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irwintry · 4 years

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the air before a storm

Warnings: just a bunch of good old fluff, swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: yes this takes place in the outer banks no u are not allowed to mention the show—they are nothing alike. anyway i’m back :) hi

Summary: Y/N and Luke are neighbors in a beachside town where tourists are annoying and tropical storms aren’t rare. And they just can’t stop flirting.

Word Count: 5.6k

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Pelican Perch was a dead-end street.

It was well-wooded, wax myrtles and river birch kissing sandy chunks of pavement while homes too small for the average nuclear family were nestled behind thick, invasive vines. Quaint homes designed to keep the rain and the bugs out. Local homes. Each had their own shimmering windsock hung out front that was already tattered from storms, gifted to them by the neighborhood community last spring. Personalized homes. Beach homes that shared every aspect without even trying. Almost every shingle had been defaced by weather damage throughout the years. And the air always smelled of hot gravel and honeysuckle on breezy days. Homes on this road were loved.

You loved yours most of all.

With a front porch stuffed full of plants—ferns, strawberries, tomatoes, the lot—and knick-knacks you had collected throughout the past year, it was easy to love and call home to something that had once been temporary. The baby blue bike perched against a yaupon bush was proudly your preferred mode of transportation. Snuck far up the driveway sat a rusting 2005 Toyota Corolla with sand painted across its rear, and it was not well-loved, though it had been well-lived. The windsock hung off of your porch matched the color of your bike.

The last house on the street never put their windsock up. That house was right beside yours.

He had been there longer than you—you weren’t entirely sure how long, but your arrival prior to last season was greeted with his kind smile. A kind smile, gentle words, and eyes that melted into the ocean, far beyond the whitecaps where the sky touched the sea. All of that beauty, and you never caught his name.

For months on end, you watched him when he wasn’t looking. He left for work during your kitchen stumble for cold brew, nothing but a plain white tee and mesh shorts as he climbed into his jeep, sunkissed and sleepy. Minutes later, you would bike to work and find his Jeep along the way. He worked at the Island Rescue Squad, a small building that held more responsibility than being a simple motel receptionist. He paid his bills by saving lives; you paid yours by telling guests that they couldn’t swim naked in the swimming pool.

You didn’t know him beyond the sights through your kitchen window. But the evenings you crossed paths were treasured.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he’d ask, a nonchalant smile gracing his cheeks before darting his gaze the other way.

After some time, you found enough confidence to reply, “Not bad—you?” as you knocked out the kickstand on your bike.

He was always in the middle of hoisting a backpack over his shoulder. And then he would shrug, smile never fading, and say, “Not bad,” right back. That would be it.

You knew that his blond curls were your favorite thing before you even knew his name. But you also knew, in good faith, that the latter half was going to change.

That was why you should at his door late in the evening in July, a saran-wrapped plateful of coconut macaroons in your hands while your eyes scanned the details of his front porch. A white surfboard beside the front door had experienced its fair share of weather discoloration on the tail. At the end of the deck, withered plants were lined up along a wooden shoe bench. The doormat beneath your feet had nylon paw prints stitched in beside the welcome lettering. When you knocked on the door, a heart-stopping voice called out, “Just a minute!”

You tucked your ankles inward as his face appeared behind the screen. His smile was bold and bright, and from up close, you could hardly breathe.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked in his normal fashion, opening up the screen door so he could step outside with you. His gaze fell to the plate of macaroons while he leaned up against the door. “You’re kidding—did you make those for me?”

Six more words than the usual conversation; you were off to a successful start.

“Yes,” you said, fingers brushing his beneath the ceramic plate when you passed it over to him. “I had to figure out a good way to come over here and formally introduce myself. A whole year later. Better late than never, I guess.”

He smiled along to your words and nodded. “These look so good. Thank you.” He held out one of his hands for you to shake.

His name was Luke. He was only a few years out of school. Taller than any man you knew and flirtatious with his grin, and he kept his eyes locked on you as you spoke. He shared information through little words yet maintained a steady conversation. Talking to old friends was harder than this.

It was difficult to stomach—the way his quiet chuckles and wide smiles were decidedly the best things in the world and how your heart was a concrete block in your chest. It occurred to you, after waving goodnight on your way down the porch steps, that his smile never died. But you pinned it all on his kind heart over anything else.

Life between the two of you felt cyclical. Until one morning he caught you on your way to work.

“I’m gonna be up in Manteo,” he began, tossing a duffle into the backseat of his Jeep with a quiet grunt. “Just a few days. Some ridiculously boring conference that could probably be summed up in a Skype or whatever. Better than leading rope rescue trainings again though.”

Your lips pulled down into a playful frown. “You’re leaving me?”

Luke’s responsive laughter was a good start to your morning. “I’m sorry. Promise I’ll be back. They’ve got us all in some four-star inn. Free wifi and breakfast.”

“Oh, look at you. Living like a king.”

“Right? I’m tired of paying for my own Cheerios.”

It was nice to have someone to talk to, you thought, but you knew you were searching for more than a friend in him. Your heart was warm under his company. You didn’t know how, but it felt easy with him.

“Would you be able to do me a favor?” he asked as he leaned against his car. He kept his distance, his driveway to yours while the patch of dry grass between you watched with intrigue.

“Anything but mowing the lawn, yes.”

Luke cracked a grin. “I’m not that mean. No. Could you—uh, could you water a few plants for me out front? Just once or twice. I’d pay you back in macaroons, but I’m a shit baker.”

“No worries,” you said and situated your bike against your thigh. “I’ll water your plants. But that just means you’ll have to make up for the macaroons somehow. I’ll let you think on it.” You started off down the driveway before he could answer.

“Hold me to that!” he called after you. You sent him a smile in response and sped off toward the main road.

Later that evening, you found that Luke had left a note beside each potted plant on the shoe bench. Betty – allow to dry between waterings next to the Begonia, Calum – keep moist for the Caladium, Tom – water twice a day for the newly planted tomato plant, and Babe – water sparingly for Basil. Each note was signed with a smile and a heart.

—

The next time you heard from Luke, he wasn’t alone. Four days plus a hankering for human interaction—aside from tourists that asked for restaurant suggestions every hour—had left you craving a different kind of intimacy. An intimacy that didn’t require physical touch but was only fulfilled through his presence. Just knowing that he was next door comforted you in ways you couldn’t explain. You didn’t know him, but you knew that he was someone you could rely on.

You heard his car door slam before anything else. Through the window of your kitchen sink, you peeked out into the darkening night, searching for his lanky figure only to find a small animal instead. A dog. You forgot that you had been staring when Luke came into view. His wave tore you from your gaze.

You cracked the window open before you could hesitate. The overwhelming buzzes and clicks of cicadas were immediate to greet you.

“Are you gonna introduce me?” you called out to him, grinning wide as you pressed your elbows down onto the window sill. With the edge of the sink digging into your abdomen, the position was less than comfortable, but you didn’t think about it.

Through the waxing darkness, Luke’s smile was bright. “Only if you come give her a head scratch—then she’ll fall right in love with you,” he said.

You were outside within a few seconds. The side screen door slammed behind you as you hurried over, knees meeting the rough grass so the lovely lady could easily bound over to you. She nestled her nose into your palm and let out a snort. Above you, Luke chuckled at the sound.

“Name’s Petunia,” he said, bending down beside you to pet Petunia’s bum. “A friend of mine is moving ‘cross country—couldn’t keep her. I love the damn girl, so I immediately wanted to take her in. How’re the plants doing?”

“She’s the sweetest,” you mumbled. To him, to yourself—it didn’t matter. You were captivated. “And Betty, Calum, Tom, and Babe are great. The names, by the way? Genius. You have a talent. I’ll have to get you to name my plants. So far, I just have Candace and Big Mama.”

“Big Mama?” Luke’s short giggles filled the air. “I think you’ve got the talent, too.”

Petunia leaned into your scratches before turning back to Luke. So, you stood, brushing sandy dirt from your knees, and Luke soon followed.

“If you ever need someone to take care of her,” you said, “I’m always around. And I won’t make you bake anything. I’m a big dog person, so that’s already enough. I mean, I’m not opposed to a few cupcakes every now and then.”

A lopsided smile grew on Luke’s cheeks. “Red velvet?”

“It’s like you already know me,” you gasped out. “How was Manteo? That’s where you were, right?”

“Well, nothing beats free Cheerios in the mornings, so it wasn’t too bad,” he told you as he wrapped Petunia’s leash around his wrist. She nudged herself between his legs. “Manteo actually has a real downtown, so that was kinda nice.”

“You better not be thinking about leaving me.”

“Leave you? Never.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Besides, tourists down here are the reason any of us even have a job.” He scratched the corner of his eye as he spoke. “I’d rather not be saving drunk middle-aged men from rip currents, but I’d never leave Hatteras.”

The corners of your lips twitched upward. “Good, cos’ if you leave,” you said, pointing to your other neighbor’s house, “then I’m stuck with Judy and Ted. You can’t do that to me.”

“Oh, God, no.” His eyes widened as he shook his head. “I’d never do that to you. Or I’d just make you come with me.”

Now, your heart was on fire. You raised a brow in reaction to his statement, and his eyes widened again. The words had slipped out—that was easy to understand, but he couldn’t take them back. You wouldn’t want him to.

“Um, yeah—” Luke placed a hand on the back of his neck and backed away toward his home, Petunia following in tow. “Thanks for watering my plants. Expect cupcakes soon.”

“Don’t you dare.”

His grin reached his eyes. “Goodnight,” he said.

You were certain that you were a fool.

—

NC-12 was worse on Saturdays. The highway was congested with incoming and outgoing travelers, some careless and some too careful. On the way to work, you were among its passengers. Your baby blue bike was swallowed up whole by the minivans and SUVs that occupied the road. Somehow, you made it out alive every time. All it took was a spontaneous sharp turn from a truck to send you rolling onto the pavement.

It was a miracle you ended up with a dozen scrapes and a sprained wrist. The medical bill wasn’t worth missing a few days off of your paycheck, no matter how horrible the weekends could be. A few members of the rescue squad had shown up at the scene of the minor accident—you were glad that Luke hadn’t been with them. But you also wished that he had.

When you powered through the pain as you pedaled home, you weren’t sure if you wanted to see him. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see his reaction—mild injuries and all, and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to buy out all of the cupcakes on the island to make you feel better. Nevertheless, you didn’t have a choice. He was already getting out of his car once you pulled up.

He waved and smiled, and then his eyes grew wide. The scrape on your left cheek told all.

“Shit, love, you okay?” he said, walking towards you slowly. He kept his movements careful and calculated—he had seen the tears fill your eyes before you realized they were there.

“I’m dandy,” you replied breathily, waving your hand to shake off the emotions. The faux smile you put on only faltered, and the skin beneath your eyes stung.

Luke looked horrified. You could see the twitch in his hands, the way he almost reached out for you as he approached, but he held back. And you could see it in his eyes—all he wanted to do was make you feel better.

“You don’t happen to have any cupcakes, do you?” you asked with a sniff. Your smile wavered, and a small tear slipped down your cheek.

When he chose not to hold back—when he chose to pull you in close, then you decided not to hold back either. With his arms circled around your waist, you didn’t care about soaking through his t-shirt with your tears. You didn’t care that your breathing had picked up to near hyperventilation. You felt safe and warm, so you couldn’t care.

The hug lasted until your quiet sobs calmed. Luke’s chin pulled away from the top of your head as you wiped your cheeks with the back of your wrists.

“What happened?” he said, voice soft.

“Dumb vacationers—” Sniff. “—can’t use a fuckin’ turn signal.”

Luke let out a quiet sigh.

“I’m fine, I just… hurt.”

He glanced at his home over his shoulder and then back at you. “Would you wanna come over? I don’t have any cupcakes, but I have frozen pizza. And Petunia misses you.”

You could hear the unspoken words in his voice. I miss you.

This was what happened when you finally learned someone’s name.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but his living room looked like him. Light blue, wooden walls with collected posters unevenly nailed onto the panels. An old couch was the centerpiece, tan and woven with Petunia snuggled onto it with a blanket beneath her. Bookshelves full of CDs and vinyl records stood on either side of the room, but they had been untouched for some time. The home smelled like him, as strange as it sounded. Warm, woodsy, and comfortable.

From the couch, you sat up straight once the oven door shut. You counted each smell beep as the timer was set. Luke walked into the living room a moment later.

“You sure you don’t want some Advil or something?” he asked. “Or—I dunno—a beer? Maybe? I don’t have a lot, but—”

“A beer actually sounds good,” you said to him, folding your hands over your lap. “It’s been a bit of a shit day.”

He continued talking to you as he headed back into the kitchen. The home was small enough for any voice to carry, and you were glad he could maintain a conversation. That alone told you how much he cared. Despite how long you had lived on the island—a year and four months—and despite how long it took you to know him, it mattered greatly to you that he cared. You cared about him, too. It would be hard to see such a friendly face every day and think otherwise.

“Where’d they take you to get checked out?” he called to you from the next room over.

“Urgent care in Nags Head.”

“You’re kidding.” The sound of bottles clinking on the counter followed.

“Wish I was.”

Pop tops landed into a quiet clatter as he said, “how long were you there?” He joined you in the living room a few seconds later and handed you a bottle of Corona.

“Six hours.”

“Six hours?”

You nodded, sharing your best laugh before taking a sip of the fizzing liquid. “You better believe it. All for some cuts and a sprained-frickin’-wrist. And I’ll bet you my bill is gonna be chewing me up for the next year.”

Luke furrowed his brows and kept his gaze low. He appeared to be thinking about something else. “Did they call my squad?”

“A few guys showed up, yeah.”

He bit his bottom lip. “Dunno why they didn’t call me. I would’ve just took ya home.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t know that everything he said made your heart race pick up. If your day hadn’t been so long, then your nerves would’ve eaten you alive by now. You were lucky, for the katydid calls outside masked any hint of tension between you.

“Thanks for the drink,” you said, words heavy in your throat. Thinking about your nerves only made them worse. And being around him only made you want him more.

He had called you love earlier; it had to mean something.

Luke’s smile was small, but it said enough. “Anytime.”

Although the pizza was cold in the middle and the taste of your drink had gotten old, what mattered to you was the company. Not the sprained wrist that ached with each movement. Not the tight bandages that tugged at your skin because you shifted a certain way. Nothing about the day mattered because it brought you to this.

His laughter was hypnotic—intoxicating almost—and it took away your breath every time. Making him laugh was addicting. Getting to see those few moments when his eyes light up with joy put shame to the ocean only a mile or two away. You wondered how on earth it had taken so long to know him.

And still, you didn’t know him. Just a name, a face, and a dog named Petunia.

“So, the rescue squad, huh?” you teased at one point as you situated yourself closer to Petunia. You learned that her nickname was Piggy and that, while she was cute, she also had the stinkiest farts—according to Luke. Nevertheless, you pressed your face close to hers and smacked a kiss to her forehead. She rolled over to give you access to her tummy. “What’s it like?”

Luke’s soft smile was etched into his skin. “Fuckin’ stressful,” he answered. “But great. It’s like a family.”

“I can imagine it’s not the prettiest job.”

“No.” He shook his head, and his smile fell. As he spoke, he twirled his bottle on the edge of the coffee table. “It’s not. A lot of tourists just don’t pay attention to the ocean, y’know? We put a million signs out there, and they just think that it will never happen to them. Suddenly you get waves going different directions, and you’re floating out with the current. You never know what’s gonna happen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened. He took his job seriously; some people didn’t.

“It’s just—uh, s’just terrible to see it,” he continued, keeping his head down low. “When you save someone from the surf, but they’re not breathing… and then their families are there—their fuckin’ families are screaming and crying. They just wanted a fun day on the beach. And you gotta make sure that no one dies. I’m just lucky to not have seen it much.”

“It’s horrifying.”

He hummed. “Yeah. And I don’t like it when people call us heroes. Cos’ we’re not. I’m not. We’re doing our job. We wanna keep people safe. We wanna make sure no one has to go through that. B-but when it comes down to you, and you have someone’s life in your hands—” Tears pricked at his eyes, and he swallowed thickly before continuing. “—how the hell are you not gonna try to save them? People over-glorify hero moments. We’re all just trying to take care of each other so we’re not mentally scarred along the way.”

“I’ve seen it.”

“You have?”

“I used to vacation here as a teen with my family,” you said, “before I officially decided that tourists are the fucking worst. I just wanted to live here and be on my own. And you’re right—about the screaming and crying. The families stand there to break your heart. I bit my tongue until it bled when I saw that jet ski go out on the water. It doesn’t happen every day, so I just never assumed it would happen around me. Didn’t think forty minutes would pass with nonstop chest compressions. Didn’t think anyone would give up either. Maybe ‘hero’ isn’t the word, just ‘good people’.”

Luke’s eyes were glassy, but he smiled through it. His fingers twitched in your direction on the neck of his bottle. “So—” He cleared his throat. “—what do you do?”

“Oh, it’s my turn now?” you said, biting back a smile. “Just you wait until you hear about all of the trauma I get from being a motel receptionist. I’ll have you beat.”

Once again, his laughter filled the room. All you felt was warmth.

The house rocked after then, lights flickering with the gust, but the wind quickly died. You and Luke shared uncertain glances.

“I’m guessing it doesn’t usually do that.”

Luke shook his head. “Not usually.”

An empty bottle of Corona sat between your palms, moisture growing on the surface from how he made you feel. You asked yourself it was normal to feel this way, if it was something more than the sudden admiration of a mysterious neighbor. You liked him, but how much?

You wanted to spend every moment with him to figure it out. But the last thing you wanted was to overstay your welcome.

“Thanks for this, by the way,” you said, ducking your chin. “For the pizza and stuff. Maybe you’re not a bad neighbor after all.”

Luke smirked. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Your knees creaked as you stood, bones still aching from the impact of the pavement. You wondered how many bruises would appear on your body by morning. Luke stood along with you, towering high but keeping his presence small. He had to know how much he affected you.

“Love you, Piggy,” you mumbled to Petunia with a quick scratch behind her ear.

She huffed in response.

Luke laughed. “She said I love you, too.”

“I’m gonna have to learn how to bake doggie treats for her.”

“But then she’s gonna love you more than she loves me.”

You smiled over your shoulder on your way toward the front door. His eyes had already been burning the back of your head. “That’s the goal,” you told him with one hand on the doorknob. “See you tomorrow?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. You swore you could see a hint of pink tint his cheeks. “See you tomorrow.”

—

A tropical storm was set to hit two days later. It became a hurricane overnight. Category 1. Category 2. It finally settled on 3, its path set for the Outer Banks before it was meant to swing up the East Coast. A mandatory evacuation was set in place by the next morning.

The air was thick, trees restless and wind loud as it picked up. The sky was a permanent dark gray, and the clouds looked like something one would see in a disaster movie. It wasn’t your first time dealing with tropical storms and hurricanes, but they never failed to make your heart race. The unpredictability—the fate of your home, your belongings, and so on—always scared you.

You loaded as much as you could into your Corolla. The wind didn’t care about your disheveled hair or how high it blew your shorts. It didn’t care that it was tossing sticks off of trees, down onto the roof of your home. You said a quick goodbye to the shingles while you were at it; a few were bound to end up in Pamlico Sound by the end of the week.

As you shut the car door, another door opened behind you. Luke rushed out of his home with Petunia toddling behind.

“You okay?” he called to you. He had two bags over his shoulders, another in his hands before he tossed them into the back of his Jeep. “Know where you’re headin’?”

“Think so,” you said over the wind. “Can’t wait to pee my pants in traffic. Any of the guard staying?”

Luke nodded as his curls danced around his chin. “They’re gonna be spotted up and down the coast. You stay safe out there, all right?”

“Yeah, you too.”

It wasn’t the preferred way of saying goodbye, but the hot, stale air trapped itself in your lungs. You were ready to greet the clicking air conditioner of your broken car like an old friend, and then one turn of the ignition turned into two, three, four, and many more. The headlights flickered off and on, yet the light never stayed long. You hit the steering wheel with the base of your palms in frustration.

A sudden knock at your passenger side window took all of the frustration away.

Luke opened up the door and said, “come with me.”

That was how you ended up beside him, stuck in two-hour traffic while you thought about the way his lips molded around words. Soft rock played quietly on the radio as you sat without making a sound. But it was comfortable silence. Thankful silence. The air before the storm disguised the thick tension.

Petunia wandered around the back seat, on occasion whining before flopping back down onto her blanket. Every so often, you would lean back and scratch her head, and Luke would smile at you. Unspoken words were better than no words at all.

“Tell me about yourself,” you said after a while. With the Bodie Lighthouse to your left, the ocean to your right, the wasn’t much else to keep you occupied. “Not like, childhood trauma stuff, but basic stuff. Favorite color, favorite food—that stuff.”

Luke had one hand on the wheel, the other pressed against his chin while he leaned on the car door. He faced the road yet had his eyes trained on you. “Well, what if I really wanna open up about my childhood traumas?” he asked playfully.

“Hey, I’m all ears. We’re gonna be stuck in traffic until the mainland.”

He chuckled and rubbed beneath his lips. You didn’t know that such a small action could make your cheeks flush. “Favorite color? Hm. Blue, I guess. Favorite food has gotta be those damn macaroons you made me. They were absolutely delicious, babe.”

Your smile lit up the car.

“If you wanna know everything about me, all you gotta do is check out my mum’s Facebook,” he said. “Liz Hemmings. She posts every photo I send her and talks about my love life when she’s bored.”

“Love life, huh?”

He huffs quietly. “Her profile has been a little dry lately then, I guess.” When his eyes found yours, a small smile grew on his lips. “She’d love you. I’ll have t’let you know when she comes to visit next.”

“Oh man,” you said. “I’m already meeting my neighbor’s mom.”

Luke chuckled. “Uh oh. I didn’t push it too far, did I?”

“Didn’t know we were there yet, s’all. But I’d be happy to meet her.”

He set his hand down on the gear shift. Inches away from yours. “She’d just wonder what the hell you’re doin’ around me. Tell you that you’re too good for me. Stuff like that. I mean, it’s true.”

“Just tell her that I can’t afford to move, so I’m stuck with you.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that.”

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t mean that.”

“Good,” he mumbled, glancing out the window. “Cos’ I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

—

The hurricane made landfall at two in the morning. The hotel walls of the Quality Inn shook and rain pattered hard against the window. The alarm clock beside the bed turned black. From across the room, you could barely hear Luke stir in his own bed. And despite the storm, your heart still tugged at the thought of him there with you.

The wind was the worst thing of all. You thought about your home, the plants you dragged inside, and the windsock you forgot to take down. Maybe Luke would let you borrow his. But all that mattered, in the moment, was the voice calling your name through the pitch-black night. Somehow, it carried over the storm, over the howling wind and the rain coming down in sheets. It pulled your heart right out of your chest.

Your eyes were heavy with sleep as you said, “Luke?

You could hear him turn over in bed, but through the dark, you could only make out the edges of his figure. You hoped he had turned to face you.

“Hey. You okay?” His voice was soft, and you felt the storm slowly slip away.

“Can’t sleep” you answered. “Not a big fan of storms.”

He was barely awake, quiet words of “wanna come over here?” floating in the air-conditioned air. Your own words were stuck in your throat. So you didn’t answer. You rose from your bed instead, feet padding to the opposite side of his bed before crawling under the sheets beside him. His warmth radiated off of him.

Luke’s hand was right beside your hand. You swore you could hear his breaths over the wind. If you were able to see his features so close to yours, you would cease to exist. Your heart had found a comfortable home in your throat.

Fingers wove in between yours, gentle and warm like they were barely there, but they were all you could feel. Rough in the right places. Luke’s hand rested on yours, his pulse beating low and steady.

You knew that words would steal the moment away.

As his fingers traced your skin, the heat in your chest grew. It was normal. It was beautiful. And it was yours. So you held his hand right back.

When his forehead met yours, you knew you were done for. The storm completely faded from your mind. Noses touched and breaths fell into sync, but your heartbeat was loud in your ears. All you could think about was the feeling of his lips brushing yours. You couldn’t remember when your eyes closed. The last thing you felt was Petunia nudging your foot at the end of the bed, and then you fell asleep in Luke’s arms.

The kiss was nothing but a dream.

You were allowed back on the island three days later. Unsaid things invaded your mind on the ride down the coast, but you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to say a word. Luke was busy humming along to every song that came on the radio. That was all you needed to hear.

Pelican Perch road was covered with leaves and natural debris, but the homes were well intact. As the car neared the end of the street, you caught a glimpse of your windsock swaying in the breeze. It was a miracle it hadn’t blown away.

Luke helped you with your bags in silence, a small exchange of smiles and brushing hands to fill in the empty space instead. This wasn’t how you wanted it to be. Yet, you never said anything.

Once the night crept in, you could no longer distract yourself with streaming movies through overused cellular data. The power was still out on the island. Everything in your fridge had gone bad, and your phone was near death by ten o’clock. And the winds, despite the long-gone storm, carried on.

