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talenlee · 15 days

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Game Pile: Planetfall (Kinda)

Planetfall (But Bioshock Infinite, Really)

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Script and thumbnail below the fold!

What you’re looking at here is footage, such as it is, of the game Planetfall. Planetfall is a text adventure game from 1983, written by Steve Meretzky, and published by the company Infocom. It was available on the Apple II, Atari 8-bit family, the TRS-80 and the IBM PC compatible, which included MS-DOS. Planetfall is a hundred and twenty kilobytes, which is to say, it is about a third of the size of the preview thumbnail file you clicked on to look at this video, which probably didn’t mention Planetfall at all.

Planetfall is an old game, old as balls. It is at this point, forty-one years old. It was made to run on a computer whose entire processing capacity is, to the device screening this, ‘negligible.’

It is also one of the first games to make me cry, when I played it, as a child.

Planetfall is about being a space janitor, eh, eh, yeah, like, if you know you know, but the point is, your space ship crashes, and you find yourself stuck on the planet Resida. You have to use your wits and a stupid amount of trial and error gameplay to construct some form of escape before the planet you’re stuck on blows up, or something like that. While exploring the ruins, you meet Floyd. Floyd is a cute, stupid, helpful little robot that follows you around and provides commentary.

Also, to win the game, you have to ask Floyd to sacrifice his life.

Here’s the passage, in full.

Floyd staggers to the ground, dropping the mini card. He is badly torn apart, with loose wires and broken circuits everywhere. Oil flows from his lubrication system. He obviously has only moments to live.

You drop to your knees and cradle Floyd’s head in your lap. Floyd looks up at his friend with half-open eyes. “Floyd did it… got card. Floyd a good friend, huh?”

Quietly, you sing Floyd’s favourite song, the Ballad of the Starcrossed Miner:

O, they ruled the solar system, Near ten thousand years before In their single starcrossed scoutships Mining asteroids, spinning lore,

Then one true courageous miner Spied a spaceship from the stars Boarded he that alien liner Out beyond the orb of Mars

Yes that ship was filled with danger Mighty monsters barred his way Yet he solved the alien myst’ries Mining quite a lode that day

O, they ruled the solar system Near ten thousand years before ‘Til one brave advent’rous spirit Brought that mighty ship to shore

As you finish the last verse, Floyd smiles with contentment, and then his eyes close, as his head rolls to one side. You sit in silence for a moment, in memory of a brave friend who gave his life so that you might live.

I played this game when I was a child, yes, but this passage, where Floyd is okay, and your path forward is only possible if Floyd commits to a course of dangerous action, and then he comes back, and he dies and you have to accept that is deeply affecting. It is a storytelling choice in which your agency is part of the course of story and that you could choose to not do it but you do choose to do it.

Right?

I didn’t.

I never finished Planetfall.

As a kid, I got to this point, I saw this happen, I quit the game and I ran away from ever playing more because of the deeply affecting experience of having a game make me an agent in that kind of moral quandrary, to not just make a sacrifice but to ask someone else to make that sacrifice. It is a good, classic piece of storytelling, and being a videogame, it lets the story situate you as an agent within the whole narrative space, to make you feel the way that the character in the game feels it.

Games are capable of giving us these powerful experiences, they are capable of giving us story experiences that elevate us through our agency, and they are, of course, art.

Glad we solved that, good job, 1983, thanks for clearing things up for all the idiots who think this is a complex question.

Right?

We wouldn’t be constantly in a defensive crouch about ‘art’ for, oh, I dunno, the intervening forty years, including multiple really embarrassing ‘citizen kane of videogame’ moments…?

Right?

Of course I’m not talking about Planetfall.

I’m talking about Bioshock Infinite

[]

Bioshock Infinite is a first-person shooter from Irrational Games, published by 2K and continues the ‘universe’ of the Bioshock games. And… for all that I will speak negatively of this game, for all that this whole piece is going to include some very stern criticisms about it and what it says about us, it is in my opinion, a text worth understanding to consider what we were doing, in videogames, in 2013. The Last Of Us, Bioshock Infinite and Grand Theft Auto were three of the most critically appraised games of the year, and all three of them together weren’t pulling in the money of Puzzle & Dragons, in the same year. A microcosm of gaming, I suppose.

With all readings of a complex text, we are not divining a truth from an author but negotiating an explanation with the media.

When I wrote about Bioshock Infinite back in May of 2013, I had just started university and had some fantasy in my mind about my work being a bridge to working in the games industry. James journalism, I imagined, was waiting for me to present an example of what I could do, and so, I wrote about games with the energy of someone trying to reach that sweet spot of irreverent professionalism, discussing games in terms of pros and cons and the inevitable consideration of a consumer.

At the time I did call the game a modern classic, on par with Spec Ops: The Line. I cringe at that a little, because while it’s true, it’s true in the way that you could remove that description from context and leave with the impression that I think that makes it good. It’s absolutely a classic – you can look at it in the context of the games of its time and it serves as an iconic reduction of so many of the elements that make up what it was to be games in that time and that place. It was also a release in that twilight between the attacks on Anita Sarkeesian and the subsequent distributed campaign we now know in hindsight as ‘gamergate.’

It was in this time that Roger Ebert, a famous film critic who elevated criticism as a type of popular media unto itself, passed away, and we got the now-famous CliffyB Tweet (Cliffy B is his own weird spur in the gaming landscape history, responsible in his youth for contributions to the shareware titles Dare to Dream and Jazz Jackrabbit) about how finally, games had attained the rank of art, a thing that lots of people clowned on. On the one hand, that’s funny because it was a silly thing to say, and at the same time, it’s sad because imagine thinking that games weren’t art until we saw Bioshock Infinite arrive on the scene.

And why Bioshock Infinite?

[]

In my first writing about Bioshock Infinite, I think I was giving it a lot of the benefit of the doubt. It was The Prestige Game and I couldn’t just say a game was bad, right? There were all these people who worked on it. There were all these bits that were good. It took a long process of learning what ‘good game’ even meant, and what I meant when I said it, and in the process, I spent that time discovering realising how much worse a game it was than I appreciated at the time. I eventually came to refer to Bioshock Infinite as a ‘shallow game as high watermark.’ That’s reasonable, I think. It was very much a good example of what gaming, at the time, considered The Way Things Should Be. It’s a centralising game. It induces a conversation around itself. It demands focus.

To talk about Bioshock Infinite and about what it tells us about us, and what it means about its sliver of history in time involves talking about the things that make it up, and a bit about the author, inasmuch as that is a thing that exists. In order to talk about how the world was realised, I need to talk about the setting of the game, and in order to talk about the setting of the game, I’m going to talk about the story that that setting is created to tell. That is, it is necessary to know the story to discuss the setting.

Now I could talk about this as if you already know the story but to write in such a way would be to imagine my entire audience is made up of people who have had to play through this game that is both not very good and ten years old, which for some of you means that you spent some of your precious teenage years and early twenties on this game. And thus, for you, I will tell you the story of Bioshock Infinite, so as to talk about the world of that story.

[]

Now let’s speed-run it.

Fade up, we have a dude, on a boat, with voices in his head, as he approaches a lighthouse with weirdoes in a boat. At first you’re not told much about him, which may lead to you thinking that he’s going to be a mystery blank slate like Jack from Bioshock, but then it turns out his name is Booker DeWitt. He’s here to Deliver the Girl, Wipe Away the Debt. To do this, he climbs the lighthouse, gets in a rocket, and goes to a world in the clouds, gets baptised in a scene that got a single weirdo a refund, and wakes up surrounded by Founding Fathers religious imagery.

What he finds is a land of wonder, but get this, turns out that it’s actually bad, and it’s bad because it’s super racist, and then you get apprehended by the racism cops for not being racist enough (because surely you didn’t join in the racism). What follows then is the standard pattern of Bioshock Infinite, of running from setpiece to setpiece, adding single extra elements to your play experience and the story, punctuated with what I’m going to summarise with ‘stuff,’ meaning combat challenges and some key-hunting or resource scrabbling downtime. You have to find The Girl, stuff, so you do, stuff, and it turns out she’s called Elizabeth and she’s also the best, basically a 90s Disney Princess as people wish they could remember them being rather than a Disney Princess as they actually are (don’t go back and watch those movies it’s a disappointment). Stuff, as Elizabeth wants to go to Paris and you want her to go to not-Paris. Stuff, she and you fight, stuff, set pieces showing you the world of Columbia, the capitalism, the slavery, the backstory of Comstock, Daisy Fitzroy, the leader of the resistance in Columbia, all with stuff, stuff, stuff, some more stuff, and then, dun dun dun, Elizabeth and you start exploring parallel versions of Columbia, where things are different, and there, you get to see different takes on the same world. Don’t worry, they’re not very different, you don’t need to take notes, because stuff, stuff, stuff.

In a parallel world, you see another world’s Daisy, and another world’s resistance, and another world’s slave revolt. Stuff happens and you find out get this, that when the slaves overthrow their owners, they shoot at those former owners! They’re mad! And Daisy, it turns out, is bad because of how she was willing to hurt and kill slavers and the children of slavers and also you because it can’t possibly be that a traumatised former slave responds to a world of violence with violence, it’s gotta be sinister!

Stuff.

More stuff.

Elizabeth is traumatised by this alternate reality’s alternate Daisy and her alternate murder of the alternate resistance while they engage in a completely reasonable anti-slavery revolt. While discussing if maybe they should vote for Hillary, the pair make their way back to where they started, while stuff happens around them. Stuff, Elizabeth is captured, stuff, you recover Elizabeth, stuff, and Elizabeth demands you don’t let her be captured again, in one of the more genuinely badass moments of the story that just uhhhh

uhhhh

this was ten years ago so I think there’s a chance that some of you have fetishes for this now, but don’t worry, it’s fine, he’s her dad, it’s fine

That doesn’t make it better actually nope never mind moving on

Anyway, then there’s more stuff, and stuff, and stuff, and you drown Comstock in a birdbath and you rescue Elizabeth one final time I hope there’s no precedent about her being foiled and used for the advancement of the stories of other boring men, but then you fight the Songbird on a boat and you learn the shocking truth that in fact, you, Booker Dewitt, and Zachary Comstock are the same person, and that Elizabeth is your daughter, but I gave that away already. Then you run out of stuff, you no longer have to fight slaves who are trying to tear down the system that enslaved them and the story reveals that because all of these plot points, and all of this stuff is directly attributed to how Booker handled baptism.

One version of him went ‘oh that’s cool’ and became Zachary Comstock, one part didn’t, and turned into a drunken bum. They’re both the same kind of guy, because they are the same guy. What I’m saying is, we’re not so different, you and I. Elizabeth solves this problem by travelling back in time to when Booker was being baptised, and then a dozen of her drown you. And you drown. Then the credits end and you’re fine and you have the baby back. I guess?

That’s what you get when you play Bioshock Infinite, and it’s important to know at every point when I said ‘stuff’, I was describing something boring and tedious.

[]

That’s the story.

That’s the sequence of events.

This story is important to understanding the world, because you need to know that Bioshock Infinite is a world of multiverses. That the reason it has the music and culture it does is because it was stolen. That the aesthetics of its zeppelins-and-gas-tubes alt-history technofantasy are all woven around a type of extradimensional radio-wave form of Sliders fanfiction.

Knowing that the story is about parallel dimensions and alternate timeline versions of yourself, but it’s really about being a dad who gets murdered by his kid, and really it’s about the character Ken Levine as a writer, everything about the world can be broken down into pieces and examined without the need to step around why things are the way they are. Doing so allows an appreciation for some truly breathtaking amounts of craft.

First up, I’m going to admit to my limitations. I don’t know guns, not deeply. Anything I have to say about the guns in Bioshock Infinite is going to be entirely aesthetic opinions and quotes from the Internet Movie Firearm Database. And you know, something of what you come here for is to have that, to have me process information and present it to you in a way that you find immediately interesting. But in the context of that melange of podcasts and questions and reading, I will say that the guns in Bioshock Infinite represent very good bad guns.

That is to say, the guns in Bioshock Infinite are constructed aesthetically to mirror guns of the period and the technology of the time, altered for a host of reasons. They are very competently animated and designed, if, and this is a big if, you’re willing to accept the ways that guns are so very, very often ‘wrong.’ There are common pitfalls for gun design that are in some cases a response to censorship standards (like, properly representing bullets is supposedly challenging across different cultural boundaries), but in a lot of cases these guns are the nexus between ‘don’t care’ and ‘won’t bother.’ Firing pin marks are missing on bullets for example: This is a simple factual mistake, it’s obvious to anyone who knows about them, and a majority of users will never notice or care.

If you’re willing to accept ‘these guns are bad in the way all guns are bad,’ then these are really high quality examples of guns. Effort has been made to make them visually distinct and interesting, to give them strong character, to have their mechanics play into how they move and fire and occupy space on the screen. I can’t tell you about how good the sounds are. I understand all guns in games are fantastically incorrect because they don’t want to represent the protagonist being deaf in three encounters.

[thanks to Doc Destructo for double checking me here]

[]

I’m also not an architecture student. I’m sure with deeper expertise, I could tell you how the landscapes of Americana presented by Bioshock Infinite aren’t properly accurate, aren’t as excellent as they pretend to be. Thus for so many things: The fashion, the style, the instruments available, the animations of the characters and the accents represented, I cannot attest to them as being ‘realistic’ or ‘correct’ but rather I can tell you that they successfully invoke what they strive to.

There is a deep and whole sense of verisimilitude in the designs of this place. So much so that when I first walked through the streets of Columbia, and heard God Only Knows performed by Barber Shop, that I went:

Oh, huh, I guess that song is an old classic that the Beach boys covered.

Which it isn’t. This was so effective at convincing me that I was just being introduced to retro versions of songs with long histories that it wasn’t until I heard Everybody wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears that I finally went:

Hang on they’re doing something here.

This is the world of Bioshock Infinite. It is a world full of considerations of vibes, and those vibes are in many cases immaculately constructed. Lines of dialogue are carefully chosen, and delivered by voice actors who elevate the moment to moment experience of the game. There’s a point where Booker and Liz take a moment aside and sing an old Gospel classic – Will the Circle Be Unbroken? – and it’s

amazing.

It’s not even my favourite voice line in the whole thing! There’s this line too, from Cornelius Slate:

You’re not done here, soldier! Eat everything that’s on your plate! Finish it!

Slate is in this situation throwing a rod because he doesn’t remember Comstock from partaking in a Massacre that Slate was doing! And just to be clear, Cornelius Slate is a dude who sucks! He is a bad dude, and the kind of person who’s mad that Comstock wasn’t a real bastard like he claimed to be. And bear in mind, part of that tension was the possibility that Comstock might be part Native American! Like that’s the levels of racism Slate is on!

But damn if that line ain’t delivered great?

There’s an effort to everything in Bioshock Infinite. Promotional trailers, individual outfit designs, varied wall and surface textures, populated physical locales, painting styles, individualised spaces like the toilets are all done with so much work. Work that you kind of can’t spoof or generate – I mean I’m sure there’s generation that was done, deliberately, but there really is no way around recognising that a lot of people who were very good at what they were doing worked very hard on every single surface of what makes up Bioshock Infinite. It was this quality that left me convinced that the game couldn’t be that bad, right? Like, if I called this work bad, wasn’t I in a way criticising the individualised work under the umbrella of criticising this game.

[]

Thing is, uh…

this game needs criticising.

A year after I played Bioshock Infinite, we got the Burial at Sea downloadable content, and that upset me so much I realised that actually, I could have an opinion on the game, that I could look at Bioshock Infinite as a text and series of texts and it wasn’t an act of cruelty or insensitivity to complain about it. The realisation that in fact, a very expensively made project produced by a large studio with a lot of money and hard work in it could in fact completely suck was a big push for me, on the par with realising that it’s entirely possible that even if I understand someone’s position and know how they got there, that doesn’t mean they couldn’t just be wrong.

I was seeing this as a Serious Game that needed to be taken Seriously, and therefore my criticism had to come in terms of these really specific, narrow places, like I had to try and divine a correct opinion out of the experience. Now I’m much more free to say the story’s pretentious and shit and racist and pretty misogynist, and those aren’t ideas that need explaining from first principle as if everyone is a good faith interlocutor.

There are ideas I have from how games work that I built out of my understanding of Bioshock Infinite! I started using terminology here that I still use somewhat; I referred to the level design as fightboxes, a term I still use to describe the same kind of game design that sees combats as things to break out in arenas. The nature of Bioshock Infinite as a fightbox game isn’t really a mark for or against it; it does make the world feel less whole and real, the way that linear path of the game closes off behind you kind of encourages a speedy pace the game doesn’t do a good job of using. Plus, if the main way you engage with the game is with its little boxes of fighting between cutscenes, it highlights how all those guns are boring.

I definitely had Feelings About Booker. I think part of it was the opening chainsawing of a racism cop, and the very real-feeling way I wanted to run through the game and kill everything to rescue Elizabeth that he echoed. I liked the feeling of being a rundown ramshackle mess of a dude who screwed up, related to violence, and could only think of ways to deploy that violence to the world. It jived with me, what can I say. But what sucks about Booker, by the end, is the realisation that he’s just giving up on his situation: He’s not bothering to get good at that relationship to violence, he’s not understanding what violence is or how it relates to people at large. He isn’t trying to fix things, he’s trying to find some way he can suffer enough to make it all go away.

[]

Somewhere between the release of Bioshock Infinite and now I resolved the idea that I should be kind with energy, and cruel with purpose.

I was buying into myths.

A myth that the people working on games are injured by criticising the game they worked on, because people who made a texture aren’t going to see work they didn’t do a great job on and say: ‘hey, why bring that up,’ as opposed to ‘yep, that’s crunch time for ya.’ A myth that marketing and promotion of a mid shooter was incapable of being built on smoke. A myth that games weren’t doing this kind of thing.

Games have been doing this kind of thing for as long as they’ve been making games. Games are always going to have people trying weird stuff, stuff about expressing ideas that are difficult to express in any other way. The year Bioshock Infinite launched, there were a thousand more interesting art games being made and released and shared and played. Itch.io had already launched in March 2013, there were already whole markets of games being weird and interesting and meta-aware and engaging and artistic.

But they didn’t look like Bioshock Infinite. They weren’t released like it. They weren’t presented and platformed and distributed like a AAA product. The myth was that Bioshock Infinite did a single thing new. Even the ways it sucks are boring and old. It’s not even a new sin, just the same old sins, over and over again! Bioshock Infinite is a game insulated from criticism by an assumption of competence!

I feel bad, reading back to my old Bioshock Infinite writing about how I missed a point that I feel is incredibly obvious to start with, an idea that I now, very much hold to be obviously true: Violence in response to violence is not a bad thing. If you are being oppressed, you do not solve that oppression by not being violent. When the revolution arc of Bioshock Infinite presents the slavers being hunted and killed by their slaves, and tries to frame it as ‘going too far’ I should have realised how obviously stupid that is. Those people were complicit in, participants in, a terrible, dreadful crime, and they have it coming. There’s a safe place for those people and it’s on the side of the revolutionaries fighting against slavers.

There was a forking pair of roads before me, as expressed in Bioshock Infinite opinions, and one of them got more radical and more okay with violence and the other might have kept trying for that Games Journalism job that would vaporise the next time the conservatives got in charge and decided to randomly defund the games industry in this country. The opinions I had about a game that I didn’t dislike that much got worse and worse the further I got from them, the more I formed new opinions, informed by knowing more, and knowing better, and being more honest with myself, and more willing to foreground that honesty about myself.

I think violence is a reasonable response to oppression.

[]

Inasmuch as there is a message of Bioshock Infinite it seems to want to warn against violent resistance to anything. It seems, at its heart of hearts, that this story is about how the second you picked up a gun to do something you were already damaged by the idea and the willingness to do violence, because there was no way that the story could pan out that didn’t go too far, even in the name of toppling a fascist slaver state. It is the white liberal dread of any non-incremental change. It is also, to some extent, also a flawed but idealistic father being killed by his child, which is, I mean it is a trend.

And that story is the problem.

Fundamentally, every part of Bioshock Infinite is made well. The fact that it’s full of boring combat against boring enemies to tell a deeply racist story about how slavery is bad but responding badly to being enslaved is just as bad, that’s not about how any part of it is executed, but instead about how the whole thing is executed. This is the stuff that falls to the task of an individual person to oversee the whole project, a sort of director, or producer, or a creative lead, or a head writer. If the work lacks for that kind of individualising mind that can pull things together consistently, then you can get disjointed material.

