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gaypplshallarise · 7 months

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Things we left behind

This fluffy with slight tension(?) one shot of shadowpeach first meeting was brought to you by yours truly!

A/N: I've never read JTTW, or know the timeline exactly, so, if you're easily triggered by the inaccuracy to JTTW, stop scrolling! As for you, lovely reader who decided to stick around. I hope you enjoy!

Summary:

So, Sun wukong did the first thing he could think of to the unconscious monkey. Like any intellectual stoned-monkey.

smack!

The king waited for a reaction.

No response.

Okay. Maybe that wasn't the best way to approach the situation.

The sun shone, it lit up the whole forest, lights peaked through the leaves, birds chirping in the distance. A perfect weather to go on a walk. Sun wukong stretched his limbs, he'd spent too much time napping on a tree it seemed.

He hopped down, dusted some twigs off and skipped through the forest, feeling refreshed. Normally he'd prefer to just walk, but today's wind was friendly. So he summoned this trusty cloud and let it guide him, basking in the wind and morning light as he ascended up. The calm breeze felt nice against his golden fur.

The sun has always been a welcoming company, warm light grace his fur, as though intending to scoop him up in a warm, cozy blanket.

Not to mention, the view was breathtaking.

Below him, lay his island. Blessed by the jade emperors, gifted by divine beings themselves. Thick healthy shades of green covered the mountain area. No doubt he'd taken good care of this place. Even looking down from the cloud, the flower fruit mountain radiated life.

Next to the lush green essence, came the shore, sunlight casting down, virtuous sand sparkling, in response to the sun's nifty mood. Glitters of light reflected on the sea, horizon tattered with fishing boats and transportation ships.

Sun wukong could never get tired of seeing such view, no matter how many times he's seen it.

Just then, far corner of his eye, he spotted something on the shoreline.

Upon closer look, it seemed like a... black figure?

Oh. Someone's moving closer to the shore!

Holy shit. Someone was evading his kingdom? It's been so long since someone has ever stepped on this place. After all, who would dare to challenge the great sage equal to heaven?

No matter, he'd just get them out of here real quick. There wasn't a thing a bit of violence can't fix.

Shaking his pride away, he made his way to the target.

Now though, with shorter distances, he could make out the figure more. It was a macaque monkey, a knocked out one at that. Much to his disappointment.

He landed and approached the humanoid-monkey figure. Male, tan, with athletic build. gash and bruises scattered throughout the body, some were so prominent it was visible through the wet slacken dark fur. Sparks of salt were widespread amidst his obsidian black fur. Those scars were wide open.

Eh, nothing too severe.

But now, he'd have to figure out what to do.

So, Sun wukong did the first thing he could think of. Like any intellectual monkey.

smack!

The slap was loud and sharp, but not enough to do any real damage.

Wukong waited for a reaction.

No response.

Okay. Maybe that wasn't the best way to approach the situation.

Sun wukong has only seen someone else in a coma a few, never actually had any experience in properly handling the unconscious body.

Thus, the king tried to recall the moments when he snuck in a human village. Limited with only ever witnessed humans taking care of other sickly sleeping humans— There wasn't much he could revoke from the memories.

He checked the simian's heart rate. Inconsistent. Very Low. In fact, it was barely there at all. He was starting to question his actions now if saving the simian was worth anything.

Time was ticking.

On one hand, he could let the simian rot here and die.

"Nah, that would be too cruel." The king pondered.

On the other hand, he could gain more followers, saving him would mean the monkey would be indebted to him. He could use some help tending his garden— and this obscure simian seemed to be the perfect monkey for that. Sure, he has his loyal subject, but they were just regular monkeys— not the brainy ones.

It's settled then, he'll help this monkey.

The weight in his arms were heavy, which was nothing, of course. He'd have to be extra careful with the gash though.

The obsidian furred simian was already dried up by the time they arrived at his palace. Now seemed to be a good time to put it to use. He laid the dark furred simian on his bed. Not really sure where to go with this, he'd just have to think of something along the way.

Sun wukong retrieved his recollections of something related to taking care of sick humans, given he never knew how to, he supposed it would be the same for monkeys.

When someone's hurt they have to rest. But the guy is resting, for heaven's sake!

Finally he opted to take a wooden bowl nearby, very convenient, other hand plucked his fur out and blew on it.

The fur glowed a golden gleam before stretched and twisted, as if morphing itself into liquid. The matter became clear by the end of the process. It fell down the bowl with an oddly satisfying plop. Water done, he continued to do the same process to another group of fur, this time creating a piece of white cloth.

He began to shush the wet fabric around the other simian's body, upon closer inspection, the monkey had an odd looking six ears. Feathered red markings across the eyes, those were not scars though, it seemed to be the same part of the dark furred simian's face— Similar to the hearted peach-coloured marking on his own face.

The dark furred monkey stirred, snapping the king out of his thoughts. His gold eyes flickered to meet wukong's.

The king's thoughts were cut short as he found himself flipped, and pinned down. Sharp talons on his throat. The movement was so abrupt that it took him by surprise. His stomach were suppressed by the other party's knee. Which, admittedly, hurt. Both wrists bind by the tight grip above his head. Creating an awkward angle.

Moreover, Wukong was impressed that the dark furred simian was this strong. But also concerned about the fact that the other monkey's first instinct was to take him by his throat.

There was no doubt that wukong was stronger, but he also couldn't deny that the other party was impressively strong, despite having just woken up in a weakened state. Something in him ticked, but also excited.

Barely contained euphoria danced around the king's tail, forasmuch of the prospect of such a strong opponent.

He looked up, the other simian's golden eyes bored in fury towards him.

"Where am I" The dark furred simian hissed.

The grip on his wrists tightened, pair of golden eyes inched closer, zeroed on him intensely, warm breaths ghosted over his face.

Wukong suppressed a shudder as he replied, "O? I helped you. And this is how I'm treated?"

They stared at each other, unmoving. Sun wukong was the first to snap out of their deliberate state, "well?" He questioned.

No response, the other simian stared at him, unblinking. It was a little unnerving how still he was.

Gradually, the pressure on him slackened.

Figure above him pushed himself up, ready to make an escape. As soon as he did though, he tumbled down the wooden floor. The great sage bit back a laugh, whilst helping the dark furred monkey up.

Untrustful thoughts adorned the other's face, "No problem by the way" came the great sage remark. The other merely scoffed as he tried to pry the helping hand away. Wow. How unresentful.

He resisted the urge to slap the monkey in the face again.

"I was tryna help you man." Wukong complained.

"I'm fine."

Fine? He's talking nonsense at this point. This obscure monkey couldn't even walk without falling! and he's saying he's fine?

"you couldn't even walk without falling! and you say you're fine? Oh don't bother" Thoughts turned into words. He let his emotions mirrored the other simian's displeased face.

The dark furred monkey finally relented as he let his displeasure known. Wukong helped the dark furred simian get in bed again.

"Not even a 'thank you'?"

The other simian paid no heed. Instead, The king was met with a questioning look, golden eyes settled at a piece of wet cloth on the bed, probably being dropped at some point when he was pinned down. Wukong flushed at the mere memory of being tacked down so suddenly.

"What are you doing with it?" The obsidian furred raised a single brow, thus snapping the out of his inner-self rumination.

"Helping you duh. Y'know the cold compress thingy"

"Are you stupid or what?"

Sun wukong frowned, irritated, his tail dropped.

"That is for someone with a fever or swollen wounds. I have neither of those"

The king's face burned in humiliation, tail lashed uncontrollably.

"O-Oh yeah. I already knew that. Just wanted to do that. Haha— better safe than sorry" He was sweating profusely at this point. Damn to his short lived memory.

"anyways— I'll go get s'more herbs n' stuff" He plummeted, voice weaving. The dark furred simian didn't have time to ponder much as Wukong raced through the door.

Even without looking back, the sense of eyes bored through his skull were so intense Sun wukong almost wished someone would just trap him under a mountain for 500 years.

He went to a far corner of the palace, recollecting everything that happened in a span of twenty minutes.

First thing first, he found a close-to-death monkey. Then he helped the simian out. Third, the dark furred pinned him by surprise, not to mention naked—

Oh heavens. That was so awkward.

By the time he came back, dark fur noticeably sank back into the cover. Granted, he looked more pleasant, unlike the previous bastard he was. He couldn't help but stare, drinking the sight in.

Sun wukong tried not to think about the fact that the other was naked too much. Instead, focusing on the closed eyelids, the calm rise and fall of his chest, as if the simian wasn't in pain right now.

From the light seeped from square shaped window, those obsidian furred seemed to suck in the light, imprisoned them without an escape.

The more he looked, the more he thought about how alike the obsidian fur was to shadows drinking in the lights like that.

The more he looked, the more he thought how those obsidian fur appeared messy, yet looked so soft.

The more he looked, the more intrigued he was.

Without thinking, he reached out to feel the fur against his palm.

"I advise you not to."

He retracted his hand. Oh shit— what was he thinking? reaching out like that? "I wasn't gonna do anything." He denied, although voice weaving.

"bullshit"

"You don't even look— how would you know that"

"...."

"See? I—"

"I heard you"

______

Ever since he's conscious, his senses heightened by ten folds. From the combination of monkeys and birds and variations of wildlife, Macaque couldn't extinguish the sound anymore, hustle of bushes and trees, flows of water in the distant and yet they seemed so close in his very mind.

The strongest sound of them all, a rhythm of heartbeat. Constant and strong to the six eared macaque's exposed sensitive flesh. Deepened his headache even more. He momentarily bit back a groan, instead, trying to turn it into his advantage, he willed himself to focus on the troubling sound alone.

Adjusting a while, the strong pulse drowned other sounds into white noises. Better.

Now without noises that intended to flood him, he then realized that he was laying in bed. Soft, silky linen beneath him. It has been a while since he'd had something this fancy. Macaque's eye lids felt too heavy, he couldn't will himself to open them.

A shuffling sound inched closer— With all his might, he ignored the throbbing pain all over his body and tackled the owner of the other heartbeat.

Golden figure became clear. Beneath him, shown another pair of golden eyes, surrounded by peach coloured markings. Their pulses quickened, his vision blurred. Chill wind met his scars. The feeling of pungent spread all over him. Macaque hated how exposed his body felt.

Rush of pain nearly made him wince. But once again, he forced them back.

Golden furred simian was warm. It exceeded throughout him, creating a buzz of unknown feeling in him. His gut coiled. His already fast pulse elevated. Sounds of their heartbeat alone were unbearably vociferous.

They stayed like that for a moment, the other's heartbeat never relented.

Macaque deepened crease on his brows, golden furred simian beneath him reeked of adrenaline.

"Where am I?" macaque inquired, although it came out more like he was threatening. His very own voice sounded hoarse to each set of ears.

Irritation flarred through him as the other simian stared at him with unreadable expression. Albeit inefficient, macaque formed numerous escape plans. You could never be too trustful of a stranger's intention.

The event ended with him trying to escape unsuccessfully.

Of course it would. How could macaque be so naive to even let himself believe it for a moment.

Where else would he be then? He could barely walk, Macaque blamed the myasthenia gravis, and had a massive headache. Wind has been acting up again, he shivered, tail shook and squeezed him tight.

Macaque found himself missing the warmth of a certain golden simian.

Sore limbs urging at him to give in to the warmth of silky texture under him. So he did. He gave up on escaping. His master would've found him in such pathetic state. Oddly enough, macaque couldn't bring himself to care.

So, the shade sank back, as if trying to feel the welcoming warmth the golden simian gave off not long ago. To have this kind of luxury. Moreover, he couldn't comprehend why someone that wealthy would help him.

With an aching body, his mind drifted into oblivion.

Pulsation flared anxiously, a pure mimic of chaos brought his senses back.

He heard the other lift a hand, for whatever reason he could not grapse, but there was no malice behind the action. But then why?

The shuffle sound's moving closer, almost like—

"I advise you not to."

An empty threat. He knew he couldn't lay a hand on the other even if he wanted. Hum of powerful magic was an indication of that.

A shufting sound drew backward. The other's heartbeat sped up again.

"I wasn't gonna do anything!"

How shameless. The golden furred was clearly trying to touch him. "bullshit" Macaque retorted.

"You don't even look— how would you know that!"

Of course he'd known. How the owner of the chaotic rhythm's breath struck his throat, momentarily forgot how to breathe.

Pumping of an anxious rhythm, threatening to over take all his hearing capacity.

The other simian rambled on about something he couldn't make out. Macaque, instead he chose to reply to the previous question.

"I heard you. You move too loud, it's like a fuckin earthquake in here."

He hoped that it wouldn't give away too much of his hearing ability.

The other made a grunted noise.

The smile threatened to overcome his face. Closing his eyes, the shade allowed himself to show the satisfaction.

"Ahem so anyway— How are you feeling?"

"Shitty" He groaned.

"Then rest!"

"Then leave me alone!"

"What— this is my room! Leave here by yourself"

He scrunched up his nose.

