#(especially cats- having spent nearly all of my life with a cat present in it they mean a lot to me) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamologisth2o · 3 years

Text

Why I Believe Endersmile Is Canon

Because I’m on a bit of an Endersmile binge--

This is all gonna be very messy and just me putting my thoughts together and I’ll probably not be going through the VODs for exact timestamps or anything because that’s exhausting and I applaud the people who do, but here are my thoughts on Endersmile and why I’m 100% convinced it’s canon. They’re besties your honor.

/rp Any names mentioned are referring to their dsmp characters and not the streamers themselves unless specified

First off: The Disc. Dream trusts Ranboo, a lot. He trusts him so much that he literally gave Ranboo one of the two discs he needed to pull off his big plan at the finale. He trusted Ranboo, so much that Ranboo deciding to give the disc back to Tommy or Tubbo wasn’t an option, even though Ranboo was friends with both, which he knew. I don’t know why he gave Ranboo the disc, or how he got the disc from Skeppy in the first place, and I’m sure he did have a hundred and one back up plans for if Ranboo did decide to give Tommy the disc, but asking Ranboo to hold onto the disc in the first place means Dream trusted him to a degree, and that’s big coming from Mr. “Reserved”.

Second: Knowing Dream’s Voice. Ranboo knows/remembers Dream’s voice well enough that he hears it whenever he’s in the panic room, that his subconscious uses Dream’s voice to force Ranboo to confront his fears. For a guy who hasn’t had any one on one time or conversations with Dream in VC on stream, he sure does a really good job imagining his voice. /s

Basically, they must have spoken, a lot. They must have spent time together outside planning for things or exchanging items or whatever. So much time, in fact, that Dream and Ranboo both end up sharing the same ideology of “People not sides” of “One big happy family” of “Being the person that stops conflicts” of “Being on all sides” of “Mediating between those sides” of “Choosing the side they think is right”.

During Ranboo’s prison visit dream/nightmare, the Voice tells Ranboo that the only reason Ranboo hasn’t been hearing it lately, is because he hasn’t been speaking with Dream as often. That Ranboo and Dream had talked with each other nearly everyday. And I’m inclined to believe that because the mere existence of the voice proves he’s heard Dream’s voice a lot, or he has a very good memory of Dream’s voice, which, considering his memory problems probably isn’t the case. This is further supported by how ever since Dream’s been in prison, ever since Ranboo banned himself from the prison, he hasn’t heard even a hint of Dream’s voice, not even as he’s remembering more and more.

Third: The Disc War Finale. During the disc war finale, we have in universe proof and out of character confirmation from both cc!Dream and cc!Ranboo that the characters had been staring at each other during the entire thing. Some friends on a discord server have also pointed out how Ranboo appeared to be avoiding Tommy’s gaze unless Tommy’s distracted. And during the entire thing Ranboo’s the only one not holding out a weapon, instead he’s got a book and quill in his hand. We’ve now also got confirmation that Ranboo was Enderwalking during the Disc War Finale, which makes all the strange behaviors make sense because if they’re friends, if they’re allies, then Ranboo didn’t show up to fight Dream. Then Dream might’ve been trying to convey something to Ranboo, like perhaps trying to keep Ranboo from doing something stupid and revealing their alliance. Especially if he planned on being put in Pandora, he really doesn’t need his friend to try and “save” him and ruin the whole plan.

Fourth: The Voice. I am inclined to believe the things the voice says. Why? Because everything the voice is talking about are all the things Ranboo doesn’t want to confront, doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to remember. The voice isn’t malicious. It’s not even Dream, it’s just using Dream’s voice to make Ranboo listen. And Ranboo knows it’s just himself. (also out of character confirmation from the cc!s that the voice is NOT Dream and never has been, it’s just a manifestation of all the shit Ranboo’s repressed coming up and slapping him in the face) Everything the voice does, all the things it says, is trying to get Ranboo to remember the “bad” things he’s done, to remember that he was on Dream’s side. To force him to face that side of himself that might be capable of doing bad things, if there’s a good enough reason. It exaggerates things, it makes them out to be worse than they actually are, but that’s how it’s able to get Ranboo’s attention, that’s how it’s able to force him to think about those things. Ranboo won’t do anything until he’s forced to face the problem, the Voice is just trying to get Ranboo to do that.

This is why I believe Ranboo DID blow up the community house. Why he’s working with or has worked for Dream in the past. Why he willingly gave Dream his memory book, possibly to create a visible conflict between them and ensure no one would connect them as allies, like what Dream wanted to do with Punz. And also because the other things it’s said, such as Ranboo being given the Cat disc to hold onto, have been proven to be true. Nothing the Voice has said has been confirmed a lie. And many of the things it’s talked about aren’t things we or Ranboo can find the answer to unless he talks to Dream, which is until the dude’s rescued from the prison, isn’t happening. (cc!Dream where’s your Dream lore?!?!?!)

That said, if Ranboo was the one to blow up the community house, then Dream was covering for him during the Disc War Finale. He didn’t have to. He could’ve thrown Ranboo under the bus. But he chose to take on that blame, make himself look even worse in the eyes of everyone gathered there while he was at their mercy, to protect Ranboo from similar persecution. Doesn’t this remind you of anything? And Ranboo’s got a track record of making friends with those who help him.

Fifth: The Visits. Ranboo has visited Dream in prison multiple times. At the very least at least 2 times that we have direct confirmation of, and probably even more. His visits are consistent enough that just a few days after Ranboo bans himself from the prison, Dream notices and starts a strike, tells Sapnap that Ranboo’s stopped visiting, asks him, his best friend who literally threatened to perma-kill him if he were to ever leave his horrible situation, to send a message to Ranboo. (which, I guess Dream still kinda trusts Sapnap despite everything that’s happened, huh?)

Why would Ranboo visit? Unless they’re friends, unless they’re allies? Because even Dream’s so called best friend only ever visited once. Even Bad who Dream claims to have been the nicest only ever visited once. And while Tommy and Quackity visited more than once, their multiple visits have very clear reasons behind them, while Ranboo’s just, don’t.

And consider: How did Ranboo know about the things that were said during the Disc War Finale, word for word, line for line, that he wasn’t present for, unless someone’s told him? Unless he heard about it from Dream himself. Unless that was what they were talking about. Unless that’s part of the reason Ranboo kept visiting Dream.

Sixth: The Lessons. I don’t know about you, but giving life lessons to someone sounds like something you’d do with a friend, and not just a “puppet”. The whole lessons book gives off really mentor mentee vibes, and considering how Ranboo’s following in Dream’s goal of stopping conflict and uniting the server, well. And the lessons aren’t even malicious, or designed to push Ranboo away from others. In fact, many of them, especially the last few ones we see, are designed to protect Ranboo! Unless Ranboo’s safety was a top priority for Dream, there’s not much reason to pass those lessons down. This lines up incredibly well with Dream taking the blame of the community house’s destruction during the Disc War Finale, as well as his protective streak at his own expense when it comes to his allies and the people he cares about. Which means Ranboo is someone he cares about, which means they’re friends! They’re besties your honor!

Seventh: Ranboo’s Vehement Denial. Ranboo is infamous for being an unreliable narrator, for being in incredible denial despite all evidence supporting otherwise. Which means his vehement denial that Dream can be anything but bad is a fairly obvious red flag that that’s not true, and that Ranboo has reason to believe it’s not true, but chooses to actively ignore or forget those reasons and attempts to reinforce the “everything’s Dream’s fault, he can never change and will always be bad” mentality, that sounds like something he stole from Tommy or c!Dream antis, because he doesn’t want to face the fact that he has reasons for believing the opposite. At this point, I am 100% on board with the idea that all these unprompted instances of Dream hate is just a blatant cover up of how that’s not true at all. (Which he touches on, ever so briefly, when he renovates the second stronghold room)

Aaaaand that’s it! For the most part. I could touch on how Enderboo is hoarding all the backbone in this relationship and that the dynamic between Enderboo and Ranboo is closer to that of someone waking up after a sugar high or going for three days straight without sleep than it is two completely separate people or someone who’s literally sleepwalking (and that “Enderboo” is his normal state and “Ranboo” is the sleep deprived not thinking straight state). But this post is already obscenely long and I should end it here.

TL;DR: They’re besties, your honor.

Anyways, if you got this far, thanks for reading!

#my thoughts #my posts #character analysis #endersmile #c!ranboo #long post #dreblr friendly

298 notes · View notes

lawisnotmocked · 3 years

Text

Queer Readings of Les Mis - Javert

Queer readings of classic literature are one of my favourite things and I’ve seen some great queer readings of Enjolras and Grantaire, and a few queer readings of Eponine and Valjean too but one queer reading that I don’t see much is of Javert, so I thought I’d do a queer reading of Javert with you guys today! This includes ace Javert, repressed gay Javert, and my ‘Javert realises he’s in love with Valjean before he dies but Valjean never realises or reciprocates his feelings’ reading so yeah be prepared for that! :’D

I feel like I should probably define what a queer reading actually is before I start because it’s a term used a lot in academia that some people might not have come across before! Queer readings are about challenging heteronormativity in texts and exploring ways in which a text can be interpreted as queer. While some queer readings of texts can focus on what the author’s potential intentions may have been, this isn’t a necessity. If you’re a younger queer person I just want to let you know that you’re allowed to want to see yourself in history and in literature, you have a right to assert your existence and you shouldn’t let anyone make you feel bad or silly for that uwu <3

Our first question is ‘is there any evidence in the brick that Javert is cishet?’ And the answer to that is there’s honestly no evidence at all to suggest that Javert is heterosexual.

In the brick we’re told that Javert isn’t really interested in anything outside of his work, including sexual and romantic relationships. The text actually suggests he’s never been in a relationship before and doesn’t desire one either - ‘And, withal, a life of privation, isolation, abnegation, chastity, with never a diversion.’ ‘As we have said, he had no vices. When he was pleased with himself, he permitted himself a pinch of snuff. Therein lay his connection with humanity.’ (1.5.5) In summary, Javert doesn’t fuck uwu Javert doesn’t have any friends either which is kinda sad someone form a human connection with this man :’3

With this evidence, one queer reading of Javert in the brick is that he’s aromantic and asexual, or somewhere on the aroace spectrum. Javert seems to have a total lack of interest in any kind of intimate relationship, and it’s entirely possible that he doesn’t experience attraction towards anyone.

Another queer reading we can take from Javert’s disinterest in relationships is that he’s attracted to men and represses all of his romantic and/or sexual feelings. Javert is really good at not thinking too hard about stuff, especially anything complicated like his own sexuality - thought was something to which he was unused, and which was peculiarly painful. (5.4.1) It’s the coping mechanism he uses to be able to maintain his black and white worldview, and it would make sense that that would extend into other areas of his personal life too.

Javert was raised in a very heteronormative society and is very respectful of authority and social norms. He’s religious just because that’s what’s socially expected of him, not because he’s thought particularly hard about his relationship with God. In his eyes, of course, the ecclesiastical authority was the chief of all; he was religious, superficial and correct on this point as on all others. (1.8.5) He knows he’s not interested in relationships with women, but he might not have even considered that being attracted to men was an alternative. Sure maybe he’s thought men were handsome before, but he literally doesn’t have the ability to reflect on what those feelings might mean for him and his sexuality. If you asked brick Javert what his sexuality was he’d probably say he was heterosexual, despite never actually experiencing sexual attraction towards women, because that’s the social default and he’s never bothered to question whether or not he might fit that default.

Alternatively, he might be aware that he is attracted to men, but that’s not a socially acceptable thing for him to feel so he just represses it along with all the other thoughts and feelings he has that question authority and the workings of society.

Revolutionary France decriminalized homosexuality in 1791, so this would be less of a legal issue for Javert than a social issue, since I’m assuming there was still a lot of social stigma surrounding being queer. I’m a queer historian but my period is medieval Europe not revolutionary France so if anyone has anything to add here please do ^^’

This wouldn’t be a Sirius Brand Meta Post if I didn’t talk about animal symbolism lol, so I’m gonna talk about animal symbolism now! Specifically the homoeroticism of the hunting symbolism and how surprising horny (voreny?) and repressed Javert is :’3

Then he began the game. He experienced one ecstatic and infernal moment; he allowed his man to go on ahead, knowing that he had him safe, but desirous of postponing the moment of arrest as long as possible, happy at the thought that he was taken and yet at seeing him free, gloating over him with his gaze, with that voluptuousness of the spider which allows the fly to flutter, and of the cat which lets the mouse run. Claws and talons possess a monstrous sensuality,—the obscure movements of the creature imprisoned in their pincers. What a delight this strangling is! Javert was enjoying himself. The meshes of his net were stoutly knotted. He was sure of success; all he had to do now was to close his hand. (2.5.10)

Like?? Hello sir are you okay?? What about this could possibly be heterosexual :’3 Dshdhdh okay I’ll go back to doing a kinda serious analysis I just have to bully Javert for being Like This :’3

Javert’s animal symbolism can actually be used as part of a queer reading as a way to understand how he emotionally reacts to things. Javert is at his most emotional in chapter 5.4.1, Javert derailed. He’s is forced to confront everything he’s denied and repressed about himself and other people, and a large portion of this chapter is dedicated to how he feels about Valjean specifically. Do I think Javert has been in love with Valjean this entire time and is finally forced to confront his feelings? No. Up until this point I think they’ve both seen each other as an inconvenience and an obstacle who they somehow keep running into, and I don’t think this changes for Valjean after he saves Javert. He just doesn’t know Javert well enough outside of ‘that one weird policeman I keep running into’ to have any strong feelings about him.

I will argue though that in Javert derailed, Javert is in love with Valjean. I’m not even sure if he’s consciously aware that that’s what he’s feeling and I don’t think he really knows how to express it either. Hugo chooses to express a lot of Javert’s more complex feelings through animalistic metaphors, because Javert feels things in a very instinctive and animalistic way, that’s just how his understanding of himself and his emotions works ^^’

When he had so unexpectedly encountered Jean Valjean on the banks of the Seine, there had been in him something of the wolf which regains his grip on his prey, and of the dog who finds his master again. (5.4.1)

Javert is clearly having very conflicted feelings about what his relationship with Valjean is after he spared his life at the barricade. There’s still that hunting instinct that tells him he’s found the convict he was tracking down, but there’s something else there too. ‘The dog who finds his master again’. I don’t know how many of you have dogs but they’re always so happy to see their humans again whenever you go somewhere! Javert is happy to see him! Javert missed him! Maybe he even feels some affection towards him! Even the wolf finding his prey is excited to see it again, and in both of these scenarios the dog and the wolf desire closeness with the object of their attention. The homoeroticism of the hunt!! The love and devotion of the dog!! Symbolically, Javert is breaking his ties with the police and forming a bond with Valjean. Emotionally he’s confused and conflicted but he knows that he wants to be close to Valjean.

In the end, ‘the dog who finds his master’ wins out over the ‘wolf which regains his grip on his prey’. Javert lets Valjean go, and then we get this:

A terrible situation! to be touched. ... to be the watch-dog, and to lick the intruder’s hand! to be ice and melt! to be the pincers and to turn into a hand! to suddenly feel one’s fingers opening! to relax one’s grip,—what a terrible thing! (5.4.1)

God the tenderness!!!! How could this not be love in Javert’s weird canid way!! The affection of the dog who licks the human’s hand, the devotion of the dog finding his master!! Javert’s utter devotion towards the society he served is now being projected onto Valjean. Javert loves Valjean. Javert is in awe of Valjean, he’s terrified of him in the same way that men are terrified of angels!

A benevolent malefactor, merciful, gentle, helpful, clement, a convict, returning good for evil, giving back pardon for hatred, preferring pity to vengeance, preferring to ruin himself rather than to ruin his enemy, saving him who had smitten him, kneeling on the heights of virtue, more nearly akin to an angel than to a man. (5.4.1)

What could this be but love from Javert? The man who spent his whole life devoted to system that placed no value on his life and ended it devoted to the man who saved it.

All of that aside, queer readings don’t have to match up with personal headcanons! I don’t want this post to feel like I’m telling you you have to interpret Javert’s character in the book the way I do, this is just one way of reading it! I love to headcanon Javert as bi but that isn’t really supported anywhere in the text lol uwu’’ A queer reading is just about queer elements that are present in the text and there is no way Inspector Javert can be read as heterosexual <3

I love genderqueer Javert headcanons too and I have genderqueer Javert feelings about the line “you’ve got a beard like a man, mother, but I have claws like a woman,” but I also don’t know how to articulate any feelings I do have about it so I’m just leaving it here. Trans rights uwu

Thank you for reading this whole thing I really appreciate it when people get something out of my rambling lol, and as always reblogs are very appreciated and anyone is very welcome to add on to this if they’d like! <3

#javert #valvert #les mis #les miserables #les mis meta #queer readings #here's my queer reading of Javert as promised uwu <3 #monsters of our making

302 notes · View notes

luna-the-moth · 3 years

Text

Tainted Elysium(SFW)

Hello dear! Ohoho, I love this prompt, you have no idea! I’m so sorry if you wanted this in hc/scenario form, but the story potential for this was just Screaming at me- Also, this follows my hc that the Celestial Realm is corrupt (Pointedly looks at the angel event)

As the request says, there will be a character death.

Word count: 1.7k

Reblogs, likes, and comments are lovely to see!

Satan with a Reincarnated Angel! Reader. SFW! With a GN! reader.

Requests are open, but please read my rules and guidelines before reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~

How could this happen?

Falling onto his knees, Satan watched, helpless as your limp body sat lifelessly in the pentagram. Your eyes were wide, shock still ever-present on your features, a last reminder of your death.

He brought himself onto his feet, kneeling beside you, tears dripping onto your cold, lifeless skin. Your body was still warm, although your face had been drained of any remaining sign of life, similar to a mannequin.

This isn’t how he planned things to go, no- You were supposed to become immortal through the ritual, not die. Solomon had said this was one of the safest routes to immortality.

Mind spiraling, Satan gripped his head between his hands, trying to grasp any last shreds of his control. He couldn’t lose is composure. No, he had worked too hard to repress himself, he can’t lose it now.

“Perfect, the ritual has been completed and seems to be successful. Now we just need to wait.” Solomon mused smugly, pleased with his work.

Snapping his head to the sorcerer, Satan’s eyes held a sea of emotions. Disbelief, shock, betrayal, and wrath. Pure, unpolished wrath, in it’s rawest, most carnal form.

“Successful? Successful? They just died, and you say the ritual has been successful? You had sworn that they would become immortal, Solomon.”

His facade was crumbling down as he spoke flames of green and black peeking between his form, the demonic form he despised was coming loose. With a roar, his body expanded, clothes being torn to shreds as an equestrian form stood proudly where a demon once stood.

Charging at the sorcerer, Satan’s jaw opened, a maelstrom of green flames bursting from his mouth, swirling in a cyclone of hellish fire. After that, Satan’s mind blacked out, completely losing control over his grief.

All that he could remember, was the body of his lover fading into white butterflies behind the sorcerer, a white glow taking over your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan doesn’t remember how long it’s been since you’ve died.

Don’t get him wrong, he isn’t going to be completely hung up in mourning for your death as long as he lives, but there are times he’ll see pieces of you. Those are the moments the grief will come rushing back.

In certain lines of poetry, ones you had always asked him to read at night.

The cat cafe in the human world, where you would always end up taking dozens of pictures of him, letting him unabashedly show his adoration for the creatures.

But the memory that hurt most of all, was your wit, charm, and intelligence. Smiling, he fondly remembered the way your eyes would gleam when discussing flower symbolism, or demonic history you had learned of in the human world.

You would ramble on for hours, passionate and lively, something Satan greatly admired. You were unapologetically yourself around him, no mask, and no tricks to convince him of otherwise.

Now, he would stop by your gradually crumbling tombstone every year, placing a bouquet of flowers on your grave, along with a bundle of cherry blossoms. They were one of your favorites, and he smiled as he reminisced about your love of the aromatic flora.

However, today was different. Your grave wasn’t there, instead, an angel. Near your gravestone, was an angel, bathed in a heavenly glow, halo shining brightly. Beside the angel, was a young child, a mortal soul, recently deceased.

As the little boy grabbed your hand, Satan’s eyes widened, seeing your face. Nearly dropping the bouquet, he softly placed a hand over his mouth, disbelief and shock clouding his mind.

So this is what Solomon had meant by immortal. You really were immortal, but not in the way he had thought.

Seeing you in silver armor, white cape flowing down your back, it was almost surreal. Your eyes had taken on a white ring, glowing around your irises, brighter than the stars themselves.

