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evilpenguinrika · 5 months

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The brain bees are making me think about my hosie/final fantasy 14 AU and will not leave me (literally started writing this post at 4am but stopped because it was almost 5am but now I've come to finish this post at an appropriate time in the late afternoon)

Youre free to check out what kind of weird niche AU I've created by going through my "hosie ffxiv au" tag on my blog!

Okay. So I've had a lot to think about in terms of what Jobs Hope, Josie, and their kids would have and despite my very first post saying otherwise, I've come to a new conclusion:

Hope Mikaelson, our favourite Tribrid, would have these Jobs in this exact order:

Dragoon (no Tribrid reasoning tbh. Dragoons are just fucking hot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ although one could argue it would fit her werewolf side)

Red Mage (there IS a Tribrid reasoning for this. Red Mages use magic, so that's a no brainer for Hope's witch side. But apart from magic casting, they also fight with rapiers, and I thought that was a cool little touch. Plus, it reminds me a lot of the blood sword we saw Hope use in the show. Not to mention Red Mage--like Dragoons--have some very fanciful moves that made me think of Hope as well. Very fitting.)

Dark Knight (another with Tribrid reasoning. I haven't actually gotten to Heaven's Ward expansion pack to unlock this Job or its Job Quest so all the information of Dark Knight are from videos I've seen. But the Job is perfect for Hope's vampires side as Dark Knight has this blood guage or something which was so fitting. And the lore behind this Job apparently goes super fucking hard lol. And edgy and broody, which is even more perfect for our resident Tribrid!)

For our lovely and favourite brunette siphoner, Josie Saltzman, here are the Jobs she would have in this order:

Black Mage (this felt like a no-brainer Job for her to have. Especially because this class focuses a lot with switching between your Blizzard spells and Fire spells. And we all know Josie is secretly a pyromaniac (lol I jest). So for her, Black Mage is perfect)

Blue Mage (this is another no-brainer and fits in theme with her Siphoner witch abilities. Blue Mages are able to copy the moves they've seen from their enemies, now sure this may not seem very Siphoner themed, but I assure you, it's sort of parallel to it. Siphoners are able to use magic if they siphon/take magic from someone or something magical right? Blue Mage is sort of like that in which they acquire spells of enemy moves to add to their arsenal of magic. So it makes sense in my book)

Honourable mention for Josie before I move on is the Bard Job. I felt like this Job would suit Josie nice because Bards have music stuff and I thought that fit. Though I don't quite remember if Josie being into or dabbling in music was canon or a fan fanon thing. Now, with the next Expansion Dawntrail coming out summer, I have been made aware that there are a few other Jobs that will be included in the pack--new jobs too (Viper being one of them but I'll get to that Job later). So it's possible that I will update this list for Josie once more when we get news of the rest of the new Jobs.

Moving onto my very precious Hosie Fankids!

Lana Mikaelson, she, like her mom Hope, is a Tribrid as well! So this will be pretty much the same except for one additional Job:

Dragoon (same reasoning as Hope)

Red Mage (originally I didn't think of Lana taking Red Mage, but when I realized Stormblood Expansion pack is now included in standard edition and free trial permanently, I had to try out Red Mage. And then I realized Red Mage is a perfect fit for Lana for the same reasons I gave in Hope's section)

Dark Knight (same reasoning as Hope)

Viper (this is one of the new Jobs that will be included in Dawntrail expansion and I am so excited. What information we have are from things that had been showcased already, with gameplay footage you could find on YouTube. But I chose this Job for Lana is because I'm a simple pal and loved the aesthetic. But also because YOU FIGHT WITH DUOBLADES THAT CAN THEN BE CONNECTED INTO ONE DOUBLE SIDED BLADE HOW COOL IS THAT PLUS it also fits well with a certain event and scene that I have plans for when it's time to write about Lana's adventures in my future kid fic series So I Swear That I'll Protect It. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up)

Hayley Mikaelson. The werewolf of the kids and one of Hosie's twins! I love Hayley she's the best:

Monk (felt this Job was fitting for her werewolf side. She's a heavy hitter, packs a mean punch, and werewolves sorta rely on that, most of the time I'm assuming. Sorry it's been a while since I've watched the series haha. But for Hayley, despite her werewolf side, I felt like Monk was the perfect fit!)

Rogue (now, I've already written up an in depth reasoning for picking this starting class here. But I'll paraphrase here anyways. I thought it might also be jnteresting to have Hayley, not only be a charge in type of girl, but also someone who knew how to be sneaky and use her cunning. She would have been taught to try out different battle tactics so she wouldn't just rely on her base instincts. The reason this is a starting class is because the next 'evolution' I guess is the Ninja Job, which I'm not sure if I want her to take. It's also very jarring to have a pirate-esque western-y feel and then evolve to something very Japanese-theme, but that's just me. Plus Jay is the anime weeb in the family lol

So literally after writing this post the other day I logged in to play as Hayley and ended up having her pick up the Marauder class so she can actually become Warrior haha

Warrior (like I've mentioned before, Hayley's fighting style is very rush in guns-a-blazing. She will do whatever it takes to have the focus on her so her friends or siblings/family can get the jump on the enemies without fear of getting targetted themselves. Which is absolutely fitting as a Tank role because Tanks pull mobs and enemies, they make sure all mobs and enemies are focusing on THEM while the rest of the party does their job without fear of being targetted. And I specifically chose Warrior as the Job for Hayley is because out of the four Tank Jobs: Paladin, Warrior, Dark Knight, and Gunbraker, I felt like Warrior fit better for Hayley in terms of her role and personality)

Reaper (I was writing this post about how to incorporate Hayley and Leo's TVDU backstory abilities into FFXIV AU and now I can't unsee Reaper being an excellent fit for Hayley because my hc is that Hayley is a werewolf yes, but she also has vampire blood running in her--courtesy of her Tribrid Mom) [RPR Job point added Feb 1, 2024]

Honourable mentions for other Jobs Hayley might take up. I have been humouring the idea of her taking on one of the four Tank Jobs (Paladin, Warrior, Dark Knight, and Gunbreaker), but I truly am unsure which of the Tank Jobs would be best suited for her. I mentioned previously that she's quite a "charge in head first" type, and that's usually what the Tank Jobs do where they pull enemies away from the party members so the party can do their thing. And I think Hayley is very much like that. Maybe Paladin or Warrior would be the two I could see for Hayley because iirc, in one of the intermission chapters for my very first Hosie fic Sad Bedroom Eyes, she was playing D&D and had chosen--nope never mind I just checked I had her pick the Monk class. Welp, that doesn't help me lol. I'll think more on this and then decide. Either that or wait to see what the new Jobs are for Dawntrail (I mean I guess Viper could also fit. And it would be nicely aligned with Rogue. We'll see though).

Also with her picking up a Tank job, I think Hosie would have very different outlooks and opinions on it. Hope--since Dark Knight is also a Tank--would be proud of Hayley and would probably help her fit into her role as a Tank until her daughter feels more confident and comfortable. As opposed to Josie who would be fretting about Hayley having to be the one to pull enemies and have all the attacks be aimed at her. I also think if the entire family goes do dungeons, Hope and Hayley would both be Tanks, Hope being main Tank and Hayley being off Tank at first--but I think they'll switch roles so that Hayley will get a chance to be main Tank. I think that would be really fun and really sweet bonding moment for the Hosie family.

Jay Mikaelson, the loveable goofball, twin to Hayley, big time anime weeb, and Siphoner. He will also have similar Jobs like his momma Josie, all except one additional Job:

Black Mage (same reasoning as Josie)

Blue Mage (same reasoning as Josie)

Dancer (in my fic So I Swear That I'll Protect It, Jay has taken dance classes and gymnastics and uses those moves to incorporate into his fighting in addition to his magic. It took me an embarrassingly long time to remember this information and only popped up when I was writing chapter 15 of We're Reckless And In Danger--second installment in SISTIPI series--so I quickly added this Job to Jay's list! And it's just so perfect for him)

Leo Mikaelson, the adopted son, youngest Mikaelson kid, and the ONLY HUMAN in a family of supernaturals. The kid's got his work cut out for him:

Scholar (I felt like this class was fitting for Leo since he wishes to learn all that he can about magic in order to relate more to his three older siblings. Of course Hayley is just a werewolf and does not have magic, but the sentiment is still there. And Scholars have a faerie that pretty much helps with buffs and heals and I think that's also nice for Leo. I see him as someone who's very friendly towards lots of creatures. And since Scholar is a Healing Job, I think it also works even more with Leo's need to want to support his siblings/family and help them out when he can.)

Bard (so I also wrote an in-depth reasoning for Leo taking up this class as well here, but I'll paraphrase. Asides from learning potions that do not require actual magic abilities, I think he'd also want to learn how to help protect his family and contribute a bit more. So he'd go to grandpa Alaric and ask for him to teach him how to fight with weapons. Obviously Hope and Josie were against that because Leo's too young to fight with weapons, but Alaric just teaches him archery--which works because Bards uses bows as their weapon. Another reason why I chose Bard is because in my first Hosie fic Sad Bedroom Eyes, I think I had Leo be really into theatre and performing arts, and Bards traditionally are performers, and in the game, they can play music. So that's why Bard is perfect for Leo!)

Summoner (in the game, Scholar and Summoners are Jobs that branched out of the Arcanist class. Summoners basically summon little versions of Ifrit, Garuda, and Titan to help fight them along with the Carbuncle. Oh, the Carbuncle is like a cute little fox creature anyways the Carbuncle turns into either Ifrit, Garuda, or Titan depending on the button you press anyways--like I said in Scholar, Leo would be out there befriending all the creatures like a tiny Snow White or Cinderella)

Astrologian (I mentioned how this is a great Job for Leo but never elaborated so now's my chance haha. Astrologian is also a Healing Job but they use tarot cards--which I thought would be excellent for Leo because it just connects back to Leo's wish to learn all that he can about magic. I'd like to think Freya teaches Leo how to read tarot and he's become very good at it)

Machinist (I think Machinist would be nice for Leo as well. The way I headcanon it, Leo would make potions and would somehow incorporate those into his fighting style. He'd probably tinker with things and build some sort of contraption or whatever. And Machinist are kind of like that--I mean they use guns in the game and I don't think Leo would actually use guns, but again, the sentiment is still there. The lore for this Job is that Machinist sort of follow the footsteps of Cid Garlond, a man who's great with utilizing magitek. So Machinist uses the knowledge that they know and turns it into something they can use in battle. And I think Leo would definitely--again--be creating trinkets of sorts to help his siblings/family that also incorporate the magic element)

White Mage (listen. Leo is a precious sunshine boi with a big imagination. Also White Mage are pure healers so that fits right up Leo's whole "i want to protect my family and make sure they're safe" and the fact that he is, in fact, the only damn healer in the goddamn family lmao. ALSO YOU GET A UNICORN WHEN YOU PLAY THIS JOB. OBVIOUSLY I'M GOING TO HAVE LEO PICK THIS JOB UP ARE YOU KIDDINGGGGG) [WHM Job point added Feb 14, 2024]

Wow I think that's about it for what Jobs Hosie and my Hosie Fankids would take up. Leo's ended up getting a lot more Jobs compared to the others, but I think it also makes sense considering how Leo is so eager to keep up pace with his supernatural family since he's the only human/non-supernatural.

Of course, maybe this list will get updated once the rest of the new Jobs for the Dawntrail expansion pack gets revealed, but until that happens...

If you've actually made it to the very end of this post, I am so sorry lol. But also thank you for reading through this very niche Hosie AU that was born out of my love for the ship and my love for the Critically Acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV with an expanded free trial which you can play through the entirety of A Realm Reborn and the award-winning Heavensward expansion and award-winning Stormblood expansion up to level 70 for free with no playtime restriction <3

#hosie #hosie ffxiv au #hosie fankids #this is such a long post oh my gosh i'm so sorry #but also #have u heard of the critically acclaimed mmorpg final fantasy xiv with expanded free trial 👀#eprika rambles #edit: i updated hayley's section and leo's pictures #2nd edit: i added another Job for Leo

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clatoera · 1 year

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Please tell us your Clato story. Since when do you like Clato? What makes you like them? Thank you :) ....

oh my goodness okay well uh

I have liked Clato for a long long time. Eleven years. I noticed the insinuation in the book, but it was once I saw the actual film and the performance of the characters I could really identify them stronger in the books, and I grew a love from that. Like I said. I have been a fan a long long time. On fanfic . net there are still 5 or 6 clato fics I wrote between the years 2012-2014, that are under a few different usernames, that no i will not claim, but they're still out there as proof of my life long devotion.