Someone, one someone, has to be lined up to say ‘this is the work, I am in charge of it, and I made the choices that make it what it is.’

Bioshock Infinite had that.

It had Ken Levine.

Which means that this game as it happened, with all the work done in all the parts of it, was handled to a dude. That dude should have been able to say ‘wow, this gun combat sucks.’ That dude should have been able to say ‘wow, are we saying that people killing their enslavers are going too far?’ That dude should have been able to say, ‘isn’t this story really bad? Isn’t this really boring and tedious and slow and isn’t it kinda weird to have Booker dress his daughter up sexy?’ And yes. Yes, one guy could have. And nobody could have stopped him.

Which means your options are that he was okay with what it wound up being, or, this was the actual choice he made.

Atoms aren’t red. But every red thing you’ve ever seen is made of atoms. You can make a red thing out of things that aren’t red. This project was made out of exquisitely competent pieces, designed to work by people at the top of their game working as hard as they can. And it sucks. The product absolutely sucks. Bioshock Infinite is a deeply incompetent game made entirely out of exquisitely competent parts. Every single part of how this game works is impressively made, down to having an exciting instigating event of chainsawing one of the racism cops in the face.

These pieces were made by hardworking people grinding away at improving 1% of 1% of things to make them perfect and they were put together by a boob.

Games have been art since before we had the word games. Games are art because they’re made by humans and humans scatter art on everything we do, like the glitter of our civilisation.

There’s a reason Planetfall made me cry.

People will tell you that art is about quality or presentation. These are aesthetic traits, these are nice, they are things you can do. But you don’t need this grandeur, this excess, this bombast to be art. In fact, a game from 1983 has the resonance of art and that negotiated experience in a beautiful way that hits so hard and so different because of what you did in it, and it’s ugly text written by a decent sci-fi author on a screen, and all of the slickness and polish and presentation in Bioshock Infinite just concealed the ways in which that game – which is absolutely art! – sucks shit.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Game Pile #Games

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holycow99 · 3 years

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石田お寿司 12/9/21 stream translation Part 1

This is not the full translation of the stream. I only translated the parts I could understand & interpret or parts I found interesting/important. I’m still a beginner in Japanese, so the translations may not be accurate. If you want to repost, please repost at your own risk.

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I: Hello. Can you hear me? Good night. (t/n: He’s replying to a comment.) You can hear me? Hello. Welcome.

I: My tone sounds great today, ***-kun? (t/n: OP commented that his tone sounds great.) Of course I’ll be excited in the beginning of the stream. But only in the beginning.

C: Your voice somehow sounds young.

I: It’s because I just slept.

*Typing on twitter

I: I finally did it. This is a simultaneous worldwide stream. Do you understand it? Ah, I’m so tired. I’m tired of sleeping.

I: I’ll be drinking my coffee. Itadakimasu.

I: It was a long vacation, wasn’t it? When was the last time you guys heard from me? On September…Well, it doesn’t matter.

I: I don’t have anything particular to do for this stream. I just felt like it.

C: I’ve been listening to your streams repeatedly during holiday.

I: Thank you.

C: We last heard from you at the end of August.

I: I see. Thanks.

C: Thank you for your hard work on the manuscript!

I: I did the rough sketches first. I was brainstorming.

*Someone commented on Animal Rap.

I: Animal rap? I actually wanna try this. Actually, I’ve done recording for one video, but won’t it be scary if suddenly in the middle of the stream, animal rap video is uploaded. Without saying anything, suddenly there’s a new animal rap video being uploaded. Won’t it be scary stream?

(t/n: I’m not sure if the translations for this part is correct. He said something more but I haven’t reached this level of Japanese understanding skill. Forgive me.)

C: Animal rap itself is scary, so it’s okay.

I: What a hilarious thing to say. Are you actually afraid of animal then?

C: Have you got vaccinated?

I: Nope, since I’ve been locked up in my house. I want to though. I want to get injected a lot. Around 10 times.

C: Sensei, did you read Berserk chapter 364?

I: Is it the final chapter?

Y****: Let’s inject the head.

I: Nice one, Y****. Well, since Y**** is an introvert at school, he must be a non-popular kid. Because he doesn’t have any friends, he can’t wait to meet me. Is it like that? Hahahaha.

I: I’m not even aware of the things happening around me. I don’t even know when the exhibition in Osaka will open. I want you guys to tell me about me.

C: I’m aiming to be a mangaka, but having someone that can be a mentor for me to learn from is better, as expected?

I: I don’t think so. It depends. In some degree, it’s better to do it by yourself. If you really wanna write a manga and you wanna create an environment that allows you to do so, if there’s a chance to be an assistant, I think it’s better for you to grab it. Because you’re still not familiar with how these things work. I think it’s better to be an assistant first. You don’t have to be one for a long time though.

C: I want to diet. Where should I start?

I: Record your weight. Measure your weight and record it in calendar. Doing that makes you feel conscious about your weight. You’ll probably can lose weight that way.

C: Are you still eating oatmeal?

I: I’ve been eating Onigiri only.

C: I wanna change job, but I’m anxious to because of the economic situation. Please encourage me!

I: It’s better for you to change job, since you said you wanted to. I think everyone is anxious. There’s no one who isn’t.

C: I’m happy that the JJ illustration that you posted on twitter will be made into goods!

I: Yeah, without my permission. Hahaha. When the illustration was made into goods without my permission, I was like “Eh? This is…”. I’ll stop talking about this. Hahaha. I won’t talk about this.

*Someone commented about Kingdom exhibition.

I: I wanna go to the Kingdom exhibition.

I: What I said just now (about JJ illustration) was a lie. Please forget about it. Are there companies like that? Of course not. I was just joking. If that’s the case, then anybody can freely turn my illustrations into goods. Though there’s a person who sent me the PugMax t-shirt.

C: I wanted to be a mangaka when I was small. As I got older, I only immersed myself in the real world. I’ll be a civil servant starting from next year. I don’t have the courage to challenge myself, so I want to give my unconditional support to those who are.

I: I don’t know how old you are, but you can still draw even if you become a civil servant. Just draw one if you really want to.

C: You have to collect royalty.

I: I do get royalty. I get 5 yen in total.

C: How old will you be this year?

I: 250,000 years old.

C: How are you?

I: Like usual. But I made progress on the manuscript, so I’m relieved. I kinda forgot how to draw it.

C: I thought you were in your 30s.

I: Nope, I’m far older.

C: You haven’t started game streaming?

I: I’m haven’t decided yet for today.

*People were discussing about his age.

I: Doesn’t matter how old I am.

C: Do you prefer women with long hair or short hair?

I: Short hair.

*People commented about Heavy Rain.

I: Oh, you want to see me playing Heavy Rain? I’m okay with that. I’m okay with playing games or anything. I’ll be a yes-man for today. Everyone’s yes-man & toy, Ishida Osushi.

*Someone commented about Animal Rap again.

I: I wanted to say something about this. I’ve done the animal rap video. I only upload videos I’ve received from the animal themselves, not me. But I was afraid to upload it, so I refrained from doing so. I wanna try uploading the video while streaming. That’s what I wanted to say. Well, it doesn’t really matter. I just upload it after I finish streaming. I don’t understand the need to upload the video and streaming at the same time.

(t/n: He said something more, but again, info on Animal rap is hard for me to decipher. I’m really sorry.)

C: What did you watch recently?

I: Movies.

C: There were people who got scared by the fact that Ishida Sui raps.

I: No, you’re wrong. Ishida Sui doesn’t rap. Ishida Sui doesn’t do streaming as well.

C: Do mangakas have the chance to meet women?

I: It depends on the person. The ones who’re locked up in the house won’t. But…That’s right. You might if the workplace has mixed genders. You also have the chance to meet people during party or some sort. I’ll always be at the corner every time I go to parties. It’d be nice if the party was fun and the staffs could enjoy themselves. I also said that I went to parties to take a break, but I hated it.

C: You’re not going to parties?

I: Nope, I won’t. The company doesn’t hold them as well because of the current situation. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t really eat the food, and introducing myself to people is tiresome.

I: S****** is here.

S******: Ishida Osushi can become a pro mangaka.

I: I’m aiming for it.

C: Fukuoka suits you, sensei.

I: Somehow, I feel grateful. It’s like you’re telling me that it’s okay for me to live in Kyushu.

(t/n: Kyushu is an island where Fukuoka is located.)

C: Sir Osushi, what do you think of Sir Sui?

I: I have a murderous intent towards him.

C: Does the thumbnail hold any meaning?

I: It does. Look forward to it.

C: Being a streamer suits you (Osushi) better than being a mangaka.

I: Hahaha.

C: The drawings of Neji (JJ character) by Ms. Towada were wonderful!

I: That’s right. Neji drawn by Ms. Towada. I want you guys to tell me something like this. I want you guys to tell me about my current situation. Things like, “would you retweet this?”, “This is JJ’s…”, “The CD’s also…”. Let me change my twitter account. First is Ms. Towada, right? Let’s retweet Ms. Towada’s tweets. I thought of drawing something like this. She drew quite a lot. She drew him more than me. I feel bad having her to draw it. I feel grateful rather than feeling bad. She drew a lot of them. Yonaga’s illustration looks nice. I see… There’s like an incomplete rough drawing. I thought of copying and drawing that illustration. I’ll just retweet this. Tell me what should I retweet next.

C: Is Ms.Towada doing well as well?

I: I talked to her a few days ago.

I: Do read Fool Night.

C: Do you like Aespa? (t/n: Aespa is a kpop girl group. Ishida had drawn one of the members.)

I: The girl caught my attention. I thought she was beautiful.

*Someone commented about his illustration of Ano-chan. (t/n: Ano-chan is a Japanese singer. Ishida had come to her radio programme once, and he did the album cover for her latest album.)

I: Ano-chan! What happened to that? Have you seen the album cover? It’s already out?

*Someone commented about Fool Night.

I: The world in Fool Night is super amazing. It was quite a while ago, the person in charge of the Superior magazine watched one of my streams and asked me if I could write some comments. I was like “Don’t tell me that!” (referring to watching his stream). I hate being seen. But then, I was like “whatever.” I usually turned it down, but I just wrote for this one.

*Someone commented about Wooma (t/n: an illustrator.)

I: Who’s Wooma? Let me check it.

C: Sensei, I’m a good child. So, is it okay for me to sleep?

I: Yes, of course.

C: Sensei, do you smoke?

I: No.

I: Ah, Wooma is the illustrator for the song ‘Usseewa’. Sorry for the lack of knowledge.

C: Do you watch Christopher Nolan’s works?

I: I’m not that familiar with movies, but I may or may not watch it. I’ve been getting into movies lately. I searched for the movies Takahashi Kunimitsu told me about. You tend to watch anything when you’re obsessed with movies, right? I was also obsessed with history for a while after I learned how fun it was from Takahashi Kunimitsu. I’ve been reading 2-3 books on history a day lately.

C: Until what time are you gonna stream?

I: Today is infinite as well. We have another 12 minutes left. Haha. I’ll keep on streaming today. I won’t end the stream today. It may end tomorrow. (t/n: He definitely kept his words.)

C: Sensei, do you like itzy? (t/n: Itzy is another kpop girl group, and Ishida had also drawn one of the members.)

I: Yes.

I: Tomorrow is a holiday? There are people who are not working tomorrow.

C: What are you drinking?

I: Coffee.

C: You only need another 800 people to reach 30,000 subscribers.

I: Yeah. It’s gonna reach 30,000. I have to make an appreciation stream or video for 30,000 subscribers. A lot of youtubers are doing this, so I have to do it too. I wanna do it. Feels like a youtuber. Isn’t it fun? I wonder what should I do for it? What would be fun? Let’s go with this concern first. I get lost if I don’t go one-by-one. It’s one of my bad habits.

*They’re planning on what Ishida should do when he reaches 30,000 subscribers.

C: Show your nails.

I: I don’t do manicure.

C: Heavy Rain.

I: Wanna play Heavy Rain as well.

C: Please let us hear your sneeze.

I: There is such person sometimes. Creepy.

C: Why don’t you play Ghosts n Goblins for now?

I: After the stream, I felt like playing the game. They had something like magical clock, though I forgot the name. The one that double the speed of the game. I really wanted to play that, honestly. Though, it wasn’t suitable for streaming. I thought of playing it in my own time. I really like that kind of games.

C: Will you sing when you reach 30,000?

I: During the previous silent stream, Queen Bee’s song was playing. Those who watched may know. I thought of appearing for a moment and sing and then end the stream. I wouldn’t do it, but I just thought about it. At that time, I wanted to try having just an illustration stream.

C: I’m waiting for an autograph session after the Corona ends.

I: The pandemic probably won’t end for at least 2-3 years.

*Someone wanted him to sing Gaston’s song.

I: Gaston. Singing, huh? Hahaha, why am I having second thoughts? I thought I’m okay with anything.

C: how about a karaoke battle?

I: Karaoke battle, huh?

C: Do you have any piercings?

I: I’m not wearing one right now, but I do have it. (t/n: I didn’t expect him to have a piercing. He’s really different than what I imagined a mangaka to be. XD)

C: I’m hoping for JJ’s song covers!

I: JJ? JJ’s songs are difficult. It was super hard during the time I did the covers. Seriously, when I heard it back…The cover for the opening theme was scary. I thought my singing ability had increased since I recorded this one the last. A few months ago, I listened to it after a long time, it was…what should I call it? A sutra, no, a curse. Me and JJ’s opening theme. I forgot the title of the song. Jack and something. There were parts in the songs where the female and male characters had to harmonise. To convey that part, I had to cover the song multiple times. I multiplied into 7 people, since I had to record as Kisa as well. When I was recording Kisa’s part, the other version of me at the back, probably Kai, was harmonising with me. I was told to deepen my voice by Mr.Kasama. So embarrassing. The voice was really low. I was drawn by Mr. Kasama’s voice. His voice was really good when he said ‘Broccoli’ for the cm.

*Ishida imitating Mr. Kasama.

I: It’s cooler than this.

*Imitating him once again.

I: I was like “So cool!”

C: Invite the animals that appeared in Animal rap as guests.

I: That’s a good idea. But what would the guests be doing? It’s absolutely hard to do that. It’s hard to invite the animals because of corona.

C: The title is “Jack & Jeanne of Quartz”.

I: Right. Thank you.

C: Won’t you invite Hanae?

I: I won’t. That’s impossible. (t/n: I want to see him playing horror games with Hanae Natsuki.)

Part 2

#ishida sui #tokyo ghoul #jack jeanne #choujin x #chojin x #ishida sushi channel

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edupunkn00b · 3 years

Text

Do Us Any Harm, Chapter 2: On Guard

Prev - Chapter 2: On Guard - Next - Master Post - [ AO3 ]

CW: Peril, blood and injuries (non-graphic), minor character deaths, swearing, Remus (innuendo, suggestive comments, thots on injuries, etc.) Art by @incognetomisquito | Beta read by @psychedelicships ---

Come all you young fellows who follow the sea And pray pay attention and listen to me... If you buy me a drink, then I’ll sing you a song Gimme some time to blow the man down - Blow the Man Down, The Longest Johns

Roman, Patton, and Virgil had just come to on the deck of HMS Crofters when Thomas’ face suddenly floated above them. “Oh, I didn’t know you could join my dreams!” Thomas laughed, “Away with ye, mateys, and batten down the hatches! We’re protecting His Majesty’s Ship the Pinafore from pirates !”

The Sides looked up at Thomas’ grin, blinking at the bright afternoon sun beaming down. All three were stunned into silence.

“Well, don’t look so shocked! This is what a lot of my dreams are like. Swashbuckling Captain of a ship, heroically foiling an evil plot.” He brandished a sword and, in his dream state, perfectly mimicked the steps of Indigo Montoya in his duel with the Dread Pirate Roberts. Thomas tilted his head at their continued silence, face scrunched. “Hey, are you guys okay?”

Patton was the first to jump to his feet, dismissing Thomas’ concern with a wave of his hands. “Oh, of course we are, Kiddo! We’re just a little land-lubbed. Give us a minute to get our sea legs. And our B legs… Eh? Ay?” he gently nudged Thomas with his elbow, drawing attention to his puns. He looked to Roman and Virgil, gripping their hands in his and pulling them to their feet, the other two Sides yet again caught off guard by the seemingly soft Side’s immense strength.

Virgil scratched at the back of his neck, slouching and reaching for a hood that wasn’t there. His eyes widened, “Where’s my hoodie!?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Virge,” Thomas smiled at his Anxious Side, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re just dressed… well, mostly like everyone else in this dream. I think you look great!” Virgil looked down at himself, touching the purple and black velvet frock coat, leather britches, and knee-high boots. He ran his hands on the side of the coat until he found deep pockets in which to hide his hands when they shook.

“Alright, I think this will be okay,” he drawled, twisting his fingers around the inner seams of his pockets.

“Just okay? I think we look fantabulous!,” Roman sang as he gave a twirl, arms raised overhead, watching his own resplendent red coat float around him. “Thomas, you, I mean me… we... have really outdone ourselves here.”

Thomas grinned and happily accepted Patton’s bear hug before clapping Roman on the shoulder and giving Virgil a gentle nudge with his elbow. He looked around the deck. “So, where’s Logan?”

Virgil, Roman, and Patton looked at each other. Patton frowned and Virgil gnawed at his thumbnail, eyes searching the others’ for answers. Patton finally asked Thomas, “Logan’s... Logan’s not with you?”

“No… um, you three just sort of appeared…” Thomas began. “Well, we’ll find him. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. He can’t have gone too far.” His voice grew deeper and more steady the longer he spoke. “Wanna come see the rest of the ship?”

They were close to the stern of the massive three-masted ship, so Thomas started there. “Here are my quarters up on the poop deck.” Patton and Roman both snickered and Virgil rolled his eyes. At least Logan wasn’t here to see that. Thinking about Logan left Virgil with a tight feeling in his chest. He couldn’t quite remember how they got here, and despite Thomas’ optimism, it felt odd that Logan wasn’t with them. Not to mention the Others. The last that Virgil could remember, they had been together in the common room.

Virgil hung back a bit with Patton, “Hey, Pop-Star,” Virgil shoved his hands as deeply into his coat pockets as he could manage. “Don’t you think it’s kinda weird that Logan isn’t here with us?” He stood close to the railing on the poop deck, surveying the crew on the main deck below.

Patton lowered his eyebrows, lips pursed in thought. “It is… maybe a little unusual. Janus and Remus aren’t here, either, but, to be honest, I’m a little less concerned about them being missing. They usually only hang out together in Remus’ realm in the Imagination, so I’m not really surprised they didn’t show up for Thomas’ dream here in Roman’s realm.” Patton joined Virgil in looking around the main deck. “But I’m sure Thomas is right and Logan is just in another part of the ship.” Patton looked at Virgil with hopeful eyes. “You know how he can be… if he ended up somewhere with books or old maps, he might not even think to look for us for a while.”

“Maybe…” Virgil scratched at the back of his neck. “And you really think the Others—” Roman suddenly called out from Thomas’ quarters.

“You two have got to see this!” Roman had poked his head out from the doorway of Thomas’ cabin. “C’mere!!” he beckoned to the others, gesturing quickly.

Thomas stood at a tall table with a map spread out in front of him. “Take a look at this map, you guys!” Thomas’ happy grin was infectious. “Look at the lines drawn across the Atlantic… Those are shipping lanes. And look, we’re somewhere around…” Thomas switched over to a different map that had a series of lead markings on it. “We are about here… a few hundred miles off the coast.” He looked up at the three Sides, eyes bright, a grin splitting his face.

“How is that for historical detail?” Roman crowed proudly. “Huh? Yeah?”

Patton rubbed Roman’s shoulder before reaching in to give him a hug. “It’s great, Kiddo! We’re really proud of you!”

Virgil looked closely at the map. “So do you think this is accurate? We’re really that close?”

Thomas nodded, using his hand to measure the distance between the last marking and the coast of Africa, then compared it to the small scale line at the bottom of the map. He peered closely at it, squinting, “Yeah, I think we’re just off the coast of the Gambia.”

Roman and Patton leaned in close, looking at the detail of the coast line, admiring the little drawings of mermaids and narwhals and mythical sea creatures that dotted the broad expanses of ocean on the map.

“Hey, Thomas…” Virgil muttered quietly, biting nails, “Do you see anything that will tell us what year it is?”

Thomas was thoughtful for a few moments before shaking his head. “I haven’t seen anything yet.” He looked down at their clothes, waving his hands over his own. “Judging by our wardrobe… maybe 18th century?” Thomas frowned. “Logan would know for sure. My memories of high school history class are a little fuzzy.” Patton looked up from the map, watching their conversation.