Satan hadn’t spent much time in the Celestial Realm, besides the time he had been a part of Lucifer’s subconscious. There had been scriptures in the human world of beautiful, ethereal angels, along with their interpretations of their true forms.

Yet in Satan’s eyes, angels were repulsive creatures. Arrogant, with a twisted sense of justice. Blindingly bright, they were merely demons, masquerading themselves as helpers, and merciful beings. Pathetic excuses for angels.

Seeing his lover become an angel? It made his blood boil. They had taken you, and tainted you. Bleaching you with their morals, molding you into another animatronic being, just another slave to their sick minds

Stepping forward, Satan took a leap of faith to see if you recognized him, and whether or not you would attack him. If there was a shred of you left, even a flicker of memory, there was a chance he could help you see the truth.

However, when within a few steps of approaching, you whirled around, eyes blazing. With a flash of light, you drew out a spear, immediately lunging toward him, blade tilting his chin up.

“Hello Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you again, my dear.”

Leering, you asked,

“What business do you have with me, Angel of Mercy, wretched demon? Have you come to taint this child? To take him, turning his soul into a meal? Or perhaps, a lessor demon?”

At hearing this statement, the child took on an expression of pure fear, immediately flashing away, the ghostly apparition of his soul disappearing. Perhaps another angel would find him again, or a hungry demon.

With nothing but pure disgust and scorn in your eyes, Satan couldn’t help but bark out a bitter laugh. So this is what they’ve done to you? Modeled you after the archangel Raphael, ever so eloquent and haughty. It’s almost as if the heavens were laughing at him as they had altered you.

Fate really is a cruel mistress, isn’t she? Hasn’t he suffered enough, a demon of Wrath? Cast out even among his own brethren, the only true demon amongst fallen angels.

As you glowered down at him, spear nearly piercing his throat, Satan chuckled. How ironic, that his lover would be reformed into a being that Satan loathed, and one who despised him in return.

Of course not, the heavens would always scorn him, and take whatever they could from him. Twisting them into their vision of perfection, mindless slaves with no free will.

Being reincarnated to an angel of mercy as well, added insult to the injury. Your gaze was hardened in a burning hatred. To you, he was nothing but a mere demon, a being of sin, who deserves to be cast out as scum.

Shock evident across your face, your eyes flashed in suspicion as Satan didn’t show signs of hostility, nor wanting to retaliate. But demons were known to be charming and deceptive, especially the Avatars.

Looking at you with mournful, tired eyes, Satan had nearly given up on bringing you back. And now, you were here in front of him. Yet you didn’t even remember his name. A sad smile making it’s way across his features, he couldn’t help but think.

After all he’s done for himself, and to distance himself from his sin; Fate still frowned on him. Born from wrath, forever seen as an uncontrollable beast, no matter how he painted himself, he would always be struck down, time and time again.

You couldn’t help but feel an odd familiarity within those forest green eyes, and carefully lowered your spear, suspicion morphing into curiosity. Why had that name sounded so familiar?

How could a demon be anything other than the vile creatures told about in the Celestial Realm, filthy and deceptive?

However, you had assumed it was him influencing your mind, when in reality, it was quite different. With a burst of light, the spear disappeared from sight, although you were still in a cautious stance, ready to summon it again.

Deciding to make a leap of faith, Satan carefully presented you the bouquet of flowers he had brought with him. Presenting them to you in a non-threatening manner, lest you point your spear at him again.

This year’s bouquet was different; a new arrangement, one that conveyed his yearning, love, and heartbreak. You had loved Victorian flower symbolism, so he saw these as apt choices for flowers. These flowers consisted of:

Pink camellias (Longing for you), red carnations (Alas for my poor heart, my heart aches), pink carnations (I’ll never forget you), red chrysanthemums (I love you), columbines (Foolishness, folly), gladiolus (Remembrance), and hydrangeas (Gratitude for being understood; frigidity and heartlessness). Accepting these wouldn’t mean you would automatically fall in love again. Hell, you didn’t even have to be friends at the end of the day. Did he expect you to take it and eventually change your mind? No.

But perhaps if you saw the darker side of things, you would have a different perspective on demons and angels. What Satan wanted, was for you to see the truth. The truth about who you were before, and what’s happened to you.

Taking a step back, you stiffen. Unconsciously clenching your hands, swarms of doubt cloud your mind. Was this some sort of trick? Perhaps a plan to sweep you away, an attempt to seduce you?

However, looking at his eyes, you couldn’t deny the genuine tenderness those emerald orbs shone. Your instincts and thoughts clashed against one another, and time seemed to freeze, the two of you stuck in an eternal will-they-won’t-they.

Throughout your exchange with the Avatar, you had been wondering why a demon of his rank would care so much for a human, and felt an odd curiosity about him.

It didn’t make sense, as the dead human’s soul would be in the Devildom or Celestial Realm by now. Why would he bother visiting a soulless grave, with no benefits to reap?

In a decision made of curiosity and unknown futures, you let out a shaky breath. Extending a trembling hand, you gently wrapped your fingers around the bouquet; Quickly bringing it to your chest as your finger brushed Satan’s.

No fireworks appeared, nor did you kiss under the light of day. You didn’t fully believe Satan, and the demon in question was still in shock, finding out about your existence. Your prejudices weren’t magically wiped away; Neither was Satan’s grief.

But it was a start.

#my writing #obey me #obey me angst #obey me fluff #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me scenario #obey me headcanon #obey me satan x reader angst #obey me fic #obey me x reader

116 notes · View notes

all1e23 · 4 years

Text

Tricks & Treats

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Orion’s Halloween is quickly turning rotten until someone helps to turn her day around with a few sweet treats.

Warnings: N/A Unless you count a disgusting amount of fluff to be a warning.

A/N: A new Astrophile drabble! This is set in the very far future, Halloween 2042. Orion is 27 and it’s just the kiddos. No Beck or Bucky. This does have some bits (okay a lot of bits) of the the shared Price of Astrophile universe collab with Tara and if you haven’t read The Price of Gold you need to! Thank you to my beautiful @moonbeambucky for looking it over for me. If you have not read the series Astrophile, THERE WLL BE MAJOR SPOILERS.

Catch up on the series here!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!*

Halloween 2042

Today has been a disaster. A complete and utter nightmare. It started with spilling hot tea all over her copy of Star Lore and down the front of her favorite skirt, which forced Ori to settle for the little black number Cassie bought her as a Halloween costume. It’s supposed to be a cat but it’s really a dress accompanied by cat ears. It’s not that it’s awful, it’s not her usual taste. It’s a simple spaghetti strap dress, sweetheart necklace that doesn’t dip too low and cut just above her knee. As far as Halloween costumes go it’s fairly modest but it’s a little tight compared to the rest of Ori’s closet.

Little did she know that was just the beginning to her terrible day. This was the first day in months that Ori was running the store on her own. No mom to fall back on. Not that it hasn’t happened before. At fourteen Ori was working the floor by herself so none of this was new but, today has been a nightmare from the moment the doors opened. It was unusually busy for a holiday, especially Halloween. It wasn’t often that the store was packed with customers on a day like today and there were moments when Ori began to feel claustrophobic with the amount of people filling the tiny shop.

Half of the morning was spent on decorating the window display for a new series that was set to be released at the beginning of November. The copies were scheduled to be delivered today, but they never showed and when Ori called to check on their status, the man she was unlucky enough to be put in contact with screamed at her, explaining that it was a holiday and not everyone spent their lives working.

It was one of those days where she wished she was ten years old again and Bucky could swoop in and save the day.

By some miracle, there was a lull, and she was able to slip behind the counter where her phone is kept when she’s working the floor alone. She swiped away the missed calls from Cassie and ignored the texts from Leo. There was only one person who knew how to calm the swirling mess in her head right now and she knows how pathetic she looks, twenty-seven, and tears swimming in her eyes. She didn’t care because just hearing his voice would help settle her. Theo’s voice rang her ear and as happy as she was to hear it, part of her wished it wasn’t his voicemail.

“H-hey,” Ori’s voice cracked, she cleared her throat ridding it of the tears choking her. “I know you’re at work. I’m sorry I’m calling. Please tell me I didn’t get you in trouble. I’m so sorry if I did. I just… I needed to hear your voice. I’m having a really awful day. That party with Cassie is tonight. I don’t want to go even though Cassie says it will be fun. And this new series. This stupid dumb shipment. They said they would be here today and I spent all morning doing the window display between the mad rush of customers by the way, they never showed. When I called to check in they said they can’t get here because it’s a holiday and well, they yelled at me. Now, I have to find something to replace the window display and spend another hour fixing what I did this morning. The store is so incredibly busy. I haven’t even stopped for lunch. I’m hungry and tired and I hate this day. Great. Now, I’m whining. Did I mention that I miss you? Well, I do and-”

“Ma'am?” A deep voice grabs Ori’s attention and she turns around to find a man in a UPS shirt standing behind the counter, she smiles as kindly as she can and pulls the phone away from her mouth to answer him, “I’m so sorry. Can I help you?”

“We have your delivery.”

Ori can feel the color drain from her face. She shouldn’t have that many boxes and the publisher on the clipboard being handed to her isn’t right.

“Wait… No. No, I didn’t order that. That’s not mine-”

“Orion Barnes?”

“Well, yes that’s me but,” She sighs, holding back the whimper that’s threatening to escape her. “Can you hold on just one second?"

Ori didn’t wait for his okay like she normally would have, she stepped towards her office and put the phone back up to her ear, “I guess my terrible, awful, no good day isn’t over. Talk to you soon? I hope.”

Orion had her eyes glued to a stack of invoices in front of her when the bell above the shop door rang. Thankfully, she was able to clear up the whole shipping mixup, but dealing with that set her even further behind inventory. It didn’t matter much. She knew who it was without having to raise her head. Ori didn’t have to look up to know her sister had arrived. Cassie skipped nearly everywhere, she has since she was old enough to walk and between the jingling of the bracelets on her wrist, the massive keyring on her purse, and the bells on her shoes (that had nothing to do with Halloween) it was easy to know when she arrived. The jingling came to a stop next to Ori, and a slight nudge to her hip that made Ori look up from the papers in her hand to find Cassie handing over a small brown paper bag from the bakery next door. Ori narrows her eyes at the gesture. Is she trying to butter her up about the party tonight?

“What’s this?”

“Cinnamon bagel from next door,” Cassie said with a certain self-satisfied taunt to her voice. “A certain boy texted me and said you hadn’t eaten today and asked if I could bring you something when I come by to pick you up for tonight."

Ori beams brightly as she peeks in the bag, avoiding her baby sister'’ suspicious and slightly giddy gaze.

“Question. Why is Theo texting me about your food needs and how does he know about tonight?”

She doesn’t answer, but this isn’t unusual. Like Bucky, Ori’s softer, gentler when it comes to revealing things close to her heart. There are some secrets she’s not ready for the world (or herself) to know yet. Cassie on the other hand is loud, in all things, but especially with what’s written on her heart. She loves just as deeply as Ori does but she’s quick to shout it from the rooftops, without a hint of fear.

Ori wishes she could be like that sometimes.

“Something is up. I can tell by the smile you’re trying to hide!”

"I’m smiling because I was hungry and it was very thoughtful of you both.”

Ori finally gets a look at Cassie’s costume when Cassie sheds her coat and she can’t help the surprised laugh that slips out. She’s in a white cotton dress that looked like it was made from one of those adult onesies, covered in glitter from head to toe and the rainbow leggings she has on matches the tail sticking out of the bottom of her coat and the mane on her hood she has pushed down.

“What are you wearing?!”

“What? I’m a sparkly unicorn. I look adorable!”

Ori grins.

“Yes, you do. You look beautiful.”

The bell chimes again and Ori greets her brother without looking, he’s never far behind Cassie after all. Leo looked pretty much like he always does, slacks and a button-up white collared shirt under his coat but he was wearing black square-frame glasses. He leans over the mahogany counter and presses a kiss on Ori’s cheek. Whatever Cassie was hoping to get out of Ori would never happen now that Leo was present. Ori laughed at the pout on Cassie’s face, picking at the bagel as she scans over the invoice in front of her.

“Ready for tonight?” Leo asks as he steals a piece of her bagel.

Ori shrugs a little, glancing at the clock and sighed when she saw it was nearing six. They would be pushing her out the door soon. It’s not that she didn’t like going out, she did. Things have been off lately and she hasn’t felt much like socializing, which is why her siblings insisted they have a party. If it turns out to be as terrible as she predicts it’s going to be, she can always call Bucky to pick her up because no matter what Bucky still drops everything to come to her rescue whenever she needs it.

“It’s going to be fun!”

“I guess. I’m not really a party person.”

“I know but you make the cutest cat ever.”

Leo’s brow furrows and the worry on his face has him looking so much like Bucky it almost makes Ori laugh.

“You’ve been working a lot. Skipping family stuff. When was the last time you came to family dinner and didn’t rush out the door? Mom said you’re working more hours than she is-”

“I should! She deserves time with dad and it’s not like I have a life waiting on me right now.”

It’s been a little over a year since she called off her wedding and ended things with Cole and while she’s happy that relationship has ended, she’s nowhere near where she thought she would be at her age. She had plans and lists, milestones she promised herself she would hit by a certain age and now she’s… floating. No purpose. No real path. Simply riding her mother’s coattails, managing a store she wouldn’t have without her mother and she has no idea where she’s going or what her future is going to look like. It’s terrifying. So maybe she’s been spending a little more time at work to keep her mind busy. Sometimes it doesn't quite calm the chaos in her head, but staying busy helps.

“That’s not true. You have us and, yeah, mom deserves a break but so do you. We thought it would be good to get out of the house. If you hate it I’ll bring you home.”

Ori smiles. Leo has always been their protector, ready to jump in and save his mom and sisters from anything that could cause them the slightest bit of discomfort. She couldn't be aggravated with him for wanting to help, he’s only following in Bucky’s footsteps.

“Yeah, okay. Today has been a mess. Give me a few minutes to wrap things up, okay?”

She’s barely had time for her eyes to focus on the words in front of her when Cassie chirps from her side, “The window display is a mess. What happened there?”

“Cassie!”

“I’m just saying. Want me to help you fix it tomorrow?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Ori snatches the brown bag with her bagel resting on top and heads back towards the office in hopes she will be able to focus there, “and yes. I would like help. Thank you.”

“I’ll watch the desk!” Cassie shouts behind her, getting an appreciative smile from Ori. The quiet doesn’t last long. The shop bell is ringing and Cassie is yelling for her before she’s managed to make it through one invoice.

“Ori! Get out here. There’s a delivery.” Cassie’s shouts are piercing her ears and she’s certain the entire bakery next door can hear her clear as day. Ori steps back out onto the sales floor, frowning and having every intention of reminding Cassie not to scream in the store, but she can’t because she’s staring at the largest bundle of lavender she’s ever seen.

“I-- this. What is this?”

“They are for you!” Cassie squeals but quickly stops smiling and looks at the older gentleman who is wearing a warm smile when he confirms that they are indeed for her sister.

“Yes, ma’am,” The man says with a chuckle, “If you’re Orion Barnes. These are for you.”

He passes the delicate bundle wrapped in brown paper in her arm and passes over a pen for her signature. She quickly scribbles her name and pulls the small white card out of the twine, grinning foolishly at what’s written.

“Who are they from?” Cassie begs, jumping up and down. “I already know but I need to see the card myself.”

Ori presses the card to her chest to keep Cassie from sneaking a peek, she’s not willing to share a bit of the sweetness written there. Cassie quickly gives up on the card and snatches the receipt before Ori can grab it, finding exactly what she was looking for.

“Theo Tucker! I knew it!”

The thin paper is pulled from Cassie’s hand by Leo, who is staring at the receipt with a deep frown as if he can’t process what he is seeing.

“Why is Theo sending you flowers? Where did he find a place that delivers lavender like that? More importantly… why is Theo sending you flowers?"

Ori can’t answer her brother, she’s too busy grinning like a fool and hiding her blushing cheeks behind the soft purple sprigs in her arms.

“What do you mean ‘Why is Theo sending her flowers?’ Because he loves her. Am I the only that’s been paying attention?”

"He loves you. It's the same thing and you don’t get flowers.”

“It is a hundred percent not the same thing, Leo.”

There’s the faint sound of the twins arguing in the background, “How is it different?” “Leo you can’t be serious. You’ve seen the way he looks at her!” She should probably stop their bickering but she can’t. She can’t focus on anything, not while she’s daydreaming about California.

Maybe it wasn’t the worst day, after all.

“So, are you going to wear a sprig of lavender as your catnip? Seems like it added a little spring in your step.”

“Cassie!”

Cassie had squealed when Ori asked her to draw a cat nose and whiskers on her face. If she was going to dress as a cat she had to go all out. The ears, while cute, weren’t enough to satisfy the perfectionist in her. Before they left her apartment, she sent Theo a thank you text and a picture of her all dressed up. The simple response, you look beautiful, makes her stomach flip and leaves her head spinning. It drops a fraction when Leo asks why she’s smiling at her phone with such a goofy grin.

No one is ready for that answer, so she tucked her phone in her purse for now.

The minute they arrived, Leo stepped through the front door and pulled his shirt open to reveal a giant S stitched onto his blue undershirt and he proceeded to do several more times throughout the night. Despite her reservations about the party, it wasn’t so bad. Or maybe she was simply in a better mood. She spent a better part of the night hanging around Cassie and Ariel, who was dressed as Tinker Bell and her lovesick Peter Pan never strayed from her side for long. Ori didn’t know a lot of the people currently filling Leo and Ollie’s apartment, so it felt safer to stick by family.

At some point a small group of people broke off from the larger party and started playing spin the bottle. It was strange to watch twenty year olds play a childhood game. There was bobbing for apples which didn’t seem all that sanitary if you asked Ori, which is why she declined rather emphatically when asked if she wanted to try.

Halfway through the night their mom texted asking for pictures, so she took a few with Cassie and Ariel, some of her and Leo and of course all of them posing together. She even sent the few of Ariel and Ollie off to the Tuckers. Another text comes in but it’s not a response from her parents, a very handsome Indiana Jones pops up and she can’t help the huge smile that forms. He looks adorable with that hat and playful smirk and she tells him so. Ori peered over her phone to find Cassie and Ariel smiling, she cleared her throat and quickly hid her phone back in her purse.

“Oh, look. There are some mummy cupcakes left. I better go grab one before they disappear,” Ori had muttered as she quickly tried to divert attention off of her.

There was every Halloween themed treat you could think of. The chocolate covered strawberries dressed up as ghosts, bloody s’mores, and candy corn rice krispy treats were gone first. When Ori asked how they managed to do all this, Leo admitted with a sheepish grin that their mom had done most of the baking and Cassie and Ariel had decorated. She should have known Ariel had a hand in the planning, it was too well organized for Leo and Ollie to handle on their own.

The party started to die down a little after one in the morning, Leo offered his bed but Cassie was already fast asleep and there was no way she was sharing with that human koala. After refusing to take Leo’s spot on the couch, Leo brought her back home with the promise to text him the minute he got back. There’s no way he would let her catch a cab back to her place all by herself.

It’s nearly three by the time Ori trudges up the stairs to her apartment. She’s tired, but it’s a good kind of tired. Not that she will ever admit this to Cassie but tonight was fun. It wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be, and a very important someone was missing but it wasn’t as bad as she envisioned. She slips out of her heels and drops her purse on the table by the front door, she can clean up tomorrow when she’s not struggling to keep her eyes open. Right as she reaches kitchen island where her bouquet is sitting in her mother’s chipped mint green vase, her phone rings in her hand and she can’t help but grin at the name staring back at her.

“Hey, you.”

Ori grins, dusting a finger over a stray sprig and she’s suddenly not feeling as tired.

“My day? You know, it wasn't so bad actually. It got better there at the end. Even better now.”