You slipped on a pair of flip-flops—never mind the wet, sandy dirt caked around the edges—and walked over to Luke’s. The bugs were especially loud that night. There were no lights to guide you, no way of knowing where you were stepping, and then something hit you. Someone.

“Jesus,” he muttered, gripping your elbow to balance you.

“Luke?”

“It’s me.”

You set your hand on his arm just to feel him. His hold on you never left. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Well—” His hand slipped down to your wrist as he chuckled. Beautiful. “Comin’ to find you, I guess. You okay?”

“I’ve got a hankering for ice cream, but it’s all melted,” you said. “But I don’t suppose your freezer is working anyway. I just didn’t wanna be alone.”

“Me either, darling.”

“Darling. That’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“I like it.”

He stepped closer to you, slow hands finding yours.

“Coming to find me, huh?” you asked.

Luke hummed and set his forehead on yours. Now, you didn’t know what to say. You figured it was best to not say anything at all. You leaned into the kiss and allowed his lips to mold against yours. Every moment you were apart was replaced with another kiss, excelling in desperation and satisfying any need through its touch. It was heavenly and full of heat and desire.

He cupped your cheek, pressing himself closer to you as he deepened the kiss one last time. You were breathless and cold without him near.

“I still owe you cupcakes, don’t I?” he asked quietly. You could see his smile through the night.

“At least two dozen by now.”

His chuckle filled your heart with warmth. “Anything for you, love. Would you like to come inside?”

You tightened your grip in his hand. “Gladly.”

—

hey! thanks for reading! since i haven’t been in the game for a while, i’m gonna tag a few ppl, if that’s ok! @goth5sos @irwinkitten @sublimehood @softforcal @cxddlyash @wildflowergrae hi y’all <3

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ct-1500-mango · 3 years

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Tandem - Platonic Obikin

Hello, welcome to week 3 of Mango drabbles. I have been in the Star Wars fandom since I was six years old and I have been a fan of Pacific Rim since it came out in 2013. Today, some people in the NSWC server were watching Pacific Rim and I thought it would be incredible to do a crossover of the two.

Tandem

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Marshal Stacker Pentecost, Tendo Choi

Rating: T

Word Count: 1595

I recommend listening to this when you read.

Kaiju (Japanese): Giant Beast

Jaeger (German): Hunter

Drifting (English): Two minds being joined into one for combat

“Rebel Blue, report to Bay 05, Level A-42, repeat, Rebel Blue, report to Bay 05, Level A-42.”

The blaring of the nuclear siren rings in Anakin’s ears as his eyes shoot open. He blearily rubs his eyes as the words repeating over the loudspeaker register.

“Rebel Blue, report to Bay 05, Level A-42, repeat, Rebel Blue, report to Bay 05, Level A-42. Kaiju. Code name: Insidious. Category 3”

He grins, adrenaline flooding his system. He jumps out of his bunk, pulls on a shirt, his dog tags jingling. His copilot, Obi-Wan slept peacefully on the lower bunk. Anakin slaps Obi-Wan’s mattress and then gently slaps his face.

“Obi, wake up old man! We got movement, we’re being deployed!”

Obi-Wan groans and Anakin takes that as a signal to keep prepping. He darts over to their mini kitchen, pulling out two protein bars. As Obi-Wan emerges from his bunk, pulling on a shirt, Anakin throws a bar to him.

“G’morning.” Obi-Wan’s lightly accented voice rings through the air, slurred with sleep. “I see we’ve got a big one.”

“Yep! And before you ask, it’s 1 A.M.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “Can’t these damn Kaiju appear according to my circadian rhythm?”

Anakin laughs and Obi-Wan smiles. They are interrupted by a banging on the door. “ObiAni, hurry it up. Time for the drop.”

Obi-Wan grabs his leather jacket from the chair he draped it over last night and tosses Anakin’s to him. Together, they don them and stride out the door.

They make their way down to the launch bay. The massive steel doors are emblazoned with their sigil and “Rebel Blue” painted in white calligraphy. As the doors creak open, Anakin whoops.

“Let’s get this show started, boys!” He practically bounces into the room.

A small army of techs is waiting for them. They shed their jackets and step forward, taking their positions. Like squires to the knights of old, the techs help them into their armor. As Anakin’s breastplate is being attached, he looks at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan meets his gaze and winks. About thirty seconds later, they are suited up. The white armor shines under the fluorescent light. Together, they step forward and put on their helmets. The door to their Jaeger opens and Anakin walks in, followed closely by Obi-Wan and three techs. Together, they lock their feet in place. The techs secure their back harnesses and the third hands them their hand consoles. As the techs exit, a voice rings out through their headsets.

“Welcome to the party, ObiAni!”

Obi-Wan grins and replies, “Hello Tendo. What’s the weather like?”

The two men can hear Tendo’s grin. “Ah you know how it is. Cloudy with a chance of Kaiju blue.”

“So perfect weather then.” Anakin rolls his neck, making sure he’s all stretched out.

“If you say so.”

“Engage drop, Mr. Choi.” The stern, no nonsense voice of Major Pentecost interrupts their banter. The two men immediately switch to battle mode. If Pentecost is here, then it’s time to roll out. Making sure their comm channel is muted on their end, Anakin turns to look at Obi-Wan.

“Ready to add another scratch to our wall of kills, Obi-Wan?”

“Only if you are. And make sure to cover our side this time, my side still hurts from the last one.”

“I told you, it came out of nowhere.”

“No, it clearly came out from the left, which is what you’re supposed to be covering.”

“If you recall, I was a bit busy with the prehensile tail!”

The hiss of the pod door sealing interrupts their banter. Both men do a final systems check before Obi-Wan reopens the comm channel. “Rebel Blue ready for the drop.”

With that confirmation, the floor plummets. Anakin’s stomach drops to his feet as the pod descends rapidly down the shaft. Instinctually, he lets out a scream of joy and terror. He looks at Obi-Wan and sees gritted teeth and closed eyes. He remembers that the drop is the part Obi-Wan hates. The pod slows and settles gently onto the shoulders of their Jaeger. A towering two hundred and eighty foot extension of their bodies. The pod, which is actually the head of the Jaeger rotates first left, then right, confirming mobility. Anakin and Obi-Wan adjust to the moving pod as the Marshall orders initiation of pilot to pilot protocol.

Around them, filling their ears, Rebel Blue’s beautiful voice speaks, “Pilot-to-pilot connection protocol sequence.”

Anakin locks eyes with Obi-Wan. The soft blue glow of the helmet coats Obi-Wan’s features. The last time they dropped together, they took a pretty big hit. It took all three of them a few months to recover. Now, Rebel is as good as new and Anakin swears he isn’t going to let anything happen to Obi-Wan. The hum of Rebel’s nuclear core rattles the massive avatar. Obi-Wan nods to Anakin, a gesture of trust and faith that Anakin returns. They are some of the best pilots in the fleet and they know it. They will do their job and return to their friends and family. After all, they have a little sister waiting for them.

Dimly, they hear the sounds of the bay doors opening as Rebel wakes up around them. They stumble slightly, jolting forward in their harnesses as the massive transport begins to roll towards the hanger doors. Through the viewscreen, they can see small helicopters buzzing like bees around their head. As the transport rolls off the launchpad into the unforgiving ocean, Anakin comms Command.

“Rebel Blue, ready and aligned.”

“Rangers, this is Pentecost. As you know, this is a category 3. Last time you fought a C.3, you were nearly split in two. Try not to do that again. Prepare for neural handshake.”

Tendo’s voice takes over. “Starting in 15 seconds. 15…”

As the countdown begins, Anakin mutes their channel. “What are we thinking, Obi-Wan? Music?”

“Oh definitely not. We have been out of it for a while, let’s not get cocky, even though that’s your specialty.”

Anakin rolls his eyes. “Fair enough. Can’t wait to hear your grating voice in my head.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“3… 2… 1…”

Rebel Blue speaks over Tendo, “Neural Handshake initiated.” Anakin closes his eyes, focusing on breathing. A sensation not unlike drowning overtakes him. His whole body goes cold, spreading from his head, down his torso, through his legs and arms. There is a pressure settling around him from all sides, slowly squeezing tighter and tighter as the memories begin.

Obi-Wan, meeting Anakin for the first time in college.

Anakin, swimming with Ahsoka, shouting and laughing.

Anakin, the day his mother died, face wet with tears as the cancer finally took her.

Obi-Wan, age 5, playing with his parents in a verdant, rolling field.

Obi-Wan’s grief and guilt after his last copilot died.

Anakin’s insecurity at being compared to Obi-Wan’s former copilot.

Obi-Wan and Anakin, the first time they drifted.

Obi-Wan and Anakin, becoming ObiAni.

In tandem, their eyes snap open as the link finalizes. Two men and their hulking avatar, a perfect union of flesh and steel. ObiAni feels cold wind and sea spray on his face. He blinks, trying to dislodge a water droplet that isn’t even there. When you drift, you aren’t just melding with your copilot, you are embodying the Jaeger too. He hears and feels laughter echoing in his head.

I missed this. I missed you.

Was it Anakin or Obi-Wan who said that? It didn’t matter. All that matters is Anakin and Obi-Wan are one. Two halves of a whole, greater than the sum of its parts. ObiAni breathes, feeling his chest rise and fall as the heartbeat of Rebel Blue thrums in his ears.

“Neural handshake strong and holding.” Tendo’s voice brings him out of his reverie.

Right hemisphere, calibrating. ObiAni speaks, raising his left hand out to his side. Metal creaks as Rebel Blue obeys his command. He rotates his arm so his palm is facing up and slowly curls his fingers into a powerful fist.

Left hemisphere, calibrating. This time, he brings his right arm up, repeating the motion. He bends his arms together and thrusts them forward in a powerful double punch.

“Proofed and transmitting.” Rebel Blue coos in his ear, speaking to him and Command. ObiAni flexes his fingers. He curls his left hand into a fist and his right hand he leaves palm up. Fist meets palm in a powerful show of strength and aggression. ObiAni cracks his neck and views the HUD of Rebel Blue critically, making sure all systems are green.

Pentecost begins giving them orders. “Rangers, you are to keep Insidious away from the coastline. Terminate it quickly then get back to base. As you know, breach activity has been increasing, I don’t want you caught in an ambush. Copy?”

Copy that, sir.

ObiAni switches off comms and the bodies of the men that were Anakin and Obi-Wan look at each other. Obi-Wan’s face has a thin layer of sweat. Anakin’s breathing is spiking as adrenaline takes over. Their hearts beat in tandem with the nuclear core of Rebel Blue.

You’re in my head, you know what I’m thinking.

I do.

Let’s go get this sonuva bitch.

Flexing his muscles, ObiAni begins to walk and Rebel Blue follows suit, water sloshing around their ankles. Death could be on the horizon for ObiAni but now, he is whole, he is powerful, and he is going to save lives.

And that’s all that matters.

#star wars #pacific rim #crossover #mango drabbles #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker

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halequeenjas · 4 years

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You’d Be Surprised || Alain & Jasmine

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @carbrakes-and-stakes & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Jasmine follows through with her offer to help Alain clear up some packing clutter before grabbing some photos of his home.

Upon pulling into the driveway of Alain’s home, Jasmine had no doubt she’d be able to market this well and get it sold at a good price. Even though she didn’t like the idea of being remote in White Crest of all places, she could actually see the place as being cozy. In a like, flannel pajamas and pancakes kind of way. It appeared Alain had done a nice job restoring it as well. She could spot shoddy repair work from a mile away and this wasn’t it. All in all, this was looking like it would be a pretty good commission. The fact she didn’t feel the chilling presence of ghosts was also good. She’d still have to sneakily place wards up before having any sort of open house so Larry Bob didn’t try anything funny. Though she was a bit regretful of the fact she signed herself up for somewhat physical labor, Jasmine had decided to look on the bright side. This meant she’d be more easily to rearrange things how she’d like for staging the home. All in all, it could be worse. On the way up to his front door, she took a moment to appreciate the garden. Even as the things were starting to day away with the fall weather, there were still some vibrant shades of reds and oranges to be seen. It must have been stunning in the spring. Still looking up at the house, she gave a firm knock with her hand that wasn’t trapped by a cast and waited for indication she could come in. “Hey, Mr. Babineaux,” she greeted as the door opened, “Hope you don’t mind, but I brought along some coffee and pastries.”

“...” Alain greeted her with a tight-lipped smile as she told him she’d brought pastries and coffee. He had just made a fresh pot, and the place smelled of the pain au chocolat he had been baking earlier in the morning. Perks of being a slayer who could not go out, baking at 3 am was actually not a problem. And he liked being busy, as it stopped him from having too many thoughts crossing his mind. “Well, I always felt like there never was such a thing as too much food,” he pushed himself away from the doorway with the crutches, and led the way to the living room, where he had started to pack a few things while the dough rose in his kitchen last night. He had tried to be thorough with putting away all of his questionable belongings were they : books, weapons, or, even more questionable, a tooth or a bone he’d kept from a creature he’d killed, in case he would need it later. Even now, as he knew that he would most likely never fight again, he could not bring himself to get rid of those things. They might be of use to someone else, he told himself. Those things were just too valuable for him to throw. “You can put it down on the dinner table…” He eyed over at the cluttered table and frowned, “I mean, if you manage to find a spot,” he looked around the room to find a more suitable spot and sighed. He had never been a tidy person, but this was something else. “I suppose the kitchen might actually be your best chance. You can grab a viennoiserie there if you want,” once again, he led the way. And well, this was another room he wouldn’t have to visit on the tour of the house. “It’s not the biggest kitchen, but as you can see, it’s been put to use,” he picked one of his chocolate croissant for himself and gladly accepted one of her coffee cups. Slayer or not, he would need this much to get through this day.

The quiet greeting and the smell of baked goods throughout the home indicated that maybe bringing something had been a bad idea. As he said there was no such thing as too much food, Jasmine shook her head. “Oh no, whatever you made smells way better than what I brought. I can just bring these to the office and we can enjoy the good pastries,” she said with an ever bright and reassuring smile. In truth, she hadn’t expected someone who just lost a leg to be quite so mobile. There was definitely evidence he had been packing and clearly baking. It really did smell amazing in here. With a laugh, she blurted out, “If this is what your baking smells like, I don’t even need to bring candles. What’d you make?” She’d looked over the table and didn’t see a solid spot to set the box down. She briefly thought over how she could rearrange some of the boxes before he directed her to the kitchen. Much better. She set the box of pastries and cups of coffee down on the countertop. When she saw the pastries he made, her jaw dropped as she turned to face Alain. “You made those?” Her voice conveyed her shock. She hadn’t seen pastries that looked that good anywhere outside of France. She took one of the chocolate croissants and as she took a bite out of it, was immediately transported back to her last trip to France. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed, “These taste like I’m on vacation.” As much as she loved French pastries, she never gave them a go. Cooking and baking weren’t her thing. Her luxurious kitchen would have gone almost entirely to waste if it wasn’t for Bea. She laughed a bit and added, “Clearly it’s been put to good use if you can make pastries this good. I have this super nice kitchen in my house that my best friend uses entirely more than I ever have.” She paused to look around at the clutter that she had advised against her better judgment that she’d help clean. “So any place you’d like to start first here?”

“It does cover the smell of dogs,” he agreed. Alain had a look through the kitchen window. Speaking of them, they were messing around outside in the garden. He never asked whether she liked or were afraid of dogs. “You don’t mind dogs, do you?” Now might as well be a good time to worry about it, “I made pain au chocolat,” he said it in French, because clearly something that did not have the shape of a croissant should not have been called a croissant. “Too much time on my hands these days,” he forced himself to smile. This could not be as suspicious as spilling iron rods and salt, could it? Certainly not. And obviously he would not tell her either that his injury was far from as old as it seemed. “I’m glad you appreciate them. It’s the least I can do for someone who is willing to help me do that one thing everyone hates doing,” unpacking seemed like an even worse moment, but he was not there yet. Sure he had already seen a few houses, and he would have to pick one, but he was not there yet.

“It’s not for everyone,” he gave her a shrug. “But if you ever want to use your kitchen and need some tips, well just let me know,” cooking could get frustrating and people being discouraged was always what ended up stopping them.

Either way, she did not come here to discuss food or cooking, as much as he appreciated compliments on his baked goods. “Well, I’m done with most kitchen utensils. Only kept the essentials,” he rubbed at the back of his head, putting down the cup of coffee to lead the way back to the living room. “I’ll start emptying my closets I think. Not like I’ll need much since I barely go out,” he observed. “If you wish, you can empty the bookcases? Or if you are brave, you can wrap the things I put on the table with newspaper or bubble wrap.”

“That it does,” Jasmine agreed with a smile and a slight head tilt as she pondered how best to sum up her feelings on dogs. “I’ve never had one personally, but I don’t mind them. Always figured I’d get one once I have kids. You know, American Dream and all.” That also meant there’d be kids and likely a husband to help with said dog. As it stood, she worked far too much to reasonably have any sort of pet. She took another bite of her pastry and said, “Seriously, these are amazing. I haven’t had pain au chocolat this good since my last trip to France.” She could practically envision her favorite little pâtisserie in Paris that she’d stop at before a day of shopping. “This is definitely a good use of free time.” She finished up her pastry and opted to go for another. As much as she hated the idea of packing, she brushed it off like it was no big deal. If she wanted a nice review on her website, she’d have to remain polite and professional. Plus, the pastries did bring mentally back to vacation mode. “If favors are followed by baked goods this delicious, I may be inclined to offer more of them.” She smiled easily and grabbed some coffee to bring out to the living area with her.

“You offer that now, but you haven’t seen just how hopeless I am in the kitchen,” she said with an amused grin on her face, “But if you’re really offering, I would for once like to make something nice for our brunch days.” In part, because she knew it would annoy Bea, but that was hardly the point. It could be nice to make something for herself on a night where she wasn’t feeling like company.

When given an option for where to start with packing help, she immediately knew she’d go for the bookcase. A person’s taste in books said a lot about them and Jasmine was nothing if not nosy. “I’ll go for the bookcase, I’m a pretty big reader so that sounds like the most fun.” Given her book taste ranged from trashy romance novels to books on exorcisms, ghosts, and other spectral creatures. But hey, a girl was allowed to have layers. She began grabbing books off the shelf and started placing them in a box. For the most part, they all seemed to be older books with a focus on mythology. Interesting. It raised her suspicions, but not enough to call it out. That was until she saw a book in Latin that appeared to be about the undead that caught her attention. “You know Latin. too,” she called out with the question evident in her tone. Was he an exorcist, too? Or perhaps a spellcaster? Not too many bothered with learning the language these days. “You don’t meet too many other people who know a dead language.”

“Ah, yes, the American dream,” Alain had yet to meet someone who actually had experienced it. Perhaps if he had been born a generation sooner… “Well, as you can see, you don’t actually need to have children to get a dog, or two…” If he said it with a smile, he had a hint of nostalgia in his eyes as he thought about why he had gotten them. As a child, he never had pets, and living with Audrey, they ended up getting a dog, not even a hunting dog, just an aging one they had found at the pound. And when Frida had died, a few years after Audrey, Alain couldn’t handle staying alone and decided that he did not have to be. First came Orion, and a couple years later, Procyon. He chose them sturdy, hoping that they would be here for a while, that they wouldn’t abandon him.

Her compliments brought a red tint to his cheeks and he turned to look away, telling himself that she might not notice this way. He had never known how one was supposed to react to these. Saying thank you meant that he agreed, brushing it off would come off as falsely humble. Far from confident, the hunter prefered to look away. “I would agree. Although these days, time seems to stretch a lot. I read a lot, I used to never have time for it,” he took a long sip of coffee, and left his cup on the counter. With his crutches, it was probably the best option. As agile as he was, now was not the time to try things. “Well, I have to admit to promising pastries in exchange for help quite often,” or offering pastries in general. There were worse habits to have.

“Look, I’m sure it cannot be that bad. There’s hope in everyone, right?” Smiling back at her, Alain was headed toward his wardrobe when she asked if he could help her with brunch recipes. “Can’t have brunch without eggs benedict and some proper avocado toasts, can we? I could help with that,” he promised, sitting down on a stool as he started transferring clothes from shelves to boxes.

“Really? Well like I said, I don’t usually have time for reading, but most of those I’ve read,” documentaries for the most part, comics from France and Belgium, and a handful of classics, both French and American. “What do you like reading?” Perhaps they had books in common, who knew. Her question brought a frown to his face. Too. So whatever it was she held in her hands, she could understand the subject. Oh well, it was totally normal to have books on undead creatures, just like it was normal to carry around salt and iron. “You don’t, do you? My parents always said that it was important to know where” things “words came from.” And of course this book was an essential of latin literature. Not. Always a shitty liar. He grimaced, and looked through the bedroom doorway to see if she had moved from her spot.

As nice as company on a quiet night at home sounded, Jasmine figured she could do without the added responsibility of a dog at this moment. Between her paid job and all the ghost related research she’d been doing as of late, she didn’t quite have the time to dedicate to a pet. She opted to not explain herself any further on that front and shifted focus to how well he took a compliment. The way his cheeks turned a rosy tint was not lost on her and she had an amused grin on her face as he agreed with her. That was a good sign. If you were good at something, you had to own it. “Well, I think they’re well worth helping for. Seems like you have some pretty productive hobbies to say the least.” She supposed hers had become more so productive than fun as of late. One of these nights, her bubble baths would include Pinot Noir and a romance novel and not coffee and books on poltergeists. Reading ancient texts was hardly what one would consider light and leisurely reading.

“You say that now,” Jasmine responded with a laugh, “You haven’t tried my attempts at cooking.” Though maybe with a lesson or two, she could actually pick something useful up out of it. She did love avocado toast after all there was just that delicate stage of not overcooking or undercooking the eggs she’d yet to master. She found she enjoyed their easy conversation as well, so she added, “But if you’re offering, I’ll be taking you up on that. Avocado toast is one of my favorites. If you partake, I’ve been told I make a great mimosa.”

“Well, I love Alice Walker and Zora Neale Hurtson, so anything they’ve written is something I’ll always enjoy. I’m not above admitting I love romance novels so of course I enjoy Nicholas Sparks… everything else I read is a bit obscure. What about you,” Jasmine answered and opted to let Alain decide what obscure meant for himself. She wasn’t about to come out and say she read books on ghosts, poltergeists, exorcisms, and spectral beings. In this moment, he probably was under the impression she had her sanity intact, no need to ruin that. At least, not until curiosity took over. “Right,” she said looking at him as he peeked over to see her, “I’m sure a recount of the undead is how most people learn the basis of words.” Her emphasis on the word dead was hard to miss and she had a feeling her hunch was correct by the tone in his voice. “If this is the kind of reading you like to do, I think I actually have a few books in my collection you’d enjoy.” Maybe her own little hint that her book collection shared some similarities would put him at ease.

“I mean, I also used to do rock climbing and running, there’s nothing productive about the latter, unless you consider staying in shape someth-. Okay fine, there’s always something productive about my hobbies,” Alain corrected himself before she could. He was starting to notice that she was quite witty and quick with her remarks, and he doubted that she would appreciate not being able to be witty about this too. And now that he was stuck at home, he did have time for less productive hobbies, hobbies that he had dropped out of over the years. Tidying up his attic, he had found old puzzles in their boxes, and while it was tempting to open them to start those 1000 pieces puzzles over, he was meant to move out of here soon, and he had decided against it. He still gardened a little too. Even if he was leaving, the next person would appreciate it. He also had re-potted the plants Nell and Evelyn had given to him, as well as some others he wished to bring over to his new home. Either way, knowing that he would not go back to the cemetery unless it was to bury someone came as a relief, it was quite an odd thought to have, as he really did not want to bury anyone he knew, and yet, to him, this did not feel like an exaggeration. His level of exhaustion had just gone up over the past few years.

Alain shook his head, not willing to believe that she could be so bad. In his eyes, no one was. But if you had never been taught things, of course there were things you just could not guess. “You’re right, I haven’t, and yet I can assure you that you can get good at it. Yes, good,” just like him, she’d never be a chef, but she could definitely cook nice things. Alain, who had never been a talkative man, seemed to enjoy their conversations enough to be willing to spend more time with Jasmine. That did not happen often, but he did not regret his offer. “Avocado toasts, deal. See, you can teach me about cocktails, because I know absolutely nothing about those,” wine, he knew quite a lot about, but cocktails were not something he knew a lot about, aside from their names.

“Alice Walker… Oh I think I have her book in there, somewhere,” he almost corrected himself to add well, one of her books, but stayed quiet instead. Alain guessed that Jasmine would know which one he meant. “Oh, well you probably would love Maupassant then. Not my favourite but I read a few of his books…” His voice trailed off as she mentioned liking more obscure literature. She did not summon demons, did she? His eyebrows raised a little as she looked back at him. Clearly he had not been convincing with his interest in etymology. How surprising. “Is that so, well if you wish, I have a whole collection of books like those already in a box.” Some might have not been in latin, some others were his journals, but the choice of words was too careful for this to be completely innocent. “Alright fine, what are your favourites then? Or least favourites?” He cleared his throat. He fell silent for a few, picking up the tape to close his box and catching a new one. “I’ll start if you want, I particularly dislike vampires. Can’t trust a species that hates garlic, can we?” He scoffed, shaking his head. Well, if he was wrong, this was going to be awkward.

