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#unfortunately yes this was inspired by true events
joyful-enchantress · 3 months
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Jól Never Be Alone | Loki x Fem!Reader
banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn
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A/N: Hello! Enjoy this festive oneshot that I wrote as a gift for @smolvenger for this Secret Santa event facilitated by @fictive-sl0th. I took inspiration from a request submitted by @smolvenger and also from the Old Norse jól (pronounced yule), a midwinter festival which celebrated the passing of the longest days of winter, and fertility in the coming year. Happy Holidays!
Genre/Warnings: Arranged marriage, mild angst in the beginning (with a happy ending, I promise!), hurt/comfort, fluff, thirst, pining, smutty thoughts, language
Word Count: 3k
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Three damn days.
That’s it. That’s all the time you had to pull yourself together.
To clean up the mess that you’d become these past weeks and be what the people of Asgard expected you to be. Needed you to be.
The shining star of the upcoming jól feast. You were to be the gem of the midwinter celebration as their newest princess.
That is, after all, what you were. You were married into the Asgardian royal family just over a month ago, joined in holy matrimony with Odin’s youngest son. The dark prince. Loki. A man — no, a god — that, for centuries now, had maidens everywhere falling over themselves just for the chance to spend a night warming his bed. How lucky you were to be his wife, right?
Though it wasn’t exactly a love match. Your marriage had been arranged by those that claimed more of a say in your lives than either of you did. Loki’s father and your own had devised a scheme — years in the making — in which you’d become Loki’s wife to strengthen the alliance between Asgard and your home realm, Vanaheim.
Yes, unfortunately, your love story felt less like a romance and more like a political drama.
It certainly didn't help that Loki has been cold and distant since the betrothal. He was always keeping to his own side of your shared living quarters, the physical walls between you serving as a constant reminder of the figurative one that loomed —towering and unsurmountable — between you. Short, clipped greetings are all that fell from his lips to welcome or acknowledge you when your paths did cross. Roommates with fancy titles... that's all you were. The dark, handsome prince, your husband, was never disrespectful — far from it, actually — but he never showed any true interest in you beyond what has been required during public appearances.
You couldn't blame him, not really. This couldn't possibly be what he had hoped for, when he would daydream about his own future. Trapped in a loveless marriage with you, likely feeling like little more than a pawn in his father's political chess games. No, it was no wonder why he kept his distance as much as the nature of your entanglement allowed.
There was a time, not so long ago, when you had allowed yourself to dream of a future where you sat beside Loki, as his wife. But not this way. Not like this.
Since childhood, you'd had a crush on the younger prince. Once you were old enough to accompany your father on his delegations to Asgard, where he'd speak on behalf of the Vanir at the council meetings, he was sure to bring you along. In hindsight, you realized, he only brought you with him so that you could become acquainted with Asgard before he secured your place there, within the royal court. But oh, how you looked forward to those trips! And a certain mischievous god was to blame...
Loki caught your eye the very first time you met him. How could he not? With those sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw that you swore were sharp enough to slice through your dignity. The silky curtains of raven curls that framed his stupidly handsome face, always looking absolutely perfect, no matter how unkempt and mussed they were. Then there were his eyes, glistening like two polished emeralds against the alabaster planes of his face. You had frequently wondered what it might be like to lock eyes with him during the throes of a passionate night of lovemaking... meeting his gaze as you're writhing in the sheets underneath his lean, sculpted body, appreciating the length of him — of his neck, his limbs, his cock as he buries himself inside you.
Perhaps it was foolish, but you spent those years pining for him from afar, dreaming of what could possibly be someday. Sure, you spent time with him during your visits, enjoying strolls together through the gardens or his personal library, sharing details of your lives and bonding over your joint love of books. He definitely wasn't a stranger to you. In fact, you’d say you knew him well. But you never made your romantic feelings for him known; you never hinted at the desire that scorched through your veins like an untamed fire every time he was near.
You'd tell him someday, you'd tell yourself. You would tell Loki your feelings and with any luck he'd be yours... and it was that thought, that hope, that fueled your daydreams and pushed you through until your next visit to Asgard.
But before you ever got the chance to share the true nature of your feelings with Loki, you were both called into the throne room where your fathers informed you of the arrangements that had been made. You were to be married. In three fortnights.
And your dreams of a fairytale romance with the handsome prince were thwarted in an instant. You wanted him, but not like this. You wanted something real... you wanted Loki to want you.
Now you were homesick and, during a time when you should be feeling surrounded by love and holiday cheer, you had never felt more alone.
Jól was in three days. And the midwinter festival was supposed to be magnificent — a giant feast honoring the gods Odin and Freyr and celebrating a hope for peace, sunshine, and fertility in the coming year. Your place of honor at the celebrations was especially anticipated, not only because you were Asgard's newest princess, but because you were from Vanaheim — you were Vanir, same as Freyr. And, you were one of his descendants; his granddaughter, in fact. Yes — Loki was Odin’s son and you were Freyr’s granddaughter. Your union was a jóltide dream. The people of Asgard were abuzz with excitement, chattering about how special this year’s festivities would be… thanks to you.
You and Loki had been seen in public before, of course. You had endured your wedding and the celebrations that followed and managed fairly well. But that was a formal affair; beyond a few pecks on the lips throughout the day's festivities, you could go through the motions with little more than the occasional formal dance required, as far as physical contact.
The expectations at the jól festival were entirely different. It was to be a wild and sensual affair, with you and Loki performing a dance as the centerpiece of the fertility celebrations. This dance... the sensuality was not something that could easily be fabricated. You couldn't just go through the motions. The two of you would be chest to chest, eyes locked in a passionate stare, hands roaming and exploring each other's bodies. Your performance was meant to inspire not only yourselves, but all in attendance to go forth from the feast and be fruitful.
The thought twisted your stomach in knots and made your heart ache. How were you supposed to make it convincing? And if you did give in to the burning desire you had for Loki to put on the show that the people of Asgard were expecting, how were you supposed to protect your heart? Knowing that it wasn't the same for Loki; it wasn't real for him, too...
You had been training for this dance with an instructor for two weeks now, learning the basic steps. Having grown up in the royal court here, Loki was already familiar with the dance, so he didn't require the same training. But now it was time for rehearsals to begin. With only three days until the festival, you had to practice the dance with your actual performance partner... with Loki. You had to get a feel for each other during the dance; see where it felt natural to add in those caresses of your nose on his cheek, his fans of hot breath on your neck, the wandering touches on each other's bodies that linger just a whisper too long...
And your first rehearsal was in two hours.
You needed to get some air.
As you step outside, the frigid air engulfs you and steals your breath away. It’s a welcome feeling — a cleansing feeling. And it’s exactly what you need to clear your head and collect yourself before this dreaded rehearsal. You make a beeline for the palace gardens without much of a thought, your usual walking route essentially muscle memory at this point.
Your footsteps were nearly silent on the fresh-fallen snow that blanketed the path beneath your feet as you strolled throughout the garden, admiring the pops of color provided by the hardy winter flowers and berries that were currently growing there. As you approached the crocuses, you stopped to appreciate their bright purple blooms and the way the snow clung to the delicate petals.
Despite the harshness of the current environment, the flowers were thriving, refusing to let the cold and the ice dampen their beauty and light. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you resolved to do the same. You wouldn’t let your situation dampen your own light any longer.
“Darling…?” A familiar voice sounded from just behind you, seemingly out of nowhere. The snow must have muffled the sound of Loki’s approach.
What was he doing here?
“Oh, hello, Loki! You startled me; I didn’t expect to run into you out here.”
You quickly made to wipe the tear from your cheek as you turned to face him, but you weren’t quite fast enough; nothing got past Loki’s sharp gaze.
“So sorry to alarm you, I just came to the garden for some calm and quiet. The bustling in the palace as everyone prepares for the festival can get overwhelming.” He paused for just a moment, his brow creasing ever so slightly as if considering whether to continue before asking, “Is there anything troubling you, Y/N?”
Yes. So many things, you have no idea.
“I’m alright, Loki. I… I think the frigid air is just making my eyes water.” You managed a weak smile as you lied to your husband.
His eyes softened at your words; they beheld more warmth than you’d seen from him since before your forced betrothal.
“You know, Y/N… I know this hasn’t been easy. On either of us. But it doesn’t have to be this way between us forever. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me just because you don’t… just because we’re not…”
He struggled to find the right words to finish the sentence, but the implication was a shard of ice to your heart.
“What I’m trying to say is that you can talk to me. Ours may not be a marriage of love, but it still is a partnership. I can tell that something is wrong, that something has been wrong since our fathers broke the news of our arrangement to us. It was like, at that very moment, the light inside you was snuffed out. The woman that walked out of the throne room that day was not the same woman that entered. You’ve been a shell of yourself ever since you learned that you’d been sentenced to spend your life with me. And I’ve tried to give you space… to give you time. I didn’t want to pressure you, or suffocate you, so I’ve kept my distance. Waiting for you to be ready to speak to me again; perhaps even to spend time together again, enjoying our shared interests. But it has been more than 10 weeks now and I don’t think I can wait any longer, darling. Talk to me, please. I… I miss what we were before that day in the throne room.”
You blinked at him, flabbergasted. At a loss for words.
Set aside the sheer wonder of the sight before you: the tall frame, hung with lean muscles that strained against the fabric of the emerald tunic he was wearing. A note of gratitude crossed your mind that his Jotun ancestry allowed him to forgo any bulky outerwear to protect him from the elements, so you could enjoy this view, unobstructed. Even the way the snow clung to his dark, luscious locks and reflected the garden lights like a glittering crown had him looking every bit the winter king.
This man — this god — missed you. He mistook your heartbreak for… disgust.
As if you could ever find any part of him disgusting.
“Loki, I…” Your eyes darted frantically, looking everywhere but at him. Searching the winter blooms, the snow-covered tree branches, the festive garden decorations for a sign… for a whisper of encouragement. A murmur of reassurance. Was this it? Was this your moment?
When you finally met his gaze again, you saw nothing there but patience. Kindness. But also… longing?
“I love you.” You blurted it out, pushing the words from your lips before you could change your mind.
Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears; you actually said it. Nervousness enveloped your body like fresh steam, causing you to sweat despite the cold temperature.
“You…what?”
To say he was taken aback would be an understatement. It was clearly the last thing he expected you to say.
“I love you, Loki. I have for a while now.”
“Then why —?”
“Because I was heartbroken. Shattered. You’re right, Loki, the light inside me was snuffed out that day. Extinguished in an instant. But not because I was appalled or disgusted at the thought of spending forever with you. On the contrary, I had been dreaming of that very notion for years…”
You saw his eyes widen and his breath hitch before you continued.
“The light went out because I lost the hope that carried me forward; I never got to tell you how I truly felt about you — how much I cared about you…how much I wanted you.”
His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly at hearing you confess your desire for him.
You swallowed your own budding lust and pushed forward. “And so the delicate and, perhaps, foolish hope that we might have something real someday crumbled. Then, when I saw how much you withdrew from me, I… I was sure you had no interest in me. And that broke my heart even further, Loki, to know that you didn’t feel the same way about me and yet, we were trapped together in this marriage. I’ve never felt more alone than I have these past 10 weeks.”
“Darling…” he sighed as he closed the distance between you, reaching out his fingertips to softly caress the side of your face before brushing them under your chin and tilting your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.
The small gesture stole your breath away. It was the first physical contact you had with Loki since the wedding, and certainly more intimate than any touches you had ever shared. This wasn’t a public appearance; there was no audience. There was only him. And you. And the hammering of your heart.
“It appears that we have both been foolish.” A smile slowly crept across his lips as he muttered, “a pair of hopeless, lovesick fools.”
By now the smile had wholly taken root and a full grin had bloomed on his face, casting a light there that you hadn’t seen in months.
Oh, how you missed that smile.
“Loki…” you gasped. “Are — are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I love you too, wife.”
You couldn’t think straight. You could barely breathe. You had to be dreaming.
Loki could tell that words were beyond you, so he just continued.
“I’ve adored you for years, Y/N. Admired you in secret like an adolescent with an unattainable crush. Because that’s what you were to me: unattainable.”
“Loki, you’re a prince, a literal god… you’ve had a horde of maidens throwing themselves at you for as long as I’ve known you. If one of us was unattainable, it was you.”
“They were only ever interested in my body, in my array of talents between the sheets.”
A warm flood of arousal washed over you, hearing him talk so casually about his own sexual prowess.
“But you, darling… you saw me. You showed interest in my mind, my ideas, my company. You asked me thoughtful questions and you actually listened when I would answer them. I was so convinced that I didn’t deserve someone like that. Someone like you. And so I kept my feelings hidden.”
“Well…” you began with a shy smirk, “I am interested in your body and your carnal talents too, you know.”
“And I don’t know if there’s anything that could delight me more than learning that about you tonight,” he said with a mischievous smile and lust-darkened eyes that lingered on your lips before darting back to your own hooded gaze.
“Kiss me, Loki, please…” you breathed.
Without hesitation, he leaned down toward you, brushing his lips against your own. Featherlight at first, but soon growing more assured and confident, claiming your lips as his. And you were more than willing to let him stake his claim.
When he finally broke the kiss, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you reverently.
“I love you, my darling wife. And as long as my heart is beating, I promise you’ll never be alone; you’ll never feel alone again. Perhaps things in our relationship have occurred… somewhat out of the preferred order, but by some generous twist of the fates, we’ve been thrust into each other’s arms and allowed to spend the rest of our lives with our one true love.”
Your heart swelled as you stared up at him. You felt that light within you reignite, shining brighter than it ever had.
“I love you too, husband. With my whole heart.”
He bent down and claimed your mouth once again, his tongue sliding against your lips, which you happily parted to allow him entry. All of the love and desire that you’d both been harboring all these years was finally unleashed and it was conveyed in the intensity of your kiss, and in the way his hands now began to explore your body. At least, as best as they could, over the coat you were wearing.
Suddenly, you found yourself looking forward to rehearsal.
And to the jól festival.
And to the rest of your life with Loki.
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Below is the request I received from @smolvenger - I hope I did it justice, my lovely! Happiest Holidays! 🎄
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Secret Santa 2023 Taglist 🏷️ @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman
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dating RE2R!Leon Kennedy... and what Taylor Swift songs it would be like
pairings: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader
warnings: just your typical canon violence mentioned, Leon's trauma is discussed.
requested?: nope!
word count: 2343
a/n: guys i'm sorry for being gone for so long! i said i was gonna post this on sunday but i have commitment issues. so yeah this is my take on Leon Kennedy. specifically RE2R!Leon. i want to do all eras (if you will) of Leon but i'm nervous that i'm gonna like...BUTCHER his character. so sorry if he's out of character or anything! also this is a long one so buckle up.
also if you're new to my blog then these are headcanons mixed with Taylor Swift inspired blurb type of thing at the end.
okay being honest y'all
dating Leon before and after Raccoon City are way two different experiences (because duh trauma and all that good shit)
so let's start with before Raccoon City
a common thing I see is that he's like a puppy dog which ok yeah
but I'd like to put my own spin on him ok?
anyway
even before Raccoon City, Leon is definitely traumatized from his family yknow…
being brutally murdered
which makes him hesitant to get into a relationship
but when he first meets you, he’s already absolutely smitten
I picture Leon to be a very awkward yet sweet lover
like sure he's had partners before you but I think you'd be the first person he sees a realistic future with
he doesn’t want to ruin anything with you
he may be a 21 year old man
but romance and being in love makes him feel/act like a blushing high school girl
what can he say? he's a hopeless romantic
he's the type to remember small anniversaries at the beginning of y'all dating
and makes somewhat of a big deal out of them
"happy 4 months babe! I got us dinner reservations at (your favorite restaurant) :)"
oh yeah he loves to use pet names
babe and honey are the names he uses the most
chivalry isn't dead when it comes to Leon
always holding doors for you
getting you "just because" flowers
definitely is the type of guy to wait for you to tie your shoe while everyone else is walking ahead
his love language receiving is physical touch and giving love language is words of affirmation
knows you can stand up for yourself but won't hesitate to put someone in their place for you
taking things super slow because he doesn't want to rush into things
didn't actually kiss you until the fifth date
and he asked for permission of course
holds your hand every time you guys go out together
his favorite types of dates would be walks through the park and picnics
it's cheesy sure but classic and he loves to hear you talk
also loves to make you laugh
one of his favorite sounds to exist
has tried to cook a romantic dinner for you once
but got distracted by how beautiful you are and almost burnt the place down
yes he almost died from embarrassment but eating take out and cuddling with you was worth it
mans is such a supportive boyfriend and your #1 fan
he loves to imagine your guys’ future together
when he gets into the police academy he's a bit worried about the relationship
but when he sees your eyes light up and the way you squeeze him once he tells you the news
he wants to laugh at himself for having doubts in the first place
dating while he was in the academy was tough but y'all made it work
was shocked when you agreed to come with him to Raccoon City
but happy nonetheless
wow! everything he's ever dreamed of is coming true
your guys relationship is stronger than ever and you both are on the path to success
what could go wrong??
