseus, they have all done things that would make us label them as jerks. However, cultural values were different 5,000 years ago. 

Except, Iihiko once again does not care about changing for other people, or the values of other people at all, he just wants to continue on living forever in his own storybook. hence why he displays such antiquated values and refuses to change them. He looks brutal because what was acceptable for his time is not acceptable now.

For Iihiko there’s nothing left accept his narrative, that’s why he alligns with the Shiranui village who just wants to perserve his own story. Iihiko so perfectly inhabits the role of a hero that it’s the only thing he has left now, it’s his entire identity. To admit that he is not a hero, that he’s nobody special, would completely destroy him. That is why, when he sees Medaka give up her ‘character’ as a hero, and just act like a person begging to have her friends life spared he’s confused. 

He wants things to play out the way they should in a story. Everyone should live respectfully to their roles. When they don’t, Iihiko gets angry and tries to force them. What Iihiko fears the most is that he’s a nobody. That none of his actions even if they were legendary had any particular meaning. That he was a normal mortal just like the rest of us. He fears the lack of meaning in the world, the same way that Ajimu embraces it. 

His definition of a monster is someone who does not see meaning in life. At the end despite having greater strength than Medaka, we see him lashing out at her if he’s nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum to prove his point. 

Being a main character is something that completely destroyed Iihiko’s identity, and all we are left with is the dregs of a person, the shell of his former self left behind. Hence why there’s not much going for him as a character, hence why he has little to no personality and there’s nothing to get invested in. It’s a terrible thing to be a main character, it prevents you from being a person. 

#yotomoe #mb meta #medaka box meta #metasks #medaka box #kurokami medaka #shishime iihiko

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

Rebecca Ferguson: “I did not earn my success” 

Rebecca Ferguson, 35, has many faces. She plays an opera singer in “The Greatest Showman”, in her latest film “The Kid Who Would Be King” she is evil witch.  In the interview for Gala in London hotel she shows her real face and explains why she thinks, she did not earn her current  success. 

In your latest film you play an abysmal evil witch...

Rebecca Ferguson: ... and I found it wonderfully liberating to finally be allowed to be become really evil for the role. Especially since I had the perfect sparring partner to bring out my darkest side. 

And that was? 

My son Isaac as it happened had his big school holidays while i was shooting so he could be with me almost all the time. I kept asking him what would scare him the most in a scene that supposed to be scary, in which tone is the best for me to speak and what look is especially scary to him.  

Have you got the taste now? 

And how! For example, in "Doctor Sleep", the sequel to Stephen King's "The Shining," I torture young children. Great! (laughs). It's just exciting to be able to tease out one's inner abysses with such roles.

A few years ago nobody knew you outside of Sweden. Today you play alongside Hugh Jackman or Chris Hemsworth ...

A little bit crazy, right? It still feels a bit surreal to me. Suddenly you work with a Meryl Streep, who you have admired for years from afar. Sometimes it hits me like a shock and then I think to myself: unbelievable, what an incredible luck i have! Especially since ambition in my life never counted among the driving impulses.

Really? 

Many people are eager to have great success and to give something to the outside world. Be it as a dentist, politician or an actor. I never had that wish. I just went my own way and most of the time it felt absolutely right. And as soon as I did not feel well in my skin, I chose another life path. In my life, things just happened, which sometimes, honestly, makes me feel guilty.

Why? 

I think that I have not really earned my current success. Many young actresses tear themselves apart to eventually live off their profession and become known. I, on the other hand, never had to fight for something with elbows and let myself be humiliated on hundreds of auditions. I was simply offered interesting roles. Maybe i have the best agent in the world! (laughs). At any rate, it has not been about my assertiveness that I am doing so well in business today. And if it is my talent? I would not like to judge for myself.

Unusually modest words for a film star... 

I'm sure there are thousands of actresses who have much more talent than me. Nevertheless, they get no more than a few supporting roles in TV series - if any. Sometimes, unfortunately, you are not in the right place at the right time, often it's just bad luck. I am sure that many colleagues burn a hundred times more than I do, sacrifice so much for their big dream and still have to bury it someday.

Rebecca Ferguson: from model to Hollywood actress 

How did it all start for you? 

Initially as a teenager i worked for a short time as a model, which i did not enjoy at all and was then cast as a 15-year-old for the lead role in a Swedish soap opera. We filmed two and a half episodes a day. Five days a week for two years. I never needed a drama school, because the work in the soap was the best and hardest school ever. Then I had a small role in the US series "Ocean Ave.", which flopped terribly. After that I was for the first time done with acting.

Then everything did not go as smooth as you say ...

For an outsider it might look like this. But I have never felt that way. Although I had tasted blood at that time and had a great desire for acting, considered the subject, but was always very pragmatic, with a slightly supercooled distance and without naive illusions.

Did you have a plan B? 

Of course! I am not a woman who gives into dreams and illusions. I studied music and dance in Stockholm and later taught Argentine tango in Lund. But I also opened a yoga studio once, worked as a shoe salesman and as a waitress - so I reinvented myself professionally a few times. Nevertheless, I always remained faithful to acting. And then in 2013 came the British mini-series "The White Queen"...

Your breakout role? 