“I was going to say, those all sound productive. The primary reason I run is to stay in shape. Actually, no, that’s definitely the only reason I run,” Jasmine joked with a playful grin on her face. It dawned on her that having such active hobbies had to be a bummer with the whole losing a leg thing, but she wasn’t about to ruin the good mood that was going on here. Somehow the easy conversation seemed to make the fact she was packing not as annoying as it should have been. She’d almost daresay she was enjoying herself, especially as she picked one of the more interesting things to pack. As much was evident by the book on the undead in Latin of all things.

Realistically, Jasmine knew she could probably cook decently if she put some actual effort into it and didn’t hate touching anything raw, but alas, she did and always got distracted somehow. Any time they had any sort of gathering, Bea always wanted to cook anyway so she just rolled with it. Cooking lessons didn’t sound so bad though. She laughed and joked, “You must be really confident in your abilities as a teacher then. I’ll do my best to be a good student.” She had to admit, the thought of not having to order takeout or leave the house to get avocado toast was appealing. Not as appealing as having an attractive man cook her breakfast every morning, but hey, she was nothing if not independent first. “Perfect,” she said brightly, “I am pretty good with cocktails though I do generally prefer wine for myself. I do make really good margaritas. They’re a personal favorite for pool days. Different varieties of mimosas are fun and go better with brunch though.”

“The Color Purple?” Jasmine asked even though she knew that was likely the book he was talking about. It was one everyone knew, especially since the movie had come out which was fair. It was iconic. “Maupassant,” she mused, “I don’t think I’ve ever read anything by him. If you have a recommendation you’d like to let me borrow, I could do for some more leisurely reading. I promise I’m not an animal who rabbit ears the pages instead of using a bookmark.” Now she watched carefully as she questioned the subject matter of the Latin text at hand. An eyebrow raised at the mention of having more books like this one already packed up. That definitely only furthered her suspicion that he was somehow more involved in the supernatural aspects of this town. Hopefully, in a good way given she was alone in his home with him. Nothing about him screamed axe murderer so she tried to withhold any reservations. “You do? May have to check your collection once you unpack at your new home.” His next question left her unsure of how to answer until he mentioned disliking vampires. Okay, maybe they were on the same page here. Her head tilted slightly with a hint of grin on her lips. “Hmm,” she started, “I’m not very well acquainted with vampires. I’m not a big fan of ghosts though. Poltergeists in particular are a real pain in the butt. Plus, the movie was so cheesy.” It was becoming pretty damn obvious they both knew what was going on here so she blurted out, “So, I guess we both know what’s up in town then.” He could probably put together why all the salt and iron bars fell out of her purse now.

“No one is that bad,” he rolled his eyes, and with a smile, shook his head. Alain had always been enthusiastic about cooking, and while her enthusiasm about it was not his, she still seemed interested in learning. “Ah? Well if you like wine, there’s the cellar to pack later,” he offered. His collection was nothing amazing, far from it, but he had quite a few old bottles that had acquired an excellent taste over the years, and a few others that would have to wait another decade. “I had no idea there were multiple kinds of varieties for one cocktail, really not knowledgeable about those,” he admitted with a small shrug. To each their strength. “Do you think I should learn those when my new house won’t even have a pool?” His smile brightened up, and he looked back to his boxes. It took him a moment to recall what it was that he wanted to do. Ah yes, the sock drawers. Putting only one sock in the washing machine was new to him, and not something he wanted to do in the long term. As ridiculous as it may have been, he’d probably put one on his prosthetic leg.

“...Yes, that’s the one. The movie is quite nice too,” literature had been taught to him and his sister at about the same time they started to tackle more difficult vampires. Alain was thankful for the education he had received, even if his childhood had only very few fond memories. “He wrote a lot of romance, but he wrote horror too. I believe The Horla inspired the myth of Cthulhu,” he commented, as he neatly arranged socks in the cardboard box. “I think you would like Une Vie more, though.” He put the box down and moved to the livingroom to get his hands on his copy. “You don’t read French, do you?” He looked over at her, leaning against the shelf to reach over and hand her the book. If she didn’t read French, she could always have a look at the cover, he told himself, and he would be happy to read the back cover to her. Her remark about how evil it was to fold pages brought another smile to him, and another shake of his head. “I usually settle for a slice of cheese. Makes a perfect bookmark,” he nodded, as if he approved of this.

“You are welcome to stop by,” he was curious about the kind of books she might have been reading in Latin herself. Clearly they shared an interest for the undead, but the subject was broad, although the salt and iron rods made more sense now, not that he ever suspected that those were for staging a house. “That is a cheesy movie, although you never had to suffer through a decade of vampire craze,” Twilight, Vampire diaries and God knows what else. He often pretended having never heard of them because they were just unbearable. Not that he liked Dracula a lot more, but nothing could reach the level of abomination modern vampire stories did. “I suppose so. Glad to meet a ghostbuster at last,” he held out his hand as if he was meeting her another time.

Jasmine simply waved off the remark about her not being able to be that bad. Surely, with some proper effort she could make something halfway decent with his guidance. At the mention of a wine cellar, she perked up. Not only was that marketable, but that meant he had a decent wine collection. Two totally amazing things in her book. “A wine cellar,” she asked somewhat incredulously, “I definitely want to help pack that up. And you know, peep that wine collection. I’ve got a fair number of bottles myself that I’m letting age.” One was actually due to open in a few months. She had every intention of saving it for her birthday. “Oh yeah, most cocktails have different flavor variations. I’m a big fan of adding rosemary to things.” She smiled to herself as she pulled more books off the shelf and placed them into the box on the table beside her. She noted there were a lot of books on astronomy. “Pools are not necessary for margaritas. They also pair perfectly with a good number of dishes… primarily Mexican dishes, but I stand by my statement.”

“It is,” she agreed with a smile as she pulled more books from the shelf. There were quite a few nonfiction ones that seemed educational. Even though Jasmine found her body to still be a bit sore, she did like the insight she was getting on her new client here. She could admit she liked him more than most of her clients though she’d remain perfectly professional. A sale and a new purchase was entirely too good to miss out on. “Definitely prefer the romance to the horror. This town has enough horror. But I’ll have to check out Une Vie.” He’d come over to pull his copy up and she looked over the cover. Seemingly romantic appearing book in French. “Actually,” she said brightly, “Je parle et lis le français.” She took the book from him and looked over the back cover. “I make a point of going to France at least once every couple of years. Used to go regularly with my family when I was younger, too.” She laughed as he joked about his bookmark habits, “I gotta say, that’s pretty cheesy, Mr. Babineaux.”

“Thanks,” Jasmine responded and figured she may have to do just that. She shook her head over the vampire craze, “You mean, you weren’t into the sparkly stalker vampires?” She feigned shock and started clearing out the last of his books. “I never got the appeal personally. Edward? Total stalker. I don’t get how women weren’t creeped out by the whole showing up in the middle of the night and watching her sleep thing.” She shuddered a bit and added, “But yes, I’m your resident ghostbuster. Though I’d venture to say I’m much better looking than any of the original cast.” The next book she pulled down had an intriguing cover filled with stars. Cosmos. She peered over the cover and noted, “You really like astronomy, huh?” She’d open the cover to reveal a note from whoever had gifted the book. Her eyes fell on the name signing it. Evelyn. Was this the ex she’d been all sad over before? She quickly closed it despite the urge to be nosy and read the note. “I didn’t realize you know Evelyn,” she blurted out without quite meaning too. Tact outside of basic business professionalism had never been something she had much interest in. What was the point in not saying what you meant? He’d seen her glance at the note. There was little reason to hide her curiosity.

“It’s nothing special, the house was a farm in the past,” Alain explained. And the cellar possibly had other uses then. His carrots and potatoes seemed to also live forever in the darkness of that room, and that was something he would miss. He would have to purchase a wine cave for his new house as he doubted his new basement would have the same quality as his cellar. “Really? That’s nice ! There are not a lot of people around here who seem to care about wine. I would have to say that being raised in a French household where they serve wine to kids did not preserve me from becoming interested in this,” it did not happen at each meal, but he remembered that he and his sister had always had a bit of wine or champagne to have a taste, as apparently, any self respecting French had to develop a palate for wine tasting early on. “Rosemary? I have a bush or two in the garden if you want to take some home,” he offered with a raise of his shoulder. He was really going to miss this place, he thought to himself, nostalgia drawing his eyes toward the doors that led to the garden. He stared in the distance for a moment. “Mexican food? Not my speciality. Tex-mex I’ve done a bit, but nothing authentic,” he scratched at his cheek as he thought of more recipes he might have tried, but he mostly cooked French, American or South Asian cuisine.

“Ca m’apprendra à juger un livre à sa couverture,” quite proud of his pun, he gave her a bright smile, letting her have a closer look at the book. Alain listened to her speak of her travels to France, and told himself that she truly was a woman who was full of surprises. Of course, he wondered, curious as ever, how many other secrets she hid up her sleeves, and while he was eager to know more, he did not want to appear as odd or rude, and so, he remained quiet. “I have not gone in a few years,” he wondered when he would ever go back. With his new expenses, travelling would have to wait a little, and he really did not see the point of doing so until he was completely mobile. Hiking was always part of his trips and he could not quite do that now. “I’ve been told I can be quite cheesy, yes, I know,” he had a small smile.

“No problem, we should trade information, although I might not be able to physically help in a little while,” he glanced down at the missing limb and could not help but frown. He just could not get used to it, and he felt less for it too. After spending his whole life trying to look and seem normal, there was this relique of his past that would always remind him of who he really was. “I’m afraid so, never been too fond of glittery things. Excuse me,” he left the room for a moment to go get some coffee in the kitchen, from there, he spoke louder, “I think some people like the idea of having someone watching over them, but this is a bit too literal if you ask me,” he had not read those books, and from what he had heard about them, from her and others, it was not like he was missing much. Moving back into the living room, he stopped by the dinner table to start sorting the mess, watching her take his astronomy books out one by one. “Oh, yeah, I have always liked that. Been part of the astronomy club for over two decades,” he admitted with a smile, that faded as he noticed which book she was holding. “I did not realize you knew Evelyn either,” he replied, perhaps a bit too fast, and wishing he had said something else instead. There could not be only one Evelyn in town, right? He could have said something like that. And yet the blank look on his face told a lot.

“The fact you’d even think to have a wine cellar is special in itself,” Jasmine responded with a hint of awe in her tone. At first glance, she wouldn’t have thought him the type of man to have a wine cellar though maybe the last name should have been a giveaway. Paired with the baking and book collection it all tied together nicely. He was a man with good taste and she could appreciate that. “Oh yeah, typical small town that way. We’re not exactly in a wine region. Growing up in a French household, it’s be like sacreligious if you didn’t have good taste in wine. I just travelled a lot from a young age so I had a chance to develop a proper appreciation for good wine.” She’d gone to a lot of wine tastings as an adult as well. Maybe in part it was a pride thing, but she enjoyed the wine and learning about it all the same. At the mention of fresh rosemary to take home, she perked up a bit. “Really? If you don’t mind, I’d love some.” She found herself genuinely smiling and remarked, “There’s some decent Tex Mex here, nothing particularly noteworthy, but they have a good Taco Tuesday. All of those sound delicious though.”

“Oh yeah, I’m full of surprises,” Jasmine said with a bit of a laugh. Clearly so was he.

They were all pleasant so far at least. It did leave her wanting to learn more about him though she supposed they’d have plenty of time for that if he held to his word on the whole cooking lesson thing. It already surprised her that she found she was looking forward to it. Cooking of all things though she could be honest with herself and admit the company played into it. She could pick up on a bit of wistfulness in his voice. It was evident he was going to miss his home and she could hardly blame him. Though a bit small, it did have a welcoming feeling to it. His leg injury must have been fairly recent, but she hoped he’d be well enough for travel soon. “I went this past spring,” she mentioned without thinking, “I did bring home some wine I may feel inclined to share during that cooking lesson.”

“Well, you do have my card. Though you’re not the only one out of commission for a bit,” Jasmine answered calmly, barely biting back the urge to ask how he’d lost a leg. Knowing his distaste for the undead, she could almost piece it together anyway. No need to make him relive a bad and likely still fresh memory. “I prefer only my clothes or shoes to be sparkly. Not my men,” she joked as he excused himself to the kitchen for more coffee. Her eyes glanced over the note again. What were the odds it was the same Evelyn? The handwriting seemed vaguely familiar which only led her to believe her hunch was correct. She called out as he spoke, “Okay, I get being watched over can make someone feel safe… but not when the person doing the watching literally let themselves in through a window. That’s just stalking. Nothing romantic about it.” God knows she’d whack the hell out of someone who came into her bedroom or home uninvited. The astronomy was much more interesting though she hardly knew much about it. Alain really had some interesting hobbies. “Hm,” she started, “I like looking at the night sky, but couldn’t tell anyone much about it.” She watched the smile fade from his face and mentally cursed blurting out her question about Evelyn. “Small world,” she said coolly as she tried to brush the whole thing off. “I helped her find her house, too.”

Jasmine had no desire to linger on the clearly awkward topic, so she piped up, “Why don’t you show me that wine cellar of yours? The books are pretty much good to go.”

“Oh, well,” his brows furrowed as he tried to reflect on how many people he knew who happened to own a cellar or a cave for wine. There weren’t many. Alain’s eyes shone a bit brighter, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes another hint of him being pleased with her company. Things were rarely so easy, and he wondered when things would turn sour, as things always did. But for now he had decided that he enjoyed her company and if she enjoyed his as well, even though knowing of him being a hunter, then perhaps things would not go sour, as they always do. Still, she was pretty spot on about the French and why this place didn’t have many people who cared for wine, and he nodded in agreement. “That’s pretty lucky indeed, I look forward to sharing thoughts on the subject,” he agreed with another smile, reaching out to grab the bubble wrap and start cutting pieces to wrap plates and other items. “Please, I just hope whoever buys my house will not tear it out,” he had a frown at the thought, as he saw himself, many years ago, getting started on that damn garden. The whole parcel was abandoned then, covered in what seemed like the remnants of a potato field. The hours spent clearing it all up, and the first flowers, the first fruits and vegetables, brought a smile to his face. In his nostalgia, there was happiness too, and there he was beaming like an idiot as he reflected on this episode of his life. It was not much, but it was his and that was all that mattered. Having made the recent choice of putting himself first at last, Alain was learning slowly, that it was those little moments that had made him truly happy, those when he was himself.

Her laughter drew him out of this stream of consciousness, softly. “Never been fond of surprises, but some are actually nicer than others,” his hand reached for his cheek again, scratching at it as he thought about it some more. He just could not wait to get to start new things at his new house too. The place did not need much work, but he probably would still bother with a fresh coat of paint here and there. Unpacking, installing, settling in, those were things he was excited for. Perhaps he just wanted to think about anything that did not concern his leg, or perhaps it was something else, but he did look forward to it, as much as he was already counting the time he had left in his beloved home. “Oh, that’s quite recent,” he considered her offer with a raise of his eyebrow, which he followed with a grin. “I think I can agree to that, although making the teacher drink is not very conventional of you.” Amused, he looked back at his bubble wrap and noticed that he had not gotten much done. Talking and working at the same time, when you were not used to it, was one hell of an exercise.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” he did not ask how she actually hurt her arm. As far as he was concerned, those injuries were so common for people like them, that how did not matter as much as why. You could not afford making the same mistake twice. Besides, he could guess what had happened easily, as there must have been a hint of truth in what she had told him, back at her agency. “And I prefer no sparkle in my life,” he did not mind it that much, although he had never had to use any in his life. Otherwise, he would have been aware of how terribly hard it was to get rid of, much like the mara who haunted him for weeks, if not months. The image of someone climbing through the window to watch him sleep just drew him back to those fearful days, and he was thankful when she changed the subject. “Astronomy is something I’ve enjoyed ever since I was a kid, so I’m afraid impressing me with your knowledge on this is… going to be a challenge,” the conversation once so light had gotten more tense with her question, and he was relieved to see her change the subject. “This way please,” he agreed, trading his bubble wrap for his crutches once again, and leading the way.

#wickedswriting #alain #you'd be surprised

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surveys4ever · 3 years

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25.

Section 1 – Who were you?

Think back as far as you can. What is the first memory you have? I think meeting my (now) dad for the first time when he and my mom were dating. I was very upset because he was short and that’s not what dads were supposed to look like in my 3 year old eyes since my bio dad was super tall.

What is something you remember enjoying very much as a small child? Playing Barbies, watching Barney, Happy Meals, being with my grandma.

How old were you, when you made your very first friend? Probably preschool.

Are you still friends with this person today? Facebook friends, yeah. Real friends, no.

Was there a story somebody read or told you that has stuck with you? No one ever read to me after I learned to read for myself so one day I was sick and I came home and curled up with my mom on the couch and asked her to read me a Little Mermaid book I had and she did, even though I had to get up to go shit myself halfway through and it meant a lot to me at the time.

What is something you get an immense feeling of nostalgia from? Hannah Montana for some reason. It was my favorite show and we didn’t get the Disney channel so whenever we went to a hotel, nobody could tell me fuckin NOTHING because we were watching Hannah Montana whether they liked it or not.

As a child, were you a sore loser or a sore winner? I was the only child for 8 years and then the oldest after that so I never lost at anything and now when I do, I feel like I'm the biggest piece of shit loser there’s ever been. So that’s fun.

Did you go through the "naked phase"? I learned that you didn’t have to sleep in pajamas and you could just sleep naked so I did it for a while but then realized that I much preferred pajamas.

Which television shows do you watch the most as a child? I loved TV so basically all of the 90′s/early 2000′s shows there were.

Did you play with siblings, neighbourhood kids or by yourself? Either with neighborhood/school kids or by myself. I didn’t ever really have siblings who weren’t my kids, if that makes sense.

Is there something you really miss from your childhood today? I miss back when everything was simple.

Section 2 – Likes and interests

Would you ever like to try competitive pinball playing? Ummm, no.

Do you knit, crochet or cross stitch? I’m trying to teach myself to crochet.

Have you ever, or would you like to attend a gaming or comic convention? No thx.

What's your opinion on online multiplayer games? I really liked Among Us for a while there but I don’t really enjoy how rude everyone is on online games.

Do you like to go cycling? If so, where? Uh no.

Have you ever tried woodturning? If not, would you like to? Never tried it, don’t really have any desire to, but it can be relaxing to watch!

Do you enjoy drawing? If so, what do you usually draw? I do! I usually draw graphics for YouTube videos or doodle over Instagram photos, draw things to put on shirts with my Cricut, etc. I use my iPad for so many things.

Have you ever attended a painting class? If so, what did you create? I haven’t but I would like to!

How about a creative writing course? If so, did you get any feedback? I took Creative Writing literally every year it was offered in high school and I always got awards for having the top marks in the class.

What is your favourite form of exercise? No thank you.

Section 3 – People

Who is the most important person in your life (besides yourself)? My husband.

Do people generally approach you easily? I think so!

Do you get along with people well? If not, what's the problem? Yeah! I’m pretty friendly and easy going.

Do you enjoy being in crowds or do you prefer your own company? I would much prefer my own company than crowds.

Which one of your friends have you known the longest? I still talk to the girl I was best friends with in the 6th grade on occasion so like 17-18 years?

Do you find it easy to make friends now? If not, what makes it difficult? As an adult who works from home, making friends is hard as fuck.

What is something about people that annoys you? Something I've noticed in recent years is just how entitled and greedy everyone is. Everybody wants something from you or for your skills to benefit them without them putting in any work or paying you for your time. It’s just gross.

What is something about people that you really like? We have really, really harsh winters and if you ever find yourself in the ditch for whatever reason, there will be a lineup of cars stopped behind you to help you push it out or let you chill in their car while you wait for a tow truck. On the really bad blizzard days, there are groups of men in big trucks that literally L I V E to go around and help pull people’s cars out of the ditch. It’s the only time I feel like there’s actually a sense of community around here.

If you live alone, what would be your criteria for a roommate? I honestly would never have a roommate because they could either be your friend or a stranger and living with friends is a good way to ruin a friendship if your living styles aren’t similar and living with a stranger just sounds like a nightmare.

How about criteria for a spouse, if you're single? I am married but my criteria was honestly that I just wanted him to be kind and funny and I got that tenfold with my husband.

In general, what's your attitude towards people? I can’t stand to be around grumpy people. If all you do is gripe and complain about literally everything, I’m out. No thank you. Why is your hobby being angry? Take up knitting or something for christ’s sake.

Section 4 – Habits

What is something you do every day without fail? Baby talk the dog and snuggle with Beebs.

What is your typical breakfast? I’m a leftovers for breakfast kinda gal but lately I’ve been having a bagel and watermelon.

Which article of clothing do you like to wear the most? I loooove me a good baggy T-shirt and booty shorts.

Is there a TV show you watch habitually? We’re currently watching Unhhhh while we eat dinner every night, haha!

Where do you usually spend most of your day? I really only sit in 4 places--bed, the couch, my makeup/work desk, or my sewing desk. Depends on the day which one I’m at.

Is there a product that you do not want to run out of? Moisturizer. I’m a dry son of a bitch.

What is your preferred mode of transport? Car!

Do you usually have something playing in the background when you're home? Nah. I’m in silence a lot of the time.

Where do you usually get your groceries? Walmart for the bulk of it, a local grocery store for the specialty items, and Target if we ever run out of something midweek because I cannot handle Walmart more than once a week.

How often do you go to your local park? Like once or twice a month in the summer!

Which of your hobbies do you indulge in most often? Sewing and Sims currently!

Section 5 – Favourites and dislikes

What is your favourite fruit? Watermelon!

How about your favourite berry? Strawberries are the only berry I like.

Which food do you highly dislike? Fish. It’s all disgusting.

What is your favourite song, and why? I hate this question. Who can pick one definitive favorite song out of the bajillions of songs that have been written??

What is a movie you cannot stand? Anything with Seth Rogen in it, any movie that's got a 3+ after it (looking @ you, Fast & Furious), and all the fuckin’ superhero movies that have the same ‘ah yes, this undefeatable bad guy that we have absolutely no chance against and will undoubtedly kill us all--but we’re going to pull through at the last second with the power of friendship!’ plot line.

Which trait in a person do you find most appealing? I don’t know how to describe it--certain people just have that spark and you can always tell right away if they’ve got it or not and those are my favorite kind of people.

Which trait puts you instantly off? If they’re religious it’s an instant no from me, dog.

Who is an actor/actress who you dislike so much you can't watch them? I really, really dislike Tom Holland. I honestly think he’s a terrible actor.

What colour are your favourite shoes? White!

What is a smell that disgusts you to no end? B.O., on me or others. I just can’t deal with it.

Which door handle/door knob do you like the most in your home? They’re all the same.

Section 6 – Culture

What is something very typical to the culture of your home country? Apple pie and baseball are the only things coming to mind atm.

Do you enjoy art? If so, which form of art is the most enjoyable? I do! But I prefer art that you can look at and know the artist is incredibly gifted and/or has put in a ton of time and effort to master their skills. None of that million dollar paint smear on a canvas shit.

What is something about another country's culture you don't understand? I feel like other cultures take their family and their family’s approval way too seriously. That might be rich coming from someone who doesn’t have a very good relationship with their family but I just don’t understand what the point of making yourself miserable to make your family happy is.

Do you ever attend the theater? If so, which play did you see last? Last thing I saw in a theater was Shangela perform a drag show, haha!

How about the opera or the ballet? Nope.

Which dance troupe do you enjoy, if any? ...they still do that?

Do you attend concerts or gigs? If so, which band did you see last? Not as much as I’d like to as no one good really comes here very often. Last band we saw was X Ambassadors and Paramore!

Are you interested in foreign food? I’m not uninterested but I’m not super interested either.

If so, which country's cuisine do you enjoy the most? Chinese...albiet probably a very Americanized version of Chinese.

Do you enjoy stand-up comedy? If so, who is your favourite comic? I doooo! Bo Burnham and Drew Lynch are my favorites.

Do you contribute to culture in some way? If so, how? I try to? I’m an influencer so I definitely have a platform of a couple hundred thousand people. Not sure what exactly I contribute tho.

Section 7 – Charity

Do you volunteer your time to anything charitable? If so, what? Newp.

Do you donate money to any charities? If so, which ones? No. I don’t trust a lot of charities, to be quite honest. A lot of them are very shady and I’d rather donate money directly to someone who needed it rather than it getting tied up in a charity where it might never actually see the people they claim to be helping.

If you have pets, are any of them rescues from shelters? We adopted our dog from one of my husband’s coworkers but she probably would have gone to the shelter if we didn’t take her.

Do you donate your old clothes, linen etc. to charitable organizations? Yes! We almost always have a bag of donations in our trunk that we always forget to take to the thrift store when we go.

