#“incomprehensible reason” bro you love her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thatdeadaquarius · 2 years ago

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hi! quick tip: if you’re on mobile type ‘:readmore:’ then hit enter! i dunno if you’ve been told but. yeah :)

also, your recent piece on apd was incredible!! very nice to see representation!! keep up the excellent work <3 it did get me thinking though: reader with vocal stims, cementing it in the acolytes’ minds that you don’t speak the language of teyvat, and then you’re all just stuck in this loop of “oh man they don’t speak the same language of me” but they DO

if asks are closed or this is outside of your comfort zone then feel free to delete! have a lovely day <3

AHFJLAKLOSUDBABWB U FELT REPRESENTED YAY!!

A cookie for thee, and also extra for telling me how to do Expand thingy on mobile ilysm 🤲🍩🍪✨️ (pspspsps all askers,, u get cookies,,cometothedarksidepspspspspsss)

I was so worried bc it wasnt like super all the aspects of Apd issues, and it was very based on my personal experience w/ similar symptoms + other bits of ppl's experience so i was hoping it still felt somewhat recognizable for ppl w/APD!! Tysm for the feedback :D

NOTE ABOUT VOCAL STIM DEPICTED:

So i think ive experienced verbal stims, so this is a combination of others shared experiences + personal experience, and while everybody experiences things individually/their own way, please let me know if there is something obviously inaccurate/maybe even offensive.

You will definitely not make me mad or otherwise offended, I really want to hear that kind of feedback from others who vocal stim!

Thank you so much for reading! :)

___________________♡_____________________

So lets just say that ur vocal stims r pretty non-verbal or non-sensical ("her sister was a WITCH BRO-" like memes that dont make sense to them)

Or like, u have verbal stims that r actual language but they dont hang around long enough to hear it maybe ??

♤

So like, this ends up happening

Chongyun was exploring near Qingce village for supernatural stuff as usual

And U were just vibin, chillin near Qingce village livin ur best Creator god cottagecore life

And ur like planting a new seedbed, Jueyun Chilis :) (bc jfc however bad it was to collect them in game, its 10x worse in person, ur tired of running around town getting chilis, Qingce isnt exactly flat 💀)

♡

And every seed u put in the dirt ur like "boop!"

And Chongyun comes by, bc u at edge of town, and the villagers mentioned a strange new traveler settling here

He immediately feels a wave of that same feeling he used to feel when the Creator god had their eyes on him, or would assist him in battles

So poor boy almost overheats trying to climb up the hill to ur house

And is like "??...Creator??"

Then kinda stops bc ur just like-

"Boop!" "Boop!" "Boop!" ☺️ LMAO

And then u finish planting seeds, get the watering can,,

And everytime u pour it just-

... "EJACK! Come, water!"

(Ur saying it so fast too, and he's still somewhat farther away, so he cant rlly hear that well too)

...

And its just so incomprehensible to Chongyun he's deadass like "A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE??!"

So of course,

He waves, 👋

And ur like omg icy boy!! :D 🧊💙

But u dont say anything yet, and then he starts,, miming?? He points at u? Then like?? Points up? The sky?? Then like, mimes swinging his claymore???

(ARE U THE CREATOR??!!)

U look up, very confused 🧐

He seemes frustrated.

Then he just kinda, bows and leaves?

...

...oh no.

Do Teyvat people speak that crazy language that u saw in game?

Instead of English??

Well.

Shit.

...

.... U havent rlly talked to anyone in Qingce yet since u just got here in Teyvat like a week ago

And found this abandoned house

♧

It just gets worse 😭

Bc slowly, one by one,

Each playable character in Liyue comes to attempt to talk to you

(And since u have a farm, and they keep giving u food/goods? For some reason?? U still dont need to go into town)

☆

At one point, even Zhongli shows up

And thru complex miming and hand motions u think he means dont worry abt him? Like just go back to what u were doing?? Okay??

U guess he's just gonna chill here for now?

...

...Zhongli just kinda,, squints, and puts his hand on his chin in his classic "thinking very hard" face

So ur tending to the garden saying,

" FREDDY! You're supposed to be on lockdown!Vanessa...I'm... a Material Gworl✨️"💀

...Just, on an endless loop LMAO-

...

(Hes trying to see if he recognizes any part of ur language, poor old man ��🤔😭)

♤

And it just snowballs even more, and now,

None of you have even tried to say a word to each other. 🤡

(Other than ur vocal stims)

...

Keqing: "Perhaps, it's similar to Fontaine's native language?"

You, in the background: "🎵 dUdE,,, sHe'S jUsT nOt InTo YoU 🎵" (mimicking the autotune and everything)

Ganyu & Keqing: "..."

You: " 🎵 gOtTa MoVe On, mOvE oN-🎵 Hurricane Katrina?? More like Hurricane Tortilla!"

Ganyu & Keqing: "...Can't be,"

"what else do we got? Should we call Yunjin to better mime for us??"

♡

Xiao's the first one to even get close to knowing u can actually talk to each other, bc he's always checking in on u most often <3

And he only heard u bc u swore u heard a monster outside ur house one night and came out ur house with a pitchfork, very nervous,

"...Hey there demons.. it's me.. ya boy."

(And u just keep stimming that out of nervousness to make urself feel better as u check around ur house lol)

Xiao: "??? Demons???!! WAIT-"

♧

By then, it literally took like 6 months for yall to finally have a real conversation 💀💀

...

(Chongyun got so embarassed bc he was one of the first few to misunderstand he overheated rip🙏)

Im. So. Sorry. This. Is. ✨️Ass✨️

Twas the best scenario i could come up with, im telling yall, im not as funny as the ppl who send in these asks 😔

Keep in mind, I never claimed i was funny or a good writer, u cant hold it against me lol /lh

Lower ur expectations LMAO

Well i hope u got sm enjoyment outta this anon, sorry abt the quality!! :)

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

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dc-polls · 1 year ago

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"That Really Happened?!" DC Comics Tournament Entry #14

Domestic Abuse Ghost Possession

[ID: Two page comic spread of a giant Sinestro head smiling with tongue wrapped around Green Lantern John Stewart's leg. Figures below pose in anguish and dark buildings appear in the background. John yells, "You're dead, Sinestro!" To which Sinestro replies, "Not any more!" /END ID]

What Happened?

Jesus. Okay. SO green lantern: mosaic is already a really weird comic. The creator (who we don't talk abt and also was in prison until a couple of years ago) literally said (paraphrase) "Mosaic is the book I write when I get confused writing my other books". Like bro. Anyways it follows John Stewart (Green Lantern) as he tries to establish a peaceful society between a bunch of species (humans included) taken from their homeworlds and forced to coexist on this plant. Standard comic plot. NORMAL, even. Or so you'd think.

It's revealed that John is being possessed a times (blacking out) by the ghost of Old Timer, an evil Guardian (so like a smurf looking alien) who brought all the people to the mosaic in the first place. Plot-wise this still makes sense, GL: Mosaic is a spin off and this whole plot was kind of established in the main comic. It makes sense.

AND THEN YOU GET ISSUE NO. 3. John is inexplicably in a relationship with this woman Rose. This happens completely off panel and without explanation (although they did have some chemistry in the main GL title, it was a very complicated dynamic and there was even a joke about them NOT being in a relationship) [the joke was that rose's town was super scandalized bc they thought she was dating John (because aaaaghhhhh interracial relationship or whatever [this is like 1992] and shes from rural West Virgina and was all like no guys its not LIKE that (but like it actually wasnt)) so idk that was a thing that happened

But ANYWAYS in Mosaic #3 John and Rose are dating for some reason???? And then he picks her up and flies up and then drops her and laughs as she screams and falls. He also kicks her around and like beats her up in front of her son while she pleads with him to stop. So VERY much domestic abuse 👍love some absolutely insane fucking mischaracterization what the actual hell. Also he keeps using weird nicknames like calling her Rosie and himself Johhny or Daddy while possessed(?) SO I don't fucking know what that was the fuck

Anyways it's then revealed that this behavior was because of the GHOST! who could have thunk? However instead of the ghost CANONICALLY inside his head that was literally possessing him THE ISSUE BEFORE, turns out it was SINESTRO'S GHOST! how the fuck did he get in johns head you may ask? I could not tell you! He's just there! At this point I'm wondering what the actual fuck is going on and also how many ghosts are possessing John Stewart. Like HONESTLY. I've either entirely lost the plot by now or am just in shock over what is happening. Likely both.

Anyways John goes in his brain to fight the Sinestro ghost (who like ties him up with his tongue and calls him boy (and Sinestro daddy this time) and all sorts of insanely weird awful stuff) And then his girlfriend (who he ISNT DATING) forgives him because "it was the ghost". Absolutely incomprehensible arc. This happened in ONE ISSUE of this comic. The first ghost is not mentioned at all during this story

Also the worst thing abt this whole ordeal is that this is a spin off of an arc in the main GL title which was actually REALLY FUCKING GOOD. like it was great, I loved it. And yet somehow the author (may he die gruesomely) managed to forget what HE HIMSELF WROTE and all knowledge of characterization and turn his hero into a horribly mischaracterized domestic abuser in a plot thay makes no sense.also there was def some racist wack ass shit going on with this fr. The whole comic is honestly an ego trip for the writer it makes no fucking sense and every letter page is just two pages of him talking directly to the readers and telling them how smart he is. This is issue 3 and is as far as i got. Listen to me and do not read this comic

Tournament polls will be posted after all entries are up. As always you can find all posts related to the tournament using #dc-polls-trh

#dc-polls-trh #dc comics #green lantern #john stewart #sinestro

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endversewinchester · 1 year ago

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This is Kings Cross station today, September 1st 2023. 11 years after the last HP movie came out.

Harry Potter as a franchise became a worldwide pop culture reference. It’s reached levels very few franchises do (I can only think of Star Wars, honestly). It is even mandatory reading material at many schools worldwide now, and has been for years. There’s a reason that game made WB a billion, thus becoming the most profitable Warner Bros game ever.

The thing is, it’s been 11 years. So many of you were either too young to be part of the “potter fever�� or to witness it. That is why it is incomprehensible for you that HP still brings out this much support, despite JKR’s fast descent into madness.

Fact is, Harry Potter has surpassed her by far and for a very long time. Even before she begun sharing her views, fandom had already been splitting from her over controversial topics concerning the franchise, like the bathroom thing. And cursed child (this one I actually like, but I am in the minority here). The Harry Potter fanbase hasn’t been JKR’s in years, and that gap widens everyday.