"Then I'm leaving" Realising his mistake, he tumbled down the bed. Fallen to his knee. Heat of humiliation crept up his face. Limbs felt jelly upon trying to move them, He couldn't even muster the strength to properly get up.

Pathetic.

It was like a deja Vu, golden furred simian helping him up again. But this time, he chose to not hissed or pushed the other away.

A 'thank you' wasn't necessary, but showing a little gratitude wouldn't hurt anyone, and this wasn't the time to held up his pride. If he was going eat a poisonous food, might as well did lick every inch of the plate. In addition, getting on the other simian's good side would only benefit him.

"...Thank you, errr—"

"Sun Wukong, King of the Flower fruit Mountain. Also known as great sage equal to heaven. Call me by whatever you want"

"....."

The other golden furred simian— Sun wukong grinned smugly, giving him an expectant look.

"Right.. Thank you, Sun wukong."

The king's face brighten, his whole posture seemed a lot more alight, tail swaying rapidly, resembling an excited puppy— or to be more precise, a monkey. Macaque almost snickered at the accuracy.

Wukong's shenanigans weren't done though. Golden fur ball continued on with his nonsense.

"What's your name?"

"I'm six-eared Macaque."

"That's a very accurate name."

The stupid grin adorned Sun wukong's face was impossibly wider. It was annoying.

So, so, annoying. Does this monkey think he's cute doing that?!

"What else can i help you?"

'What's the point with this?'

"What do you mean by that?" His face fell, the king sent a disappointed look.

Has he really wondered it aloud? Curse him.

"You. Helping me. Why?"

The king did not falter under his stare, he went silent for a moment, as if trying to conjure up the best answer.

"I just wanted someone to tend my Garden."

The shade quirked a single brow. Sun Wukong's posture shifted slightly, seemingly more reserved.

"Bahh, That's not really the true reason— but honestly that was the first thing i thought when i met you."

Since when, he did not know, Sun wukong has already seated himself on a chair. The shade wasn't entirely sure what his impression gave off. Macaque guessed that his silence was taken as a permission to continue. "But seriously, I think it's just.. I'm so lonely, y'know what I mean?"

He searched the simian's face. It gave off nothing but sheer honesty. The six-eared macaque then focused on the pulsation. Stable. No trace of lies.

"..I feel like that too"

Before he knew it, he'd already admitted that. Suddenly feeling like a prisoner confessing his crimes.

There was something about Sun wukong. Something that made him feel warm, and weird, and lighter— fuzzy feelings, blinding him, as though to forcing him to spill all his past, his secrets and insecurities.

He swallowed them down like a bile.

He would not tolerate any more reckless behavior.

A warm hand met his. Macaque never noticed that his fists were clenched. The king fixated his gaze on the shade. His body was radiating warmth, much like the name "Sun wukong"

The great sage rubbed their hands reassuringly. Macaque, unwillingly, relaxed himself against the contact.

The shade mentally cursed for letting himself get so heavily influenced under the king's gentle hold.

"But enough of those depressing shit. How can I help you?"

"How about leaving me alone?"

"After I poured my heart out like that? Nuh-uh!"

The mood changing was so abrupt. But he was glad to finally deal with something lighter.

They bantered for a while, as though they've known each other for ages. The ability to exchange snarky remarks and occasional jab was something he admired about Sun wukong.

After a while, he was exhausted with all the energy used, despite having only spoken and laughed. The great sage seemed to notice. Soon, without the other's initiating, their conversation died down.

"You sure don't need other thing?"

"God. You're impossible! Fine, Just give me something to eat. Whatever."

Sun wukong happily skipped away, humming an unfamiliar tune.

"How about some peaches?"

His ears perked up, and Macaque merely nodded.

#first meeting #fluff #tension #oneshot #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk macaque #macaque #lmk wukong #monkie kid sun wukong #monkie kid macaque #lmk fanfiction #fanfiction #shadowpeach #gay men #gay monkeys #holy shit that that exist #thats a lot of tags #no beta we die like Macaque

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laxmiree · 7 months

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[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Arriving As Promised event translation (Day 6-9)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT⚠️

This post contains a HEAVY SPOILER for the event that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Arriving As Promised Free SR Event | Prologue+Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6-9 (You're here!) | Warm Fragrance Date

Translation under the cut

[Day 6 - Volcano Memories]

Nestled near the oasis lies a dormant volcano, resembling a motionless, closed-eyed warrior.

At the base of the volcano, there are numerous pieces of rock, interspersed with perlite.

MC: I'm going to pick them up one by one...!

I crouch down, selecting the attractive pieces of perlites and placing them into my bag.

Suddenly, my phone rings; it appears to be a new text message.

Lucien: Today's a day off, finally got a chance to text you.

Lucien: The weather outside is nice. Have you gone anywhere?

MC: I came to see the volcano today~~ I never expected there'd be a volcano in the desert!

Lucien: From your tone, it must be a beautiful one.

Lucien: Is it different from the one we saw before?

MC: Because it's a dormant volcano, it has a different vibe... I wish you were here to see it with me.

Lucien: We'll be able to meet soon.

Lucien: Not just the volcano, I can't wait to do everything you want together.

(a throwback to his birthday date!)

MC: Mm... there are a lot of desert landscapes I want to see with Lucien.

When Lucien text me again, he tells me he has to get back to work.

My thoughts gradually shift away from Lucien, and I put my phone back in my bag, continuing to collect the perlite.

[Diary]

Recalling the memories of visiting Mount Vesuvius with Lucien, it was truly a breathtaking beauty filled with fiery romance. When Lucien's experiment is over, I want to see a volcano with him again.

[Day 7 - Wonderful Sounds]

In the endless desert, a lake appears like an emerald embedded within the dessert.

Lush vegetation surrounds the lake, with small animals darting gracefully through the greenery.

A zebra bends down at the lake's edge, drinking water without noticing my presence nearby.

MC: I can't believe I'm actually seeing zebras...

I quietly approach the marshy area by the lake and use a small tool to carefully scoop up some peat soil.

This natural nutrient-rich material could come in handy for Lucien's work if needed.

MC: I think this box should be enough, right???:

??: Woof woof...

MC: Huh? How come there's a dog barking?

Following the sound, I look over and see the zebra staring at me, its mouth open as if trying to call out.

Zebra: Woof woof woof....

It turns out that zebras' calls really are similar to those of dogs!

[Diary]

I managed to find a lot of natural peat by the marsh, and I can't believe I saw a zebra too! It's fascinating how the zebra's call sounds like a dog's. I wonder what those few calls meant. It would be great if humans could have a device to interpret animal languages. I hope Professor Lucien can work on something like that in the future!

[Day 8 - Small Town Cultural Exchange]

The marketplace in the small town is bustling with people, and the sides of the road are lined with stalls, one after another, offering all sorts of exotic and novel items.

My gaze keeps getting drawn to these unfamiliar goods I've never seen before, and I finally arrive at a stall selling shawls.

MC: Hello, may I ask... how much is this...?

I pick up the shawl and use gestures combined with language to inquire about the price.

The blonde woman writes a number on a cardboard sign with a marker and shows it to me.

MC: I'll take it!

I drape the newly purchased shawl over myself and happily continue strolling through the market, taking photos along the way.

MC: I'll send these photos to Lucien tonight!

[Diary]

The marketplace in the small town sells so many unusual things. As I was leaving, I even saw someone selling boots while leading a brown horse. I wonder how Lucien's desert boots are holding up? Last time, he mentioned they were a bit tight. Maybe I should buy him a new pair!

[Day 9 - Woodcraft Skills]

Inside the woodcraft workshop, there's a variety of wood and cutting tools.

As I browse through the different types of wood, a piece of poplar wood in the corner catches my eye.

MC: This piece looks to be in good condition, and the wood seems suitable for carving.

After making my selection, I follow the instructions and use the wood-cutting machine to trim the board into the appropriate size.

MC: Ah... the wood shavings are flying everywhere, I'm covered in them! cough... cough...

I use a woodcarving knife to painstakingly carve the word "OPEN" and a small design onto the wooden board.

MC: ...finally, it's almost done.

Lastly, I apply a coat of oil to the board and attach a string.

MC: Mission accomplished!

[Diary]

After a busy afternoon, I've finally crafted a "Open for Business" sign. Although the process wasn't easy, it's quite fulfilling! The finished product looks decent, and I can't wait to show Lucien my "artwork"

[Next Stop - Warm Fragrance Date]

#mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc translation #mlqc #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc spoilers #mlqc xu mo

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lumine-no-hikari · 22 days

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #110

I am less of a zombie than I was yesterday. But I'm still kind of a zombie because I have only 7 hours of sleep. Lame…

I'm still remembering the concert yesterday. I remembered much of it from a movie called Fantasia. I remember the scene with the dinosaurs. And there was some other scene with centaurs and pegasi and whatnot. It's an old movie, but the animation is breathtaking, even though there are some parts of it that are racist (the scene where the black centaur is shining some white centaur's hooves is SUUUUUPER fucking gross, oh my good gravy!!). Though I have memories of this movie, I can't recommend it to you in good conscience. There's better and more wholesome stuff out there nowadays anyhow. Maybe check out Wolf Children sometime; there's a lot of nature in that, and it's about a couple of very unusual, not-quite-human children; I think you'd like it a lot.

…WAIT. I FORGOT. YOUR WORLD DOESN'T HAVE HORSES. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. FUCK.

Okay. So a winged horse looks like this:

...they're a mythical animal in my world. We have horses, but none of them have wings like this.

...And a centaur looks like this:

...These are also mythical animals. There's no such thing in my world as this. They're imaginary.

Here's some stuff about horses in general, so that you can get an idea of what they look like and how they move, and the relationship the humans of my world have with them:

youtube

...I like horses a lot, but I don't like things such as racing or dressage or whatever. I have no interest in riding. Though I would like to feed them tasty snacks and brush their hair and coats, and give them baths, and weave flowers into their hair, and maybe walk together in the woods, or lie in the grass and snuggle while reading a book.

Anyway, today I went to the place and listened to the leader speak on such things as the importance of properly grieving loss and having faith in that which cannot be seen. It's relatable to my circumstances in a variety of respects. In the course of my living, I've seen a lot more fear and pain than love. In my case, having faith means doing my best to try to remember that beautiful and good and loving things exist, even when my mind is too clouded to see them very well.

…I carry a lot of really horrible memories. My mind is often cloudy (especially when I am tired and dehydrated… like right now… whoops…), and my path forward seems hazy all the time. I'm used to the ground crumbling beneath my feet, and I'm used to people telling me that my next step will be on a solid surface only to have it ripped out from under me, and I go tumbling down, down, down into the dark. But: my version of faith involves taking that next step, even when I can't see, and even when I know that the ground beneath me might fall apart. It involves trusting others when they say that the next step is solid ground, even though I have experiences where that was a lie. It involves knowing that even when the path beneath me crumbles and fades and I tumble down into the dark, I have strength enough to crawl back to the surface, rise again, and keep moving forward.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that I don't have to be afraid of the tumble. But strangely, even though I've learned that, I am still sometimes afraid of the tumble. But it's important that I do my best anyways; I deserve to see whatever beautiful thing is shining on the distant horizon. And even if I don't reach it in this lifetime, I'll have other opportunities to try again, in other shapes, and in different circumstances.

…I hope you'll remember that these things hold true for you as well. I hope you can learn how not to be afraid of being soft and vulnerable and kind even in a world like this one. Because the worst has already happened for you, hasn't it? And many times over at that, no? And here you are, still standing, still moving forward, still steadfast, brave and determined.

…I wish you knew how proud I am of you for continuing to do your best, even after everything that has happened.

The place had a big potluck today. I brought my confit garlic and my muscat gummies to share. But there was all sorts of other amazing goodies that others brought. I wish I could share them with you, because my world is absolutely brimming with amazing cooks, and I wish you could experience the results of their efforts and expertise. But that's not how reality works, so I'll show you a picture instead:

After all that, I'm finally home. J and I took a brief walk, but I didn't see anything especially noteworthy to take a picture of. But the sky was good on the way to the place, so I snapped a couple of pictures of that:

I said in yesterday's letter that I would make a playlist of the songs I was given last night. I have made that playlist, so here it is, so you can see it, too. I think you might like these:

youtube

…That first one, goodness, it would make an AMAZING DDR song. Despite the fact that I am still slightly zombified, I am finding myself somewhat inspired to play. But the living room is being used, so I doubt anyone wants to put up with me trying to step out Horatio on Standard Mode, hahaha!

I also found Child of the Stars to be VERY delightful; for whatever reason, it kind of made me wanna squiggle. I wonder if it would make a good music box. Similarly, the lyrics for Rät are on point; I think that any person who has their giftedness and steadfast loyalty taken advantage of would find that one relatable, for sure.

…There's so much in my world that I think would delight you and show you that you're not alone. I wish I could spend time with you here just for a little while…

Anyway. Given that I'm still kind of a zombie, I will end today's letter here because I need to rest.

