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#ill add more detail on him later
vellichorom · 10 months
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uh oh. I can't imagine mixing a virus with a wayward executable can lead to anything good..... what do you mean it just gave him the flu,
FINALLY, at LONG LONG LAST; Thierry's OFFICIAL Lovebug AU rendition! in which the man quite literally gets bugged. with love! & with sick nasty
truly a lesson to all to watch what you download from your emails!
( the lovebug AU concept belongs to @things1do ~ )
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opossumbard · 4 months
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Little drawings of a Repo! The Genetic Opera based Dude OC.
He robs graves.
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rallamajoop · 21 days
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The Complete Guide to Eye Colour In Resident Evil 7
An addendum to my guide to eye colour in RE8: here's everyone from RE7 too! Getting close-ups of these was way harder than for RE8, because RE7 does not come with a model viewer, so I'm stuck using in-game screenshots and promotional images.
Once again, we'll start with the cheat-sheet version:
The whole Baker family: Blue (except when...) Mia: Brown (FOR NOW) Eveline: Green Alan: Hazel/green Deputy OneSceneWonder: Brown Chris: Hazel/brown (FOR NOW) Clancy, Andre and Peter: Brown Ethan: Still hazel
But it can never just be that simple, can it? So, further notes below.
The Baker Family
The Baker family all have blue-grey eyes. In fact, post-infection, they all have the exact same blue eyes (see top line in comparisons below). You could maybe put this down to genetics for Zoe and Lucas, but when Jack and Marguerite have the same eyes as each other too, that's when you start wondering just how many backwater-hillbilly-stereotypes are in play here.
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Mind you, they do have slightly different eyes in the pre-mould flashback that is the Daughters DLC, which you can see in the second row above. All are brighter blues, pre-infection, and Jack gets smaller pupils while Lucas gets a slightly larger iris (Zoe gets nothing, as she's the viewpoint PC and we're not redoing her face if you're not going to see it). So maybe we can hope there's some genetic diversity in the Baker-clan (renders of their eyes in their actual faces also look a little more distinct, but maybe that's a lighting thing). Either way, the Bakers = blue eyes! Got it!
And then we meet Uncle Joe in the other DLC who... has hazel eyes?
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IDEK, maybe Uncle Joe's real dad was a different mailman.
Once we get deeper into mould-monster territory though, things do get a little more interesting.
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Both Marguerite and Lucas appear with much creepier whitened eyes later in the game ‒ Marguerite's during her boss-fight transformation. Lucas, however, remains steadfastly human-shaped throughout the main campaign, but his eyes are whitened in his video message to Ethan, and in his (pre-monstrous transformation) DLC appearances too. Jack, by contrast, doesn't seem to get new eye textures even after blowing off the top of his own head, or in the boss fight that follows (monster!Jack from the fight in the boat house has completely different eyes, of course, and more of them). Mia, too, has her own set of creepy-alternate-mould-monster-eyes, but they're completely different again.
So what's the internal logic here? I could speculate that Lucas' eyes-only transformation is a sign he's in control of himself in a way Jack and Marguerite aren't, but it doesn't quite add up. If anything, those eyes make more sense as something Lucas was given because we never see him transform like Marguerite, or blow pieces of himself away like Jack: Lucas may look human, but the eyes are there to remind us he's not. There'll always be some details that end up being more about effective storytelling than cohesive lore.
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Interestingly, though they don't appear in the game, there are also promotional pics of all four members of the Baker family with glowing white/silver eyes, which are definitely a supernatural feature. It's tempting to try and associate the effect with Rose's glowing eyes from the Shadows of Rose DLC, or perhaps even the general pale-grey-eyes of Miranda and the Lords (more on both in my post on eyes in RE8). But that's territory that really needs its own post or we'll be here all day.
Clancy, Andre and Peter
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These are the three ill-fated crew of the Sewer Gators tape you'll encounter early in the game. You may notice Peter (rightmost in the pic above) seems to have even more dilated pupils than the majority of the cast. Amusing as it might be to theorise that he's just on drugs or something, I think there is an explanation: the closest shot we see of his face (and the first shot of the tape) is a close-up into a camera while the team is outside in the dark. His pupils would naturally be dilated in this sort of environment.
So why aren't Andre's dilated too? Well, the closest look we get at his eyes (also pictured) are the final shot of the tape, where he's already dead, and his eyes are covered by a red film. Medical plausibility aside, dilated pupils presumably didn't add to the effect here, so Andre gets regular pupils.
Speaking of assets, there is actually one photo of the three of them in the game, from the pamphlet you can find in their van at the start. You can even almost make out Clancy's face!
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Clancy's own eyes are their whole own kettle of worms, but we'll get to that below.
Chris Redfield
Is an odd one: I can't share an eye-texture asset for Chris, because he doesn't actually have a character model at all in the main RE7 title. And explaining that one is gonna take some context.
While RE8 renders nearly all cutscenes using in-game models, RE7 stores far more of its major cutscenes pre-rendered in .wmv format. The opening is pre-rendered, video messages from Mia and Lucas are pre-rendered ‒ even the big moment when Eveline blows out the windows of the tanker and throws Mia into the river is pre-rendered. Not all cutscenes work this way, but basically anything that would require loading a lot of assets that aren't needed in gameplay (eg. the view of the river and tanker for outside) seems to have been pre-rendered as a video instead.
And since Chris' only scene in all of RE7 is in the pre-rendered ending sequence, he doesn't have a model at all (or at least, I couldn't find it). We do see Chris in openings and endings of the Not a Hero DLC as well, and the End of Zoe ‒ but these too are just .wmv files, presumably for all the same reasons.
Now, obviously, Chris is also playable in the DLC, so he does have a character model there. But we still don't get eye textures for him for a couple of reasons: firstly, he wears a face-concealing mask that only comes off for opening/ending cutscenes. But even without it, we might just hit other weirdness surrounding player character models...
As I've already noted, both Chris and Mia get completely different new blue eyes in RE8, but back in RE7, Capcom seemed a little more aware that brown or hazel eyes were a real thing regular white people do have sometimes.
A note on player-character models
Although we mostly just see the hands of whoever we're playing as (usually Ethan), gameplay still uses a full-body model, presumably to aid in rendering dynamic shadows, and give enemies something to cover in blood. Things get weird around the character's head, which isn't actually visible so it can't get in the way of the camera floating inside it, but will still cast shadows and still has textures associated with it (though usually in much lower resolution than other models we'll actually get to see). There are three playable characters in RE7 proper: Ethan, Mia, and Clancy (from the video tapes) ‒ each with their own model and textures.
Ethan and Mia also have more detailed 3rd person models, since we see plenty of Mia playing as Ethan, and a little of Ethan playing as Mia (if only from behind).
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Why does this matter? Well, distinct as the three PCs are otherwise, their player models all have the same eyes ‒ top row above shows Ethan, Mia and Clancy, in that order. And they look nothing like Ethan's and Mia's eyes have ever looked elsewhere, which you can see in the comparison below.
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I mention this mostly because it's pretty easy to find Ethan's player-model in the game files, note those generic-hazel eye textures with it, and go, "hey, you got his eyes wrong!" But these aren't the same eyes that come with his higher-res texture, or the ones that were copied over into RE8. In fact, the existence of the player-character-default-eye-texture back in RE7 is one of the reasons why I do tend to take full-res Ethan's eyes as 'canon', even though we never see them in either game: someone took the time to repaint Ethan's eyes for his full-res model, and make them distinct from the low-res default used for everyone in 1st person mode. That at least suggests there was some real, intentional effort put into deciding what colour eyes Ethan was supposed to have.
This does leave poor Clancy in more ambiguous territory, however: as he's never seen by any other character, he has no high-res model, and thus no eyes but the default-hazel that Mia and Ethan are rendered with in that mode too. So is this to be taken as Clancy's official eye colour? It may as well be, I suppose. We see so little of Clancy in any form that I was genuinely surprised to find out his he's actually got a player model which is completely distinct from anyone else in the game, with curly greying hair, a neckbeard, and a baseball cap worn backwards.
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Render by nightsatkendalls over on deviantart.
I do not have the skills to produce a render of this quality myself, but I can tell you that the cap he's wearing has the logo for the RE Engine on the front (the in-house game engine behind all the modern RE titles, and many other Capcom games).
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You'll never see it in game, of course ‒ you'd need both a freecam mod and a mod to make his head visible. But it's there as a weird little easter-egg nonetheless.
Eveline
Eveline is perhaps the only character whose model may not have been updated at all for RE8, but given she's only a hallucination or ghost, that stands to reason. In RE7 though, she also appears as her aged 'grandma' self, who pops up around the house in her wheelchair looking spacey. Grandma-Eveline has two different eye texture assets ‒ one far more washed out than the other. There's next to no good official pictures of her, but fortunately, since she doesn't move around or attack you, she was one of the very few characters I was able to get a decent close-up shot off with the free camera mod. And inasmuch as you're ever in a position to look her in the eye in game, only the faded version of her eyes ever seems to show up. Is the clearer version actually used somewhere I didn't catch? I have no idea.
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What really stands out about granny-Eveline's eyes, though, is that they don't look anything like her child-self's eyes do. Child-Eveline is basically the only character in either game with distinctly green eyes. But Granny's are hazel, and not even a particularly similar shade of hazel.
In fact, they look far more like the generic-default hazel of the player character textures than they do like her younger self. Close-up comparisons below.
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You could speculate that it was deliberate that Granny-Eveline's eyes don't look anything like kid-Eveline's eyes to avoid tipping off the player that they're one and the same ‒ but realistically, no-one without free camera mods is ever going to get a good enough look at either of them to notice. And it's kind of a shame they didn't just take young-Eveline's eyes and apply the same kind of distortions they seem to have applied to the generic-hazel template to age them up ‒ that would've been a lovely, creepy little detail to find in these textures. But no, generic old hazel it is.
Then again, whatever the real logic at play, the fact Granny-Eveline's eyes are effectively a faded, distorted version of the very same eyes the player themselves never does get to see in the mirror is a pretty creepy idea itself. And intentional or not, that's what I've got to leave you with.
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lavenderacademia · 1 year
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THE CHAIN -> e. roundtree PART ONE: Drummers' Curse
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PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: mentions of minor injuries (NOTE: some warnings for this story include MAJOR spoilers for this series down the line, so I'll put those beneath the cut. If you don't want to get the story spoiled, then just ignore it ― but I did want to provide the chance for you to get an idea of how the story will go later down the line if you have any sensitive topics you'd like to avoid. please prioritize your mental wellbeing!)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies in advance for making Y/n the drummer and putting Warren on rhythmic guitar. I just loooooooove female drummers. Also can you tell that I love Karen and Camila? Because I love them with alllllll my heart and soul. Another sorry in advance because this one may break your heart a little ― it sure broke mine. NOTES ON THE WORK: I used the timeline from the book, mostly because I couldn't keep track of it in the show haha. I read the book twice before watching what episodes of the show were out, so the lines may blur between the two. For your convenience (and mine, tbh), I'll put the year all the characters were born underneath this note so you can reference it when you need to. I just couldn't keep track honestly. I think in the show they start the band when Graham is fourteen, but in the book he's around 18 when they add Warren on, so it's kind of confusing?? I decided to stick with the book because it was a more physical timeline. Anyways, enough talking, here's your guide! ― YEARS BORN (in order of age) Billy Dunne -> 1947 Camila Dunne -> 1949 Graham Dunne -> 1949 Warren Rhodes -> 1949 Eddie Roundtree -> 1949 Daisy Jones -> 1951 Y/n L/n -> 1951
WARNINGS (SPOILERS INCLUDED): reader has a terminal illness. Discussions about death and loss, depictions of grief, hospitals
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It's no secret that the renowned 1970s band Daisy Jones & The Six went through its fair share of ups and downs. Until their inexplicable split on July 12, 1979, they were undeniably one of the biggest bands in the world. While a more detailed account of the band's history will be recounted in a more thorough transcript, this advanced edition will focus specifically on two of the band members: Eddie Roundtree and Y/n L/n. More specifically, it will focus on their individual and combined roles they played in the band's eventual downfall.
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THE RISE OF THE SIX (1965 - 1972)
GRAHAM: Y/n grew up next door to us. She was a little younger, two years or so, so we never really gave her a second look. Until the day she wandered into our garage during band practice out of nowhere. She practically ripped the drum sticks out of Chuck's hand and just started...wailing on 'em. I mean, she could make your head spin. Here was this thirteen, fourteen year old girl next door, this kid, and she was the best fuckin' drummer we'd seen. I mean, in the neighborhood. She wasn't Mitch Mitchell, but she was the closest thing we had. And she was too good to be shoved in the back with a tambourine. But we couldn't just take Chuck's spot away and hand it over to the new girl.
CHUCK: I knew right then and there that they wanted to give my spot to the new girl. There was no doubt in my mind. And, you know what? I got it. This chick was good. Way too good. Did I feel threatened by her? Hell yeah, I did. And at the time I probably wanted to tell her to screw off, but now...now I get it.
EDDIE: She was good. Amazing, actually. Graham and I looked at each other and knew that she was something we'd be stupid to pass up on.
BILLY: When Chuck told us he wanted out, we were pissed, of course. We were heading off to open for Winters that week. It felt like things were going to look up, just like I always knew they would, and he was ditching. I know now that that wasn't really what it was ― he'd gotten into college, fan-fucking-tastic. It was a good opportunity for him, a sure thing. But right then it felt like a betrayal.
WARREN: So he ditched, and Billy just turned right to Eddie and said, "Go tell Y/n she's in." And he was just...terrified.
EDDIE: I said, "why me?" You know? It wasn't my band, it was Billy's. And here he was, ordering me to tell some new girl she was in. I was fifteen and could barely ask a waitress for ketchup. At the time, that was probably the last thing I wanted to do.
GRAHAM: He asked why it had to be him, and I told him the truth: he was the least intimidating. Billy, you know him. He had a tendency to get too focused on the task at hand and could get a little...harsh. And Warren? He had one of the biggest personalities you could find. He'd scare her off before we had a chance to offer her the spot...[Pauses] I probably could've done it, in all honesty. I just didn't want to screw it up. Eddie was better with words than I was, and we needed her in our band. Badly.
EDDIE: And I remember thinking, "Here goes fucking nothing."
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The doorbell ringing was what got her attention. No one ever used the doorbell. It was always a knock ― that, or someone just walked in. The L/n's front door was hardly ever locked back then. Y/n's mom was a nurse, formerly a school nurse. She didn't want to risk the chance that some kid took a spill and had to limp home on an injured leg. So all the neighborhood knew, if you got hurt playing outside, you could march on over to Miss L/n's place to get yourself fixed up.
Y/n had her own share of walk-ins, too. By the time she was ten, she had seen her mom help out enough kids that she was practically a nurse herself. She could disinfect and bandage and stitch up any old case that walked through her front door. And if someone who was too busted up for first aid? She knew where the keys to the family Winnebago was and how to drive herself and them to the local hospital. She was only fourteen and didn't have a license, but it didn't matter. She was a safer driver than most everyone else on the road.
So when someone rang the doorbell, she assumed that it was someone too injured to knock. She grabbed the car keys and made sure her suture kit was within reach.
When she opened the door, she didn't see the blood and broken bones she was expecting. Instead, Eddie Roundtree stood on her front porch, hands shoved anxiously in his pockets. He looked all right, but that didn't stop her from asking: "You're not hurt, are you?"
"Um. No," Eddie said quickly, taking his hands out of his pockets.
"Okay," she said slowly, eyes narrowing. "Do you want to come in?"
"Yeah, sure."
Y/n turned and walked further into the house, prompting him to close the door and follow her. She led him to the kitchen. "Lemonade? I made it this morning," she offered, already opening the fridge.
EDDIE: That jug of lemonade was bigger than she was. [Laughs] I could barely watch her get it down. I was afraid she'd drop it on her foot. But she just took her time getting it from the fridge to the table. I found out later that her mom bought a pound of lemons a week because Y/n wanted something to offer every kid that came through their front door. [Pauses]. She was just like that.
He gave a nod. Y/n stood on her toes to grab two glasses from the cabinet. She poured one glass, hands shaking from the weight of the jug, and Eddie realized that this awkward silence was probably the best time to transition into his real reason for visiting.
"Chuck left the band."
"Oh," she said simply. "Sorry."
"Don't be."
She paused, looking confused. And Eddie, who's will to live was slowly draining from this conversation alone, raced to finish what he had (awkwardly) started.
"I just mean that...you're in. The band. If you want to be our drummer, you're in."
Y/n paused mid-pour, setting the pitcher down on the counter carefully. She turned around until her back pressed into the kitchen counter, arms crossed over her chest. "And you thought I'd jump at the chance to join?"
"No. No," Eddie said quickly. "We just wanted to offer you the spot if you still wanted it."
"Did I say that I wanted it?"
"No, but―"
"Okay, just making sure," she handed him a glass and hopped up onto the counter, crossing her legs underneath her. "So you need a drummer?"
"Yes. Badly."
She took a sip from her glass and paused, as if weighing her options in her mind. She swallowed. "Are there any other girls in the band yet?"
EDDIE: Yet. Like she knew it was going to happen. It was just a matter of time.
"No, not yet." he replied.
"Then be honest with me: are you guys sleazeballs?"