...Raccoon City is what could go wrong.
so your relationship after the events of Raccoon City is... different
you weren't there with him during that unfortunate night in Raccoon City
he thanks God or whatever higher being for that
truthfully you were one of the things that got him through that fateful night
whenever it felt hopeless, he thought about your smile and the way your eyes crinkle when you do
that kept him going throughout the horrors he saw
also just the fact that he wanted to tell you “I love you” one last time
trying not to throw up when you hear about Raccoon City
not being able to get ahold of Leon was one of the worse things you'd ever been through
finally getting a hold of him and the both of you sobbing into the phone
"I thought you were gone and I was going to be alone-" "I would never leave you. Never in a million years."
when you finally see him, you give him a long hug
you were careful about touching his shoulder of course
he's not exactly the Leon you knew before
the light that used to sparkle in his eyes had been put out
but he still looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky
being there by his side during nightmares and calming him down
helping take care of his shoulder wound for a while
studying up on PTSD to understand him better
squeezing his hand when he gets that faraway look in his eyes
patience and understanding becoming your best friends
doesn't open up right away with what happened in Raccoon City
if/when he does, it's a loooong night of him slowly opening up and talking about it
and you of course listening
holding him and being gentle with him when he eventually breaks down
sometimes he lashes out at you when he's in that headspace
but he immediately apologizes after and that brings him out of it
constantly reassuring him about things
the date nights y'all have now consists of ordering take out and cuddling on the couch
binge watching cheesy sitcom series becomes another way of spending time together
it’s a way of trying to hold onto the sliver of normalcy between you two
he feels bad about not being ready to go out in the world yet but again you reassure him it's okay
embarrassed that you take care of him because he thinks it should be the other way around
he was already protective of you before Raccoon City
but he becomes even more protective after
mans is like a guard dog okay?
he's not trying to be overbearing, he just wants to know where you're going out to incase something happens
reminiscing on his favorite memories with you before everything happened
having you by his side helps ground him when he feels a panic attack coming on
communication becomes more important than ever (even if it's the hardest thing he can do sometimes)
him thinking you deserve better than him
yet being so in love with you that the thought of losing you makes him physically ill
makes sure to tell you that he loves you at least once a day because that’s all he could think about during Raccoon City
no he doesn't tell you about how the government threatened yours and Sherry's lives if he didn't join
that isn’t your burden to shoulder
he tries to do his best with keeping certain details from you
mostly because it makes him sick to think about and he doesn’t want you to worry more
you're the last thing he has from his life before Raccoon City
he wouldn't dare dream of letting you go
can't imagine his life without you
Okay so this was a bit tricky for me! I personally think that Fearless (from Fearless (Taylor’s Version)) and The Great War (from Midnights) fit RE2R!Leon the best. For those who aren’t familiar with Taylor’s music, Fearless is about the start of a relationship and the fearlessness of falling in love. I think that it’s a happy and upbeat love song and perfectly fits RE2R!Leon before Raccoon City. The Great War is about a couple having a rough patch in their relationship, but promising each other they’ll stick together throughout it. Which if that doesn’t scream post Raccoon City Leon then I don’t know what does.
���
Leon may have physically survived that devastating night in Raccoon City, but mentally, huge pieces of who he was had died. No longer was he that bright eyed rookie ready to help change the world. Now he was an ex cop who got an unwanted promotion that only reminded him of the horrors he witnessed.
Hopelessness was something that hung in the back of his mind every day. His smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore. It had only been two months, but he was still constantly on his guard. Even when he attempted to get some sleep, he couldn’t allow himself to relax. Nightmares of what happened in Raccoon City had constantly plagued his dreams. Sometimes he swore he could hear that monster’s loud footsteps down the hallway in the shared apartment.
One of the only things that seemed to keep him pushing through the dark was his partner. Being around you helped calm his racing mind. You were like a warm blanket in the cold darkness his mind had been in the past month. No matter what, your hand was the thing he had constantly been reaching out for.
Small things would trigger unpleasant flashbacks which made his stomach turn. A week ago you had accidentally dropped a pan you were reaching for, and the loud bang sounded too much like a gunshot for comfort. One moment he was in his apartment and the next he was back in Raccoon City. He could smell the rotting flesh and hear the groans of the undead. His breathing had quickened, and he immediately got ready to defend himself from monsters that Guilt ate at you as you attempted to calm him down.
"Leon honey, it's okay. You're at home with me. You’re having a flashback." Your honey coated voice reminded him. This wasn’t the first time he had an episode and it wouldn’t be the last. After a few minutes of reminding him to describe his surroundings and breath, you finally managed to coax him out of that state of mind. It had become second nature for you to remind him that nothing from Raccoon City could get to him anymore. When he finally was able to calm down, he immediately reached for you. Tears had brimmed his eyes and seeing that broken look on his face crushed your heart. Why must good people like him go through the worst things?
The worse thing for Leon is when he would unintentionally lash out at you. He couldn't stop the venomous words that accidentally left his mouth. Punishing for things you never did left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Jesus Christ, just leave me alone for a moment!" He'd snapped the other day when it had been particularly hard to get out of bed. You had been asking him questions about how he was feeling, and if he needed anything. Just being a caring partner. God the look of hurt that had flashed upon your face was one he could never forget. Apologies had never escaped from him faster than that moment. It was like putting Band-Aids over bullet holes (no pun intended) and he knew that these outbursts of his weren’t fair to you.
You were an angel sent down from heaven, this was something he was sure of. Why did he have to keep flying off the handle over the smallest things? Realistically he knew that you were only human and made mistakes. He knew you were just trying to take care of him. Dark circles had begun to form under your eyes from the lack of sleep you had been getting. That was because of him and his night terrors. His heart ached for you, and he had never hated himself more for that.
Leon was so caught up in his thoughts about you and everything that he hadn’t noticed you enter the small living room. The first thing you had noticed was that faraway look in his eyes. You had called out his name before making your way to sit by him on the leather couch. Hearing your voice made him come back to earth, and his thoughts grew quiet once he saw you.
“Hey love. You alright?” Your voice was gentle as you reached for his hand. He hadn’t hesitated to grab it. Of course you knew he wasn’t okay. Leon usually wore his heart on his sleeve. Your thumb gingerly rubbed his knuckles as you waited for his response. Leon was hesitant to tell you everything he had been thinking. After an internal debate, he figured it’s the least he could do as your boyfriend.
“I’m…sorry for snapping at you the past couple of months.” He finally responded after a moment. You furrowed your eyebrows in response. As much as you had appreciated his apology, it felt like it came out of nowhere. What the hell had triggered this?
“I’m sorry about being the reason you haven’t slept well, and just sorry in general. You deserve better than me.” Words were overflowing from his mouth before he could stop it. He squeezed your hand as he continued. “I don’t know why I’ve been so… awful towards you and there’s just-“
“Leon stop.” You interrupted him. For a moment he seemed like his old self as he looked at her with those puppy dog eyes of his. “Look, I appreciate your apology. But you also just went through a traumatic experience. You’re not gonna just bounce back.”
Scooting closer, you wrapped your arms around his waist. Your head rested on his chest and you could hear his heartbeat. It was a soothing sound, reminding you that your boyfriend was alive and here in your arms. His arms fell into place on your back.
“I don’t care if you think I “deserve better”. You’re what I want, no matter what. I will always be yours.” Pulling yourself back, you cupped his cheeks into your hands. Hearing you vow your love to him like that made his heart flutter. Leaning forward, you planted a soft yet tender kiss on his lips.
Yes, Leon knew that there was no way in hell you guys could return back to the way your relationship was before. He wasn’t the same person as before, but he was slowly realizing you weren’t the same person either. In this moment with you, he knew you guys would survive this war zone inside his head.
He would make sure of it.
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jetkast · 1 year
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I have had mxtx content so deeply embedded in my thoughts, the brainrot is so fierce. I love the narratives in her books, these themes that I haven't ever felt in a story before. Just some rambling about them that's bubbled up over the last few months:
SVSSS: even with a sense of authority on where the story will go, changes both small and large can surprise or underwhelm you. there are always stories hidden behind characters and characters lost to hidden stories. the narrative we tell about ourselves affects everything about how we interpret the meaning of what we experience. often we are blind to the meanings we emphasize or suppress, confident in the authority of a narrative we insist is true, cohesive, consistent, or normative.
MDZS: everyone has their own version of events, often not in service to truth or justice, but power and image. yes, where you come from and what you endure can be limiting or enabling. yes, it can explain why you do what you do. yes, you still always, always have a choice to do what is right. only you can decide what that is. in some cases, everyone will have an opinion. in others, no one will know or care. you choose whether that influence what you do. it is never too late, it is never over, and every choice is a new opportunity. you can't change choices made in the past, but you can learn from them to inform your choices in the future and influence the options available to those who follow.
TGCF: sometimes you can change the story with brute strength and charisma, sometimes all you can do is endure and regulate your own response to it. you can reinvent yourself over and over, run from your past selves, suppress the parts of you that are shamed, but you will always be with you and only you. all that happens, within and around, bad and good, your actions or others', makes you you. the greatest and worst versions of yourself were all required to make this you -- it's not the state of you that matters, but the essence of you. integrate, rebuild, evolve, rebirth, morph, refine, transform, regress -- the story always progresses and characters always develop, the only story that defines you is the one you iterate.
And for all of them... sometimes, the happy ending isn't sweeping change in the world, awe inspiring redemption, or cathartic revenge. Sometimes it's allowing yourself to have a simple life with the ones you love, staying authentic to your values and desires, and understanding the revolution that is inherent to thriving in the body you live in, all its scars and memories included. You can never control the story of the world, no matter your knowledge, skills, or abilities, nor should you try. Horrid experiences and events can't be eradicated, but neither can beauty, awe, and grace. Unfortunately, these are not often equitably distributed. Fortunately, we can never know which will be in the next moment, which will be the last, if there will be better or worse than we have already felt. Such is living.
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moonelnone · 4 days
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LUFFY WANTS TO FLY A KITE AU QnA!!! Thank you for supporting my mini comic, as a ty I compiled a bunch of questions below.!
it’s a long one, so beware!
Q (Anonymous): What inspired you to write this comic? Outside the horrors what are you trying to tell?
A: Inspiration would probably be the frequent hallucinations I have and my longing to go back in the fields... I miss my cows 😭 As for the story i’m trying to tell.. It’s a bit hard to explain without spoiling the story….
Q: (@oddity-txt): For your kite au- what do ace and sabo see when they look at luffy?
A: Clearly something that isn't Luffy, but it looks like Luffy
Q: (Anonymous): Since Vivi is introduced would she play a key role or would she appear for like just a few parts, would she have a blog like Sabo?
A: She's important to the story!! She's child of the pastor in this au-- Sabo and Ace used to be Altar servers for his church so they have history of working with her before... As for a blog.. No not really. Though if you look close enough you'll find that you can contact Vivi just before the events of the story to pry information.. But unfortunately whatever happens to her is set in stone •ᴗ• Q: (@washingmachineonfir ): Can you elaborate in religion topic in the city? About the house, why its like this? How many kids disappear?
A: The religion in ASL's neighborhood is simple, you know it already. Now about the house? You don't wanna know. As for the kids... hm.. Depends on how many kids can fill a school bus Q: (@courtroomac3): Hi
A: Get outta here boy Q: White boy Flavor of the month...
A: idk Q: (@humoofsegsual) Is there a possible ending in which everyone dies?
A: nods nods, when that happens everything disappears . Don't forget to say goodbye before it happens!!!! Q: (@plastirk): What kinds of trigger warnings are we gonna see?
A: everything in this list
Q: (Anonymous): Why does Nika go after Ace and Sabo?
A: Because Luffy wants to be with them . But Nika doesn’t want to let go of Luffy.
Q: (Anonymous): Does Nika hate Ace and Sabo?? all their interactions with them are with malice 😭
A: I wouldn’t say malice I suppose… I’d say maybe frustration?
Q: (Anonymous): Where are other characters in this? Like Garp, Dragon, and etc
A: They’re living their normal lives somewhere else!! Koby and Helmeppo are employees at the store Sabo often goes to. Vivi is a librarian, her father is a priest in the town’s church, she met Ace and Sabo a lot because they were altar servers back then! Law is one of the brothers’ neighbors, he frequently leaves though. (Copy pasted from my discord)
Q: (Anonymous): Is it true that one of the brothers might die ☹️
A: . Yes! Im cheering for their downfall! but you guys aren’t 😞
Q: (Anonymous): Are ASL biologically related here?
A: …No
Q: (Anonymous): What does the kite have to do with this au?
A: It’s something Luffy owns!!!! Don’t worry about it too much ;]
Q: (Anonymous): Is there a symbolism with the ghost costume? It makes me wonder what was it for other than to scare A and S
A: It’s by far the biggest hint in the first part 😵‍💫 I wonder if anyone caught it at first
Q: (Anonymous): Are Luffy’s friends going to appear? (Zoro, Nami, Sanji, and Ussop?)
A: mhm! You’ll see one or two of them sooner or later
Q: (Anonymous): What wouldve happened if we chose the other option in the first two parts?
A: The first poll would’ve decided on who runs the ‘blog’ ^w^!!
the one who wasn’t pick was cursed to run a tumblr blog lmao
Last Question:
Q: (Anonymous): Why are Luffy’s friends here if Nika just wanted him?
A: Luffy treasures his friends.!!
Bonus:
Q: (Anonymous): Will Detective Chopper have the same horror elements as the Kite au?
A: Yeah, but I suppose it’s more drama oriented
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hoshinoyozora · 1 year
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The Spinster and The Merchant
Yandere! Azul Ashengrotto x Female! Reader
Yet another story inspired by the boy’s masquerade clothes.
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Your father had been purchasing medicines from an unknown merchant.
You didn’t know who he was or where he came from. The name Ashengrotto had been unheard of until your father uttered it, and as much as you were skeptical of his true identity, you couldn’t deny that his medicines managed to soothe your mother’s pain. The day was bright when she finally cracked her first smile in so long, and although she still winced sometimes, it remained a blessing to the entire household.
“This joyous moment calls for a celebration, don’t you think?” your father mused. “But because she’s still weak, we shall have a dinner with just the two of us.”
Indeed, it’d been a long time since you both dined together; him being too busy taking care of his wife. The dining room was far too grand, too cold, and too lonely for a single person. The servants only came to carry the plates in and out of the room, hidden behind the side door. That night, everything changed. There were chatters and laughs as you renewed your familial bond with your father. The candlelight danced in the center of the table, surrounded by scrumptious dishes and used utensils. It felt warm despite the approaching winter, and you prayed your mother would join you one day.
And join she did, but not in the same event. One day, a mysterious trio visited your mansion, and your parents came to greet them.
“We are very happy to welcome you here.” your father beamed, caressing your mother’s drooping shoulders. There was a shawl around her to prevent coldness. “And thanks to you, my wife has become a lot better.”