With the role came the Golden Globe nomination which opened many doors for me. Hollywood became aware of me. And when I gradually moved to London everything came in quick succession.

Rebecca Ferguson & Tom Cruise are not just work colleagues

Is it true that as a teenager, you used to rave about Tom Cruise, your "Mission: Impossible" co-star?

And how! I had a crush on this man. When i was a kid my entire room used to be plastered with his posters and "Rain Man" or "Top Gun" were among my favourite movies. Well, and today we are not just work colleagues ...

Did you become friends? 

You can say so. Tom is dear to me and we have a mutual sympathy. Unfortunately we can seldom meet in person, but we regularly send mails and phone several times a month. And soon, we will be back together in front of the camera for the seventh "Mission Impossible”. Tom is a funny, sensitive person - and a great listener.

You have two children. Is not such a family life at your current workload terribly stressful?

And how! But luckily, my husband Rory works freelance. He accompanies me everywhere and supports me very much with the little one. Isaac is very independent for his age and goes to school in Sweden. My parents take care of him when I'm shooting. I do not want to expose him to stress, having to live without his friends, habitual environment and solid daily structures. It's not always easy - but somehow we get it all done fine in the end.

translated from German by @edwardslovelyelizabeth for @rebeccalouisaferguson.tumblr.com

#rebecca ferguson #interview #the kid who would be king #mission impossible #kid interview #miscellaneous

[padfootdidit]

a little pretence (pt. i)

Kaz Brekker can pick any lock. Inej Ghafa can scale any roof. They’re powerful, unbeatable, intimidating, talented but - can they handle pretending to be in love?

What’s this?? A six of crows fanfic??? You bet! This is my first fanfic for these characters and this fandom so some of the characterisation might be a little off but please bear with me whilst I find my footing! This fic in particular has not been edited and is also not set in the Grishaverse. More like a limbo between that world and ours. What’s most important to know is that they had to leave Ketterdam for some reason or other and are in a new town where no one knows them. Yet. 

For @fleamontpotter because, well, Kayla you’re amazing and also the person I need to thank for getting me into soc in the first place !! You’re so strong, so funny and so genuine. Thank you for introducing me to this bunch of idiots and for persuading me to write a fic. (Also shout out to @zeniik for also supporting me in this endeavour!)

read on ao3!

Saturday, 23:54

The Palace

Never in a million years would Inej had thought that this would be her most difficult job. Breaking Kuwei Yul Bo out of maximum security prison? Strong contender for top spot. Stealing forty million from Jan Van Eck? Sure. A routine heist with Kaz? I don’t think so. Yet, there she was, in the middle of the ballroom, struggling to keep it together because, well, she knew why. She was struggling to keep it together because Kaz had his arm around his waist and was currently telling an earl how they’d fallen in love.

Three Weeks Earlier

Tuesday, 18:06

The Waffle House

“- no way we’ll be able to get in, it’s basically a prison. You can’t -”

“- as if, you really think -”

“- not your best plan, Brekker, really -”

“What about through the front door?” Matthias’ firm voice cut through the bickering and everyone turned to look at him. Even Kaz raised his eyes, barely a fraction, but that was something.

“Don’t be daft,” Jesper scoffed. “They’re not going to welcome a crew of thieves to their party.”

“They won’t be. They’ll be welcoming two guests on the list,” Matthias said, leaning forwards on his elbows so they all head to crane their necks to hear him. “Specht can forge the invites easily enough.”

“At a cost,” Kaz said, speaking for the first time since they ordered. As everyone else had been arguing about ways in, the security, the risk, he had just been slowly working his way through his pile of waffles, listening. Inej knew he heard everything, whether or not he reacted. If Jesper had Kaz’s poker face, he’d win a lot more games.

“Surely one you’re willing to fit?” asked Wylan. They all knew Kaz would fit any cost for this particular job. It was going to make his name.

“So, me and Matt go through the front door,” Nina butted in. “And then what?”

“It can’t be you and Matthias,” Kaz said.

Nina scoffed and, around a mouthful of waffle and syrup said, “Well who else is it going to be? Jesper and Wylan? Doubtful.”

“Back off, we’d make great inside men,” Jesper said, petulant. It’s a moot point though, and they all know it. Nina swallowed, stabbed another waffle with her fork, and made to add to her point. Kaz was ahead of her. And Inej was ahead of Kaz.

“It has to be me and Inej.” Wylan choked on his milkshake. The others all shared a look and then laughed. Kaz was right though. What would be the point of getting Nina and Matthias in when they didn’t have the skills to carry out the job? It would be tricky enough getting them in through the front door, let alone making a diversion to allow Kaz and Inej to sneak in without invites. It had already been agreed it could only be two people inside anyway. Any more and they’d start to lose track. Kaz was the only one who could pick the locks and Inej was the only one who could cross the distance between the house and the safe house without setting off the alarms. “Unless any of you have suddenly learnt to walk the tightrope?”

Nina looked at Inej across the table, and Inej could tell she was trying hard to keep her eyebrows under control. Inej shrugged in response to the silent question. I’ll do what needs to be done.

“But surely only you’d need an invite, Kaz,” Wylan said. “Inej is the Wraith, she doesn’t need the front door.”