#Orion Barnes #astrophile files #Theo Tucker x Orion Barnes #Theo x Ori #the price of astrophile #poa #Astrophile

386 notes · View notes

ofcowardiceandkings · 4 years

Photo

UH WHOA not only am i posting art but theres so much of it lmfao

ive been meaning to do this for mmmm a long time, and i decided to get it cleaned up so i can present folks with my homebrew/headcanon/thingy for the d&d playable races !! i know ive missed a few off but these are ones ive seen more of over all in my own travels in Nerd Game lol

ive only DMed one thing so far (our lost mines of phandelver adventure was a total blast but oh boy the shenanigans) but im like ... drowning in it all, have been for a loooonng time since i first played Neverwinter Nights when i was like 11, i just didnt have a party to mess with yet lmao (fingers crossed our schedules get sorted so the campaign goes ahead soooooonnn).. so ive been developing some of these various homebrewy headcanons for uh over half my life

getting them all together in one place like this was unbelievably fun !!

gonna yell under the cut for a bit about it more but very shortly i’ll be opening for d&d character / item / creature commissions so watch this space or pop me a message to get in a queue <3

these headcanon things are half based on “that looks cool” and Sciencing. a lot of the more humanoid in some way races ive really pulled on human ancestors a lot, as well as muscle development in different sports. And Animals, because ye

i haven’t included humans in this mammoth endeavour because we should all know what a Human People looks like, and their proportions aren’t any different in the world of D&D i run at least lol similarly, because they’re an exact intersection between humans & either elves or orcs, the half-species arent included on here either [shrugs] i WILL talk about them some here though !!

i might eventually update this with some npc generators ive made using my own descriptors and headcanons >.>

ELVES av height; 5′6 | heads-high; 8.5 generally long limbed, with fine wispy hair, elves senses are very heightened. helping in this, their eyes are almond-shaped with slightly narrow pupils, their large radar-like ears are very mobile, and the underside of their noses are covered in a lightly damp pitted leather. part of their ability to maintain grace with an elongated frame, aside from longer springy feet, is aided by a tail built somewhat like a horse, with a skirt of hair down its length, only with a slightly longer bone to it than would be seen in the typical pony. excepting a very light dusting on their lower limbs, they typically have very little body hair. sometimes their skin shimmers, or freckles sparkle.

GNOME av height; 3′6 | heads-high; 6.5 gnomes are almost like diminutive elves with a few key differences. their hair tends to be wild if left alone, but is often styled wildly anyway. set rather low on rounded but long faces, their large almond eyes are keen, and small hands very nimble. it’s not sure if its due to their close environments or frequent encounters with accidents in experiments, but their skulls are surprisingly hard, and they possess small horn nubs made of bone and coated in keratin. their small petal-shaped ears are set low and point outward, and are able to move a little to catch sound. they may look fragile due to their size and build but they are pretty hardy and more than capable.

HALFLING av height; 3′ | heads-high; 6 a very hardy but soft and welcoming folk, halflings are built for walking and surviving well, often coming from a semi-nomadic tradition. they typically have round faces with stronger jaws and soft round eyes, and their large ears are pointed upright. their figures easily get a little curved and chubby, especially when they have easy access to decent food, in preparation for harder times and the odd period of hunkering down for some downtime, say in poor weather. truly the most functional part of a halfling is their short powerful legs with big fairly flexible hard feet, and lion-like tail for balance, both insulated by hair.

DWARF av height; 4′3 | heads-high; 6.5 dwarves are accustomed to life in tougher terrain, typically with large parts spent in the ground. their broad frames are also squat down with thick short limbs, for huge power and for life in tunnels. wide feet keep them steady and sensitive to significant seismic energy in the earth, and wide hands aid in their work and the feel of the rock. their large round ears stick outward and are slightly mobile, large noses help condition the air, and high-set eyes with huge irises aid their vision in darker spaces and the ability to peek over things without being fully exposed. their skulls are also very thick just in case of falling rocks. all dwarves are very hairy and grow beards, taking pride in keeping and styling it.

GOLIATH av height; 7′6 | heads-high; 10 a totally different variety of rock & mountain people to dwarves, they do share a few traits. a goliath’s thick limbs are long with a big reach and huge stride, with big hands and feet for steady movement. as well as being hugely tall, they are broad, especially in their shoulders, with a long neck elevating their head further. their facial features tend to be very sharp, but long. they have little to no body hair, and they often dont grow head hair either, but decorate their skulls with tattoos. as they get older, the upper surfaces of their body develop pebble like growths under the skin, often in similar patterns to their habitats.

FIRBOLG av height; 7′6 | heads high; 9 firbolg typically live in deep forests but are actually a giantkin - although not too unbelievable given their huge height and thick build. large parts of their body are hairy, nearly furry, and their head hair is thick and wild, and they often have facial hair too. their large heads have long thick noses with an almost bovine leather to their top lips, and wide set eyes. their fluffy ears are very mobile, but when relaxed they drop and point downward. their nails are thick and sturdy, aiding in being even more dexterous while being so big. sometimes they are covered in layers of clothing, but they possess a tiny goat-like tail.

DRAGONBORN av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 8 dragonborns diverged from true dragons in the ancient past, likely due to a strong magical influence of some kind, but not so long ago that the bloodlines of dragons are absent from the race of dragonborn. (the illustration shows the typical head-shape and placement of ears, each bloodline has its own features). their chest is still very round like an animal, with deep chest muscles, a slightly less mobile shoulder, and short upper arm. their 4 clawed hands and feet somewhat resemble that of a true dragon, but smaller and a little less dangerous. the length of a dragonborn’s tail can vary from just the length from hips to floor, or up to their full height, and as well as being very useful for balance and dexterity, can be used for fighting. different bloodlines can interbreed, with it being a matter of chance which line is present in offspring (although metallic is more dominant over gemstone, and chromatic over both ... (ah yeah gemstone, ill get to that soon))

AARAKOCRA av height; 5′ | heads-high; 8.5 as an avian species, especially one capable of flight, the aarakocra’s bones are hollow, making them on the one hand very agile but a little fragile. their large wingspan nearly brushes the floor, and their wings attach high on their back, through to a deep avian keel. their arms have a long forearm, which is covered in bird-like scutes, and their 4 clawed hands are still remarkably talon like which quite short palms and very mobile thumbs. their legs are very long and powerful, and backed by a typically wedge shaped tail. more often than not, their physical appearance takes after raptor species of birds, but different populations can trend towards many different appearances, including parrots and waterfowl.

TABAXI av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 9 tabaxi are an unusual sight in many places still. their cat-like bodies are very flexible and suited to their athletic climbing lifestyle. their long hands and feet have very a powerful grip, and they can retract their front claws. their long feline face is something like a cheetah or a clouded-leopard, with large highly mobile ears, large eyes and a strong nose.

ORC

av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 8

orcs are very powerfully build, with heavy muscles and thick bodies overall. compared to other humanoids they can look a little gorilla-like. their short legs are usually a little bent to carry weight better instead of busting knees when locked. their course wiry hair grows profusely all over their body. their strong nails often grow out a little pointed. their large thick heads have high heavy brows and protruding lower jaws, short round noses and low bud-shaped ears which stick outward. the lower jaw and sometimes upper contain tusks, sometimes multiple tusks, which are greatly cared for and very impressive.

HALF-ELVES av height; 5′6 | heads-high; 8.25 a half-elf’s build will be somewhere between human and elf, often inheriting something of an elf’s eyes and nose leather, shorter elf ears, and maybe a small tufted tail something like a rabbits

HALF-ORCS av height; 6′ | heads-high; 8 a half-orc’s build will be somewhere between human and elf, often inheriting something of an orc’s skin colour and dark and profuse wiry hair, shorter orc ears, and some small tusks.

GOBLIN av height; 4′ (stood straight) | heads high; 5.5 bat/cat-like ears, nose something like bear/cat, domed head, arms/legs same length, sparse wiry hair, claws, short digits, lithe but very strong and hardy

HOBGOBLIN av height; 5′3 (stood straight) | heads high; 8 bat/cat-like ears but pinched at the base, nose something like bear/cat, very domed head, arms slightly longer than legs, claws, sparse wiry hair, quite broad

BUGBEAR av height; 7′ (stood straight) | heads high; 7.5 bat-like ears, long domed head something like a lion/bear, arms very long, nearly totally covered in thick fur, big tusks and often fangs, very bear-like hands/feet, big claws, very broad

TRITON av height; 5′2 | heads high; 7.5 lithe but well muscled, quite streamlined for a humanoid, frilled ears, pretty flat face, fins on limbs/back, “hair” is tendrils/fins/etc, short strong legs & long arms, long webbed fingers, long flipper feet, gills along front/side of chest

YUAN-TI PUREBLOOD av height; 5′9 | heads high; 9 domed angular faces, lips are not humanoid, triangular eyes, scales, quite flat nostrils with sense pits following along underside cheekbones, very little cartilage in ear, some may have cobra hoods extending out of ear instead, very tall and thin with small hands/feet, reptilian claws

CENTAUR av height; 7′ | heads high; 10 fairly stocky pony body (usually about 4′10 at withers), very muscled front end, long neck & sloping human-shoulders, long faces with long broad noses, prominent lips, horse-like ears sticking up and out, their whole scalp can grow hair but shaved sides are common, can grow hair nearly all down human-spine

KOBOLD av height; 2′6 | heads high; 5.5 almost alligator-like head & eyes, tiny nub horns, quite animal-like chest, arms/legs same length, thick stubby tail same length of body, 4 digits with stubby claws, lithe but strong for their tiny size

KENKU av height; 4′ | heads high; 5.5 corvid features, deep chest but no keel, longer arms than legs, 4 digits with talons, hands human-like but scaled, wedge-like tail half of leg height, not-quite fully bird feet.

LIZARDFOLK av height; 6′6 | heads high; 7 iguana-like, egg-shaped head, neck wattle, line of back spines varies in height, long arms and legs, very reptilian hands and feet with long claws, elbow spikes

GRUNG av height; 3′ | heads high; 6.5 large heads, neck leads nearly directly into torso, super flexible, very long limbs, triangular body, short upper arm, shorter thigh, large hands/feet, 4 digits

LOXODON av height; 7′6 | heads high; 5.5 large head, trunk as long as torso, short legs / long arms, huge bones under thick muscle, thick skin, 4 digits with thick nails, large hands / rounded cushioned feet, v e r y broad and thick build, small tail with tuft at the end,

TORTLE av height; 7′6 | heads-high; 7 thick wrinkled skin encased in huge shell, stooping posture with neck extending forward, very long arms & short legs, 5 digits with reptilian claws, boxy head, heart shaped from above with features set far forward, tail to balance stoop

MINOTAUR av height; 7′ | heads-high; 9 powerful build with thick bones, typically well muscled, bovine head on thick neck, often very large horns, fairly long tufted tail, big hooved feet, broad 4 digit hands with thick nails, hair length varies

PLANE THINGS ???

listen this was a lot easier in the edition i first encountered lol anyway, until anything else comes up in extra material im just applying a few square & rectangle venn diagram rules

a useful word; planetouched. i dont really know why WotC seems to have dropped that term for at least 5e (i missed 4e entirely) but it refers to a “mortal native outsider” with lineage or influence from a plane other than the material, so “a material plane native creature with non-native plane influence, which can die”

GENASI height depends on material plane parent the result of a material plane / elemental pair (usually genies). they usually take after their material parent in build and broader features, but their elemental heritage comes through in features like magical hair, bright coloured eyes, unusual body temperatures, innate magics, etc. genasi can interbreed with themselves, and the crossing of two elements can produce some interesting results (im working on that :>)

TIEFLINGS height depends on material plane parents this is the first of the squares & rectangles, and tbh its basically canonical. a tiefling is the result of a material plane humanoid being born with fiendish* influence. the word ‘tiefling’ refers specifically to a human with fiendish influence, but is also an umbrella term for ALL fiendish planetouched creatures. these DO have some names mentioned in the play material ! fey’ri = elves, tanarukk = orcs, wisplings = halflings, maeluth = dwarves, etc. so all fiendish planetouched are tieflings, but not all tieflings are human-based. the fiendish influence can be dormant for years or just string along for decades. AnyWay, all of them have horns, most have tails, odd skin or eye colour, and others can have all sorts of extraplanar features. *(fiends are another venn diagram thing in D&D, its an umbrella term for both demons and devils)

AASIMAR height depends on material plane parents aaand this is the second of the squares & rectangles, the not-strictly-canon one. okay duplicate what i said about tieflings, but make it about celestials not fiends, basically lmao. aasimar is an umbrella term, but also a human/celestial planetouched specifically! unlike the above, since its my homebrew concept i dont have other words specifically for other races’ celestial planetouched, but i’ll get there watch this space lol EnyHoo, they all tend to have a strange glow about them in general, but usually in their eyes, and maybe hair especially. it isnt uncommon for them to have a kind of halo around themselves, or glowing glyphs/runes/sigils on or around them either. while MOST dont have full wings, a dusting of feathers isnt unusual. the features of celestials can vary a lot more. for example, unicorns and leonals are actually celestials!

aaand the slightly odd-ball;

WARFORGED height depends on build purpose these are an interesting case, as warforged are actually constructs, brought into this world by the fusing of organic muscle (like wood or leathery material) to an inorganic shell (like stone or metal), imbuing a life-giving fluid of some sort to act like blood, and bringing life to it by a powerful ritual - a unique glyph etched into their heads. as their name suggests they are usually created to become soldiers, or other army positions, although they could be suited to other purposes. unlike most constructs, they are fully self-aware and have a mind on par with humans. they do not need sleep (but require rest) and they also do not naturally reproduce. if they live longer than their purpose, then they are turned loose to deal with the world as they wish. as they are MADE they can vary greatly depending on who made them, and for what exact purpose - although they tend to have beak-like mouths, and 3 digit hands and 2 toed feet.

AV. HEIGHT CHART FROM LEFT TO RIGHT !!! human - elf - dwarf - gnome - halfling - orc - goliath - firbolg - dragonborn - aarakocra - tabaxi - kenku - hobgoblin - bugbear - yuanti - triton - kobold - grung - lizardfolk - tortle - centaur - minotaur - loxodon

oooboy that was a lot of waffle :L

3K notes · View notes

songsformonkeys · 3 years

Text

12 days of Christmas Pedros. Short little ficlets based on prompts that can be found here. One ficlet every other day. Thank you @yespolkadotkitty for the beautiful banner!

Day 11 - “Oh my God, I didn’t get you a present!” - Dave York from the Sturdy Home verse

This was going to be the first Christmas without Dave. Even though it really shouldn't have come as a surprise, the holiday had still managed to sneak up on you. You'd had so many other things to think about while attempting to glue together the shards of your broken life this past year, and subconsciously you had hoped that if you just ignored thinking about Christmas then maybe it just wouldn't show up this year. Of course, that plan hadn't worked. The girls had started putting together lists for Santa already at the beginning of November.

Christmas had always been Dave's favorite holiday and you had been wholly unprepared for how to handle it without your husband being there to guide you through it. You couldn't do this on your own! Not without Dave and especially not with the man who looked like Dave but was different from him in a million little ways.

December had rapidly approached and with it, your anxiety grew. Dave asked a few times if you needed help or if there was anything he could do to assist. You shot him down every time and in the end, he stopped asking. You knew you were being ungrateful but the thought of watching Dave decorate a tree or help wrap Christmas gifts would have shattered you completely, and no one wanted a broken mom for Christmas.

The girls somehow handled their dad's amnesia better than you did. You hadn't talked to them much about it but their eyes didn't fill with sadness every time they looked at him and, instead of crying, they only reacted with rolled eyes and slight frustration when Dave did something unexpected or forgot something they thought he ought to have remembered. Your youngest had started referring to him as David, and when you had carefully reminded her that David was still her dad – trying to convince yourself as much as her – she'd looked at you with an amount of patience that no six-year-old should be able to possess.

”I know, mom. But not all the time. Sometimes he's just David.”

You hadn't known how to respond to that.

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

The month of December flew by faster than it had any right to. Decorations and preparations weren't nearly as lavish as they had been in previous years but, all things considered, you thought you had done a pretty okay job and both the girls and Dave seemed pleased. For everyone's sake, you had opted out of going to the family dinner at your parents' house. Dave was still a little wary about meeting people he was supposed to know and your own constant state of exhaustion didn't make for the most entertaining dinner guest either.

Instead, you'd put together a small dinner with just Dave and the girls. Dave had gotten up early and made bread. It tasted just like the bread Dave had made every other year and he had apologized when he'd watched your eyes tear up after he'd offered you a slice on Christmas morning. The girls had brought home decorated gingerbread cookies from school. The frosting tasted of sugary chalk but Dave still complimented them.

Gifts were exchanged and the girls tore into the colorful paper and squealed with delight at their new toys and clothes. For just a few moments, as you watched your daughters and listened to their happy laughter, you forgot to be sad and smiled with them.

The smile only slipped when you looked over at Dave and found him already watching you, with a curious expression on his face. You looked away again.

”Don't forget those,” Dave said, pointing at two remaining gifts, hidden deep underneath the tree behind where the other gifts had been. You frowned, not immediately recognizing the paper, but it clicked why when you watched Dave swallow nervously as the girls tore off the paper from the gifts that were clearly his doing.

You jumped when Alice screamed in delight. Dave's shoulders dropped and relief washed over his face as he laughed. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his smile. Both girls got up and more or less flung their arms around his neck, the new plush cat and rabbit squeezed into the middle of the group hug.

”Thank you, Daddy!” Alice squeaked against his shoulder and the house of cards, which you spent all your waking hours carefully assembling crumbled once again as your hands began to shake and you found it difficult to breathe.

Dave looked over at you and now it was his smile that slipped and disappeared, replaced by a look of worry. You stood up and with a flimsy excuse of getting water, you fled to the kitchen.

You didn't hear Dave follow you until he spoke up.

”Should I not have done that?” he asked carefully, keeping a respectful distance to where you were leaning against the kitchen counter with your back to him. You took a deep breath and turned around, forcing a fake smile onto your face.

”No, Dave, it was very sweet... You got their favorite animals right too. I'm sorry. I'm just...”

”Thinking of him,” Dave finished sadly. You bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

”You...are here,” you replied in a shaky voice. Dave held your gaze and you forced yourself not to look away.

”I'm trying to be,” he said softly, but with a stubborn resolve that was all too familiar.

”I know.” You pushed away from the counter and his hands twitched at his sides, almost reaching for you before he stopped himself as he realized you were just heading towards the doorway to the living room. He cleared his throat.

”Let's get back to the girls.”

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

You let the girls stay up a little too late and when you decided to finally call it a night, they were both so tired that their eyes were only half-open as they staggered up the stairs. The silver lining was that they were also both too tired to protest when you ordered toothbrushing.

While they brushed their teeth and slipped into their pajamas, you helped put their opened gifts on their respective nightstands so they would be the first things they saw when they woke up the next morning. Everything was neatly arranged, except for the cat and the rabbit. The plush toys were held tight in the girls' arms as you read them their bedtime story. Irrationally, you wished that you would have gotten a plush toy to hug at night as well.

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

When you came back downstairs, Dave was relaxing in front of the TV, his feet propped up on the coffee table. You made a beeline for the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine before you joined him.

”They're sleeping like logs,” you told him as you handed him his glass. He thanked you and took a small sip before returning his focus to the TV, which was showing some sort of Christmas concert.

”I'm surprised they even made it up the stairs. Especially Alice in those unicorn boots,” he said with a soft chuckle.

”If only they had inherited your fondness for practical footwear,” you teased with a small smile. Dave turned his head away from the TV to look at you. You watched him back.

”Hey...” he said slowly and set the glass of wine down on the table. Your pulse sped up and you gripped your own glass of wine a little tighter. But Dave turned away from you and started feeling for something between the couch cushions. ”I uh... I got you a gift too,” he said and when he turned back towards you he held a flat, square box, the size of your palm in his hand. It was wrapped in navy blue paper with gold stars.

”Dave...” you said, surprised and then a little ashamed. ”Oh Dave, I haven't gotten you a present.”

Dave shook his head before you could attempt any apologies.

”You have given more than enough already,” he assured you before looking around the living room with a soft smile. ”My first Christmas for example.”

You watched him quietly until he nodded his head towards the gift in your hands.

”I was nervous with the girls but this is even worse so please...”

”Yes, sorry,” you apologized and picked at the edge of a piece of tape. You were less aggressive in your unwrapping than the girls had been and less vocal when you finally got the box open, revealing a delicate necklace with a small golden heart hanging from a thin gold chain. In fact, you were completely silent as you stared at the gift. The symbolism of it didn't escape you and suddenly you found it harder to breathe around the growing lump in your throat.

You looked up at Dave and, as always when he did something unexpected, your paper-thin defenses crumbled into nothing and you started crying.

”Hey...” Dave said softly again and reached out to swipe the pad of his thumb across your cheek to gather up the first tear that escaped your eyes and rolled down your cheek.

You still couldn't speak, so with the box clasped tightly in your hand, you leaned forward to wrap your arms around him. You could count on one hand how many times you had hugged Dave since he came back, but he immediately responded by curling his arms around you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was.

He wasn't your husband, but he was sweet and caring, and for the first time you weren't hugging him as a substitute for someone else.

