#As soon as I get more of the proper paper this drawing is becoming a sticker | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingforstraykids · 8 days

Text

Always back to you - Chp.3🖤

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 4332

Summary: Minho and you slowly find your way back together once he's released from the hospital. Minjun's birthday party brings you both closer than ever before ...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit

A/N: Thank you for all the love for the first part especially🤭 I'll have a very busy day tomorrow, so you'll get the next part today already instead🤭🖤

PART TWO | PART FOUR (coming soon)

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You immediately take up the responsibility of caring for Minjun, ensuring that Minho has no worries as he recovers. You bring Minjun to your home and transform it into a safe haven for the little boy who is confused and missing his dad.

You set up a schedule that balances fun activities and quiet time, keeping Minjun engaged and content. Mornings are spent in the garden, where you teach him how to plant seeds and water flowers, explaining the nature of growth and the care plants need to thrive—a subtle lesson you hope he translates into understanding his father’s situation.

Minjun enthusiastically takes to gardening, his curious nature soaking up every detail you offer. He frequently asks questions, his large eyes wide with wonder as he watches little bugs crawling around and you tell him more about them. “Does Daddy need water and sun to get better, too?” he asks one day, his innocence tugging at your heartstrings.

You chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. “Something like that, buddy. Your dad needs rest and a little bit of sunshine to regain his strength.”

During these days, Minjun often speaks of his father, his young mind trying to wrap around why his dad had to stay in the hospital. You assure him that his dad is getting stronger every day, and soon, they’ll be back to playing in the park and reading bedtime stories.

In the afternoons, you work on light educational activities like drawing and reading. Minjun loves to draw; his papers are filled with pictures of his garden and the plants and lots of drawings of him and his dad together, often with a big sun shining overhead. You send these drawings to Minho, who calls every evening to say goodnight, his voice always a mix of gratitude and wistfulness.

Each call becomes a little bridge, reconnecting the threads of the small family. Minho’s voice grows stronger each day, and his words begin to carry hope instead of just fatigue. He shares updates about his recovery, about the small victories of a full night’s sleep or a walk around the hospital ward without feeling dizzy.

One evening, as you and Minjun are setting up a board game in the living room, your phone buzzes. It’s Minho, and he’s calling a bit earlier than usual.

“Y/n, hey. I… I’m coming home tomorrow,” Minho’s voice is tentative, almost shy.

“That’s great news, Minho! Minjun will be so happy,” you respond, watching Minjun’s face light up at the mention of his dad.

“Can we… can I come over when I get back? I want to see Minjun, and I… I owe you a proper thank you,” Minho adds, his tone earnest.

“That's okay,” you assure him, feeling a complex knot of emotions at his return but happy for Minjun’s sake.

The next day is bright and sunny, and Minjun is practically vibrating with excitement. “Is Daddy coming now? Or now?” he asks every few minutes, peering out the window.

“Soon, little bug. Let’s go to the garden. We can show him how much everything has grown since he’s been gone,” you suggest, leading him outside.

You're both kneeling in the garden, Minjun excitedly pointing out each new sprout and blossom, when you hear the gate click. Looking up, you see Minho, thinner and a bit pale but smiling as he watches his son.

“Daddy!” Minjun screams, sprinting towards him with a speed that surprises both of you. Minho drops to his knees just in time to catch him, embracing him tightly. His eyes close as he buries his face in Minjun’s soft curls.

“I missed you so much, buddy,” Minho murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“Missed you more,” Minjun replies, his small hands cupping his face as he kisses his nose.

You walk over slowly, giving them a moment, before Minho looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Y/nnie, thank you,” he says, standing up to face you. “It means a lot.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Minho. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you reply, your voice gentle.

“No, I need to say this,” Minho insists, taking a deep breath. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. You’ve been nothing but kind, and I took that for granted. I hope I can make it up to both of you somehow.”

“One step after the other. For now, you should rest; we can talk properly later,” you suggest, offering a smile that Minho returns gratefully.

Minho reaches into his pocket, and you can hear him pulling out his keys. He stretches out his hand almost timidly, offering you your spare keys to his home. “You're always welcome. If not for me, then for him, please. I don't want him to suffer just because I fucked up.”

You hesitantly take them, able to tell he's trying to fix things. “I…I'll think about it. I need time, Min.”

“That's okay,” he assures you. “Your replacement is shit, by the way,” he says with a weak grin.

You chuckle softly. “No, that's you being used to someone handling things for you more than for the others,” you remind him. You inhale deeply and awkwardly rub your neck. “I'll also think about that, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods, unable to hide the hope in his orbs at the mere chance of you coming back. “I'm sorry.”

“I know,” you assure him. “Me too…Now, go rest, please. Call if you need something.”

“Bye, Y/nnie,” Minjun says, hugging you tightly as you get down on his level. “Love you.”

You swallow softly, a similar surprise lacing both Minho's and your features. “I love you too, buddy,” you answer honestly and squeeze him gently. “Now go home with your daddy, yeah?”

The quiet of the morning was filled only by the faint sounds of the city waking up beyond the walls of the small, cozy room where Minho found himself slowly coming to consciousness. As his senses sharpened, the first thing he became aware of was the warm, small body pressed against his side. Gently turning his head, he sees Minjun, his little baby, sleeping peacefully next to him, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. The sight fills Minho with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love.

Carefully so as not to wake him, Minho wraps his arms around Minjun, pulling him close. The boy, still deep in his dreams, instinctively snuggles closer into his father's embrace. Even in sleep, Minjun seems to sense his father's need for closeness and comforts him with his mere presence.

Minho’s eyes trace the soft, youthful features of his son's face, noting the faint freckles that dust his nose and the gentle curl of his lips. Memories flood through Minho’s mind—the first time he held Minjun, the first steps he took, the first words he spoke.

Recovering from his incident, Minho was forced to confront his own vulnerabilities and the stark realization of how much he relied on the presence of his son. These mornings, waking up next to Minjun, were sacred. They were not just moments of physical rest but crucial for his emotional recovery as well.

Minjun shifts in his sleep, a small sigh escaping him. His small hand grips Minho's shirt tightly as if, even in his dreams, he is determined to hold on. Minho’s heart aches with an overwhelming mix of joy and sorrow—joy for his son's presence and health and sorrow for the times he hadn’t been there as fully as he wanted.

“Daddy loves you, Minjun,” Minho whispers into his son's dark curls, his voice barely audible. A tear escapes the corner of his eye as he tightens his embrace, grateful beyond words for his return to health and the second chance it represented.

The sun begins to cast its first rays into the room, streaks of light that paint the walls with the colors of dawn. The light seems to coax the city to life gently, and as it does, it also seems to awaken Minjun. The little boy yawns and blinks open his eyes, surprised for a moment to find himself so close to his father.

“Daddy?” Minjun’s voice is sleepy and confused but also filled with an affection that comes from deep within.

“Good morning, buddy,” Minho says, his voice still thick with emotion. “Did you sleep well?”

Minjun nods, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Yes.”

Minho smiles. “That sounds good. Maybe we can go to the park later?”

“Yeah!” Minjun’s face lights up with excitement. “And I can be a hero!”

Minho laughs, the sound rich and full of genuine happiness. “Of course, my little superhero. But first, how about we make some pancakes for breakfast?”

Minjun’s agreement is instantaneous and enthusiastic. As they get up and make their way to the kitchen, Minho keeps his son close, his hand resting lightly on Minjun’s shoulder. Making breakfast together was a simple activity, yet it held so much meaning for Minho, just being home again.

As Minho watches Minjun clumsily crack eggs and stir batter, he is filled with gratitude for his young son's resilience. He had managed to stay strong and loving throughout the difficulties they had faced.

“Daddy?” Minjun looks up at him, a slight frown on his face. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

Minho is taken aback, realizing that his emotional reflections must have shown on his face. He kneels down, bringing himself to eye level with Minjun, and smiles.

“I’m more than okay; I’m happy,” he assures his son, his hand gently cupping the boy’s cheek. “I’m just very thankful for you, Minjun. You’re my little hero, did you know that?”

Minjun giggles, the sound like music to Minho’s ears. “I’m your hero?”

“Yes, you are,” Minho assures him, hugging him tightly. “My biggest hero.”

Minjun hugs him back, his small arms strong and sure. “It’s okay, Daddy. I take care of you.”

The words, so earnest and sincere from such a young soul, fill Minho with an even deeper appreciation for his son and his eyes with tears. He realizes that while he was often the one taking care of Minjun, his son was also taking care of him in many ways, providing love, motivation, and a reason to recover fully and well.

One week later

For Minjun's birthday, Minho decided on a cozy movie night—a welcome change from the usual buzz of birthday parties and perfectly suited for their small circle. The boys all love a good movie night, find children's movies hilarious, and, most importantly, they all love Minjun like their own.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the windows, they arrive one by one.

Chan and Felix arrive last with a special surprise for the birthday boy. “Jiho, mate, we brought someone with us,” Felix leans down to him conspiratorially.

“Who?” he asks curiously, eyes growing wide. Chan steps aside and gently pulls you out of hiding. Minjun squeaks in delight, looking up at Minho excitedly. “Daddy, it's Y/nnie!” he says, jumping in place impatiently.

Minho giggles and gently brushes back his curls. “Well, go say hi, dumpling.”

Minjun doesn't need a second invitation to fall into your arms. “Hey, little bug,” you say quietly. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” he beams happily before moving on to greet the next guest. “Uncle Channie, up!” he says, reaching out for him.

Chan smirks, lifts him up and throws him into the air above his head a little, catching him safely again. Minho flinches heavily, reaching for Minjun in shock. Felix laughs at him, gently patting his back. “Channie, babe, don't give him a heart attack.”

Chan laughs, putting a giggling Minjun back on his feet. “Sorry, Min,” he chuckles, and Minho snorts.

“Alright, come on in, you know the way,” Minho laughs.

The living room was transformed into a fortress of comfort. Pillows and blankets were strewn across the floor, creating a plush sea of soft fabrics that invited everyone to kick off their shoes and sink in. The air was rich with the aroma of popcorn and sweet treats that lined the table alongside a stack of Minjun’s favorite animated movies.

Minho watches as Felix and Jeongin set up the projector, their antics punctuated by light-hearted banter that fills the room with laughter. Hyunjin and Seungmin are tasked with stringing fairy lights around the room, adding a magical ambiance that makes the space feel like a small cinema hall. Jisung and Changbin, meanwhile, busy themselves in the kitchen, popping more popcorn and arranging a variety of snacks on platters. Minho watches his family with a smile, each member contributing to the evening’s success, weaving their love for Minjun into every detail.

The movie starts, the lights dimmed to mimic a theater, and the first frames flicker across the makeshift screen. Minjun sits between Minho and you, a perfect sandwich of his favorite people, his face lit by the soft glow of the projector as he watches with wide-eyed wonder.

Throughout the evening, the adults' eyes often meet over Minjun's head, shared smiles of affection and slight amusement at his captivated reactions to the on-screen adventures. During a particularly exciting scene, Minjun would sometimes stand, pointing at the screen and explaining to you loudly the many details of the plot as he understood them.

"The hero's gonna save everyone. He's strong like daddy!" Minjun's voice is full of pride and excitement, making everyone chuckle, especially Minho, whose heart swells with love and a bit of awe at his son's interpretation.

The room is filled with the sounds of the movie, mixed with Minjun's occasional commentary and the boys' gentle laughs.

Halfway through the second movie, Minjun’s eyelids begin to droop, and he leans more heavily against you, his small hand gripping yours as he fights the pull of sleep. You look down at him, a soft smile playing on your lips, touched by the trust and affection Minjun shows you.

Minho notices this gentle exchange, and his heart is filled with gratitude for your presence in Minjun’s life, especially during the times when he couldn’t be there himself. He makes a mental note to himself to ensure you know how much your support meant to him, perhaps later when the movies are done and the excitement of the day has settled into the quiet of the night.

As the evening winds down and the credits roll on the last movie, Minho gently nudges Minjun awake to blow out the candles on his small birthday cake. With a sleepy grin, Minjun makes a wish and blows with all his might, the room erupting into applause.

"Happy birthday, Minjun!" everyone cheers, making him giggle happily and hide in Minho’s arms shyly.

Minho soothingly kisses his hair and cuddles him close. Your heart warms seeing them, and glancing around the room, you can tell how much Minho and his little boy mean to everyone. Minho looks almost as tired as Minjun, but both are beaming with happiness. The boys fall back into their usual chatter, and you more or less subtly watch Minho next to you with Minjun still in his arms. They're having a quiet conversation, Minjun resting his head against Minho's and holding onto his hands. You feel the old, familiar warmth spreading through you as you watch them. Getting into that fight with Minho had made you feel awful. You missed your time with Minjun and you realized how used you've grown to Minho's presence in your life.

Minho's eyes find yours, and your breath hitches at the softness of his orbs. “Minjun's asking if you could read him a bedtime story?”

“Oh, of course,” you nod.

“The bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the left. You can get comfortable there; he loves cuddling in bed before,” he assures you kindly and watches you leave with Minjun.

Chan nudges him gently. “You two are alright again?”

“We're working on it,” he tells him, and Chan hums agreeingly.

“We should wrap it up,” Chan chuckles, and Minho hums agreeingly.

“Yongbokie and you can have the guestroom upstairs. You'd get home way too late,” he tells him. Chan and Felix live the furthest away, after all. “Jisung and Hyunjin can have the sofa,” he laughs, seeing them already deep asleep there.

Seungmin, listening in, pouts softly. “I'm tired, I don't want to leave.”

Minho glances at him and Innie, resting their heads on Changbin’s shoulders. “I can only offer you to sleep here with all the pillows and stuff.”

“Sounds great,” Jeongin mumbles drowsily.

“Mhm, then that's settled,” Chan chuckles, soothingly rubbing Felix's shoulder as the younger one slowly grows heavy against him. “Should we clean up tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, I'll do it once everyone's gone,” Minho laughs.

“Lix and I can help,” he assures him, earning a thankful smile.

About ten minutes later, once Minho made sure everyone had what they needed he made his way to his own bedroom, Chan next to him. “I forgot Lix gets cold easily,” he chuckles and carefully pushes the door open. He stops in his tracks, seeing you comfortably sprawled out on his bed, Minjun on your chest, and a book loosely in your hand. You're both asleep, looking peaceful and content. “Shit, I forgot about Y/nnie,” he curses quietly.