EDDIE: Sleazeballs. She didn't sugarcoat things. She wanted to know if we were creeps or if we'd let her play drums in peace. I get that, one hundred percent. but back then, it felt like she was trying to accuse us of something.
"No," he said quickly, "Well...Warren can be a little much, but he means well."
She took another slow sip, once again weighing her options in her mind. "When's your next gig?"
"We play pretty much every night, wherever we can find. It might take us a bit to teach you the songs, but―"
"I can learn them," she said confidently. "How soon do you need someone?"
"Soon as possible."
EDDIE: By then, I was terrified she'd say no. All these questions and never once did she seem really interested in joining. I was already trying to figure out which of us would be the least shit at the drums.
"Okay. I'm in."
EDDIE: And that was it. She said yes. I didn't appreciate how much she'd saved our asses right then, but I was relieved. That was for sure.
GRAHAM: Eddie came back, told us she said yes. She couldn't join practice until her mom got home ― she didn't want the house to be empty if some injured kid wandered by ― so we had about an hour and a half to teach her every song.
BILLY: She picked 'em up like [snaps] that. Never doubted it for a single second, either. Once she knew it, she knew it.
EDDIE: She showed up to the first gig in overalls and sneakers. She let Camila put a little makeup on her, too, but we could all tell she hated it.
CAMILA: She was sweet. And, surprisingly, a little shy. I could tell she was a little scared of the boys. That's why she was a little cold to them at first. But she was just the coolest kid. I mean, fourteen years old and joining a rock band? She was a little rockstar, right off the bat. She asked me to put some makeup on her before her first gig with the band. When I gave her a mirror after and asked her what she thought, she said, "I like it, but it makes me feel like a doll. Not a drummer." She liked the glitter the most, though. It became her trademark. She put it on her cheeks, in her hair, everywhere that would catch the light. She'd come off stage and you'd see a little pile of sparkles behind the drum set.
EDDIE: Right off the bat, first gig. It was enough to freak anyone out. She joined the band six hours ago, learned the songs three hours ago, and now she was playing in a club to a couple dozen people. It seems so small now, but back then? It was like starting at Wembley.
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Y/n shook out her hands for the eighth time. It wasn't about loosening up for the gig anymore, she just needed something to do that didn't involve throwing a punch or screaming at the top of her lungs. She looked up at Billy, standing at the front of the group, cool and calm as ever, and she had the distinct urge to kick him in the shin. Why did he get to be so calm when she was right behind him, on the verge of throwing up?
She turned to anxiously twisting a single drum stick between her fingers, around and around, faster and faster. Eventually it became so mindless that she barely noticed as the stick slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. She bent to retrieve it quickly, hoping no one had noticed.
But, of course, someone did.
"Hey," Eddie said, looking back at her.
"Warren knocked it out of my hands." she said quickly.
Eddie glanced over at Warren, who was a solid two feet ahead of her, physically unable to have knocked a drum stick out of her hands. Y/n knew from that glance that he could see right through her lie. Now she really wasn't in the mood to talk.
EDDIE: She was terrified. And she was lying her ass off about it. I didn't want to run the risk that she choked up in the middle of the show and screwed up our set. So I figured I'd just, talk. And if she wanted me to screw off, she'd tell me. She had a way of saying exactly what she wanted.
"You've heard of the Drummer's Curse, right?" he asked.
She frowned in a way that told him no, she did not.
"First, there's the obvious stuff: drummers have to lug around the most shit out of anyone in the band. Drums sets are heavy and expensive, so there's that. But the worst part is that they're easy to overlook, you know? They're at the back of the stage behind all this shit, everyone stands in front of 'em. Drummers can fade into the background real easy. The best drummers can outshine anyone else onstage. You'll do that one day, but if you're freaked out now, just let yourself fade a little. You'll play better than anyone up there and the crowd'll know it, but you can let them focus on someone else if you want. You get what I'm saying?"
EDDIE: For a second, I thought she was going to punch me.
But then she nodded, wiped off some of the pink lipstick Camila had put on her with the back of her hand, and pushed her bangs to the side. "Drummers' Curse, huh?"
"Some people believe in it, some don't."
"And you?" she asked, turning to him. "Do you believe in that kind of stuff?"
Eddie paused. Shrugged. "Sure. Seems true enough to me."
Y/n nodded. "I don't. It sounds like bullshit to me."
Eddie frowned. She looked up at him. "I'm not going to let myself fade because I'm scared. I signed up for this, you know. The least I can do is own my place. If I outshine you, it's just because I'm that good," she said matter-of-factly. "I will need help carrying the stuff, though."
EDDIE: I didn't know what to say. I mean, [laughs] what the hell do you say to that?
He felt like he'd had the rug pulled out from under him. And then, he surprised himself: he laughed.
And Y/n surprised herself then, too ― she smiled.
EDDIE: That was just...[Shakes head. Smiles.] I don't know.
"I think we can manage that." he said with a smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen...The Dunne Brothers!"
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WARREN: If I were still the guy I was back then, I would completely undersell her to you right now. I'd tell you she was an average drummer who was more in it for the thrill than the craft. But that wasn't it at all. She got up there and she just...shined.
GRAHAM: We all knew she'd be scared before the first gig. In fact, she looked about ready to throw up when they announced us on stage. But the second she hit those lights, it was like she was a different person. She waved and smiled like she'd done it a hundred times. The only other person I'd seen do that ― I mean really become another person on stage ― is Billy.
BILLY: That first show with Y/n was a little bit of a trainwreck. We were at least a half beat behind the entire show. And I'm not saying I blame her, but she was new and shiny. We got through it just fine, but I think we all felt it wasn't our best show.
WARREN: That show was bitchin'.
GRAHAM: It was a great show.
WARREN: Back in those days, we'd get off stage and start cheering for ourselves like we'd just won the goddamn lottery. Somewhere along the way, that stopped. We'd just pat each other on the back, say 'good job,' and that was that. But when Y/n got backstage? She was screaming and yelling like it was the best night of her life. And all of us joined in without a second thought ― well, maybe all of us except Billy. He was kind of a hard ass, even then. None of us had ever heard this girl talk louder than a glorified whisper, and then she came out of nowhere with this full-body scream. And who did she run to? Well, I think you can guess.
CAMILA: She just about jumped into Eddie's arms.
Adrenaline is a funny thing. For one, the effect is had on different people can be vastly different depending on who it was. Some people mellowed out, some people amped up. Y/n fell into the second category.
The second she got off the stage, a giddy laugh ripped from her chest, turning more into a scream of triumph halfway through. She was buzzing. Literally. Her hands felt numb ― or, more accurately, they felt like they felt more. Everything she touched was sharp and blinding.
The next person to join in on the screaming and jumping around was Warren. Then Graham. Then Eddie. And then, reluctantly, Billy. Eddie was the last to come off stage, slinging his guitar off his shoulders, and Y/n, without thinking much about it, ran straight to him, leaping directly into his unsuspecting arms.
The others were too hyped up on their own adrenaline rushes to notice that anything out of the ordinary had happened. She wrapped her legs around his waist hanging onto him like a koala. And Eddie, who couldn't deny adrenaline, held onto her back without a second thought.
After a moment, she leaned back, arms still wrapped around his neck, faces inches apart. "Drummers' curse, huh?"
EDDIE: She didn't fade. She couldn't, not even if she tried.
Eddie just smiled and shook his head. "Sounds like bullshit to me."
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your-local-grubdog · 8 months
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Wait actually can we talk about Leaflings real fast. Because. What the actual fuck.
Also sorry if I curse a lot more here than usual but like 90% of my genuine reactions to this topic is "what the FUCK" so uhh get used to it I guess.
Huge thanks to @saihahas for helping me with some image transcripts as well.
Major story spoilers below you have been warned. Ok let's go.
So you're able to just rise from the dead in pikmin 4. No, seriously. You can do that.
At the end of Olimar's side story we get this scene and associated line:
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[Image transcript: White text on a black screen that says "But at that very moment, my life support system failed" END TRANSCRIPT]
Like. He died. His life support system failed. He DIED. And moments later, he was revived as a leafling. He died and came back from the dead. Like, what the fuck????
It even fixed up his injuries he got prior to becoming a leafling. Just a full on revival.
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Image transcript (one leads into the other naturally)
Collin: By the by, Olimar, is there anything you remember from right before or after you became a leafling? Any additional details?
Olimar: Not particularly. It didn't feel bad or anything like that. In fact, it was quite revitalizing.
Olimar: My chronically stiff shoulders and all the injuries I'd sustained during my explorations healed immediately.
Yonny: Hmm... Perhaps leafification has highly restorative effects...
Yonny: This is definitely something worth looking into, eheheh. END OF TRANSCRIPT.
Now we don't know if everyone who was a leafling had to die before hand, though there is a common thread that they were at least unconscious... And had just escaped deadly situations... I think Olimar found them moments before they died and, not knowing any other way to save them, leafed them as well. Something they bear no ill will towards him for - in fact, they're thankful for him.
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Image transcript:
Jin: When I was leafified, I could not stop thinking about the art of Dandori. It was like an endless meditation.
Jin: A leafling appeared in front of me after the ship crashed and I had used up all of my flagging energy.
Jin: My intuition told me they were not a bad person. I also felt as though they were determined to achieve something
Jin: I am afraid I do not recall much of what happened after that, as I lost consciousness. END TRANSCRIPT.
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Image transcript:
Corgwin: I was attacked by a creature, and right before I lost consciousness, I saw something overhead. It was a leafling
Corgwin: They had such sad eyes, but there was more going on in there. Their eyes were full of determination.
Corgwin: I have to believe there is a reason why they do what they do. Turning castaways into leaflings, I mean.
Corgwin: Your time is limited, so think it through! END TRANSCRIPT.
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Image transcript:
Bernard: You need anything else?
Bernard: Even when Olimar was leafed out, he was still trying to RESCUE folks!
Bernard: And there I was with my head focused on nothing but Dandori stuff. HOO, he's one tough cookie!
Bernard: You need anything else? END TRANSCRIPT.
Ok Bernard's conversation doesn't add to the "he found them in deadly situations" point but it DOES show that all of his "victims" think highly of him for the fact that he had saved them and others. (Also, side note, Olimar had sad eyes... Poor bastard thought he was never going home to his wife and kids, was visibly depressed over this, and STILL was trying to save people. Olimar is like, genuinely such a good fucking person God damn.)
Now being a leafling is undead and comes with its own slew of problems. Namely, the fact Dandori takes over your brain (probably the pikmin survival instinct) and the fact you can no longer leave PNF-404. It's not even an air thing, it's not being on the planet that causes sickness, so not even spacesuits can fix it.
But then you're able to cure yourself of being a leafling. And just. Go back? To your normal life?????? Like nothing ever happened. You died and came back. What the fuck.
And to make that point worse. One of the key ingredients is Glow Sap. Which is produced by the Luminknolls. The only other thing the Luminknolls make is uh. Glow pikmin. Which.
“Although they've been named Glow Pikmin, it's not entirely clear whether or not this species is actually a type of Pikmin. These creatures possess the same fundamental behaviors of Pikmin, like carrying things, propagating, and fighting. They also share special characteristics, such as the leaf atop their head. Yet they do not spawn from an Onion but a Lumiknoll, and they are only active at night or underground. During the day, they revert into seeds and enter a resting state. What's even more surprising is that they exhibit no signs of life. When a Glow Pikmin "dies," if that word can even be used, it does not expire in the typical sense. Instead, it just becomes a form of light-or perhaps a photon-and returns to the Lumiknoll. Putting aside my "scientist" hat for a moment...it seems to me that this creature or entity may not be a living organism at all but some manner of spiritual substance.”
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[Image Transcript: a screenshot of the Piklopedia showing the very end of the above quote. END TRANSCRIPT]
And just as some icing on the cake:
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[Image transcript: Louie's piklopedia notes on the glow pikmin. All it says is "Doesn't smell alive." END TRANSCRIPT]
Cool they're fucking ghosts. Sorry I can't be convinced otherwise, they're clearly some sort of supernatural entity at MINIMUM. I just think spirit is most likely. They don't have to be the spirits of dead pikmin... Although... You can convert a Glow Pikmin into normal pikmin via a candy pop bud. I've done it before, I have no video of it but you can go and try it yourself if you'd like. And if they are spirits of pikmin then that means that we can also bring pikmin back from the dead. What the FUCK.
Anyways. I got side tracked sorry. My point was the Luminkolls make two things: Glow Sap and Glow Pikmin, which have similar names and similar appearances and. Are we using ghost juice to cure leaflings???? Which is used to reverse all negatives of being leafed. Which can be used to bring the dead back to life.
I don't know how to end this. I really really don't know how to end this. I just need someone else to scream about this with because it's so. It's so fucking WEIRD like what the hell. It's not enough that they may be humans, noooo, there's also undead creatures (excluding the mushroom guys those freaks have an explanation at the very least). This game is weird as hell but tbh I love it.
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lady-harrowhark · 1 year
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hello, can you explain to me in more clarity your “waxen” theory regarding Ianthe? I’m not picking up on what this implies but it’s making my brain itch.
Sort of! Totally fair question, I just don't have a lot of clarity myself in that I don't have a fully formed theory lol. There's definitely some links and parallels in verbiage that are pinging on my radar, so I do think something's funky, but I wouldn't say I'm fully on board with this yet. I'm just playing in the sandbox Tamsyn has provided us, tossing out ideas and thinking out loud. But I can go into some more detail, and add some more thoughts that have occurred to me since I posted that last night.
(Here's a link to the post in question, for context)
Anyway! So let's first lay out all the times we get someone described as some type of wax. At various points in HtN, we get the descriptions "a shoddy wax cast of some more beautiful sculpture," a "wax figure in a pink dolly dress," a "wax figure in pale purple chiffon," and "waxen face" for Ianthe. We also see that descriptor used a few other times for other people throughout the series. In GtN, Harrow's parents' bodies are called "waxy" and the first introduction of Protesilaus (as the beguiling corpse) says he was "waxen looking in the sunlight." In NtN, Kiriona's skin is said to have a "weird, waxy quality," then Naberius's skin is called "waxen" when they first meet up with Ianthe, and again a few pages later it again references the "waxen, handsome face". What I'm getting at here is that every time this sort of description is deployed, it's in reference to a dead body that's been preserved, manipulated, and is essentially masquerading as a living person... except for Ianthe.
We also know there are a multitude of times that she's described as looking like a poor copy of Coronabeth. There's that "shoddy wax cast of some more beautiful sculpture" line, her first introduction calls her a "starved shadow" of her sister ("or the first an illuminated reflection [of Ianthe]," and actually, off the top of my head I don't know that we ever see their descriptions framed that way again... I'd have to investigate this more later, but this might be the only time that Corona is described as a "better" version of Ianthe, rather than Ianthe being a "worse" version of Corona, which is interesting), there's a point where it says "The second twin was as though the first had been taken to pieces and put back together without any genius. She wore a robe of the same cloth and colour, but on her it was a beautiful shroud on a mummy," etc etc etc. I know there's more, but I'm too lazy to go pull the rest of the quotes and you get the picture by this point I'm sure. So nearly all of these situate her, at least visually, as a copy or approximation of Coronabeth, and one that doesn't quite live up to original at that.
So now let's pick apart this snippet of conversation we overhear between Silas and Ianthe at Magnus and Abigail's dinner party a bit. Ianthe says she was born via "surgical means," which I'm assuming is referring to a C-section delivery (or whatever the necromantic equivalent is) and notes that Corona is a few minutes older. Silas seems surprised (or perhaps concerned?) that they "risked intervention" and Ianthe says Corona had "removed [her] source of oxygen". At this point Silas says, "A wasted opportunity, I'd think." I had always taken this for him just being a dick and implying he wished she'd died in the womb, but coming back to it with this new angle... well. She says "Corona's birth put my survivability somewhere around definite nil." And I'm wondering if that doesn't tie to Harrow's comment about infant deaths generating "enough thanergy to take out the entire planet." Basically, could Silas have been implying that the Tridentarii's parents wasted an opportunity to use the thanergy from baby Ianthe's death to power up Corona?
Harrow says that twins are an ill omen, but the text hasn't come back to that as of yet. Given the difficulty necromancers experience with pregnancy, I'd imagine twins would could be especially dangerous and that in and of itself could be considered an ill omen. Ianthe's comments certainly suggest that their mother carried the pregnancy, although I don't think we know for certain whether she was a necromancer. I am so intensely curious about the Tridentarii's childhood and their parents; we get so many gestures towards some really twisted family dynamics, but very little in the way of concrete explanations. Particularly relevant here, I'd love to know more about their father wanting a "matched set" and how that came about. Did they intentionally plan for twins from the start? Was it only once they knew they were having twins that that became a factor? What's the significance there?
Outside of those "waxy" descriptors, Ianthe tends to be described as much more sickly looking than even other necromancers. We know that necromancers on the whole tend towards a phenotype of physical weakness, but even still, there's an emphasis on this with Ianthe beyond that. This might be due in part to narrator bias (coughGideoncough) or the direct juxtaposition between her and Coronabeth's vivaciousness, but what really jumps out at me as contributing to this effect is how frequently she's described as being colorless, pale, washed out, bloodless, pallid, anemic, etc etc etc. It very much makes me think of the way the color drains away from Colum (and even the rest of the room and the others in it) when Silas is siphoning. Silas himself is also often described as colorless ("mayonnaise uncle," "milk man") but not so much in a way that implies frailty as much as I read it as implying a stark coldness, in line with the very black-and-white moral authority he presumes to wield, a purported "purity", much different than Ianthe's colorlessness. With Ianthe, you get a sense that her palette ought to have been or perhaps was closer to Corona's, but the color's been drained away; where Corona's hair is described as golden, Ianthe's is "canned butter", for example. Almost like the life's been siphoned out, one might say.