You held each other, perhaps for longer than what was necessary but you didn't want to let him go just yet and neither did Dave, it seemed. You still stained his shirt with your tears but it wasn't the heartwrenching sobs from the other times.

When you pulled back, you held out the box for him.

”Will you help me put it on?”

Dave nodded and you turned your back to him. When his knuckles brushed the back of your neck as he fastened the tiny clasp of the necklace, you closed your eyes for a moment and let out a slow breath before you turned back to face him.

”Beautiful,” Dave said and the intensity of his gaze made your cheeks burn warm. As you held his gaze, you brushed your fingers over the little heart. It was still a bit cold to the touch but slowly, it was beginning to warm up.

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

Taglist: @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @pedropascalito @pedropascallion @ohpedromypedro @knittingqueen13 @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mourningbirds1 @alwaysbethewest (Merry Christmas. Here’s your Keep Reading) @heatherbel @larakasser @fromthedeskoftheraven @seawhisperer @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @mrschiltoncat @pajamasecrets @phoenixhalliwell @ilikechocolatemilkh @dornish-queen @holographic-carmen @thirstworldproblemss

#12 days of Christmas Pedros #dave york/reader #dave york #equalizer 2 #my writing

147 notes · View notes

owl-with-a-pen · 3 years

Note

Brainy getting Kara a cat that looks like Streaky after she gets out of the Phantom Zone

- Cute! Of course! x

Adjusting to life back in National City had been far harder than Kara had anticipated.

Never was that more apparent than when she found herself alone.

Not that she’d been alone very much. Since her family had come to her rescue, Kara hadn’t really been permitted that much time to herself. Alex had been bringing over care packages that she and Kelly had put together almost three times daily, and that was only during the hours Kara was home. At work, it appeared it was Nia’s turn to play the role of overbearing minder. She’d been sticking to Kara’s side for just about every second of the workday. Kara thought it was kind of sweet, all things considered, it was just… Nia was about as subtle about it as a brick through the window - or Brainy when he’d turned up in CatCo’s elevator last year.

Speaking of Brainy, he was just about the only friend Kara hadn’t been seeing on a daily basis. Even Lena was making her rounds, trying to find any excuse to get Kara out of the apartment or – failing that – inviting herself over unprompted.

Kara appreciated everyone’s attention, she really did, but as she sat there on her couch, curled up in her comfiest cardigan and sweats combo on the first day off she’d had all week… she couldn’t help but feel some semblance of relief.

As much as she loved her family, she hated hurting them, and when her mask finally came crumbling down after days of keeping it plastered to her face, Kara knew that was exactly what she would have inadvertently caused.

Alex may have let her cry in her arms for a solid thirty minutes after she’d stumbled into J’onn’s Tower-turned-ship, and even seen her at her worst on the days that followed when she’d slept over for those first few terrifying nights… but Kara couldn’t bear to let her sister hold onto that weight for longer than it felt necessary. She was Supergirl, the hero National City looked up to, that even her friends looked up to, and she hated causing any of them the same kind of heartache that they’d felt in her absence.

So, yes, maybe the stillness of her apartment was kind of stifling. Maybe every shadow that jutted across her walls reminded her of the Phantoms that had loomed overhead in that awful alien dimension, but at least when she was alone, jumping at something so fiercely she scorched a wall, or grabbing a pillow so hard it exploded into feathers in her hands could be hidden from any prying eyes.

She would get through this eventually. She just needed time to sort out her head, to focus on the positives, to…

Kara was thrown from her thoughts somewhat abruptly when she heard three quick knocks at her apartment door.

She frowned, lowering the TV’s volume as she heaved herself from the blanket and pillow nest she’d made at the couch corner. She padded over to the door curiously, relaxing into her heightened sense of hearing just enough to pick up on two distinct heartbeats on the other side. Although, one was… far less human in nature than she had expected, which certainly raised a big question.

When she opened the door to find Brainy holding a cat out to her much in the same way someone might offer flowers, she got her answer.

The cat, at least, seemed perfectly content to hang from Brainy’s outstretched hands, its back legs kicked up towards her, large amber eyes wide and unblinking.

It opened its mouth to yawn, as though it had grown used – if not bored – to this kind of behaviour.

“Hey Brainy,” Kara said, her eyes about as wide as the cat’s. “Um, what’s going on?”

“I brought you a gift!” Brainy announced, lifting the cat higher as though to emphasise his point. The cat, to its credit, didn’t appear to find this perplexing at all.

That made one person, at least.

Kara blinked in stunned silence, rubbing at the side of her head. “You got me a cat?” she asked, posing the question in a half joking manner. When Brainy’s eager smile only widened, realisation finally set in. Kara’s mouth fell open. “Wait. You got me a cat?”

“Indeed,” Brainy said enthusiastically, striding past Kara into the room, cat in tow.

Kara could only stare at the space he’d left behind. She shook her head, quickly turning towards him. “Why…?”

Brainy brought the cat closer to his chest, almost contemplatively, though he continued to hold it at that same awkward angle.

The cat licked its nose in disgruntled acceptance.

“Well, since you asked,” Brainy began, “I have been studying… both the medical and psychological benefits of having pets recently. Cats offer companionship, but did you also know that their purrs have curative properties, and petting them has been proven to work against stress and anxiety?” Brainy’s expression turned serious suddenly and he swivelled towards her, thrusting the cat out at her with not even a word of warning. “With that in mind, I present to you, Streaky 2.0!”

Kara reached for the cat instinctively, hastily taking it beneath the shoulders before transferring it into her own arms. Old habit kicked in almost immediately, and she found herself pulling the cat towards her shoulder with all the gentleness she’d put into practice holding this particular cat’s namesake. The cat sagged into her arms in seconds, kicking up a fuss as its whiskers tickled curiously beneath her chin.

“Streaky two point-” Kara began, only to be interrupted when the cat began to purr in soft breathy beats against her chest. Its damp nose probed her neck, tracking her scent. “Oh… oh.” Animals had always seemed to take a liking to Kara, that was true, but this was strange even for her.

Kara squinted at Brainy suspiciously. “This is a real cat, right?”

Brainy scoffed. “Why, do you think I would build one?” His eyebrows drew together suddenly, a deadly serious expression. “I did consider it. A cat as indestructible as Supergirl would be an incredible feat of science. But, no. This is a regular cat. I retrieved him from a shelter.” He leaned in, nearly conspiratorially. “Would you like to see the adoption paperwork?”

Kara snorted. “Y’know, I think I’ll take your word for it.” Her smile sobered as the cat continued to purr up a storm in her arms, closing his eyes into a half squint in total feline bliss. “You really got him for me?”

“Of course.” Brainy softened suddenly, folding his arms. He bit his lip, as though searching for the right words. After a moment’s consideration, he smiled awkwardly. “You were… in pain. Struggling with life back from the Phantom Zone. Additionally,” he gestured bluntly around the room, “you currently live alone.”

Kara laughed bleakly. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“What I mean to say,” Brainy hastened, “is that cats make people happy, and Streaky made you very happy. You felt more grounded learning to care for him, however, I believe this time it is time for your companion to take care of you.” When Brainy smiled again, it was far more relaxed. “I spent many days at the shelter making note of every cat’s characteristics, vocal patterns, requirements of other’s attention, and this cat surpassed all of my expectations.” He nodded succinctly. “He is loyal, I am certain of that.”

Kara grinned. “Well, he certainly let you carry him around like a crazy person.”

“Nia tells me cats are resilient creatures,” Brainy said with a shrug, “this one especially so. I think he will make an excellent fit.”

Kara’s smile widened further. “Brainy… this is incredibly sweet. I don’t know what to-” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t have any supplies.”

“Fear not!” Brainy said, finger raised. “I have come prepared with the basics, although I am sure you would prefer to personalise your pet’s belongings in the long term.”

Kara rolled her eyes. Of course Brainy would have come bearing all the necessities for pet care. He was never one to do anything inefficiently. She pressed her lips into the cat’s warm fur, just between his ears. He was a little softer than her old Streaky, although she liked those small differences. It made this cat symbolise more to her than just the nostalgia she knew Brainy was hoping to achieve, but also the sense of a new beginning.

In truth, Kara hadn’t been considering getting a pet any time soon, not when she had so little time even for herself. As Supergirl, it felt wrong, somehow, to have another living thing rely on her as its sole care giver.

But, Brainy was right. Cats had always been her soft spot, and this one already felt like it was healing something deep inside of her, stitching an old wound that wasn’t even visible on the surface. Maybe having a pet around wasn’t such a bad idea, after all, especially when this cat was as perfect as Brainy had insinuated.

Besides, it got awfully lonely here at night…

Kara glanced up at Brainy suddenly. “Wait, is this why you haven’t been around the last few days? You were out scouting for the perfect cat?”

Brainy grimaced. “Busted.”

Kara laughed, she couldn’t help it. Brainy might have changed a lot over the last few months, but he was still as candid as he’d ever been, maybe now even more-so without all the secrets he’d had weighing him down.

She knew, deep down, that a part of her had changed, too. And maybe, maybe it was time she let down some of her walls, enough that she could let her family see her for every change the Phantom Zone had brought on – good or bad.

And, Brainy? Well, he seemed like the perfect start. After all, there was so much more she wanted to learn about him, too.

So, with Streaky 2.0 still snuggled contently in her arms, Kara smiled, taking Brainy’s arm with her free hand. “I think you’re right. I do want to personalise my pet supplies." She brightened. "Hey, maybe we can go to the pet store tomorrow!”

“But, I was just there,” Brainy pointed out.

Kara rolled her eyes. “Yes, but you put in the study-time. You know this cat better than I do, right now. I’m gonna need your expertise to find the best stuff to truly pamper him. Besides,” Kara squeezed his arm, “I want to spend some time with my friend.”

When Brainy’s eyes sparked and he grinned his affirmation, Kara was so, so grateful to see it.

“Very well, then,” Brainy agreed. “Tomorrow it is!”

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #brainiac 5 #kara danvers #kara zor el #kara & brainy #my prompts #anon #my writing #i didn't actually describe the cat's fur colour because .. the show and the comics are both different so like.. decide for yourselves xD #i hope this is okay it's 3am i've had a lot of coffee and i'm flagging

28 notes · View notes

qianoir · 3 years

Text

After Midnight 2 - Rhiannon

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college dropout!Ten (WayV) x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, angst with fluff on top

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 13+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing (censored), lying, family problems, mentions death of reader's father, romance, this part determines the reader’s age but feel free to ignore

♡ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @staysstrays

Preview < 1 < 2

𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟎 𝐀𝐌

Should I call him? No! What if it wasn't meant for me? Idiot, there was no one else in the café of course it was meant for you! What if it's a prank? It's probably the number to a McDonald’s or something. And if it's not..? What if he never comes into the café again?

You woke up in a freezing cold room with an acquainted boy named "Ten Lee" on your mind, contemplatively staring into his napkin before finally deciding to text him.

You typed the 11 digits into your phone.

Ok... now what do I say?

Hi Ten, this is Y/N from Décalcomanie.

Hi Ten, this is Y|

Why do I even care about this so much? It's just a text and for all I know this kid could be some kind of siren-vampire trying to seduce me with song lyrics at nighttime.. is that even possible?

Hi Mr. Lee this is Y/N from Décalcomanie.

Why so formal? Oh God I sent it..

It’s done.

You grabbed a towel and prepared a quick shower before continuing the rest of the morning. Intruding thoughts about Mr. Lee fill your mind under the water.. like.. why does he only visit the café at night? Your prior superstitious suspicions about him being a vampire fall back in mind.

At least if I get to be a vampire I can live this timeline as a doctor and make my mom happy, then be a dancer for eternity.

As much as you did not know about Ten, you still knew quite a bit about him. His favorite combination at the café is an iced Americano with pandan cake, his favorite color is black— you assume since it's the only color his outfits consist of, and he has a younger sister, which you found out after hearing him say 妹妹 over the phone one night.

The loud text notification sounds throughout the bathroom and you nearly slip trying to quickly finish your shower to check the new message.

Mom (Work)

My daughter! Your grandmother is sick, I am going to Incheon to bring her medicine and groceries so I need you to open the café today. I should be back to take over at 2 o’clock. Be careful on your own!

Unwrapping your body of your towel to dress into a nice outfit, you sighed knowing your Saturday would be another day spent on your sore feet. The café opens at 11 AM so you would only be working an extra few hours, but you hoped your mom would let you take a slice of delicacy home for the filial overtime.

“Aya!”

Another loud notification tone beamed from your phone, forcing your name brooch to prick at your fingertip. The screen luminated with an unknown number.

Contact Not Found

hihi Y/N! no need to be so formal with me! I'm only from ‘96 :)

Contact ‘TEN’ Added

TEN

are you free today? I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee and ice cream, if you're not sick of the smell yet ;p

You frowned remembering the plans your mother made for your day.

Y/N

I'm so sorry Ten my mom wants me to work opening for the café today :(

Figuring that was your ending, you packed a bag full of necessities for the day and walked to Décalcomanie.

TEN

why don't I come over there? the café serves bingsoo this time of year right? it’s barely the afternoon, not many people will be dining. we could still hang out if you’re down?

Butterflies soared in your stomach just like they do every night at 11:59 PM.

Y/N

Yeah that sounds perfect :)

TEN

okk see you soon!

Eek!

It felt so weird to think of seeing him in the daytime, especially after just mentally accusing him of being a bloodsucker.

Upon your entrance, the café was soon bright with morning light and you patiently awaited Ten’s arrival. Nearly an hour had gone by and there was no sign of him. You didn't think he would flake out, but you barely know each other so why wouldn't he?

Ten was right; it was pretty empty here this morning. You bent forward to hand one of the regular old women her tea in the Décalcomanie’s prettiest teacup upon your mother’s request of the best service for all of her regular customers.

The bell chimed with an open door. Your eyes blinked to the woman's upturned phone by her saucer.

𝟏𝟏:𝟓𝟗 𝐀𝐌

Could it be? You laughed at the irony in the thought, but when you looked up from the woman’s table, a rice cake cheeked boy stood across from you.

"I'm here!" He announced to the entire floor.

You bowed a greeting like you do for every customer and ushered him to the bar, "Sit down over here." where he sat in front of your standing form. "What type of bingsoo have you come in for, sir?" You teased.

"Coconut with vanilla ice cream! And.. two spoons?"

You blushed at the thought of sharing subtle intimacy with the fine young man before your eyes. You had only just met him, but you saw no harm in sharing a dessert with him as you would do with friends.. if you had them.

Nodding and running off to make the icy dessert, you heard the ripple of a writing pen. From the corner of your eye, peeked Ten orchestrating an English poem onto a stray napkin, his brown bangs falling on the bridge of his nose. These little actions made your heart jump; his passion for various styles of music felt so endearing to you.

You paid for the grandiose bowl of sugar and presented it to Ten. His phone lit up with a notification and you took notice of his wallpaper: Him with a disgusted looking boy that he was French kissing on the cheek. I'm not judging but.. whomst?

"Who's that?" You asked, handing him a spoon, taking another for yourself.

He glanced at his phone and blushed, breaking out in quiet giggles.

"That's my friend, Yangyang. We really enjoy our time together."

You hummed and smiled. They seem to have a good friendship, but you were still curious to know more about this Yangyang guy.

"So you attend university?" Ten asked before shoveling a high spoon of ice flakes into his mouth.

"I'm a sophomore at SNU." You replied, mirroring his bold eating style.

Ten spoke with surprised eyes, "Really!? That's a fancy school. Wow～ you must be really smart."

"Not really.. I'm studying dance. All I do is move my feet."

"I'm a dancer, too! It's a really hard and beautiful art, you shouldn't sell yourself short for being a part of it." He genuinely advised.

You looked down after thanking him for his kind words, suddenly feeling very bashful. "How old are you, by the way? You calling me Mr. Lee this morning is all I've been thinking about." You both laughed.

"I'm 20, turning 21 this year.” He nodded. "You're from ‘00? Yangyang is the same age as you!" He exclaims.

"I’ve never met someone my age! How many friends do you have?"

"I have a few, but I’m closest to a specific six and we all live together."

"It must be nice to have so many friends. It’s been a little difficult for me to make friends this semester.." You stirred some melted ice cream around your side of the bowl, suddenly feeling very lonely in Ten’s personal presence.

"You should come over sometime! We love new friends!" He was pleading with his eyes for you to agree.

"Oh.. I don't want to intrude-" "No really! We would love to have your company. Here..." He flipped over the napkin he was previously writing on and scribbled a short address on it, sliding it over to you.

"You should come by tomorrow evening. 5 o'clock if it works for you." Ten says before finishing off the last bit of flavored dairy in the bowl.

You scanned over the inked napkin in your hand.

97 Saemunanro, Sinmunno 1 il-ga, Jongnogu, Seoul

"It's apartment number 117. Just call me when you get there because we may not be able to hear your knocks over the screaming." You looked at him in slight concern, but he only smiled in return.

Ten took out his card to pay for the bingsoo, but you stopped him. "Oh I already paid for the both of us!"

"Aww you didn't have to," Ten frowned, but handed me $20 anyways, "Here take this at least. A tip for my favorite barista." He winked and ran out of the café before you could protest.

"REMEMBER 5 O'CLOCK!"

Ten shouted, bumping into a man, who cursed at him, profusely bowing on the way out. You shook your head at his silliness and flipped the napkin over to a pretty poem.

She is like a cat in the dark and then

she is the darkness

She rules her life like a fine skylark

and when the sky is starless

To Be Continued…

Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

#wayv x reader #ten x reader #nct x reader #wayv imagines #wayv angst #wayv fluff #ten imagines #ten angst #ten fluff

21 notes · View notes

nyancatkuroo · 3 years

Text

Smoke Sesh Blues Pt.1

Pt.1 Terushima/Kunimi/Kenma x Reader ll Weed

Pt.2 Saeko x Reader ll Molly + Alcohol

INTOXICATED a Miki Mouse Whorehouse collab.

A/N: Here is my second collab fic for the whorehouse and I couldn’t be more excited! This is a Dark Content fic, so 18+ please dot not interact or you will be blocked. (This one doesn’t have any NSFW in it but it doesn’t mean I want a bunch of minors interacting with my content).

TW: mentions of alcohol, weed smoking, mentions of shrooms.

WC: 1.5k

Sitting across the room was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, well, beautiful might not be the best word to describe her. Ethereal, and transcendent might’ve been the words you’d use to describe a really, really attractive woman, but Tanaka Saeko was not just any attractive woman.

Where beautiful meets savagely charismatic, ethereal simply wasn’t enough to describe the sheer magnetism that the young blond woman exuded, simply sitting there, grinning from ear to ear. Her sharp, dark eyes and toothy grin hit you straight in the guts, and that’s when you fell, hard and fast, and painfully.

Next to the blonde was a young woman equally as attractive as Saeko herself, and if Saeko wasn’t the definition of ethereal, the raven-haired girl sure was. With a pale and delicate face that screamed of poise and grace, a criminally sexy mole on the left side of her chin, and blue eyes that made a chill of pleasure run down your spine, Shimizu Kiyoko was the epitome of everything you weren’t.

Saeko had her right arm around the younger girl, hugging her close, as if afraid she’d run off. “I’d take precautions too, if that was me,” you thought. Kiyoko was one of the smartest and prettiest girls in campus after all, and despite not knowing her personally, having talked to her only once or twice because of mutual classes, it wasn’t hard to understand why she was one of the most sought after girls.

Well, that and the very amusing reputation preceding her since she entered university two years ago. The thing was, the dark-haired girl wasn’t Saeko’s girlfriend, but she was definitely intertwined with a Tanaka. Saeko’s younger brother to be exact, Tanaka Ryuunosuke.

The two were rumored to have been going out since Kiyoko’s high school graduation. Despite having let it be known pretty early on in her academic life that she had a boyfriend, with a younger partner still in high school, all the hungry frat boys up for a challenge and every business major in a radius mile who thought she “deserved better”, apparently made it their mission to woo her. It made for pretty good entertaining drama to watch, but your heart went out for her.

Based on what Saeko told you, keeping you updated on the family drama, the first year was really rough on the young couple. With her younger brother finally on campus this year, though, overcoming all the annoying dudes was easier done a job at two. Especially with a barking protective idiot and Kiyoko’s punching one-liners, which you wouldn’t expect coming from someone so calm and collected. Perhaps it wasn’t that surprising, apparently, from what you’d heard from Saeko, Kiyoko’s comedic timing was unmatched.