“You can't really move him anywhere else, look at Minjun,” Chan giggles.

“And where am I supposed to sleep?” he asks quietly, grabbing a fluffy blanket for Chan and Felix.

“There's plenty of room next to them,” he says.

“Chan. I can't just get into bed with my assistant,” he argues.

“Your so-called assistant is hugging your son and asleep in your bed. I think you're way past that, mate,” he laughs. “It's your bed; just keep your distance or whatever.” Minho anxiously chews on his lower lip, debating a hundred different possibilities in his head. “Or you join me and Lix?”

“No, you two touchy fuckers can have that bed for your own,” he giggles, shoving his chest. “Not interested in a threesome right now.”

“Right now?” Chan teases, and Minho playfully raises his fist at him. “What about-”

“Go sleep, you're talking nonsense,” he laughs and gently shoves him outside. “Idiot.”

Chan giggles and gently shoves him back inside. “I'll hit you if you don't sleep in your own bed tonight. You still need rest, idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groans.

Minho stares down at the scene before him, the weight of Chan's words sinking in. He watches you and Minjun, both deep in the tranquil sleep of the innocent and the cared-for, their faces peaceful and free from the burdens that Minho carried on his shoulders.

Gathering all his bravery, Minho slowly approaches the bed, his movements hesitant but deliberate. As he reaches the edge, he pauses, taking a moment to truly look at you—someone who has become so much more than just an assistant. You have been his support system, his son's caregiver, and his unintentional savior in times of unspoken despair. How could he continue to maintain a mere professional boundary when everything about your relationship had transcended those limits?

Minho carefully settles on the far edge of the bed, maintaining a respectful distance. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The soft sounds of Minjun's and your breathing soothe his nerves.

The room is silent, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the distant sounds of the city. Minho turns his head slightly, watching Minjun snuggle closer to you in his sleep. The sight is both beautiful and a stark reminder of the intimate moments he had missed during his recovery.

After a few moments, you shift in your sleep, perhaps sensing the added presence or the slight dip in the mattress as Minho lay down. Your eyes flutter open, and in the dim light, your gaze meets Minho’s.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your voice sleepy yet filled with warmth. “I can leave.”

“Don't,” Minho says quickly and swallows hard. “He's comfortable here with you; there's no need to leave.”

“You're sure?” you ask, and he hums in response. “Well, you should get comfortable as well. There's no need to hover over the edge of the bed.”

Those words, softly spoken, are like a key turning in a lock for Minho. They break through his last hesitations, sweeping away the remnants of his doubts. He shifts closer, reducing the distance between him and you, and allows himself to relax fully. You turn on your side to face him, your eyes locking with his in the dim light.

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispers, the words thick with emotions. “For everything.”

Your hand finds his under the blankets, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re past apologies, Minho. I fucked up because I took him without telling you. I didn't think and expected you to trust me; that wasn't fair. You overreacted…which is kind of understandable. I'm sorry for my part in this, and you're sorry for yours. We're okay.”

Minho feels a warmth spread through his chest. He nods, accepting your forgiveness, and turns his attention to Minjun, who murmurs something inaudible in his sleep and snuggles closer to both of you.

The early morning rays begin to seep through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Your eyes slowly flutter open as they meet your face. Stretching your tired body, you slowly realize that Minjun is gone already…and that Minho has gotten a lot closer overnight. You glance down and see his arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to himself. His head is buried in your neck; you can feel his breath dancing across your skin. His hair feels soft against your skin and you wonder how it'd feel if you sank your hand into it.

You freeze, unsure of what to do next. The warmth of his breath against your skin sends a mix of comfort and alarm coursing through you. This is Minho, you remind yourself, technically, he's still my boss. Yet, the intimacy of this accidental cuddling was something entirely new, a boundary neither of you had crossed before.

Minho stirs, his movements slow and sluggish as he approaches the edge of consciousness. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction when he realizes the closeness you both shared through the night. His eyes open gently, adjusting to the soft morning light, and then widen slightly as he takes in the position you both are in.

There's a moment of silent understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the unintentional closeness. Minho’s eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and something softer, a vulnerability you've seen only in fleeting moments. He pulls back slightly, his hand retreating from where it had found a place around your waist.

“I-I’m sorry,” Minho mutters, his voice a low rasp tinged with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to-.”

“It’s okay,” you interject quickly, your voice soft, attempting to brush off the awkwardness. “We were both asleep. Things happen.”

Minho nods, his cheeks tinged with a blush that he can't hide. He sits up, rubbing the back of his neck—anxious gestures that you’ve come to recognize as his way of coping with discomfort.

Silence fills the room for a few heartbeats. Both of you glance away, then back at each other, unsure of how to navigate this new, uncharted territory in your relationship. Finally, Minho clears his throat, his eyes meeting yours with an earnestness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I didn’t intend for that to happen,” he says, his voice steady but soft. “But I can’t say I regret waking up next to someone who means so much to Minjun… and to me.”

Your breath hitches slightly at his words, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. “Minho, I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Minho interrupts gently. “I just want you to know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us. For being here, for taking care of Minjun when I couldn’t, for being more than just an assistant, more than just a friend.”

The weight of his gratitude sits between you, heavy and warm. You nod, unsure of how to articulate the jumble of feelings his proximity and his words have stirred in you.

“Thank you for trusting me, Minho,” you manage to say.

Minho smiles a genuine smile that reaches his eyes, easing some of the tension. He glances at the clock, then back at you. “I guess we should get up. I promised Minjun pancakes, and I suspect he’ll be storming in soon if we don’t start cooking.”

You laugh, the sound light and freeing, breaking the last remnants of awkwardness. “Pancakes it is,” you agree, getting out of bed. You adjust your clothes, still feeling the warmth of where Minho’s arm was wrapped around you.

As you both head to the kitchen, the normalcy of the routine helps mend the morning’s awkward start. Minjun greets you both with a bright smile, oblivious to the tension from earlier, comfortably on Changbin’s lap. “Uncle Changnin is fun,” he announces, making everyone giggle at his slight mispronunciation.

“Mhm, of course, I am,” Changbin smirks, shooting the others a glare. “Uncle Changnin is fun..unlike some others here.”

Minho laughs, rolling his eyes at him. “Who wants breakfast?”

Throughout the morning, there are shared glances and shy smiles between you and Minho, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that had deepened in the most unexpected way. As you watch Minho flip pancakes, his laughter mingling with Minjun’s excited chatter, you feel a contentment settle over you. This, you realize, is more than just a job; more than just a responsibility-it’s a part of your life that you cherish deeply.

Later, as you sit together eating the slightly deformed pancakes that Minjun insists are perfect, you catch Minho’s eye, and he gives you a small, grateful smile. You'd be okay.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

PART TWO | PART FOUR (coming soon)

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @lost-in-avoidance @moonchild9350 @spicxbnny @queer-possum @james-is-here @roriiror @minholover1

171 notes · View notes

acewritesfics · 3 months

Text

Good Morning Kiss | Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: from @/runnning-outof-time

Prompt: “I would like my good morning kiss now.”

Warnings: None

Word Count: 880

Jay Halstead Masterlist

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

Jay sips his coffee watching Y/N, nodding along to everything she is saying about what needs to be done and what she needs to get before their dinner with Will and Natalie tonight. She always got a little flustered when they were having people over for dinner, even if the guests were his brother and fiancée.

“Sounds good, babe,” he agrees, putting his now empty cup in the sink and walks over to her. His arms wrap around her waist as he pulls her into him. “I would like my good morning kiss now.”

She blushes, feeling a little embarrassed about her fretting. Jay is always good at distracting her from it and not making her feel silly about it.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes wrapping her arms around his shoulders and leans in pressing a soft kiss to his lips, drawing it out a little longer than usual.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jay assures her rubbing her back after breaking the kiss. “I have to get to work but if you need me to pick anything up or do anything before tonight, text me, okay.”

“Okay,” she smiles and kisses him once more.

Letting her go he picks up his gun and badge, attaching them to his belt. After grabbing his coat, he kisses her cheek and makes his way to the front door.

“Be safe,” she calls out to him as he leaves.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Y/N cusses as she throws the burnt pan into the sink. She some how managed to burn the food she’d been cooking. Tonight’s dinner her and Jay were meant to be telling Will and Natalie some big news that they had received, them wanting the doctor couple to be the first to know.

Giving up she decides to call Jay. Picking up her phone, she goes to his number and hits the call button.

It takes a few rings before Jay answers. “Hey babe, is everything okay?”

“Not really. Are you almost finished at work?” she asks.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, becoming concerned. She could hear it in his voice.

“I burnt dinner,” she admits, feeling flustered. “I don’t know if it’s the baby brain or I’m just nervous, but dinner is no more.”

“Take a deep breath,” he tells her and pauses while she takes a few deep breathes calming herself down. “Now turn everything off, pour yourself a glass of water and go sit down and relax.”

“Is that an order detective?” she questions him, a slight teasing tone to her voice.

“It is,” he smiles. “And if you don’t do it, I’ll have to arrest you.”

Y/N chuckles a little but does as he says. Sitting down on the couch she holds her phone to her ear. “Happy, Detective Halstead?”

“Very Happy, Mrs. Halstead,” he answers. “Now don’t worry about dinner, okay? I’ll grab a couple pizzas and some sides on my way home. I’m sure Will and Nat will be okay with that.”

"Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Every single day.”

“I love you,” Y/N smiles.

“I love you too,” he says back.

“That took longer than I expected,” Jay says as he walks into his and Y/N’s apartment holding two pizzas and a bag of food. He places them on the table and greets his brother and soon to be sister-in-law who arrived around 15 minutes ago and then greets his wife who seems to be a little more relaxed than she was earlier. “Everything going okay?”

“It’s going great, I managed to get everything cleaned up before Will and Nat arrived,” she tells him.

“What did I say about relaxing?” he asks, kissing her forehead before moving around her to grab some paper plates. With Will’s help he gets the table set up for dinner.

Y/N sits down next to Jay and apologizes for not having a proper dinner. “I swear I was cooking a nice meal and somehow it almost went up in flames. How early into pregnancy can baby brain affect a woman?”

“Baby brain?” Will asks confused while Natalie looks between the married couple in surprise.

“Oh my… are you pregnant?” She asks excited

Y/N smiles, grinning ear to ear as she nods her head, yes. Jay was also smiling ear to ear, looking proud.

“No way! Congratulations!” Will says surprised and happy for his brother and sister-in-law. “I didn’t even know you two were trying.”

“We weren’t,” Jay chuckles. “It’s a happy coincidence.”

“If you two need anything, let us know. We’ll help in any way that we can,” Natalie tells them, making sure that they know they’ll be there for them in their journey to parenthood.

“Thank you,” Y/N smiles and turns to Jay who’s smiling back at her.

“I think dinner was a success,” Jay smiles at Y/N as she climbs into bed with him later that night.

“Despite it being a total failure in the beginning,” she sighs as she lays down.

“It all worked it,” Jay moves, leaning over her and looks down at her with nothing but the love he feels for her. “I would like my good night kiss now.”

Y/N chuckles and cups his face bringing him in for a soft kiss that quickly becomes heated.

#acewritesfics repost #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader

131 notes · View notes

spicycinnabun · 2 months

Text

pt. 1 2 3 🧜🏻‍♂️

Mickey snorted, smoke coming out his nostrils. What the fuck could he show him? How to drown in the lake? The merman continued to watch him expectantly, though, with those curious bright green eyes, and Mickey felt weird—almost like he didn’t want to disappoint him or something.

He exhaled. “Alright, but it ain’t gonna be anythin’ as impressive as that jump. Don’t go throwing no rotten seaweed at me.”

Pinching his cigarette between his lips to hold it there, Mickey dug into his other pocket, taking out a piece of bone white paper. Luckily, the breeze had calmed almost to a standstill, so he could use his lap as a table without worrying about it blowing away. With a delicacy he lacked in all other aspects of his being, Mickey started folding the paper.

While Ian didn’t know what to expect, he was just excited to see a human trick. It was wild what Mickey did, making something white appear from his pocket. Part of Ian thought that was it, but no, there was more.

It took a minute, but eventually, Mickey produced a lotus. Feeling more than a bit foolish, he leaned down and lowered the origami flower into the water, where it slowly floated over to the merman.

Ian watched with wide, excited eyes. “Wow! What is it?” Ian picked it up to look, but it had become even more fragile since it had gotten wet. “Oh no.”

He frowned softly, not wanting it to disappear, but his wet hands made it worse. The paper disintegrated and washed away in the water quicker than it had appeared. Ian looked up at Mickey dejectedly. He had wanted to keep it.

There was just something so innocent about Ian. It made Mickey wonder if it was an act at all. Or, like, maybe Ian was special, and his fishsitter was out there somewhere looking for him. Fuck, that would make Mickey such a fucking pervert for checking him out.

“It’s just some stupid origami,” Mickey said, ashing his cigarette out on the boat. “I can make another.”

“It’s not stupid. I liked it.” Ian was delighted. He started smiling again, his tail swinging beneath the water.

Mickey fought a smile of his own. Ian’s fish tail was almost like a dog’s tail wagging.

He didn’t have proper origami paper—just pages from his drawing pad he’d stuffed in his shorts should inspiration strike. Mickey took another out and carefully folded it into an angelfish. This time, he held it out to the merman to take.

Ian’s eyes widened again when he noticed what the shape was. “You made me a fish?” Ian took it and put it in the water, laughing as the same thing happened. “Guess that white stuff can’t get too wet, huh?”

“No… it’s paper,” Mickey explained with his typical limited patience, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that he really wasn’t talking to somebody human. Because even people on the short bus knew what paper was, and Ian seemed (again) genuinely confused.

“Oh. Paper.” Ian was getting bored of the paper anyway. “ You sure you don’t wanna get into the water and cool down? You’re kinda looking like a lobster.” Mickey was quickly going from white to red.

“I’m sure. Don’t feel like sinkin’ to my death today.” Mickey glanced down at his torso. Fuck, he really was starting to burn. He got up, heading to the cabin and climbing down the stairs.