Please stay safe out there, okay? There are still so many doors you haven't opened. There are still so many things you've not experienced. There are still so many words you haven't sung. So don't give up, okay? I'll be right here waiting for you.

I love you. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

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tomdutch · 2 years

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back to back | tsh

synopsis ⇢ your and your best friend’s treehouse is your sanctuary. even though you’re only there in the summer (which means you only see tom every summer), it’s been your safe space for your entire life. after a certain surgery on a certain someone’s mole, you find your heart beats a little louder in his presence. now, seven years later, you’re back in the treehouse, and tom still makes your heart pound. even when you don’t want him to.

↳ childhood friends to lovers, actor!tom

genre ⇢ fluff & very light angst

word count ⇢ 5.7k

note ⇢ this is a collaboration with the lovely lia @justapurrcat for a sleepover hosted by @tshwritersnet !! we split it up in half so the deliciously longing first scene is all hers :’) our prompts were “2. tracing a finger across your lover’s scar” + “47. complimenting your best friend over small things, that realistically only someone who’s in love with that person would notice.” i had such a fun and frustrating time breaking my writer’s block with this, so much thanks to lia for partnering up with me 🥺

Nothing beats a first day of holiday, you thought to yourself, closing your eyes and spreading your arms, taking a deep breath of fresh air, ready to leave behind the long ten months that had brought to this.

You loved the countryside, and most importantly, you loved that place: it was a wonderful scenario where you could be free to fully experience your 2005 Pride and Prejudice fantasy. Not that you were particularly fond of walking per se, but hey, the great lengths a young dreamy girl would be willing to go just to savour the feeling of a Lizzie Bennet moment, and in the end, it was more than worth it.

The breathtaking views and jaw-dropping landscapes, the wind causing the skirt of your colourful dresses – promptly worn for the occasion – to float dramatically around your legs, making you feel one with the pretty flowers that sometimes you would pick to press them between the pages of your favourite books. Beautiful summer memories you would cherish jealousy for the rest of the year, waiting to get back there to form new, and even more beautiful ones.

But the best part of all that was that you got to enjoy those amazing things with Tom, who would follow you everywhere you’d go, maybe a bit confused, but still amused and curious to discover the beauty that brought you so much joy. And eager to witness said joy shine in your eyes and enlarge your smile.

Your holiday houses happened to be next to each other, and they even had a shared backyard. It had always been like that, ever since you could remember. For you, summer was that house and the Hollands being your neighbours, and you wouldn’t have changed it for the World. And when people happened to ask you why you considered a guy you would only see during that time of the year to be not only your best friend, but the best friend you could’ve asked for, you would just tell them that he was. Simple as that.

You liked to think that it was Fate’s doing and you would often joke with Tom about that, with him consequently teasing you and telling you that you read too many books, the fond look in his eyes betraying how much he liked that idea.

Finally, the treehouse came into view, your heart skipping a beat making you realise how much you had missed it. The two of you had found it by pure chance during one of your many adventures and it had become your private hideaway, to the point where not even his brothers knew about it.

The rope had been dropped. It was one of your many signals, indicating that Tom was already up there, waiting for you. You wouldn’t actually use it, opting for the more practical ladder – and also because Bridge to Terabithia had traumatised you enough.

“Tom?”, you called, but didn’t think much of it when silence was the only response you received.

You climbed up, taking a moment to admire the view once you’d got to the top, then fixed your skirt and moved the rudimentary curtain serving as a door… only for your huge smile to drop at the soul-shattering sight of your best friend curled up in a corner, right next to the Back to Back spot, a part of the wall filled with the carvings of your height marks.

He looked so small, so fragile, with his face hidden as he held his knees to his chest, and there was no need for a sixth sense to tell that there was something wrong.

Your heart sank and you were about to run up to him when you suddenly remembered what he had told you: that right before the holidays, he would get the mole on his chin removed. He’d sounded so excited on the phone, rambling about how this would be a great boost for his acting career and how he couldn’t wait to ‘get that fucking thing off his face’.

The guy you were looking at now, though, didn’t seem to have a single ounce of that excitement left in his body… and it made worry buzz in your chest.

You approached him slowly, as if the sound of your footsteps on the misplaced beams could potentially scare him. “Hey…”

“Go away”, Tom muttered, shrinking even more on himself, trying to appear smaller than he already was. You didn’t think it was possible, but he managed to do it.

“Oh, quit it, you drama queen”, you scoffed softly. “It can’t be that bad.”

“I’m serious”, he stood his ground, shaking his head, his untidy curls bouncing with the motion. “I’m doing this for your own safety”, he whined. “Please, leave me alone.”

Bringing a hand to your chest in the most theatrical way, you gasped audibly. “Are you really kicking me out? Out of our own house? The house of our kids?”

“We don’t have kids”, Tom shot back, far too lost in his self-loathing spiral to find any amusement in one of your many inside jokes. “No one will ever want to have kids with me.”

You rolled your eyes at the exaggeration, knowing you had no one but yourself to blame for being friends – no, best friends – with someone who had made being dramatic and extra into his profession. “Thank God!”, you smirked. “You alone are enough work.”

In a normal situation, Tom would’ve glared at you – and maybe even pinched your sides, taking advantage of your ticklishness, the way he always liked to do. But this wasn’t a normal situation, and Tom remained exactly as he was, his forehead still stubbornly glued to his knees. “I hate you.”

“Sure you do”, you hummed, the grin not abandoning your lips. “Come on…”, you made another attempt, kneeling in front of him. “We haven’t seen each other in so long… let me see your face.”

“It’s a stupid face”, he countered.

“And I’ve missed it”, you stated, gently poking his head, a gesture that couldn’t resist becoming a caress, which was only the first of many others, on that soft chocolate mess. “Every stupid inch of it.”

Tom relaxed into your touch as your nimble fingers ran through his locks, your nails almost imperceptibly scraping his scalp. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you”, he warned you with a sigh, then slowly proceeded to raise his head.

“There…”, you cooed, nodding encouragingly, letting go of his hair. “I’m sure it’s–oh, my God!” The sentence ended in a loud yelp, your eyes widening and your jaw dropping to the floor.

You were expecting to see a tiny fresh scar on his chin, but you definitely weren’t prepared for the one on the bridge of his nose: a small, more recent and probably just formed scab, its red matching the one of his puffy, glassy puppy eyes.

“Are you okay?”, you asked after a while, a million other questions and possible hypotheses – some tragic, some incredibly silly and absurd – clouding your brain.

“I’m fine”, Tom pouted. “My pride isn’t. But I’m fine.”

Though you still had no clue about what had happened, he seemed okay as you took him in, silently, yet anxiously scanning every part of him, searching for any out of place detail you could come up with. It was something. Not much, but something nonetheless. If anything, it eased your nerves a bit.

“What have you done this time?”, you inquired, moving to sit next to him, your back resting against the wall and your shoulder brushing against his.

“Ask Sam”, he revealed bitterly through gritted teeth, glaring at an undefined spot, like his brother was actually there with you. “That bloody sore loser.”

“I thought you were the one with the short fuse of the family”, you tried to crack a joke, even daring to nudge his elbow.

“Oh, darling”, Tom turned to look at you, a wickedly proud glint shining in his eyes. Despite his sour mood and the tears streaking his face, he wasn’t able to resist the temptation. “I can assure you I don’t have the shortest one, trust me”, he told you with such a smooth tone it made the coarse voice, usually caused by crying, sound like an obsolete myth.

Did he just…? No. No, he hasn’t.

It took you a while to fully process his sentence, coming to terms with the fact that yes, he had, and in the meantime you just gaped at him, motionless as a statue and at complete loss for words. The kinda loss for words a friend – no, a best friend – definitely shouldn’t cause in another best friend.

You held your breath, feeling something contract in your belly, while hundreds of little chills pervaded your being, the unusual tingling spreading like wildfire under the surface of your skin. Why the Hell was your body acting so weirdly? Why the Hell were you being so weird?

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to that kind of joke. They were business as usual, between you two, since Tom was one of the cheekiest people you knew. If you had to tell the whole truth, that one wasn’t even on the top-ten of his most inspired creations.

And yet now, all of a sudden, there you were staring at your friend with the unflattering verve and expression of a dead fish.

The lack of a witty remark didn’t go unnoticed by Tom, who returned your gaze with equal confusion. Only, in his case, it was mixed with a tinge of worry. “Huh… y/n?”, he called, tilting his head to the side, transitioning from cheeky little shit to cute harmless puppy in less than a second, as only he could do. “Are you still here with me?”

“Mh?”, you played dumb, blinking repeatedly and rushing to dismiss those weird thoughts and feelings, shoving them in the back of your mind, where you were positive they would no longer bother you. “Yeah, why?”

“Nothing”, he mumbled, eyeing you suspiciously for a few seconds, like he knew you were hiding something from him. “You just looked zoned out”, he then added, giving up on his search.

You didn’t say anything, and a comfortable silence descended upon you, all the turmoil that had shaken you gradually fading to nothing… at least until Tom’s face flushed the brightest shade of red you’d ever seen, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, as if he’d just remembered something that made it impossible for him to relax.

“God, stop staring at me!”, he cried out, covering his face once again, his head sinking between his shoulders as he assumed his previous position.

“Tom…” You reached out for him, but he pulled away. “Tommy”, you pleaded, hoping it would soothe him. He hated it when people called him that, but when it came to you, he didn’t seem to mind that much. In fact, he didn’t seem to mind at all. “Come here.”

“No”, he croaked through muffled sobs. “Please, don’t”, he begged when you gingerly placed your hand on his shoulder. “I’m hideous, y/n”, he whimpered, trembling like a leaf. “I’m supposed to work with this face. This face! Mom was right, I should’ve given up and become a carpenter”, he rambled in defeat.

“It’s not like that’s gonna prevent you from getting other scars…”, you tried to reason with him, rubbing his back gently, but the only result you obtained was that he sobbed even harder.

“Great, I’ll be a monster forever.”

Tom was so mad at himself and his stupid choices that he would’ve bashed his own head against the wall. He regretted even taking that surgery into consideration, just like he regretted getting mad at Sam and hitting him over the head with his golf club. Looking at it now, his younger brother had no faults. Yeah, he was and remained a poor player and a sore loser, but that was not the point.

The point was that it had all been Tom’s fault, and now he would have to live with the consequences of his actions. His own career was at risk, his future was uncertain. How could people ever bear to look at his face again? How could you ever bear to look at his face again?

Though he couldn’t explain why, that was the absolute worst thing for him.

“You do know scars fade, right?”

“Not the ones in my soul”, he objected.

You clicked your tongue in fake-annoyance. “That was unnecessarily dramatic. Even for you”, you complained, but not even that got a reaction out of him. “Hey, I was joking”, you clarified, afraid you might have pushed it too far. Again, your words collided with a barrier of silence. “Tommy… look at me”, you said in a whisper. “Come on, look at me.”

You carefully wrapped your fingers around his wrists, but didn’t pull, waiting for him to be comfortable enough to show you his face. You didn’t want to force him, it was only your silent way of comforting him, of telling him that he didn’t have to hide from you. Not now, not ever.

Over the years, the two of you had developed a kind of non-verbal communication that was yours and yours alone, a personal language that lived on gestures, looks and touches, a language that didn’t suffer from the limitations that afflicted your mere words. Sometimes you would talk non-stop for hours, until your throat would dry up, the sunrays illuminating those peaceful, warm, endless summer days slowly dying out, along with your voices. While some other times you would simply keep quiet, letting your hands and eyes do all the talking. Something that would’ve made anyone else nervous or embarrassed. Not you though. There was no way in the World you could ever make each other nervous.

And finally, finally, your best friend lowered his hands to look at you, the sadness in his eyes piercing through your heart like a well-sharpened dagger. But you couldn’t allow yourself to let it break you. Tom needed you, and he needed you to be strong.

So you grabbed both his shoulders and guided him to turn his torso towards you. Then, you cupped his cheeks, and for a moment you were tempted to lean your forehead against his, like it was normal. Like it was something best friends do on a daily basis.

“I don’t see anything terrible”, you smiled warmly, letting your thumbs gather the little pearls of tears staining his cheeks.

“B-but–”

“They’re just scars, Tommy”, you cut him off with a reassuring tone. “And I told you. They will fade. You’ll forget about them in no time”, you added to reinforce the concept. “Even better, they will make you look tough.”

“Shut up.” With a sniff, Tom rolled his eyes at you, trying to act like he was annoyed by what you’d just told him, but the pleased smirk fighting its way to reach his lips and the spark that animated his gaze betrayed him, telling an entirely different story.

“I mean it”, you insisted, noticing that you were on the right track. “Think of it: a man with a bunch of scars and each one of them carries a mystery with them.”

Just as you were painting that image for him – while also having no trouble picturing it for yourself – you gingerly ran your thumb over the bridge of his crooked nose and on his now bare chin. You would never admit it to a living soul, but deep down, you found yourself missing that mole. Tom hated it, but you had always found it adorable.