I always have taken to the kind of off the cuff ships that don't really have a lot of canon moments in the books, and even fewer on screen (me and gary ross gonna beef). But I always thought the insinuation was there in the moment Clove died. For crazy, violent Clove to scream for him because she is scared and about to die, she had to know he'd come. For Cato, who is described by Katniss as temperamental and brutal and violent, to actually call back to her, run to her, and hold her as she died, I took something from that.

I thought the way it humanized the careers was phenomenal, and especially those two considering they were Katniss's biggest competition. Clove dies a scared girl being held by a heartbroken, sad boy.

Naturally Clato has always been a fanon thing more than canon. I was on facebook RP-ing as Clove, I've written fanfic a LONG time, I've read probably every single Clato fanfic on both fanfic.net and AO3 both in my time. And it was the fan expansions of the characters that I loved.

That being said I think I have just always identified so strongly with the careers. I wanted to be Katniss, I had a little sister, etc. I've always been the Clove, I've always been the Glimmer. It sounds cocky but it's true in it's own way. I was the smartest, I was the best, I worked the hardest, I was a favorite to win anything I ever did. I wouldn't do something unless I had the best chance at winning. I was the oldest child, with the endless pressure to perform at the top level, to be the best, to make my family, my school, my hometown proud. I wouldn't do something unless I was the best at it, even today I'm called crazy by my classmates regularly because of how much I study, what long days I put in. I still reap the rewards of that. I empathized with these kids who had no choice but to be the best. Who worked really really hard with the intention to make other people happy and proud. I would be lying if I didn't mention this in my explanation as to why I love Clato, because it is definitely part of it. I see myself in these kids, in Clove and Glimmer especially, because I think personality wise I am a direct mix of the two, just depending on which side I turn on at any given moment. I'll use what I call my "pretty girl powers" to get what I want, or otherwise i'm pretty bitchy, cold, calculated, etc. I literally added a line in the most recent chapter of my big Clato fic, in which Clove describes the trafficking and abuse of the victors as the worst thing you could to do someone, violating them like that, which is literally my opinion and belief that I gave to her. So thats definitely part of it, the way I empathize with kids who's worth is placed in the pride they bring home. Pride they are wiling to DIE to bring hime.

Part of what I love is the opportunity with them. To take these kids who are often seen as villains (Which if you see them as villains you miss the author's whole point, that the capitol is the villain, the capitol is the enemy), and flush them out and give them depth. Give them relationships, and favorite colors, and secrets they share between each other. Give them hopes for the future, give them dreams beyond winning. You win by 18, you have to imagine what the future after the games is like, too. I think they have the opportunity to be very normal in what they want after the games. They'd want dogs, and houses, and families of their own. Thats why I love them. They are child soldiers who are still children. They have dreams. They have wants. They have needs. They deserve to have full characterizations and be fleshed out, and thats the opportunity I take with them. You could make brutal bloody Cato an adoring brother, because outside the games he has a really wonderful little family. You could make Clove, with her psychopathic tendencies, a child who lost the mother who loved her, and the drive to prove that her mother and her are not weak girls, and the resultant way she would deeply love and fiercely protect whatever family she has (even found family). They train their whole lives together, who would understand them like each other.

Theres the chance to make them complex, explaining who they are in canon, and expanding on who they are outside of it.

I could wax poetic on Clato for hours, and in fact I do. Thank you for this opportunity though, I am always always down to be a Clato enthusiast on main.

Thank you thank you thank you

@curiousnonny

#clato #cato and clove #the hunger games #cato hadley #clove kentwell #careers apologist no a careers enthusiast

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pixies-and-poets · 1 year

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Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Eleven

Pushed under this expanse of bursting stars Let this burning brightly illuminate the where we are In this hollow that lovers' voices occupy Let it follow that we let it free, let it fly ...

Hold these hearts courageously As we walk into this dark place Stand steadfast erect and see That love is the province of the brave

Author’s notes: This chapter’s long!! But... well, you’ll see why, I guess. A lot of important things. Wow! Hope you like it!!

There’s still at LEAST two chapters left, so you may wonder what could come after this, but, y’know. Stuff. I’m certain nothing bad will happen, right?

Warnings: Still some blood/injury description, but nothing graphic.

Fanon thanks: The idea that ghost Rabbids can keep things in their tails (besides Phantom’s integral gramophone) comes from @deezeyrabbidy !

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven - Entwined

When the unlikely duo re-entered the glade, they found Dryad tying the fresh bandages around Woodrow’s head. He had been cleaned off, the blood no longer staining his white fur, and his glassesless eyes were open, if sleepily.

“Hello again, Sweets," he giggled. "Where’s your beaver? And hello to YOU, Songbird… I missed you both.” He gave a little smile.

“Er, is he alright?” Sweetlopek asked. “I ain’t had Chipper with me all day…”

“He’s a bit delirious,” conceded Dryad. “Whether from the bump on the head, or… well, I bade him eat a little bit of an herb to numb the pain and make him drowsy. It should really be made into a tea, but we were in a hurry, here. It might cause strong side-effects in that form.”

The poet closed his eyes, relieved at seeing the other two rejoin him, and turned his head. His tongue popped out a little bit. Phantom felt a surge of warmth and a quake through his body as he suppressed a laugh. He shouldn’t be laughing… and yet it helped drown out the alarm that had seized control of his heart.

“But yes, other than the delirium, I think he’s doing fine,” Dryad finished. “He just needs to be taken to a warm bed now, to rest and recover.”

“Alright,” said the lumberjack. “I’ll take him back home. My house, I mean.”

“No!” cried Phantom, with such passion that it surprised even himself. The other two looked at him in confusion, with the poet still conked out.

“What I mean is…” added the ghost, “May I? May I take care of him? Surely you two are both busy, and I have nothing better to do… and, moreover, nothing I would rather do.”

Sweetlopek looked at Phantom skeptically, but Dryad gave him an encouraging smile. “Yes, I believe we can trust you on this,” she said. Her partner gave her a sidelong glance, to which she returned a stern one. She then motioned her hand over three cases fashioned from large nut-shells, which were lying on the hammock next to the unconscious Woodrow.

“These are the medicines I have prepared.” The leaf-crowned Rabbid picked one up, and opened it; Phantom could see that it was indeed serving as a little container for a pasty green medicine. “You should change his bandages every four hours or so. First clean his wounds completely with fresh water, and then you’ll want to apply this in a thin coat AROUND the wounds, which will help dull the pain…” She put it down, and opened the next nut. “Now, THIS one you’ll need to put on the wounds directly - make sure your hands are clean for this whole process, of course. Do you mind any of that? Blood, or dealing with injuries?”

Phantom had been listening closely, and shook his head. “Not at all. Not for his sake, especially.”

Dryad nodded, and continued. “Don’t mix those two up. And this last one-” she opened the nut to show a collection of small leaves and petals- “this is the tea. Take a big spoonful of these ingredients and brew them, and give it to him as much as he wants or needs. Mind you, it’ll keep him sleepy, and maybe a bit silly.”

She closed the cases, and reached out to hand one to Phantom. He took it, and Dryad suddenly realized he had no bag or the like; she was about to tell Sweetlopek to give up the one he had brought, when Phantom casually reached down and stuck the offering into his own gelatinous belly. For a moment it became transparent, displaying his gramophone, and now the container of medicine - he took the other two nut-shells and did the same, as well as the roll of bandages; all floating in ectoplasm along with the record-player. Then his stomach became opaque again.

Dryad and Sweetlopek stared at him, their mouths open. “...What?” he said with a shrug. “I’m talking with a forest spirit, on a planet where the warden makes things fall from the sky. Don’t act like I'm the strangest thing here.”

Soon, Phantom was carefully scooping said warden, whom he loved so desperately and dearly, who was still sticking his tongue out, from the hammock in which he lay, and into his arms. His coat was buttoned loosely around him.

“Oh, I forgot to mention-” said Dryad. “I checked the rest of his body out, and cleaned him - he’s bruised along his chest where the tree was resting, but nothing too serious. However, you may want to… keep an eye on it. Or ask him to.”

Phantom nodded, cradling the sleeping poet to his own body, feeling his slow and steady breathing and the warmth of his soft exhalations onto his chest. He was so transfixed by looking down at him that he didn’t notice Dryad float over, until he felt something silky wrap around his neck.

“And, ah, you can have this back. I didn’t let it get too dirty or anything.” She tied the cravat around his neck loosely, not really knowing how to do it properly. “Now, this, on the other hand-” she held up his handkerchief by a still-clean corner, though it was now spotted with blood. “I think for sanitary reasons we had best just get rid of it- sorry about that.”

“Pas de problème,” he said. “I have plenty.”

Dryad and Sweetlopek were soon watching the ghost carry the poet out of the nursery, back towards the town.

“I don’t like this one bit,” said the woodsman, when they had disappeared among the trees. “I wasn’t gonna argue with ya, but- it should be me lookin’ after him. I’ve done it so many times. I know exactly what I’m doin’-”

Dryad put a hand on his arm, and looked at him, her face serious. “I’ll admit I don’t quite trust him on this as much as I’d trust you. But I do trust him.” Her expression softened, growing a bit sad. “And you must realize, my love. We may not always be there to help Woodrow.”

“Why not?!” the lumberjack exclaimed. “We ain’t goin’ nowhere."

“We won’t,” she agreed. “But he might.”

“Don’t- don’t be ridiculous, hun. He loves Palette Prime more'n anybody. He loves us. He’s the warden- he… he ain’t goin’ nowhere neither. He’s never wanted to leave…”

“Maybe not long-term,” said Dryad. “Woodrow doesn’t travel much, now. But do you think the Phantom will stay here forever? And do you not think they would follow each other to the ends of the galaxy? We cannot always be there to protect him. Sometimes others must take up that role.”

A sinking feeling began to spread through Sweetlopek, starting in the heart and moving out through his chest. Dryad was wise and perceptive, as always… but after a morning like this, the thought of her being correct was too much to bear.

—

Woodrow felt something soft press onto his cheek, but did not open his eyes. He was so… so sleepy… everything was warm and cozy in the abyss of slumber. His eyelids were too heavy to open…

The soft thing stroked his cheek again, this time accompanied by a voice that was as lovely and tender and gentle on the ears as whatever was touching his face. “Tristan, mon chéri? I am sorry to wake you, but… would you please?”

The poet’s eyes opened now, and he realized that what was on his face was a large paw - Tom’s, of course, lifting him up from a pillow. He was vaguely aware of his ears being pressed down behind him, which he found mildly annoying; something on his head that certainly wasn’t his hat… and… Tom’s face staring down into his. An expression of relief was written in the ghost’s features. “Ah, there you are, darling.”

“Mmm…” He blinked, trying to ground himself in reality. “Tom, I was having the most wonderful dreams… you were…” he cut himself off. “Where… where am I?” He looked down to see that he was on some kind of plush sofa… and around him, an unfamiliar room, with carpet, and a large bed with a canopy and curtains not far away… all decorated quite lavishly with fine furniture and paintings on the walls. It was all rather blurry, as he lacked his glasses. But Phantom’s face was close and clear enough.

“This is my room, in the Portly Pumpkin,” said the ghost, caressing the poet’s cheek again. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Woodrow looked around, in some confusion. “Do you remember what happened this morning, dear?” Phantom asked gently. Suddenly, memories came back to the warden- and he felt embarrassment flood him along with the recollection.

“Oh…” said Woodrow. “Yes… Yes, I am… so sorry you all had to go through that, for my foolish sake. But still… why am I here? Why did you not take me to my own home, instead of having me impose on yours?”

“Well, first of all, I didn’t want to deal with your house's raincloud, nor for you to deal with the leaks I know you have. No offense,” he said, looking past Woodrow- the warden turned his head and saw, at the large bay window of the room, Jinx floating nearby, as if to keep an eye on them both. “And also,” said the former singer, turning back to his companion, “I did not wish to wake you, nor to break into your home without permission. So I brought you here. Besides, there’s room service, and people to assist with any emergency that may occur. I need not take my eyes off you.”

“But - people must have seen you take me up here-”

“I must inform you, dear heart, that no one seemed much surprised by any of it. You being injured, or you asleep in my arms. Surely you, as the warden, must have noticed by now that we - the two of us, in each other’s embrace - that we are not a secret to this town. …You do not wish us to be a secret, do you?”

Woodrow was silent for a moment, then breathed out a sigh. “Of course not,” he said. “I just… do not wish people to reach inaccurate conclusions.” He looked up at the other. “So why have you awoken me? It was such a lovely slumber… of course, the reality is just as pleasant.”