“Are you squidding me? I wouldn’t let that happen,” Ian said, but Mickey had already disappeared.

Mickey was reluctant to take his eyes off spicy salmon roll over there, but he needed to cover himself. There was a T-shirt in his backpack, so he put that on, cringing a little at how sweaty he was and how the fabric brushed against his burnt skin. Then he climbed back out, weirdly relieved that Ian was still there. “We should probably head back to the harbor soon.”

The sun would go down in a couple of hours, and Mickey didn’t want to lose visibility even more. He didn’t know if Ian even knew the direction to take him to shore.

Mickey’s body was more covered up. Ian sighed and felt himself starting to pout. Mickey wasn’t going to swim with him then. “I can’t... go that close to the harbor.”

He couldn’t be above the surface for that much longer, either. Interacting with a human was one thing, especially since Mickey didn’t even believe he was a merman, but he couldn’t risk being seen by anyone else.

Mickey’s mouth twisted a little. So what, he was supposed to just leave the guy out here, in the middle of the fuckin’ lake? Hopefully, Ian could swim back to wherever he came from, or Mickey would call the coastguard when he got to shore.

“You have to raise that sail, and then I can push you towards the harbor... but only if you promise to come back and visit me.” Ian was so lonely sometimes. He just wanted someone to swim with.

Mickey eyed Ian and that ridiculous pout. Fuckin’ hell… As if Mickey was the only decent company he could get. That wasn’t right. “And just how’m I gonna find you again, huh?”

That could’ve been his subtle way of asking the merman for his number. The guy was shark raving mad, sure, but Mickey had never been entirely sane himself, either.

Fuck it. He was intrigued, a little scared, and a little turned on. He was basically living in this boat, too. He didn’t have much else going on.

All Ian could think about was how happy he was that the human fish was asking him how he could find him again. Mickey wanted to see him again? His tail started to quiver and then thrash. “All you have to do is say my name when you’re out here all alone again, and I’ll come find you. Promise.” He knew that Mickey finding him again could be tricky, but he had no doubt that Mickey could and would find him tomorrow. “You’ll swim tomorrow when you’re not so red?”

Mickey felt a slight pang of disappointment when Ian fed him that fairy-tale line. That sounded an awful lot like some bullshit rejection, but contrary to his words, Ian looked like Mickey had just told him he’d won the lottery. Talk about wearing your emotions on your tail.

Also, the guy would not give up trying to get him to swim.

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see,” Mickey replied. He scratched his neck, cringing a little when his skin prickled hotly. That was definitely going to be peeling later. He gestured to the boat. “A’right, Flipper, can ya give me a push?”

🌊🧜🏻‍♂️🪸⛵️

co-writing with my ian, @batty4steddie 🩵

#fic #yb #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless #ian x mickey #gallavich #gallavich au #gallavich fic #merman au #mermaid au #supernatural au #mermian #merman!ian #🧜🏻‍♂️#sailor!mickey #⛵️#origami #🪷

19 notes · View notes

edensbuttercups · 1 year

Text

Dagger Squad headcanons

Merry Merry Christmas to everyone! I hope it's a good one, filled with love and happiness, in whatever form that might be ♡

Some Christmas headcanons since it's Christmas!

(I'll get into proper writing again soon, ended up taking a little break because of how busy the last days before Christmas have been, but there's some fics in the works ♡)

Bob’s favorite Christmas activity is decorating the house, especially the Christmas tree. He buys at least one special bauble each year, that being the first gift being opened once the tree has been set up, the new ornament finding a spot on it. He’s also a big lover of Christmas cards, taking his time to write one to everyone he cares about, drawing them when he has the time, and buying thoughtful ones when he doesn’t, but he's always super thoughtful and loving, and he knows how to show it, especially when it comes to writing cards to you.

Mickey is a big lover of baking Christmas cookies, always going all out and making at least three different types, taking the time to decorate them, something he's become very good at. He's messy and he'll definitely flick some flour your way, but he tidies up quickly and gets more energy when he hears you laugh. His takes a lot of pride in his cookies, his specialties being a little snowman, cute little nose and scarf piped on, and Santa, having mastered different expressions for him, from the cheerful one, to the winking one, to the sleepy one, and each cookie tasting just as good as they look.

Jake won’t admit this easily, but there’s nothing that feels more like Christmas to him than watching a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie, a tradition that he accidentally started with his mother one year, ending up on the couch next to her and wiping a tear away at the cheesiest happy ending known to man, eventually sneaking by her side each year when she’d pick a new one to watch, a tradition he carries on with you, pulling you down to cuddle while you watch the two characters fall in love.

Bradley is big on lazy mornings and lazy nights. He enjoys the time off, being able to lounge in bed by your side in the morning, having a christmassy breakfast and watching as the presents slowly start piling under the tree, sneaking them there in the night when you're not looking and pretending he knows nothing about it when you ask. Santa, he'll justify with a shrug. And lazy nights in front of the tv, watching a Christmas movie? His heaven.

Javy loves wrapping gifts. He’s mastered the skill, being able to wrap anything and everything, and he finds incredible joy in it. He’s also very very good at choosing gifts, always remembering something mentioned in passing or simply knowing what to get. Hand in hand with his gift-wrapping love, he enjoys finding the perfect wrapping paper for everyone, slowly collecting a variety of different designs to wrap his gifts with, the special one he chose for you having candy canes forming a heart.

Reuben's Christmas doesn’t feel complete without some singing, his favourite Christmas songs blasting around the house throughout the month, taking you in his arms each time you pass him by and swinging you back and forth as he sings, dancing with you for a moment before he has to let you go, smiling as he places a kiss to your cheek, winking at you as you make sure everything is ready for the Christmas dinner.

Natasha doesn't always find herself in the Christmas spirit immediately, but once she does, she goes all out. She finds little ways to make each day feel a little more like Christmas, first decorating the place, then playing Christmas music, watching Christmas films and counting down the days. She loves ending the day with a hot chocolate, pouring two mugs and handing one to you, sitting side by side on the couch, her legs resting on your lap as you sip on your drinks, chatting about what you're most looking forward to.

73 notes · View notes

allthelittlecreepycrawlies · 4 months

Text

With A Flap of Wings, Part 6

Nie Xunyao quietly watches his youngest cousin play with the cousin he has not yet gathered up enough nerve to meet.

Being placed in a proper resting place with a proper tablet seems to have given Nie Huaisang a little more... weight, for lack of a better word. Though he is translucent as ever and still cannot speak, he can now draw pictures in the earth under the tree for his little sister that she eagerly tries to copy in ink and paper.

If her steadily improving skills are any indication, his cousin would have become quite the artist… if he had lived.

Nie Xunyao lets out a shaky breath and leans against the door frame.

'If he had lived' is a phrase that carries so much water.

It's the reason he has yet to introduce himself. Even if they are family, how can he simply go up and greet someone he has already unknowingly owed a debt to for almost his entire life?

Though Nie Huaisang had never confessed it in words, even though the adults will not say it in front of them, it's obvious what the first calamity would have been. Nie Jinghe may have been gentle on her, but Yun-ma had never truly recovered from the nightmare that was her first pregnancy.

And if she had died in childbirth, there would have been no one searching for his mother.

Especially not his father.

He remembers vividly the day his mother had walked out of a conference being held in the great hall with tears in her eyes and had taken him aside to fold him in a tight hug and apologize for having ever believed his father would do right by them.

He also remembers vividly the first time he saw one of his -apparently numerous- half-siblings thrown out of Koi Tower like a piece of refuse.

His cousin has saved them from all that foolish hoping and the bitter fate that might have come with it, and instead arranged for them to have a proper place in the world with a family that loved and wanted them.

'If he had lived.'

How does he even begin to pay that back?

Better... better to wait, he decides. Until he has an idea.

Though it turns out not to be his decision to make.

When his little cousin spots him watching, he doesn't react fast enough to keep her from running over to grab him by the arm and drag him off the porch with all her weight.

Ugh, she just had to take after her brother and father in both strength and stubbornness.

"Sang-ge~! You haven't met Yao-ge yet!"

Nie Huaisang looks up and Nie Xunyao feels a little chill creep down his spine. Though his cousin's gaze is as smooth as the polished pale jade it takes its color from, the air between them ripples with emotion; Love and Hate and Betrayal and Regret all twisted up and tangled together like kites in a windstorm.

Well.

That answers the question of whether or not they'd somehow crossed paths despite the loss of a tether between them in the form of Yun-ma.

Steeling his nerve, he kneels in front of the ghost, then looks at the drawing materials scattered around them. "He-mei, go get more paper."

"Aw-!"

"Unless you want me to have to write on your drawings...?"

"No! Don't you dare!" she huffs, running back towards the porch. "I'll make Huahua bite you if they're messed up when I get back!"

It's not much of a threat, given that the bird in question is a toy, and he can't help the way his mouth twitches in amusement before he gets himself back under control.

As soon as the door bangs shut, he forces himself to look his remaining cousin in the eye again. "What fate did you save my mother and me from? Was it whatever created all that hate between us?"

Nie Huaisang tilts his head, but otherwise gives no indication that he heard the question.

"Did we ever know we were related?" Nie Xunyao presses.

That earns a flinch. A little twist of Regret. So... not before Something Important had gone very, very Wrong.

Nie Xunyao involuntarily bites the inside of his lip to fight back the dread threatening to close his throat.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Until he's in control again.

He leans forward, gaze intent. "What do I owe you, biao di?"

The silence stretches between them. But, just as he thinks Nie Huaisang is going to simply block him out entirely, the ghost closes his eyes and sighs inaudibly, all of the tension in his body bleeding out, then bows his head and stretches out a hand towards the ground.

Nie Xunyao looks down and watches as the words emerge under the scratch of his cousin’s nails -right side up for him, rather impressively- in the earth.

'Be content with this family.'

Nie Xunyao frowns, wondering what exactly that's supposed to mean. Of course he knows he's doing much better here than he could have been, why would he need to be reminded to...?

Oh.

Wait.

"Did the life you saw me living involve me trying to join my father?"

A nod.

Nie Xunyao's breath leaves him in a sharp wheeze, as if the ghost had outright punched him in the stomach. "Ha. Ah… You won't have to worry about that. My mother and I know better now." Screwing up his nerve, he reaches out and takes hold of his cousin's free hand. "But that... that can’t be all you want from me, can it? After all of this? Everything you gave up?"

Another head tilt, this time of consideration.

Then a second nod.

And he understands. Whatever else had gone so horribly Sour between them, it must have been born out of that desire to be with his father.

Before he can ask anything more, the door bangs open again and Nie Jinghe comes running out with several blank scrolls and sheets of paper. "You better not have done anything cool without me!"

Nie Xunyao smiles at his little cousin. "Just boring grown up talk."

"You're not a grown up! You’re ten and a half!"

"I’m still more grown up than He-mei is," he retorts just to tease, all the little nervous knots in his stomach vanishing as he catches his other cousin hiding a small smile behind his sleeve at their bickering.

#mdzs #nie family #nie sect #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #fanfic #with a flap of wings

8 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

Note

Can i request an Eddie Munson x m!reader where the reader has an accent (preferably french cause I'm from France but its up to you) and gets picked on because of it, so Eddie comforts him? back when i first moved countries i got picked on cause of my accent quite a bit so :,)

but theres no rush! Take your time and drink some water! :D

A/n: I had to consult my friend @souyasbabyy with the french cuz I’m a silly little Brit. And thank you for the reminder to drink water I defiantly needed it. 🥰

You weren’t exactly what you were meant to expect when moving away from everything you’ve ever known to a remote town in Indiana. There wasn’t much of a choice on your part as it was your parents/guardians who payed for the house and bills, ultimately it was their call to make, not yours but that didn’t mean you felt any less upset over the decision. You’d be leaving behind your friends and relatives you’ve known since you learnt how to talk and the mere thought of not being able to graduate with them, to spend your last day with them, to bid your school the farewell it deserved didn’t sit right with you at all. In fact it made you downright sick when you hugged the last of your friends goodbye all the while holding back the urge to scream, cry and throw a violent fit the further and further you got away from the one place you could truly call home; forced to watch the people you loved become silhouettes of their forms before vanishing for view completely for what you believed to be forever.

The move was a grave mistake on your parents/guardians behalf because the students of Hawkins High had caught wind that their would be a transfer student from France coming to finish the semester. The only thing they took away from that was the fact that they had a foreigner to pick on brutally for their own enjoyment. Everyone wanted a piece expect Eddie, who was more then aware that this poor transfer student was going to become the laughing stock of the school, and even though he hasn’t met them formally yet he would try to attempt to make their life a little less like hell if it was the last thing he did because he knew more then anyone how ruthless these punks were towards anyone who didn’t reflect their own mirror image.

“Oi Frenchie,” a wad of paper hit the back of your head and you made the dreaded mistake of giving Desmond and his cronies an ounce of your attention as they started drawing shitty moustaches across their upper lips and slapping berets on to their heads, “oui, oui, Baguette, croissant am I right?!” He cried out while his friends began laughing their asses off as if what Desmond said wasn’t down right offensive to your people. “Why don’t you go back home where you belong!” One cried as others soon followed Desmond’s example like sheep and started spouting words like ‘you can’t speak proper English’ and ‘say some funny words in your weird accent.’ All the while you looked away from them, gritting your teeth as you gripped your pencil so hard it snapped in two with an audible crack. “Oh the French freak snapped his pencil, I’m so scared, Dylan protect me from the French freak before he spouts foreign words at me.” Desmond pretended to hide himself away behind one of his mates but left his face viable over his shoulder so that you could feel his shit eating smirk.

“Fils de pute,” You snarled under your breath,”Ton QI et comme tes chances de réussir dans le futur, sans surprise très bas.” Shoving all your belongings back into your bag and leaving the classroom, passing the teacher who was already five minutes late into to teaching without stopping to head their worlds of warning; all you wanted to do for the time being was to get out of there before you did something unspeakable to Desmond’s face and you didn’t stop walking until you found yourself alone in the forest where a lone picnic table sat, it’s wooden legs covered in moss and dirt and it’s table top splintered to high heaven as you sat down and covered your face. If only you could’ve put more effort into persuading your parents/guardians to reconsider the moving then you wouldn’t be here suffering at the hands of ignorant Americans who’s heads were so far up their own asses you swore the sad excuse of a moustache growing on their upper lips were just little pieces of shit that clung on for dear life.