I wish I could’ve kissed it…

You did it without thinking, or maybe you did it because you were thinking of too many things all at once, the majority of them blooming in your brain like snowdrops coming out of their sleep under a snowy mantle of blessed ignorance.

“All the ladies will fall at your feet…”, you trailed off, entranced by a sight you had seen so many times you had literally learned it by heart, just like you would do with poems back when you were a kid, and your parents would shamelessly flaunt your ability to remember so many words when in reality you knew and understood less than half of them.

Throughout your whole life, you had always been convinced that Tom was an open book, that he had no secrets for you. How could he? He was your best friend, right?

So how was it possible that he, your best friend, the sight you had gotten so used to, looked like something you’d never seen before without having changed one bit? Could two little scars really have that much of an impact on you?

The imaginary verses you had memorised were still there, but now there was something mesmerising about them, something that had you dying to tell Tom all sorts of ridiculously cheesy and saccharine words, honey gushing from every letter. You wanted to see him blush, you wanted to be the reason behind his smile, you wanted to let him know that he had nothing to be ashamed of, that those scars were only a small part of the incredible masterpiece he was. A masterpiece you would never stop admiring, because even the pain he had gone through and the stupid things he had done made him him, a person that you loved to bits.

What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n?

You snapped out of it, finally coming to your senses. And once that golden aura had completely dissolved, allowing your vision to be clean and clear, you remembered where you were and what was going on.

And you realised that you were embarrassed. That having such thoughts about Tom was making you nervous.

That Tom was making you nervous.

The same Tom who still had your face in your hands and was staring at you with a lost expression that perfectly mirrored your own. And who made you gulp in cold sweat when his big brown eyes flickered to your mouth, his tongue licking his lips in a gesture you were sure was nothing but purely reactive.

However, you needed to do something about it. Now.

“… it will certainly help with your height if you don’t get any taller”, you scoffed, taking your hands off of him.

He frowned at you. “Shorty bitch”, he spat, wiping his cheeks and nose on the sleeve of his shirt, wincing imperceptibly because of the pain. “That was mean.”

“Says the guy who keeps using my shoulders as a support”, you replied.

“They’re comfortable”, Tom shrugged. With a chuckle, he punched your arm lightly and you released a breathy laugh of relief you didn’t know you were holding.

You chose not to question it. You chose not to question anything of what had just occurred, instead playing it down and trying to convince yourself that everything was back to normal.

“So, Miss Bennet, what are we doing today?”

It had to be.

It’s a warm June day when you’re reunited with your beloved treehouse after a long separation. Despite seven years of its isolation, its appearance remains mostly the same as you approach it, lilac dress swaying in the light bursts of wind cooling your skin every now and then. For a brief moment, while wading through the tall grass, you see a flash of light coming from one of its windows, and the breath hitches in your throat. In a second, it’s gone, and your gaze focuses on the notorious rope curled tightly against a branch.

Silly girl, one of the many voices in your head chimes out. That rope, like yourself, hasn’t felt a certain crooked-nosed boy’s touch in nearly a decade. Now, though, you suppose it’s more accurate to call him a man. He certainly earns the money and prestige necessary to deserve a mature term. If you could travel to the past and tell your eighteen-year-old self she wouldn’t be seeing her best friend for seven years, you’re sure she would’ve laughed hard enough to make the treehouse crumble. She would have never believed that the next time she’d be back at the treehouse would be a spontaneous vacation long after she graduates university.

As you approach the one place containing most of your youth’s cherished memories, your heart pangs in your chest as though it were an old drum. The last time you’d properly seen Tom was here, the summer of your eighteenth year, when his dreams of becoming a renowned actor were just learning to waddle. If you’re honest with yourself, you suppose you knew all along this would happen–Tom would succeed as an actor, because no one deserves it or wants it as much as him, and he would fly across the Earth to begin a new life of fame, glamour, riches, and millions of women prettier and more interesting than you. Even as you hugged him for the last time before he climbed down the ladder that stands before you now, a part of you knew that this was the finale of your friendship.

Of your love.

Sure, you’ve caught glimpses of Tom every other year since your family to Kingston. The irony of them finally finding a home in your best friend’s hometown after the two of you platonically broke up is not lost on you. You can only hope they didn’t invite the Hollands to come along this year, too, even though the chances of Sony’s Poster Child finding the time to join are slim.

You’d almost even talked to him on the twins’ birthday two years ago, the only one you were able to attend in between work and studying for your master’s degree. He was standing there, holding a beer, hair styled to perfection and cheeks flushed like they always did when he’d sneak a pack up to the treehouse on those particularly hot summer nights. And your heart shattered. Of course, you weren’t under the delusional impression he’s been miserable for all those years without you, but the sight of him happy–ecstatic, really–surrounded by strangers to you… it broke you. So you left, trying to find some comfort in a feeble sense of revenge. You were the one who left him now… even though he didn’t even notice.

Silly, silly girl.

The ladder creaks under your weight as you begin mounting up, coughing a little at the dust coating your adored house. Once you’re up there and move the curtain-door aside, it truly is like stepping into a time machine. Naturally, your eyes immediately seek out the back to back spot, the ink on it faded and cracking. It stands there, patiently waiting for the press of your and Tom’s shoulder against it as you measure your height. In another corner of the treehouse, a stack of books and comics sits, its pages crinkled from rainwater and dust.

You take a few steps forward, fingers slowly coming up to brush over the numbers and letters on the back to back spot.

Y/N 10 - 130 cm

Tom 10 - 126 cm

Y/N 13 - 152 cm

Tom 13 - 150 cm

At the highest point, thick, red block figures are written, underlined thrice. You recognise Tom’s loopy handwriting instantly, the words even more jagged than usual from time and the texture of the wood.

Tom 18 - 173 cm !!!!!

A chuckle escapes you, fingertips over your head tracing the ink, and lose yourself in memories the same way you have been since coming back here. Somewhere between going fishing with Tom and his brothers and that fateful night after he removed his mole, you’re so caught up in your head that you don’t even hear the ladder squeaking or the curtain being moved aside. It’s only when a gasp sounds out behind you that you jump around, hand over your chest from the surprise.

Bathed by warm orange and yellow rays from the setting sun, Tom stands before you, honeyed eyes staring at you with as much shock as yours are. He looks the same and yet so different all at once. His messy bowl cut has been swapped for a clean-shaven half-part, kept neat by gel, and the old t-shirt and cargo shorts are exchanged for a pink Zara shirt and quality jeans. Instead of a toned, skinny boy barely an inch taller than you, Tom stands broad, biceps bulging against his sleeves and veins visible in his forearms. You’re too proud to say you might’ve seen the trailer for his latest film a few times and are thus very aware there are even more muscles underneath his shirt that were definitely not there seven years ago.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, and your name on his lips acts like an ice cube running down your spine. You shiver in mid-June as if it were winter. “Hi.” He finally says, advancing further into the treehouse.

Licking your lips, you look away from him and lean against the wall. “Hey, Tom.”

At your response, he fully enters the treehouse, saucer eyes flicking around it with nostalgic awe before he moves towards you, his arms hesitantly in the air. The way you look back at him and fold your limbs over your chest makes his drop to his sides, and you bite back a snort.

“I was going to say long time no see, but I’m a little worried you might push me out the window again.” He jokes, though you detect the smidge of fear in his voice. He’s not that good of an actor.

“Good.” You reply, and you turn your back to him, returning to your admiration of the back to back spot.

Tom sighs, the floorboards moaning under his weight when he moves until he’s right beside you. “You’re just mad you’re not the tall one anymore.”

If looks could kill.

You clench your jaw and avoid his gaze, not wanting to be petty yet not wanting to joke around with him like the past seven years never happened. A moment of unbearably awkward silence befalls you, with nothing but wind rustling leaves outside and the occasional bug to break the tension. As if that would be enough.

“So… I saw on your mum’s Instagram you graduated cum some loud.”

At the speed of a geriatric turtle, you turn your head and stare at him, jaw hanging open as though you’d just witnessed a plane crash. It happens without you being able to stop it, the first laugh tumbling from your chest, followed shortly by a high-pitched giggle. Before you know it, you’re leaning a hand against the wall as you howl with laughter, tears in your eyes for an entirely different reason now.

“Cum—cum—” You wheeze, shaking your head.

Beside you, Tom’s head tilts like a confused puppy, though he can’t control the smile that spreads on his thin lips at the sight of you guffawing. “Did I say it wrong?”

Sighing with your last laugh, you turn to him again, your face much warmer. “It’s summa cum laude.”

His mouth forms a perfect O as understanding settles, and his nose scrunches, drawing your attention to his delicate features. “Ghastly name. At least I got cum right.” The room falls silent against as your gaze traces over the dip of his chin and his now-thick neck, your mind obviously elsewhere, and Tom puts his hands in his pockets nervously. “What, no hilarious joke about me saying cum so many times?”

Like you’re in a trance, your feet move until you’re right in front of him, and you smile softly as you bring a thumb up to his chin. “Your scar’s gone.”

Confused, Tom’s eyebrows furrow and his palm covers your own over his face. Then, realisation sinks in, and he simpers, nodding ever so lightly. “Yeah, you were right after all. Scars fade.”

Time freezes as you take each other in after all of these years, eyes raking over features as his thumb slowly starts to caress your wrist, sending goosebumps across your skin. His freckles seem even brighter today, though maybe that’s because you haven’t seen them in years and he’s always wearing makeup, or the pictures are too blurry when you see content of him online. The urge to touch them is barely contained.

“You changed,” you murmur, nodding to the Rolex resting on his other wrist which definitely costs more than what you make in six months.

“I’m sorry.” He says, sincerity pooling in his eyes, and your heart cracks a little bit more.

You shake your head, letting go of his cheek, but his hand follows you, and soon both of his are holding your own, his grip tight yet gentle. “You don’t have to be, Tommy, you shouldn’t be. You’re happy now.” Whispering despite your isolation, you squeeze his palms and take a deep breath. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he answers, bringing one clasped hand up to his heart while the other finds its home in the nape of your neck. “I’m sorry for not trying harder, for not coming home more often, for not… for not being the friend you deserve.”

Biting your inner cheek, you shake your head again. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Not now,” you smile gingerly, taking another step back so your back is flushed against the wall, right next to the back to back spot, “when we’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.”

A grin cracks through Tom’s sullen expression, and he chuckles with faux exasperation. “Well, if we must avoid an awkward and painful conversation so we can measure our heights, then I guess I have to agree, don’t I?”

You pinch his side, masking your inner quivering at him being ridiculously muscular by letting out a teasing cheeky and gesturing to the spot. “Does the Tom Holland carry a special pen everywhere to sign autographs for his hordes of dedicated fans?” Tom’s eyes narrow at your jesting, but his ears redden and throat bobs, causing you to fall into another fit of laughter. “Oh my God, you so do!”

“I don’t,” he pouts, reaching for his back pocket, “it’s just a pen, it’s not for autographs.”

“Right, it’s for your diary,” you nod mockingly, squealing as he jabs you with the tip of his pen. “Wow, this ain’t no Bic. Fancy ass.”

Tom mumbles a snippy I hate you through his beam as you move to stand back-to-back, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed with certain feelings as his broad shoulders tower over you. With an arm over his head, Tom marks the top of your head and then his own, going over the lines a few times to make sure they’re clearly visible. When he’s done, you face each other again, matching grins on your faces, until it dawns on you as Tom writes your name next to your mark.

“You didn’t happen to bring a tape measure with you, did you?” You ask, cringing.

“No, I just gave out my last one to a fan at the airport.” He deadpans, snickering as you glare at him. “We don’t need one anyway, obviously I’m the superior one here.”

Scoffing, you snatch the pen from his hand out of pettiness. “Shut up, you’re still on the short side of average.”

“Not as short as you,” Tom singsongs, leaning an arm next to your head so he’s caged you in between him and the wall. This time, he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his bicep and solid forearm. The bastard even flexes. “Besides, now that I’m taller than you, you’re the perfect height for kissing. Just have to bend my neck.”

As soon as the words leave him, Tom’s eyes widen with alarm like an intruder just pulled back the curtain on you, and yours mimic them immediately. The blush on his cheek is only more pronounced as the sunset paints your little treehouse in shades of red and yellow, and you’re sure your own flustered expression isn’t subtle, either.

“What—what did you—what do you mean?” You stutter out, throat dry as your best friend’s gaze flickers from yours to your lips.

“I was just… paying my dear friend a compliment.” He squeaks out, wincing at his own response. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get it often.” You bite back, staring him in the eye with a challenge. “I’m always told I’m a great height for people to kiss, it’s actually on my CV. They don’t let just anyone graduate cum some loud, you know.”

Tom groans and throws his head back while you smirk, tugging on the hem of his shirt to further tease him. You bring him back close to you, so much so that his warm forehead meets yours, and his eyes open again. They’re still the prettiest shade of brown, still just as light and emotive. “You know what I meant,” he repeats, not bothering to hide the fact that he’s looking at your lips.