“A couple is far less conspicuous than a man on his own,” Matthias supplied and Inej wouldn’t be surprised if he was enjoying this. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Kaz since he’d first suggested it.

“So what, you guys are brother and sister?” Jesper asked, eyes alight with glee, and Inej frowned. They were all enjoying it. Nina wasn’t bothering to hide her shit-eating grin, the absolute traitor.

Kaz sighed and made to stand up, pushing his now empty plate across the table. “We’ll be distant relatives of the earl. We’re too young to be married so we’ll be betrothed.” His eyes flicked to Inej for a second as he buttoned up his coat. “We can work out a backstory later.” Then he grabbed his cane and marched out, the bell above the door jingling to announce his exit. They all watched him walk across the street in silence and then turned back to press Inej. But she had gone.

18:44

“I know you’re there,” Kaz said to the alley’s shadows. He’d know she’d follow him, had felt her presence join him two roads down from the Waffle House. Usually, he waited for her to talk, if she ever did, but this time his patience had reached the end of its tether. He leant against the wall and waited, suddenly unsure if she’d appear.

“Engaged?” Inej said as she landed softly in front of him. Clearly she’d been tracking him from the roofs, her favourite method. Her face was unreadable. He knew his was just as blank.

“Something tells me we won’t pass for siblings,” he said, tone flat. They might both have dark hair, but that was where their similarities ended. Kaz was the moon and Inej was the canal water it reflected on, although he suspected that that metaphor only worked for their appearances.

“You realise this means we’ll have to act,” she paused, and he could tell she was choosing her next words carefully, “like we’re in love.”

“Never heard of an arranged marriage?”

“Kaz.” Her voice was almost a growl and he wasn’t sure how they’d gotten there so quickly.

“I’m sure you can handle a little pretence.” A dig about The Menagerie would be too far. A dig about The Menagerie would never be on the table, not when Kaz was involved, yet it still hung in the air, the potential of it, and he could guess that’s what she’s thinking about.

“But can you?”

18:50

Inej jumped before he could reply and she forced herself not to think about the flash in his eyes as she pulled herself up the wall. She reached the roof of one of the two buildings that made the alley and looked down to check if Kaz was still there. He was staring up, not at her, he would never be able to spot her, but she knew it was meant to give that impression. She sighed. Or maybe he’s just looking at the moon. Nina’s voice in her head answered, doubtful.

The crescent-moon wasn’t bright enough to guide her across the new city, and she longed for the Barrel’s familiar rooftops so wouldn’t need it. The Barrel and its city was behind them now, and Inej needed to forget it. They couldn’t go back. That’s why they were here, starting fresh, starting small - well in terms of numbers. This job was anything but small. Kaz wanted to make his name quickly, carve his place before anyone could try and threaten them. It was just them though, which was nice. It was a relief not to be second-guessing who to trust.

She swung herself across the last gap of her journey and landed easily inside her window. Though the city was unfamiliar, Inej knew how to travel quickly, whatever the terrain. She was sure to have beaten Kaz back, and possibly the others as well. Which is why she took the chance to wash herself, knowing that soon her room would be crowded with Nina and Matthias. It would have been alright sharing with just Nina. Matthias complicated things though. Well, Nina and Matthias, together, a duo, a package, complicated things. Mainly they complicated things at night when Inej wanted to be sleeping.

As she stood over the cramped room’s basin and used the skinny bar of soap to rid herself of the day’s grime, Inej thought about the job. About what pretending to be Kaz’s betrothed would mean. What ‘a little pretence’ would mean. Holding hands? Smiling at each other? Staring lovingly into each other’s eyes? Kissing? Inej could handle half of those things, and none with ease. Kaz could most likely handle zero off the list, and they both knew it. Maybe, if they were lucky, their pretence would only have to hold for the time it took them to cross the ballroom. Inej didn’t believe in luck though. She believed in her Saints and she wasn’t sure they still believed in her.

A Week Later

The Slat 2.0

Friday, 10:17

“How long have you been together?” Nina looked far too happy to have this job. So far, Inej and Kaz had been performing abysmally at what Jesper had nicknamed their ‘compatibility test’. Inej blamed Kaz. Kaz blamed Inej. They both blamed Matthias for putting them in this position in the first place. For the past week, Inej had fallen asleep thinking of all the different ways she could introduce her knives to Matthias’ stomach, face, throat, legs, really any part of his body that presented itself. Kaz had taken to reminding Matthias that his only real use was for his muscles, despite this being mostly false.

“Three years.”

“A year and a half.”

Nina raised an eyebrow. “They’ll gut you.”

“I’ll have slit their throats before they can try,” Inej said, pointedly sharpening Petyr . She had also taken to bringing her blades to these sessions, as a reminder that she had the ability to kill anyone she wanted to before they could blink. It was unnecessary, totally, but it kept her calm.

“We’ll stick to three years. It’s closest to the truth so it’ll be easier to remember.” Kaz’s suggestion was met with a grin from Nina and Inej imagined cutting both of their throats.

“Excellent thinking, Brekker. So, how long have you been together?”

“Three years.”

“Three years.”

“And how long have you been engaged?”

“A month.”

“Inej?”

“A month.”

“Brilliant!” Nina cried, clapping her hands together. “And now from the top.”

Kaz sighed. “Can we take a break?”

