#i had a few diff ideas for this but not enough time so i settled on their wins but hhh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dykeseinfeld · 3 years

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u asked someone to remind you to post about your pjo dual protagonist thalia/bianca au and i am SO intrigued by this idea please say more

anon asked: hey queen hope your homework went good yesterday 🌸…now what were you saying about thalia and bianca 😳 ?

ok y’all i’m here...the moment almost none of y’all have been waiting for....bianca/thalia protagonists with alternating pov’s au

warning it’s kind of super long and may or may not read like a 2nd grader’s semi-coherent game of pretend so under the cut it goes!

so the main things you need to know about this au are 1. thalia survives and 2. annabeth’s + luke’s ages are a lil diff bc canon is my sandbox 3. i can’t decide if percy exists in this au or not (maybe y’all can help me decide?)

so the first book:

would start a few months after grover brought thalia (12), luke (13), and annabeth (10, not 7) to camp half blood. they were chased by monsters sent by hades on the way, and thalia almost didn’t survive, but ultimately she got lucky and managed to send a bolt of lightning through her spear for the first time and they made it into camp

it’s been some time so annabeth is happy as a clam in the athena cabin doing her 10-year-old-with-severe-mommy-issues thing and luke is actually pretty popular with the hermes cabin bc he actually Met Their Dad Holy Shit and also he��s getting pretty good with a sword

at the same time, thalia is alone in the zeus cabin. everyone has been freaking out bc they all saw the huge bolt of lightning that incinerated a couple hellhounds as they made their grand entrance and What The Fuck Child Of The Big Three???

she’s also further isolated because chiron will take her for private training sessions sometimes, since she is clearly really powerful already and also Hades Himself was trying to kill her (chiron told her the reason was the big three’s pledge not to have kids, and maybe about the great prophecy? if he tells her that then she’s sworn to secrecy)

once grover leaves on another protector assignment, thalia mostly hangs out with luke, and annabeth. luke + annabeth both will try to eat meals with her at the zeus table but annabeth doesn’t want to get in trouble and luke is genuinely making friends in the hermes cabin so thalia will feel bad sometimes and send him back

kronos, seeing this bitter isolated child of the big three’s dreams: it’s free real estate

MEANWHILE

hades is Pissed that thalia survived and zeus got to break their oath And get the glory of a prophecy child

so he sends someone to take bianca (12) and nico (10) out of the lotus hotel and casino a little early.

grover is still their protector, but since the Stirring hasn’t begun in earnest yet and hades is lowkey determined to keep them safe, they make it back to camp half blood with no escort/incident

bianca + nico are put into the hermes cabin, and luke kinda takes them under his wing bc while he’s not bitter he still needs therapy bc this 14 year old has never met a pre-teen he couldn’t try to parent

luke introduces nico and annabeth since they’re the same age and they become really good friends!! she Loves mythomagic and he thinks her dagger is super cool and they’re both just really excited about camp <3

bianca is more reserved and resistant to the whole thing, and she wanders around alone exploring and runs into thalia in the zeus cabin

at this first meeting they get into a bit of a fight bc bianca is still in shock/denial about the gods being real, but thalia at this point has zero patience for this

anyway after that and maybe another scuffle during capture the flag or something they hit it off and become best friends in the way girls can, especially bonding over how they’ve both had to take on raising annabeth and nico basically on their own at the age of 12

~QUEST TIME~

thalia is given a quest for [unspecific reason] and chooses bianca and luke, they go off leaving annabeth and nico frustrated at home

quest hijinks etc, bianca is trying to figure out her parentage + her weird mysterious powers? and thalia is arguing with luke because he’s settling into camp/hero life really well actually but she’s getting progressively angrier with the gods for trying to kill her and also keeps getting dreams from kronos and doesn’t get why he doesn’t seem to remember all of the shit that the gods have put him through

bianca + thalia have las-vegas-style-heart-to-hearts where thalia shares her tragic backstory about her mother and her brother and how hades tried to kill her and even about the great prophecy and how she’s trying on this quest bc of that and her dad but at the same time these dreams are making her suspicious that he might’ve been responsible for her mom’s death.

bianca then shares her own stuff, about how terrified she was being on her own with nico having to protect him but also not remembering most of her childhood and not remembering her parents or how she ended up in the care of this lawyer and just the absolute mindfuckery that her memories/past are

luke is asleep in those scenes i guess lol 🧍‍♂️

anyway eventually they finish their quest in this massive climactic battle where bianca discovers her powers in a huge-showy-”i’m the ghost prince”-way and is formally claimed by hades which thalia sees as this Massive Betrayal obviously and bianca is horrified too because she knows what hades did to thalia but at the same time she’s just so happy to finally understand at least part of her past

thalia just reaches a breaking point though because everyone around her just doesn’t understand her anger and just when she thought she had found another sympathetic person who understood what she was going through she joins hades??? no. no fucking way. kronos reveals that he’s the one who has been sending her dreams, prob by sending some messenger who he possesses or smthing and when he offers thalia the chance to join him? she does (dun dun dun)

main beats of the rest of the series:

thalia and bianca on opposite sides of the war training to be the prophecy child, they come together a Lot and have like melodramatic fight scenes where they talk out their anger and try to get the other to join them bc they don’t want to kill each other

luke is extremely conflicted/betrayed and there’s a titan’s curse moment prob towards the end of the third book where they’re fighting and thalia is trying to get her to go with him but here he actually does go to join her (gasp!!) and is evil for at least one book but his heart’s not in it and he goes back to the good side eventually

by the point of luke’s betrayal, annabeth and nico are growing and developing and old enough to go on quests w bianca and by the last book they’re a main trio of sorts and their hypothetical character development is already making me emotional

there’s just a lot of general sexiness with foils and inner conflicts and bianca doesn’t even want to be the prophecy child but she needs to for the fate of the world and bianca is so angry at thalia bc thalia is a daughter of zeus and could control her powers and is perfect and just meant to be the prophecy kid, not some daughter of hades who they didn’t even have a cabin for before

hm maybe by either the last or second-to-last book thalia + bianca are close to reconciling or at least their interests are aligned for the moment and they read the text of the prophecy together and things go Wild bc they both think “single choice shall end his days” either is about luke or nico and it turns up the gas to their fighting both of them care about both of them and yeah

and then i can’t decide if there’s romantic arcs at all but if there were it would go like this:

just a dash of thaluke where at first it was luke having a one-sided crush but thalia misses him a Lot after she goes to kronos and wonders if it’s that she misses him or if it’s something More until to get him to defect there’s like a melodramatic moment in the fight where thalia kisses him and they go off to be Evil Together but it ends bc luke doesn’t believe in the cause and only joined her in hopes of getting thalia back to his side

once luke leaves/is kicked out thalia realizes that she didn’t love luke she just wanted a family and also in the second half of the series she realizes she’s a lesbian as a parallel to her redemption arc

bianca meanwhile is unconcerned w romance until she has her botl-hoe-moment where within one book she 1. runs into the hunters on a quest and has a thing with zoe nightshade who tries to get her to join plus tells her about that time she met thalia, 2. she goes to calypso’s island and falls in love w her in the moonlight or w/e and has her what-if moment, and 3. when they meet up that book thalia somehow knew abt zoe + calypso and seems almost angrier abt them than the war?? weird bc bianca knows that thalia is Totally Straight right??

my main point is that bianca/thalia is our friends-to-enemies-to-lovers endgame thank you i will take my pulitzer now

#this series is like. if the titan's curse was 5 books long and also specifically catered to 9 year old me #which is very girlboss me <3 #bianca di angelo #thalia grace #thalianca #luke castellan #thaluke #(just a dash. a smidge. for spice.)#annabeth chase #nico di angelo #pjo #keratonin #anon #answered #she speaks

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mashiraostail · 4 years

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Those can’t sleep heard a noise scenarios were SO cute plz do ones for Fatgum and Gang orca 💕✨ no worries if your too busy or ran out of ideas to make them diff from the others 👌

yeah omg, I’m glad you liked them! I had a separate request in my ask box for gang orca and Vlad king as well so I’m just going to add him here instead of making two separate posts! I hope you enjoy :3

Taishiro Toyomitsu/ Fatgum: Your neighbors were probably just being loud, maybe having a small party, or an argument. You couldn’t remember if they had pets but maybe they did and they were getting into typical late-night pet troubles, and that’s what all the bumps in the night were. Though the shadow of that lamp in the hallway sure did look ominous enough... Taishiro was a deep sleeper, he usually wasn’t bothered by your tossing and turning...though you figured being a pro hero would give him a sort of sixth sense to these things if there was danger he’d wake up, you just knew he would. You didn’t have anything to be afraid of, or so you told yourself. He was sleeping comfortably beside you still situtatied to hold you where you were once laying. It was entirely possible that that lamp was not a lamp at all but a very still murder waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike...maybe Tai had a long day and that’s why he hadn’t noticed yet, he was probably exhausted. You stop yourself before you wake him up, he probably did have a long day, you shouldn’t wake him up from all this much needed rest but- another loud thump. You shake his arm, harder than you intended in the first place. “Taishiro you need to wake up-” He groans and cracks an eye open. “Tha’ts not a very nice way of askin me to cudd-” “Tai I’m serious.” Your voice lowers, you swear you saw something move. His other eye opens at your tone, “What’s the matter you?” He sits up beside you, “not feeling good?” You shake your head, “no I-” You grip his arm and look up at him, “I think I heard something..” “Think ya heard something?” He glances out into the hallway, “well I’m pretty sure I came here alone.” He chuckles and you shudder at him. “Tai I just- I’m really freaked out-” He grins a little at that, he did think it was cute that you wouldn’t just go check it out on your own. “Alright, well howsabout I go take a look? Make sure alls well?” He offers and you nod vigorously at the idea. “lucky you, I think I can do that.” He stands up, “you just wait here alright?” You scramble up to stand beside him taking his arm again, “well maybe I should come with you! You know I-in case you run into trouble!” He’s laughing at that, “Gee you’re right.” He wraps an arm around you, “silly me going in without any backup huh? What would I do without my baby?” He lifts you easily into his side, “you watch my six now, ya hear?” Unsurprisingly you find nothing. He sets you back in bed, your legs dangling off the edge. “Looks like it’s just the neighbors stomping around up there that gave you such a scare.” He pulls your head forward into his abdomen and scratches the back of your hair. “You feel a little better now?” You nod against him as he pulls you back to peer down at you, “let’s get back to bed yeah?” “Mhm.” You cover his hand on your jaw, “I’m sorry to wake you up over something so silly-” “Don’t be sorry.” He huffs, settling back into bed and extending an arm to you, “I’d rather you wake me up then be scared all by yourself. I know I’d want you to feel that way if it were me that was scared.” He closes both arms around you as you settle into him, “‘s what I’m here for okay? Well that and cuddlin’ anyways.”

Kugo Sakamta/Gang Orca: Kugo always scolded you for how easily you were able to work yourself up to practical hysterics, and this time was no different. The rational part of your brain told you it was the wind. A window was open somewhere and the heavy wind was blowing in, knocking things around. The sound of the door just startled you and it overtook any rationality in your brain. Kugo wasn’t really a light sleeper or anything, you were sure if it was something worrying he’d wake up, but he slept contentedly beside you, an arm still outstretched to accommodate you. You probably had nothing to be worried about. Unless... Maybe you should wake him up to check. It was better to be sure..But he looked so comfortable. He was even snoring a little. He was probably exhausted and- You hear a louder door close and it makes you jump. ”Kugo.” You push a hand on his chest, shaking lightly, “Kugo wake up-” One of his hands covers yours to stop the shaking against his chest, “I’m up.” He drops his head to look up at you, “what’s wrong? A nightmare?” You shake your head, “No I..heard something..” He sighs and sits up, “you need to get out of your own head love.” He pulls you into his lap. “I just have a bad feeling.” You murmur, bracing yourself against his shoulders. He drops his head and nudges into your neck, his breath is warm on your skin, “you always worry yourself sick over nothing dear.” “I know..” You murmur, resting your cheek against his head, “well..Isn’t it better to be safe?” He picks his head up at that and takes your face in his hands. “If it’ll help you calm down then yes.” He lets you go and stands as he continues, “now tell me my love, where’d you hear the noise?” “W-wouldn’t it be better if I went with you?” You look up at him from where you sat and he chuckles a little. “You’re scared to be left alone?” He holds out his hand, “well then come along little one, and stay close.” You check around the whole house before landing on his office. “The windows were open.” Two of them, just a crack each. He lets you go to close them. “It’s so windy out tonight, a few things must have been knocked over, the first door you heard was probably just the cabinet, and the second was the bigger door. Does that seem right?” He welcomes you to his side as he sets the few things knocked over back in their place. “It does.” You coil an arm around his rib cage, “I’m sorry to bother you for no reason-” “Don’t be sorry.” He insists, reaching over to lock the windows, “I don’t scold you because it’s any bother to me, I just don’t like seeing you so worked up. But if I can help I’d rather you wake me up every time.” His hand rests between your shoulder blades, “why don’t we go back to bed now? Do you think you’ve calmed down enough to fall back asleep, or is there anything else I can do for you?” You shake your head meekly, “I feel better..” “Don’t be upset with yourself.” His hand moves to hold the back of your hair, “I love you, I’m glad you called on me. It makes me happy that you feel so safe and comfortable with me. Come on now, I’ll carry you to bed.”

Sekijiro Kan/Vlad King: You normally really enjoyed it when Sekijiro insisted on sleeping with you squished into his chest. You would complain and groan about it when he pulled you into bed, settling you directly on top of himself and squeezing you, but you never moved, even when he loosened up his grip, his skin was warm against your cheek and the sound of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep easily, sometimes far before he dozed off. Though tonight it felt restricting, you felt exposed and vulnerable, not by any fault of his but rather by all the strange noises you were hearing. It was probably the dog, getting into his nightly dog troubles, trying to jump onto the counter and steal left overs despite being just an average sized bulldog, or digging on the couch. The clattering you heard was probably just his fat paws on the hardwood. Soon enough he’d tire himself out and come back in here, either curl up in his dog bed or whine and bark and try desperately to jump up into bed with you until Sekijiro woke up and let you go to pick him up so he could join you at the foot of the bed. Though you weren’t sure you could wait for that. You felt like someone was just standing at your bedroom door, watching you. Sekijiro was snoring, he always snored, it was the only thing on the planet that somehow didn’t wake you up, despite being actually rather loud. His chest rumbled with it, and it rose and fell with big sleepy breaths, taking you along for each one. Eventually you feel too panicked, the normal grounding sensations weren’t working and before you could stop yourself you were shaking the man below you awake. “Sek-” You murmur, bouncing against him, “wake up.” He snuffles up, probably getting a mouthful of your hair. “What’samatter? What-oh.” He lets you go so you can sit up around him, “bad dream?” He takes your hands and holds them against his chest, “looks like you saw a ghost.” “I keep hearing stuff. It’s really scaring me.” You murmur, looking down at him, “will you..check around and make sure...everything is okay?” He looks up at you trying and failing to mask his affection. “You’re a little scaredy cat.” “Shut up!” You roll off of him and he laughs a little, “I’ll look. I’ll look, I’ll check everywhere don’t worry about it.” He peppers a few kisses up your jaw to warm you back up. “hold on-” You sit up and reach for him, “maybe I should come?” “I’m pretty sure it’s just the dog, I don’t think I need backup-” It dawns on him, “oh you’re afraid.” He’s grinning, “come on then, stay behind me.” He holds out his hands to you and you take them. Sure enough it is just that pesky little bulldog getting himself into trouble. “Drac!” Vlad forwns at him, you supposed it was good you’d got up to check. He’d gotten onto the counter somehow, but left himself no way to get down. “Jeeze you’re the smartest yet dumbest dog I’ve ever met.” He mutters as he picks the bulldog up but despite his scolding is pressing more than a few kisses to the dogs perpetually grumpy face. The dog mozies along behind you as you go back to bed, and curls up comfortably in his bed on the floor as Sekijiro guides you back to your own bed. “Looks like it was nothing.” He takes your face in his hands and squeezes, “feel any calmer?” You nod in his grip and he hums before flopping unceremoniously back into bed. “Come back over here.” He holds an arm out to you and you sigh but roll over to him. “Sorry for being so paranoid, I just get so-” “Don’t be sorry.” You feel him frown into your hair, “you were nervous, that’s fine. What’s the point in dating a guy that’s 6′4 if you can’t wake him up for stuff like this?” He laughs a little, “wake me up whenever you’re scared. If I can help I want to, okay? I’d want you if it were the other way around so..I get it.” He presses a kiss to your scalp and squeezes you against his chest. “Now let’s go back to sleep before he starts crying to get up here with us.”

#taishiro toyomitsu x reader #fatgum x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #gang orca x reader #kan sekijiro x reader #vlad king x reader #bnha x reader #bnha request

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silence-burns · 3 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 48

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman always gave Peter a sense of pride and purpose, even if he could only share it openly with a few people. It was the kind of accomplishment that made all the hardships seem worth it in the end. It also made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain, but which involved a certain connection between him and the people he protected and got familiar with over the course of his superhero patrols.

But being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was difficult in a neighborhood where no one was actually friendly in return.

Peter’s frown grew the further into the building he went. He was pretty sure it was the same one Loki and you had been renting an apartment in, and since he was a rather frequent guest, the neighbours should recognize him by now enough to at least return his greetings.

That was what logic dictated, but Peter was pretty certain the people he met in the hallway only gave him a stern, disapproving look before walking past him quickly.

Peter was still frowning when he moved up the stairs, juggling the keys in his hand. Then he stopped. The unearthly screams of the damned were muffled, but most definitely coming from apartment number 13.

Opening the door quietly, he slid into the familiar interior, now echoing with pain and suffering so loud, Peter had to cover his ears just enough to move to the root of all evil - the bathroom.

There were many inexplicable things Peter had witnessed happening in the apartment 13, and to some extent he got used to the thrill of not knowing what he'd face next time he paid a visit. Still, he hadn't expected to see various parts of a half-drowned owl sticking out of the sink filled thick with foam and bubbles. The owl must've struggled a lot, judging by the amount of water splashed on every possible surface, and the iron grip you and Loki still kept on the bird. Even if Loki was not wearing his usual features, it was still obvious who your partner in crime was.

The two of you froze. Soap and foam dripped to the floor. Loki's new form shimmered with a glamour only magic could achieve.

"Um, what are you guys doing?" Peter asked.

"Trying a new disguise?" The curtain of Loki's new long hair was luscious and utterly drenched.

"No, I meant-"

"Listen, boy, as surprising as it might be for you, I'm still me, just with a less… criminally wanted image."

"Yeah, only if 'ME' stands for mischief embodied," you laughed.

"It literally doesn't. It's smooth, but it doesn't."

"Thank you, love. Now, could you please stop drowning poor Barbara?"