“No, you see, I’m just an ordinary person, I don’t understand you famous actors’ language—mhm.”

Despite your hatred of being cut off mid-sentence, Tom’s mouth on your own makes it the last thing you’re thinking about. In fact, all you can think about is Tom; the softness of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw under your finger as you trace it, the lemony, soapy scent of his cologne. You could chug it like a shot. With your back against the wall and Tom’s arms around your waist, chests pressed to each other, he kisses you with enough passion to make buildings crumble, much less an old, treasured treehouse.

When you break apart, his nose nudging your own and breathy giggles shared between you, you can’t help thinking about how you and Tom have been back-to-back your entire lives. All you needed to do to find this happiness in his arms is turn around.

#tshwritersnet #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland oneshot

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yukipri · 1 year

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The Bad Batch Season 2 Wrap Up Thoughts

I never ended up sharing my thoughts on the Bad Batch S2 finale. Since we're hopefully getting news of S3 tomorrow, this seemed like a good time?

First, to be clear, I love so much about the show. This is not meant to be a complaint thread. But I'm also critical of certain aspects. You're warned.

This is also a compiled Twitter thread!

Spoilers through the end of Season 2!

First off, I can't understate how beautiful the show was, just as an experience. The cinematography, the visual designs, the music. The unique worlds and unique characters. There were so many shots that were breathtaking, haunting. When a scene hits, it HITS.

I love both TCW & Rebels dearly, but cumulative skills + experience as well as new technology clearly shows. TBB, TotJ (and of course TCW S7) are just so captivating to watch as works of art. These shows are, frankly, worth it for that alone. But of course that's not all.

One of TBB's strengths is the depth it gives the worlds the characters visit, as well as the side/guest characters. Perhaps due to the nature of many of the episodes being more of an exploration than straight up war like TCW, but we can see more of these places. TCW also had so many neat planets/aliens/cultures, but due to the constantly pressing war, we were only ever allowed a glimpse and I constantly wished there was more. TBB really scratched that itch. I'm thinking specifically of Kashyyyk, with its fauna and wookiee traditions.

The same with side/guest characters. They all had such great flavor, with fun designs and motives. Phee was a standout among the non-clones. I also loved how it gave us such a personal exploration of characters we knew and loved before, like Riyo.

The thing about TBB is that it's set in such a fascinating time period that we don't have too much media of, at least in new canon. The formation of the Empire is a time where we know all these other characters must be alive and working hard, but we haven't seen it before.

This leads me to the writing. Oh, the writing...

How do I say this. The writing in this show gave me whiplash. Some of the episodes were beyond brilliant, giving us deeply personal character moments, layered metaphors, and context in how it affects the greater SW universe.

Others...not so much.

I understand this is not the case for everyone, but for me personally to enjoy a story, when there are any stakes involved, I need the characters to show some awareness of them, and for these to affect their actions. There are a limited number of episodes and that time must be spent wisely. I don't mean this at all to say that I didn't enjoy the lighter fun adventure missions with the Batch, nor do I think these episodes can't be used productively.

But TBB S1 started off with Crosshair siding with the Empire.

I kept waiting for them to *show* that the others cared. It could be they were troubled, it could be they missed him, it could have been shown in so many ways. I kept expecting these brief moments in the Fun Times episodes, which would have given me some emotional continuity.

The writers are absolutely capable of it! After Plan 99, when Echo glances at the co-pilot seat—stuff like that, I was personally expecting it through all of S1 and S2. I get that the Batch feel they have to do other things and Crosshair made his own choice, but I thought the point was they care about their brother regardless.

Mind you, I'm not the biggest fan of Crosshair, but I do find him interesting. And I felt that in the two episodes most centered around him, he had such tangible growth that was depicted so well. He went from stating that the Batch are superior to regs in S1 finale, to having clear doubts after working with Cody, to shooting a natborn officer because he didn't help a "reg" he'd just met. We see Crosshair being included by the clones he disdains, we see how it compares to the Empire he thought he wanted to be a part of. The writing in Crosshair's episodes were tight, and he went far within them, few as they were.

In comparison, the rest of the Batch...with their far greater number of episodes...what were they doing??

I love character-centric eps, but even on a personal level, I wasn't sure what the charas gained. Tech is the sole exception; he was given many introspective moments, from Sorenno, to Phee, to the cave talk with Omega. Not sure how much he changed, but he expressed himself.

To also be clear, I'm also not including Echo in any of this. He has been the voice of trying to get the Batch to do things, to *change*, since S1. I felt his frustration keenly. Which is why I felt that when he left to go with Rex...I sort of left the Batch with him.

I mean this in the sense that Echo didn't *want* to leave the Batch, not necessarily. He wanted, and he *did* try to get Hunter to care about what their brothers are suffering, and he has been since S1. Echo can't stand to leave them chipped when he could do something.

He wanted the Batch to feel the same. *I* wanted the Batch to feel the same. But they didn't. I see Echo breaking with them less as him leaving, and more as they (or at least Hunter) firmly telling him that that's not their fight, and they're not going to do it.

This isn't the Batch going out of their way to help, or not knowing how. Echo and Rex have given them an open invitation. The Batch know how to help, who needs it, and why. They know their "reg" brothers don't have many if any others fighting for them. The Batch (Hunter) have these opportunities to help and know they are among the few positioned to offer it...and they still walk away.

The Batch (Hunter) sees the other clones fates as none of their business. On one hand, I get that they never fit in, were called names and weren't allowed to sit with the cool kids at lunch. On the other, "they were mean" and "therefore they should be mind-controlled slaves" is grossly disproportional. Likewise it's not as though this fight doesn't concern them. Even if they can't find it in themselves to care about "regs," it's Rex who told them to remove their chips and went out of his way to make sure they did based on info that Fives gathered, without which Wrecker would have killed Omega. Perhaps I wouldn't go as far as to say they *owe* other clones, but my opinion of them certainly continued to drop as they made explicitly clear that they're fine with this being the fate of other clones.

So okay, fine. TBB isn't a story about the Batch discovering they have more alike with other clones than they first thought (other than Crosshair, who actually does get that story). That's what I wanted, alright, I know I'm not getting that at this point.

But then, where does that leave them? What do they care about, what do they fight for?

Their brother...right?

Except...they don't really do that either??? (points at earlier in this rant) At least, until the very last episodes, where an opportunity presents itself, and most of the Batch jumps on it...except Hunter.

The way he's written just *baffles* me. I can't say anything about his personality other than "he cares about Omega," but even that, when at the expense of his other brothers, is tiring. Immediately after Tech gives his life on a mission he wanted to go on to try to save Crosshair, he suggests they all hide away on Pabu (even with the knowledge that Omega is wanted and they're being hunted). I get that he wanted to hide from the pain, but in that context?? Even then, he can't care about Cross??

And then when Omega is kidnapped, the difference in his reaction between that and what happened with Crosshair...it was, frankly, painful.

I feel like by the end of the series, Tech would have been more open to joining Echo/the clones' fight. Wrecker will just go along. Echo has already plunged headfirst into helping others, Crosshair got character growth and defected from the Empire. And Omega has always wanted to help even strangers, but only doesn't when Hunter tells her no.

I feel that Hunter's the one dragging his heels for the Batch to progress, and he's supposed to be the leader.

All of this to say, I've been trying so hard to like the Batch since S1, and they didn't really click for me (other than Echo, who I don't count since I loved him from long before, and still consistently have). But by the end of S2, I think I've concluded that I'd like the others perfectly fine if they were under different leadership that encouraged them to care, to act.

I don't want to say I *dislike* him, but man...I'm super disappointed in Hunter, and I'm not sure if/how that might change.

This leads me to my final thought, which is: I would strongly prefer if "the Clone Story" be told from a different lens than Hunter-centric TBB.

What I mean is, throughout the show, there have been multiple pivotal events that affect all clones, not just the Batch.

The fall of Kamino, the failure of the clones' rights bill are the big ones. But even without those, through the glimpses of the "regs" like Howzer, Gregor, Wilco, Cody, Slip, Cade, and Mayday, we see how the Empire is treating the rest of them as a group.

I'm deeply invested in these boys and their stories, and frankly, all of these boys instantly became my faves in their few moments of screen time. I want more of these, and it feels deeply unfair that they've done so much to tell compelling stories but have so little time.

They are an extension of the clones I love from TCW in a way that the Batch just aren't, and don't seem to be interested in becoming.

Not even that, but we know from Hunter's rejection of Echo that the Batch (Hunter) don't *care.*

Fine, they don't care. But I'm admittedly deeply concerned about how S3 will go, because even if the Batch doesn't care about the Clone Story, they (Hunter) don't seem to be doing a great job progressing their internal story either (Crosshair).

I understand Omega has some crucial background we're *finally* getting to. I want to know why she's special, why she's unaltered. I want to know what she has that Boba doesn't, or if she's just Nala Se's favorite. Maybe that's relevant to the Clone Story.

But frankly, personally, I would prefer if TBB S3 goes full in focussing on building Hunter and Wrecker up emotionally, and just going full in on what it means for them as a Batch to be there for each other. They need that, desperately, without distractions.

I would prefer if the Clone Story (frankly, the story I'm far more invested in) is told through Rex and other clones, who passionately care and are in the fight. If Echo jumps between the 2 groups and links them, great! I think the Batch would make excellent guest characters. But NOT protagonists of a story where they don't care while everyone else does.

I guess all of this to say, it's sad that I think I liked the Batch the most in TCW S7, and my impression of them as a group (which I recognize is largely due to Hunter) has only gone downhill since.

Again, to be clear, I did enjoy the show.

I LOVED eps 3, 7, 8, 12, 14, to the point I'd say they're possibly my favorite eps of any SW show. These eps are conspicuously non Batch-centric. I loved many *parts* of other episodes.

The *show* has given me so much to love. Unfortunately, none of those things are Hunter.

#YukiPri rambles #TBB #The Bad Batch #Spoilers #the Bad Batch Spoilers #TBB Spoilers #TBB S2 #The Bad Batch Season 2 #longpost #rant post

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 11 months

Text

tuesday again 5/30/2023

all you can see is my hand over the back of the couch as i give a limp wrist flick of acknowledgement and point you toward the post ↓

listening

Smooth Jazz by GUPPY, a selfdescribed comedic punk band that makes secular guitar music with bedroom-pop overtones. said to myself out loud on my walk "this sounds gay" and whaddya know they are.

I’m listening to smooth jazz In the parking lot outside of Joann’s Fabrics & Crafts And I’m feeling like a dumb spazz Because my mind is moving way too fast

i have had this exact experience at multiple joanns. the last bit of the song has been on loop in my head since uhh thursday when i was catching up with my spot/ify weekly recommended list. the tired, slightly ironic last-number-in-the-musical performance is really doing it for me

Jazz, baby! That’s just jazz, baby That’s just jazz That’s just jazz, baby In my brain, baby So give me a lobotomy

reading

raymond chandler's the long goodbye.

this book destroyed me. there is some BREATHTAKING racism even for 1953. it's one of the cruelest things ive ever read. it's a sucking chest wound of a book. i'm going to think about it for the rest of my life.

i'm not able to talk about chandler novels objectively.

i am partially grieving the incredibly fucked up shit that happens to marlowe in this book (i have no fucking clue how you even go on after that, but he does) and partially grieving that this is the last full novel and there aren't any more. i know the unfinished poodle springs was finished after chandler's death but! i do not care.

watching

One-Eyed Jacks (1961, dir. Brando). widely available for free, pluto had the nicest copy but ads that weren't blockable. this is a film where the production is as much of a story as the actual film.

i don't actually know if i enjoyed this film or had a good time watching it. i don't know that i ever need to see it more than once.

it is artistically distinct, and i genuinely mean that as a compliment. it is a rare western-that-doesn’t-have-to-be-a-western, and such a weird artifact of a particular guy's career in a particular time.

surprisingly, this is a pretty okay western to watch if you happen to be a woman. katy jurado and pina pellicier are acting their GODDAMN hearts out. despite itself, the movie paints a very good portrait of a mother-daughter relationship and some goodass parenting. women make mistakes and don't die about it. nobody gets raped!!! the absolute lowest bar a western can possibly have. as a quick sidebar, it's not that i think movies should never address rape, it's that westerns always address it in a way that makes my stomach turn.

it is a slow-burning revenge that mostly takes place on a beach, but it also takes you in great uneven hurtling lurches toward its finale. it wants to have things to say about lies, revenge, and storytelling but cannot help but give itself a certain kind of ending. it can only push so far. it is fascinatingly earnest, horny, and earnest about being horny.

playing

grim fandango remastered (2015, originally 1998) by double fine. the EPIC tale of CRIME and CORRUPTION in the LAND OF THE DEAD!!! critically acclaimed, what we would now call Mexican Gothic i think, but billed itself as a Aztec-inspired noir.

technical details: i am not totally impressed by this remaster bc it still looks pretty fucking janky in parts (things clipping through other things, heavily pixelated stuff despite being on the highest quality settings, etc)

why i bounced off: i did not play video games growing up, and have not played many point-and-click games. despite this i do like walking simulators (the modern successor to point-and-click) and visual novels. i think bc i do not have the point-and-click background and am not playing this through nostalgia-tinted glasses for 1998, four years after i was born, the way the design team of this game expect the general population to solve problems and the way i personally solve problems are severely mismatched. i have spent about ten hours playing this game (in four acts) getting to about halfway through the third act, and i would say about half that time has been looking for/at guides or making up lost progress bc i didn't save. this is a tremendously frustrating way to spend free time.

what i did love: however, it does Look. i ADORE this tile and want it in my home. in a cutscene in this little automat there are not one not two not three but FOUR reflective surfaces. they're not real-time, of course, but i did say "what the FUCK" out loud. it's also hysterically fucking funny! many short sharp barks of laughter! i am greatly amused at how a game about skeletons invented permadeath! both the writing and the voice performances are so fucking top notch. i understand why this is a beloved classic and im glad a remastered edition exists in the world, but i do not anticipate finishing this game bc i don't get a lot of joy out of having to closely follow a guide to progress.

how i found this: it was free on GOG several years ago, i wanted to play something this weekend that was compatible with lying down on the couch and used a maximum of one finger for the controls.

making

i cannot show any of the extremely doxxable embroidery samples that will zhuzh up this cardigan for a work event in mid-june, but i can show how i tacked the buttonband down. this is somewhat indifferent stitch spacing but it stays down and is invisible at a distance from the right side, and that's what matters. gotta de-pill this also but that's a bit boring for a tuesdaypost

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Bandcamp

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missmoodring · 5 months

Text

Willow Creek, Blue Velvet Longue December 14th, 2023

Tonight, if anywhere was the place to be, it was the Blue Velvet Lounge. Marlene Sato made sure of that.

