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badreamiest · 2 years

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Finney's Day Off

One morning, Finney feels as though school merely isn't worth it. And he drags Robin down in his bad attendance to hang out for the day. It turns out they have the cutest time together.

TW: Very light angst, slight mentions of the basement, hurt/comfort, Robin swears like a sailor at moments, extremely fluffy, like it'll rot your teeth-. Oh and Finney worships Robin because I said so.

My ao3 account if you wanna find this and more of my works there. I don't write a lot so- yeah-. Enjoy!

Translations for later: "¡Mierda!" - Shit!

Finney wasn’t sure what had come over him that morning, but he did not feel like going to school. Something must’ve been in the air, polluting his common sense. Like, come on, he knew he couldn’t not go. That wouldn’t be very Finney Blake of him. Plus, he couldn’t risk the school contacting his dad over his disappearance. He was sure they wouldn’t; they’d likely assume he was sick since Finney wasn’t the type to just decide he wouldn’t go. Besides today, anyway.

So why was he currently walking in the opposite direction of the school building?

Robin was never one to turn down skipping school, and half the time, he’ll pretend he’s practically dying to avoid it. The other half is him being suspended or sent home for fighting. He wasn’t complaining, though. He enjoyed time away from the judgemental assholes roaming inside those pathetic school walls. So when Finney ran up to him on the way to school, panting and dripping in sweat, despite the particularly chilly air around them, asking him to take the day off with him, he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

Though, he did question Finney the entire way back to his house.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? This is very…weird of you, Finn.” Robin asked as he strutted beside the taller but skinnier male. He didn’t quite understand what could’ve caused such a strange decision from the same boy that lectured him about skipping, even if he’s got bloody knuckles.

“I ‘dunno. I just- woke up this morning and decided that school wasn’t worth it today.”

“Are you sure no one fucked with you? I’ll beat their asses. You know that.”

“Yes, Robin. I’m sure. I just wanna hang with you today.” Finney felt pathetic admitting it, but that was the only reason he could come up with that would make him want to ditch school. He assumed that’s also why Robin was the first person he ran to when he decided he would ruin his perfect attendance record.

Though now that Finney was walking calmly beside him, decision made and now in a clear head, he could take in Robin’s outfit today. He wasn’t wearing his signature t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, but in its place was a sweatshirt that looked almost too big for Robin’s physique. It was slightly devouring his hands, reaching just below where his belt would be. He had black sweatpants, a somewhat different shade than the sweatshirt, but you’d have to squint to notice. Robin was wearing his everyday dirty sneakers that were loosely tied and were severely in need of a deep wash.

Robin was indeed the polar opposite of Finney. Finney was rocking a denim jacket with wool on the cuffs of the sleeves and on the inside for top warmth. He was wearing jeans that he thought would keep him warm but soon realized that he would freeze if they didn’t make it to Robin’s house fast enough. Finney was also sporting his favorite pair of Vans. He liked his outfit, but he enjoyed Robin’s even more. Maybe it’s just because it’s Robin.

Finney and Robin had been dating for almost 3 months now. When Finney had escaped that blasted basement and confessed all his feelings to Robin in a daze from the lack of sleep, Robin had waited until Finney awoke to ask him if he meant what he said and returned Finney’s feelings. After they spent at least an hour crying and hugging, Robin had sworn never to let anything happen to Finney again. Finney had proclaimed to always be there when Robin’s knuckles took beatings to kiss them better. Robin could live with that.

Ever since then, they have been inseparable. Robin would always come over to Finney’s house throughout the week to “study” (more like whining about being bored and then somehow pull Finney away from the table to cuddle and watch movies. Finney still didn’t know how he did it.). While Finney came over on the weekends to sleep over and avoid his dad.

Eventually, they noticed their days slowly get better when they had each other around. Even on the nights Finney would sneak out and tap on Robin’s window at 3am, bawling to him about what his dad had done. He screamed and cried in his lover's arms until his lungs burned, and he felt like he couldn’t cry anymore. Or on the days Robin felt utterly hopeless and scared with the fear of losing everything, so bad that he would break down and sob until he was choking on tears. Sometimes Robin would get so worked up he’d start punching his thighs if he was sitting, getting so frustrated that he was so weak. Finney would have to pull him into a hug to get him to stop, feeling Robin softly beat on his back before accepting that it was okay to not be tough all the time and then falling asleep in his angel’s grasp. They knew they had each other, which would outdo whatever they had to experience.

Finney watched Robin’s house come into view and almost punched the air. He felt an incredible adrenaline rush from his slight rebellious decision this morning. He was going to spend the day with Robin Arellano. No bullies. No teachers. No abusive father. Just Robin. And he couldn’t decide on which higher being to thank. He slowly grasped Robin’s hand in his, squeezing lightly, until he felt the hand pull away from his grip.

“Jesus fuck, your hands are freezing, Finn!” Robin shouted as he stuffed his hand in his pockets for a moment. Finney giggled evilly as he stared at his hands.

“Are they? I’m sorry,” he started before quickly shoving his hand on Robin’s neck, anywhere he could reach that wasn’t blocked by his beautiful dark brown hair. Robin screeched and pushed Finney away and into the street before gripping the collar of his sweatshirt and pulling it higher to cover the part Finney had touched. His hands left a tingly cold feeling that Robin couldn’t say he hated, but he didn’t love it either. He was perfectly warm before Finney had touched him with his ice-cold fingers, and now he had shivers running up and down his spine.

“Damnit, Finn-! Now I’m cold! Fuck you!” Finney was laughing so hard that he about fell over. His lungs were begging him to stop as he slowly felt lightheaded. Robin glared at him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back onto the sidewalk.

“You brought it upon yourself when you pulled your hand away!”

“Well, sorry that your hands are colder than the fucking arctic waters of the South Pole!”

“Now you’re just exaggerating! They aren’t that cold!” Finney argued as he put his hands to his cheeks. It took a minute for the feeling to come back to his face, but when it did, he quickly pulled his hands away and shoved them in his pockets.

“Yeah, see? Fucking freezing.” Finney pouted as he stopped on Robin’s porch. Robin pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, allowing Finney to walk in first. They both kicked off their shoes and plopped onto the couch, absolutely defeated by the chilling walk. Their hands were aching and numb simultaneously, and their noses were bright red. Robin would’ve kicked Finney’s ass for ditching on such a cold day if he weren’t so surprised still. He didn’t understand why Finney decided today would be the day to fuck up his attendance, but Robin knew Finney. Robin knew Finney didn’t understand, either. Robin could see it on his face that he was just as shocked.

Robin sat there to warm his hands before an idea popped into his head. He quickly turned his head to the latter and smiled brightly, which resulted in Finney cracking a smile of his own.

“Wanna make some hot chocolate?! That’ll warm us up!” Robin asked excitedly and leaned closer to Finney’s face. Finney hated it when he did that. It would always make his face get hot, even if he felt as though he was on the verge of frostbite. Finney leaned away slightly to clear his throat and smile wider.