The bespectacled man, presumably the leader and, thus, the merchant, chuckled, “It warms my heart to know about her improvement, Mr. [Last Name]. As a merchant, we seek to provide only the best service for our customers.”
“Ah, yes, yes.”
And they both proceeded to emerge themselves in a long, business-like conversation, with your mother giving her occasional responses by nodding and smiling. You peeked from behind the wall, intrigued yet reluctant to join, and observed the men that flanked the merchant, whose name you learned was actually Azul Ashengrotto. Despite their near similarities, their attitudes highlighted the differences between them. One was casual, almost impolite with his wide legs and bored expression, and the other was proper and quiet. The latter caught your curious eyes and smiled. Your breath hitched slightly when you perceived the pointy teeth through the crack in his lips, and his smile widened knowingly.
Was it normal to have such frightening teeth? Did your father know about this? Glancing at him, he appeared relaxed around them, as if he was talking to a long time friend.
The bizarre man turned to Azul and whispered to his ear. Sky blue eyes, framed by silver frame, spotted your skulking figure and widened.
“Is that…?”
“Oh, yes. This is my daughter, [Name] [Last Name].”
Left with no choice but to comply with the social cues, you hesitantly abandoned your hiding spot and stood near the couch. The gentlemen rose and greeted you.
“What a beautiful daughter you have, Mr. [Name].” Azul grabbed your hand and kissed the top of it. “Her beauty reminds me of a pearl.”
Your father chuckled, “You’re really good at flattering people, Mr. Ashengrotto.”
Yet you felt far from flattered, for you disliked the way he peered up at you whilst simpering against your skin. It reminded you of those nobles, striving to ingratiate themselves shamelessly. Your family might not longer be wealthy due to your mother’s illness, but Azul was a merchant. And merchants saw opportunities in the most unfortunate situations.
You were powerless to stop your father as he led the guests to the dining room for an impromptu lunch, extending their visit longer than necessary. Azul, however, appeared delighted by the offer and requested to refresh himself first. And once again, you conceded with your father’s order to guide Azul to the nearest bathroom. You couldn’t understand why he didn’t ask a servant instead, but the sooner you did it, the faster they’d leave.
“Your mansion is quite lovely,” he remarked, scanning the hallway intermittent with hollow vases. “although it feels a bit… empty.”
You merely nodded, seeing no need to explain the said emptiness unless he asked.
And ask, he did.
“You don’t have many staff around here?”
“My mother is ill, so my father chose to focus on her treatment instead.”
“It must be hard to be forced to live… humbler now. I heard that you used to be one of the richest families in the town.”
You glanced at him curiously. He looked like a newcomer, so had the rumor about your family’s supposed ‘downfall’ reach his ears already? Yet his clothes suggested some level of wealth – with a cocked hat and pearl necklaces, each displaying sea life designs – and your sharp eyes deduced their authenticity. So perhaps those two bizarre men truly worked for him and, thus, relayed the information from the street to him.
Therefore, was it any wonder that he decided to set his sight on your family?
“We’re managing.” you intoned, trying to ignore the sting of bitterness and helplessness from all the belongings you had to sell for your mother’s sake. From dresses, jewelry, and shoes. A humble life was a hard life, but you were grateful for the roof above you and the food on the table.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to relieve some of your family’s financial problem once you get married.”
Your face darkened.
“I have no fiancé.”
He rose an eyebrow.
“Oh? May I ask why?”
It wasn’t as if you feared or abhorred marriage, but the knowledge that your mother could die any moment prevented you from accepting any of your suitors. So much so, until you were known as the ‘spinster’ in your circle. Your father had tried to convince you otherwise, until he eventually lost to your obstinacy. Even you didn’t know if you’d get marry after your mother’s death, or if anyone would still like you enough to propose.
“I wish to devote my time and attention to my mother.”
“So, you’ll do anything for her?”
“Absolutely.”
“My, what a dutiful daughter you are. But I imagine it must be tiring sometimes. Surely,” His glasses glinted as Azul peered up at you through the rims. “you dream of novelty once in a while?”
You sighed, vexed by his inquisitiveness.
“My mother’s health is far more important than any fleeting novelty.”
“You’re such an admirable person, Miss [Name]. I hope your sacrifices pay off someday.”
You said nothing and opened the bathroom door for him. At this point, it was more tiring to hear empty wishes, however well-meaning they were, even if the speaker was the merchant whose medicines your mother relied on.
Winter passed, and with it, came spring and your mother’s recovery. The family dinner that seemed so far away, obscured by desperation and near poverty, had returned in the too-wide dining room. She could laugh now, and had apologized for inconveniencing you for so long. You and your father brushed it off, preferring to enjoy the rare moment of togetherness.
Until one day, your father came to you with a strange yet familiar somber expression.
“Dear, this might sound too bold, but would you be willing to marry Mr. Ashengrotto?”
You gaped.
“Pardon?”
He sighed.
“The price for the medicines has risen because the ingredients are getting expensive, but he said he’ll be willing to give it to us for free if you marry him.”
You stared at him for another moment, stunned. You tried to move your mouth, but the words refused to come out.
“I… I didn’t even know he liked me that way!” you protested. “We only met each other once! How could he be so hasty with his proposal?!”
“Dear, many people have married to partners they’ve only seen once. Some have never even seen them until the wedding or the engagement. We might not be a ‘proper’ noble anymore, due to our impoverished state, but we must not forget that such a thing is normal.”
“But just because it’s normal doesn’t mean it’s not shocking!”
“Unfortunately, life isn’t a fairy tale. You know that. We don’t have much money, and I’ve fired some more servants from our house.” Then, your father lowered to his knee and gripped your hands. “Please, [Name]. For your mother’s sake, please accept Mr. Ashengrotto’s proposal.”
Your eyes began to sting the longer you watched his languishing face.
“B-but, Father…” you whispered, lips trembling. “I’ve sacrificed so much already. The only thing I have is my freedom now. If I married him, then what’s left for me?”
“Mr. Ashengrotto is a kind and charming man, I assure you. He’ll take a good care of you, and he might even be able to support us.”
You shook your head stubbornly, ripped your hands out of his grasp. Ignoring his frantic yells, you fled from the room and into the garden. The plants had long since wilted, some were bald, from the lack of care and passing winter. You plopped down on the nearby bench and put your head on your hands, finally having the freedom and privacy to weep.
“Miss [Name], you have a letter.”
You snapped your head up, sniffling and bloodshot. The butler, always so quiet and loyal, extended a letter to you. His wrinkled eyes softened, and he handed you a handkerchief once you received the envelope.
“It could be a good news for you, Milady.”
He didn’t know about the cause of your sadness, nor did he know that the letter only served to cement the inevitability of your doom. In it, Azul acknowledged and sympathized with your mixed feelings, and reiterated his promise to give your parents the medicines for free in exchange of your hand in marriage. He also requested to meet you in a secluded pier near Octavinelle beach should you accept the proposal. Perhaps you’d become too oversensitive from all the disturbances, but you failed to see any genuineness from his writing. It was as if he’d already predicted your acceptance, and the letter was either formed out of pure formality or to soften the blow.
Regardless, Azul didn’t notify when the deadline was, so you chose to procrastinate on it for as long as possible. You tried your best to avoid your father, and even your mother, despite her deteriorating health, could sense the tension between you two.
But, alas, it wasn’t long until he confronted you about it, and with the petulance of a child not having her way and the indignation of someone who had just lost her freedom, you went to the pier.
Somehow, Azul was already there by the time you left the carriage. Alone, with no trace of the twins. Had he been waiting all this time? You suppressed the gratified smirk that tickled the corner of your lips and schooled your features, approaching him with the straightest expression you could muster.
You both greeted each other and he proceeded to kiss the back of your hand. Sulkily, you noted that he didn’t remark on the amount of time you’d taken to spite him.
“It pleased me to know that you’ve accepted my proposal, Miss [Name]. I shan’t let this chance go in vain.”
You scoffed and looked away.
“Didn’t you already force me to marry you?”
Slowly, Azul smirked.
“Certainly not, I was merely presenting a beneficial contract for both of us.”
“Is everything just a business to you?”
“Of course not. I can make you happy too, the same way I’ve made your parents happy. That is,” He pushed his glasses. “if you give me your heart.”
“Isn’t it enough that you have my hand? Must you own everything of me?”
“Once again, I’m merely striving to provide a beneficial situation for everyone included. A happy, loving marriage is definitely a part of it.”
“I don’t see any reason why I should exert myself more than necessary, considering that this is just another case of beneficial marriages. I’ll give you my hand and children, but you shan’t ask for more.”
Azul shrugged.
“If that’s what you wish, so be it. But you shall see, Miss [Name], that everything is easier when you surrender to the current.”
You left the pier with the warning hanging on you like a shadow. What tricks did he have up his sleeve now? He’d taken the one thing precious to you; the one thing that comforted you whenever the cruel nicknames your peers threw at you dig too deep. What more could he want?
The answer came to you when the carriage suddenly stopped a few meters away from the yard. You looked up and opened your mouth to ask, when something burning penetrated your smell.
“M-milady? The house...”
You peeked from the window and your eyes subsequently widened. Fire engulfed your grand, dusty mansion, burning everything and everyone inside. Then, something crashed your carriage from beside until it toppled. A stabbing sound cut off the driver’s scream, and you were left to hear the crackling sound of fire in the distance. Someone opened the door above you, and the familiar face of the bizarre man greeted you.
“Pardon the intrusion, Milady, but I was ordered to bring you home.”
“W-what are you talking about?! What happened to the driver?!”
“That is unimportant. What matters is your safety. So, please, give me your hand.”
“No, tell me what did you do first! Is this Azul’s doing?!”
The man merely grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the fallen carriage. You bumped into his body and looked up. He grinned.
“Forgive me, Milady, but you have to rest first. Let this prepare you for the pleasant surprise later.”
***
It was cold and slightly stifling.
It felt as if you were floating yet an invisible weight pushed you back to earth. Everything sounded blurry, and your eyesight was no better once you woke up.
There was a huge shell-like canopy above you, and you were sleeping in it.
Yet it wasn’t what surprised you the most, rather, it was the constant stream of water around you. You were drowning, but you weren’t breathless. You didn’t die. And your legs–
“Goodness, [Name]! Is this how you wake up every morning?!”
A pair of blackened arms with small purple fins pulled you up from the sea floor until you sat back on the bed. The creature in front of you was the creepiest one you’d ever seen, but he wasn’t entirely unrecognizable.
He was, after all, your own fiancé and the merchant.
“Don’t scare me like that again, do you hear me?!”
You gaped at him. At his golden seashell necklace, his partially nude body, and his tentacles.
“What… what are you? Who are you?!”
“Calm down, [Name].” he murmured, rubbing your back before you could fully hyperventilate. “I know everything seems strange right now, but over time, you’ll get used to it.”
“No! Answer my question first!”
Azul withdrew slightly, surprised by your insistence.
“I didn’t expect such an attitude from you, but I suppose Jade wasn’t lying to me.”
“Jade? Is he the one who burned down my house?! Where is he?! And his damned twin too!”
“I said calm down, [Name].” he hissed, pushing your shoulders down. “Shouldn’t you talk to your future husband first before you go to another man?”
Slowly, you turned to him.
“What’s there to talk about?! You ordered them to destroy my mansion, forced me to become your wife, and stole my legs for a tail! You broke the rules, Azul!”
He frowned.
“No, I didn’t. I said I’ll give the medicines to your parents for free, if you marry me. But I didn’t say that they get to use it.”
“So, you lied to me?! All this time you’ve been manipulating us like some kind of puppets?!”
“It’s not my fault that none of you read the proposal correctly, and instead blindly accepted it. And besides, you said it yourself that you’re willing to do absolutely anything for your mother.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but his argument had rendered you speechless. It was a basic rule, of course. You remembered, far in your childhood, all the tedious lessons about laws and contracts. How you should always read the terms and conditions properly, and clarify if there was any ambiguity. But desperation and anger had made you both overlook the blatant loopholes, and now, you had to pay the price.
“Why…?” you whispered, voice cracking like your heart. “Why me? Why not others?”
“Because I admire you.” Azul murmured, caressing your cheeks that were wet from the brine and tears. “I admire how devoted you are to your mother, to your family, even if it earned you mockery from your peers. I admire how stoic you are in the face of pain and pleasure, and how you’re able to stand your ground. Nobody can be the perfect wife and mother to me.”
And for the second time in the same span, you burst out crying. Azul cooed and pushed your body into his chest.
“No longer will you be known as the ‘spinster’, but instead, as Lady Ashengrotto.” he simpered, resting his chin against your hunched back. “My wife and mother to our children.”
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rhyaxxyn · 1 month
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writeblr resurrection (mind the gap, i'm still filling the grave back in)
about rhyaxxyn…
❂ my name is rhyannyn (ree--uh--nihn), but i go by rhys or rhyn
❂ she/her
❂ 21. last time i was here, i was totally 19 (maybe?)--and now I can do adult things??
❂ infp/infj - t  |   leo sun... i don't know what that means anymore, but i am ambitious to an awful extent, and creative to the point i feel like i'm dragging ideas around by their throats 24/7
❂ of native american and polish ethnicity. unfortunately i didn't grow up very connected to my native american culture so i don't claim it in my books though i do include aspects here and there (just little things i remember my dad telling me as a kid), but a lot of my polish heritage shines through in my writing.
❂ i work customer service and it drains me--but i love all my coworkers and would do anything for them
❂ i'm pretty sure when i wrote my last writeblr intro i said i love mac and cheese. things have changed for the worse and now i'm very allergic to dairy. tragic, i know.
❂ per usual, my little mentally ill bones give my writing inherent spice
❂ i have a partner (everyone clap), and he has thankfully made me realize how toxic some of the relationships i used to write are :D so many of the couples you may have seen if you've been following me for a while are OUT. but you know what's in? my sweet meow-meow boys. just you wait.
what do i write?
❂ many of my works are religiously inspired or have religious themes. yes i used to be catholic. yes it sucked. now i tear down those systems which took advantage of me in my works.
❂ i still don't write yucky relationship dynamics, especially now that i realized that I DID. but, i do write women who stand up for themselves, i write girls who discover that they deserve kind lovers, and i write men who aren't incompetent when it comes to the women they love. and being queer and dating a queer person, i write healthy wlw, mlm, and nonbinary inclusive relationships.
❂ i love complex characters. i love main characters who do awful, terrible things that are justified by the outcome. I love antagonists who fight against the protagonist because they've only seen the terrible means. and i love haunted characters who are stuck in cycles of evil which they see no way out of.
❂ in the regards of genre, i still only write fantasy. in variations, of course, but i'm a beast of habit
here's what you came for; the WORKS IN PROGRESS >:)
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In the wake of a god being mysteriously killed, the Nameless War has waged between the gods and humanity for fifty-eight years, killing that which is mortal and immortal, and creating constant battles for territory between the divine Creator military and the human Revolutionists. As hope for future peace between the species wanes, the fate of the war lands in unlikely hands.
Pandora, a goddess, the lost creator, nameless and chained to the Earth because of duty, yet still running from her true power.
Quinn, a god, the skijic and Creator High General, desperate for the memories of a life lost and the familiarity of a purple-eyed goddess.
Natia, a girl, heiress to one of the Republic of Valentulus’s most powerful cities, and slave to the Revolutionist Snake General.
Loyalties whither, fear awakens, and stories collide as the Nameless War reaches its tipping point. It is up to Pandora, Quinn, and Natia, each of them sworn against one another, to challenge the boundaries of their duties—and their pasts. The only thing that might change their opposing fates is the truth, letting the past fly free could very well set the darkness loose.
Infinite Tangents rewrites the definition of divinity, the gods of legends remembered and lost no more than a species without a home. The fight between deities and humanity is made equal, and the fate of the universe unsure.
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Billions of years prior to the events of Infinite Tangents, the planet of Kaleis, and the Kaleidoscope Suns' kingdom is in the peak of its power, guarded by her Divine Majesty Heather and her Phantom Suns. However, in the wake of an attack on the Light God's holy temple, they come face to face with the dark, and the reality that the universe will always call for balance.