You didn’t even realise you were letting out tears of frustration until you felt the tears streak done between the gaps of your fingers and down your hands as you halfheartedly attempted to brush them away as to avoid raising suspicion within anyone nor give Desmond the satisfaction, but even you knew that your puffy red eyes were an instant dead give away; which lead to your decision of staying on that picnic table until it was time to go home. Eddie had followed shortly after your departure as to reframe from beat the living daylight out of Desmond, Dylan and Damien or as he liked to call them ‘the three D-bags.’ He hopes that one would at least get you to smile; if not Eddie had his other ways of cracking a grin on your face as he followed your trail right down to the picnic table he frequents in his spare time and felt his heart break at your tired and defeated expression. He knew that feeling well but in your instance it was something he could only particular relate to, the being picked on part obviously, as he knew even if you may not want anyone right now you most definitely did want someone with you right now and Eddie was willing to be that person.

So he slunk into the seat across from you and awkwardly cleared his throat, watching as you were brought back into reality and began wiping your eyes sloppily, “Merde.” He heard you curse under your breath, Eddie may not know a lot of french words but at least he knew what that word in specific meant because once upon a time he had a short lived obsession with wanting to learn how to curse in other languages. Now however he just said what he wanted to say without the need to hide anything because what more did he have to loose in a shit town like this? “You okay? Sorry I scared you there but I uh…couldn’t help but notice that you were in need of some company.” You looked at him for a good while, dictating whether or not you should trust his word or remain vigilant and keep quiet incase he too wanted to mock your nationality for egotistical reasonings beyond your comprehension, leaving an tension to start building between the two of you. “Sorry for what Desmond, Dylan and Damien or as I like to call them ‘the three D-bags’ did to you earlier.” Eddie shifts in his seat awkwardly but stops when he heard a humorous scoff leave your lips before continuing, “if it’s any consolation I think your language is pretty cool. Way cooler then English by like a long shot dude.” Your smile began to widen at Eddie’s compliments, staring to feel slightly better within his presence.

Eddie caught on to this and found himself smiling in response, eyes lighting up as he continued the momentum he has created for himself, “they’re all a bunch of flaccid dicks. They spend more of their families money on expensive hair products to make up for the fact they don’t have that much going on up there,” Eddie tapped his head for added effect, “which I don’t need to tell you is very much.” The laugh you let out was one you so desperately needed as now you were crying tears for a different reason while Eddie could only beam more with pride at the fact that he managed to do something good in his life even if it may seem minuscule. He didn’t care this was the biggest achievement he could ever hope to have reached, cheering someone up and making them smile made him smile, made him happy. You on the other hand couldn’t be more thankful for his appearance and his sense of humour for bringing you out of the depths. “I don’t believe I caught your name?” You told him, Eddie nearly melted at the sound of your voice. “Eddie, Eddie Munson, resident freak at your service.” He offered his hand out to you but before you could he dramatically fell out of his seat as though he’s been shot, causing a few leaves to kick up before he peered back up again as though nothing happened. “Sorry about that I must’ve missed my seat by a mile as I’ve seem to be preoccupied by you.”

He offered his hand out again and this time you managed to grasp it all the while trying to stop yourself from becoming shy beneath his gorgeous stare that never left your face. “As long as you don’t go falling for me again we’ll be alright, I’m y/n. Y/n l/n.” You introduced yourself. “Well y/n l/n. I’d say this is the start of a beautiful relationship together.”

#eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you

185 notes · View notes

animebw · 4 months

Text

Short Reflection: Gridman Universe

In some respects, Gridman Universe was nothing like the movie I expected it to be. I came in prepared for a multiversal mashup or Trigger's series of high-concept sentai reimaginings, and that's definitely what I got. But I also got something a lot weirder and wilder, a movie that in many ways is trying to be a definitive statement on the nature of Gridman itself. It's a film deeply obsessed with its own concept and place in the world, not simply as a means of reference-pandering for longtime sentai fans but as an examination of what it even means to exist as a story like this to exist and have meaning and let meaning be taken from it that may not even be there. And yet at the same time, it's also a big goofy crossover that feels like playing with all the toys in your toybox at once without caring much about making it all make sense because isn't the point of having fun to just, you know, have fun?

Which seems only fitting. Gridman and Dynazenon have been one of the most conceptually bizarre undertakings in Trigger's history, marrying the Saturday morning cartoon spirit of Ultraman with more existential, metaphysical themes and an eclectic directing style that feels more like a proper successor to Evangelion than anything else besides the Rebuilds. It's simultaneously pretentiously highbrow and shamelessly lowbrow, while also being just kind of unapologetically normiecore somewhere in the middle with how it depicts the awkward mundanity of normal life juxtaposed with mecha-on-kaiju action and universe-reshaping cosmic high concepts. It's a bizarre concoction that by all rights shouldn't work, and yet it does? Somehow, director Akira Amemiya has figured out how to make all these disparate tones sing together in harmony, and the result has been one of anime's most singular voices in the modern era. And this movie is just that on the biggest scale imaginable, throwing all restrictions to the wind and seeing just how far it can push this absurd, experimental niche it's carved for itself.

At least on paper, the plot is simple. Gridman protagonist Yuta Hibiki is working up the courage to ask out his crush Rikka Takarada, but that's all thrown into chaos when kaiju once again start appearing in his world. It soon becomes clear that some unknown threat is starting to merge universes together, leading to the cast of Dynazenon crashing into Gridman's world and kaiju going on the rampage. So the two groups must put their giant robots together- both metaphorically and literally- to face down the new threat and put the universe back in order. It's an extremely by-the-numbers setup for a crossover movie... at least until we get into the back half and reveal the nature of what's actually happening. And then things get so high-concept and reality bending that it's honestly kind of funny. I won't spoil the reveal of what's actually going on cause it's worth discovering yourself, but suffice to say, not only does it answer a lot of long-standing questions about the nature of this world in the trippiest way possible, it also sets up Gridman Universe as an answer to the question of its own existence.

See, in many ways, the mismatch at the heart of Gridman's aesthetics is the entire thematic point it's trying to make. Why redo a simple, straightforward sentai show as something so weighty and almost intellectual in its presentation? Why attach so much existentialism and cinematic complexity to something that's still, at heart, about punching big monsters in the face? Or, more broadly, why do we, as people, seek to draw meaning from art, even art as simple as giant robots fighting Godzilla? These questions may have been floating in the background of both TV shows, but they are the driving force of Gridman Universe. There are multiple times when characters will comment on the nature of Gridman, as a character, as a concept, as an idea, as an active force with a tangible effect on the world. The ultimate reveal of what's going on entirely rests on pushing this question to its logical extreme. It's simultaneously a celebration, interrogation, and deconstruction of the lizard-brain desire for popcorn entertainment and our ability to read deeper meanings where they may not actually exist, and whether or not it matters what a piece of art "intended" as long as you found something powerful in it.

There are so many ways a metatextual metaphor this tangled and self-fellating should have fallen apart. And yet, once again, by some magic, it all makes sense. Yes, the movie seems to say, Gridman is all these things. It's absurd rock-em sock-em action that speaks to your inner child, and it's weird-ass mind-bending sci-fi, and it's genuinely grounded naturalism that perfectly captures that particular teenage mindset of half-sleeping your way through life as you figure your shit out trying to put the world's bigger, more existential questions out of mind because hay, kaiju or not, you've still got college exams to worry about, right? It's all of these things at once, and it has a right to be all of these things at once, and you have the right to find power in them no matter how silly it may seem on the outside. And it justifies it all by once again just doing it all really, really fucking well. It's a bizarre, purposefully overthought stream of consciousness that's all about the importance of letting ourselves overthink the stories we love, putting our own meaning into them and forging our own relationship with them to better understand ourselves as individuals and a collective. It's an argument for art as an active conversation, even with something as simple and silly as this.

And yet, there's a problem.

See, while this movie is billed as a Gridman x Dynazenon crossover, it's really more of a Gridman movie. The title Gridman Universe is not an accident: this movie is centered on Gridman and its cast of characters first and foremost, with the Dynazenon crew mostly playing backup and hanging around for some character banter. Yomogi, Yume, Gauma, and all the rest are bit players meant to spice of a narrative that's all about Hibiki and his desire to go steady with Rikka. And unfortunately, this ends up confirming something I've believed ever since this series started:

The main cast of Gridamn is the single most boring aspect of this entire Gridman experiment.

Look, I'm sorry, but Hibiki sucks. He's an utter void of character and personality, as blank a blank slate as you can possibly get. Even your average isekai potato-kun tends to come off as smug and self-satisfied thanks to the power fantasy that guides the author's writing process, and while that's definitely obnoxious, it's at least something. But Hibiki's entire existence in both the show and movie is little more than taking in information, making bland observations, and spouting generic hero motivations whenever it's time for an action scene to happen. And you could maybe justify that in the show because he's technically a dormant passenger in his own body for most of that, but now that he's back to normal in the movie, it's painfully clear that the central figure around which this entire franchise revolves is little more than featureless white noise.

And that only becomes clearer when contrasted against the Dynazenon crew. I had my issues with Dynazenon- much weaker villains, no real standout moments- but the reason I ultimately prefer it to Gridman is because everyone in its cast is full of life and personality. They're all still awkward, mumblecore teenagers for the most part, but they're believably awkward, mumblecore teenagers who come by their personalities with purpose and meaning. So you've got Hibiki and his pals bumming around not being much of anything while the script insists on putting all the focus on them, while you've got this much more interesting crew running circles around them in basically every interaction they have. Seriously, every second Yomogi is on screen is basically walking proof of how to write a "generic" protagonist well in contrast to Hibiki's extreme nothingburger of an existence. Yes, Akane Shinjou was a spectacular character, but it's clear that Gridman put all its writing chops into her and no one else, but Dynazenon spread it out evenly. And now that she's gone, there's nothing left to distract from how much the people at the core of this narrative just don't measure up to their much more interesting backup singers.

And that's not even going into the "romance" that's supposed to be the emotional center of this whole affair. Hibiki and Rikka's love story is one of the most generic "boy pines after girl until she falls for him" plots I've seen in a long time. The fact it's merely boring instead of actively painful is wholly thanks to how damn good both their voice actors are at selling the scenes between them; whatever chemistry these two have is wholly thanks to how good Yuuya Hirose and Yume Miyamoto are at playing believably low-key teenagers navigating the liminal space of a changing relationship. But the writing just gives them nothing to play off of, and it never feels like anything more than a one-sided crush on Hibiki's end, which makes Rikka's eventual reciprocation feel wholly unjustified. Which only stands out more in contrast with Yomogi and Yume's utterly natural couple dynamic and- hilariously- Rikka's own unresolved feelings for Akane. Yes, the most blatant queerbait this side of Kumirei makes another brief appearance in this movie, and the brief twenty seconds it takes up have more believable chemistry, intimacy, and yearning to be together than the entire rest of the movie trying to sell you on the watered-down heterosexual alternative. Talk about an unforced error.

Ultimately, Gridman Universe is at its best when it embraces the philosophy at its core. As a showcase of everything worthwhile about this franchise- the believable teenage moodiness, the overturned-toybox action sensibilities, the willingness to go trippy and weird and artistically ambitious- it's as good as this franchise has even been. As an argument for being such a bizarre mishmash in the first place, it's the stuff of high concept metafictional wet dreams. But if it wanted to be a true masterpiece, it needed to tie all those wonderful elements to a central narrative and a main protagonist that were actually worth a damn. Yes, we can find meaning in even the silliest of stories, but we can just as easily find even the most ambitious experiments lacking. And until Gridman figures out how to make its main cast even half as interesting as their spinoff bretheren, then this story's ability to reach me will always remain a half-measure. For that, I give Gridman Universe a score of:

6.5/10

Man, it feels good to be home again. Hopefully I'll find the energy to start watching more anime now that I'm on vacation. Fingers crossed!

#anime #tabw #the anime binge watcher #ssss.gridman #ssss.dynazenon #gridman universe

6 notes · View notes

dream-puppy · 9 months

Text

Tips, Tools and Tutorials on Handmade Buttons

Hi again tutorial fans, this time we're doing BUTTONS!!

Buttons are pretty simple as a concept, but they can be hard to get into due to inaccessibility of materials and tools. Back in the early 2000s, you could get a badge-it at any toy store, but it's since gotten a lot harder to find quality badge makers!

When I was looking into badge makers, the three most important things for me were

Interchangable components (Different sizes and shapes, such as hearts!)

Reliability and sturdiness (Able to press consistent A-Grade pins)

Ease of use and repair (Non proprietary, that I can repair myself)

All of these qualities lead me to search around all of the possible stores I could find! Soon enough, my search lead me to an affordable machine that had EVERY single one of the specifications I needed above:

This is the We R Memory Keepers Button Press! [UK] [US]

The button press kit itself ONLY comes with the light blue, mid-sized button presser, and I bought the small and large sizes as add-ons! They also have a heart-shaped insert (which is arriving soon!) and a small rectangular insert which I haven't tried yet! Each insert kit comes with: 5 Button press fronts & backs, a die cutter of the correct size to use to cut out your button papers (also fantastic for stickers!), and the top and bottom inserts for your button maker.

This tutorial [X] by one of the Design Team members helped me so so much with setup and getting started, however, there are a few very important things I'd like to mention about using this button press.

THINGS TO NOTE & TROUBLESHOOTING

1. This machine produces incredibly accurate and consistent results. HOWEVER. It's EXTREMELY important that in order to do so, the top and bottom components are properly aligned. I've misaligned them a couple times, and it's caused the machine to stick/mess up my buttons, however, this is 100% user error on my part.

Here are some images of the proper alignment:

I am standing on the left side of the machine

The A + A arrows are aligning with each other, with the arrow on top of the machine AND with the large presser mechanism on the bottom

I can only rotate the upper component counterclockwise to reach the B alighment

B + B alignment align with each other, the arrows and the small presser mechanism.

This has given me the best and most consistent pins every single time!