So to kind of circle back around, do I actually think Ianthe is dead or a corpse like the other "wax" figures we've seen? Nah. Between Harrow and Palamedes, and especially Palamedes's medical necromancy, I think we would have heard about it by now if that were the case. But I do think it's entirely plausible that she's had a bit of a brush with death and that perhaps she's never quite fully come back from, and I do think she's being intentionally positioned as somewhat adjacent to death. If their parents were wanting twins from the outset, perhaps they used necromantic means to encourage the conception. Or if the pregnancy was as high-risk as I suspect it was, perhaps she'd died or nearly died at birth and been resuscitated. Their parents may have gone to extremes to keep her alive, to maintain their matched set. Given the themes of this series, I do feel it's necessary to draw a distinction between "resuscitation" and "resurrection" although they are curiously adjacent to one another. For all the text has grappled with dying and staying dead, dying and coming back, dying and choosing whether or not to return... we haven't touched on what something like a "near death experience" would look like. I'd imagine having that sort of experience, even at an incredibly young age, might lead one to be fascinated with, to use Ianthe's own words, "the place between death and life... the place between release and disappearance."
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heliza24 · 1 month
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Being a physically disabled Dimension 20 fan breaks my heart sometimes
I’ve been thinking about this since last Wednesday’s episode when we finally got a real scene with Lydia, one of the few physically disabled characters in the entire canon of the show. It was nice, but it was really just a lore dump. An excuse for exposition. A moment for Kristen to look good by expending sympathy/pity. (I’m a little frustrated about how that interaction went down. Extending the help action was nice but patronizingly touching the neck of a full-ass adult without consent was not. It was weird and not something she would have done to a nondisabled character).
I have watched almost all of D20 (still missing a couple of seasons) and as far as I know here’s where our list of canon physically disabled characters stand: Lydia Barkrock, Jan de la Vega (who feels pretty problematic to me, maybe more on that in a later post), one of the Dwarven statues in the temple in The Seven (who is not given the dignity of being brought to life like Asha), and Pete’s coworker in TUC2 who is in exactly one episode and is so unimportant I have forgotten his name. I guess you could make an argument that Gunny is disabled, but I don't feel that Lou or Brennan really talk about him or play him through that lens. So in terms of canon physically disabled PCs-- that leaves us with 0.
We do a bit better with neurodivergent characters and characters with mental health problems; Ayda (my beloved) is very well developed and Adaine is a PC. There have been some openly neurodivergent players, like Omar and Surena, whose characters also read ND to me. But that isn’t labeled or discussed in canon, so it's hard for me to know where to class that. I am going to focus the rest of this post on physical disabilities, since that is my area of lived experience. If another fan wants to write about their perspective of neurodivergence rep in the show, I would love to hear that, and will happily amplify.
There has never been a character with a sensory disability or a limb difference or a chronic illness (not a fantasy one, a real one) on Dimension 20. The only NPCs we have are nondescript, similar wheelchair users. And there has never been a physically disabled player at the table. On the flagship show of Dropout, a company founded on diversity and inclusion. It feels extremely pointed to me.
In fact as far as I can tell there has only been one (1) physically disabled performer on any of Dropout’s shows. (Shout out to Brett, you were great on Dirty Laundry.) Obviously I haven’t seen every episode of everything they have produced. If I have missed someone, please do let me know in the comments/reblogs. But it’s a problem. And Sam Reich even agreed with this criticism when I asked him directly about.
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I do really hope they’re working on it, as Sam says. But why has it taken so long?
Dimension 20 has had trans and nonbinary and queer players. It has had players of many different races. I’m not saying that the diversity here is perfect; there should always be more POC in the dome, more queer people. We should keep pushing for that. (And we should also push for performers at the intersections of these identities!) But we’ve seen the ways this diversity has expanded and improved the different seasons, because diverse players create sensitively drawn, diverse player characters. They add details to their PC’s experiences that make them feel rich and alive. I’m thinking about each of Ally’s PC’s incredible capital G gender and Aabria “all my characters (even the stoats) are Black” and how excellent they all are. D20 would not be the show it is without this input.
And yet. And yet.
There are 1,000 interesting and complicated themes to explore around disability. Dealing with access. Dealing with ableism. Dealing with compassion and community care. Dealing with none of it and just being a cool fantasy or sci fi character that happens to be disabled. We don’t get any of it.
I watch my favorite show and I see myself in the ace rep and the female characters. But I don’t see all of me. I see a silent but ever present message: you aren’t quite welcome here.
I have this fantasy that I play in my brain sometimes that someday I’ll get to talk to Brennan in person, like maybe if I buy a VIP ticket and risk Covid to go to a live show or we run into each other on the street or something. I am able to look him in the eye and articulate why he NEEDS to include a physically disabled player in an upcoming season. I reference the ways he’s talked about inclusion and writing diversely on Adventuring Party. Maybe I hand him a handwritten letter, or hell, a printout of this post. And because he really cares about diversity and his shows and his fans he would listen to me, and cast a physically disabled performer in the next season.
But I think that might be giving that nondisabled man (whose work I adore, who I respect so much) too much credit. Because he’s had Jennifer Kretchmer, a physically disabled actual play performer, on adventuring academy to talk about access in gaming. He’s hired disability consultants. He knows about physically disabled people, enough to give us shoutouts as inconsequential npcs. And he still hasn’t thought to include us at the table. In over 20 seasons. None of that other stuff matters if we aren't given a seat at the story telling table, and the agency to craft our own narratives equal to other participants in the game.
When Lydia was telling her story in the last episode, I kept wishing for a prequel, where she is more than a plot delivery device and a kind but unimportant parent. I want to know about her adventures with her adventuring party. I want to see a talented, wheelchair-using actor play out the scene when she decides to put the gem in her chest. I want to hear about what happened after. I want to know how she survived. I want it so badly it hurts.
I am in the process of trying to find new indie actual plays that feature more disabled talent. I am learning how to GM myself so I can tell these kinds of stories. But it’s not the same as being a fan of something. Sometimes I don’t want to have to make my own representation. Sometimes I just want to turn on my favorite tv show, the one that I have cosplayed from and written metas about and loved whole heartedly, and see myself included.
If you’re another disabled or neurodivergent fan I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. If you’re not, I’d love for you to reblog this. I would love for the absence of physical disability in this show to be a topic of fandom conversation, at the very least.
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Text
There's this random little story I've had floating around for years that I haven't been able to tie into any bigger piece of writing but love too much to just throw away completely. So I'm sharing it here now for some reason.
There's an empress or queen of some sort, who rules alone and wasn't born into power, but is determined to not die without it. She has a son, and while she isn't cruel or unloving, the queen is the kind of a parent to say "I kept you safe and put a roof over your head, what more could you possibly want" when her children tell her they've felt unloved. She also has a fiercely loyal general, her right hand in military matters who loves her - not as a woman, specifically, but with a bleak understanding that "cold, but not needlessly bloodthirsty" is about as ideal as autocratic monarchs can get. Though he is distant as well, the prince admires him, like lonely children do.
One night when he is about 15, before some larger event, the general shows up to the prince's door with a bottle of liquor, a chuckle and a mutual promise not to tell the queen. So they sit together on the prince's balcony, talking man-to-man and drinking in secret from his mother, like a rough soldier of the general's background would do with his own son. The prince has never been drunk before, but he has never been treated like someone's son, either. By sunrise, the bottle is gone and the general leaves.
After two hours of sleep, the prince is shaken up from bed to attend the event he already forgot about. In the first hangover of his life, "miserable" is an understatement, but excusing himself from it doesn't feel like an option. The clothes prepared for him don't seem to fit right no matter how he tugs at them, and perfume makes him sick. He bravely struggles through the day the best he can, excusing himself to retire for the evening as early as socially acceptable. Nothing more comes of it, he gets trough the day, the queen seemingly never finds out, and the general never drinks with him again.
It's years later when the prince finds out that his mother actually orchestrated this whole thing. For some plot or scheme, she needed a rumour that the prince is deathly ill, and she knew that he can't lie or keep a secret to save his life. But putting a skinny, gangly boy into clothes that hang off his shoulders and sag at the waist, it's hard for a stranger to tell whether a kid like that would have been just in the middle of a growth spurt, or had recently lost a frightening amount of weight. Being pale, shaky, and constantly looking for a place to discreetly throw up while simultaneously reassuring everyone that he's fine, all other details add up to a perfect impression that the sweet prince might not live through another winter.
The scheme, whatever it was, apparently worked, and the queen kept her foothold on the throne, herself in power, and her family safe. And as much as he understands things could have been worse, the prince is aware that his mother formed a plot whose entire success hinged on being perfectly aware of how desperately her son yearned for an adult's attention and validation.
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spnexploration · 9 months
Text
Pack chapter 22
Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Madison
Series summary: Omega!Reader is thrown into a world she's not expecting when her mate turns out to be a hunter, and she's not used to Alpha & Omega Pack dynamics.
Chapter summary: The morning after your night alone.
Chapter warnings: reader self-conscious including about her body, but nothing particularly detailed
Word count: 2.6k (long one!)
A/N: I forgot to add the last chapter to the masterlist when I posted it, which I have now done. Sorry about that! Make sure you read it first.
This fulfils the nesting square of my 2023 SPN AU bingo.
Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist
Part 21 <- -> Part 23
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“Good morning Y/N, how’d you sleep?” Sam asked as I trudged into the kitchen.
I just groaned in response.
He chuckled, “You really are perfect for Dean. There's fresh coffee if you'd like some.” I nodded and he fetched me a cup.
I was halfway through before I thought of sharing my news. “Dean messaged me when he got to Claire, at like 3am.”
“Yeah, he messaged me too. He said he's going to work the case with her today, then decide if they stay for tomorrow. I think he realises she'll rebel even more if he dismisses her work.”
I nodded, focused back on my coffee.
“So what are we doing today?” I asked when I was feeling more awake.
“That’s up to you. We can do some more lore if you'd like, you can spend the day reading or watching TV, or you can put yourself in Madison's hands and let her go crazy keeping you entertained.”
I laughed. “Maybe we can do some lore and then I'll see if I'm up for Madi entertainment.”
“Good choice. Grab some breakfast and then meet me in the library. I'll fill Mads in when she's out of the shower.”
---
Sam had me try reading some lore myself and try to make sense of it, all related to the topics we'd covered yesterday. I didn't realise how complicated killing monsters was!
After a while I was feeling tired and run down, so I headed off to Dean's room for a nap. It was probably just the poor sleep I’d had last night without Dean around. I snuggled into his pillow and fell asleep instantly.
---
I woke later. I was not feeling better. I felt so cold, but I was drenched in sweat. My joints ached, it was hard to move them at all.
It took a lot of effort, but I made it to the door finally. I was going to call out for Sam and Madi, hope that they had medication for whatever illness must've struck me down.
I opened the door but felt out of breath with the effort of crossing the room. I had to get my breath back before I could call out.
Suddenly, I heard hurried footsteps.
“Y/N?” Sam called, sounding worried. “We're coming.”
How did he know I needed him?
He rounded the corner a few seconds later, Madison hot on his heels.
“I think I'm sick,” I wheezed out.
“Omega, you're in heat,” he said gently. “I smelt it as soon as you opened the door.”
“But this feels- I've never felt like I was dying before!” I started to fall as I used up all my energy complaining. Sam quickly caught me and carried me back to Dean's bed. Now that he said it, I could feel slick gathering between my legs, but given how much sweat I was covered in, I hadn't really noticed before.
His phone started ringing. It said 'Claire Novak’ on the caller ID.
He answered and put it on speaker, “Hey Claire.”
“Sam! Dean just went into a rut and he is fucking mental! What the hell do I do?!”
I thanked my lucky stars that my body had settled on Dean, that our cycles had aligned. But now I just had to get to him, to be claimed. I shivered. What if my heat finished before I got to him?
“First, tell him Y/N is in heat,” Sam said to Claire. “It will reassure him some.”
“Sam says Y/N is in heat,” she said slightly muffled, like she'd turned the phone away. “He's growling, hang on.”
There were some strange noises and then Dean’s voice, much lower than normal, “Omega?”
“I'm here Alpha,” I managed.
“You... ok?” he sounded like speaking was hard for him.
“Yeah, I'll be ok.” I didn't want to tell him how unwell I felt.
Sam gave me a knowing look and said, “Alpha, can you put Claire back on? I'm going to work with her to get you two together.” Dean growled slightly throughout, but the sounds of the phone passing happened again.
“Sam?” Claire asked. “He didn't say anything, he just gave me the phone back.”
“Ok,” Sam continued, “The next thing you do is that you submit to him. If you start challenging him when he is in an unfilled rut, away from the Omega he is yet to claim, he is going to go feral. I recommend calling him 'Alpha’ and barring your neck if he gets antsy.”
“Great,” she deadpanned. The teenage sass was practically dripping.
“And then you get him back here, as fast as you can.”
“What about the case?” she asked petulantly.
“Claire, I promise, we will help you on this case. But this is literally the second time he has gone into a rut after finding his mate, their mating has already been threatened by factors outside their control. They cannot miss this opportunity. Plus I’ve got an Omega here who’s about to go through the worst heat of her life, she needs him.”
I gulped at Sam’s words.
“Ok, I get it. Sorry. I’ll get him back.”
“Thanks Claire.”
“Bye.”
Sam hung up and turned to me. “It's gonna be a while before they can get here, so we need to get you comfortable.”
“What- what if he doesn’t?”
“That's not going to happen. You've only just gone into heat, and even your normal heat probably lasts longer than one day?” I nodded. “This one is likely to be longer, and worse. Dean got to Claire in about half a day. There is plenty of time, Omega.”
I sniffled and he stroked my hair gently.
“How about we get you some painkillers and a cool bath or shower to try and drop this fever a bit, and then Madi can stay with you. I don't think you're going to want to be around another Alpha too much, but I'll help with the cooling down because I don't think you can hold yourself up right now. Does that sound ok?”
I nodded, too tired and achey to reply.
“I'm going to take off some of your clothes, ok?” I half-heartedly nodded. “Omega, I need your words. I'm not going to do anything you don't consent to.”
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“Ok, thank you.” He started to pull Dean's flannel off me and I whined. “I know, I know, we’ll get back to Dean’s scent as soon as we can. Now, bath or shower?”
I shrugged. He kept gently removing my clothes until I was in just my underwear. I wished he was Dean. Partway through Madi had brought me painkillers and water, but I didn't feel any better yet. Everything ached and every so often I shivered, although Sam assured me I was actually hot.
“I'm going to carry you to the bathroom, ok?” I nodded and he lifted me up bridal style. I leant my head on his shoulder and, whilst he smelled reassuringly like Pack, I just wanted Dean. I started to cry.
“I know, I know,” he murmured reassuringly. “We’re gonna get Dean back as fast as we can, ok? And you're gonna feel a bit better soon. You're gonna be ok.”
He made it to the bathroom where Madi was standing next to the full bath. “Ready?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I mumbled.
He went to his knees and lowered me into the water. It felt strange at first and I clung to Sam's neck, but after a few moments it felt better and I let go of him.
“Now, ordinarily we'd leave you alone, but I don't think you're well enough for that right now.”
I nodded. I felt too weak to do much more, which was probably Sam's point.
Madi wet a face washer and put it on my forehead. I lay back and closed my eyes. I was starting to feel a little bit better. My joints weren't aching quite as much.
I relaxed.
“Hey, hey,” Sam said, tapping my face. I didn't know how much time had passed. “No falling asleep in the bath.” I blearily opened my eyes and tried to glare at him. He chuckled, “I'm not about to let you drown in our own house.”
I started to get uncomfortable, trying to find a way to position myself. And the water was starting to feel cold. Sam must've noticed my fidgeting as he said, “How about we get you out?” I nodded. “You wanna try standing up?” I nodded again and he reached in, lifting me out and gently placing me on my feet on the mat. Madi wrapped me in a towel.
I was still too sore to do much other than whimper as Madi dried me off. It was like having the worst case of flu ever.
Slick flooded out of me into my wet undies and down my legs. I saw Sam's nostrils flare as he smelled it, and he swallowed thickly.
“Are- are you ok?” I asked him, suddenly worried that he might be unable to control his reactions.
“Yes, sorry I scared you. I'm not going to hurt you. The scent of Omega in heat is just a bit, uh, overwhelming to Alpha senses. But it's fine,” he said with a reassuring smile.
I felt like I knew what he meant. His Alpha smell was starting to get overpowering. I scrunched my nose up a little as I smelled him and he chuckled.
“I think you're entering the horny phase of heat,” Madi observed wryly. “Let's get you back to your room and we can kick Sam out before you start scratching him for getting too close to you.” Sam laughed.
“Huh?”
“I might have clawed Dean when he came into the kitchen and surprised me when I was in heat one time,” she said with a smirk. “He was literally just walking past but I, uh, reacted with claws before my brain engaged. Anyway, enough about me, I think you're dry enough.”