“Well, you see, I have let you rest here on the sofa for a while, but I thought it prudent to move you to the bed. But first, I needed your permission to- ah, you see, your coat… it is quite soiled, covered in mud and dirt from your fall. I thought it might be best if you changed into a robe, and I could send for your clothes to be cleaned.”

The warden felt even more embarrassed, realizing that he indeed had been laid upon this fine sofa in the wrinkled and dirty coat which he still wore. “The bed… your bed…” he murmured in awe. “Well… if that is truly alright with you.”

Phantom gave his companion his glasses back, which he had held onto all this time, and helped him stand - he was a bit wobbly on his feet, but alright enough - and showed him to the suite’s bathroom. He handed him a sumptuous blue silken robe before he went in, saying with a smile, “I’m sorry that it may be a bit large on you, mon ami. It is part of my own collection.”

In a few minutes, Woodrow opened the door and emerged again from the bathroom. He was indeed quite swallowed by the garments, as if he were drowning in the waves of a sapphire ocean - the sleeves and the body were loose and hung about him, and yet his legs from the knees down poked out of the bottom.

Phantom couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry I have nothing that’s a better fit!”

“Oh, it’s alright,” said the other, smiling below his glasses and his bandaged head. “I know I look absurd, but- I feel most comfortable. And that is what matters.”

“And you shall soon be more comfortable still,” said Phantom. Before Woodrow knew what was happening, the other had swooped at him, and literally swept him off his feet. In a swift motion he was carried and placed into the bed, and the blankets tucked around him, all so quickly that it made his ailing head swoon- but perhaps he would have felt that way regardless.

Phantom then retrieved Woodrow’s coat from the hook in the bathroom where he had left it. “Now, stay right there,” he said sweetly, “while I send this off to be cared for. I’ll be back before you know it, to care for you." He swept from the room, taking the coat down to the front desk.

Woodrow watched the door close behind him, then looked around now that he could see the room better. Tom had made it his own already - he hadn’t noticed before, but amongst the generic autumnal themed decorations furnished by the hotel lay things that clearly belonged to Phantom: albums displayed on top of the dressers and shelves, a picture of the cast and crew from an opera in a frame on the bedside table, gold and silver gramophones of various sizes that were clearly awards, and even a few portraits of the singer himself in various costumes. Woodrow sighed dreamily. His touch was everywhere… and that same touch with which he pampered himself had been, for some reason, turned to the humble poet, just as tender and loving…

As promised, Phantom returned before Woodrow had time to study the room completely. “They’ll have your coat, beloved- I mean, your beloved coat- back to you this time tomorrow,” he explained, pulling up an armchair next to the bed. “I’m afraid you might have to find some new leaves to adorn it. But I will help you look for just the right ones.”

And thus began a new type of day for them both - somehow wondrous, despite the painful circumstances that were its precursor. They talked - mostly Phantom, letting Woodrow rest - telling more stories from the theatre world, of onstage bloopers and backstage intrigue, of drama between actors as heated offstage as it was under the spotlights; he explained yet more of his roles and recited some of his favorite monologues which he could still remember verbatim from productions past. His voice grew rough and raspy and crackly, and he made tea for them both (black tea for himself and Dryad's blend for Woodrow), and the warden fell asleep off and on. When the time came, Phantom awoke him gently to change his bandages and apply the medicine just as he had been instructed.

The singer had never cared for anyone like this before. Oh, he had helped Bea a few times; when she was sick, when she was hung over. But she was strong and proud and resilient, even at her lowest, and only ever needed a small amount of tending. He had never looked after a creature so vulnerable, someone who had been so frequently and severely hurt by the world. It was a new occupation for Phantom: this nursing, this caring, this type of love. And with the pride innate to him, he felt like he was doing a pretty good job, if he did say so himself.

And he wasn't wrong. Woodrow had never been cared for in such a way. Sweetlopek, Dryad, even his parents long ago… they had all looked after him, all treating him with tenderness and love in their own ways. But this… this was something else. Every action done with a flourish of passion, a touch of barely-concealed longing, a physical yearn. When Phantom unwrapped his bandages with one hand, the other was placed under Woodrow's chin to keep his head steady; something Sweet might have done. And yet the poet was not used to the thumb that caressed his cheek, down to his jawbone, his eyelids drooping and a dizzy grin coming over his face at the almost hypnotic relaxation of the touch. And when his bandages were all removed and his ears sprang up, Tom massaged them at their base to ease the soreness where they had been forced downward. When he did have to press them down again to redress the wounds, he stroked them from their base to their tips as he laid them gently back, murmuring, "There, there, darling. I know you don't like this."

In other words, when Woodrow awoke to be cared for, it was hard to believe he was not still in a dream.

That evening, room service delivered them two big bowls of vegetable stew and plenty of bread and carrot juice. Woodrow was well enough to sit at the table in the suite with Phantom; though he was not a vegetarian himself, the ghost had wanted to get the same thing as his “patient”. After dinner, said patient had his bandages changed again, washed up a bit, and promptly fell back asleep.

After some time, the warden felt the by-now familiar touch on his cheek that meant he was being awakened. He opened his eyes drowsily. “Mmm?”

“Tesoro,” said Phantom, “it is growing dark outside, and… I should not assume that you want to spend the night in my lodgings. I wanted to ask if you preferred me to take you to your home, and have me check on you in the morning.”

Woodrow’s eyes widened, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Looking past the opened curtains of the bed to the window, he could indeed see well enough without his glasses that dusk was settling in, and that Jinx, who still hovered loyally, was getting harder to distinguish against the coming night. He then flopped back down onto his side, saying nothing.

“Of course, you can stay here if you want to,” said Phantom. “I would much prefer to keep an eye on you. But only, of course, if that is what you desire.”

“Tom,” he said softly, “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you… I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Then you shan’t, and I shan’t,” said the ghost, as a smile of relief crossed his face. “As long as you’re sure you are comfortable.”

“I am, but- where will you sleep? The sofa is too small for you. Please move me back to it, and you can have the bed-”

“Tristan, you fool,” said Phantom, his face suddenly hurt. “Are you really going to be so stubborn? We have already passed a night in each other’s arms.” He leaned forward, taking the poet’s paw in both of his own, holding it one and stroking its top with the other. “Will you not allow me to hold you again, tonight? To let my warmth sink into your aching muscles and your tired bones? Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want such a thing?!”

The warden blinked at him, wide-eyed, and reached up with his other paw out of habit, to adjust glasses that weren’t there. “Of course I want it,” he breathed. “I have wanted nothing more, in my entire life. Only… is it proper?”

“Is it PROPER!” cried the other in astonishment. “Tristan! Whatever do you mean?”

“It’s only- Tom- it’s only that I am the warden here, and you are our planet’s honored guest, and perhaps we ought-”

It was then that a blur of white and red and blue overtook him, as Phantom dove onto the bed, rolling over Woodrow and turning, in one smooth motion scooping him into his arms and placing his thin body, still swallowed in its absurd robe, on top of his own large form.

“Tristan Woodrow,” he said into the startled and blushing face of the Rabbid lying on top of him, “you are indeed the warden here, and you decide what is proper for yourself.”

“O-of course,” said the poet, feeling incredibly warm. He buried his face in the neck of the other, who had long since removed his rumpled cravat. Phantom turned his face, and kissed him on the cheek. And so they lay for some time, holding each other tight.

—

It was long since they had washed up for bed; Phantom had gotten an extra toothbrush and toiletries from the front desk, and changed into a robe of his own (this one red) before lying down. And now, with the curtains drawn, they had lain for hours - each of them in a deep and restful sleep, Phantom holding Woodrow close. Just as promised, the warmth of his body was therapy on the warden’s injured form.

Woodrow felt the familiar touch on his face, and then a gentle jostle of his shoulders, and thought it must be morning. He opened his eyes, but could see no light beyond the cracks of the bed-curtains. In fact, it was still pitch black, and he could see nothing at all.

“Tom?” he murmured through a yawn. “What time is it?”

“It is very early in the morning,” he said. “Three o’clock. But I have business, and I wanted to let you know. I do not wish to leave you, but- will you be alright here for an hour or so? Probably less.”

“You are going to sing,” said Woodrow sleepily, but matter-of-factly.

He could not see his companion’s expression in the dark, but there was something about the way the bed shifted, and in the silence that followed, he could imagine the shock on his face- and the warden smiled to himself. “However did you know such a thing?” asked Phantom.

“As I said this morning, I heard you last night. It gave me peace in my injured sleep. Do not think I have forgotten, or believed that it was a dream. You have been sneaking out at night, to sing- for what purpose you keep it from me, and everyone else, I cannot fathom. But now I know I am right.”

Woodrow heard a sigh in the darkness. “You are a clever one, my dear. Well, yes… since I arrived here, I have been stealing off to the woods in the wee hours of each morning. To practice a bit.”

“Surely that isn’t good for you, Tom? You ought to let your voice rest, if you are to heal…”

“Then how am I to know that it is healing?” said the other with a chuckle, stroking the warden’s cheek in the dark. “It is only a little, each night, to measure if there is any improvement day by day. I go far into the woods, in the middle of the night, so that no one may hear me. It seems not even your friend the Dryad knows. No one but the owls and crickets do, I imagine.”

“Oh, Tom! Take me with you, tonight.”

“But Tristan…” he said, although his voice did not seem to protest too much. “You ought to rest. I can’t be dragging you out into the forest in the cold of the night-”

“I shall be fine, Tom. This planet is my home and my ward, and there is no part of its natural splendor which is not a comfort to me. It shall be good to get out of this room.”

And so, before long, the now properly-dressed Phantom held the poet in his arms just as he had almost a day ago; only this time he was conscious, and wearing an oversized black coat that belonged to the singer himself. It gave a somewhat similar appearance to his own favored garb; but even more comically large, and far less shabby. Jinx zoomed along behind them as the ghost swept skillfully through the trees.

After a good while, when they were far, far away from town - far even from Sweetlopek’s house, or Dryad’s nest - they came to a little clearing. Phantom slowed to a stop here, and set Woodrow down gently against a large tree, in a hollow formed by its massive roots. He settled back, clasped his hands, crossed his legs, and looked up - smiling, polite. He tried to perk up his ears as much as he could, but pressed down as they were, this resulted in them sticking out diagonally just a bit more rigidly than before.

An expression crossed Phantom’s face that Woodrow did not often see - it was doubt; he was second-guessing himself. He seemed uncertain as he backed away from his companion, into the starlight of the clearing. Then he closed his eyes, and cleared his throat.

And he raised his arms and sang.

A wordless song; starting low, building high; a swing of the scale, dramatic leaps and fantastical flourishes of the voice, loud and clear and sublime, for what felt to Woodrow like an eternity of beauty-

But in reality it was not more than twenty seconds or so before the first choke; a crack of the voice that shattered a richly sustained note. And then, an attempt at a scale that was shot dead in its tracks; a gag, a gasp. The next notes were marred by scratches and rasps, and-

“I’m- sorry,” said Phantom, between coughs, as he turned back to the other. “That is all I can do, for tonight.”

He found the other sniffling, with tears streaming down from behind his glasses.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, approaching the tree trunk and settling his body down next to Woodrow’s. “It really is horrid, isn’t it? I have done your already-aching head a great injustice.”

“No,” whispered the warden. “It was… it was so beautiful, Tom, while it lasted. That is why I am crying.”

“Oh, please,” said the other, his voice still rough. “There is no need to flatter me. I know the truth.”

“No, Tom, you don’t,” said Woodrow. “Don’t you understand? To hear you sing in person, even if for less than a minute… it is a dream come true. A dream I have held for a long, long time. Even if I never met you when your voice was whole, it matters not to me, for I have still heard you. What is beautiful once, maintains a certain beauty forever. The crumbled ruins of a castle still bear its pride and dignity. A flower that wilts still retains its color, and from its crumbled shape we can imagine what once was. Perhaps it is all the more lovely for its fragility. And the fact that this beauty was entrusted to me alone… why, I scarcely know what I have done to deserve it.”

Phantom’s own blue eyes wide and glistening. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he put his paw on Woodrow’s cheek. “Tristan,” he said, scarcely more than a breath, “you deserve all I can give you, and more. Do you- do you know, this morning - what seems so long ago now - when I saw you, in your dear friend’s arms, your head covered in blood- for a split-second, I thought the worst, and for a moment my world ended. All was dark and empty before me, and all around me, until I heard you speak again, until I saw you smile up at me.”

Woodrow felt himself starting to cry even more. He didn’t know what to say. “Tom…”

“And the worst part? The worst part is that last night I came out here to practice, after the winds died down, not terribly far from where you lay injured, and I had no idea. You were right that you heard me, barely conscious though you were. And yet I did not know you were there. I did not find you…”

“It’s alright,” the warden sniffed. “You… couldn’t have known.”