My point here is there needs to be dialogue. I’m sure it would be very comfortable to pretend the world is black and white, and all HP fans support her views (which Voldy herself said is not the case, mind you), but that’s not reality. In fact, most of the current fans are very vocal about not supporting her as a person. It’s not one or the other, and I’m tired of pretending that it is.

When you shut out the people that decided to reclaim instead of abandon the universe you are throwing away a lot of genuine support. Not to mention the bullying techniques so many of you resorted to don’t work. Sure, you can force people into hiding their love for the franchise and be performative in reblogging a few social media posts with zero real life impact, but at the end of the day they will still be consuming HP in secret. How do you think the game made a billion?

Like it or not, the best way forward is dialogue. It is coming to understand that yes, people can still love HP, because it is culturally far more than a silly book saga for kids, but they can also support trans people in actual meaningful ways past the “let me reblog this not to be cancelled” stage. Otherwise people will continue to be very loudly supportive of HP (hence the vid), and extremely important trans issues will continue to be ignored past social media performative behavior.

#harry potter series #anti jkr #yes it’s ok to do both

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dangermousie · 2 years ago

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Finished ep 1

Yeah, just your normal school here...

All sorts of foreshadowing in general: Jacinta telling Caye if he doesn’t stop talking, he won’t live to adulthood, Hector saying this is a school and not correction facility (hah! if you only knew!) and Elsa responding that the parents send their kids there to control and rule them. Alphonso looking for weapons of mass destruction etc. Also, charming, laid-back Fermin has a gun!

Speaking of, god the start of Maria x Fermin, where he tries to flirt and she’s not having it.

A random, inconspicuous start to an OTP that eventually won and broke my heart! In general, Maria is always always awesome and watching her make friends with Jacinta and talk about the heartbreak of having her baby taken from her at 13 (!) is...and then them bonding over the insanity of life...

Yup, Caro is noticing Marcos and Ivan is noticing her noticing. I think some degree of friction between Marcos and Ivan would have always happened (Ivan has an abrasive personality that is very much at odds with Marcos’) but it got turbocharged because of this. I do love that the show ended with them being 110% complete bros, despite the inconspicuous beginnings.

I liked Marcos in general, but the way he loved and took care of Paola, was next level. It was the best thing about him. Their parents are missing, likely dead and he is basically both mother and father to his little sister and he never wavers from it - it’s uncool for a teen boy and he gives no fucks. She wants to sleep him? Sure. (And he tells Ivan to back off when Ivan wants to send her back - you can see the little frictions add up and add up.)

Just as he tells Ivan to move to make space for Paola. And if they were friends, it would be whatever, but Ivan already doesn’t like him, so he views it as being ordered around instead of someone who just doesn’t have bandwidth for niceties.

I find it ironic btw that one of the reasons Caro is drawn to him is because of how he is with Paola, but that very fact means she will always be second. It’s almost like dating a single father.

I have remained ambivalent about Elsa through the whole run but here ugh...let the lost little girl eat with her one familiar person, bend the rules for once!

That little shot of Ivan quietly enjoying Marcos being thwarted.

Ugh this! I think this is the worst thing Ivan does in the whole show and it’s not epically bad compared to melo gonzo stuff like hanadan. But I think perhaps that is why it hits so hard - it’s so real somehow in its everyday cruelty, precisely aimed for the weakest spot for no major sin. He tells Marcos that his (missing) parents are on the phone and Marcos tells Paola and they run to the phone...

Nobody is on the phone and instead the picture of the parents is nailed to the wall with RIP on it.

God, it’s Paola’s incomprehension that gets me here. You know a show is good when I love a child character! (PS if I remember correctly, eventually Ivan and Marcos can get to bond about amazing moms and nazi scum dads. Heh.)

When Marcos comes back and SLAMS Ivan into the table and starts trying to shove his face through it, I cheered. You deserve it!

You know, living with Noiret did give Ivan a tongue like a razor but also the instinctive ability to go for what would hurt the most. When he “jokes” he’d like to tell Paola she is an orphan. God, I will love you later, but you are a piece of scum here. (FWIW, he clearly was just saying it to rile up Marcos but picking at an orphan by talking about his baby sister is...Noiret’s upbringing is evident in his utter lack of comprehension that there are limits even in fights. He will eventually learn slowly and painfully, but not yet.)

You know, I cried. I literally cried as Marcos tried to gently explain to uncomprehending Paola that their parents are dead. I literally cried. God. (That sibling relationship, together with Maria-Ivan parental one and the Ivan x Julia OTP form a trifecta of my favorite relationships in the show. OK, fine, that and Maria x Fermin.)

He really is the best best brother in the world.

#spanish tv #el internado #mousie rewatches el internado

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dufferpuffer · 10 days ago

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Don't be sorry - this is great, I loved it!!! Made me think too - I've been taking some things for granted.

1. We get far more instances of Sirius being a brat, or described similarly to a brat, than not (as a teenager). - I'm pretty sure the only time he wasn't being a bit of a prick (to anyone other than James, of course) was joking around after DADA O.W.L.s. (OotP ch28 - as are the following) 'Haughty', easily bored, mean for no reason to Peter, insensitive of Remus' Lycanthropy, snorting derisively at Remus asking if he could test him on Transfiguration for the next exam - "I don't need to look at that rubbish, I know it all" (bro... Remus is asking you for help...???) Excited to mess with Severus - he doesn't even have the 'reason' of liking Lily, he just likes being nasty to him, hexing him even as James was 'stopped' by Lily for a moment...

- Talking about their school years in (OotP ch29): As an adult - Sirius is not proud of attacking Severus when bored. He calls himself an 'arrogant little berk', and that they were all idiots - aside from Remus, who made them feel ashamed of themselves sometimes for picking on Severus. "Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?" - Remus wasn't entirely comfortable talking against his friends.

'They were attracted by Remus’s quiet sense of humour and a kindness that they valued, even if they did not always possess it themselves.' ('Remus Lupin' Pottermore)

It doesn't paint a picture of a boy that cares much about other people. Aside from James. Did he know all of Remus' feelings? Dunno... but I doubt he would have listened even when told. Remus is semi-open with his feelings but has never felt too comfortable saying 'no'... both a personal failing, yes, but also how could he...? If these arrogant berks ever leak that he is a werewolf on a whim he would be fucked. ...Like telling Severus exactly where and how to see him.

His Full Moons were the best - because he could be truly himself and feel loved and protected even at his 'worst'... though he suffered heavy guilt between walkabouts, guilt evidently not shared.

Remus loved his friends. His friends loved him. Absolutely. But they were toxic little shits, ALL of them... and out of all of them, Remus seems to be the one Sirius cared about the least. He didn't hate him, but Remus needs the most care and empathy thrown his way... and Sirius is the one with the least to give.

2. Is there evidence in canon that Remus suspected Sirius before he was framed... ...No, I don't think so... I guess I just made that the fuck up? Wow. Nice catch! Thankyou :^)

3. There isn't any solid evidence that Sirius had a big sense that Remus was the spy, no... but I feel it is implied. Remus was away on the other end of the country on missions during the first war - not around the Potters, helping and protecting them like Sirius, Peter or even Bagshot. Lily didn't mention him at all in her letter. He is so... separate. Like everyone agreed it was for the best that he wasn't around.

And the reason Sirius didn't tell Remus shit wasn't that he was away on missions, wasn't that he had important werewolf shit to do, wasn't just cutting down the people who knew in case of interrogation, wasn't that he was simply in high-risk situations often... it was specifically that he thought he was the spy.

Maybe that's a 1% chance thing. Better safe then sorry. But Sirius is defined by his loyalty above all else. Betraying his friends so badly is a sin in his eyes, it is incomprehensible. Sirius 'THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!' Black I struggle to believe if he thought Remus was possibly a spy it could be casual... especially when he should know that they were everything to Remus. They became Animagi for him, only for him to leak information to Lord Voldemort in selfish self-preservation, sacrificing the life of a baby...? Disgusting.

Teen Wolfstar ramble

I think Wolfstar is an interesting ship as adults. Broken Remus and Sirius finding eachother again, with all their history and failures and conflicting needs, is fascinating for a messy adult partnership. People who have lost everything else. Awesome. I can see why that's interesting.

But I don't see teenage Wolfstar at all lol. Negative compatibility. I think the only time teen Sirius and Remus really talk to each-other is Sirius being like "Ugh I'm bored I wish it was the full moon" and Remus 'darkly' grumbling "I guess you would wish that..." ????? Imagine: "I wish it was the worst period of time for your chronic health condition, where you go through severe pain, fear, delusion... It's entertaining! We run about and put lives in danger. You're the only one with conflicting thoughts about it and the only one who would suffer the consequences of something going wrong - so who cares"

Sirius and James hexing students, Sirius' irresponsible behaviour towards Severus and Remus from the Prank... Remus brought Peter into the friend group, forever feeling bad for 'the underdog' - and James and Sirius only belittle him... Sirius was a stuck up prick as a teenager. Sirius was an asshole. He only cared about James. Everyone else was like a toy. He decided if they were 'fun' or if they were 'bad' - Black and white thinking.

Then as young adults - they didn't trust eachother. Remus was out of the picture, thinking Sirius was the traitor... probably because Sirius thought HE was the traitor, while being IN the picture: deep in James and Lily's company. Why would Sirius think Remus was a traitor...? Because he had sympathy for Severus? Because he didn't have enough of a backbone to say 'no'? Because he was a werewolf...? Remus valued the people who accepted him so. fucking. much. The idea that he would betray them beyond 'running away to keep them safe'... it shows a severe core misunderstanding of this guy he has known for half his life. 10 years!!!

To me it doesn't scream 'these men loved eachother'. The vibe I get is 'We wouldn't have anything to do with eachother if not for James.' The Marauders are a broken friend group. None of them are particularly good people as teens - which contrasts with Harry and his friends. 'New Generation solving the sins of the last' plot type. That doesn't mean they weren't friends, that they didn't care... but they were toxic. Unsustainable.

And that makes it cooler that they're the two 'survivors', right? They got along the least of anyone... but now they have both been through hell. They are more mature. Things can be different now.

I'm not surprised that they are turned into different people for the sake of writing their relationship working: Making Sirius someone Remus could stomach - and making Remus someone Sirius could appreciate and look up to. Remus a grumpy strong wolf - Sirius a short silly puppy.

I think EVERY ship can work, it depends on the story - put any characters through the right trials and they will find ways to appreciate eachother. That's the fun part of shipping. Teen Sirius and Remus.... would need a LOT of story. Which is why, instead, they are often just changed to make it easier.

#remus lupin #remus #love you remus #sirius black #hp

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wackywritings · 3 years ago

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Rafe Cameron - Stare into my eyes

Summary: Y/N and Rafe have a complicated relationship. One minute they're on the brink of kissing, the next they're fighting because he's wanting to get high again.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drugs, fighting.