If someone you know is in need, is it in your nature to offer help? If I can, yes!

Have you ever donated Christmas presents to children of poor families? We used to do that when I was a kid.

Have you ever had to rely on other people's charity? One Christmas when I was really young I remember my parents signed up for a sponsorship through the Salvation Army where a family adopted us and bought us Christmas presents and Christmas dinner or whatever.

How do you feel about donating to charities endorsed by celebrities? I would never donate to a charity simply because it was sponsored by a celebrity but I guess its the easiest way for a charity to get the word out that they need donations.

Is there a charity you absolutely never ever will not trust? PETA, Salvation Army, Goodwill, and that breast cancer one with the horrible CEO.

Have you ever donated to a cause that had a person going door to door? No. I extra wouldn’t if someone came knocking on my door asking for money.

In general, what is your opinion on charity? I already did my rant about them, haha.

Section 8 – Entertainment

Which was the very first video game you remember playing? Ocarina of Time I believe!

Which was the very first film you remember watching? That I don’t remember. Maybe that Barney movie with the magic egg?

What is your go-to form of entertainment? TikTok usually.

Do you have a large collection of DVDs/Blu-Rays? Nah. We have a drawer but we usually stream everything.

How about music albums? Beebs collects vinyls!

Do you prefer to have your music on vinyls, tapes, CDs or digital? I prefer digital and Beebs likes vinyl.

When and where do you like to entertain yourself usually? Either the bed or the couch.

Do you ever binge watch shows? If so, what are you binging now? Usually! I’m sadly in between shows rn.

What kinds of books do you like to read, if any? I honestly don’t read anymore.

Is there a book series you're currently collecting? ..

Is entertainment something you prefer to enjoy alone or with someone else? I have my shows and then we have shows we watch together. So there’s a time and place for both!

Section 9 – Internet

Do you always have access to the Internet, wherever you go? If not, why? Yup!

Which website do you frequent the most? Website website? Google. App website? Instagram or TikTok.

Which search engine do you prefer and trust the most? Googs.

What do you use the Internet the most for? Social media or entertainment.

Do you judge people who have their phones out all the time? If so, why? Random people? None of my business. But if we’re spending time together and I’m trying to have a conversation with you and you're not paying attention to me because your nose is glued to your phone, I’m gonna be pissed.

If your connection goes down, what do you do? Go do something that’s not on the internet?

Is there something you wish you could do online that isn't possible yet? I still wish you could smell things through the internet.

Do you remember the first time you used the Internet? When was it? Yes! I believe the 2nd/3rd grade?

What was a website you used to frequent that doesn't exist anymore? I loved the Disney website with all the games.

Do/Did you ever have your own website? That was the thiiiing back in the day.

Isn't it great how much knowledge and info we have at our fingertips? It’s great but also overwhelming.

Section 10 – And finally...

What is something you consider to be highly controversial? Politics, apparently.

What kinds of jokes do you like the best? I love a good pun.

Is there a person who makes you laugh effortlessly? Oh definitely.

Which part of your body do you like the least? My eyes.

What's something random, out of context you remember from your past? I don’t do well with really vague questions.

Do you wear shoes indoors? No, I’m not a heathen.

What's the silliest thing you've worn on your body in public? I don’t think I usually wear silly things.

What's the most important thing in your life right now? Just spending time with my fam. Trying to get over this anxiety.

What is the most distant point on the planet that you've been from home? Florida.

Do you enjoy trivia games? If so, which one's your favourite? We love some Trivial Pursuit in this house!

Are you more logical or emotional? My emotions take over and then my logic brings it back in. Equal parts, baby.

#survey

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Wondrous Creature (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: Brooke and Vanessa are roommates crushing on each other, both with no idea that the other likes them back, or that the other isn’t human.

A/N: I am officially in the spooky mood and finished this to celebrate it! This is loosely based on the web comic “Fangs” by Sarah C. Andersen. This is pretty weird and chaotic, so apologies in advance. I would love any feedback or comments if you have any, though! Writ is the best beta and brainstorming partner and I love them. Title from Monster by Florence + the Machine.

read on ao3

“Brooke!” Vanessa sighs in relief when her roommate shuffles in, tossing her purse on the kitchen table, shoulders dropping after her overnight shift.

“What?” Brooke asks around a yawn.

“Have you seen my black boots?” Vanessa’s been sliding around the apartment in her pizza socks, toothbrush dangling from her mouth, because her boots are not in her closet where she’s fairly sure she left them. But if anyone will know where they are, it’s Brooke. She could find anything from boots to keys like a bloodhound.

Brooke’s eyebrows wrinkle as she thinks. “Did you check under your bed?”

“Oh!” Toothpaste flies out of her mouth and splats on the floor, and Brooke rolls her eyes fondly before wiping it.

“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to you,” Brooke mutters.

“I know!” Vanessa runs to her room and peeks under her bed. There, past Riley’s elephant chew toy and her old knee brace and a bag of chips, are her black boots.

Vanessa happily puts them on, and Brooke snorts behind her.

“You could make a game out of finding stuff under your bed,” Brooke teases. “Two points for clothes, three points for food.”

“Five points if the food is still edible.”

“Vanessa, don’t you dare eat those chips–”

Vanessa removes her toothbrush and crunches as loud as she can, making eye contact with Brooke all the while. Even with the lingering minty taste, the chips are still good. But even if they weren’t, she still wouldn’t be harmed, for reasons Brooke doesn’t–and can’t–know.

“Okay, how about you brush your teeth for real, in the bathroom?” Brooke suggests, and Vanessa nods.

They stand side-by-side in front of the sink, because Brooke brushes her teeth after work every morning for some reason. Vanessa doesn’t mind. It’s nice having the bathroom to herself for most of the morning, not having to fight for shower times or counter space. This little routine is enough, and Vanessa likes the rhythm they sink into, the way Brooke sways along to Vanessa’s Get-Ready Spotify playlist, the way Brooke grins at her in the mirror. Today, the grin is wider than normal, and Vanessa’s grip slips, toothbrush swiping across her cheek and sending Brooke into a fit of laughter.

They spit in the sink, and Vanessa sees drops of bright red clinging to the porcelain.

“You’re bleeding,” Vanessa says.

“I am?” Brooke shrugs. “Must’ve brushed too hard.” She rinses the sink, tells Vanessa to have a good day, and collapses into bed, the frame squeaking under her weight. She’ll get a few hours of sleep, Vanessa knows, before waking up and writing. She does fashion and news pieces for some media site—she told Vanessa it’s like a low-budget Buzzfeed—and her stuff’s pretty good, from what Vanessa’s looked up on nights she was bored, desperate to have more of Brooke through words on her phone screen. Brooke likes her job, even if she has to work overnight grocery store shifts to keep herself afloat. Vanessa thinks of Brooke curled up in bed and wishes she could help her sleep more, get rid of those gray circles constantly under her eyes.

But Vanessa will be late soon, and she grabs her travel coffee mug and heads to work, thinking too much about Brooke’s smile and the blood in the sink.

Maybe she isn’t the only one in the apartment with secrets.

—

Brooke wakes around 2 with both cats sprawled across her legs. She sits up and pets them absent-mindedly; the cats had to stay in her room because Vanessa is super allergic, “sneezin’ and wheezin’ and itchin’ allergic, Mary,” in her words. It’s easier for everyone to just keep the cats sequestered to Brooke’s room; she gets to cuddle them more, and everyone gets to avoid Vanessa’s sneezes, which are loud enough to send small children running in fright.

She pulls out her laptop and checks her work emails, making notes for her new piece. Nina runs the media site—West’s Best, home to culture, fashion, humor, and more, according to the description Brooke wrote—and Brooke is one of her best writers. But in the name of Brooke’s secret, she lets Vanessa think she’s an underpaid intern, scraping for any piece she can get. She doesn’t like lying, but it’s a necessary evil; under the cover of her “overnight job,” she’s free to spend her nights with her friends, doing things Vanessa can’t ever know.

The blood this morning was a rare slip-up—a remnant from last night’s drink. Brooke has to be more careful. It’s been six months since Vanessa moved in, and Brooke knows she doesn’t suspect anything about her being a vampire.

Hiding it isn’t as hard as Brooke thought it would be. The overnight job lie takes care of most of it, and Brooke stores her blood supply at Nina’s, because she doesn’t think she could lie her way out of that if Vanessa found it. She keeps stories about her past generic, mentioning that she used to dance but not that the dancing took place in a speakeasy 100 years ago. Or how she rode horses sometimes as a kid, leaving out that they were an actual mode of transportation. She’s sure Vanessa doesn’t mind the lack of details; her own stories are over the top enough for both of them, making Brooke laugh until her stomach hurts.

So no, not hard. Just a tiny secret. Though one that’s growing hard to keep, admittedly, because of another secret.

She has a crush on Vanessa.

The crush is a recent development, though her friends insist Brooke’s had feelings for longer, brought on by Vanessa asking opinions on outfits and nights yelling at reality shows together and all the times Vanessa lets her towel hang a little too low after a shower. Brooke’s never been around someone so fun and lively, who finds joy in something as simple as fresh laundry, burying her face in warm, lavender-scented clothes.

But secret number two has to remain secret because of secret number one, obviously, and Brooke just ignores those feelings. Her heart’s been cold a century, after all; it’s not hard to do.

Her phone buzzes with a text.

Vanessa: Can we make grilled cheese tonight?

Two emojis follow it: a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese.

Vanessa: There’s no grilled cheese emoji but you get the idea

Brooke grins, and she thinks her dead heart skips a beat.

—

“This is one of the best grilled cheeses I’ve ever had! You could open a grilled cheese food truck,” Vanessa says around a mouthful of bread.

Brooke shakes her head. “Sometimes I swear you were raised by wolves.”

Vanessa crosses her arms and pouts indignantly, but there’s a glimmer in her eyes, like a laugh she won’t let escape.

“Just ‘cause you drink tea with your pinky curled—“

“I do not.”

“Do so.”

Brooke smiles, taking a bite of her own sandwich. Vampires could eat human food, and Brooke likes to. It just doesn’t fill her the way animal blood does. But she’ll make up for it tonight, while Vanessa thinks she’s at work.

“Oh, that vanity you ordered came today,” Brooke says.

“Yes!” Vanessa fist-pumps the air. “Wanna help me put it together?”

Brooke thinks of the time she helped Nina put together her bedroom set and wound up with a giant splinter in her thumb, a smashed finger from Nina’s lousy aim with the hammer, and a bag of extra screws that Brooke hopes to this day weren’t important (Nina’s bed hasn’t broken yet, so it’s probably fine). Brooke has no desire for furniture-building again, but for Vanessa and those big brown eyes…

“Sure,” Brooke says.

Which is how she finds herself nudging aside clothes and magazines on Vanessa’s bedroom floor, Vanessa’s dog licking her leg and 20 pages of instructions fluttering in front of her.

“Come on, Brooke, what do we do?” Vanessa swings a hammer aimlessly, waiting for something to hit.

Brooke frowns, trying to make sense of the instructions and all the pieces and nails–could this thing need that many nails?

“Um, I think this big piece goes first…” Brooke grabs a square of wood and passes it to Vanessa. “Then we put on the sides.”

“What about the legs?”

“Shit.”

After nearly two hours of reading, Googling, YouTube tutorials, swearing, and Vanessa pretending to be Thor with her hammer, the vanity stands strong and sturdy in the corner.

“We did it!” Vanessa cheers. “Teamwork makes the dream work, baby!”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Fair.” Vanessa cackles. “You’ll be okay at work, right? I didn’t tire you out too much?”

Brooke swallows hard. Is that gleam in Vanessa’s eyes from concern, or does she know exactly what she’s saying? Does she have the same feelings Brooke does?

“I’ll be fine,” Brooke says.

She doesn’t see Vanessa for the rest of the night, and slips out when Vanessa is breathing softly in her bed.

—

The best part of Brooke’s overnight shifts is that she’s not there to wonder where Vanessa goes at the full moon.

She, Silky, and A’keria pile in an Uber and go to the edge of the city, then walk to the woods. Vanessa loves the city, loves all the people and shops and places to eat, but there’s something about the woods. Everything is calmer out here, still and silent except for the occasional rustling of leaves or an owl’s hoot. There’s a sort of peace between the trees, freedom to just breathe and think and be.

The silence is a little too eerie tonight, her thoughts too loud. Or maybe it’s just because she can’t stop thinking of Brooke. There’s been nothing unusual about the past few weeks, but something feels different. They made cupcakes last week and spent hours on Saturday sucked into a 90 Day Fiance marathon, yelling and roasting the couples. Vanessa found herself enjoying it all more than usual, unable to take her eyes off Brooke. She knows what it means, but that’s not an option. Not with her secret.

“Vanessa, it’s almost time!” A’keria yells.

Vanessa snaps up and sees the moon is almost at its highest as it shines through the trees. She pulls off her clothes and sets them in the bag at the base of the largest tree.

“What’s with you?” A’keria asks in concern.

“Nothing.”

“It’s about Brooke, isn’t it?” Silky guesses, and she and A’keria trade looks.

“What’s with the looks?” Vanessa demands.

“It’s nothing,” A’keria says.

“We think Brooke’s a vampire,” Silky says, dodging the furious arm A’keria swings at her.

“You think she’s a vampire?” Vanessa laughs out loud. She can see where they’re coming from, admittedly. Brooke is tall and pale and quiet, with a dry sense of humor and a wardrobe that’s almost entirely black. She can be broody sometimes, especially when Jeopardy! isn’t going her way. She glides around the apartment so silently Vanessa wants to put a bell around her neck. And there’s a mysterious air around her, maybe from how secretive she is about herself–so much so that Vanessa truly doesn’t know much about her past.

But the idea of Brooke being a vampire is ridiculous. Her Netflix recently watched list is just Jane Austen adaptations and The Princess Diaries, and she keeps the freezer stocked with Ben and Jerry’s and pizza bagels, not bags of suspicious liquid or anything like that. Hell, when Vanessa got a paper cut a few weeks ago, Brooke practically flew out of the room to get her a Band-Aid, eyes avoiding the blood. And she uses a baby voice when she talks to her cats and falls asleep cuddling them, for crying out loud—the woman is hardly a horror movie figure.

“Look, she’s not a vampire, okay?” Vanessa keeps one eye on the moon as it shifts imperceptibly, her muscles tingling as they prepare for the transformation. “She goes out in the daytime and stuff.”

Silky rolls her eyes. “Vampires can do that! Sun hurts them, but it only kills them after a long time.”

“She’s fine in the sun,” Vanessa insists. “She doesn’t go out in it much because it gives her a headache and her skin’s really sensitive, so it burns easily.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s sunburn.”

“And an overnight job? Could it be any more obvious?”

Vanessa huffs. “Enough, okay! She’s human!”

Silky shakes her head. “You just don’t want to see it because you’re in love with her.”

“I am not!” Vanessa shouts, but she can’t even kid herself, let alone her friends, who are staring at her pointedly.

“Got a big old lesbian crush,” A’keria says with a grin. “So big you can’t even see your roommate’s a blood sucker.”

Vanessa sighs, knowing that vampire or not, her feelings for Brooke are filling the entire forest. “Look, I really like her, and she probably doesn’t feel the same way. It could ruin everything if I tell her. It just… it just can’t happen.” She shakes off how small her voice is getting.

“I think you should tell her, V,” A’keria says softly. “Vampire stuff aside and everything. How could she not like you back?”

Vanessa wants to believe it, but she shakes her head. “She’s my friend, and she’s human, and I’m–” The rest of her sentence is cut off by a groan as the pain starts. Vanessa’s gotten used to it now–the way her bones stretch and muscles clench, her whole body on fire–but it doesn’t make the pain any easier. She curls into a ball as her claws emerge, as fur sprouts, until finally a thick brown wolf stands tall beneath the moon. Vanessa nods toward the other two, and they traipse through the forest.

Vanessa keeps her mind when she transforms; she normally likes the way everything gets sharper, the way she can smell moss and flowers and animals, can see even the tiniest bugs flapping their wings. Tonight, though, she wishes she could turn it off, because all her thoughts of Brooke are heightened too. The sheer beauty of her soft, smooth skin. The way her hair shines like gold in the light and always smells like tea tree oil. Her rare laughs, the way her shoulders shake with the movement and her green eyes sparkle. How much Vanessa wishes she could see Brooke’s pale skin uninterrupted by clothes, melting into Vanessa’s sheets, before falling asleep in Brooke’s arms.

Vanessa sighs, running through the trees and leaving it all behind.

She really can’t be in love with her roommate, but it’s too late.

—

Brooke is extra careful the next few weeks. She rinses her mouth carefully before entering the door each morning. She eats half the garlic bread Vanessa makes one night. She even goes shopping with Vanessa, rare sunshine beating down on them. The only reason Brooke manages without pain is because of the special sunscreen her witch friend Yvie made, but Vanessa doesn’t need to know that. Brooke just wants to flaunt it, hey, look how human I am. Vanessa is blissfully unaware, and that’s what Brooke needs. No threat to her secret, no chance she’ll have to run and leave her friends behind.

“Brooke, can you help me make posters?” Vanessa gets home one night with her arms full of construction paper and Crayola markers. “They’re for the dog shelter.”

Vanessa volunteers at a dog shelter every Sunday, coming back with fur on her clothes and a bunch of videos of dogs playing fetch and running in circles. She loves going, yapping about all the dogs after, and even though Brooke is more of a cat person, she listens anyway.

“I’ll help,” Brooke says. It’s only fair after Vanessa made yesterday’s dinner when Brooke was busy with work.

Markers roll across the table as Vanessa lays her supplies out, and they get to work.

“What’s that, a hippo?” Brooke asks at Vanessa’s drawing.

“It’s obviously a dog, Brooke!”

“A dog with a hippo’s nose.”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Brooke and Brooke bursts into laughter. The night continues as they pass markers back and forth and Vanessa pops enough popcorn for a movie theatre, ending when Vanessa begins her nighttime shower and skincare routine, the one that leaves her skin soft and glowing, smelling of citrus and coconut. Brooke’s head is full of those scents when Vanessa calls her from the bathroom.

“What do you need?” Brooke asks.

“We’re out of towels.” There’s a smug tone to Vanessa’s voice. “There should be a clean one in the laundry basket, if you wanna bring it to me.” Brooke can practically see Vanessa batting her eyelashes through the door.

Brooke opens the door a crack, extending the towel. She can’t look at Vanessa, she can’t–

“Thanks, Brooke!” Half of Vanessa’s broadly-grinning face peeks out, running into the soft lines of her collarbone and gentle curve of her shoulder. Brooke’s dead heart almost jolts back to life. She wants to blast the door off its hinges, grab Vanessa, and throw her on the bed–

But the alarm on Brooke’s phone goes off, reminding her to get ready for work.

—

Brooke slides up to the corner table, her vampire gang awaiting: Nina sipping her drink, Priyanka checking women out, Kameron deep in thought. Red neon signs flicker on the dark walls, glasses of blood and beer sliding across the bar counter. Whoever thought of a vampire bar is a genius, in Brooke’s opinion, and being here with her friends is one of the best parts of her day.

“Sorry I’m late. Got caught talking to Vanessa.”

“How is she?” Kameron asks.

“Fine! She’s fine.” Brooke laughs nervously, reins her voice in before it rises another octave. No need to share what almost happened. They’ve all heard more than enough about Vanessa–Vanessa made cookies, try one; Vanessa scored 42 points when we went bowling; Vanessa made the worst pun ever, you have to hear it–and Brooke knows it’s not helping her in the ‘just a crush’ department.

“You know, Brooke,” Nina says slowly, like she’s been sitting on this a while, “sometimes I think Vanessa isn’t fully … human.”

Brooke scoffs. Vanessa, who cries over movies and gives old people her seat on the subway and can’t sleep without fuzzy blankets or a squishy pillow, is one of the most human people Brooke has ever met. Then she looks around the table and sees Kameron and Priyanka matching Nina’s cautious, thoughtful expression.

“What, you think she’s a witch or something?” Brooke barks out a laugh. “There’s gotta be a cleaning spell she would’ve used in her room by now.”

“Not a witch,” Nina continues, being the spokesperson of the group. “We think she might be a werewolf. Kam saw her in the woods last full moon.”

“So what?” Brooke asks, playing nonchalant even though it is odd that Vanessa would go in the forest at night. “She can go in the woods, it’s not my business.”

“I’ve gotten wolf vibes from her before,” Priyanka says.

Brooke shakes her head fiercely. “She’s human. She just really likes dogs–”

Nina purses her lips.

“–and her table manners leave something to be desired,” Brooke continues, “but she’s human. Besides, I’d know if she wasn’t.”

Kameron frowns.

“What?” Brooke demands.

“You can be kind of oblivious sometimes.” Nina takes over. “I mean, Kameron had a crush on you for months before…” she cuts herself off as Brooke and Kameron look anywhere but at each other, not needing the reminder of their old fling. If vampires could blush, they’d both be flaming.

“But that’s fine now,” Kameron says quickly. “I have Asia, and you have–”

“–A crush on Vanessa,” Priyanka interrupts.

Brooke sighs. She knows her face can’t feel hot, but somehow it does anyway. She knows she has a crush; knows she rushes home after nights with her friends just to see Vanessa before she leaves for work, knows she laughs over the stupidest things just because Vanessa does them. But it hurts to hear it out loud when she can’t do much about it. Vampires and humans didn’t mix. If they had any kind of relationship, Brooke wouldn’t be able to hide the secret forever, and Vanessa would probably run when she found out. Who wouldn’t?

But Brooke doesn’t know how much longer she can keep her feelings inside, pretend she feels nothing when Vanessa sings to herself in the shower, or plays with her dog, or tells Brooke to listen to new songs she discovers, both of them huddling around Vanessa’s phone and smiling.

“I really think you should tell her you like her, Brooke,” Nina says, and Kameron nods.

Brooke shakes her head. “Nothing can happen.”

Priyanka winks. “I think it can. I see romance in your future.”

“We all know you just pretend to be psychic because you’re in love with Alice from Twilight,” Brooke mutters, and she lets the erupting laughter distract her from Vanessa.

—

Silky and A’keria’s paranoia rubs off on Vanessa for a while. She keeps Brooke out in the sun for hours, bumps Brooke in front of mirrors, “accidentally” makes too much garlic bread. She stops just short of running at Brooke with a cross. Brooke’s human, just human, even if Silky and A’keria aren’t convinced.

Vanessa decides to make breakfast to gloss over any odd behavior Brooke might have noticed. Brooke usually eats a protein bar before she goes to bed each morning, and Vanessa wants her to have a real breakfast.

The idea of telling Brooke her feelings runs through Vanessa’s mind as she flips pancakes. Her being a werewolf is just a small secret, really. A lot easier to hide than her feelings. Lately it’s been all she can do to stop staring at Brooke’s soft skin, to not grab her and finally see how her lips feel.

Keys jingle in the hall and she knows it’s Brooke and her keys with the cat keychain. It’s just a stupid little detail, but Vanessa’s heart swells with love for Brooke, and it makes her mind up for her.

Vanessa sets the pancakes and scrambled eggs on the table just as the door creaks open.

“Vanessa?” Brooke blinks in confusion. “What’s this?”

“I made breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Brooke says, but she’s already drowning her pancakes in syrup.

Vanessa sits across from her. “I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you ate a real breakfast.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow.

“Protein bars aren’t breakfast and you know it!” Vanessa’s yell morphs into a laugh that Brooke matches.

“Okay, okay.” Brooke grins. “These pancakes are amazing, by the way.”

“I know.” Vanessa laughs.

Brooke sips her coffee, and maybe Vanessa bumps the table, maybe she doesn’t. Maybe Brooke’s sure, steady hands just fumble a bit. Either way, there’s a spot of coffee soaking Brooke’s shirt, and when Brooke grabs a washcloth, Vanessa stands up, legs wobbling.

“Maybe you should take that off,” Vanessa says, watching Brooke drop the cloth in the sink.

Brooke raises an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming devilishly. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Vanessa breathes, “maybe you should take that off.”

Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa’s heart speeds up, wondering if she’s made the wrong move. But then Brooke grins. “You first.”

Vanessa’s whole body is on fire as she lifts up her shirt, her face bright red when Brooke’s eyes linger.

“Bed. Now,” Brooke commands, and Vanessa runs.

—

Vanessa doesn’t realize until later. How could she have realized when Brooke’s hands were roaming her body, when her cool lips touched Vanessa’s, when her ears were full of nothing but her own gasps and moans?

No, she doesn’t realize until later, when Brooke is at work and Vanessa’s head is finally clear again, able to think of something besides the blonde hair that Vanessa’s hands tore through and left messy, the soft lips she finally got to kiss, the arm that wrapped around her waist until she fell asleep.

Through all the gasps and touches and excitement, Vanessa’s heart was a bird in her chest, fluttering frantically in response to each and every touch. But when she thinks about it, there was no pulse thrumming through the still rivers of Brooke’s veins as her wrists brushed Vanessa’s body. When she thinks about it, all she heard from Brooke’s rib cage was silence.