“Are you ok if I pick you up again?” Sam asked me.
I was still feeling weak and shaky, so I nodded. He lifted me into his arms and my skin started to crawl. I didn't like Sam touching me, he was wrong, wrong!
“It's ok, I'm going to put you down and leave in just a sec,” he murmured. I was holding myself tense, probably having my facial expressions tell the story of my discomfort.
I suddenly realised I was starting to growl.
I couldn't stop.
He placed me on Dean's bed and hastily backed away. I grabbed Dean's flannel and rubbed it over my face, utterly enthralled with its scent.
“Message me if you need anything,” he said to Madi. “I'll keep you in the loop if I hear anything from Claire or Dean.”
He left. I stopped growling.
“Alright, let's get you out of those wet things,” Madi said.
I tried to reach behind me to unclasp my bra, but my arms were too weak to undo it. I started to cry, scared and annoyed about what was happening to me.
Madi sat next to me and wrapped her arm around my back. “I promise, it'll get better. I think you're feeling rubbish right now partly because of your massive fever, and partly because you're away from your mate. When Dean gets here, I promise it will get better.”
“Omega biology sucks.”
“Oh, so much! Ruts look way easier to get through than the shit we have to put up with.”
“Was it like this for you? I didn't expect to feel this much like I’d been hit by a truck.”
“No, I had Sam with me. So whilst I felt bad when it started, we pretty quickly got to dealing with it. And it sucks you don't have Dean, but he is on his way. You just gotta hang in there for a bit longer.”
I sniffled. More slick flooded out of me, for no apparent reason, and I felt weirdly like my skin was missing something. I started to fidget, trying to work out what I was feeling.
“Ok, ok, before you get all antsy, let's get you in fresh clothes.” I’d almost forgotten my bra and undies were wet from the bath, so distracted by the various painful and strange sensations from my body. I let Madi help me out of them and into a pair of summer pyjamas.
I grabbed Dean's flannel again, rubbing it over me. Then I smelled his pillow, bringing that to me too. I tried to wrap them around me, whining when it wouldn't work.
“You ever built a nest before, Y/N?”
“Huh?”
“I think you’re trying to nest. Hang on,” she pulled out her phone and tapped away at it.
��I couldn't focus on what she was doing, I was too busy trying to work out what to do with Dean's things. I'd positioned myself over his side of the bed, throwing back the covers so I could smell it better. I kept moving his pillow and his flannel around, but it just wouldn't do what I wanted. I was starting to shiver again, and Madison held her hand to my forehead.
“Fuck,” she muttered, “you're burning up again.”
A few moments later there was a knock at the door and Sam pushed a laundry basket of clothes in. I growled at him. I didn't mean to, I just couldn't help it. He quickly shut the door.
I finally smelt the clothes, now that Sam's wrongness had gone. Dean!! I reached out weakly to the basket and Madi picked it up and brought it to me.
“I asked Sam to get all of the clothes out of the hamper that were yours or Dean's and smelled like Dean. I thought you might like to use them in your nest.”
I purred at her and set about arranging the clothes. I don't think I've ever purred in my life.
I had to admit, now that I was putting things where they felt most right, I was clearly making a nest on the bed. I was surrounding myself in Dean's scent, picking up each item and carefully deciding where exactly to put it.
Once it was done, I tried to position myself in it. It wasn't big enough. It wasn't quite right. I wanted Dean!! I whined.
My skin was feeling strange again. I tried to scratch it to make myself feel better. But it wasn't quite itchy? It was something else. I rubbed it. Yes, that was better. But it still wasn't right.
I moved my hands around on my body. It felt a bit better. But not enough. Now I was getting frustrated that it wasn't feeling better enough.
I whined again.
“Where are your toys?” Madi asked me.
“What toys?”
“Sex toys. Can't you tell you’re getting super horny?”
Oh. Maybe that's why my skin felt weird. And why it didn't feel like the right touching. It didn't feel like normal arousal, and I’d been so distracted by everything else, I hadn't even recognised it.
I moved my hands lower. I slipped my fingers under the waistband of my shorts and approached my clit. Fuck it was sensitive right now!
I tried to get Dean's scent. I tried to find the best way to be in my nest. I tried to rub myself, but it felt like trying to tickle yourself. I wasn’t getting anywhere. My skin was crawling again and my joints were aching. I was so annoyed!
Madi appeared in front of me. I had forgotten all about her. She held out her hand.
“Try this,” she said as she handed me a vibrator. “Trust me.”
.
.
.
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Text
Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 15
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Chapters: 15/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.
Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.
Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics
Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.
You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!
Warning: This chapter includes some detailed smut.
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As the upcoming fashion show loomed and your days became increasingly packed, you found scant time to contemplate anything else. However, the emergence of an unfamiliar figure unsettled you.
Note: I needed to write this now, as I won't have another opportunity later to include Desire again until a certain point. I used the Dreamcast audio as reference again for their interaction.
I honestly don't know if smut can be incorporated during the Vortex part, so I thought to add more of it here.
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Hob's eyes widened while gripping his tea cup. Following a few moments of blinking to regain his bearings, he gingerly set his mug aside. Then, fueled by a playful energy, he simulated an explosion by placing his hands around his head and even supplied his own sound effects.
With a smile and a nod of your head, you echoed his sentiments. "It's mind-blowing, I know"
"I might be an immortal, Shortcake, but you have your fair share of supernatural roots.”
"We are definitely not your everyday humans," you agreed, bursting into hearty laughter.
"It must be tough though, isn't it? To know that your mother has been around all this time," he carried on, his tone shifting to a more serious one.
"It is. But, now that I can think about it from a different perspective, I can at least understand why they had to keep it a secret."
It took you several days to digest your newfound revelation, but despite everything, you couldn't stay upset with your father who was merely doing his utmost to protect and care for you.
"You know, Hob, sometimes it feels like I've quantum leaped. It’s as if the reality I'm experiencing now is not the one I used to live in. I know it sounds a bit Star Trek-y, but..."
"No, no, I understand. You've undergone such significant changes recently. It makes me wonder if our dear friend had a hand in all this," he mused.
"Maybe not directly. To be honest, I can't even imagine where I'd be without him.”
Hob gifted you a warm smile, looking at you with a blend of care and understanding. "You truly do love him, don't you?”
"Immensely," you affirmed, your voice teeming with genuine sincerity.
"I could see a remarkable change in him, but I'm certain that you're also to thank for that," He noted thoughtfully.
“I didn’t do anything, really.”
"The only time I tried to get him to confide in me, he shied away. I still don't know exactly how you two met, but he adores you. That much is clear.”
A faint blush quietly spread across your cheeks as you savored your tea. Even though Morpheus typically kept a guarded demeanor, it was comforting to realize that his affection for you was evident to others.
However, an abrupt thought caused you to falter, prompting a moment of hesitation before you ventured to raise the subject. You debated whether it could be inconsiderate to mention it, but your curiosity was as potent as the infamous curiosity that led to the cat's downfall, a sentiment frequently echoed by Ella.
And so, you chose to bring it up.
“Hob, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Shortcake. What is it?”
You glanced downward, your grip on your cup tightening. "Wasn't it difficult for you, having to see the ones you loved grow old and pass away?"
You almost chastised yourself mentally when you saw a trace of sadness cross his eyes. Nevertheless, he composed himself and provided you with his answer.
"Yes, it was. But not once did I consider giving up on love."
"So you managed to move on, to fall in love again... and again."
"I know where this is going," Hob interjected, disrupting your whirlpool of emotional musings. "I speak from experience when I say that he will never truly be able to move on from you."
"I know that he won't forget. It's just..."
"It’s not comforting, I get it.”
You stared at the tea, its still surface seeming to mirror your somber expression.
"It's stupid. I made my choice fully aware of what I was signing up for.”
"We may understand the consequences, Y/N, but they won't be enough to deter us from getting what we want," Hob declared, his voice a blend of wisdom and melancholy. “Look at me. I could have left this city, even this entire Country, long ago. I could have avoided undue stress and accusations of practicing witchcraft. I could have ceased the charade of pretending to be my own descendant, and yet... I made the decision to stay. To meet new people, knowing that I would never get old.”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you listened.
"What's the purpose of immortality if it means spending your life alone? You could follow in my footsteps and ask to never die. Wouldn't that be an interesting adventure?" Hob suggested, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yes, you've brought that up before.”
"Have you given it any thought?”
"No, not yet. I just can't envision myself living forever.”
Could you even bear to remain stationary like Hob did? How would you maintain your friendships, career, and every other aspect of life without the incessant need to explain your lack of aging? You truly admired Hob's perseverance, although it was something you likely wouldn't be able to replicate. The idea of being Morpheus' sole love for all of eternity was enticing, yet the choice to accept immortality was not something you were ready to undertake.
Hob tenderly encircled your wrist with his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. His eyes sparkled with a joyful glint as he regarded you.“You never know, my friend. You never know.”
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As more days began to turn into weeks, your workload steadily mounted. The preparations for the fashion show were progressing seamlessly and at a satisfactory pace, yet you could palpably sense the rising tide of disquiet in the atmosphere.
You lost track of the times you had to prevent Ella from nervously scratching her skin. As she repeatedly revised the lineup, her anxiety levels soared to unprecedented heights. The event bore great importance for the company, being the first major show in which the Corbyn&Jones brand was participating. You couldn't really blame her for feeling swamped, considering your situation was quite alike.
Your name was slated to be highlighted as the sole creator of the show's exclusive collection, and Ella had discussed the potential this could have in advancing your career as a designer, along with the enormity of the situation that was just now beginning to sink in.
At last able to take a respite from the organizing, you sauntered towards the lounge area with some coffee, hoping to replenish your energy. As you entered the room, you noticed one of your colleagues, Freya, absorbed in her tablet, barely acknowledging your arrival. She appeared to be immersed in deep thought, sighing from time to time, projecting an aura of concern and distress.
She was known for her vibrant energy in the office. Seeing her so dispirited now, you couldn't help but intervene.
"Hey Freya, are you okay?" You inquired, cautiously settling next to her.
Oh, Y/N," she responded, turning her head and managing to conjure up a strained smile. "Yes, I'm fine.”
Judging by the faint redness surrounding her eyes, barely concealed by her makeup, it was easy for you to tell that the truth was far from what she claimed.
"No, something's off. Would you like to talk about it?”
She let out another lengthy, wavering sigh. "I... it's nothing, really. It's ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous if it makes you cry.”
Freya offered a self-deprecating chuckle, hastily blinking away the tears welling in her eyes before meeting your gaze squarely.
"I've received an invitation to a friend's wedding,” she disclosed. "It’s happening in two weeks. We've been close since middle school, you see… and I just know that if I decline the invite, she'll lash out at me.”
"Is there a specific reason behind your reluctance to attend her wedding?”
Freya sniffled, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. She then tapped on her tablet's screen and extended the device towards you.
"This is the dress she selected for all the bridesmaids, including me.”
You stared at the image in disbelief, taking in the red monstrosity displayed in front of you. The design itself wasn't inherently ugly, but to say that it was unsuitable for a bridesmaid would be a gross understatement.
"Wait. You’re joking, right? She expects her bridesmaids to wear this?”
She nodded. "I’d look like shit.”
"That’s not true. The problem here is that such a dress is far from an appropriate choice for a wedding. Does she really want her guests to be focused on you ladies when she's supposed to be the center of attention?”
"She's quite controlling and insists on having everything her way, regardless of others' feelings or opinions. She always had a thing for showy stuff, and her wedding is far from modest too.”
You placed the tablet down. "Have you talked to her about it? If her fashion choices diverge significantly from your style and make you feel uncomfortable, she should respect your sentiments.”
"Oh, I have, but she's as stubborn as a mule.”
She was justifiably upset, but beyond that, you could see how appalled she was at the prospect of potentially having to don an attire that simply wouldn't suit her, or any other bridesmaid with a shred of good taste.
"Freya, this isn't right. A good friend should consider the way you feel. I understand that this is her wedding, but she cannot expect all of you to comply without voicing any objections.”
She diverted her gaze, toying with the golden bracelet that adorned her wrist. "Y/N, have you really taken a good look at me?”
“Yes?”
"All my friends could easily pass for magazine models, while I've always been the black sheep in the group. Quite literally.”
You pursed your lips, feeling a surge of heat coursing through your body. "Freya, you don’t realize how incredible and beautiful you are, do you?”
“You don’t need to flatter me.”
Her voice bore a trace of irritation, indicating that she felt somehow offended.
"It's not a matter of needing to, it's simply how I see you.”
She lapsed into silence.
"Listen, if attending her wedding means that you have to wear something you hate, then don't go.”
“I can’t do that, Y/N.”
"Why? Just because she demands your presence? It's clear that she doesn't value your opinion, or you as a person. So why should you care about her reaction if you refuse?”
"It's..." she hesitated. "...not that simple.”
Witnessing her lack of self-assurance was heart-wrenching, especially considering she was one of the first members of the team who embraced you as part of the family from day one. Freya was kind-hearted, humorous, perpetually cheerful, and tackled her job with a positive attitude every single day. Despite her struggles to recognize her own beauty, you couldn't really pinpoint a single flaw in her.
Consequently, realizing that her supposed best friend was the source of her distress and suffering, fueled your resolve to take action, any action, to restore her joy and self-assurance.
"I assume she's chosen red as the color scheme for all of you?”
"Yes, she wants this thing in red."
"What if you opt for a different dress, one that maintains the elegant yet sexy style and color, but without being as revealing?”
"Oh no, she would absolutely go nuts. She's set on this dress, period. That's just how her mind functions.”
You huffed. "Look, Freya, whether you attend her wedding or not is entirely your choice. But you really shouldn't let her exert this level of control over you. Let me try something, I have an idea.”
Her eyes expanded in astonishment. "Wait, what? You're not planning to design something for me, are you?”
“Why not?”
“Uhh…. because you're already swamped with work between our new collections and the show?”
Getting up from the couch, you dismissed her concerns with a wave of your hand. "I can do it in my spare time, it's no trouble at all.”
"But...”
"No buts. Allow me to do this for you. And if you're not convinced, then I'll let the matter rest.”
Freya found herself flustered and at a loss for words, searching for an appropriate thing to say but failing to find one.
In the end, she acquiesced. "Okay.”
"Just give me a few days, I'll create something for you that will spark jealousy among all your friends. Even the bride.”
As you finished your coffee and exited the room, you picked up the sound of her voice uttering your name. She leaped from the couch with all the haste she could gather, bolting after you, her eyes ablaze with a fresh spark of hope.
"How do you do it?” She queried, her breath labored from the unexpected exertion.
You weren't entirely certain about the implication behind her question. “Do what?”
“You're always attentive and take everything to heart. Even when Maya did all those horrible things, you urged us to forgive her and uplifted our spirits.”
You quietly listened.
"How do you manage to be so compassionate in a world like this?”
You didn't require a moment's thought for that, as the answer was an innate response to you. Now, more than ever, you grasped the foundation of something you had always taken for granted, something that had been ingrained in your being since birth.
And for the first time, after many years of believing it to be your worst flaw that would bring nothing but disaster, you felt a wave of pride in possessing it.
Your smile broadened and your eyes shimmered under the soft lighting of the corridor. "It runs in the family.”
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In the subsequent week, your inventive mind remained persistently active during your time at home, outside office hours. You functioned much like a machine at full throttle, failing to switch off, with only brief intermissions for meals or nightly rest. Serving as a maid for Alex Burgess had conditioned you for prolonged hours and demanding tasks. But now, your heart and mind were wholly immersed in the endeavor, and you found immense satisfaction in your accomplishments.
One night, you were so engrossed in your creation that you didn't notice Morpheus silently materializing behind you, moving with the stealth of a cat as he cautiously advanced towards your desk. He tuned into the sound of your pencil gliding across the paper with precision, observing how you swept your hair back and tucked it behind your ear, revealing a portion of your neck that he couldn't help but gaze at. He absorbed your occasional hums as you scrutinized your sketch, and the rhythm of your steady breathing that resonated directly with his heart.
When he softly murmured your name, in a low tone like a tender melody, you lifted your head and partially turned in your chair, discovering the King of Dreams standing near you, appearing contemplative and unsure.
The genuine happiness you felt upon seeing him reverberated throughout your room. "Hi!”
Morpheus pouted. As he typically did. Oh, how much you cherished that expression of his.
“You are not in bed.”
You shot him a puzzled glance. "Uh... no. Wait, what time is it?”
As you extended your hand to grasp your phone, unlocking the screen to inspect the LED, you emitted a startled gasp at the sight that greeted you. The white numbers at the top of the display glaringly read 3 AM.
How could you be so absorbed in what you were doing that you didn't even realize it was well past your bedtime?
"Sorry… I was distracted.”
You closed your sketchbook, pushing your chair back to stand up. Morpheus remained immobile, and as you rose to your full height, your lips came close to his.
“You were not in the Dreaming,” he murmured.
Although this wasn't his first time checking on you for burning the midnight oil, it was undeniably the longest you had kept awake in a considerable while. Knowing his worry about the possible repercussions for you, given his past experiences with Nada, a pang of guilt ebbed at you for not being more mindful.
"I know… I lost track of time. I'm getting ready now, promise. Could you wait for me?”
Morpheus nodded in agreement, but held his position without moving.