And okay, you obviously knew Saeko, and if Kiyoko wasn’t her girlfriend, what was the big fuss all about? Jealousy, simple as that. It was 10 pm on a Friday night, which meant parties around campus were raging from one hard to get in-club to home parties and make-shift park dancefloors. Fridays were made for debauchery and every single student who didn’t work a night shift was accounted for, every student except one, Ryu.

Saeko’s younger brother, a baldy with a lively personality, was running late because of his group of friends. Something about “Noya wrecking havoc once again” and “the trio trying to fix things, again”. You didn’t know what the issue was but it was a problem for you because that meant that Saeko had to act as guard dog for the younger girl, which meant less time spent making you feel all sorts of sinful little pleasures.

Saeko wasn’t your girlfriend either, which is why you didn’t have that close connection to Kiyoko. You guys were simply friends with benefits, lots and lots of benefits that included midday brunches, and late-night movie and make-out seshs, but still, only friends with the hall pass.

You were making eyes at the blond, desperately trying to make her notice you, amongst the hordes of horny 20-somethings year old guys trying to get at Kiyoko, but without luck. Tired of waiting and wanting to actually start enjoying yourself, you decided to go explore the rest of the house the party you currently were in was hosted. Leaving the living room, you ventured into a surprisingly big kitchen where you spotted Terushima Yuuji running his little side hustle. With a hum and an easy smile plastered on your face, you made your way towards the young man.

You knew Terushima from years ago. When you and your friend Issei started venturing into the wondrous world of drugs and alcohol, he mentioned how he knew this guy from a rival volleyball team who was supposedly the best plug in the area, which Terushima was. The shrooms you bought off of him never disappointed and the weed he provided really was that good fucking kush. Tonight though, you felt needy and wanted to let loose, so molly it was.

You put your hand on Terushima’s shoulder, making him aware of your presence, and he turned around, a slight frown on his face before he recognized you and greeted you with the sickest bro shoulder-bump-hand combo. You loved this dude so damn much.

“So, what’s it gonna be this time my little pogchamp?”

With a grimace you pushed the young man’s face with your hand and laughed.

“You’ve got to stop watching your Tiktoks on Instagram, you’re like two months late to that trend my guy.”

“Ain’t no problem, when a king does right by his subjects the peasants don’t have a choice but to laugh along”, he grinned.

At that, you bursted out laughing, holding your belly because of how ridiculously funny that statement was. “Out of pocket, Teru, out of fucking pocket.”

With a whatever, and a roll of his eyes, Terushima asked what you wanted and gave you a few little pills that fit just right inside your jean pocket.

“You know you’re the best.” Sending finger guns his way, you were about to leave, on a quest to find another interesting adventure, when Terushima called your name.

“Hey if you wait a couple minutes until I’m done here we can go smoke a few. Kunimi just bought this new bong and it’s pretty fucking sick, you’ll love it.”

With nothing better to do, you agreed and after a while, Terushima was done and the both of you left the kitchen and made your way to the second-floor, towards Kunimi’s room. When you arrived, the door to the room was closed but you could see the smoke filtering out of the red lit room, the people around too busy in their own affairs, or simply not caring enough, to notice the very obvious hot-box going on behind the closed room.

When you got in, Doja Cat’s Kiss Me More was playing on loop, and you unsurprisingly found Kunimi and Kenma sharing the bong. The pair could outsmoke you any day, but you genuinely enjoyed their company.

There was no one better than those two to have a chill yet feel-good smoke sesh with, cuddles and an infinite supply of munchies present every time. You sat next to Kenma and he immefiatley started nuzzling you, passing you the bong. On the back, you could hear Kunimi telling Terushima he was being too loud and that he’d kick him out if his voice reached higher levels than Toad’s. Terushima was right, paired with the right weed, this bong was way too powerful and it only took you a couple of hits to start feeling.

You laid down, Kenma still close to you, and started singing along, while playing with Kenma’s hair. Yeah, this was definitely your definition of a good time, but despite how good you were feeling, and how warm the little guy you were cuddling with felt, you thought something was missing. The pills in your pocket started feeling heavier, unease growing inside of you. Lost in your worry, you apparently started petting Kenma too roughly, if the kick in the knee he gave you was anything to go by.

“Sorry”, you mumbled, only to receive a small groan for an answer.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, cozied up on the floor with your friends, listening to Doja’s newest collab, but the moment was disturbed when a foreign source of light appeared. Someone had opened the door and when you saw who it was, your heart nearly skipped a beat. Fucking feelings.

With a gentle smile on her face, Saeko was looking at you with what, for a split second, you thought was fondness, but a moment later her eyes went back to their usual playful glee, and her toothy grin returned.

“Ryu got here like an hour ago, I’ve been looking for you, but I see you don’t really need me to have a good time, hm?”

By that point, you felt more sleepy than high, but seeing the woman occupying your every thoughts appear out of nowhere, with what looked like heavenly light all around her, which was just some crusty hallway lighting, woke you up faster than you cared to admit. You kissed Kenma on the cheek, patted Kunimi on the head, and slapped Terushima on the shoulder as a goodbye, and before they could complain about the disturbance, you were out of the door.

#this was initially supposed to be a saeko railing you while under the influence of molly and alcohol #...#but #brain decided otherwise #and im late enough to the collab #so this is what yall are gettin #at least until I decide to make part two #aka the intial plan for this fic ;ldzkhgjbvùkùhb #kozume kenma #kenma #kunimi akira #terushima yuuji #tanaka saeko #saeko x reader #y/n #dark content #this one is just abt weed but still #tw weed #I guess

34 notes · View notes

astormyjet · 3 years

Photo

Winter of 2018 - Summer of 2021 TIME FILES WHEN YOU’RE IN YOUR 20s!!!!

OH BOY. It’s been three years (or more) since I updated this. “Time is a weird soup!” to quote a fave. I guess I quit tumblr around the time there was a purge of content and creators and a smack down on a lot of the fandom communities. Tumblr has always been something of a crapshow though so I’ve been more productive with my time than I was in some ways, but I’ve also found other ways to waste my time. *cough twitter/netflix/youtube/MTGArena cough*.

General Life Achievements since 2018 -JLPT N3 GET in 2019! -Blackbelt GET in 2018! -TESOL 120 Hour and BE 50 Hour Cert from online provider GET in 2021 -STUDENT LOAN BANISHED (Thank you grandparents) -Survived Apartment flooding in early 2020. -Mystery anxiety related illness and chronic pain in my left leg from early 2020 - Present. -A mythical 6th and 7th year on the JET Programme. -Started posting on Instagram a lot more about my wanderings around Matsuyama/Uwajima. Mainly old buildings and stray cats. @astormyknight -Surviving so far in Japan with old rona-chan.

2018 was rough. I was given an additional school in the first semester (March to July) as we had someone find a better job. I enjoyed it, but it was a bit of a rough go especially when I was transferred that August after three fantastic years at Tsubaki JHS and ES and only a semester there. I legit went through the five stages of grief - which I think is another reason I stopped blogging. I was given my current base school along with four other schools. Going from 2(3) to 5 schools was a bit of an adjustment. I still feel a bit spread out.

That said, I keep running into teachers and students who were at the Tsubaki’s. The teachers shuffle around every April, so it's always a lottery with which new faces are going to be old friends (or enemies…). A couple of kids moved and transferred into my current schools from Tsubaki too. So I have one kid I can say I've been teaching for 6 out of the 7 years I've been here!

One of the kids who was in JHS 3rd grade when I first got here (in 2015!) hangs out around one of my favorite cafes, so I got chatting with him recently. He's in his second year of nursing school - his class nearly broke me in the first year, it was really a trial by fire with those kids. I was 22 then, and he’s 20 now, so it was interesting chatting to him about that first year of teaching. His younger sister was one of my favorite students too, she was in the group of kids that graduated in the March of 2018, the year group that went through Tsubaki JHS with me - they’re newly minted University students now!

This Thursday morning when I was cycling in to work, a kid who was 2nd year JHS when I left (so 2nd or 3rd year JHS now) pulled up with their Mum in a van and got their mamachari out of the back to bike to school. The franticness of it all was hilarious. Their Mum legit sat on the horn until I pulled over. I was so happy to run into this kid, even at social distance and both of us late to work/school - because we both remembered each other and as they were going around the corners they were yelling each time they turned and humming the old elementary school directions chant and pelting me with questions about what I’ve been up to.

I've had so many students and schools now, that everything is kind of running into a blur. I remember flashes of kids faces and voices, random memories of in class or out of class shenanigans out of the blue. Also, I now, more than ever, have issues remembering kids' names, but I still know their faces (even with their masks), whose homeroom class they were in, who their friends were and which club they were in. I get random flashbacks to past conversations with them when I see them on the street or we run into each other. I feel bad because the first thing former students ask is ‘Do you remember my name?’ and I always have to be like, ‘Honestly, no, but I remember you did this on x day, x month in x classroom’.

Socially in 2018 -2019 - a few of our friends went home and things shook up a little. Our DnD group changed a bit - one of our players stepped into the role forever DM (THANK YOU RALPH). From memory the newbies were great - some of them just went home at the start of last month and it’s weird not seeing them around (JESS DO YOUR BEST!). I think we only have one or two people left from that rotation. There’s no 6th year ALTs, and only two 5th years.

Aug 2018 - Aug 2019 was the year of Hiura - my mountain school. Dang man, they were so cool. The students of the JHS and the ES combined barely hit 30, so each class was between 3-10 students depending on the grade. It was easier to get to know the kids, their abilities and their goals than it has been for me at other schools. I miss it so bad, being in nature once a week did my country-kid heart so good! The bugs! The frogs! The river! The mountain! The monkeys! The lizards! The dilapidated houses and hidden shrines!!!! The random crabs in the English room...I forgot that there was such a thing as freshwater crabs, and being right next to a river, the invasion wasn’t as out of place as I first thought...

The area is so picturesque and calming. Every week up there was a small adventure (after getting over my motion sickness from the bus ride up). The kids were constantly pranking either myself or the main English teacher. There was always some new weird bug or lizard in a tank to be educated about. There were chickens on the way to the JHS that used to escape from their cardboard box prisons to run riot on the gardens. There were old people to freak out with my youth and foreignness! The kids also got to do a lot of extra classes, sumiyakai (making charcoal the traditional way), planting and maintaining rice paddies, setting up vegetable gardens, raising fireflies, conserving a special breed of fire lily (only found in this particular mountain valley) and another rare flower, wilderness training ect.

I wish I could have stayed there a lot longer but SOMEONE (read...the BoE) decided that schools had to be shuffled again(thank goodness the dude who has it now was able to keep it from the 2021 shuffle, he's the best fit for the school). I had so many good memories from there, I wish I had been more consistent in writing it down. I do have a bunch of photos and videos from there though, so that's nice. The only thing I don’t miss is the bus trip up and down - not only was it motion sickness, there was a healthy dose of fear each ride as the driver brought us perilously close to the edge of the mountain drop…

2019 - 2020 was interesting. With the school I got given instead of the Hirua’s I was roped into more demonstration lessons which was a lot of pressure because I was also involved quite heavily with the JHS observation and training lessons too. They were somewhat rewarding, the third graders are now super smart 5th graders, but the teachers who need to embrace the new curriculum and ways of teaching really haven’t taken on anything from the lessons....

Outside of work as well, I was given the chance, thanks to an ALT buddy of mine, to join in with the local festival. It's been one of the biggest highlights of my time here, and I am gutted it’s been cancelled for the last two years, but I understand the reason…. I was able to travel to Okinawa too during that summer for an international Karate seminar with the Dojo I train with. I met the head of the style I currently practice and a bunch of people from around the world. I also got to see Shuri castle before it burned down. So that was a stroke of luck. One of the places I want to go when/if we get out of this pandemic is Okinawa. I want to see more of those Islands so bad. Just before the whole pandemic thing too - I managed to see the Rugby World Cup, a Canada vs NZ match, I even ran into Tana Umanga in Oita city!!!

2019 - 2020 was supposed to be my last year on JET, so I was frantically Job hunting. I went to the Career Fair in Osaka in early Feb/Late January 2020. I applied and got interviewed for a position in Sendai in early Jan 2020. In the end though - the Rona hit. We started hearing whispers of it around the end of 2019, then the cruise boats happened, and then Japan refused to cancel the Olympics...every holiday season there is a new wave of infections, my nurse friends in Tokyo are struggling....my teacher friends in more populous areas of Japan are struggling…

JET couldn't get new ALTs for 2020-2021, I took the extra year when it was eventually offered, as the one job I had managed to get a serious offer for was hesitating because with the rona setting in, things were uncertain. There was a lot of time spent adjusting to the new rules surrounding what we could do in class with the kids as well as textbook change. Schools shut on and off during the spring months.

I also got a reminder of my mortality mid May with an unrelated illness which is still smacking me around a bit - stress/age, it does things to the human body it has no right to. It's only been in the last three months I’ve been able to exercise like I used to, I’ve put on a bunch of weight I can't shrug off (one part medication, another part diet) My relationship with food needs to change, and I really need a kitchen that allows me for more than one pan meals. I also need to figure out what to do with a left leg that is in constant pain from the knee down and a heart that misses beats when stressed out (mentally and physically…).

My apartment also got flooded by the guy upstairs at one point, I spent most of late February/early March living in a hotel while my walls and floor got redone - I think this was one of the things that really stressed me out and kicked my anxiety right up a notch, it was right when things were getting REALLY bad with rona-chan in Hokkaido and schools were shutting down here as it was filtering into the prefecture and so Japan closed schools for the first time…

Classes in covid times have been weird. We’ve been wearing facemasks full time since the early stages of the pandemic (March 2020) - so I admit that I get a bit pissed off seeing both Americans and New Zealanders back home bitching about just having to start wearing them full time in public. I have asthma and have been suffering with the things on during the 30*C plus with high 90s humidity summers. Teachers were offered vaccines late July 2021, just days before the Olympics were open - and I finished my two shots in the middle of August. But the overall distribution and take up of the jab has been slow. As mentioned above, we can't play a lot of the games we used to play with kids in classes anymore, and a lot of the activities outlined in the textbook curriculum need to be adjusted too, so we’ve had to be creative. We use hand sanitizer a lot more too. One of the things I miss the most though, is eating lunch with the kids.

Socially from summer 2020 - now 2021 we played a lot of DnD and board games, both online and in person when we could. There were no new ALTs again for the 2021-2022 JET year, and those of us who were in 6th year were offered a 7th. Four out of six of us took it. As a whole we’re down from a peak of 38 ALTs for Junior High and Elementary school to 22 for now. We hopefully will get a new person at the end of September, and 4 more in November. Which will bring us to 27. This has led to ANOTHER round of school shuffles.

Summer vacation has been weird the last two years. With rona-chan, we haven’t really been able to travel. All the summer festivals (all the Autumn and Winter ones too!) have been cancelled, so the changing of seasons just feels, wrong. I dunno. There is so much we all miss from pre-rona-chan, and so much that doesn’t happen that makes this just feel like one long long unending year of sadness, coldness, raininess, unbearable heat and repeat. I’m tired. Time is going so fast, but so.dang.slow.

I lost my favorite school (AGAIN GDI!!!) and gained the school I taught a semester at in 2019....I had my first day there on Wednesday. Schools actually started back on September 1st so there was some drama as the BoE didn’t communicate fast enough about our school changes. We legit got told on the 27th of August (on a Friday) our schools were changing effective September 1st, but somehow some of our schools found out on the Monday 30th August. In July we were told we would be changing schools at the end of September, so.a lot of ALTs and schools were left short changed, not having opportunities to say goodbye to co-workers or students/having their planning for the semester more or less thrown out the window too. I love my job. I really dislike the way the BoE treats us, the Japanese assistant language teachers and our schools.

The new school I have is used to having an ALT there twice a week, who plans all the lessons and executes them. I’m at three elementary schools. I'm only at each once a week, I want to plan, but being that I miss an entire lesson in between visits, it's going to be difficult to do so. Not impossible, but being that I'm already doing it for two other schools, who are at two different places in the textbook ah…….. From what I have talked to my new supervisor about though, it sounds like the teachers have taken on more of the lesson planning and I'll be able to contribute ideas when I'm there. I just want to and wish I could do more without being confused all the time. (This is all usually done in my second language too, not in English so extra levels of confusion and miscommunication abound).

I feel like this at my JHS too a lot of the time. I want to contribute more, but even with constant communication with my main in school supervisor (who is a badass and pretty much on the same page about everything with me) I still feel about as useful as tits on a bull. Especially now that classes have been cancelled and or shortened, there's less time to do stuff. Any game or activity I plan is usually cut in favor of making up time in the textbook. When I'm in class, I'm back to being a tape recorder, the fun police and general nuisance.　

Also in the last week...my two of my schools were shut due to students testing positive for the rona. This is the second time my schools have had a scare in the last 8 months. And by shut, I mean the students were all at home, but the teachers all had to come into the office. Because why not I guess….. I mean, the cases increasing is really not unexpected with the amount of people who were travelling over obon and the increase of cases due to the Olympics/Japan being slow on vaccinating/delta being the dominant strain/Japan's leaders doing relatively little except asking shops and restaurants to limit people coming in at one time and closing before 8pm. I know my schools weren't the only one shut either - but still High Schools were having their sports days this week. I kept on seeing groups of kids hanging in the park after, so that was a little bit nerve wracking.

It's just frustrating - we’ve been on half days to “minimize the risk of infection” for kids and teachers, as if only being at school from 8am through to 1pm is going to reduce the risk. My schools have only just started testing out Microsoft teams and Zoom lesson equipment. Thankfully our school’s run in this time was contained real quick, the family was super good about informing us when they got their results back, and the fact they needed to be tested. The homeroom teacher and the students from the same class were the only ones tested, and they all came back clear, which was nice. But the information came back so SLOW.

I’m a little irritated because I found out on Wednesday night what was going on, and even if I am vaccinated, I am super worried that I will end up being the covid monkey due to being at different schools three days out of five. I think other than being worried that I will catch it myself and get real sick, my biggest fear is that I will be protected from bad symptoms from the vaccine, but still be able to pass it onto some of my more vulnerable friends and students. The whole thing is a mess.

Other than Covid and BoE drama, life is good. I’ve had a couple of other big changes - both fantastic and not so great, but yeah. I have my health (and health insurance!) for now. I have a job, for now. I have a sense of existential dread for the next 12 months, but we’ll see where we end up. Life post JET is going to be way less cushy and I am TERRIFIED. I mean, I have a BA in Eng/Ling and no idea what to do with it…..because I am NOT suited for academia.

TLDR: Love my job. Don’t like the system. What is life? Future scary.

#life on JET #blog post #life in Japan #jet programme #jet program

14 notes · View notes

itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow.

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax.

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone.

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning.

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.”

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts.

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same.

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that.

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything.

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right?

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start.

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting.

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name.

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door.

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon.

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful.

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth.

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life.

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room.

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him.

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about.

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago.

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind.

“I get it,” Jody finally says.

Dean glances sharply at her.

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told...

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee.

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long.

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up.

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders).

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood.

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed.

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against.

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood.

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities.

Probably.

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this.

The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas.

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off.

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly.

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.”

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?”

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger.

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?”

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar.

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—”

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods.

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water.

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air.

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair.

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected.

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth.

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—”

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on.

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead.

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it.

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?”

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own.

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him.

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough.

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair.

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really.

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago.

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again.

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him.

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this.

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat.

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is.

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step.

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas.

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both.

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists.

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize.

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars.

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic.

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza.

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room.

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up.

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much.

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want.

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face.

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

59 notes · View notes

sage-nebula · 3 years

Text

Game Review — Neo: The World Ends With You

In 2008 I played a JRPG unlike any other I had played before, or have played since. It was a self-contained story and for the most part I was okay for it to stay that way, though I was always curious what more could be done in the world, and hated how Square-Enix kept teasing us with the promise of a sequel that it seemed would never come. But now, 13 years later, that sequel has finally arrived.

Overall Score: 9/10

My personal feelings on the story and characters aside, overall Neo: The World Ends With You lives up to its predecessor in terms of gameplay, writing, music, and presentation. Unlike other sequels which fall woefully short of their predecessors, Neo does a fantastic job of staying true to the spirit of the original so that older fans can enjoy it just as much as new fans do. For more detailed thoughts, head under the cut (and onto my blog for formatting purposes).

The Pros:

The writing, for the most part, is excellent. Again, I have more personal takes on the story and character beats that I’ll delve into on a different post, but in terms of how the dialogue and flavor text are written throughout the game, Neo has shown that the writing staff hasn’t forgotten what makes The World Ends With You spectacular despite it being 13 years. The humor is on point, the character of the fictionalized version of Shibuya that was created is on point. Even just playing the demo I could tell that the charm was still there despite this being written over a decade later and I couldn’t be happier with that fact.