“Of course. Anything to bring the feeling back to my fingers.” Robin jumped up at this and pulled Finney with him, leading him to the kitchen. Finney leaned against the counter when they walked in and let Robin find the materials for the chocolatey drink. Finney knew Robin’s house like the back of his hand, but he knew Robin loved to make him things. The thought brought him back to second grade when they had an assignment for arts and crafts. Robin had made it his mission to make Finney a kitten out of cotton. It didn’t last long, though, because a random little girl in their grade had snatched the kitten when Robin wasn’t looking and ate it. You can only imagine why Robin landed in the principal’s office that day.

Robin finished putting the chocolate mix into the cup and stirred it gently before handing the exceptionally burning cup to Finney. Causing the latter to hiss quietly and start blowing on the drink while shifting his fingers uncomfortably around the mug. Robin began swirling his and then took a sip before jumping back and whisper-shouting a swear.

“¡Mierda! That’s hot!” Robin quickly set down his drink and fanned his lips, causing Finney to burst into laughter and spit out some of his hot chocolate. He wanted to ask if Robin was alright, but all he could do was mutter out incoherent words between giggles. When Robin regained his composure, he shot Finney the most upset glare he could muster. Of course, it didn’t affect Finney besides making him laugh harder. All of Finney’s giggling began to chip away at Robin’s glare until he started laughing with him.

When they finally managed to calm down, they walked to the living room with their mugs of chocolatey goodness. Finney was the first to sit down and huddle up with the blanket in the corner of the couch. Robin glanced at him and forced a frown.

“You plan on sharing my blanket, right?” Robin questioned as he frowned more and raised an eyebrow. Finney giggled at his expression and gently shook his head, causing his beautiful curls to shake.

“Nah, it’s my blanket now. Find your own.”

“That is my own! My mamá bought it for me!” Robin argued as he crossed his arms and glared at Finney. Finney laughed and sipped his chocolate. All Robin did was observe because they both knew he wouldn’t take it from Finney. Robin couldn’t help but think about how cute Finney looked at the moment. His cheeks were flushed from the hot drink the same beverage was making his flushed nose run a bit, so he was sneaking in adorable sniffs between giggles and sips. His hair was slightly covering his eyes, and he was beautifully wrapped in the latter’s blanket, completely comfy and warm. How could Robin steal it from him when he looked so angelic the way he was?

Finney finished his sip and sighed contently before bringing his fingers below his chin to pretend to think. When he was satisfied with his amount of fake consideration, he lifted the side of the blanket and nodded his head sideways to nonverbally tell Robin he could snuggle with him. His act had Robin’s heart leaping towards Finney, pulling his entire body with it as he slipped underneath the covers.

Both his and Finney’s hearts were racing, and both could feel it. Finney would definitely use this for his daily journal writing that Gwen was making him do for “therapy purposes.” It’s what Finney usually did; write about Robin. If it wasn’t something random like school or bullshit feelings about his father or his bullies, it was about how Robin made him feel. It’s how she found out that not only was Finney gay, but he was madly in love with Robin. Gwen immediately confronted him about it, asking him unbelievable questions finishing the conversation with an “I knew it” and walking away. It left Finney dumbfounded, but he left little notes at the end of each prompt saying how she should NEVER bring it up.

Tonight, he was going to leave a lengthy ass essay about how Robin’s heart was beating so hard and fast against his arm as he snuggled into him. He would write in meticulous detail about how many beats Robin’s heart made in a second or how it made his own skip a beat or two within moments. He would explain his stomach twirling every time he imagined how Robin must’ve felt at this moment since he was practically on the verge of a heart attack. Or maybe Robin’s body was breaking out into goosebumps, and Finney’s hair was standing on end, and how it was incredible that just one person, that person being Robin Arellano of all people, made him feel such a way. How could one person make him feel like he was suffocating and yet oh so alive at the same time? How could someone that shares the same amount, if not more, hatred towards the world make him feel as though the gods brought him here to bless him with such a beautiful person? It was mind-boggling.

Robin’s breathing started to slow, and his grip gradually slipped from his cup. Just before it spilled, Finney quickly caught hold of it and gently pulled it from him to set it on the table, along with his own. Robin snored softly into his ear while Finney admired him. How could he not regard the divine proportions of his partner? The way Robin’s hair outlined his face. How his nose was just the perfect shape for his face. How his eyelashes were the ideal length for his beautiful, big, doe eyes. Robin’s cheekbones were barely visible unless you got as close as Finney, so close that you could see the slightest indent of his cheeks but still puffy enough to exaggerate when he pouted. Finney also couldn’t help but adore how plump his lips were. How they could express so many emotions just from the direction they turned. How they contained so many soft-spoken words that only Finney got to hear, so many secrets they kept between each other. Robin’s lips were almost always chapped and covered with teeth marks and rips from when he got too nervous and bit them, yet every time they kissed, they were softer than anything Finney’s ever felt. Sure, he’s never kissed anyone other than Robin, but he’s sure no one could compare to Robin’s lips. Robin’s kisses were something out of this world. They could snatch Finney’s breath away faster than he’s ever experienced.

All these thoughts were making Finney exhausted. He planned to save the rest of his sentimental thoughts for his journal entry later and decided to nap with Robin. Robin’s mother would be home around 2-3pm, and Finney was sure she would wake them up and ask about them being there. It would be good for him to get home around the same time he generally would so he wouldn’t have to worry too much about his father. He could lie about what he was doing to cause him to be late and play it off as nothing. His plan's calm and soothing words made him feel safe enough to sleep. Or maybe Robin’s warm touch and welcoming scent lured the boy to slumber.

All Finney knew was that with Robin, he was safe. And that’s all he needed to sleep soundly.

#the black phone 2022 #black phone #finney blake #robin arellano #rinney #robin x finney #fluffy #fluff #cute boys #so cute #boys in love #idiots in love #cutesy bullying #theyre so cute #tooth rotting fluff #finney x robin #finbin

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sleepymarmot · 4 months

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Tokyo Godfathers (2003)

Wanted to watch this on Christmas, but I was too busy with an entirely different story about a baby abandoned and found on Christmas Eve and improbable coincidences. Then I decided to make it my first new film of the new year: it had been on my watchlist for more than a decade, so finally checking it off would be an auspicious start for 2024. I didn’t realize the movie’s events started on Christmas but ended on New Year, so turns out, I didn’t miss the time window after all.

It feels like this film should be a hit on Tumblr. Found family of marginalized misfits? I’m surprised it’s not a staple of the winter holiday season over here.

Especially since it has some things in common with a Tumblr (and my own) favorite, Disco Elysium. Self-hating alcoholic who missed his chance to become a family man; his queer companion, with some amount of romantic tension between them; a kid who’d rather spend time on the street than with dad at home; a mystery that has to be solved as soon as possible; an odyssey through the eclectic and neglected spaces of a city that seems to be a character in itself; finding hope in the middle of hardship and beauty among rubble and garbage. Even the style seems similar.

The environments might be my favorite thing about the film; beautiful, stylish, detailed and realistic yet harmonically coexisting with the more cartoonish characters. (This short article on Substack has some interesting info about it; I plan to watch the Blu-ray documentary feature that served as one of the sources, but not right now.)