Brooke has no heartbeat. And they need to talk.

—

Nina’s mouth hangs open when Brooke walks in the bar that night, no doubt knowing what just happened. “Brooke, you–”

Brooke sits down and rests her head on the sticky bar table. “I had sex with Vanessa,” she groans into the wood, knowing they’ll hear her.

“I told you bitches!” Priyanka yells.

“Shut it, Miss Cleo,” Brooke says, raising her head and taking in everyone’s expressions–all of satisfaction and acceptance, not a shocked face in sight.

“What are you gonna do now?” Kameron asks. “Does she know? Did she notice you don’t have a heartbeat?”

“Hers was going fast enough for us both,” Brooke says. “Besides, she wasn’t close enough to my chest to hear anything… I don’t think so, at least.”

“What are you gonna do?” Nina asks.

Brooke groans again. “I don’t know. I’m hoping it’ll be a one-time thing and we’ll go back to normal.”

“And if you don’t?”

Brooke sighs. If Vanessa wants a real relationship after this, it wouldn’t be fair to her to do that. Brooke would have to run, and she looks around at her friends and knows she never wants to leave them, just like she never wants to leave Vanessa. She forces those thoughts away. “I don’t know. What am I supposed to do? Get a cake that says ‘Hey, I’m a vampire?’”

Kameron shrugs. “That’s how I told Asia,” she says, so deadpan Brooke can’t even tell if it’s a lie.

“You can’t do a cake, you gotta do some classier shit,” Priyanka says. “Cream puffs are classy, right? Do cream puffs.”

Kameron suggests eclairs, and Priyanka insists that cream puffs are better. Brooke buries her face in her hands. If she wasn’t a vampire, her friends would’ve given her a stress-induced heart attack by now.

“Okay, cream puffs and eclairs are basically the same thing!” Nina hisses until Priyanka and Kameron quiet down. Nina then turns to Brooke, a hand on her arm. “Look, things are still new, you don’t have to tell her anything yet. Just… do the romantic shit. You’ve been single for decades, just be in love for right now.”

Just be in love for right now. Brooke considers it. She hasn’t had anything remotely like love since her and Kameron had their brief thing in the 90’s, before deciding they were better as friends. Before that, well… Brooke doesn’t think she ever has. There were crushes, sure, like the waitress at that diner who knew Brooke’s coffee order, the grocery store cashier that always flirted with her. But they were human, and Brooke knew nothing could ever happen, that she could never have anything with them. But something about Vanessa, human or not, makes her want to try.

“You’re right,” Brooke says to Nina. “I think me and Vanessa need to talk.”

—

The sun is shining when Brooke gets back to the apartment, and Vanessa is standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips.

“Everything okay?” Brooke asks. Vanessa obviously has something to say, and Brooke’s stomach lurches with the fear that it’s something bad. What if Vanessa wants to move out after what happened?

“I think I should be asking you that, considering you have no heartbeat,” Vanessa mutters, clenching her fists.

Brooke gulps, rubbing through her actions the past week, wondering if she did something to reveal it, because how does Vanessa know? It doesn’t make sense, and she decides to turn the tables.

“How do you know I have no heartbeat?” Brooke demands. “You would’ve had to be right against my chest to notice, and you weren’t. Unless…” Nina’s theory runs through her mind, and it’s like a fog clears right in front of Brooke. “You’re a werewolf!” Brooke yells, pointing at Vanessa. “That’s why you have advanced hearing. That’s why my cats have to stay in my room!”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vanessa tries, crossing her arms.

Brooke crosses hers too. “Then I don’t know what you’re talking about either.”

They’re in a standoff, and Brooke isn’t going to give first. She’ll stay for decades, if she has to. She narrows her eyes at Vanessa, who’s having trouble holding her expression as the seconds tick.

“Fine!” Vanessa yells. “I’m a wolf.” Her face softens suddenly, and she looks at Brooke with love in her eyes. “But I promise I’ll never hurt you, ever. I keep my mind when I change, and I go far away, just in case. I’d never put you in danger.”

Brooke’s head spins with it all. So Vanessa really is a werewolf—but from the steps she takes to protect herself and others, she’s clearly as kind and caring as she always has been, helping old ladies cross the street. And what does it matter, really, that Vanessa isn’t fully human, when Brooke isn’t human herself? And if Vanessa isn’t human, Brooke being a vampire won’t matter to her, and Brooke warms at the thought. She moves closer to Vanessa, pulls her into a hug. “I’ll never hurt you either,” she promises. “I only drink animal blood. I just didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you.”

It seems so stupid now, considering the secret Vanessa’s had this whole time, and Brooke can’t believe she didn’t notice. Maybe she really is as oblivious as Nina said. But maybe, from the love in Vanessa’s eyes, it doesn’t matter.

“It’s hard to scare a wolf.”

“I’m stupid, aren’t I?” Brooke sighs.

Vanessa shakes her head. “I’m just as stupid, don’t worry. Silky and A’keria told me you were a vampire but I didn’t want to see it. All I saw was you, and I knew I couldn’t have you because I’m—“

“A wolf,” Brooke finishes. “I didn’t see it either. I really should’ve, though, considering the mess you make when you eat.”

“Hey!”

“And how every dog in a 3-mile radius runs to you.”

“Says Miss Brooke Lynn ‘I only wear black’ Hytes!” Vanessa yells, and Brooke snorts.

“I wear gray sometimes!” Brooke protests, and Vanessa rolls her eyes.

Brooke squeezes her gently, breathing in her apple shampoo, letting it calm her. Vanessa looks up at Brooke and grins hopefully. “So can we do this, then? You and me?”

You and me, Brooke thinks, slightly daunted by how large those words seem. With Vanessa being a wolf, the risk of a human knowing her secret and being in danger is gone. Werewolves even age abnormally slow, so her and Vanessa will have lots of time together. And they already live together, already cook together every night and share their lives each day. How different can it be to make it a full relationship, let their feelings show instead of dancing around them?

“We can do this,” Brooke says.

Vanessa reaches up and kisses her, and Brooke has never felt so human.

#rprdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #kameron michaels #priyanka #silky nutmeg ganache #akeria davenport #branjie #lesbian au #supernatural au #fluff #implied smut #wondrous creature #athena2 #tw blood #concrit welcome #submission

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askmicrowavegaster · 4 years

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Microwave grapes ending summary

Gaster does jump down the elevator shaft, and uses his magic to craft bones as steps to slow his descent, and finally rip through the elevator at a basement level, far below where the elevator usually goes. Beneath Fig’s arboreum and everything.

And he does find sans, but more importantly--

He finds Ursama and Serptrine’s assistants looking over another skeleton, a little bit taller than Sans, and hidden away in a separate room. He doesn’t have Sans’ odd bone deformity from the DT overdose, but almost looks the same age all the same.

Ursama demands to know what is going on that Gaster burst down like this, clearly destroying the elevator and definitely committing a crime in doing so if nothing else, on top of his kidnapping charges.

Gaster is going to uh. Take those kidnapping charges again. He walls up the room with bones and grabs Sans to run--and Sans talks to the other little skeleton, who todders over, and holds on, too.

Unfortunately, Gaster has only really one place to go, and that is back to his apartment. Which he does. And then barricades the door. And then shouts across the wall to Po-Yo that he needs someone to deliver a letter for him. Po-Yo gets a carrier (from chapter 6, Ava) and Gaster slides the message he needs delivered and the handful of gold pieces under the door.

The letter is addressed to Asgore.

Gaster never thought he would want to call the attention of an old monster down on himself, but right now, he’s the only one higher ranked than Serptrine that Gaster can think of who might object to the discovery of creating child monsters for warfare.

In the meantime, Gaster barricades his wall and sets the kids up in the back room of his house and tells Sans to tell-- the boy’s designation is ‘PS-1’ (Prototype Skeleton 1) rather than ‘CS-1’ (Control Skeleton 1)-- to hide if anyone other than he comes in.

But PS-1 seems to understand his speech just fine. And he doesn’t know what to make of that, except that someone has been teaching PS-1 the same way he taught CS-1.

He makes them tea, and ignores anyone pounding on his door, and hopes no one pulls out magic or the royal guard. But the pounding on the door stops, and he isn’t sure how much time passes, but there’s not quite enough food in his apartment for three people. There was hardly enough for one.

He doesn’t want to leave his apartment and come back to find both skeletons gone.

He tries to pass the time by talking to them and figuring out what was going on. And this is what he learns:

PS-1 has been outside of the building before. PS-1 knows how to summon his magic. PS-1 has a rotating series of caretakers. PS-1 has seen Sans before.

PS-1 has a LV of 7.

Gaster dreams about murder.

Eventually through a lot of hand gestures and struggling conversation, he starts making a plausible scenario:

Sans has been taken from his room at night periodically. This is probably where PS-1 met him and they had a ‘comparison’ between the control subject (Sans, who is not being pushed to learn much or learn an agenda) and variable subject (PS-1, who is being trained very specifically towards a goal.) The mistakes and ‘mistakes’ Gaster makes with Sans are corrected with PS-1 and it’s led to a very strong, dangerous, and unhappy toddler in his apartment, and that toddler is getting very hungry.

The good news is that PS-1 seems to like Sans and will calm down when comforted. The bad news is that while Papyrus (Sans named him) doesn’t seem interested in ‘rebelling’ by attacking his new ‘handler,’ that doesn’t extend to furious pouting tantrums, fits, and crying.

At some point, Papyrus summons the biggest attack he has— a strange, toothy skull sort of thing. It might’ve been dog-ish if not for the horns.

Gaster recognizes someone trying to copy his dragon skull design and has to retreat for… a while. It’s sort of like setting off a firework show at a wake, maybe a ‘celebrating of life’ if you were being optimistic, and then turning around and finding your fireworks being pointed at people.

After a long while of hiding where Gaster can start to feel exhaustion weighing on him and is certain the low-magic meals are really starting to affect the kids, too, there’s a knock on the door and a familiar voice coming through.

Choris is a cat monster with a messed up ear and bad personality, but he grew up under Gaster’s parents and they went through college together. It is not an affectionate relationship by a stretch, but jealousy doesn’t mean you want them to fail, and so they’ve kicked each others’ asses through things a handful of times.

Today, Choris has shown up to say things like ‘I bet you haven’t been outside this whole time’ and ‘do you even have food in there? I bet you don’t. You haven’t even checked your mail. Get your shit together.’

Then the mail is shoved under Gaster’s doorway and the thump of several bags of groceries is heard outside the door. Once the footsteps are gone, Gaster reaches out to grab the food and hurriedly makes the kids a meal before checking the mail.

One of them is a response from the king, alerting him to an investigation and for his testimony to show up at x day. Which is almost immediately. Tomorrow, or in nine hours, even. People probably would’ve shown up to his house and broken in if he didn’t show up, holy shit, he would’ve died (but only emotionally, not literally.)

The idea of showing up in front of a Fucking Boss Monster is absolutely psyching his little traumatized brain out, but he has already kidnapped like two people barricaded himself in an apartment building for several days, so he doesn’t really have any room to say he’s paralyzed by nerves.

Still paranoid that someone is going to come swipe them when he’s not looking, Gaster gets Sans’ crutches and tells him he’s in charge of Keeping Papyrus Chill, and takes them with him (in a backpack for transport) to the castle for a Fucking Hearing.

(Once they’re there, they get out of the backpack, but he is extremely not interested in people spotting them on the street and asking questions, because he has absolutely no doubt that someone has gossiped this all the way back to Snowdin by now. )

Serptrine and, unfortunately, Ursama are there as the ‘hey we need to break the barrier’ team, and Gaster shows up with two skeletons half his height wearing stripes, holding onto both his leg and each other.

It’s pretty obvious who Asgore sides with. Everyone knows the moment he looks over at the kids.

That doesn’t mean everyone is happy. Serptrine is removed from his post as head scientist, the position is suspended, and Ursama is on leave for a bit, or at the very least is no longer Gaster’s direct superior. They also forget to really give him a new superior. Or if someone is assigned, they aren’t claiming him, and when he’s told to return to the lab for regular work, he finds no one is really looking at him or minding him much at all. People he casually spoke to seem to acknowledge him a bit, but that’s about all.

Whether they thought he was in the right to kidnap Sans and Papyrus or not, a lot of people also now view him as The Guy Who Stole Our Best Chance at the Surface.

Yes, humans are falling down, but it’s… taking a long time. And then people are in danger and killed each time. And they’re still relying on the strength of humans when they use that captured power. And what about when they get to the surface, and then there are still humans out there to deal with?

If they’d just Had Someone Who Could Handle the Barrier and the Humans Beyond It…

Haven’t you ever heard of the needs of the many? If five children die to save a city, how is that the wrong choice?

It’s easy to dream big about a project that barely got off the ground, but seemed to have some promise—especially if one of the experiments was successful and managed to end the last human’s rampage.

...but Gaster has a child at home who has just learned about jigsaw puzzles, and who takes the newspaper from him to do the word searches and junior jumbles in pen.

Then again, Gaster has an advantage in being kind, here. He’s never believed they would make it to the surface again, anyway.

As Gaster raises the two and deals with ostracization at work (which started out as just spite, but then was picked up as a hint by others, and has grown into a Habit) he uses the lack of oversight to start building small CORE experiments.

He’s doing his best with the CORE but still works a lot on it at home, which Sans watches him do when he’s not watching over Papyrus.

Because that is unfortunately quickly becoming Sans’ job. He’s still pretty young and needs crutches to stay upright for long stretches of time, but Papyrus has proven to be A Little Troubled, especially since he started talking more.

He’s fond of fighting, which is normal for a monster child, but he’s actually fighting with intent to harm, because that’s what fighting has been for him this whole time, and at LV 7 it’s very difficult to break that sort of habit. You can think of LV as a disability almost— it makes it more difficult to move through life, as you’re on constant “when all you have is a hammer” mode. They had a fun incident where upon getting very frustrated with a puzzle, Papyrus summoned bones from the floor and one of them happened to have Moderate Contact with Sans’ knee.

Sans ultimately has a monster version of hemophilia—a small cut can still cause him to bleed out. This eventually affects his magic to create KARMA, where his max ATK being small still bleeds out a little bit longer than would otherwise be expected.

It is still a very frantic and uncomfortable trip to a healer, where Papyrus ends up left alone in the house because Gaster didn’t know what to do when you had two kids, and one needed the healer, and the other had caused the wound.

Papyrus has been extremely careful about injuring Sans since then, and they’ve gotten him to somewhat release his pent up energy by doing ‘trick shots’ with his magic. Spelling things with his bones, biggest and smallest bones you can possibly make, haha hey kids what about bones that go backwards?

Whatever was in that DT was fucking potent, because Gaster was a pretty good kid with magic for his age, but Sans and Papyrus outstrip him fast enough that at some point theyre just swapping tricks with each other and doing things Gaster is pretty sure aren’t physically possible but. Whatever. Fuck it.

He’s going to do physically impossible shit too if he ever gets this geothermal shit up and running.

...it is definitely not all fun and games. Most of the time, it is the opposite. When Papyrus grows old enough to start to care more, he starts thinking a lot about morality, and LV, and finds that he can’t even remember where all of it came from, and he doesn’t know if he should want to or not. But he still likes using magic. Even though he’s careful now, he still thinks fighting is fun when he goes out and duels kids in the backlots (the monster equivalent of kittens fighting each other) .

He and Gaster eventually work out that maybe it’s okay to be happy, even when you’ve done something bad in the past. Puzzles are very popular now, even though they’re historically military traps. Magic is even more innate and expressive than a hobby, though, and over the years Papyrus can hone it to be something different. Maybe knives aren’t only used for murder. Maybe you can fight to defend, too.

Papyrus decides he’s going to be talented enough he never loses control of his magic ever , and can avoid even the most accidental, normal mistakes.

(Sans, who curls up on the couch and watches Gaster do physics on the coffee table at night, also starts talking about those sorts of things. Some childhood conversations cropping up that Gaster doesn’t know if they’re normal or if it’s because of where Sans and Papyrus come from-- or if they’re the only ones talking about this at all, even, because these talks feel like the only conversations that have mattered in his whole life sometimes. His parents were kind, and supporting, and loving, but no one has ever said ‘I’m sad’ and then followed up with it—with something other than a quip, or a joke. But he and Sans and Papyrus keep talking instead.

The people in the underground don’t like talking about the unfixable. Maybe it’s because of the puzzles, he thinks. Maybe the underground has decided that no one would ever make a problem there wasn’t some way to solve.

He doesn’t think there are ways to solve some of them. He doesn’t think there’s a way to break the barrier that will let them survive outside. He doesn’t think there’s an answer he can give Papyrus about how he can feel the LV in him surging with excitement when he fights. He doesn’t think there’s a way he can tell Sans that no one person can fix everything.

“But I guess I have to try,” he says, like a joke and a quip, and exhausted.

“you just said you couldn’t,” says Sans, who has grown out of his crutches and gained a few centimeters height.

“Yes. But if you’re in a position to do something , aren’t you obligated to try?” Gaster replies, trying his best to stay in this conversation for Sans, who is so distressed lately, and yet he is already so very tired. “If you’ve got the ability, aren’t you obligated to try?”)

(Gaster dreams about finding Serptrine, wherever he is in retirement, and murder. He also thinks about Papyrus, and how frustrated he is at his LV, and his childhood stolen away by other people’s choices, and the cessation of possibility. He thinks about Papyrus who has changed, and so has decided everyone can change if they want to, even if Gaster argues that Papyrus didn’t choose to be a killer— Gaster never chose to be an angry, lonely child. But maybe he did. Maybe he decided going with his emotions was easiest, and maybe he had to grow enough to find the will to reach for something that wasn’t his first impulse. The first impulse to violence.

He doesn’t know. He was just a kid. But he dreams of killing Serptrine, and when he wakes, he does not follow his dreams. For a crime committed only in imagination, maybe that’s the best he can do.)

Gaster talks a lot about Snowdin, when he’s feeling good. He wants to go back some day, because it was such a strange little town, and so much room, and so much more welcoming than he remembers being anywhere before. They never go back to Snowdin.

His work on the CORE gets him promoted to head scientist after several years of the position vacant and in limbo. A lot of the anger has had time to die down, though there are a few brief surges after he takes the position and starts focusing the whole of the lab towards electrical production.

Sans and Papyrus have started schooling. Sans tests well and is good at theory, and is rocketing towards college, while Papyrus gets stuck in the minutiae, and seems to be enjoying himself plenty well refusing to move up until he has gotten a perfect score on every assignment each level can throw at him. Fudging to give him a perfect score does not work, as he only trusts his own grade evaluations, and his criteria are mysterious and vague.

Sans—in a very aggressive move on his part—starts to work at the lab.

Many people have gone and been replaced since he was a child here. He wanders through halls he barely remembers. He rediscovers Fig and Jam (still very young— fish mature differently, though Jam has sprouted some legs and walks on their own sometimes) and helps some in the medical wing before Gaster Very Firmly transfers him into field work and sets him about laying the wires through the underground that will eventually carry their charge. It is an absolutely mind boggling undertaking, especially with something not actually functioning yet, but Sans finds he’s actually a pretty social guy, and laying groundwork gives him a lot of time to goof off some and talk with the locals.

Fig and Jam transfer to the CORE building site. The tubing twists and turns like roots an the central walkway is laid out like a maze. It was almost inevitable, with how more areas grew upon each other as needed, more power rods and catwalks anywhere they could go.

In what seems like a very short time, the CORE starts to tower at the deepest edge of Hotland. It reaches so deep they need elevators to reach the lower floors by the end, and yet they still have to build on the outside around those same elevators. Eventually the moving floors are installed, just to try and keep everything stable.

DT extracted from the atmosphere over the years starts to be moved to the CORE site, because as volatile as DT can be, it’s also one of the few substances that can temper materials steeped in magma, without allowing the metal to melt.

The channel from Snowdin is dug. Wires are laid. Small central generators are set up, to distribute the energy from within the communities—

And Sans gets a feeling one day. Not a bad feeling or an omen. A whim, probably, and goes to visit the CORE, knowing they’re near the end of construction and Gaster is going on three days of nauseas energy and Red Buffalo, and soon he is going to explode.

Sans finds no one on the upper floors, and no one on the walkways. Someone’s been posting motivational posters on the wall, things that started to sound a little like sentimentality and anxiety and a wild hope holding all the mess together.

When Sans descended to the lowest levels of the CORE, on the floors just above the magma, something was wrong. Different.

It was cold, for one. Or chilly, at least. The heat from the magma was always rising, but this wind had a bite of cold to it— and as Sans opened the first door to the observation deck, there was light that shouldn’t have been there. The whole platform down here was lit by magma glow, and yet, this light was shining instead.

For a moment, he thought, perhaps, it was electricity. A lightbulb. The first one to turn on, maybe.

And then he opened the door wider, and he saw oblivion.

It looked like a hole. A white hole, hovering just above Gaster’s head, in the dead center of the room.

He could see other things around that said there should be others in the room— Fig and Jam’s water cooler. Head Guy’s binder of notes. A plate of lightly smoking bagels, partly eaten.

And Gaster, just staring into oblivion as it grew slowly bigger, like a dark drain letting all the world around it just spill in.

And Sans, who was small and lightweight, and who hadn’t had a thought to brace— stumbled forward, and was caught in the current.

It did feel like water. Like the world rolled up around him, and all the air sucked away, and plunged him into a bright, white ocean.

...and like a fish, something hooked him. Caught him right in the soul.

It flung him out, bright purple, and into the elevator a room away, where he didn’t crumble, but blacked out just long enough to miss how The End, losing one mass, took another in his place.

(And for the first time in his life,

Gaster

Saw

Stars .)

#microwave grapes #gaster #sans #papyrus #undertale #ut fic

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fanficimagery · 5 years

Text

Tops Dogs

#144 "Well that's pretty rude of you to say."

Summary: When the Alexandrians are on their knees and waiting to see which one of them is to be sentenced to death by Negan, an entirely new group steps in and changes everyone's view on just who the true top dogs are out in the new world. SEASON 7 AU. Modern!100 AU.

Fear.

Pure, unadulterated fear courses through his veins and all Rick can think about is how this is all his fault. As his friends and family are forced to their knees, all he can really pray for is that his son lives and everything's done and over with soon so they can get Maggie the help she needs before it's too late.

"All right!" One of the people who’s captured them gloats. "We got a full boat. Lets meet the man." The same man walks up to a dusty RV and knocks twice on the door.

The seconds seem to stretch on as they wait, many of Rick's group shivering in either fear or pain. He knows now that they're in way over their head, that Gregory had led them to believe they actually had a chance against Negan. But boy were they wrong.

So, so wrong.

The RV door creaks open and a man steps out. It's too dark to really see him, but Rick can make out that the man is gripping a bat in hand while letting it lean against his shoulder. "Pissing our pants yet?" He asks. No one utters a word and the man starts walking forward into the light. Fitted jeans, a black leather jacket, and a red scarf wrapping around his neck is what makes up the man that supposedly everyone fears. "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close." He walks towards Eugene, smiling all the while and starts walking down the line of kneeling individuals. "Yep. It's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

Lexa's leaning against the door to the cafeteria, watching on as her people are served up their rations for dinner. It's been a peaceful week so far, so it's not really a surprise when one of her best scavengers comes up to her with news.

"Negan's men are hunting," Octavia murmurs quietly as she sidles up to Lexa's side. She makes sure to keep her gaze straight ahead, all weapons sheathed and arms at ease at her sides. "They've crossed the perimeter into our territory and appear to be circling a smaller group from the Alexandria community."

Lexa's jaw clenches, but makes no move to look at the younger girl. "Is Negan with them?"

"We're not sure, but that ugly RV of his was spotted driving around. It's parked now. In our territory as well."

Lexa finally glances at the younger girl, taking in her coal smeared eyes and leather jacket adorned with buckles and straps. Her hair is pulled back in what everyone started to call grounder!fashion, the sides braided back to a certain point and then tied off to hang loosely down her back. "Give me five minutes. Go and gather a group, and then tell Indra she's in charge while I'm away. We're going to crash a party."

Octavia can only grin in response, she tersely nodding once while rushing off to do what she was told.

In her room, Lexa merely pulls on a jacket over her shirt since the rest of her attire is appropriate for an outing. Then above the jacket, she pulls on a one-shoulder shoulder pad that straps across her chest and then clasps a red sash from the right side of her chest to droop down to her left hip. Her hair is already pulled back and after sheathing a sword at the right side of her hip, she paints coal across her eyes and then smears a few lines down her cheeks. A little metal, gear-like decal is placed between her brows and she's ready- ready to break up Negan's little hunting party and remind the man that he's not all he tries to be.

- X - X - X -

Hidden in the shadows with half her fighters hidden high up in the trees, Lexa watches on in disgust as an utterly exhausted group of men and women, and what appears to be one teenager, are forced to their knees in a semi-circle. Negan's men are crowded behind the group's back, all armed with long rifles and smaller handguns holstered at their waists, and holding either pipes or crowbars. Vehicles circle the entirety of the group, their headlights turned on and spotlighting the group from Alexandria.