If it wasn't for the loud music at Barry's and the chatter of people under the influence of god knows what concoction of substances, perhaps she would've heard him arrive on his bike. But alas, she didn't. She was blisfully oblivious as he stumbled up the few steps leading to the trailer, his eyes searching the crowd for her.

"Country club! What you doin' here bro?" It was Barry's voice that made her blood run cold, the conversation she was previously engaging in long forgotten. He was here.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping over the wooden floor making an awfully high-pitched sound, piercing the ringing in her ears. She passed by him on her way to Barry's bathroom, not even having to spare him a glance to know he was trailing close behind as soon as he tracked her movement, only to leave a confused Barry behind. He never quite understood the relationship between the two. It's a good thing she didn't look up at him, because she would've no doubt seen the change in his eyes upon meeting hers; hard eyes void of emotion, fleeting around the room anxiously turning into a soft gaze that didn't focus on anything but her. If it wasn't him, now, it would've been almost endearing.

But it was.

He followed her into the bathroom, locking the door behind him as soon as they were both in the cramped space. It was quieter here, but instead of bringing some peace, it only made their thoughts louder. She wasn't looking at him yet, her back to him as he pondered over how to break the silence. How to address this wrack-up of a matter he'd gotten himself into.

"So. I'm a bit high." He cringed immediately after the words left his mouth, internally cursing at himself.

"Yeah, I figured that much, Cameron." She held up her hands in exasperation, but her frustation soon turned into worry as she finally took in the boy's appearance. His right eye sported a new bruise, green and purple and red mixing together on his sunkissed skin.

"You're hurt."

"Clearly. Why else would I get high?"

"Because you have an addiction?" Her eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was not afraid of him in the slightest. "C'mon, Y/N." His tone was pleading, no, begging. In any other instance, he would've loved her having an attitude, doing anything in his power to rile her up even more. But right now he just needed someone to take care of him.

Her stance softened considerably as she took in the rest of his appearance: the bags beneath his eyes, the locks of hair - not gelled back like usual - sticking to his forehead that was covered in a sheen of sweat, not unlike his polo.

"Okay." She whispered, ever so slowly nodding her head, before moving past him to unlock the door. He didn't smell like the cologne he normally wore, a mix of alcohol and sweat floating between the small space between them. "Let's get you something to change into, alright?" Though she didn't wait for his answer as she opened the door, moving straight to Barry's room.

"You gonna dress me in a wifebeater or some shit?" He inquired with a chuckle as he followed her, plopping himself down on the bed as he intently watched her rummage through Barry's wardrobe. Most of his high had worn off already, and he could begin to feel it.

"Are you kidding? He'll notice it's his and have your ass for it. I'm sure he has some decent shirts he never wears. It'll be less obvious." She reasoned as she opened multiple drawers to find what she was looking for. A victorious 'aha' left her as she finally found what she was after, turning around with the blue longsleeve held high in her hand, only for her proud expression to change into shock, her mouth hanging open.

He'd taken the liberty of taking his shirt off already, something she hand't noticed him doing. She should've said something- anything, so he wouldn't question her change in demeanor. Joked teasingly with him, or even just asked if he thought it would fit. But she couldn't utter a single word as she looked at him. His shoulders broad, arms more muscular than she imagined them to be under his usual attire. Not to mention his chest, or the muscles in his abdomen that rippled underneath his skin (God it looked so soft. She wondered what it would feel like under her grazing fingertips) as he moved to stand up from the bed. She felt her heart hammer against her chest, flushed cheeks as she tried to look anywhere but his shirtless form.

"Gonna give me that?" He was pointing to the shirt still firm in her hand, an amused look on his face. The smugness made her snap out of it - as if his ego needed any more boasting.

"Don't flatter yourself." She scoffed, though she made no attempt to throw him the shirt. It took three, maybe four quick strides for him to be right up in her personal space. She was trying to stand her ground, straighten her back and keep eye contact to seem less affected by their current predicament. She was sure he could hear the hammering of her heart anyway. "Just took me off guard, 's all." She managed to murmur, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from shyly smiling.

He wasn't one to play with her feelings - he knew the kind of effect he had on her. But he quite enjoyed dancing around the subject with her, flirting and teasing and tender touches shared after spending long days together. It was their thing. He had convinced himself it was all he needed from her. God forbid he was honest about how much she meant to him, how much he craved her presence.

"Hm. Did you rather have me change in the bathroom, doll?" He came incomprehensibly closer to her, a breath too deep would have their chests touch. His eyes were boring into hers, now at eye level with her as he bent down slightly.

"I-" She wanted to say something. Tell him a warning would've been sufficient, adding a wink just to tease him back. Maybe say she wanted to be the one to take his shirt off, if she so dared. But his blue eyes were so mesmerising - specs of light shimmering in the dark blue pools of his irises, his pupils focused on her and only her. She could look away to stop the tight feeling from spreading in her chest, sure, but then she'd have to look at his large shoulders covered in freckles and sweat, or his chest rising with every breath he took. Warm breaths that she could feel hit her lips ever so softly. Getting lost in his eyes really was the only option she had. Inevitably, so was losing her words.

And it made him smile. A real, genuine smile. If he wasn't so close perhaps she wouldn't have noticed the way his eyes twinkled, how creases at the corner of his eyes formed, how that dimple arose on his chin.

As if that wasn't enough to make her weak at the knees and her breath hitch in her throat, the bolt of electricity that she felt when his long fingers touched hers, tracing around them like it was some kind of game to him, would've done her in.

"That's what I thought." His voice was raspy and dangerously low as he whispered it - so close to her mouth she wished he would just close the goddamn gap already. But it's Rafe, so of course he didn't. He just tugged on Barry's shirt held tight between her fingers, grabbing it and putting it on a split second later.

"How do I look?" His questioned as he couldn't find a mirror in the room, hopefully glancing at her.

"Peachy." She nodded as she wiped her hands on her jeans. She was upset at the loss of proximity, so perhaps what was supposed to be a comment of teasing nature came out harsher than she meant. Something that didn't go lost on him. Maybe he did take it too far just now.

"Alright, well. I gotta find Barry." He discarded her previous comment, rubbing his nose. The high had officially worn off completely now, and he was dying for more. Though he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to forget his earlier fight, or forget her. How he felt about her, and how he wasn't ever gonna be enough for her. How he would never have the guts to do something about it.

"Rafe-" She started sternly, glaring at him. Though she quieted down as he held his hands up.

"No, not this again, okay? You don't have shit to say about this, you hear me?"

"What, that's it?" She let out a dry laugh as she stood in front of him, blocking the door. "You're just gonna get high again. Seriously?"

"Y/N, don't start with me now." His voice was threatening now, glaring on the edge of venomous.

"It always ends the same, Rafe, and you were high just minutes ago. Don't you think that was enough? Don't you ever get bored of this shit?" She was asking too many difficult questions for his liking. Her tone was exasparated, too. Tired of having to deal with him and his stupid issues. Of having to patch him up and take care of his pathetic self that just couldn't get fucking clean. He felt the urge to scream, but bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from acting on it.

"What, you're not even gonna say anything?"

"Stop." He gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as he spat at her.

She threw her hands up, before running them through her hair. How was she supposed to stay calm - or approach this situation when he wouldn't even talk to her?

"I just- you're hurting people with this. You're not you, Rafe. Not anymore. I mean look at you." She gestured towards him.

"You don't know who I am."

"But I do!" She all but screamed at him. He kept his composure and his cold glare, but she noticed the way his shoulders tensed upwards at her outburst. So she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. "I know you. You're sweet and gentle and caring and so incredibly smart."

"Y/N." He wasn't used to compliments, or feeling this many emotions, for that matter. He could feel the need for another line coursing through every inch of his body. He just needed a little bit. Just needed to be able to breathe again.

"No, I'm serious. You're a great brother to Wheezie, you're great to me."

"Don't." He twisted his head to the side, his eyes rolling back as he felt his whole body heating up again, Barry's shirt no doubt already showing sweat stains. But she was far too invested in telling him how amazing he was, eyes trained on the ground as her brows furrowed, words flowing from her mouth at such a rate that in any other situation would've made him wonder where she found the time to breathe. So she didn't listen nor notice how he was struggling.

"You're always trying to please your father."

"Y/N, do not-"

"No, Rafe. I know how much he means to you, but you're never gonna be able to please him if you keep using! He's just going to keep abusing you and you're gonna keep being disappointed and running to Barry to stop yourself from feeling it."

He was proper boiling right now. Sweat was trickling down his forehead, jaw shut tight as he balled his fist at his side. They always say anger looks red, but even with his eyes shut tight all he saw was white. Pure, white, blinding rage. Everywhere in his mind - dying to creep out all at once.

"And it's just this vicious cycle that's never gonna end. And I worry for the day that it becomes your death, Rafe!" She all but yelled his name, voice hoarse and filled with unplaceable emotions.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He bellowed out, two quick steps bringing him right in front of her, his fist making contact with the door behind her before he even knew he moved his fist in the first place. She cowered down at the proximity of the sound. His body was flush against hers now, even closer than they were before. He was breathing hard, his arms on either side of her as he trapped her between him and the door. His skin touching hers felt hot and damp, but it still made her shiver. Not in a good way though, not like before.

The worst of it all wasn't even his anger, or the drugs, or the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to stop him.

It was his eyes.

The ones that she had so lovingly stared into mere minutes ago. The ones that held so much adoration and passion for her. The ones that twinkled under the light, sparkled with mischief as he playfully teased her. The ones that she could look into and feel safe - no matter what. The ones that she considered to belong to her home.

They were darker now. Harsh and fierce, flaring up with anger as he looked into her frightened eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed hard, a frown between them. The shadows they casted leaving sharp edges prominent on his face. The specs of light weren't not visible anymore, they were simply gone. She couldn't even distinguish the blue from his pupils. She'd never been the subject of his rage before, and she never understood how most people feared him. But now? As he looked down on her with no emotion but anger written on his face, he looked scary to her for the first time. And she wondered if his eyes would ever feel the same again as her own filled with tears.

"Don't talk about my father again." His voice was strained but louder than she expected. He leaned into her even more to give power to the threathening statement, before completely pushing off. Large hands wrapped around her arms, fingers digging into her skin bordering on putting enough pressure to leave a bruise. He forced her away from the door. Perhaps he expected more of a struggle from her, but she was so shocked by his behaviour that she could only take small and hasty steps away from the door, scared to anger him more. He janked the door open, the sound of the loud bass of the music hitting her ears. The sensory stimulation was too much for her to bear, and she looked up both in a prayer for him to leave and to keep the tears from falling.