“But Tristan, you wonderful creature, listen!” continued the Phantom, “There ARE things that I know, that I know now, and that I knew yesterday. I was so terrified that I had lost you, before I could somehow convince you to grace the world with your poems once more. And I was haunted, moreover, by regret. By the words I should have spoken last night, if not before - if not when you consoled me in the cradle of the moon. Those words that have torn at my mind and my heart in ceaseless torment for days. Oh, Tristan, my sweet, I love you, I love you. Everything I am, and everything I will be, that I want to be, is consumed by this feeling. I adore you, with every part of my being.” He kissed his left paw, no longer meeting his eyes.

The warden was stunned, his mouth slightly agape, filled with a longing which he could not describe, even if he tried. “Tom…” he said, “of course I love you too. But why does it feel so empty to say? The way I feel for you… even if I were to try and write, in this moment, all the poetry in the world could give but the palest shade of my true affections. Words will never suffice.”

“Then speak to me without words,” said the other. And this time, it was no fantasy; their lips met each other’s, and then lips met neck, and shoulders, and ears, and chest, as coats and vests were unbuttoned, in the hollow of the tree-roots, in the Spellbound Woods, under a cloud, under the stars.

#mario + rabbids #mario plus rabbids #woodrow #ts woodrow #the phantom #phandrow

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bonerot19 · 2 months

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What are your feelings about Lost Days? Specifically the ending?

Personally I think “I don’t care about the world” doesn’t seem at all accurate to Jason’s actions. Like def unreliable narrator vibes otherwise why is he continually making his life harder.

Also the pit rage thing, people say it’s not canon but def hinted at in LD. I dislike when it’s used to brush aside Jason’s very valid anger but otherwise no strong feelings on it, what about you?

lastly, any takes about Talia and Jason’s relationship? Not the.. ending.. bits.. but other than that? I just don’t think there’s good evidence (doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be interesting to explore in fanfics ofc) that their relationship is white or black. I think Talia’s an immensely complicated person who has to continually make impossible choices in very brutal manners because of the circumstances of who she is and who she loves. As a result, there’s no such thing as ‘good mom’ or ‘bad mom’ Talia. But yeah.

I'll preface this by saying I haven't read lost days in a long while (and actually completely forgot that I had read it one point until I was reading a fic and was like......OH! FAMILIAR!) it's on my reread list, so I remember the broad strokes but not specifics (memory of a goldfish) so I can't comment on the first question rn but I'll keep it in mind on my reread after finals!

as for the pit rage - I have a lot of thoughts:

I think it can be an interesting plot device to diverge from canon - like I think it's interesting when someone has the pit amplify emotions (and therefore make it "pit rage" for Jason because he is angry). I think, in that situation, it can be a cool representation of real life intrusive thoughts and rage.

I have rage issues and trouble controlling my emotions and, sometimes, when I'm really angry, I understand the phrase "seeing red" to a lowkey scary degree. and I like it when fictional universes have magical things that represent real life things. I don't think it takes away from the real life thing, I think it acts as a analogy, making it easier to understand.

does Jason need a magical rage problem to represent his very real rage and anger issues? no. is it maybe helpful/easier to express how angry he is when you can say he's seeing green? yeah.

I like it a lot less when it's used to negate his emotions entirely or explain away his actions. (there's a lot of bad canon writing that has Jason do OOC things, so I'm chill with explaining that stuff away or ignoring it entirely) but when it comes to his return to Gotham and UTRH, I think his autonomy should remain intact. he wasn't lashing out because he was "insane" he was lashing out (and constructing a criminal empire as a teenager lmao) because he was hurt and angry and, maybe, he wanted to watch the world burn, a little bit. he wanted other people to feel the pain he was feeling bc it was unbearable. that's what teenagers are like. (if comics would stop drawing him to look 47, maybe that would come across better)

anyway - like all fanon interpretations and expansions, there are things I like and things I don't and I think it all comes down to interpretation. and I wouldn't ever condemn someone or their writing for interpreting something in a way I disagree with (hell, the more I get back into this fandom and the more comics I read/reread, the more I disagree with some of the Red Hood stuff I have written. that's fine. we're all learning and growing here)

TALIA

she's so precious to me and honestly a big reason I want to reread Lost Days. the poor woman has undergone so much character assassination in canon.

I completely agree that there is no "black and white" interpretation of her. she is complex (even when canon doesn't want her to be). she is a product of her environment, she is rebelling against her upbringing. she loves Damian, she does bad things to him sometimes. she is constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place.

with Jason, I do understand why people say her relationship with him is purely transactional (she does what she does for him for Bruce not Jason) and they're probably right. BUT I really like the interpretation of Talia that cares about him. I like the idea that she did try to restore his mind and train him in order to return him to Bruce, but that she grew attached and came to care about him (maybe/probably not as a mother, but as a mentor and perhaps cool, if emotionally distant, aunt)

I do enjoy fics where people write Talia as caring about Jason like a son, that's fun for me. give him a mom. (I do prefer giving him Selina or Natalia but like, any mom that isn't Sheila will do atp)

(and yeah idk, do what you want, but Talia and Jason fucking didn't happen in My Brain. I read that and went oh, no. lol. and never looked back)

#i'm getting a little too into Discourse these days #its making me question my interpretations and understanding and making me self conscious which IS NOT THE VIBE #so I lowkey need to back up a bit and just vibe again #people who don't read the comics and just go off fandom works are living a more peaceful life and I wish that was me #anyway #thanks for coming to my tedtalk #why use four words when forty will suffice #I-just-want-to-see #jason todd #talia al ghul

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iamjustrobin · 9 months

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1, 2, 3, 13, 15, 24, 17

1. The character everyone gets wrong.

Any minor character who doesn't have much to play in canon. Not actually bc they are misinterpreted, but for the fact that the fandom takes advantage of this empty jars to insert their OC's and pretend it's an expansion of that character.

2. A compelling argument of why your fave would never top or bottom.

I'm almost sure at this point a big part of the fandom agrees on pony being 100% a bottom, so let's move onto bottom Dallas💀.

The main reason of why I can't see him in certain ships like tally it's bc Dallas is the type that I can only seen as protective and dominant. Dallas with men who are similar to him it's something that just doesn't work in my mind.

3. Screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on Tumblr.

✨ I don't have a screenshot, but that take of this unpopular person in fandom who was arguing that johnnyboy shouldn't be shipped bc they have an age difference and johnny forgot he was already 14 instead of 13, which means he still saw him as a kid. Godammit, I swear sometimes this fandom just look for excuses to make you feel bad about shipping the characters and their age differences.

✨ HISPANIC SHEPARDS. As an hispanic at first I was all "oh this could be nice" but after seeing the fanon pursuing more stereotypes than actual research I gave up.

Shot out to ROTPL bc they gave me the best portrayal of hispanic-americans in the 50s💖.

✨ And not from Tumblr, but that time I saw someone tagging Marcia on a fic with the white passing argentinian label💀 I'll never overcome that one and this is what I mean about not doing actual research.

13. Worst blorbofication.

Steve maybe? I don't even seen him as a character but as an extension of soda as a character. Whenever I see this takes where everyone claims that he is underappreciated and how we deserved to know more about him I can't take it seriously.

15. That one thing you see in fanart all the time.

Johnny wearing dal's jacket. Please don't, I've made this rant before about how not even if they were canon Johnny would wear the jacket.

Also curly shepard as a goth/punk kid. That portrayal of the character in the TWTTIN adaptation is the only thing the fandom is relying on about him.

17. There should be more of this type of fic/art.

I agree with you in JUST MORE FANART IN GENERAL. It breaks my heart when I found fanartists in this fandom who are just going through an outsiders phase to throw it away in less than a year😭.

And time to add my self indulgence here: FANTASY THEMED FANART/FIC. Do you know how sad it is to be an amateur illustrator who has to take the wheel on this? I love fantasy/fairytales and I would love to find that type of au in the outsiders🥺✨.

24. Topic that brings the most rancid discourse.

"Sylvia/Cherry/Angela did nothing wrong".

Yes, we have a lack of female characters on this story, but nope, that's not a reason to glorify and distort the events in order to victimize these girls to make a point.

I rather hearing takes of people saying they like characters like Angela Shepard with all her flaws and recognize that she did wrong than see distorted fanon to girlbossify her.

#ask games #as my beloved bff said #go big or go home #white passing argentinian is still following me #the outsiders

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natto-axolotl · 11 months

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choose violence ask game. hollow knight

hi nonnie!!! unfortunately the last time i was super into HK was 2021 but i will try.

the character everyone gets wrong: lurien. he gets watered down into a pk fanboy almost every time i see him.

a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom: never ever thought about this, never ever will

screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr: not going to go into detail bc everyone's moved on and it was bad but it was a lot of weird discourse that happened a couple years back

what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?: discourse.

worst discord server and why: this is personal beef, but the daily HK server that imploded from surpassing the Users Prone To Discourse threshold in horrific flaming fashion. it's been literally almost 3 years though so we're all good.

which ship fans are the most annoying?: anything with grimm. terribly sorry this is not a particularly romance-inclined fandom and i cannot think about them being in love in canon

what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?: grimm. sorry.

common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about: I haven't been keeping up with this fandom at all lately so i really dont know WJBDEJDBEN HAHA

worst part of canon: there's nothing i really don't like about the game :D

worst part of fanon: I don't reaaaally like the intense babying of pv and ghost in post canon "everyone lived" fics. let them have agency man.

number of fandom-related words you've filtered: none!!!

the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them: lurien!!! this is because i briefly ran an rp blog as him, but also because i think it's interesting to think about what would've brought a character like him to be so devoted to pk's cause, and what kind of person he was when hollownest was in the prime of its life. funny towel man.

worst blorboficiation: grimm. SORRY SORRY SORRY

that one thing you see in fics all the time: strangely contrived prose to refer to the body language of all the characters. i get it but Why

that one thing you see in fanart all the time: ghost being drawn with other indie protags. little baby is officia delegate of hollow knight.

you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc): everyone loves memeing on pale king as being a guy willing to kill his own babies to save his kingdom but i genuinely want some exploration of him beyond just a surface level flanderizing "lol. lmao he threw his kids off a cliff" joke. Hupis Incarnate

there should be more of this type of fic/art: i love gijinkas/humanizations esp modern day gijinkas never stop making gijinka content. also anything to do with the radiance. i love the radiance.

it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...: CORNIFER AND ISELDA AND THE FIVE KNIGHTS AND (hk fixation kicks back in 2 years layer)

you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...: lace/hornet. we don't even know the BACKSTORY. but do you think yuri can bloom on the battlefield.

part of canon you found tedious or boring: actually have never played HK lol

part of canon you think is overhyped: like 40% of the grimm troupe expansion. it's cool but the fanbase latched on too hard.

your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores: KINGDOM'S EDGE AND EVERYTHING ABOUT MONOMON AND THE SIMPLE FRAMING OF THE INSTRUCTIONS AS BEING FOR HIGHER BEINGS. LIKE WHAT THE FUCK.

ship you've unwillingly come around to: lemmquirrel, i see it and im like "neat! middle aged bug yaoi and the aimlessness of a quest to reacquaint yourself with purpose! i haven't read sbabl ever!"

topic that brings up the most rancid discourse: (stares at camera) Shipping.

common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing: when silksong (me too. but give them some time.)

#natto blabbos #natto answers #ask #anon #ask meme #ask game #hollow knight #long post #send me any hk meta you find if you want!!! i still do love this game but it's taken a backseat to Everything

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commajade · 1 year

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obviously i want to ask you everything but 6, 16, 25, 35, & 50 for the book asks!!

omg dez ily 😍😍😍

6: which book was the last one you really loved?

parable of the sower! lauren olamina is truly the character i relate to the most in my adult life: traumatized preacher's daughter crossdressing (should've been a dyke imo) and creating her own religion to survive and build community in the end days of decaying empire, it hits so close to home.

16: if u could bring 3 books to a deserted island which ones would u bring?

oooh. just from my bookshelf i would bring 1) my book i bought for learning hanja/sino-korean characters and haven't started yet +cute hanja notebooks. because i would have so much time to study. 2) almanac of the dead by leslie marmon silko because i got it as a gift from the english department of my college and its huge and i haven't started it yet. and i have a feeling it would be a good one to reread cuz there's so many storylines and silko is such a gorgeous writer. 3) the wretched of the earth by frantz fanon because i need some theory to feel politically grounded.

25: if i could be a character in a book just for 1 day which one would i choose?

i want magic i want superpowers i want to have fun! maybe a cool girl character in a kids fantasy book, can't think of anything specific.