“Yeah, that’s probably my fault. I kept worrying about being able to remember everything which… made it really hard to remember everything.”

Thomas grinned and gripped Virgil’s shoulder. He could feel a bit of tension melt away at the contact as Virgil smiled back. Thomas caught sight of another map, drawing their attention back to the table in front of them, “Oh, check out this one… ” --- @psychedelicships @incognetomisquito

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cthulhuliet · 3 years

Text

playing his game

6.1k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, canon-typical violence

L is hoping for something-- to see any flash of Kira behind Light's eyes. He would do anything to draw him out again, even play a silly party game for a brief hint. He ends up with more than bargained for.

“Ok, truth or dare,” Light asked, looking expectantly at L.

“Is this really a good use of our time?” L bit the corner of his thumbnail, pointedly looking away from Light.

“You have asked that already,” Light crossed his arms, annoyed, “And I don’t see any better use of our time,”

L knew that, in a way, Light was correct. The Kira case had reached a cold spot after Light and Misa’s imprisonment, which left L feeling depressed and unmotivated to work on anything (despite the… encouragement from Light). Playing a party game with a teenager was towards the bottom of his priority list. However, that teenager was currently L’s prime (and only suspect) in the most difficult case of his career, so it would be foolish not to play.

Furrowing his eyebrows, L pulled his knees closer to his chest, “Fine, we can continue,”

“Truth or dare,”

L paused for a moment. He knew that even if Light asked something incriminating like his name for truth, he could simply lie or refuse to answer. Though, it is interesting that for the past rounds, Light has simply been treating this as a fun “get to know you” party game, while L is looking over his shoulder and analyzing every one of his questions.

“Dare, I suppose,”

Light smirked, “I dare you to take these off,” He shook his wrist, the handcuff jangling with the movement. L said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow, “Eh, worth a shot,” Light stood up from where he was sitting and quickly reached over to the coffee table behind him and put the phone in front of L’s feet, “Fine. I dare you to prank call Misa,”

L opened his mouth and closed it, shaking his head, “No, I am not doing that,”

“What? Giving up already?’ Light smirked leaning in close to L. He could smell the aftershave on his cheeks and the toothpaste on his breath, “I guess that means I win, Ryuzaki,”

A ripple of heat waved through his blood. Despite being a stupid party game, L was not about to lose, especially not about to lose because of Misa. He snatched the receiver from Light’s hand, “No, you do not,” He put the receiver between the crook of his shoulder and ear, “I am not about to lose to you, Light,” A devilish grin spread across Light’s face, as he wordlessly dialed in the numbers. It was only when the line was trilling did L realise how ridiculous this was. Covering the end of the receiver, he whispered to Light, “What am I even supposed to say?”

Light looked like a child at a birthday party, biting his lips to fight off a smile, “Figure it out,”

The line connected and he heard shuffling on the other end, “Light? Why are you calling? It is 2 in the morning,”

L froze, looking at Light with owlish eyes, begging for help. The latter would be of no help, seeing as he was using every muscle in his body to suppress his laughter, “Oh, apologies for the late call Misa, this is actually Ryuzaki,” His voice felt stilted and awkward, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, is Light still awake?”

“No,”

There was an elongated pause, L could hear Misa’s quiet breath on the other line, “Do you need something? This better not be something perverted, calling me at 2am…”

L rolled his eyes, “Of course not. I, uh, just wanted to let you know that… Watari is making waffles tomorrow. Do you want me to put you down for some?”

Misa hummed on the other line, “I don’t know, all that sugar will make me fat,”

“These are 0 calorie and organic fair trade,” He goaded.

She sighed, taking a moment to consider, “That actually sounds lovely. I don’t know why you had to call me instead of just waiting until morning.”

“Uh-”

“It’s probably just an excuse to hear my voice,” She giggled, “It’s ok Ryuzaki, I won’t tell anyone,” Misa yawned dramatically on the other line, “I am going back to bed. Tell Light to come visit me tomorrow.”

“You realise that I would also be-”

“Goodnight!” The call disconnected. L pulled the phone away from his ear and slowly put it back onto the cradle. He looked over at Light, amusement sparkling in his eyes, “Misa is looking forward to a date with you tomorrow,”

Light slapped a hand to his forehead and started laughing. There was something infectious about Light’s laugh that made him smile too.

“Ryuzaki, that was the worst prank ever,” He choked out between chuckles.

Light’s smile lit up the room and L could feel swells of warmth coursing through his body, hitting him gently like waves on your ankles in the ocean. Light’s smile, his genuine smile, was one that lit up a room and kept people watching. When his laughter and joy reaches his eyes, L is not surprised about Light being so popular. And in moments of weakness, L could see why he would fall for him as well. Though, that warmth was nothing compared to the twisting of the icicle in his gut. The flaring up of every neuron in his nervous system, with anxiety spiking up to 11. The logic center of his brain turning him and shaking him by the shoulders, begging him to remember that none of this is real .

The real Light would have never laughed like a schoolboy as L prank called his girlfriend, finding hilarity in something so trivial. The real Light would never playfully, but softly, ruffle L’s hair, telling him to lighten up. The real Light would never look him in the eyes, and thank L for playing along. The real Light would have never let L see a single moment of vulnerability. He would have never admitted that the toll of this case was genuinely making him extremely stressed. He would have never apologized in that moment for punching L, admitting to him that sometimes he reacts with anger when faced with complicated emotions. No. Because the real Light laughs at others he deems beneath him, and not with them. The real Light had more brick lined walls with white lies as cement built around his true emotions. This is not Light, this is not Kira--The real Light doesn’t care about other people, the real Light only cares about himself.

And yet it was so easy to get lost in the fantasy. So easy to allow L to sink into the idea that this is who Light really is. Light is, and always will be, the hard-working honors student. He always will be charismatic and charming and clever. Light always will have a strong sense of justice. Light always will be a bit bashful and awkward when confronted with any embarrassing emotions. It’s easy to look at Light that way. It is easy to see Light the way his family, the way the task force, and the way the world sees Light Yagami. Of course it is easy. It is easy to ignore red flags when you are looking at a monster through rose-colored glasses.

L watches Light balance his heels against the wall, attempting to do a handstand for his dare, and he almost wants to stay like this with Light forever. A part of him wants to take what is given to him and keep Light like this. His emotions are at war as he needs to grapple with the fact that it would be selfish to quit now. L knows deep down that there is a good chance will die at Kira’s hand, and a large part of him dreads the moment he sees Light behind Kira’s eyes as he closes his for the last time.

Kick his heels against the wall, he tries the handstand as well. The blood rushing to his head does help L clear his head a bit. He looks at Light, sitting on the floor but hanging off the ceiling, small chuckles escaping from his lips but nodding, telling L that he is impressed.

L scoffs, but not because of Light’s seemingly patronizing comment (which was most likely sincere). It is so easy to love Light like this. But he doesn’t think that he could ever truly love Light without everything else. Without the dubious morality, without the knowing smirks and mental chess, without Kira . Loving Light like this is easy, but L hates easy.

“Wow, you’re surprisingly flexible,” Light told him, L huffed out an exhausted breath when his feet finally touched the ground again.

“Thanks, my joints aren’t exactly what they used to be, but I am glad I could still do that,” L grabbed a teacup off of the coffee table and sipped the contents of the mug. Cold.

Light shook his head, “Well, maybe if you didn’t pull your knees up when you sit and crouch like this … you would have an easier time,” He pulled his legs away from his chest and sat cross legged.

L simply rolled his eyes in response, “I sit as I want, and still only struggled slightly more than you, despite being over half a decade older than you. I would be more concerned with your flexibility then commenting on my habits,”

Shaking his head, Light threw a pillow at L’s face, “I don’t like when you say it like that, Ryuzaki,”

“It doesn’t matter what you like and not, I am simply stating the truth,” L cocked his head to the side, “Not to say that you do not have your strengths as well,” Hooking his finger in his mouth, his eyes trailed over Light’s toned biceps and broad shoulders, “Those years of tennis are still owing you favors it seems. No wonder you are so popular…”

L trailed off, eyes still trailing over Light’s figure, the latter now rubbing the back of his neck, “I hope that is not the only reason… And the attention isn’t always… great…”

L hummed, “I am sure Misa-Misa is not the biggest fan of all the attention you garner from other women,” Light did not respond and L narrowed his eyes at him. The other man refused to make eye contact with him. His fingers were twitching and there was a faint redness on his cheeks that was certainly not from the previous physical activity. L clicked his tongue, “Why do you not like Misa?”

Light was pulled out of his own head, “What?”

“That is my truth or dare question.”

“What if I pick dare?”

“Then I dare you to tell me the truth.”

Light frowned, glaring at L. The two locked eyes for a brief moment and it was hard to tell what Light was thinking.

“ He really does have pretty eyes ,” L thought, “ Iris that are too brown to be red, but when they hit the light just right, it is the opposite, with golden flecks dancing around the pupils …”

“I don’t dislike Misa, it’s just…” Light sighed, leaning back on his hands, “I am just not interested in her-- romantically that is-- and I have informed her multiple times of my feelings but… She does not seem to listen, or more likely she does not care,” Light bit his lip, looking down at the carpet. L subconsciously followed the same action, “It is difficult to be around someone who doesn’t seem to listen or respect your wishes.”

“I see. I apologise that you have to be around me so much then, Light.”

Light looked up at him and frowned, either confused or simply playing dumb. L took his finger from his mouth and shook his wrist, the chain rattling. In response, he rolled his eyes, “That is different, Ryuzaki.”

“Oh?”

Light nodded, “You are not doing this because you want to, this is for the Kira investigation. This situation benefits both of us. I get to prove to you that I am not Kira, and you get your suspicions of me assuaged. I never really agreed to be Misa’s boyfriend.”

“I see.”

“Besides,” Light chuckled slightly, “It is much easier to have a conversation with you than with her,” He closed his eyes, and shook his head. L watched carefully as his hair fell over his eyes, “And even without the overbearingness, I could never see myself dating someone like her.”

L leaned forward. Anyone with worse balance than himself would have most likely fallen on their face, but he was hooked onto every word coming out of Light’s mouth-- pure voyeuristic curiosity getting the better of him, “What does Light look for in a partner?”

Light’s expression shifted. He was not uncomfortable, L determined, but his eyebrow was raised and eyes narrowed, looking suspiciously at L, “Does it matter?”

“This is truth or dare. This is a truth question.”

“You already went.”

“I am going again.”

“Have you ever played this before?”

“You can do two in a row for me.”

Light shifted on the floor slightly, sighing, “Fine,” He uncrossed his legs and stretched them out in front of him. He looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment. L thought as well. What kind of person is Light Yagami? What does he want in a person? Surely if he is going to bring another person into his life, in a close intimate way… Is that someone he even wants? Human connection is essential for survival, but for Light, one needs to think more critically. What does he get out of it?

“This is hard,” Light muttered, “I don’t know. I suppose I want what anyone wants… Someone kind and honorable, probably intelligent as well. A person who shares interests with me, something like that I suppose.”

L said nothing for a while. He pressed his thumb against his lips, critically staring at Light. He narrowed his eyes, “That is incorrect.”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked you a question, and you refused to give me a truthful answer. For once, stop lying, Light, you are not very good at it.”

Light eyes flashed red for a moment, and he leapt to his feet, staring down at L still sat on the floor, “What the hell are you talking about? You asked me a question and I answered it when I didn’t even have to, now you’re saying that I am lying about what I told you?”

“That is exactly what I am saying, yes,” Light balled up his fists, and L instinctively steeled himself for an oncoming punch. He would not be able to react if he hit him from this angle, but there is a possible countermove he could make one he gets to Light’s level playing field. Though, instead of a punch, Light yanked the chain, hard, forcing L to his feet. L yelped, his balance unsteady and he felt as though he would trip and end up on the ground again at any moment. He only had to worry about that briefly, as Light balled up the front of L’s shirt and harshly pinned him to an opposing wall.

Light’s hands were pressed hotly against his chest, his knuckles digging into his sternum. He was sure he could feel how fast L’s heart was beating, and he prayed to God that Light assumed it was fear and adrenaline.

“I am not Kira, Ryuzaki, I know that’s what you’re thinking!” Light yelled in his face, the previous clean smell of aftershave was replaced with sweat and anger, “What, you think I am some heartless serial killer so I just want someone I could manipulate, or hurt? After all this time is that how little you think of me? You really think I cannot care about anyone?”

Light’s diction was filled with rage, and he tried to take that simply at face value, but L could sense the trepidation behind the words. Stripping them of their anger and removing Light from his aggressive position, they take on a new meaning.

“I am not Kira, Ryuzaki, I know that’s what you’re thinking!” Is that really all you see me as?

“...some heartless serial killer..” Have I not done enough to make you believe me?

“...don’t just want someone I could manipulate, or hurt…” I am a good person.

“ After all this time…” We are together 24/7 and you still don’t get it.

“...how little you think of me?” I am not made of ice, Ryuzaki. It hurts that you think of me this way.

“You really think I cannot care about anyone?” I have feelings. I care about people.

L’s breath was shallow at the close contact between them. He swallowed, choosing his words carefully, “I am not saying that, I am saying your reasoning is not entirely accurate. That is the surface level answer I would expect from a 12 year old. Light demands something more for his relationships. If you didn’t, then there are hundreds of intelligent, honorable people in Japan that you could easily be attracted to. But you are not, so what is missing for you? What makes you want to grow close to another person?”

Light’s hands balled even tighter, L could feel the stretching of the fabric around his shoulders and neck-- it dug into him uncomfortably, but the physical pain could easily be ignored in favor of the tinder in Light’s eyes, “ It’s not as simple as that! Who knows what anyone wants. Besides, how can you even ask that question? What do you even want?”

L shrugged simply, “I do not desire a relationship.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

Light smirked, “See how it feels?” L rolled his eyes, tired of Light’s petty actions. He squirmed to break free, but Light’s hold on him against the wall was too strong. It was only now that he was cursing the years of tennis and his taut biceps.

“You are behaving like a child.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Light snarled, clearly losing his patience, “I did my best to answer, and that clearly wasn’t good enough. You aren’t even trying.”

“Why does it even matter, Light? It is a stupid question to begin with,” L muttered, desperately needing Light to move away from him. L needs to not be able to see the light dusting of freckles across Light’s cheeks and how his hair was curling up at the ends slightly or the traces of loose leaf tea on his breath or the equally shallow breaths coming from him holding L in place-- every one of his senses was being overwhelmed and the circuit was going to overload.

“Because, Ryuzaki, we are playing a game. Now play.”

L opened his mouth and closed it. He pursed his lips, “Fine. I do not desire a relationship because most people bore me,” Light’s expression softened, but his wide eyes narrowed in suspicion, “I meet others who are passably attractive and their traits are so transparent it doesn’t excite me. It doesn’t make me feel anything. If for whatever reason I were to want to have any kind of relationship, it would need to be exciting. I don’t do easy-- I want a challenge. A person who doesn’t challenge me I have no interest in keeping around long term,” Light’s grip loosened slowly. L sucked on his lower lip. “I need someone to keep me interested. Keep me on my toes. I want someone who tests me, who I can be in opposition with, but also who I can see as an equal. As shallow as it sounds, simplicity is not attractive. I do not believe I could ever find myself a partner, because just by existing, as L, I am a challenge,”

Light let go of L’s shirt, but simply stood in front of him for a while. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the other man with an unreadable expression, like he was emotionally undressing L.

“I see,” Light said, “That makes a lot of sense.”

L quirked up an eyebrow, “Really? Because most people would not say they want a pugnacious partnership like myself.”

“Well, you do not seem to be the type for domesticity.”

Light awkwardly dropped his hands to his side. It was moments like these that L remember that Light, well this Light, was still just an bright student who didn’t have much experience with dating, or possibly any kind of relationship at all. But still, if he prods enough…

“So, what about you?” L asked simply. Light looked at him and then pointedly stared out the window, “Well, there is no need to be shy now. You wanted me to open up, and now it is only fair,” L took a step closer to Light, instinctively biting his nail, “Besides, we are playing a game, aren’t we?”

“Well-”

“So tell me. I am morbidly curious,” L teased, hoping it would pull back some of the awkwardness, but it has no effect on Light’s overall demeanor.

Light sighed, running a hand through his hair, the chain rattling in its wake, “I obviously have… Desires. They are just the wrong… The wrong kind.”

Cocking his head, L frowned, “Please clarify.”

“The things I want, and what I can have are different. I don’t break rules on purpose-” L held back his comments, “- and I do my best to do what I think is right. But sometimes I do things just because… Well I feel like I should. And it is what is expected of me. My desires would be crossing every line…”

Light rubbed the back of his neck and stared off and out the window, his mind clearly somewhere else. L’s mind was also analyzing Light’s words. Desires… What does Light desire? He says it as if it is something uncouth, something forbidden. What is out of his reach? What motivates him? What gets him out of bed in the morning? What would Light kill for? Sacrifice himself for? What would Light put everything on the line for?

“What exactly do you want that your mind has deemed so wrong?” L asked.

Light shook his head and turned away from L, “No, I am not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“It will simply make everything worse.”

L raised an eyebrow, prodding more, “Light, you are my prime suspect in the largest murder case in recorded history; unless these desires are bloodlust, I doubt you can make anything worse.”

“Ryuzaki, enough, I am not saying.”

“And why not?”

Light turned around to face him, taking a step closer, “Why do you even care?”

L took a step towards Light, “Just for my own edification.” Lie. “Besides, you made me share and do things I did not want to.”

Light pushed a finger into L’s chest and slowly walked him back against the wall, “I do not owe you anything, Ryuzaki.”

“Of course not,” L grinned wildly, “But we are still playing a game.”

“No.”

“Truth or dare, Light?”

“Neither.”

L blinked slowly and tilted his head, “Then I guess you lose.”

Light scoffed, “Who is behaving like a child now?”

“Still you, somehow,” L smiled, and he watched Light grow more and more furious. It wasn’t as though he enjoyed pressing Light’s buttons, but he cannot lie and say it is fun to see the reaction of the typically calm and collected golden child come undone; it is refreshing to see the perfection mask slip every now and again. And when it did, L would be ready.

“I am not playing any more.”

“Forfeiting is still losing.” L smirked, and Light gripped the front of L’s shirt again, pushing him against the wall. The taunting brought back memories to the Lind L. Tailor ploy: laughing at Kira from miles away, begging him to try to kill him even though at that point L knew there was nothing Kira could do. Waiting for his next move. Waiting...

“Stop acting entitled, I don’t have to tell you,” Light’s breath was becoming more shallow, he was nearing his breaking point.

“Why don’t you just play the game?”

“It’s not just a game, Ryuzaki!”

“So, you’re admitting to losing?”

“Shut up.” Light warned him, the grip on L’s shirt becoming deadly.

L shrugged the best he could, “I didn’t realise that Light could fail so outstandingly at a party game.”

“Shut up!” He was desperate now. He was pleading. L wanted more.

“I would have thought that Light could just lie his way out of any situation,” He pressed a thumb to his lips, “He does seem to do it a lot.”

“Ryuzaki, I am warning you!” Light anger was almost at its peak. He was unraveling. L needed to push just a bit further. He was going to poke and prod and wind Light up. He needed to tear away all his layers until Kira stared back at him.

“Warning me of what, exactly?” L asked calmly.

Light pulled L towards him briefly before slamming him back into the wall, face mere inches away from his. His pupils were blown out and sweat sheened on his forehead and upper lip, “Shut up, before I shut you up.”

L chuckled lightly, before gazing hard into Light’s eyes, “I dare you to try.”

A challenge. L left it dangling in front of Light. He sweated out those painful seconds that felt like hours, waiting for when the bend became the break. What does Light Yagami do when his pushes turn to shoves? L braced for impact. He waited for knowing smirk, or a kick to the jaw, or a shove to the ground. He looked through Light’s eyes and waited for those too brown eyes to shift to familiar red.

When Light cupped both of his cheeks, and pressed his lips against, L’s he still waited. He waited for the punch. He waited for the slap. He waited. L waited as he pressed his lips back against Light’s, the other man softly sighing as he loosened his grip of the white shirt. L expected a harsher tug when Light threaded his hands through his messy black curls. L was waiting for the catch, waiting for the cruelty.

Light tilted L’s head to the side, kissing up and down his pale neck, “Is this ok?” He mutters into L’s ear, pressing a brief peck to the lobe of his ear. His subconscious was shaking him, telling him none of this is real , but Light’s lips were on his neck and roaming over his chest, and actions speak louder than words.