"And don't talk to me. We're done." He added. She wanted to look into his eyes. As much as they scared her now, she needed to know if they held any more emotion than his completely void voice just did. But he'd already slammed the door shut.

She was left looking at the closed door as she finally allowed the tears to soak her cheeks.

#Rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine

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korasonata · 3 years ago

Text

Joe and Cleo model streams extended cut Part 2! (Streams 3 and 4)

—

STREAM 3

—

Cleo (reading chat): “Be careful with that thing” Im very careful with knives. Except for that time when I wasn’t.

—

Cleo (in response to chat asking about her friend Corpse): Corpse is not my husband. Ok? And they wouldn’t be anyway. Because they.

—

Cleo: I’m very confused Joe. I don’t know how to feel.

—

Cleo: Ok. I can do that. We can do that chat! I believe in you and myself…I- I don’t. I’m not gonna lie, I don’t.

Joe: That’s why you got me here to believe in you!

Cleo: Awww, thanks Joe!

Joe: You’re welcome Cleo!

—

Cleo (reading chat): “Black beer or clear beer?” No beer! I don’t believe in beer, it’s fictional. That’s just how it goes.

Joe: Yeah. Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you.

—

Joe: One of my viewers asks “are you and Cleo real life childhood friends?” Yes, obviously as you can tell from our accents—

Both: We grew up—

Joe: On the same block—

Cleo: Yeah.

Joe: Uh, along the Thames there—

Cleo: Yes.

Joe: You know, we took different paths in life. Cleo obviously went to university and perused geology and teaching, whereas I ended up with an asbo and a bunch of weird telekinetic powers and things just kind of went wild from there.

Cleo: Yeah.

Joe: But now we’re back together again.

Cleo: Yeah! I mean— I mean after you saved the world a few times. It’s, ah…it’s necessary it— it felt right. To come back together.

Joe: Yep. It’s just— it’s just…it was time.

Cleo (reading chat): You thought Joe Hills was from Glasgow? Oh no no no no no no. No no, same— it’s a cockney accent, can’t you tell?

Joe: Yeah, that’s why I’m so good at rhyming.

Cleo: *snickering* I don’t think they believe us.

—

Joe: What is the British equivalent of a coffee shop?

Cleo: Umm…a coffee shop.

—

Joe: It looks like piece 3/4 will make sense at some point in the future.

Cleo: But today is not that day. And to be honest, tomorrow’s not looking great either.

—

Cleo (reading chat): *laughing* Joe thinks everyone is as well adjusted as he is!

Joe: Oh, I’m terribly adjusted! Do not adjust your Joes! It won’t help, we’ve tried!

—

Joe (reading chat): “You all heard Cleo say Joe would look good in shorts right?”

Cleo: *heavy sigh*

Joe: I mean, I’m gonna say, I’m not getting as much exercise as I used to, so it’s- don’t get your hopes up Cleo.

Cleo: I- I-…I mean, there’s only one person I wanna see in shorts and it’s not you, so we’re all good.

—

Joe (in British accent): Spot on.

Cleo: Better. You’re getting better at that you know. You’re not great, but you’re getting better.

Joe: Yeah. Well the thing is I need to be able to blend when I’m there. You know I don’t wanna call attention to myself in my accent.

Cleo: …Joe?

Joe: Yeah?

Cleo: Nothing you ever do is blendable.

Joe: …That explains why I’m so bad at painting. And making margaritas. Just kidding, I’m great at making margaritas. The secret is to get real Cointreau.

Cleo: I…Don’t— I’ve never really had a margarita.

Joe: WHAAAAAAAAAT??!!?!

—

STREAM 4

—

Joe: So, I’ve got to cut up the last couple pieces from my fourth page out of 17.

Cleo: Is this where I tell you I’ve got about 6 pages left on the dot?

Joe: Out of how many, though?

Cleo: Out of about…14?

Joe: Wow, so you’re like, halfway there.

Cleo: Well, literally the instructions say I’m halfway there. Although—

Joe: Oh really? They congratulate you on that?

Cleo: W—no, they—they—……thanks Joe…

—

Joe: I bet whoever makes those models, now that you and I are getting them back in vogue, it’s like “oh no! If only I hadn’t sold the last one to Cleo, I could sell 1000 of these today.”

Cleo: I mean, I don’t think anybody in the stream is going to go out and buy one when they’ve seen what it’s done to us. And our souls. Or lack thereof.

—

Joe (reading chat): “If Joe is Jar Jar and Cleo is Padme, who’s Bail Organa?” …I dunno, VintageBeef.

Cleo: *laughing* Just—Just VintageBeef.

Joe: Just VintageBeef.

Cleo: It just is! You and I both know that, so you guys need to know it.

Joe: Yeah, cause like I don’t think Bail Organa had any kids.

Cleo: Yeah he did, he had Leia.

Joe: Well, but he adopted Leia.

Cleo: Ok.

Joe: And VintageBeef seems like, of all the Hermits, the one to most likely actually have the capacity to take on that sort of responsibility? I don’t know…

Cleo: No no, I can— I’m just running through the Hermits in my head, and I’m just like yeah that—that reads. That reads pretty well.

—

Joe (Dude bro voice): Has your heart even been weighed by Anubis, bro?

Cleo (dude bro voice): *laughing* Do you even lift? (Regular voice)…or no. That’s the opposite of what you want to do with a heart…

—

Cleo: I threaten to murder people all the time. One might say it’s part of my brand.

—

Cleo (reading chat): “Death threats are Cleo’s love language” *laughing* You’re not wrong.

—

Cleo: I’ve made plenty of mistakes! Learn from me! Like plenty of mistakes, which is why I’m doing this in my 40s. Joe just made his mistakes faster, that’s why he’s doing it in his 30s.

SILENCE

Joe: …Most of the jokes I wanna make about that, I—just in case my kid is tuning into the stream I’m gonna not—

Cleo: *laughing*

Joe: Because I am legally required not to disparage my ex-wife in front of her.

—

Cleo (in response to someone saying Joe’s hands are sufficient): No, my hands are sufficient. Joe has dexterous, wonderful hands. Get it right chat.

—

Cleo (about her Garrus mug): Next stream I shall use this for my beverage which I shall pretend is coffee. Which is what I used to do to the children at school.

Joe: Wait, you would pretend you were drinking coffee? What were you actually drinking? Rum?

—

Joe: My best is still the same, but my worst is getting less bad.

Cleo: That’s depressing and accurate. All at the same time.

Joe (tiredly): Yay! I strive for accuracy in all of my depressing statements. Cause it makes it harder to rebut them.

Cleo (softly and with care): I know.

—

Cleo (mocking people who push boundaries): If you were a PIN, what would you be?

Joe: *laughing* Like a PIN number?!

Cleo: Yeah!

Both: *laughing*

Joe: If you could be any PIN code—

Cleo: If you had an—what—what was your favourite PIN code, for example?

Joe: What’s your favourite 4-digit number?

Cleo: *laughing* What’s the 4-digit number you remember most in the world?

Joe: What’s the easiest to remember 4-digit number?

—

Cleo: I’m not going to get sushi from the Asda!

Joe (voice steadily getting higher): Oh my gosh, I am so glad that my face camera is off when we do those collab streams with Xisuma. Because like *laughing through the pain* a lot of them are just me screaming internally, but I’m not pushing to talk. And the reason I’m not pushing to talk is I’m also kind of screaming externally? And it’s just like, it’s just— *very high pitched incomprehensible gibberish*

Cleo: You—you do wonder sometimes with, with—with him. *laughing* See, thing is sometimes I’m not sure if he’s being serious or not, so—

Joe: If he says that he buys sushi at the Asda, I’m like 99% confident that he’s being serious.

Cleo: *laughing* He’s adorable and needs to be protected from this world.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #zombiecleo #zombie cleo #joehills #joe hills

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goodlucktai · 4 years ago

Note

Could I request some good bro Natori and Natsume stuff for prompts 1,2,3, or 5? Either separately or merged into one frankenfic?

PROMPTS LIST

1. “I apologise in advance for the inconvenience my murder is going to have on your life.” +2. “I hate you.” “Why? I’m lovely.” +5. “This is my life now. I have climbed this hill and now I will die upon it.” “Shut up. We’ve only been hiking for twenty minutes.”

When Shuuichi called the Fujiwara house to invite Natsume to the upcoming wrap party, he was braced for the type of dogged, exacting negotiations better suited a hostage situation.

Instead, after a pleasant fifteen-minute conversation with Touko, he was painlessly gifted custody of his friend for the weekend.

“Shigeru-san and I need to meet with one of his relatives about some of Takashi-kun’s missing belongings,” she says, a sliver of steel in her sunny voice that promises, in no uncertain terms, that these relatives will almost certainly have a fight on their hands. “I’d hate to have to bring Takashi-kun along, but I don’t like to leave him here alone, so this is quite the neat solution!”

Natsume is grim and resigned when they meet at the train station, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his ugly cat tucked into his arms. Shuuichi can’t help but beam at him, having come out of this arrangement fully on top.

“Shopping!” he announces gleefully. “You’ll need something fancy for the party. And then we’ll get lunch-- my treat, of course. And if you don’t listen to me, Touko-san will be sad!”

If looks could kill, Shuuichi would almost certainly have met his unfortunate end right then and there.

Natsume has been uncomfortable all evening, in a fixed position at Shuuichi’s elbow and nursing the same flute of champagne that was foisted upon him at the door.

He’s in dark-washed jeans and a smart blazer, his hair tucked out of his face with a few strategic hair clips. He toes the line between youthful and stylish well, and his quiet personality comes across as shy instead of standoffish. The cast and crew are all delighted to finally meet the kid Shuuichi talked so much about, and Natsume is doing his best to hold up under all the attention.

So it had taken a bit of blackmail and bribery to get him here-- was that so unusual?

Networking is a necessary evil, and usually Shuuichi is stuck at these functions until the early hours of the morning. But it’s only a couple of hours before Natsume starts to flag. He’s edging into nonverbal territory, only mustering eye contact for a few seconds at a time, and Shuuichi doesn’t waste time in steering him away from the press of the party and into an out-of-the-way office.

“Who’s office is this?” Natsume asks quietly. When Shuuichi presses lightly on his shoulders, he sinks into a leather armchair without fuss.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m famous, I can do whatever I want,” Shuuichi says with a winning smile.

Natsume is recovered enough by then to scowl at him, a knee-jerk reaction.

“I hate you.”

“Why? I’m lovely.”