35: name a book you consider to be terribly underrated

cereus blooms at night by shani mootoo. read it in college in a literature and colonialism class and no one i asked has ever heard of it, but it's so good? gorgeous prose vibrant characters starring a rly cool hermit woman and the queer nurse narrator that takes care of her. it's set in an ambiguous fictional caribbean country and talks about intergenerational trauma from colonialism i highly recommend it.

50: why do u love to read?

omg.... it was my entire childhood my entire identity as a child. i was either reading or daydreaming about the books i just read. i read like all the novels in the library at my elementary school, i would borrow 14 books from the local library every week. it's just familiar and expansive and exciting. i miss that feeling of being a voracious reader eating up stories and not thinking rly of craft. just spending hours tearing through books and being deeply immersed in the images and places in my head and being a part of the stories. it's rly special, to be transported by a book. there's nothing like it.

#asks #<3

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misted-buttercup-enjoyer · 1 year

Text

Everything We Know About The Void/The Abyss

Greetings, today I would like to discuss the void. The general fandom concept of the void is that Gaster, Chara, and Dess are trapped there together, where their main purpose is memes. That particular idea is (sadly) mostly fandom-made. In fact, Gaster doesn’t even seem to be trapped in the void. Despite this, the void isn’t entirely fanon. There’s canon ground for believing this “void” exists. So here we go: Everything we know about the void. And if I miss anything, don’t hesitate to point it out.

This is more of an archive then a theory or analysis. It seems to leave more questions than answers. But I will leave my personal thoughts at the end.

1: Undertale

There's a lot to unpack here.

The first time any of us would have been aware of the void was when the game spat us there just before the Photoshop Flowey fight. Flowey had absorbed the six human souls, and now we’re in this huge black expanse. Definitely not the castle anymore. Flowey himself does not comment on their surroundings, but isn’t surprised to be there. Did he put us there? Did he plan on being here? What’s going on?

Flowey is useless for any information, he just monologues about how he’s becoming God or whatever.

We fight Photoshop Flowey and when it’s over we either spare or kill Flowey.

Either way, we’re now in the last room of the Castle, a patch of grass with sunlight streaming through and a purple door. So was all that blackness just the background of a battle after all?

After we leave the purple door, we’re in the black expanse again. Is this the void? Or the tunnel to the Surface that we seemingly use to get to the Surface at the end of True Pacifist? This is where we receive our Neutral Ending.

The way Flowey talks to us at the end of Pacifist suggests we may be trapped there. He talks like this is a hopeless and sad situation.

We do not know where we are, simply put, but evidence in Deltarune suggests this could be the void.

Finally, at the end of a Pacifist run, Flowey addresses us, again, in the seeming void, begging us not to reset.

And, if you do a genocide run, after you crush Flowey into pieces, you will meet Chara (or whatever you named the fallen human) in the void. After you reload the game in genocide, this is where Chara takes your soul. However you have also destroyed the world at that point. So there could be nowhere else for Chara to be talking to you. We can conclude that the void is outside of the physical world.

So is that it? That’s all we have about the void? Nope! There’s interesting information in Deltarune.

2: Deltarune

In a void-like area, a mysterious voice addresses you, speaking in a similar manner to Dr. Gaster while Another Him plays. (I’m gonna go ahead and assume this guy is Gaster.) This is probably where the idea of Gaster being trapped in the void originated. At first he’s addressing you in pitch-black, but then the screen goes a bit purple while you build your vessel, weird lines adorning the background. This place is called in the game’s code “The Abyss.” After your vessel is discarded, you go from the Abyss to your bedroom as Kris. Is the abyss the same as the void? Maybe.

Meanwhile, there's a Deltarune.com, which has existed for about as long as Undertale by the way, this is where various text used to appear (such as Gaster saying “This next experiment seems very, very interesting” years before Deltarune Chapter One released.) Now it's a much more normal website, but it used to have a dark background akin to the void. And the background is...still black, but not everything that's black is the void. Though you could make the case the background of Deltarune.com is the void.

If you type in deltarune.com/dess , this image of a red guitar will come up, and if you click on it, the song “Lost Girl” will play. There is a shadow–or is that a light? but nothing but blackness all around it besides that. But surely there's some sort of light, then, if there’s a shadow? Or, again, that might be a light shined onto that particular area? Maybe Dess had a flashlight with her, if she’s got that guitar with her. But then again, WAIT! Is that where Dess is? The void?

Well, it’s definitely a possibility. She does describe where she is “dark…so dark here.” She does state that she is completely alone, which would make sense. When we meet people in the void, it’s usually the Player and one other person (or a phone call.) Without us, it’s reasonable to assume Dess would be completely alone there. But we still don’t know a whole lot about Dess's disappearance.

Plus, if the place this guitar is really is the void, then Dess is probably there, since the guitar plays Lost Girl. This theme was at first associated with Noelle, but Toby stated it wasn’t necessarily Noelle’s theme and could play in scenes she wasn’t in. This could be Dess’s theme.

But, this isn’t about Dess. So we’ll leave speculation about the Lost Girl at that for today.

3: My Personal Theory

In Undertale, all the battles have black backgrounds, but it’s still clear you're in a particular place. For instance, when you fight Asgore, you’re still in the castle, since twilight is shining through. And when you fight Undyne, you’re still at Waterfall, because wind is howling.

But there’s a certain blackness around every area in the game, and characters seem to be aware of this, to some degree. For instance, in the Nintendo switch edition, Froggit tells you about borders and mentions that since there’s no frog-themed one, it’s just pointless. So wait, is that decorating the void????? In Deltarune, the border is based around where you are.

Maybe the void is just the blackness, the in-between, the mysterious glue that keeps the world together, that connects everything. If Dess is trapped there, that could explain why she reports hearing scratching sometimes. Maybe she’s hearing something from the normal world.

But hey, that’s just a theory, a [HYPERLINK BLOCKED!]!!!!

And I believe that's all we know about the void! If I’m forgetting anything, make sure to mention in the comments! Gimme the lore, gimme the lore. I don’t want a single shred of undertale/deltarune information slipping from between my fingers.

All right, I'm finished with this undertaking, let's call it a day. Reverse salutations, take care of yourself!

P.S. Thanks for all the support on my "Noelle and Chara Parallels" analysis, it really warmed my heart and encouraged me to keep making Undertale/Deltarune content! ^^

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frodo-with-glasses · 2 years

Note

for the friendship asks - 3, 7 and 8 for Lothiriel and Eowyn!

Oh boy, looks like we’re on an in-law kick this weekend, LOL

3. “A random headcanon I have of them”

I’ll bet that Lothiriel misses the sea. She grew up on the coast, and kinda took it for granted, but the closest thing to the ocean in Rohan is that wide, endless expanse of green grass. Sometimes she gets homesick for her childhood and yearns to go the shore. Eomer knows well enough to take her down to Gondor the moment winter passes and the weather turns fair again every year.

Likewise, I’ll bet Eowyn misses the plains. She grew up being able to see the horizon for miles around, when you could ride until the sun went down and still not be out of sight of Edoras, but moving to Gondor has her either in forests or in cities of stone. She wants her horizon back. Faramir makes sure to accommodate extended horseback trips into the wilderness wherever she gets a bit stir-crazy.

And between the both of them, I think they really enjoyed getting to share those childhood joys with each other; I just imagine Lothiriel showing Eowyn the beach for the first time, and Eowyn taking Lothiriel horseback riding on the plains of Rohan.

7. “What I like about their friendship”

I’ll be honest, I…didn’t even know Lothiriel existed until like .02 seconds ago, and it sends pretty evident from her short wiki page that—like most of the love interests in LotR—she has basically no personality apart from what fanon has given her. So it’s kinda hard to build an idea of what the friendship looks like at all, let alone figuring out what I like about it.

With that in mind, I’ll have to say that what I like about Eowyn and Lothiriel’s friendship is the potential in it. We know nothing about Lothiriel—nothing, zilch, nada—and that means it’s an open sandbox! The possibilities are endless!

8. “Who I think is the crazier one”

Well, as aforementioned, we have no idea what Lothiriel is like, so it’s hard to say for sure. It would be difficult to top how crazy Eowyn is. If Lothiriel is anything like her dad, she’s probably the chill one in the relationship.

But if she somehow manages to out-crazy Eowyn…

Oh.

Oh my word.

She’s married to Eomer.

Middle Earth should be VERY AFRAID.

FRIENDSHIP ASK GAME!

#ask game #lothiriel #eowyn #eowyn of rohan #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing

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healbellls · 1 year

Text

@acalculatedfuture has sent: What would you say is the most unique trait about your character? (Morty Barry Rowan and Juan)

canon questionare. [Accepting]

12. What would you say is the most unique trait about your character?

// Thinking real hard about this question, because of the sheer amount of expansion I've done on these characters... So I'll be mainly focusing, in difference between my interpretation and the popular fanon views on these characters.

// I've talked not too long ago about, why I prefer the manga's take on his powers, instead of the loosen mainline games.

Another thing I actually seem to enjoy, that not many people seem to be that fond of, are his gen 2's designs. Both the anime's and his spritework. I feel like it is cool to acknowledge it as a relic of what early pokemon things were like. Just because a character doesn't have a somber/dark pallette of colors or design, it doesn't mean it can't be a specialist in ghost-type.

Furthermore, I like to view it as a subtle way to tell us things, about Morty's character. And in that aspect, it is a very rich one. I'm not saying that gen 4's Morty looks are bad, not all! Especially now that we know, his new look was definetely inspired by his early beta design, found in the Spaceworld 98 Gold version leaked beta. But there is a lot to be said, about a gym leader who looks like he belongs in a modern city, and not in the one city that's all about Johto's traditional roots.

ANyway, I'm saying all of those things, because I 100% incorporate them to his story.

// I'd like to put up first a disclaimer, bc I've had to deal with some flack for saying this in the past. But back then, I didn't know to put it into words in a better way. So, while I'm changing my approach to this subject going forward, my views are still the same ones.

I have nothing against people who project things onto fictional characters, or even live through them for that matter. I don't do any of that, my muses never reflect me in any shape or form. I try my best to stray away from people who do those things mentioned above, because it makes me uncomfortable due to really bad experiences, with people who couldn't separate themselves from their muses. You do you, I'm not here to judge anyone. And even less tell ppl, what they can or can't do.

With that said, I'm well aware that the fandom seems to have an expectation for anyone who RPs Barry, to immediately label him with some kind of mental disorder. Either because they are projecting it onto the character, or they really think it is the only "valid" explanation for his mannerism in the games.

And I don't feel comfortable doing that. I don't like just smacking these characters with a serious condition, I'm not on board with the 'uwu so quirky' treatment towards the subject of mental health.

Unless I'm certain that's something I want to write about, I'll do that. Otherwise, I'd rather not screw up by accidentally making light of these touchy subjects. It's not erasure, even less ableism. I want them to be handled properly, with the respect it deserves.

My young Barry is merely going through a phase, he lacks maturity, he lacks patience. He will eventually grow out of it, it is a matter of time for him.

// For a community that claims to love diversity, breaking the mold, and progressiveness. A lot of people seem to forget the fact that our first line-up of serious contest coordinators were Wallace, AND Juan. Two men who were definetely breaking out of stereotypes, and were both used to represent a game's feature, that down the line fell back on the stereotype of "contests are for feminine girls only".

No hate obviously but. coughs Lisia coughs. I really like her, but it is a shame that they preferred to do this, instead of re-purposing a character that fit in with it perfectly.

I'm practically nitpicking with Juan, bc my man is so obscure. I think that even Masters legitimately forgot about him.

// Back at the subject of people taking their in-game experience, in a literal worldbuilding way.

No, Rowan isn't a bad "researcher" for sending trainers to fill out the pokedex for him. The pokedex project is literally meant to be a combined effort, between trainers and researchers. No, Rowan also isn't a bad professor for not knowing every single pokemon out there, and even less when it comes to Legendaries.

Filling out the pokedex is just a game quest, you (general) dingus.

#ooc /#thank you for the ask!#acalculatedfuture #long post #would you like some salt in your tea?#this got long oops

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sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 8.5k

A/N: I've spent so much time on this because I wanted the events of this chapter to go perfectly after all this build-up lmao. I hope it's good enough for you guys. You all deserve the best, after all. <3

Only one more chapter to go after this! Almost the end of an era.

Hearing the shower stop thrumming, you smile at the closed bathroom door and start making yours and Ralph’s breakfast. A song plays from your shuffled playlist with a rhythm you can feel through every bone in your body. You start bobbing your head to it, which turns into a shimmy of the shoulders, quickly followed by shuffling feet and swinging hips. Before you know it, you're dancing and humming along all around the tiny expanse of your kitchen.