Now Heather must navigate the dark, the light, and the truth that good, evil, demonic, and divine may not be so easy to define as she led herself to believe.
All empires must fall, but how much of herself must Heather lose in the process?
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Aita Hunt is a ruinsome, good for nothing orphan. With no one to rely on in Requiem, one of twelve glass Orbises launched into Earth's orbit in the wake of its enigmatic destruction, Aita suddenly finds herself fallen into a world of politics, deception, and magic which has little to no patience for a girl who is changing the world by mistake. Bound to love the man who abandoned her; bound to kill the woman with enough money to buy Aita's assassination--she must be scrappy, and quick-witted, and foolish enough to take any handouts offered to her.
Even those given by her makeshift god and Teller of the Requiem.
Aita has never known her odds to be fair, never known a kind touch since her mother drifted into her eternal sleep, but even if it is a dangerous, powerful man granting her a chance to survive, she'll take it.
And if she must be more ruinsome than her divine masters can take, Aita will learn to pray for forgiveness.
(applause here)
if you've made it this far and would like to watch me struggle and scream into the void and hopefully finish these projects, i'd really love a reblog/comment/follow so i can reach out and follow back. seeing others write and pursue their passions pushes me to pursue my own. plus, i love having new writer friends who enjoy void-screaming too.
well then friends, that's it... sort of. i have plenty more ideas to spout at you all but these works will be my main focus. unfortunately for those of you who followed me in the ancient days and are now watching me claw out of a grave like a disgruntled corpse, i will have to pull a bit of content for Infinite Tangents and the world of The Natural Orders in general. for good reason though, as i've started researching literary agents in the hopes of publishing the first book! yayyyy :')
all of this is very daunting, and horrifying, and so much as looking at my list of agents makes me feel like i wanna throw up--but i do remember and am so thankful for the support of everyone who i so much as came across on the writeblr community. without y'all i wouldn't even be trying, so thank you.
to anyone who does remember me, welcome back to my page and sorry for the metaphorical dust. things will get clean i promise. and to anyone new, intrigued, or even skeptical about the crazy things i come up with, please feel free to follow or question me. though, i don't promise the answers will make much sense either.
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boomhauer · 2 years
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Embarrassing Part 1
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Embarrassing: One
Series Masterlist
Summary: Emerson!Reader (Gareth’s cousin) is having a hard time fitting in at Hawkins. At Gareth’s request, Y/N tries better to be like everyone else. Eddie reminds her who she is. 
Pairing: Emerson!Reader/Eddie Munson. 
What to expect: Slow burn. Angsty
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: Unfortunately inspired by true events. 
Just want to clarify that I’m not labeling reader with any sort of personality disorder, autism, or adhd. She just happens to be an combination of my younger self and someone else I knew who struggled with making friends, same as I. If you identify with it, awesome. But I’m not intending this to be a representation of a certain group. 
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Gareth took his seat at the lunch table with a deep sigh. 
“Somebody shit in your cereal, friend?” Jeff chuckled, clapping a hand on Gareth’s flannel clad shoulder.
“Yeah, actually,” Gareth grumbled. “My cousin just moved in over the weekend. Totally unexpected. She just showed up out of nowhere.”
“She hot?” Barry grinned.
Gareth scowled in disgust. “She’s my cousin!”
“So?” Eddie cut in. “You can tell if someone is objectively good looking even if you’re related.”
“She’s weird,” Gareth hissed, frowning at his sorry excuse of a lunch.
“Weirder than us?” Jeff quipped.
“Yes! She just…says shit and it’s awkward.”
“...Well?” Eddie egged on. “Are you going to give examples?”
“No,” Gareth answered. “You’ll see her in a couple days. My mom is coming to enroll her tomorrow morning. She’s a senior too.”
“I’m sure she’s not that bad,” Dustin offered.
“You’ll see,” Gareth grumbled. 
----------------------------------------
You walked next to your cousin up the steps of Hawkins High school. Another new school. 10th one is the charm, right? It didn’t look any different than the previous schools you attended, except different colors and a new mascot on the walls.
“Please, for the love of god don’t embarrass me,” Gareth pleaded. 
“You keep saying that but I haven’t even done anything!” you snapped.
“Just think before you speak?” Gareth suggested. He pointed down the hallway towards the location of your first class and left you to your own devices. 
Even though you had been the new kid almost a dozen times now, you still hated the first day of school. You saw people pointing and whispering as you made your way towards your class. You ignored them, pretending that they were just pieces of furniture obscuring the hallway.
Things shouldn’t be so difficult now that you have Gareth here. Yeah, he was a couple years younger, but he was the closest thing you had to a brother and he could shepherd you towards the right people, instead of learning the hard way, thinking people who you considered friends were actually making fun of you and weren’t sincere at all. 
Moving as much as you did was hard, but making friends was harder. You didn’t want to be weird. You wanted to be liked and have friends. Wanted the usual high school experience of getting invited to football games and dumb parties. You thought being friendly and trying to strike up conversations would make people like you, but it mostly got you weird looks and scoffs—or worse, they pretended to be interested and the sarcasm went over your head. You thought you were funny, and figured that if you faked enough confidence, surely some would appear, right? Fake it till you make it? It didn’t work as well as you had hoped, but at the same time, was that really your fault? Why was it fair for everyone else to be themselves, yet you had to pretend to not be you? 
One girl that you considered your friend at school number eight, told you that you would be cooler if you just stayed quiet and acted more like a girl, whatever that means. You tried to take her advice by not being the one to initiate conversation and giving only simple one to two word answers when spoken to. It lasted one day because you thought your brain was going to explode or you were going to bite your tongue off from physically trying to stop yourself from speaking. 
The first class of the day was Liberty and Law. Must be some sort of civics class. You hoped, wished, prayed that if you snuck in early enough you’d be able to avoid the ever so awkward forced introduction. A few desks were already filled, most weren't. You quickly sat behind a really large guy in the second to last seat of the first row. You couldn’t see the board from behind him, which meant that if you couldn’t see the teacher, then the teacher couldn't see you. 
The big guy turned around to face you. “You’re Gareth’s cousin, huh?”
“Don’t tell me we look alike,” you replied with a nervous smile. 
“Nah, he told us that you were gonna start today.” He held out a large hand, offering a shake. “Barry.”
“‘Sup, Barry?,” you returned. Instead of shaking his hand, you placed your fist out. His brown eyebrows raised in confusion, but he slowly closed his hand to mimic yours. You bumped your fist against his. “Who is ‘us’, by the way? Got a mouse in your pocket?”
“No, he told us. The guys. Hellfire club,” he answered. “Can I see your schedule? I can tell you if any of us are in your classes.”
You handed him the paper and watched as he read the table.
“You’ve got American Literature with Jeff, and then Algebra II and TNT with Eddie.”
“TNT?” you repeated. “The hell is ‘TNT’?”
“Tigers need time. It’s like study hall. The last thirty minutes of the day, you can use that time to do homework, study, read, draw. Basically anything except leave or sleep.”
“Detention,” you mused. “It’s detention.”
Before Barry could reply, the teacher came in and started taking attendance. You ducked behind Barry, but to no avail. When the teacher reached your name, he asked you to stand. You did, face feeling warm from nerves as the whole class looked at you in judgement.
“Welcome! I’m Mr. Crowder. Please tell the class your name, where you’re from, and one thing you’ve learned about the great state of Indiana since you’ve arrived.”
You took your eyes off of Mr. Crowder and his horrific handlebar mustache and settled your gaze on Barry’s shirt. “Uh…my name is Y/N Emerson, I just moved from…not Indiana, and one thing I’ve learned is that y’all have the worst football team in the league.” You quickly sat down, ignoring the few snorts and gasps that erupted from the class. 
“Not Indiana?” Mr. Crowder repeated. “Would you like to elaborate?”
“No, I would not,” you answered with a curt nod.
A guy wearing a letterman jacket in the front row sneered at you. “What would a dumb girl know about football anyway?”
“Enough to know that losing every game since the season started is not a good thing,” you returned honestly.
He scoffed. “If the Colts suck so bad, who’s your team then?”
You held up your hands in defense at the guy’s hostility. “Hey, man, I know how it feels. I’m an Oilers fan. We haven’t won ten games in the last four seasons combined.”
The guy opened his mouth to reply, but was instantly cut off by Mr. Crowder, who insisted the lesson begin. 
You tapped on Barry’s shoulder and whispered, “What’s that guy’s problem?”
Barry leaned back to respond. “People get sensitive about sports.”
You frowned. “Yeah, but it’s not like I lied? If he’s fan he should know that the Colts are zero to ten, right?”
Barry chuckled softly. “Yeah, I think he knows. He just doesn’t want to face reality about it.”
“Well that’s stupid. It’s just a game, not that serious.”
Barry laughed again. “Eddie is going to love you.”
Your second period class was Spanish. It was a bit confusing at first. The teacher, a middle aged plump woman by the name of Ms. Simmons, claimed to have a degree specializing in the language and years of in field experience, but you found yourself frequently correcting her grammar and pronunciation under your breath. It seemed to annoy your neighbor, who scowled at you each time you mumbled to yourself. This didn’t go unnoticed by your teacher, who eventually asked, “Y/N, do you have a question?”
You shook your head. “No, you’re just saying it wrong,” you announced. “‘What did you eat’ is ‘Que comiste’, not ‘que comieron’. That means ‘what did they eat’.”
Ms. Simmons lips flattened into a thin line as she glowered at you. But, in a quick blink, she smiled, a smile that was off putting and most certainly did not reach her narrow gaze. “That’s a good catch! I was testing to see who was paying attention!” she turned around to erase the board that displayed her error. 
Environmental science was your favorite class of the day so far. Your first project was on biodiversity surveying and identifying three invasive species of plants and/or animals. You already had a couple of ideas on what to look for as you completed a similar project back in school number nine. 
When lunch came around, you took your time putting your things in your locker before heading to the cafeteria. You saw Gareth and Barry sitting at a table with a bunch of other boys. You walked up to them and plopped down next to Gareth. 
“You’re not gonna eat?” Gareth asked.
You eyed the brown, chunky sludge on Gareth’s tray. “Pass. That looks like dog puke.”
His fork clattered against his tray as he pushed it away with a grimace. “Thanks for ruining my appetite.”
Your eyes scanned the rest of the table. You met the gaze of three boys you didn’t know, and one you did. “‘Sup, Barry?” You held your fist out towards him, who repeated the gesture with a smirk. 
“You’ve met?” Gareth questioned, eyes flickering between you and his friend. 
“Duh! Me and Barry go way back. Eight o’clock this morning to be exact,” you answered. “No thanks to you. Your rude ass isn’t going to introduce me, then I guess I will. I’m Y/N, I don’t play DnD, I do play the drums just like my cousin here, and I have an irrational fear of elevators.”
Gareth slowly hid his face in his hands as your words lingered in the air. The boys all continued to stare at you. 
“I got four noses or something?” you questioned, frantically placing your hands over your chin and forehead. 
“You know, that’s a pretty legitimate fear,” a curly haired boy said, pointing his plastic fork at you. “I was stuck in an elevator once for six hours and let me tell you, I’m in no rush to repeat it. I’m Dustin, by the way.”
“Mike,” a pale boy sitting next to Dustin with wavy jet black hair and cheekbones sharp as a knife. 
“Jeff, hi,” a dark skinned guy waved.
“Hey, I think Barry said we have fourth period together!” you smiled. 
“Don’t look too excited. Ms. O’Donell is satan’s mother,” Jeff grinned. 
“That she is, my friend.” Another guy came and plopped himself at the head of the table. He had long, wavy brown hair and a smile that almost sent you into cardiac arrest. 
Damn he’s cute.
“You said that out loud,” Gareth muttered.
You unwillingly tore your attention from the whiskey colored eyes glancing back at you. “Huh?”
“You called Eddie cute out loud!” Gareth hissed.
“Oh,” you blurted. You could feel a blush start to burn your cheeks. Don't make it weird. Don’t make it weird. “You’re Eddie? Barry tells me you’re gonna love me.”
Shit.
“Oh yeah?” Eddie chuckled. Damn, even his voice was sexy. 
“Yeah. She pissed off Andy by reminding him that the Colts are the worst team in the league.”
“Christ, Y/N! Really?” Gareth exclaimed, face screwed up in frustration.
“What? I didn’t expect him to get all bent out of shape over a football team. You’d think he was on the roster with how pissy he got.”
Gareth shook his head, once again hiding his face in his hands. 
“Why do you even care? Do you know the guy?” you questioned.
“No, but come on! You really want to insult people your first day here?”
You stared at Gareth blankly. “If you’re waiting for me to give a shit about what that guy thinks then you’re gonna be waiting a hot minute.”
“Barry’s right, I do love you,” Eddie interjected with a grin. 
You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. You knew he was just joking, but it still made you giddy. 
“Alls I need is you and my best friend, Barry. Oh, and my new love, Eddie.”
“Cheers, sweetheart,” Eddie winked.
This boy and his damn stupid, beautiful face was going to be the death of you. 
---------
The rest of the day was much of the same. Luckily you were already ahead in English, having completed the required reading of Macbeth at your old school. Jeff was thrilled by this and asked if you would help him with his analysis essay. Agricultural science was a total bird course, meaning you’d fly right through. Nothing better than putzing around in the greenhouse, right?
Your last class of the day was Algebra II, and you were dreading it. Math was your kryptonite. With how often you moved, it was difficult to keep up and build on stuff you were supposed to already know, but didn’t. Math was already hard enough, whose brilliant idea was it to start adding imaginary numbers in the mix? You occasionally glanced across the room at Eddie, but he seemed to be having more luck at following along than you did. 
TNT. Tigers Need Time. What a joke. Instead of heading to a thirty minute mandatory detention, you made your way to the girl’s bathroom to sneak in a quick nap. 
---------
When you made it home, you threw your backpack on the bed that your aunt said was now yours and sat on the floor in front of it. As far as first days go, this one was pretty good. You made five new friends that were basically grandfathered in, and one you made on your own after Spanish class. It turned out that once you corrected Ms. Simmons, your huffy neighbor wanted to trade numbers so you could go over her work. You told her that you didn’t know your new phone number yet, but you took hers and planned on calling her after dinner. 
Gareth walked into your room and sat on the chair by the desk. “Well? How did it go?”
You shrugged, picking at the dried leaves stuck to your shoelaces. “It was school, man. You were there for the exciting part.”
“Did you really tell the Spanish teacher she was wrong?” he asked harshly. 
You frowned. “She was wrong. She wasn’t conjugating her verbs correctly.”
“And did you tell Brittany Shull that you wanted to rip her eyes out of her head?”
“I asked her if she wanted to trade eyeballs because hers were so pretty. What’s wrong with that? It was a compliment.”
“You couldn’t have just said ‘you have really pretty eyes?’”
Your voice grew smaller. “But she said thank you when I said that. She thought it was funny.”
Gareth sighed and slid off the chair and onto the floor across from you. “Y/N…people don’t like that. You call everybody ‘man’ even if they’re a chick, you say things you think are funny but it just comes off as weird, you act like a know it all, and you fist bump like you’re a guy. Don’t you want to do things that other girls do? Like--I don’t know--talk about Tom Cruise?”
“You know I hate Tom Cruise,” you spat. “Why are you so ashamed of me, man? What does it matter if people like me or not? It’s not like you and your friends are winning a popularity contest.”
“That’s my point. I’m already picked on and called a freak. I don’t need your help making me more of a weirdo. You’ve only got six months left in this school. I have two years!”
You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You couldn’t stop the angry tears that started to flow or the remarks that started to spew out of you. “Really, Gareth. Really? That’s what you’re worried about? How my reputation affects you? Fuck you, man! Why do you get to go against the grain, be yourself, and it’s all fine and dandy. But when I do it, it’s annoying. It’s weird. It’s not what people like. I would think you, of all people, would know that it’s hard to fit in!”