Loki sighed, but relaxed his grip on the bird just enough to allow it to peak its head out from under the surface and take a deep, long breath.

Peter put his backpack down and meandered closer, dodging the growing puddles. "Why is there an owl in the sink?"

"Because I'm not allowing any fleas into my house," you firmly stated, pushing the wings back under the water. "And I don't care how many hours we'll spend here, I'm getting all the mud and dirt out."

Barbara clung to her dirt with all her might, but was overpowered and utterly misunderstood. Loki's new form was slimmer, but held the bird with his usual strength and a big dose of satisfaction. The smirk on his face was unchanged, even if the features were new.

"What do you need a disguise for anyway?" Peter asked, looking for a towel. "Can I go with you?"

"I'm afraid that as wildly chaotic and lawless as our destination is, you'd still be age-checked," Loki cooled his enthusiasm.

Barbara rushed to the towel and clung to it, loudly exclaiming what, precisely, she thought about her caretakers. Peter tried to dry her up as best as he could through her wriggling and screams.

"Are you sure all this soap is good for her? Did you use any animal-friendly shampoo?"

Loki shrugged. "I doubt she can get any more dead."

The boy looked at the owl. The owl looked at the boy. The ruffled and drenched feathers were sticking out in all directions, uncovering a deep and no doubt fatal hole in her side.

"You got a dead owl…?"

"It was not my idea," Loki groaned, casting the bird a disgusted stare in the mirror where he tried to change the shape of his eyebrows.

"You're just angry because she likes me more," you laughed while mopping the floor.

Peter did his best to become invisible and not stare too openly at the ribs poking out of the feathers. Barbara puffed them every time he moved the towel around. The boy couldn't speak owlish, but the small, crittering noises she made were definitely far from happy.

"Where will you be going?" Peter asked. The owl sat on his knees and refused to move even after he finished drying her on the couch.

"To the largest casino on the Moon."

"Wait- There are casinos up there?"

"Not for kids your age," Loki said.

Peter slumped on the couch. "That's not fair."

"We'll be back before you notice." You threw the wet rag to the sink. "Of course, as long as a certain someone FINALLY decides what to wear."

Loki ignored your pointed look, too busy with changing his hair color. No matter how many little details he changed, he still struggled with finding a form he was sure would allow him to pass through the guards unnoticed and unrecognized. It was a shame he couldn't use his own - it felt like a waste to hide a face like his.

The owl settled on Peter's shoulder, immobilizing him with the claws buried in his skin. But even from the couch, the boy could see the remnants of a hurricane that had thrown a rather alarming amount of clothes around the apartment.

"I thought these were yours," he admitted. The owl kept on looking through his hair with the utmost scrutiny and very little gentleness.

"I've settled long ago on what I'm going to wear. As for the diva himself, though…" you gestured around.

"I need it to be perfect," Loki said. "I have an important role to play, I can't just waltz in there and be recognized."

"You could go blond," Peter suggested.

"Ew, I don't want to look anything like my brother- Wait, that's actually a great idea."

Before any of you managed to protest, a full-grown Thor stood in Loki's place, watching himself from all angles in the mirror. The clothes no longer fit, so he dropped them and dove into the closet again.

"...what have I done?"

You patted Peter's free shoulder. Barbara nested in the crook of his neck. "Nothing they can prove. Hopefully."

"I am not my father's servant," not-Thor downed another beer. "And if I want to relax for just one evening, I shall!"

The tankard broke into tiny pieces as he smashed it on the ground. The loud applause and waves of laughter followed the very Thor-like outburst, making Loki relieved he was playing his role well. Even in a place like this, crowded with drunkards and gamblers from all over the universe, it was common knowledge what the god of thunder enjoyed.

Loki forced his glamoured face to remain cheerful as another tankard of beer had been brought to him, disgustingly sour and rough. He knew his brother well, and was sure he'd love it, but Loki himself would rather bite off his tongue than willingly digest any more if only he had an actual choice. He didn't, and therefore swallowed another gulp to the cheering from the crowds gathered at his table. The cards had been laid out, waiting for the victors to celebrate their success, and the rest to decide how much more money they were willing to lose to the god of thunder.

Seated in a great hall of marble and gold, Loki wished he could play the way he actually wanted to, which was the very same way that got him banned from the Moon last time he had visited. But for the sake of the mission, he stayed just above the line between bankrupting and winning money, which added to the body he was wearing, was just big enough temptation to keep his table busy.

Everyone entering the biggest casino on the Moon was inclined to try their luck, or at least take a quick look. It was a perfect, if rather boring, way of scanning everyone who entered the rich complex of buildings. The few fountains set further in the back murmured as they shot curtains of water. The air was thick and warm, making crowds of people inevitably gravitate towards them in search of any cold. With the tall, lush plants artistically winding over and between the pillars, it created little areas dotting the impossibly high hall, where the pleasant breeze gathered the people looking for just a moment of relief. You occupied a spot beneath the fountains, where most people would wind up going to at some point, and used it as a second checkpoint, just in case anyone missed Loki's, or rather his brother's table.

"Come on, does anyone else want to lose their fingers?" Loki heard you call out to the crowds.

Between their never ending sessions of losing and winning the money back just to lose them again, there were many individuals in need of a drink and a quick break from the gambling. How easy it was to grab their attention with a loud voice and a dead owl.

Loki stretched his neck and looked over to where you had sat down the bird with all kinds of currency piled between its claws and a single coin shining through the open ribcage.

"All you need is to get the coin out, what's the matter, people? Is there no one brave enough to win all this money?"

Greed has always been a major deciding factor for the living beings regardless of race and the world of origin. The queue only rose in length as everyone wanted to try their luck.

The table under Barbara grew more and more slick with blood from cut and bitten fingers. Pure malice shone in her dead eyes.

"What an awful creature," Loki muttered to himself.

He could sense the stolen pin somewhere in the vicinity, but the casino was a loud and chaotic place, with multiple areas each centered around a different type of entertainment. More than an hour had already passed, but whoever was currently holding onto the pin, had not yet ventured anywhere near.

The two of you were slowly but inevitably running out of time. Odin might've been old and naive, but his spies' eyes reached far and wide. Loki had little doubt he would be interested in his favourite son's apparent evening fun, especially if he had that particular son with him, in the palace. Thor was a good cover, but not for much longer.

And then, by chance or a generous turn of fate, the shadows stirred and whispered.

Loki cast the dice, not paying attention whether he'd won or lost. His money wasn't real anyway.

There - by the high palms stood the Hoarders, clad in the worn out rags and way too much jewelry. With their grey skin and long limbs, it was no wonder how easily they blended in with the shadows, using their skills to warp their surroundings and get in places others would consider highly secure. But their success was not measured in how many places they were capable of breaking in themselves, but rather how many individuals of all races they could easily befriend and bend to their will. Although, to be quite honest, Loki doubted the necromancer had needed much convincing.

There were only three of them, each almost an identical copy of the others, but the Hoarders were encircled by both their partners for the evening and whatever scum tried to befriend them. That made it so much harder to approach them, but Loki was already thinking of a good excuse when he rose from his seat. People parted, giving him space - much more that would be granted to Loki's original form.

The shadows whispered again. One of the ladies separated from the group, with an annoyed expression on her face.

Loki stretched, making sure to put his hands high. Once he caught your attention, he followed the lady at a leisurely pace.

"What do we do?" You asked once both of you entered the corridor and disappeared behind the corner.

"She's got the pin."

One more turn took you in front of the ladies restroom.

"Time for Plan C.” Loki began undressing quickly.

Holding a spare dress in your bottomless pocket was not the wisest choice, but it apparently paid off, even if fishing it out took you a moment. Your hands shook. Someone might have walked in on you at any time. While Loki would be doing whatever it took to get the pin back, you would be the one making sure no one interrupted him…

Like distracting the waiter that was now staring at both of you. Focused on the contents of your pocket, you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. Loki clad in only Thor's skin, blinked.

The waiter turned on his heel and disappeared.

"I can already feel the gossip stirring," Loki shifted into a more feminine body, quickly putting on the dress. "They are going to eat my brother alive."

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"Oh, my heart is breaking into a million pieces," Loki assured you with a smile far too wide for that to be true.

He kissed you quickly before disappearing into the restroom.

Life felt amazing. Loki couldn't help but imagine the amount of trouble his brother would get once the word spread about his whereabouts.

His imagination was running wild, but the one thing Loki couldn't imagine was how, merely thirty minutes later, he'd find himself in the dungeons deep beneath the surface of the Moon, half-drowned, and viciously bitten.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki mcu #loki imagine #loki #mar #mcu #loki series #loki laufeyson imagine #loki fanfic

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celosiaa · 3 years

Note

Yo Connor! I made a post a while back about this but imagine s1 archives gang: Sasha and Tim wanna play hooky to go drinking so they pretend to be sick to get sent home early. But their work gets piled onto poor poor Martin whos starting to come down with something. Cut to Tim and Sasha coming back to work to find a super sick and overworked Martin (my post has diff situations that they could come back to but basically it’s all “Martin is completely miserable”)

~ ineedmysickfix

Hello friend!!!!! Apologies for the delay!! I hope you’ll like this all the same :)

CW nausea

“Oh, Sasha—you’re gonna hate me,” Tim drawls dramatically, draping an arm around her shoulders, causing them both to stagger. “You’re absolutely going to hate me.”

“Don’t tell me—ha! Tim—”

Sasha is broken off by a sudden, if sloppy, kiss to her cheek, the momentum of it nearly taking them both to the ground as they stumble on slightly-intoxicated legs. Well—perhaps more than slightly, after all. It is later, much later than they had intended to be out, and dark has fully settled over the still-bustling London landscape as they attempt to make their way back to the Tube station from the pub.

Where they had been playing hooky. Gloriously.

It is a bit pitiful, how gullible their mess of a friend currently playing at being their boss could be. Shamefully, upon reflection, Sasha recalls Jon’s worried response that afternoon to the torrent of falsified coughs and sneezes he had heard from his office, before insisting that the two of them go home to rest. And to “not infect anyone else,” of course—tacked on in some feeble attempt not to care.

And go home, they had—if you can call a pub a home, that is. While it was not exactly buzzing with customers at the mid-afternoon, it had been a nice place to camp out for the day and enjoy each other’s company. Though they had lamented not letting Martin in on the plan—even if it was nice to have a evening just for themselves, something hadn’t felt right about leaving him behind. Not with the ever-growing tower of files on his desk, building up over the last week in a bit of an alarming fashion.

Sending out a quick thought for him as they walk, Sasha turns her attention back to Tim, linking her arm with his with a poorly-hidden smile.

“What have you done this time, Stoker? What else could there possibly be to make me want to kill you even more?”

“Even more? After I serenaded you at karaoke?”

“Especially after you serenaded me at karaoke,” she replies, pulling him just a little bit closer. “Bold move, especially knowing I’ve got a knife on me.”

“Yeah, a pocket knife,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Which we might have to use to break back into the Institute, by the way.”

“Tim, you didn’t!”

Groaning in dismay, Sasha stops their pace abruptly, searching his face for any sign of a joke—tragically, finding none.

“Tim. Hey, Tim.”

She grabs both sides of his face, pulling his forehead to rest against her own.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t forget your keys again.”

A nervous swallow, a flick away of his eyes—before a poorly-hidden smile laces his tone.

“I did not…do this thing.”

“TIM!”

“Alright, alright!! I may have!” he laughs as she drops her hands from his face, in favor of using them to push back against his chest. “But don’t worry! There’s no way even Jon is still there. Pretty sure he was heading home to rest after Salat al-Jumu’ah—said he hurt his knee, and he has PT in the morning.”

“Jon was going home?” Sasha asks in disbelief, her face showcasing the wild array of thoughts flitting through her mind. “First of all—concerning. Second of all—do you mean to tell me that we left poor Martin there all on his own?”

“He’s fine, Sasha,” Tim assures, throwing an arm around her to keep them walking. “Martin’s an adult, he knows he can leave any time he damn well pleases. Especially since Jon isn’t there.”

“Well, yeah, but—I dunno, he just seemed…off this week,” she replies worriedly, twisting a finger around her long locks.”

“He’s fine. We’ll make it up to him on Monday, or something.”

“Right,” Sasha sighs, leaning a bit further into his warmth. “You’re right, we can—we can get him some of that good tea that he likes, the expensive kind.”

“Alright, rich kid.”

“Shut it.”

With another peck to the cheek, both silly and giddy, they continue on their way back to the Institute—neither too displeased at having the other so close.

—

Work.

Just keep working.

Just focus.

Cold, Martin feels the cold of the archives seeping deeper into his bones with every moment that passes. Or is it heat? Too hot, suffocating, can barely catch a comfortable breath before the coughing starts up again, pounding against his skull and leaving him exhausted. Surely it hadn’t been this bad this morning—his therapist’s voice rings out in his mind, telling him it’s alright to go home, that he ought not have come in anyway—but he does not listen. Cannot listen, not with Jon out and in pain, and Tim and Sasha both out sick.

No—this was his job. Just has to push through, pick up the slack, keep going.

Someone has to.

For as much as Martin tries to tell himself that he’s not ill, that he never gets ill, he knows it’s all a lie. Sleep has come in sparse patches for him these past few weeks—and that has left him vulnerable to what he is now fairly certain is a nasty case of flu. It’s just been so much recently, with his mum intermittently calling him from the care home in Devon, and not answering the phone when he returns her calls. Though he would never want to think so poorly of his own mother—ungrateful, cruel, sad excuse for a son—he cannot help but have the thought that she’s doing this on purpose, calling him when she knows he’s busy—

Stop it.

Selfish.

Cruel.

Focus.

The stacks of files in the corners of his vision, piled so high he can barely see his surroundings beyond his desk, very nearly manage to draw out the tears Martin has so desperately been trying to hold back over the past—however long it’s been, now. Overwhelmed, he’s overwhelmed and wants nothing more than just to sleep. But Jon. Jon needs this done, Tim and Sasha need to rest—none of them need to have a miserable next week if he can just. Focus. Now.

Sniffing back against the congestion sitting heavy in his sinuses, Martin steels himself as well as he can, and drags his attention back to the piles and piles of nightmares before him.

—

As soon as they found the door to the archives unlocked, Sasha knew something was wrong.

Jon was so strangely protective of the place; always kept such a careful watch on it that it was unfathomable for him to not make certain that everything was locked, and the lights turned out at the end of each day. Surely, even if Martin had been the last one there, surely Jon would have called several times to ensure he would do the same—possibly even dragging himself back over the the dusty old basement, just to make sure.

And yet—here they are. Standing before the unlocked door to the archives.

“Can’t be good,” says Tim, running a hand anxiously down his beard.

“Not at all,” Sasha replies at once, voice low as she carefully pushes the door open.

The office beyond is almost entirely darkened, corners obscured by shadows and cobwebs and god knows what else down here. Only the light from a single lamp illuminates a desk—messy, piled high with stacks of files and reference volumes, some spilled over and scattered onto the floor. Martin’s desk. And Martin, leaning heavily against it.

Though she cannot see his face where it has been propped heavily between both of his hands, Sasha immediately takes note of of the blanket he’s wrapped himself tightly with, the bin by his feet overflowing with tissues, the row of mugs set on the floor to make room for more files. The way one has been tipped over, creating a dark spot on the carpet where it had spilled its contents, but Martin has not seemed to notice. A rarity—and a concerning one at that, for certain.

Exchanging a quick glance with Tim, who looks very much as worried as she feels, Sasha steps a bit forward, clearing her throat before calling gently to him.

“Martin? You alright, love?”

The impact is immediate—clearly, he had not heard them come in, nor seen their shadows stretching across the light of his lamp. For he jumps bodily in his seat, tipping it back with such a heavy creak that Sasha is certain it will send him to the floor completely. A gasp, loud and deep, as his wild, fever-glassed eyes meet theirs—before it turns into a fit of harsh, painful hacks that he buries hastily in what appears to be his last remaining tissue.

“Aw, Marto,” Tim says sympathetically as he strides over to him, rubbing a hand over his back as the coughing continues, Sasha following suit to grab a box of tissues from her own desk, and set it in front of him.

“Sorry, m’sorry,” he croaks, voice weathered and broken in the wake of his fit.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, mate,” Tim says softly, slipping a hand over Martin’s forehead—evidently not liking the heat he finds there, if his grimace is anything to go by. “How long have you been ill? You seemed alright this morning.”

“M’fine, Tim,” he mutters back, sniffing heavily and reaching for the new box of tissues. “Thanks, Sash—”

A sudden look of horror washes over his face as he meets her eyes, letting out a shallow gasp and covering his mouth with one hand.

“Wait, you’re—you’re ill, you’re both ill, you need these—”

“We’re not ill, Martin,” Sasha soothes at once, cursing both herself and Tim for going through with what was clearly a terrible idea.

“You’re not?”

“We wanted to skive off work,” Tim echoes, pulling Martin’s blanket back up from where it had slipped off his shaking shoulders. “We…we went out to the pub instead.”

“Oh,” is the only soft response that comes from him, as he drops his eyes back to the statement in front of him—and the guilt welling up inside Sasha is enough to break her heart.

“We would never have done that if we had known you were actually ill,” she clarifies rapidly. “We should have…we should have said. Shouldn’t have done that at all, really.”

“Yeah. Sash is right, we’re really sorry, Martin,” says Tim, wincing as the terrible coughing starts up once again, doubling him forward—and this time, he does not straighten back up.

“Oh,” he says again, miserably, squeezing his eyes shut against the apparent dizziness—enough to send Tim reaching for the empty bin from beneath his own desk, just in case.

“You alright?” asks Sasha, setting a bracing hand against his hunched shoulders.

It takes a few moments for him to reply this time, as he breathes as deeply as possible for a bit—still altogether too shallow, in Sasha’s opinion. She can hear the hitching at the back of his throat, knows that he’s trying so hard to keep from coughing again, whether for their sake or to avoid worsening the nausea, she can’t be sure.

“M’alright. Sorry,” he apologizes again, shivering hard as he does, pulling the blanket just a bit tighter around himself and sniffling. “Shouldn’t be here, you’ll probably catch it.”

“You shouldn’t be here, love,” Sasha counters, catching Tim’s gaze and jerking her head toward the breakroom—and he heads in that direction at once. “We’re going to get some water and medicine into you, and then you’re going straight home.”

“Can’t,” he whispers in return, shaking his head against the fresh tears that have sprung into his eyes, breaking Sasha’s heart to bits again. “There’s so much—so much to do, and Jon—Jon’s not well, and you—well, I suppose you’re—you’re not, heh—”

“Martin,” she says, bending crouching down to the level of his eyeline. “You do not need to be here. You do not need to do all this work yourself—if it makes you feel better, Tim and I can get some of this done over the weekend. But I highly doubt even Jon would ask you to do all of this today.”

“He—he didn’t.”