The music is, of course, phenomenal. There are remixes of tracks from the original game that are great, because I’ll never say no to a version of “Transformation” or “The One Star” or “Someday”. But there are also original tracks that are just absolutely beyond fantastic, such as “Kill the Itch” or “Last Call” or “Bird in the Hand”. One of the things that sets The World Ends With You apart from other JRPGs is its music, and how it’s composed to be music comparable with what you could hear on a radio versus being very identifiable as video game music, and Neo delivered on that front yet again with both the remixes and the original tracks.

The gameplay is another area in which Neo shines. It would be impossible to replicate the battle system of the original game, something Square-Enix showed time and time again with their numerous ports and remasters of it. The original game was meant to be played on the Nintendo DS, and specifically the Nintendo DS, in that it was created with the dual screens in mind. As a result, the two partner system just didn’t work on the numerous ports and re-releases, and it wouldn’t be able to work in Neo either due to the fact that none of the platforms it’s releasing on have dual screens. As a result, Neo’s battle system is very different, but also very, very good. The battles are still real time, and you still control all of the characters at once (I don’t think there’s a way to let the AI take over like with the partner in the original game, but I could be wrong on that), but this time they’re all in the same plane of existence and you juggle up to six of them at a time. Instead of passing a light puck to power up a sync fusion, you’re instead bouncing combos in order to work up a Groove, which in turn lets you Beat Drop in what is essentially a version of the sync fusions, albeit not nearly as specific to the characters as the sync fusions were. There were times while playing that having to balance so many characters at once got a bit much, especially when trying out new pins with different reboot times, but overall the battle experience is incredibly smooth and is a perfect rendition of what TWEWY battling should be like on a single screen. Battles aside, there are numerous other areas in which the gameplay shined as well. Starting in Week 2 you gain the ability to move around the map more quickly in a way which integrates the BGM as well (which is important given how much thematic importance is given to music in these games), and in Week 3 you get an even faster method of travel via telewarping around the map. Pins are back, and with a story explanation given for why the characters can use any pins they please, you get different pins to use and elemental affinities to consider when picking out your decks. A new Social Network feature not only gives you additional information on various characters, but also grants you new abilities and can help you keep track of who is who, as well as who has a relation to whom. Little features like this definitely add to the experience of the game and make playing it feel fun, which is always of paramount importance when it comes to video games.

There is a ton of content, which again, is pretty important when you consider that this is a $60 game. Like the original game, there are three weeks of seven days apiece for the main story. In a way, this can make it seem like the game goes by too fast (especially if you binge play it like I did), but also like the original game, there is plenty of post-game content to do as well. For one, we once again get a light-hearted parody bonus chapter in the form of “Another Day”. For another, there are Secret Reports unlocked by completing special missions in each chapter that provide extra background information, as well as an unlockable secret ending as well. So although the main story can go by fast (especially if, again, you just can’t put it down), there is still plenty to do once the main campaign is completed and that’s always the mark of a brilliant game as well.

Speaking of, the game really is difficult to put down. Five hours passed by in a blink for me while I was playing, not only because the gameplay was fun, but because I just had to know what was going to happen next. There were times when I figured I would just start the next day and then put it down, but the next day began with something crazy happening and I had to follow up on it. For a heavily story-based game, this is yet another necessary strength and the developers pulled it off fabulously.

For the most part, the characters were all fantastic as well, newcomers and returning vets alike. The original game shined in how unique it made its characters, and Neo does this as well. The returning cast is (again for the most part) IC but with notable growth in their personalities and demeanors, and the new cast is equally as lovable (or detestable for those that are meant to be detested). Again, since this is a story-based game, having strong characters is a necessary requirement and Neo pulls that off just as splendidly as the original did, with few exceptions.

The game is also beautiful to look at, much like (at risk of sounding like a broken record) the original. The comic book art style has always been incredibly unique and charming, and they integrated the 3D graphics seamlessly with the art style to create a truly beautiful marvel to look at while playing. The character design is also worthy of a chef’s kiss, especially when wise decisions were made behind the scenes to swap the designs of certain characters (namely, Ayano and Kanon originally had each other’s appearance, before a smart decision was made to swap how they looked). All in all, this is a game you never get tired of looking at.

The Neutrals:

Despite there being a wide variety of pins to use (especially since any character can use any pin), there actually isn’t that much of a variety in terms of what the pins actually do. This is partially due to hardware restrictions; in the original game they could have sound based pins because the DS had a microphone, and the touch screen also allowed for different types of inputs as well. But current consoles don’t offer as much in terms of gameplay ingenuity, and as a result you get a lot of pins that are basically just clones of each other, which is a little bit disappointing when you compare it to the original (especially since I haven’t discovered many iconic sets yet, a la Darklit Planets or Brainy Cat etc).

While there are a ton of characters in this game, there is much, much less emphasis put on the citizens of Shibuya who aren’t involved in the Game, which in turn makes it feel like there are less memorable side characters than the last game. For the most part, the citizens of Shibuya are basically relegated to just being possessed by Noise, and that’s it. Whereas we saw their lives carry out over three weeks in the last game (such as Makoto’s evolution in both his social and professional life), here we don’t really get to see that, which is a bit disappointing as well.

The battle gameplay, while very fun and smooth, does feel a little less deep at times than it did in the original game. While in the original you had to learn to balance Neku’s pins with his partner’s psychs, here you’re basically button mashing in a rhythm in order to get the gauge up, which can get a bit tiring if you do a bunch of battles in a row. The fact that the Beat Drops aren’t unique to the characters like the Fusions were is another thing that, while not a huge detriment, still feels a little less special than the Fusions did in the original game.

Neo is a lot more plot-focused than the original, which was more character-driven. Don’t get me wrong, the original definitely had a plot as well, and Neo does care about its characters. But while the deeper aspects of the plot were discovered post-game through the Secret Reports in the original, here the plot intricacies are front and center. And while the first game spent way more time developing its characters and focusing on their inner struggles, here the character issues are mostly pushed to late game in order to focus on the plot. It’s not bad, but it is noticeably different.

You still don’t get to actually see the characters in the clothes you dress them in. While this makes sense (it would be way too much to program in), it’s still a bit of a letdown.

The fashion brands don’t really feature into the plot or world at all, with the exception of Gatto Nero because of who created it. Again, it’s not a huge deal, but I enjoyed how you could see which brands were most popular in different areas of Shibuya in the original, and how you sometimes had to boost the popularity of the brands via doing battle with those pins or clothes equipped in the original in order to clear missions. It made the brands you were wearing actually matter, versus just being fun flavor text.

The Cons:

The time travel mechanic, Replay, is probably the biggest con this game has to offer. While it does have consequences that I won’t spoil here in the very final act of the game, for the most part it completely negated the stakes for the vast majority of the game, because you knew that even if something terrible happened, Rindo would be able to go back in time and fix it. I was never worried about what the characters would encounter as a result of this, except for in a few instances where something bad happened after Rindo had already used his power for the day. This is a noticeable downgrade from the original game, where there were no Do Overs and Neku and the others had to live with whatever consequences the Game had in store for them, which made everything feel that much more dire. In addition to lowering the stakes, though, Replay also loses points for the fact that having to do the same events with slight changes over and over felt like padding. In particular, in the endgame there is a segment you have to go through about six different times, and it felt maddening. While I do feel like Replay was a homage to the Zero Escape games in that it works remarkably similar to Sigma and Phi’s SHIFTing ability (and Fret even calls the Game “the escape room from hell” which again calls to Zero Escape), for some reason it felt far more like a chore here than it did there, possibly because you couldn’t Jump at will here like you can in Virtue’s Last Reward.

I’m personally not wild about the adult/teen romances that were implied in the game, even though thankfully neither of them seemed reciprocated. Namely, Kanon viewed Fret as a kid given that she’s an adult and he’s a teenager, and Shoka never really thought about her relationship with Ayano that deeply even though Ayano seemed pretty in love with Shoka. But even though these relationships weren’t reciprocated, the fact that they were present at all is still something that I’m really just not wild about, and made me feel a bit uncomfortable while playing. (And yes, I know that Ayano and Shoka are said to be sisters in “Another Day”, but the subtext surrounding Ayano’s feelings in specific in the main story is so blatant it’s essentially overt text. I don’t want to get into it here since that delves more into spoiler territory, but I really just was not wild about it at all, especially since that’s the most blatant lesbian rep this series has given us thus far, which is disappointing to me, a lesbian.)

I don’t want to dive too much into this here because of spoilers, but: Neku. From his English voice acting to his writing, he was disrespected up and down in this game. Truly a massive disappointment in every sense of the word, and so he deserves a Con point all to himself.

There is a noticeable lack of minigames in Neo, as well as a lack of variety in the wall missions. We only had one instance of Reaper Review (that I encountered at least). There was no Reaper Creeper, nor was there Tin Pin Slammer, though both were mentioned. As someone who loved Tin Pin Slammer, I was so sad to see it not present at all in this game, and there wasn’t even a suitable replacement for it that we could play on the side, either. As mentioned above, the battles can get a bit boring after a while, so the fact that there weren’t minigames to help break them up truly feels like a detriment to what is otherwise a very fun game to play.

Fret’s Remind ability was a chore every time I had to use it. You had to hold the joysticks at certain positions and if you couldn’t solve it fast enough, you had to reposition them all over again. Maybe it’s just the Switch version that was having the issue, I don’t know, but I found it incredibly finicky and hard to control, which made me dislike every time I had to do it despite loving the little drawings that Fret conjured up when he used his ability.

In cases where Noise could interrupt your entire party at once, I found that I was unable to use pins a second or two before the interruption came. This was most notable with the elephant noise (fuck those elephants, me and all my homies hate those elephants, there were TOO MANY ELEPHANTS in this game) and the final final boss. Again, this could be a bug exclusive to the Switch version, I’m not sure, but it was annoying as heck regardless.

All in all, whatever complaints I may have, this game is extraordinarily fun and a wonderful sequel to an even more wonderful game. I’m incredibly happy with it and I’m glad that it lived up to expectations, particularly considering how long it took to arrive. Now we just need to wait 13 years for a third game. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready.

#neo: the world ends with you #neo twewy #neo the world ends with you #2021 game reviews #minor spoilers contained within though I tried to keep it as spoiler-free as possible

15 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Could you do Himbo king Riptide with the oxygen loss?

Yes

But first

Thank you for giving him the best possible nickname and bestowing upon him the GREATEST of all titles he is forever the Himbo King in my heart oh my GOSH.

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: You're Here!

Riptide

·Having often been dismissed or even mocked for his struggles understanding things that come so easy to others, he was relieved when you met him and were entirely accepting, turning his curiosity for earth to fondness for you in particular. For your part, you simply found his sweetness absolutely charming from the very beginning. While he also has a bit of a mischievous streak, that only contributed to the appeal, and the aquatic Autobot had you smitten fast. Now you're inseparable and everyone knows it. Today you're hanging out by the oil reservoir to chat, complete with some drinks to enjoy as you do so, though they're somewhat forgotten by the snuggle happy Riptide. Not being one for quiet contemplation doesn't stop him from enjoying mostly wordless cuddling sessions in the peaceful chamber.

·You're gaining a static charge thanks to his enthusiastic and cat like nuzzles against you, but you couldn't care less, especially because you know silent affection means he's quite content. A little kiss on his nasal crest earns you a growling purr, and when his optics meet your eyes you can see he's trying to think of something suave to say. The effort alone is sweet enough for you to willingly wait as long as he needs. Unfortunately, he doesn't get the opportunity to finish. There's a very mood ruining tremor that turns into a ground shaking quake, one that sends the reservoir turning over until a wave of oil is sent your way. Thankfully the bot you're dating is able to react on the spot, transforming into a boat and balancing you on his back until the ship grows still and the wave returns to the tank, at which point Riptide reverts to bipedal mode and holds you above the mess.

·Knowing that things aren't supposed to just tumble about, he tries to message someone for an explanation but finds he can't reach anyone. That immediately worries him, but not for his own sake. On instinct, he looks to your tiny form in his hands, knowing that any trouble will prove disastrous for your squishy self. Even if this is just a technical problem, you might get hurt, and he can't let that happen! He has to get you somewhere safe... The challenge of figuring out where is what's difficult, as the entire ship could be dangerous, and he's not accustomed to going away from potential trouble... You can see the panic growing on his face as you catch your breath, and a reassuring request to share the problem coaxes him into speaking.

·You listen diligently as he lays out the problem, his optics growing more worried as he explains the need to assist clashing with his priority to you, and admittedly the concern is touching. Had he been by himself, no doubt he'd have just fearlessly charged for the problem to help. Putting your own mind to the predicament, the possibility of a solution to all present issues becomes clear; the medical bay. No sooner have you posited the destination than he begins acting on it, cheerily praising the sense of it as he holds you close and starts moving. Despite being your proud protector, he doesn't mind leaving planning like this to you, as in fact it makes you and him a kind of dynamic duo. Now that the plan has been set, it's his job to be the muscle and keep you safe...

·There's a kind of comfort to be found in Riptide's arms, even with everything being so tense and quiet around the ship. Between his speed, strength and dedication, there's very little in the universe that could threaten you in his company. It makes you appreciate every moment being held so close to his warm frame. The big bot certainly notices you snuggling close in the silence, and he fights the urge to be talkative as he holds you closer, letting your small form settle naturally against his spark. Somehow he doesn't feel so on edge with you nearby. In fact, not much is scary at all with you in his life, and as an MTO he's spent a lot of time afraid. There's been so much fighting and death from the first day he awoke, and now he feels there can truly be something else for a change, even in moments like this.

·He knows enough about irony to realize that the ambush he walks right into is very ironic. Thankfully, he's honed his reflexes more than well enough to both dodge the first incoming hit and to move into a protective stance around you without hesitation. Outnumbered, he moves swiftly from the center of the circling aliens, each as big as he is but far slower. Shoulder checking one to facilitate an escape, he has just enough time to spot a little alcove a small distance ahead, and for your sake he makes an immediate decision. With a command for you to run, he releases you from his cupped palms and turns to fight off the attackers. All he can do is hope you understand and that he can fight off this many bad guys at once. Knowing that he has to, for both your sakes, doesn't help him as much as he thinks it should.

·Though you're more than a little rattled by the rush of action, you've learned enough in the past few months to recover from such things quickly, and the command for you to run is all you need to get moving. Loud sounds of combat fill your ears as you take off, but you don't stop. Cover is needed before you can check on your partner, instinct tells you. A shot from an energy weapon nearly takes away your hope of seeing him again when it hurls dangerously close. Heat singes your hair and makes you stumble, but you still manage to hobble behind a corner and into a human sized alcove. Only then, burned to a very uncomfortable but not dangerous degree, do you look back at Riptide. To your relief, he's managed to turn the tide of battle and is finishing off the last enemy with his bare hands, sharp dentae bared as he fights like a bot twice his size.

·From his own perspective, Riptide thought everything was a blur after he saw you stumble from a close encounter with blaster fire. Uncertain if you'd even gotten up, or what injuries you might have suffered, he'd gone into a rage assuming the very worst. The alien who'd taken the shot had been the first to go, their weapon crumbling in his servos to burn them with its acidic ammo, but pain hadn't been much of an obstacle in the face of worry. It had almost seemed like one blink of his optics had been all that passed between the start and end of the bloodshed. As soon as the last threat had been dealt with, his focus had shifted fearfully back to you, or at least where he'd last seen you. His spark almost sang to see you looking right back at him. Wincing from injuries he had been too preoccupied to feel before, he smiled through it all before kneeling to welcome you back to his arms in a careful embrace.

·Despite the burning afflicting your arms and face, bright pink blood was your first concern, especially that which dripped from a fist sized crater in his chest. Fussing over him without a care for yourself, you were lifted in a gentle hand as he tried to walk while reassuring you. Frankly, the discoloration to certain parts of your skin seems far more pressing a concern from his perspective, as he's never seen it look so flushed or give off so much heat. Suggesting that you take it easy the rest of the way to the medbay, he points out your still rapid breaths as a sign you need to relax. Even if he doesn't understand "breathing" he's seen it often enough to figure out you only speed it up when stressed. You find yourself surprised upon realizing you are indeed quite out of breath even now.

·Something lurches in his spark when he sees a disturbing slouch to your entire body, as if the adrenaline has finally faded and something awful is hitting you without its shield. Dizzy and quite exhausted, you lay yourself down in the palm holding you gently to try and regain some semblance of concentration, but find the allure of sleep to be growing by the second. Your brush with death must have taken a lot out of you... It's impossible to ignore how nice it is to relax and close your eyes. Even the pain of your injuries is so much more bearable when consciousness slips further away, and you suddenly can't think of many reasons to resist, even as your partner starts insistently asking why you want to sleep.

·Riptide goes right back to panicking as you start to power down in his arms no matter how he requests you stay awake. Tears start dotting his optics as the worst of possibilities run rampant through his mind, forcing him to run despite his own injuries to get you help before it's too late. What if you suffered some human injury he didn't know was possible during the fight? What if he couldn't get you to help in time? What if this was all his fault? Pleading for you to stay awake, he ignores the pain in his body as he continues to make himself run, half uncertain he's going the right way in his panic. Thinking borders on impossible with the hurt and grief warring inside of him. All he knows is that he can't lose you, and in the back of his processor a wicked bit of loathing taunts him for messing up in ways that a smart bot never would have.

·Limping into the medical bay, he brushes off immediate concern for his own injuries to hold you up and plead for somebot who knows how to fix you. The medics react quickly, having trained to treat humans with you on board, and First Aid informs him of a breakdown in the ship's atmospheric controls. Not understanding the finer details of the issue, he's nevertheless able to figure out you were in a kind of danger he wasn't even aware of. Seeing you be stabilized and bandaged makes him happy for only the shortest of moments. It hardly seems any of this could have happened if you had been with a bot who was smart enough to grasp these things. From the ambush to the delay just in getting you here, it isn't hard to conclude he's responsible for your suffering...

·Having not truly lost consciousness until the medics put you under to recover, you know where you are when wakefulness stirs your limbs, but that doesn't stop you from feeling a touch confused. Accustomed to waking in the presence of one particular bot, you stretch out your hand in a blind search for a familiar presence. A warm digit presses into your palm without delay. Opening your eyes to a beloved face partially obscured by an oxygen mask, you're relieved to see the injuries he endured protecting you have been patched up to the best of Autobot medical ability, leaving little more than a few bandages to mark their presence. However, the usually perky bot is looking absolutely distraught. Grey optics make it clear to you he's been crying. Without a pause, you ask him if he was hurt worse than initially thought, or if something terrible happened to someone else.

·At your concern he sheds more tears, both touched by your words and feeling wholly undeserving of their compassion. He can't help but say how all of your troubles are his fault, as anyone who was actually smart would have taken you here right away. They also would have been able to avoid walking right into an ambush, something only bots as slow as himself would do, because he's just so dumb. At his last word you grab his digit insistently, unable to stand up and stop such talk as you usually do when teasing gets to him. Hearing you say that such talk simply isn't true, that you adore him and he made the decisions that likely saved your life in addition to fighting off a team of aliens... Your words help, as they always do. Though he's still quite rattled at the idea of nearly losing you.

·Gesturing to his still healing wounds, you assure him that you're afraid as well, because there's a lot out there capable of hurting you both. But, together, you stand a chance. That gives him pleasant pause. Recalling how he'd compared the two of you to a kind of dynamic duo, he smiles and leans in to you as he does when seeking cuddles. Careful of your own bandages, you let him snuggle close and pet his crest just the way he likes, encouraging him to relax. Forming a protective wall around you, he's able to get some much needed rest alongside you, looking far more peaceful at the prospect of always having you beside him.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lostlight #lost light #ll #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #riptide #riptide x reader #HIMBO KING

123 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Where the Love Light Gleams

Killian was going to kill his brother.

Which wasn’t very festive, but neither was being away from his girlfriend on Christmas Eve and this was all Liam’s fault. Or so he would claim. While rationalizing his current tendency to wallow, and stare at his phone and he’d spent far too much time on his phone that night.

Whatever, it was Christmas Eve. That was definitely a reasonable excuse.

---

Rating: Teen, with banter and friendship and kissing Word Count: 5.1 K AN: It’s me! Someone who can’t seem to write an MC to save her present life, but loves few things more than Christmas-type fluff and is therefore filling Christmas-type prompts again. Today’s comes from @shireness-says who is always wonderful about replying to these sort of things and requested:

"you had a business trip and i missed you so much that i kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?" and “we’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about. "

Both of which I almost legitimately filled. Just kind of—twisted. As is tradition. If you are so inclined to send a prompt from this very long list, you can pick one here, and I’ll do my best to write it before Christmas.