“Yeah… This is good,” L told him, breathy. If L didn't have it before, that was all the definitive proof he needed that this was almost-but-not-quite Light. Light is not the type to ask permission. Light takes and he takes. He consumes unapologetically, and has to be told to stop, rather than need permission to continue. There is something to be said in respect to the morality of messing around with someone who is not quite the same person as they used to be. L knows that Kira would never tenderly kiss him or softly suck love bites into the junction of his neck and shoulder, though it is undetermined if Kira desired him in any way other than in a coffin.

Light led him to their bed, and L should have stopped Light then, but he didn’t. As L unbuttoned Light’s pyjama shirt, he wondered what it would be like with Kira. What would Kira want? What does Kira desire out of a partner?

Light straddled his waist, and L’s wandering hands make their way up to his hips. Grabbing his wrists, Light pins L down to the bed. L groans in response and Light licks a stripe up his neck, softly kissing him before biting down on his bottom lip. L makes a noise he would typically be embarrassed by, but it’s ok, because Light is already hard.

“Control ,” he determined. Kira would never submit to anyone. He sees others as lower than himself, and he would never have the displeasure of anyone having authority over him. Kira would make his partners say his name over and over again, or call him “sir” or better yet, “God”. He would want a partner he could manipulate like putty in his hands.

Letting go of his pinned wrists, Light lifted L’s shirt and latched his mouth onto L’s nipple, licking at it slowly. L’s hands found their way to his waist, and he pushed Light’s hips down and he grinded their hard-ons against one another. L’s only wish was that Light’s moan in response was not muffled by his lips against his chest. He could only imagine the sound unabashed was heavenly.

Light sat up, and towered over L, a dangerous look on his face. L chuckled, hooking his index finger in his mouth as he spoke, “It is no fun if you are the only one in control,”

Smirking, Light attached himself to L nipple again, but instead biting down as he pressed his hips against L’s. He gasped at the action, and he could feel Light’s smirk.

“ No, that’s not right ,” L thought. Kira doesn’t like easy. Kira like a challenge. He doesn’t care about the people bending to his will. He’s met all of L’s challenges head on, it would make sense that Kira would want a little resistance. Kira would never let it go too far, taking charge in the end, but if Kira was to dominate, he wouldn’t want a submissive partner to simply do what he says: Kira would want to earn it.

Light made his way to L’s sweats, and pulled them down with a quick tug, his hard cock straining against his boxers. He palmed L through the cloth, and swallowed his moans by shoving his tongue in L’s mouth.

L was writhing underneath Light, all his nerves were alight with feeling the man everywhere on top of him. He ran his blunt nails against Light’s back. Light breathed in harshly through his nose and a low moan came from the back of his throat.

“Rough,” L mentally added to the list. Kira was the type of man who was not gentle about anything. Though, neither was L. He imagined getting fucked by Kira had a lot of bruises and scratches. He imagined the scratches would be rough and deep, leaving scars from the claws sinking into your skin. Harsh bites to the lip would draw blood-- a thick and metallic flavor that would make him dizzy, though you can’t drip nectar over his tongue and expect L to not love the taste.

He stripped L of his boxers, and L shivered slightly at the cool air. Light paused for a moment, and looked up at L, “I, uh, I have never done this before,” Light stared at L with his too-brown eyes, all wide and innocent, asking for help. L had to swallow down the part of him that wishes that it was still all an act. He sat up, and ran a hand through Light’s hair, kissing him and telling him it was ok, and that he would tell him what to do.

“Praise,” He added. Kira was a man who wanted to be a God. All Gods want to be revered, and it should be no different for Kira. Here was a man who wanted so badly for the world to know of his existence that he is risking the electric chair in order to be seen. He bends his idea of justice just to keep his reign intact-- that is the kind of man who wants a partner to tell them that he is perfect. To let Kira know that he is so smart, so handsome, so good . Yes, Kira is a principled man who doesn’t see he is evil. He wanted to be told he is good.

L’s head fell on Light’s shoulder, writhing and moaning in his lap. Light’s hands twisted up and down L’s cock. Light used his thumb and focused on L’s head, smearing the precum around it before returning to his steady motions.

“Yeah, you got it,” L moaned in Light’s ear, “I didn’t have to give you much direction at all. You’re doing so well, Light,”

L could hear a faint whimper from Light, and he bit into the junction between his shoulder and neck, imagining that under all the collars and button ups that Kira-- Light--- they dreamed of hiding a love mark there.

In a quick flurry of motions and direction, L moved Light out of his pants and boxers, and began slowly stroking him as well. Light paused his motions and gasped, digging his nails into L’s hips. L reasoned that it would not take much to make him come at all.

“Fuck, Ryuzaki…” Light said, low but rushed.

L hummed, using more spit and applying more pressure to his grip, Light’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, the gasps and whimpers increasing in volume and frequency.

“You’re so responsive,” L observed, pressing feather light kisses to Light’s neck that made him whine, “So sensitive…”

“W-well yeah, that makes sense.” Light ran his nails across L’s thighs, his well manicured ones were sure to leave pretty red marks.

L tilted his head to the side, “I wonder what would happen…” He questioned, and before Light could respond, L pushed him down on the bed, and took his cock in his mouth. L deep throated his entire length before focusing his attention to the head, moving his hands around Light’s cock in tandem with his licks.

Light threw his head back, one step removed from screaming as he begged loud enough for the whole floor to hear (not that there was anyone around).

L took Light’s cock again fully in his mouth, and that was enough to have Light coming, tightly gripping his hair and L’s name on his lips. L pulled off of him after swallowing and kissed Light softly on the lips. It almost felt wrong.

“You didn’t come.”

“It’s ok, I’ll be fine.”

Light’s eyes were wide, “I want to make you come.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think I could do what you just did though.”

“That’s ok,” L brushed the brown hair out of Light’s eyes. His all-too-brown eyes. “You can just use your hands if you want.”

Light was beautiful, and it was easy to love Light like this. Easy to love Light when he was taking care of L. Licking his hand to keep his cock slick, seeing him bite his lip with every drop of praise-- not that L minds calling Light a good boy, or telling him that he is doing great for his first time and that he is making L feel so good.

Light kissed him like he meant it, his tongue brushing against L’s, inexperienced and messy but still erotic and tender. He kissed L’s neck as he warned Light that he was close, because of course he already picked up that that was one of L’s most sensitive spots. L couldn’t even bring himself to be shocked, because Light is just that brillant.

“Light… Light …” L whimpered his name as he came, moaning and pulling his hair. Light wiped the come off of his hand and onto the sheets. L was still panting, coming down from his peak, and Light kissed him softly on the lips. L cupped his cheek and kissed him back, feeling as though this kiss was the greatest line crossed tonight.

L threaded his hands through Light’s all-too perfect hair, holding him as they both settled down, the adrenaline previously running through their veins beginning to seep out. Light traced patterns across L’s neck, and L kissed his temple.

He tilted Light’s chin up and looked into those wide innocent eyes. L prayed that Kira was behind them, but he only saw Light Yagami. Perfect Light Yagami, not the monster Kira. The type of monster that is the only one that could love L completely. L felt like Light is the real victim here.

And yet, he still pulled Light in for another tender kiss, his grapple with his own morality was overpowered by the desperation to feel his lips against Light’s once more. Just once more. And once more…

Each kiss with Light felt like a burn, and L knew that any of those could be their last, but he really would not have minded if he was fully consumed by the flames.

#L and Light play party game and kiss #lawlight #death note #l lawliet #light yagami #death note fanfiction #dn #my writing #this actually has a lot of plot for what is essentially

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hurricanery · 3 years

Text

handmade

A/N: Hi! I felt like writing something slightly cute and wanted to get some requests done. This is inspired by this prompt, this prompt, & this prompt and a few others basically requesting Amelink/Scout first night home from the hospital/Amelia being super hormonal. This ended up being still a lil angsty whoops but thank you for sending prompts! And pt. 6 of If You Went Away will most likely be posted next <3

_______

hold me tight and I’ll sink in

i’m absorbed in your thinking

_______

“....I’m sorry, huh?” Amelia’s voice comes out in a stunned question. She glances up at Carina DeLuca from where she’s settled in her increasingly uncomfortable bed on the maternity floor.

“I said you can go home, Dr. Shepherd,” Carina repeats the words she’d spoken just prior, smiling optimistically. “You guys can go home today.”

Link smiles wide from where he stands near Amelia’s bedside. He rubs Amelia’s shoulder encouragingly, looking down at her with an expression of pure excitement. Amelia’s face does not reflect an equal sentiment.

“You’re sure….?” She turns her attention back to Carina, eyebrows pulling together as she tries to process this information.

“Yes, Amelia,” Carina laughs, implementing the first name basis in an attempt to comfort the new mother in front of her. “You’re healthy. The baby is healthy….” She smiles down at Scout, who sleeps soundly in the bassinet in the corner of the room. “It’s time to bring him home.”

Amelia’s frown deepens as she watches Carina leave the room. It had been two full days since Scout came into the world. Two full days of being surrounded by the people she loves. Two full days of constant support and visitors. And now it was back to reality. Her new reality.

She knows. In the back of her mind. That there’s no point in staying here in this hospital room. She’s a doctor. She’s prepared. Or she should be. And there’s nothing else left to do.

She bites the corner of her thumbnail anxiously as she re-visits her mental checklist. She pretty much has a handle on the feeding process. Link has basically mastered swaddling. And they were finally able to settle on a name. Which, as it turns out, was the toughest part. But they got there. And now there was nothing else left to do. The checklist is complete. Scout Derek Shepherd Lincoln is ready to go home.

Link clears his throat, raising his eyebrows at Amelia, who drops her nervous nail-biting to return his gaze. She smiles, despite herself, allowing Link’s calm demeanor to anchor her.

_______

Link is prepared, he thinks. For most things in life. Part of that he credits to not being an over-thinker. His preparedness is never a result of heavy planning, but more so an outlook that allows him to go with the flow. To take things as they come.

He’d only stressed momentarily before Amelia went into labor.

Will Amelia have an easy delivery?

Will we make it to the hospital on time?

Will the baby be scared of me?

That was the extent of his worry. So, what he’d failed to consider, was the aftermath. What to expect in the days and weeks after the birth.

“Ugh, god, stop,” Amelia whines. “Really, I got it.”

Link chuckles, bewildered, as he watches Amelia climb the staircase in Meredith’s house. He drops his hands from where he’d attempted resting them on her shoulders, in an effort to guide her up the stairs.

“You’re sore, Amelia. I was just trying to help.”

Link shrugs to himself defensively before following shortly after her.

“I don’t need help.” She mutters as they cross the threshold back into her bedroom.

They both peek into Scout’s bassinet next to the bed, and momentary relief floods them both at the sight of their newborn still sound asleep.

Link’s gaze remains glued to Scout adoringly, until he hears Amelia’s exasperated sigh from somewhere behind him.

He turns around in time to watch her lower herself onto the bed. She sits halfway up, leaning against the headboard and closes her eyes tightly. The grimace that twists across her face makes Link feel helpless.

“You okay?” He tries, slowly approaching the bed to sit down on the edge, near her feet.

“Ugh,” she groans her response, not even opening her eyes when she feels Link’s weight on the bed.

Link rests a hand on her shin comfortingly. And Amelia groans again, a crease forming between her brows.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing,” she breathes out impatiently.

And Link sighs.

“I can’t believe I forgot this part….” She continues, opening her eyes to look at Link. “There’s not really a handbook for what to expect after, ya know?” She laughs a little bit, apologetically. And Link nods understandingly. “I mean the last time…” Her voice cracks a bit on the sentence. “The last time….I couldn’t really separate the pregnancy from….from what else was going on with me….health-wise….” She trails off again as reluctant tears spring to her eyes. “I just kinda forgot about all this.” She laughs bitterly as she gestures to her own body between them.

“Well, let me help you-”

“What can you do, Link?! My uterus is quite literally shrinking back to its normal size. It’s just cramps.” She cuts him off angrily and Link recoils from her mood swing. She folds her arms across her chest and then immediately gasps at the tenderness there. “And, dammit, my chest is sore. That part….I didn’t have to deal with the last time.”

Link nods slowly. Breastfeeding was a new experience this time around.

“Sorry….” She mumbles, much quieter than before, glancing at the newborn that sleeps just a couple of feet away. “For lashing out. It’s not me, it’s the hormones.”

“Eh,” Link shrugs. “I’m used to it at this point.”

Amelia scowls. But it quickly softens into a slight smile as she leans back again and closes her eyes.

“You’ve known me as hormonal and pregnant more than you’ve known me as….not hormonal and not pregnant. I promise you, I’m not crazy.” She whispers.

“Sure, Amelia.” Link chuckles.

Her eyes shoot open. “Hey!” She mutters playfully. “I would try to be on my good side right now.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He shakes his head amusedly, pulling her feet into his lap. He massages her feet and ankles and watches her relax into the sensation, while he thinks of his next plan. “How about a bath? That might feel good….?”

She blinks, thinking about it. She purses her lips, not wanting to admit to Link that he’s come up with something useful.

Link laughs at her expression.

“I’m going to start a bath, then.”

And Amelia pouts at the loss of contact when he shifts her feet away from him, moving towards the bathroom.

_______

“You want me to join you, or just stay in here, or-”

“No,” Amelia says sternly as she relaxes back into the tub, resting her eyes. She’s taken aback by the impatient tone of her own voice, though, and she opens her tired eyes apologetically. “I mean, no thank you. I’m okay.” She smiles. “And thank you for this.”

Link isn’t hurt by her dismissal. He smiles back at her. “That’s okay….I’m just going to go watch Scout sleep.”

Amelia huffs out a laugh at this.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “You do that.”

Link watches as Amelia unwinds completely. She sighs in bliss as she leans her head back and it makes Link’s heart swell. It makes him feel less useless to her. He’s still smiling to himself as he turns on his heels, walking back to the room to do exactly what he’d mentioned. Watch his newborn sleep.

_______

“Hey,” Amelia breathes as she rounds the corner back into the bedroom, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stay in there so long.”

“That’s okay,” Link responds, shifting his gaze away from the bassinet and turning around to meet Amelia’s eyes. “You earned it.”

Amelia smiles gratefully, moving forward to sit next to Link on the edge of the bed. She looks down warmly at the sleeping newborn in front of them. “You were serious when you said you were just gonna watch him sleep, huh?” She mutters quietly.

“Mhm,” Link’s eyes are glued back to Scout. “He hasn’t even stirred.”

“Don’t say that,” Amelia warns. “Let’s not jinx it. Can you imagine us actually sleeping through the night?” She grins up at Link. And Link shakes his head amusedly.

“But we should probably sleep, while he sleeps….” Link offers.

“Right….” Amelia mumbles. “But, wow. It is really hard to look away from him, isn’t it?”

Link laughs. And suddenly stands. He reaches a hand out for Amelia to take.

“Come on, bedtime.” Link pulls Amelia into a standing position, and they both take one last look at Scout.

“Can you believe we….made him?” Amelia’s voice is full of wonder. “We made that tiny little human.”

“Well, you did most of the work,” Link grins. Then turns to her with a more serious expression. “You still….do most of the work.”

Amelia’s heart swells. And she smiles, biting her lip, trying to shrug off the sentiment of Link’s words.

“And you should sleep in tomorrow,” Link adds, guiding them around to the other side of the bed. “Do you want to pump at all tonight….? So that you can sleep in a little bit when he wakes up hungry?”

Amelia groans, rolling her eyes. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Here,” Link approaches the dresser, grabbing her sleep shorts and one of his oversized t-shirts. “Put on something comfy first.”

“Mhm,” Amelia nods in agreement, taking the clothes from him. But then she gasps suddenly, a sharp cramp twisting through her pelvis.

“What’s wrong?!”

“Just cramps,” she breathes, eyes shut tight.

“Okay, here. Sooner you get changed, sooner you can get back into bed.” Link takes the t-shirt back from her, encouraging her to drop the towel and lift her arms. And when she does so, Link guides the shirt over her body. He then crouches down, tapping Amelia on each foot in a way that signifies for her to step into her shorts. Link slowly rises as he pulls them up her legs, and the second the forgiving waistband is resting at her hips, Amelia collapses back down into the bed.

Link sighs. Not wanting to disturb her. “I’m….going to go get the breast pump.”

Amelia groans.

“Sorry,” Link whispers apologetically as he leaves the room.

_______

Amelia yawns desperately as she finishes pumping. She lays back against the headboard again, her head rolling to the side to look at Link, smiling lazily.

“This must be so attractive to you, sorry,” she mumbles sarcastically. “But I think I’m done,” she adds as she sits up.

Link frowns as Amelia settles herself from the task.

“Amelia….” He watches as she starts putting everything away. “Don’t say that.”

She just laughs dismissively in response.

“You’re literally providing nutrients to our kid, I mean….” He trails off, shaking his head in disbelief, trying to gather his next words. “I’ve never found you more attractive.”

Amelia rolls her eyes. Suddenly sick of the overly sentimental direction this conversation was heading.

“I was joking,” she replies shortly, her tone impatient once again. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“Alright,” Link agrees as Amelia quickly gets under the covers. He glances across, to the freshly pumped breast milk on her bedside table. He gets up and crosses the room. “I’m going to go put this in the fridge, I’ll be back.”

Her lack of response still doesn’t quite phase him.

When Link returns, a few minutes later, Amelia is seemingly sound asleep. He settles under the covers on his side of the bed and lays flat on his back.

He turns his head toward Amelia, who sleeps on her side, with her back to him. She makes no indication that she’s aware of his presence. Link sighs, turning over to face the opposite way. He shuts his eyes tightly, desperate to get some sleep before the inevitable. Before Scout wakes up and wreaks havoc on their sleep schedules.

Link begins to drift off quickly, only barely interrupted when he feels Amelia shift around in the bed. He successfully ignores the movement, falling easily back into the verge of slumber.

Until 10 minutes later. When he feels movement again.

Amelia shifts around in the bed, and Link can hear her sigh heavily. Her breath sounds closer to him than before. But again, he tries not to let it pull him from sleep. He grasps onto his exhaustion, willing himself to fall asleep.

But then 5 minutes later, he’s shaken from sleep again. Because he can feel the dip in the mattress as Amelia adjusts herself once more. Now impossibly close to him. Her breath against the back of his neck is the biggest indication of the lack of space between them.

Before he can even think about resisting, or think about grappling back towards sleep, he feels cold feet rest against his bare shins under the covers.

He gasps fully awake at the abrupt sensation. And turns over in bed.

“Amelia….” he groans sleepily, blinking as his eyes adjust. He can just make out her face in the dimly lit room. He’s immediately shocked by just how close she is to him.

Her eyes stare back at him widely.

“If you want to cuddle,” he smirks knowingly, “all you have to do is say so.”

“I don’t,” she deflects, brushing off the accusation.

Link’s smirk grows. Like he’s won some battle. And resent reflects all over Amelia’s face.

“Okay, then,” he announces matter-of-factly, beginning to turn away from her again.

But then her face falls. And Link pauses, scanning her eyes. And then he decides.

“Okay,” he mutters again. “Well I’m going to cuddle you anyway. Because it’s what I want.” He reaches for her, wrapping his arms around her until she adjusts so that her back aligns with his front.

Amelia sighs at the contact, relaxing into his embrace completely. Link’s hands move to rest over her lower abdomen and instead of retreating, the comfort actually brings tears to Amelia’s eyes. Link presses gently, applying soothing pressure, and Amelia gasps gratefully.

“Does that feel okay?” He murmurs.

Amelia quickly nods, letting out a quiet “Mhm,” instead of revealing the emotion that would likely be evident in her voice if she went the more verbal route.

But then she sighs again. Because even she can hear the level of desperation in her ‘Mhm.’

“It’s just the hormones,” she defends herself out loud, a revealing tightness to her voice.

“Sure, Amelia.” He chuckles, reaching forward to place a quick kiss to the top of her head. He relaxes back into their now shared position, finally drifting off to sleep.

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelinkfic #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #amelinkfanfiction #greys anatomy fanfic #greys anatomy fic #grey's anatomy fanfic #grey's anatomy fic #my writing

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bokutok · 3 years

Text

[Loser has to cosplay] Competition with Pio House! Betting our pride on this cooking battle! [MxH Channel]

I don’t think I’ve ever posted translations on here but here we go I guess. This is a translation of part of the Otomate 2021 April’s Fools event where characters from several games function as streamers/content creators for a video streaming site and basically fun AU just things. This one is basically a made-up collaboration between characters from the games Piofiore and Lover Pretend. (if you find any mistakes in the translation or typos please feel free to message me and point them out so i can correct them!)