After that exchange, Shuuichi feels alright about leaving Natsume alone with Hiiragi while he sweeps off to make their excuses, and say his goodbyes, and steal some food for the road.

And now they’re bundled in coats and scarves, making their way back to the hotel. Natsume looks much livelier now that they’re outside, working on the second half of an egg sandwich that Shuuichi smuggled out for him.

“I can’t believe you do that for a living,” the boy murmurs after a moment. “It’s exhausting.”

“You get used to it,” Shuuichi says. “And I’m good at talking.”

Being charming and personable on cue is one of his greatest skills. No closed door, or VIP entrance, or members-only sign has ever kept him out.

When they get back to the hotel, an ugly cat is waiting for them outside. Natsume smiles to see it, his pace quickening, and offers the yokai the last bite of his sandwich.

Madara takes it with a scoff. “This is all you brought me? I want barbecue!”

“What kind of party do you think we were at?” Shuuichi mutters.

“Maybe tomorrow, sensei,” Natsume says agreeably, lifting the cat into his arms.

“Hmph. In that case, I guess I’ll pass the message along.” Settling into a comfortable loaf in the crook of the boy’s arms, the cat squints at them with shining, dark eyes. “Someone came for their name while you were gone.”

Shuuichi stiffens in alarm. They’re hours away from Hitoyoshi, where Natsume’s reputation proceeds him at every turn. To have been tracked this far, despite the wards...

Natsume only looks mildly surprised. “Are they still here?”

“No, they’re waiting for you in the woods,” Madara says. “Human settlements make them nervous.”

Nodding as if this is all perfectly reasonable, Natsume glances at Shuuichi. Shuuichi, waiting for his cue, says, “Absolutely not.”

“Natori,” his friend says, with the same tone of a tired mother attempting to wrangle an unreasonable toddler.

“In what universe would I allow you to wander off into the forest in the middle of the night?” He opts to ignore the rich orange dusk above and around them, and the fact that the streetlights haven’t kicked on yet. Natsume’s eyebrows are inching toward his hairline, so he decides to play his trump card. “Your parents said I’m in charge.”

Hiiragi sighs deeply. It’s only after Shuuichi says it that he realizes how juvenile it sounded, but by then it’s too late. He has to double down.

“Let’s just go inside, and we’ll discuss it over a proper meal,” he says with a smile. He waves Natsume toward the door, but Natsume doesn’t budge.

Shuuichi realizes he used up all his authority earlier, in forcing Natsume to the department stores and restaurants and the wrap party. The boy has played along thus far but he’s clearly reached his quota for the evening. He doesn’t even entertain the idea of listening to Shuuichi this time.

“I’ll be quick,” Natsume says plainly. He turns back the way they came without another word.

Shuuichi struggles with it for a moment, but he really doesn’t have any choice but to follow. It doesn’t help that the ugly cat is laughing at him, or that Hiiragi is judging him silently with every step.

Honestly, if Shuuichi were feeling marginally more generous, he would admit that there was some sort of cosmic justice at work here. He had forced Natsume out of his comfort zone all night, and now the tables have turned entirely.

The trees tower around them as they pick their way up a faint foot trail, stretching up into a dark, endless canopy. The wind combs through branches and leaves in eerie, hushed whispers. They only have the shiki’s night-eyes and the flashlight on Shuuichi’s phone to see by.

“This is my life now,” Shuuichi complains, out of breath. “I climbed this hill and now I’m going to die on it.”

“Shut up,” Natsume replies mildly. “We’ve only been hiking for twenty minutes.”

He certainly seems comfortable here, for all that he’s never been in these particular woods before. With his green eyes and silvery hair and thousand-yard stare, Natsume might as well be a mountain spirit himself sometimes.

The thought cinches painfully in Shuuichi’s stomach, and he speeds up a bit until they’re walking alongside one another.

“How do you know you can trust this spirit?” he asks.

“I don’t,” Natsume says, sounding surprised by the question. “How do you know you can trust any of those humans you work with?”

“Because they’re human.”

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Shuuichi can see his own incomprehension reflected in Natsume’s expression. There’s a sudden chasm open between them, a lack of understanding that goes both ways.

Natsume looks away first. He doesn’t quite hang his head, but he isn’t standing as tall as he was before. Shuuichi remembers, belatedly, just how many humans have hurt Natsume up to this point. He realizes that what he just said was very stupid. And on top of being grossly inconsiderate, he managed to alienate his friend at the same time.

This is what he gets for being so smug all day.

He puts a hand on Natsume’s shoulder, throwing a line across the chasm and hoping it will hold. He squeezes, waiting until Natsume has mustered the courage for eye contact once more, and only when he has the boy’s full attention does he say gravely, “I have a lot to learn from you. I’m only sorry I won’t have the chance. And I apologize for the inconvenience my murder is going to have on your life.”

Natsume splutters, and then laughs, and those sad, clinging shadows peel away from him as easily as a broken spiderweb. “You’re not going to get murdered!”

"Hm,” Shuuichi says, deeply unconvinced (and deeply relieved to hear his friend laughing).

“Honestly, if you’re this worried, why not just wait at the hotel?” Natsume asks. He’s animated again, picking his way ahead confidently. Shuuichi is happy to follow, leaving that painful, aborted conversation behind them for another day.

“Because Touko told me to look after you this weekend,” Shuuichi says mulishly. He’s still clinging to the thin veneer of being in charge, for all the good it’s doing him. “How could I look her in the eye if I let you go charging off into danger?”

“Easily,” Natsume mutters. “Charmingly. And with a bouquet of roses, probably. You said it yourself, you’re good at talking.”

Now it’s Shuuichi’s turn to laugh. He thinks of his conversation with Touko earlier that week-- he thinks of how, even now, she and Shigeru are off getting into a fight with their family for their foster son’s sake, with Natsume none the wiser.

“You’ve sorely underestimated how protective she is of you,” Shuuichi says ruefully. “That’s fine. I’m sure you’ll get to see it firsthand when I take you home, since I’ve made an absolute mess of this weekend so far.”

Natsume tips his head curiously, but whatever he might have said is interrupted as they come around a bend that opens up to a glade.

There’s lantern light up ahead. The glow is unnatural, slightly off-color, and the lights sway even though there isn’t a steady wind. Hiiragi goes tense and alert at Shuuichi’s shoulder, and Shuuichi himself feels a cold thrill of anticipation, his fight-or-flight reflexes primed. But Natsume lets out a little huff of relief, and Madara says, “Finally!” as a rabbit spirit steps onto the path to greet them.

It’s about as tall as Shuuichi’s waist and dressed in a neat yellow yukata. It greets them politely, and apologizes for making them go out of their way, and invites them into the glade. Madara jumps out of Natsume’s arms to lead the way, and Hiiragi follows distrustfully, but Natsume lingers for a moment.

“What if Touko hadn’t said anything?” he asks, in the tone of someone testing a theory.

For all of about three seconds, Shuuichi considers lying to preserve his dignity, but he gives it up for a lost cause. He sighs, and musses his hair up even more, and admits, “I’d still be here.”

Natsume might as well be a mountain spirit himself sometimes. But then there are times like these, when his face lights up like a summer sky, and he smiles as though he’s never been hurt, and Shuuichi has never met anyone more human than him.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natori shuuichi #natsume takashi #nyanko sensei #my writing #prompt #natsumiyasblog #natsuyuu fic #this one got away from me lemme tell ya

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burningthemidnightcityoil · 3 years ago

Text

AVATARS OF THE LASTING ASPECTS

Let’s talk about Players and Aspects.

There are Two to Three Avatars of an Aspect, and then the Aspect itself. The two are the Player, and whatever Familiar / Sidekick / Fence / Companion they may have.

The Aspect itself is The Thing and the Whole of the Thing. For example-- you can picture Time without a Player. Its the measurement of events as they proceed; but its also the Begining and the End, the Pace-- Its Art is Music and its Artifact is Clockwork.

Think of all Aspects as like that.

The Avatar of the Aspect, or the Player, is capable of both introducing and controlling how the Aspect will function. If the player chooses bad choices, the Aspect will turn to those bad choices. The Aspect as the Thing and the Whole of the Thing is a neutral force of nature, only following its function, and its Avatar can dictate how that function is carried out. The Avatar and Aspect, however, are separate in this-- the aspect can still carry out its function without an avatar, just look at the Troll-Godless Earth.

The Player’s Class often tells you how the Player will dish out their Aspect.

So.

Why is this important?

Consider what we see in Homestuck.

In the Troll Sessions, the Aspects are balanced. There is an avatar for each aspect, and they carry out as players can and will and won’t to do.

But its the Human sessions where all this gets interesting.

Because the Human sessions aren’t balanced. They don’t have an avatar for each Aspect, and worse still, you can see that a powerful entity-avatar has corrupted the human sessions and one troll session (LE)-- The humans sessions is where it becomes blatant how the Aspects function without someone to direct or with someone with malicious intent.

Let’s start with Beta Session.

Here, we are introduced to Avatars of Breath, Light, Space and Time. Spacetime, its a given we need, because for anything to happen you need Space to fill and Time to pace.

But Light and Breath?

Breath is motion, progression, plot. Everything about the Beta Session is fast moving and constant action, and in fact, is too fast. Everything has to be done quickly, established quicker, and it jumps around.

This is a session without any sort of grounding-- There are no Real Aspects to tie everything down, so everything is all over the place.

Light is Relevance, Meaning and Symbols; Eyes and Color, Consciousness (lights on and everybody is home). There is next to nothing dark about what we’re seeing-- intention is often made plainly clear, most of the characters are in their right minds, and the Beta Session is chocked full of Symbols and Meaning and the promise that things will be made Clear if we can only Look.

But the problem here-- is that its too much all at once. Like above, there are no Real Aspects to ground the Ideals we have. We are given all this information, but have no fucking idea how to process it or where to put it, or what’s relevant to what.

Without Avatars of the Real Aspects (Void, Doom, Blood, Rage, Heart), there is no SENSE. And the Guardians that are there, are just that-- Guardians. They hold an Aspect, but don’t do much with it.

The Aspects that are the Thing and the Whole of the Thing are there, but they merely Are, and do not bend to or over the whims of anyone.

--- Until the Trolls come in, do things start making Sense.

Let’s talk the Alpha Session.

So we have Avatars of Life, Void, Hope, and Heart.

Life is Health, Experience, the Breaking of Impossibility and Normalcy. The Players are Alive, and surprisingly Well, in spite of their awful circumstances. Roxy and Dirk should’ve Died (Dirk fell in the middle of the Ocean as a Baby, how did he survive? Roxy fell in the midst of Carapacians, how was she not Eaten?). And yet, they’re just ordinary teenagers.