This one is also on Ao3 if that’s your jam, where I’ll be posting all of ‘em.

---

“Are you moping? It kind of looks like you’re moping.”

“Wow, such unparalleled observational skills. You should become a private investigator.”

Sticking her tongue out, Ariel made some sort of objection-type noise in the back of her throat, which probably would have made Killian smile in any other situation. On any other day. A day that wasn’t Christmas Eve.

When he was absolutely, positively moping.

It was a miracle he hadn’t frozen like this. That would have done irreparable damage to his spine, he was sure.

He wasn’t really sitting up very straight.

“There can’t possibly still be private investigators in the world,” Ariel challenged, brushing a wayward strand of hair away from her face and it was far too windy on the docks. If Killian didn’t get off the docks soon, he was going to scream.

Or mope for the rest of the holiday season. At least until the New Year. That seemed reasonable, honestly.

He was going to strangle Liam.

This was all his fault.

“You’re kidding me, right? What—what kind of world do you think we’re living in?” Ariel shrugged. “One that’s progressed past the need for private investigators, obviously. And I object to the notion that I would require any sort of PI-type skills to know that you’re being an absolute and complete, although also kind of understandable, idiot.”

“Those words don’t go together.” “What do people hire private investigators for, anyway?” “Loads of stuff.” “Give me one example.” He huffed, irritation rattling around his skull and mixing in with a begrudging appreciation because he knew Ariel felt bad and maybe he’d kick Liam too. “Missing kids.” “Yeesh, that’s awfully negative.” “What was that about accusing me of moping before? I’m playing to those accusations.” “Ok, but we already decided they were observations, so you don’t get to rename them now that you’re feeling particularly jerk-like.” “I’m here, aren’t I? Makes it seem less jerk-like.”

Another shrug. And a specific quirk of her lips that Killian was far too well-acquainted with. The muscles in his cheeks were almost starting to ache.

Presumably from holding them in this position for so long.

He was absolutely moping.

But he’d already been in Boston two days longer than he planned on, and none of this was really going according to plan. He’d checked his phone no less than forty-seven times in the last forty-five minutes. He hated that. Staring at that screen made him feel like a clingy freak, who couldn’t go more than a few minutes without talking to his girlfriend, and Killian had complained about those people enough times that his current tendency to do it made him despise himself just a bit.

And yet he couldn’t stop.

His thumbs flew across the keys, sending complaints and updates and smiling in spite of his own situation.

Like a psychopath. One who was quite obviously frustrated.

With several thousand things, it seemed — the most pressing of which was his distinct lack of festive nature, caused almost entirely by the issues with the expansion in Boston and adding another ship in Boston was supposed to be easy.

Until Eric got the flu, and it was understandably difficult to captain a sightseeing holiday cruise when you couldn’t actually stand up for more than two minutes at a time, and Killian couldn’t say no to his brother when they both had so much money tied up in this, and if Liam was going to fly in to make sure everything stayed the metaphorical course, then the least Killian could do was drive in from New York.

Or so Liam had told him. In no uncertain terms.

Except Liam had also brought Belle with him and that somehow seemed like cheating, and Killian should have asked Emma to come.

She had to work. He’d missed Mary Margaret and David’s Christmas Eve party.

Which normally wouldn’t have felt like the end of the world, partially because Mary Margaret’s fruitcake was notoriously awful, but this year it made Killian’s heart feel like it was fragmenting in his chest and Emma’s photos had gotten progressively more and more blurry as the night went on. Mary Margaret also notoriously bought a questionable number of Prosecco bottles for the Christmas Eve party.

“You are,” Ariel agreed, a string of words that caught Killian off guard when he was so deep in his own wallowing. “Which is super nice, but—” “—How can there be a but in this situation?” “There are several, actually, except the biggest one is how three different people on tonight’s cruise wanted to know why the first mate was so obviously distracted.” “They called me first mate?” “People think it’s funny to use nautical terms in real life.”

Slumping forward did not do anything to help the state of Killian’s spine, only managed to make sure his hair fluttered in front of his eyes when a salt-tinged breeze blew off the Harbor and he briefly wondered how dramatic he could get. He needed to exhale some more.

He needed to go home. “Anyway,” Ariel continued, “they wanted to know why the first mate was on his phone all the time, and if the first mate was available and—” “—I’m sorry, what?”

“You have a face, you know that right?” “Now you’re just saying words.”

If she kept sticking her tongue out at its current rate, it was going to get frost-bitten. “These are compliments, you’re an ass and I owe you just—a metric ton of rum, the good kind, for doing all of this.” “Giving me whiplash,” Killian muttered, but one side of his mouth tugged up despite his best efforts to remain as depressing as possible. Ariel’s eyes got brighter. Rivaled the lights still flickering along the railing of their very nice, very new, decidedly expensive multi-level ship, and it had only taken about fourteen seconds for Killian to make that one photo Emma had sent him his phone background.

That probably wasn’t weird.

“So, people wanted to know about you,” Ariel said, “and your previously discussed face, and rather than employee a PI because it’s not 1947—” “—Oddly specific.” “I will kill you.” “God bless us, everyone.” “Your very helpful and exceedingly sure of his own obnoxious brand of humor brother was very quick to inform all the interested parties that the first mate was distracted because he unfortunately wasn’t with his wife for Christmas.”

Ariel’s murder threat was not only out of place considering the date, it was pointless because he was going to guarantee he died all on his own. Killian nearly fell off the edge of the dock.

One of his knees buckled, gaping at his friend and business partner like she’d only recently grown a few extra heads. She didn’t shrug again. Smiled, in her best impression of a variety of fictional and overly confident cats, but her shoulders stayed frustratingly still and that was—

“Emma and I aren’t married,” Killian sputtered, not entirely stunned to find those particular words difficult to say in that order. Half a plan rattled around with the rest of the emotions circling his skull, and he hadn’t really acted on the plan, but he’d been pondering and considering for at least a few weeks before his phone had rung.

And that was only kind of a lie.

He’d been doing a lot more than pondering for much longer than a few weeks. Considering had flown out the imaginary window, like—as soon as he and Emma had moved in together.

Liam didn’t know any of that, though.

At least in theory.

Maybe strangling his brother was something of an overreaction.

He still wanted to go home, though.

“Liam knows that,” Ariel reasoned, “and I know that. And obviously you know that, but none of your on-water admirers know that, and you were playing your part very well.” “What?” “Glued to your phone, all night. Like a clingy newlywed.” “That’s ridiculous.” “Is it? Because while not technically true—” “—Or true at all,” Killian interrupted, and he wondered if he was getting used to the feel of his heart doing whatever it was doing, or he was just growing more melodramatic by the second. At some point in the last twelve minutes the idea of walking back to New York had become rather appealing.

“Well, whatever. It was a good excuse, and it’s not like it was one-sided texting and it’s kind of romantic. All things considered.” “What are all the things, exactly?” That shrug came with another smile — far too knowing for Killian’s liking, but he also knew Ariel wouldn’t go back on her rum-buying word, and he supposed there was something to be said for that. Especially if it was good rum. “If you’re going to play the part…” “Look who’s being a romantic now.” “I’ve spent most of the lead-up to Christmas trying to force-feed Pedialyte on my husband. Got to get my romance from somewhere and you’re like—Hallmark Channel ready.” “Probably couldn’t have as much alcohol, then.” “How many bottles of Prosecco do you think Mary Margaret bought this year?”

Tugging his phone out of his pocket, Killian scrolled back through the more than two dozen photos he’d been sent over the course of the night until he found the one he was looking for. Of a table covered in green-hued bottles with plastic champagne flutes that Mary Margaret must have bought in bulk and—

Ariel’s laugh hung in the air around them, louder than it probably should have been considering the time, but they were also by themselves and he was still kind of moping. So. The world could cope with their collective volume.

“Do you think she gets a discount for buying so many?” Killian shook his head. “If she doesn’t, she’s being robbed.” “Get the private investigators on the case.” “Challenge Liam to a comedic battle.” “Not if we’re calling it that,” Ariel argued, bumping her shoulder against Killian’s leg. And he wasn’t sure if he was actually smiling, but his lips were moving and his heart didn’t appear to be shattering quite as much anymore and he hoped Emma fell asleep.

On Mary Margaret and David’s couch.

They wouldn’t let her go home, he was sure.

He hadn't gotten a text in awhile.

He was less sure about the shadows moving towards them, though — because he’d been a little distracted when they docked, but he watched Liam and Belle get into their rental car and there was absolutely no reason for either one of them to be back on the docks, but anyone else showing up on the docks at eleven o’clock at night was probably a sign that Killian and Ariel were about to be robbed. In a far more literal sense than whatever happened with Mary Margaret and her plastic champagne flutes.

“You guys good?” Ariel asked, sounding more aware of what was going on than she should have been. Killian’s eyes narrowed.

That made it only slightly difficult to see the overall width of his brother’s answering smile.

Plus, it was dark out.

“Better,” Liam said, “she's an absolute natural.”

Scrunching her nose, Belle waved off the compliment. “Please, all I have to do is stand there and be helpful.” “Yeah, but that’s more than Killian was able to do today, so…” “He was distracted.” “And standing right here,” Killian muttered, although standing was a little generous. His left knee was still awful bent. In an unnatural sort of way. “Doesn’t that hurt?” Liam asked. Gesturing towards Killian’s posture, he tilted his head and that was even more judgmental than any of the words Ariel hadn’t bothered saying. “Can’t be good for your ACL or whatever.” Belle clicked her tongue. “Adding the whatever makes it sound less official, really.” “And we’re trying to be official,” Ariel chipped in, clamoring to her feet. By using the side of Killian’s jacket for leverage, tugging on fabric until she threatened to tear it and that also would have been impressive if it didn’t feel suspiciously like he was about to pass out.

She wrapped her arms around Killian’s middle.

That kind of helped, honestly.

He’d never admit to it.

“Official about what, exactly?” Killian asked. “What are you guys doing here?”

Liam’s smile got wider. “We could ask you the same question, but we’ve already claimed way too much of your time and—” “—Wait, what?” “Killian seriously,” Ariel sighed, “if you keep interrupting, we’re never going to get to the fun and passably romantic part of the plan.” “Oh, no it’s definitely more than passably romantic,” Belle argued.

“Depends on him, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but he was glued to his phone and I’ve got at least twenty bucks on this happening before New Year’s Eve, so—” “—New Year’s Eve would be really romantic, actually!” “No, no, no,” Liam objected, voice rising on every repeat, “I’ve got Christmas morning, and that means he’s got to go now.” Not having anything to drink made it impossible for Killian to claim intoxication as a reason for the current spin rate of his head. Metaphorically, at least. Even so, he felt a little dizzy and slightly out of breath, trying very hard not to topple into the water.

There was no way he’d be able to disentangle himself from Ariel before he did that.

And then she’d get annoyed.

“What is going on?” Killian demanded, pausing between each word for emphasis. Liam’s lips disappeared. Behind his teeth.

While he failed spectacularly at containing his laugh. “We’re kicking you out,” Belle said simply, like that made sense and they hadn’t all but required his presence in Boston less than seventy-two hours earlier.

Killian blinked. Once, twice. Half a dozen times. Nothing changed. Ariel’s arms tightened, maybe — but Liam didn’t move, and Belle’s nose still had that scrunch-like effect, and the lights on their ship really did make it appropriately festive.

“And apologizing,” Ariel added. “We should make that more obvious.”

Blinking more was stupid.

Talking probably would have helped. But Killian’s tongue suddenly took up far too much space in his mouth, next to all the imaginary cotton balls that were impeding his ability to breathe and it could not have been healthy for so many body parts to consistently fail like that.

“This is really my fault,” Liam admitted, taking a step forward to clap Killian on the shoulder. His right knee bent that time. At least his reactions were symmetrical. “And I—well, I...I was so worried about the money and the party and—” “—We didn’t really think about your plans,” Belle finished. Opening his mouth, Killian genuinely could not come up with a word to describe whatever sound he made. Something between a scoff and that huff he was trying to accomplish before, but also drifting dangerously close to laughter borne of disbelief and his back actually had the gall to pop when he leaned forward.

“I don’t have plans.” “Please,” Ariel scoffed, “you have at least the hope for plans, and that’s nice in a way that deserves a better adjective and all that rum I promise.” Liam’s eyes widened. “How much rum are we talking?” “Enough that you stop spending so much time talking about the proper light to string ratio.” “What does that even mean?” Killian balked.

Shaking her head, Belle moved into his space as well. Both her hands landed on the front of his jacket, and Killian wasn’t exactly cold per se, but there was something inherently comforting about his sister-in-law’s smile and the way she always smelled a bit like vanilla.

As if she were just minutes away from baking something, at all times.

“Telling you to come here was a dick move,” Belle announced, Ariel’s head finding Killian’s shoulder when she started to cackle once more. They were all standing too close to each other. Someone was going to step on someone else’s foot. “And,” she continued, “Liam was right. This is totally his fault, but he’s running on like...no sleep, because we’re—” She grit her teeth, another unfinished sentence that frustrated Killian for about eight and half seconds. Before it all clicked at nine. “No, shit.” “Shit,” Belle confirmed, another smile and her left foot landed on Killian’s right when he pulled into a far-too-tight hug. Ariel had to move her arms. “Babies are expensive you see,” Liam said, “and we’d already funneled so much money into this, the party had to happen and I wasn’t sure if Belle was going to be able to come with me because—” “—They don’t tell you morning sickness lasts all day,” she grumbled. Killian’s laugh had an almost manic edge to it, suddenly happier than he thought he could be and that was more appropriate for the time. Of both the day and season.

“So,” Liam added, “I kind of lost my mind about Eric, and didn’t think about you or Emma or how stupid you’d be when you weren’t around Emma at Christmas because it’s so goddamn obvious what you’re planning.”

Heat rose in Killian’s cheeks, a questionably large inferno that suddenly flared to life in the pit of his stomach. “I haven’t totally decided.” “Yeah, well that’s dumb.” “Rife with opinions tonight, aren’t you?” “We’re kicking you out,” Belle repeated. “With our apologies that I wasn’t on the ship tonight because that shrimp appetizer smell made me want to die a little.” Ariel sighed. “Do all our statements have to be so violent? There should be more positivity to all of this.” “There will be if Killian can get me my twenty bucks.” “Why are you betting on this?” he asked, but the distinct lack of frustration in his voice was obvious even to him. Belle laughed. “Because calling you a newlywed was not nearly as unbelievable as it should have been, and if you get with the program you could probably have your rehearsal dinner on one of our very accommodating ships with an appetizer that does not include shrimp.” “I’m not really a huge fan of shellfish.” “See, the perfect plan.” An objection sat on the tip of Killian’s tongue — if only because he was decidedly stubborn and now a little worried about his brother’s expanding family, but his own family was not in Boston and he’d really like Emma to be his family. In an official sort of capacity.

“But what about—” “—No, absolutely not,” Belle cut in before Killian could finish, “that’s what we were doing. Going over the plans for tomorrow’s lunch cruise, and everything you were supposed to do, which I’m pretty confident I can do now, mostly because my husband is here and I won’t be tempted to text him the entire time.” “At least not much,” Liam quipped. The pinch between Killian’s eyebrows was going to stay there forever. If not longer. “And then I’ll also text you, at an appropriate time tomorrow, to apologize for being a massive Christmas bastard.” Hair hit Killian’s cheek. Not his. Distinctly red and smelling like shampoo she’d definitely spent far too much money on, Ariel’s hair blew around her when she threw her head back. With laughter. The catching sort, spreading like wildfire through their tiny group, until Belle had to wrap her arm around her middle to stay up, and Killian’s stomach ached just a bit and it took him a moment to realize he’d made another fire pun.

In his head. He needed to go home.

“Was Ariel a distraction?”

She kicked his ankle. “Rude, and yeah obviously. Liam is so goddamn overprotective with his unborn child, it’s disgusting.” “And nice,” Belle grinned.

Exhaling, Liam tugged on the back of his hair. A tell, and an apology without the words. Killian wanted the words. Even if it took a few extra minutes. “Seriously,” Liam said, “a Christmas bastard, which is not an excuse, but—I’m sorry. For the batard’ness, and bringing you here, and not explaining the reasons behind the bastard. And also for ruining your plans.” “I really have no plans,” Killian promised, but that fell a bit flat and he at least had rather specific wants. Of the desire-type variety.

“So fix that. Like as soon as possible.” “For my twenty bucks,” Belle said with another yank on Killian’s jacket. The poor jacket was not going to last much longer.

Ariel rolled her eyes. “She’s obsessed with the twenty bucks.” “Because your husband will have to pay it!” “Should you have bet with an invalid?” Killian asked, trying without much immediate success to take a step away from either one of them. “And what kind of Pedialyte flavor are you forcing?” “The purple kind.” “Blue’s definitely better.” Liam looked frustrated.

That felt like something of a victory. “Were you going to go, Killian? Or—” Kissing the top of Ariel’s hair and pulling Belle into one more hug, Killian flipped off his brother, muttered Merry Christmas, don’t sink the boat, and would never admit to running back towards his car. Or how quickly he drove home.

It took at least twenty-six minutes to find a parking spot.

Four blocks away.

Still, Killian assumed he was running on holiday-fueled adrenaline and something almost resembling romance and the distinct lack of anything in his pocket was a challenge he viewed as quirky more than anything else.

He bounded up the steps, nearly dropping his keys more than once before he managed to unlock the door only to be immediately hit in the face. With what felt suspiciously like garland.

And Killian hadn’t really planned on spending much time in their apartment, only thinking about a few hours of sleep before driving to Mary Margaret and David’s house on the Island because he might have come up with half a list of sweepingly romantic things to do, but he wasn’t a total jerk who would show up on someone else’s doorstep in the middle of the goddamn night, and it obviously did not make a single ounce of difference.

While he was being strangled with garland.

Blinking against the darkness of their living room, Killian’s brain couldn’t quite come to terms with what he was seeing. Like the ninth floor of the Herald Square Macy’s had exploded. Tinsel hung from what appeared to be actual ivy, pinned along the top of the wall with startling accuracy. Lights meant to resemble icicles reflected against every window pane, and there was an actual tree in the corner.

Every one of his inhales had a distinct pine-like scent to it, like he was standing in the middle of a forest, and Killian did not think they owned that many ornaments when he left.

They hadn’t owned any ornaments, so it was a rather easy number to remember.

A star was balanced precariously at the top of the tree, paper snowflakes dropping from the ceiling and—

Emma curled in the corner of the couch.

With at least four blankets covering her. She was a notorious blanket thief.

Mary Margaret hadn’t woken up either, twisted into the other end of the cushions, and Killian couldn’t fathom how they were comfortable, but he was also admittedly a little distracted by the desire of his lungs to keep providing oxygen to the rest of his body and David’s eyes were alarmingly wide.

“What are you doing here?” “I live here,” Killian hissed, swatting away the garland. Bits of it fell onto the top of his sneakers. “What are you doing here?” “Helping.” “What?” “Helping,” David said slowly, like Killian simply did not understand the word and not all the meaning behind it. “She—well, the decorations left something to be desired, and you know Mary Margaret. There’s a project, so she’s got to help and—” “—Wait, wait, wait, did Emma do all this?”

Waving both his hands in the air, David didn’t bother to say obviously when the movement made it so abundantly clear. Killian’s jaw dropped.

Something popped there as well. Which probably wasn’t what woke Emma up, but thinking that was almost nice in another way that deserve a better adjective, and the overall force of her smile as soon as her eyes landed on him made every bit of splintered heart still lingering in his chest knit itself back together.

Immediately.

“Should I be concerned that you’re deserting?” she asked, hooking her chin over the back of the couch. As if she’d been expecting this exact situation. Killian shook his head. “Nah, this is a wholly authorized shore leave.” David’s groan very likely hurt the inside of his throat.

“What happened here, Swan?” Pink immediately colored her expression, every one of her teeth obvious when she grit them. Mary Margaret must have been the soundest sleeper in the Universe. Or she’d had a questionable amount of Prosecco to drink that night. “Christmas?” That was as good a reason as any, honestly. Although that stubborn streak of his ran several nautical miles wide, and nearly tripping over the garland on his few steps towards the couch made Emma’s shoulders shake.

Killian knelt in front of her.

Step one accomplished, then.