Please note: If your machine becomes stuck, don't panic! Try to gently pry apart the stick pieces with something by sliding it into the gap. It should come unstuck! Don't try to force the presser down too hard, on an unstable surface, or beyond it's capacity. I've also found that anything thicker than paper, mylar or cellophane does not pass easily through the machine. This is standard, and there are lots of pretty cellophanes and mylar sheets that won't jam your machine! I haven't tried fabric yet, however, I think should the fabric you choose be thin enough, it might be able to pass through!

These are all that I've run into so far while using the machine, however, if you're struggling with something please send me an ask about it! I'll see if I can help you out :)

BUTTON MAKING

1. DIGITAL

Similar to my Sticker Tutorial, First you need to prepare your Digital Workspace!

Firstly, locate the Unit of measurement of your drawing software (I'm using CSP), and change it to mm. This will give you the ability to see the size of your stickers more easily.

Set the custom size to A4, or set the width and height manually to [W] 210.00 / [H] 297.00. This will make it easier to compare sizes in real life, especially if you have a piece of A4 white paper beside you!

FOR PRINTING: Always choose a Resolution/DPI 300 or higher. Again, I prefer drawing in vectors because it allows you to resize it without quality loss! Please check out the link above to see my printing preferences and hardware!

Here's a free template just for you :)

Here's a small photo example of how I press the buttons! Please play close attention to the alignment of the pressing inserts. First, I align the top and bottom inserts to the A position. Then, I place down: the button top component, the image I want for my button and then the mylar sheet on top, then PRESS! then, I turn the base and top inserts to the B position, and add the pin back with the safety pin side facing down, inside the insert. Then, I turn the insert back into alignment, and PRESS again! Then, TADA! a whole new button!

2. OTHER ASSORTED METHODS

Ok sorry I wasn't sure what to call this section lol, but there's a few other different methods that you could try! If you don't have a button press, or cannot afford one, here are a few other methods I have tried when it comes to making pins!

Many craft stores sell Pin/Boutonniere backs for badges and pins! I came across them in my local craft stores childrens section, and they worked an absolute treat on the back of my pins!

I've made an assortment here of Resin, Shrinky Dinks and even Wooden/Acrylic pour pins that I absolutely love! With these types of pins, you could wrap the wooden ones with with patterned fabric or felt, add a layer of holographic vinyl and more! These options are significantly cheaper, as I picked up some shrink plastic for like 4 bucks, and some pin badges for 2 bucks!

Other than that, the world is your oyster! No matter what you decide to create, I'm sure it'll be great! :3

#craft tutorial #small artist #small business #crafts #artists on tumblr #my posts #tutorials #buttons #we are memory keepers

17 notes · View notes

karolincki · 1 year

Text

Empty Shell

I wrote this for @jaskierwhumpweek day 4, Exhaustion

Warnings: suicidal tendencies, child neglect/abuse, minor character death

Read it on Ao3

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

"Julian!"

Julian was hiding in his closet as his father's angry voice rang through the estate. His entire body was trembling.

Earlier, he had been playing in the gardens, something his father had forbidden, but all the plants and animals were just too fascinating to not look at. Julian had been careful, not letting anyone see him, but then he had lost track of time.

A maid had been sent out to look for him and when she had found him in a field of buttercups she immediately had run to tattle on him to his father.

Julian hiccuped and tried to suppress his sobs. Why wouldn't his father let him have a little bit of fun?

He began to cry in earnest when his father finally found him.

—

As Julian got older his father only got stricter.

No talking when adults are speaking. Always listen. Don't run. Pay attention. Stop crying.

But the stricter his father got, the more rebellious Julian became.

For every boring meeting he spent twice the time out in the woods. He learned to play the flute in secret. A stable boy showed him how to whittle a rudimentary flute. The sound was awful, but it was Julian's. He created that.

Creating became Julian's new outlet. He began to draw, to sing, to write, to play.

When his father found his notes of poetry, he told the servants to burn them all and to make sure to burn each future paper they saw.

His drawings would have found the same fate if Julian hadn't hid them with the stable boy.

He didn't cry when his father made him watch how the servants burned his very soul. He wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Only hours later in the dead of night, when everyone was asleep, he broke down, crying bitter tears of betrayal.

—

Julian was fourteen when he kissed the stable boy for the first time. Patryk was already fifteen and seemed to know all the secrets of the world.

Patryk was the one to introduce him to the lute. It had gotten little damaged, so a bard had left it behind.

The first time Julian stroked one of the strings, it felt like his entire being changed. That one single sound called out to him like nothing had before. In that very moment he knew who he wanted to become.

He spent every single moment of his free time learning how to play the lute. Patryk always told him he had real talent, so when he felt he was good enough he went to his father to tell him about wanting to become a bard.

His father of course thought very little of his idea.

"You are viscount and you will get those silly ideas out of your head right now. Never speak of this again."

Julian had expected that reaction, but it was disheartening anyway.

Julian was fifteen when his father found the lute.

He was fifteen when his father saw him kiss Patryk.

He was fifteen when Patryk was bound to the pillory and whipped until his cries fell silent.

It was the last time he saw Patryk.

—

That day something broke inside of Julian. He had always held hope that one day things would turn around. Not anymore.

Where there once had been a boy who always smiled, there now was an empty shell.

Julian went through the motions of each day as if he was controlled by something else.

He sat quietly in meetings, never spoke out of turn, and always obeyed.

His father began to praise him for his diligence and his obedience.

"Finally we can make a proper Pankratz out of you."

The old Julian would have felt sick hearing those words, but the current one only smiled. His soul was gone, but at least he had his father's love.

—

Julian slept most of his free time.

When his father forced him to go to parties to meet proper young ladies, he went without complaint. He smiled and flirted through the entire evening, even when he felt like death warmed over.

Julian did what his father asked, he put on a mask and played the part of the perfect son and as soon as he was alone he fell apart like a puppet whose strings you cut.

He was always exhausted, but no matter how much he slept he never felt rested.

His father became impatient with him.

"Be more proactive, smile for real for once, stop being so lifeless."

It was the only request he couldn't fulfill.

Julian thought to himself that if he could fall asleep and never wake up again, then that would be ideal.

—

Julian was sitting under a tree.

His father had told him to get out, do something, anything really, just not sit at home.

So Julian went and walked until he couldn't see his father's estate anymore.

The wind was rustling through the leaves and bees were buzzing all around him, but Julian noticed none of that.

A bee landed on his hand. Disinterested, he watched it for a moment before he shooed it away.

Life truly was bleak.

Something nagged at the edge of his mind. Something that had been dormant for way too long. It annoyed Julian and he tried to get rid of it, but the feeling of urgency grew.

Finally he registered what his subconscious had picked up on. There was singing in the distance accompanied by a lute.

Julian's heart began to race. He shouldn't be here. His father would be angry. He would punish him again and yet Julian couldn't move.

Around the bend in the road a person appeared. They were dressed in colourful clothes and a ridiculous hat adorned their head. Julian held his breath.

As the bard, for it must be one, came closer, the song became clearer. It filled Julian with emotions he didn't want to feel, hopes and dreams he never wanted to think about again.

Tears were clouding his vision and his heart ached like it hadn't done in years.

The bard nodded at him in passing, not interrupting his song for even a second.

Julian was shaking.

He later wouldn't know what made him do it, but he called after the bard.

"Good sir, where did you learn your trade?" If the bard noticed how much his voice shook he didn't let it show. He stopped his singing but never his playing.

"In Oxenfurt of course!" the bard called back. "I am a master of the seven liberal arts. Now I travel through the lands and sing to my heart's content."

With a deep bow that looked so theatrical it might have given Julian's father a stroke, the bard disappeared into the woods.

His music stayed with Julian, though.

Julian's heart was racing. Fear, hope and panic battled inside his chest and paralysed he sat on the ground.

He had to do something.

He shouldn't though.

Dragging his feet, he rushed back home.

His father was gone on a visit to a friend and the servants didn't pay attention to Julian.

He threw a bunch of his clothes together in a bag and vomited into the chamber pot.

Grabbing everything of value he could carry and sell, he rushed out of the house while his head screamed to turn around as long as his father hadn't found out yet.

It was late. The merchants had already closed for the day and the farmers were home, so Julian managed to evade most people and hide behind a cloak he stole from a servant on his way out.

The docks were busier, full of drunken sailors and Julian marched straight to the person that looked like the most sober captain.

"I need passage to Oxenfurt."

The captain looked him up and down critically.

"Aren't you the little lordling?"

Julian resisted the urge to flee.

"I have enough money to make sure you never say that again."

The captain grinned and broke out laughing.

"Alright little stowaway, no noble has ever entered my ship if the Lord asks."

The passage to Oxenfurt was miserable.

Julian was sea sick for the most part and eaten alive by anxiety. What on earth was he thinking?

As soon as they reached Oxenfurt he booked the first inn he could get, bathed, and slept for an entire day. When he woke the next morning he forced down some breakfast and went up to the university.

He was feeling queasy. His legs were liquid and his stomach was ready to expel what little food he had managed to choke down.

The entrance was buzzing with students who were looking to sign up for the winter semester and before he knew what was happening he got swept up in the masses.

Was he insane? He hadn't played the lute in ages and was constantly exhausted, how could ever hope to become anything?

And yet, he didn't turn around. His heart raced, raced to the beat of the song of the bard and too soon yet still not soon enough he stood in front of the woman signing them all up.

"Name, please," she drawled.

Who was he? Who was he supposed to be? He couldn't sing up with Julian Pankratz, he didn't want to be that person anymore.

"Name, please."

"Jaskier, my name is Jaskier."

#the witcher #Jaskier #hurt #bard whump #jaskierwhumpweek #karo writes

23 notes · View notes

helpesslywriting · 6 months

Text

Penelope shut the door to the small house she lived in and turned the wooden lock over so that no one could burst in. She had to change after all. She felt as if her body were possessed by a spirit who knew exactly what needed to be done without forming a coherent thought behind the why. It was simply known. A well-worn machine going about it's usual task. As if she had done this many times before. Thoughts were not scattered like papers in the wind in her mind as they would have been normally. Reaching out and grabbing the thought to cross it off her mental to do list as the task was completed. She just simply moved.

Draw the curtains so no prying eyes could see into the house. Lock the back door so no well-meaning visitor could barge in to check on her. Douse the fire in the fireplace. Change clothes into a simple brown dress and white apron. Neatly fold the Union Day froc and put it in the box her mother had placed it in before her passing and place it back above the wardrobe where it had waited for more than a decade.

More years up there will not hurt it. Penelope heard herself somewhere in her consciousness say to herself. A thought sent her soul into rolling fits as she wondered. Will I ever have a chance again to wear my mother's gown? She didn't want to think about that just now. She got down from the stepping stool and replaced it in its proper home.

And so, on she went, flitting through the house like a specter on a mission going about her chores with no real plan forward or thoughts to occupy her. It wasn't until she realized she needed to refill a water pitcher that she paused and listened to the silence of the house around her. She could hear voices from the village filtering through the walls. Shouts for children or animals to behave and get back into place, calls for others to catch attention. Greetings and exclamations of life going on around her. She tightened her grip on the mug and swayed on the spot. The idea of going to the nearby well to fetch water made her feel like throwing up onto the floors.

She would, with no uncertainty, run into some of the older women of the village there and have to answer questions of why she was doing chores on her Union Day. She walked back to the kitchen and placed the pitcher on the end of her table before pulling out the chair and flopping down hard on the wooden seat.

She sat there, staring at the table, and tried to fight the wail that was clawing its way up her throat. She wanted to cry, scream and demand answers from Tav, from Korrin, from the gods themselves. Anyone who could help her make sense of this and abandon his void in her chest that was threatening to suck everything of hers inside.

Tears flowed over her lashes and down her cheeks, her shoulders began to shake and soon she was openly sobbing at the kitchen table. She folded her arms on the table and cradled her head as she wept to herself. Her lungs felt like they were threatening to collapse on her with each sob. Like a bag turned inside out because someone was grabbing too much.

Thoughts were flying through her head like arrows with no destination. What was the next step now? What was she supposed to do? Would they outcast her? Force her to marry someone else? Did she want to marry someone else? Would she simply be left alone? Would they want her to become a teacher or help the Priest to fill her days?

The uncertainty of what her fate would be made the room seem like it was tilting and turning out of her control although she was aware she was seated. The probability of her throwing up soon became too high to ignore and pray it passed. She grabbed the pitcher and hovered over it, fearing that trying for the bucket in the storage closet would be too much of a gamble.

Just as she thought she was going to retch, there was a knock on the door.

Penelope sat the pitcher on the edge of the table and stood from her chair. She thought she might stumble on the way to the door but once she made it, she pressed her body against the door to steady herself.

"Penelope?" It was the Priest Ackerman. The Unions must be done now. "Are you in there?" She had her hand on the simple round knob to feel if he tried to open the door, but it stayed still in her hand. "I understand you must be in quite a state of shock. I'm not trying to pry, but I want to make sure you are alright."

Ackerman had his bald head pushed against the door. Surely, she would not have had the time to do something drastic in the time it took him to finish the union ceremony and inform the other temple members to finish up the event while he went to check on her? He had heard sobbing coming from inside the one story wooden home as he approached, but since he had knocked the house had gone eerily silent and an wave of cold washed over him. He could count his heartbeats things had fell so silent. That is, until he heard the locking mechanism being turned over. He pulled back from the door and put his hands together in prayer. "Oh thank the gods, I was worried about you." he told her as a puffy, red rimmed eye looked at him from under auburn bangs. "May I come in, I feel like you shouldn't be alone right now--I know that might sound pushy my dear and you probably don't want to see anyone, least of all me today, but..." His heart was hammering in his chest, and his words rushing together to the point he had forgotten to take a breath and steady himself.

He was prepared for her to slam the door in his face, to cry and shout and scream at him for not stopping Tav's and Korrin's union ceremony. He felt guilty for missing signs that Tav was unhappy in his pairing with Penelope. By all accounts, from what he had observed and had been told by both parties, they were each looking forward to today.

The golden eye blinked sadly at him, and Ackerman felt his heart break a little for her. He wasn't too much older than her, and unpaired himself. But he knew that a lot of young women, Penelope included among them, had always looked forward to this day. She wanted to have a pairing, and she had been over the moon when it had been Tav.

"Penelope...please." He held out his hands, pleading. "If nothing else, allow me to sit with you until you feel like you have your feet under you. We don't have to say anything. I can't begin to imagine how you must feel, so I won't say that I do or that I can understand. But I want to help you..."