Marlene graciously smiled at her guests. They danced merrily to the jazz band, laughing amuck and spilling their drinks. Marlene excused their behaviors with a frail smile. Even though she was disturbed that the attendees showed no grace, she had to remember these people were partying for a good cause.

This event was a last minute effort to raise funds for her charity, Every Child Deserves. Marlene was only a few thousand dollars away from her goal and year end was quickly approaching. Marlene knew in order to shrink the gap, she needed to pick up the phone and called a person who knew a person and everything would be squared away.

“You remember I have to work in the morning right?” Bethany questioned. She peered over at Sabrina across the table. Bethany Landers had driven for hours from San Myshuno to be here with Sabrina Fox tonight.

“Of course. You have to work everyday.” Sabrina answered. Bethany released a deep sigh that flickered the table’s candle.

“Excuse me,” a voice as crisp as freshly washed cotton sheets, shot through the room.

“Oh my.” The words fell from Bethany’s lips. Sabrina peered over the balcony at the woman in the red coat. Bethany had heard so much about her but this was her first time seeing her in the flesh.

The woman easily commanded the room’s attention.

“Thank you for attending Every Child Deserves holiday charity event. I am grateful to be able to gather such kind and generous people together for a great cause. I remember looking forward to Winterfest as a child. For me, it wasn’t just about the gifts. I loved watching Winterfest films with my family while drinking hot chocolate and wearing matching pajamas with my sister. And at ECD, we believe every child deserves to have such fond memories too. So I promise that every dollar donated will be matched by one of our lovely sponsors.” The crowd erupted into an applause.

“Thank you. As promised, open bar is until midnight. As we wrap things up tonight, please keep in mind the children and remember they too deserve a chance to experience holiday joy!”

The cheering continued as Marlene made her way off stage.

“She sure knows how to work a crowd.” Beth commented. Sabrina nodded her head and took a long sip of her drink. “Yeah, she always knows just the right things to say.”

Bethany peered at the her phone. It was quarter after eleven. Bethany released another loud sigh as a signal that it was time to go. This time, Sabrina obliged and the ladies made their way downstairs.

“My dear.” It was a familiar voice that had stopped Sabrina and Beth in their tracks. Quickly approaching them was thee Marlene Sato.

In close proximity, Bethany could better make out Marlene’s face. As the ladies exchanged greetings, Bethany quietly compared the two. She has always known Sabrina to be beautiful but Marlene was absolutely breathtaking. There was just something about Marlene that just glowed.

“Marlene, this is my top client, Beth.” Sabrina introduced.

“Ah, yes! Mayor Bethany Landers. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you! I know it was a long drive from San Myshuno. Thank you for being here.” Marlene said.

“I should go to the ladies room before we leave. Marley, keep my client company.” Sabrina said before running off.

“I may be Sabrina’s client but I’m definitely a long time friend too. I’m glad to finally meet you too! Sabrina says so many great things about you, Mrs. Sato. I think tonight was fantastic. Great turn out! I throw events like this too. Actually, I’m having one next week. Please join us.” Bethany said. Having The Satos, the owners of today’s most prominent company in technology, at her holiday party would be a great look for Mayor Landers. Her inner circle would die if she could pull this off.

“Of course I’ll be there. And I’ll make sure my husband is there too. It’s the least I can do since you came all this way and made such a generous donation for such a great cause.” Bethany smirked.

Perfect.

The ladies continued their cordial conversation until Sabrina rejoined them. Marlene gave Sabrina a warm hug before dismissing herself to go mingle amongst the last few patrons.

“What do you think of her?”

“She’s…pleasant.” Sabrina nodded in agreement. That was a perfect word to describe her sister – pleasant.

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The night was finally over. As the last few patrons made their way out the door, Marlene made her way to the bartender.

“No thank you, sir. I think I’m just going to grab the donations and head home. I’m exhausted.” Marlene imagined kicking off her shoes, taking a hot shower and then fall asleep next to her husband, who was probably still up working too.

“Madame. Great event. How about a toast to celebrate?”

“Donations? Your assistant handled it already. He picked up all the checks not too long ago.”

“The other bartender, Mikayla, said that at the end of her shift, a man came up to her and said he was your assistant and collected all the payments. She told me before she left that she gave it to him. He said his name was Shio.”

Marlene froze at what the bartender revealed to her.

“Antonio, I don’t have an assistant.”

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Thank you for tuning in. This chapter is available to view on wordpress. Make sure you check out wordpress for better picture quality and other goodies!

#ts4 #the sims 4 #the sims #ts4 story #ts4story #s4story #s4 story #sims 4 story #simblr #sweeterthansin #sts #stsa1c1 #marlene sato #bethany landers #sabrina fox

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tealeafsoda · 2 years

Text

HYPERFIXATIONS AND HORROR

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x reader (platonic or romantic)

Content: requested, gn reader (you/your), autistic reader, fluff, 570 words

Notes: me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic <- u and Vil

•Vil insisting on you becoming his main consultant during any horror-themed projects that the film studies club takes on. (Not only that, but indirectly introducing you to other students with the same passion as you in the crew/cast). Even if you have anxieties about messing up, him seeing far too much potential in you to just leave it alone.

•The club itself experiencing an increase in horror-themed short films (Vil insisting it's just because there are so many versions of one genre to explore, but expanding your horizons to work on more than just one type of horror film is a bonus).

•Vil also bouncing ideas off of you (whether you have time to reply or not). And valuing that you're straightforward in your replies (even if others would think its rude, to him it just gets the process done easier).

•Him not just keeping you to one specific job. So far, you've done assistant directing, scripting and costume/ character designs, and him having no plan on stopping there (lighting and set design look tempting for you next) (the 10 fussy members totally not being part of the reason, it's just convenient) (well, maybe a little). Which has given you a better understanding of your strengths and weaknesses.

•But if the set is too hectic, there always being an easy way out to breathe for a few minutes. As his intention is never to overwhelm you.

•Vil being open to any suggestions for making the experience less stressful, as art should be available to all.

•But the strict timetable when it comes to filming also acting as a reliable routine.

•If you're uncomfortable talking face to face, communication online becoming more common in discussions. Or at least talking whilst working on something else.

•Making mood boards together when designing characters and monsters. Hyperfocus coming in handy to get the smallest details down to a tee.

•Him always sending you behind-the-scenes pictures. But it increasing drastically when working on darker shoots. (In the time-lapses of his makeup process that the crew sometimes film for advertisement/ social media content, something that doesn't go unnoticed by fans was how much time he spends on his phone instead of inspecting his makeup in the mirror like usual. What they don't know is that he's sending you full paragraphs on what's happening, complaints and any other thing he can think of).

•When a director for a horror advert he agreed to film allowed him to take a prop from the set, Vil having to stand and hold it whilst you stimmed so hard it tired you out (after that, him trying to get you props more often).

•Vil appreciating it if you talk about the nuance of characters in horror films. Especially villains, as they're the ones he gets cast as (even if they're typically other-worldly beauties or breathtaking tempters, reputation and critical thinking are greatly valued by him when it comes to the approach of these characters).

•Going through films to find antagonistic characters/ villains who aren't just one-dimensional to watch together.

•But also watching the classic thrillers and you both pointing out the details and writing that have affected the horror franchise.

•Trying to find different ways to approach traditional horror tropes.

•Searching through indie films for more character-based horrors.

•Your enthusiasm influencing Vil's approach to horror films, and him finding that he always enjoys working with you (and subsequently becoming fonder of the genre).

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit x you #x reader #gender neutral reader #pomefiore #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #my post

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mercityart · 2 years

Note

jason the toymaker wiping off his s/o's makeup because "they don't need it" (kinda toxic but because he's from a "different time" and likes control i think it may be fitting)

Hello! I'm going to do my best on this scenario however, it may not be exactly how you see it, nowhere near as toxic as my Jason is different from others, and no matter the time period you can always teach an old dog new tricks, it depends on how ignorant they are. This will lean more towards a comfort scenario.

Tw!! Talks in regards to mental health and poor self image, along with the societal pressures to look a certain way.

All art and writing is mine, do not steal. View my art on other socials too. To understand the characters backstories please view my character design/info charts.

-------------------"You are Perfect"--------------------

Now, you tend to wear quite a bit of makeup, there are many reasons for this, some good, some bad. Of course you can have days where you feel like the baddest bitch in the world with your look, and other days you feel far from decent whatsoever. You are a human after all!

Sometimes you do it to be artistic, sometimes it's to boost your confidence and sometimes you want to try and impress someone, really it varies day to day! Jason loves you, she absolutely adores every last inch of you from head to toe. Jason is a interesting fellow as they are able to see the beauty in almost everything, and that includes you.

Jason is incredibly supportive truthfully! She loves watching you do your makeup and see how proud and happy you can get from it. He even let's you put makeup on her for fun sometimes, it's a bonding experience for her. There is a bit of an issue though. Jason loves you, not the painting you put on yourself, sure it's beautiful but she absolutely loves seeing your face clear of any makeup.

Every night she makes sure you take off your makeup before bed, and if you are too tired she would lay you down and gently clean you up. He just adores your face, wanting to kiss you all over. Jason of course never tells you about his preference, fearing you'd leave her because you feel unseen and a argument could ensue.

One day though, Jason's fear would be brought to the surface. There is one thing that she hates when it comes to you, and those are the days when you feel lowest about yourself; in his mind it's impossible to not see how absolutely breathtaking you are, she simply doesn't understand how you can hate yourself so much in those moments.

It was late at night when everything went down, you at your home looking in the mirror. You were having one of those days again, the days where you feel like the most hideous human on the planet. You constantly look at new trends, try new products, follow the biggest beauty influencers! You wear makeup so frequently that in this moment seeing your own face made you feel terrible.

When you put on makeup that morning you knew something was up, you didn't feel as confident, you didn't feel happy with your look and frankly you had a really hard time applying your makeup properly that morning, everything giving you a struggle whether it be blending your eyeshadow or getting your contour not to look patchy it just wasn't working in your favor.

So now here you are staring at your reflection after just removing your makeup. You peer over at the beauty magazines you kept on the sink counter, confused anger and sadness boiling up inside and you began scurrying about, rapidly reapplying makeup, and honestly it was kinda messy, but in your mind anything would be better than your clean fresh face.

Once everything is said and done you sit on the toilet lid, head in hand as you try not to cry, instead going into a dissociative state. You don't know how long you were sitting there, but you do know that you are greeted by a site you didn't want.

Jason typically stops by your home to check on you every night and spend some quality time, allowing the both of you to talk about your day or anything else you want to talk about. This night was no exception. He had simply walked right into your home, in the beginning she'd knock frequently but over time you two both got into the habit of him just entering the place as though it's her own; he does sleep over often so it's basically a second home to her.

She walks calmly, leaving her shoes, hat and umbrella at the door as to keep the place clean and to avoid drenching your floor due to the intense downpour outside, a tornado warning being put in place.