And now here come the tears, spilling hot over his cheeks, unable to be held back in with the stress the fever wracks through his body.

“I’ve—I’ve gotten so behind, this is almost a week’s worth of work, I’ve just been—I’ve not been focused, I can’t—god, I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright, Martin,” Sasha soothes, handing him another tissue which he uses to swipe at his streaming eyes and nose. “There’s something else going on, isn’t there?”

Squeezing his eyes shut again, tears leaking from beneath his lashes, Martin nods—burying his face in his hands, before Sasha wraps her arms around him.

“It’s alright, darling. Just hush, I’ve got you.”

It is to this sight that Tim arrives back from the break room, armed with medicine and a thermometer and a glass of water. Upon seeing them, his face falls in sorrow—reluctant to interrupt the stillness of the moment—before the whistling of the electric kettle from the breakroom causes Martin to pick up his head, turning his head toward the noise only to find Tim frozen in the doorway.

“Oh—thank you, that’s—” he pauses for a moment to cough behind closed lips, swiping at his eyes as he does so. “That’s really kind, I’m—I’m alright. I’m sure it’s just the flu, or something.”

“Don’t really think there’s such a thing as ‘just’ the flu, Marto,” Tim says, rolling his eyes with a smile—which, to Sasha’s immense relief, Martin returns, if still a bit watery.

“Yeah, Martin—let’s get you some meds, and get you home,” Sasha insists. “I’ll go fetch you some tea as well. Can’t send you home without something warm in your stomach.”

“I—thank you, really,” he beams, accepting the pills from Tim with his own, rather more shaky hands. “You’re—that’s really kind.”

“It’s nothing at all, Martin,” she replies at once, relieved to see him swallow the pills readily. “Let’s get you warm, and get you home.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma sickfic #cw nausea #my writing

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ladyvader23 · 4 years

Text

The School Play

For @slx99, who inspired me to write this little Dad Vader piece! I also have no idea if walrus’ exist in the Star Wars universe, but THEY DO NOW!

I also take requests!

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

Vader stared in horror at the announcement slip his children had brought home from preschool.

Apparently, the children would be putting on a play--or, rather, a presentation, if the description was anything to go by. The school had the children research a topic, and the children would be putting on a dramatic retelling of what they’d learned. It actually sounded terribly boring, but he’d read in that parenting book the children’s pediatrician had given him that supporting their interests, including school activities, helped foster confidence in children. An important quality in the two most important children in the galaxy, even if his presence would terrify everyone else in the room.

The problem wasn’t the boring play. It was what his son was signed up to be.

A walrus.

Leia had a stormtrooper, which was normal enough. But Luke had a walrus? How in the galaxy had he even had the misfortune of getting such an unfortunate aquatic creature?!

He looked up at Miss Laena, who’d handed him the announcement slip in the first place. “My son will not play a walrus in front of a crowd of people!”

The school the children went to was full of senator’s children, as well as other important Imperial figures, such as Grand Moffs, generals, and the like. Vader doubted most of those important figures would actually be at the play; most likely, their partners or nannies would go. But it did not matter. Word would spread fast that the son of Darth Vader had played a walrus.

“Luke is very excited about the play, my lord.” Miss Laena said carefully. “It’s all he’s been talking about for weeks, now. I even helped him make the costume.”

His stomach dropped. “There’s a costume?”

It just got worse and worse.

“Yes, my lord. I might be able to pull together another one in time, but it will break his heart.”

Vader gritted his teeth. If this was any other assignment, he’d tell the boy to deal with whatever he chose for him, but he also didn’t need him crying on stage in front of everyone because he was unhappy.

He would need to convince him.

“Summon my son. I will speak with him.”

Miss Laena hurried to do so, and soon the tiny form of his son came running into his office, immediately climbing (uninvited) into his lap. Vader had no change to stop him before his little arms wrapped around his neck with a hug.

Despite the dire situation, he couldn’t help but melt a little under the embrace.

“Hi daddy!” Luke said, pulling away after a moment, settling in comfortably on his leg. “Am I in trouble?”

Perhaps that was the reason for the immediate hug. He would need to discourage such behavior in the future.

“No, my son.” He reached up and ruffled his hair. “I just wanted to know why you were assigned to be a walrus in this play.”

Luke brightened. “Oh! I’m going to be a walrus, daddy!”

“Yes, but why?” Perhaps he hadn’t understood the phrasing of his first question. He struggled to speak on a level the twins would understand, at times.

“Because I like them.”

Vader winced. That would make it harder to convince him to change topics.

“But why?”

Luke shrugged. “They look funny.”

And that was precisely why he didn’t want him to play a walrus in the first place. “Why don’t I help you choose something diff--” he cut off as Luke’s expression immediately began to fall, his eyes watering.

“No, daddy, I wanna be a walrus!”

Damn.

Already, just from his presence alone, Vader could tell it would be far more of a fight to force him to choose something else than to just do the walrus.

“...I will need to have a word with the school. But fine.”

Immediately the tears were gone, and Luke threw his arms around him again before climbing off and running to find his sister. Vader watched after him, wondering how his children had so thoroughly wrapped him around their fingers, before he pulled up his datapad to send a message to the school principal to order that no footage be allowed at the play.

If Luke insisted, he could at least make sure the incident was nothing more than a strange, unconfirmed rumor.

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

The night of the play, he’d debated on pretending his schedule was too full to attend. That way, perhaps no one would notice that the son of Darth Vader was dressed as a walrus. It wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of things to do instead anyway, but every time he thought about not showing up, the imagined disappointment in his children’s faces when they returned home was enough to guilt him into keeping the time reserved for the play.

That didn’t mean he didn’t show up at the last possible second before they closed the doors for the performance.

Naturally, the moment he walked in, a hush fell over the crowd of nannies and parents. He made a face when he recognized a few important officials there who were also apparently trying to be good parents despite their schedules. Normally he could respect that, but today of all days, he wished they’d remained at work.

The principal, a short, portly man, came rushing over not long after he’d found a corner to stand in. “I have issued a strict no recording policy as you wished, Lord Vader.”

“Good.” Vader crossed his arms, looking over his head to the curtained stage. “Because if there is any recording of my children distributed, I will personally pay you a visit.”

The man paled, gulped, and nodded. “Understood, my lord.” Then he turned and rushed off.

Moments later, the lights dimmed, and an announcement was made over a microphone to remind everyone of the very fact that no recording was allowed. He half expected them to use him as an excuse, but they mentioned nothing of the rule being a direct order from him.

Hm. He might have mentioned it just to make sure, but if he had to dispose of the principal, he would not lose sleep over it. His children barely knew the man and wouldn’t notice if he disappeared. Perhaps he’d do it anyway just for the fact that someone in his staff showed the boy a picture of the infernal animal in the first place.

Once the announcement was made, the “play” began. Sure enough, it was less of a play and more of various small children of different species in costumes reciting facts about whatever they’d researched for the parents. This was followed up by polite clapping, which he did not participate in. They were not his children, after all. He did not care, and he thought most of them were terribly boring anyway.

He was also certain that none of these children had actually done their own research. What a complete waste of time and resources.

But then came Leia. Somehow, Miss Laena had managed to help her construct an almost perfect replica of a stormtrooper armor set, fit perfectly to her petite size. The only thing that he could tell was real was the helmet, which she carried in her arms as more of a prop than anything else.

When she walked onto the stage...as he suspected she would, she immediately acted as though the entire room was there for her. She squared her shoulders, looking over the audience with as high and mighty of a look that an almost five year old could muster.

“Stormtroopers are soldiers who help protect the Empire.” She spoke clearly into the microphone. It was...well, as natural as a four year old could get, and a pang went through his chest at the thought of her suddenly looking very much like a mini version of her mother. “They serve over the whole Empire. They can be foot soldiers, or fly TIE fighters, like my daddy does.”

He wondered if that was something she was supposed to say, or if she said it just because she was proud of what he did for a living. Not that she knew the full extent of that, but...he offered a rare, unseen smile nonetheless.

“This is a real stormtrooper helmet. My friend let me use it tonight.” Friend? What friend? “Stormtroopers are not like clone troopers. They’re normal people like you and me.”

He refrained from snorting at that. In his opinion, Clone Troops were far superior, but the Emperor did not seem to care for that opinion.

“There’s also lots of types of stormtroopers. You can tell what they are because of their uniform. In conclusion, stormtroopers are pretty cool and I like them. They keep us safe, and are friends to all.”

That...didn’t really make sense. But she was four, and again, probably had her lines written by someone else. Still, when she finished and did a little curtsy, he clapped proudly for the first time the entire show, then watched as she practically skipped off stage.

Then...it was Luke’s turn.

It was an experience to have one child give a basic but Imperial pride-supporting speech, then directly afterwards have another child walk out wearing a walrus costume to talk about an animal he’d never even personally seen before. He was sure that anyone who knew Luke was his son probably had a lot of questions he’d never answer right about now.

But there Luke was, walking out wearing a well made, but monstrosity of a costume. He wore a dark gray, long-sleeved tunic that reached his knees, except that the sleeves ended well past where he knew Luke’s hands to be, and the end was in the shape of walrus flippers. A tail flopped around with each step Luke took, and his head was almost completely engulfed by a walrus-face hood. The face opening was framed by two giant tusks, what he supposed were whiskers, and at the top of the hood, giant eyes that Vader could swear were staring into his soul.

And underneath, Luke had obviously painted his face. Probably the same color as the tunic.

Half of Vader wanted to have the ground open up and swallow him whole. The other half was admittedly impressed with the lengths his son had put his nanny up to in making this costume. He was also dead certain that if Luke looked back on this costume as an adult, he’d be embarrassed beyond all reason.

“Walruses are water animals who live on water worlds like Mon Cala.” Luke began, just as confidently as Leia. It was also obvious he was very proud of the whole thing; he was bouncing a bit in excitement, causing the tail to flop around constantly. Nearby, Vader heard a few parents coo adoringly at the display.

He wondered if it would be noticeable if he used the Force to hold his son in place.

“They can dive deep in the water, but they like to stay near land. They are really, really fat. Also, both the girls and the boy walruses have tusks, like this!” He reached up and tugged on the tusks, earning chuckles from the crowd.

Well. Both of his children definitely liked to use visual aids. It was interesting to know, at least.

“They also live for a super long time. Forty years!” Luke lifted his flipper-hands up in excitement. “They also can live in the cold because they’re fat. They like to eat fish. And they make these really funny noises, like--” then Luke proceeded to demonstrate, and more laughter erupted around the room.

As well as Luke was doing, Vader couldn’t help but curse whoever had even shown the cursed animal to his son. He would definitely be finding a replacement for the principal after he was through with him.

What had he done to encourage such a fascination with the animal? He was from the desert, so this had to be something from his mother’s side of the family, he was sure of it.

But Luke seemed pleased by the audience’s reaction. He himself would have to ensure this incident never left this room, but at least his son was happy.

“So yeah, I like walruses. They’re funny looking, and that’s why I chose to tell you about them.” Then, with that said, Luke made a bow, and the audience erupted in far more clapping than had been heard the entire night. Luke straightened, grinned, then ran off stage, his tail and flippers flapping wildly behind him.

Well. It was certainly the most interesting part of the night, he thought as he clapped for his son. And despite being a walrus, his son was perfect. Just...had some odd interests that he sincerely hoped he grew out of.

When the show ended, Vader waited uncomfortably by the doors for his children. Plenty of parents and their costumed kids walked by, all giving him a wide berth. He ignored them all, scanning the crowd for his children. He could sense them coming, but for whatever reason, they kept stopping.

Finally, he saw the small figures of Luke and Leia pushing their way through their crowd, beaming smiles on their faces when they saw him.

“Daddy!” Leia crowed, and he quickly reached out to place his hands on their shoulders before they could try to hug him. He had grown used to their hugs in private, but they were still learning that it was not permitted in public. “Did you like my play?”

“You did well.” He confirmed, patting her head, which caused her to make a face and pull away.

“Don’t mess up my hair.” She muttered.

Luke had pulled the hood down and his painted face looked up at him. “What about mine, daddy? Lots of people told me they liked it.” He paused, frowning. “Did you?”

Vader paused, deciding how to phrase it. He did not like that he was parading around in a ridiculous walrus costume, but the whole point of him coming to this ridiculous excuse for a play was to support his children and build their confidence. He could not ruin it by telling his son that he hated the animal he was portraying. “You played your performance well, my son. I am proud of you both.”

Yes. That seemed safe. And to his satisfaction, the twins beamed up at him. But the moment was ruined when Luke asked, “Can we go to Mon Cala to see the walruses?”

“Yeah! Let’s go, daddy!” Leia added.

He paused for a few breaths of the respirator. “Mon Cala...is not safe for humans.”

Luke frowned. “But my friend said he went, and--”

“Why don’t I take you to a zoo, instead?” Then maybe Luke would see a different, less embarrassing animal to portray next time. Or maybe he’d lose interest in animals completely.

Luke considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay daddy.” He paused. “Can I be a walrus for Trick Or Treat?”

Again, he paused, trying to come up with an answer that would not hurt his son’s feelings. “Why don’t you wait until after we go to the zoo?”

Luke also seemed to accept this answer, and Vader took his children's hands in his own, and led them from the theater.

Vader made sure to give pointed glares at anyone who dared look their way.

#Dad vader #dad vader series #luke skywalker #leia organa #luke loves animals #vader is not pleased #he probably got an A on his performance though #do they even grade preschoolers?#i don't know how preschool works

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reversecreek · 3 years

Text

clicks onto the dash wearing kitten heels n coyly holding my bang....... hi. me again. it took me so long to select a gif to use on cricket’s intro n i settled on this one bc he looks so unsure abt his smile n it’s rly his essence <3 u can find his pinterest board here n his (work in progress) spotify playlist here. hmu to plot!!!

* alex wolff, cis male + he/him | you know cricket donahue, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of their life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to should have known better by sufjan stevens like, a million times this year, which slipping on wet leaves to photograph a tree struck alight by lightning, delivering a tedtalk to your own reflection to hype yourself up to buy groceries, hiding your hands inside of your sleeves in case you grew an impromptu megan fox thumb overnight thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 1st, so they’re a libra, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

cricket ws born to a couple tht lived in lilac ridge. their trailer was tucked closest to the woods n always fell under the shade. it was like the leaves wanted to pretend they were a perpetual hanging cloud on the family n that was kind of fitting. their only reason fr having him in the first place was a kind of shrugged like........... we’re under the income bracket we’d get child benefits so why not! may as well try it to rake in some extra cash! needless to say they didn’t rly think it thru or anticipate all of the responsibilities tht came w children n wound up seeing him as an extremely large burden n boy didn’t he know it!

(child neglect & abuse tw) i’ll try to keep this part vague n brief but things were Not Good for cricket growing up. people in lilac ridge didn’t like his parents n it was for a gd reason. he remembers foggy things. being little n wandering around combing the grass with a stick to search for wrappers to suck on bc he was hungry. feeling uneasy when the front door opened. finding out his name was cricket bc the insects used to crawl into their trailer thru the vents n his parents liked to squish them into the carpet -- his mum told him as much once. i think this says a lot. to excessively trim the fat of the story he wound up entering the system at around 8 after his latest and most serious hospital visit. his parents hd to deal w the authorities n last he heard they bounced to evade charges.

(anxiety & violence & trauma tw) cricket sustained a few lifelong injuries from his time in lilac ridge. his knee didn’t heal right which meant he had (n still has to this day) a limp n he’s partially deaf in one ear. he’s always been an incredibly insecure n anxious person so this mde him rly self conscious going into a strange n new environment tht wld b difficult fr any kid to adjust to, nvm w these added worries. he jst felt like something weird to ogle at honestly. he probably wld have felt like that no matter where he was or what he looked like. he cld be in a huge hall of 200 people all wearing the same uniform n he’d still feel like the odd one out. needless to say this didn’t rly help him make friends

cricket’s coping mechanisms were romanticising the things tht other people found ugly or embarrassing or painfully ordinary. he liked it when the rain hit clunky drops against school windows n forbid everyone from playing outside bc he could feel the vibrations through the rubber soles of his shoes n it was a little bit like hearing all of the world at once fr just a moment. he liked medieval fantasy lore about stout gnomes w crumbs in their beards n cheeks red from ale. he liked fallen nests with the remnants of hatched eggs still dirty from the branches n soil they’d hit on the way down. he liked the way the sunlight leaked thru the leaves of the trees in the woods and how, when he sat very still, he could tune into the ringing that was always in his ear n pretend it was coming from the same place, that light thru the leaves, that the angels were trying to talk to him.

he spent a lot of time in the red room at his high skl (i’m begging u this is not a 50 shades reference) (after googling i jst realised it’s called a darkroom bt i’m leaving this fr the sake of sexy bimbo authenticity) n felt quite at home in there. he borrowed a camera whenever he cld (maybe he did yearbook) n photography became his way of immortalising the world as the romanticised version he wanted it to be. his memories were bad bt his photos were beautiful. maybe if he took enough they’d paste over n bleed into each other. maybe bad cld be replaced w beautiful if he tried his very best.

he got placed into fostering w a family once bt apparently didn’t meet the vibe check of their tastes so he wound up returning to the group home he’d initially been placed in. overall this is where he grew up n he aged out the system rather than getting adopted. there was a sense of floundering/isolation/not feeling gd enough in tht bt cricket made do the best he knew how.

that said there were some gd points! (shocking i kno bc his life hs been so fking bleak so far bt please it’s ok........) (is it?) (🤔). basically he interned as an assistant at this local photography studio during high skl working under this kind of whimsical yet endearing old man. suspected wizard possibly in cricket’s eyes, as an avid fantasy genre reader. for one of his bdays said old man / his boss bought him his very own film camera n cricket cried bc he’d never been bought a bday gift. this ws rly embarrassing bc this old man didn’t know how to emote n neither did cricket so he ws jst sort of sat wiping his eyes n sniffling saying he wasn’t crying as the old man pretended to suddenly clean his lenses. when cricket graduated he offered him a full time position there. they do like. wedding photographs n family portraits n all kinds of things...... pay isn’t huge bt it’s something n he Loves taking photos so it’s sexy <3

PERSONALITY:

SUCH an anxious person it’s actually unreal. overthinks absolutely everything he’s ever said. one morning he might hv put green socks on n for the rest of the day he’s nervously looking around like omggggggg they’re all looking at my socks probably thinking im a little green sock boy thinking i’m a fool n a jester this is all everyone’s probably thinking about i hv to hide my green socks..... even tho literally no-one cares

once saw a girl eating a chicken wing n in his head was like ok she likes chicken good future gift idea..... n turned up at her house with an entire rotisserie chicken

probably thinks WAY too hard abt what to write in bday cards n googles like generic ideas that he can use.... u open a card from cricket n it always says smthn weird like “Warmest wishes and love on your birthday and always!” or “You deserve everything happy. Wishing you that all year long!” tht he got off google

nervously fiddles w things a lot. literally anything. his hair. the cuffs of his sleeves. a thread on his bag. u name it

struggles w eye contact sometimes............ it’s like. he wants to talk to ppl n make friends bt he’s honestly so bad at it. he’s fumbling thru life like a nervous headless chicken