I spent all of my brain power on processing the language and didn’t have much left to properly appreciate the story, so I don’t have anything original to say here. I was slightly bored at the beginning, and started to get into the film more when the protagonists encountered the yakuza and the impossible coincidences started piling up. I imagine the story would have been quite bleak if it stayed realistic.

Maybe I was too tired, but the plot stopped making sense at the end. So who abandoned the baby? Sachiko? Why would she kidnap the baby to raise it as her own, then abandon it, then try to run away with it again?

Interesting that all three characters are homeless by choice; all of them have people to come back to. They aren’t exiled from their families, they have exiled themselves. Their misery is caused not only by society’s failure to care for its vulnerable members, but also by their own guilt, shame, and fear. They cannot bring themselves to face their past, until fate forces them to do so. Their Christmas miracle is to reunite with the people who still love them and want them back in their lives. I think that in a story made by a left-leaning writer today, the protagonists would declare that the found family is the only real family they need, and would be far more resentful of characters like the doctor who told Gin to fix his life himself. This film seems uninterested in society as a net of systems and institutions that traps people in rigid roles, and more interested in it as a collection of diverse individuals who stumble upon each other’s paths, usually without understanding but also usually without malice. The film’s approach to social justice is to humanize the downtrodden, instead of condemning the system that left them in that condition. Perhaps it’s just an earlier stage of the same artistic process? Anyway, in the middle of the current “eat the rich” fad (which, to me, seems pretty hypocritical coming from directors and producers who are rich themselves), it’s nice to watch a story that doesn’t waste screen time on toothless satire and instead spends it on character development for the protagonists.

This is the second time within the last couple of years that I watched the work of a previously favorite anime director after an enormously long break. Your Name made me question my respect for Shinkai; Tokyo Godfathers, on the other hand, did not disappoint me in Kon — only made me mourn him all over again. I’m pretty sure I first made a note of this film with the intent to watch it back when he was still alive. Strange how a life-affirming story whose optimism relies on realism-defying eucatastrophes, in the end, reminded me how fucking unfair the real world is.

#tokyo godfathers #liveblogs and reviews #blah blah blah

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scarletnakazato · 2 years

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Takumi Fujiwara - Heartbeat

• Takumi Fujiwara x Reader • Word Count: 1,357. • Synopsis: In which an arcade racer and street racer bring their differences together that only strengthens their relationship and love for racing, as well as a cute tofu boy helping his girlfriend drift a real car.

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She was an arcade racer; he was a street racer. She's never raced on real roads, while he has. She was an expert drifter in the games, and he was an expert drifter on the mountains. She, of course knew the process of drifting, but it was quite different compared to a video game. She wanted to know the feeling of real drifting. She wanted to know the exhilaration that video games simply couldn't give. He gave her the exhilaration with such ease, with a relaxed face and a small smile gracing his beautiful lips as he took occasional glances in her direction.

She was loving every minute. The screeching sound of tires on the road, the high revving of the 4A-GE engine that echoed through Akina, and the tilt the car made from its soft suspension as it drifted oh so perfectly around a hairpin. This was amazing. This was an experience that was better than any racing game she'd ever played. She wanted him to teach her. She wanted to drift along with him across the pass in her own car, following the bright taillights of his Trueno as she chased after him and drifted in tandem. Whether it was them racing through the pass for fun or simply wanting to drive fast next to each other, she wanted to do it all with him. She could easily give up her arcade racing for this. Racing games were nothing in comparison. They never made her heart beat in the way this was.

He was interested in her style of racing. What was it like controlling a fake car rather than a real one? Was it easier? Harder? Did it give the same responses as a real car would? Was drifting a video game car easier than real life? He wanted her to show him what it was like. Were video games how she learned to drive and practice racing styles? He would find it impressive to learn to drift without ever being behind the wheel of an actual car. He was always easily surprised. He wondered how long it took her to perfect her drifting style in her games.

He glanced at her again, his small smile becoming slightly wider after seeing how big her own was. Her eyes shined so brightly and he adored it. He was curious if they would shine brighter if he taught her to drive his car with the same method his dad used to teach him. Would she figure out the method faster than he did with her current skill and knowledge? How long would it take her to grasp onto her own style, maybe even the same as his own or similar, with the method?

"Takumi?"

"Yeah?"

"Teach me how to drift."

"I learned in a way that I'm pretty sure no one else has. It'll be different than what you're thinking and are used to."

"Then I want to learn the same way you did. Everything you're doing is amazing. I can't even do this in my games."

And so, he taught her. She had a great understanding of the concept and the footing but still spilled a lot of the water. It didn't take her as long as him to figure out how to smoothly roll the water around the rim of the cup. It took a little over a month, and she only got better. Takumi was proud of her. He was so proud. He's never felt anything near that with someone else's driving, but the way she handled the Trueno around Akina was beautiful – like her- and made his heartbeat race every time.

He wasn't scared of her driving like he was of his friends'. Her practice from the video games really gave her an advantage. She mastered the gutter run in about the same time it took him. He found it cute how she always giggled when she dipped the car into the gutter and quickly turned the corner.

While Takumi taught her how to drift a real car, she showed him how to drift video game cars. It was a huge difference. There wasn't really any give and take in a game and no swaying when going around a corner. It was... flat? All screen movement, no real or body movement. It was too easy to drift, he would say. The tires gave no fight with the steering wheel when skidding, it was only sound. It felt way too weird to Takumi that he nearly called it foreign and not driving at all. It made him all the more impressed that (Y/N) was able to learn to drift an actual car that fought back in somewhat a short amount of time, even with knowing the fundamentals.

She worked hard during the last half of the year and gave Takumi quite a surprise when he was doing a delivery run and saw an 8-6 gain on him quickly. He thought it was possibly Wataru coming back to have a run on Akina, maybe even Itsuki having a late-night practice, but was somehow not expecting (Y/N) to speed past him in her own Trueno and flawlessly drift around a corner.

She slowed down and lined up next to him on the next straightaway, giving him a cheesy smile and wave through the window. He laughed, lightly shaking his head. They pulled over at the iconic spot where downhill races start and (Y/N) pulled out a paper cup filled with water from the car, taking a sip of it. She gently tapped the cup against the small can of coffee Takumi was holding and took another sip. He chuckled at her cute antics.

After their small drink break and small talk (Y/N) proposed they have a race for fun down Akina since he was heading home from his deliveries. She had a strong feeling she wouldn't win since her car wasn't anywhere near built up like Takumi's since his dad always played around with it. As well as the fact that Takumi had years of experience on the pass and his skills were so much better compared to her. She didn't care at all if she lost, she only cared about the exhilaration of drifting in tandem with Takumi and chasing after those bright taillights.

The Ghost of Akina had obviously won, even when he slowed down a bit on purpose to let her catch up and keep a pace with her. She drove with him back to his house and he asked, albeit shyly and with a dark blush, if she wanted to spend the rest of the night with him before he had to wake up for work. She happily accepted and grabbed her small bag from the passenger seat before following him inside.