You brushed his cool fingers with your own, tenderly taking his hands into yours and placing a gentle kiss at the corner of his lips. As always, he softened at your touch, reciprocating your gesture and holding you tighter, his thumbs gently stroking your knuckles.
It was a repeated exchange to which you had become accustomed, but it never lost its charm. His scent, the paradoxical coolness and warmth he exuded, his voice, his mere presence. You craved all of it as much as the air you breathed.
"I'll see you in a bit," you announced, reluctantly releasing him and unzipping your hoodie. The moment you retreated to the bathroom, washing off your makeup, cleansing your face and slipping into the comfort of your nightgown, he had already vanished, evaporated, awaiting you in his realm.
The moment you sank into the mattress, turning off the light and being soothed by the softness of the covers, it was only a matter of minutes before sleep overtook you. You remembered those times when you failed to surrender to your fatigue, the insomnia that Morpheus' imprisonment had caused. It was all gone, nothing more than a distant memory, a story that you hoped no one would ever have to experience again.
You were eager to reunite with him, deep within the Dreaming. A world that felt like home.
When your eyes fluttered open, you found yourself still lying in your bed, your vision gradually adjusting to the darkness. The lights seeping in through the window began to illuminate parts of your room, but as you rolled over, something felt out of the ordinary.
You were unable to discern exactly what was wrong, as everything seemed to be positioned correctly. However, there was an indistinct fuzziness, a sensation of floating that left you questioning the authenticity of your wakefulness.
A dark silhouette emerged at the end of the bed, but before you could react with a heart-stopping scream, you quickly recognized Morpheus, watching you with a dignified posture. You held your breath, barely blinking, awaiting his next move or words.
Then, very quietly, he moved onto the mattress with the agility of a stealthy predator. Yet, you were far from feeling like a frightened prey.
You propped yourself up, the covers sliding down from your chest. "Am I dreaming?”
"You are," he responded, inching ever closer to your form, his right hand tracing the outline of your covered legs.
"You're not an illusion, are you?”
He offered you a faint smile. "No.”
“Good. I’d be disappointed otherwise.”
His hand reached the hem of the covers, shifting them down, further and further, until more of your body was exposed. The nightgown felt peculiarly warm, enveloping you like a cozy bath.
"I'm intrigued. Why choose this setting?”
"I wanted to offer you something more... familiar, for this occasion.”
You chuckled, biting your lower lip as you could already feel the arousal stirring within you. How could you lose your composure in such a way, just by watching his face inching closer to yours?
"And, what exactly is this occasion...?”
Morpheus looked intensely into your eyes, brimming with hunger and love for you.
"You desire me, Y/N," he revealed. "I can sense it.”
As much as you felt inclined to deny it, you realized just how fervently you needed to feel him against you. Given your work commitments and his responsibilities as the King of Dreams, the time you could allocate for each other was rather restricted, let alone for intimacy. Consequently, you were left to savor quick exchanges of affection that only intensified your craving for more.
It was truly maddening, but it couldn't be helped.
And in a way, it was somewhat exciting.
"I could claim that it's not true, but you're in my head right now," you stated, wearing a smile. "And quite frankly, I would never deny you.”
Morpheus moved closer, nudging you back against the mattress with a mere push of his fingers. Your body was under his enchantment, one that you didn't have the slightest wish to break.
"Please, allow me to attend to you.”
You swallowed, feeling your nightgown being lifted, its fabric brushing against your skin as it rolled up.
"What about you?”
"This is your dream," he replied. "All of this, is for you.”
His hands continued to guide the fabric upward until it reached your breasts, allowing it to rest just above your nipples, while he took in the sight of the rest of your body, completely bare, spread out before him like the most delectable of treats.
For a fleeting moment, you wondered about the whereabouts of your underwear, but you conjectured that he might have conveniently made it vanish. Regardless, you had no qualms about it.
“Morpheus-”
“Shh.”
His lips grazed your cheekbone, tracing a path along your jawline, chin, and down to your neck. You felt his middle and forefinger glide down your stomach, lightly tickling your navel and moving lower past your belly. You glanced down, admiring his long digits as they continued their exploration, but just when you anticipated they would venture directly to your sensitive center, they veered off course and moved towards your thigh.
Your breathing quickened, your heart pounded fiercely, and your legs instinctively parted for him when his hand encircled your knee. Your nipples were continuously rubbing against the nightgown, generating an exquisite friction between them and the silky material. His touch was tantalizing, deliberately slow and feather-light, escalating the tension you felt emanating from your core. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was executing it impeccably well. Never before had you imagined a lustful dream could be so satisfying.
At last, his fingers began to glide forward, and his other hand slipped under the nightgown to cradle the curve of your breast. The sensation you experienced when his thumb just barely swiped over your nipple was electrifying, but the way your body jerked, quivered, and twitched didn't seem to faze him in the least.
Even though your senses were considerably amplified in your dream state, your body had always been especially receptive to a man's touch. Morpheus had ceaselessly demonstrated that your pleasure was paramount above all else, and yet, it continued to feel incredibly mesmerizing. You couldn't tell if it was owing to his magical essence or an exceptional degree of restraint, but his consistent focus on giving rather than receiving was truly exceptional.
Your fingers gripped the bedsheets when he explored your labia, outlining its shape yet not fully delivering the pleasure you wanted. As his other thumb maintained its attentive caress on your nipple, your back curved gracefully. The sensations were so vivid and intense that you feared you might awaken prematurely, preventing the dream from reaching its climax and interrupting what Morpheus had initiated.
You let out a moan, a curse forming between your teeth as his fingers found your clit, establishing a steady, gentle rhythm that you thought would never suffice, but soon produced that familiar tingle that signaled it wouldn't take long for you to let loose. Even with the most tender of touches, with his fingers lightly stroking your clitoris up and down, sweetly, gently, Morpheus was offering you the universe.
Your legs parted even further, his long coat billowing out behind him, as if intending to enfold the two of you. He paused, guiding one finger towards your entrance, probing it gently to reach your delicate spot inside, akin to pressing a switch to light you up. Your pleasure escalated, not quite enough to trigger your orgasm, but sufficient to make your clit pulse and your whole body tremble in ecstasy. He remained so tranquil, so concentrated, so solemn and silent. You felt as though you were one of his masterpieces, sculpted like a work of art, the most exquisite of dream creatures under his guardianship.
He moved back to your hood, lifting it and stroking his moistened fingers over the sensitive bud underneath, yet again, without increasing his pace or exerting any substantial pressure.
The familiar feeling of satisfaction was approaching, teetering on the brink of release, but just barely eluding your grasp. You brought your hand to his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt, and moving to his collarbones. Your lips parted, silently pleading to be kissed, only to be instantly met by his own in a sensual and heated choreography.
The Moonstone pendant served as a beacon, enveloping both of you and your environment in its radiant blues and whites. It was so potent that tiny particles of light emanated from it, creating a protective halo around you.
"You're amazing," you confessed against his mouth. "Has anyone ever told you that?”
Morpheus seemed momentarily speechless, pausing his movements, but keeping his fingers connected to your core.
"That is not a word I have often heard used to describe me.”
Your head flopped back onto the pillow, feeling defeated. "Seriously, what's wrong with everyone?”
"You may be the first to see me as more than just the King of Nightmares.”
"Nightmares? What you’re giving to me right now is far from a nightmare.”
You kissed him again to emphasize your point, reaching for the hand that was securely cupping your breast. "You are Dream of The Endless. My Dream.”
He inhaled shakily as his eyes gleamed, and his fingers resumed their ministrations on your clit. Despite their touch maintaining a consistent tenderness, barely grazing your skin, the rhythm of his movements hastened. Processing it was unfeasible as the slick strokes rapidly kindled the sparks, triggering your orgasm to erupt beneath his fingertips. It surged up to the nipple he persistently stimulated, and dispersed into a serene state of bliss.
It might have been a dream, but it felt unequivocally spectacular.
He patiently waited for your pleasure to subside, and then, he retracted his hands from you. He grasped the wrinkled fabric of your nightgown, pulling it down, the creases miraculously straightening as it outlined the contours of your body.
Your haziness was intensifying, indicating that the Waking World was beginning to reclaim you. You resisted it, maintaining your focus on him as he observed you, clenching your hands into fists and drawing in a deep breath to anchor yourself.
You felt fulfilled, satisfied, and thoroughly cared for.
However, he did not.
Despite his desire to make everything solely about you, you couldn't accept it as fair. Therefore, you shifted yourself into a more vertical position, tugging the Endless towards you by his coat. This movement prompted him to position himself above you, taking care not to impose his entire weight on your smaller frame.
"Y/N-"
"Shh.”
This time, the roles were reversed, and it was you who hushed him to continue.
"I understand that you wanted this to be about me. But, despite it being my dream, we're still in your domain.”
You extended your hand towards the back of his neck, weaving your fingers through his short tresses. "I'm going to wake up soon, but before I do... let me give you something in return.”
You didn't wait for his reply. By the time he parted his lips, your hand was already making its way towards the button of his trousers.
He made no effort to stop you, allowing you to unfasten his garments, unveiling his eager arousal springing forth, ready and needy. How unfair would it be to leave him unattended, untouched, overlooked?
Morpheus was desperate for you, hungering for your touch.
Your nose brushed against his as you maintained your grip around his neck for support (and comfort), and your fingers promptly encircled the head of his member. His legs, straddling you, tensed and stiffened the moment you glided your hand down to the base, only to replicate the motion several more times. As much as it pained you, you couldn't afford the same level of tender and unhurried strokes. At any second, you could be thrust back into your real bed, and you didn't want to risk waking before he reached his own peak.
The way he groaned, so faintly, imperceptibly, holding himself back, was something you found incredibly appealing. You drew him even closer, accelerating your pace, ensuring that all his most sensitive regions were stimulated.
You continued your ministrations, increasing the speed, feeling the pull of the Waking World, akin to invisible ropes winding around you. You resisted once more, concentrating on the moist sounds your hand produced against his hardness, on his lips tenderly brushing yours as soft as a tender brush on a canvas.
You loved every single part of it.
And just when you thought you might not finish in time, that he would be left there alone, unsatisfied, forsaken in his desires, the perfect touch on his tense underside drove him to that delectable edge that you both longed for. His hips jerked forward repeatedly, his eyes clamped shut, his mouth letting out a few low grunts that intermingled with your breath.
In due course, your hand reduced its speed until it ceased entirely, but it remained connected to him as he softened. You gently scratched his scalp with your nails, playfully tousling his hair, and planted a kiss upon his forehead.
You released a joyful laugh when he curved his lips, looking absolutely content and thoroughly satisfied. You went on to pepper his face with even more kisses, whispering about your immense love for him, your fortune in having him, his talents in every possible way, and more.
It was the most delightful awakening you could ever wish for, a grin permanently etched at the corners of your lips as you left the Dreaming behind.
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Freya was in absolute shock. She looked at the freshly tailored red dress laid out for her to see, designed specifically to her tastes and body size. Her eyes had sparkled with excitement when you showed her the initial sketch, but seeing her now, tears of joy streaming down her face, made you feel as though you'd accomplished an extraordinary feat. Unbeknownst to her, you had collaborated with the rest of your team to orchestrate this splendid surprise, with Ella's full backing.
You gently encouraged Freya to try the dress on, assuring her that only by wearing it could she appreciate the full beauty of the sophisticated design and velvety fabric. The moment she emerged from the restroom, you couldn’t believe your eyes. She was even more stunning than you had envisioned, making your own creation appear as if you were beholding it for the first time. The full-length sleeves and high neckline imparted the dress with a modest and elegant appearance, while the front opening tastefully showcased a generous portion of her cleavage. The lengthy gown gracefully traced her curves and swept the floor, and the slit on the right subtly revealed her leg.
She even let her voluminous hair down from the usual high bun she wore and touched up her lipstick, the high heels and earrings she selected that day appeared to be an impeccable match.
It was a day to be remembered, truly. The way she embraced and thanked you, as if you'd bestowed upon her the most anticipated reward. The confidence she exuded by agreeing to be photographed in the studio like a professional model, everyone thoroughly enjoying the occasion, showering praise and throwing a genuine party with drinks and snacks in her honor. All of this warmed your heart, filled you with happiness and fulfillment, and reaffirmed that you were exactly where you were meant to be.
Eventually, Freya mustered the courage to send one of her photos to her bride-to-be friend. She expressed her desire to wear the new dress at the wedding, which understandably caused quite a stir. The woman was adamant that all the bridesmaids should be clad in identical outfits. If she couldn't procure the same dress for the others, then Freya wouldn't be permitted to wear something distinctive. You were afraid that this might dampen her spirits and ruin her good mood, but to your surprise, Freya resolved that if she couldn't wear your dress, she wouldn't attend the wedding at all.
You had crafted it solely for her. She was the only one who had the right to decide when and where to wear it. After the party, she chose to reserve it for the night of the show, using it as publicity for both the Corbyn&Jones brand and you.
"You know, Y/N, I think what you do is quite magical," she told you. "You might not even realize it, but you literally create dreams that have the power to transform others.”
“Really?”
“Of course! I mean, just by trying out this dress today, I feel like a completely different person.”
You found it paradoxical that you, of all people, were being described as someone capable of making dreams a reality.
"Let's just say that I have some good inspiration in my life," you confessed with a smile.
Freya lifted her glass, clinking it against yours in a friendly toast. "Well then. Cheers to your good influence and genius!”
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The night of the show was a mere two days away. While everyone was busy preparing and setting things up at the designated location for the event, Ella beckoned you to her side, the printed lineup practically attached to her hand. She looked distinctly terrified, while Oliver was able to maintain a more composed demeanor despite his own nerves.
You'd be lying if you said that the impending occasion wasn't impacting you in a similar way.
"I know this is somewhat last minute, but one of our sponsors would like to meet you in person this afternoon.”
You furrowed your brow. "One of the sponsors? Why?”
"Oh, that might be my doing. I may have boasted about you a tad excessively.”
You shook your head in playful disbelief. "Seriously, Ella.”
"I know! But you are literally our leading figure. It's only a matter of time before more prominent people decide to make their move.”
"I'm just a designer, I'm not the one in charge.”
"Our sales have seen a significant increase these past few months, thanks to you. Come on, let me sing your praises.”
You chuckled. "Fine. When should I expect them?”
"You're scheduled to meet the sponsor in the main hall around 4pm.”
“Noted.”
Ella let out a squeal, which she attempted to suppress due to the many people around, hailing from different brands and sectors.
"I'm genuinely proud of you. You truly deserve all the success that's coming your way.”
“Honestly, Ella, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your call.”
"And I wouldn't have called if it weren't for your email. It's funny how life works, isn't it?”
You found yourself nodding with conviction, reflecting on all the remarkable things, whether challenging or rewarding, that had entered your life since you left the Burgess mansion.
Since you encountered Dream of the Endless. Your beloved Morpheus.
If only you had known that the person you were about to meet wasn't who you expected them to be.
By the time you made your way to the main hall, Ella had returned to the office to finalize the remaining details with Oliver. You had been constantly active all morning, barely managing to squeeze in time for an outdoor lunch, arranging the garments for the presentation, and refining the lineup. You were on the brink of being tardy for the appointment, and you left the backrooms in such a rush that you unintentionally left your phone behind.
Casting a quick glance around the luxurious space, you cleared your throat and adjusted your hair to ensure you looked presentable. You didn't spot anyone who seemed to be waiting, so you opted to sit on one of the vacant couches, taking a moment to observe your surroundings.
You found yourself completely zoned out, watching the staff bustling about and your competitors occasionally strolling past, until a voice jolted you from your trance.
"Why, hello there. You must be Y/N Y/LN.”
You raised your gaze to encounter a distinctive figure standing in front of you. They were attired in a white suit, which exposed a portion of their chest and highlighted an oval pendant suspended from a lengthy silver chain. Their blonde hair was flawlessly slicked back, a pair of round earrings graced their ears, and red lipstick accentuated what seemed to be a sincere, yet cryptic smile.
But what truly captivated you was the color of their eyes, which you couldn't pinpoint due to the lighting making them gleam gold.
"Oh, uh, yes. That's me," you stammered.
Their smile broadened. “It's quite a pleasure to meet you in person.”
Their voice was smooth, calm, and suave.
"Likewise," you responded, sitting up straighter and adopting a more professional tone.
"Do you mind if I join you?" They asked, gesturing towards the empty space on the couch beside you.
"Not at all, please have a seat.”
There was something inexplicably peculiar about this sponsor. They settled themselves next to you, a tad too close for your liking, you might add. Aiming not to appear overly nervous, you swiftly collected yourself and returned their smile.
"I'm surprised that you wanted to meet. Do you have any specific questions you'd like to ask me?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. You could say that I'm interested in your... desires.”
You required a moment to process their words.
"My desires...?”
"Look where you are," they declared, sweeping their impeccably manicured hand to indicate the place. "This must be like a dream come true for you, isn't it?”
You had the distinct feeling that they found this thought amusing, leaving you uncertain about whether they were mocking you or not.
"Well, yes. It certainly is. I've worked really hard to reach this point," you affirmed.
"And yet, I can see that you're still searching for something.”
What were they even hinting at?
"There's always scope for improvement," you elucidated. "I may have come a long way in this industry, but that doesn't mean I can't continue to learn as I progress.”
"Is that what you desire? Greater wealth and recognition?”