ALWAYS has his camera on him. like always. will tke a photo of u bc he thinks u look nice then be like im so sorry im so sorry...... bowing his head shakily holding his camera bc he doesn’t even kno what possessed him he jst thought it’d be a nice photograph bt boundaries exist. probably breathes very heavily over this later in his room panicking thinking he nw seems like hannibal lecter

probably more confident online bc he has time to think abt what he says more.......... i can see him hving a group of online friends tht he’s more confident w. honestly he’s pretty witty at heart he jst has a hard time verbalising things so ppl overlook him sometimes bt once u get to know him more / he’s more comfy he can b a funny little man.....

loves photographs where he cuts something out of them. loves missing spaces n voids. thinks it’s a rly interesting concept when something that isn’t there becomes the focus of a photograph where everything else is. probably loses his mind fr a collage like a front row 1d stan. likes experimenting w light n perception. pretty artistic honestly hs probably made a stop motion film in the past bc that’s just an extended form of photography in his mind bt i doubt he showed anyone

ummm...... very sweet bt like. he reminds me a lot of this quote. “he had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise.” feel like tht sums him up quite nicely

WANTED CONNECTIONS

someone he met at a wedding: cricket probably ws forced to photograph a wedding fr his boss one time n it cld b interesting as a place to meet from that....... like. i can imagine either it being rly awkward maybe he accidentally spilled a drink on ur muse n was stuttering rly apologetic n it ws just a train wreck. or mayb they took pity on him or even (in a shocking turn of events) a shine to him n invited him to drink n dance. omgggg the thought of cricket trying to dance makes me wna die n probably mkes cricket wna hyperventilate bt idk maybe he went wild n let loose. mayb they wound up damaging the camera somehow. mayb they had to scramble to get another one n ur muse covered the cost n it was a strange late night excursion tht cricket thought about a lot since. cricket probably vowed to pay them bk somehow no matter what. idk. we can work things out. lots of diff options here. doesn’t have to b a wedding either can b any event tht required a photographer

ppl he went to school w: pretty self explanatory i suppose...... maybe they were frm completely different worlds..... mayb ur muse was popular n cricket was definitely not but they got paired fr an assignment n had to work on a project together....... mayb cricket asked ur muse on a date one time n it was completely embarrassing bc he didn’t realise they had a bf n it haunts cricket at night still bc he’s rly dramatic.... mayb ur muse felt sry fr him n ate lunch w him n inducted him into their group like a lost puppy finding a home.... world’s our oyster

neighbours from his brief time at lilac ridge: not to reference taylor swift but i’m gna reference taylor swift n say we cld do a seven inspired plot here. sighs a little..... then sighs a lot. he was here ages 0-8 so idk. we cld work out childhood plots perhaps....

sickening simp: i mean.............. cricket probably gets crushes on ppl so easily like just. anyone who’s the slightest bit nice to him.................. he’s a disgrace. ok i take it back. bt also please get it together freak............... i didn’t say that. he’d probably b extra nice to this person n try n pay close attention to things they liked so he cld get them little gifts. just a bit embarrassing n lovestruck bless his heart. wldn’t expect anything back tho honestly that just isn’t something he tends to do.

let’s go gays: cricket’s bi but he probably was rly in his head abt liking boys n tried to sort of squash it internally during his younger yrs...... i think he’s more comfy w it now MAYBE idk bt back then i picture him having a friend tht ws kind of like. similarly loserish as him perhaps (no offence to ur muse potentially filling this plot or cricket bt let’s face the facts) n they’d hang out n play games a lot n one time it jst kind of happened n he was like............. *struts in looking around sharply* What going on here? except not. bc it’s cricket. more like *shambles in looking around anxiously* What’s, uh... What’s... the happenings? S--... I’m sorry. (immediate apology for saying what’s the happenings bc nobody talks like that n it was an impulsive panic bc he didn’t know what else to say)

those who grew up in the system w him: maybe at the group home or i’d also like the family that fostered him n said sayonara. honestly i imagine the parents just thought he ws a bit too much of a handful / had too much baggage which is rly quite merciless n terrible but. if u think that aligns w ur muses home situation hmu......

um. can’t think of more bt just anything honestly. jst go wild.......

#irvingintro #abuse tw #neglect tw #trauma tw #anxiety tw #violence tw #DOES A LITTLE JIG #admittedly i didnt include a formative moments section like my other intros bc idk what kind of superpowers i was inhaling the fumes of #for those intros but #i'm a mere mortal now.

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twilights-800-cats · 3 years

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<< Allegiances || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 13

Feathertail’s dream was gentle, the sound of splashing water surrounding her as she padded through the rocky trails of the mountains. The air was warm and clear, sprigs of grass clinging to cracks in the stone and small batches of flowers brightening the gray landscape.

She was padding towards another cat; one whose scent was sweet and calming – but before she could identify the stranger Feathertail found her eyes opening to the dim light of the Tribe’s cave.

Somewhat sad, Feathertail sighed. That had probably been the first pleasant dream she’d had in a while, one not filled with the screams of her Clanmates as the Twolegs tore the ground from underneath them, or her alone within crushing, lonely darkness. She longed to return to it, but knew she wouldn’t be able to recapture that softness, so she focused on the waking world instead.

The others were just waking themselves, getting in a brisk morning wash before the day began. Stoneheart and Shadepaw were gone, much to Feathertail’s surprise. Stoneheart hadn’t been moved since the Clan cats settled in the nest. Is he really getting well enough to move?

“Snow took them both into the back.” Nightpaw’s voice broke into Feathertail’s thoughts. The small black tom was stretching each of his short legs in turn. “She said she wanted to take a better look at Stoneheart’s wound, and teach Shadepaw more of the mountain herbs.”

Feathertail didn’t miss the flash of anxiety in Nightpaw’s eyes as he spoke. “What’s wrong?” she wondered.

Nightpaw frowned. “We can’t stay here too long,” he meowed quietly. “We’re running out of time.”

“I know,” Feathertail assured. She got to her paws to touch her nose to the apprentice’s forehead. “Hopefully they come back with good news about Stoneheart.”

“I miss home,” Nightpaw murmured, looking down at his paws. “I miss Mother and Father and ThunderClan… I hope they’re all okay…”

Feathertail’s heart ached for the young apprentice. Leaving home had been a hard decision for every cat there, but the apprentices were young, still, and Nightpaw and Shadepaw had parents who loved them. Feathertail licked Nightpaw between his ears sympathetically.

Who misses me in RiverClan, I wonder? Feathertail thought. Her heart sank. Though she had talked up RiverClan to Brook and the other Tribe cats, she couldn’t bring herself to think of a single cat other than Stormfur and Tawnypelt to answer that question.

“Feathertail!”

Feathertail moved away from Nightpaw at the sound of Brook’s voice. The small she-cat was crouched by the entrance to the softpaw den, her eyes bright. “Want to go on the morning hunt?” she asked.

“Sure,” Feathertail agreed. She glanced at Nightpaw, and then asked, “Can he come?” Maybe walking around outside the cave would give him a chance to chase away his worries.

Brook nodded. “Of course.”

Feathertail and Nightpaw followed Brook out of the den and across the cave, where it looked like several patrols were gathering to move out. Feathertail recognized Crag, who seemed to be in the lead of the other morning patrol – which just so happened to have with them the ginger tabby tom who had chastised the Clan cats when they had arrived.

“Take care,” the tom was saying, rubbing his muzzle against Sun’s. Feathertail blinked, noticing the similarities in their build.

“I will,” Sun promised, licking the tom’s ear. Her eyes glowed with affection.

Brook glanced between them. “Red Sun on Horizon – he might be a grumpy cat, but he’s a great prey-hunter, and a good father,” she explained.

Feathertail blinked, nodding gratefully at Brook. He reminds me of Blackclaw, she thought, watching Red. And Dustpelt, from ThunderClan. I think every Clan has a cat like that.

Sun trotted over to Brook. “Are we ready to go?” she asked.

“Soon,” Brook assured.

Feathertail looked over their group. She recognized Swift, who had hunted with her the evening before – but she didn’t know the fluffy brown tom she was talking with, nor the bulky tortoiseshell that was their cave-guard.

“That’s Claw of Hungry Wolf,” Brook whispered, “and Spray Dappling Cold Stone. We’re waiting on Cloud That Covers Moon before we go.”

Feathertail sighed. “Thanks,” she meowed. There are so many cats here!

“It’s going to be a good day to hunt!” Sun decided, looking out over the cave.

Nightpaw frowned. “How can you tell? The waterfall’s in the way!”

Sun purred, and Feathertail’s whiskers twitched. Even she could see that there was sunlight shining through the cascading water, and the spray from the falls wasn’t as cold as it had been yesterday. Greenleaf still has a few warm days left, even up here.

“May we join you?” Feathertail’s ears pricked as she picked up Stormfur’s voice. Her littermate, joined by Mistyfoot and Crowpaw, had approached Crag’s patrol. “We’re eager to help.”

Crag’s eyes flashed, and he glanced at the other Tribe cats. There was a hush in the patrols as every cat seemed to wait on the cave-guard’s decision. Feathertail blinked, confused. Why was it such a big deal? No Tribe cat had blinked when she joined a patrol.

“We’ll take them,” Crag decided, nodding to Mistyfoot and Crowpaw. “You stay.”

Stormfur looked baffled. “Why?” he wondered.

Crag sighed, shaking his head. “Clan cats don’t understand – mountain patrols need to be small to succeed.”

Stormfur opened his jaws as if to protest, throwing a helpless look at Feathertail. She didn’t know what to say – and neither did he. Stormfur closed his jaws and stepped back. “Alright, then,” he conceded. He nodded to the patrol and offered, “Good luck.”

Crag didn’t wait for any more pleasantries – he raised his tail, and he and his patrol slipped out of the cave, Mistyfoot and Crowpaw trailing behind. Stormfur sighed and got to his paws, heading back to the softpaw den, his tail trailing in the dust.

Feathertail glanced down at Nightpaw, who seemed just as confused. What was that all about? Every patrol we’ve seen or been on has been large, Feathertail reasoned inwardly. Why would Crag deny Stormfur? She remembered that the Tribe cats had also stopped her littermate from leaving the cave the day before. What’s going on?

“Let’s head out!” Brook called briskly, as a black she-cat approached their group – Feathertail guessed that this was Cloud. “The prey won’t catch itself!”

———————————————————-

The sun was high in the sky when Feathertail’s patrol stopped to hunt – it was a low, sloping valley that Brook had chosen, reasoning that in the heat the prey would come for the small stream that trickled through the area. However, it was a small space for their large patrol, and Swift had taken Nightpaw to show him the basics of hunting in the mountains, leaving the others to wait their turn. Brook had explained that this was something that the Tribe did in the portions of their territory too small for a full patrol.

Feathertail shifted her paws next to Brook. The cave-guards didn’t seem to mind the idleness – Cloud was taking Sun on a patrol along the farthest edges of the valley, while Spray covered the opposite route. Feathertail had to admit that they seemed to be an expert at keeping a lookout, with their eyes flashing in all directions for danger. She focused on Nightpaw, feeling safe.

He’s picking it up well, Feathertail thought. Nightpaw was always very eager to learn new things, so she wasn’t surprised. He’d dived into the nearest mud pit with a gusto that shocked even the Tribe cats. Feathertail herself still had to resist the urge to scratch a clump of mud out from behind her ear.

“So…” Brook began, “tell me about Stormfur.”

Feathertail blinked, surprised that Brook was talking right now – but Swift and Nightpaw were a fair distance away, and their voices weren’t carrying. Still… why Stormfur? Why is the entire Tribe so weird about him? Perhaps this was a chance to learn the reason.

“He’s my littermate,” Feathertail began. “Why?”

Brook shifted on her paws, suddenly looking awkward. “I…” The brown tabby she-cat avoided Feathertail’s eye.

Feathertail sighed. “He’s handsome, I know. I’m sorry, he and Mistyfoot…” She frowned at the thought. “He’s not looking for another mate.”

Brook started, eyes flinging wide with shock. “That’s not why I was asking!” she insisted. Her whiskers twitched. “Your brother is handsome, yes, but I am not interested in him like that!”

Feathertail blinked, faintly surprised. “Well, that’s a relief,” she admitted. “He really is very interested in Mistyfoot, though.”

Brook tilted her head. “You don’t seem happy about that. Mistyfoot is a very strong cat.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Feathertail assured.

“We have time,” Brook offered, raising a paw to point at Swift and Nightpaw. The two were still stalking, seemingly having no luck yet at finding any prey.

Feathertail’s frown deepened. “Mistyfoot is from ThunderClan, while Stormfur and I are from RiverClan – our code forbids relationships between Clans. I’m worried they’ll get themselves into trouble when we get back home.”

Brook looked baffled by the idea. “Why would they not allow such things? Are your Clans not close?”

“We are, but we aren’t,” Feathertail explained. “Every Clan has their own way of life, and those ways aren’t always compatible, so it’s best if we keep to ourselves for the most part. We fight over territory and such sometimes, too, and having mixed blood in the Clans makes that even harder. But…”

“But?”

“It’s an old rule,” Feathertail went on. “A lot of the warrior code hasn’t been changed in a long, long time. And just because it’s a rule doesn’t mean cats don’t break it.” Her heart ached at the thought of Silverstream and Graystripe, and how far away they were now. All because of that puff-brained code…

“We have a code too,” Brook offered, her eyes sympathetic. “We have had it for a long time. It’s difficult to change what’s worked for so long.”

Feathertail sighed. “It worked long ago, sure, but now…” she admitted. “Now things are different. We’re different. Things that were wrong back then don’t have to be wrong now. The warrior code can feel too rigid for the world we live in now.” Mothwing’s face came to mind, and Feathertail chased it away. “ThunderClan’s leader, Tinystar, made a change to the code recently, though, so… I’m hoping more can come from that.”

“Would changes to the code make your Clans stronger?” Brook asked.

Feathertail nodded. “I believe that they would – but cats in the Clans are set in their ways.”

Brook purred. “Tribe cats are, too,” she pointed out. She nudged Feathertail, her whiskers twitching. “I’m sure change will come to your Clans, Feathertail. Be patient. It sounds as if the first pawsteps have already been made.”

Feathertail sighed, grateful for the Tribe she-cat’s warm words. “First we need to save them from the Twolegs,” she reasoned. “I think… I hope… having to move territories will make more change easier for us.”

“And you hope that your littermate and Mistyfoot will be able to be together?”

Feathertail stared at her paws. “If that’s what he wants,” she admitted. Her stomach churned. “She makes him happy – how bad of a littermate would I be if I wanted him to leave her just because I’ll be lonely?”

“Not a bad littermate,” Brook assured. “I think you’re being a very good littermate, honestly.” Her eyes shone with sympathy. “Worrying over one another is natural, and no cat wants to be alone.”

“Thanks,” Feathertail breathed, caught in the earnestness of the Tribe she-cat’s gaze.

Somehow, that made her feel better.

———————————————————-

They made it back to the cave by evening, jaws loaded with prey. Nightpaw had made an impressive catch of a large rabbit, which had earned him praise from Swift and Brook. He seemed especially pleased about it himself, having caught it after Swift had killed its smaller companion a moment beforehand.

Brook and Feathertail’s turn had been just as fruitful – a mouse dangled from Feathertail’s jaws, while Brook proudly deposited a blackbird onto the Tribe’s fresh-kill pile, which Crag’s patrol had already stocked. As Feathertail laid her mouse atop the pile, she was proud of how much was there – the Tribe would eat well tonight.

It wasn’t yet time to eat, though – Feathertail parted from the Tribe cats to meet with her friends by the softpaw’s den, settling down to groom herself as Shadepaw was talking about the stars. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Stormfur and Mistyfoot sharing tongues, their tails twined together. For once, the sight didn’t make her uncomfortable.

Maybe I can learn to live without him, she thought, lapping at grit in her paw. Her pads were becoming harder and rougher from walking on the stones so much. And maybe I can find somewhere I belong too, if I don’t feel at home in RiverClan.

“… every Tribe cat knows their stars,” Shadepaw was meowing, looking pointedly at Crowpaw. “They navigate the mountains by them, like WindClan! And get this – they call the stars we were following the Sun Trail, too!”

Crowpaw’s ear twitched. “How’s that possible?” he wondered.

Feathertail lifted her head, curious.

“Come to think of it, I’ve seen some other stuff like that,” Stormfur put in. “I overheard some cat wondering about Stoneteller casting stones to decide something – RiverClan does something similar.”

Crowpaw frowned. “WindClan does that, too,” he muttered, his eyes darknening.

Feathertail glanced around at the Tribe cats. The Sun Trail, and casting stones… sharing prey… she shifted. Are the Tribe and the Clans related somehow?

“I wonder if the Tribe and Clan were once the same thing,” Shadepaw admitted, her eyes shining. “Wouldn’t that be an interesting revelation? What if the Clans came from the mountains? Or the Tribe cats came from the Clans?”

“That’s ridiculous!” Crowpaw insisted, curling his lip. He seemed to regret his sharp tone, turning away from the others. “It’s just coincidence… And why would no cat know, anyway?”

“History gets lost over time,” Stoneheart pointed out. He shifted in his nest. “This speculation is nice and all, but honestly, we need to focus on leaving.”

“How are you feeling?” Mistyfoot asked.

Stoneheart flexed his leg. “Better,” he replied. “Fine enough to go.”

Shadepaw’s eyes flashed. “I don’t know… Snow seems to think you need more time.”

“Do you agree with her?” Nightpaw wondered.

Shadepaw looked uncertain. “Well, I… I’m still learning these herbs, I don’t know how effective they are, and…”

“We can’t overlook the possibility that Snow and the others might be trying to keep us here,” Stormfur pointed out.

The statement certainly got the others to pay attention to him. Stormfur shifted on his paws and meowed, “Every time I’ve tried to leave, they refuse to let me. I can’t even make dirt without a cave-guard watching me.”

“I know,” Mistyfoot sighed, her expression turning troubled. “It’s strange – they’ll let the rest of us go on patrols, but deny you. Why?”

“I’ve tried to ask,” Shadepaw admitted, “but Snow wouldn’t tell me.”

Feathertail flicked her tail. “Brook’s given no hints, either,” she offered.

“There’s something else,” Crowpaw noted. “On our patrol, we scented something foul – it made Crag turn tail immediately. Red was right in the middle of stalking a bird but he and the other prey-hunters just dropped everything to get out of there.”

Feathertail frowned, thinking to her first hunting patrol with Brook. “A similar incident happened to me yesterday.”