“Alright, alright! Fuck! Don’t bite my head off! That came out totally wrong!” Gareth shouted. “I just wanted to help you, okay? Maybe just, before you say something, just take a second to think. Ask yourself, ‘what point am I trying to make’, and then just say that-the point. Instead of asking to take another girl’s eyeballs, just say ‘wow, your eyes are beautiful.’ It’s not hard.”
That’s where Gareth was wrong. It was hard. You thought you were doing the right thing. Saying the right things. Him constantly reminding you how off putting you were was not helping at all. You brushed the tears off your face and got to your feet.
“Where are you going?” Gareth asked nervously. 
I’m going to go pretend that the snare drum in the garage is your fucking face. 
“Practice,” you answered. 
--------------------------------------------
Part 2
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Phantom of the Opera (1943 Film) Prompts! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these ideas and I’d love to read it! 🎭🧡
1. Erique Claudin was madly in love with you in his younger years. He was a very handsome and eccentric man with a great talent for music. You soon became lovers and later told Erique you were with child as soon as the doctor confirmed it. Not wishing your baby to be a bastard and raised out of wedlock, you and Erique made plans to marry as soon as possible, before your stomach could possibly give you away. You later bore a beautiful daughter, Christine. Erique had composed a song for you during your courtship and later added a part for Christine after her birth. When she was little, Erique would play the violin while you’d rock her to sleep and sing an old lullaby that you both knew from Provence.
Unfortunately, you died when Christine was still very young, devastating Erique. He didn’t know what to do without you. You were dead and he was clueless when it came to raising a girl all by himself. Due to his demanding job in the Opera House Orchestra and your untimely death, he didn’t have the proper means to take care of Christine, who was only a baby or toddler at the time. He couldn’t raise her himself, so he either sent her to live with your family or put her up for adoption. Either way, he made sure she went to a good home. Whether it was your maiden name or her adoptive family’s name, she took the name DuBois and never knew of Erique’s true connection to her.
As she grew up, she resembled you more and more each day. Erique never found another love after you. Twenty years of you being gone, and he wished every day you were still with him. When Christine began her singing career as a chorus girl in the Opera, he put his entire fortune towards her education, anonymously funding her singing lessons. She was blessed with the gift of her mother’s voice and every time Erique heard her sing, he heard you. After he’s dismissed from the Orchestra due to his hand injury, he has to withdraw his support from Mademoiselle DuBois only for a little while, just until he can secure another position. But a series of tragic events lead to him committing murder and his face being burned by acid. A man who’s suffered so much loss would do practically anything for the love of his daughter, even kidnap her and try to force her to stay with him in his home in the underground sewers forever. Christine is the last vestige of you, his darling wife, and he can’t bear to lose her.
He tells Christine that he’s her father and he loves her. She’ll now sing all she wants, but only for him. He keeps a portrait of you in his lair and tells Christine all about her dearly departed mother as he reminisces on his much happier memories of being an aspiring musician. He was young and didn’t have much money or commercial success yet, a starving artist. But what little money he had would always be spent on a ticket to the theatre, just to see you. He was in love with you from the moment he first saw you on stage, so his earnings were well spent in his eyes. He could live without food or a roof over his head, but he couldn’t live without you.
“She was in a repertory company. the same actors and actresses doing different plays, a different play every night. First time I saw her, she was a singer who had a broken heart, a lot of sad songs. Had everybody in the theatre crying, whole ocean of tears.”
“I don't think I'd like that.”
“Yes, you would. Everybody did. Next night, she was a dancer. Whirling around the stage, sparkles in her hair, lighter than thistledown. Took my breath away just to watch her.”
“Dressed like that?”
“Yes, child. Artist didn't paint her as pretty as she was.”
“Did you see all her plays?”
“Every one of them. Not just once. The theatre was my courting place. I sat right in the middle of the front row every night, where she could see me. After, I went backstage. Was four days before she even said hello.”
“Oh. Then what?”
“Then it was the wonder, the glory, sunshine, and lightning all at the same time. After we learned we were expecting you, I came to the Paris Opera House to join the Orchestra. With my salary, I built us a house. I then went back and asked her to be my wife. When she said yes, I was so happy I was dumbstruck for an hour.”
“Why did she go away?”
“It's none of your business why.”
“I'm sorry.”
“She tried to retire and stay home to focus her energy on raising you, but there was nothing here but the house...No theatre, no people...no company except for the birds singing. As much as she loved you, she wasn't used to it. I didn’t get home from the Opera House until late in the night. She got the lonesomes so bad she couldn't stand it. Uh...she went away for a little...back on the stage again.”
“In Paris?”
“Ohh...other places. Mostly Paris. Uh, standing around here talking, the spiders will be gaining on me. Be cobwebs in here thicker than before. Come, sit. Listen while I play for you. Did you know I wrote this song?”
“No.”
“I did. That’s why I wanted to teach it to you, but it was not to be. These aren’t just notes, there’s something hidden in the music. These notes here, they represent you. They find their way into every song I play. This phrase…this is your mother.”
“Are you in the song?”
“Somewhere, but it’s not important. You and your mama are all I can hear when I sit down to play.”
2. Erique becomes creepily obsessed with you, a young woman who works in the Opera House and reminds him of Christine’s mother. He may or may not have been able to marry Christine’s mother, but he loved her greatly all the same. He tragically lost her either through her death or her falling out of love with him, and has since never been able to get over her. You encountered him a few times in the foyer, on the stage, or outside the Opera, but that’s all. You were so busy with your daily work that you didn’t have much time to acknowledge him beyond a polite hello in passing. Erique was deeply offended and driven into taking further action with you after being criticized by Signor Ferretti for his love of you. He believed that Ferretti spoke out of turn and dared to insult not just him, but you as well.
“Claudin, if you don’t mind me saying so, you’re a fool. A man of your age might secure a young girl like her if he happened to be the director of an opera company, but a poor violinist…”
How dare he doubt your love or the piano concerto he wrote for you! He may be a man of forty-eight years and past his prime, but you never treated him differently from other men just because of your significant age gap. You smiled at him in passing, happily accepted all of his courting gifts which he spent a fraction of his fortune on, etc. It was Signor Ferretti who was the fool for failing to see how deeply he loved you and how you loved him in return! Unbeknownst to Erique, you mistakenly thought his anonymous gifts were from another potential suitor, a handsome man who was closer to your age. You’ve never thought of Erique in such a way, but he’s too delusional in his fantasies of you to realize this. He secretly has a marble bust made in your likeness that he keeps in his room so he may gaze upon your lovely face while he’s composing. But soon the marble bust isn’t enough. He needs to have the real thing.
Following his first act of murder and tragic disfigurement from the acid, he begins his reign of terror as the Phantom. He steals the master key to the Opera House and, with that key in his possession, he can open 2,500 doors! To say nothing of thousands of closets and cabinets. He can hide everywhere, the entire police force couldn’t find him here. He unlocks your door and sneaks into your bedroom while you sleep. You’re in such a deep slumber that you barely stir while he strokes your cheek, moves your hair out of your face, and presses his nose against your skin to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume. Oh, his love! His wife! He leaves you with a brisk kiss and disappears back into the sewers. He has such big plans for you! Wonderful plans!
You start to notice a man’s shadow following you, but it always disappears before anyone else can see him. You start to hear a man’s voice speaking through the walls. From what he says, he sounds lovesick and it creeps you out. You try to warn others but no one else believes you except Vercheres. You develop insomnia and deep feelings of paranoia because of your fear and anxiety. When an opportune moment presents itself, Erique kidnaps you and takes you to his underground lair in the sewers, drugging you to ensure your cooperation. While you’re asleep, he puts a wedding ring on your finger and a matching one on his own. His young bride is a vision! So very beautiful, so very lovely!
“You’ll stay here with me, my wife, won’t you? It’s been so lonely without you but you’ve returned to me at last, haven’t you? We’ll be together forever. Now you’ll sing for me, and I’ll play. It’s beautiful down there. Beautiful. Come now, my darling one.”
“There's a piano in the Opera foyer. Let's go there. You play, and I'll sing for you.”
“But you don't understand. We can't go back there ever. It was I who made the chandelier fall. I for you, my love. But I warned them. I told them there'd be death and destruction if they didn't let you sing. Come. See? Didn't I tell you it was beautiful? You didn't know we had a lake all to ourselves, did you? They've poisoned your mind against me. That's why you're afraid. Look at our lake, dearest. You'll love it here when you get used to the dark. And you'll love the dark, too. It's friendly and peaceful. It brings rest and relief from pain. It's right under the Opera. The music comes down in the darkness, distills it, cleanses it of the suffering that made it. And it's all beauty. And life here is like a resurrection.”
He forces you to play along with his deluded fantasies, often believing you’re his lost love and calling you by her name. You’ve tried to tell him you weren’t her, and sometimes it works. In his moments of lucidity, he calls you by your real name. Those hours or days are much more bearable for you. Other times, however, his behavior is unpredictable and trying to break him out of his fantasies has yielded disastrous results that have frightened you terribly. You’ve had to tread very carefully not to set him off because his personality can flip at any moment. Claudin as the Phantom talks in an extremely gentle, husbandly manner to you and almost never raises his voice to anyone, which makes him even more chilling with the murders he commits.
“Is that any way to talk to the father of your children?”
“Children? What do you mean children? We have only one child.”
“No, my darling. We have many children.”
“My god, what have you done? Tell me, what have you done?!”
“Would you like to see our daughter? Would you like to see our Christine? Would you?”
“Yes!”
“My darling daughter, your mother has returned to us. Come, give her a kiss.” He’s kidnapped at least three children; a boy, a girl, and an infant. The girl resembles Christine when she was a child. Same colored hair hanging in ringlets, same eye color, same porcelain pale skin and red cheeks. He’s trying to recreate the family he wanted but could never have before Christine’s mother either left him or died. Oh, God.
3. Unbeknownst to either of you, you’re Christine DuBois’ twin sister and are both daughters of Erique Claudin. You were separated at birth after your father put you both up for adoption. Your mother was dead or otherwise gone, and Erique was clueless when it came to raising two girls. While Christine is an aspiring singer and sings in the chorus, you’re an aspiring ballerina and dance in the ensemble. Despite your respective talents, neither of you are given much opportunity to shine. You’re both kept to the background and overshadowed by the prima donna and prima ballerina. You both encounter Erique a few times in the foyer or on the stage or outside the Opera. He showed concern for Christine when he noticed she wasn’t on stage during the Act Three curtain call and asked if she was sick. Similarly, he does the same with you when he notices you’re missing from the stage. Why weren’t you there? Forgive him, but he’s been here so long that you - everybody and everything connected with the Opera is so much a part of his life. You weren’t ill, were you? You’re not in any trouble? Oh, it’s impertinent of him, he knows, but uh…
When Erique suffers an injury to his left hand that prevents him from the use of his fingers and negatively impacts his performance, he’s dismissed from the Paris Opera Orchestra. He no longer has the means to anonymously support either of you. Claudin has secretly spent all his fortune on yours and Christine's education, and he has no money left to go towards his forced retirement. He has to withdraw his financial support from both of you only for a little while, just until he can secure another position. But Signor Ferretti refuses to tutor Christine any further without proper compensation and your ballet instructor is the same. Why should either of them assume Claudin’s burden after he spent all his money on the two of you? The girls mean nothing to them.
But your careers mean more to Claudin than anything else. Neither you nor Christine can afford the lessons on your own. A month’s salary wouldn’t be enough to pay for one of your lessons. Desperate to provide for his darling daughters, he hopes to have his piano concerto published and receive a substantial advance for it. But a misunderstanding leads to Erique committing his first murder and getting his face burned by acid. This sets off a series of unfortunate events that turns him into the Opera Ghost. A man would do practically anything for the love of his daughters, even murder anyone who would get in the way of their careers.
He later tampers with Biancarolli's drink to make her fall asleep and unable to sing. Christine, her understudy, has to take her place on stage. Erique also sabotages the current prima ballerina by putting glass in her ballet shoes or otherwise breaking her feet/legs by creating a terrible accident on stage so that she cannot dance and you have to take her place. He’ll help both of you reach your full potential and you’ll become a great and famous ballerina, as Christine will become a great and famous singer. Biancarolli, who suspects that Garron and Christine are responsible for drugging her, orders Raoul to arrest them. The prima ballerina suspects you of causing her injury and orders your arrest as well. But Raoul says he cannot because there’s no evidence. Biancarolli and the prima ballerina both say they’ll forget the affair only if both you and Christine are replaced as understudies and your performances are not mentioned in the papers.
Both Biancarolli and the prima ballerina are later murdered, along with their maids. They’ve been strangled to death by the Phantom to make room for the unsuspecting Christine and you to take their places. He later kidnaps both of you and takes you down to his lair in the sewer tunnels, revealing that he’s your long-lost father and you’re sisters. Words cannot express how sorry he is for disappearing from your lives and not being able to watch you grow up. If he could’ve raised his daughters himself, he would’ve kept you both in a heartbeat. But he didn’t have the means to raise two girls alone, and needed to give both you and Christine your best chance. So with a heavy heart, he gave you both up to be adopted by other families when you were only a few months old. Now reunited, he wants all three of you to be together forever. A happy family, as you should be.
“You’ll stay here with me, my children, won’t you? It’s been so lonely without my girls but you’ve both come to me at last, haven’t you? Now, Christine, you’ll sing for me. Y/n, you’ll dance for me. I’ll play. We’ll be together forever. It’s beautiful down there. Beautiful. Come now, my little ones. There, you’re not frightened now, are you? You know I’ll not harm either of you, don’t you? How could I harm you? I’ve always helped you. Haven’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, you’ve always helped us.”
“Of course I have. Biancarolli knows. The former prima ballerina knows. She wouldn’t let you sing. She wouldn’t let you dance. They didn’t know how much I love you. Now they know. But it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters except us. Now you’ll sing and dance all you want, but only for me. You will, won’t you, my darling daughters?”
“Of course…Father.”
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4. You were born into a wealthy and well-connected family. Your father took the family on a tour in Europe where you were introduced to an English-born Parisian hostess, with whom you bonded. She was a stimulating hostess who didn’t care for her appearance, and while her ideas didn’t always agree with those of her guests, she was incapable of boring anyone. Her behavior was exasperating and eccentric and she had little respect for upper-class women, whom she regarded generally as inconsequential. She generally rejected female company and spent her time with male intellectuals. She made an exception, however, in the case of your family and you in particular. She demonstrated that women could be equal to men, an idea that you hadn’t learnt from your mother.
You were respectful of your family's opposition to you working as a nurse, only announcing your decision to enter the field. Despite the anger and distress of your mother and sister, you rejected the expected role for a woman of your status to become a wife and mother. You worked hard to educate yourself in the art and science of nursing, in the face of opposition from your family and the restrictive social code for affluent young women. After being confronted by two potential suitors who demanded you choose between them, you chose neither and pursued your nursing career unhindered by marriage prospects. You’re now working at the Opera House, as a literal theatre nurse. You take care of the performers and other staff in cases of fainting spells, accidents, sickness, or injury. Unlike your predecessor, you’re young, beautiful, and sweet-natured.
You met Erique Claudin and knew him only as a violinist in the orchestra. You encountered him a few times in the foyer or on the stage or outside the opera, but that’s all. He seemed eccentric but harmless. But over time, you found yourself wanting to take care of him. You’d notice how he’d keep odd hours and would hardly eat anything. Why doesn’t he get himself something to eat before the opera instead of keeping himself up all hours? You notice he has the same soup night after night, week after week. The Opera House staff gossip, falsely believing that his overdue debts is caused by him being a miser, and they complain about it.
“What that man does with his money is none of our business. If he wants to hoard it and starve to death, that’s his affair. But we hear he hasn’t paid his landlord for six weeks, and that’s as long as they’re going to wait before they toss him out onto the street.”
“What if he hasn’t any money? Maybe if they’ll be patient only just a little longer…”
“He hasn’t any money? After working for the Paris Opera all these years? What nonsense! What does he expect to do with his money? Bury it with him? If he does, they’ll dig him up and steal it. If he thinks he’s going to add a few francs to his fortune at the expense of others, he’s very much mistaken.”