“It’s super lame,” Emma warned, but Killian’s heart was doing more biologically impossible things and his eyes fluttered when she brushed his hair away from his forehead. “I just—well, you weren’t here, and that kind of ruined any of my festive-type feelings, which as we all know are shaky at best.” “Work in progress, love.” Her tongue sticking between her lips was not as annoying as Ariel’s had been. Killian figured that had something to do with the desire to kiss her. And not Ariel. Who would have smacked him at even the allusion to such a thing. “Well,” Emma mumbled, “the lack of appropriate holiday spirit reared its head like—as soon as you closed the door behind you, but then I went to the party and you kept texting me and—” “—I’m sorry, I was texting you? You were texting me!” “God,” David grumbled, dropping into the only chair left in the living room. There should have been more chairs in the living room. “It’s ridiculous, the pair of you.” Killian narrowed his eyes. Glaring was too difficult. “Why are you here?” “I told you, helping.” “He did,” Emma said. “Both him and Mary Margaret, really. I, ok—well, whoever was texting who, it doesn’t really matter. Just that Ruth thinks we’re married.” Of all the ways that sentence could have ended, Killian was loath to admit hearing that David’s mother believed the same lie Liam had been spouting to Boston tourists was not one of them.

“She does,” Emma continued, rushing over the words, “for some reason. But she kept saying how nice it was that a young couple like us was able to keep in touch when we weren’t together for the holidays and I was really kind of drunk, and even more upset that you weren’t going to be here, so my mind just kind of latched onto things and—” Pulling in a deep breath made her shoulders shift again, Killian’s eyes taking in every moment so he could commit them all to memory and the question was out of his mouth before he realized Emma was still talking. “Will you marry me?” “Do you want to get married?”

David fell out of the chair.

Slid, technically. Directly onto the floor and next to presents that were almost perfectly wrapped with color coordinated bows on each of them.

“What?” Killian breathed, Emma’s hand flying to her mouth. Left one, so that helped too actually. None of his fingers shook when he reached up, pulling that same hand down and kissing the bend of her knuckles. Tears clouded Emma’s eyes, falling on her cheeks faster than he could brush them away.

With his mouth. Killian tried all the same.

While ignoring the increasing volume of David’s rather uproarious laugh. He was texting someone. Probably Ariel, who very likely was requiring play-by-play. And had timed Killian’s drive home.

“That was kind of...this,” Emma explained, nodding towards the living room. “I—I wanted to decorate, and make it Christmas when you got back because...well, I blame the alcohol and your brother and—” “—That’s fair, honestly. Belle’s pregnant, by the way.” “No shit.” “Shit,” Killian confirmed, a repeat he’d share later. Once they got all this engagement business sorted out. “They’re pretty incredible decorations.” “Yeah, well flattery will get you everywhere.” Huffing out a breath, Emma’s head dropped to his, and that made it easier to get his fingers in her hair. “This made a lot of sense when I was drunker. But, uh—I needed to do something with all that energy and sudden holiday thoughts and I’ve got a lot of thoughts about your face, you know that?” Ariel was going to be insufferable.

Killian would make her buy some Moscato, too. That was Emma’s favorite. “Gave me something to do,” Emma added, “and then I figured you’d get home and there’d be some sweeping and we could do something about Ruth’s assumptions and I think we’d be really good at being married.” Kissing her was the only reasonable option. Even as David sounded like he was in physical pain.

Surging up, Killian’s mouth all but slammed into Emma’s, tilting his head so he got to that one, perfect angle that allowed his tongue to swipe across her lips and draw that even more perfect sound out of her, and he was only dimly aware of Mary Margaret waking up. The couch creaked when she moved.

Killian didn’t.

His fingers carded through Emma’s hair, only breaking apart to appease his lungs and the requirements of his body before kissing her again, and his knees kind of ached. Presumably from supporting most of their collective weight when Emma was kind of draped across him. “Don’t go in the bedroom, ok?” Humming against her only guaranteed David made another noise of protest, but it was nice that they’d helped decorate and Killian could only imagine how they’d gotten all that ivy on the wall.

“That’s, uh—” Emma leaned back, one of her eyes squeezed closed. “Where we put all the extra non-holiday stuff, and it’s kind of a disaster.”

“Tore up the apartment, like she had separation anxiety,” Mary Margaret slurred, and Killian refused to be held accountable for whatever his face did at that.

David rolled his whole head. Emma shrugged. He liked that one the best. “So, uh—” “Yeah,” Killian finished, before he could stop himself and any qualms either one of them had once had about clingy relationships or relationship qualifiers appeared to disappear before their eyes. Like frost on the window. Which was seasonally appropriate. “I think we’d be really good at marriage.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Where’d you get the decorations from, though?” “You’re welcome,” Mary Margaret replied, sounding a bit more coherent and just as exhausted. That was fair. It was close to four in the morning.

Emma nodded. “Definite separation anxiety. So we should probably not do this again, and then you can help decorate.” “Deal,” Killian promised, and they didn’t bother waiting for an appropriate time to call Liam. Or Ariel, who crowded into the video call because, as she claimed, it was her living room and her twenty bucks and her shriek probably affected the structural integrity of her house.

The rum showed up two days later.

And made for a very good toast, as soon Killian slipped the ring onto Emma’s finger. They picked it out together.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #festive fic a thon 2k20 #can't write an MC but can write 5K in like...four hours #naturally #enjoy this fluffy nonsense

59 notes · View notes

assembledherethevolunteers · 3 years

Text

Request 3

A/N: Well hi, everybody! I got this request just about a month ago from the amazing @phantoms-lynn! She said her birthday was coming up and I’m not sure if this is late or not, but I hope you had/have a great birthday and thank you for the request! I hope you all enjoy some birthdays!

Pairing: Freddie Mercury x Jim Hutton w/ daughter!reader

Summary: Some snapshots of your birthdays with your Papa (Freddie) and Dad (Jim)

Warnings: None really, fluff, suggested underage drinking

Taglist: @queenlover05 @theblossomknows (if you’d like to be added let me know!)

You opened your eyes, slowly, giving yourself time to wake up. Even though you hadn’t been sleeping that much. You were too excited. You were more excited for this day than Christmas.

Because this day was just about you. And maybe that was selfish, and you knew that was wrong, but it was one of the few days that Papa took the whole day off and Daddy made your favorite foods for all three meals.

You saw that the sun was starting to come up but you know that you should wait until one of your fathers came and got you.

You laid in bed for a while until you couldn’t wait anymore (which in all honesty was maybe fifteen minutes). You got up and tried to sneak into your fathers’ rooms as quietly as possible. You saw both of them, still asleep. You walked over to their bed and stood there for a moment before your Dad woke up.

“Y/N, what are you doing in here?”

“I got excited and couldn’t sleep,” you whispered to him.

He smiled at you and then sat up. “Well, I think it’s still a bit early for breakfast, so why don’t you come snuggle with me and Papa?”

You smiled and climbed into bed and actually fell back asleep for a little while. Until…

“Jim, dear, it seems we have a rather large bed bug.”

“We do, but it was cute, so I decided we should keep it.”

You giggled as your fathers turned over and started to cuddle with you, even though they talked over your head.

“Well, I supposed I agree with you. She is very cute,” your papa pulled you close and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I also think this might be a very special day for her, so I don’t think we should kick her out of bed. What do you think?”

“We don’t want to be rude hosts.”

You felt your dad kiss the very top of your head.

“How old are you now, little bed bug?” Your papa asked.

“Eight!”

“Eight? That can’t be right. I’m not old enough to have an eight-year-old bed bug.”

You wanted to keep the game up, but your stomach gave a growl.

“Daddy, can we have pancakes?”

Your dad told you that you could and the three of you got out of bed and down to the kitchen.

“Alright, Lovie, why don’t you help Dad and I’ll supervise,” your papa gave you a wide smile.

You liked his smile. You don’t know why he didn’t.

“Freddie, you wouldn’t know how to supervise a kitchen if your life depended on it.”

You laughed at your papa when he stuck his tongue out at your dad’s back when he grabbed the eggs from the refrigerator.

The three (okay, really two) of you got to work on the pancakes. You always loved cooking in the kitchen with your dad, and sometimes, like today, your papa would make up little songs as you did so.

“’And she mixed and she mixed in her little bowl. Making sure there was enough to make them full.’ You know, Romeo, I think I’m on to something,” your papa hummed to the cat.

You and your dad made breakfast, complete with pancakes, and then the three of you ate it together.

“So, what do you want to do for your birthday?”

“Can we go to the park? And then maybe we can get some ice cream!” You started bouncing up and down in your seat. There was a stand not far from the park that had the best ice cream.

“Well, that seems reasonable. But first,” your papa looked at your dad. “Jim, don’t you think we should do presents?”

The rest of the day was spent with your fathers. They took you to the park and even stopped for ice cream. The sun was starting to set when you were on your way home. You were pulling into the driveway at home, eating your ice cream, when you noticed that there were a lot of cars in the driveway.

“Why are all these cars here?”

You noticed your fathers smile at each other, but neither of them answered you. You were about to ask again when you saw balloons tied to the front of your door.

“Daddy? Papa?”

“Come on, Lovie, let’s get you inside.”

The three of you made your way to the front door. Your papa opened the front door and a shout of “SURPRISE!” made you jump.

Standing in the front room were your uncles, aunts, and grandparents. You gasped and ran right to your grandparents.

“Grandma! Grandpa! I’ve missed you!”

“Oh, we’ve missed you too, my darling,” your Grandma mumbled into your hair before pressing kisses all over the top of your head.

“Auntie Kash!”

Your aunt scooped you up in her arms and squeezed you tight.

“Happy birthday, you gorgeous girl.”

“Thank you!”

She let you down and you then ran to your uncles (that weren’t ACTUALLY your uncles, but you called them that anyway).

“Well hello there!” Your Uncle John picked you up and hugged you tight before spinning around with you, making you laugh. “Happy birthday, beautiful,” He gave you a kiss on the side of your head.

“Thank you, Uncle John,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

You gave similar greetings to your Uncle Brian and Uncle Roger before one of your cousins came up and the two of you ran off to play.

You got all kinds of presents, including a guitar from your Uncle Brian that was a smaller version of his Red Special. Your grandmother had baked your favorite cake. Your papa and uncles sang your favorite song of theirs.

That night, you started to drift off in your Uncle Roger’s lap. You heard your dad ask if you were ready to go to sleep. You shook your head, but the next thing you remembered, you were being tucked in.

“But Daaaaaddy,” you muttered at him halfheartedly.

“Sh, Princess, you need your rest.”

You hummed in protest, but were now too tired to actually argue. You felt your dad kiss you one more time before you finally succumbed to sleep.

It was one of your favorite birthdays so far.

Nine Years Later

“HAAAAAAPPY BIIIIIIIRTHDAY, DEAR Y/N!”

Your eyes cracked open to see your dad and papa holding a cupcake with a candle. You smiled, but still brought the blanket up to cover your head.

“Daaaaaad, Paaaaaaapa, it’s too early,” you whined at them.

“’Too early’? It’s nearly noon!” Your papa’s voice was nearly offended, as if sleeping so late was the worst thing you could’ve done. “And you call me dramatic.”

“You’re both dramatic,” your dad’s voice responded. You could hear the smile and the shake of his head.

“Blame my up bringing,” you said, still under the blanket.

“Oh gladly,” your dad replied. Your papa squeaked, but your dad kept talking. “But, you really do need to get up because your grandparents will be here for lunch in about an hour.”

You hummed, letting him know that you’d heard him.

“And if you don’t get up for that, we won’t have your party tonight, so those are your options,” your dad proclaimed nonchalantly before you heard him leave.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have your party,” you heard your papa whisper. “But you really do need to get up otherwise your dad will come back in here and yell. And you know he gets scary when he yells.”

You laughed to yourself because you’re pretty sure the last time you heard your dad yell it had been because one of the cats got out the front door.

You finally sat up and pulled the blanket away from your head, your papa still standing near your bed with the candle.

“Make a wish, Lovie.”

Later that night, you were getting ready for your party in your attached bathroom.

It was going to just be you and your friends. Your fathers were going to go out and not be home until one, which you were a little surprised about. They’d let you have parties before, sure, but they usually only gave you a couple hours.

You were especially excited because there was a guy from your French class, Tyler, that was invited. The two of you had been paired up for a little skit you had to preform for the class and since then the two of you had flirted every chance you got. You hoped tonight would be the push the two of you needed to take it a step further.

There was a knock at your bedroom door.

“Yes?” You called out.

“Y/N?”

You poked your head out and smiled at your fathers. They were dressed to go out, probably waiting on a car that was going to take them into the city.

“Well don’t you two look handsome?”

“Don’t we always?” Your papa spun around, giving you a grand bow when he faced you again.

“Of course you do.”

“Y/N, we’re about to get going so, do we need to go over the rules again?”

You were going to shake your head until you saw the look in your dad’s eye, meaning it wasn’t a suggestion.

“No drinking, nobody is to spend the night unless you’ve already approved of them, no drinking, no touching the good records, and…what’s the last one?” You joked.

“No. Drinking.”

So, Dad clearly wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“Jim, dear, I think she gets it,” your papa sent you a wink. “Besides, I’m fairly sure that Phoebe and I finished all the alcohol in the house ages ago.”

Your dad humphed, but didn’t look at your papa, just you.

“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t let underage people drink here.”

You nodded, knowing how serious it could be if it got out that minors were being given alcohol at Freddie Mercury’s house, whether he was home or not.

“I know, Dad.”

Your dad and papa exchanged looks before they pulled pulled you into a hug.

“We know you do, Princess,” your dad kissed the top of your head. “Just make sure your friends do too.”

“Y/N,” your best friend hissed at you.

You were in the kitchen, refilling one of the bowls of food about two hours after your fathers had left and the party was in full swing. One of your friends was in charge of the music and had been doing a great job. You were pretty sure that everybody was having a good time.

“Hm?” You didn’t look at her, making sure you didn’t over fill the bowl.

“Tyler is looking for you!” She grabbed your arm and shook it, trying to make you realize what she was really saying.

It almost made you drop the bag.

“R…really? He’s looking for me?”

She nodded, her eyes widened to emphasize her point.

You put the bag down and straightened your outfit.

“How do I look?”

Your friend looked you over and then dug into her pocket, producing a tube of lip gloss.

You took it and swiped it on, popping your lips before looking at your friend again. “Good?”

She nodded before leading you back to the living room where the makeshift dance floor was. She pulled you until you were almost next to Tyler, but didn’t want to interrupt him since he looked in the middle of a conversation. Until he turned around.

“Hey! There’s the birthday girl,” Tyler smiled at you.

It made your heart melt.

“Hi, Tyler.”

“This is a great party,” he glanced around, before his eyes landed on you again. “Just wish I had some more time with…”

There was a sudden shift in the music. The songs most of the night had been fast and upbeat, keeping the party atmosphere. This song, however, was slow.

You and Tyler stared at each other for the opening bars.

“Y/N, would you like to dance?”

Inside, you were squealing. It made the butterflies in your stomach flip and twitch. All you could do is nod.

Tyler took you by the hand and got you closer to the small “dance floor”. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his neck. He pulled you closer and flashed another smile. You returned it.

“You know, I’ve uh…I’ve been meaning to tell you this,” Tyler cleared his throat, as if he was nervous.

You held your breath, waiting for him to continue.

“I uh…I just…I really like you, and I’d like to think that you like me too and that maybe we could try to maybe make it work or at least try and…fuck. Why is it suddenly so hard to talk to you?”

You giggled, but bit your lip so that Tyler didn’t think you were laughing at him. You just thought it was cute that he was this nervous. To just talk to YOU.

“Tyler?” You offered him a way out.

“...yeah?” He responded, still looking like he was waiting for a rejection.

“I’d really like to try.”

Tyler’s face lit up and you were couldn’t help but beam back.

“So, I got you a present, but you’ve got to close your eyes.”

You squinted, jokingly suspiciously, before you closed your eyes totally.

And then you felt Tyler’s lips on yours. It was a bit clumsy and awkward, but overall, not bad. You could feel your heart beat accelerate.

“Woo! Get it, Y/N!”

You’d forgotten you were in the middle of your living room with all your friends around. You quickly pulled away, but kept yourself close enough that you could feel Tyler’s breath on your cheek.

“Best birthday ever,” you whispered to him.

Three Years Later

You played with the hem of your shirt as you leaned against your wall, listening to your papa talk on the phone.

“...and your Uncle John finally snapped and killed your Uncle Brian.”

“Well, we knew it was only a matter of time.”

“Ah, so you are listening.”

“I am, Papa, I’m just tired,” you told him.

You weren’t lying. You had been going to school full time and working part time at a local coffee shop. You wanted to make your own money, regardless of the offers from your papa.

“Oh, Lovie. You’re working too hard. I think you need some time to relax.”

“I know, I do. Maybe soon I can come home and visit you and Dad.”

“We would love that, sweetheart. Whenever you can. We miss you. And so do your uncles and aunts.”

You smiled, knowing he was serious. You’d talked to your Uncle Brian just the day before about an Astronomy assignment that had turned into a nearly two hour conversation just to catch up. You had barely been home this year, trying to keep up on your studies.

“I know, Papa. My birthday is coming up, so maybe I can come home for that.”

“Please do. Now, tell me about this boy in your Major American Authors class.”

“Paaaapa,” you groaned. Hundreds of miles away and he could still make you blush about boys.

You then tried really hard to get time off for your birthday, but it just wasn’t possible. You couldn’t get anybody to take your shifts and you didn’t want to lose your job. You called your fathers so that you could tell them you wouldn’t make it home for your birthday, but you hoped that you’d be home in the coming weeks some time. Your parents were devastated, of course, but they understood.

You were lying in bed, not ready to get up just yet. Hey, it was your birthday. You should get to spend the whole day in bed. You stayed in bed as long as you could, but you soon had to get up.

You went to the bathroom before you heard your phone ringing in the other room. You quickly ran to grab it.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Mr. Walker.”

“Look, we won’t you need you in today. Don’t worry about your shift,” your boss told you.

You were dumbfounded. Had you done something? Did you not have a job anymore?

“Um…why’s that, Mr. Walker?”

“We got you covered is all, we’ll see you on Friday.”

Well, that meant that you still had a job, which was good.

“Okay, thank you, Mr. Walker.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Happy birthday,” Mr. Walker ended the conversation with the hang up of the phone.

You pulled the phone away and stared at it, confused. Had you told him that your birthday was coming up? Maybe somebody that you had asked to cover told him and he’d taken pity on you.

You hung the phone up, deciding not to worry about it. You went back to bed for a little bit before you decided to get ready for the day.

Basically, you took a shower and threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. You were relaxing with some music, trying to decide if you should get up and do some cleaning or studying when you heard a knock.

Your head whipped up because you weren’t really sure what who it could be. Maybe one of your friends from class had decided to show up and surprise you.

You stood up and opened the door, forgetting to check the peep hole.

You opened it to reveal...your fathers.

“Dad! Papa!” You threw yourself into their arms. You couldn’t help the tears that came to your eyes.

“Oof! Well, it’s good to see you too, darling,” your papa laughed and pressed a kiss to your head.

Your dad wrapped his arms around both of you.

“What are you two doing here?” You pulled away and looked them, wiping your eyes quickly.

“We had to see you on your birthday, Princess. And maybe we could go out to eat and you could show us around town a bit more.”

You beamed. “I’ll get changed.”

The rest of the day, you spent showing your dads around Glasgow. Yes, your parents had been there before and you’d shown them around a couple of times, but now you were more settled and you had your favorite spots. You even took them to the coffee shop you where you were working so you could introduce them to some of your coworkers.

You laughed and heard some stories that you hadn’t heard yet. Some were about your fathers, some were about your papa and your uncles, especially in the early days of the band.

After getting some lunch and ice cream, you all returned to your apartment. You decided to watch a movie and snuggled in with your dads, just like when you had been a kid.

You started to fall asleep with your head on your dad’s shoulder.

“I think you should get some sleep.”

“But Daaaaady…”

“Sh, Princess, you need your rest.”

You hummed, not quite arguing with him.

After some additional coaxing, your papa lead you to your room. He tucked you just like he used to when you were little.

“Good night, Lovie. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Papa.”

“We love you so so much.”

You grinned, even in your half asleep state. “Love you and Dad too.”

All in all, it was one of your favorite birthdays.

#freddie mercury #jim hutton #freddie mercury x jim hutton #daughter!reader #freddie mercury fanfic #freddie mercury fan fic #freddie mercury imagine #freddie mercury fluff #queen #queen band #queen fanfic #requested #krissys writings

55 notes · View notes