Negan does make his grand entrance, complete in his leather jacket, red scarf and barbed wire wrapped bat, he ranting on and on about how he does not appreciate Rick killing his people or that Rick and his people killed more of Negan's people when Negan sent in more men to kill Rick's people for killing his people. It's all one big cluster-fuck and Lexa nearly feels bad for the people that earned Negan's ire.

One woman in Rick's group looks to be in dire need of help and it grates on Lexa's nerves when Negan promises that they're going to regret crossing him in a few minutes. She knows how the man works, knows how cowardly he truly is, but they've set their borders on their own claimed territory and stayed off each other's toes.

Until now, that is.

Not only has Negan trespassed, but he's trespassed with the intent to kill. And while Lexa does not know a single face in Rick's group, she's not about to sit back and let Negan slaughter someone in her own backyard.

Negan, of course, demands that Rick and his people give him their shit. This is another thing that grates on her nerves, this self-proclaimed bad ass scavenging from other communities by threatening to kill them if they don't cough up what they fought for. For being a very capable man with very capable men and women at his compound, they choose to take food and other necessary items from groups who worked hard to get it themselves, and that is not okay with Lexa. It's cowardly and pathetic, and she's nearly salivating at the idea of putting the man in his place in front of his current victims.

"I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go," Negan says. "I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you?"

Rick violently shivers, from both the cooling sweat on his skin and the fear gripping his entire being as he listens to what their lives are going to be like now.

"But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them," Negan seethes. "More than I'm comfortable with. And for that, for that you're gonna pay." He pauses in his overly long speech and Rick bristles as he hears Maggie whimper. He looks down the line to Daryl and watches as his brother bravely glares up at the one threatening them. "So now... I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you," Negan says as if it were no big deal to take a life.

And if the stories were to be believed, which they are, then Negan was the ultimate big bad and what he's just said was no bluff.

The gathered Alexandrian's can only watch on as the man taunts them, beaten and utterly exhausted, a bat wrapped with barbed wire leaning against his shoulder as Negan slowly paces before them.

Crickets continue chirp, twigs snap, and leaves rustle, but no one seems to pay it any attention. Negan continues to take his time to size up Rick and his people, and then..

"I'm sorry, but what was that?" A new voice, feminine from the sounds of it, asks. Rick and a few of his people's gazes are immediately drawn to the decent sized group that's crept up on them, a woman with war paint across her eyes and apparently dressed for a battle of sorts now standing just to the left of Negan’s RV. Even the group of men behind her are dressed similar, some of their faces painted as an intimidation tactic. "Who are you going to beat the holy hell out of?"

Negan freezes for a brief second, anger suddenly blazing in his eyes as his grip tightens around his bat. A false smile stretches from ear to ear as he whirls around. "Lexa, my girl, how are you on this wondrous night?"

"Cut the shit, Negan," she says. "You're in my territory and you know how I feel about you and your little merry band of cowards playing this bullshit game."

Negan's men all bristle, muttering swear words as the one Negan called Lexa smirks, and Negan narrows his eyes in anger. “Well that’s pretty rude of you to say.”

Several guns can be heard being cocked, but all Lexa has to do is whistle and then another group- this one at least thirty or so large- is stepping forward from the shadows on the other side of the RV. The female leading the second group is all swagger and nonchalance, and the men behind her are covered in furs, paint and masks which makes them at least 10X scarier than Negan and his own men.

"You and I already know how this is going to end, Negan. You're in my territory now and my people greatly outnumber you and yours." He scoffs at Lexa's words, eyeing those standing with her. Even to Rick's gaze Negan's group still looks just a little bit larger, but Lexa whistles again and Negan's back to scowling. Because not only does Lexa have men and women on the ground, but if the little fires suddenly dotting up high in the trees is anything to go by, then she also has people waiting to strike from up high. "Leave now," she threatens, "or I'll drive my sword through your heart and string up your corpse as a warning to those left at the Sanctuary."

Negan's lip curls, but as the seconds slowly tick by he eventually glances over his shoulder and nods tersely to his men. Surprisingly, the wall of men at Rick and his people's backs step away, drop the weapons they had stripped from the Alexandrians, and start climbing back into and onto their modes of transportation. Then glancing back at Lexa, Negan mockingly curtsies. "As you wish, Commander."

Negan shoulders his bat once more and then casts a glare at Rick. "Remember. You work for me now."

Rick gulps, but it's Lexa who pipes up. "Actually, they don't. If you want food, clothing, furniture and medicine, then why don't you put on your big boy pants and fetch it yourself like the rest of us."

"You're skating on thin ice, girl," he chuckles darkly while slowly turning back towards her. "They owe me. You clearly missed my speech about the crimes they've committed against me and since I'm not bashin' in any skulls tonight.." He trails off, shrugging.

"Oh, no. I heard," she assures him. "I just don't care. Alexandria is neutral ground, but since you brought your hunting party into my lands, I'm stepping in now. You will leave them alone or you'll deal with the Coalition."

Negan's lips twist into a snarl as his face darkens. "This isn't over."

"I didn't expect it to be."

As Negan barks at his men to roll out, he stomps back towards his RV and slams the door behind him. It takes a couple of minutes for the RV, trucks and motorcycles to finally leave the woods, but they eventually do and everyone just kind of breathes in relief. But having been left with a far larger and more intimidating group, Rick remains on his knees, watching cautiously as Lexa starts to make her way towards them.

Glenn scrambles over to Maggie who's looking far worse than she did earlier, and Rick mentally scolds him for the action because he's not sure how this new group is going to react to them.

"I am not a monster nor royalty," Lexa says calmly with a small grin. "You can get off your knees now." She holds a hand out to him and Rick hesitantly takes it as she pulls him to his feet. She tries to help up Sasha, but the dark skinned woman refuses and climbs up on her own.

Lexa's attention then turns to Maggie and Glenn huddled on the forest ground, he mumbling soothing words in her ear. Rick watches as the woman frowns and crouches in front of them. Abraham, the surly redhead, tries to intervene, but Rick shakes his head at his friend. "What's the problem?" Lexa asks.

Glenn glances at her, worry glinting in his eyes. "S-she's pregnant," he blurts, "and in an extreme amount of pain. We don't know what's wrong."

Lexa reaches forward and places a hand on Maggie's damp forehead, she shushing and cooing when Maggie tries to pull away. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Maggie continues to whimper and tremble, and Lexa's frown deepens. "She needs immediate attention."

Rick clears his throat as his group gathers around, casting cautionary glances towards Lexa's people still lingering by the treeline. "We were on our way to Hilltop when Negan's men started to corral us here. Hilltop has a doctor there that's helped Maggie before."

"I know the community in which you speak of," she tells him. "Unfortunately, if you wish to save the baby, she won't make it as far as Hilltop."

Glenn looks absolutely torn and terrified as Maggie starts to sob, he looking up at Lexa. "Please help us. I'll do- I'll do anything."

Rick's gut clenches at the obvious desperation, but is quite surprised to see Lexa nod. "Polis, our community, is a lot closer. You all," she says, glancing briefly at everyone lingering around, "look like you need some aide in one form or another." Then glancing back at Glenn, she says, "If you will permit it, one of my men will carry her. We are not injured nor are we exhausted, so there's little to no chance of us jostling her too much or putting her in further pain."

"Y-yeah. That's fine." He glances down at Maggie, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "You hear that, Maggie? We're gonna get you some help, but they're going to have to carry you. It's going to be alright."

She weakly nods and mumbles out a thank you between cries, and then Lexa's standing and facing her people. "Lincoln. We're in need of your strength." A dark skinned man steps forward from behind the only other woman, at least Rick thinks there's only two women since everyone else is covered up, his clothing covered in mud as two dark streaks of war paint are painted down over his eyes from his forehead to his cheeks. Once he's standing next to Lexa, she gestures downward and says, "This is Maggie. She's with child and needs immediate attention from our home."

Lincoln nods before crouching down, but doesn't make a move towards Maggie since Glenn's staring at him in awe and/or fear. "Don't worry," Lexa grins. "Lincoln's a gentle giant. Your lady friend will be perfectly safe with him."

"S-she's my wife," Glenn automatically corrects, he then hesitantly and cautiously handing Maggie over to Lincoln. The painted man gets her situated fairly easy in his arms, he standing and then turning to stride back towards his people.

"Come," Lexa tells them. "To Polis we go."

#fanficimagery #blurred lines #crossover #the walking dead #twd #the 100 #lexa kom trikru #lexa #octavia blake #negan #rick grimes #glenn rhee #lincoln #heda lexa #commander lexa

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lashtoncurls · 5 years

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I love you, forever and always(CH)

Summary: Calum reading his vows

Words: 1.2K

Warnings: None, pure fluff

A/N: italics are flashbacks. This is for @astrosashton because she was an angel and helped me get my theme working last night. I love you Skyler!

Calum stood proud at the altar as the piano began to play, his three brothers and his dad standing by him. His eyes began to water as he caught sight of you in the ivory white dress that you wore. The smile never left his lips as you made it to him and he took your hands in his.

“You look beautiful, as always.”

“Not too bad yourself.” You laughed as he pecked your cheek and laughed too. The ceremony began as usual, but only different as you two had written vows for each other.

“Calum, go ahead.” He nodded and pulled out a crumpled note from his pocket.

“Y/N, from the day we met I knew that there was something about you. Even though you did tell me to fuck off, I knew that you would be my one person.” Everyone laughed as you recalled that day.

‘Y/N! The barista called out to you as he sat your coffee next to the others there, rushing back to get the other orders. After getting through the line of people in front you grabbed it and tried to run out the door. Ten minutes is all you had left to get to work. Ten minutes in an over crowded city with a faulty public transportation system.

“Oh fuck!” A voice called out as you felt the cold liquid on your shirt and saw the stain that had formed on your white shirt “Shit, I’m so sorry. Duke, come on!” You looked up at him as he picked his dog up from the ground, the cause of your trip. He held his hand out to you, but you ignored it. Ten minutes would now turn into an hour because you had to go back home and change.

“Has anyone told you that your dog needs to be on a leash?” There was no reason to be nice to him, that’s what your brain told you, but the frown on his face made you want to change your mind. His eyes were a deep brown and his brown hair in curls had you staring as he held his hand out again.

“Sorry my dog was in your way.” He helped you up as Duke wiggle in his arms from the position he was in. You nodded a brief thanks and walked away from him, trying your best to hide the big stain that made your black bra noticeable.’

“There was no way that I was going to see you again, but there was something about you. So I began to frequent the coffee shop some more, and making sure that duke was always on his leash. Days passed before I saw you again, this time you had a smile on your face and it made me want to talk to you. I didn’t think that you’d actually accept coffee from me, but you did. And I was so happy. After that it was easy with you, or so I thought. Our love was something that I’d never experienced with anyone else. Conversation was easy and we got along so well. My friends and family loved you you right away. We were happy, but even through the happiness there were rough times.”

“Calum, did you pick up food for Duke? Or the list of groceries I left?” You walked through the apartment as the pup barked and whined at your feet. Calum sat on the stool by the island, his bass in his hands as the headphones he wore were plugged into the laptop in front of him.

“Uh, no sorry babe. I have to get back to work soon.” You sighed and nodded as you grabbed your stuff and put your shoes on by the door.

“Can you at least help me get dinner started please? Boil the pasta. And take Duke for a walk.” You closed the door and made your way to the store. But the thought of how hard things were never left your mind. When Calum was on tour, it was really hard because you missed him a lot, and your job didn’t quite allow you to miss on extended periods of time to travel with him. The time he came home was sometimes short and others were spent with him at the studio or promo. Others were spent with friends, so things between you guys hadn’t been the same in months, the only thing being the love you both had for each other. Your trip to the store was quick, grabbing everything you needed and heading back home. It had been a long day already, and all you wanted was to be him and cuddled on the couch. But when you returned home and found Calum in the same spot, the anger boiled in you as you placed everything on the island, accidentally stepping on the puddle of pee that belonged to Duke.

“Fucking hell Calum.” You screamed and moved the headphones from his ears, his hands moving to geab his bass tighter before putting it on the island by his computer.

With a scoff, you grabbed the mop and cleaned the mess then went to the living room to open the back door. Duke ran out and you closed it, Calum standing in front of you.

“I asked you for a simple fucking favor, Calum. He’s your dog primarily. Not mine. And I get it, you have to go back to work. But you’ve been ignoring me for months Cal. Anytime I ask to spend time together you have to be at the studio, or you have plans made with anyone but me. I miss you enough when you’re on tour. Why are you making me miss you when I have you in the same house?” The tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he watched you, his eyes showing anger.

“Are you upset about my job?! I can’t just fucking be home and not do anything! This is my life, how I earn my money. That’s how we have this house and everything else I’ve given you!” His words stung, as you swore that you’d never let a man throw what he had given you in your face. When he noticed the sadness in your eyes, his features softened and he wrapped his arms around you.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the easie st. But no one said love would be easy. Things aren’t the same anymore, but I do love you the same.”

“My anger gets the best of me sometimes, and I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t know how to to tell you that I miss you. Sometimes it’s hard for me to get out of tour mode and to be here, to be present. But know that I will always love you with my whole heart. You have put up with me and for that I thank you. My heart belongs to you. It has from the first day that we met. From the time that I saw your eyes and how they shone bright. I love you, forever and always.” His vows ended with you hugging him tightly as everyone was tearing up. Never had you expected to fall in love with someone like this, let alone have the love you did.

Tags @slimthicccal @astrosashton @irwinkitten @lashtonchesthair @roselukes @angelbbycal @heaven-high-water @lukesflaredpants @boytoynamedcalum @norawashere @xxfuckmecalumxx @cosmocalum @neptunight @hoe4hemmo @calumhampton

#calum hood #calum hood imagines #calum hood blurbs #5sos #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer blurbs #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin blurbs #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagines #michael cliffors blurbs #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford

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asterinjapan · 5 years

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At last I see the (sun) light

Good – morning this time!

Yeah, as predicted, yesterday ran very late, so I decided to leave writing my report for the next day and just go to bed already, haha. I’m starting my report in the morning while I’m trying to think of plans for today, so I might just drop the report and finish it later, but here we go – Tokyo Disneyland!

Pictures will be up later today!

It’s definitely not my first time to Tokyo Disneyland, although usually I take the subway to get there. Since I have my JR pass still active and I haven’t been using it much in Tokyo, I refused to take a mode of transportation I had to pay for, so I first went to Tokyo station with the Yamanote line. From there, it’s 15 minutes with the Keiyo line, but that’s all the way at the other end at the station, so you can seriously add another 15 minutes to the travel time. I wasn’t exaggerating when I called Tokyo station a separate city!

The Yamanote line came to an abrupt halt halfway through as the emergency brake had been activated, but it must be a false alarm or otherwise easily solved issue, as we continued a couple of minutes later. It was indeed quite the walk to the Keiyo line, but they put up signs every five steps, so at least it was a very easy road to follow.

And then Maihama station! The weather had turned out to be incredibly nice today, with blue skies so bright I could easily see the Skytree and – was that the snowy top of Mount Fuji? It sure was! That’s how clear the skies were, haha.

Anyway, the walk from the station was a bit different. I know they’re working on a new area inside the park, but apparently they’re also doing extensive redevelopments, because the main entrance was under covers and there were cranes surrounding the castle. After the entrance, the first Halloween decorations came in sight, and part of the fun: watching everyone’s costumes! It’s only during Halloween season that you’re allowed to dress up in Tokyo Disneyland as an adult, and lots of people make use of that opportunity. Some costumes are so good I had to blink and stare to realize they were not the official cast members (which is, incidentally, why it’s not allowed to dress up the rest of the year – you might confuse the kids). Also, it makes for fun situations, like Alice standing in line for lunch with the Queen of Hearts or Belle posing with the park version of Gaston while 5 other princesses watch with interest, haha.

I was inside a little after opening, so I lingered around to wait for the first parade: the Spooky Boo Halloween parade! It’s held twice over the day and thus a short one, but I love Halloween, so I was curious to see what they’d pulled. The parade mostly features the best known characters: Mickey and his friends. They taught us a dance and halfway through, the parade came to a halt for a dance performance. The dancing cast members had gorgeous costumes! They were really into it too, so that was a joy to watch, and I’m kinda sad I couldn’t get a good full view of them on my camera from where I was standing to show you guys, only glimpses in between people’s heads.

I was in for something sweet now, so I wandered into Fantasyland for what I thought was a churro, but ended up being a tipo torta, which – I’m not entirely sure what it is, but it was delicious! I got it in purple sweet potato flavor, because I felt obliged after Okinawa haha, and purple is a Halloween color here, so the sweet potato from Okinawa gets used liberally this time of the year.

I had chosen the Haunted Mansion as my appropriate first ride of today, because duh, Halloween. The wait was 40 minutes when I joined, which was okay if it weren’t for the hot sun, so I was glad to make it inside for the Nightmare before Christmas version of this ride. I really love it a lot – I think it was summer 2017 that I last saw the ride in its original form, oops.

After that, I went back inside again for another favorite ride: Mickey’s Philharmagic Orchestra. There was a small wait here, and a ton of kids who got really into the screening (it’s 4D, so the 3D effects are heavy and you get sprayed with water and scented air in between), so that was kinda cute, haha. They were all making grabby hands at the apple pie and Ariel’s gems.

Once outside, I stumbled upon some character meet and greets in Fantasyland, and then right into the Dreaming Up parade. It’s a lovely one, but I’ve seen it twice now fairly recently, so I wasn’t going to wait on the floor for it. Didn’t have to! I got an okay spot for the visually most impressive floats, so that was a nice little coincidence, haha.

Next up was Pirates of the Caribbean, which I love, but the drop is the scariest thing I do in Disneyland, so I wasn’t super pleased about being put in the front row, haha. I lived, but it took a while for my pulse to calm down. (I’m big on the thrill rides, you can tell.) It’s still super fun, and outside was a band of pirates playing! I think they were kind of trying to spread the crowds today, as it was probably a bit busier than initially expected due to the weather and a couple of rides that tend to draw crowds were closed for today.

After some lunch, wandering around for the views and some window shopping, I settled down next to Snow White’s wishing well to wait for round two of the Spooky Boo parade. About ten Snow Whites and other princesses showed up to take pictures by the well, haha. Sadly, the parade only made a quick round here without dancing in between, but I did get much better shots of the floats now!

And it wasn’t that bad, because I had wisely gotten a fast pass for Haunted Mansion at the same time as the parade, so now I didn’t have to rush as the parade was over quite quickly. I didn’t see the Haunted Mansion wait go down to under my 40 minutes anymore, so that fast pass had been a good call. (I think they’re connected to your ticket now, because I had to scan my entrance ticket and not the fast pass receipt to get in line.)

After that, the iconic ride: It’s a Small World! It’s still fun, and I think I’m mostly past my trauma over the song now, haha. I couldn’t help wanting to take pictures here and there, even though I have a ton already. Spotting the recently added Disney characters is quite fun.

It was getting dark quickly now, and I noticed I was getting a bit bumped out. I kept getting lost in the dark and with the covered parts of the park, so I eventually told myself to just get something sweet and then decide whether I was going to call it an uncharacteristically early day.

As it turned out I just needed food, haha. A hot dog for lunch wasn’t sufficient to get me through the complete afternoon, who knew! I got some ice coffee for the caffeine rush (bad, I know, but hey), bought a little gift for a friend, and was just in time to see the electrical parade Dreamlights. This one changed a little a couple of years ago, but overall it’s still the same one as the one I saw in 2010. It’s still fun, even though the song is even catchier than It’s a small world, haha. They added a tiny something that I spotted right away: Alice was riding a giant teacup on top of the Cheshire cat, rather than the cat’s back proper. I was a bit further away this time, so I got some nice shots of the full floats. I eh, have plenty of close-ups from earlier years, haha.

I then finally made the decision to just get the new Tangled popcorn bucket, which is shaped like the floating lantern from the movie with a little Pascal the chameleon to sit on your shoulder on the strap. There’s a light inside, so that makes for lovely sights in the evening, although the amount of popcorn (caramel flavor at this stand) that came with it was – worrying, haha. I did manage to finish it all though, despite not being the biggest popcorn eater, but whoa. (You can get the bucket separately from the popcorn so you won’t have to clean it, but the popcorn separately means you get two cartons of them, since that’s how much can fit into the bucket.)

Newly invigorated, I decided to get back to attractions. I went into the Enchanted Tiki room first as it was nearby and I love the songs and Stitch. It’s very much a kids attraction and I very much don’t care, haha. If anything, the line is non-existent here and you just have to wait for the next performance to begin.

I then found the ball game stand, which I suck at, but that’s okay, because you get to pick a really nice exclusive pin if you lose, so I got the Minnie one, haha. Making my way back to Fantasyland from there, I hopped into Philharmagic again, the line gone and just having to wait for the next performance to start. There’s a merit in staying late, haha. I rushed to Peter Pan next, where the wait was down to 15 minutes. It’s a fun ride, but it’s over so fast that I can’t justify standing in line for 50 minutes for it.

Finally, with ten minutes until park closure to go, I went to Pooh’s Hunny Hunt – and they closed the line after me, oops. Two more ladies came rushing in via the fastpass entrance, but that was it. Pooh’s Hunny Hunt is a fun and unique ride, but since I’m not a big fan of Pooh bear, I refuse to wait for him for 70+ minutes, haha. This worked, even though it was still about 10 minutes. Around park closure! Wow.

There were still surprisingly many people in the park as I made my way to the exit, some even still on the way into the park. I wonder at what time they can actually close the gates… Hopefully the park members work in shifts, yikes.

After a quick last look in the Bon Voyage store just outside the park I made my way to the station, where I had to wait for the next Keiyo line train as this one was… very full. At 10:30 PM. Ah, the Disney magic, haha. (The people from Disneysea also gather at this station.) Thankfully that got me a front row place in line for the next train, so I could sit (!) until the terminal station of Tokyo, where it was another brisk walk to the Yamanote line and finally, back to my hotel.

So here I am now. I took a shower last night and fell asleep almost right away. Didn’t sleep through my alarm at least, but I did put it on snooze and only got up as late as possible to still eat breakfast at the hotel here, haha.

Today should be a little calmer. I might do some karaoke and find a café I read about opening some months ago, but other than that, I don’t really have plans. Sadly, the weather is getting bad again starting tonight, thanks to yet another typhoon making rounds. It should be gone by the time my return flight is scheduled, though.

Yikes, time flies. It’s Thursday and I’m flying back on Monday! Ack. Sadly I don’t think many of my Tokyo side tips can go through, if any. A bit of a waste of my JR pass, but it’s long since paid itself back and hey, I will still use it for the Narita Express to the airport if nothing else. I don’t want to over-exert myself or put myself into dangerous situations, so I might just stick to Tokyo until the last day (although Saturday should be alright weather wise, at least less rainy, but again, dangerous situations). And hey, I haven’t gone back to just Tokyo on 2 separate trips because I hate it here, haha. Although with all the things I’ve seen around here, I might have to cash in on that extra luggage… After that huge book I found the other day, I’m already nearing my limit, and the cost of overweight luggage is as much as an extra bag at Don Quijote would cost, so uh. I can still think about it until 24 hours before the flight, so that’s what I will do, haha.

Time to head out. Photos coming up soon, see you later!

#report #japan 2019 #report: japan 2019 #places: tokyo disneyland

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flatstarcarcosa · 5 years

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extremely detailed character meme (Van, ships: right on target and far from any road)

found this on my dash and i thought i’d fill it in! under a cut b/c it is REALLY detailed! some of the questions don’t apply for me, and i tried to make it easy to tell which ship i’m referring too b/c some things are different here and there

Character Chart Character’s full name: Van (pronounced vaughn, rhymes with fawn) Miller Reason or meaning of name: None Character’s nickname: None, aside from petnames Reason for nickname: None Birth date: for ship: right on target: 10/03/1990 for ship: far from any road: 10/03/1970 Physical appearance Age: ship: right on target: 29\ ship: far from any road: 24 in 95, 30 in 02, 40 in 2012 How old do they appear: Perpetually babyfaced. So about 15 or so until they hit their mid 30′s Weight: honestly i don’t know Height: 5′2 (look what’s the point of a self insert if i can’t achieve my dream of being at least five foot tall all right) Body build: stronk. Shape of face: square ish? Eye color: grey Glasses or contacts: glasses, doesn’t like them unless they’re sunglasses though, prefers to squint and look like a hamster Skin tone: pale/sickly at times, tan if they’ve been in the sun, but still very white Distinguishing marks: pointy canines Predominant features: nothing really sticks out, van’s physical features are pretty normal Hair color: naturally a muted blonde. prone to dying it a bright yellow in 95 and 02 for ship: far from any road. dyed black for ship: right on target Type of hair: straight Hairstyle: fluffy, over hair sprayed mullet ponytail thing for ‘95, ‘02 has a less hair band style looking thing but still pretty punky, ‘12 Van has what i call the ‘business undercut’ (far from any road). also just a normal, kind of spiky undercut for (right on target) Voice: i dont know how to answer this? Overall attractiveness: this is just a bad question Physical disabilities: I’m gonna break this one down because one thing i love about my self inserts is modifying my own, actual disabilities a bit so: far from any road: van has kidney and bladder problems that get progressively worse as time goes on, and undiagnosed celiac disease. because of a severe motorcycle accident in ‘89 they also have a weak/bum leg that is prone at times to flaring up with pain and instability with no warning. after a second motorcycle accident in ‘95, these things get a lot worse. by the time ‘12 rolls around van resigns themself to having traded in their bike years earlier for an actual car and using a cane. they’re not happy about it. right on target: same kidney/bladder/digestive issues. bum leg is a side effect of general chronic pain caused by it. their leg has a habit of still going out at random, and despite needing a cane sometimes they refuse to use it. lester always keep an eye out in case their leg is about to collapse under them. he’s grabbed them many times to keep them from hitting the ground. Usual fashion of dress: dark, leather, jeans, punky looking things. Favorite outfit: leather jacket, motorcycle boots even if they’re not riding, jeans. Jewelry or accessories: big clunky silver rings. right on target!van has a solid black metal band on their left thumb that matches one lester has.