His old man greeted them both, having being used to (Y/N) visiting Takumi quite often. He had grown fond of the girl, surprised even, with how she managed to get someone like Takumi to teach to her drift. The couple were quickly under the warm covers of his bed and (Y/N) pulled out a few gaming magazines from her bag, showing Takumi the varieties of video games and her favourite racing games, she has the top scores in.

He occasionally asked her questions about them all to which she excitedly answered them all. He found it endearing how passionate she was for simple games. He loved indulging her for the small things she loved which only fueled her passion more. She had quite the extensive armada of knowledge on cars, their parts, their specs, anything he could think of, she knew a lot of it.

When they were finally tired enough to fall asleep, she lightly tossed the magazines on top of her bag and rolled over to cuddle into Takumi's side, with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He wrapped an arm around her waist and his other around her shoulders with his hands gently weaving through her hair, quickly lulling her to sleep in his arms, just barely aware of the soft kisses he left on her forehead and lips before falling asleep himself.

#initial d #initiald #anime #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #takumi fujiwara #takumi fujiwara x reader #ScarletNakazato

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audiovisualrecall · 1 year

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So friends/family gave us food and others are offering to so we don't have to cook etc and I appreciate it but also

Despite all the Thanksgiving food yesterday being stomach-safe apart from the cake (and, yes, the donuts I had at work 2 days in a row), everything was still rich, and I ate too much, and my stomach has been on and off upset/uneasy since last night. The same thing will happen with the food they gave us, bc it's rich, and we have had problems before with similar stuff, and if it tastes good I have no self control bc I don't feel full right away, and mostly normally we eat simple dishes! Simple stir fries where I have a portion of chicken, rice or pasta, and veggies. My stomach can't really tolerate heavy, rich foods very often, and we already have people offering to buy us dinner foodstuffs for the rest of the week, honestly, and I appreciate it but I don't want to be sick all week, okay! And on top of that I pulled a muscle in my side on like Monday or Sunday maybe and it's been getting more painful/difficult to deal with as I worked 7 days in a row, plus I'm still coughing, and I have acid reflux for some reason, and I'm having to lay on my back and not my side like I prefer bc my side feels painful like pinching when I lay on my side, I can't twist and move around and reach for things easily or without pain. And I can't deal with multiple physical discomforts at the same time like this, and mourning my zayde, and I don't want to be a problem abd a bother to my mom, but I'm trying to express something no one is taking seriously! I have a chronic gut related illness! I'm not just being difficult and I can't just cook something else for myself because I AM IN PAIN! I worked 5 or 6 days in a row with this pain yes but I was clearly doing more damage to the muscle and if I want to heal at all I need to not do things that will hurt it, I need to see a doctor probably too, and I just feel like such a problem, like I'm being a baby making everything about me when ma lost her dad, but it's not my fault I'm injured and that my stomach is difficult!!!!!! And I want to cry and I can't even do that without something hurting! I want normal food bc nothing else can be normal rn. And I'd like tp be able to focus on healing and not on my stomach being upset. Like lunch was bagels, lox, and fruit, and my stomach still wasn't happy. And I need to call out from work Sunday at least partly to let my side heal but also bc we don't sit shivvah tonight or tomorrow until shabbos ends so most ppl are coming over on Sunday to sit with us. And I didn't tell work abt my grandfather passing, I just went to work the next day and said nothing to anyone I only told kne friend when he was sick and only told one different friend that he had passed away Tuesday night, so i just feel weird now to mention that hey I might need some time off due to a death in the family.... but also I might need PT for my pulled muscle and I didn't mention THAT to anyone at work really specifically that the injury occurred at work bc it was just so crazy busy and I thought it would get better on its own I guess, and it probably only happened bc I'd had the flu so I'd been coughing for a week and then reached for something too high up at work while twisted slightly and felt a sharp pain in my side... so idk if I should tell them one or the other bc no one would believe me if I tell them both things are reasons for me to be out. Idk. And I'm just upset and tired of ppl thinking I'm annoying for not wanting to upset my stomach by eating things I know will do so, purely bc it's the food that'd available so I should either eat it or make myself something else. Like my point is it's distressing to me rn! Please help me and understand me!

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culttvblog · 5 months

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Sapphire and Steel: Assignment 6 Part 1

This post (or series of posts if I actually complete the assignment) is intended to be pure pleasure. I see I first blogged about Sapphire and Steel in 2014, which rather surprises me, and this is the only assignment I haven't even touched yet. I have been keeping it back because it is my favourite but there isn't really much point in not blogging about things just because I like them, is there? One of the reasons it's my favourite is that I remember watching this with my dad when it was first broadcast and being very much struck by all sorts of things in it. The only other Sapphire and Steel assignment I remember watching when it was first broadcast was the one in the railway station, which has had a similar impact on me.

I am therefore going to blog selectively about the things which take my fancy. If you want a sensible blog post about this assignment I would point you in the direction of the Television Heaven post about it: https://televisionheaven.co.uk/articles/sapphire-and-steel-assignment-six

One of the strongest impressions it made on me was that I have ever since loved stories or mysteries set in enclosed settings. Set a show or book in a country house, a railway train or station, and I'm perfectly happy. Perhaps one of the most extraordinary things about this one is setting it in a garage, surely an unusual choice for an isolated mystery.

I particularly love the way that this isn't merely an enclosed situation contained by walls or, say, snow: it's the way you get to the end of forecourt and there is just darkness with the sound of the traffic repeating itself. This scared me witless as a nine year old and is perhaps the strongest impression I got from this show!

And it's the way it's an utter mystery to everyone concerned. Sapphire and Steel usually seem to have some idea of why they are there, but this one is different. They have no idea what's going on. This assignment is different from the preceding five, and it's a pity that the show wasn't continued beyond this. I wonder whether the premature introduction of Silver and the way it's a complete mystery were intended to take the show in a slightly different direction.

Another wonderful thing is the attention to detail in the set and props. It's interesting that it is so obviously nothing but a set (and not that good a set, frankly), and yet the attention to detail is incredible. The whole setting is set up by the props, and we get to see both Sapphire and Steel examining props at the beginning, setting up the time and place. Surely the scene where Steel goes through the contents of the car is magnificently reminiscent and makes us contrast the quality of the car and its contents with the rather wooden set and props in the garage. Of course you could be contrasting the quality of 1948 with the quality of the late 1970s/early 1908s, or you could be contrasting the real car with the unreal setting of garage.

I love the feeling of a complete mystery here and the way nobody is trying to run away from it. They're all stuck with it and can only try to understand, something they don't achieve by the end of the first part. As escapist viewing, this literally can't be beaten as long as you're not stuck there yourself!