Harumi: "H-Hello. I'm the one responsible for Cosplay tutorials at the Manken x Henshin Channel. In this video I'm working alongside my colleague Kazuma, who's responsible for Hair and Makeup tutorials in our channel. Usually we do cosplay & hair and makeup styling tutorials aimed towards beginners together on our channel."

Kazuma: "Hey-ho! I'm Kazuma! Ah as always Haru-san forgot to introduce himself while doing the introduction. Today we have some super amazing guests who are gracing us with their presence!!"

Harumi: "Yes, today we are working together with Pio House's Gilbert and Yang.. if you would like to..."

Gil: "Oi, Yang, Introduce yourself."

Yang: *huffs*

Gil: "Geez. Yo, everyone watching MxH Channel. My name is Gilbert. The one huffing and puffing over there is Yang. Let's have fun together today."

Harumi: "L-L-L-Let's work hard together. Usually Pio House does Mukbang videos and eh? Disputes..?...As-Assasination........?"

Kazuma: "Yep! They usually do Food-related videos so today we are doing this~!"

Title Card: Cooking Competition

Kazuma: "Super easy to understand right? Buuuut, a normal cooking competition would be super boring so we are letting these boxes decide what we are making today!"

Three boxes "Theme", "Dish", "Cooking Person"

Kazuma: "They are gonna decide the Theme and... uh..."

Harumi: "Theme, Dish and Cook."

Kazuma: "Yes! That! In there are cards with said words on them. So we pull one card out of each box to decide who's gonna make what."

Gil: "I see, this competition is quite luck based, isn't it?"

Harumi: "Yes. At the end everyone here is going to have a taste test and we will vote on which dish is going to win. And... whoever loses is going to have to face a punishment game!"

Yang: ".....Punishment Game?"

Harumi: *shreeks*

Kazuma: "You're just gonna have to watch to find out! A Hint: It's related to what we do on this channel. You know, that thing~"

Harumi: "It's already kind of been shown but whatever"

Yukito: "Well then! Kaaay~ everyone pay attention now~ I'll be directing stuff from here on out~"

Kazuma: "Ha! Aren't you that certain ikemen model that appears on here quite frequently? Is it okay for you to show your face just like that?"

Yukito: "Oh, well, today is a special video so it's fine right?"

Harumi: "Ehh?? Is it okay to be that sloppy about it?"

Yukito: "I asked my manager so it's fiiiiine~ Well let's check the boxes and see who's gonna do what!"

Harumi: "Geez, ultimately you're still doing this really half-minded."

~Wait a moment please~

Yukito: "Done! The result of the card draw is this~!"

Harumi: "Eh? M-Me?"

Kazuma: "Do your best, Haru-san! If you try hard you can do it!"

Yang: "Who came up with these topics...?"

Gil: "Oi, calm down, Yang! This is alright, isn't it? Even if you can't make a fancy hot pot it will serve as good content for the video!"

Yang: "...Alright, I'll show you how to do it."

~Cooking Time~

Gil: "Woah."

Kazuma: "Aaaaa Haru-san, you have to season it, too!"

Gil: "Who's going to eat that?"

Kazuma: "Ah! Ah!"

~Cooking done~

Yukito: "First, let's start with MxH Channel's dish!"

Harumi: "Y-Yes! I tried to do my best!"

Kazuma: "T-This is! Yes this really looks like you did your best! Barely can't believe you tried this for the first time!"

Yukito: "Well, this certainly has a super cute feel to it, but how did the cooking aspect turn out? First of all, is it even deep fried...?"

Harumi: "You don't have to point it out like that..."

Yukito: "Oh well, let's look at what Pioz House came up with!"

Yang: "I made Mala Hot Pot."

Gil: "It's super red ???"

Yang: "Are you happy, Redford? Red is a colour that makes your neighbourhood shine, isn't it?"

Gil: "But it isn't a colour you should find in cooking... Also, is this really something humans can eat?? My eyes already hurt from standing next to it."

Yukito: "And where did the fancy aspect go??"

Yang: "It's Hot Pot so it's fancy right? If you put something in a pot it's immediately fancy."

Gil: "What kind of master of ridiculous logic are you?? You idiot.."

Kazuma: "Eh? I don't get it? How is it fancy?"

Yukito: "Nono there is definitely no master to be found here."

Harumi: "Well it's okay isn't it! Compared to what I made."

Yukito: "Now that you say it, we still have to do the taste test! Well, both look like they aren't safe to eat... and I have a photoshoot tomorrow so an upset stomach wouldn't work for me, please excuse me."

Kazuma: "I have work tomorrow morning.. if i even touch on the topic of taking off work I swear my senpai is going to kill me."

Yukito: "Looking at the food it looks like it's gonna be a draw anyway because both look absolutely indigestible! So be good boys and both do the punishment game~!"

Yang: "Huh...? Don't you think it's cowardly to suddenly change the rules at the end?"

Gil: "Well you both completely missed the topic and failed so it's a fair loss.."

Yukito: "Anyway the punishment game is gonna be doing cosplay and doing a photoshoot for the thumbnail of this video!"

Kazuma: "The cosplay is gonna be decided by card draw again! Pick whatever card speaks to you!"

Harumi: "Haa, I guess I was kind of already expecting it while cooking..."

Yang: "How idiotic. Not like I have to draw a card."

Gil: "Well, then I'm gonna draw for you! The 2nd one from the right!"

Yang: "....Ha?"

Kazuma: "Thanks Mr. Gilbert! Ehh 2nd card from the left iiis..."

~Please wait a moment~

Yukito: huffing and puffing "We finally somehow managed to get both of them changed..."

Kazuma: "I did the makeup of course. I thought i was gonna be killed for sure while doing it, but I was brave and went through with it completely anyway!"

Gil: "Oh? I'm looking forward to the result."

Yukito: "Now, now, you two, come out!"

Yang: "................................................."

Harumi: "Mr. Yang... please... maybe you can smile a bit?"

Yang: "Huh?"

Gil: "Woaaah, almost looks like you came out of a dreamworld."

Yukito: "Looks good you two! Mr. Yang, could you lean a bit more to the side? Oh and Haru can you twist your arm a little more? Yes, like that!"

Kazuma: "This turned out to be a masterpiece! This is gonna be the raddest thumbnail!"

Yang: "I've had enough."

Harumi: "Eh? You're leaving already?? We still have to take individual pictures, too-"

Gil: "I'm moved, Yang! You endured this really well for once."

Yang: "..............................."

Gil: "Well then, thanks for having us. It was fun! We're gonna leave before Yang explodes, sorry for making you clean up!"

Kazuma: "Eh? Did they really just leave just like that?"

Harumi: "Ah... but it suited him really well... and i even crossdressed this prettily..."

Yukito: "Oh well, don't cry, Harumi-chan. You're gonna ruin your cute face."

Kazuma: "Yukito, are you really gonna flirt with anyone who looks like a girl?"

Yukito: "Huh? But Harumi-chan is always cute."

Harumi: "As if hearing you say that would make me happy!"

Kazuma: "Well seeing that those two already left, let's say our closing words for this one!"

Harumi: "*whining noises* If you think this video was funny please leave a like!"

Kazuma: "And don't forget to subscribe to our channels!"

#piofiore #lover pretend #otomate #yang #gilbert redford #harumi makino #yukito sena #kazuma kamikubo #chrisis translates stuff

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justkeeptrekkin · 4 years

Text

A gift to all my followers!

This is something I whacked out a couple of weeks ago- just a thank you to all my followers who’ve stuck around, or who have just found me within the Good Omens fandom! It means the world to see you guys enjoy my fics. This is my gift to you guys, now that 2019 is coming to a close!

Enjoy! x

***

It’s hard to keep track of time when they're together on a good day. It’s even harder on the best of days.

The Ritz is busy. The lunch table is inappropriately large for just the two of them. They’re sat right next to each other. Champagne is bitter-sweet on Crowley’s tongue and he could watch Aziraphale for hours, listen to him talking for hours. He measures the way Aziraphale leans towards him with a hand stretched across the table, sharing a story. Eyes bright, typically taut posture unusually relaxed. Entire aura relaxed. The feeling in his own chest, relaxed.

And so it’s harder than usual to keep track of the time. People leave after tea; people arrive for dinner; people leave after dinner. The waiters stare at them from the kitchen doors, waiting for them to ask for the bill, which they don’t. Crowley barely has it in him to glare at them.

Their knees touch for almost the entire time.

For Crowley and Aziraphale, time has only ever been a construct. However, it has also, always, been bound by celestial responsibilities. Now, they have no such responsibilities. And they are no longer being watched.

The sky is darkening just a little when they finally leave. Green Park remains busy at-

Crowley checks the time on his phone.

-Greek Park remains busy at five thirty on a Tuesday night. People line up at the bus stop, heading home from work. Tourist stands filled with union jacks litter the streets outside the park. The colonnade of The Ritz shelters them from a light bit of drizzle.

Crowley slides his hands into his negligible pockets and considers what comes next. Dining at The Ritz has always comes with a time limit, and somewhere to go immediately afterwards. Some sort of agenda. He doesn’t know what that is now.

He looks over at Aziraphale, who hovers. Hovers and fiddles with his hands. Gaze flitting about as if he’s nervous, smile flickering on and off as if he doesn’t want Crowley to notice. He makes a feeble attempt at smiling again and gestures to the rain with a small nod. “Lovely weather we’re having, eh?” he says. It’s followed by a shaky half-laugh.

Crowley frowns at him, the bottom half of his face forming a smile. He feels as if he’s watching the Angel of the Eastern gate, introducing himself at Eden. And something about the sudden awkwardness fills him with intrigue- more than that, anticipation.

He leans back against a column, hands in pockets, and surveys Aziraphale’s anxious flapping.

“Well, go on, then,” Crowley prompts. “Something’s on your mind.”

“Not on my mind, per se,” Aziraphale concedes. His eyes darting up to the roof of the colonnade, to Heaven- a habit that may take some time to kick. “An idea of sorts.” “You’ve intrigued me,” Crowley drawls.

“Nothing exciting. Only.”

The look Aziraphale gives him in the brief moment of hesitation is heart-breaking. It’s filled with hope, and a healthy dollop of apprehension, too. As if Crowley would ever deny him anything. Crowley has experienced these moments of heart-shattering, heart-squashing, heart-pummelling love many times before, and he very much hopes that he’s done an alright job of concealing it from his expression.

He raises his eyebrows at Aziraphale and waits.

Aziraphale sighs, looking uncomfortable and apparently having no intention of expanding. He expects Crowley to make the move. Unsurprising.

“I could…” Crowley starts. Aziraphale looks at him in hope again. Christ on a bike I’m a pushover, he thinks. “I could. Invite you round to mine for a drink. If… you were thus inclined.” A great beaming smile. “Oh, you took the words right out of my mouth.” Crowley huffs an almost-laugh. They look at each other. And they both let the weight of that sink in. Slowly, like the rain that’s currently seeping into the stone pavement beyond the Ritz’s colonnade.

“Right,” he announces quickly, before thoughts can escalate any further. “Off we go, then?”

“Yes, just so. Tip top.”

Crowley conjures an umbrella. It’s not as if anyone would have noticed, he tells himself, though he sees the doorman at the Ritz recoil a little in shock. They share its shelter until Aziraphale miraculously hails a cab.

***

“Best idea you’ve had all week, angel- and that includes the body swapping nonsense.”

Aziraphale is sat on Crowley’s sofa. He has been handed a glass of wine. He holds it between cupped hands like he plans to take communion. His legs are hidden behind a tartan blanket. (Crowley will never admit that he conjured such a thing long, long ago, just in case something like this might happen. Something like Aziraphale staying for a movie night, or even, staying for the night. It had always seemed so unlikely. In fact, the moment he’d created said blanket, Crowley had been so infuriated by his blind hope of ‘having Aziraphale round’ that he’d burned it.

He’d restored the ashes to its original, tartaned form just a couple of hours later.)

“It seemed like the next logical thing,” Aziraphale explains pensively, brows raised and peering down into his Malbec. “If I had a ‘to do’ list, this is what I would put on it. I haven’t sat down and watched a movie all the way through in such a long time.” This may well be true, Crowley considers, as he rifles through his DVD collection, knees against polished concrete and painted nails tapping the spine of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, he’s simply marvelling at the fact that they’ve never sat down and watched a movie all the way through together, the two of them, ever. They’d always had more important things to be getting on with, like saving the world or performing miracles or negotiating the terms of their Agreement. And now. Now they can-

Now they can what?

He looks back over his shoulder at Aziraphale. Aziraphale is looking at him. The angel’s gaze flicks away instantly, staring back down into his wine. It hurts something in his chest. A nice kind of hurt, like a dash too much wasabi.

Crowley takes a moment to recover from this. Then- “You. You still haven’t given me any clues. What you in the mood for, angel?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widen for the briefest moment as if he’s alarmed by this question, for whatever reason. Then he frowns to himself, purses his lips in thought. Casts his eyes around the room, for inspiration. “Something…” “If you say nice,” Crowley warns, knees hurting a little on the hard floor.

“I wasn’t going to,” Aziraphale retorts. He pauses. He adds, more quietly, “I was going to say fun.”

Crowley groans. Turns to the DVD cabinet.

“I don’t do fun,” he says slowly, emphatically.

“Alright, well. Something at least a bit light-hearted. I think saving the world rather calls for it, don’t you?” Crowley tilts his head from side to side in consideration. “It’s a fair point,” he concedes to himself more than Aziraphale. Pouts. “Don’t want to bring the mood down. Not sure I’d want to…”

The reason he doesn’t finish his sentence is because he’s just been, unfortunately, reacquainted with the more mushy end of his DVD collection. He’d forgotten that he has several Audrey Heburn films, as well as a couple of Julia Roberts classics. He glares at them. Hidden amongst the arthouse silent movies, they’re betraying just how soft he is. And Aziraphale’s watching.

The DVD boxes quiver under his stare.

“How about we start with discussing what you have,” Aziraphale tries, reasonably. “Since we can’t reach a consensus. We don’t even have to watch a DVD if you don’t want-”

“Netflix,” Crowley remembers, standing up abruptly and immediately closing the cabinet. Then, “Netflix! That’s a thing. That’s a thing that we can do.” “Oh yes- I’ve heard of that,” Aziraphale says chirpily.

“Oh, yes, well done, angel.”

Aziraphale glares.

And so the Netflix loading screen bongs into life, Crowley collapsing onto the sofa beside Aziraphale. The red wine is jostled; Aziraphale tuts. Crowley props his heels on the coffee table.

“Do you mind. I almost spilled Malbec on my shirt.” “Lots more choices now,” Crowley ignores him and begins flicking through. “Look, it’s all organised nicely in rows of genre. Love how tidy this is, look. And the search function is so much easier. Have you tried the search function on Amazon Prime, lately? Nightmare.” “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale replies lightly, spinning the wine in his glass like a whirlpool.

“Look, ‘s’got a whole section called ‘light-hearted movies’.”

“Very helpful.”

They flick through the row. They go through all of them without choosing, and end up at the beginning of the loop again. Crowley growls and hangs his head off the back of the sofa.

“Oh, pass it here,” Aziraphale sighs, putting down his wine with a decisive clink and picking up the remote. He holds it with one hand and presses the directional buttons with his other hand, as if it’s far more complicated and delicate a process than it actually is. Like an octogenarian trying to use an iPhone.

“How about this lovely looking Christmas film.“

"N- no. Anything but that. It’s October. And more importantly, no.”

“It looks ever so sweet, though. How lovely and romantic-”

“We are not watching The Christmas fucking-well Prince.”

He’d had a hand in inspiring that, and he’s too embarrassed to admit it even to himself. His evil deeds really are shit.

“No need to snap,” Aziraphale mutters.

“If you’re determined to watch something romantic and seasonal, I will accept The Holiday. If I must. Jack Black makes it bearable.”

Aziraphale lets the screen rest on the thumbnail of the movie. Then, quite thoughtfully, he says: “I like Kate Winslet. She seems like a nice woman.”

“Mm. Yeah, that’s. OK. I’m sure she is, angel.”

In all honesty, the idea of watching a rom-com with Aziraphale is border-line torture. It’s not quite as bad as waterboarding, but it’s close. More on the same level as those nightmares you get where you have to do a maths exam in your underwear, on stage, and all of your exes and crushes point and laugh at you. Not only are rom-coms pretty hit and miss- some influenced by Heaven, some by Hell, you never know what you’re going to get- they’re also a fantastic way of making Crowley feel incredibly exposed. Incredibly hot in the face from second-hand embarrassment. Incredibly aware that he’s meant to be sneering and heckling, when he’s just trying to concentrate on holding himself together. Stop the feelings from spurting out of his heart like water in a dam: feelings that he thinks are, embarrassingly, rather a lot like longing.

And yet, because it is Crowley, and this is what Crowley does, he lets Aziraphale select the movie and they watch The Holiday. They remark on the general cheesiness, the (at times) witty dialogue. The staggering amount of disbelief that has to be suspended for the plot to work. How nice Jude Law looks in glasses.

Crowley’s only sort of watching. He’s concentrating on Aziraphale. Not outright staring at him (although he does often do that, it’s a wonder he hasn’t noticed and told Crowley to sod off). Rather, letting his brain tick over the knowledge that he is right beside him. Too much of his daft, devil mind is unable to ignore the fact that Aziraphale is there.

Sometimes, it sends unhelpful thoughts his way. Like, you could touch his hand. Or, imagine feeding him popcorn- wouldn’t that be interesting. Or simply, there he is. He’s here. He’s with you. He’s chosen this.

About half-way through the film, Aziraphale starts with those sad sighing sounds, making woebegone eyes at the television- which tells Crowley that he’s getting peckish but doesn’t want to bother Crowley with it. So, Crowley casually announces that he’s heard there’s a good new Chinese restaurant around the corner, and Aziraphale brightens up again immediately. And they have to pause the film to choose what to eat, because Crowley reckons he might actually order something for himself this time, and Aziraphale ums and ahs about these things for hours anyway. And once they’ve ordered- over the app, thank God for avoiding human interaction- the food arrives, quite miraculously, three minutes later.

And once the food is gone, the film is almost finished. And Netflix seems to have decided what they should watch next, because it puts on the first episode of The Crown without asking them. Which they watch, although Crowley’s not really watching. And Aziraphale is complaining about the inaccuracies.

And at some point they end up sitting very close.

No. That makes it sound as if Crowley has no idea how they ended up that close. He knows exactly when this happened, because he hasn’t taken a breath since.

It happened like this.

They’re halfway through the first episode of The Crown, and Aziraphale has returned from the kitchen with a new bottle of red- a Pinot, this time- and he pours for both him and Crowley. Aziraphale has been sat on his own side of the sofa, and Crowley has been on his, draping his arms and legs wherever he sees fit. Now, as Aziraphale resettles on the sofa, he sits right beside him. The way Crowley is angled, his legs dangling off the arm of the sofa, means that he’s leaning in Aziraphale’s direction. Very obviously.

So he’s using all his (very little) core strength to keep himself sitting upright enough not to fall into his lap. Even if it would be very nice to let his head rest on Aziraphale’s lap. And even if he’d really like to relax a little bit and lean his shoulder against Aziraphale’s.

And for Heaven’s sake, it shouldn’t be an issue for a couple of six thousand year old beings to sit side-by-side on a sofa, and yet, here’s Crowley, having a crisis about it. It’s not as if he thought twice about pinning him against a wall.

Although he probably should have. That was a lot.

His eyes follow the way Aziraphale’s legs stretch in front of him, crossed over at the ankles. A little slouched on the sofa, shoes off. It’s about as relaxed as Crowley’s ever seen him.

“Why do you think they decided to make this TV series now, when the Queen is still alive,” Aziraphale remarks. It almost makes Crowley jump a little, so deep in thought that he’d forgotten time hadn’t stopped entirely.

“Whassat?” “Well, why do you think they’ve made the series now? It seems a bit-”

“Right,” Crowley says brain finally processing the question. “No- dunno, angel.” They both go quiet. Crowley’s hand grips the back of the sofa. The fear that he’s going to slip and lean against Aziraphale is too real. As nice as it would be-

Perfect. Miraculous. Wonderfully human.

-It would also be mortifying.

He can hear Aziraphale’s breathing. Slow. Precise and even, like he’s measuring out ingredients for a recipe. It makes Crowley’s mouth go dry with painful self-awareness.