As Jason walked towards your room he could just sense something was very wrong. Upon reaching the door she slowly opens it, confusion in her eyes when he doesn't see you where you typically would be, then he heard the scuffling in the connecting bathroom, the door ever so slightly ajar so she carefully opened it and peeked around the frame, "(Y/n), my rose? What are y-"

Her voice caught in his throat as he saw you; there you stood, completely zoned out staring at your reflection, makeup thrown about the counter and applied somewhat messily to your skin. "Oh sweetie..." He frowns, your head snapping back up to attention and catching with her gaze.

At that very moment you simply could not keep yourself from crying, tears pouring down with the same intensity as the storm outside, smudging and streaking your makeup. Jason is quick to wrap her arms firmly around your body, keeping you close to himself as you sob.

He gently shushes you and runs her hand in a circular motion to try and provide comfort, bringing you to sit up on the counter, clearing it with his free hand. "My love... Shhh... Shh shh shh... Hey... Oh darling, talk to me.. what troubles you so?" Her brows scrunch up in worry, cupping your cheeks in his hands as you begin to calm down enough to speak.

"I'm s so-! I- how can you l l love me when I look like- like- this!" You flail your hands in a disgusted motion towards yourself, bottom lip quivering as you sniffle.

"This..? You mean my absolutely breathtaking lover? The one with the deepest eyes I've ever seen? The warmest smile to ever grace my presence? The lover whom I want their body pressed flush to mine when I wake in the morning? Whom face I want to kiss goodnight before I sleep? That lover?" Jason's gaze softens significantly, never once does he avert her gaze from yours, showing nothing but sincerity. One hand grasps your own softly, "Allow me to show you?" You don't even realize yourself nod to her, body going on autopilot, so sleepy and sad. Jason grabs makeup wipes and takes one out, reaching towards your face but you grab her arm, eyes widening in panic but slowly you let go as she says, "trust me, (y/n)." With that he starts to oh so gently remove every speck of makeup from your face.

Once he's finished he turns you to sit fully on the counter and face the mirror, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and rocks the both of you dude to side. "This is the person who takes my breath away every single time I see them. This is the gorgeous human I fell in love with, who I plan to spoil for the rest of our lives." He buries her face in your shoulder, kissing up your neck and to your cheek, peppering the sweetest kisses you'd ever received.

"I know you can't see what I see... I don't know if you ever will, but just know, you are perfect. I would love you in every form you take, my precious flower. Makeup, no makeup, so long as it's you. You are the most beautiful when you are happy, not to say you aren't beautiful right now, you are breathtaking! I just prefer having that perfect smile on your face, especially wheeeen," he lightly prods and tickles at your sides eliciting laughter from you, a deep chuckle if her own reverberating from his chest. "There we are, that's music to my ears~" she coos lovingly.

"Now, let me take care of my precious angel~" he purrs, kissing the tip of your nose as she turns you back around to face her. She grabs a bag off the counter and takes out some stuff. He squeezes out a small dollop of toner onto her finger and rubs it gently before dotting it around your face, lightly massaging it into your skin.

She is incredibly gentle as she takes care of your skin, using moisturizer, sunscreen, vitamin D masks and more. Once he's done she kisses you lightly and turns on the bathtub, grabbing your favorite smelling candle and lighting it.

"Jason...? Um, i- I just want to say I'm sor-" you are quickly silenced by his hand over your mouth. "(Y/n), I love you. Don't be sorry for feeling emotions. I'm here for you, and I love you. You don't have to apologies for being feeling."

This brings tears back to yours eyes and you hug her tightly. "Thank you, I love you so friggin much."

For more scenarios and characters please simply comment or send me it privately as an ask or message.

To support my content and view the characters design and info chart please click the link to see my other socials. You can find art and writing most easily ln either insta, Tumblr or Twitter. https://linktr.ee/Mercitycreeps

#slenderverse #creepypasta #slenderverse x reader #Slenderverse x y/n #slenderverse headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta headcanon #jason the toymaker #jason the toymaker headcanons #jason the toymaker x reader #Jason the Toymaker x y/n #Comfort #Angst #Fluff

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dragongutsixofficial · 8 months

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Thoughts on the Legend of Zelda series? Not just Breath/Tears, the series in general.

Ooooh that's a great question i love it !!

I haven't played as many Zelda games as other people on here- I was introduced to the franchise thanks to Spirit Tracks when I was a kid, then went on to play a bit of Phantom Hourglass on one of my relatives' copy (with their permission, of course) and then a little bit of Skyward Sword before finally doing BOTW. I haven't played Tears of the Kingdom yet (though I certainly intend to!), but I think I have been pretty thoroughly spoilt at this point and it looks pretty awesome !^^

Zelda is still one of the childhood games i look fondly upon. I was too young to really be any good at it, so more often than not it was my older sister (bless her heart) who would take on the bosses for me ! xD being able to play alongside her on our shared gamer journey has always been an amazing experience, since we can always enjoy each other's perspective and input, and partaking in multiplayer mode is always the greatest thing. We spent more time in multiplayer mode than individually on my favorite game ever, Dragon Quest IX ! ^^

Back to Zelda, I think the first game I ever took on completely alone and completed ended up being BOTW and the open world was A BLAST. I'm not saying it should become the general rule for each and every game of course, but in that specific case the freedom it gave me was exhilarating. I remember the first time I got out of the shrine at the start of the game, I decided to check whether or not there was fall damage by throwing Link off the cliff. Good times. I also managed to forget about the plot for something like six months because exploring Hyrule was so breathtaking.

But the thing I love the most about BOTW is my horse. To the point that I have never cared about any other horse. To the point that everything has become secondary to my horse. I love him. He's the best horse.

My friend told me you can get your horse back in Tears of the Kingdom. That makes me so happy.

I'm gonna see my horse again.

Also I think the world healed a little bit thanks to the Linksonas phenomenon. It is so incredibly heartwarming to see everyone's own takes on Link, and how they make them their own (playing with their gender, lore, etc). The fact that we're seeing the same thing happening with Spidersonas makes me equally happy- and a little surprised that it didn't happen quite so much with Byleth ! ^^

What are your opinions on Zelda ? ^^

#the legend of zelda #inter dragon discussions

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naffeclipse · 1 year

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Hi Naff I feel like being wordy again because actually art isn't enough!! dfdsgh

Because your writing is just the whole package, the buildup the plot the style, I love love love how you vary the style slightly depending on the pov, reading from different characters' view always *feels* like that character, grants them authenticity I continue being floored by. You write like it's music, varied and harmonious and with just enough intricate wording to make reading an experience one wants to settle in for, but not so elaborate that it would feel overwhelming. Regularly scream to friends on discord about your word choices, how you manage to phrase things just so they hit my heart dead center. They see me scream wordlessly and by now just know I've thought about your stuff a bit too long again <3 Details sprinkled in from the beginning, every time I reread I find something that I missed before, and it's like finding puzzle pieces of foreshadowing that spell the most breathtaking picture in the end - makes it so so much fun to really sit down and read again and again and again without it getting boring. I can honestly say that I haven't been as affected by any fic as by Cryptid Sightings, but while this comment is focused on CS I've also screamed excessively about Sleuth Jesters and Deep Dreams. And you know, I think it's truly part of the experience to wait for each new chapter, see other people comment and theorize (because I definitely don't catch everything by myself, seeing what other people note makes the cogs in my head turn just as much as what I notice myself, plus your cryptic comments!). It's part of the fun to learn more bit by bit, and then it's fun again to have it all and bingeread everything there is. I'm having a lot a lot a lot of fun making art and theorizing, and I'm very glad I left behind my apprehension about being perceived to shower you in the fanart you deserve <3 Remember to take care of yourself, and, as always, thank you for sharing!

Luce, I love your words and your fanart alsjdflasfd honestly I am so blown away that my silly little story is having an effect and I just eat up everything you theorize and predicted with your comics and comments!!! You craft so many beautiful things and come up with so many sweet compliments! I just wanna wrap myself up in all of it and cozy up ♥

I'm really happy you decided to share your thoughts and creations with me, and I'm very honored that you'd do so much for Cryptid Sightings, it's a very special feeling ♥

I really mean it when I say that you take care of yourself as well! I appreciate you and your work so much. Thank you for everything, babe ♥

#luce mentally i am slow dancing with you like the shark and scuba diver in the tank #you're making me cry here ;-; thank you ♥#compliments that make me cry (out of joy)#lavenoon

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honeymochibubbletea · 3 months

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Eeeyy, i really liked your headcanons about Phantasmo and Charlie so far! And that dating one? Muah! Perfection!

I was here thinking: could you write some dating headcanons about Phantasmo with a chubby person? And also if they like to talk a lot? Like, a LOT? (And one with a very shy one?)

My oh, oh my, why thank you for the compliment! ;D

You know, usually i would ask to send one ask at the time separately but… since i don’t have THAT many ideas, i’ll let it slide~ ;)

(Image above was made by Fluffpillow, Dr. phantasmo belongs to Fluffpillow)

☆~Dating headcanons for Phantasmo with a chubby darling~☆

If they’re talkative:

when Phantasmo kidnapped you for his nefarious plans he surely didn’t expect you to talk so much for someone who was going to turn into an experiment. Sure, he would expect you to beg and cry, heck, even curse him or threaten him. But very strangely, you were being really friendly and chatty with him. And then, an idea popped into his mind to make you shut the hell up so he could continue the procedure: he would ask you one question and you would answer it and you could ask him one question and obviously he would lie but you wouldn’t know, so whatever to him.

He smiles with himself for being “this brilliant” and executes his plan. You two were having a… “interesting” conversation of questions and answers, honestly he was getting quite drained of having to listen to your long answers whenever he asked you something, but eventually, he asked you why you talk so much and… your answer genuinely surprised him: you said you only talk this much because it helps you to calm down and put your chaotic thoughts in order, you know you’re considered “annoying” for talking too much… and then, you start sobbing and crying…

At first, he was feeling a little awkward about making you cry and not knowing what to do now, but then he eventually sighed tiredly and undid your restraints.

After he (very unsuccessfully) tried to cheer you up, he offered you to work for him… and from then on, you two started to fall in love with each other.

He calls you his little chubby lab mouse

He loves squeezing your cheeks together and hugging you from behind so he can squeeze better your belly

He will murder ANYONE who DARES to insult your weight or call you names

He WILL lay on top of you sometimes and call you his favorite pillow~ ;)

If they’re shy and a little more quiet:

You met Phantasmo at a cemetery, why you would be in a cemetery? Because you had a fight with your parents and wanted to visit your dead grandmother/grandfather for some consolation after said fight…

You were sobbing when you heard a deep low voice asking why you were so sad, when you turned around, you saw him: the ghost himself, Dr. Phantasmo.

You’ve heard about him before, especially from your parents, saying terrible things about him… but seeing him in person… he was sure damn scary, but man, was he also just as handsome and breathtaking!

Phantasmo: what an adorable thing like you doing out here, all alone~?

Y/n: . . . *looks away shyly and scratches head sheepishly*

Phantasmo: Hmm, you are not a talker, are you dear?

Y/n: *nods head*

Phantasmo: Well~ how about i take you to my place and… serve you some tea?

Y/n: . . .Y-yes. . . I… guess that would be fine…

Phantasmo: Splendid~! *brings you closer towards him with his ghost tail* Then… shall we go, my darling~? *extends hand to lift you up*

You knew it was a trap, you knew that he was trouble… but… you also wanted someone to vent to… even if you don’t talk that much…

And so, you went to his place with him, God, you didn’t even placed foot on his doorstep. He whistled and then a pair of robotic arms wrapped around you and he was laughing maniacally:

Phantasmo: buahahahaha!!! Did you SERIOUSLY thought that i would help you feel better? HA! Don’t make me laugh! I was only bringing you to a trap! And you fell for it just nicely~ Now, scream for me! Beg!

Y/n: *looks away from him sadly, but not surprised*

Phantasmo: Hey! Look. At. Me. *grabs your face tightly and forces you to look at him*

Y/n: *looks at him feeling afraid and starts shaking*

Phantasmo: Yes! Yes! I want to taste your fear, i want to savor it! You know… you really look really cute like that~ having your cheeks squished up~

You know what? Maybe i have some… different plans for you~

And with that, Phantasmo made you his maid/employee: he would make you clean his mansion, sometimes help with his experiments and you (not voluntarily but you are too shy to stand up for yourself) would let him squeeze your cheeks. He calls you his little stress toy.

It would surely take a lot of time for you both fall in love, but eventually, you two did: maybe your shy nature and your chubby face charmed him? Perhaps.