I would identify one criticism of the episode (or rather assignment) which is in the characters of the couple from 1948, who have appeared there for no apparent reason. I disagree with the analysis of the Television Heaven post I link above, which is that the characters are intended to have the same emotionlessness of Sapphire and Steel but that the actors can't pull it off. I think it's a fault in the characters, which is that their appearance and actions aren't consistent with the plot. Suddenly being wrenched from 1948 and plonked down thirty years later, you would expect the normal reaction to be disbelief, but strangely they accept that the garage and they have shot forward in time with no apparent difficulty. It's not that the characters aren't portraying this well enough, it's that they are depicting the intended characters but the characters aren't showing the right reactions. Another example is that the woman doesn't trust where they are so won't eat anything (which is a normal reaction and completely consistent) but will still have a glass of water. Why would you trust the water if you won't trust the food?

My absolutely favourite bit is the part where Steel looks at the pin up calendar to find out the date and doesn't notice or comment at the women on it. No, tell a lie, it's my joint favourite bit with Silver playing the fruit machine and not getting that he's not supposed to win every time.

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#80s tv #sapphire and steel

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southwarkcofe · 7 months

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God may surprise you (although this shouldn’t really be a surprise)

This week’s blog is written by Dr Clare Dowding, the new Diocesan Warden of Readers.

Clare will be commissioned this Sunday during the Admission and Licensing service of Lay Ministers at Southwark Cathedral.

Five years ago, if someone had told me that right now, I’d be preparing to take on the role of Warden of Readers for our Diocese, I would have been very surprised. In autumn 2018, I had just started training for Reader Ministry at St Augustine’s College of Theology, I was getting to grips with regular weekly classes, and I wasn’t really thinking beyond the first essay deadline (if I’m completely honest). Although I’d been exploring the possibility of Reader Ministry for about 18 months by then, starting training was probably the point at which it began to feel that this really was what God wanted me to be doing at this time.

The idea that I might end up in formal ministry of some kind was itself a bit of a surprise – even if only to me! When I started telling people that I was thinking about it, more than one person replied, “About time!”. I grew up in south Wales, where my dad was a Parish Priest in the Diocese of Llandaff – he’s now happily retired. I moved to London in the mid 1990s after university, and I soon found a home at All Saints’ Blackheath. Over the years, I’ve been involved in the life of the church in lots of ways: the choir, the serving team, the listening team, the PCC, Deanery Synod, Churches Together, reading, leading and coordinating prayers, to name just some. Yet as far as I was concerned, all of that was just what I did as part of the All Saints’ congregation, rather than viewing it as some form of ‘ministry’.

But – as is so often the case – God had other ideas. In October 2020, after two years of training, I, with others was Licensed by the Bishop Christopher and Admitted as a Reader. What I do now at All Saints’ is very similar to what I did before, with the addition of preaching and leading some services, but the difference is that I am now much more visible, as a Licensed Lay Minister. In my professional life I work in administration – currently at King’s College London, previously at a small charity – and am usually the person supporting others who lead rather than being the one leading. However, being more visible and taking on more aspects of leadership feels like the right thing to be doing at this time.

At the same time as settling into Reader Ministry, I have also become a Vocations Adviser, one of those from across the Diocese (lay and ordained) who form part of the wider Vocations Team, encouraging and supporting people who are exploring and discerning their own possible calls to ministry in some form. I slightly surprised myself in having the confidence to enquire about this when I heard that more Vocations Advisers were being recruited, because I’d gone through the discernment process myself so recently. But what I keep learning is that God has much more confidence in our skills and abilities than we can sometimes have in ourselves – which is as it should be, since those skills and abilities are God-given.

Which has all led up to this summer, when I had a phone call to say that the Bishop would like me to consider becoming Warden of Readers, taking over from Ray Wheeler who has served the Readers of the Diocese well for the last four years. This was a very big surprise – but more and more I am coming to understanding that God’s surprises have reason and purpose, even if that’s not necessarily clear immediately. It’s an honour to be stepping into this role, with all its responsibilities, and by God’s grace I hope to be and to do the best I can as Warden over the coming years – whatever further surprises there may be along the way.

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upismediacenter · 2 years

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LITERARY: The Man In The Cage

“Dad, can we get McDonald’s?” Lester says as he sees the McDonalds in the distance from the car window.

“No. I’m sorry,” his dad calmly replied, “We will go eat later. Just be patient.”

Lester stares at the passing cars and trees, and wonders about how the new house will look, but most importantly, how the other kids there will be like. The car drives past the McDonald’s. Lester pouts and hugs his shark plushie tighter. His soul feels crushed.

His dad’s phone rings. He answers it and puts it on speaker. On the other side, you can hear a woman’s voice.

“Carter?” the woman’s voice says.

“AUNTIE!” Lester exclaims as his eyes widen with joy and boredom fades away.

“Haha, seems like someone is excited to see the new house,” Lester’s auntie replies in a joyful voice.

The adults continue to talk over the phone about things Lester cannot understand. Lester continues to watch the surroundings until he falls asleep.

He wakes up in a bed of grass. The grass patch was only big enough for Lester to lay down in. The rest of the surroundings are covered in plants with small blue, purple, and pink flowers. The field of flowers seems to extend indefinitely. The sky is gray and cloudy as if it’s about to rain. In the distance, he can see an old oak tree. From afar, it looks as small as a bonsai but as Lester walks closer and closer, it gets bigger and bigger. It’s starting to look almost three times the height of the Ferris Wheel Lester and his dad rode on his 8th birthday a few months ago.

At the base of this tree sits a large, rusted cage with a pale sickly man only slightly taller than him inside. He seems to be around the same age as Lester’s father. Nature is slowly taking over the cage. Flowering vines wrap around its bars. The cage is almost the size of a typical bedroom. The same blue, purple, and pink flowers cover the floor completely.

The man, as well as the child stare at each other in a mix of disbelief and confusion.

“I-“ the man mutters. The two lock gazes at each other for another few minutes. Lester breaks the stare-off by looking around and walking away to wander this strange world.

“Wait!” the man in the cage exclaims exhaustingly. “Don’t leave me here.”

Lester does not pay attention. He frolics around the field of flowers. Eventually, he gets tired, sits down under the big oak tree. The man drags himself towards him.

“You look familiar,” says the man. He does not continue to talk. He only stares at Lester.

Lester looks at him and says firmly, “My dad told me not to talk to strangers,”

“Where is your mom?” the man asks.

“I don’t have a mom,” Lester says emptily. “How did you get in here?”

“Someone locked me in here,” says the man. “and forgot about me.”

“Did you kill someone?” Lester asks.

“No,” the man says.

“Did you steal something?” the child asks more inquisitively this time.

“No,” the man replies.

“What did you do?” Lester asks.

“I don’t know what I did,” the man says, “I don’t deserve to be here.”

“Oh,” the child mutters softly.

Lester’s surroundings begin to darken. He can hear the man yelling to not leave him. The voice fades away as the sight of the car comes back. They finally arrive at the new house. A spark of joy and excitement fills Lester as he sees the house that is much bigger than their previous one. He sees his aunt come to them from next door. Both Lester’s father and aunt, as well as staff from the moving company help with carrying the boxes and furniture into the house.

The walls smell of the same flowers as Lester’s dream. His father hangs up a photo of the exact location of the dream. The only difference is that the cage isn’t there. This makes Lester curious.