But now, the Avatars are forced to live through horrible circumstances. There is no Time or Space-- No way to move forward, and no Space to grow. Just Surviving through all Impossibility-- And its fucking awful.

Hope is Coherence, Belief, Fantasy and Divinity. The fact that the players are experiencing something wholly fantastical-- a literal Alien Empress has come to take over Earth, there are Alien Monsters outside of Jake’s door, their best friends are 500 years into the Future or are in another universe entirely, Apocraplyse and Metaphysical-- That’s a helluva a thing to have.

But now all they have is Hope. Hope that there’s gonna be something better. Hope that something is gonna come down-- and ye gods, that’s awful. They’re living 2020 without it ever being 2020.

And their hope player is a self-serving jackass.

Heart is the Inner Self and Character, the Ego and Persona, the Facet and Aesthetic, Love and Soul and Self. Each character is appropriately theme’d-- Jane is the Heiress to a Cooking Empire and literally acts like the Betty Crocker character we see on the logo (not the Batter Witch). Roxy is a Scientist, and has a Science Lab, and she loves cats and wizards. Jake is a movie enthusiast with a love of adventure, and literally has a Tomb Raider Island just outside his door. And Dirk is surrounded by Robots and Brobots, and quite literal (and distorted) reflections of himself.

And did we mention the Romance Problems.

So many Romance Problems.

Heart here is one of our First Real Aspects. And lot of Dirk’s stress comes from being one of the only Real Aspect Avatars, and trying to temper nearly everyone. Remember that music can be played to the beat of one’s heart-- Heart here is trying to play Time, and uh-- well--

I mean, you tried but...

Void is Irrelevance, the meaningless Physical, the Dark and the Deep, the Incomprehensible. The world is real damn it, and suddenly it doesn’t matter as much anymore. The Session is Void, void of life, void of hope, void of heart, until something comes along and fixes it.

One of the Real Aspects, and it more or less just sits there like a Generic Object. Literally only Roxy is thrilled about this session and for good reason-- she’s the only one in her element. Void fills in what Space doesn’t-- and it doesn’t do that good of a job because NOTHING IS HERE.

... So how many of you called Act 6 meaningless? How many of you had quit ship come Act 6? Feel bored or disappointed? Void did its job, didn’t it.

So.

What about the Aspects that Aren’t here?

Easy, the Trolls fill in what Classes and Aspects are missing. Kanaya brings in Sylph, Karkat Blood, Gamzee Rage and Bard, Sollux Mage and Doom, Terezi Mind, and Vriska brings in Thief (Though it can be argued that Jack Noir originally brought in Thief and Rage).

As an Avatar of Rage, Gamzee is mean to bring Contrivance, Madness and Passion, the Self Evident Truth. The Problem here, is that he only brings in Madness. Take the Juju Episode. He isn’t the Avatar of Rage itself, he’s the Avatar of the Lord of Time’s Rage-- He comes in to do the work of LE, not the work of the real Rage Aspect.

A real avatar of Rage would’ve shown our Alpha Players that they can change the system to favor them-- because this is bullshit.

As Avatar of Mind, Terezi brings in the Outer Self, the Choice, Cause and Effect, Superego and Karma. The Multiverse at your disposal. When she is down because of Gamzee, suddenly you lost all your Choices and there is no Karma (Pre-retcon Meteor).

Mind is also Memory and the Saved Game. If it wasn’t for Terezi, John would not have been able to go back and fix things. For a Narrative, Saved Games aren’t particularly Clean-- But SBURB is also a Game and a Story. We’ve seen what happens when the Player dies and lives are lost-- but imagine if you can just go back to a Saved Game and redo an action without having died in the first place.

That’s Mind.

As Avatar of Blood, Karkat provides not Character-- but You. Your Place, Yourself, Your Choice. Blood is the most Grounded and the Most Real of the Aspects. Everything might be Fake, but You, the Reader, are here and making it real. Blood falls under being Self-Driven, Promises and Friendship, Collective and Shared. Only as strong as your greatest weakness.

When he is down, you’ve lost Everything. When the Avatar of Blood flees, all those bonds and promises go out the window (Murderstuck). When he dies, there is nobody left but despair (Bad End).

As Avatar of Doom, Sollux provides Destruction, The Limit and the Crossed Line, Inevitability and the Impossible-- Death at the End. No matter how bad that seems, Doom isn’t a Bad Aspect. Its the Cleaner. Something has gone wrong, and there’s no way to fix it, you can take solace in the fact that it’ll be over soon. Doom is a very sorrowful aspect, with a thankless but needed job.

He tends to avoid the Human’s (and yet looks up human culture) cos he’s not that interested (Doom avoids the Players). When he’s defeated by the Avatar of Hope, Murderstuck seemingly has no End (and yet, he isn’t dead, just changed). When he leaves to go hang out with Friends once the Humans arrive, Doom has left them (Their journey is guaranteed to succeed).

Sollux has a frightful job, being an Avatar of Doom.

And what of the Muse and the Lord.

Muses are Inspirational. You have something that inspires you to create. Calliope is that inspiration. The Avatar of Space inspires its creation.

And the Lord? Well, he’s the Creator and the Director of the Piece. The Avatar of Time ensures Creation.

Worse though, is when Caliborn proves to be a malicious creator and director, and he literally takes Avatars as his own.

Gamzee, an Avatar of Rage, is now an Avatar of Caliborn’s Rage. His Madness. Spread either via Murderous Intent or Juju.

Equius, an Avatar of Void, is now an Avatar of Caliborn’s Void. His Physical Reality.

Dirk, an Avatar of Heart, fights so hard not to be Caliborn’s Heart. And plenty of Dirk’s other selves Fail this Fight. Bro is merely a distilled version, and that’s horrible enough. Hal fails outright, and his nature tends toward maliciousness toward all other players.

And Homestuck. The Alpha Timeline? -- Its Caliborn’s Time.

And you Will Follow it. You have no other Choice.

#homestuck #classpects #avatar of aspect

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septic-skele · 4 years ago

Text

UT - You and Me (Against The World)

Summary: If Pap was the sun, then he must be the moon: a ball of scars and craters, whose only shine was a lesser reflection of his brother’s.

“But if you weren’t there to be the moon,” Papyrus answered, so simply, so kindly, “who else would be a light in the darkness?” Sans and Papyrus, in fifty captured seconds.

Comfort

“This is not at all an admission of helplessness, surrender or defeat…but if there is anything I haven’t yet tried, brother, anything at all that might help you, I need you to tell me.”

Kiss

The human’s lipstick had formed a decidedly unpleasant texture on his teeth, Papyrus mused with a shudder as he grabbed his toothbrush to scrub away the evidence.

Soft

Sans rarely ever raised his voice, but then he didn’t need to; a low growl could be far more threatening than a shout.

Pain

“Nngh…Almost there, I think,” Sans hissed, struggling to stay loose and relaxed as Papyrus gingerly manipulated the deformed joint of his shoulder back toward its socket.

Potatoes

“Not once have I seen a potato subspecies that grows on couches,” Papyrus admitted, “so I’m afraid I cannot speak for any resemblance between them and Sans!”

Rain

“I seem to recall a well-prepared skeleton advising his lazy brother to wear sneakers on their outing today,” Papyrus snarked as Sans’ sodden slippers squished and squelched with each step.

Chocolate

Chocolate sauce was chocolate sauce and spaghetti was spaghetti, both good things independently, so…Sans could assume Papyrus had made them better together, right?

Happiness

Papyrus had genuinely laughed at what was admittedly his worst material, and that was more than enough to lift the corners of Sans’ wan smile.

Telephone

Sans had thirty-four frantic texts, a full voicemail box, and no memory of the last three days to offer as an excuse.

Ears

Papyrus couldn’t help but marvel at Frisk’s dedication to being so cool; they had put new holes in their ears not for better hearing, but simply to decorate with tiny pieces of treasure!

Name

“I’m just Sans—well, ‘Comic Sans’ if you want to be particular about it—but if you really need a surname,” Sans began, mischief sparking in his eyes, “it’s, uh, Lewis. C.S. Lewis, heheh.”

Sensual

Finally Papyrus could understand why Sans so loved spending time in bed; these new silk sheets seemed to float around his bones, gently shushing him to relax and rest.

Sex

“Turns out the humans have a label for everything,” Sans remarked with a wry grin as he spun the striped button pinned to his coat. “I’m what they call an ace in the hole.”

Touch

For reasons he couldn’t quite justify, Papyrus flinched when Frisk wrapped their arms around his neck.

Death

“I’ll see you soon, Tori,” he mumbled as he brushed his hand over the memorial’s stone base, “because if I know anything about that kid, they’re not gonna let you stay down forever.”

Weakness

All of Sans’ strength had been spent in the shower; his juddering legs and the cold embrace of the bathroom floor dictated that dressing would have to wait.

Tears

“I’m always alright,” Papyrus whispered, though he made no effort to dry his streaked cheekbones.

Speed

Papyrus doggedly insisted that the sign had said ninety miles per hour—until he recalled a particular prescription for glasses that still needed filling.

Hero

“It’s not my job to be nice or helpful or cool,” Sans announced flatly. “It’s my job to give judgment, no matter how much it might hurt.”

Freedom

“Not all humans are like Frisk, Papyrus; some of them would rather sweep us off the street than crack a smile at us.”

Life

In response to Sans’ apathetic “What do you want?”—Papyrus poured his soul into a scream: “I want you to treat your life like it matters!”

Jealousy

“Undyne is always away with Alphys and the human Frisk is busy with their plethora of school friends; I don’t know who my ‘besties’ are anymore!”

Hands

“My glove is the wrapping and my hand is the present; I’m just waiting for the day someone special wants to take it!”

Taste

Spongy in the middle, crisp around the edges, swathed with butter and spices that melted in the mouth…If only Papyrus could drag the garlic bread out of the cookbook picture and onto the plate.

Devotion

“Long live the King,” Sans murmured as he pried the crown from his exhausted brother’s head and tucked his cloak closer around him for the night.

Sickness

It was unsettling to see Pap so limp and lethargic, snoring on and off between miserable sniffs and the few coughs his abused throat could muster.

Melody

For once Papyrus regretted that he wasn’t a stealthier skeleton; he would have liked to hear Sans sing another bar or two before he jumped at his presence.

Star

Mettaton had been acknowledging everyone in the first several rows, but surely the celebrity had glanced at Papyrus a few seconds longer than the rest!

Home

Their Surface house felt like a resort—airy, open, relaxing to some degree, but Sans still had the nagging urge to keep his bags and boxes packed.

Market

“Sans, I have no intention of purchasing seventeen boxes of Twinkies!”