You had no idea Ralph was in the room now until you caught sight of something person-shaped leaning against your fridge. You stop with a bashful look, watching Ralph's gaze. He looks all the way down your body before looking up briefly to look back down again. If anybody else had ever looked at you in that way, you'd feel exposed, objectified, disgusted. But there's something about the way he looks at you, that causes your insides to swoop and your face to feel suddenly hotter. It's not even like it's the first time you've seen him do it, it's been his one go-to flirtatious move since you made it official with him, and it works every time.

"You know you don't have to stare like that, right?" You grin as you step over to him. "You can just come over and have me as I am."

"Even now that that is the case, darling, why would I ever waste an opportunity to savour how beautiful you are?" he smiles softly as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close for a kiss. Every time your lips connect, you feel a genuine spark that starts from there and jolts all the way through your body.

You feel the presence of his arms swinging by your sides, still unsure of where to put them. Reaching back down, you take his hands in your own and move them to rest low on your back. You feel his fingers nervously press into you as his breath hitches, and smile up at him sweetly in reassurance. Biting your lip, you push down on his wrists so that his hands sit on your ass cheeks and he yelps in surprise, his ears turning a fierce red. He looks at you with wide eyes, and you return it with a suggestive look. He licks his lips, nodding in understanding as he starts to relax. You guide his jaw to capture his lips into another kiss and you feel the tension keeping him stiff start to dissipate.

As you both relax into it, enjoying each others’ embrace, you rock yourself back into his touch, humming out a soft moan at the pressure of his palms pressing against you. You feel him tense up again as he breathes in audibly, but you shush him, leaning to look him in the eye and smile gently with a soft, “That feels so good.”

Ralph nods nervously, but it melts away as he sees how happy you look for him to be holding you in such a way. “Yes, it… It does for me, too.”

“Yeah?” You ask, moving in such a way that both you and Ralph start rocking from side to side, still cradling each other. “Good enough to call in sick, d’you reckon?”

He laughs softly, “Unfortunately, I fear Babs may have me skinned if I'm not in on time, we've got a special order coming in."

You pull a face, "Damn. S'pose I'd better work, too."

He moves his hands away from their place, to your disgruntlement, but it's to gently guide your hair into place with a, "I do so wish I could provide my old wealth to you. I'd spoil you something terrible."

You give him a resigned smile, "Tempting, but I'm not sure I'd survive in a world without WiFi."

"Of course," Ralph muses with a small smile, "and how could you possibly go on without knowing which of the female strangers was given a flower by the male stranger?"

"Oh, shut up, you'd miss our trash TV marathons more than I would, and you know it," you tease, poking him in the stomach.

He chuckles, “Maybe so."

Your shifts never used to drag quite like this. Even major rush periods feel as though they're in slow motion, they have done ever since you and Ralph made it official. You'd always felt it weird and a little co-dependent when others would talk about just wanting to go home and be with their significant other all the time, but now you get it.

At first, you reminisce back to this past weekend, when you'd gone out with the rest of your colleagues for one of their birthdays. Though Ralph was visibly sadder about you going out without him for the night, he certainly never made you feel guilty about it. Hyping up how beautiful you look, telling you to have an absolute blast and how he can't wait to hear all about it as soon as you get home, which you knew was going to be literal since you knew he'd stay up for you. And the memory of his lovesick little face as you'd kissed your freshly-applied lipstick all over it, smiling dazedly and sighing happily with glassy eyes while covered in your lipstick stains, is enough to lift you out of any funk. Especially when you also remember coming back to see him drifting in and out of sleep on the sofa, faded lip marks still adorning him.

You think back further than that, to the time when he'd run all the way to your shop from his after he'd realised halfway through the morning that neither of you had remembered your goodbye kiss. And then back to your very heated session this morning. Imagining Ralph bursting through that front door the way he had that day. Looking at you with all the adoration from the weekend. You know for a fact you'd be practically tugging him into your office, throwing everything off of your desk so the two of you can make out on it.

You think about his hands, how they felt pressed against such a sensitive area. How easily he took to it. You start to wonder what else he'd take to that well. Whether he even knows what he's doing. Would you have to take charge? Do you want to take charge? Everything over the last half a year has consisted of you having to lead Ralph around, so you assume the same would be said for… Elsewhere, too. As much fun as it is to imagine Ralph pressing you against the wall and having his way with you, that’s not really your Ralph. Still nice to think about, though.

A grab of your shoulders has you jumping out of your skin with a yelp. The sales assistants working with you laugh loudly and you pull a face. “Couldn’t you have just gotten my attention in a nicer way?”

“We tried!” One raises their hands. “You were really out of it, almost called an ambulance on you.”

“Yeah, what’s got you that distracted?” The other asks, before adding with a smirk, “Or is that more hot and bothered?”

“What do you mean?!” You ask, but you can feel your face betraying you. Your cheeks could be actual furnaces right now.

They simply exchange knowing kooks and waggle their eyebrows at each other before gesturing to the front desk. “Total Karen. Says we have something on hold for her when I’ve checked ten literal actual times and seen we don’t. She’s all yours.”

After a twenty minute conversation that finally ends with the revelation that the woman had the wrong store entirely, you decide it’s best to keep busying yourself with work. Keep the not-safe-for-work thoughts… Outside of work.

By the time you’re home, you wonder whether you should bring up the elephant in the room. You wonder how, as well - whenever you’ve been intimate in the past it’s been Tinder matches or other dates where you can trust the other person to make the first move if they’re truly interested. But this is your Ralph, who you’d had to guide just to let his hands wander, and even then he’d needed encouragement to keep them there. He always talked about how infrequently he’d had any kind of positive interaction with anyone he’s been interested in - you can’t help but wonder, has he even?

You open the door and hear the shower running behind the bathroom door. Of course, you and Ralph have showered while the other is somewhere in the flat plenty of times over the last half a year, but with all that’s been on your mind today, there’s just something about the fact that his naked form is a door away from you.

You head into your bedroom to get out of your work clothes and into something comfier before you can even think about making dinner, and notice that Ralph has left that bathroom door ajar. You contemplate poking your head around it when a sound catches you completely off guard. Beneath the running water, it can’t be denied, Ralph is moaning. As you stay close to the doorway and listen intently, you start to hear more. Little gasps and hitches of his breath. Sounds that could only mean one thing - Ralph is touching himself right now.

Every one of them makes you feel the need to relieve yourself, too, which you consider briefly before deciding in the moment to just go for it. There’s been enough pussyfooting around over the last 6 months, and look at where that’d gotten you.

Taking a deep breath in, you tap your knuckle against the door, using all your willpower to remain a respectful distance away from the open part of the door so as not to scare him too much. “Ralph?” His classic half-yelp, half-squawk of surprise greets you as the water suddenly shuts off.

You hear commotion as he quickly wraps a towel around his hips and pokes his head out from the doorway. “W-welcome, back, my…” He clears his throat. “My love. Erm, I don’t su- how long hav- I didn’t hear you coming in.”

You push the door wide open, leaving him standing in the doorway looking incredibly bashfully, not quite looking at you. You place a finger on his jaw and move it so he’s looking at you. Raising your eyebrows suggestively, you ask, “Do you want me to level the playing field?” as you reach down to grab the bottom of your shirt.

Ralph takes a deep breath in that hitches twice before he swallows hard and nods, taking a step closer to you. “Though, I should like to be the one to make that happen, if that would be alright with you.”

You reach out to take Ralph’s hands, walking backwards until you’re both further into your bedroom, and place them on your hips, grinning up at him. “Heads up, unless I tell you that it’s not, pretty much everything you could do would be okay, alright? Don’t need to check in all the time.” He nods, and you play with the wet curls that hang down the back of his neck. “And, um…” You start slowly, spinning your fingers around in his hair, “you… Obviously don’t have to push yourself, if you’re not ready, or if you’re not sure how, or -”

“I know what to do, if that’s what you’re trying to insinuate,” he tells you with a small smile. “For our 21st, Victoria decided to, ah, gift me a week’s worth of evenings with… Well, I’m sure you can imagine, given the context.”

You frown up at him. “Your sister gave you an escort for your birthday?!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t think so, at first. She had simply told me there was a young woman waiting downstairs for me to wine and dine her, and… Well, again, you can imagine how the night ended. And then, no less, Victoria told me she wanted to see me again the very next night, and so it happened again, and again, until one week later, she was never to be seen again.”

Your eyes widen, “Like, she di-”

“Oh, gracious, no! No, I saw Maggie in the town days after.” Ah, so this is the Maggie he mentioned the other week. “I approached her to ask her for another evening out, and that’s when she told me that she was… merely being paid to accompany me.”

You stroke his hair gently, pouting your lower lip out. “Your old life was such bullshit.”

“Yes, well. If only any of them could see me, now. Bully for me, eh?” Ralph smiles at you before leaning in to kiss you sweetly.

You smile against his lips as you slowly drag your hands down around his shoulders, following the last few drops of shower water that remain on him down to rest on his chest. “Wouldn’t want them to. Want to keep all this just for me.”

“As you wish, darling,” he simpers back, and you feel his fingers bunching your shirt up. “As long as I get to say the same.”

“Of course,” you grin, lifting your arms up over your head. He pulls your shirt off of you, his hands carefully folding the garment as his eyes fixate on your body in total awe. He reaches over to place it down on your dresser, his gaze still never leaving your body, leaving you feeling totally enamoured at how respectful he’s still being towards even your clothes. He reaches around to remove your bra - doing so more efficiently than even you can - and drinks the sight of you in as it falls down your arms.

A shaky hand reaches out to hold your breast, his finger and thumb just resting inches away from your nipple either side. You moan out an oh and Ralph almost melts on the spot. He uses the other hand to cradle your neck as his kisses become far more open, far more passionate, and far more needy. He needs more than to just hear those sounds, he needs to taste them, breathe them, claim them.

He switches his hands to massage the other breast with the same amount of intention and love. Your hands blindly feel for where he’s tucked the towel around him and tug gently, in questioning. He hums affirmatively into your mouth and you unfurl the offending object, letting it fall to the floor and breaking your kiss to look down. It’s fully pressed against his stomach, smooth with a singular vein protruding down the side. Slender, but long. You can’t help but smile adoringly as it twitches under your gaze.

You look up at him with the same look in your eye as you reach down to run your fingertips along it. He starts to frown, and you immediately pull back. “Too much?”

“Oh, no, not at all! I’m just… A little puzzled, since you’re the one touching me.”

You start to feel your blood boil again. “When this Maggie,” you spit her name out venomously, “was ‘teaching’ you… What did she do, exactly?”

“Well, I suppose I know what to do with my hands, and with my mouth, and with… Well, the obvious,” he chuckles under his breath. “But… Once it was all over, for her, she would tell me we were done, and so I would have to… Relieve myself once she had gone.”

You feel your face start to contort with anger, but you manage to will yourself out of that. Instead, you keep your gaze fixed on Ralph as you sink to your knees. You watch his eyes widen as you take his length in your hand and slowly lick from base to tip. His fingers flex out and then into a fist again, so you guide them towards your hair. His grip seems intentionally gentle, and a part of you starts to wonder whether you can corrupt him into pulling tighter.

Again looking up at him through your eyelashes, you point the tip of your tongue and play it around the tip of his shaft, licking all around it with the occasional lap right at the top. He moans for you for the first time, far louder than in the shower. His grip tightens for the briefest of moments before he returns to his gentle ways.

Spurned on, you finally wrap your lips around him and sink down, taking his cock in your mouth. His gasp stutters as a low moan rolls out beneath, and you have fun with moving at different speeds, turning your head, hollowing your cheeks, trying to move deeper until the tip of your nose nestles in amongst the mass of reddish-brown curls that adorn his length like a halo.

His knees buckle slightly when you reach out to gently caress his balls as well, and you pull away to check on him, wiping the drool off of the lower lip of your grin as you look up at him. “Everything good?”

He nods hurriedly. “Exceptional, truly, but I fear I may finish my part and neglect you in this.”

Your smile softens. “Baby, you don’t have to feel like you owe me. Besides, sounds like you deserve at least one night of selfishness!”

“Maybe so, but not tonight.” He offers his hand to help you stand up before placing a hand just under your ear to cradle your neck and head. “Tonight I wish to show you just how much I adore you. May I?”

You nod, “What did I tell you about asking, eh?” before shimmying yourself out of the rest of your clothes. You step back slowly, letting Ralph admire you. Any confidence issues you’ve ever had with your body melt with the way Ralph looks at you, as though you were a masterpiece at the Louvre.