“Dad,” Lester says, “I saw this in a dream.”

“You did?” his dad replies. “Did you know I made this painting in high school?”

Lester was amazed. He didn’t know his dad could draw this nicely. Well, he knows that his dad can draw, given that he did a lot of Lester’s school projects when he was younger, but this painting is amazing, as if it was a photograph, but it’s not –Lester can even see the brush strokes. Unlike the depressing overgrown nature of the dream, this painting appears happy. The sky is painted as beautiful layers of blue and pink, with fluffy white clouds. Everything is vibrant.

“Where’s the cage?” Lester thinks out loud. This puzzles his father.

“Why would there be a cage?” The dad replies with his face looking slightly concerned.

“In my dream, there was a man in a cage,” Lester answers. He continues to describe what he saw. The father’s face indicates visible concern.

“Hey - wait a minute, I almost forgot,” the father says, “I promised we’d go out and eat, right?”

This leaves Lester with a lot more questions.

Later that evening, as Lester drifts off to sleep, he is whisked away into another dream. This time, he finds himself in a cave with withered vines all over its walls. In it lies the same cage he saw in the previous dream. The same flowers still line its perimeter, but now they’re all withered. Everything feels dead. A lone torch on the wall adjacent to the cage illuminates the entire place.

“You’re back,” the man mutters. “Though I’ve been expecting someone else.”

Lester feels a weird mix of feelings. As much as he does not trust this strange man, he feels a strange warmth –like a fatherly aura.

“All is forgiven,” the man says. This puzzles Lester. Who is forgiven? Is it him? Did he have something to do with the imprisonment of this man? He is a mere 8 year old. What could he have possibly done?

“Tell him…” the man continues, but gets interrupted as soon as Lester drifts back into the world of the awake. Who was the man talking about?

Lester goes downstairs, and sees his dad preparing breakfast.

“You’re up early,” his dad says with a smile. “You know, I was going to wake you up, but here you are.”

“Dad, I have something to tell you,” Lester says. “I don’t know if you’ll understand.”

“What is it?” the dad asks. “Did you have a weird dream again?”

Lester proceeds to tell his father all about his dream again. He expected his father to comfort him, and tell him that it’s only a dream, but he doesn’t. The father’s expression grows more and more concerned as Lester recounts every detail.

“Lester, come here.” His dad beckons as he pulls Lester into a big hug. Lester can feel the tears of his father on his shoulder. He has never seen him cry before. His father composes himself, and continues to prepare breakfast.

As it is very early in the morning, Lester still feels sleepy. He finds himself laying his head down on the kitchen table.

He awakes in his bed. His dad must have carried him here. He goes back downstairs to the kitchen, expecting his dad to be there. Instead, he finds him watching TV on the sofa. Someone’s with him –a man. It’s the same man from the dream, but much healthier and much more handsome.

“Oh, Lester, you’re up,” says his Dad, as he notices his son at the foot of the stairs. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

Lester walks towards the two.

“Lester,” his father says with a warm smile, “This is Taylor, and he’s going to be your second dad.”

#MC2023 #MainCharacter #literary #english #Proxima Centauri

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Shmi Skywalker #JangoShmi #Jango Fett #Disaster Lineage #star wars #time travel #de aging #mandalore #mandalorian culture #phoenix posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #tattoos #original characters #outsider pov #this is part one of three I think #it's two in the diddly darn morning and I am going to bed

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levisblackbabe · 3 years

Text

Headcanons of Aot boys with a black gf

Characters: Eren Jeager , Armin Arlert, Levi Ackerman, Connie Springer and Jean Kirstein x fem black reader (separate)

Genre: Mostly fluff, slight angst, deffo crack, (everyone is +18)

Warnings: Language, a bit toxic, slightly suggestive

Wc: 1500+ (Each character is about 300-400 words)

Eren Jeager (The lowkey Toxic one)

· Lowkey scared of y/n because she reminds him of Levi when she is angry, and he knows she will beat his ass if necessary

· Started out as friends but he has always liked y/n

· He initially asked you out as a dare and you only found out after 6 weeks where you broke up 😐

· This legit started the cycle of breaking and getting back together (he never cheated though just a lil bit toxic)

· He is very possessive and controlling which also lead to your break ups

· Even though you have your ups and down he is mostly a good boyfriend

· He plays basketball so every time he is practising on his own, he asks you to be there for rebounds (in reality he just wants you near him baso 24/7)

· Loves your smell so he steals those items might be your lotion, hair products or perfume

· Loves your natural hair and just touches it without permission after a couple times you just gave up telling him off

· He was confused on why you changed your hair so often

· When you guys first started dating you came with box braids rather then your usual bun and he deadass thought you were somebody else 💀he was so confused on why this stranger was touching him up (this mf loyal cuz he was ready to punch you)

· He was soooo scared of meeting your parents (had to call Armin to ask for advice)

· Your family at first didn’t like him cuz of the constant breaking up but they grew to tolerate him (however your older brother doesn’t)

· Loves taking pictures of you during facetime, golden hour or whenever and saves them in a folder (simp)

· Loves your cooking soo much that he goes collect tubber ware of food worth a week and stocks up his fridge

· He loves when you speak to him in another language so he pisses you off so you can cuss him out in your native tongue

· He barely calls your name its either babe or some cringey name like bubbs or something (however if you hear your full name leave his month rip)

Armin Artlet (The simp)

· SHY BAE that’s it

· He was your English tutor and has always had a crush on you

· He wanted to ask you out on a date, but he shy and thought you won’t like white boys

· You asked him instead cuz you fell for his ocean blue eyes (I mean who wouldn’t)

· In the beginning you had to take the initiative a lot cuz he wanted to respect your boundaries but after a while he grew comfortable and took the lead

· He LOVES your natural hair and knows your wash day schedule, so he always offers to help anyway possible

· He was absolutely scared of meeting your family cuz once again he white 😐 however everyone loved him

· He most definitely invited to the family reunion

· Your aunts adore him and they always talking about you as a baby to him

· He always doing late night ft calls with you, and he WON’T hang up cuz he wants to see your face when you wake up

· Armin is a giver, so he always offers to buy thigs for your and just buy gifts at least once a week

· He also loves cooking for and with you (once you had a cooking competition and technically, he is a better cook, but he let you win)

· He likes sending random pictures of things you like and remind him of you

· He happily takes pictures of you (photographer Armin)

· You guys have a pet turtle called Mickey 🐢

· His nicknames for you are beautiful, pretty and stuff like that

· Just overall fluff

Levi Ackerman (the co-worker)

· You guys have been co-workers for 2 years actually

· You thought he hated you but in reality, he does he just acts stingy towards cuz he is Levi 😐 (some serious enemies to lovers vibe)

· He didn’t confess and never would have but due to a drunken Hange letting it slip during a hang out with your co-workers you found out

· He deadass ignored you for a week like if he saw you, he would turn into Houdini and disappear

· However, you once caught him distracted and forced him to talk to you

· Reluctantly so he spoke the truth and asked you out (thought he seemed angry about it)