Hair

“Oh, so I’m not allowed any Twinkies to repackage as ‘dessert dogs’ for my booming business, but you’re allowed four different brands of shampoo for hair you don’t even have.”

Confusion

“These puzzles I’ve submitted are sure to be a much greater challenge for this week’s column, don’t you think?” he questioned smugly as his brother stared at the sheet of incomprehensible twists, turns, and teasers.

Innocence

“Doesn’t ‘hanky panky’ mean that you are ‘hankering for a pancake’?” Papyrus demanded as Sans choked on his coffee.

Fear

“I think, uh, I’d rather take the stairs, be proactive like you’re always telling me,” Sans decided, recoiling from the cramped, groaning walls of the elevator.

Sky

The pure blue expanse made Sans’ head swim with its enormity, stretching further than his eye sockets could ever see.

Lightning/Thunder

Papyrus couldn’t help but wonder if that terrifying noise was the sun, roiling and roaring at the dark clouds for blotting out its rightful place.

Forever

“Why do you always leave me behind?” Sans wanted to say, instead forcing a smile and wave as Papyrus strode toward his terminal.

Technology

Papyrus’ first college semester, Sans kept his phone charged and at full volume more consistently than he had in the last five years.

Blood

“Stay awake for me, Sans, just keep your eyes on me!” Papyrus begged, because if he didn’t keep their eyelights locked he would have to watch the pool of red grow.

Hell

Sans’ HP hung by a decimal point, slipping, and Undyne wrestled her arms around Papyrus’ shoulders to keep him back as he screamed.

Safe

“It’s thanks to you that I’m still here, bro; I won’t go anywhere if you don’t.”

Bonds

“We skeletons have a soul sense for such things; I can feel my brother’s aura of bad jokes, dirty socks and disappointment in this room.”

Gift

“It was on sale!” Papyrus lied, brightly and effortlessly, because he hated to see Sans look so guilty for receiving a good thing.

Smile

Sans chuckled fondly as he admired the worn, creased photos, tracing a finger over his baby brother’s beaming face.

Child

Papyrus wouldn’t mind having a little one to raise someday—someone to look up to him for his greatness and guidance, the way he had once looked up to Sans.

Waves

Seafoam swirled gently around his ankles, beckoning him closer, deeper, against his better judgment; if there was a choice to sink or swim, Sans would sink every time.

Moon

If Pap was the sun, then he must be the moon: a ball of scars and craters, whose only shine was a lesser reflection of his brother’s.

Hope

“But if you weren’t there to be the moon,” Papyrus answered, so simply, so kindly, “who else would be a light in the darkness?”

Heaven

Most gods Sans heard about were not gods of mercy, but he would keep looking; he would find the one who gave eternal peace as a gift, not as something to bargain for.

Completion

As his wavering steps gave out and the twirling lights softly faded, Sans closed his eyes and breathed, soundless, “Finally.”

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sam-blackbird · 3 years ago

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What if episode 8 spoilers!

I wrote this while watching the episode and after, but I don’t stop the episode every time I had something to said because it would have been to long. (In fact that’s what I did so it’s really a long post, sorry!) Anyway, let’s began!

OMG there’s « Jeremy Renner » in the opening! *fangirling in Hawkeye/Clint Barton fan* Wait, about the opening, it’s different from the others, the ones from the previous seven episodes, right? OMG blond-haired-Natasha! *also cry in fangirl*

The Watcher talking about a reality which end and which breaks his (?)(we always assume that’s The Watcher use the he/him pronouns but as far as I’m not sure of it, I’ll use the they/them pronouns) their heart and guess what? I think this episode will break mine!

It snow… (Please tell me it’s not ashes (Maybe from the burning world?))

Holy- Natasha!!! My heart is tight and I feel bad and sad and now I want to cry, Marvel I hate you. Also, she looks hurt, Marvel I double hate you for that, stop playing with my feeling please!

*yell and screams* My little boiiii!!! (Hawkeye/Clint Barton just appeared on my screen) (and I’m really happy of it) (I hope he won’t be hurt, or I’ll became violent because no one hurt my little baby! Yes, I’m aware that he’s older and stronger than me but I don’t care, let me dream and cry, ok?) Also, excuse me, but what happened to his right arm? I’m not sure but if it’s what I think it is, Marvel you’re gonna have big trouble (and by that I mean my insulting you in French in my room, which isn’t that bad I think)

Good I love this action scene and this duo! And the Hawkeye cape is really stylish! I want the same! It seems so cool! Can we agree on the fact that that’s a cape of invisibility, like in Harry Potter?

Also, that’s a metal arm or a prothese that he have instead of his right arm?! Marvel please no! *screams and swear in French*

The three-arrows thing was cool!

*double scream in French when the robots hurt Hawkeye*

Touch him and I’ll kill you you robots! Yay! Natasha!

Wait a minute, I just think about it but where are the others? (I’m full of fear now)

A joke about him being disable? Ah. Sooo fun 😒 (no) Natasha saying that puns aren’t her speciality… Girl, no kidding?! Also, the « It’s Russia. Secrets were the national pastime. » is actually a good one! (Is that the ruins of Saint-Petersburg?)

« One‘s man dream »… You mean his stupidity and/or madness of values, right?

Oh sh¡T! Ultron dear, you’re a son of a Tony, and that’s not a compliment. Dumbass, if you erase the life on Earth, first of all that‘s not nice (thank you Captain obvious) and then, how can we have the wonderful Wandavison?! (Yeah, I love this ship, one of the only hetero ones I like)

Clint being worried for his family wasn’t something I needed today you Marvel!

Scuse me WTF?! He cut Thanos like a shitty piece of paper?! And this purple idiot let him a free access to the Infinity stones?! (Well, he may don’t think things were gonna happened that way but it’s a big catastrophe, like *scream in French*)

*swear in French* Ultron my dear don’t do that!!! *scream for the happy universes we saw* *cry for it* Also, Ultron might be a vilain but we can’t deny they’re (again I’m not sure about the pronouns) really good looking. I mean, their design is really cool and full of style and it’s sad it would bring us tears and desperation because they’re really stylish -I know I repeated the same think but I think it and my English vocabulary isn’t really good :C -.

And I was right to fear for the others :C

Ultron, peace isn’t destruction!

Did he just destroyed Earth?! *is shocked and don’t accept it* *my heroes can’t die, right? * (friendly reminder that Tony’s not part of my heroes)

And Asgard?! *still in disbelief*

*saw their favorites MCU characters disappear from the screen* No! Nooo! *cry for real and had to put pause to cry* (my heart is broken, why did you did this Marvel?!)

The Great Master is just like us, he watch what’s happening in disbelief because it’s so… absurd. It’s not happening, right? It’s just a nightmare and I’ll wake up soon, right?

What the f_ck Xandar?! Captain! *cry with joyfull tears* Please kick Ultron’s ass! Skynet, LoL, I understand that reference! (Am I that old?!)

Wait, I just realized but if Ultron had destroyed Earth, it means Maria -you know, Carol’s wife- is dead?! *gasp in pain*

« You can’t win. - I already have. » Dude WTF?! Let me have hope you son of Tony!

Crap Ultron broke the 4th wall and heard the narrator (aka The Watcher!)! We’re in danger! All the universes are in danger! Our mental health are in dan… Wait, I don’t have that one.

*deep breath with Natasha and Clint appears on screen*

Hey Watcher, maybe you could help them, no? I mean, the multiverse is in danger and they’re your last hope, remember? But no, it’s so much fun to watch them looking in all the boxes… 😒

Is that Alexei Red Guardian’s shield? You really want me to cry Marvel?! (oh no, now I’ve got « Bye bye Miss American Pie » stuck in head… Great, really)

*Clint talking about his low will to live* Me: same here bro! Not exactly for the same reasons but same here!

Watcher, stop talking just f_cking help them! That’s what you called « intervene » Watcher?! LoL seing them trying to talk to the duo Clintasha is the funniest think in this episode for now xD

Not this escalator xD *think about the scene with Steve and Bucky in it in Captain America: The Winter Soldier* *smile*

Francis?! WTF?! XD

How to kill Zola? With water xD Oh God I love Clint so much xD

« I’d like to order a pizza » LoL *die of laughing because it was unexpected* xD (See? She can make pun!)

Yes, a specific arrow! Also, don’t explain us you plan! If we know the plan before it happened, it’s not gonna work!

I’m love the trio Clint-Natasha-Zola actually!

Wait… Natasha holding Clint furiously reminds me of what happened in Voromir… *realization* NO! No no no no No! I see what you trying to doing here Marvel! No! I want them to live! Both of them!

*shock* *cry*

The « I don’t want to fight anymore » wasn’t something I needed Marvel! Why would you do this to me?! WHY?!

*also, sadly, we know that Ultron won’t die in this episode because we saw it in the end of episode 7 and it was after episode 8 I guess*

THEY DO THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT HAPPENED IN ENDGAME THOSE *incomprehensible swear drowned in tears* !!! I hope all the one who said that « it should have been Clint » regret it!

And the little smile! He’s relieve to leave and to join his family! *cry in pain*

Why do I still watch The MCU?! I know it’s painful but I still watch, why?!

Apart of that, can we talk about the beauty of this scene? The music, the light who goes on Clint…

Watcher, you sure you can’t do anything ?!

I’m sorry but I have to : Nat, you’re such a poser !

Wait, The Watcher is actually really badass and strong!

What the f_ck Steve?! Why became president?!

WTF?!

Wait, it’s already the end?! Ah, no. Fiou.

What the… That’s Strange. And by that I don’t only said that it’s weird, but also that that’s literally Doctor Strange from episode 6.

How the f_ck does he end up there!? No idea.

I love the ending music, god!

*enging credits* What the… The CNC and Film France helped?! *disbelief but also pride to be French*

And that’s it! Finished! One week to wait until the next one?! It’s gonna be sooo long (actually no because of my studies but you understand what I mean, right?)

#what if spoilers #what if ep 8 #what if episode 8 #marvel #mcu

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xbunnybunz · 4 years ago

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The terrible, you. (3/5) [Wolf Keum x Reader]

Summary: After Wolf Keum unwittingly rescues you from seedy men in the dead of night, he can't shake you from his side. After a while, he's not sure if he wants to.

Genres: Romance

Date: June 16, 2020

-----

You did not appear again the next day.

Wolf Keum had not been waiting for you to present yourself. He made sure to remind himself of that.

Yet, the endless chatter of the “girl looking for Wolf Keum” going around Ganghak was grating on his nerves and disallowed him to purge you from his mind.

As someone his classmates could barely bring themselves to look at, he was an awful popular point of contention. You had made a bigger mess than you could imagine.