An artistic genius he may be, but he wasn’t well-learned in the arts of the kitchen. He didn't do much more than toast cheese over bread and add a slice of already cooked meat to it since he couldn’t afford much else. So you cook him better, more savory meals using whatever’s leftover in the restaurant and still fresh enough. There was a roast chicken in the pantry and a previously made broth you found on the stove, so you made do with what you had. You made him another soup, but one that was full of cooked meat and vegetables. Sitting beside it on a plate was a chicken sandwich. You were unsure if he even drank tea, but still made him a cup with sugar cubes and cream on the side in case he wanted to add either.
Erik devoured the whole thing in seconds. Quickly setting the bowl of soup aside, he picked up the sandwich and savored the taste of the chicken, bread and mustard as it all came together inside his mouth. When that was finished, he happily over-sugared his tea and drank it down, feeling contently full for the first time in years. You worried he’d get a stomach ache and make himself sick from eating so fast, but you’re glad he enjoyed it. It seems he doesn’t eat a great deal, and that worries you. He should be eating and sleeping well since he works so hard. He’s very grateful to you.
“You’ve been very kind, you’ve been very patient. You’ll be rewarded for it, I promise you! Now please leave me alone.”
After Erique suffers an injury to the fingers of his left hand, he can only play simple melodies perfectly. He goes to you for help and you examine him. While you may or may not be able to determine the cause, you offer to provide physical therapy sessions, free of charge. You know he can’t afford medicine, but maybe this’ll help him a great deal. Perhaps his injury is only temporary, perhaps it’ll get better, but the aim of the Paris Opera is perfection. It’s with a heavy heart that the managers have Erique dismissed from the Orchestra. He’s been with the Opera a long time - twenty years. You wish you could do more to help him. You’re happy to care for him and he’s happy to play music for you in return, to show you his progress following your physical therapy sessions. He never sought more than a casual acquaintance with you but you become friends and, despite your significant age gap, you fall in love.
But then he commits murder and acid is thrown in his face, driving him to go into hiding in the labyrinthine sewers of the Opera House and begin his reign of terror as the Phantom. In his desperation to protect you and repay you for your kindness and time spent devoted to helping him convalesce, Erique would do anything for you, even murder. He’s so desperate for love and friendship that he may even kidnap you. Fortune had smiled upon him the night that you came to the Opera House, and he had savored every moment he had shared with you. You were his loyal caregiver and companion, when so many others had cast him aside. You had cooked for him, talked to him, and even laughed with him whenever he managed to gather the courage to tease you about something. You even allowed him to snuggle close to you as you read - never before had he enjoyed reading so much as he did with you. How could he possibly let someone come and take that away from him now? His darling daughter, Christine, will never care for him in his old age, but maybe you can. In your years working as a nurse, you’ve probably seen lots of gruesome and grisly injuries such as gunshot wounds, infections, amputations, etc., so he hopes you wouldn’t faint or reject him upon seeing his disfigured face. Even if nothing can be done for the acid burns he’s suffered, he still dreams of spending the rest of his life with you by his side.
5. You succesfully bring to the present time Erique Claudin, a violinist from the 19th century, with a homemade time machine. In the split seconds between when Raoul fired his gun and the underground sewers were collapsing, you saved Erique’s life by sending him here before he could be crushed to death from the falling rocks. The underground tunnels are caved in, and nobody would ever try to move all that rubble to recover Erique’s body. He was presumed dead and Christine was rescued. In his time, only his mask and violin were left behind. You try your best to hide and protect him from exposure while he’s given a second chance at life. He may choose a different name or alias to go by. Modern medicine, technology, and makeup may help him either fix his face or acquire a mask that almost seamlessly blends into his skin more, covering his acid scars and giving off the illusion of a perfect face. His unique talent, behavior, and personality puts him in the spotlight, making it only a matter of time until he’s discovered and what you’ve done comes to light. Annoyed by the current primo uomo of the modern day Paris Opera House, a group of stagehands plot to scare him away and give his position to the young understudy with a shared identity - the Phantom of the Opera. Oh no.
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spiteful--art · 1 year
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Baby Mine - Songfic
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Synopsis: An incident in alchemy turns Grim into a kitten, and seemingly washes him of his memories. The result has Yuu taking care of the baby monster.
Third Person POV, Yuu is Genderneutral, some slight OOC, has inspiration from @pookacangetit 's Disney Song Yuu AU
"...Now class, if you turn to page 114 of your textbooks, you should be able to find the ingredients list for the Pinnacle Potion."
The sounds of paper being flitted through fills the laboratory, many students muttering to themselves. Yuu's group, consisting of Ace, Deuce, and Grim, gather around a cauldron. Crewel slaps his whip to the blackboard, drawing attention to him.
"The Pinnacle Potion, though grand as it may sound, merely improves the body's performance. It gives you strength and amplifies your magical performance, but I must reiterate that you are banned from taking these during any events, so no using them you unruly mutts!"
"Not like we can take them anyway," Yuu chuckles, reading through the list of ingredients. "Ain't that right, Grim?"
"Myeah, even though the Great Grim will wipe the floor with em, you're still my other half! And no offense, I can't let my henchman get hurt." Grim huffs. "Still, maybe if you take a Pinnacle Potion, you can get some magic in ya."
"That's not how it how, ya dummy." Ace replies, crossing his arms. "Yuu doesn't have any innate magic in them, so the potion wouldn't work."
"Oh, that's stupid." Grim grumbles.
"Hey! Pups in the back, pay attention!"
The group snap their heads toward Crewel, who looks at them with a pointed expression.
"Anyways, listen to my instructions clearly..."
Yuu tunes out the background noise, focusing only on Crewel's voice as you prepped your ingredients. So far, things were looking great.
"Did he say to add this recipe?" "Dunno Deuce, but better throw it in just in case."
Ah, it was too good to be true.
The cauldron's contents bubbled to a roar, and Yuu barely had enough time to shield themself before the concoction exploded, sending them and their group mates back and crashing into other students. Unfortunately, the explosion also knocked Yuu out as a result.
When they came to, Deuce and Ace were being scolded by an irate Crewel who seemed to be holding a bundle of cloth. "I cannot believe this! This is the third time you two mutts caused in this class!" He says, eyebrows furrowed in anger. "And you've also managed to knock the Ramshackle prefect unconscious, and just look at the state of Grim-"
"Wait, what happened to Grim?" Yuu muttered under their breath.
Crewel notices Yuu from the corner of his eye, turning his attention to Ace and Deuce to send them to detention before walking over to them, a concerned expression on his face. "Ah, Prefect. Are you well? Do you feel sick?"
"I'm fine, thanks for asking Professor," Yuu replied, though their eyes remained glued to the bundle in Crewel's grasp. "But what's with that thing you're holding? Does it have something to do with Grim?"
"Unfortunately, yes. It's best you take a look for yourself..."
Delicately, Crewel transfers the bundle to Yuu, instructing them on the proper way to handle it. Yuu's eyes widened when they finally see what the cloth concealed.
A tiny gray kitten with flames in its ears, eyes shut in a sleep.
"I'm afraid your other half has turned into a baby."
Seeing Yuu's stunned silence, Crewel speaks more. "I'm not entirely certain why the reaction was caused, but whatever those two rascals threw in must have changed the chemical properties of the Pinnacle potion to such a great effect that it reversed Grim's age."
"Has he been asleep this whole time?" Yuu asks, staring at Grim with a neutral expression.
"Yes, he hasn't woken up-"
A tiny yawn cuts off Crewel's sentence. The kitten stirs within the bundle of cloth before revealing his blue eyes. He sees Yuu, silent for a moment, before letting out a high-pitched keen.
Yuu chuckles. "Well hello Grim," They say, brushing a finger on Grim's face. "Welcome to the waking world."
Grim continues to cry out, looking at Yuu expectantly. The Prefect looks to Crewel. "If you don't mind professor, I have a baby to feed."
Three Days Later...
"Sheesh, you'd think the potion would wear off by now," Grumbled Ace, his bag holding bottles of formula. "And Yuu's acting really weird too! They're acting as if Grim's their own baby.
"And I don't get why we have to help out too!"
Deuce lightly smacks Ace's shoulder, earning him a grumble from the redhead. "We're the ones who messed with the potion, so it's our responsibility to at least get Yuu supplies!"
"Alright, alright, I get it-"
The two boys reach the front door of Ramshackle, letting themselves in. It's become a habit to do so since they spend a lot of their time with Yuu, even more so when they can't answer the door due to taking care of Grim.
Speaking of which.
A high-pitched cry reaches the two's ears as they enter the living room of the dorm.
"Hey boys, you're just in time for dinner," Yuu greeted from the armchair. The kitten in question cries out in a fit of frustration, throwing a tantrum as Yuu attempted to place the bottle in his mouth. "Seems that Grim still has that sass to him, heh."
"You could say that again, I almost miss it when he'd just talk himself up!" Ace grumbled, plugging his fingers in his ears. "I thought he'd be less of a nuisance like this."
"Babies are quite difficult to care for, even if they're monsters." Deuce adds, placing the formula on the table. "I'm just glad it isn't you that turned into a baby."
"Oi, the hell is that suppose ta mean?!"
"Boys, quiet down." Yuu's voice cuts through the beginnings of an argument, sternly gazing at the two. "I'd rather you not make Grim's feeding time more difficult than it already is!"
"Sorry..." Ace murmurs, Deuce rubbing his arm. "But did you at least try singing to him or something? Lullabies are supposed to keep babies quiet after all."
This makes Yuu pause, looking at Grim in thought.
"Hmm... Well in that case, let me try something."
Clearing their throat, Yuu began to hum the notes of a lullaby, though Grim continued to cry.
"Baby mine, don't you cry...
Baby mine, dry your eyes..."
Immediately, something stirs in the hearts of the two Heartslabyul boys. Yuu's soft voice grabs the attention of Grim, who stares at them as they sing.
"Rest your head, close to my heart,
Never to part, baby of mine..."
Perhaps he was imagining things, but Deuce swears that he could hear his mother singing to him. He feels like he's five again, sniffling as his mother calmed him down.
Ace, meanwhile, feels tears welling up in his eyes. He's supposed to be a tough guy, and yet the Prefect's song... All those repressed emotions are clawing out of his heart. Maybe he should call his mom sometime.
Meanwhile, a rose-haired boy's eyes start to blur, the text of his books becoming unintelligible while yearning for something yet not knowing why.
A lion dreams of being a cub once more, his mother cooing over him as she shook a rattle at him.
An octopus hugs his pillow tight, mumbling out requests to be held.
A snake stays silent, though his heart aches for praise overdue.
A queen ponders over his accomplishments, filled with a sad longing for what could have been.
A shut-in's hands tremble as he struggles to continue the game, blinking away his tears.
A dragon contemplates, a rare moment of sadness filling his chest.
"From your head to your toes.
You're so sweet, goodness knows."
Yuu gently rocks Grim as he suckles on the bottle, the kitten's eyes drooping as they sang.
"You are so precious to me,
Sweet as can be, baby of mine..."
Finally, Grim closes his eyes, returning to sleep. Yuu looks up only to see Ace and Deuce sleeping on the couch, though they note that Deuce's cheeks sport tear tracks.
Sporting a smile, Yuu adjusts themselves, and soon join the rest in slumber.
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gddancefloor · 6 months
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△The New Fate of Paradise, my JSaB AU/Fanfic, is now finally POSTED! ♫
Okay, this is extremely exciting news. I have worked on this fanfiction for nearly a month (which is too long for me already lol) and it is finally done, with chapter 1 uploaded and chapter 2 nearly finished! You can read it here on AO3. I might post it on Wattpad, but the cover for it is still being worked on for now, so that will have to wait. Please enjoy, though! And reblogs are GREATLY appreciated. And yes, this is the project I had planned that was inspired by one of the coolest people in the JSaB fandom: @pinktrashgoblin !!
The New Fate of Paradise - GDDanceFloor
(read more for a small sample of it 👀)
Paradise was that one place shapes of many sizes and colors from far away wished to belong to one day. From the rolling hills, to the trees that stuck up from the ground, the sun that blessed the inhabitants with the beauty of its rays, it was truly fitting to its name. Nowadays, after an unfortunate event harmed Paradise and there was no choice but to rebuild after such, there were large, sky-high skyscrapers, some hosting homes for all sorts of families of Shapes, some for business, and some for stores. Music was always playing regardless of the location, and even if the urban area was constantly bustling with population, most residents of Paradise City loved being part of it. 
The city surrounded one park that hosted a tree — a holy tree, as some would say, that shimmered a blue color brightly night and day and was believed to be the life force of Paradise as a whole, as well as the source of sheer ultimate power that had to be protected, which, in the event a Shape went rogue and decided to consume all the power for its own, it would create mass anguish for all of Shapekind and lead to utter annihilation of Purity, making it impossible to stop the evil. This beautiful thing was the Tree of Life. It bore many different kinds of properties that affected a Shape's body or mind, whether for purity or corruption, depending on their heart's truth.
Well, if regular Shapes were powerless against such perpetrators, who were the ones behind guarding the Tree, you may ask?
Four guardians, created by the Tree of Life after the devastation, were responsible and destined for keeping such a land safe from the evils that, to legend and rumor, roamed the outskirts of it, alert as ever from dawn to dusk to ward off threats. Though nothing ever happened, and they wished it'd stay that way forever, they continued to stay on guard regardless. 
It'd only been a decade and two years since they'd been born, still growing and learning about the world around them, but even if their existence was still new, the fact that the legend of the Guardians born ready to defend even came true was considered a miracle by all Shapes, regardless of opinion or belief.
The young aforementioned heroes were known as followed:
Cyan, a tomboyish girl with light blue wavy hair to her shoulders and a cyan hue to her eyes, the very way she got her name, Tria, an adventurous boy with shaggy blonde hair and golden eyes, Penta, the straightforward and introverted one of the four who bore deep pine green hair twirled into two pentagon-shaped braids at the back of her head, and finally, Orange, though more on the dorkier side, he still was a sweetheart with his bright orange eyes and curly peach-tinted hair. These four were awfully powerful despite their smaller size, considerably much smaller than any Shape for that matter, but being blessed by the Tree at birth was nothing more than beautiful and lovely, as being chosen by something so important to protect it was nothing shy of special. Now, an ordinary owner of a small cafe (which also happened to be her home) near the center of their land was Cube, a sweet, kind girl with a bit of a slouch to her posture and a bit wider at her sides, with eyes that probably needed some kind of glasses since she’d bump into things or knock stuff over frequently. Her hair was cut into a short neck-length bob, it being a pale pastel blue color, and her dark eyes often were low-lidded, only adding to her peaceful disposition. Around her neck was a light blue scarf, underneath that would be a dull slate tinted coat covering a minty teal dress and black leggings. She was a close friend of the beloved Guardians, spending countless mornings and evenings with them with breakfasts and teas prepared by her. They'd known Cube since the festival years ago that celebrated their birth, when Cyan took note of a child that was her age and was the only one there without a parent or caretaker, and since then, the Guardians had kept watch over her and the Tree until Cube was old enough to be by herself. It was truly an unbreakable friendship, that’s why neither one of them took it for granted. Even if training had begun to double down with the team and they recently had less time together, the moments they shared were valued more than the quantity of them.
(OK THATS JUST THE INTRO BUT THANKS FOR EVEN CHECKING IT OUT ANYWAY I APPRECIATE IT AAAAAAAAAHGHGHG)
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Edgelord
A Total Takes Island fanfiction
•••
So I decided to write an Assney fanfic to show you all the true potential of toxic yuri and hopefully convert some haters. This is a fanfiction inspired by @totaltakesisland written by @total-drama-takes-takes-2 TTI series, which I strongly recommend you read.
This fanfic takes place during episode 8, the Paintball Deer Hunter episode. It’s Ass/Courtney, with some Sha-mod and Mclovin cameos. I’d probably say it’s PG-rated.
•••
Ass sighed heavily, crossing their arms tightly over their chest.