Personality Good personality traits: tries to be kind, tries to make things better for others at the expense of themself, funny, loves animals, Bad personality traits: addiction problems, quick temper, far from any road!van likes to hustle people at bars and get into bar fights but usually only if they’ve been provoked Mood character is most often in: it cycles a lot, so Sense of humor: good? this is a vague question Character’s greatest joy in life: photography, making people laugh, alone time Character’s greatest fear: death, being in poverty again/being stuck in poverty, Why? being poor is Not Fun What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? far from any road: something happening to rust. they don’t realize at it first but he’s become their grounding agent, and without him there to balance them out they would not fare well. right on target: lester’s brief stint of being fucking dead and murdered on TV wasn’t a good time. Character is most at ease when: it’s cold and rainy out and they have an excuse to stay in bed and snooze. Most ill at ease when: surrounded by too many people and too many noises. Enraged when: hhhhhhhhhhhhh often? the worst they get is in ‘95 when marty makes a few jabs at their trauma and they beat him bloody before rust pulls them off him. Depressed or sad when: also often, sometimes for no reason. thats kind of what clinical depression is. Priorities: money. taking care of themself with it in order to be able to help others. Life philosophy: sometimes you don’t have to be great, you can just be okay. If granted one wish, it would be: ability to change gender/sex characteristics at will. Why? it’s the transgenderism (i use that word satirically and as a joke, for those that don’t know that’s a te]]]rf dogwhistle in other situations, a lot of trans people have taken it back) Character’s soft spot: their pets and the fact that being a raging asshole is a front they have to actively work at. Is this soft spot obvious to others? depends on the person. to rust? yes. to lester? not as much. Greatest strength: refusal to give up. Greatest vulnerability or weakness: raging asshole disease and the addiction issues. Biggest regret: developing addiction issues. Minor regret: it also cycles like their moods. Biggest accomplishment: far from any road: got a bachelor’s degree in sociology before deciding to get into journalism. right on target: ??? van doesn’t feel accomplished. lester is trying to encourage them at going to college but he’s not very good at it. Minor accomplishment: “not fucking dead yet, assholes” Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: far from any road: van was never able to find out who it was in the south texas area that was targeting members of the LGBT community, that’s the whole reason they ended up with the crusaders and met rust, they had reason to believe it was someone connected to the gang. despite help from rust, the investigation went nowhere and all they have is a half finished expose. right on target: they didn’t try to leave an abusive situation sooner. Why? see above Character’s darkest secret: i? don’t know?? Does anyone else know? N/A Goals Drives and motivations: just live the best they can Immediate goals: not die Long term goals: not die, perhaps be less of an alcoholic How the character plans to accomplish these goals: slowly? How other characters will be affected: they help. Past Hometown: --- Type of childhood: traumatic Pets: dogs, frogs, turtles, hamsters First memory: ---- Most important childhood memory: ---- Why: ------ Childhood hero:------ Dream job: ------ Education: bachelor’s degree for far from any road, GED for right on target Religion: atheistic but understanding and accepting of others Finances: far from any road: not fucking superb, hence the side hustles. right on target: poor Present Current location: far from any road: Louisiana, i don’t remember TD ever stating where at aside from in the sticks right on target: NYC Currently living with: rust or lester Pets: far from any road is various pets at various times, right on target is initially just the doggo. Religion: still the same Occupation: hustler slash freelance journalist for far from any road, unemployed for right on target Finances: better by 2012 (far from any road) thanks to a boring but stable office job, and for right on target they have lester’s money now and even lester doesn’t know how much he has aside from “a lot”. Family Mother: ------- Relationship with her: nonexistent Father: Bastard Sr. Relationship with him: nonexistent. Siblings: sister, older Relationship with them: non existent Spouse: rust/lester Relationship with him/her: i mean in both settings it’s a long term (rust right at around 20 years if you count their time in the crusaders initially, lester about 7 years) so, good if complicated at times Children: no Relationship with them: none Other important family members: none Favorites Color: purple, green, black Least favorite color: red Music: prog rock Food: pizza, waffles, hash browns, cereal Literature: lots! really, its across all genres Form of entertainment: viddy gaems Expressions: what? Mode of transportation: motorcycle or car Most prized possession: also motorcycle or car Habits Hobbies: viddy gaemz, photography, sketch comedy Plays a musical instrument? nah Plays a sport? is pool a sport? How he/she would spend a rainy day: cozy in bed, s***ing some d*** Spending habits: they are fucking cheap as fuck whether they have money or not Smokes: yes, they say they’re planning to quit but [thor voice] is he though Drinks: yes, it’s the alcoholism Other drugs: pills mostly. to be fair they do HAVE to have a lot of meds because of chronic illness but they do love them some benzos What does he/she do too much of? drinks, sleeps, smokes What does he/she do too little of? healthy food, exercise Extremely skilled at: hustling. that works in both setting because with rust they learned it themself, with lester he taught them. also, writing. Extremely unskilled at: art, socialising with people Nervous tics: knuckle cracking, Usual body posture: crosses arms a lot Mannerisms: ???? Peculiarities: ????? Traits Optimist or pessimist? pessimist Introvert or extrovert? introvert Daredevil or cautious? cautious Logical or emotional? both actually, it’s not fun Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? disorderly and messy, clashes with rust’s methodical and neat Prefers working or relaxing? relaxing Confident or unsure of himself/herself? switches rapidly between both Animal lover? yes Self-perception How he/she feels about himself/herself: bad. One word the character would use to describe self: asshole One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: no good alcoholic junkie with a shitty temper, a shittier outlook and few skills or worth to bring to the table except a raging selfish streak What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? sense of humor What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? temper What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? thicc What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? crippled How does the character think others perceive him/her: badly, What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: alcoholism Relationships with others Opinion of other people in general: they try to be cordial, unless they’re in traffic, in which case it’s fuck you and your fucking mother you stupid fucking motherfucker Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? yes Person character most hates: [redacted] Best friend(s): @dadbodsandbots is p much hanging out somewhere in every setting Love interest(s): rust and lester Person character goes to for advice: they don’t, that requires enough vulnerability to admit there’s a problem Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: also rust and lester Person character feels shy or awkward around: van is very uncomfortable around marty most of the time, he reminds them of their father. it smooths out as time goes on, but still. also when lester was stuck with the DA, they didn’t like daken at first Person character openly admires: ehh? Person character secretly admires: ehh? Most important person in character’s life before story starts: ehh? After story starts: ehh?

found here

#van.me #ship: far from any road #ship: right on target #lms if read?????

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themodestwoman · 5 years

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D&D (Mis)Adventures!!! (Christmas Edition)

We (mother, father DM, sister, me) sit down for this one day session. We’re told that we are elves having to go meet Santa. Why? Because we’ve made the naughty list!

Khaladriel (the walking collateral damage, sometimes called collateral sometimes called calamity by those who know her) works for the Christmas cheer sector of the pole. She monitors lists, communicates with all kinds of living creatures, and tries to explain the true meaning of Christmas beyond just presents and decorations. She returns to the message of the baby Jesus and about entering into people’s lives. She is also a maaaaaajor foodie. She is never without food or Christmas spirit glitter bombs that have general magic properties. See first two pictures and elf on left.

Bob (the builder, who works for the toy development section) is an old, pudgy, cynical elf. He believes Santa is enslaving elves and has a general grouchy disposition. He carries tinkering tools (typically a handsaw and mallet), sling with a flask of spiked nog. He has a proclivity for always creating guns as toys. Legitimate guns. He is constantly moved to gentler and gentler toy assignments while Santa and the elves are constantly surprised by how he manages to work guns into his projects. Pictured in middle.

Tinsel (the decorator) is a ditsy blonde elf who wants to sing Christmas songs and decorate. She is never without garland and other decorations. She is pictured on the right, wrapped in garland, Christmas lights, and carrying mistletoe.

To get on the naughty list, Bob had built a snow shooter for decorating houses with. He is attempting to help Tinsel with her job. Khaladriel, walking by innocently with her bag of marshmallows, gets pulled aside. They load the gun with marshmallow and cover the town with the sticky food, landing then in Santa’s office.

Santa explains that with 12 days to Christmas, they have to do some work to get off the naughty list (not onto the nice list though). Three tasks. He gives them a magic whistle to blow when they finish so they can return. We have one rule: don’t be naughty.

First, to get mistletoe. The three get thrown into a portal to go get the plant. Due to a calamity check, Khaladriel crashes into Bob upon landing. They are near an orchard and a house. They decide initially to go to the orchard, but a dog comes running after them. While they could climb a tree by climbing on each other, when Tinsel and Bob run Khaladriel stays behind to greet the puppy, looking for a stick to play fetch with it. It picks her up and runs off to deposit her in its house full of bones. She uses bones to play fetch with the beast larger than her while her friends come running through the snow after her. The lady of the house, Miss Elto, comes out and tells the dog to attack. She is a real Scrooge, saying Nicholas has sent stupid elves around again and is very unhappy. The dog house collapses, as Calamity has caused Khaladriel to have thrown a support beam when playing fetch. The builder fixes it as best he can and they convince the woman to leave them alone.

The group debates on the meaning of the mission, Tinsel recalls that Santa’s first rule was to not get caught (interpretation?) and decides he means the plant. Bob and Khaladriel decide Santa meant miss Elto, not mistletoe, on Khaladriels input that Christmas isn’t about just the surface stuff people see. There’s deeper meaning to everything. They decide they need to spread Christmas cheer to the woman and build her a gift. Going to the shed to work, they decide on earmuffs and blinds to help her shut out the noise and sight world (bobs input) and keep her warm~ (Khaladriel’s input). Tinsel, meanwhile, goes into the forest to successfully harvest LOTS of mistletoe. Bob builds shutters and warm earmuffs using the fur on their hats. The blinds, however, wind up too big to move. They search out a snow plow to use as transportation as Tinsel gets back. Khaladruel hops on and starts trying to start the plow, getting it fired up and going fast to make a path to the house. On a successful control animals check, she has the path going directly to the house.

Tinsel would like Bob to blow the whistle to return to the pole, mistletoe in hand. However, he is determined to deliver his gift and builds a rolling table so the two can transport the gifts. Meanwhile, a nearly botched check means Khaladriel actually does not have control of the plow and crashes into the house. Had calamity check is a nat 20, causing severe damage. The woman, furious, sicks Holly the dog on Khaladriel and grabs a gun. When she has that, she sends the dog after the 2 coming to the house and fires at Khaladriel, hitting her. The dog does damage to Tinsel while Bob, determined, continues to the last. Khaladriel flees, screaming apologies as she goes. Bob gets the gift to the woman, who stops. She is touched by their generosity, having never been given a gift before. She calls the dog off, sends it to fetch Khaladriel, and the three (two once Bob inputs that Khaladriel is not allowed to touch sharp objects), set to fixing the porch. It takes 7 days, but it is fixed better than it was before. They ask her if she will come with to the North Pole, convinced Santa wants a word with her. Her agreeable nature was begrudging to start, and even moreso when she realizes she must ride a flying reindeer to travel, but they persuade her to go.

After traveling at light speed back to the freezing pole, the elves recall that their magic resistance to cold is not shared by the human race. She is all but frozen solid, and other elves have to come use a crane to remove her from the reindeer. Khaladriel runs to get Santa while Bob gets a drink. “Santa! Santa! We did it, we got her!”

“You’ve finished? It took you seven days!”

“But we finished~”

“Where’s the mistletoe?”

“She’s in the sleigh room.”

“She?”

“Miss Elto?”

“What?! No, I said *mistletoe!” 😖 “you’ve abducted our neighbor? She hates Christmas.”

And so Santa goes, uses magic to restore her. She is irate, Tinsel gives Santa a piece of the mistletoe she successfully retrieved and he holds it up, revealing that it is magic and is a sign of peace. Miss Elto calms and accepts that it was a mistake. Santa accepts that they technically finished their job, but now he’s used the mistletoe and it can be used magically once. Tinsel reveals she grabbed a lot, having been the only one to successfully accomplish the correct goal, and gives him more.

It is now their job to go for Silk. Santa explains he means literal silk, reminds them not to be naughty, and tosses them through yet another portal.

Through the portal they go once more, tumbling out in front of a creepy decrepit factory. They go in, looking for silk. Upstairs first, they find none stored. Going downstairs, they see through a hole in the wall that there’s an elevator. Bob decides the elevator is the best mode of travel. Khaladriel sees the bannister is good for sliding and jumps up. Tinsel, afraid of both, will take her chances with the creaky stairs sloooowly. She lights her lights to see.

Khaladriel laughs and squeals as she slides, but on a failed dex check and another nat 20 calamity check, crashes at the first bend of stairs and goes falling two floors down. She attempts to grab onto elevator cables as she passes through the shaft, but completely wipes out.

Bob travels with creepy elevator music, perfectly at peace in his own twisted bad elf way. The elevator shakes, he hears crashing and screaming of Khaladriel, but is overly familiar with why they call her Calamity and doesn’t even bat an eyelash. He gets into the caves, webs everywhere. He starts assessing, looking for silk being smart enough to know the caterpillars spin webs of silk. He hears muffled noises, looking above him to see various cocoons around. He notices movement periodically around him. Quickly, he identifies that one of the cocoons is still moving. He realizes he is too short to access it and shouts to the others, “come help me!”

“Alpha formation beta, GO!” Khaladriel shouts, immediately ready to spring into action to help her friend. However, from inside the webs all Bob hears are the muffled words, now identifying it as his friend who is stuck. She wiggles her way out, falling 15 feet and narrowly missing Bob. He arms her with a mallet, having already noted other movement. Recovering quickly, she begins walking around, “helloooooo?! Caterpillars?!... spiders??” She also notices movement and puts her index fingers in front of her mouth to imitate pincers, making clicking noises.

Tinsel gets to the bottom finally, staying back near the stairs spooked.

The spiders descend. Khaladriel immediately begins communicating while Bob, assuming she’s crazy, hides/climbs up for a sneak attack. He hits, and the spider falls onto Khaladruel. Tinsel runs to hide, but gets stuck and has more spiders around her.

Khaladriel screams at Bob that she’s communicating and shouts to Tinsel to use mistletoe. Tinsel takes the fetal formation, covering her face with one hand and holding up the plant with the other. The spiders calm, and Khaladriel takes up communicating again. She explains why Bob attacked mistakenly, and that they want silk. The spiders want food. They ask to eat Tinsel in exchange, but Khaladriel offers to put in a word with Santa and get them a cow for Christmas. They agree, and the three begin harvesting silk from the cocoons of the dead factory workers.

Khaladriel asks to blow the whistle, but Bob denies her. They go back to the pole, the other elves appalled by the dead flesh and grunge of the silk. They immediately send for the fat man, who is less than pleased with their accomplishments. Magically, he cleans the silk and sends it off. He notes that the factory is overrun, and we tell him we’ve promised the spiders a cow.

The final task, to tell Ralphie he’s on the naughty list. His brother Ronnie made nice list, but we need to help Ralphie. Upon arrival in this dessert area, we are outside a cave. Turns out, Ralphie and Ronnie and a two headed Cyclopes. They can’t get along well enough to even manage to act properly as a body. Bob takes to using scare tactics, warning them of three ghosts that will visit in the night. Tinsel starts singing. Khaladriel goes in to talk to them and start finding out what’s happened. Eventually the other two join in the cave and begin trying to find out what’s going on and convince Ralphie to be nice. This scene is chaotic, as the three elves can’t even get along. Ralphie tries to lift a gun to fire at them, but cannot without Ronnie’s hand.

Khaladriel stokes up a fire for cocoa, but in a Clamorous way the fire becomes a roaring flame which starts smoking out the cave and knocks the Etton unconscious. He eventually wakes up and crawls out. Bob, pleased with the teamwork that required, offers them a high five. Both raise their hands to high five him and they end up double face planted in the ground. This causes more fighting, but they work together to lift the gun. Only in warning about Ronnie ending up on the naughty list do they stop again.

Eventually Khaladriel emerges with cocoa. They drink. It turns out Ralphie was given the gun by his parents so they can defend themselves when peasants come to attack them. Ronnie won’t let then practice because he wants a pet fat orange cat that Ralphie will just want to shoot. Ralphie has been poking Ronnie in the eye a lot and calling him stupid in frustration. We get them to agree to compromise and start working together. Each agrees begrudgingly, so long as Santa brings what they want.

And so, bribery wins out as Bob would say. He lets Khaladriel blow the whistle, which she takes a comical anime style huge breath and way overdoes (seeing as its magic). Bob knowingly covers his ears. They ride back, keenly aware that they have somehow underfulfilled this mission.

Back at the pole, they inform Santa of what happened. Santa says he only gives pets to kids with parent permission (which we warned them to obtain) and he doesn’t give ammo to naughty kids. Just because Ralphie is off the naughty list doesn’t mean he’ll be on the nice list within 5 days. Similarly for us.

The DM informs us we’re at our final courses of action. We are no longer naughty, but we aren’t nice yet. Are we okay with this? Do we want to be nice? How?

Tinsel leaves. She tells her friends all about how Santa tried to have her killed and is thoroughly traumatized.

Bob and Khaladriel scheme. They decide, in a twist, they’re okay not being nice. Christmas is about more than toys. However, Ralphie and Ronnie showed potential. They decide to break into the list after it’s checked twice and add Ralphie to the nice list (Khaladriel’s doing) and ensure they each get what they asked for (Bobs doing). They succeed, Bob believing they pulled a fast one and that the fat man can be manipulated so long as you know how to avoid being seen by the beholder ornament while Khaladriel assumes Santa knows (because he knows everything) and has allowed this to happen because they are acting selflessly.

And so ended our Christmas campaign.

#dnd #christnas #(mis)adventures #funny #elves #art #D&D

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devoutbrother · 5 years

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💘 bella and arthur!!!

💊 ❀ ✿ ❦ SHIP HEADCANONS! | @lil-miss-romano !

where they first met and how:

We’ve plotted this on Discord before! Since Arthur can barely drive anymore since the Joy has sort of made him forget – not to mention cars were getting less and less in business the further the war harmed Britain / Wellington Wells, he can’t really have any other mode of transportation but his feet and the bus. They met at the bus station after Arthur caught Bella’s eye. Most likely from his large nose and facial expressions.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved:

Probably for a long time. Arthur is really open when it comes to his emotions which you’ve noticed from our plotting. So he’s really into doing things for people and he’s really into making sure the person he likes knows he cares for them. For example, he gave Prudence a “Welcome Back,” card from her “holiday trip.” Not to mention Prudence mentioned how Arthur would give her googly eyes all day long.

I wholeheartedly believe that Arthur gave Bella cards and poems when they saw each other. He would make some for her and anticipate her at the bus stop. Head up and not stuck in a book or newspaper. He would make little trinkets for her and mail them to her eventually. And when they’re on the bus together, Arthur would always stare at her as she looks out the window.

who fell for who first ( if applicable ):

Oh, Arthur. Most certainly. Because of his emotional personality, I have absolutely no doubts that when he started liking her, he liked her. Hard. And he would again, show it through his actions. Making her little things and just complimenting her and staring at her.

where their first date was and what it was like:

We’ve plotted this too! They walk together to a cafe and eat together. Bella asks about Arthur’s job and his articles and how it’s going. And since she seems to have such an undying interest in literature and writing, he would love talking with her. They would sit and talk for hours and hours and then by the time they’re done, Arthur would be worried about going home and finishing a project he has to do. So he’d unfortunately probably not walk her home, but he would definitely pay for the meal since he’s a poshy rich boy and wants to be considerate.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? ):

I feel like Bella would? And I feel like it would be via a letter of some sort. They did share their address with each other so they can be pen pals at first. I feel like she’d ask that they’d go to a cafe or just take a walk around the park together. Considering how interested and legitimate she seemed at the bus stop, he would oblidge and meet her gladly spend some time with her. If they don’t go to a cafe, Arthur would definitely bring her a drink of tea or coffee.

who proposes first:

Dude, Arthur would. He would have the whole thing planned out. He’d propose to her either at the spot where their favorite / best date happened, or at the bus stop. He would bring her a poem that hints toward a marriage or having a life together forever. He would bring up how happy he makes her, and how his life has brightened up since he met her. And as they’re hanging out at the bus stop, he would get the bus driver on it and have him step out and say that there’s a message waiting for Bella in their usual spot they sit, and it’s a letter from Arthur saying “Will you marry me, Bella? – Arthur”

And when she picks it up, Arthur will pop the ring out for her to see.

If it’s at their place where their favorite date happens, he would do something quite similar. In either situation, he would be the one to do it and make it super elaborate.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away:

I think it varies between the two of them. In a way, Arthur could care less? So I mean if someone asks he’d tell them he has someone. But otherwise he doesn’t think it’s anyone’s business. Unless of course, it’s someone close to him. But the verse this is in is set post-game verse where he doesn’t continue his search for Percy so he doesn’t have many other people to tell other than his uncle. Even then, his uncle is stuck inside Wellington Wells.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? ):

See “who proposes first.”

if they adopt any pets together:

Probably not. If they do, it’d be something small. It’s not that Arthur doesn’t like dogs or cats but they’re too much to manage. And he’d rather spend his time reading or writing than caring for a pet. But he wouldn’t mind a rodent or small reptile. That way he can feed it every now and again, clean their tank every now and again and enjoy the time with them whilst doing it.

who’s more dominant:

I wanna say Arthur because that’s how he kinda grew up from his father? But at the same time, we’ve done our smut plots where Bella is secretly like – the most brutal dominant ever. So I think that Bella is more dominant when she knows she can be.

Unless this is more general. Than Arthur definitely is.

where their first kiss was and what it was like:

God, it had to have been after a while of walking together and bus stops.

I have two scenarios in my head.

1) Arthur has a burst of love and can’t contain his emotions. He lets them soar and he just grabs her and kisses her. It’s fast, it’s deep, and it lasts for a minute. He pulls away and his face is as red as a cherry and he apologizes before quickly walking away. He knows that was out of line and super fast and he should have waited for a better opportunity. Which I believe Bella would either stop him and tell him to do it again or tell him that he didn’t have to apologize at all.

2) It happens so casually. Like they’re just sitting on the bus together and it’s Arthur’s stop and he just gently pecks her like it’s nothing. He figures that they’re deep enough in their relationship that he doesn’t really think it’s bad. I can imagine Bella like being shocked and watching Arthur walk toward the journalist / newspaper office as the bus rides away, with a million questions in her head.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? ):

No, not really. Arthur doesn’t really think like that? I mean, if Bella suggests it or does it, he wouldn’t refuse the idea. But Arthur wouldn’t really want to do it? He would think doing that is pointless and trivial otherwise. Especially since they have such different tastes in styles.

how into pda they are:

ARTHUR WOULD HATE IT. Like he wouldn’t mind a small kiss or holding hands for a little bit. But otherwise he’s too self-conscious and jealous of other people looking at them and being like “god i want that woman she’s hot” or “wow i wanna talk to her” so he wouldn’t really do much else.

I think that Bella wouldn’t really understand Arthur’s jealousy? Especially with the hand holding. Arthur wouldn’t do it that often, unless they’re sitting on the bus together or are having a picnic at the park.

who holds the umbrella when it rains:

Arthur, all the time. He would think that it’s rude to make a woman carry the umbrella.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable ):

The cafe and the park. Having a coffee together and just chatting about what’s happened in their life or what they’ve read most recently. Even the bus can be a usual date spot because they would just talk in most of their hangouts. There isn’t much else they can do since Arthur’s hobbies are typically one-person things.

who’s more protective:

Is that even a question? It’s Arthur. His jealousy runs rampant in relationships to the point he’ll blame the partner. Because he figures if they truly love him, they wouldn’t think about doing anything romantic with anyone else. So Arthur would definitely be extremely nosy when she’s gone for too long, or see her with some man he doesn’t know about.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ ):

It would take a while, but not outrageously long. I fullheartedly believe that Arthur likes sex and enjoys it. But he just wants to wait to do it with someone who he knows he can trust. Especially after Sally left the picture. So as long as Arthur knows he can trust Bella and he can see that she’s loyal, he’d do it with her. So long as the timing is right.