He jumped a little in surprise as she let go of the door and it swung open on its own, the hinges had started to pull away from the frame. She was walking toward the kitchen area of the first room and Ackerman took it as a sign to follow. He stepped inside, removed his shoes and closed the door behind him.

He had been here once before, when the accident that took her parents from her had happened. So, he had already known that her father, Stephen, had built the house himself by hand and wasn't a forethought sort of man. He had simply built a semi large box of a house and put one set of windows on each side of the house. It wasn't until his pairing with Penelope's mother, Alicia that the house had gotten interior walls to separate rooms from one another and turn it from a box to a true home.

One thing that hadn't changed though, was the large kitchen and dinning room area being just to the left of the entry way. When you stepped inside, you could see the kitchen counters and pantry as well as the long wooden table set with six chairs.

#penelope #penelope x ing #Ing #fanfic #beauty and the beast reimagining #beauty and the beast #minecraft #inspired by enderblu #writing #fanfic wip #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

julianrchandlers · 1 year

Text

JULIAN CHANDLER INTRODUCTION.

meet julian; an artist, human, alive for now

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Julian Rhys Chandler NICKNAME(S): Jules AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 30, 07/12/1992 GENDER: Cisman PRONOUNS: He/Him OCCUPATION: Freelance Artist and Worker at Blank Slate SPECIES: Human for now

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: death mentions, miscarriage

PROLOGUE.

Someday soon, in the very near future, Julian Chandler is going to die. There will be no warning, no slow decline into Death’s cold embrace, not a single sign of what is to come. Unceremoniously and in a strange new town surrounded by strange new people, the young man will meet his end. What Julian Chandler doesn’t know is that his fleeting mortal existence will not be the definitive end. For the last time that his human heart beats will soon after be followed by a metamorphosis – and his eyes will open and his heart will beat again, this time in endless night and an all-consuming bloodlust.

I. CHARMING BEGINNINGS + IMPOSTER SYNDROME.

Death has followed Julian for nearly half of his life, though he’s been none the wiser. Sure, everyone knows the inevitability of their end; every passing second we draw closer and closer to the natural end of life, but for a young kid one’s mortality isn’t at the forefront and center of their mind. Prior to that fateful meeting when he was sixteen, Julian’s life was unblemished and free of any complications that could bring such a thing in question. Born the youngest of three boys to a personal injury lawyer and historic preservationist in Forest Hills Gardens, there was little to concern the boy. His childhood was as charming as the Tudor houses which dotted the Queens neighborhood he called home. Afforded luxuries that their parents were not as fortunate to grow up with, Julian and his brothers had a spoiled upbringing. There was little that they could want for, and Julian had been particularly blessed.

Cliché as it was, he was the baby of the family and, much to the chagrin of his older brothers, he had lived up to the title. He was always a tad bit more sensitive and tender-hearted than Conrad and Grant were, and their mother, Caroline, had done little to help the situation. In the few years before giving birth to Julian she had lost two other babies, and so to her he had been her precious little miracle. Since birth, he was practically glued to Caroline’s hip. While the older boys pursued sports and more ‘manly’ pursuits, as their father boasted, Julian spent most of his time seated upon his mother’s lap while she worked in her studio, diligently restoring artworks and artifacts of historical value. It was Caroline who encouraged the soulful artist in him. She traded soccer meets for piano lessons, comics for books on the master artists, and she was the one who taught him the proper way to hold a paint brush. It wasn’t anything special at first, not some crazy prodigy story, but as the years went by and he got older and far more absorbed in pencil and paper than the world around him it became very clear; Julian had a gift where art was concerned, and Caroline wanted nothing more than to nurture it.

Unfortunately Russell Chandler hadn’t felt similarly. Julian’s father didn’t want any of his sons to waste time on ‘fruitless hobbies’. He wanted them to become so much more than what he and Caroline amounted to. For his sons he always envisioned Ivy League futures followed by prestigious careers in high paying fields. That’s why the older boys lettered in sports, were highly dedicated to their studies, and spent so much time doing community service, all in pursuit of scholarships and attractive college applications. Julian was the odd man out, more dedicated to building his techniques than fulfilling his father’s hopes and dreams. “Little pictures are nice, but they won’t get you anywhere past Queens, Julian. When are you going to grow up?” It was the root of his insecurities, how little his father seemed to believe in his talents, and the reason he began to hide what he could do.

When adolescence came around, Julian wanted to somehow live up to his dad’s standards, even if he kinda fell behind the other boys. He pivoted into sports during middle school, started focusing more diligently on his studies, and began trying to imagine his future in some lucrative industry. Slowly he began to hide away his paints and brushes, his one true passion becoming a shameful secret; the colorful skeleton in his closet. Still, Julian never quite measured up to Russell’s image of the ideal son – not athletic enough to be a star player, nor smart enough to be valedictorian.

But there were other things that began to work for Julian. Puberty had been good to him; towering over the other kids in his class at a staggering 6’4” and with dreamy blue eyes and dimples so deep you could drink from them, Julian was granted an air of popularity during his high school years. Partially because of his good looks, but also because he’d finally grown out of the timid nature being a sheltered mama’s boy afforded him. Sports meant having to learn to be a team player and how to work with others, and he quickly shed his socially awkward demeanor in favor of an easy going charm and affability he didn’t realize was beneath the shyness. It was a whole 180, from the quiet artsy loner to a handsome letterman-wearing hometown hero. He swore he’d never seen his father more proud of him, even if he felt like an imposter.

II. A MEETING BY FATE.

By the time he was sixteen Julian had become so much more outgoing than he’d ever been, to the point where he no longer shied away from approaching unfamiliar faces. That being said, he wasn’t quite quick to introduce himself to the unfamiliar face who’d shown up in the school yard. In fact, he hadn’t even laid his eyes on Jasmine Chamberlain before he heard the first whispers about her. Queens was a cultural hub, one of the most diverse in the country, but that didn’t mean it was always welcoming. High school was never quite welcoming. He’d heard the gossip starting in first period; a new girl from out of town, whose last name didn’t match her family’s, whose mother supposedly died though there was no body to be found at the scene, and whose father was incarcerated. For what, he wasn’t sure – there were at least four different reasons floating around the school halls, but likely they were all made up by their classmates. He didn’t care about what they said anyway, Julian was never one for the mean spirited chat of bored teenagers.

So when he finally saw her, he didn’t think twice about walking up to Jasmine Chamberlain to introduce himself. Casually he fell into place beside her, offering a warm greeting accompanied by a dimpled smile and firm handshake. Jasmine seemed innocent enough, not worthy of the social pariah some of his tight knit circle wanted her to be. Almost instantly Julian had decided it was imperative that he get to know Jasmine, and it wasn’t very long before he declared that they were going to be the best of friends. He could be stupidly persistent if he truly wanted to be, and so he’d made a point of going out of his way to greet her every day at school, falling easily into step beside her on the way to mutual classes, and taking about every second to bombard her with questions about her life before Queens and everything he could discern about her. Somehow, perhaps just by persistent weaseling, he managed to actually befriend the girl, and before long his declaration had become a firm reality.

Their friendship had persisted through the rest of high school, and even though they attended different universities (albeit still within the same huge city) they remained close into early adulthood. While Jasmine went to NYU, Julian decided to follow the blueprint his father left and attended Columbia University. Despite his deep love and passion for art, he’d opted for a business degree while planning fervently to attend law school. It made Russell happy to have a son following closely in his footsteps, but for Julian it was slowly eating him alive. While college was a fun experience, full of so many firsts and exciting changes, there was a part of him that came to resent himself for the decision he’d made. It wasn’t until he spent a full weekend locked away in his room, buzzing from the many energy drinks he chugged down to stay up and study for the LSAT that he’d suddenly had an epiphany. He didn’t want this, to become an attorney working alongside his father at his firm, having his soul sucked dry by a career that he had no love for. He wasn’t strong enough to spend his entire life pretending to be this person just for his father’s benefit, or to go into more debt just to appease the man. And so at the last second, he decided he wasn’t going to pursue a career as a lawyer anymore, and at the first chance he could he took up a job as a project manager for a startup in Philadelphia and moved away from his father’s disappointing gaze.

III. LIFE IN SHADES OF GRAY

The next few years of Julian’s life seemed to pass by in a dull haze. He eventually found himself working at an SEO firm as a client experience manager, putting his degree to work he supposed. From 9 to 5 he was just going through the motions of his thankless desk job, going home to a nice but lonely townhouse where a glass of wine and his easel awaited him. He regretted forgoing art school to appease his father, but that didn’t stop him from honing his technique. And slowly he got out of his fear of showing his work, inevitably choosing to post onto social media for the world to see. Not that it did much for him; he managed to grab a couple of small freelance jobs here and there, a logo or an ad design finished in the space of a few hours over the weekend, but it wasn’t the career he’d originally dreamed of for himself. He used to fancy himself a future illustrator, an award winning graphic novelist. Dreams weren’t meant to pan out, it seemed. So he watched his life continue to float by, his passions left to the wayside for the stability his father always craved for him. Even when he disappointed the man, Russell Chandler still somehow won.

But the worst thing to Julian was the decline in his closest friendship. Having abandoned his shallow high school friends after graduating, the only thing that remained constant for him for a while had been Jasmine. Even through college, and a bit after, they maintained their close relationship. He’d followed her career as a journalist in New York, being a highly vocal supporter of her work, and they’d remained in contact even when they were no longer living a matter of minutes away from each other – he’d even made the drive from Philly to NYC on the occasional weekend just to see her, not even bothering to stop in Queens to see his own family. She’d been such a cornerstone to his life for so long… He didn’t know how to react when she all but vanished from it. It all changed when she’d suddenly up and left the city, choosing to travel. Something he at first applauded as being cool (and envied immensely) but didn’t think much of.

From that point onward the contact between them grew fewer and fewer in between, until it seemed like Julian was reaching out to a ghost. One sided conversations, one sided friendship. Where the hell had things gone so wrong? How he’d come to find out she was living in a town in Rhode Island – the name of which he’d never heard in his life – wasn’t important. When he’d found out about Lunar Cove, where it seemed she’d settled, he had a strange fancy to pack up his life and run there himself. Maybe Jasmine had the right idea; dropping the big city life and moving to some unknown town to start fresh. Julian was thirty now, and decidedly unhappy with the life he’d fallen into. He’d thought maybe a change of scenery would have done him some good. And maybe having an old friend in the same strange new vicinity would make things a little easier. Sure, it was a bit odd to drop everything in your life just to follow your maybe-still-best-friend but once he’d made up his mind Julian was determined. Without much of a thought he quit his corporate job, sold most of his belongings, including his car, and took the first bus all the way to Lunar Cove, RI.

EPILOGUE? ENTER LUNAR COVE.

Julian’s only been in town for about a month now, and he’s beginning to think this may have been his worst idea yet. He traded a nice townhouse in the big city for a basement apartment in the house of a lovely elderly couple, with the leakiest faucet you’d ever seen among a myriad of other maintenance problems (which he, being the young, generous and strong buck he is, decided he would fix for his kind landlords). He’d given up a high paying job just to be an associate at an art store downtown, and has had little movement in his freelance career – though he tries not to complain. What’s more artsy than being a starving artist after all? Worst of it, though, he has yet to stage a reunion with his childhood friend. In fact, he’s worried of receiving a chilly reception when she realizes he’s unexpectedly showed up in her new town. Who just drops their life to chase a friend you barely speak to anymore?

What Julian Chandler still doesn’t realize is that there are bigger consequences to his arrival in Lunar Cove than just upsetting an old friend. The seconds are ticking by quicker for him, Death’s shadow looming over him as his cruel fate slowly draws nearer and nearer. And as the strange intricacies of Lunar Cove’s society begin to make themselves known to him, he’s going to come closer to having to accept that his life is about to change and will never be the same again.

HEADCANONS

preferred art mediums: for traditional he works primarily in acrylics, graphite/charcoal, watercolor and ink. dabbles in oil but lacks the necessary patience. likewise does digital work.

preferred subjects: portraits (including royal pet paintings), landscapes

art style: can do realism, prefers stylized illustration for graphic novel work and editorial illustrations

plays piano and guitar, the latter of which being one of the few possessions he kept and brought with him when he uprooted his life from philadelphia.

while he maintains a close relationship with his mother, he hasn’t been particularly close to his father or brothers since changing direction with his career/education and it’s become worse since he dropped everything to follow jasmine to lunar cove. as such he hasn’t been home in a long while and kind of craves the normalcy of family; in the mean time he’s practically adopted the elderly couple he lives with as his grandparents and spends most of his time helping around their house than socializing with people his own age since arriving.

that being said he’s DESPERATE for friends and can be extremely outgoing and in his own little way kind of charming. he followed his best friend here, but he’s also looking to build a community of his own so he will absolutely try to befriend even the grumpiest of residents if it means finding a family to replace the one he’s mostly at odds with.

likes puns and tells terrible jokes. his tinder profile is probably a really bad dad joke; thank god he’s cute bc that’s the only reason he gets matches.

he can be an absolute hopeless romantic and loves the idea of romance and being in love… but he’s never really had a serious relationship or attachment. since he spent most of his adult life trying to mold into what his father wanted him to be, and then at a career he didn’t much care for, he tended to attract women who had an expectation of the kind of man he’d be (ie professional, ambitious, career driven, mature kind of guy) only to get a dad joke loving optimistic artist boy, which for some reason they weren’t as into. so he’s never had a relationship that’s lasted more than a month, despite falling quick and hard for whatever pretty face gives him attention.

he played lacrosse in high school and tried to get really into sports culture as a kid but honestly isn’t a huge fan of it. could not make a team, and owns a Phillies baseball cap just because he lived there a long while and felt weird not being as aggressively passionate about the teams as the locals he worked with. He isn’t sure he even knows how most sports work.

carries a journal with him EVERYWHERE. just a beat up pocket sized moleskin that he jots down everything into — from phone numbers, to random thoughts, memos and appointments, and of course random little doodles, and is known to randomly space out and pull said journal out at any opportunity.

sold his car and now he bikes everywhere. no matter the weather, he will bike from his home in echo acres all the way to work in downtown LC. he expects he’ll have the nicest calves in lunar cove within months.

idk more to come when I’m more awake lol

MISC

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteromantic FAMILY: Russell Chandler (father), Caroline Chandler (mother), Conrad Chandler (eldest brother), Grant Chandler (older brother) HOMETOWN: Queens, New York FACE CLAIM: David Corenswet HEIGHT: 6’4” EYE COLOR: Blue HAIR: Dark Brown DISTINGUISHABLE FEATURES: dimpled grin, effortlessly coiffed wavy hair, scruff/light beard though this only appears when he’s particularly engrossed in a project and hasn’t shaved in a few days as consequence STYLE: cozy knit jumpers, mismatched socks, bright white sneakers, light wash denim with paint stains here and there, thrusted graphic tees, cracked brown leather jacket, tortoise shell glasses, polos and nice slacks when he’s feeling fancy, shades of blues to match his eyes ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: cancer PINTEREST: (x)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Tinder Matches / Dates — he’s new in town, single, flirty and ready to mingle lol no but I seriously think it could be a funny way for him to meet some people. not necessarily meant to be romantic as much as kinda just funny

Ghosted — to go along with the above, maybe the first person he matched with in town but someone ended up ghosting rip. could be another funny interaction that can lead to a fun dynamic.