Mistyfoot nodded in confirmation. “Something is definitely wrong here.”

“We need to leave,” Stoneheart insisted. “These cats have been nice, but it’s past time.”

“We can’t risk it until you’re better,” Shadepaw insisted, bristling. “Or, at least until I know enough to care for you while we’re in the mountains… I don’t want to risk you losing the use of your leg.”

“How long will that be?” Stormfur wondered.

Shadepaw blinked, thinking. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m a new apprentice again, learning all these herbs… I’ll try my hardest to memorize them.”

Feathertail blinked at the young apprentice in sympathy. She opened her mouth to offer something reassuring, but movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Glancing that way, she spotted Brook making her way across the cave to sit with Crag and some other cats… all of whom had their eyes focused on the Clan cats.

Spine bristling, Feathertail turned away. Her friends were still plotting in low voices, but… this cave was the Tribe cat’s home. Even Feathertail was beginning to be able to hear noises on the far side of the cavern through the waterfall’s crashing din. Just how much could they hear? And why were they staring like that?

They must know that we have to leave, she thought, staring down at her pale paws. But… those looks… the way they won’t let Stormfur out of the cave…

Will they even let us leave?

#tb au #tb moonrise

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agerefandom · 4 years

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Evenings of Eternity (Chapter Two)

Fandom: Good Omens

Words: 2,500

Summary: Crowley has been many things throughout the millennia, but he’s never been a child. He finds himself curious about the idea of childhood, and Aziraphale offers to help him explore that curiosity. (regressor!crowley, cg!aziraphale)

Content Warnings: None I can think of! New, voluntary, and uncertain regression: Crowley and Aziraphale are still figuring out how everything works.

Notes: This is the final chapter for Good Omens so far, but I do plan to write more! Let me know if you have any specific requests or ideas for this fandom, and I’ll be happy to add them in ^-^

(Don’t forget to read chapter one if you missed it!)

In the end, they settled on a date and wrote it on the calendar, just like their weekly game nights. Crowley protested having it on the calendar in the kitchen, but Aziraphale found him staring at it one morning, drinking his coffee and smiling slightly.

The date grew nearer and Aziraphale made his quiet preparations, occasionally asking Crowley’s opinion on this or that. He was picking up some of Crowley’s nerves, hoping that everything would go well and he wouldn’t do anything wrong. From his research, age regression could be a very vulnerable experience, and Aziraphale didn’t want to make Crowley feel that he’d made a mistake trusting Aziraphale with it.

They agreed that for the first try, Aziraphale would make the plan. He would create a space where Crowley could be surrounded by the external factors of being a child, even if he couldn’t create a mental space for it yet. Discovering from scratch what childhood felt like wasn’t going to be easy, and both of them were aware of it. They agreed that there was no pressure on either of them, that both of them could step back at any time, and that it was perfectly alright if it didn’t work out.

Knowing all of that didn’t make it any easier to fall asleep the evening before, and Aziraphale found himself lying awake for an hour that felt like a century. Eventually, he managed to drift off to Crowley’s familiar rasping breaths beside him.

The late morning light shone into the cottage, the leaves of the plants casting shadows across the shelves and the floors. Aziraphale walked down the hallway, taking a deep breath as he paused in front of the bedroom door.

He was ready for this, for whatever the day would bring. If it was awkward and it didn’t work at all, that was fine. They had already planned a movie to watch in the evening as adults. If it did work and he was responsible for a five-year-old today, that was fine too. If it was anywhere in-between, he was prepared to adapt and ready to learn. Everything was fine, he just had to open the door, wake Crowley up, and start their day together.

He brushed his hands over his apron and then rested his palm on the doorknob, twisting it open and pushing his way into the dark room with a decisive motion.

“Crowley? Crowley, love, it’s time to wake up.”

“Hrrrn?” Crowley rolled over in bed, already twisted up in the sheets. He wasn’t a blanket hog when he shared the bed, but as soon as Aziraphale left he always made himself into a little burrito. It was adorable.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” Aziraphale sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through Crowley’s hair, scratching gently at his head. “Breakfast is already on the table.”

“Oh nooo,” Crowley muttered, turning his head into the pillow so that his voice was muffled. “It’s today.”

“It is today!” Aziraphale said, continuing to pet Crowley’s head. “I made chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Sounds good.” Crowley’s voice was reluctant, and his face was firmly in the pillow.

“I know they’re your favourite, so I made them just for you,” Aziraphale told him. “Only the best for my favourite little one.”

Crowley finally rolled over, but only so that he could put his hands over his face and make an embarrassed whining sound. Aziraphale almost raised his eyebrows: it wasn’t a reaction he’d seen from Crowley before, and he hoped it meant he was on the right track.

“Alright, I’m opening the curtains, so keep your eyes closed!” Aziraphale said, rising from the bed and shaking out his skirt. He was wearing his favourite baking outfit, a yellow tartan dress with a floral apron tied around his waist. It made him feel like he was on the cover of a magazine, and he loved the colours.

He opened the curtains with a flourish, and sunlight came streaming into the room. Crowley had slept in late to give Aziraphale time to prepare, and the day was already nearing noon.

“Do you want to choose your outfit today?” Aziraphale asked, as if it was a question that he asked Crowley every morning.

“Yes,” Crowley said, and finally sat upright. He was so loveable in the mornings, his hair a mess and his pupils narrow slits against the light. “I want to choose.”

“Alright, do you want the blue shirt or the red shirt?”

“Red shirt.”

Aziraphale obediently pulled out one of the shirts they had bought together, a plain red t-shirt that wasn’t too far out of Crowley’s comfort zone, but was miles away from his previous outfits. “And shorts or pants, sweetheart?”

“Pants.”

Aziraphale had expected that, and he pulled out a pair of black jeans. Again, not too unusual, but still looser than anything else that Crowley owned. He scooped out a pair of underwear and a new pair of striped socks, putting them all in a pile at the bottom of the bed.

“Do you want me to stay?” Aziraphale asked, as Crowley reached towards the clothes.

“Stay,” Crowley nodded.

“Do you want me to help?”

Crowley shook his head, so Aziraphale waited and watched Crowley get dressed, tossing his silk pyjamas carelessly on the floor. He stood patiently by the door until Crowley had all of his clothes on, even his socks.

“That’s not where your pyjamas go, little one,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley blinked at him with genuine surprise before glancing back at his crumbled pyjamas. “Could you put them away for me?”

Crowley frowned, but he obediently picked up the pyjamas, folded them, and walked over to put them in the right drawer.

“Good job!” Aziraphale praised, holding out his hand. “We can make the bed later, I think it’s time for breakfast.” Crowley already looked slightly overwhelmed, so Aziraphale wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. Crowley immediately walked over to hold his hand, and Aziraphale guided him out through the living room and into the dining room.

“There are the pancakes!” Aziraphale said, pointing to a very large stack on the table. “Are you excited?”

Crowley nodded, although Aziraphale could tell that he was still more anxious than anything. Aziraphale pulled out his chair and let him get settled, before sliding two pancakes onto a plate and starting to cut them up. Trying to decide what kind of a child Crowley wanted to try being had been hard: being a baby, a toddler, a seven-year-old, were all very different from each other and equally foreign to the two immortals. They had settled on an older toddler for the first try, so Aziraphale carefully cut the pancakes into bite-sized pieces and added the maple syrup before setting them in front of Crowley with a plastic fork.

Crowley scowled at the plastic fork, but used it to stab a piece of pancake. Aziraphale beamed, proud of how hard Crowley was trying to push past his own discomfort and how little he was trying to hide from Aziraphale at this moment. It was going more smoothly than he had expected, and as Crowley put the first bite of pancake in his mouth, his eyes lit up and he started to eat the rest at a much faster rate.

Hiding his fondness, Aziraphale turned to the counter and began stirring together some chocolate milk, pouring it into a sippy cup and giving it one last shake before putting it in front of Crowley.

Another double-take at the brightly coloured cup, but Crowley picked it up soon enough and started sucking at it, clearly enjoying the chocolate milk. Aziraphale had more of a sweet tooth between the two of them, but he’d never seen Crowley turn his nose up at something that was chocolate.

“Is it good, sweetheart?” Aziraphale prompted, sitting down to his own plate.

“Uh-huh!” Crowley ducked his head after his energetic confirmation, seeming embarrassed. Aziraphale beamed at him.

“I’m glad.” Aziraphale tucked into his own breakfast, watching Crowley struggle with the blunt plastic fork. He had chocolate smeared across one cheek and on the back of his hand already. I’ll have to wipe that up, Aziraphale noted absent-mindedly, and was struck by a wave of newness, mixed with an odd nostalgia for something he’d never had.

Sure enough, at the end of breakfast, Crowley’s face and hands were smudged with chocolate, and Aziraphale wiped him off with a wet cloth, dropping a kiss on his forehead when he drew away. Crowley squirmed under the attention, but even that was unusual. Crowley usually tapped on the nearest surface when he was uncomfortable, but now he was just wiggling back and forth slightly, his hands wrapping around each other. Aziraphale gave him a reassuring smile and rinsed off the cloth.

“Alright, love, do you want to go outside or stay in to watch some cartoons?” Aziraphale asked as he cleared the table.

Crowley thought about that for a few seconds.

“Outside,” he decided.

“Outside it is.” Aziraphale left the chocolatey plates by the sink for later and returned to Crowley, who was pushing his chair back from the table. “Up you go!” he said, scooping Crowley into his arms and propping him on his hip. Crowley, although tall, had always been quite light. It was easy for Aziraphale to carry him with one arm wrapped under him and another one around his back.

Crowley settled against him easily, curling his hands into the fabric of Aziraphale’s dress.

“Maybe it was silly to wipe all that chocolate off,” Aziraphale murmured to himself as he carried Crowley down the hallway. “You’re just going to get all dirty outside.”

“No I won’t,” Crowley said defiantly. His voice sounded no different from normal, but somehow Aziraphale could tell that he was finding an inner child instinct much faster than Aziraphale had expected.

“Alright, I believe you,” Aziraphale told him, and pressed another kiss to Crowley’s cheek before setting him down on the front-hall bench. “Do you want to wear your new shoes?”

“Yeah!” This got a more excited response than anything else had before, Crowley swinging his legs forwards energetically. “Lights!”

Aziraphale knelt down in front of him, his skirt spreading out on the tile floor as he reached over to pull out the sneakers. Undoing the Velcro, he guided Crowley’s feet into them one by one and then did them up. Crowley resumed swinging his feet when Aziraphale stood up, testing how tight they were. He grinned at Aziraphale freely, kicking his heels into the bench he was sitting on and laughing when the shoes lit up with bright red lights.

“Very hip,” Aziraphale assured him. “You’ll be the talk of the town.”

“Uh-huh!” Crowley popped up to his feet, a sudden surge of motion. Aziraphale stopped him before he could run for the door, offering him a pair of plastic-rimmed sunglasses with little car stickers where they hooked behind the ears.

“Here you are, it’s very sunny out there.” Crowley reluctantly slipped them on. “But still don’t look directly at the sun,” Aziraphale added. “It’s very dangerous.”

“I know that,” Crowley grumbled.

“Good. I like your eyes the way they are,” Aziraphale said, and put on his own running shoes before opening the door.

Crowley was out like a shot, running down the garden path and into the sunshine before Aziraphale could step outside.

“Don’t run too far!” Aziraphale called after him, and Crowley’s carefree laughter came back to him. Crowley was spinning in the sun, just outside the garden fence, his arms out-flung to either side and his face tilted upwards.

Aziraphale relaxed when he saw that Crowley wasn’t going anywhere near the cliffs, and turned back to close the door. He wandered down the path, checking on the flowers and the tomatoes as he made his way towards the still-spinning Crowley.

“You’re going to fall over if you keep that up,” Aziraphale admonished. They could consciously stop dizziness, of course, just like any other function of the bodies they inhabited, but he doubted that Crowley was in a space to do so at the moment. At least the grass looked nice and soft under his feet.

Crowley obediently stopped spinning, and then tried to take a step forward towards Aziraphale and fell over sideways with a comedic shout of surprise. His shoulder hit the ground hard, and he rolled to a stop on his back, staring up at the sky.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale called, suppressing the urge to run forwards and make sure Crowley wasn’t hurt. They were made of tougher stuff than that, and there was no need to hover.

“I… yeah.” Crowley pushed himself up to a sitting position, and looked over to Aziraphale. “I’m fine.”

Aziraphale couldn’t put his finger on what had changed, but he was well aware that the tumble had jolted Crowley out of the relaxed headspace he’d found. He was back to the Crowley that Aziraphale was familiar with.

“Do you want to go back inside?” Aziraphale asked, still fighting the urge to run forwards and scoop Crowley into his arms.

“Yeah.” Crowley pushed his sunglasses up so that he could rub his eyes. “I think I’m done for today, if that’s alright.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale finally approached, sitting cross-legged on the grass next to Crowley. “You can be done whenever you want.”

“It was short,” Crowley sighed. “But it was nice.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale could feel himself brighten at the off-hand comment.

“I think I’d like to do it again, either with you or by myself.” Crowley rolled the hem of his t-shirt between two fingers. “It was nice.”

“I would be happy to do it again with you,” Aziraphale said. “I had quite a bit of fun.”

“Did you?” Crowley was watching him from the corner of his eye, unwilling to meet his gaze head-on.

“Absolutely.” Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically. “You know how much I love playing the housewife every once in a while, cleaning the cottage by hand. This was even better than that, I’ve never felt so… human.” There was no other word for the feeling, like all the centuries could fade away into a single lifetime, like there was nothing above and nothing below but only the here and now. As though there were no obligation to how they had been made, and only the life they created together.

“An angel who wants to be a housewife,” Crowley chuckled, lying back on the grass and letting the childish sunglasses slide back over his eyes. “Sounds like the plot of a terrible romance novel.”

“Hallmark card, romance novel… at least I’m not someone’s idea of a tragic gothic hero,” Aziraphale said, poking Crowley in the side and relishing his laughter.

“You get one novel written about you and they never forget it,” Crowley griped. “Stop tickling me and lie down, angel. The sunlight is warm and you’re blocking it.”

“Oh, if I’m disrupting your basking,” Aziraphale said graciously and laid down next to Crowley, shifting closer to him and letting Crowley wrap an arm around him. The two of them laid under the noonday sun, breathing in the seaside air and closing their eyes to better savour the warmth. Everything that wasn’t them and their cottage seemed very far away, and Aziraphale felt properly at peace.

#sfw agere #agere writing #agere fanfiction #agere fic #agere fics #agere fandom #nsre #agere community #good omens #good omens agere #good omens fic #regressor!crowley #evenings of eternity

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whatisahyunjin · 4 years

Text

Bittersweet; hjs - part three

genre: angst, fluff, drama, high school au

summary: after having a past with Jisung at a summer camp, you have to tutor the same boy over six months later. however, now he has a significant other and attends your rival school

word count: 1.7K

part one / part two / part four / masterlist

Wandering around on the streets with water droplets splashing hard on your umbrella was not your idea of fun and Kim Seungmin was to blame.

“It’s been twenty minutes since you said that he lives down this street,” you grumbled under your breath.

“Going to his place was not my idea,” the boy replied curtly, pulling you with him to explore the similar-looking apartments on either side of the street.

The two of you had been searching for Hyunjin’s place, when you were hit by unwelcome precipitation. Having seen the forecast, you had already brought an umbrella while Seungmin had not. It was not big enough for the both of you and Seungmin was beyond pissed to have his right sleeve completely soaked.

“Hey, I couldn’t refuse, he asked me in such a sweet way.” That day at school, Hyunjin had overheard your and Seungmin’s conversation about neither of your homes being available for working on the project. He insisted on doing it at his house, leaving you no choice but to accept it and pull Seungmin along with you.

Seungmin ignored your words and entered yet another apartment complex. But this time words painted on the side of the building matched the words on the little slip of paper that Hyunjin had given him.

“Finally,” Seungmin breathed out a sigh of relief and ran to take shelter in the building's lobby as you walked over to the nameplates and began looking for the name ‘Hwang’.

“603, let’s go”

The two of you stood in front of the door, waiting for someone to open it. You hoped Hyunjin would answer it as you were in no mood to socialise with strangers. However your hopes went down the drain as a girl around your age appeared behind the door, confusion written on her face as she looked at the two of you.

Before any of you could speak, “Yeji, go to your room,” a familiar voice called out. Hyunjin shoved the girl to the side and invited you inside.

You muttered a quick hey to both of them and smiled to the girl which she returned warmly. She showed you where to put your shoes and jackets while Hyunjin handed you two towels to dry off.

“Was it hard to find?” Hyunjin inquired, making Seungmin laugh dryly.

“Hyunjin you should have told me at least? I could have gone over to Hana’s house instead of calling her over,” the girl complained. Seemed like she was his sister, they had similar features.

As if on cue, another girl entered from the hallway. Your eyes met hers and you saw her go still as she took in your familiar appearance. Giving you an awkward smile, she stood beside Yeji.

“Well, you can still go to her house,” Hyunjin muttered before looking between you, Seungmin and the two girls, “(name), Seungmin, this is my cousin Yeji. Yeji, this is (name) and Seungmin from my new school.”

“I’m surprised he already has friends,” Yeji said, making all of you laugh except Hyunjin who just rolled his eyes.

“Are you going or not?” he grumbled, walking over to the couch and plopping down on it. He motioned to you to do the same but your feet stayed glued to the spot.

“You didn’t introduce my best friend.” Yeji glared at Hyunjin who just muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

“This is Hana, we go to the same school, that is Hyunjin’s previous school before he transferred to yours,” she introduced the girl beside her, and Hana gave a soft smile to both of you. She was really pretty which made you gulp thinking back to the incident a few days prior.

“I’ve actually met her before,” Hana motioned to you, making you smile nervously.

“What? How?” Yeji looked back and forth between the two of you.

“She’s my boyfriend’s math tutor,” Hana replied, making Hyunjin jerk his head to your side. You stood there awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers as you gave a nod.

After a moment of silence, Hyunjin snickered from his place on the couch. “Jisung needs a tutor now? Wow.”

“Hyunjin,” Yeji warned, quickly stealing a glance at Hana, who was staring at the floor.

Grasping the tension, Seungmin muttered a quick ‘it was nice to meet you’ to the two girls before pushing you towards the couch. They smiled at you two and waved before they left the apartment. Once you were settled on the couch, Seungmin and Hyunjin started discussing the project, leaving you immersed in your own thoughts.

The world is indeed a small place; you thought. This is why Jisung knew about Hyunjin. It seemed as if Hyunjin didn’t leave his old school while being on good terms with Jisung. And Hana. It was obvious that Hyunjin didn’t like her at all.

“Earth to (name)!”

You blankly stared at Seungmin before picking up your part of the work. The two boys looked at you with concern.

“(name) your hair is still wet,” Hyunjin said, standing up and leaving the room.