“Not if you don’t want to get caught! Now, how did you two meet?”

Inej answered monotonously for the rest of the session. They both knew the answers by now, and she’d hope so considering that they’d been going over the story every day since they came up with it. Most of it was the truth, or at least an adaptation of it. They had been working with each other for three years, so they’d been together for three years. Everything was derived from something in their lives, including how they fell in love. Jesper had come up with it, and Inej had just managed to restrain herself from skinning him. ‘You fell in love working together! Obviously!’ He’d declared, happening upon Kaz and Inej last Wednesday when they were first inventing the story. Kaz’s glare had been enough to shut any coward up, but Jesper was immune to them by now. He’d continued: ‘Every job you got closer and closer until, eventually, the sexual tension was too much and you sealed the -’. He’d only stopped when Kaz had rapped his cane on the floor twice, a warning.

Now Jesper wouldn’t shut up about it. Whenever he caught her without Kaz, he would ask her how the engagement was going, if they were waiting to consummate the marriage. Wylan wasn’t helping either. His favourite question was about Inej’s wedding dress.

She’d be relieved when, in two weeks, the job was over and she’d never have to talk about engagements or falling in love with Kaz again.

Two Weeks Later

Saturday, 20:30

The Palace

“Looking dapper, as always, Brekker,” Jesper said in Kaz’s ear as he and Inej joined the queue having their invites checked outside the palace. He was already regretting agreeing to having communications. It had been Wylan’s idea and, in truth, it was going to help. They wouldn’t have to rely on signals to know when to act, or be worried if someone didn’t show up to the rendezvous. Still, he’d rather not have everyone’s voices in his head when he was trying to focus. It was hard enough with Inej holding his hand. He’d had to buy a new pair of gloves, ones not adapted so he could easily pick locks, because he didn’t want to risk a single brush of her skin against his. His usual ones were tucked safely in his inside pocket, ready for when he faced the safe.

“And I just look like a mess?” Inej asked quietly, facing Kaz so that, to everyone else, it would just like they were chatting to each other.

“You look radiant,” Jesper said.

“Absolutely stunning,” Nina added.

“Positively a blushing bri-”

“If you’re quite finished,” Kaz interrupted, “should we get on with the job?” He refused to look at Inej. If she was blushing, it’s not like he would be able to tell anyway.

“Yessir,” Jesper said and Kaz could almost imagine his mock salute.

“In position Wylan?”

“Check.”

“Matthias?”

“Uhuh.”

“Jesper?”

“Guns at the ready-”

“Nina?”

“Yup. And I’ve got eyes on Rotty. He’s waiting by the exit route for you.”

“Good, then let’s get to work.” He and Inej moved forward with the line and he continued to stare straight ahead. He didn’t need to check she was ready, she was right next to him. Kaz was pretty sure he could feel her pulse flicking in her wrist. That couldn’t be possible though. Rather that than no pulse at all, he reasoned. But it wasn’t the time to start down that path. This was going to be an easy job. All he had to do was pretend to be engaged to Inej to get through the hall, and then they were basically finished. All he had to do was keep away from the memory of piled corpses and rotting flesh and blank eyes and lapping water and the stench and the

Kaz tightened his jaw. Not today, not now. Inej’s pulse was there. Even if he was only imagining that he could feel it. Everyone around him was living breathing beating alive. This job was going to be easy, over before he could think about it, and then his name would be made. All he had to do was pretend to be in love with Inej.

#six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc #soc fic #rhiannonwritesdrabbles #fleamontpotter #zeniik #steeveharrington #kaz x inej #the dregs #two of a kind #hope you all like this #am v nervous abt posting this #but ive done it now #so #NO GOING BACK #let me know if u want to be tagged in the second part

[hellsbellschime]

3x16 That intro with Freya’s baritone whisper for the prophecy and the over the top drama way of saying it is so tedious after a while. But at least Elijah is on the piano which actually is a much better intro.

No they did NOT! Mother trucker? I don’t swear often but FUCK OFF! Just FUCK THE HELL OFF! For good and good fucking riddance! And there are actually people debating if this show actually belongs to the trash can?

And I don’t get it. Klaus in the last episode was like I don’t run I disappear. I was a legend. I was a shadow for decades. And now he needs Hayley to order him around and teach him how to go undercover with peasant hats? A fucking insult to an once upon a time great character. That’s what it is. And yes that fucker Klaus in TO was never like Klaus in TVD but everything should have just a line that should be crossed. Fuck this noise! I just. FUCK!

All that onslaught of Cami and Klamille and then they go for Klayley and I actually believed for a hot second there that after the mess Klamille and Camille were in this season I would be able to tolerate Klayley a bit better because how much worse it can get. Well joke’s on me! PT and JM together are so cringe too which does not help. Add the hat! Man the hat! And well FUCK!

And the free pass Hayley gave Klaus after him cursing her after their bullshit custody battle and their fake empowering drivel in their dialogue and narrative is beyond me. That show is an insult to women. And I don’t get it. It is mostly women that watch. They really have no grasp of what their audience is all about.

Lucien and Freya are so cute! I could actually ship it! Like hardcore! If the actress was a little bit better and Freya was not a deus ex machine character and a fake original meant to replace Rebekah and have the writers say here we gave you the Original family. Not the one you wanted. The discount one but stop complaining. Yeah not gonna fly. No.