Customers / Commissioners — regulars at the store who either became fans of jules’s work or needed someone to hire for a freelance job and found him

Neighbor / Jog Buddy — someone in echo acres who is willing to join him on morning runs and maybe build a bit of a friendship with; he can be pretty chatty in the mornings

Model / Muse — someone who has modeled for figure drawing classes in town, and who julian has drawn quite a bit

Student — similar to customers but someone who wanted to gain a new artistic hobby/talent and became julian’s first student in the arts

Coworkers (pls) — pls bring people who also work at blank slate so he can have some fellow art friends

Vampire Sire (future plot, but we can start planting seeds) — there’s so much to this but inevitably julian has to die with vampire blood in his system; let’s start planting the seeds towards a dynamic sire/protege storyline for the future!

Supernatural Sensei — he’s currently oblivious to the supernatural but he will also become quite skeptical as things are shown to him; someone in town has to help him see this stuff is for real reals

Friends — as marked on the tin; he could use all the friends

Enemies / Art Rival — but also would love to see him having people he just doesn’t get along with, or even fellow artists to be rivals

Grouch Who Just Doesn’t Like Him — at least one person can’t like that shiny optimistic boy scout

idk hmu with ideas

EXTRA

This is an old sketch of an old character using the same fc but it still works here for Jules so enjoy will I finish it? Probs not.

#&& about.

4 notes · View notes

lunarcovehq · 7 months

Text

Julian Chandler is a vampire that currently resides in Echo Acres and has been a Lunar Cove resident for 1 month and will live a long healthy life within its borders.

ITS THE END OF THE WORLD

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him

DATE OF BIRTH: July 12, 1991

OCCUPATION: Freelance Artist / Worker at Blank Slate

FACECLAIM: David Corenswet

AS WE KNOW IT, AND I FEEL FINE

SPECIES: Vampire

CLAN POSITION: Not a member

AGE AT TRANSFORMATION: 32

WELCOME TO LUNAR COVE, JULIAN CHANDLER

Trigger Warnings: Death, Miscarriage

PROLOGUE.

I. CHARMING BEGINNINGS + IMPOSTER SYNDROME.

When adolescence came around, Julian wanted to somehow live up to his dad’s standards, even if he kind of fell behind the other boys. He pivoted into sports during middle school, started focusing more diligently on his studies, and began trying to imagine his future in some lucrative industry. Slowly he began to hide away his paints and brushes, his one true passion becoming a shameful secret; the colorful skeleton in his closet. Still, Julian never quite measured up to Russell’s image of the ideal son – not athletic enough to be a star player, nor smart enough to be valedictorian.

II. A MEETING BY FATE.

III. LIFE IN SHADES OF GRAY.

EPILOGUE? ENTER LUNAR COVE.

#julian chandler #david corenswet #echo acres #taken vampire #all #blank slate #nonmember vampire

1 note · View note

bvannn · 1 year

Text

Weekly Recap Feb 3 2023

Not too much to say about this week. I had far more work than anticipated but tried to do pet projects regardless.

My main focus this week was Tim and Emile’s test animation. I storyboarded it, to which I am satisfactory (though may tweak some areas). I have begun keyframing, and discovered that I can reliably use the models asymmetrically so long as I adjust a couple pieces. This is wonderful, as it means I do not need to make new pieces. I am still uncertain how I will do the direct interaction, but I have part of a plan, which will be adjusted as needed.

In the coming weeks I hope to create some more clip studio assets for these animations, including the stray sketchy lines, dry ink lines, impact bursts, potentially a generic background, etc. that I include in my individual art, as well as some glitchy effects for Jon and maybe some blurs for fast motion. I want my art style to stay distinct and a bit messy, so I want to include that in the animations as well.

On the topic of TRG, Colosseum is approaching! Last year I did a few art pieces of some of the ‘bumpers’ that played before or after segments (for those unfamiliar, these were short skits the participants wrote, acted, and recorded). I don’t believe I ever posted those to this account, so I will likely do that, as well as drawing some more. We got a new batch of skits last year, including some instant hits including ‘Cardboard Jon’ and ‘I took a Few Liberties’. As much as I would love to animate these, most of these skits would involve rigs I do not have built yet, and will not for a while, so I will stick with single illustrations, or potentially comics, at the very most a short gif in reference to a skit. I may reawaken my Twitter to post these, though afterwards it will become dormant again.

I have also been rewatching TRG’s older videos, in part to select a clip to animate, but also to buffer my volatile mood as of late. Rage helps writing stories, but hurts many other functions, so I can’t let it linger more than a couple hours.

Unfortunately I have made little significant progress with stories to speak of this week. Rage helps build despicable villains, though I have focused on them enough as of late. I have devised a few henchmen for both the primary and secondary stories I am working on, which greatly assist in characterization of the villain in the primary story, and push the plot and raise the stakes of the secondary story. I hope I can use these characters to assist in structure of both stories, and that I may do proper art of each soon as well.

Unfortunately, the USB port on my computer is broken, significantly reducing capacity for art, as I can no longer use my art tablet. The port should be fixed late Monday, and a USB hub item I had ordered for unrelated reasons (I wanna draw and watch cartoons on my fire stick at the same time) should be arriving this weekend hopefully, so this should be a very momentary delay in work, and I can still work on animations so long as I don’t need new storyboards.

I fulfilled the Inktober 52 prompt barely on time this week, this will likely repeat. I wish to get better with placing my sketchy lines, and more practice on both paper and digital are required.

I got scouted for the newgrounds portal this week, which is wonderful as it confirms my art is at the standards of newgrounds. This is wonderful news for my confidence, I hope I can provide a halfway decent drawing to the website every once in a while as a thanks!

I have thrown together some music to potentially rearrange and create original songs from, though this would need testing. I do not expect to have time for this in the coming week, though I may throw more measures together.

Main plans for the coming week are to chip away at the test animation, work on story outline/structure, inktober 52, and at least one TRG Colosseum drawing. Anything else is a fun bonus.

#weekly update

1 note · View note

julianrchandlerx · 1 year

Text

JULIAN CHANDLER INTRODUCTION.

meet julian; an artist, human, alive for now

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Julian Rhys Chandler NICKNAME(S): Jules AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 32, 07/12/1991 GENDER: Cisman PRONOUNS: He/Him OCCUPATION: Freelance Artist and Worker at Blank Slate SPECIES: Human for now

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: death mentions, miscarriage

PROLOGUE.

I. CHARMING BEGINNINGS + IMPOSTER SYNDROME.

II. A MEETING BY FATE.

III. LIFE IN SHADES OF GRAY

EPILOGUE? ENTER LUNAR COVE.

HEADCANONS

preferred art mediums: for traditional he works primarily in acrylics, graphite/charcoal, watercolor and ink. dabbles in oil but lacks the necessary patience. likewise does digital work.

preferred subjects: portraits (including royal pet paintings), landscapes

art style: can do realism, prefers stylized illustration for graphic novel work and editorial illustrations

plays piano and guitar, the latter of which being one of the few possessions he kept and brought with him when he uprooted his life from philadelphia.

likes puns and tells terrible jokes. his tinder profile is probably a really bad dad joke; thank god he’s cute bc that’s the only reason he gets matches.

( under revision ) he can be an absolute hopeless romantic and loves the idea of romance and being in love… but he’s never really had a serious relationship or attachment. since he spent most of his adult life trying to mold into what his father wanted him to be, and then at a career he didn’t much care for, he tended to attract women who had an expectation of the kind of man he’d be (ie professional, ambitious, career driven, mature kind of guy) only to get a dad joke loving optimistic artist boy, which for some reason they weren’t as into. so he hasn’t really had a relationship that’s lasted more than a month, despite falling quick and hard for whatever pretty face gives him attention. that being said there was a fancy back in philly, someone he knew well and had feelings for. he just never quite sealed the deal. since then, he’s kept his relationships a bit more casual while he tries to figure out his life.

he played lacrosse in high school and tried to get really into sports culture as a kid but he was more ab art kid. that being said, he’s an avid baseball fan, especially of the Mets.

idk more to come when I’m more awake lol

MISC

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteromantic FAMILY: Russell Chandler (father), Caroline Chandler (mother), Conrad Chandler (eldest brother), Grant Chandler (older brother) HOMETOWN: Queens, New York FACE CLAIM: David Corenswet HEIGHT: 6’4” EYE COLOR: Blue HAIR: Dark Brown DISTINGUISHABLE FEATURES: dimpled grin, effortlessly coiffed wavy hair, scruff/light beard though this only appears when he’s particularly engrossed in a project and hasn’t shaved in a few days as consequence jk he rocks a beard/stubble now STYLE: cozy knit jumpers, mismatched socks, bright white sneakers, light wash denim with paint stains here and there, thrifted graphic tees and loud print button downs, cracked brown leather jacket, tortoise shell glasses (when he’s out of contacts), polos and nice slacks when he’s feeling fancy, shades of blues to match his eyes ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: cancer PINTEREST: (x)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Ghosted — to go along with the above, maybe the first person he matched with in town but someone ended up ghosting rip. could be another funny interaction that can lead to a fun dynamic.

Customers / Commissioners — regulars at the store who either became fans of jules’s work or needed someone to hire for a freelance job and found him

Neighbor / Jog Buddy — someone in echo acres who is willing to join him on morning runs and maybe build a bit of a friendship with; he can be pretty chatty in the mornings

Model — someone who has modeled for figure drawing classes in town, and who julian has drawn quite a bit

Student — similar to customers but someone who wanted to gain a new artistic hobby/talent and became julian’s first student in the arts

Coworkers (pls) — pls bring people who also work at blank slate so he can have some fellow art friends

Friends — as marked on the tin; he could use all the friends

Enemies / Art Rival — but also would love to see him having people he just doesn’t get along with, or even fellow artists to be rivals

Grouch Who Just Doesn’t Like Him — at least one person can’t like that shiny optimistic boy scout

idk hmu with ideas

EXTRA

This is an old sketch of an old character using the same fc but it still works here for Jules so enjoy will I finish it? Probs not.

#&& about.#third time is the charm

0 notes

danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

Note

could you do the “reaction to first time being shown affection” but with the new vegas/fo3 male companions as well?

Romanced! Male! FO3 Companions and the first time they’re shown soft forms of Affection

Here is some more fluff for all of you lovlies! Man, I love doing these sweet prompts so dang much 😅 Seriously, if there’s ANY characters you want to see for this that I haven’t done, please please please don’t hesitate to ask, cuz these reactions are just good for my soul (... or Sole, eh? Get it?).

Fallout New Vegas (M! Companions) reactions are also on the way for this prompt as well, and should be done soon!

Butch:

Lone's eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of the darkened vault 101 bedroom as they stretched their legs from beneath the thin blanket with a small sigh. A blush spread to their face as they felt their partner stir beside them, repositioning himself onto his back, an arm thrown up over his head as a deep breath escaped his lips. They turned to get a better look at him, smiling slightly at how peaceful he looked. Eyes still closed, mouth dangling open slightly, hair tousled about every which way upon his head as it crushed into the pillow behind him. Lone just stared at him for a while, their heart beating insistently in their chest as they thought back on the events of their first night together… them and Butch… who would've thought?

They would have liked to pin it on the way he's changed over the years they've known him, because certainly ten-year-old Lone would have scrunched up their face in disgust at the idea of having a crush on the self-absorbed bully. But… truth is, Lone's always suspected that their feelings towards the fellow vault dweller had been more… complicated than simple hatred, or simple attraction. No, these feelings seemed to go deeper than that, even before, when they were kids and he would get on their nerves constantly, or in school when they were teens who frequently argued with each other, they knew there was something more at play between the pair, though they never would have admitted it at the time. Now though, they couldn't believe they had ever seen him any differently as they gazed tenderly at their partner through half-lidded eyes, filled to the brim with affection for the man that lay beside them.

Lone tentatively reached up a hand, not wanting to wake him, but needing to touch him. They brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, running their palm over the top of his head and smoothing down any stray strands that stuck out. Pausing their movements briefly, Lone brought themselves into a sitting position, keeping their side of the blankets up to cover their bare body as they scooted closer to him and reached their hands out towards his head again. Though his hair wasn't all that long, they rarely had the privilege of seeing it void of product, which often made it difficult to play with. Lone decided to take advantage of this instance. They took three separate strands between their fingers, crossing them over each other a few times before twisting the end, willing the little braid to hold its shape before moving to another section and doing the same. A smile spread on their lips as they carried on with their little movements, leaving a handful of tiny braids in the wake of their gentle hands as they continued listening to him snore softly below them.

As they grew less fond of the braided look, Lone smoothed each one out and began to thread their fingers upwards, giggling at their work as the entirety of his fawn-colored hair stood straight up over his slackened expression. Now if only I had dad's camera…

Their ability to stifle their laughter weakened, preventing them from suppressing the snort that escaped from them; the sound effectively jolting their companion awake.

"What the…?" He shook his head, attempting to expel his grogginess as he realized what had woken him.

"Why are you...? Wait, what happened? You laughin' at me?"