Once Hyunjin was out of earshot, Seungmin rambled, “I’m so lost. What the hell happened back there? How do y’all know each other? Who is Jisung?”

“He’s just a boy I tutor Seungmin,” you explained to him, heaving out an exasperated sigh.

With that Hyunjin entered the room once again, putting a towel on your head and wrapping it around your hair.

“Hyunjin what are you doing?” you laughed, looking up at the confused boy.

“Isn’t this what y’all girls do your wet hair? The cone thing?” His words made you and Seungmin laugh even more. You grabbed the towel from him, an action which he responded to with a glare, and began drying your hair.

The next morning saw you running through light drizzle towards Jisung’s apartment. It was not as strong as the day before but enough to make your clothes damp. You halted in front of the door to catch your breath before ringing the bell. Great, now you would show up at another person’s house with damp hair and clothes, just like the previous day. You had just enough time to fix your appearance before Jisung appeared at the door.

“(name) what-” The boy pulled you inside, making you sit on the couch as he went inside the house, to grab a towel, you presumed. You removed your outer jacket and realised that your inner shirt was just damp in some places. Your skirt would also dry enough in an hour’s time, which made you sigh in relief as you wouldn’t have to go back home to change.

Jisung came back with a towel in hand and handed it to you before sitting down on the opposite couch. He looked at you with a feeling of nervousness as you dried your hair. Why was it that every little interaction with you made the butterflies in his stomach go wild? It was never the same with Hana, Jisung knew that his feelings for you were way more pure that what he had for Hana, he knew it since the day he had first met you, six months ago. He felt sorry for all that he had done to Hana.

“Can you stop staring?”

Jisung looked down as he felt his cheeks heat up. He stood up in haste and motioned towards the kitchen.

“I’ll be at the dining table,” he muttered and disappeared into the adjacent room.

You stared into space and contemplated your life for a few seconds before following suit.

Jisung was less focused that day. He kept making mistakes in his answers and copied the numbers wrong. His eyes were more focused on how your body was shivering since the moment you were seated on the chair. Even though you were reading your own book, your hands couldn’t stop running up and down your arms to create heat from friction. After every problem, he watched you with concern as you went over his work.

“Jisung you forgot to diff-” you quickly grabbed your handkerchief and sneezed into it. You closed your eyes for a moment before opening them again and muttering a sorry.

“Wait,” Jisung stood up and walked into the hallway, leaving you to stare at his back.

You played with your napkin till you were startled by a familiar grey hoodie put over your shoulders.

“Wear it,” Jisung sternly said. You knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Besides, you were feeling too cold to complain. You silently put it on, unconsciously sniffing it. The piece of clothing filled you with warmth, on the outside and the inside. You hid your face from the boy just so he couldn’t see how pink it was.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, making you lift your face to look at him. You gave him a slight nod and a warm smile which he returned. This was the first time after meeting Jisung again that you felt so comfortable around him, you had missed the feeling.

For the rest of the time, you felt your wall break apart and found yourself not being able to control your feelings. The emotions came rushing back whenever your eyes met his or when his skin brushed against yours.

Soon it was time for you to leave, you collected your belongings and removed the hoodie, instantly shivering due to the loss of heat. You turned to return it back to Jisung, but he just shook his head.

“You have school after this, you might get a cold,” he said softly, pushing it back towards you.

You stared at him, contemplating whether to take it. The boy smiled a little and slightly nodded, making you retract your hand and wear the piece of clothing again. You quickly turned away as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the memories that came flooding back.

Startling the both of you, the bell rang and Jisung sprinted towards the door to answer it. As you swung your bag over your shoulder, he entered the room again, Hana trailing behind. She gave you a small, but genuine smile when she saw you. You returned the gesture, your stomach dropping at the thought of Hana seeing you in Jisung’s hoodie.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfics #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #han jisung #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenarios #han imagines #jisung imagines #han scenarios #jisung scenarios #han fanfiction #jisung fanfic #jisung fanfiction #stray kids jisung #stray kids han #stray kids han fanfiction

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thelegendofclarke · 4 years

Note

Hi! I love your blog and I’m fascinated about your personality, you seem such a wonderful person! Could you share with us, dear followers, about life lessons you learned in your life? I trust that you have some few good advice. P.S. Your tags are the best, they are gold!

Hey anon!

well first of all i want to apologize to you because it has been approximately TWELVE HUNDRED YEARS since you sent me this ask and i have truly been The Worst™ about answering my asks. and THANK YOU SO MUCH for your kind words, you are so sweet ❤ ❤ ❤

i really wanted to answer this with some variation on “my advice is to never ask me for advice” lol because i have no idea what i’m doing. like seriously, 95% of the time this is a fly by the seat of my pants, fake it til ya make it operation. BUT i made you wait SO LONG and i didn’t want to leave you hanging, so i made you a list of some Random Life Lessons i’ve accumulated during my sad, sorry existence on this earth.

HERE WE GO…

Never assume you are the smartest person in the room.

You are never too old to use Johnson & Johnson baby products, go to Chuck-E-Cheese, enjoy a nice ice cream cake, or eat Lunchables.

You are not bound or beholden to anyone else’s perception of you… Fuck them, they don’t know your life.

Dear dudes: if when you say “boys don’t like when girls…” Our response is ALWAYS going to be “girls don’t gaf.”

Don’t waste any of your time fucking with people who are committed to misunderstanding you.

You see a relationship needs to be mutually beneficial. If you’re both not getting something you want it’s a bad relationship.

The high road is like, the worst road ever and annoying af while you’re one it… but at the end of the day, taking it will probably make you feel better about yourself.

Pickle juice is an EXCELLENT chaser.

Let your instincts and the hair on the back of your neck dictate what you do, NOT politeness.

If someone is constantly accusing you of cheating on them it’s because they are cheating on you constantly.

JELL-O No-Bake Boxed Cheesecake is actually pretty damn good.

Never let anyone make you feel like you owe them anything more than yourself.

Blavy is terrible and does not look good on ANYONE. I don’t care that Tom Ford and Marc Jacobs said it’s ok now… It’s not.

Don’t care about what people say behind your back. Theres a reason why they’re behind you.

Find good friends that you trust that you can be an asshole with in private so you don’t act like an even bigger asshole in public.

Don’t ever let anyone make you feel shitty or belittle you for caring about things; and the same goes for getting excited about things.

Related to the above, don’t ever belittle or go out of your way to make people feel shitty about the things they can and get excited about. It’s truly one of the meanest things you can do.

Whenever you get to a new campus, whether it be uni or grad school or study abroad, ALWAYS walk to where all your classes will be BEFORE the term starts. Seriously, the walking estimated time on the maps thingies are full of shit.

Don’t ever say “i’m sorry you feel that way” to people. Honestly, you sound like a douche. And you’re not sorry.

If you ever get to a point in a relationship where you are seriously considering cheating on your significant other, just break up with them. It’s time.

Learn at least one self defense move… It doesn’t matter if it’s a kick or a punch or whatever. just make sure you know one and make sure you know it really well.

There is a difference between “being a risk taker” and “being a dumbass.” You’ll know it when you see it.

The same goes for things like “being realistic” vs. “being a fucking bummer”… Just kep an eye out ya know?

If you have had a disagreement with someone but you guys talk it out and decide you are going to move on from it, move on from it. If you are still angry, you need to let the other person know that.

Never, NEVER, let your first date with someone be to a wedding.

Same goes for funerals, bar/bat mitzvah’s, quinces, or any other large family gathering. at least go out for coffee first or something.

It doesn’t matter how far away from his mamma he moves, a mamma’s boy will always be a mamma’s boy.

“Brutal honesty” is called that because it usually involves brutalizing someone. so ask yourself, is your brutality really needed or appreciated?

Standing up for yourself shouldn’t involve walking all over someone else or making them feel shitty. Those 2 things should not be mutually exclusive.

Never let a teacher or authority figure make you feel stupid for not being good enough at certain school subjects.

Trust your instincts about the following: boys, friends, people trying to sell you shit, people trying to get you to sign shit.

If for any reason you are in a situation where police are involved, do NOT speak to them without a lawyer, parent, or some kind of other advocate present

It’s ok to wait to get your license until you feel ready to drive

Don’t worry about your weight. It fluctuates as you grow because your insides are growing too. It is natural.

if you notice something about someone’s appearance and they can’t fix it right away, don’t tell them. For example, if you are at a bar with friends, Good: “hey you have lipstick on your teeth.” Bad: “hey that shirt is really unflattering.”

Don’t every tell anyone someone “loves them in their own way.” it’s shitty. don’t say it… there is no wrong way to love someone, but there are things that are not love.

You don’t have to be anyone’s sidekick friend… You are no one’s sidekick.

“Be stubborn about your goals but flexible about your methods.”

Get rid of stuff you don’t use. Unused and unappreciated things make us feel bad.

Listen to Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” slowed down to 33 rpm, at least once in your life.

If a dude ever tells you in all seriousness that he loves fight club and/or Tyler Durden, run. Run fast, and run far.

If you ever find yourself wondering if you sound or are being condescending, you are.

Know how to cook at least one thing well enough that you can do it from memory. even if its just pasta or chicken or something… there will come a time in your life where you are going to have to unexpectedly feed yourself. don’t be caught unprepared.

Try to avoid doing the following: making promises when you are really excited. responding when you are angry. making decisions when you are sad.

You have to be willing to cut off people who make you unhappy. it’s going to really suck and you are going to feel really guilty. and chances are they are going to get pissed and it will be very unpleasant. but you have to cut off toxic relationships. The only thing toxic that you should still be in contact with is that song Britney Spears made, because that song is lit af.

And going along with that, life is too short to pretend like you don’t love britney spears or taylor swift or whatever pop music makes you happy. seriously, if people are going to give you shit about that, they can kiss your ass.

When you make a to do list add a few things that you have already done or that you can get done in the next hour or so, because it feels really good to cross things off.

Going back to an old relationship is like rewatching a movie and expecting a different ending to happen… spoiler alert: ain’t nothing gonna change

Never mistake kindness for weakness or silence for stupidity.

“One of the biggest lies we’re told is that ‘everything happens for a reason.’ Allow yourself to remember that accidents happen, and not all of them have to shape your life. Try to let go of toxic people and situations that are harming you. Not all lessons are worth learning the hard way. Take care of yourself.”

If someone is complaining to you about something and you are going to give them advice, ask first. say “do you want advice or do you just need to vent?” because unwanted advice when someone is already annoyed is never going to help the situation.

Telling someone to “calm down” has never worked. ever. in all of history… I’ve checked. Repeatedly.

“You all have a little bit of ‘I want to save the world’ in you, that’s why you’re here, in college. I want you to know that it’s okay if you only save one person, and it’s okay if that person is you.”

When you can’t be honest with people, you can’t ever relax with them.

Don’t listen to the people who tell you ‘if you give up, you never wanted it in the first place.’ Sometimes, it’s okay to give up on things.

All relationships have to have mutual effort… If they wanna talk to you, they will. If they wanna be with you, they will. If they wanna make things work, they will. Don’t let things be one sided. It’s not healthy, and it’s not fair to you.

You deserve friends who treat you with love and respect. You deserve friends that listen to you. You deserve friends that try to understand your feelings and respect them. You deserve positive and healthy friendships. Don’t settle for less.

Don’t take yourself too seriously… Sometimes ridiculous, dumb shit is gonna happen to you and you should recognize it for what it is: a really good story you can tell at parties.

It’s really, really important to realize that missing someone or something and wanting it back are two very, very different things.

Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s a bad thing to feel things deeply. A full heart is a strong heart and being soft doesn’t make you weak. Being soft and loving makes you radiant. you deserve all of the love in the world and so many good things.

Everyone (including your family, your coworkers, and your best friend) will talk about you behind your back, and you’ll talk about them too. It doesn’t mean you don’t love each other.

There are some people who will nitpick and dwell over your tiniest faults just to make them feel superior. Leave them be to find satisfaction. Only the insecure think that another’s flaws and shortcomings can become their own merits.

You’re not fake simply because you act differently depending on the person you’re with. Different personalities bring out different aspects of your personality. You’re complex and multidimensional and you contain fucking multitudes man; it’s beautiful.

Whenever you go somewhere new, try to go to at least one restaurant recommended by a local. Seriously, 9 times out of 10 it will be the best meal you have on the whole trip.

Please, for the love of god, just walk your drunk friends to the door. Sooo much can happened between your car and the door.

Learn the difference between something that makes you feel bad, and something that’s wrong. A thing can feel bad and be right, and it can feel good and be wrong… In the end, being able to look at yourself in the mirror will end up being the most important thing.

If you need to stop for any reason in a public place, move off to the side first.

Unless it’s been agreed about before hand, don’t keep score about paying for things. If you offer to pay for something, don’t do it with the expectation that you must be reciprocated later.

Honestly, don’t keep score with anything tbh. Half the time people don’t know they are playing in the first place.

If you wear a kick ass outfit but don’t see anyone the day you wear it, it’s ok to wear it again the next day.

Be aware of the toxic and intoxicating effect of bad moods.

Unless you are the DD or don’t drink, avoid being the least sober person in the room. just, trust me.

Never settle for less than you deserve, if you’re unhappy move on you will find happiness eventually and when you do it will be such a wonderful feeling.

Some people are just naturally good at things, it happens. Don’t measure yourself against those people. That is just asking for a migraine and an inferiority complex.

Try not to use the excuse “because that’s how other people do it”… Sometimes you need to do better than the people that came before you.

It is perfectly reasonable to judge someone based on their politics. Peoples’ politics reflect their opinions on damn near everything.

If you are going to have a casual sexual relationship with someone (aka have a fuck buddy) be real clear about those Terms and Conditions a head of time.

If you can only be clever or funny at the expense of others or their feelings, you aren’t actually clever or funny. You’re just a bully.

People who say “learn to take a joke” or “learn to laugh at yourself” can never take a joke or laugh at themselves. I know this to be true to a fault.

Don’t use words when you don’t know what they mean… I know this sounds stupid, but seriously. You would be shocked. Just don’t do it.

Sex should never be painful (unless there is explicit consent) or make you uncomfortable… There is a HUGE difference between trying something that is outside your sexual comfort zone and doing sexual things that make you feel bad or uncomfortable. And anyone pushing you do to the latter is not someone you need to be in a relationship with, sexually or otherwise.

For the love of god and all that is holy and unholy… BE AWARE OF YOUR FACIAL EXPRESSIONS.

Never give anyone else control over your mental health or mental state.

Try to stay away from people who hit/throw things when they are angry or get really angry when they are drunk.

Don’t approach relationships with people with the goal of like, changing or saving or educating them. That’s not your job.

If someone goes after your looks or your intelligence, it means they have nothing else to say.

If you are going to make people feel shitty for being a virgin OR for having sex, you are an asshole. Bottom line. No exceptions.

If you are gonna fuck around with Ouija boards and shit like that, be ready for what you are getting yourself into.

Pick one day a week where you clean or tidy your personal space. You will feel so much better about life.

Sometimes you are going to have to do things you don’t want to do or go places you don’t want to go because someone you love wants to. If your bff wants to go to a concert for a band you don’t like/have never heard of for their birthday or see a movie you don’t really want to see, just do it. Small things like that can make people so happy. You are doing it because you care, you aren’t forfeiting anything.

Don’t let people take advantage of your or walk all over you or take things out on you… a) they may not even realize they ARE doing it and will KEEP doing, or b) they will know they CAN and they will KEEP doing it.

Not every Hill has to be The Hill You Will Die On… Like, you can just camp out there for a little while. it’s fine.

Try to buy a few extra birthday/special occasion cards and like $5-$10 gifts cards to Starbucks or Target or something like that to have one hand. Because i am telling you rn, there will come a time where you will completely forget someone important’s birthday.

There are going to be people who hate you based solely on what someone else told them about you. Yes it’s shitty. But 9 times out of 10 no, neither of them are worth your effort.

There are also going to be people who hate you for no particular reason and get pissed off about everything you do. don’t try to appease them because it will just make you hate yourself… At some point EVERYONE is someone’s “Bitch Eating Crackers.” You should just keep eating your crackers.

Likewise, if you find yourself getting pissed off or annoyed at everything someone does, don’t interact with them. You are just going to prolong your own pain, suffering, and pissiness.

A lot of the time, headaches can be cured by one of the following: sleep, food, water, tylenol, or loosening your ponytail… Make sure to try al those before you start freaking out about having a brain tumor.

The whole “nothing good happens after 2 am” thing is a myth… If you are out and having fun, stay out. Have fun!

Spite can actually be a really good motivator. seriously, it can make you so productive… just don’t let it make you insufferable.

Ignore 1-star and 5-star reviews of books, hotels and products. The 3-star reviews will answer all your actual questions.

Learn keyboard shortcuts. If you don’t know what CTRL + Z does, your life is definitely harder than it has to be.

If it ever comes down to other people liking you and you liking yourself, always pick yourself. ALWAYS… Being able to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the day it highly underrated.

Verbal, emotional, mental and financial abuse are STILL ABUSE… And you don’t have to put up with that shit.

If you are ever about to bitch someone out, take a breath and count to 100 before doing it. It will give you time to either calm down and walk away OR think of really good insults.

Even the nicest people have their limits. Don’t try to reach that point because the nicest people are also the scariest assholes when they’ve had enough… “Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

Things that you should try to never start a sentence with: “no offense,” “not to be rude,” “well actually.”

Splurge on cute underwear, good booze, and fancy food every once in a while. it’s totally worth it.

Every occasion can be a dress up, champagne, and fancy china occasion if you believe in yourself.

People who are nice to you but mean to waiters, retail workers, animals, or their mothers are not actually nice people.

It is just as important to be aware of and acknowledge what you don’t know as it is to be aware of and acknowledge what you do know.

If you unironically use the term “friendzone” you deserve to get punched in the face and/or kicked on the ass… Idgasf what the context or situation is, you absolutely deserve it!

Every good relationship should be mutually beneficial and must have mutual trust, mutual respect, and mutual effort… If it doesn’t have one of these, it’s not a good relationship.

There’s gonna come a point in time in your life when you are going to start to feel icky if you go too long with out eating a fruit and/or vegetable… It’s gonna be around the same general time when you should start taking a daily multivitamin.

Your sexuality is what you say it is. Period. And it’s ok if you don’t know exactly what that is right now or if it changes at any time in the future. Fuck anyone who tells you otherwise, they can get bent.

You are not required to disclose any kind of personal information about yourself and no one is entitled to that information in order for you and your opinion to be respected… However, if you are going to argue a point or hold yourself out as a representative of a certain minority/class/demographic, there is probably going to come a point in time where you need to back up your arguments with the necessary information. Just be prepared to put your money where your mouth is.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I’m pretty sure you’re still being a dick… Don’t take advantage of peoples’ faith or trust in you. It’s a dick move, just don’t do it.