But at least the actor that plays Finn is pure hotness. And in any other show I would have waited at the edge of my seat for a Sage reference but here I just expect more OOC but at least Finn is an eye candy.

From never underestimate the allure of darkness we get to the never underestimate the allure of indoor plumbing. Yeah that is what TO is compared to the Originals in TVD. I don’t get those cheap shots against Klaroline though. I am not that old in the KC fandom to know exactly what has happened aside from a few things I read in twitter but watching TO and seeing that disposition in the actual writing is so jarring and makes no sense. –

-And maybe if the show was better or at least decent I would be able to pay no attention but here in this mess why even bother with such petty crap instead of focusing on the hack writing and the way the show is suffering? I don’t understand. Those jokes are not funny when they are demolishing Klaus’ character in ways that can’t be fixed and it is not a damn ship thing. It is through and through the damage on his character.

Oh Hayley the fake good Samaritan. If only I didn’t remember the half breed backstabbing piece of shit she's always been & I use that particular phrase bc she actually had the audacity to call Tyler that. And somehow I am meant to root for her and her Cabo crap? Maybe if the show didn’t try to give her the worst portrayal of an asshole hypocrite masking it as a perfect badass snowflake mother Teresa trope I could have. PT’s acting skills aside Hayley’s character really has hit rock bottom for me

Vampires in the internet. Sure that makes sense. The fuck with this show. However I have to give it to them for this year. The introduction of the vampires are on point. Unfortunately they let all that potential go to waste but they managed to give some great vampires this year. Aurora, Lucien, Aya, Cortez, that blond chick now. It is a pity that they don’t take advantage of them and they persist with the likes of Cami and Hayley.

Finn’s stories about how Kol corrupted and kill women. Those were the days! We couldn’t we have that? Why are we stuck with the Mary Sue vampire mess Kol despised in TVD and would never become? He was better off dead. And on another note I get Kol’s anger towards Finn. What I don’t get is how Elena and Jeremy aren't included in his revenge lash out. They're ruining him! With the blood bags and crying for Davina and wanting to be good and all that mushy out of character nonsense. Fuck that noise!

The scene with Finn not wanting to burn the white oak is one of the few truly good scenes I have seen in the show and very on character for Finn. The Finn that was introduced in TVD. Those glimpses of greatness show me what the show could truly be and I just get so sad because of it.

But I don’t get why Elijah wouldn’t burn the white oak in any case. With the prophecy looming and all their enemies it truly is the most idiot thing to do. And after the mess with the seraturra Elijah gives the white to oak to Freya. Like come on. That’s like handing it to their enemies. These people have survived this long only by pure luck. Nothing else.

LOL. Of course it is Lucien that’s the evil villain mastermind behind the scenes. Great characters do that. I knew I liked him for a reason! And the fear he inspires by those that call him ‘him’. And plotting and scheming and being a true vampire and relishing at being one and being in his element. That is what Klaus should have been. That is what Klaus WAS in TVD. And now. Sigh. At Lucien is there to fill the shoes that desperately need filling.

MOTHER TRUCKER. MOTHER TRUCKER. I do not know one person who didn’t lose their mind over the stupidity that is mother trucker. And yes, KH and Joseph and Phoebe are a freaking nightmare, the writers keep them apart so long that it’s easy to forget but then the minute they have to interact it is so painfully cringe. The writers are 10x more concerned with dragging KC and the actual Originals at every opportunity than they are with the abysmal writing though. And yes, TO seems to be absolutely on point when it comes to introducing an idea that actually sounds totally awesome and then never ever mentioning that idea again.

#to redux #Anonymous

[spideyxchelle]

So not sure if ur actually doing headcanons but I want one where MJ is Midtowns BAMF. Like she gets arrested in protests and punches Nazis in the face and she ain't got time to do makeup and dress pretty because she's raising money to get young black girls through school. Like, she's the real life superhero and Peter is the romantic interest, but also she's incredible smart and help Pete with issues in his suit not even Tony Stark figures out. Just badass MJ

MJ is bamf, okay?? like, we only get maybe (and I’m being generous here) 10 minutes of her in the whole movie but I know and you know and we all know that she is the most boss-ass bitch at Midtown. LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT IT-

so MJ in middle school was crazy popular

she was the girl™ and pretty much everybody (girls, boys) had their first crushes on her. she was pretty, smart and admittedly a bit of a conformist….so everything that was cool was what MJ did and no one was better at being popular than MJ…

then, in 2013 George Zimmerman is acquitted for the murder Trayvon Martin and MJ isn’t interested conforming anymore. BECAUSE BLACK LIVES MATTER and she’s a black woman and the system she’s been conforming to, the system that makes her “popular”, isn’t a system that supports her and her culture and just like that MJ is Queen’s resident intersectional feminist

she stops wearing makeup (not because makeup inherently is anti-feminist but because she only wore it to fit in and that’s some bullshit) and wears clothes that her grandmother wore to Civil Rights marches in the 1960s and she feels, for the first time, like herself

and she stops being social because not because she’s an asshole and doesn’t like people but because she has SO MUCH TO CATCH UP ON, OKAY?! she spent years not fighting for her rights and the rights of all women and the right of LGBTQ+ people and sexual assault survivors/victims and every minority group ever. and she needs to know. she needs to learn. and she needs to do it now. 