All the same from the “if they’re talkative” above + he would do anything to try to please you when you two got closer: want some sweets/treats? You’ll find it on your headboard. Your parents were being too harsh on you? (Consider them dead, because Phantasmo will kill them :) just kidding, he knows you love them, so he’ll just scare them and threaten them to keep you forever away from them) someone is “joking” about your weight? (Spoiler: you’ll never hear from them again) :)

#dr. phantasmo #fluffpillow #telltown #dr. phantasmo x reader #writers on tumblr #writers

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bestreviewguy · 4 months

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Those who don’t study history are destined to repeat it. Those who watch Napolean’s marriage problems…just watched this movie? Napoleon is a 2 hour and 45 minute historical drama directed by Ridley Scott (Alien, Blade Runner, Gladiator, etc.) starring Joaquin Phoenix who is most recently known for his work in the 2019 comic book hit, Joker. When watching a film like this, you generally expect their to be a lot of battles and essentially a love letter to the emperor in the French Revolution, Napolean Bonaparte. He had led 61 battles in his military career and infamously known for his strategy’s which guided the French to several victories. He was married to Josephine played by Vanessa Kirby in this film. As I expected their to be many historical moments in this film in the field of battle, I would have compromised with a glimpse into this characters life and mind set. I was excited to see how he thinks, and how he leads his army to victory in this film. Basically a testament to the HOW he accomplishes things and the WHY he was so well known…and we got hardly any of that. Instead, we’re given a long soap opera with no true resolve or any sort of information that will be remembered. Their is a new trend in cinema where a movie must be drawn out and long, this one is at least an hour too long. This is the biggest fault of the film, it is too long which makes the film come off as extremely boring. While the dynamic between Napolean and Josephine sounds intriguing on paper, it is not done properly in any regard. Playing off as a cliché, “what are we?” Style dynamic instead. This would have been ok if the momentum in the first 10 minutes was kept up throughout the film. We are faced with a BRUTAL first 10 to 15 minutes of the film which insinuates we are going to have a war story unlike any other based in the 1700’s era. This is not the case. Instead, most of the 2 hours and 45 minutes are a repetition of romance dialogue between Napolean and his wife and it is simply not interesting. However, the battle scenes are shot EXCELLENTLY. Their is one scene in particular in the beginning with a horse being shot blank with a canon ball and it is as gory as it sounds. This makes the audience intrigued that where in for a tale of war and strategic battle victories. The key word is ‘in the beginning’ because this momentum is not kept up throughout the film. However, it is historically accurate. The landmarks are breathtaking when viewed, ranging from Egypt, France (obviously) and a few more I won’t go into due to spoiler reasons. Also, the performances are done excellent. While the story is quite boring and you don’t really care about Napolean or Josephine by the end, it is clearly established both actors/actresses, give it their all in the role, yet the lack of source material doesn’t really make it enough to enjoy the film. In one word to summarize this film, it’s unfortunately very boring. That is the word I kept thinking of. The love story is boring and the dialogue is not entertaining at all. With a run time of 2 hours and 45 minutes, your dreading the viewing experience and trying not to fall asleep, and while the cinematography is fantastic and the landmarks are breathtaking, this movie is simply not good. I’m going to give “Napolean” by Ridley Scott, a 4 out of 10. If you want a historical epic that is a long film and also intriguing, check out “Killers of The Flower Moon” instead. Because this movie will absolutely put you to sleep.

4/10

+Historically accurate

+Battle scenes are beautifully shot

- Hard to stay awake while watching

- Boring story

- No interesting plot points

- Over saturated dialogue sequences that extend way too long

- Difficult to finish due to feeling pointless.

#cinema #film #Napolean #french revolution #fr #drama #joaquin phoenix #movie #cinemetography #cinephile

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lavenoon · 1 year

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Lovely Luce, I am here to invade once more! <3

I have a little question about AU! Nothing very plot-related (that I know of) but! Something I thought of. Since the switch is still light-based, does that mean Sun hasn’t properly seen the full night sky or vice versa? I’d imagine they might get the tail end (like when the moon is visible in the early mornings or how Moon was still able to be active right before sunrise) but maybe not the full view of the sky.

Because if they haven’t been able to or maybe find that it’d mess up their schedules too badly to stay up so late/early… I think it would be sweet if they could share memories of the pretty skies with each other OR even for Robin to take pictures for them! It might not be something they think about too often - too busy and with too many things to do - but I think the sky can be absolutely breathtaking sometimes, and while some well-taken pictures might not be the real thing… I think it would be a sweet gesture to try and allow them something they’re not otherwise allowed to experience.

-🌻 Daye

Hehe, this is very sweet and just so happens to not apply! fdghsj

I thought about the switch - it just seemed a bit too lucky if they're one power outage or flashlight away from being found out, and it's rather impractical for them on the job, too, to switch the entire time. Like, Moon could hardly enter HQ when it's always lit, no paperwork at all for him, and Sun's undercover work may lead him to dimly lit rooms often enough, too.

So, with creative freedom and it being an AU and all that, they get a timer - 12 hours each, for fairness. (I was also admittedly sad that Moon is kind of at a disadvantage with the light, with how people usually aim to be able to see and thus even in the dark keep lights on). Tentatively think it'd be a 6-6 cycle, because I like that it's perfectly centered around midnight and noon. It gives them a bit more control over their schedule and plans, and the opportunity to observe sunsets and sunrises (though they have to wait for the right season)!

They have the option to force a switch outside of their schedule, but it resets the timer and throws them off the rhythm (imagine being woken up early to immediately cover being a functional person for someone else - no thank you), so they don't really do that - sometimes it's handy for alibis, though they also need a change of clothes for that, so they try to just handle things on their own.

This turned into a little worldbuilding/ character building ramble despite the sweet thought sparking your ask, sorry fghdjs

But while sunsets can be scenic anywhere, both of them rarely spend time outside of the city (or a city, sometimes there are missions further away, but rarely in rural areas), so if Y/N took them out of town to see the real night sky? Without all the smog and light pollution? They wouldn't really think of it on their own, so used to the sky they know, so any gesture from Y/N with the goal of showing them something new, something they didn't get to marvel at before? Well, it won't be the only thing they marvel at <3

#answer let luce #Daye asks #accidentally undercover #the one time logic forced itself into my au and it had to change one of their characterizing gimmicks gfhdsj #it means they get jetlag though. like their own version of it but I'll call it jetlag #they forget to adapt the timer and switch in the middle of the day like 'ahw man we forgot *again*'#while Robin tries very hard not to laugh and just tells them to switch *back*#they can fix their schedule after the mission #but thats for post reveal shenanigans <3 #hehe

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chungledown-bimothy · 2 years

Text

If I Loved You Less, I Might Be Able To Talk About It More Part 4

The Goblin Court recognizes Hob, and Rue makes a decision.

Arranged Marriage Battlemaster of Ceremonies AU (Episode 3 Canon Divergence)

I promise, I wrote the Detect Magic -> Cure Wounds before yesterday's episode

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1500

Part Four: Resolutions

Part One Part Three AO3

Hob woke up the next morning to find an envelope tucked under his shoulder. He opened it and saw it was from Lord Blemish and Lady Boil.

Well done with the announcement yesterday, ensuring that the price for the Court of Wonder breaking the deal would be higher than even they can afford. Perhaps we have been too harsh and underestimated you.

Congratulations, Major Hob.

We trust you to continue doing as you should at the ball tonight; no need to report to us today.

Everything he ever wanted, and all it cost was being barely, agonizingly, out of reach from something he’d never dared to even imagine, let alone consider possible. Possible or not, the fantasy overwhelmed him as he took quill to parchment and wrote a letter of his own.

To the estimable Delloso de la Rue,

I see now that the battles you face daily are ones beyond my comprehension, and I apologize from every corner of my soul for having the audacity to assume that, between them and your duties here at the Bloom, my words or actions could have any significance for you. I know that I am so far beneath you to be unworthy of your notice, but if I may, I would like to repay your honesty with some of my own.

In doing me the honor of allowing me to see the splendor of your true form, you have bewitched me, body and soul. Seeing you as you truly are sparked something in me that I did not think I could ever be lucky enough to experience. The only thing that has changed about my vow to stay by your side for as long as you would have me there is an increase in both its intensity and the agony, worse than any battlefield injury I have suffered in my many years as a soldier, that I would feel if you sent me away.

I would not, however, burden you with my affections. I still ask for nothing but friendship. I will never speak of these sentiments again, and I will truly be content providing only whatever amount of support and companionship you desire.

Eternally yours, however you would have me,

Knickolas Pnackleless Hob

P.S., I know you said you didn’t want me to fight anyone for you, but if you did decide to show the Bloom your breathtaking, resplendent truth, I would happily gut anyone who so much as looked at you with anything but the utmost awe and respect. You deserve to be appreciated and honored as your true self.

Hob read the letter over again, and again, and again. I cannot send this. I have no right to, and nothing other than my pain and humiliation could possibly come from them reading it.

With a sigh, he tucked it away on top of dozens of other letters that would never be sent, albeit the first addressed to someone who could actually read.

He completed his daily calisthenics routine and, when he returned, was surprised to find a letter on the ground in front of his tent.

Captain Hob,

As I am sure you are aware, tonight is the ball. Please meet me in my quarters at your earliest convenience- in addition to ball attire coordination, I believe we need to discuss… well. I think you know, and I’d hate for that information to fall into the wrong hands.

Yours,

Delloso de la Rue

Doing his best to ignore how his heart was racing from the invitation to their personal, private quarters, he immediately headed their way.

He arrived quickly, and the sight that greeted him when Rue opened the door made him weak in the knees. Their iridescent robes practically floated behind them, reflecting the light in ways that made them seem to be glowing, and he heard a faint tinkling of bells instead of swishing as it moved.

“Captain, good morning! I- I apologize for my attire, I seem to have lost track of time. Please, come in and take a seat. It’ll only take me a minute to change.” They stepped back, opening the door wider, and he stepped through. As he walked past them, he briefly caught the scent of the same flowers from the maze, the flowers they had been wearing in their true form.

After the door was closed and he was sure no one else could hear, as Rue was walking deeper into their chambers, he muttered, “If you would feel more comfortable returning as your true self, there would certainly be no objections from me.”

“There would certainly be no objections from me.” Hob remained standing in place next to the chair they’d gestured for him to take, but his words followed Rue all the way back to the enormous room that was their closet. As they circled the room trying to decide what to wear, something else he said echoed in their mind.

“Delloso, I-” Delloso. Not Rue, not Delloso de la Rue, Delloso. They couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called them that. The thought occurred to them that it was entirely possible no one had.

With a deep breath, they dropped the glamor, got dressed, and headed back out to properly greet only the second person they had allowed to really see them in millennia.

Hob didn’t think Rue had even heard him suggest that they could drop the glamor, so when he saw them seemingly gliding across the floor towards him in all their true, radiant beauty, he collapsed onto the chair beside him.

“Hob! Are you alright?” Rue rushed to him, and the concern in their voice snapped him out of his stupor.

He cleared his throat and sat up as straight as he could. “My apologies, I am quite well.”

“With all due respect, Captain, you collapsed. Someone of your… physicality does not do that without great cause.” They knelt down next to him and took one of his hands in both of theirs. They quickly cast a Detect Magic that came up empty and a Cure Wounds that also didn’t feel like it did anything.

Hob gently lifted their chin with his free hand and made eye contact. “Rue, I appreciate the concern and the spells, but I assure you, I am fine. It simply has been quite a morning, and you doing me the honor of once again allowing me to behold you as you truly are proved to be a bit overwhelming. Again, I am so sorry for having caused you concern.”

“I- I see.” They let go of his hand and stood up. “My apologies for having distressed you so. Momentous morning, you say? May I ask what has happened?” Hob stood up as well and tried to make eye contact again, but they refused to meet his gaze.

“Let me be clear, Rue. I was shaken not out of distress but of awe. If I may be so bold, you, like this as you are, are beautiful. More so than anyone I have ever met. I am aware that this is overstepping the line of the friendship you have so graciously offered, but as we are to spend the rest of our lives together, I will not have you believe for another minute that I think anything less of you. You needn’t ever feel ashamed of who you are. I will not pressure you in any way to bless the realms with the privilege of you sharing your truth with them, but if or when you do, know that I will proudly stand beside you every step of the way.”

“Captain, I-”

“Major, actually. That was the momentous news this morning; our announcement yesterday was apparently so successful that the Lord Blemish and Lady Boil saw fit to promote me. Sorry for interrupting, it’s just that you’d asked what happened and I didn’t actually answer but then you called me Captain again, and I just-”

Rue finally looked at him, no longer up like when they met but down ever so slightly, and smiled. “Congratulations, Major Hob. You deserve such recognition from your court. And you didn’t overstep. Your words mean more to me than I can express.

To be entirely honest, since the rumor is that this is to be the last Bloom, I’d been considering coming out, as it were. When I was informed of our engagement, I had changed my mind, out of fear that it would, I don’t know, cause your court to break the deal and bring so much dishonor onto both my name and my court’s.

But hearing you, the honorable, trustworthy gentleman I know you to be, say all of that… I’m ready. I hate to ask you to be in the spotlight once again, but what say you to making a bit of an entrance at the ball tonight?”

He smiled and bowed deeply. “As you wish. It is your moment, and I am happy to be entirely at your disposal.”

#acofaf #a court of fey and flowers #ruehob #kp hob #delloso de la rue #battlemaster of ceremonies #acofaf fanfiction #dimension 20 fanfic #dimension 20 #i write sometimes

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