“Do you remember,” Aziraphale starts quietly, “when you and I bumped into each other in Camden Town?” He takes a few seconds to pretend to think about this. “Yeah, ‘f course. Nineteen seventy-seven. What made you think of that?” Aziraphale shifts a little, looking at Crowley. Crowley doesn’t look back, watches the screen. If he turns towards Aziraphale, they’ll be-

“You were wearing that awful t-shirt.” That makes him laugh. A tipping-the-head-back laugh. “Oh yeah- my God Save the Queen t-shirt. Sex Pistols. Yeah, those were the days. Don’t knock ‘em, they were a good band.” “I’m sure they were.” “Don’t use that voice, they were. Anarchic music at its finest.” “I believe you, but bebop is still a little too baffling for me, I’m afraid.”

Crowley doesn’t expect it. He doesn’t know where it comes from- he thought he knew himself quite well at this point, but apparently not well enough. He feels something take over from out of nowhere. Rather, feels something erase everything else- a whiteboard rubber cleaning all the bullshit away.

And now he’s turned to Aziraphale without the babbling voice of anxiety in his head.

“It’s punk music, not bebop. And. I reckon you’d like it.” His voice is a murmur and his eyes are looking at Aziraphale’s lips. Thank Christ for sunglasses.

When he looks back up and meets Aziraphale’s gaze, he’s watching Crowley. Looking for something.

He feels his lips part, hears himself take a breath through his mouth.

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale asks weakly. A small quirk in one eyebrow.

“Y-” Fucking Hell. His throat’s all dry and he’s forgotten what words are. And now Aziraphale is definitely looking at his mouth. Fuck fuck fuck fu- “Yeah. You’re a rebel now, after all. Sort of. Breaking all those rules.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies in a whisper. Then, regaining his voice, “I suppose that’s true.”

“S- uh- mm- w- some of the songs, anyway, not all of them. You’d uh- h- some of them are a bit explicit than others and you’d probably not. Not get on with those ones.”

“Crowley…?” That’s all it takes. Thousands of years of keeping his feelings to himself and taking it slow, and all it takes is that little inflection in Aziraphale’s hushed voice. That hesitant request, draped over the sound of his name. Crowley leans in and presses his lips gently against Aziraphale’s.

There’s that horrible moment when it stops, and everything else seems to stop, too. The what next? hangs in the air and Aziraphale stutters a shaky breath against Crowley’s skin.

“Too fast?” is what Crowley ends up asking. Just to break the pause.

And then the most dazzling, drunken smile spreads across Aziraphale’s face. Brows knit together. An expression that looks a lot like “To the world.”

“No,” he half laughs, shaking his head infinitesimally. “For once, no. We… we saved the world, I rather think we deserve this.”

Something in Crowley relaxes, unhinges, collapses. It lets all the feelings free and they flood him till he swears he almost goes blind. And that is how they both end up falling asleep on the sofa, still wearing the days’ clothes and kicking off a tartaned blanket. Wrapped up in each other- starting this new era as they mean to continue.

***

Crowley wakes up and finds his head on Aziraphale’s chest. He’s splayed on top of him, arm hanging off the edge of the sofa. He feels Aziraphale’s hand, warm between his shoulder blades.

“What would you like to do today?” Aziraphale asks with a smile in his voice.

That is how it starts. They think of the things they were too scared to do together, the things that they never found the time to do together, the things they always liked to do together.

They go for a walk through Hampstead Heath, just as the weather’s beginning to turn- their breathes steaming in front of their faces as they walk. They haven’t been here since 1815. They both try to avoid the muddy parts and fail spectacularly. They make fun of each other for the mess they’ve made of their shoes. They begin by hooking their fingers together, until they’re brave enough to hold hands completely.

They go home and cook together. It goes disastrously.

“What are we doing today?” Crowley asks the next morning, when they wake up on Crowley’s sofa again.

They go to some hipster bar in East London- Tobacco Docks, it’s called. They find that there’s good food, lots of good booze and an ice rink- which Crowley absolutely point-blank refuses to go on until Aziraphale makes that wide-eyed, pleading face. They have a tipsy and very clumsy skate around the rink before returning to their drinks. Crowley’s better at wine than ice rinks.

“What are we doing today?” Aziraphale asks, when they’ve woken up in Crowley’s bed. His white hair against his white sheets. A new part of the landscape of his room.

They end up doing very little. They read together on the sofa and make tea. Crowley introduces Aziraphale to the best music ever created- disco, of course. They dance in the living room in bare feet and laugh till they can’t see through the tears.

“What are we doing today?” Crowley asks the next morning.

“What are we doing today?” Aziraphale asks the next.

They’ve saved the world, and that still seems surreal. But there’s waking up on Crowley’s sofa after a movie marathon, too. A dinner date, or a night in.

And that feels perfectly real.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #my writing #fan fiction #fic prompt

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magioftheseas · 3 years

Text

Kazuichi & Yasuke

Summary: Souda Kazuichi’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. It’s also half and half but for more unfortunate reasons.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language and references to violence.

Notes: For REASONS, I ended up writing Souda’s FTEs when I initially intended to write Sonia’s. I’m disappointed in myself too, but...hm. I enjoyed writing these. I think it’s fun (?) to write social events where the two parties just don’t get along and that doesn’t change by the end. It’s played seriously, and I’m curious how people will take it. But I wrote these close to the heart!

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

“Blue skies! Beautiful beaches! Babes! By all accounts, this should be a dream come true! So, why—why, why, why, why, WHY does a guy like YOU gotta be here?!”

“That’s fucking rude,” Matsuda scoffed. “All I’m doing is reading.”

“You keep staring!” Souda accused, shaking his fist in frustration. “And I can feel ya judging, too!! Are you EVER in a good mood?!”

In reality, Souda had been the one to constantly steal glances instead of looking at his own damn magazine. Matsuda, subsequently, had gotten annoyed by it. He really had thought if he focused on his own manga, it’d be fine even with the dipshit mechanic present, but he was a fool. He was a real fucking fool.

Although not as much an idiot as this guy...

“You’re judging!” Souda screeched. “I know you are! Why do you have it out for me?!”

“I don’t,” Matsuda grumbled. “I barely consider you at all.”

“T-That’s hurtful, man! Real hurtful!” Souda even sniffled, he was so hurt by it. “This is why you don’t have any friends!”

...I could leave. I could just...leave. He’s not going to follow me. I could just leave and go someplace quiet.

But, because there wouldn’t be any events if he just left, he was stuck.

Great...

Souda was still glaring at him. He was glaring pretty hard, but also pretty...desperately.

“Even if your face freezes like that, it won’t make you more intimidating,” Matsuda muttered. “Actually no matter what you do, you can’t change that.”

Souda froze immediately. Matsuda gives him a look, but before he can say anything more, the guy flees the scene.

Had the line being broken?

Guess I hit a nerve.

Souda had even abandoned his magazine. Matsuda doubted the guy had the brain capacity to retrieve it later, although he himself hesitates before plucking it off the ground. Thankfully, while it was a little crumbled, it wasn’t sticky. Or oily.

Hm.

He should probably return it.

The first thing Souda did upon opening the door was let out a shriek. The second thing he did was slam it in Matsuda’s face.

This fucking guy...

Matsuda took a deep breath and knocked once more on the door.

“Nobody’s here!” Souda’s voice came through muffled. “A-And even if there were somebody—you’re not welcome!”

“For fuck’s sake—I’m just here to give you back your magazine, not because I...” Matsuda bit his tongue, kneeling down. “You know what, I’ll just shove it under...”

“Wait-wait-wait!”

The door was almost flung open, Souda now looking frantic.

“Don’t do that!” he exclaims. “You’ll wrinkle it! You’ll mess with the illustrations! Hasn’t anyone taught you how to treat a magazine?!”

Matsuda straightened up, handing it over without much more fanfare. Souda does take it, but he continues to grumble.

“Seriously, you’re such a slob. That’s like, super unsexy to women. H-Haven’t you heard?”

Matsuda wordlessly glances past into the mechanic’s cottage. There are some miscellaneous gears and gizmos scattered across the floor. Some bottles of what looked to be motor oil. It certainly stank of motor oil.

“Oh, this old thing?” Souda asked, mistaking his staring for interest. He grins suddenly and it might’ve been the first time he’s smile like that at Matsuda. “It’s a lil vroom-vroom I’m working on! Pretty spiffy, huh?”

...spiffy? That’s...something only elderlies would use... Not to mention that’s not even the correct usage?

“I guess you mean it’s neat,” Matsuda muttered.

“I know right?!” Souda exclaimed excitedly. “It’s real neat! It’s gonna be a real wham bam when I’m finished!”

“Right...”

“Right, right!” Souda agreed, nodding frantically now. “You get it, you get it! I guess even a jackass like you still has a right eye for this kinda thing, Matsuda. Just this once, I’ll let you have a closer look! Come in! Don’t be a priss!”

He worked himself up as usual, but I guess this time he at least did so positively.

Mortifyingly curious as to how far this could go, Matsuda does step inside. Souda eagerly gestures to the lump of metal on the ground. Matsuda looks at it closely and—yet.

It’s a lump...of metal. Incredible.

“This baby is gonna go places when it’s done,” Souda sighs happily. “I won’t be able to test it—but I’m sure of it. It’s gonna go far, kid!”

Show him how to lie. You’re getting better all the time.

“I’m sure it will,” Matsuda replied, doing his best to give a decent nod of approval. Souda does preen, but just like that—Souda realizes himself. And he realizes Matsuda.

Specifically, he re-realizes that he and Matsuda don’t have the best relationship.

“You’re not just saying that to make fun of me, right?! You almost got me going, too!”

Although he still seems confused about the intricacies of said relationship.

“It’s nothing like that,” Matsuda waved his hand, shaking his head for good measure. Souda seemed unconvinced, much to his annoyance. “I was just curious.”

Except he really wasn’t. He was the kind of guy who had about as much interest in cars as he did in answering surveys. Souda’s eyes narrowed sharply in suspicion and, seriously, where did this guy get off on presuming so much shit about him?

Matsuda sighed.

Whatever. I delivered the magazine back.

“If I’m not welcome here, I’ll leave.”

He’s not sure what he expected when he turned on his heel. He might not have expected anything, and indeed nothing really happened. He walked out of the cottage, shutting the door behind him, and walked the rest of the way back in silence.

Pretty uneventful overall, but it was still something.

“H-H-Hey! Matsuda!”

He supposed he wasn’t really expecting to be called out. When he turned, however, he was already prepared.

“What is it? You better clarify because you’re on a different frequency than I am.”

“Eh? Come on, dude, it’s not like we’re speaking different languages here!” Souda huffed, shoving his hands into his jumpsuit pockets. “I’m just...trying to get yer attention. It’s...like...”

He’s slurring his words a bit.

“You made me feel bad, y’know,” Souda grumbled. “With the way you left. I’m just checking because the last thing I need is you having another reason to...”

“You really are convinced I have something against you, huh,” Matsuda droned, unimpressed. “Would you believe me if I told you that I really don’t care?”

Souda groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Of course you don’t care. You’re a jackass.”

He’s not wrong...but he’s also not right. Not caring goes both ways.

“Hm.” They’d just go in circles at this rate, so it was best to change tactics. “You’re...”

Aah, what to say? Not my type? Not really understanding? This guy...

“You’re here because you say you felt bad.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something,” Souda huffed. “Like...a brain guy, right?”

“Right.” That doesn’t mean I understand every irrational, idiotic choice a person makes. “I understand the physical sciences. Psychology, however, is its own thing.”

“I mean, I know that,” Souda said, sounding completely unconvincing. “It’s like—the difference between fixing and programming. I can fix a computer, but when it comes to all the typing, clicking, and trouble...finding... I don’t get that stuff.”

“Troubleshooting,” Matsuda corrected.

“Computers aren’t my thing anyway,” Souda went on, unbothered. “I’m more of a vehicle guy!” He lit up so easily. “Like! Vroom, vroom! Wham bam!”

He made other engine noises for that matter.

Matsuda would lie if he said he didn’t find it mildly amusing.

Any moment the two could have had was quickly ruined, however.

“Anyway! There! I spoke to ya!” Souda twisted away. “We’re good, then!”

...it’s not like I’m expecting an apology, but what a shitty fucking thing to just say. And to say loudly, at that.

“Argh! Not good?!” Souda flinched, cowering. “You’re giving me that awful judge-y look again! What is your PROBLEM?!”

For once, the glare was intentional and only intensified, making Souda crumble and whimper.

“C-Cut it out, seriously...! You’re going to make me cry!”

“Is that really my problem?” Matsuda asked coolly. “This is just how my face looks a lot of the time. I can’t control that but you could be less of a fucking coward.”

“I’m not...a coward,” Souda muttered, pulling down his beanie. “I-I’m not! You’re just... You’re such an ass! Seriously! Seriously! How the hell is someone like you—?!”

“Someone like me?” he prodded, eyes half-lidded. Souda recoils whenever he makes any attempt at coming closer. Sure, this dipshit is easily spooked and intimidated, but...

Is there more to it?

“Q-Quit it,” Souda squeaked. “S-Stooooop...”

It’s not...my appearance, is it?

Matsuda backed off anyway, playing with his hair to stave off the irritation. Fidgeting could only do so much.

“I really don’t get it,” Souda said, then, and it sounded almost morose. “It pisses me off so much that you’re the kind of guy that’s just...popular with girls.”

Matsuda pinched a lock of hair hard enough to dig his thumbnail into his finger pad. The pinch did little to soothe his nerves.

I’m more or less hopeless when it comes to tech. A wrench in my hand would only ever be used as a weapon. But, this guy...

“That’s definitely not my problem.”

He’s incredibly basic.

“Maybe you should just take more showers?”

“LIKE YOU’RE ONE TO TALK?!”

A basic bitch for sure.

“Hmm.”

“NO COMEBACK?!”

Matsuda stuck his tongue out, Souda screamed in frustration.

The rest went about as well as anyone could expect.

“This really is just the wooooorst,” Souda laments, sounding dangerously close to a sob. “For my first field trip ever, to have it be such a bust is just the woooorst.”

“First time?” Matsuda asked, only feigning curiosity as he flipped the page. He didn’t care, but any conversation was better than listening to more whining. All Matsuda did was sit down to read and he was too spiteful and stubborn to leave when he hadn’t done anything. “Skipped the one in middle school?”

The reason I didn’t go was to study, but for a guy like this...

“Huh? Oh, yeah...” Souda shrugged. “I uh, faked being sick and stayed home instead. Not like I could go with how poor my folks were—not like I wanted to go with how shitty my boring asshole classmates were. My old man was pissed though. Beat the shit out of me.”

“I guess overcompensation ran in the family,” Matsuda muttered, but Souda hadn’t heard him.

“He knew we couldn’t afford it, too,” he just went on. “We had this bike shop but like—not super, uh...”

“Profitable?” Matsuda guessed, to which he nodded along.

“Yeah, people just wanted to fix tires and pump air. We barely sold anything.” Souda sighed loudly before grinning and pointing to himself with a jerk of his thumb. “But! Yours truly still turned out to be a genius mechanic! From bikes to cars! Toys to appliances! You got it, I fix it!”

“You’d make a lot more money as a mechanic than a bike salesman,” Matsuda noted. “It’s a well-paying and sought-after service.”

“I’ve been taking apart and reconstructing things since I could walk,” Souda said proudly. “Even though my old man is just—hopeless!”

“Hopeless,” Matsuda echoed disinterestedly.

“That said, I was still looking forward to this trip,” Souda sighed again. “It sounds nice to go on a trip with friends and stuff, but...you and I are like...the furthest thing from friends.” He does perk up when he remembers, “I guess Hinata’s alright. He’s kinda cool. A real soul bro. Soul pal? Soul friend!”

In that case, why aren’t you seeking his company?

Matsuda’s not quite that petty. Not to mention how childish it’d make him sound while asking that aloud. It’s not like he has a problem with Souda and Hinata getting along.

Although...

Hinata has a thing for Komaeda. That might end up complicating that soul bromance or whatever down the line.

Not that it had anything to do with him.

“I have an unlikeable personality,” he just reminded Souda sardonically. “I didn’t come to Hope’s Peak expecting or wanting to make friends.”

The idea is just...absurd. I haven’t been able to connect with peers in over a decade, why the hell would that change now?

“I know!” Souda groused. “Which is why! A guy like you just shouldn’t be LIKED by girls! Who knows how you’d treat them! If you don’t watch yourself, your alarm clock’s gonna get modified into a ticking time bomb!”

“Try it, coward,” Matsuda snapped, making him falter back. “I fucking dare you.”

“E-Eep...! W-Why do you have to make such a scary face, Matsuda...?!”

“...it’s just how I look.”

Haaaah. This is exhausting. So...exhausting.

“Bad looks and a bad personality, but even you can admit I’m a genius, yeah?” Matsuda turned away. “When you’re smart, people flock to you either as a crutch or a springboard. Especially when you’re young.”

“I mean, I’m a genius too,” Souda grumbled. “I actually could just...modify clocks into bombs if I...really wanted to...”

“I want to change the very scope of neurology,” Matsuda went on, ignoring him this time. “I’m going to make it so that no person will ever be lost to us again.”

“Wait...you’re gonna like...cure death?” Souda asked, gawking. “T-That’s...dude...!”

Matsuda couldn’t help but smirk, all too aware of the growing alarm in the mechanic’s eyes.

“If you could just upload a person’s consciousness to a computer like a program... That’d change more than just our understanding of the brain. It’d challenge our understanding of humanity itself.”

Souda went pale.

“T-That’s, uh...”

“Of course it’s pretty unlikely,” Matsuda said, shaking his head. “And so absurdly sci-fi to the point of fantasy.”

But... It could have been possible at Hope’s Peak. Not on this stupid fucking island though.

“It was a joke. You’re supposed to laugh.”

Souda was left in stunned silence.

“I guess it was a bad joke,” Matsuda admits grumpily.

“Y-You know, I, uh... I just wanted to make a rocket ship someday,” Souda says, slowly and stupidly unsure. “But, you, uh... Your ambitions are fucking scary. Count me out.”

Just like that, Souda stood up and left. Without another word.

That was more or less what Matsuda learned to expect.

I really do just have a bad personality.

He knows this already, obviously. But it’s a fact that gets hammered in sometimes. Especially right now, when he sees Souda chatting amicably with Hinata. Souda’s wearing a smile that’s only been directed at Matsuda a couple of times. Even when Souda falters, Hinata ends up saying something that makes him perk right back up.

Hinata’s not that social of a guy in the first place.

The two of them banter with ease even when it’s clear that Hinata still gets exasperated by the other’s antics. Then—something is said. Souda’s expression changes into one of frustration and unease. Hinata’s worried, but when Souda excuses himself, Hinata makes no move to follow him. Likely to give the other space. Be respectful. All that.

Matsuda does trail after Souda, however. He’s not a considerate or patient guy. It’s why he doesn’t have any friends.

“Urgh, hate this, hate this, hate this,” Souda’s muttering under his breath through gritted teeth. “Seriously, why did this have to happen? There’s no escape...the ships and planes are useless...no engines... What the hell can I even do...?!”

“Boo.” Matsuda blew into the mechanic’s ear. “Gimme your lunch money.”

Souda screamed loud enough to blow off mountaintops. Matsuda thankfully had the foresight to cover his ears.

“M-M-M-MATSUDA?!” Souda yelped. “What the actual FUCK was that?!”

“A prank,” is his droning response. “You can laugh now.”

“THAT SHIT WASN’T FUNNY!” Souda screeched back. “Y-You, you, you—! Fucking watch it! I’m not in any mood to be messed with!”

Matsuda waved his hands.

“Alright, alright.”

Souda gave him a withering look. After a while, he backed up even more.

“...why are you here? A-Are you here to...?”

Matsuda waved his hands again, shaking his head for good measure.

“If I were, I wouldn’t have gotten your attention.”

“T-That could just be part of the trap!” Souda sputters. “Y-You... You’re not playing with me, are you?!”

...I was, but not because I wanted to murder you. Jeez. I like to think I’d be more pragmatic.

“You’re free to scream, then,” he said simply. “Scream as loud as you can. It can even be my name if you want.”

Souda shuddered.

“U-Urgh...dude, seriously... You’re just messed up,” he groans, burying his face into his hands. “What I’d give for a vehicle to get as far from you as possible. Even if I get sick afterward, it’d be worth it.”

“Haha,” Matsuda droned without a hint of mirth. “Sure.”