their entire freshman year of high school people still flock to MJ because she’s MJ and she’s amazing. and even though, basically overnight, she’s dedicated her life to something beyond being popular in high school she’s still MJ. and, frankly, the fact that she’s a protest babe is fascinating to stupid fourteen year olds

MJ thinks its stupid. she doesn’t go to protests to be cute, okay??? its serious business because this country is some bullshit and systematic oppression isn’t going to be fought against in Washington so she’ll fight for it in the streets. 

she marches in every march she can manage, from marches for science to planned parenthood to pride month to BLM to marches for immigration. EVERYTHING. 

the first time she gets arrested its in the midst of Trump mania during the 2016 election season. a group of racists form downtown with their racist signs and their RACIST chants. and she joins the small coalition of people that protest their little racist hoedown. a guy with a stupid red hat calls her the n word and crudely tells her where she can put her “liberal mouth”

….

she absolutely decks him in the face AND EVERYTHING TURNS INTO A FULL ON BRAWL. and she gets arrested and is kept overnight. her brother bails her out first thing in the morning and when she asks what took him so long, he tells her that he’s been dealing with reporters outside their house all night because SOMEONE went viral. 

that someone is MJ. 

and she’s hella pleased. 

when she gets to school that day everybody is looking at her like she is the most fabulous person to ever exist and while she doesn’t agree, she thinks Maxine Waters holds that title, it feels nice to be appreciated for something besides how “pretty” she is. for the first time she feels like her classmates see her beyond the #fade of protesting. they see how serious she is about changing the world, about making a difference. 

and so sophomore year she starts going to parties. she, like, doesn’t interact with people much (again, she has a lot of reading to do) but she’s there. because midtown kids aren’t the shitty majority, they’re diverse and woke and kind of cool. eh. not as cool as her, tho. 

MJ gets arrested a few more times (all for the greater good) and the myth of Michelle Jones only seems to grow at Midtown. like everybody has their version of crazy things MJ did. some of which are true, some of which aren’t. she low-key enjoys during lunch listening to people at surrounding tables talk about her like she’s a superhero.

“I heard MJ met Hillary Clinton and told her she’s too moderate” “well I heard she was at the Women’s March in DC and came up with the chant we reject the president elect” “well I heard she started working with the New York Philharmonic to bring their musicians into homeless shelters and prisons to give underprivileged people access to music” “well I heard she’s punched like fifteen Nazis”

and some of the rumors are true, some aren’t. but she never clarifies which are which. she sort of enjoys being more legend than teenager. 

BUT THEN stuff at Midtown goes really weird. like her teammates almost die at decathlon in DC and Liz’s Dad gets arrested and she’s made team captain. and Peter Parker is definitely hiding something. 

not that she cares because she’s got money to raise for young black girls’ education and charities to volunteer for that house homeless LGTBQ+ youth that were kicked out by their homophobic families

basically, she’s got better things to worry about then the fact that Peter Parker is definitely up to something

she finds out he’s a superhero completely by accident 

she’s at a rally against Trump (which, honestly, feels like all she does lately because this orange cheeto is always doing something abysmal) and some a-hole tries to set off a bomb to attack the protesters. before he can hurt anybody, tho, SPIDER-MAN shows up and saves the day.

and Parker is such a moron he doesn’t even try and change his voice when he’s on the job. like, Parker…get better at your job, man. she KNOWS what his voice sounds like and Spider-man is definitely Peter. 

the next day at school she sits by him and lunch and everyone in the cafeteria gets SILENT. because OMG WHY IS MICHELLE JONES sitting with Peter Parker? like, she’s a goddess and he’s kind of a loser. what’s happening????

she jots down a note and slides it to him. its simple. gets straight to the point- “I know you’re Spider-man” and Peter’s eyes to HILARIOUSLY big. like, he can’t even believe that she figured it out. but, uh, she’s way smarter than him so of course she did. 

and, its weird, but they slowly become friends after she knows his secret. they do their homework together and Peter starts to go to marches with her. she doesn’t invite him, he just kind of shows up hoping to see her. and she SUPPOSES if she’s going to have a love interest (because, um, he may have super powers but she’s the one that’s going to change the world one day so he’s definitely her love interest) Peter isn’t a terrible one to have

he even gets her an audience with Tony Stark who she basically commands to throw some money at charities that need support right now in this weird dystopian Trump era of human existence

and after that meeting MJ gives Peter a hug. he seems sort of shell shocked and star struck but that’s not her problem

AND when Thanos appears and makes this whole weird world even worse Peter is called to action to help the Avengers punch their way to a diplomatic solution. but before he can ship out with the rest of the squad the tech in his suit goes haywire and MJ has to fix it because Tony Stark doesn’t know what happened and Peter sure as hell doesn’t. she spends the better part of the night getting him battle ready. and when the time comes for him to go and fight she doesn’t give him a kiss for good luck or hugs him and tells him to be safe. she simply tells him that she needs the world to be in one piece if she’s going to save it. and that he needs to go make sure she’s got a world to save. 

so he does. he and his team defeat Thanos and two days after the end of the war, she’s back on the streets protesting against corruption. because the world didn’t stop spinning just because an alien invaded. no sir. 

the first day of their senior year, Peter slides MJ a note and instead of revealing any kind of secret identities like the first time, its a question. 

she looks up at him genuinely surprised. “you wanna go out with me?” she asks, “why?”

he gets flustered and manages to tell her what she already knew, “you’re like a freakin’ superhero. who wouldn’t want to go out with you?”

he gets a kiss for that comment. their first kiss. “yea, i’ll go out with you.”