The same goes for not cheating on your significant others or betraying your friends… Seriously it is SO EASY to not treat people like shit. It takes slim to no effort.

Be aware that when you make blanket statements about groups of people, there are really no such things as exclusionary or exception clauses… Like, you can’t tell someone in that group “but i’m not talking about YOU” because you are. You are talking about them. That’s just, quite literally, how making generalizations works.

STAY IN YOUR LANE! When you have to get over be polite and USE YOUR GODDAMN BLINKER... This applies to sooo many things in life besides just driving.

#there ya go anon!#i hope at least some of this is useful/coherent lol #alys answers #alys anons #advice #anonymous #long post #alys babbles

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bubble-tea-bunny · 5 years

Text

satellite

[peter parker x reader]

author’s note: reading you by caroline kepnes inspired me to play around w pov and try something a lil diff in style. had a lot of fun w it and i hope you enjoy! (kinda funny the last time i tinkered w pov it was also in a fic for ps4 peter ha)

word count: 2,929

It’s Aunt May’s suggestion that it would be good to give my eyes a break from staring at screens so much and for so long that initially gives me the idea to come here, but it’s the conversation I have with a stranger on the subway this morning about the book he’s reading that actually prompts me to stop by after work. I had every intention of seeking out that novel for myself; the description on the back cover about the story already sounded interesting, and the details shared by the man in the black beanie made it even more so. But I quickly realize how easy it is to get sidetracked in a bookstore, and instead of heading straight for crime and mystery, I’m strolling past comics and scanning the titles, first for ones I recognize so I can think to myself Hey, I know that! like we tend to do when we spot something we are familiar with and that little corner of our brain lights up at spotting what is thought to be long forgotten.

The pages of these graphic novels are glossy, smooth beneath my fingers, and the colors are bright and I see myself in several of them slinging webs through a cartoon New York, and yellow boxes in the corner of each panel are denoting the time of day and the current scene’s setting, and big words like BAM! and POW! punctuate every heavy hit and at the end of every strip, all of it is just another day for Spider-Man. I have to admit, it’s sort of surreal having comics about me. Not that they are technically about me. The alter ego in these stories is Nathaniel Patterson and he’s got blonde hair and blue eyes and he’s quite the looker.

I slide the comic with its shiny cover back into its spot on the shelf and I think I turned one of the pages wrong because the pad of my index finger stings like I’ve sliced it. My brows furrow as I check to see if I’m right, if it’s begun to bleed, and the smell of fresh books is strong, but the smell of strawberries is stronger.

I pause. I glance up and look for the source, and I’ve just missed it. Just missed you. I catch a glimpse of you continuing down the aisles, and you’re blocked from view by the tall shelves and there are no gaps through which to see you because they’re packed so snug with books but even if they weren’t, these types of shelves have a wall in the middle. I contemplate leaving it well enough alone, but the scent of my favorite fruit lingers in the air and it’s strangely strong to still be so apparent, like you’d been standing near me.

So I leave the comics and go in the direction you’d gone, glancing into each section and trying not to be obvious about it, obvious about the fact I’m looking for someone. I read a few of the titles in each aisle, and I’m taking them in, I am, since maybe along the way I’ll find a book I do want, but it’s done half in earnest because it is incredibly easy to get sidetracked in a bookstore.

Then I see you, in the set of shelves across from mine, a table in the space between us with staff picks for the month. You’re in crime and mystery and your nose is buried in a novel. I wonder what you’re reading. You flip through the pages, stop to read a paragraph or three, and flip through some more. When you’ve had your fill of that, you close the book and read the information on the back. It’s been chilly in New York lately so you’re in a sweater, and the sleeves slide over your hands as you grip the novel because they’re too long. You try to pull them up so the fabric bunches in the bend of your elbows, but it doesn’t work and they just droop back down.

For all my efforts of being subtle as I walked through the shop searching for you, I forget it when it’s most crucial, and I’ve stared too long and you look up and you notice me, and my stomach jumps at being caught and I probably seem like a creep. Nice one, Peter. Getting flustered around pretty girls is right up your alley.

I swallow, and I smile slightly to ease the awkwardness and show you I’m not being creepy, I swear, and the heavens are watching out for me because you smile back, lips shining with lip balm you’ve no doubt applied to protect them from the harsh wind outside. And I am melting. I’m melting like an ice cream cone in the summer and suddenly I want to ask what your favorite ice cream flavor is.

Your eyes slide from mine off to your left (my right) just for a second, before they meet mine again, and then return to the book in your hands. I can see the slight curl of your mouth as you turn to the bookshelf in front of you and put the book back, then continue reading the spines until one stands out and you pull it out to do the process all over again. But I’m caught up on what you had looked at fifteen seconds ago, for the briefest of moments, easy to miss but being me (being Spider-Man) has forced me to be more attentive, and I glance to my right (your left) and I see the bookshelf. My eyes slide up higher to the sign. I’m in romance.

My cheeks grow warm and you probably think I’m in this bookstore looking for love like the protagonist of half the novels on this shelf. You probably find it amusing, and I think you might even laugh if it weren’t so quiet in here, and I should be embarrassed but I’m not. I like the thought of making you laugh. Besides, I’m not in this bookstore looking for love. I’m in this store to find a specific book and if anything, love is looking for me. February’s months away and Cupid should be busy sharpening his arrows. Maybe I’m his test run?

You’re still at crime and mystery, still where I need to go, so I go there. In my peripherals I notice you glance at me and your gaze lingers, curious to see what book I’m going to pick up. I read the last name of every author, until I arrive at the one I want. There’s three copies remaining of the book I’d come to this shop for, and I grab the copy in the middle. All the while I’ve been trying to figure out how to start a conversation with you. I had planned to ask what book you’re holding right now, or if you had any suggestions. I would listen and pick up a few of the titles you say because I trust you have good taste.

However, I’m not the one who starts a conversation. You beat me to it.

“A Christie fan, huh?” you begin. Your voice is low so as not to disturb the silence but I can tell even if we were outside or elsewhere, you would sound equally as quiet anyway. “She’s a classic.”

I smile and you are well-read and I’d like to get to know you more. “It’s my first Christie novel actually,” I respond.

Your eyes are bright when you hear that, and I wonder what you know that I don’t, wonder what’s so captivating about Agatha Christie’s books that has your gaze twinkling with excitement for me and what I’m about to experience. You are so sweet. “You picked a good first novel then. Sometimes I wish I could read that for the first time all over again.”

“You a mystery fan?” I inquire, and I’m cringing on the inside because I’ve just asked you this while we’re standing in front of crime and mystery and you are clearly well acquainted with Agatha Christie. But it seems you think my pointing out the obvious is cute and you nod.

“I read stuff from other genres sometimes but I always end up back here. Guess I love the thrill of a good whodunit a little too much.”

You chuckle, and oh God maybe I am like those protagonists in the romance novels across the aisle since I swear my chest tightens a little, enough to be uncomfortable, a twisting and then an unraveling like my heart is sighing. And I don’t think there’s such a thing as loving a little too much because love is love and I’m loving talking to you right now. I don’t want our conversation to end and I wonder if I asked if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime if you would agree. Or maybe we could go out for pizza (there’s a great place in Brooklyn that has $1 slices of pizza the size of your head).

It’s a bit difficult to get any words out; your smile is disarming and there’s a softness in your eyes and you could be your own superhero because to be the recipient of just one or the other is enough to get someone to slow down, but to witness both is enough for someone to stop entirely and cause them to forget what they were doing, what they were about to say. Or maybe that’s just me. But gradually my thoughts come back to me, the fog clearing (though it had been nice while it lasted and are you sure you don’t have any powers?). You’re watching me, expecting me to talk, and I’ve been oddly silent and it only make me more nervous. You probably think I’m weird.

“No such thing as too much,” I finally force out, referring to your earlier comment with the same playful tone.

You smile. Maybe you like weird.

A burst of confidence surges through me and I introduce myself, holding out my free hand. “I’m Peter.”

You shake it and tell me your name, and a brief quiet settles between us again. And I don’t think you want our talk to end either. My hand slides back down to my side and it misses yours already. It’s just you and me and Agatha Christie and if this were a game, this would be the crossroads. Press A to carry on our conversation or Press X to say goodbye or press nothing and leave it to the roll of a dice, the flip of a coin. But I’m not imagining that hopefulness on your face that this—us?—could turn into more, and I don’t want to leave something this important to chance and I sure as hell don’t want to press X.

“Well, [Name],” I continue, and I like saying your name, “would you wanna get coffee sometime? It’d be nice to have someone to discuss this with.” I hold up the Christie book.

“I’d like that,” you reply, and I like you saying my name.

It’s a date and three days later we meet up after work. We go to the pizza joint in Brooklyn because I’d suggested it as an alternative to coffee, if you were up to it, and you wholeheartedly agreed because you wanted to see those pizza slices for yourself. We sit down at the table in the corner, the red and white checked vinyl tablecloth reflecting the glare of the fluorescent lights and Wow, you remark, you weren’t kidding about the size of these slices!

You’re a waitress at a small diner where it’s calm most days. There aren’t any rushes, and the primary customer base is regulars whose orders you have memorized and when you see them, you’re able to carry on your conversation from the last time they came in. An elderly couple eats there every Friday. You had a chat with them today.

“They’re like grandparents to me,” you muse, smiling to yourself as you soak up the extra oil on your pizza with a napkin. “All my relatives are out of state, so it’s nice to have a sense of family like that.”

My eyes are glued to your grin and I think I love you. You thrive on human connection, and you don’t have to seek it out since it comes to you at your job. You didn’t have to seek it out when you met me either, because I was the one to approach. I wonder if you knew that’s what would happen, how the entire situation would play out. Maybe you were confident or maybe you were unsure and were prepared to approach me, and we would have our first conversation in front of romance instead and we would talk a little about romance novels until in a roundabout way we start talking about crime and mystery because like you said, you always have a propensity to end up back there eventually. And even if connections like this didn’t come to you, you’d go out to find them. You’re proactive like that.

The tables turn as you ask what I do, and I explain what Doctor Octavius and I have been working on. I keep it simple so you can follow along, and you’re genuinely interested, and my stomach is doing flips because I am the center of your attention and honestly, it feels nice. Would you please look at me that way forever?

We get so caught up on other topics that it isn’t until I’m walking you home that we finally start discussing the Christie novel I bought. I’d been running around in our few days apart, splitting my time between work at the lab and patrolling the city, but you can bet I spent every spare second I had reading that book. Part of it was in anticipation of seeing you again because I know you’d want to know my thoughts on it and another part of it was because I did find the plot captivating. I often ponder the clues and come up with theories, which I share with you. You listen to them all and you never reveal anything. I ask for hints but you shake your head and laugh.

“You have to solve it on your own!”

“Not even one hint?”

“Nu-uh. Channel your inner Poirot, mister!”

I chuckle. “My French is a little rusty, but I’ll try.”

All too soon we’ve arrived at your apartment building and we are standing in front of the stoop and you turn to face me and have I spied with my little eye reluctance to part in yours? The evening air is cold. We’re bundled in thick coats and a gust of wind ruffles your hair.

“Well…” you start.

“Well…” I mimic. We are both prolonging goodbye.

“This is me.” You motion to the dark brick building, a careless wave to your right (my left) but you’re still staring at me and you smile.

“I guess it is.” I smile too and briefly glance over at the structure before looking back at you. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.” You are positively glowing. Your smile and your eyes and your everything is bright and you are beautiful beneath the yellowish tinge of the street lamp. The time since I saw you in the bookstore had dragged on, agonizing and frustrating, all of it a buildup to tonight, a night which has gone by too fast.

You take a slow, cautious step forward and you’re in my bubble but I don’t mind. And you are close, so close, and I can’t breathe because I’m on a tight rope trying to maintain my balance and you’re on the other side, what I focus on to keep from teetering. I wait and you wait and the rest of New York is forgotten. Then you stand on the tips of your navy blue Mary Janes so you can reach up to kiss my cheek.

“I’ll see you later then, Pete.” You say see you later because goodbye sounds too definite, too sad, and you call me Pete because you’re comfortable with me and you like me and on the inside, I cheer.

“See you soon, [Name].” I watch you walk up the steps and when your hand curls around the doorknob, I call out, “I’ll have the book finished the next time we hang out.”

You look over your shoulder and smile. “I’m holding you to it!”

My own walk home is boring without you around. Our night together has reached a close but my night isn’t done yet. I’ll be suiting up once I’m back at my apartment and you’ll be in the back of my mind as I respond to dispatches I pick up on the scanner. I wonder if you’re on cloud nine like I am, if I’ve inspired you to pick out an Agatha Christie from your personal library to re-read. Maybe you choose the novel I’m currently working through so you can experience it with me.

The spot where you kissed me is still warm and you must be born of the sun. Or if not that, then surely you’re a star of your own, and you’re officially my favorite one if only because you aren’t high in the sky too far away but rather, right next to me, and I don’t know about you, [Name], but I can’t think of a more perfect place than that.

#ps4 peter parker x reader #ps4 spider-man x reader #peter parker x reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man imagine #peter parker imagine #ps4 peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #bubble-tea-bunny #queue

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leonthecardboardunicorn · 5 years

Text

Man of Your Dreams, Happy Ending

First

Chapter 12

Unhappy Ending Normal Ending

The morning after the battle, I heard a knock on my door. When I opened the door, I saw a familiar face.

"Oh, Lacan!"

"You're Liz, right?" I nodded. "I wanted to speak with you." He smiled.

"Come on in." We settled into the living room, and I handed him a cup of tea. I was trying not to stare, but.. I didn't think I'd ever get used to actually seeing him in the flesh. "What did you need?"

"Willem and Felix filled me in on everything that happened while I was sleeping," he started. The three of them had been over at Willem's house; Felix hadn't returned until late in the morning. "About the time travelers, about what they did to bring me back.." Sadness flickered across his face. "They told me a lot about you too."

"All good things, I hope?"

"All good things," he reassured me. "They told me you were a hero. Felix in particular couldn't stop talking about you." He looked thoughtful, tilting his head. "It's been a long time since I've seen him smile like that."

"I'm just glad I could help him. He's very important to me."

"I, uh, also wanted to apologize for nearly attacking you," he said, his cheeks turning a bit red. "I was quite disoriented on waking up, and I didn't-"

"There's no need to worry," I said. "I would have been more than frazzled if I was in your place."

"Ugh, I haven't slept like that since-" I looked up as Felix stumbled into the living room, and he stopped in his tracks as he saw us.

"Good morning, Felix," I said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I have in ages," he admitted. "I slept so well, I was afraid.. I was afraid that I would wake up to find that it had all been a dream.."

"This is not a dream," Lacan said gently. "We're safe. You saved me."

Felix's cheeks turned pink. "I didn't do it alone," he said. "I couldn't have done it without Willem or Liz." Lacan laughed.

"I know. You told me that many, many times yesterday," he said. "You said quite a bit about her yesterday." He turned to me. "You should have seen him, he went on and on-"

"Lacan-"

I couldn't help but let a bit of playfulness peek through. "You've known Felix for a long time, right? So I bet you have all sorts of interesting stories to tell~"

"Oh, I have plenty of stories to tell. Thousands of years of it in fact. There was one time that we were baking, and-"

"Lacan, she doesn't need to know about that!"

Yes, I think that we would get along just fine.

A few days later, Klaus summoned us. My heart was in my throat as I stepped into the office; I saw that Hugo and Vain were waiting in there as well.

"The Ministry has made its decision regarding Felix." I knew that that was coming, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't still nervous. It felt like we had a quiet understanding with the Ministry while we were trying to stop Sulien, but now that that was over..

"Whatever punishment the Ministry has decided for me," Felix said, "I will accept it." His expression was blank, but I thought I heard his voice shaking slightly. I felt him squeeze my hand.

"Your punishment is.. nothing. The Ministry has decided to let you go free."

"What?" Felix's eyes widened. "Even after all I've done, the Ministry is willing to let me go?"

"You did help stop Sulien," Klaus said coolly. "With all of the power he carried, it's likely we would have seen a lot worse than even what you did. Although, I will say, your fate might have been quite different if somebody wasn't willing to vouch for you." We followed his gaze, but Hugo and Vain didn't meet our eyes.

"It seems that I have you two to thank once more," Felix said.

"It took quite a bit of convincing," Hugo admitted. "There was quite a lot to explain, but they ended up saying that since the future was averted.."

"Thank you."

I let out a sigh of relief. 'Things are looking up..'

But there was still one question on my mind. "Klaus," I asked, "what will happen to Sulien now?"

"I don't know. As he was a citizen of Queensblade, Queen Zenobia has asked that she be allowed to handle him. His fate will be left in her hands."

Even after everything he did, I still felt a twinge of pity for him. "Thank you."

As Klaus left, Vain pulled us aside. "We would like to speak to you for a moment as well. To the both of you."

"Of course," Felix said smoothly. "I've been needing to speak to you as well."

"Now that our powers have returned, we were able to make contact with the future once more," Vain told us. "We filled them in on everything that's happened, and we have received new orders."

My heart caught in my throat. Of course, I should have expected that they'd have words for Felix too, but it hadn't occurred to me.

"This is the first timeline where we have been able to avert destruction, and, as we've seen, we have no idea what could happen beyond that," Hugo said. "So our leaders have asked us to watch over this timeline and make sure that nothing else goes wrong."

I couldn't stop smiling. "That means.. you get to stay?"

"Technically, we're still here on business, but yes." Hugo let out a relieved smile.

'Thank goodness,' I thought. I'd gotten used to the two of them being with us.

"That's good to hear," Felix said. "We could always do with more Dragonkin in this world." Hugo and Vain both averted their gazes.

Finally, Hugo looked up. "What did you want to speak to us about?"

"I.. I wanted to thank you for your help," Felix said.

"Without you, Lacan would have still been asleep. I don't know what I would have done."

Vain looked away. "I had to repay you. You saved my family, it was only fair that I return the favor." Hugo nodded.

"Thank you."

Vain turned away. "Well, we should get going. We have other business to attend to. Come along, Hugo."

"Wait!" As they started to leave, Felix called out to them again; Vain turned back. "Sulien said that the one who has the power of six Dragonkin would have ultimate power. That may not be possible, right now.. It seems five can be enough."

"What are you saying?"

"If we work together, I think we could achieve great things."

"..Perhaps."

“So, there's something I'm still wondering..” I could hear Felix and Willem talking from the living room. As I came to stand with them, Felix casually wound his arm around my waist. “Since you have your magic back,” Felix said with a grin, “does that mean we can see this Strange Taffy form of yours I've heard so much about?”

Willem looked shocked, but he nodded. “Very well.”

“Great!” Felix beamed. “You said that you transformed with spicy food, right? I wonder what we should make then..”

Willem sighed. “Felix-”

“It's too late to go back to that restaurant, not that I would want to,” Felix mused.