You sit yourself on the bed, shuffling back so that your head can rest with the pillows, and Ralph lays next to you, pressed against your side as his hand slides around your thigh. “Quite possibly the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he mutters into your ear as his fingers rub up and down until he notices you hiss with pleasure, going back to the spot he brushed past to cause that and starting to rub it in gentle circles.

“Oh, god, please, Ralph, right there,” you pant.

“Does that feel good, my love?” He asks in the same volume, and you nod.

“So good, fuck,” you moan, your hips squirming from side to side under his touch. You look over at him, glassy eyes and parted lips as he studies your face. You could count his eyelashes, he’s that close. Breathing in the air he breathes out, you could just move your jaw a fraction and kiss him, but this moment feels so intimate, so personal. Nobody else exists in the world right now except for you two.

“I’m so glad,” he whispers to you. “Because I wish to devote the rest of my days to making sure you know just how much you deserve to feel this way, always.”

You feel yourself start to well up with emotion, but that soon dissipates into pure pleasure as Ralph takes that exact moment to reach down and sink a finger between your folds, pressing it deep inside of you. You whine, gripping the sheets with the one hand that can hold them, bucking yourself against his touch, desperate to feel nothing else but him inside of you. “God, please, Ralph, more,” you cry out, and he obeys, adding another finger easily.

“You make my name sound heavenly, darling,” he simpers, pressing a kiss to the top of the shell of your ear. “Thank you.”

“- Make me feel heavenly, oh my god,” you whine, finally moving your head around but pressing your forehead into his face instead. “Want to make you feel this good, too.”

He tilts his head to press gentle kisses to your forehead before resting his own against yours and cooing, “You already have, my love, and I’m sure you will again. But, for now…” He pulls his hand away and moves to crouch down between your legs. Your breath hitches, echoing his from earlier, as he holds your folds apart with one hand and buries his tongue inside of you. Your thighs squeeze the sides of his head as you moan loudly, and he surfaces to ask, “Is this what you want, darling? Or do you prefer more of this?” As he moves up to press kisses to your clit, occasionally lingering to suckle on it.

“B-both! Both are… Fuck, just don’t stop, please,” you stammer out, and you can feel his lips turn up in a smile against your core.

“Anything you say, darling,” he purrs as he alternates between the two. You feel yourself clench around his tongue, coaxing it in as much as you can, but the way your body moves as he massages your clit, your mind empties of every thought other than needing nothing but Ralph.

You start to feel something rushing, moving to settle down at your core where your climax starts to build. You cry out, “God, Ralph, ’m so close, need - need you inside, now, please.”

“You need relief now?” He asks softly, and you nod, keening against him. “Then let go, my love,” he soothes as he sinks his two fingers inside of you again, sucking on your clit with much more fervour. You cry out in ecstasy as you feel yourself clench and gush around his fingers, your hands burying in his hair as he totally devours you all the way through your orgasm.

He resurfaces, looking up at you with his big, brown doe eyes. You try and smooth out how dishevelled you've left his curls, to no avail as his glistening gaze watches you with adoration. Panting, you smile down at him, “Holy shit, you’re perfect.”

He dips his head bashfully before taking his previous place of laying next to you. “Oh, please, as if I could ever accept such a title when lying next to the embodiment of it.”

You frown, your eyebrows knitting together as you look him up and down. “And just what do you think you’re doing there?”

The awe in his eyes is drained immediately, quickly replaced with sorrow. “Whatever’s the matter?”

“Well, surely you still need attending to,” you shuffle around to lay on your side, gently running your fingertips up and down his length again.

His breath once again hitches as he gasps sharply. “Oh, you don’t need to go to all that trouble, darling, I can just as easily do it myself and I won’t even make a mess of it, I’m very good at cleaning up after myself, an-”

You cut him off by pushing him onto his back, rolling over to take his member in your hand and start stroking it. “Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking about in the shower?” you ask seductively, resting your head in the crook of his neck and watching him twitch beneath your touch.

He swallows thickly before stammering, "Th- That delicious sound you w-were making, this morning, I was… Playing it o-ver and over, in my head… I thought about, p-perhaps, what might happen if I were to... To have kept on k-issing you. To have caressed you m-more, whatever it took to make that happen aga-again."

You hum out a low moan into his ear. "Mmm, do you like it when I moan, Ralphie?" He nods desperately, and a wide smile creeps along your face. "Good," you whisper with a kiss to the shell of his ear. "Because I like having you make me moan."

"Well, if you wish, I'd be more than happy to oblige again," Ralph smiles as he tries to roll over you, but you again push him back, this time moving yourself around too until you're sat on top of him, straddling him with a knee either side of his waist.

"I want us both to feel good," you smile down at him, rubbing your palms up and down his chest. You trail your fingers down his torso to play in the trail of hair that adorns his stomach, shuffling further and further back until your lower lips start to mould around his cock. He breathes in through his nose, long and hard, and you lean forwards, sliding your hands back up his abdomen. "Do you want that, too?"

He nods, then his eyes widen in fearful realisation. "I, um... I didn't quite anticipate this happening so soon, and so I haven't... I don't have any..."

The concern that had filled your face quickly melts away. "It's okay, Ralphie, that's what that pill I take every evening is for. Though normally, I'd rather play it safe and have you protect yourself, too..." You grind yourself against him, biting your lip. "Tonight, I wanna feel you, Ralph. All of you."

He nods, "Ple- Please. Take all you desire of me."

You kneel up just enough to reach below you and aim his member until you feel his tip brush against where you ache for it most. You line yourself up before finally sinking down, burying him inside you. You let yourself sit atop his hips, savouring the moment. He runs his fingers up and down your sides as he admires your body, and you lean forward until you can reach over and hold the headboard for support. As you do, your breasts hang lower, putting Ralph in a total trance. His hands move to cup them again, this time taking your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

You let out a blissful moan as you grind yourself on him, revelling at how good it feels to be so full. You rock back and forth, letting that bliss consume you. You move one hand to envelope his, pressing his grip over you even tighter and whining at the added pressure.

He bites his lip and you feel his hand relax beneath yours. You frown slightly at him, slowing your pace, but his expression of pure elation puts you at ease immediately. “Feeling good?” you ask with a smirk, regaining your momentum.

He nods, smiling mindlessly, though this time he holds your hips as though keeping them still. “I wan- want you - want to… Be the one on…” As he talks, you can almost hear his thoughts struggling to form coherently.

You smile softly at him, bending down one more time to press a long kiss to his lips as you lift yourself off of him, rolling over to lay back on the bed. “Like this?” you ask as you reach for his shoulder, tugging gently; no expectation of actually moving him, merely prompting him.

A warm, beaming smile spreads across his face as he moves over you. “Precisely, my love. Thank you.” He aims himself hurriedly, desperate to be inside you again, for you to complete him again. Whatever fates may lie out there, Ralph certainly doesn’t know, but after all those years of them turning their backs on him, he’s never felt so sure of where he’s meant to be.

As he pushes himself inside of you, he takes your hands in his, this time holding them against your pillow, either side of your face. Your legs wrap around his hips instinctively as you look into his eyes that bore back into you. Eyes full of love and of lust, of exhilaration and of tenderness, of willingness and of comfort. You wish you could give him any of that back, but all your face can do is contort with pleasure. You lift your head up, whining gently and pushing your lips out at him, to which he takes the hint and bends down to kiss you, his fingers flexing between yours as he holds you as tightly as he can. You feel the very edge of his neck chains drag against your skin as they swing, dangling between you. Every tiny little sensation feels magnified a hundredfold.

His breath becomes even more shallow as he breaks from the kiss, barely able to focus himself. You can tell he’s getting close, so you manage to wriggle your hand loose from his grip to reach down and start massaging your clit.

Ralph snaps back into consciousness to look at you with a furrowed brow. “Am I not doing enough for you? Oh, darling, I’m so sorry, I -”

You cut him off by shushing him, “Shhh, shh, it’s not your fault, baby. Okay?” you soothe, and he licks his lips as he nods. His face softens at your term of endearment. “There we go. I just really want us to finish at the same time, that’s all. Do you want to do it for me?” you offer gently, and he quickly adjusts himself, holding himself up against the headboard while reaching down to rub just where you need him to. Your body grinds with his touch, still managing to move in perfect rhythm with him. His forehead rests on yours as you both look down, watching his every move as he ultimately pleases you, but Ralph’s quick to get back to kissing you.

What starts as sweet pecks quickly melts into sloppy, needy, desperate, open kisses. You mutter to him to kiss your neck, and the combination of the feeling of his lips, the tingling of his breath and the vibrations of his hummed moans that only get more intense as his hips move more erratically, all against the already sensitive skin of your throat drive you crazy.

He moves back up to look at you, cheeks pink, ears red and chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. “I think I’m… What should - Where should -”

You rest your hands on his shoulders, fingers pressing into the soft, freckled flesh of his back. “Just don’t stop,” you breathe back, feeling the build-up of your second orgasm fly through every single nerve. Breaths become whines, whines become moans, and the pair of you harmonise as you reach your peak together, as one. You bask in the warmth he fills you with, desperate to commit as much of it to memory as you can, knowing how rarely you’ll feel this exact sensation.

It takes Ralph a moment to recuperate as he simply flops down onto you, still inside you. You giggle, burying your face in his hair and kissing his head. “Enjoy that?” You ask in a soft, amused voice.

“Understatement of the century, my love. And I should know!” He exclaims, making you both laugh. He finally moves, pulling himself out of you - though still taking a moment to revel in the sight of his cum just peeking out from inside you - and laying himself next to you. You roll yourself on your side to face him, and he does the same. “It was everything I could have ever asked of you, and an infinite amount more. Thank you,” he leans in to kiss your forehead. “Thank you,” he repeats, kissing the tip of your nose. You giggle as he continues to thank you profusely, over and over, as he kisses you all over your face and down your neck.

“Alright, down, boy!” You laugh, lightly batting at the top of his head. “I’m not as sprightly as I used to be, I’m gonna need a minute before any round 2 happens!”

He returns to lay his head on the pillow next to you, pouting his lower lip out in an adorable manner. “I would never expect anything more of what you’ve already done for me!”

You reach over to stroke back some of his curls, grinning, “I know, you big softie, I was only teasing.” You huff out a long, exhausted breath. “Well! I think I need a shower after that.”

Ralph frowns, “Yes, I’m not certain now whether the moisture on my skin is from the shower I just took or from sweating, but I don’t want to waste any more of the hot water.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure we’d both squeeze in there pretty easily,” you offer with a suggestive waggle of your eyebrows. Ralph looks semi-shocked at the thought, and you deadpan, “Ralph.” You gesture down your bodies and continue, “You cannot think anything’s still scandalous, surely.”

He dips his head bashfully, “I’m just not used to all of this! You’re the one corrupting me!” You gasp in mock offence, keeping your wide-eyed, wide-mouthed expression as he kisses all over your face again through his own giggles.

“Well, I’m gonna go get in the shower, anyway. If you feel like being corrupted any more, you know where to find me,” you tease, practically throwing yourself out of the bed.

As soon as you start running the water, you feel Ralph’s body pressing behind yours again, his arms wrapping around you and his face burying in your neck. Showering together feels like the most intimate thing you’ve done all day, the way you carefully explore each others’ bodies with the tender lathering of soaps, shampoos and conditioners. Once you’re out of the shower, and Ralph’s stood behind you to help you massage your favourite products into your skin, you consider teaching him all the fun of bending someone over a bathroom counter, but you decide to pace yourself. Everything you and Ralph have done so far today has been a big step for him to take, and the last thing you want to do is overwhelm him.

It’s only when you’re both stood naked in your bedroom, trying to remember what’s stopping you from the default action of changing into pyjamas, when your stomachs growl in unison. You laugh loudly, “That’s it! It’s because we still need to eat!” You frown, “I don’t think we have enough stuff, I was gonna ask you what you wanted and then go and buy whatever we’d need, ’til I got distracted.”

“Whatever could you mean,” Ralph replies with a small, bashful smile. “Although… I was given a rather hefty tip from that large party that I helped today, and so I was planning on asking you to accompany me to a meal out, my treat.”

You smile with amusement, “A little bit backwards from my former dating life, to have dinner afterwards, but absolutely.” The comment seems to go over Ralph’s head as he looks through his dress shirts, though he keeps pausing to watch you decide on your own outfit. Once you do, he picks one that matches yours as closely as possible,

Ralph seems excitedly determined to show you where he wants to take you, which you eventually learn that he learned of this place from his friend Lauren, the one now dating Connor. It must have come very highly recommended, since as you queue up to join the waiting list, you see your friends already sat at the bar.