· Now you guys have happily been dating

· Everyone in your office finds you lucky cuz Levi is the finest man in the office heck the world (if he was real, I would leave my bf 😭)

· He actually has a 5-year-old daughter (DILF! Levi) and told you why he never said anything about his feeling was because you know single dad and shiz

· After 6 weeks you met his babygirl and she is the cutest she loves you considering she never had much of a mother figure in her life

· His daughter is mixed so he knows how to deal with natural hair thanks to YouTube, so he sometimes helps with yours (such a good dad)

· But now that you are here you offer to do any protective styles and give him tips

· Levi isn’t very open, but he expresses his love to you with physical touch, acts of service or gifts

· However, he speaks very softly to his daughter he seems different

· Due to his love language being touch he loves petting your hair (only when you have protective styles) and putting his head on it ( he is tall in my head okay)

· He loves having you in close proximity to you and just somehow touching you

· Him and your dad really hit it off because they both have daughters

· Your aunts are lowkey infatuated with him

· Loves making breakfast for you but due to your busy schedule he just buys your coffee in the morning

· He will never tell you, but he has trouble falling asleep but when you sleepover he actually has a full nights rest (he has silk sheets just for you)

· He might seem closed off, but you know he loves you due to the little things

Connie Springer (the bestfriend)

a/n I just want to say Connie will be of Hispanic heritage for the sake of this headcanon also because all the fanfics I read about him he is portrayed as Hispanic I just write him like this however this isn’t to offend anyone or play onto stereotypes.

· You guys have been besties since freshman year high school

· You hooked up freshman year of college and been dating ever since

· Nothing really changed in your dynamic other than the fact yall kiss and do the deed

· Like you legit call each other insults though Connie likes calling slime and bubbs

· You jokingly calling each other baby mama and baby daddy (manifesting kids but whatever)

· Speaking of kids, you have plushies that you call kids and rotate them around (they are from your arcade date)

· Loves being on call with you when he is playing because it helps calm him down and not break his tv (anger issues much)

· HYPEMAN if you are looking fine asf he will hype you up so much and offer to take pictures for the gram

· You have a joint TikTok account where you reaching 10k and just do dumb couple stuff its cringey but cute (Same goes for your joint spam account where you guys just do silly things together)

· He always asks to do your hair which you repetitively deny keeping in mind last time you let him he nearly ripped off half your scalp

· Late nights drives happen a lot so you can vent and have a heart to heart under the stars, you guys also just vibe to the music and might spend hours in silence looking at the city lights and dancing

· If you fall asleep on him or in the drive back he becomes really cute and soft and just says you are beautiful and that he loves you in Spanish (ugh my heart)

· He only speaks Spanish when he wants to be cute and knows you won’t understand

· Your family have always liked him so when you guys started dating everyone was like ‘FINALLY’ (same with his family)

· Some type of kid’s movie marathon once a month cuz being a child is great

· Its just overall jokes

Jean Kirstein (Mr Doesn’t Give Up)

· Kept asking you out for a year until you gave in, he was so excited he kissed you straightaway

· He was so nervous in your first date, but he was a gentleman opening doors etc (whoever said chivalry was dead 🤨)

· Nearly said I love you on the first date considering he has liked you for a year, but he held it in

· However, he did get a kiss goodnight on the cheek (he was grinning like a fool)

· Loves the fact that you change your hair so much and so often that he happily gives recommendations and offers to help you out

· He is the overprotective type of boyfriend so he was reluctant on you meeting his friends especially Eren, but you reassured him that you wouldn’t be swayed (still icky about you hanging with Eren though)

· He adores playing pc games with you and you have a little family in Sims4 which is cute

· He now has a skincare routine because you introduced him to it (he said he didn’t need one cuz he has a ‘handsome face’ but he secretly started one lol

· He also steals your body lotion and legit smells like you (smh)

· His wrist always has a silk crunchie in case you need it, and, in his car, he has a bag with essentials for you such as pads, edge control, etc

· He calls you cute pet names but also the occasional insults as a joke

· He is lowkey rich, so he happily spoils you to fancy dinners and more

· He also likes going back to the basics so picnic dates in the spring and summer are common he says he cooks them but in reality, it’s his mum

· Your mum absolutely adores him cuz he is a ‘charmer’

· He likes facetiming you when he is working out so he can show up, but you just ignore him and continue doing what you are doing

· Like Eren he has a folder filled of mugs of you

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#eren yeager x black reader #jean x black!reader #eren yaeger x reader #armin x black reader #connie x black reader #levi x black reader #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #aot imagines #eren jaeger #levi ackerman #angst prompts🥀#fluff prompts 🍄#levisbae 💅🏽

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Note

can u do a blurb about reader wanting a baby and asking her co-worker Spencer to be the donor because he's smart and nice and she wants a cute baby?

you said blurb and i read 2K word fic apparently lmao

Late nights behind a desk were the worst. Y/N hated reading over case file, after case file, of horrific things as she tried to choose where they went next.

The only plus side was that she wasn’t alone, Spencer was at his desk just beside her. Like he always was. They had an interesting friendship, to say the least.

Ever since Y/N joined the BAU, Spencer and her were glued at the hip. They had all the same interests, liked the same music and movies, and they spat out information the same way, they were like each other’s dorky other half— but it was just a friendship.

They had a tradition to watch at least one movie together after a case, to just chill for a bit together. Always randomly picking one of their apartments to go to, spending the night together until one of them eventually wandered off to bed. Leaving the other on the couch.

They weren’t aware of their feelings for each other for a while. Both of them being so used to being alone, and never having anyone be interested in them before. It was hard to understand if the feelings they had were pure friendship, or if it could ever be more. If the sex would fuck everything up and take away that perfect happy place they found in each other, or would it make the bond stronger?

She noticed the crush before Spencer showed any signs of liking her back. She woke up every morning thinking of him, that's when she came to the conclusion that it was more than just a friendship. She wanted him in her life forever, she wanted to kiss his perfect lips and hug his soft body, wake up beside his messy hair and just love him for the rest of eternity.

She sighed as she picked up another file, not excited to learn about the horrible acts taking place in what people called, “the best country in the world.” She’d disagree any day of the week.

This one was a file about some missing kids apparently being spotted in a van altogether in Georgia, it looked interesting enough to be the next case. She hated reading all the info, seeing every kid's happy face in the file knowing that’s not how they looked now.

“Good god,” she groaned as she flipped through the case.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked over the divider.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, “just a bad case.”

She handed it to him over the desk, hearing him flip through all the sheets as he read a million words a minute. “We should show this to Emily first thing,” Spencer agreed, pushing himself over to her desk in his wheely chair.

“I will,” she smiled softly, taking the file back from him and placing it on her desk.

Spencer stood then, making his way into her space and rubbing his hand over her back slightly. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, “actually. no, I was telling Garcia I want to have a baby soon, and then I see things like this and I’m scared to do it alone but I don’t have any other option?” Ranting to him like he was her therapist.

“What do you mean?”

She turned in her chair to look up at him, his soft brown eyes really caring to hear the answer. “Sit,” she insisted.