We have plotted this before, too!

if they argue about anything:

MEN, MEN, MEN. Like I mentioned before, Arthur’s biggest problem when it comes to relationships is his jealousy. He’s so afraid of losing someone and he makes so many assumptions that his emotions take control of a relationship entirely and before long he’s lost in his thoughts and he would immediately take it out on Bella. Immediately. Bombard her with question after question of who she was hanging out with and why, and why wasn’t she home so soon, and why is her hair all frazzled up and her make-up so messy? Did you kiss him? Did you fuck him? I bet you sucked his dick, didn’t you?!

If it’s not men, it’s definitely money. He would accuse her of being reckless and not thinking about their house, their gas or electricity, their water, and such. And there’s food, too. But I don’t think that would happen nearly as much as it would with men.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. ):

I think Bella does from what I’ve noticed in our role plays. She scratches Arthur’s back often when he’s going down on her.

who steals whose clothes and how often:

They are two not only different heights but different widths. Arthur is horribly malnourished and has to wear small clothes whilst Bella is much bigger and has bigger breasts. So she has to wear really big clothes. None of their clothes would fit on each other.

Unless she would wear one of his ties, but I don’t see that happening much.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? ):

I can see them doing both typical spooning and typical cuddling. But I think Arthur would like both of them? It depends on how tired he is. If he wants to sleep sooner than later, he would be the small spoon because holding someone will make his arms feel too tired and it would bother him. If he’s feeling much more awake and romantic, he would want to stare at her face for a long time.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is:

Probably just sitting and talking to each other. Laughing together and walking together as they just enjoy their time together. I bet they like shopping too because I can see them asking each other questions and giving each other legitimate, honest answers about what they’re thinking about buying. Especially when it’s books, clothes, or book dinner plans.

how long they stay mad at each other:

Arthur can apologize quickly, but he never forgets. He can keep grudges forever. Just look at what happened with Sally – one assumption from him and he can’t trust her ever again. So I think Arthur never really stops being mad, he just gradually lets the emotion die down and then it reemerges in the brink of another fight.

Bella doesn’t really seem to be like the mad type of person. Unless that one plot of her moving out was her version of mad.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are:

I’m crossing this out because I’m not that good of a barista. So I’m not sure. I will say though that I can see Arthur being a Plain Jane.

if they ever have any children together:

Arthur canonically does not want children! So if she ends up getting pregnant, he would unfortunately not really want to be with her anymore. But he would definitely support her with money and anything she needs. He just really doesn’t want to deal with the responsibilites of having a child when he can barely handle being alone himself.

if they have any special pet names for each other:

Arthur loves giving his partner pet names. You know “Bella-Boo” is one of Arthur’s favorites. I can also see her calling her a plethora of others, I’ll name some in a list:

“Bell,” “Bell-Bell,” “Izzy-Bell,” and the like.

I can actually see him sitting at the table, reading the paper and drinking coffee and the moment he notices her he’d be like: “Ahh! The morning bells have finally went off.”

if they ever split up and / or get back together:

Probably not. At least, if Arthur split them apart. He really doesn’t mend well with people he just can’t trust. But it would depend on how the situation went and how things are worded, etc., etc. We would have to plot a lot DEEPER into this.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? ):

Very, very clean. As we’ve spoken about, Bella is a stay-at-home woman after she gets with Arthur. And that’s because he’s got a really good job and a lot of money because of his talents in writing, revising, reviewing, and the like. So she’ll do all the work and Arthur loves it. He enjoys coming home to a clean house and will reward Bella with either a nice, relaxing night or some good sex. One of the two.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like:

Probably just a usual date. They give each other gifts and Arthur would probably spend time with Bella and her family. Perhaps even go to Italy with her to meet her folks. He would enjoy it but also be cautious. He didn’t really like Sally’s parents, especially her mother. So he wouldn’t know exactly how to feel until it happens.

If that doesn’t happen, they’d probably have a really quiet Christmas at Arthur’s house. And a small dinner that he’s prepared of a ham and some potatoes. Extra angst points of Bella realizes at that moment that Arthur is “lonely.”

what their names are in each other’s phones:

Cell-phones? In the 60′s? What’s that?

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? ):

They probably have sex on a certain day. Like a Friday or Saturday, or on a day where Arthur knows he doesn’t have to go to work on the next morning. If not that, they probably have some monthly ritual where they go to the cafe they like the most and play some board games there or just talk. I bet the cafe knows their usual orders and names by now.

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first:

Arthur gets up early and goes to bed early. He is the definition of early to bed, early to rise. So Arthur would be sleeping by 8 - 10 PM and waking up between 3 - 5 AM.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon:

Arthur prefers being the little spoon if the two ever really get into spooning. That way he can feel Bella’s arms and know she’s there, but his arms can be free enough to grab a pillow or the blankets if he needs them. It’s probably a really bad inconvenience though because Arthur is canonically 6′ 1″, when you’ve explained that Bella is 4′ 11″.

who hogs the bathroom:

I think they both do. But Arthur does it in the morning primarily because he is very hygienic. He would shave his beard and mustache, put plenty of gel in his hair, pull out his nose hairs and brush his teeth. And before all of that he’d take a long shower to wake up, clean up, and make sure he smells really nice. And after being in front of the mirror, he’d be in there getting all tidy and dressed. So he’d hog it for a good while in the morning.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside:

I don’t see Bella being that afraid of spiders, if I’m being honest. But if she was or Arthur would just find them annoying, he would just take them outside. He knows why they’re here. So he wouldn’t kill them at all, even if Bella tells him to.

#lilmissromano #lil-miss-romano #💊 ❀ ✿ ❦ Well go on. You said you had a question for me? | ASKS

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alixzandriapaige · 3 years

Text

Grimcliff Court - Chapter Two

Summary: Prince Quinton of Grimcliff has watched misunderstood magic destroy his Kingdom for 24 long years. When he finally finds a Knight righteous enough to defy the kingdom for its own good, Quinton and his Knight, Alixzandria, must trick the king and save the world from the nightmarish monsters Grimcliff Court has created.

Words: 2k

Alixzandria stands on the once familiar street and cocks her eyebrow. She had only been fighting in the Grimcliff outskirts for a year and the building she had previously called home now has displaced shingles, mildew, and is absolutely overrun with the ivy she had planted three years ago.

I didn’t get paid enough for renovations but at the very least, she thought, I could give those dusty windows a scrub for free.

As she stares at the windows, a shadow figure on the other side catches her attention. A broad smile forces her face into a youthful rendition of the attentive soldier she had been for the last year.

Alixzandria races to the door handle, nearly kicking the door down in anticipation of warm bread around a crackling fireplace, good stories and the love she had left behind in pursuit of duty.

The door creaks at her arrival.

Perhaps I should run up to the store to get something that could fix this do- her thoughts began, but the glistening of a blade above her head quickly threw aside her rational thought, and she let her reflexes take control.

As the blade comes down nearly to the top of her skull, she is barely able to unsheath her sword in time to protect herself. Sparks fly, she braces herself under its weight and pushes her attacker off their balance, across the room.

She steps forward, pointing the recently sharpened blade in their direction. Her eyes lock on the sword wielder before her.

“What on earth?” She calls out, sheathing her weapon.

Sloan burped and bumbled into the furniture around him, his eyes widening and closing like that of a bird of prey as he focused on her face. He blinks through the smoke exhaled through his own mouth.

“Oh it’s you!”

He pants from the exertion, trying to focus with yellow hazy eyes. The spoken words cause the cigarette to drop from his mouth onto the stone floor.

“And look how big you’ve gotten!” He sizes her up with a carefree smile spread across his face.

Alixzandria crushes the cigarette under her steel toes.

With his hair this greasy, he reminds her of that first night they met in a darkened, brutal alleyway.

Her eyes shut against the memory.

“You’re drunk.”

Looking at her disappointed figure, Sloan is transported back to his mischievous childhood.

She takes in the state of him: his body is still tight and fit in his middle age, but in the year that she had been gone he’d developed the slightest touch of a gut, like that of a newly pregnant woman.

His face, once handsome if not so dejected, is now covered in a furry mane that makes it impossible to see anything on the lower half of his face.

He swats her away, turning back to his work which was apparently rolling silver coins across their decrepit wooden table. She drops a nearly overflowing cloth pouch onto the table next to his small stack. He swipes it aside.

“I wasn't expecting you to be home,” He reconciled.

He collapses into a chair that, in turn, nearly collapses beneath him. He turns his body toward her, nearly hidden by the backlit fireplace behind him; still though, she can see the glistening white of his teeth as he smiles at her.

She walks towards her room, casting a gaze into the space she wasn’t able to call home in so long.

A large messenger bird was perched in a darkened corner, his shiny nocturnal eyes following her as she approached. She pet Draven’s feathers delicately then turned back towards Sloan.

“Being drunk isn’t a default mode you can just saunter around in if you’re not expecting company!”

His expression finally changes - he eyes her warily, sniffing defensively in her direction as if he can suss out some of her secrets.

“Do you have another mentor? Who has trained you in the ways of logic?” He asks her.

She rolls her eyes and saunters away, throwing “Unlike you, it comes naturally to me,” over her shoulder as she disappears into her room.

She unhooks her breastplate and gauntlets, letting them fall to the floor with an audible chink. She steps out of her boots.

He chases her, following her from room to room as she deposits her stuff on a shoddy wooden cupboard in her room, then to the kitchen.

She pumps a silver handle there, and a handful of water slops into a bucket. She pulls her woven overshirt from her body and dips it into the water, rubbing the cloth against the skin of her face. She is nearly a shade lighter.

“Yes, speaking of things that come naturally to you,” He clears his throat, stabilizing himself against the kitchen table, “I must say that, regrettably, I had been coming at you with the intent to seriously harm you,” He informs her.

She turns a serious expression on him as she rubs the cloth on the skin under her arms.

“I could tell, if I had waited another second I doubt I would have a head right now,” She scolds.

Sloan flashes red and offers a sheepish smile.

“When you live alone for so long...” He offers an unfinished defense against her complaints.

“Oh you haven’t lived alone for years, except for this last one.”

They both think back through the many years that they have been companions with fondness. The bond between them softens her heart.

“Was it particularly difficult for you to be alone all that time?” She asks him.

He batters away the truth with a harsh scoff and focuses on the matter at hand.

“I wouldn’t have brought it up at all if I didn’t have a point. I know how bad it makes me look to have nearly killed you,” He continues.

“Then make your point.”

Sloan smiles at her with his perfect teeth. “The point is that a Blessed Knight has tried to take you down today, and you proved victorious.”

Sloan’s expression is so in awe that he could have cried. Perhaps he nearly is, it is impossible to tell in the darkness of the unlit house.

Alixzandria herself blushes and withdraws her eyes from his gaze.

“An extremely drunk one,” She adds, but still feels pride in herself.

“Yes, perhaps an extremely drunk one, but I was the head of my battalion and was the Blessed Knight of a very prestigious Royal. No common soldier could take down even an extremely drunk Blessed Knight.”

He rubs his hand through the mat of her ebony hair, nearly unable to pull his hand back from the tangle.

“I’m proud of you. I knew that year away would do fantastic things for you.”

Her heart flipped. She beamed back, flexing her hands into fists as if to once again feel the strength that her years of vigorous training had given her.

Then she sighed wistfully, distracted by how close she was to her goals, and how far away they still seemed.

“I might be as strong as a Blessed Knight, but I still can’t find anyone who will take me on as one.”

Alixzandria walks over to the table with silver coins and lifts up a small, scribbled on paper. She inspects the list, seeing who in the town had requested the help of a common soldier for hire.

Silence consumes them.

“You know,” She says pointedly, “This list is pretty long. There are plenty of things that you could be doing instead of getting drunk, if you were so inclined.”

Sloan whips his head at her, glaring at her with wide, incredulous eyes.

“Oh, you ungrateful child,” He spoke dramatically, once again collapsing into his chair.

“My life is one long endless task for you; I take you in, I train you, I work diligently to find potential Masters, and still you whine so much.”

Her eyes fly open. She turns against him, pulling against the fabric of his shirt, dragging his face closer to hers.

“Have you done it, then?” She begs to know.

Instantly, his smile is back. He would deny this child nothing that she wanted, as he owes her his very life and happiness.

“The very state you find me in is proof of my actions.”

She shakes him with her hold against his clothes.

“Do not speak in riddles to me, old man. Speak clearly!”

“The Blessed Knights I have spent all of yesterday with, in regard to gathering information on an upcoming ceremony, have such expensive vices.”

Alixzandria releases him back to his chair and begins to pace before him, trying to predict the many ways in which that night could have played out.

“My poor mentor, I’ve heard about the devils brought on by that wine.”

She offers sympathy now that she understands his state. She leans in, swiping her hand against his pin-straight brown hair, offering her thanks in the same way she would a stray dog.

“Please get some rest right after you tell me more!” She demands.

And so he tells her of the night he spent with the Blessed Knights that he used to work with. He leaves out their banter, their specialized jokes that would only upset her by reminding her of her exclusion.

What he focuses on explaining was how he scored himself an invitation to an upcoming Initiation Ceremony in a week’s time, and how he had scored a secondary placement, as well.

His retirement was concluded respectfully as it became clear the death of his daughter had destroyed his beliefs in Grimcliff’s system. The squalor he found himself living in now was not an accurate depiction of his status, as he had once been the Blessed Knight to an advisor of the King. Sloan was allowed within Grimcliff’s elite with nothing more than a spoken request to be there.

Alixzandria immediately stops pacing and flings herself at Sloan, collecting in his lap as she smothers his cheeks in grateful kisses.

He holds his nose away from the smell of her.

“Oh this is the best news,” She declares before she was off of him, fluttering about the house looking for the polishing oil and a cloth, planning to make her armor as fresh as it could seem.

He watches her grab the oil tin.

“That is not necessary,” He informs her, “Your invitation to this event is not as a soldier, but as a woman and my ward.”

She furrows her brow and places the tin down with a grip so firm that her knuckles turned white. She does not glance at him, does not throw the blame his way.

The matted curtain of her hair falls to her face and blocks her expression from Sloan. He does not need to see it to understand her emotions.

“You have every right to be there as a soldier, but you will be there as a woman. Your goal is to show them how much you deserve. You will not become a Blessed Knight at this ceremony, but perhaps, if you can show your worth and impress the Masters here, you will be included in the next.”

Alizandria is filled with an overflowing, uncontrollable hatred at that moment. So rarely is she overtaken with the consuming fire that churns her stomach, and it only ever grips her when her goal - the simple goal of wanting to protect her Kingdom - is denied to her.

He approaches her hunched form, takes her body into his arms - notices how much stronger it has grown in their year apart - and pats her hair for several long moments.

He feels her warm flesh against him, feels the deep breaths she inhales to calm herself. He feels her resolve harden against him.

She pushes away from his grip and meets his face with a challenging smile on her lips. She exhales heavily one last time.

“You say I have a week?” She asks.

He nods.

“Practice with me, then.”

The sound of slithering metal against its sheath sounds in the air as she tucks into herself - a fighting stance. She smiles wickedly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you.”

#medevial #slow burn #prince/knight #Grimcliff Court #romance

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slicktwix · 5 years

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Evaluation for FMP

At first i was not sure what i wanted to create, how big it was and what genre it would be from but i was focused on making a large scale creature brought to life with the skills i have learnt through out this year with model making creating multiple small scale models and creatures like a mystic sci-fi alien samurai and a 4 legged, demonic spider, hive mother creature i learnt a lot of tooling techniques also modeling with super sculpey, clay and mud rock. I also learnt how to create strong sturdy armatures that could support the weight of my creations so i wanted to create something that was in my element but also demanding and large it also has to be a subject that i’m passionate about or else i cant connect with my work and not thoroughly enjoy the process that it why i want to create a creature within the realm of Greek Mythology more specifically a three headed dog called Cerberus! why?

Well because i love creating a more realistic grounded model and have used fur in the past to recreate a undead cat from pet cemetery that looked effective and scary theirs a creepy element to taxidermy how the animal is stuck in a real frame of motion stuck in place which can express anger,fear cunning and hunger which is hard to covey with other Art forms.

At first when researching Cerberus and how i would design and recreate him had me torn at first i wanted to create a fairly terrier sized three headed beast but then decided against that as i wanted a large scale three headed dog for the wow factor the armature ended up being about 76 cm in height and in length 60 cm making him quite heavy if made of clay to transport from and to college.

I based a lot of the armature on sketches and drawings i had gathered showing the anatomy of the animal and the placement of the wires also sketches of some of the limbs for basic reference. These really helped and where an improvement on my cat which i did not make any sketches as reference to rely on for vital design decisions to help you develop a good armature.

I first created the armature out of copper bars and used the metal wielder to wield joints and manufacture the legs and body frame of the dog i did not want to create the supports for the neck for practical reasons.i had no problem with metal wielding as i had done it before when recreating my cat this made it fast and satisfying to construct a fully operating armature i did have a problem with the metal wielder being in an awkward place in the room making it harder to get the right angle for me to fit the armature in place to wield the legs to the body but other than that no major problems.

For the platform or stand of the armature i found a good piece of hard board and made wholes using a drill bit the same size as the sticks of wood to be used as beams to support the weight of the three headed Cerberus. due to his size i always had reasonable doubt in my mind for weight proportionality but the beams helped a lot so that none of the legs collapsed and the actual model was stiff interlocked into the stand this is strengthened the whole model and the rest of the process due to its importance to my project.

I then decided that i would use mud rock to strengthen the Armature so it could withhold the weight of the heads, foam and fur.

I had to decide weather i would use clay which would be effective for a statue based Cerberus with great detail which shows the muscular layout of the creature but would not look good because i am not that good at sculpting and a weight issue i would have to move the dog once finished from my house to college. or i could use a more taxidermy based fury based Cerberus complete with clay paws.

I brought my armature to my house over Easter brake so i could really focus on trying to get a lot of work done instead of having to rely on college open hours i’m glad i did this as i really enjoyed the over all process that went in to creating Cerberus but i had to gather a multitude of supplies to make my room a living workshop. for my FMP i brought a Glue gun and fur from amazon due to one day delivery and the reviews of the glue gun which was very high quality and helpful when you can change the temperature. The fur was very important due to the large amount i needed luckily the dog fur came in big sheets of 150 cm to 100 cm i brought 4 sheets for a total of £43. The fur was very similar to that of a bear almost like a mixture of the animals once i had completed it. this could be seen as a slight problem but hopefully did not take away from the final grade to much. I also had to acquire foam to bulk out the mode,l i was thinking about getting expensive foam board but instead picked up three dog beds, which are cheaper and yield a large amount of foam per bed this was very useful for adding the extra chunkiness to the armature at a total price of £26.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/

My next step was adding the foam board/dog beads to my Armature i cut lengths of foam according to how much i wanted to cover of the dog, i would have to fold the foam around legs and mark in my head wear i would cut. This helps me savor the foam and not waste as much of it. I also had to hold a lot of foam in place once stuck with the glue gun as it had a slow setting time i also had a problem where i would burn my fingers due to the heat of the gun because i had to put pressure on every connection i made. I solved this by wearing a thick glove, so the heat could not burn through very effective and stopped my hands feeling awful. this whole process was easy and could of looked scruffy due to the fact it would eventually be covered in fur.

The next day i sculpted the paws, for reference i used pictures of bare skin dog paws to accurately portray the shape and proportional size of the dog paws all though i’m fine with the outcome, their is a lot of room for improvement due to the size of the front left paw being too big, compared to the rest of the paws this is because i did the front left paw first but should have accurately made all the paws to similar proportions this is disappointing because it is my FMP and everything should be to my best standard. Another problem i had was with the anatomy of the dog paw itself being difficult making it a struggle to recreate such a complex part of the dog. i used clay to sculpt the paws which is great for accuracy, one problem i did have was when bringing the model into college one of the paws fell apart aha i solved this by re sculpting a paw at college. more of an inconvenience than a fundamental problem.

After creating the paws i focused on making the heads , this was probably the most fun part of my project as creating heads are an essential part of creating a realistic and good looking imagery, the head is the most important part of any model due to it being what we first look at in a model and will decide if the model is good or bad. so at first i made the basic shape of the head out of tin foil i added the lower jaws using metal wire then layering in tin foil i used about 4 rolls for the whole project at around £5.75 I then added paper mache which i layered multiple times over the heads i wanted to make the heads distinct i did this by the positioning of the ears and the shape of the brows and cheeks of the dogs this was important to give each of the heads more character and identity after the paper mache i had to wait 24 hours (recommended) for the paper mache to dry this step was to ensure a more smoother surface to the heads an add a thickness to the heads i also did this for so it would be easier to add clay and stick the fur to the head tinfoil is not good for this and does not fit the criteria other ways i could of made the heads was by using clay but this would be very heavy to carry into college of course.

while waiting for the heads to dry i added fur to the legs of my armature this was easy enough but some of the fur overlapped looking cheap and horrible. To solve this i cut out chunks of fur from the sheets i had of it but i cut it at an angle so that the ratio of fur to material was 70/30 this was effective for sticking the fur with the glue gun and then neatly shuffling the fur to cover the overlapped spots this took a thew hours over all to cover all the spots and looked way better an essential part of my process to my work.

after this step i added clay and marbles to the eyes of the heads i had to mold the clay to express an angry frown upon his face this worked effectively with all the heads but through out the whole project i had problems with the clay sticking to the heads and paws this could of been because of the moisture of the clay i’m not sure but when i added a dab of water on my finger i could smooth the clay around the heads. this is useful to take into consideration for later projects that involve clay.when i used the glue gun on the dried clay it would dry and fall off not making a bond it took a couple goes to really stick the clay to the object but wasn’t too much of a concern.

when i did the first head the teeth where very low quality and basic as it was my first set of teeth in a long time but i took this into consideration for the other sets of teeth by adding crevices and evidence of worn out teeth and plus the other sets looked more anatomically correct because of the shape and the detail.

My first head is definitely the worst and if i had time i would go back and recreate it completely due to his structure, teeth and the ears but it was a learning experience and every head i created improved in quality due to my knowledge that i learned from my past mistakes, this is the reason i find creating these models so fun and interesting. even the clay around the cheeks and brow improved with minor detail showing wrinkles in the skin and spots. i think it is very important to express the anger of my design through the brow due to the fur covering their faces the most have a strong sense of emotion that pulls through the fur i personally think this went OK and you can see the anger of the creatures but maybe not to the degree i was hoping due to the fur around the face.

for the mouths i used clay to create all the gums and define the jaw i then super sculpted all the teeth and tongues after i had put them in the oven i indented all the teeth into the mouth so it would be easier to insert into the mouth this was effective and went well but had some minor issues with the glue connecting to the clay some teeth would fall out and required re-sticking but other than that no problems.

After that i had to obtain some poles/sticks for the necks of Cerberus this was easy and as i had a forest near my house i had two days before i had to bring the model into college but i had work and didn’t have time to buy sticks. the branches might be quite primitive but worked really effectively i cut the sticks down to size using a saw before whittling away the bark so that when i glue gunned the sticks to the bark wouldn’t break off along with a branch when i brought the armature into college i then rapped mud rock around the neck branches for extra strength for adding the heads.

this is a crucial part of my project involving me attaching the heads to the armature i managed to bring Cerberus into college in me mum’s car and first attached the sticks which represent the skeleton neck of the creature i used glue gun to attach them then put layers of mud rock to strengthen the necks so the heads would not separate and de-attach. i then used a large drill bit to make large wholes in the back of the heads i did a stirring movement with the drill to make the wholes larger for the heads to fit on easily i then poured a lot of glue gun into the wholes i created , i then attached the heads on the end of the sticks firmly to make the bond permanent.

I then added some finishing touches like paint and some different fur to make patterns in his coat. When painting the armature i used a pinkish fleshy brown to show the dirt of the the creature in his natural habitat.

In conclusion i set out to create a three headed dog complete with a snake tail from clay the main difference between them is the fur coat due to weight time restrictions of sculpting all that clay to a professional level and also i preferred the idea of creating a more taxidermy based creature due to its unique nature if i could change anything with my work it would be the general shape of the body the posture is accurate to what i wanted but maybe his front leg is too thick and also the eyes maybe they could be improved another problem i had was with time management i should have planned and recorded what i would accomplish each day if i had started my armature two weeks before i would of had a lot more time to produce a higher quality model that would of been the difference between grades. but i think i have effectively accomplished these goals in the time given and hope to see what your conclusion is of my work.

one change i had to make to my outcome was instead of making all of the tail out of clay i had to use fur for most of the tail and then added a snake head on the end made of super sculpey this was due to time restraints.

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