“Felix-”

“Perhaps we could ask Lacan to cook something?”

“Felix!” He looked up sharply at Willem's words. Willem sighed. “You do know I can transform without spicy food, don't you?”

“Oh.” Felix smiled again. “Then I'd like to see!”

There was a puff of smoke, and then- Strange Taffy stood before us again. Felix was grinning from ear to ear.

“You've gotten better!” Felix said. “What a.. unique teddy bear!”

“He certainly is unique,” I agreed. “He doesn't look that much like Taffy though.”

“You were fooled,” Willem grumbled.

Felix looked up at me in confusion. “Who's Taffy?”

“He's my friend's familiar,” I explained. “He's a teddy bear- I think.” Now that got me curious. “Felix, are you any good at transformation magic?”

“Well, I'd say I'm better than some people,” Felix mused, “but, honestly, Lacan's even better than I am.”

“Of course he is,” Willem said proudly as he transformed back. “Transformation magic always comes easily to Dragonkin who wield Daydream powers.”

“Daydream powers?” And suddenly, things were starting to fall into place. “Is that why-”

“Yes,” Felix said. “That would likely have been the source of Sulien's shapeshifting powers. I should have known, but..” He let out a bitter laugh. “It never occurred to me that he would turn out to be a Dragonkin as well.”

It wasn't until that night, when everyone else had left, that I got up the courage to ask the question that had been dancing on my mind.

“Felix,” I started, feeling a little embarassed, “remember how we were talking about Transformation magic?” He nodded. “Do you think you could show me? I'd like to see how yours work.”

“What would you like to see?”

I blanked there. “..I have no idea. Surprise me!”

“Hmm.” He smiled. “I think I have something.” There was a puff of smoke, and then.. when the smoke cleared, a small familiar figure stood before me, and my jaw dropped. Aside from the white cloak, he was the perfect image of Hachi! “What do you think?”

“You're so adorable!” I scooped him up in my arms, cuddling him.

“Liz- I can't breathe-” Whoops.

"It's funny, it still doesn't quite feel real, does it?"

"Not at all," I said. "It's strange to feel so.. peaceful now." The two of us were curled up together on my couch; I doubted I'd ever get tired of Felix's arms around me. "We were fighting that horrible future for so long, and now everything's all right."

"It's honestly.. a little scary," he said, and I turned to face him.

"What's wrong?"

"Just.. thinking about what could have been. What was, in those other timelines," he said, looking off in the distance. "I thought that my way was the only way to achieve what I wanted. But now.. now things are much better than I could dream of. After all this time, Lacan has been awakened- peacefully- and.. my friendship with Willem is stronger than ever. And, best of all, I have you." My heart went racing at his smile. "If I had chosen another path, if I had gotten what I thought I wanted.. I would have never known that it would be so easily to do it peacefully.."

"It is scary," I admitted. "But we were able to create a happy future for ourselves."

"And it's all thanks to you," he said, pressing his forehead to mine. "If you hadn't given up on me, I would still be lost in that darkness."

"It wasn't just all me!" I assured him. "If you were the other you, things would have been different. You were the one who helped us protect Vain. You were the one who sacrificed your magic for me.. The old you wouldn't have done that. That's why it's this you that I love." As soon as I said it, he went bright red, and I realized, 'Oh, I hadn't said that yet, had I?'. "I-"

And he tilted his head with a smile.. "Oh. That's what it was."

"What?"

"Hugo's prophecy. 'The Dragon King falls'.. All this time, we thought it would be something sinister, but I think I know what it means. It's how I fell for you." He smiled. "I love you too."

"Felix!" I'm sure my voice came out as a squeak.

He pulled me into a kiss. I didn't mind that.

And when I broke away, I remembered something. "And this isn't all. It may not be now, but.. I want to help you find a way to bring back the Dragonkin."

"I think I'd like that."

After all this time, we had succeeded. The Dragonkin had returned to this world, and now.. now, we were preparing a ceremony to welcome them back. Although.. ceremony was putting it lightly; it was really more of a party. That didn't mean I wasn't nervous though.

It felt like I was being introduced to a lot of new faces at this party, so many people came up to us and greeted us. I enjoyed the pleasantries, but I wasn't sure I could keep up with everyone.

There was one person that stuck out in my memory though. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hart," Harkin said. I recognized that bright red hair.

"You're.." I shook my head. "It's nice to meet you too!"

"It's funny, your friends gave me that same reaction too," he said. "A lot has changed since we've been gone."

"I understand that feeling," Felix said.

"But a lot of things have stayed the same. You're still the same 'Dragon King' you always were, I'm happy to see," he said warmly.

"..You know," Felix said after a minute, "I'm not the one you should be calling that." He jerked his head towards Willem. "He is."

"Me?" Willem asked, wide-eyed.

"Yeah! You're the one who's been working towards this for thousands of years. You're the one whose ideals of peace proved true in the end." Willem looked away, tears in his eyes. I felt tears in my eyes watching them. "You're the one they should be following."

"Felix.."

"I'm not sure I understand, but that's nice," Harkin said. Lacan smiled as he put an arm around his shoulder.

"I'll explain later. For now, I've got two very special people I think you should meet.."

“I have to say, it felt weird to wear this again,” Felix said as he took off his overcoat that night, once we had gotten back to our house. “Doubt anyone would have recognized me without it though.”

“It has been a long time,” I agreed.

He gave a strange smile as he turned back. “But I wonder...”

"Felix?" I tilted my head- and then he suddenly took the robes and draped them over me!

"I was right," he said, beaming, "they look much better on you."

"This is actually pretty nice," I couldn't help but say. Okay, maybe I'd always wanted to try it on, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"It looks much better on you than it ever did on me,” he said with a smile, adjusting the hood. “It feels like a relic from another me.” His eyes were distant. “A me who thought that the only way to get what I wanted was through destruction.”

“But you're not that person anymore,” I reassured him. “No matter what happens, you made it out of that darkness.”

“And I couldn't have done it without you, my love,” he said sweetly. “We were able to create the future of our dreams because of you. And now I know that I don't want to be without you ever again. I want to be with you forever. So..”

My heart was racing, and I suddenly remembered something that he had told me before. 'When the Dragonkin return, I'll..'

He knelt down on one knee. “Liz Hart, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” I jumped to my feet, pulling him into a kiss.

Together, our dreams became reality. And, together, we'd live in this new future. And I couldn't be more excited to see what the future held.

#wizardess heart #Felix #Felix Baker #Man of Your Dreams #Fanmade Route

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gaycharr · 5 years

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some tweaks / recapping of Marina’s backstory now that I’ve developed her a bit more:

-im thinking the Renworth name probably is more business than political. think old money and a bunch of old traditional humans. have lots of business connections everywhere and an influential name. your average “rich corporate family who really only care about profit at this point” types

-noble father, i think marina’s mother probably wasn’t a noble though. her mother was her dad’s second wife. family didn’t really like her mom much either, for various reasons (most of which could be chalked up to the family being assholes and pissed off that the dad didn’t marry another noble to further strengthen the name / bloodline)

-older half sister, diff mothers. sister’s mom was a full noble (i think her and the dad had an arranged marriage, but they really did care for each other greatly), but she passed away when Marina’s sister was pretty young (probably 3-5).

-I think she’s probably about 6-7 years older than Marina? so she might have been off doing school and various other things a lot when Marina was really young, but even so the two are very close and Marina’s sister never hesitates to stand up for her. she kind of relishes arguing with her family. fuck them.

-family favored her sister more and she was the ‘golden child’, but her sister also renounced the family name when Marina was prob about 15 or so and left to go do her own thing and join the Seraphs and stuff b/c she hates the noble culture and tradition of her family. Marina’s sister was always very vocally opinionated and not afraid to argue, but up until then the family had just brushed it off and let themselves believe it was something that she’d grow out of, preferably just in time to settle down and marry.

-they also kind of judge Marina b/c her dad met her mom shortly after his first wife passed away so there was low key lots of rumors and venom about how he MUST have been cheating and what not (the reality is just that shit happens. his wife died and then he met marina’s mom while away on a business thing a few months-a year later and fell in love hard)

-a very smart child. also oddly naive and innocent (its the adhd). when she got old enough to realize that people might perceive her in a negative way it really changed her worldview in a shocking way. before about 8 or so she’d p much always approached everyone openly and happily, ready to bond or talk with anyone. Suddenly aware of the disapproval of others, she becomes really quiet and withdrawn after this and a bit of a people pleaser.

-Marina and her parents actually had a really good relationship. Her mother passed away when she was a young teen I think though? It really affected her, because her and her mother were both one of the few ‘commoners’ to enter into the family and her mom often protected her from family criticism and was basically one of Marina’s best friends. (not that the family is very kind to one another to begin w/ but still)

- ^^ that being said, her father is also v supportive but he’s the oldest son of the current family head so esp after his second wife died and his family started putting more pressure on him following, he wasn’t around very much at all after that (often away on business and what not). like he’s there for his daughters but he’s not there. He’s trying to appease his family and live up to / off his own guilts and shames

-Marina always had a great interest in magic (something her family considers frivolous and unimportant at best and dangerous / evil at worst). When her mom was alive it wasn’t so much an issue, her mom probably argued for her behind the scenes (as well as her sister), and so the worst Marina experienced was probably scoffs and remarks about how it was something she’d move on from. but after her mom passed away the pressure from her family for Marina to take up more ‘useful’ interests / hobbies only increased as time went on.

-Since her family wasn’t that supportive though she never really got proper schooling on magic at this point, though she did have open access to all kinds of resources, so she was able to do quite a bit of self teaching. didnt often focus on one kind of magic, instead her interest kind of jumps from type to type. consumes information and books at a scary rate

-didn’t have really any friends her age. she was kind of a socially awkward person at this point, so she wasn’t very good at reaching out to her peers. the most peer interaction she probably had was being tutored in the same classes as other noble children. her being a ‘weird’ noble child who sometimes talked too loud or was too eager and had weird interests in magic didn’t make her very popular to begin with as well.

-For a while Marina DID try to be the ideal noble heir for her family after her mother passed. With her dad being the next head of the business, and her oldest sister having revoked the name already, she did have quite a bit of weight on her irt her family now placing their expectations on her shoulder’s instead of her sister’s. They were harder for her to please though because again, they had favored her sister and already didn’t agree w/ her interests (and after her sister left, they REALLY started being vocal about how anything but doing what the family expects is bad)

-Eventually though, with help from her sister and undercover assistance from her dad (him squirreling away money for her, helping her invest and get her own revenue coming in . . .just in case she upset the family too much or broke away like her sister), she ended up seeking to join the priory even though it angered her family (they didnt agree / understand why she wanted to go research impossible magical things when there was the option to go to a nice business school instead. or maybe even arrange a political business marriage)

-I think she had already had an instant interest in necromancy. Not for any specifically deep reason (though perhaps the early death of her mother contributed subconsciously to her being more into it later on ?). I think she just happened upon a book about it when she was reading random magic tomes as a kid and was just immediately into it. the intricacies and uses are just appealing to her, its a lot you can puzzle out and work with.

-Perhaps a part of her was also drawn to it simply because she knew that of all the magic to REALLY take up, necromancy would probably displease her family the most. like adhd rsd is a bitch especially when you’re younger and don’t realize that’s what it is, so she REALLY hated disappointing anyone, especially authority / familial figures. but even so that didn’t stop her from realizing that they were kind of jackass hypocrites and wanting to rebel and do her own thing

-anyways she joins the priory probably when she’s like ? maybe 17-18? at this point she’s probably managed to get some official magical schooling by herself but nothing that deep. Her family name helps her get the attention of the Priory, and a quick proving of her intelligence / aptitude for magic, PLUS the fact she was mostly self taught till now, means she joins rather easily.

-probably a novice in the priory for about a year or two? then she becomes a magister. at this point, with actual teachers and proper resources (not to mention hands on experience), she’s become REALLY good at magic. She’s excelled at necromancy, able to use it with the comfort and ease that belies a lot of study and practice. She’s also well versed in p much all the other schools of magic, at least in theory. Even if she doesn’t know how to actually USE it herself, she has a fair bit of knowledge on p much all subjects and is always open to learning more about anything.

-her and Sieran were probably bff’s and often got in trouble together. maybe they kissed once ? idk. i need to learn more about Sieran tbh pfff.

-being in the priory and surrounded by others who shared her interest though really helped her bloom from that socially awkward girl who never talked to anyone out of anxiety to a socially awkward girl who loves to socialize anyways and tries not to worry about being a little loud and rambly at times. Even though she doubts herself she really starts to cultivate this natural charisma that just draws other towards her. There’s just something about talking to someone who is as open as Marina is, who isn’t worried about being a little awkward and doesn’t mind some word fumbling from the person she’s talking too, that can really put one at ease.

-she is still connected to her family and still has to deal with them. not sure why she hasn’t left yet, but i think she’s often pondered the idea of taking over her family’s business and turning it into something Good. Either way, i think it’s understandable that even considering it all she’s hesitant to break from her family as her sister did. she still tries to please them, but only enough so that they don’t outright hate her and try to disown her (though it would be hard since her father is the head of the business now and certainly wouldn’t allow that)

#c: marina #long post #sorry i got kinda carried away i was just typing #anyways this is all her backstory development for now #your sister in game is named Debbie right ? i still havent decided if that's canon or not for marina's sister hm.

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cloudybookash-blog · 5 years

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k b 1-25

100 Warm Up DnD Character Questions

1. If your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead?

Well she’s royalty so I guess she’d go on to be Queen if she stays in her country, but if she forfeits her rule and moves - maybe she’d like to be a politician.

2. Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life?

hmm… to be fair I don’t think she’d willingly trust anyone with her life, a real ‘I’m in charge of me and you’re in charge of you’ type. Though she does on numerous occasions rely on others to save her life one way or another.

3. What are your character’s core moral beliefs?

I would say before her character arc she firmly believes in Good vs. Evil trope, where she believes you’re either good or bad - there’s no moral middle ground. Go big or go home I guess. The only thing I know that over rides this belief is her loyalty, but I’m not sure that’s a moral belief.

4. What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings?

I think I’ve answered this question before, loves her mother, admires her father, cherishes her older brother, one-sided love with her little sister, and wary but unconditional love for her younger brother.

5. Does your character have any biases for or against certain races?

I would say yes, before her character arc I think she internalises a lot of negativity towards her own people, and others that come from her planet. As well as a select few others that she meets on the new planet. obviously after he character arc, this changes.

6. What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority?

As nobility herself I would assume (lol, I say like I didn’t create her tf??), she would firmly believe in being knowledgeable in places of authority or leadership to better the community, country, and/or the people. She’d be very, VERY against corruption in political/authority areas. But otherwise, I think she’d outright assume all people in a position of power are there to do the best they can by the people they serve.

7. Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

This is actually the hardest thing to me, I have no idea what this bitch wears unless its armour or ceremonial but she’s on a new planet and needs to hide her identity so can’t walk around in clothes more suited to her country and the title she has there. I honestly default her to some type of shorts (probably board shorts for the quick drying) and a t-shirt or singlet with some type of covering garment for when it gets cold. BITCH DOES SHE EVEN WEAR SHOES? idk.

8. What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most?

… Actually haven’t thought about this… it’s because i’m a shit writer.

9. What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship?

I think, due to her home-planets current political sphere that she doesn’t have or believe in any deity. However, her friends on the new planet have like a million religions. I think broadly speaking she’s accepting as she does know what religion/worship is and its personal importance but doesn’t KNOW know. And then it’s just a lot of confusion having never been taught any religion or worship outside of royal gossip. So confused, but happy about it.

10. If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be?

A flute maybe? idky, coz I said so, I guess.

11. Describe your character’s current relationship with the player character sitting to your right.

Not applicable?

12. What is your character’s current goal, summed up in one sentence?

Bring peace.

she’s the avatar, apparently.

13. Does your character ever want to “settle down” with a spouse, children, house, etc.?

I guess, maybe faaaaaar in the future though.

14. Has your character ever been in love?

Ya, the kind of love you don’t realise until the person is gone.

15. What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character?

I’m translating this for a book so I’d say maybe the first battle that’s fought on page, just because so much goes wrong and that’s where she finds out who/what she’s really facing. Either that, or whatever ‘battle’ went on off page as she was previously banished and I’m just trying to figure out ‘exactly’ what happened, did I mention i’m a terrible writer yet?

16. If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead?

So like, if they weren’t born into royalty?? Ah, I guess the bitch would be poor then… or a soldier, though I guess still poor.

17. What is your character’s favorite season?

Think I’ve answered this before and said winter, so … Winter!

18. What would your character’s Zodiac sign be, following stereotypical astrology?

Okay, so I just had to read through a list of personality traits for the zodiacs to answer this question and now want to answer for all five mains, so:

Z: Gemini.J: Ophiucus (he’s that bitch).ME: Scorpio. (surprised? same.)HH: Pisces. Though he acts like a Leo most of the time.M: Aquarius.

19. Where in the world does your character most want to visit?

Travelling is like a really easy thing to do in my book so... I wouldn’t know... maybe the Pixie Palace (it’s not as cliche as it sounds I just can’t figure out a better name).

20. What is the biggest mistake your character has ever made?

oooooooh, idk fuck, I’M SUCH A BAD WRITER!

21. Does your character have any noticeable scars? If so, what are their stories?

Her eye? fucked up ‘transport’ during escape.

22. What animal best represents your character?

am i allowed to say idk, idc? coz - idk and idc.

23. If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be?

I feel like this is a question I’ve already answered but I can’t remember... Maybe she might change her banishment (so she doesn’t get banished) although I feel like whatever she got banished for would have to have something to do with her immovable morals so?? Man, idk i’m a crappy writer who doesn’t think about the characters enough to know all this. Maybe she’d take back the fact that she screwed up the transport during her escape which got almost a hundred of her allies killed for nothing, or change who she brought to the first battle/how she went about preparing everyone for that moment so even more meaningless death didn’t happen (ooh, did I just answer q.20 on accident???)

24. Which other player character does your character find themselves having the most in common with?

I think she’s very different to the other characters, both in upbringing and personality. Of course there’s some intersecting like being as aggressive as ME, or being immature and prone to lapses in judgement like HH, or wanting nothing more that to help everyone like M. I would say the easier(/better?) question would be who she has the least in common with being Julian, I just think they don’t really have a lot in common, age is diff, hobbies are diff, perspectives on life are diff, goals are diff etc...

25. Does your character regret any particular choice the party has made?

Everything that took place before the first ‘battle’, just because they didn’t screen their inductees better, didn’t teach them properly or make sure everytone was on the same page and communicating with one another, lots of logistics problems before the first battle and the cost of those mistakes were pretty big so, I’d say she regrets that.

#writing #writing ask #wip #cloudybookash #booklr #bookblr #sorry for the long ass wait mon #I dont know how to prioritise my shit

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