“tonight?” he replies, almost too eager to sit still. 

she rolls her eyes and turns back to her book about dysphoria in the trans community, “I’m going to a BLM march.” “i’ll go with you.”

and that’s their first date. their second is private dinner with the Obamas to thank the Avengers for saving the world. and when the former President asks who Michelle is Peter introduces her as “the girl who is going to save this country” and Obama smiles wide at her, shakes her hand and says sincerely, “well, its very nice to meet you” 

#anon #asks #headcanon #headcanon ask #michelle jones #she is a badass #and i love everything about her #spideychelle

[gadgetsrevv]

Time for the Dutch to step up; France are on upset alert

Club matches may be on hiatus for the next 10 days, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t some tasty football morsels to tuck into. Nick Miller takes a look at this week’s Euro qualifiers.

JUMP TO: Dutch need some courage | France limping into Reykjavik | All eyes on England | Can Ramsey inspire Wales? | Danes wary of cheesed Swiss | Kosovo needs some luck | Paint drying, grass growing, and Ireland | ESPN’s fearless predictions

THE WEEKEND’S BIG QUESTIONS

Will the Netherlands be able to deliver on their promise?

The last year or so has seen a nascent revival in the Dutch national team’s fortunes: From not qualifying for either of the last two major tournaments, they ripped into the Nations League and ultimately came second to Portugal in the summer. Were they back? Well, they were getting there, with an improving collection of talent that includes, in Virgil van Dijk and Matthijs de Ligt, probably the best central defensive pairing in international football.

But they’re not absolutely “back” just yet — in fact, they’re not even in the automatic qualification spots, three points behind Northern Ireland with a game in hand. They face the Northern Irish on Thursday, knowing that they have to win unless they want the last round of games to be very uncomfortable indeed. They have the security of a playoff place if they do slip up, but if they lose then they will be six points behind with three games remaining. The revival isn’t complete just yet.

Virgil van Dijk and Matthijs de Ligt form probably the best central defensive pairing in international football. Cees van Hoogdalem/Soccrates /Getty Images

Could Iceland upset the injury-ravaged world champions?

Another potential upset could come in Reykjavik, where a slightly depleted France travel to face a potentially very ticklish tie indeed. Without the injured Hugo Lloris, Kylian Mbappe and Paul Pogba, plus a host of other players carrying assorted ailments, France aren’t exactly going into this one in roaring good health.

Didier Deschamps’ side beat Iceland 4-0 in March, but since then have been far from convincing, and that shock defeat to Turkey in June means they go into this one in third place, three points ahead of Friday’s opponents, who will sniff a genuine chance to spring a surprise. If they do, that will introduce a large and hungry cat to a crowd of skittish pigeons, France will have to seek revenge against the Turks when they come to Paris on Monday, and it will make the last few games in Group H absolutely fascinating.

Will England have to deal with ugly racism again?

Depressing as it is to have to contemplate this prospect in 2019, there are fears that England’s black players could once again be subject to racist abuse when they travel to Sofia on Monday to face Bulgaria. It’s been a problem there before, and is anticipated to the extent that the players have already discussed what they would do if the situation arose.

Clearly, it’s an abysmal indictment of society that someone like Tammy Abraham should even be put in this position, but the Chelsea forward confirmed this week that in the event of racist abuse the England side would consider ignoring UEFA’s prescribed “three steps” policy — an appeal over the PA, then temporary suspension of the game, then abandonment — and just walk off the field.

Whatever happens, England will act as a collective. “It’s a team thing,” said Abraham. “Don’t isolate one person…It’s not just affecting one person, it’s affecting the team. If we decide that we don’t want to play this game because of what’s going on, we’ll come off as a team.”

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Trent Alexander-Arnold is taking things one game at a time for both England and Liverpool.

MAN TO WATCH

Aaron Ramsey: Who knows whether Wales would be in a stronger position to qualify for the finals if Ramsey had been fit. The Juventus midfielder has not been available for a single minute of their four games so far, so you can understand just how anxiously Welsh fans everywhere were waiting for reports on his fitness for their games against Slovakia and Croatia this weekend.

This time an abductor muscle problem has kept him out of the former, but he is training hard to be fit for the latter in Cardiff on Sunday. Four points from those two games would put Wales right back in the mix with two games to go after that.

Could Ramsey be the difference?

THE GAME YOU’RE NOT PLANNING TO WATCH … BUT SHOULD

Denmark vs. Switzerland: On the face of it, this might look like a moderately interesting game between two moderately good teams, but actually this could be a bit of a thriller. Certainly if it’s anything like the last time they faced each other in March: That time the Swiss were 3-0 ahead in the 84th minute, only for the Danes to roar back and score three times in nine minutes to clinch a 3-3 draw deep into injury-time, Henrik Dalsgaard swooping at the last.