Lone nodded as another snort escaped them, Butch's confused expression now acting as the source of their second bout of giggling.

"Why? What happened?" He looked down quickly, trying to conceal any bare part of him that peeked through the thin Vault-Tec issued blanket. A panicked flush creeping up his cheeks as he tried to find the source of their amusement.

"No, no, it's nothing like that." They assured him, grabbing at his face with their hands to bring his attention back to their eyes, "Here."

Lone made a motion upwards, to try and smooth his hair down to a reasonable height, but Butch's own fingers followed, brushing the substantial mountain of silky locks that stood at attention atop his head before they could fix what they'd done. His eyes widened as he realized what Lone had been laughing at, shaking his head in an attempt to loosen the upright strands.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do ya?"

Lone smiled at him, shrugging as they prepared to answer him with some smart-ass remark, but he was upon them before they could utter a word. Their partner tackled them, pressing his lips to theirs as he forced them downwards against the mattress where he pinned their arms up over their head. When he had firmly secured their wrists in his grip, he released them from the kiss, now staring down at them smugly, a glint of triumph playing in his stormy blue eyes. Lone's heart beat raggedly in their chest as they breathlessly gazed up at their lover as he held them down. Though, to their surprise, he pulled further away from them and released his grip on their wrists, quickly bringing his hands down to their sensitive sides. He pinched his fingers slightly as he ran them over their ribcage, causing them to erupt into a fit of unbridled laughter, writhing underneath his cruel ministrations as he grinned wildly at them.

“How’s that for funny, huh, wise guy?”

Charon:

“Tell me something.” Lone stared up at the stars as they spoke, Charon’s stiff shoulder brushing their own as he lay beside them at the top of the parking structure, his shotgun still lying across his chest, held firmly in his grasp.

“What?” His gruff voice inquired. Lone couldn’t tell if he was being short with them because he was still unsure about spending the night at the top of the ruined concrete parking structure, or if it was because he genuinely didn’t understand their request, either way, they didn’t mind clarifying.

“Just, tell me something about yourself. You already know almost everything about me, and we’ve been together a few months now, and yet…” They trailed off, trying in vain to coax a proper response from their companion.

“What would you like to know?” Lone sighed softly, but smiled in spite of themself, shifting onto their side so they could look over at him. The ghoul was laying rigidly on his back, his eyes remained trained on the sky, as they had been since Lone suggested he quit keeping watch and just relax with them as they stargazed. Well, he stopped keeping watch, but I don’t think he ever got to the ‘relax’ part.

“Well… what do you want me to know about you?” They asked him, attempting to draw an answer from him without using a direct order. Ever since the two had become involved, Lone had felt uncomfortable with the idea of holding Charon's contract. Well, truth be told, they had always hated the idea of him being forced to obey their every whim and order because they held some torturous piece of paper, but now it felt especially immoral.

Silence fell over the pair as Charon struggled with Lone’s request, half of him wanting to abide by what they said and begin the process of opening up to the person he felt closest with, while the other half grappled with the phrasing of their question. The shadow of his officially void contract rendered his own preferences obsolete as the years of habit continued to keep him chained to the false comfort of his own complacency. He was never allowed to want before.

Lone gazed at him, noting the hard expression adorning his scarred face as the internal conflict raged between his temples. Charon’s pale blue eyes became obstructed as his brow furrowed, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth in an effort to force his mouth to produce any words that could possibly provide an answer to Lone’s question.

The ghoul’s body shuddered as Lone extended their hand, sliding it over his chest before it came to rest atop one of his. They flexed their fingers, a suggestion to loosen his grip on the barrel of his shotgun, but he refused to budge. They kept the contact with him for a moment more, but as he showed no sign of yielding to their touch, they pulled away, rolling over onto their back once more.

Well, it was worth a try. Lone closed their eyes as their fatigue washed over them, remaining on the verge of consciousness as they awaited any response from their partner.

Instead of words, they felt a soft brush against their hand, and Lone peeked one eye open to witness the ghoul’s action as he pressed on, drawing his larger hand to rest over their own. Though the action was miniscule, Lone felt their breath catch in their throat as Charon slid his thumb over their skin soothingly. They hummed as a small grin graced their lips, shifting in his grasp so that they could entwine their fingers with his.

Lone’s expression dampened as they felt him pull away slightly, believing that perhaps they’d pushed their companion too far with their… official hand holding; but they were surprised as they felt his nails meet their wrist. He smoothed his fingertips up their arm slightly, before doubling back, capturing their hand fully in his own again. At that, Lone resumed their own comforting movements along his roughened skin. The ebb and flow of the pairs’ dancing hands seemed to coax something out of Charon, a sort of tenderness that Lone was otherwise unfamiliar with.

“I want… ” He started, and Lone held their breath, but continued running their fingers over his hand encouragingly.

“To tell you… it is no longer the contract that is binding me to you.” His movement against Lone ceased in his effort to continue speaking.

"At first, I did not think I would ever be able to separate myself from it. But now… the paper is obsolete. I'm loyal to you. I want you to know that."

Lone's heart leapt in their chest, as they felt tears of relief fill to the brims of their eyes. They couldn't say how long they'd been hoping to hear this from him, it was getting to the point that they thought they never would; that the dreadful scrap of parchment shackling Charon to his horrendous past would taint their relationship until the end of their days, but now…

A scarred finger brushed against Lone's cheek, capturing the tear that had escaped them in their moment of relieved contemplation. They turned their head, following his hand's retreat, and their eyes met his. A once stormy ocean now seemed to resemble a calm, pensive pool as he peered at them with a clarity he never thought he could have achieved.

Fawkes:

Lone’s eyebrows drew upwards as they gazed sympathetically at the mutant. Fawkes was hunched over, his head buried in his large hands as small grunts of frustration pushed their way through his overlapping fingers. He’d been having flashbacks all day long, the brief snippets of his time as a human tormenting him in their fragmented incompleteness.

“Fawkes?” They tested. Lone hadn’t been able to rouse him from his state of anguish since the pair had returned to their Megaton home. Three hours ago. They rose from their chair, moving to sit beside him on the couch. Thus far, they had let him be, believing that the memories he was struggling with would either come back to him fully, or slip away from his grasp altogether, as they usually did. But this time they appeared to be more insistent and less comprehensible, rendering their companion aggravated and exhausted, and leaving Lone feeling utterly useless.

As they settled beside him, they brought a hand up to rest on his broad shoulder, feeling the pulsing tenseness of his muscle as his heavy breathing forced his shoulders to rise and fall raggedly.

“Hey,” They said softly, “I know it’s hard, but you have to try and let it go.” Lone brought their hands up to grasp at his, gently pulling them away from his scrunched up face.

“That’s not you anymore. You’re Fawkes.” They told him, looking into his strained eyes, “You’re free now, free from the vault, free from who you used to be, and free to make your own choices. To be your own kind of person.” Slowly bringing their hands down towards his lap, they continued holding onto them tightly as they tried to bring him back to reality, tried to ground him back in the present.

“You’re my closest friend, Fawkes, no matter who you were, I love you now. For who you are.” Lone’s words seemed to finally draw his attention to them, his weary eyes softening at the sight of them, as the present world around him seemed to solidify. They felt his hands squeeze theirs to the brink of being too tight, holding firmly enough to keep him tethered to this reality, and when they flexed their fingers beneath the intense pressure, he became aware of his actions, and ceased them. The mutant’s grip softened as he exhaled, finally letting his taut muscles relax beneath his ravaged, olive skin.

“That’s it. Welcome back.” Lone smiled up at him, their own relief evident in their softened expression. Fawkes slumped a little lower, his fatigue forcing his shoulders to slouch and his head to bow forwards, as he blinked away the last shreds of the past that stubbornly tried to linger in his mind. Lone saw his shrunken frame as an opportunity, and withdrew their hands gently from his grasp, bringing their arms up to wrap around his shoulders. The hug was a little awkward, with his position facing straight ahead on the couch and Lone seated beside him, not to mention his much larger frame, which proved to be difficult to fully embrace; but, after a moment, he managed to bring an arm around Lone in an effort to return the gesture, allowing them to sink further into the security of his chest.

The pair remained this way for a few moments, both pressing the other firmly to them as they relaxed into the contact and grew more comfortable. Fawkes was certainly unused to the action, but his contentment was palpable in the way he slowly gave into Lone’s touch, leaning his head against theirs and clutching at them just a bit tighter before finally slackening and pulling away.

“Thank you, Lone. It is hard to feel… lost for such a long time.” His usually gruff voice came out like tattered silk as it was softened by the emotion accompanying it, and they couldn’t help but notice as Fawkes’s hand remained settled over their shoulder, still seeming to steady himself with the unwavering contact.

“Lone, how am I ever going to repay your kindness when you continue to assist me in so many ways each and every day? Your friendship is truly unparalleled.” Lone smiled at that, chuckling slightly at the sincerity of his words.

“Some people just… need more help than others.” They told him, “I’m happy to keep helping you every day, even if you can never repay me for it. That’s what people do when they care about each other, Fawkes. Love isn't a commodity to be bought and sold, at the expense of one and the gain of another; it’s something you reciprocate on your own terms, something you give to yourself and others without condition or expectation of gaining anything in return.”

Fawkes nodded his head slowly, eyes unfocused as he thought through Lone’s words.

“If that’s the case… Then, right now, I vow to love you as you say I should. Unconditionally. And hopefully that will be enough.”

Jericho:

The ex-raider collapsed with a groan, burying his head, face first, into the plush pillows atop their mattress. His rifle and bits of armor were strewn throughout the Tenpenny apartment, and Lone strolled behind him, trying to kick his things into a somewhat organized pile as they too tried to make themself more comfortable.

Bits of armor clattered to the floor as Lone made their way to their shared bed, smiling exasperatedly at their companion, stretched across the entirety of the mattress, preventing them from settling beside him.

I’m tired too, you know. They thought, releasing a puff of air as they considered how to go about solving this little problem of theirs. Lone tried dropping their bag beside the bed, the loud thud sounding as close to his ear as they could get it without physically hitting him with the sack, but Jericho didn’t even flinch. They clicked their tongue, peering around the room as they searched for a way to rouse him. As Lone started towards their shelves lining the wall of the hotel room, eyes set on the plethora of miscellaneous items they might be able to use to their advantage, a raucous snore erupted from within the plushness of their pillow-clad mattress. Lone groaned, turning about to face him before starting back towards the bed. Fine, you don’t want to make room for me? I’ll make it work anyways.

Lone approached the unconscious ex-raider, poking at the firmness of his back, testing, before hopping up in the air to land, stomach-first, on top of their companion.

“What the shit?! The fuck you think you’re doing?” He grumbled through the thick fabric.

“Just making myself comfortable.” Lone shifted their hips and shoulders, settling themself more firmly onto Jericho’s back.

“And you’re expectin’ me to put up with this shit?” He lifted his head, straining his neck to glare back at them questioningly.

“I really don’t see what you can do about it, old timer.” Lone leaned forward, digging an elbow into the back of his ribcage as they brought their mouth to his ear. They felt him tense at the pressure, bringing one of his arms back awkwardly as he tried to find a grip on them. Lone swatted his hand away with theirs, leaning onto their other side to avoid his flailing limb. As he felt their weight shift, Jericho twisted his body in an attempt to overturn them, but Lone instead decided to bring their arms around his shoulders, clinging to him so that their body shifted with his as he tried to roll them off.

“Mother fucker--” Lone began to giggle at his frustrated growls, as he rose, propping himself up on his elbows, with Lone still gripping him firmly, arms wrapped tight across his chest. He paused his thrashing, and Lone felt him shifting his head downwards, extending his neck to reach for something with his mouth…

“Ow-- Hey!” Jericho took a part of their wrist into his mouth, biting down hard, causing their grip to loosen, and at the opportunity, he decided to throw himself backwards onto the mattress, effectively crushing Lone beneath him. They felt the breath get knocked out of them as he landed, now settling himself on top of them, grinding the back of his head into their chest in an effort to make himself more comfortable in the most obnoxious way possible.

Well… that could have gone better, but hey, at least now I’m on the bed.

“Alright, you win.” They said, their voice coming out strained due to the pressure on their lungs.

“Damn right I do. Old timer… fuck you.” Lone laughed at that, reveling in the way he took their name calling so seriously.

“Alright, alright. I get the point, can you get off me now?”

“Nah. I think I like this. It’s real comfortable. Think I’ll just sleep this way.” Lone groaned at him, trying weakly to tousle him off their body before giving up with a loud sigh, being sure to blow their hot breath of frustration straight onto the top of his head. They felt his body shudder.

“Fuckin’ fine, little tike, I’ll get off.”

“Uck, don’t call me that.” Lone said as he rolled off of them, falling onto the mattress at their side. They peered over at him to see his reaction, pleased at the dark-eyed glare that bore into them, a glint of humor shining in their depths.

“Look, I’m allowed to complain,” They told him, shifting onto their side so they could see him better. “You friggin’ bit me.” The ex-raider smiled deviously at that.

“Hmm. Yeah, I did. And I’m about to do it again.” With that, he lunged at them, an arm wrapped around their waist to hold them in place as his teeth met their neck.

“Hey! What the--?” A moment later, the sharp pain dissolved away and was replaced by something soft as Jericho pressed his lips to the tender spot, soothing over the mark he had left. Lone’s eyes fell closed as his mouth moved up to their jaw, peppering kisses as it moved across their jawline to their chin, before finally drawing upwards to meet their lips.

“I hope you know.” Lone heard him say as he pulled away from them, “This ain’t over yet.” They felt the mattress shift as he collapsed back onto it, and they smiled at his words, scooting closer so they could throw an arm over his stomach as they pressed their head to the crook beneath his shoulder. Lone meant to say something cheeky in response, but before they could utter a word, they felt themself dissolve into sleep as the soft sound of Jericho’s snores filled their ears.

Here is the original post with the Fallout 4 M!Companions

Here is the post with Fallout New Vegas M!Companions

#fallout #fallout companions #fallout companions react #fallout companions reacts #fallout companions reactions #fallout 3 #fallout 3 companions #fo3 #fallout butch #butch deloria #fallout charon #charon fo3 #fallout fawkes #fawkes fo3 #jericho fo3 #fallout jericho #lone wanderer #butch fo3

322 notes · View notes