Due to a series of wacky and unfortunate events, Courtney and Ass had their deer antlers locked together, both unable to remove their accessories for fear of forfeiting the challenge. They had been chasing Sha-mod and Mclovin for quite some time until the two idiots somehow evaded them. This left Courtney and Ass alone, deep in the woods.
“You know, I’m not exactly the most thrilled to be in this situation either, but complaining isn’t going to solve anything,” Courtney said, hoisting the paintball gun over their shoulder.
They did their best to time their steps with Ass’s, so they didn’t get too far ahead and cause their antlers to come off. It was proving to be difficult, as Ass was walking at a brisk pace.
Ass stopped suddenly, nearly causing Courtney to collide with them. They surveyed their surroundings the best they could “Where did those two go?”
“I think we lost them,” Courtney said, dejectedly handing the gun to Ass. “If I had to guess, they’re headed back to camp.”
Courtney looked around as much as they could, and pointed in the direction of a clearing.
“Which should be this way.”
“This is your fault,” Ass said quietly as the duo started walking again. They were doing their best to look daggers into Courtney’s soul, but it was only so affective with their neck craned at an odd angle.
“My fault?” Courtney repeated, exasperated. “I’m not the one who hunted down their own teammate!”
Ass sighed again. Yes, this was true. While they certainly did not like Courtney, they weren’t the one who caused them to end up like this. That crime was caused by McLovin and Sha-Mod.
“My team team is full of idiots! No wonder we keep losing. First there’s my only ally leaving me to… do whatever McLovin and Sha-Mod have going on,” Courtney said, holding up fingers as they began listing. Their voice escalated as they went on, “then Caesar refusing to do any dirty work, Mal sabotaging their own team, and you falling for her obvious manipulation!”
There was an awkward silence that followed.
“She was nice to me,” Ass finally said. Their voice wavered.
Now it was Courtney’s turn to sigh. “She can be pretty convincing. I know better than most.”
There was another beat of silence.
“Is your name actually Courtney?” Ass kicked a rock as they walked. It hit a tree and bounced off.
“Is your real name Ass? Of course not. It’s just the alias I choose to go by online. Same as you.”
Another silence.
“What’s your—“
“Don’t ask,” Ass cut off Courtney before they could finish. “I’m not going to tell you, anyway.”
“Why are so mean!?” Courtney prodded, loudly. They stopped suddenly, causing Ass to halt in their tracks as well. “I mean, jeez, what did I ever do to you?”
“I’m not mean!” Ass exclaimed, perhaps too quickly. Their antlers clacked as they rattled together. Embarrassed, they paused, then amended. “It’s— it’s not like I have a choice. I have to be.”
Courtney scoffed. Voice dripping with sarcasm, they said, “Oh my god. Okay, Edgelord, whatever you say.”
“It’s self preservation! In case you can’t tell, I’m not exactly the most sociable person,” Ass took a breath, then continued, “I mean, how could I not be? People are terrible.”
“You’re telling me,” Courtney said, quietly.
The two briefly exchanged glances, then continued walking again. Slower, this time.
“Oh, please. Like you’d know anything about that.” Ass rolled their eyes, despite their face being out of view. “You’re such a push over. And a people pleaser. I’m sure everyone back at home loves you.”
“Not everyone. Believe me, I get it.” Courtney offered a sad smile that Ass caught from the corner of their eye. “I’m not like Mclovin. He’s easy to talk to and outgoing. I don’t make friends so easily. At least you’re confident in who you are. Like you said, I’m just a pushover.”
“You’re easy to talk to,” Ass said nonchalantly, as if they didn’t realize it was a compliment. “I mean, you got me telling my whole life story here.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah,” Ass smiled—only slightly—at Courtney.
“Sounds we have a lot in common.” Courtney said. They grabbed Ass’ wrist as they walked, causing both of them to stop in their tracks. Ass twisted their neck uncomfortably so they were looking directly at Courtney. “Maybe we could be friends.”
Courtney smiled at Ass— a full, genuine smile, that caused Ass’ face to turned red. Their ears burned hot. Ass looked down at their wrist, where Courtney was still holding on to them. They pulled their wrist away, holding it close to their chest.
“I… I…” Ass sputtered, completely at a loss for words.
“What do you say? Friends?”
Their heart fluttered in their chest. Oh no. No no no. This won’t do. They needed Courtney gone. There was no room in this competition for vulnerability. For feelings.
A noise from the bushes nearby suddenly demanded the attention of both Courtney and Ass.
This conversation would have to wait. They approached the offending bush with caution and stopped directly in front of it, two voices coming into earshot.
“I think they found us,” one of the familiar voices whispered harshly.
“I told you hiding wouldn’t work!” Another voice came from the bush. “Quick, take a sha-peek and see how close they are.”
“Why do I have to do it?”
“Because, you’re the one who got us into this mess!”
“This is your fault!”
Ass cleared their throat loudly. Mclovin and Sha-mod’s heads popped out of the bush, each looking like a deer in the headlights.
“Sha-run for it!” Sha-mod exclaimed, and the the two booked it with Courtney and Ass in hot pursuit.
“Not so fast!” Courtney yelled.
“You’re not getting away that easy!” Ass pointed the gun in the general direction of the duo, shooting indiscriminately.
They chased their targets out of the woods and back to camp, leaving their conversation about friendship far behind.
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bubblybookworm4 · 11 months
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Sweet Assumptions
Part 1 ~ Film Flashbacks
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Requested: Yes / No
Pairing: Klaus Baudelaire x Fem! Reader
Tw: Remembering Someone’s Death
Word Count: About 660
Overall Summary
Part 1 Summary: Klaus reminisces on the peculiar night at the movies. While the Baudelaire’s are on their way to Prufrock.
Current Setting: Mr. Poe’s car
A/N: This is crazy. I have always wanted to write something, and now I have. But there are a few people I'd like to thank for making this happen. First, my best friend who has read and re-read all of my drafts of this story so far. She is invested ng. Secondly, all the fanfic writers out there have given me the inspiration and confidence to do this. And lastly you, the reader, I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did writing it. No promises but Part 2 should be out in a week or so.
Read the other parts here —> Masterlist
* I do not own A Series of Unfortunate Events *
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Klaus was lost in reverie as the plains flashed by. Gazing back at his sisters, he took in the temporary warmth around him. Sunny was napping, induced by the hum of the road. And Violet was engaged in a meaningless conversation with Mr. Poe. Who enthused over Prufrock Prep which was soon to be their home.
Knowing their family's banker was exaggerating, he decided the window would suit him better. Klaus had many respectable things to think about. But found himself drifting back to that peculiar night at the movies.
Not only was it the last time the Baudelaires would bond with Uncle Monty, but it was significant in other ways too. Oh, Uncle Monty … he was reminded, head filling with sorrow. Processing this he pulled back, tensing up. Just to shut it down before the image of his uncle's cold, petrified face could intrude into his mind. Klaus sat in emptiness, over the multitude of hapless moments that had occurred since the Baudelaires lost all sense of safety.
Then he revisited what it felt like sitting in the middle of that theater with his siblings, uncle, and the new ill-disguised assistant “ Stephano” (aka Count Olaf). The movie was plotless and easily forgettable. But, he remembered the movie-goers around them watching in udder fascination. Including a mysterious and delightful girl sitting two rows ahead.
Almost shamefully, he found himself peering at her. From behind her composure gave away she was trying to keep this moment close. In the same way he did when anything nice came around. Especially with the hardships of the past few weeks.
Resting in his chair he scanned how his uncle's spyglass was being used, maybe he could learn something new? Although with no revelations and with disinterest in the film he looked back to the girl. In that shadowy theater, he could make out her flowing h/c hair and red-painted nails which delicately popped popcorn on her tongue.
About halfway through, his uncle fled the theater, making “Stephano” agitated. Violet and Sunny stuck to their uncle’s word and kept a close eye on him. But Klaus was still focused on the girl, especially since she seemed on edge.
It was pretty unusual for him to be distracted like this. Yet, he observed her be annoyed seeing that she ran out of her favorite film snack. Searching the bag for any hidden morsels she stood up, deciding to get a refill. When she walked out of her row he couldn't shake the bright smile and arresting looks she carried so well. Surprising him since he only saw her from behind. As she made her way up the aisle, he quickly ducked his head down. Making sure she didn’t know he was looking. At that moment he didn’t understand the source of happiness that sparked a true beam like that. He of all people his age knew the world could be depressing. But then he thought over how some have no choice but to be grateful for even seemingly insignificant things.
He looked back up, gapeing as she exited. Pondering over how his siblings and himself have become a part of those some. He weighed if she was as well but dismissed that thought almost immediately. A girl like that probably had a fine life. She wouldn't need to search for simple joys. In her absence he returned to the unimaginable film. She never came back. After that, their night only got worse.
He thought of that time often now. It was his way to remind himself that there is still hope for happiness. If only the Baudelaires could escape Count Olaf’s grasp. Also, he wouldn’t mind seeing that girl again. But being one out of 7.8 billion, the chances were low. A speed shift brought him back to reality. As they passed the wrought iron gate surrounding the dull campus.
“ Welcome to your new home, Baudelaires!” Mr. Poe exclaimed, the car coming to a stop.
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mello-bee · 7 months
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my favorite one so far-
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I'm still brainstorming him but so far I've got this:
Ricker is a second year octavinelle student!
Ricker is from a family of professional fishers, they live near the ocean but visit lakes and rivers frequently to catch different types of fish there
Ricker can't swim and has an irrational fear of alligators and sharks, so he never enjoyed the family business and wishes to stay away from it, he's using NRC to discover his abilities and passions. he's never travelled much so he's trying experience other environments in the forms of the personalized dorms as well.
his family aren't very accepting of his passions or the fact that he's drifting away from their family business, and it frustrates him that they're still insistent on pressuring him to get back in the fishing business, even after he lost his hand to an alligator on the last fishing trip he had went to.
still despite his fear of the ocean, he really likes to play up his "pirate persona", he doesn't find himself as scared of the ocean when he's on a big ship (such as a pirate ship) where the dangerous creatures of the sea can't get him
(unfortunately, it appears the dangerous creatures of the sea are also his dormmates now, who would've saw this coming)
unlike what you'd think, he's actually not very traumatized by the alligator incident, sure it strengthened his fear of the ocean but he was still very young when it happened, so he doesn't remember the details completely. he's fine with people making jokes about it (cough cough Floyd) he even makes jokes himself! its part if his "pirate" persona afterall.
he's very greedy, much like an actual pirate, as displayed with his signature spell. he's also very dramatic, you'd think his true passion is theater! maybe it is? he enjoys halloween events at the mostro lounge the most, because he gets to roleplay with the customers!
that's all i have lol, but while you're still here have this WIP
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yes he's the first oc getting a fake dorm uniform card, yes this is clear favoritism, no im not giving a horrendous fedora, just because the fish mafia can pull it off doesn't mean everyone can
and ofc, inspired by ↓↓↓
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ingravinoveritas · 2 years
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Screenshot Anon again! Thanks for responding and hope you don't mind me following up but I can't resist. You draw a comparison to GT&DT, and yes! As annoying as GT is with the fan-courting posts, they both really seem like being with each other is a dream-come-true. MS&AL on the other hand, well, baby-trapping is a double-edged sword, isn't it. Every post AL makes is so contrived and desperate. Not as desperate as the stans are to romanticize their relationship though...
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Hi, Screenshot Anon! No worries at all, you never have to apologize for bending my ear. I’m glad you wrote in again with more of your thoughts, and as you can see, another Anon has also joined the conversation. (Here’s a link to the previous post, for those who might’ve missed it.)
Anon #2: I think the common theme to every post AL has been making lately is thinking/hoping it will come across a certain way...but then it doesn’t. I will correct you on one little point, though, which is that Michael is not a Boomer...having been born in 1969, he is actually Generation X. I have no idea whether that has any effect on texting style, but I know I have followers who are GenX who would be miffed to be called “boomers.” Haha.
That being said, there is definitely a stiffness and a peculiar formality to Michael’s response. Going with the comparison to Georgia and David again, there is an emotional intimacy to their exchanges, an ease borne of familiarity. Michael and AL have (apparently) been together for three years now, and that sense of familiarity and intimacy was absent from the texts we saw. I would agree with you that he likely didn’t want to betray his disinterest, so he came up with a response that was polite and a bit dismissive.
But if we are going to talk about the contrived and desperate nature of AL’s posts, I have to bring up two more recent posts of hers that more than merit discussion. Michael was trending on Twitter on Friday afternoon due to the stirring speech he’d made on ALOTO the night before going viral. In the midst of all the hubbub, AL posted this on Twitter:
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An hour or so later, there came a perfectly timed Instagram post of pictures from a trip she and Michael had just taken to Budapest (presumably where Michael was filming whatever it was he dyed his hair for). There were several photos of Lyra and exactly one picture of Michael in the post, and it was again another unflattering picture taken at an unfortunate angle:
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(I mention this because this is a continuation of AL’s pattern of taking/posting unflattering pictures of Michael (or pictures he didn’t even know were being taken). A few other recent examples are from the “behind the scenes” pictures from LTTC that she posted about a month ago.)
Now, two days ago was also the one-year anniversary of the NTA Awards where Michael presented David with an award and a moment that gave us The Hug Felt ‘Round The World. And astonishingly--yet not all coincidentally--Anna also posted this picture in her Insta story...
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No mention or acknowledgement of David winning an award. No mention of the event in question at all--just the suggestion that it was her and Michael out on the town. And as WTF-inspiring as the picture of Michael in Budapest was, this one absolutely had my jaw on the floor.
I truly do not understand what possessed her to post that picture or think it somehow sells their relationship, because there is a stark difference between Michael in this picture and Michael in pictures with David from the same night, particularly when you look at them side-by-side:
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What I mentioned earlier about the “polite disinterest” in Michael’s texts is exactly what I feel like we’re seeing here. It’s not even so much that he looks completely bored next to her (though he does, especially given how animated and happy he is with David). For me, the most striking difference is in his eyes. With AL, his eyes are muted, subdued--the picture is an obligatory one, as if he is wearing the “face” he wears for the public. With David, Michael’s eyes completely light up, as does his entire expression--he is relaxed, natural, and fully at ease with him.
”Gobsmacked” would honestly be the word I would use to describe my reaction to that picture, especially when every other picture being posted that day was of Michael and David. And Screenshot Anon, I think the romanticizing of Michael and AL’s relationship is being done by people who don’t realize how carefully crafted all of this is, or the fact that the tweet and the Budapest pictures and the NTA pictures were posted at the same time, in a deliberate bid to get AL attention on social media while Michael was trending.
But something I have noticed about the people you mentioned, who work so hard to ship Michael and AL, is that it almost feels like they are compensating. Compensating for what? Well, looking at the pictures above, it seems plainly obvious who Michael has more of a connection with and to whom he is more attracted. A lot of the stans can’t reconcile that with the fact that he’s “supposed to be” in love with AL, so what I find myself seeing is people whose instinct is to post pictures of Michael and David 99% of the time, who then go overboard whenever AL posts something, to show that they are appreciating the “correct” relationship.
Also, Anon #2, you are not the only person who has reached out to me wondering if the text message screenshot could’ve been fabricated. Like you, I also did not doubt it was Michael initially, but to again go back to Georgia and David, we always see David’s name at the top of the texts. AL’s screenshot is cropped, one of the messages is scratched out, and there is a purposeful Good Omens reference awkwardly interjected into the conversation. While it may seem far-fetched to think the screenshot was faked, all of this together does lend a strange quality to an exchange that was already strange by itself.
I have to say, it is a relief to know that I am not the only one who has picked up on all of this, or thought that something was off with Michael and AL’s relationship/these posts, and I so appreciate both of you Anons sharing your perspectives. Thanks for writing in! x   
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singswan-springswan · 11 months
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return of the fish man
words: 2515
rating: general audiences
warnings: squeaky lawn chairs
summary: Per recent events, Lucy's been inspired to spend more time at the beach. She stumbles across Tim again, thanks to her stubbornly adventurous streak.
read here on ao3 | part one | part two | part three | part five
@accidental-spice
The next time Lucy saw him was an accident. Or a coincidence—because nothing about it was a real screw up or anything. Either way, it didn't happen on purpose, so her dazed afternoon took on a pleasant new luster.