You were uncertain whether they were attempting to carry out an unconventional interview, or if their words held some concealed subtext. Was this genuinely the sponsor Ella had spoken to you about?
For a moment, a fear gripped you that you might have encountered the wrong person entirely, perhaps someone dispatched by your competitors to probe and expose your vulnerabilities. But as you threw a cursory look around the hall, you didn't notice anyone else seeking you out.
"I wouldn't say that, no. I engage in what I do because I love creating something that empowers the wearer to feel comfortable in their own skin."
They hummed in ponderation. "Well, I guess that's not too far off from what I do.”
“What is it that you do?”
"My dear, I am in search of individuals who are just like you, drawn to those objects of their desire like a butterfly to a candle's flame.”
That was quite an enigmatic and poetic way to respond. You inferred that as a sponsor, they were particularly discerning about the brand and company they decided to invest in. Possibly, as the one fundamentally in control of the main collections of Corby&Jones, they aimed to painstakingly scrutinize your intentions and authenticity.
It was entirely plausible, all things considered. Yet, there was an odd element that was making you feel uneasy.
“So tell me then, what is it that you want? Don't be shy. Or perhaps I should try to guess?”
Alarm bells started sounding in your mind the moment they edged even closer, their fingers lightly sweeping your hair away from your face.
“You want something sensual, or maybe something precious. Or... maybe someone special. Or maybe you want all three. Yes, I think that might just be the case. ”
The last thing you wanted was for your company to lose one of its most significant sponsors, but your patience was already stretched thin and you could not bear any more of it.
Sporting a nervous chuckle, you cautiously lifted your hand to gently move theirs away as diplomatically as you could, using your left leg to redistribute your weight and subtly distance yourself a bit further from them.
"I’m sorry, but I'm afraid your guess is inaccurate.”
“Is that so?”
"I have a boyfriend. I have no need to seek anything or anyone else, as I've already attained everything I've ever wished for.”
You could almost swear their expression transformed into a blend of disappointment and annoyance, even though they managed to somewhat retain their smile.
"Well, that's unfortunate," they proclaimed. "But you see, all humans are creatures of desire, twisting and bending to their whims.”
You were still unable to understand what all of that was about. Regardless of their motive, you had no interest in discerning it.
"I wouldn't want to come off as rude, but I really need to return to my work. Is there any particular matter you wanted to discuss with me?”
Your attempt to abruptly terminate the conversation and depart clearly took them by surprise, as you noticed them purse their red lips and squint their eyes to scrutinize you. The longer you gazed into those irises, the more the notion strengthened that they were indeed gold. But such an eye color was improbable for a human, wasn't it…?
Eventually, they reverted to their initial politeness. "But of course. I was merely curious to finally meet the famous Y/N Y/LN. Go ahead, continue with your work. I won't hold you here.”
With a simple nod of your head, you excused yourself, standing up from the couch and offering your hand in a professional manner, which they accepted. Their grip was firm, warm, and oddly comforting, yet at the same time, a chill ran through your entire body.
What you experienced in that moment was truly bizarre. A part of you felt as though you knew them, or at least, there was a familiarity in their presence that echoed Morpheus and Teleute. A distant voice in your head reassured you that there was no need for fear, that they could calm your spirit and provide the most exhilarating ride you could ever imagine.
And it terrified you.
The instant they released you, you practically dashed off, fumbling in your pocket for your phone to give Ella a piece of your mind about the situation, only to discover that you didn't have the device with you.
And you were oblivious to the way they continued to gaze at you until you were out of sight, narrowing their eyes and resting their fingers on their chin in profound thought.
"My, what a fascinating mortal being,” they commented with a broad grin, before releasing a prolonged, amused laugh through their perfectly white teeth.
The moment you reentered the backrooms, Freya hailed you and advanced with a brisk stride, extending her hand that was gripping your phone. "I found it on the table next to me. Ella sent you a message, I noticed her name flashing on the screen.”
Speak of the Devil…
"Thanks, Freya. I'll check it right away. I'll be back in a minute.”
She nodded in recognition and gave you a thumbs-up, before resuming her task of arranging the chosen outfits on their corresponding hangers.
You unlocked the screen and navigated straight to your friend's chat, freezing in place as soon as you read her message.
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You could feel your blood chilling as you recognized that the person you had just interacted with was, in fact, not the one you were initially supposed to meet. You had found them strange, slightly ethereal even, but overall suitable for that specific setting, notwithstanding their flirtatious conduct.
And now, staring in utter disbelief at your phone screen, you could only conjecture about their real identity, how they knew your name, and most importantly, why they were there for you.
The only logical explanation you could arrive at was your initial assumption about a competitor sending one of their own, but you couldn't dismiss that nagging feeling in your gut that they were someone, or perhaps even something, entirely distinct.
Without a moment's hesitation, you tucked your phone into your pocket and sprinted for the main hall, hoping to still find them there and obtain an explanation. Regrettably, they were nowhere to be seen, as you couldn't spot their elegant attire, blonde hair, or golden eyes.
You came to the realization that they hadn't even introduced themselves to you. You had no name to associate with them, no concrete information about their profession or location whatsoever. You were left without any leads, while they appeared to have a clear understanding of who you were. Could you possibly be dealing with an admirer who had infiltrated the showroom solely to see you?
In the end, all you could do was return to your responsibilities and let the matter slide, even though it certainly nagged at you for the remainder of the day.
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With all arrangements for the imminent show complete, Ella and Oliver gave their team a well-deserved day off before the grand event, ensuring that everyone could rejuvenate and approach the coming day with renewed energy. Capitalizing on this chance, you planned another visit to your father, as time with him had been scant since the revelation about your mother. The last time you awoke from the Dreaming, he implied there was something he wished to talk about, but assured you it wasn't pressing and could be postponed.
However, as soon as he opened the door to greet you, it was evident that something about him was off again. He appeared hesitant, leaving you lingering at the entrance without fully inviting you in, his countenance displaying unease.
"Dad? What's wrong? Can I come in or are we planning to have lunch here on your doorstep?”
He exhaled deeply, shifting his gaze towards something in the living room. "No, it's just.... there's someone here.”
"Oh... a guest? Would you prefer if I came back next week?”
"No, no, there's no need for that," he paused. "Actually... they're here for you.”
You attempted to conjure a mental image of who they might be. "Huh...?”
At last, he moved aside to let you in, closing the door behind you and assisting you with your jacket. But before you could proceed further, he gently grasped your arm and placed both his hands on your shoulders.
"Y/N, I didn't plan this. Whatever happens, know that I will understand if you decide to leave.”
“Dad, seriously. What’s going on here?”
Reflecting back, you should have realized that there was only one person who would potentially want to converse with you. You had barely interacted with his friends a few times, and he was the sole family you had left. There was no one else who would wish to see you in his house.
Except for someone you believed would never be allowed to come near the two of you, ever again.
When he remained silent, lowering his gaze, you pivoted and ventured into the living room. There, you noticed a woman stationed by the window, her eyes fixed outside, responding to your entrance with a slight flinch.
You couldn't instantly recognize her, but as she slowly swiveled around to face you, your heart abruptly stopped. You found yourself staring at the woman from your dream, the memory that Morpheus had transferred from your father's mind into yours. She nervously fiddled with her thumbs while clasping her hands over her lap, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly to clear her tear-filled eyes.
You felt a dizzy spell coming on, unable to react, as your father slowly moved to stand beside you, nervously anticipating some sort of response from you.
And then it came, your voice shaky, trembling, emerging as a whisper. "Mum....?"
Upon hearing that, she managed a smile in your direction, summoning the courage to take a step towards you. "Hello, Y/N.”
You began to hyperventilate, your ears filled with a loud ringing noise and a dreadful wave of nausea started to swell within you. She repeated your name, but it became inaudible. Her lips were moving, yet no sound was perceptible, as the unbearable ringing in your ears drowned everything else out.
You had reconciled with that she would only exist as a faint echo in the background of your existence, a distant figure you'd never have a chance to see or converse with. Caught completely off guard, you found yourself in her presence for the first time, a moment you had yearned for since your childhood years.
And you were petrified, completely paralyzed with fear.
Your father gently prodded you, trying to elicit a proper reaction that stubbornly refused to surface. Your breathing grew rapid and strained as you struggled to supply enough oxygen to your brain.
Until everything descended into darkness.
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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 16 (coming soon) ->
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mrpissypants666 · 6 months
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Detailed explanations and headcanons for both drawings. ↓
[First Image Explanation]
Octavio, before he transitioned, worked in the entertainment district as a side job. Other than privately entertaining people (WITHOUT providing any sexual services), he'd reenact Oiran performances to honor his ancestors and to (basically) keep the tradition alive. It's a public event and it's crucial for him to play the role of the Oiran anyways due to being in the royal family. It wasn't a choice for him to decide whether or not he wants to perform either. It's a requirement.
Despite the history and original purpose of the Oiran (prostitution), he found some joy in performing it these reenactments... Not only because it's a tradition, but also because it's a work of art. It was kind of a workout session for him because the whole outfit weighed atleast 30kg. Of course, it was a pain in the ass to put on AND take off... He does admit that he looked hella good in it despite that. He still reminisces about it in the Splatoon 3 timeline because he's old as shit. And unfortunately for him, the crown he used to wear all the time on his head would cause him to develop a bald spot later in life.
But ermmmmm... after his first encounter with Craig, he'd make up excuses on why he isn't able to perform. Whether it'd be him feeling extremely ill or having to study, he'd come up with horrible excuses to sneak out of the castle and hang out with Craig (he barely left the castle unless he has have to perform). Not too long after, he'd resign from performing in Oiran reenactment festivals or festivals in general due to exhaustion. Having to wear and walk around in 30kg of clothing once a week can OBVIOUSLY wear you and your body out. Blah nlah blah more stuff because I'm writinf this from the top of my head and I can't think of anytjing else to add blah blagh....
[Second Image Explanation]
An alternate timeline where Craig resigns from the military after 7 years. Craig was in and out of training for about 5½ years, but with an upcoming war, he couldn't get in contact with Octavio, let alone anyone outside of the Inkadia military anymore. The soldiers of the military was infact not informed that a war was about to break out. Octavio was already at his lowest; having to deal with being a heir to the throne, having too many responsibilities as a member of the royal family, and of course being neglected by those close to him, which fucked up his ego fueled his depression even more. With Craig (being the only person who truly cared about his feelings) gone, his mental health declined a great amount.
After 1½ years of no contact, Craig resigns just a week before soldiers were scheduled to show up on the battlefield. Craig forgot to inform Octavio beforehand that he had already left, so he shows up at Arowana Castle unannounced, which causes Octavio to latch onto Craig and burst out in tears of happiness. ^_^
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carriagelamp · 2 months
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A few days late, but I'm lazy...
My favourite books that I read during 2023!
I got really lucky this year, I read some ridiculously good books, to the point that I had a really hard time narrowing them down. And I cheated on a few and bunched them up so I wouldn't have to choose 🙃
I did more detailed assessments of the books in my month reviews, but for anyone that's interested in something I read, here's a quick description:
Annie: An Old-Fashioned Story by Thomas Meehan -- A novelization of the Little Orphan Annie story, close related to the film musical including references to the songs. A charming read that captures the enjoyment of the film but adds a lot more details into the struggles and hardships Annie would have gone through during life on her own in the Depression.
Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild -- Three girls from a poor family in London end up being welcomed to a ballet academy where they have the opportunity to learn not only how to dance, but to begin attending performances that let them earn money for their family. Follows the heart warming adventures of sisters with a nice balance of financial hardship and obligations during the Depression.
Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle -- A possession horror based around religious trauma and sexual identity. Fantastic prose and genuinely chilling at points without ever feeling hopeless. Here the demons that start stalking people in this God-fearing Montana town are both metaphorical and literal.
A Christmas Story by Jean Shepherd -- A collection of radio stories that follow the childhood misadventures of Ralphie; these stories would go to make up the classic film A Christmas Story, and Shepherd's hilarious, clever prose makes it a very fun read whether you know the film or not.
Doctor Who: Scratchman by Tom Baker -- I actually read a number of pretty good Doctor Who novels this year (13 Doctors 13 Stories, Time Lord Fairytales, Silhouette) and even a Torchwood one (Skypoint) but Scratchman was probably my favourite of the lot. The Fourth Doctor, Sarah, and Harry find themselvese in a horror adventures as they try to defend a host of villagers against an invading force of evil, skeletal scarecrows that are attempting to infect the humans around them.
Dogsbody by Diana Wynne Jones -- The star Sirius is accused of killing another luminary and losing a powerful instrument called a Zoi. His sentence for this crime is to be stripped of his powers and cast down to earth, to spend one lifetime living in a humble, mortal form - that of a true dog. If he can survive and find the Zoi within that lifetime, he will be welcomed back to the cosmos.
Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire -- A novella that explores the rehabilitation of children who had been chosen, who found a doorway and stepped into another, strange world. Adventures done, they now need to acclimatize themselves to living in the rigid confines of the real world.
Grandpa's Great Escape by David Walliams -- A hilarious and surprisingly heart-warming story about a boy and his grandfather who was a flying ace during the war. With his mind beginning to fail him, the grandfather is sent to live at a sinister and definitely evil old folks' home. Only Jack can save him.
Hazel's Shadow by Nicole MacCarron -- Hazel has always been plagued by strange visions - the ability to see and speak to ghosts, as well as the knowledge of a strange, nameless horror living in her grandmother's house. Things come to a head though, when a sudden, zombie-like illness explodes through her town leaving only a few left alive, too many ghosts to count, enemies at every turn, and the shadow waiting for them.
Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree -- (as well as it's sequel that came out later in the year, Bookshops & Bonedust). This was such a pleasant, low-stakes, domestic fantasy about Viv, an orcish ex-mercenary who has decided she's tired of fighting and would rather settle down and open a coffeeshop. One of the sticking points being, of course, that no one knows what coffee is.
Love Beyond Body, Space & Time by assorted authors, anthology -- An Indigenous queer sci-fi anthology with a really excellent collection of stories, including an author I already knew and loved! The stories explore a wide range of gender, sexuality, magic, machines, and ways of being, I highly recommend picking it up!
A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske -- Robin, a young baronet, thought he was being shunted into the most out of the way and miserable public servant position imaginable. He expected things to be tedious but necessary. He did not expect to suddenly learn that magic is real and to be tangled in its machinations in a potentially lethal way.
(MDZS) Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu -- Rejoice, because the feared Yiling Patriarch, the necromancer terror who slaughtered thousands, is dead! And has been dead the past decade. And is now very, very confused to wake up in a new body that isn't his, in a room he's never seen before, and to be thrust into the middle of a murder mystery where everyone would want him dead if they were to learn his real identity.
Moominland Midwinter by Tove Jansson -- Moomins hibernate through the winter, that's how it has always been for them. So when young Moomintroll wakes and finds the rest of his family still fast asleep, he's left feeling lost and isolated in this new, strange, snow covered world beyond his door.
A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers -- (and its sequel A Prayer for the Crown-Shy) A very gentle, compassionate sci-fi novel that explores a world humans have created post-climate-crisis. Life is different, the past distant, and a young tea monk never expected to run into an actual robot, who had so long ago left humanity to live their own secluded life in the wilds. Now they're both struggling to answer the question "What do humans need?"
The Radium Girls by Kate Moore -- (and Kate Moore's other book The Woman They Could Not Silence) The Radium Girls is a narrative non-fiction book that looks at the lives of the girls who were paid to paint luminous watch dials using radium paint. It explores the horror, exploitation, and suffering that came from work place negligence and the world's gradual learning about what exactly radium can do.
Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston -- Presidential son and British prince are forced together for the sake of publicity - to prove that they don't actual hate each other and aren't going to cause a diplomatic incident. They cause a whole new and exciting diplomatic incident by falling in love! Do not read this for the politics, but it did end up being way way better than I expected, this author creates quite compelling characters.
The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett -- Sour, spoiled, and ill Mary is sent to live with her distant uncle on the Yorkshire moors. Set to be as contrary and unhappy as possible, little by little Mary begins to come out of her shell as she experiences nature, play, and love for perhaps the first time in her life.
System Collapse by Martha Wells -- Newest Murderbot book!! Murderbot, ART's crew, and the humans from Preservation are doing their best to defend the colonists on a plant that's cursed with a strange, alien plague from being consumed by the more immediate threat of corporate slavery. Something, however, seems to be wrong with Murderbot and its worried that if it can't fix the problem soon, it may cost its humans their lives.
(TGCF) Heaven Official's Blessing by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu -- Xie Lian is a god. Was a good. He has ascended to godhood twice, and been banished back to earth twice. Once a favour among the gods, he is now a laughing stock, a scrap-collecting god who has been forgotten by almost everyone. So it is with some shock and exasperation to all involved when he ascends for a third time.
This Is How You Lose The Time War by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone -- A ridiculous poetic novella written through improbable letters that are written between two time travels on opposites sides of a time war. Seriously, this is probably the most beautiful book I read this year, go read it, the hype is justified.
Wave Me Goodbye by Jacqueline Wilson -- As World War Two rages, Shirley, like many children of the time, is sent from her home in London to be housed by a foster family in the country in order to avoid the Blitz. Put up with two boys in the strange, mostly empty Red House, Shirley has to find a new life for herself out in the country.