“Come to think of it, if anyone would be tempted to be the one to escape at the expense of everyone else...” Souda does raise his head to give him a look.

Matsuda stared back.

“You don’t know me,” he said. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“I-I don’t know,” Souda huffed, feigning assurance. “I think I’ve been around ya long enough to get a good idea of your character. And you’ve got like—scary ambitions.”

I’m not a considerate person, nor am I patient. I know I should be. It would ultimately make my life a lot easier.

“By that logic, I must know you pretty well in return,” he said.

Souda scoffed.

“Yeah, right. You’re just trying to psyche...”

“Dyed hair. Contacts.” Matsuda gestures to the entirety of him. “The way a person chooses to look says a lot about them.”

Souda’s mouth immediately shut, all blood draining from his face. It was easy. Too easy.

“Wonder what happened? Was it just bullying? Or a betrayal?” Matsuda went on. “People who change their natural appearance like that usually have something deeper to throw away.”

“Don’t—talk about shit you have no idea about...!” Souda growled. “It’s none of your damn business!”

He’s so basic.

It’s true I don’t know what I’m talking about, but you’re still falling for it, aren’t you?

“I’m not the traitor,” he says simply. “If I were, I’d manipulate you to like me. You’re about as easy to play as a cheap kazoo.”

Being a little cruel, aren’t you?

His head’s starting to hurt. For some reason—he himself feels sick. And Souda, well...

Souda’s already sniffling. In tears. Whatever he tries to say just comes out as blubbering. It’s pitiful. So much so that Matsuda pulls back with a groan.

His head really, really hurt. He rifles through his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and a pill bottle. He lays the former on top of Souda’s quivering head before prying open the bottle. As he turns on his heel, he pops a couple into his mouth and swallows them dry with a groan.

He needed a nap after all that, thus he’s on his way.

“Hey. You.” Souda jerked his thumb off to the distance. “We’re going. We need to have a talk.”

“Huh. Kay.”

Once they got to the beach, Souda took several deep breathes. Psyching himself up for what was to come.

There really were only a number of ways things would culminate. A simple exchange of words was not going to be it.

“Y-You—!”

At the same time, when Souda spun on his heel—

“OOF! L-Let go! Let go!”

Matsuda was a bit surprised that Souda had the gall to throw a punch first. Not so surprised that he lacked the reflexes to dodge, to seize the mechanic by the arm. He threw the mechanic down, pinning him down front-first into the sand with Matsuda sitting on his back. Souda yelped when his arm was twisted in Matsuda’s grip.

“L-Let go,” he choked out, slapping the sand. “U-Urgh... Urgh...!”

His eyes were screwed shut, likely to keep the sand out.

“S-Seriously?! You couldn’t let me throw one punch for what an asshole you’ve been?!”

“I mean, if you want to upset the princess, that’s your prerogative,” Matsuda hummed before pulling back. “Unfortunately, I don’t like getting punched if I can avoid it.”

“T-Then what about—?!” Souda ended up coughing. The idiot must have inhaled some sand. Feeling bad for him, Matsuda helped him to his feet. Souda’s still coughing pitifully. “Urgh... You’re suuuuch a piece of wooooork.”

“I carry scalpels around,” Matsuda reminded him, making him freeze. A look of fear and then—that fright melted into exasperation.

“Alright,” Souda sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Alright, I get it. You really like flaunting, don’t ya? You’re the worst.”

Matsuda hummed, but Souda went on.

“Y’know...you’re scarily good at reading people, too. You were right about me. I changed my appearance to throw my old self away,” he admits. “I used to be a cowardly loser who thought highly of anyone who bothered to give me the time of day. Even if they lied to me...even if they betrayed me. I was just too much of a wimp to admit that I was being taken advantage of.”

I was just guessing, Matsuda internally admitted. And I still think you’re a coward and a loser. But for different reasons.

“Accepting vulnerability is the first step,” he ended up saying. “You can’t just say you’ll change even if you’re dramatic about it.”

“W-Well, a lot did change when I...changed...” Souda trails off.

“But not the kind of positive change you were hoping for,” Matsuda guessed again. “Were you uncomfortable?”

Souda blanched.

“God, I hate to admit it, but...you’re too sharp for your own good.”

Matsuda said nothing.

“You’re smart. You’re really fucking smart.” Souda gritted his teeth and met his gaze head-on. “That’s why—I’m gonna keep my guard up around ya.”

“That’s fine,” Matsuda replied, shrugging. “There are people you can relax around, and people you can’t. I don’t blame you at all.”

“You’re fine with it,” Souda reiterated as if he wasn’t sure. “Even if...I never trust you...or believe in you... You’re just...fine with it?”

“I’m fine,” Matsuda repeated. “Are you?”

Souda flinched.

“I... Geez! Playing those sick head games with me again!” He shook his head furiously, covering it with his hands as if that’d be a good defense. “W-Well! I won’t let ya! Better fucking watch yourself, Matsuda! Don’t even THINK of trying anything funny!”

“Got it,” Matsuda droned with disinterest. “Would you like to shake on it?”

“K-Keep away from me,” Souda yelped, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Just—just stay the hell away from me! I’m gonna keep an eye on you, but... I don’t want to have to deal with you if I don’t have to!”

“Alright. Fine.”

Souda gave him a suspicious look. He got flustered and quickly turned away. Without looking at Matsuda, he blindly threw back the handkerchief. It only fluttered to the ground, landing in the sand.

“Save your pity,” Souda muttered darkly. “Goodbye.”

When Souda left, it was with an air of finality. Matsuda decided to just leave things like that between them.

Kneeling down to retrieve his handkerchief, Matsuda did pause for a moment. He shook the sand off the fabric.

“...I don’t plan on betraying anyone, not even you,” he spoke slowly and stupidly. “I do in fact...care about lives and I don’t want to see them lost.”

Would that have really been so hard to say?

He really did have such an awful personality. Even if it wouldn’t have worked out for him, it wouldn’t have hurt to have tried.

There are people you can relax around and people that you can’t. There are people you can be friends with and people you that can’t. People you should trust and people that you shouldn’t. You can’t always control which one you’ll be, because it all depends on how others feel. You can’t control that. Even if that’s technically true...

He feels like he’s making excuses. It feels bad.

His head hurting doesn’t help. As he gripped that handkerchief, he took notice of a crab burying itself in the sand down below.

I should do better. I should be better. Maybe if I tell myself enough times, it’ll happen.

#yasuke matsuda #matsuda yasuke #kazuichi souda #souda kazuichi #dr0 #sdr2 #Protag Matsun #Magi fics #SouMatsu #except not really #There's a lot I want to say but I want to know people's own raw thoughts #Unfiltered?

11 notes · View notes

beelsnack · 4 years

Note

yo like,,, the bro’s with an anxious MC. (it doesn’t have to be like, a panic attack, but like an MC whose always anxious but hides it well except for the occasional leg bounce, nail biting/picking, overall fidgeting. like what would they do to help calm them and point out “you’re doing it again”. would they not like it to the point of being annoyed or would the just be concerned? dhddh sorry)

Y’all ‘bout to find out every one of my nervous tics.

Also, shush, no apologizing, you could literally send me an ask that is entirely keyboard smash and I would still answer it with as much enthusiasm as any other prompt. And my DMs are open if you need to talk about anything, Nonnie.

Lucifer: He had forgotten how difficult speaking during student council meetings could be.

Lucifer himself wasn’t feeling nervous, but watching the way the human twisted the same strand of a hair around their index finger over and over again made his heart clench in sympathy. For all his smiles and warm welcomes, Diavolo was quite an imposing man.

If they were so anxious, they could have simply refused. The prince hadn’t ordered them to give this report, merely suggested it. But, as with everything they did, they dove headfirst into the project. Honestly, if Lucifer hadn’t picked up on their little nervous habit, he wouldn’t have been able to tell they were uncomfortable.

A sense of pride washed over him as he watched the human power through despite their fear and anxiety. Of course his human would be able to overcome this obstacle.

When, after what Lucifer imagined was the longest five minutes of their life, they concluded their report and the Student Council meeting, he met them outside the chamber.

“You did well.” he placed a hand on their shoulder. He could feel the slight tremors wracking their body, but you would never know that from looking at them. They smiled up at him, laughing sheepishly.

“You think so? I was worried I would forget everything with how nervous I was.”

“Hm...” he used his grip on their shoulder to spin them around. The little “oof” noise they made when he embraced them was just too precious. “Next time, just focus on me and pretend there’s no one else in the room.”

“I don’t think that will make me less nervous, but okay.”

Mammon: They really had no reason to worry. Mammon had watched them recite their notes verbatim the night before, they were going to ace this test.

Lucifer’s threats must have gotten to them.They were laser-focused on the test sheet in front of them, scribbling away like a good little student. (Mammon knew he should be focusing on his own work instead of staring at the human, shut up.) To everyone else, they looked perfectly fine. But Mammon knew their tells.

They had this one necklace that they wore all the time. Nothing fancy, just a simple chain with a charm on it. It was long enough that, when they were particularly worked up, they tended to put the charm in their mouth. Honestly, Mammon was surprised the thing didn’t look like a chewed piece of gum with how often they worried at it.

The last time he got busted for talking in class, Lucifer’s punishment had him wishing he could die. So he did the next best thing.

He nudged them under the desk with his knee. The human nearly hit the ceiling, and he felt a little guilty as he slip the scrap of notebook paper over to them.

Relax, you’ve got this. And you’ve got the Great Mammon here if you need me.

The grateful smile they shot him was more precious than any gemstone, and was entirely worth the scolding he got from the teacher for passing notes.

Leviathan: They had been so excited to go to this concert that they had almost forgotten how much they hated crowds.

Almost.

It was an open air venue, so they weren’t too claustrophobic. But they got anxious in crowds of humans, forget about a crowd of demons.

Honestly, they loved Sucre Frenzy, and they wanted to dance and sing along with the rest of the crowd, but they were well aware that if they got separated from Levi, they might as well just serve their soul on a silver platter to the nearest demon.

There were already a few who were eyeing them up, just waiting for them to get jostled away.

“Hey, what’s up?” Levi asked over the roar of the crowd. “This is your favorite song, isn’t it?”

They blinked up at him, subconscious biting at their thumbnail. “It’s just...a bit crowded, you know?” their eyes flicked back to the group of demons that had been inching closer. Levi, surprisingly perceptive, followed their gaze and scowled.

He may have been painfully awkward sometimes, but he was still a ruler of Hell, and when he straightened up from his perpetual slouch and bared his fangs, you could see why.

The other demons slunk off with their tails literally between their legs, and the human breathed out a sigh of relief.

Levi reached out and took their hand, even though they literally were just biting on their nails. “Y-you need to stay close, okay?” it was hard to tell because of the colorful lights flashing from the stage, but they knew Levi well enough to guess that he was probably blushing. “Not like I want to h-h-hold your hand or anything, normie! Lucifer will make me into sushi if something happens to you, is all!”

Satan: Click-click. Click-click. Click-click.

Satan felt his eyebrow twitch as he looked up from his homework. “Is there a particular reason you’re doing that?”

They jumped, looking away from their own homework. “Huh?”

The demon, instead of responding, took his own pen and clicked the top down and up again.

“Oh!” the human grinned sheepishly, a light blush dusting over the tops of their cheeks. “Sorry. Nervous habit.”

“What are you nervous about?” Satan raised an eyebrow. “We’re just sitting here doing homework.”

They sighed. “I’m so worried I’m going to fail! I wasn’t the best student up in the Human Realm, but down here I don’t know jack shit! And I can’t even bullshit my way through it like I did in my literature classes!”

“Hey, easy.” Satan reached across the small library table they had commandeered for themselves and took hold of their hands. “You won’t fail. You’re smart, and you’ve been working hard since you got here. You’ll be fine. Now please, for the love of everything good in the Three Realms, stop clicking that pen.”

Asmo: “Darling, the straw isn’t edible.”

The two of them had been out for the majority of the day. Asmo had insisted that it was impossible for them to survive the Devildom with just their uniform and a few pairs of lounge clothes, so he had whisked them off to Majolish for an impromptu fashion show. Now, as the sky was turning from the lavender color that was the closest it got to “light” to the thick inky color of nighttime, they had made themselves comfortable in an adorable little cafe where all Asmo had to do was wink at the barista and she gave them a discount.

“Ugh, sorry. That’s definitely not my cutest habit.” they sighed. The tip of their straw was littered in teeth marks.

“Something on your mind? You were staring off into the distance.” Asmo leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hand. “Come on, you know you can tell me anything.”

They fought to urge to stick the straw back in their mouth. “Majolish didn’t do anything for my self-image, I guess.”

“Eh? Why not? You looked absolutely stunning in anything you tried on.”

“Not compared to the other people in there.” they muttered.

“Darling, they should be comparing themselves to you. Actually, I think some of them were.” Asmo grinned. “We were definitely the cutest couple in there, for sure. So, no more self doubt, okay? Besides,” Asmo’s voice dropped in pitch. “I can think of something else for you to put in your mouth.”

“Are you telling me that you want me to chew on your dick?”

“You wouldn’t be the first one to use a little teeth, darling.”

Beelzebub: “Why do you have Band-Aids on your fingers?”

It wasn’t the first time Beel had noticed it. Periodically, they would should up with most of their fingers bandaged. They always insisted they were fine, but it becoming a more frequent occurrence.

They had brushed of Lucifer’s concerned, but Beel hoped they had a bit more trust in him. Apparently, he was right.

“It’s a preventative measure.” they sighed. “I always pick at my nails when I’m nervous. Like, to the point where they start bleeding. So, if I keep them bandaged, I can’t pick at them. It’s not like I do it all the time, but I really don’t want my blood being an ingredient.”

“I’ll bet your blood would taste good, though.”

“Not the point, Beel.” they laughed, hip checking him out of the way as they reached for the spice cabinet. “Should I use the yellow spice or the purple?”

“Purple. The yellow one is ground sulfur.”

“See, this is why I keep you around.”

Beel chuckled before a thoughtful look passed over his face. “You said it’s a nervous habit. Are you nervous?”

“Literally all the time.” their tone was light, but Beel heard the soft undertone of exhaustion.

“Why?”

The human shrugged, not turning around to look at him as they stirred the soup. “Every human gets anxious, but some of us are anxious all the time. Like, in a mental health way. I was like this before I got here, it isn’t your fault.”

“Can I help?”

That made the human pause. Finally, they turned around and smiled softly at him. “Trust me, Beel, you already do.”

Belphegor: They were practically vibrating with nervous energy.

The only reason Belphie could tell was because he had made himself comfy on their shoulder while his brother’s tried to decide on what movie to watch.

Well, that, and they were continuously bouncing their leg while rubbing their hand against the material of their jeans.

“Are you always this restless?” he asked, peering up at them through one eye.

“Not usually, no.”

Belphie hummed. “So why are you now, then?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

As their hand made another pass down their leg, Belphie caught it. “If you need something to fidget with, play with my hair.”

“Huh?”

Belphie tugged their hand up to his hair. “Lilith used to do it when she was nervous. It calmed her down for some reason, so you should do it to. Plus, I like having my hair played with.”

They hesitated, and for a moment Belphie worried he might have made a wrong move, but eventually, their hand settled on top of his head. Their fingers idly twisted the strands and scratched lightly at his scalp. Little by little, they settled.

“Thanks Belphie.”

His only response was a yawn, but the human noticed the soft smile on his face.

#shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

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thenameisel · 3 years

Text

Origin Stories Part Three: Stumble and Fall

"Thank you for sharing." Elliott said over coms. There was a pause. Then as if not wanting to accept that the story had ended, he continued. "Say. Did you find anything interesting at the Truck Stop?"

Boop chuckled and leaned forward in the cockpit. A black gloved hand tapped a weird figure on the dash. Something Pip had decided was a 'Bobble Head'. Shaped like a moose, it's comically oversized head bounced back and forth. When they had found it, all those years ago, the plastic’s color had faded and spring rusted away. With a little care it looked almost good as new. Turns out Boop was halfway decent with a paintbrush.

"I'll have to show you sometime. Old world figure. Think you'd like it."

"So, guess it's my turn?"

"Nah. Take a nap. I could use some quiet myself. We should be fresh for landing anyway."

"Thats fair." There was mild disappointment in Elliott's voice. "Poke me if anything comes up."

"Will do." Boop muted the channel, and reached back into the thick black fur lined hood, causing Pip to release an angry sounding series of beeps. "Stop that. I want to recline. I can't do that with you there!"

"Oh fine." Pip grumbled as he was removed from the hood, but the lights flowing across his eye was a slow content parade of color. He resettled in Boop's arms once the Hunter had leaned the seat back, and the two settled in for some nice reflective quiet.

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

"Arrival in fifteen minutes."

Elliott jerked awake, the scraps of some dream involving Hive fading quickly from memory. He rubbed his face and shook his head, trying to remove the fog of sleep. Caush hovered steadily at his shoulder.

"Pip's chosen landing zone is an estimated twelve minutes, twenty second sparrow ride from the target. Should give us an element of surprise. I would have picked a location further out, to reduce the chances of the ships being spotted, but calculations show the distance is… adequate."

Caush was rambling again. Elliott squeezed his way out of the small cockpit and into the only slightly larger space behind the pilot’s seat. He had to stoop quite a bit.

"It's an industrial area, lots of cover. Target is holed up in a shipping warehouse. We unfortunately don't have recent info on the area, but I've prepared multiple calculations on the most likely scenarios."

Their ship wasn't appointed great for long trips away from the tower, but the two of them wouldn't trade it for the shiniest exotic. It was a junker Caush had discovered many years ago, long before finding Elliott. Keeping the ship's location secret the Ghost had waited till his Titan's first Dawning to reveal its location. Together the two had worked many long hours fixing it up. To them it was worth the world. It could seat four between the cockpit and a wide bench behind in a space not big enough to call a cabin. However, there was plenty of storage hidden in the walls and floor. And while the ship did boast some decent communications and recon equipment, it completely lacked any form of living luxuries. But they made do.

Fighting with a latch that probably should be replaced, Elliott opened one cabinet and stored his empty thermos, and retrieved a second one. He cracked it open, and smiled in relief at escaping steam. He always brought multiple.

"Pip passed on that Boop said to be ready for a fight. In a confined area." Caush sounded miffed. "As if I hadn't already considered that possibility. What do they think I am? Some kind of Battle Frame?"

"I'm sure it wasn't meant that way." Elliott opened another cabinet, this one was in much better shape. He started pulling out ammo packs, holding each one up for Caush to store in a flurry of sparks. "Now. What do you think we should take?"

Caush's solitary eye was a flurry of color as he ran calculations again. Potential threats, the target's location, all known data was sifted through till he was satisfied with the outcome.

"Take that absurd auto rifle of yours. The spread will be useful in close quarters. That new scout we found might come in handy, If we need the range. And, of course, the machine gun."

"Sounds good to me."

Elliott pulled the suggested gear from various cabinets, giving Caush the machine gun to hold on to. The scout went across his back, the auto he'd keep at the ready.

"Brace for landing." Caush said, and Elliott widened his stance. Not that he needed too, Caush was an impeccable pilot and there wasn't even the slightest bump as the ship was set down.

The two disembarked just in time to see Boop summoning a black sparrow that was as sleek and silent as the Hunter's jumpship. Elliott did the same, his own being in better shape then his ship, as it was quite a bit newer. It had been gifted to him by the first Guardian he had ever met. A Titan by the name of McKay.

Their Ghosts dematerialized and they took off In silence. Well, almost silence, as Caush gave regular updates to the both of them as they traveled. They had done countless ops together, they knew their roles.

As they got close to the location, Boop picked up speed, and Elliott slowed, letting the distance widen between them. He watched as his friend took a hard left and vanished down a side street. Elliott did not follow. He’d approach the obvious way. Draw attention to himself, while the Hunter snuck in to cause chaos from behind.

“Large building with blue trim. Up on the left.” Caush said, and while his voice was calm and steady, there was a slight hint of anticipation to it. “Adjusting calculations.”

“How close are your predictions so far?”

“Too soon to tell. Estimated thirty minutes of engagement remaining to make an accurate calculation. But 99.8 percent. Prior data suggested the building’s trim was green.”

Elliot laughed and shook his head, Caush loved his data. The Titan accepted the roles in their relationship. His Ghost did the thinking, he punched things.

Reaching the building Caush had pointed out, he cut the sparrow's engine and jumped off, letting it glide to a halt without him. He hit the ground running towards a gaping hole in the wall where an entrance might have once been. It looked suspiciously like something large had forced it's way in. He had to watch his footing as he went, for a series of evenly spaced potholes, like small impact craters, dotted the already heaved and cracked asphalt.