In part because Tim was shinier than she realized.
It was actually a really nice spot. Her meeting with him earlier had inspired a bit of adventurousness for coastal exploration, and she'd stumbled across something that would have gone unnoticed by a not-cop. 
There was a rocky cliffside stretch a short drive from her apartment, technically open to the public but too rough for most civilians to bother. To the top was a steep incline, overgrown by thick brush and studded with boulders. Only a brave hiker would troop all the way up, and at that point it was a scary slope getting down. But clear to the other side was a nice beach, actually. The sand was soft. There were a few rocky outcroppings that dropped into the surf, but the waves were gentle because of the way the cliff wrapped around into the water.
Lucy learned her lesson with the hike a few times. Then she beat the system and found a sneaky little side entrance. Somehow, a split had formed in the stone by the high tide mark, just at the outer edge. It wasn’t obvious at all. In fact, the fault might have been dismissed as a shadow at any given time of day, and it was more than a tight squeeze. But Lucy had been bored and she’d shimmied as far as she could, pleasantly surprised to find it fully open at the end.
The cozy little cove was a lovely place to relax and chill. Plus, the near inexistant accessibility made it a totally private spot. Lucy had been going there after work for a week or so. She’d yet to see another person in the area.
Anyway, last night was a night shift, and tonight was another night shift. Unfortunately for Lucy, sleep had evaded her all morning. LA was at least a little quieter when the sun went down. It was annoying and inconvenient and she’d much rather have music stuck in her head than car horns and construction, but it couldn’t be helped. So by habit now, her restlessness had brought her to the beach, where hopefully she could at least get some peace and chill and be productive before clocking in.
Luckily, her folding chair fit through the secret passageway. And her rook book. She was pretty proud of herself for managing the bulk of it all.
If nothing else, it was a nice day for beach time, even spent alone. The sun was warm, the water had a shine, and the chatter of traffic and city life had dulled almost to a silence. She’d just tugged her chair free of the rocks when her cop eyes hit the scene. Not that a trained eye line would be necessary to spot him.
He was sparkling. Like a fake vampire from those books, which Lucy only knew about because a lot of her parents' patients had read them in common. True to form, it looked like diamonds had been piled up on the rocks. His tail was doing the heavy lifting, but he was wet and it was sunny and Lucy was squinting even with her heavy duty aviators.
It took her brain a few seconds to catch on. First, to identify what on earth she was staring at. Was it actually a pile of diamonds? Or maybe a long disco ball? Or was it possibly a mythical creature? Lucy didn't know too many mermen. Just Tim. Was that Tim? A quick shuffle closer proved that yes, it was indeed Tim.
He’d picked a low shelf to stretch out on. It was wide and flat, sticking through the beach sand and out a way across the surf. Every second wave or so cracked against the lip of it and splashed him with spray. Good spot to sunbathe without drying up. Was that what he was doing? He lay on his ventral side, tail curled lazily behind him while he did what looked like dozing, if Lucy had ever pegged him as that kind of guy. But his arms were crossed under his cheek and his eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and even. He looked very relaxed.
Lucy wished she could nap like that. It’d probably come in handy for night shifts.
But she wasn’t going to spite Tim; at least someone was getting a good snooze in. He wasn’t a nuisance, so setting up shop as usual would be no problem. 
She slung her bag off her arm, glad to be rid of the weight. It was heavy with the weight of the law. Really, the rook book shouldn’t get away with being called a book. It was a whole tome of tediousness, full of mostly fake professional legal jargon that could stand to be a million times more concise. If someone ever bothered translating the spoof into common vernacular, Lucy would bet she could tote it through the crack in the wall without busting her back before she was Nolan’s age. Totally unfair.
The thing wasn’t worth the space it took up, but Isabel would skin her alive if she ever said anything about that, so she’d have to keep those traitorous thoughts buried deep down. The most she could do for now was spite it. Lucy made a face at her bag and kicked her chair open.
(She—unfortunately—forgot how loud the thing was). The chair itself didn’t come in a convenient little bag like most, but it had been with her for ages. It was comfortable. Molded to her body. And it croaked if she looked at it funny. Needless to say, it made a lot of noise when the rough opening came without cue. The sound that squealed from those rickety old bones belonged in a horror movie.
Poor Tim wasn’t as deep a sleeper as could be hoped.
Lucy was just as startled—but really she felt bad. Tim bolted up so fast he almost fell into the water hyperventilating. His pretty eyes swung around in a panic, frantically disorientated, before landing on her. It took him a few seconds and about three stages of grief to recognize her.
“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to spook you!” She fumbled to steady the chair and wipe the amused grin off her face. Tim wouldn’t appreciate her laughing. “That was my chair. It’s super old. It gets really squeaky if I don’t grease the joints every five hours.”
Tim, to his credit, gathered his wits quickly. After a few firm blinks, and a few stabilizing breaths, his peaceful nap face became a thing of memory. The trademark Tim Scowl settled in cold as stone.
“What are you doing here?” His blunt tone was still rough from sleep, which Lucy should not be enjoying at all she really shouldn’t.
“I’m… just here to relax, I guess.” Lucy dusted off the chair seat. She squatted to pilfer through her bag, aware of Tim’s angry eyes tracking her movements. “I’ve got a shift in a few hours. Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d get some studying done.”
His silence was so judgy and it would have been funny to Lucy if it wasn’t so targeted. After a few seconds of mute staring, he narrowed his eyes. “How’d you find your way in? I’ve never seen anyone back here before.”
Lucy tossed a vague gesture over her shoulder. Should she lay her towel out parallel or perpendicular to the water? “There’s a crack in the cliff over there. I think it might be new. Maybe from an earthquake? Anyway, it’s big enough to squeeze through. I found this place about a week or so ago. How long have you been coming here? Is this like—your spot?”
“My what?”
“Your spot. You know, your secret place where you hang out and sunbathe.”
“That’s not what I was doing.”
“Mhmm,” Lucy toed her sandals off and scooped her rook book from the ground. It took some effort to execute the motion gracefully. “So you just happened to fall asleep on the sunniest rock in this perfect sheltered little area?”
“That’s none of your business.” Tim snapped.
Sheesh what a grouch. Seemed like someone didn’t enjoy getting startled from a good sleep. Lucy couldn’t exactly blame the guy; he was too pretty and too sparkly to ever be any shade of indignant with.
“Alright. Whatever you say.” She plopped into the chair with a wailing creak, then thumbed to her bookmark and picked up reading. Tim’s scowl was still palpable. It remained so for another rough minute. 
Lucy squinted at the dry boring text with minimal enthusiasm and reminded herself that she was serious about her job and couldn’t afford to be embarrassed at roll-call for not knowing the hyper-specific section and paragraph number to answer Grey’s dumb hyper-specific pop quizzes. It hadn’t happened to her yet, but Nolan was under heavy fire. She and Jackson by proxy were red-hot targets.
Her newfound dream of the super cool cop life and the fear of public workplace humiliation would have been plenty inspiring in other circumstances. But Lucy was sitting five meters away from a real life fish man. A very sparkly, very handsome fish man. Admittedly, her focus was not at full operating capacity.
Tim had just resettled on his sunny rock and closed his eyes when Lucy gave up on studying.
“It’s really nice to see you.”
He might have groaned into his arms; she didn’t totally catch it. 
“I don’t care.” His sharp comment was a little muffled. “Leave me alone. It was nice and quiet before you showed up.”
Lucy felt briefly surprised. But not because he was acting all prickly. She liked to think she possessed a keen detective’s intuition and had been able to anticipate his attitude since the last time they talked. Unfortunately, there were no burgers to smooth things over this time; the only snack she brought was goldfish. No—the surprising bit was a realization. Tim was bored.
“Are you bored?”
“No.” He denied it, of course.
“Well, look. Maybe you can give me some pointers for work tonight. It’s been a couple of weeks since my first night shift and I haven’t gotten the hang of it yet.”
“What makes you think I’d be able to give you good advice?”
It was such a fair question and the answer was so embarrassing. But as far as Lucy knew, Tim wouldn’t be gabbing to anyone she cared to tell, so he was a safe card. “To be honest, there’s nowhere else to go from here but up. My night shifts are so disastrous I get pranked like nobody’s business.”
The suggestion coaxed Tim out of his arms. He squinted at her threateningly over his wrist. “That tracks.”
“My TO made t-shirts! Then she handed them out to everyone at the station! It was so embarrassing.”
Tim’s hard lines softened into a smile adjacent. His tail gave a pleased little flick. “That’s some solid leadership right there.”
“You’re supposed to be feeling sorry for me.”
“What do you want me to say? Don’t fall asleep on the job.”
“Okay, first of all that’s not what happened.” Lucy lied. “I saw a freak in an old twenties gas mask wandering around the neighborhood and it was super spooky. I was taken advantage of.”
Tim snorted.
“It was an abuse of power!”
“Sounds like a good learning opportunity.”
How unbelievable. Who would say such things? Isabel would really like him. "Um, wow. That's horrible of you to say."
"Hey, if you can't handle being pranked, maybe you shouldn't be on the force. That's far from the most embarrassing thing you'll face as an officer."
"Right, and you're an expert on pranking rookies."
"Maybe I am."
Lucy crossed her arms, frowning. "What about giving them advice? I'm telling you, my night shifts suck hard. I could use any tips here."
The offer intrigued him the barest bit. Instead of rolling his eyes like she expected, he actually sat up a little, twisting to face her fully with one arm propped against the rock. "Napping is key."
Lucy gave him an unamused deadpan look. "Gee, thanks—"
"Usually around twenty-six minutes, if you can get it close. No more, no less. Don't try to stockpile on sleep. You'll just screw up your circadian rhythm."
"Oh." But given that assertion, this was a weird spot for him to be dozing off. Even if he wasn’t sunbathing. “Wait so why are you stockpiling?”
He frowned crossly. “I’m actually nocturnal. The nightlife is my scene and you interrupted some very pleasant dreams.”
“Is there also a bs reason you’re not sleeping underwater?”
“I see this is no longer a safe space.” He grumbled with a petty huff. “Fine. if you want to commandeer my spot and study me awake at all odd hours, I’ll just be going.” 
“No no wait!”
Before Lucy could stop him, he swung his dazzling tail around and hauled himself back into the water. She scrambled to her feet and dumped the rook book on her chair. Being pushy was one of her flaws. Or strengths. It really depended on the other person’s mood. She should have known better than to hack away at Tim after so harshly interrupting a nice moment for him. It was selfish of her.
Hopping across the slick stone, Lucy skidded to a wobbly stop at the edge of the shelf he’d been lounging on and knelt to get a better view past the surface. “Tim, come back!” She pleaded. “I’m super sorry!”
Something flashed like a shiny fish lure in the dark, seamless drop-off. Then Tim was there again, just to the side, arms crossed and glaring with very put-on annoyance. Lucy couldn’t help but grin at him.
“I’m sorry.” She repeated. “Hey, I’ll be really quiet. I’ll be invisible. You won’t even know I’m here!”
His skepticism was beyond apparent. Clearly, he didn’t think she had it in her. But this was his own private space, somewhere he’d had all to himself: a space where he felt safe, and comfortable, and Lucy really wanted to share it with him but she’d hate to ruin it too.
“Seems like a big promise coming from you, boot.”
“No really, it’s no sweat, you’ll see. I just don’t want to run you out of here.”
He scrutinized her for a while, scouring her features for any hint of weakness or dishonesty. But after a prolonged moment of tense soul-searching, he seemed satisfied enough to relax. “I’m not actually nocturnal, you know.” He muttered.
“I figured. By the way, you’re really pretty.”
The offhand comment utterly baffled him, which was a whole month’s supply of serotonin boost in one comical expression. “What?”
“Stunning. Absolutely gorgeous. Now get back up here and help me nap before my shift tonight. I need to learn from a professional.”
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secreterces5 · 2 months
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🦋 Hi, I'm Charlie! This is my art blog! I also have a main (secreterces-charlie), a turtle blog (teenagemutantninjatrauma) and a somewhat DST oriented blog that is more like a second main (charlie-charlie-yes-i-am-here).
🦋 I mostly post Don't Starve and TMNT art right now, as well as attempts at original stuff :)
🦋 I do commissions! If you'd like to learn more about those, head on over to here 👉 https://secreterces5.carrd.co
🦋 I also have a ToyHouse for all my OCs and sonas and whatnot, because I keep making more, unfortunately!
⭐ General organization tags! ⭐
#🌹 charlie's art ;; #🌹 oc art ;; #🌹 self art ;; #🌹 charlie's animations
#🌹 chareblog ;; #🌹 my friends' art! ;; #🌹 other people's ocs
⭐ Ongoing stuff! ⭐
🌹 2k3 separated AU - a TMNT 2003 Separated AU! Mikey is a Timestress, Leo is a Foot Ninja, and Donnie is missing entirely. Raph, after growing up with only his dad, decides to try and find his brothers!
🌹 Revolution Radio AU - a fic I'm writing on AO3! The 2003 ninja turtles start a radio broadcast!
🌹 AHC AU - art for the Actions Have Consequences AU, co-written with @/violetvulpini on AO3, about president Bishop accidentally adopting Cody Jones and the Dark Turtles after the Fast Forward season.
🌹 Clone Zixx Theory - art operating on my headcanon that Zixx is a Bishop clone. Mostly made this tag for adding context to my art, not gonna lie.
🌹 TCAJ - To Catch a Jackdaw, a to-be-published original story of mine about different worlds intertwining and causing magical events of catastrophic proportions. Currently involving characters Aran, Flip and Iotash.
🌹 the haters club - a roleplay inspired scenario between me and a friend where several no-longer-human people team up to be racist against monsters who literally did nothing to them. they make each other worse and are besties. Currently consisting of DST Charlie, TMNT Stockman and Bishop, and TOH Belos (and Lilith, kinda?)
🌹 Survivor Charlie AU - a Don't Starve AU where Charlie is somehow dethroned and now one of the Survivors!
🌹 Magician Interview! - small DST snippets of Charlie and Maxwell's life before... well, before.
Graveyard of unlikely-to-be-elaborated-upon-right-now AUs under the cut 👍
🌹 Spider Queen Charlie AU - Maxlie but they're cannibalistic spider hybrids
🌹 DST pirates AU - Maxwell is a somewhat struggling pirate captain. Wilson Higgsbury never wanted to be a pirate but ends up having to work with one anyways. They seek out the pirate queen for help, but unfortunately, there is relationship drama involved.
🌹 Understarve AU - An Undertale AU of Don't Starve Together. Wilson Higgsbury, a human, loses his way and wanders into a world of monsters. Maxwell and Charlie are plant monsters, studying magic to hopefully one day free monsterkind.
🌹 Spilled Beans AU - A Don't Starve AU where Maxwell tells Charlie everything. They are doomed, either way.
🌹 Stolen Blessing AU - Philza Minecraft is an angel committing crimes. It doesn't work out great for him.
🌹 The Sun Can't Stop Us AU - An Apritello Rise of the TMNT AU based on the Greatest Showman movie where Donnie is an acrobat and April falls in love with him.
🌹 UDOA AU - Unwanted, Dead or Alive! A Fast Forward AU in which somehow, Leo is the only ninja turtle left standing as his family goes missing and their disappearance is pinned on him. With the help from the Dark Turtles, he now has to clear his name and find his family, all the while looking for the true culprit behind this and bonding with his kind-of-sort-of brothers.
🌹 Old Man Mikey AU - The year is 2275, and you have just graduated under your master with the title of chūnin. "Who will be my new master, though, sensei?" you inquire, unable to contain your curiosity. Your sensei names a person that you frankly didn't even think was real. "The Ancient One, of course." (Or, Mikey became the Ancient One long after Fast Forward.)
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