When The Angels Left The Old Country by Sacha Lamb -- Uriel the angel and Little Ash the demon find themselves drawn from their usual lives when a young girl from their shtetl goes missing after emigrating to America. Both with their own reasons for wanting to leave the old country, they set off on a sea voyage that will change everything for them.
Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame -- The classic stories of Rat, Mole, and Toad. The story begins when Mole, venturing out of his little burrow, meets Rat and winds up living with him in his little home by the river rather than returning to his own, lonely, little hole. From there they have a variety of domestic adventures over the seasons, most notable being Toad's ill-fated obsession with motor cars.
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hyponautica · 4 months
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im kinda new to lifesteal and i havent really thought about other members bsides clown and branz but school is gonna enter a break so my brain has finally been alloted time to hone in on this. and i have some design ideas for a few members.
also feel free to tell me anything about anyone if u wanna give info cuz i would also rly appreciate it. im dead srs, i will read bible length text. anyway-
ash is so emo to me. he has that angsty teen in him. long sideswept hair with a bit of it brought over his left eye. im also gonna do that thing i saw a lot of ppl do of that glitchy thing over his eye but on the hair as well cause, it just fits with his skin. i dont wanna leave em too independent to what they actually look like in game
minutes skin is good enough for what i think he would look like! but he definitely has a bow motif on his skin that i wanna add a teensy bit more to! also his hair. not fire, just like, smoky. also a trenchcoat would be good i think. and ive heard some members call him a walking base so i ran with that idea and i wanna give him a suitcase with like infinite space inside.
i think redd is good being left nice and simple! i think the simplicity adds a lot in his case. but i wanna give him slicked back hair, kinda like crocodile from one piece but a bit messier and mb a lil curly to add a bit more uniqueness?? also small demon horns cause the red motif goes hard with that idea + the suit he wears. i also dont know if i wanna keep his face featureless or give him a mask thats a rly similar red to his skin
zam is such a creature. just some sleep paralysis demon creature thing. i like to imagine his head is nothing but an eerily smooth and perfect circle and he just sharpies that signature smile on his face and it really shows when it starts to fade away. also to add to the creature vibe i wanna make him rly skinny and bony, and he hides it with oversized clothes. tho his hands definitely give way to that fact
leo, i also wanna leave him simple but i wanna make him a cyborg. the details would probably be in his cyborg parts (mainly head to draw attention to it). his channel name is on his skin as if theyre initials so i wanna make it like the initials on the side of a helmet? in this case i thought why not make the theme like how ppl imaged robots in the 80s? i dont think i can explain my idea well thru text so i guess ill show ppl when it comes down to me drawing it. i just think the cyborg idea fits when hes basically a walking moai statue from what ive seen in his videos lmao
thats kinda all i have for now which are actual solid ideas in my head! im currently walking home from school rn so its hard for me to focus as much as id like. if i remember anyone else or think of em ill post it later :33 i just havent watched enough of the members currently, itll come to me soon enough dont worry
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fandomxpreferences · 1 year
Text
More Hearts Than Mine Part 8
In which you spend Christmas and New Years with your family.
Series Masterlist
Mood Boards
Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x afab!reader
Word Count:5.1k
A/N: Im making a mood board for this that ill add later. Also, I will be waiting here patiently for the wave of comments and messages because yall are going to scream.
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As you and Jake pull into your parent's driveway, you see his eyes widen and his mouth drop open. It's December 23rd and you're here for the next week to celebrate Christmas and New Years with your family. After meeting his family a few days ago, you called your mom and told her to really pull out all the stops. You didn't go into detail, simply explaining that Christmas with his family had gone badly and that he deserved to have a magical experience. 
You can confidently say that she didn't disappoint. Your mom and dad have always gone all out for Christmas but this is a different level. You're fairly certain they went out and bought more decorations because you've never seen it like this before. There's a fresh blanket of snow that just adds to the beauty of the scene in front of you and your heart swells.
The oak tree in the front yard has been completely covered in red and white lights, the house is lined with icicles, and the driveway is lined with light-up candy canes. You see that your mom has put out a whole slew of yard decorations ranging from those mechanical light-up deer to a huge Santa and sleigh. 
You turn to look at Jake with a bright smile and you've never seen such innocent wonder in his eyes. It reminds you of when a baby sees something that captivates them for the first time and their little brains can't comprehend it. You let him take all the time he needs and after a few minutes, his trance is broken. He slowly climbs out of the truck and makes his way over to you, being careful not to slip. 
Once you're out, you grab his hand and the two of you make your way up to the house. "I'm glad you made me get a coat and gloves. It's cold." He says and you laugh. "I told you so baby. Bet you're happy I made you get the puffy coat with a hood instead of that little jacket you insisted would be enough."
He nods his head slightly and the two of you reach the top of the porch stairs. The door swings open and Jake is immediately hit with the warmth of your home and the smell of cookies baking. Your mom doesn't step out this time, instead ushering the two of you in quickly. "Get inside, it's freezing out!"
She waits patiently for the two of you to take off your outerwear and pulls you each into a hug once everything is hung up. She kisses both of you on the cheek before stepping back and guiding you into the living room. Jake feels a familiar fuzzy feeling when he sees the inside of the home. 
There's lights and garland lining the stairs and a large tree decorated with years of homemade and sentimental ornaments. It seems everywhere he looks there's a form of tinsel or ornament and he almost can't believe it. This is what he had always imagined Christmas to be like, but he thought it only happened in movies.
"How was your drive?" Your mom asks and Jake smiles kindly. 
"It was nice. Got to see what a lot of states are like during winter, which was cool." He explains and your mom nods her head in understanding. Before you can process or add to the conversation, you're being swept off your feet. You let out a loud squeal followed by a giggle when you realize it's your dad. 
"Welcome home, pumpkin. We missed you." He says before turning halfway to Jake. "And you too, I guess." He teases with a wink and Jake lets out a laugh. Your dad releases you and gives Jake a hug with a firm pat on the back. "Good to see you, son." He tells him, this time with warm sincerity and Jake nods his head. "You too, old man."
Once you've both said hello to your parents, the two of you make your way around the room greeting your siblings as well. Your brother hands Jake a beer and pulls him over to the couch to talk about some sport that you don't follow. You stand there for a second and love fills your heart as you watch all your favorite people in the same room interacting. 
Your joy is short-lived when your mom and sisters whisk you away into the kitchen. Your mom is quick to put you to work helping with dinner and conversation is light as you all focus on your assigned tasks. 
"So," Britney starts. "How was Christmas with the Seresins?" She asks casually and you stop what you're doing to turn around. Your mom shoots you a look and you assume she hasn't said anything about your phone call from a few days prior.
"His family is rich. Like old money, ranch on a hundred acres, million dollar home rich." You tell her with a shrug. The women's eyebrows shoot up and they share a look of surprise. Your sister-in-law is next to speak. 
"Okay, but what is his family like?" She prods and you tsk before turning back around to continue peeling potatoes. "Best left unsaid." Your mom sets down her whisk and comes to stand next to you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. 
"Come on sweetheart. It can't be that bad." She pushes and you set down your knife, staring at the cutting board in front of you. You close your eyes and silently wonder if you're going to regret your next words. 
"I punched his dad in the nose." You tell her while lifting up your bruised hand to show them. "What?" Your sister asks. "Why?" You throw your head back with a loud sigh and resign to the fact you're going to have to tell them the whole story. 
A few minutes later, your mom and sisters have matching angry expressions on their faces. It's silent for a few seconds before your mom speaks up. "Well, he deserved it. Should've spit on him too." 
"Mama!" You exclaim and all four of you burst into laughter. "Well!" She says with her hands up defensively. "It's the truth! I can't imagine a parent treating their child like that, especially not sweet little Jake!" 
You nod your head in agreement and cross your arms. "Me neither. That's why we have to make this the most special week ever." You say and your mom and sisters share a look. "Trust me," your sister says. "It'll be special."
Meanwhile in the living room, Jake is telling your dad and brothers the same story. "…and then she punched him. Pretty sure she broke his nose." He says and your dad lets out a low whistle. "She never has been one to take it lying down. I don't think I've ever seen her back down from a fight, especially if it involves defending someone." He says and your brother nods. 
"Yea she's five years younger and she's always been able to kick my ass, even when she was little." He laughs. Jake chuckles and takes another sip of his beer. "If I wasn't sure before, I am now. She's definitely someone I want on my team for the rest of my life." 
Your dad smiles fondly at the man in front of him and nods his head. "She's one of the good ones. Unless you're on her bad side." Jake quirks his head to the side and lifts up his bottle. "Cheers to that."
An hour later, you're setting the table and the men walk in to take their seats. Your dad slings his arm over your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear. "Good job, kid. Looks like those boxing lessons came in handy." You shake your head with a laugh and whisper back. "No, that came from you."
Your dad smiles proudly and kisses your cheek. "I'll take the compliment. If you have any more trouble with that asshole, you let me or your brothers know and we'll handle it." His tone is serious and you stop to look at him. "You know I will, daddy."
The rest of the evening goes smoothly and before you know it, you're saying goodnight and heading up to bed. You and Jake go through your usual bedtime routines before climbing under the comforter together. 
Jake turns to face you and kisses your forehead. "Did your mom ask about my family?" He questions and you nod your head. "Yeah, I told her the truth."
He hums quietly and ponders for a few seconds. "What did she say?" He asks and you debate whether you should tell him or sugarcoat it. "Do you really want to know?" You question while looking up at him. He nods his head with a small smile. "I really do."
You heave a sigh and lean forward to press a kiss to his bare chest. "She said he deserved it and that I should've spit on him too." You murmur and Jake's chest rumbles with a laugh. "I knew there was a reason I love that woman." He quips and you can't help but smile. "What did my dad say?"
Jake looks down and you can see the wheels turning in his head. "That you've never had a problem kicking someone's ass and you're one of the good ones." He answers truthfully and you snort. "Yea that sounds like something daddy would say. I've been grounded for fighting one too many times."
The two of you lay in silence for a few more minutes before you roll over and turn off the light. "Let's get some sleep. It's a big day tomorrow." You yawn and Jake agrees while pilling you into him. "Goodnight, sweet girl. I love you." You smile lazily and snuggle into him. "I love you too."
The next morning is a flurry of getting dressed, eating breakfast, and putting everything together for the annual Christmas party. Everybody woke up at 6 am and Jake has never seen a family work so in sync. The first couple of hours are spent decorating sugar cookies and tidying before the group splits off. Jake and the other three men start working on the backyard, putting up tents, tables, outdoor heaters, and fire pits, along with decorations. 
Inside, you, your mom, and your sisters busy yourself putting together all the desserts and making a ham. Unlike Halloween, this is a much more important party and people actually come for food so it's a pitch-in. Once the ham is in the oven and the pies are in the fridge, the four of you sit down and crack open a bottle of wine. 
You're busy laughing in the living room when you hear the back door open followed by four sets of snow-covered boots being thrown off. Jake makes his way in and plops next to you on the couch. He places his cold hands under your shirt to warm them up and you shriek, almost spilling your wine trying to wiggle away from him. 
He laughs loudly and kisses your shoulder before retracting the ice cubes attached to his arms. His eyebrow quirks when he sees the glass in your hand and looks at the other women, noticing they all have one too. "It's one pm and you're drinking?" He asks with amusement and you shrug your shoulders. 
"Pretty much the entirety of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are spent drinking. How do you think we stay warm?" You explain and Jake almost laughs before he realizes you're serious. He purses his lips and ticks his head to the side. "Okay then."
You take another sip and turn to your dad who now has his arm around your mom. "What time are we going tonight?" You ask and he looks at his watch. "It's been getting dark around 5 and the party starts at 7 so probably about 5:30." He answers and Jake looks at him confused.
"Where are we going?" He asks and you almost choke on your wine with excitement. "Oh!" You exclaim. "I forgot to tell you. On Christmas Eve we drive around all the neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights! It's been a tradition for as long as I can remember."
Jake smiles warmly and nods his head. "That sounds fun." Your brother kicks his feet up and turns to face him. "Oh, it is. We bring hot chocolate in a thermos and listen to Christmas music." 
You spend the next few hours sipping on wine and laughing with everybody and before you know it, it's time to pile into the car. Your mom makes two thermoses full of hot chocolate and you all head outside. 
"How do y'all usually split up?"Jake asks and your wrap your arm through his. "We don't. Daddy's SUV seats 8 people." You explain while guiding him towards the truck. Corey, LeeAnn, and Joe all clamber into the back row and once they're in, you, Jake, and Britney get in the middle row. 
Jake silently wonders if you've always gotten along this well because he and his sisters were always fighting over who sat where, no matter how many times they rode together. Meanwhile, the six of you just climbed in without a single complaint, everybody was just happy to be involved. 
Your mom turns to check that everyone is buckled in and once she confirms, your dad pulls out of the driveway. Jake has a window seat and he's silently grateful since he's never gotten to experience this before. He wants to be able to see everything without feeling bad about crushing you to get a glimpse. 
Ten minutes later, your dad pulls into a neighborhood and turns the radio on. Your mom distributes hot chocolate and Jake swears he's never seen so many festive houses in his life. He's driven by a few over the years, sure. But this is completely surreal, like something you'd only see on TV. He reaches for your hand and you smile, grateful you get to be the one to introduce him to such happiness.
Your dad drives around for the next hour while everyone points out their favorite houses and sings along to classic Christmas songs. By the time you're pulling back up to the house, Jake has completely forgotten his own familial troubles and he's fairly certain the little kid in him is being healed a little more each time he comes here.
It's 6:45 when you get back and everybody runs inside to finish getting ready before people start showing up. You hand Jake a Christmas sweater and he frowns while taking it. His expression quickly turns to a smile when he sees you slip on a matching sweater of your own and he puts it on without any questions. Of course you'd be the type to wear matching sweaters, and he loves you even more for it. 
Once you're outside, you take a second to look around. It looks like a Christmas wonderland at night time and you briefly wish you could see it from your jet. You don't have much time to think before guests start rolling in and filling the tables with food. 
Just like Halloween, there are hundreds of people here and Jake can't believe it. He wonders why none of these people want to spend Christmas Eve with their families before he realizes that a lot of the people here are their families. It's not common for people to move away from here, so there are generations of people gathered together that have known each other since diapers.
He watches in awe once again, as you navigate the night like a professional. You field a few questions about a wedding or babies and Jake smiles to himself. If only you knew. His part in the evening is less stressful than last time, having already shaken everybody's hands at the Halloween party. 
He was mostly asked questions about his career by men wanting to relive their glory days and heard several comments about how cool it is that the family now has three fighter pilots. His heart swells each time when he realizes that not only has your family accepted him as one of their own, but the community has as well. 
Everybody spends the evening drinking and laughing while rotating between eating and roasting smores. Jake swears he's never eaten this much food in his life and he makes a mental note to hit the gym extra hard when you guys get home. 
Once midnight hits and it's officially Christmas, things start wrapping up. You and Jake make your rounds before heading up to get ready for bed. You're both exhausted from your long day and it doesn't take long for the two of you to cuddle up and fall into a deep slumber.
Jakes feels the bed bouncing and glances at his watch to see what time it is. 6:30. He groans and throws a pillow over his head, which is promptly removed and chucked across the room. You plop down on him and clap your hands excitedly. "Get up!" You shout and Jake peeks one eye open. 
"What the hell are you on about? It's still dark outside." He grumbles and you roll your eyes dramatically. "It's Christmas morning, Scrooge! Let's go!" You jump off of him and use all your strength to drag his dead weight out of the bed. 
"Let me shower and get dressed." He yawns and you look at him like he's just said the most outrageous thing you've ever heard. "Christmas morning is no time for looking fancy, now let's go." You exclaim but Jake doesn't budge. 
"You want me to go downstairs with bedhead and slippers?" He asks and you nod aggressively. He sighs and takes your outstretched hand. Now the matching PJs with polar bears and Christmas lights you made him wear make sense.
You bound down the stairs excitedly and Jake tries to shush you. Just because he has to wake up and entertain your craziness doesn't mean others should be subjected to it too. He's shocked to find everybody already downstairs in front of the tree when you drag him behind you. 
"There you are. Geez, took long enough." Corey says with a frown and Jake has never been more confused. Took long enough? It's barely morning and they've been waiting for you? You flip your brother the bird when your mom has her back turned and take your place on the floor. 
Your mom starts handing out gifts and Jake shifts awkwardly. He feels weird sitting here silently while waiting for everyone else to open their gifts. His mouth falls open when your mom hands him a present. She laughs at his expression and Jake looks like a fish out of water.
"What?" She asks. "You didn't think we'd forget about you, did ya?" She asks before turning back to continue distributing the boxes wrapped in colorful paper. 
It's not that Jake thought he'd be forgotten, it's more that he didn't think anyone would want to take the time and energy to find him something. The idea that your parents went out with the intent of getting him something, or even weirder, saw something and thought of him makes him emotional. 
He doesn't recall the last time he received a gift, especially from family. His parents never did Christmas presents and birthdays were usually just a couple hundred dollars thrown his way. By the last present, Jake has a pile sitting at his feet and he has to choke back tears. 
He'd gone with you to shop for everybody but he never in a million years expected them to do the same for him. Everyone takes turns opening presents and once their done, Jake has a hard time holding it together.