He pulled the chair over more, sitting close enough that their knees touched. “I’m 36, I’m not having any luck finding a husband or a wife, I want a baby and if I have to do it myself I will, but what if I’m not enough? What if I have a boy and he grows up to be a killer cause he never had a dad?”

“Y/N,” Spencer’s voice was soft as he looked at her with a confused scrunch on his face. “That couldn’t happen, you’re a wonderful person, I love having you on the team and in my life, I know you’d raise good kids, you should do it.”

“Really?” She beamed at him, the words touching her heart and making her swoon a bit.

“I mean, it would be hard,” he added reason to the conversation. “You’d have to take time off, which would be good for bonding. My mother raised me alone and I turned out semi-fine, I don't hold any resentment for her not finding someone for me to call dad or even step-mom for that matter. I think if you give them all the love in the world like I know you’re capable of, your child will love you like you’re their whole world.”

She laughed as she noticed the tears welling in her eyes, waving her hand's in front of her face so she wouldn’t fully sob. “Do you want to be the donor?” She made a joke to change the topic.

Spencer laughed then too, “sure!”

Everything got serious again then, she looked at him a little differently. “Really? Cause honestly, you’re like a Grade A donor profile in the most expensive clinic!” She couldn’t help herself from laughing again at the absurdity.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad, 40 isn’t too old to have a child, is it?” He seemed to have decided that rather fast.

“Okay,” she nodded with a smile, “okay. That’s cool, sick,” she felt the words get smaller as she thought it over.

“I get it if you were kidding,” Spencer spat out. “I realize now that you might have been making a joke, I hope it’s not weird that I agreed so fast, it’s just that I think you’re a very beautiful and smart woman and the idea of helping you make a child makes me really excited. I think it would be a very good idea if you were being serious, but I get it if you’re not.”

She let him get it all out, always loving when he got like this on a case or in person, nervous or just because he wanted to talk, she loved to listen. And no one ever let him finish his thoughts, always wanting to beat him to the punch.

“Spence, I think you’re really handsome and smart too,” she smiled. “If you’re also serious, I am too.”

“How would we?” He asked as he pulled at the top button of his dress shirt, swallowing like he couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

“If you’re not opposed, I’m sure the good old-fashioned way would work?” She laughed, laying her hand on his knee softly.

It was like sparks flew at that moment as if all the fluorescent lights in the bullpen could have exploded and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Captivated by Spencer's eyes as he gasped at her touch.

“Not opposed in the slightest,” he said softly as he held his own hand over hers.

She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Well, I think I’m all done here if you want to come to my place for a movie?”

“Sure,” he replied, offering her a hand as they stood up together.

He returned his chair to his desk, both of them grabbing their coats and bags and rejoining at the door.

“I should go say goodnight to Penny,” Y/N said softly. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” he followed her through the door and down the hall to the tech room.

“Knock knock,” Y/N said as she walked through the open door. “Oh great and knowledgeable one, I’ve come with my nightly farewell.”

“Oh my knight, I shall miss you,” Penelope played along, sauntering over to her and wrapping her up in a hug. “I leave you with this until your return.”

“Through scorching deserts, and blistering winds, I will make it back to you, always,” she tried not to laugh as she hugged her back. “I also brought forth the jester.”

Spencer was laughing in the doorway as the two of them looked at him, “hi?”

“The pretty boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um,” Y/N smiled, “Spencer and I are just going back for our nightly movie.”

Penelope looked at both of them, jaw slightly gaped, “nightly? I thought it was a case by case thing?”

“It’s a good excuse for us to talk,” Spencer smiled at her.

“Mhmm,” she smirked, “well have fun.”

She pulled Y/N back into another hug, hiding her face from Spencer, “I need all the dirty deets in the morning.”

Y/N smacked her arm softly as she pulled back, “goodnight pretty penny.”

“Farewell brave knight, handle with care, Jester,” Penelope pointed her finger at him, giving him a knowing glance.

“Yes, oh Knowledgeable one, always,” he blushed.

He reached out his hand for Y/N, interlocking their fingers as they left her office and headed towards the elevator. A rare moment of bravery on his part, holding hands like this didn’t spread a lot of germs.

“We’re going to have to discuss a lot of logistics like realistically this isn’t going to be just a fuck and oh look its a baby. This is a real live baby that we need to raise and care for,” she reminded him as the elevator doors shut.

“I’d like to be as involved as you’d let me be,” Spencer replied. “I don’t have to be 'dad' to them, I could be uncle Spence that’s fine too.”

“Oh no, you’d be Dad for sure,” she nudged him slightly. “I mean like, weekends and holidays and birthdays, your mom will want to see them surely, my parents will want to see them. Housing,” she looked at him horrified. “I have an apartment with 2 bedrooms, I don’t think I could let them sleep somewhere without me.”

“I have been looking at houses,” Spencer added before the doors opened to the garage, “you’re driving right?”

“Yeah, you were saying?” She replied, digging her keys out of her purse and leading him towards the car.

“Derek Morgan, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet, he fixes up old homes in DC and Virginia now. He just finished one and I helped him with it. I think I’m going to buy it from him. It has 4 bedrooms, we could all live under the same roof? It would be easier to co-parent.”

She was amazed at how fast he adapted to this as if he’d been having the same thoughts she was having. At a certain point wanting kids becomes a pipe dream filled with desperation and emptiness, he looks like he’s experienced it too.

She opened her door and sat down before replying to him again. Thinking about how wonderful he was going to be during this process, “thank you, Spencer.”

“For what?” He asked as they both closed their doors.

She sighed, relaxing into her seat as she started the car. She turned to him softly, not wanting to cry as she spoke softly. “Being a mom is more of a dream to me than joining the BAU was, this is the best gift you could give me.”

He reached his hand out again, holding it softly. Running his thumb over her knuckles. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” she nodded softly.

He couldn’t make eye contact with her, staring at their hands as he rubbed her skin.

“Um, I’ve been pretty infatuated with you since you joined,” he let it out finally. Like a ton of bricks off his back he relaxed a bit, “after everything with Maeve, Cat and Max… oh god, and JJ... I was so worried that if I got too close to you I’d lose you. I tried to keep the feelings in, that's why I said what I did to Penelope. She knows how I feel about you.”

It was like fireworks were going off in her chest as the butterflies erupted inside of her. She sat up, turning to him more and ripping her hand from his grasp.

It startled him, he looked at her anxiously as if she was going to yell at him. But she placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

His arms snaked around her waist, wishing they could get closer if it wasn’t for the damn centre console of her car. Pressing their lips together, hard, as they breathed each other in. Desperation taking control, she wasn’t able to let go of him.

When she finally did pull away, however, the look on his face was priceless. Like expensive art, every line and freckle had a meaning. He was surprised, enamoured, grateful, desperate for more.

She smiled softly, rubbing her thumbs over his cheek. “Good, cause it would be awkward having your baby and not getting to love you every day too.”

taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

Note

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

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

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

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

Butch:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charon:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fawkes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jericho:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here is the post with Fallout New Vegas M!Companions

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

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