The two sides have scored 25 goals between them in qualifying so far, so if you’re stuck for entertainment on Saturday, this is the one for you.

THE TEAM THAT NEEDS A BIT OF LUCK

Kosovo: It’s pretty remarkable that Kosovo, who weren’t even UEFA members when the last qualification period started, are in a very decent position to make it through this time.

Here they are, currently in third place in Group A, but this is one of those tricky rounds of games where they’re only playing once, and are simultaneously looking for a favour from England: Should Gareth Southgate’s side beat the Czech Republic on Friday night, and they beat Montenegro at home a few days later, then they will go into the final two games in pole position to go through automatically. Remarkable.

Kosovo have been the surprise package in Group A. EPA/VALDRIN XHEMAJ

ONE THING THAT WILL DEFINITELY HAPPEN

Nobody will have much fun watching Ireland: In Mick McCarthy’s second spell in charge, the Republic of Ireland are a slightly curious proposition. They sit top of Group D, two points ahead of Denmark and three clear of Switzerland, who have a game in hand. This weekend they have two away games, against Georgia and the Swiss, and we simply cannot recommend watching either of them.

It’s perhaps not McCarthy’s fault, as his remit is very short-term — to get them to the finals before Stephen Kenny takes over next summer — and he has a relatively shallow pool of talent with which to carry out that task. But they’ve played five games and scored six goals, and they are nobody’s idea of a team that produces free-flowing football. Maybe just wait and check the scores afterwards for these ones.

SELECTED PREDICTIONS

Group A: Czech Republic 0-3 England; Bulgaria 1-4 England Group B: Ukraine 1-2 Portugal Group C: Netherlands 3-1 Northern Ireland; Estonia 1-3 Germany Group D: Denmark 3-2 Switzerland; Switzerland 2-1 Ireland Group E: Slovakia 1-1 Wales; Wales 2-1 Croatia Group F: Sweden 1-3 Spain Group G: Latvia 0-3 Poland; Slovenia 2-1 Austria Group H: Iceland 2-2 France; France 3-0 Turkey Group I: Belgium 7-0 San Marino; Russia 4-0 Scotland Group J: Italy 3-0 Greece

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#Uncategorized #Netherlands #UEFA European Championship Qualifying Time for the Dutch to step up; Fra

[heavyelectricity]

Weekend Thoughts

Overcooked 2 is a lot of fun. It seemed amazing to me, how just trying to get three people to perform a simple sequence of events to complete a task can be incredibly tricky. I don’t know why that amazed me, having been working full time for about nine years now.

Speaking of that, a charity that I used to work for has finally collapsed, after years of struggle. Apparently, it was being investigated for fraud last year. I know there was fraud going on when I was there. Maybe I should tell all one day.

Apparently I have a Smash main and it’s Pac-Man.

Mob Psycho 100 series 2 is starting off pretty heckin’ strong.

I had no idea that one of my friends had even heard of Henning Wehn, lot alone was a fan of his. I can’t wait to go to that show. Now I need to get at least one of my colleagues to go to the Progress show in March.

Not sure whether I want Hanako-san to throw food at me, but if it’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen.

I hate the way circumstances conspire to make good friends geographically distant.

Those Jackbox Party Pack things are pretty great. Can’t believe I fooled my friends into thinking a NASA scientist wrote a paper comparing Bill Clinton to penguins. It’s “Wood Magnetism” all over again.

My LLSIF luck has been A+ this week. URs in consecutive 10+1 scouts (one of which featured two SSRs as well), and a UR Yoshiko off a single green coupon scout? Get in there, man.

The Goldbergs is like, super ordinary sitcom fodder, but it’s basically televisual comfort food - not too much thinking, some nostalgic stuff, everyone ends up happy in the end. The only badness is that the schedulers use it to trick people into having the abysmal Young Sheldon on.

Getting back to eating properly after the Socially Acceptable Annual Binge™ (Christmas) has been hard. Got closer to that today.

I’m currently playing a game that is pretty brilliant and I absolutely hate it.

Why do Blu-Ray manufacturers even bother with the whole “Digital Copy” thing? They’re useless - I can’t watch them on my chosen devices, accounts are scattered all over the place, and it’s just far better to make your own digital copies. That Blu-Ray drive was a good investment.

The Disaster Artist was a whole lot of fun. I really need to watch The Room again, but it’s no fun watching alone. Man, I need a bigger flat so I can host friends.

The PSP was more than just an emulation machine, and I wish that whole stupid line of argument would die off. Mine was a huge help to me when I couldn’t have a home console, because the DS just couldn’t do games like the Wipeouts or God Of War. Not that the DS was bad, just better at other things.

I was talking last night about wanting to try doing a charity stream and then Hbomberguy goes and hits it out of the park. Damn good thing, too.

Local co-op is one of my favourite things in gaming and the Switch makes it so heckin’ easy. It’s so easy to keep your console in your bag, and you’ve got it ready to go whenever. If there’s a few of you and you each have different games, no worries - drop your Switch into the dock and there’s your whole digital library and all your saves. I’m so happy it exists.