Your dad got him his favorite whiskey that he mentioned in passing, your sister gave him airplane cufflinks, and your brother gave him an engraved leather wallet. There were a few other miscellaneous things too. A Texas longhorns blanket, and a few nice hoodies. He thinks everything is done when you pull a box from behind the couch and hand it to him. 
He quirks an eyebrow and you motion your head toward the gift, encouraging him to open it. He opens the box to find a pair of Tecova boots with your name burned into the leather. His eyes widen and he once again considers dropping to his knee right then and there. 
"You mentioned needing a new pair of going-out boots." You shrug as if it's the most normal thing in the world. Jake stares in disbelief, well aware these boots run for at least $300. Based on the stitching and coloring, he'd guess they cost well over that. Jake shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a box. 
"I didn't know if we were doing gifts or not so I was holding onto this." He says and your mom's eyes widen, shooting to look at your dad. You take the box with a smile and open it to find a pair of diamond "J" earrings. "Oh my god, these are beautiful! I can't wait to wear them!" You exclaim while throwing yourself into his arms. He catches you easily and winks at your mom over your shoulder. 
The rest of your day is spent lounging around the house, mostly cuddled up under Jake's new blanket and watching Christmas movies. You're in the middle of "Santa Clause" when you turn to Jake. "Do you like your boots? I wasn't sure what you like so I just ran with it." You tell him and he smiles brightly. "I love them, darlin'. Can't wait to wear them out and show the world I'm yours. Do you like the earrings?" 
You nod your head and kiss his cheek. "They're absolutely beautiful. I'll wear them all the time." You say and he kisses your forehead. Your parents and siblings look on with small smiles, happy to see you happy. They know exactly what Jake has up his sleeve and if you're this grateful over earrings, they can't wait to see your reaction to his next surprise. 
The past week flies by and it's finally New Year's Eve. You took Jake sledding for the first time earlier today and now you're getting ready to go out. You're meeting your friends at the bar to drink and watch the ball drop. 
You walk out of the bathroom and see Jake waiting patiently in a pair of wranglers, one of his new sweaters, and the boots you bought him. He looks handsome as always, clean-shaven, and not a hair out of place. He smiles when he sees you and looks you over. 
"Like it?" You ask with a smile and Jake nods. "Love it. You look stunning." You blush at the compliment and glance at yourself in the mirror. You're just wearing a chunky sweater tucked into black skinny jeans and doc martens. Your hair is framing your face and your makeup is done the same as always. It's nothing too special. The only new thing is the earrings Jake gave you. 
"You ready to go?" He asks interrupting your thoughts and you nod. "Yea, it's almost 9. Don't want to get there too late." You say and he follows you out of the room. You grab your long black coat that falls to your knees, a hat, and a scarf. 
"Bye guys! Be back late, love you!" You yell over your shoulder and don't bother waiting for a response. Jake takes your hand and leads you to the truck before opening the door and helping you up. There's a comfortable silence as you drive into town, the only noise being the quiet lull of Christmas music still playing on the radio. 
You watch with confusion as Jake drives past the bar and instead stops a few blocks up, outside the park you showed him his first day here. You look over at him as he shuts off the truck and raise your eyebrows. "Uh, bars back there babe." You tell him and he nods his head but still gets out and walks around to your side. 
He opens the door and your eyebrows scrunch together. "I know, I just have a quick detour." He explains and you take his hand. He helps you down and shuts the door before leading you into the park. 
You see snow flurries falling and the park is dark aside from one lone street lamp. "Now would be a really shitty time to kill me, Seresin." You joke but he doesn't laugh. 
Right as you're about to ask him what's going on, the park lights up. Your eyes widen when you see that every tree has been completely covered in lights and you're standing under a willow tree that's covered in snow. You stare for a few seconds trying to understand who did this and why, but your mind draws a blank. 
You turn around to ask Jake and you gasp when you see he's down on one knee with a ring box in the palm of his hand. He's got the biggest smile you've ever seen and he's sure you can hear his heart hammering in his chest. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth and tears prick at your eyes. 
You don't say anything, completely taken aback. Jake gives you a few moments to process before speaking. "Y/N. I've known since that night I met you that you were the woman I'd spend the rest of my life with, and it was only confirmed when I met your family. And then again, at Halloween and Thanksgiving, and when you punched my dad." He says and you let out a watery laugh at the last part. 
"I bought this the week after you brought me here and I've been planning the perfect time with your mom and sister. There's no other person on this planet that I could see myself terrorizing a nursing home with and I don't want to go into the new year without knowing that I get to spend every year for the rest of my life with you." Tears are streaming down your face as you listen and Jake's voice wobbles. 
"I asked your dad for your hand at Thanksgiving, and now it's time to ask you. Y/N, will you please make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?" He asks and you choke on a sob. 
You drop down to his level and grab his hands. "Are you sure?" You ask through your tears and Jake chuckles. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life, sweet girl." As soon as the last word leaves his mouth, you fling yourself into him and send the both of you tumbling into the snow.
"YES!" You scream and Jake places the ring on your hand. You look down to see three flawless diamonds sitting on a simple band and shake your head.
"It's so fucking beautiful, Jake. Oh my god." Your words are interrupted when you hear cheering. You look to Jake for an explanation and he just smiles up at you. He stands up and helps you get to your feet, turning you around. 
All of a sudden, you see a group of people running toward you. You're swept off your feet by Bradley and spun around before he sets you back down. You look at him in shock before glancing around him to see just what the hell is going on. It takes your brain a second to catch up but when it does, you weep.
Standing before you is the entire dagger squad, Maverick, your parents and siblings, and all your friends. You turn to look at Jake and he wipes the mascara from under your eyes. "I flew all of them out. I knew you'd be devastated if they missed it, and so would they." He explains and you shake your head again. 
Once you've had a minute to calm down, you're swarmed by everyone you love hugging and congratulating you. Your mom throws her arms around you while crying, and the rest of your family follows suit engulfing you in a giant group hug. When they're done, Phoenix comes over and squeezes you. 
"Let me see!" She exclaims and you give her your hand. "Holy shit. This thing should be a registered weapon!" You laugh loudly and lower your voice. "I know right?" She motions to Bradley and he walks over. "Bradshaw, look at this! Did you know Bagman had money like that?" She asks and he shrugs. "I helped him pick it out."
Phoenix's eyes go wide and she glares at a sheepish Jake. "I'm going to kill him." She jokes and you slap her arm playfully. "Hey, at least let me get down the aisle first." You continue greeting everybody and Jake stands off to the side, letting you have your moment.
Your dad walks over to him and gives him a hug. "I'm proud of you. You're both very lucky to have each other." Jake closes his eyes and leans into the embrace. "Thanks, old man. I just wish my family could be here." He says while blinking back tears. 
Your dad holds on a few seconds longer before pulling back. He keeps his hand on Jake's shoulder. "It's their loss. Maybe one day they'll come around, but for now, just try to enjoy it." He comforts and Jake nods while swallowing thickly. 
After everyone settles down, you all make your way to the bar and spend the rest of the night drinking and celebrating. Your friends and family mingle and get to know each other, while your dad and Maverick reunite and reminisce. 
Jake catches you staring at your ring and walks over to wrap his arms around you. "Do you love it?" He asks and you turn in his arms. You lean up and kiss him with a grin. "Almost as much as I love you." You tell him and he hums. 
The two of you fall silent for a moment before you speak again. "Y/N Seresin. That has a nice ring to it." Jake nods thoughtfully and pulls your hand up to kiss your ring finger. "Yes, it does." 
You're interrupted by chanting as the countdown to the new year begins. Jake looks at you and his eyes crinkle when he smiles. "Ready?" He asks and you lean into him. "Ready as I'll ever be."
Taglist:
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329 notes · View notes
writethrough · 1 year
Note
Hi ;) I don't know if you're currently accepting requests, but if you do, may I request a Malcolm Bright x Reader fic please ? TW : Self-h*rm, anxiety, depression, ED, mental illness.
Reader and Malcolm are very close friends so they both lovingly care about each other. Reader hasn't been answering any of his calls and messages for a few days, which is unlike her 'cause she always picks up the phone when he calls her. He starts to grow more and more worried, especially because he knows about her mental health struggles. So naturally he decides to go check on her. When he arrives he finds her in a very bad state : depression, anxiety, ED and Self h*rm have been hitting her harder that usual. He stays in at her house for a few days to take care of her, which includes reassuring her when she gets panic attacks, telling her that he strongly cares about her and that nothing will make him leave her, laying beside her to help her sleep, hugging her etc. Eventually she starts to feel a bit better.
I know it's very emotionally charged, both with dark stuff and comfort/care stuff, so if you feel like you can't do it, it's totally okay, I understand. Do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable.
Please take care 🤍 Sending you hugs.
To Make It Through
(Malcolm Bright x Gender-Neutral Reader)
Warnings: Insinuations of self-harm, ED, depression, anxiety, and mental illness.
Word Count: 1203
A/N: I wasn’t sure how to begin writing this. The most important goal for me was writing this with respect to those who suffer from self-harm, depression, mental illness, ED, and anxiety. I have never experienced the first four, but I’ve dealt with mild to moderate anxiety, I believe since I was young (I’d like to add, I’ve never been diagnosed by a doctor for anxiety). I have no idea what someone who lives with these struggles goes through. I wanted this to be a comforting story, one that hopefully brings a little light to everyone who reads it.
I didn't want to include too many details that could be triggering or potentially disrespectful to those who deal with the topics above.
And to anyone who is suffering and in need of help, below are different hotlines and resources.
National Eating Disorders Association
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline
The Trevor Project
National Institute of Mental Health
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Malcolm unlocked your front door with the extra key you gave him.
It’d been three days since he last heard from you—no responses to his texts. No calls or video chats, not even a dumbass meme. And he was worried.
You were religious in your response time to him. Honestly, he had no idea how you could send a text off so quickly.
First, he noticed the dishes on your counter. A few days' worth. Then, the blanket was on the floor instead of folded neatly over the couch. Your curtains were drawn tight, and the couple of plants you had were a little less lively than when he was here last week.
He slowly pushed your bedroom door open so as not to startle you.
It was difficult to see through the darkness, but from what he could tell, clothes were thrown around the room. And he could make out a thin layer of dust on your bookshelf.
He took in your curled state under your comforter. Only the top of your head peeked out.
He didn’t need to ask you what was wrong. You’d known each other long enough for him to recognize the signs.
After slipping his shoes and coat off, he gently lowered himself beside you. He didn’t move the covers or speak, only placed a hand close enough to your back so you could feel him while not being touched. 
He didn’t know if you were awake, but that didn’t matter. He’d wait however long it took until you were ready to acknowledge him.
He wondered when you last ate—those dishes were probably older than he thought. He tried to recall if there were any warning signs he should’ve picked up on when he was here last time. But you seemed fine.
You were also very good at hiding it.
About an hour later, you shifted to face him, still beneath the blankets.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
He whispered your name. You didn’t move.
He tried again. “Can I do anything for you?”
You sniffled, and his heart nearly broke.
“Can I move the blanket, honey?” he asked.
The top of your head moved slowly in a nod.
He hooked a finger and pulled down carefully, revealing water-lined eyes with bags under them.
He thought as much. When things worsened, you never slept well.
“What do you need?” he whispered as gently as he could.
You didn’t look at him as your hand emerged to clutch your pillowcase.
“I don’t know,” you mumbled.
He nodded. He couldn’t let you stay like this.
“Then, could you do something for me? I know you won’t want to, but you can come right back. I promise.”
You glanced at him, then looked away. As much of an acknowledgment as he would get.
“Go take a shower. Take as long as you need,” he said.
You didn’t fight him, didn’t argue, and he took that as more of a bad sign than anything.
Once your bathroom door closed, he stripped the bed and threw everything in the washer. After replacing the sheets, he put the discarded clothes in your hamper and tossed any trash he spotted. He kept the blinds closed. Baby steps.
He was finishing putting the dishes away when you walked out in a towel and back into your room to change.
You didn’t ask what he was doing or tell him he didn’t have to do it. You almost ignored him.
You had already returned to bed when he entered. This time, you were against the headboard, staring off into space.
He sat beside you.
Your hands rested above the covers, wrists on display, and his shoulders relaxed.
It hadn’t gotten that bad.
He let you have your silence. Sometimes it was what you needed.
“Why are you friends with me?”
Sometimes it wasn’t.
“Because I need you,” he said.
It was all he thought to say. Superficial compliments wouldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. Hopefully, you’d believe him.
You shook your head. “You deserve better.”
He wanted to shield you from your own words. 
“(Y/N), I need you to look at me,” he said. And when you didn’t, he repeated himself. “Please?”
You glanced at him, rubbing the hem of your shirt between your fingers.
“Have I ever lied to you?” he asked gently.
You shook your head slowly, hunching your shoulders.
“I will always always tell you the truth,” he said. “You’re my best friend. That’s never going to change, okay?” He carefully pulled your hand between his. “I care about you so much, (Y/N). You’re never going to get rid of me.”
You sniffled, glancing at him through your lashes.
Tears lined his own eyes, threatening to spill forth.
You were his best friend. He’d be lost without you, and he needed you to know that he’d never go anywhere, that he belonged by your side. You made him feel seen. You made him feel sane.
Whatever you needed from him, he would give.
“Can you…Can you hold me?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking.
He answered by laying on his back, waiting for you to settle on his chest, hands still connected.
“Get some rest,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Malcolm stayed with you for the next few days. He even called Gil and said he had to take a personal day, much to Gil’s surprise and pleasure. Thankfully, Gil didn’t ask any questions. Malcolm never would’ve broken your trust like that.
Today was the first day you had gotten dressed. Malcolm considered that a massive sign you were starting to feel more like yourself.
“How’re you feeling?” He took in every feature of your face, searching for the most minute twitch.
“I’m…I’m better.” You nodded slowly. “I’m not okay. I know that, but I’m better than I was. Not everything’s as…dark.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up in a sympathetic smile. His fingers found yours, holding them lightly.
“All healing takes time. And I’ll be right here whenever you need me.” His eyes stayed locked with yours, nothing but sincerity in them.
You swallowed. “Thank you.”
He shook his head slightly. “You never need to thank me for doing something I want to do.”
It brought tears to your eyes—how kind he was. Malcolm was the only person you could trust with everything. He knew what it was like to be trapped in your own mind, to hate so many parts of yourself that you want to rip out.
And each time you were on the verge of relapsing, he’d pull you away from the edge. As you’d done for him.
“Why don’t we take a walk? See how many squirrels we can feed,” he said, offering you his arm.
Your face lifted, not a smile, but not so melancholy as it had been.
“Okay.”
Grasping the crook of his elbow, you interlocked your fingers there and let him lead you outside.
The sun's warmth sunk into your skin as Malcolm launched into what his mother was trying to rope him into. And when the first chuckle in a week passed your lips, the darkness didn’t feel so encompassing anymore.
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ivanzplaid · 2 years
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Hi! I hope your day is going well, could you do a grabber x reader head cannons where the reader has the mentality of those “never let them know your next move” tiktoks.
it’s weird but I thought it would be funny
hello! my days going excellent, thank you🫶 and of course i can, its not weird, i honestly think itd be funny, it would definitely be a whole new experience for him & he would have specific ways of dealing with it🙏🙏 also, i do write for headcannons! i love them sm
these are some quick jot downs i thought of through the day, i can make a more detailed or put together hc list if youd like!
as always, thank you for the request!! i surprisingly have a decent amount atm, so maybe on hold if you do ask something, but im getting them done asap :)
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Either absolutely adores or absolutely hates this about you, the middle is almost never an option for his feelings about it
When you first met him before being kidnapped, you walked away with his hat when he asked you to grab it, still doesnt know if you are hard of hearing or just difficult
He loves to talk to you about being a magician, he connects it with you being tricky
After a certain amount of time he will definitely try to teach you magic tricks
He genuinely finds you interesting, and although he hates when you pull a fast one on him, he finds life in it
When he gave you your first breakfast, you grabbed the tray from him and put a hand on his shoulder to sit and eat with you, didnt offer him a single piece, you just thought itd be nice
Your erratic behavior makes him go insane at times, especially on nights when he wants to play naughty boy
You will purposefully make the most noise on the stairs, going as far as to trip on them just so he will get out of the chair to peek down and find you asleep
This creeps him out and adds onto his irrational fear of the ghosts
On other nights, if he comes down to watch you, he will find you sleeping in any spot but the bed, prompting him to move you back on, only for him to get some shut eye for a minute and find you back off
You wait for him at the door, just staring blankly, and each time he finds you doing it you act like hes crazy and continue on with your day
During the first night he spent watching over you, he did not leave the door unlocked, you had made him realize how much work you were and he cannot mentally do it
On one of the rare occasions you two were talking normally, you abruptly stopped the conversation and switch the topic entirely
He thinks youre a little dumb but still appreciates your traits
Thinks youre a lively person, you can keep a conversation going well and even if you pull multiple stunts he might give you a giggle
He thrives off your personality and sometimes you instigate bad behavior for him
You often ask if you can hold one of his masks, claiming you only want to feel it, but you end up throwing it, making him extremely angry and questioning everything
When he makes you food you ask him to remake it because you 'don't like the way it looks'
You ever being let upstairs is off the table, you are too unpredictable for him, even months together don't change this
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something quick and easy for today, later ill fill in more of the fic requests later, but was a little busy today :)
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