"Well, that's familiar eh?" He joked, not slowing his pace.

"Updating calculations. It was an unfortunate possibly."

"We'll handle it. Update Boop."

"Already done. Not answering me, but that's expected."

Suddenly he was through the gaping hole, sunblind in the dark interior. He ducked to the right, to put his back against a wall, auto rifle at the ready. Keeping the potholes in mind he threw his shoulder forward, forcing his Light into a glittering barricade in front of him. Elliott waited the breathless heartbeats as his eyes adjusted, listening expectantly for the sounds of wire rifles.

But nothing came. All was silent.

"Huh."

"This is quite outside my calculations. I'm not detecting any lifeforms."

"None?"

"Nothing."

"Ok then. Let's take a look around."

Elliott stepped forward through his barricade, auto rifle up. Still there was no movement. No sound.

The interior of the warehouse had been modified into Eliksni style housing, a true maze of ramshackle walls and fabric. Elliott slowly worked his way through twisting halls, noting the signs of a hasty exit. Debris of all sorts strewn about the alcoves. Articles of clothing, household items, technology scraps and things he couldn't name.

"Odd. Very much outside of expected parameters." Caush's observations were made from the safety of non material space. No way he would risk exposure in such an unknown situation. "Signs of quick vacation. Estimated time, three days ago."

Eventually Elliott came to a large open area that was roughly in the center of the building. Here the concrete floor gave way to wood and salvaged carpets, and a good chunk of the ceiling was gone, letting light in and illuminating the area. A central square? Gathering place?

Curious he stepped into the space, eyes sweeping left and right, looking for trouble. It was quiet.

Suddenly, something small pinged off his helmet. His auto rifle came up instinctively, looking for the source. A thumbnail sized pebble rolled to a stop in front of him.

Scanning the environment again quickly, something caught his eye. Up. A silhouette was outlined against the sky waving hands in an almost frantic chopping motion. Boop.

“Caush?” He started, but he didn't need his Ghost to tell him this had most likely been a trap. Boop wouldn't have let him walk blind into something unless… suddenly he remembered the radio silence.

The darkness to his left shifted. Then his right. Far to many sets of sickly yellow-green eyes started appearing all around him as the forms lumbered forward from the dark. Elliott glanced back the way he came and saw more. Totally surrounded. A slightly manic grin came to his face. Of all the enemies of humanity, Hive was his favorite to fight. Why they were here and not Eliksni, he didn’t know or care.

Caush started rambling away inside his head, listing positions and numbers, possible cover locations and anything else he thought might benefit the Titan. Elliott leveled his auto rifle at the largest group, and pulled the trigger.

PAFF.PAFF.PAFF. The auto rifle chuffed, kicking back violently in Elliott's hands. PAFF.PAFF.PAFF. With each firing four barrels went off in unison, creating an unavoidable hail of death not unlike a shotgun scatter, but with the reach and predictability of an auto rifle.

In the heartbeats between trigger pulls, he was dimly aware of the crack of Boop's sniper.

Hive Thralls fell in droves from bullets and Elliott's Arc covered fist. Knights slowed their charge to a standstill at his onslaught. But when an Ogre lumbered out of the shadows it was Elliott who gave ground. He did so willingly, needing the space. If he didn't thin the masses soon he would be overwhelmed. Out in the center of the open area his mind touched Caush's. No words were exchanged, just impressions. They were ready.

Elliott jumped, utilizing Light to gain extra height. His body exploded in a fury of Arc energy. Fists together, eyes blazing, he plummeted towards the Ogre, alight in a maelstrom of lightning.

One good slam should clear out enough to turn the tide.

Boop screamed his name, voice filled with panic.

As Elliott hit the ground and broke through the false wood floor he understood why.

It had been a trap after all.

#destiny #destiny 2 #fanfic #titan #hunter #hive #sorry not sorry #there will be more

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whumpallday · 4 years

Text

Whumpee’s-R-Us VS Whumpee Barn: First Impressions

So, this post was inspired by @shameless-whumper‘s Unboxing and @my-whumpy-little-heart’s Defective. We always hear about the rivalry between Whumpee’s-R-Us and Whumpee Barn, but why not end the argument once and for all?

TW: Dehumanization, mild physical abuse.

“Hey guys, welcome back!” A blue head of hair pops up on-screen, smiling at the camera. “It’s Starr here, from This-Or-That, where we compare to see what really works!” The camera cuts to another angle, highlighting her short haircut. “Sooooo, over the past couple weeks, we’ve had a new trend take the internet by STORM. Box Boys!!” A couple pictures of advertised Box Boys show up to the left of her face as she holds up her hand, pre-choreographed to look like she’s holding them. “Yep! These little cuties have been all over the place, so naturally I was dying to do a video about them!”

“However, you know me and you guys know I can’t do something without comparing to see what’s good, and what’s better!” The camera angle changes again, this time showing her as she sits at her desk, talking with her hands. “So here’s the dealio guys. I talked with Whumpee’s-R-Us and Whumpee Barn, the two main companies that I’ve heard about. They were both super helpful and they each agreed to send me one, so I could take it to the test, and see whose product was actually better!”

Starr leans in, cupping a hand to her mouth like she’s telling a secret. “Don’t tell them, but I think they both just wanted to show each other up.” She laughs, and pulls away. “So, I’m way excited for this, so let’s get right into the video! But before we do, don’t forget to like and subscribe, and hit the little bell so you get notified on all my updates!” She winks, and then the camera changes again.

The camera switches to a full-studio view, showing the white backdrop and a couple of shelves. In the center of the camera is a bar-stool, and sitting to either side are two big boxes. Starr walks on camera from the left, and sits down on the bar stool smiling.

“So guys, I know you’re all so excited to get to the unboxing, I know I can’t wait! Unfortunately, you guys know the drill.” She looks to the left and the camera slides to a familiar thumbnail, with the words Website and Customer Service Review on a blue speckled background. Her fingers come from the right, pushing that away and revealing a close up of her on the camera.

“So, first impressions of each website." The camera shows the Whumpee's-R-Us website as it scrolls down the page. "Whumpee's-R-Us had a really great layout, it was easy to find everything I wanted, and their customer service was eager to answer any questions I had. Their website was also really modern, with tons of examples of Box Boys."

The view switches to the Whumpee Barn website. "Whumpee Barn's website was a bit harder to look through, and there definitely weren't as many options. The website had a more rural look to it, a bit more rustic. But I guess that's what you get when barn is part of the title, eh?" She laughs, then continues.

"I ended up going random for both my boys, there were just so many options!" The camera switches back to Starr, smiling into the center. "But back to business. For websites, I give Whumpee's-R-Us a 5-Starr rating, because of the clean, sleek look, and it was really easy to navigate." A small counter pops up on the bottom of the screen, with five little pictures of her face, all of them colored in.

"I'm giving Whumpee Barn a 4-Starr rating. It was really good, but it could be a bit more up-to-date on the current styles and trends.” She flips her hair, revealing a purple layer underneath the blue. “Okay! Now it’s time to start on the unboxing, which I’m excited for, and I know all of you are too!!”

The camera cuts to a full-room view again, with Starr standing between the two boxes. She waves. “So we’re about to open the boxes, and I couldn’t decide which one to open first, so I flipped a coin and we’re opening the W-R-Us first!” She claps her hands, and walks around one of the boxes, labeled Whumpees-R-Us. She grabs some scissors and starts opening the box, grabbing the instructions.

“Okay guys, here are the instructions for the W-R-Us Box Boy. It says to start with water, and then...” She squints. “Percussive impact with the palm or back of hand.” She smiles at the camera and shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out!”

She removes the rest of the packing, then shoots the camera a big smile and it zooms in. “Guys!!! Look at him! He’s so cute!!!” She pulls up a thin, pale and blindfolded boy, dotted with freckles and with a mess of bright red hair. She grabs a water bottle and undoes it, gently holding it up to his lips. “Hydrate him, remember? Probably hasn’t had any water for a while.”

The boy barely reacts to being pulled up, but as the water is put to his lips, he starts drinking. Quickly, like it was going to be taken away. Starr lets him drink as much as he wants, until the bottle runs dry. She turns to the camera with wide eyes. “Wow! Sure was thirsty! Okay! Onto step two. Percussive Impact.”

She gently taps his cheek with her hand, increasing the pressure as he doesn’t respond. She looks towards the camera and shrugs, then slaps his cheek, making his head turn from the impact. After the slap, his head turns back towards Starr hesitantly, as if looking for her.

Starr smiles, then takes off his blindfold revealing bright green eyes. They look wildly around the room, trying to take it all in. She squeals a bit. “Awwwww.... He’s even cuter!!” She takes his face in her hands, smiling up at him. “Aren’t you the cutest thing ever?” His eyes go to her, and the corner of his mouth twitches up in a hesitant, almost smile.

Starr drops his face, leaving him in the box as she stands up and goes over to the Whumpee Barn box. “Okay! So we’ve done one, and he’s adorable, let’s see how the other one compares!” She smiles widely, walking to the other box and starting to open it up.

She pauses as she brings up these instructions, on a booklet. “Wow! This is quite the user manual! W-R-Us had one of those too, but it wasn’t as big.” She starts flipping through it. “Hmm... User warranty, disclaimer, etc and legal stuff... Ooo! Found it! Opening the product. Step one: Remove packaging from Product.” She takes off the top layer of bubble wrap, revealing the back of someone kneeling in the box.

“Step two. Use collar to bring product to kneeling position. Hmm, this is new, the W-R-Us one didn’t come with a collar, they just came with a blindfold.” She shrugs, grinning at the camera and grabs the collar around the boy’s neck, yanking him up. The boy flinches at her touch, but comes up, kneeling upright and breathing heavily.

“Oooo! He’s a cutie too!” She turns his head towards the camera, showing off an olive toned skin, with brown wavy hair. His jaw is clenched, and the blindfold doesn’t conceal a frown on his face.

“Next they say to give him water too, so here goes!” She holds the water to his lips and he pulls back at first, then realizes what it is and starts drinking. His lips are slightly chapped.

“Okay! Now we can take the blindfold off so here goes. Let’s see how this guy compares to the other!” Starr reaches for the blindfold, untying it and not being too gentle. The blindfold comes off, and she turns his face towards the camera. Blue eyes stare back, eyebrows furrowed and a glare on his face. Starr doesn’t seem to notice, turning his face back to her.

“Another cutie!!! Honestly guys, I’ve got the real haul right here!” She stands up, looking between the two boys sitting in the boxes. “I’m gonna cut to review, and we’ll do the rest of the unboxing in another video!” She waves, and the camera cuts to her, sitting at the desk again.

She snaps her fingers, and a tally board comes up on-screen, with two sections. One with W-R-Us and one with W-Barn.

“Soooo, First-Impressions-Tally! You all know how this works! Since this is a multi-video review, we’ll keep track of the tally’s and the one with the most at the end is the winner! This test will go on for three months, so I’ll try to give them out sparingly.” She winks into the camera, referencing her love of showering the coveted “tally-marks” in previous videos.

“So, right off the bat I noticed that both W-R-Us and W-Barn tried to keep quality high, and sent adorable boys. That gets them both a tally mark.” A line appears in each box, and a picture of both of the boys pops up. The redhead, looking into the camera with hunched shoulders and a bit of a hesitant look, and the blue-eyed boy, sitting up straight and glaring into the camera. The pictures shrink and move to the bottom right of the screen.

“However, I did notice that the W-Barn Box Boy is going to need a bit more training. I definitely did not like the way he was looking at me. So that’ll give one tally to W-R-Us." The tally appears in the corner, in a little sparkle of glitter.

Starr flips her hair, showing the purple underneath. “That’s about it for the initial review, I’ll be uploading more content and reviews soon, so make sure to hit the notifications bell if you want to see more W-R-Us vs W-Barn!”

She leans back, and the two pictures of the box boys come back up, filling the screen.

“I’m so excited to finally have my box boys, but I’m so sure it’ll be totally worth the wait! This video is getting a bit on the long side, but I’m just dying to know! What do you think I should name them? I’ve got two, and I wanna hear all your suggestions! So, leave a comment in the comment section down below, and I’ll announce names in my next video!”

The pictures disappear, and the camera focuses back in on her face. “As always, this isn’t possible without you guys and I love you all to bits! Don’t forget to like and subscribe, and click to get notified of all my new uploads! We’ll see you next time, on This Or That!”

Next one here.

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spnreactionblogging · 3 years

Text

CARRY ON

spoilers below but I’m very late to the game

here we go!!! there's Some Woman in the thumbnail for this episode and I'm like oh boy did you fuckers turn castiel into a girl to make it Not Gay, I will riot. we're off to a dread-inducing start I'm honestly not even sure I want to watch this? I have not heard anything good but since my options are either keep SPN blacklisted forever but ultimately get spoiled anyway, or use my dwindling remaining time to see it for myself without being told what happens, may as well be on my own terms I am hearing that misha and possibly j2 were not happy with this, whatever this is (?????) yikes I don't understand how you even have another episode after the last one. that seems like a traditional ending. you either beat a dead horse or go ultra meta and it sounds like they dropped the ball, big time but let's see jack's sweet and deserved better. there's a clock but it's NOT heat of the moment playing, damn oh the dog. we love you miracle dog sam's still jogging where's eileen!!!! I like seeing sam cooking I actually enjoy watching them do domestic stuff dean sneaking food to the dog 😭 can this be the whole episode, just them doing chores I meant to catch which book sam was reading I can't tell but it looks like it's old this is extra bonus sad for knowing that they couldn't even like, have a wrap party or anything. extra isolated. :( SPECIAL GUEST STAR JIM BEAVER!!! "Are you sure you're ready for this?" "Oh, I don't have a choice." dean hasn't been this relatable to me in years, this is how I feel watching this lmao akron pie fest dean dies of complications from diabetes god I miss bakeries or restaurants or anything I do love Sad Sam Face "I"'m thinking about Cas, you know? Jack. If they could be here." thank you Sam that pain isn't going away for me either "stop being an eeyore" Sam's the Eeyore of the series, Dean, okay, and same lmao jared fucking slammed that pie into jensen's face and they just filmed it. you can see the actual glee on his face brady??? like sam's old classmate? wasn't that his name? or no some kid. is this just a regular-ass monster of the week. do sam and dean just get killed by like. regular people? are there no monsters anymore. I would actually love that. humanity is truly the worst monster of all. didn't we learn that in season 1 :') in "the benders" are these guys sam and dean? are they just murdering monster families like they did in the holiday episode? what is happening. are those dean's shoes. I could probably recognize how they walk if I really paid attention i guess not. probably. "singer and kripke, FBI" ha fucking clowns lmao poor sam they still have dad's journal, huh. THE LORE evil mimes. vamp-mimes. I guess they kill these dudes? we gonna unmask them or what there we go this guy looks like joseph gordon-levitt oh we love torture on this show this is definitely "dean who's NOT the ultimate killer" amirite "if those kids are dead he's gonna use a spoon" how very walter sullivan of you also I feel like sam would not do this anymore but hey who am I, someone who likes consistent characterization? lol we're back to creepy barns instead of wet pipe factories dean has a fucking shuriken lmao I honestly for real need a machete for the overgrown weeds I don't hate this so far? I'm tired of the constant torture but I guess this feels like early seasons, kind of. idk. lmao sam with the concussions. classic tie them to a chair. it's what we do. i will be disappointed if they are not tied to a chair jenny? cue studio killers. I do not remember whatever episiode this is but it looks very early based on sam's hair oh thanks sam. couldn't get out of this episode without beheading a woman too one of the suggestions for me typing "woman" was a high-heeled shoe emoji. thanks, predictive text...?????? true feminist oh damn he could very well get tetanus from that. that's how trinity dies, man. should've gotten your booster shot, dean. vaccines save lives this is like the plot of signs why don't you guys wear bulletproof shit. your plot armor was holding you together until now. GUYS THIS IS HOW HUNTERS GO OKAY don't ever un-impale someone, guys like "dean we are in a major city, there are ambulances" call fucking 911, someone could be there already "I've always looked up to you" because you're taller than me lmaoooo idefk what to say about this like. we all know this is how hunters die. you fucking leered at jessica is what you did, dean if sam makes it out of this I'll accept it. if sam lives I can be okay. if this is the only way sam gets free of this, I'm okay. CALL 911 AND CALL JACK "always keep fighting" aw :( they're both very good at crying, I will give them that we never think it's gonna be the day. at least you got pie. OH THE WINCHESTER FAMILY MUSIC don't do this to me dean got a way better death than castiel. this actually reminds me a liiiiittle bit of the end of season 2? with how dean holds sam's body. the writing here is overwrought though. jared and jensen do the best they can with the script they're given but like you guys just FOUGHT GOD. they're a bit too up their own ass with this. you can tell that dabb thinks he's very clever. sam... gets a dog again? at least. i guess. the pacing is bad. I don't hate this on principle but it is not executed well. I am having like no emotional response to this except maybe relief for sam in a horrid way. like, you're free! at what cost. it's like the opposite of season 5? sam survives instead of dean. and... sam marries a dog. where do they get all this fucking lumber!!! did sam chop that all himself dude if he woke up to "heat of the moment" i'd lose my shit in the best way. gabriel wins. "gotta keep you on your toes." what had to change in this because of the pandemic? at least sam has a dog to be in scenes with him. the two guns as big and little brothers is an interesting choice of a shot. god the fucking phones. "DHS" "CIA" "dean's 'other other' phone" "state patrol" what's the paperwork on his desk? (512) is an Austin area code I have this on amazon prime and the saddest thing thus far is X-Ray: Jared Padalecki as Sam Winchester, with no other actors at all. meta ways, pandemic related. "this is agent bon jovi" donna's alive??? sam just quit, babe. just quit. or take a day off at least, jesus. didn't you just drive back from ohio are you even gonna go back to the bunker DEAN IN HEAVEN!!! how'd you get here. "well at least I made it to heaven" lmao he said the same thing oh hey bobby!! I love jack god i've missed jim beaver you guys moved on to dream bubbles!!!!! RUFUS how very homestuck + narnia of you, starring sam winchester as susan pevensie so jack just like melded all of these metaphysical spaces, I'm cool with that "so the question is what are you gonna do now, dean?" get a better beer so I can drink and drive with my car that's in heaven, I'm already dead so who cares what I hit TELL ME WHERE IS BALTHAZAR FOR I MUCH DESIRE TO SPEAK WITH HIM break everyone out of the empty I do get the impression this was supposed to be a big cast reunion and the pandemic clobbered that :( oh it's the original license plate on the impala sure do love that cas and jack "helped" to give dean everything he's ever wanted. the only time "carry on my wayward son" has been diegetic I guess sam and the dog had a child I like jared in glasses are we doing a bunch of elderly makeup yeah there he is did they just spray grey temp dye on his hair or what is sam gonna drive into toluca lake!!! buddy please don't just run the engine in a garage, he took off his glasses and that makes me nervous jake gyllenhaal looking dude which cover is this must be nice to have healthcare I so appreciate that sam's wife has zero personality and is merely in the background, of no importance whatsoever compared to his kid named dean are the two impalas gonna meet in heaven????? vancouver is beautiful, or wherever this is at jared looks so cozy in that coat you can tell j2 really do love each other for real the majesty of that forest/that river got me choked up a bit, it's such a lonely thing. like. I can see what they were going for? like dean just... getting sick, falling off a ladder, getting in a car accident, etc etc would've been more potent, I think. the execution was not good. I'm not that unhappy though. it's all right. eh. it's fine. the heartfelt message from the cast (what's left of them....) and the crew was sweet. I want to know what they were intending to do? I feel like you can definitely feel the weight of COVID fucking this up which is genuinely upsetting. sam gets like 50 years of being free of dean I GUESS???? perhaps the only way to break the cycle.

at least there was no sexual assault in this episode. i have definitely watched way worse episodes of this show. it's like. twee. but I can't be mad at these guys especially with how much I know jared in particular has been struggling with the state of the world this year but jensen talked about it with rosenbaum on his show too. 2020 has been rough. like. at least they filmed it. whatever. I feel like I get what they were trying to do even if circumstances meant it wasn't really pulled off. it seems like they were supposed to have a big cast reunion and the pandemic took the wind completely out of their sails. this feels incredibly tacked on. 15x19 would've been a much better place to stop. I feel like I just read andrew dabb's notes. I get what they were trying to go for but they didn't pull it off. I thought it was gonna be a lot worse tbh in summary: EHHHHHHHHH

#s15e20

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