They jump up and rush over, Lauren immediately greeting the pair of you while Connor talks to the host, who seems quite agreeable. When he joins you all, he tells you that he’s changed his and Lauren’s party from 2 to 4 so you can join them.

You all go back to the bar and order some drinks. As Lauren and Ralph excitedly catch up, Connor nudges you with a, “Look at us. Hey, look at us.”

Laughing, you continue the reference with a, “Look at us! Who’d have thought?”

“Not me!” Connor exclaims, causing you both to fall into a fit of giggles.

Lauren turns away from their conversation to look at you both in disbelief. “Did you just quote Paul Rudd, out loud?!” You both nod proudly, and she rolls her eyes in affectionate sarcasm. “Can’t believe I’m dating such a massive nerd.”

“Well, believe it, ’cause it’s truuue,” he singsongs teasingly, leaning over to plant an obviously very wet kiss on her cheek based on her reaction, making all four of you laugh.

“Nah, seriously, I never would’ve thought Connor would be that sappy, even if he was being a prick about it,” you smirk. “You kids are cute together.”

“High praise coming from the most anticipated couple of the 20s!” Lauren laughs.

“Oh, Loz, that’s quite the exaggeration,” Ralph comments with expressive eyes, but both Connor and Lauren rasp out in disbelief in the same tone simultaneously, to your amusement.

“It really isn’t, we’d all been waiting for you both to come to your senses for months!” Connor exclaims.

“Seriously, some of the girls were considering trying to hunt your lot down to add them to a group chat dedicated to playing Cupid!” Lauren laughs, gesturing between you and Connor as the four of you are called to go to your table. “Thankfully, as ever, I was the voice of reason that knew you and Ralphie’d figure it all out eventually.”

“And if things didn’t happen the way they did, you’d never have met me the way you did,” Connor grins as he sits in his chair, resting his elbow on the table and jaw on his fist as he watches Lauren take her seat, to which she beams back at him for.

Ralph pulls out the seat next to Lauren, and you go to sit next to Connor when you hear him make a slight sound of offence. You look over and see him holding the seat out, gesturing to it. Pressing a hand to your chest, you stick out your lower lip in a look of affectionate appreciation as you take the seat, looking up at Ralph gratefully as he tucks your chair in before taking his place next to his best male friend.

“You’re such a gentleman, Ralphie,” Lauren comments sweetly, and Connor sighs, shaking his head with a sarcastic aura about him.

“S’pose I better get better at being more of a gentleman too, then,” he raises his eyebrows at Lauren, who mirrors his snort-laugh.

“Please, if I wanted a gentleman, I would have never gone for you.” The way they smile at each other fills your heart with a warm happiness. This moment right now, it’s one you’ve always convinced yourself isn’t real. You read about it, you watch it in movies and TV shows, but for years, your jaded mind had convinced yourself that every piece of media just recycled the same trope time and again. That this feeling of being with your person, who just gets you and who you just get, and seeing other people be with their people too, it’s all too good to be true. That’s why it only exists in fiction. And yet, here you are. Living it, and watching one of your best friends live it, too. You’re sure that your other friends have found theirs, too, but you just couldn’t see it for yourself until you’d experienced it.

By the end of the meal, you’d agreed with the pair of them to have another dinner party, this time all coupled up with everyone’s partners invited, too. Ralph rocks back and forth in his seat excitedly. “You got something you wanna say, Ralphie, or d’you need to use the little boys’ room?” Connor comments with a smirk.

“Well! I was rather hoping an opportunity to show off to you all would appear soon!” Ralph beams, practically vibrating on the spot. “You see, between Babs and Alex - you know, who I work with, you met Alex the night of my birthday,” he hurriedly explains to your confused expressions, and the three of you chorus an Oh! of realisation.

“You know, for someone who works in retail, you might wanna remind them the importance of actually introducing themselves to people by name,” you explain to Ralph, who nods in understanding and continues.

“So, as I was saying, Babs had been talking about how she always loved to cook, but she hasn’t any children to pass recipes and such onto, and I may have… Confessed my lack of cooking prowess, and know-how of all these appliances and whatnot. But Babs has been teaching me how to use things with as few… Gadgets and doodads as possible! And Alex has been teaching me things that do use them, since they feared that if I remained clueless about them, I may do more harm than good.”

“Sounds smart. Remind me at some point to bring Alex whatever their favourite thing is into the shop one day,” you nod, to Connor and Lauren’s amusement - though Lauren’s is largely still recovering from Ralph’s use of the word doodads.

“So, if it would please you all, I… Would like to be the one to cook for everybody.” Ralph looks at you all hopefully.

“It’s a sweet offer, but our pokey little flat’s got barely enough room to swing a cat around, I dunno if we’d be able to fit everyone and their partners to ours -” You start, and Ralph’s expression visibly saddens, which breaks your heart to see, but Connor salvages it.

“You can cook at mine, mate,” he offers with a smile. “Not really fair to offer up anyone else’s places since they’re not here. Just don’t go starting any fires and we’re golden.”

“Oh, drat, there goes my master plan!” Ralph jokes, making you all laugh.

On the day of the dinner party, just before you leave for Connor’s, you happen to notice one tweet amongst many others in Ralph’s mentions. Most of them speculate whether you and him are an item or not, now; you’d agreed with Ralph to try and remain as inconspicuous as possible, to avoid your fear of strangers’ judgement, especially when so many of them are so willing to openly confess their traction to Ralph on public social media.

But that remains a difficult task when you both get heart eyes every time you so much as think about one another.

The tweet in question comes from someone who had bumped into the pair of you a few days prior. They had recognised a few of Ralph’s instagram backdrops as being local to them, and so had made some bracelets in the hope of gifting them to him someday. Ralph had been completely bowled over at the notion of somebody handmaking a gift for him, and had been wearing them ever since, proudly showing them off to anyone he talked to. The tweet read: “pretty sure i saw @RalphOnTwitter wearing my bracelets in someone else’s selfie they got with him. it’s fine. i’m fine.” followed by a gif of someone totally freaking out.

Just as you’re about to leave the house, you call Ralph over and tell him to hand you his phone to pose for a quick photo in the mirror, as long as he hugs you for it. He happily obliges, and you’re thrilled to see his sleeve working in the exact way you’d hoped it would. After double checking that the icons of the instagram profile with the same handle match with the twitter account you were hoping to reply to, you add a hover tag over his bracelets as you post to Ralph’s instagram, letting him caption it:

With that, you mute his instagram and twitter notifications, wanting to salvage as much of his phone battery as possible, and hand him his phone back.

Once at Connor’s, Ralph insists on having total jurisdiction over the kitchen. You keep all the drinks out in the living room so as not to disturb him. It’s tough not to keep checking in on him all the while, not because you don’t trust him in the kitchen (well, maybe a little) but mostly you just don’t want him to feel as though he can’t ask for help if he really needs it.

Things seem to be going well for long enough that you allow yourself to relax and enjoy your friends’ company. Your former, single self always thought that people changed when they got into relationships, including your best friends. Not that it stopped you from being their friend, by any means, but you’d certainly noticed a difference in them. Something about all of that makes so much more sense now that you’re in the same boat as them, though.

In the middle of a conversation about everyone’s early stages of dating, Scott and his partner’s attempts to recollect their first dates are interrupted by a clattering crash sound, followed by the last word you’d ever expect to come out from behind the kitchen door at this exact moment: “Oh, fuck!”

All heads snap to look towards the kitchen at once. All voices call out the word, “Ralph?!” at once. Naturally, you’re the first on your feet, sprinting to find him standing with his head hung, looking at the pan that’s now laying face down on the floor, bits of food strewn all around it.

“Oh, babe,” you frown, stepping over to him while trying to wave everyone else away from the doorway for a moment. “It’s okay! Are you hurt? Was it hot?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t even get a chance to put it on the stove before I ruined it.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, my lovely, I promise,” you encourage him quietly, picking his head up in your hands to stroke his face with your thumbs. Quietly in part to keep Ralph focused on just the two of you for now, and maybe also in part so your friends don’t have to hear you use terms of endearment you’d have made fun of them for just months ago. “Is it just this to prepare, or is there more stuff?”

He shakes his head, “Everything else is on time to cook, but I won’t have time to prepare and cook these starters again -” He stops himself to look at you, startled and embarrassed. “Oh, heavens, I swore, didn’t I?! Did everybody hear?”

“Do you really think any of us give a shit?” You laugh, and Ralph finally allows a chuckle to escape his lips, too. “Guess I still had a little corruption left in me, eh?” You tease, and Ralph’s ears turn violently pink.

“There are other people just outside that door!” He hisses bashfully, and you laugh loudly.

“Exactly. So, why don’t you call them in here, go get yourself a drink and sit down for a bit, and we’ll get these starters remade in no time.” You look over to the counter and gesture to it with your head. “That the recipe for it?” Ralph nods. “There we go, then. Off you pop,” you grin, pulling him in for a kiss before guiding him out, allowing yourself a cheeky tap of his ass as he walks past you. He looks at you with faux indignation and you stick your tongue out at him in response.

Your friends all help you clean up and re-prepare the starter course while Ralph joins the other partners in the living room. Once everything is made and in the oven, you all leave, letting him go back and finish. He thanks everyone profusely, but you all wave him off.

“C’mon, babes, you’re officially one of the in-laws now!” Grace grins at him.

“Yeah, you’re family,” Anna adds, reaching up to pat his head as always, which he responds to by scooping your friends into a big hug.

As he steps back, misty-eyed, he takes a deep, shaky breath in. “Right, well, then. None of this is getting dinner back on track, now, is it!”

The rest of Ralph’s cooking goes off without a hitch, and it all tastes amazing. At first, Ralph remains bashful, erring on the side of self-deprecation as he insists that he’d rather people were honest with him, and not trying to save his feelings, especially since you and your friends deserve all the credit for the starter. Even he can’t deny everybody’s praise once it comes to the second course, though, to your delight.

The other partners all insist on doing their part by washing up while the rest of you veg out on the sofa, feeling bloated from finishing every bit of a three-course meal. You’re all talking about work, trying to figure out when you’re all next on the same day off when the others join you. Lauren, perching on the arm of the chair Connor’s sitting on, asks him, “Ooh, what are we all talking about? Have you told them what we were talking about?”

“Shit, yeah! Thanks for reminding me, babe,” he beams at her before turning to you all. “Well, we were thinking, ’cause we were talking about going on holiday together and stuff - oh, piss off,” he sneers jokingly at everyone else’s ‘aww’s. “But, like, obviously everything’s mad expensive these days, so we thought, maybe it’d be cheaper if we all went away somewhere together, since it’s getting warmer?”

“Like. Brighton, again?” Ralph asks.

“Well, we were thinking of maybe aiming for somewhere abroad,” Lauren explains.

Horrified, you and Ralph instinctively chorus a “No!”, causing everyone else to frown at you.

“Uhh, Ralph can’t go abroad, he doesn’t have a passport!” You explain hurriedly, and Ralph nods profusely, his eyes wide.

“Oh, well, it wouldn’t be any time soon, we can wait for him to apply for one!” Connor smiles at Ralph, though he remains uneasy.

“Yes, well… I, um… Flying is… Not something I would want to do, frankly, it’s, um… Quite terrifying! Yes, I’ve a paralysing fear of aeroplanes, I don’t trust them in the slightest,” he rambles, but Lauren’s not buying it.

Her eyes narrow as she looks at him. “You’re lying.”

Resting your elbows on your knees, you rub your face, keeping your hands over it as you think. Trying desperately to think of any other way around it, you just can’t think of a decent-sounding lie that’ll definitely waive everyone’s suspicions. You tilt your head over towards Ralph, not moving your hands, and mutter to him, “I think this is it, Ralphie.” He looks over at you in fearful questioning, and you nod in resignation, pressing your lips together. “Think we’ve finally gotta tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Connor asks.

“Oh, come on, you’ve got me on the edge of my seat now, what’s happening?” Grace asks, eyes wide.

“Is it a cult thing? Was I right all along?!” Scott asks, but Anna shushes everyone with a wave of her arm.

“How are they gonna explain if none of you let them talk?” She asks, raising her eyebrows at the others before looking to you, silently willing you to continue.

“Okay, well. This is going to sound insane, but I swear, you have to hear me out, and you have to believe me no matter how batshit it all sounds,” you start.

“About 80% of what Ralph says is batshit insane, but we still hear him out,” Scott points out with amusement, but he soon clears his throat. “Sorry. Carry on.”

You lean as far back as you can in your seat before sitting up straight. “Okay. So, you all know Homeless Pete, right?”

next chapter

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