“I’m telling you, she’s way too cute for him. I’ve seen her working at the flower shop by the underpass, and I don’t think she could be interested in him like that at all, ever. Too bad for him.”

As one of the strongest members of Yeongdeungpo, Wolf Keum’s personal business was always made public business in a matter of days, or in this case, hours. He had first looked upon this with irrational contempt, wondering why his name belonged in anybody’s mouth if they could barely utter a syllable in his presence. After a while, he realized that rumors, while spoken about for the sake of entertainment, could also serve to emphasize his power without much effort on his part.

It wasn’t much different now, though Wolf had to admit he had never been jabbed in the pride regarding his romantic life before. He had no idea it existed until now. It stirred his temper more than dumbfucks shit-talking his fights, and he reasoned that his irritability stemmed from the fact that these slobs would talk about just about anything. Still, he couldn’t settle things like he did back then. Not while he was under Donald Na’s system. It wasn’t as effective than beating the living shit out of anyone who looked at him funny, but it did allow time for his bruised knuckles to heal before the next beatdown.

His friend was quick to snatch the collar of the offender.

“What the hell did you say about Wolf? What do you know? Do I need to knock out your teeth so you think twice before yammering?”

The smaller student squirmed in the iron grip, sweating bullets and eyes darting about to find aid from his friends.

“I- I didn’t mean to! I mean, I wasn’t talking about Wolf Keum, the girl, she-”

“You weren’t talking about Wolf Keum?”

Wolf watched out of the corner of his eye, hands in his pockets, as the student was nearly hoisted from the floor from the collar.

“Who the hell were you talking about then? Geum Sa-Wol? You watch that shit, loser?”*

As the student became a blubbering mess, Wolf swept his eyes over the crowd in the hallway. All eyes were diverted. It was deafeningly silent, a silence that Wolf Keum craved for two reasons. One, it meant he could finally have a few goddamn seconds of peace without her face bouncing around in his head; and two, it meant that although students refused to look up, they were still very much listening.

“Hey man.”

Wolf placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and he could feel the trembling of the other student through his arm.

“Don’t sweat it.”

The smaller kid was set down, and Wolf had to keep himself from snarking at his pale face and wide eyes. Instead, he turned his chin up and offered a sickening smile, his glasses catching the gleam of the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling.

“I can’t waste time on shit-mouthed fuckers who can’t get the facts straight.”

Wolf reached out to scornfully dust off his wrinkled jacket, enjoying each flinch he induced when his hand landed too harshly or too quickly. He lowered his voice to a dangerous octave, a surge of adrenaline pumping through his veins when he felt the room drop ten degrees in response.

“Her and I have nothing to do with each other, and definitely nothing to do with you. It’s best for us to keep it like that for your sake, don’t you think?”

He lowered his gaze to glower at the shorter student, who, trembling, swallowed thickly and nodded stiffly under his suffocating presence. Wolf remained rooted to the floor, asserting his pressure for a few more long seconds for good measure before giving him a shove.

“Now fuck off.”

He watched as the student took off, tripping over the air in his haste and plummeting into the unforgiving tiled floors with a splat.

Wolf regarded him with a derisive glance and moved to open the door to his classroom, and though it was someone else on the floor, all eyes were on him. He always reveled in the high of scaring someone shitless when he had an audience. Their deafening silence represented their resounding submission to him, but perhaps his most favorite part of all was the contrast of atmosphere immediately before and after he entered another room. The collective drop of shoulders, the perfectly synchronized sighs of relief and immediate whispers of disbelief flooded Wolf Keum with euphoria. It reminded him that his mere presence was enough to instill fear into the hearts of his peers, strong enough to demand subservience, and a testament to his self-made reputation.

It was exactly what he needed now after a long day of conflicting thoughts, which he shamefully had to admit, had made him restless. When he slid the door to his classroom open, he could almost hear the eyes moving from his back to his desk.

In all his years of accruing bloody knuckles and broken noses, he had never once been as stunned as he was in this one soundless and stagnant moment. A crowd had formed around his table, busybodies nosing about and phone cameras shuttering. The moment they heard the door fling open they scattered like roaches, throwing themselves back into their seats and trying hard to seem occupied as to not incur the wrath of Wolf Keum.

Piled high on his desk was an amalgamation of pinks and reds, wrapped delicacies placed upon gift boxes placed upon packages tied to little pink balloons. Wolf took this all in with as straight a face as he could muster, knowing everyone was more sensitive to his presence now than ever before. This included of course, eyebrows arching upwards and his jaw becoming slack.

No one could blame Wolf Keum for his reaction. They had in fact, reacted in the same exact manner- perhaps to a more notable extent. Even for a normal person, a love letter or a small baked treat would suffice as a proclamation of love. But for Wolf Keum, the gifts spread across his desk in a flashy show of affection were tenfold more surprising. It was incomprehensible to anyone that Wolf, the brute occupied with street violence and gang activity, would ever entertain the idea of liking someone, and even moreso shocking that someone could see past their terror and admire him- especially in such an ostentatious fashion.

This revelation was of course, made much more interesting because of the blatant denial that he had anything to do with a girl prior. Wolf knew this more than anyone and gathered his wits to press onward, feeling something strangely similar to adrenaline pulsing through his body and reddening his ears.

“W-Wolf…” His friend stuttered, raising a weak finger to point at the desk. “…What is that?”

Wolf skulked into the classroom, hands deep in his pockets and a snarl on his lips. He had an idea, but couldn’t formulate it into words. He settled for the next best thing.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know, dimwit? I’m looking now.”

“O-oh. Right.”

He approached the table with caution, cringing at the vivid colors and grotesque amount of home baked pastries and sweets. There was an assortment of red cosmos, pink tulips and white daises sitting upon everything, tied together neatly with a thick shiny ribbon pinning down a notecard.

Wolf considered knocking everything over in a fit of confused rage. He considered ordering his lackey to burn it in the incinerator. He considered many things, yet curiosity ate him alive and stopped him from uttering a single word.

He had thought about her all day, damn it all if denying it did anything. She had a strange manner to her that he couldn’t shake and he was enraged when she failed to show up again after gaining his attention. Though no, it hadn’t been directed at her- which was what infuriated him. For the first time in years, Wolf Keum had been disappointed in himself, perhaps for not being interesting enough to earn another visit, or strong enough to impress her beyond a single local market creampuff.

When she didn’t show up again as he had anticipated, he was overtaken by pesky attempts to explain it. He guessed she was shy, he guessed she was nervous, he guessed she came to her senses, he had guessed and guessed until it drove him up the wall and back down again. But even with his reputation and credibility on the line, even while being documented by a sea of students who undoubtedly would share this with friends later- now that just a breath of her existence was in front of him, he had to know- was she back after all? The adrenaline had now inched its way across his body and set his heart and mind aflame, temperatures soaring and burning their way across his cheeks.

“Bro, I can toss it for you-”

“Shut up for a second.”

Wolf ignored the other man, who wisely shut his trap. He was preoccupied with keeping his hand steady as he stiffly reached out for the notecard, a gleam overtaking his glasses. The gold foil note looked strangely out of place in his calloused and bandaged hands, but the name on the notecard was undoubtedly his.

Dear Wolf Keum, Yay!! You found my gifts!! I hope you can enjoy these snacks with all of your funny friends. The flowers are for you though. I picked them from the florist shop I work at myself. I hope you like them! (PS: Put them in carrot juice to make them last longer!) (PPS: or don’t… my boss tells me not to do that in the shop…)

He lowered the card and looked up with a deadpan glower, all the students who had been peering over their shoulders flinched and look back to the front.

He didn’t know what to feel. Wolf Keum was instinctively mad at everything. If the television didn’t work, he was mad. If he had forgotten an umbrella in the rain, he’d be mad and take someone else’s and still be mad. Any slight inconvenience to Wolf Keum was followed by inevitable punishment, and though he was inconvenienced now more than ever with your gifts tarnishing his title in both Ganghak High and the Union, in this moment he felt nothing more than exasperation.

A familiar pipsqueak shitstain voice sounded from the door.

“Woah, she really does like you! How?”

Wolf Keum grit his teeth and felt his hands ball into tight fists at his side, confusion igniting once again to erupt into a bitter and wild, barely contained rage. He was Wolf Keum. Why did he care? Why did he care what a shitty bread shuttle had to say?

He felt his temper raise to lick at the edges of his vision, something of the sort of beast he was used to encountering, but driven by something larger and much more foreign than he was used to. What was it that he, Wolf Keum, was so unfamiliar with? So unable to control?

A creep of red colored his neck, a dash ran across his face, and then he knew at once.

The amount of effort it took for him to sustain regular breathing was fucking bullshit. The way his fists were ready to swing yet ever trembling was fucking. Bullshit.

To onlookers, this Wolf Keum was the same as the Wolf Keum all the days before, face red with irritation, quaking fists itching for a brawl. He was thankful of this, but at the same time hated how he had to hide behind his title instead of living up to it.

Wolf Keum was insecure.

“You little bitch! I’ll rip out your tongue!”

A figure lunged at the smaller boy in the periphery of Wolf's vision, yet he paid it no mind. There was no satisfaction that came from the dull sound of crying and a fists cracking against a nose. Wolf settled into his chair with an aura that filled the room with a cold draft.

With his mood soured, everyone was suddenly reminded that Wolf Keum with gifts on his desk was in fact, still Wolf Keum.

The silence that surrounded the noisy beating did nothing to ease the atmosphere as the pink balloon bobbed softly in the air.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #wolf keum #wolf keum x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #the terrible you

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.16 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Where was the one place that Red told Stretch not to go? Right.

~~*~~

Read ‘Into the Woods’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Thin branches caught at Stretch as he slowly stumbled his way through the darkened woods. Twigs catching at his sleeves and scraping at his bare ankles as if trying to hold him back. He ignored it, ignored the annoyance and the scratches they left behind. One snagged and held until his t-shirt tore under the strain and still, he walked, following that faint, sweet song.

In front him of sparks seemed to form from nothingness, flickering lights dancing right before his eye sockets. Beneath the gauzy layers muffling his consciousness were vague thoughts of old legends from Waterfall about ghost lights that led travelers down wrong paths to their deaths, drowning them in still hidden pools where even their bones would never be found.

He remembered telling those stories to Blue at bedtime, whispering those haunted tales and then pouncing on his brother when he’d least expect it. Drawing out shrieks and laughter, his delight worth ending up with a little bro sleeping next to him in his bed that night after a nightmare.

He remembered it all and still he did not, could not, stop walking. It all seemed dreamy and distant, felt like his feet didn't belong to him, only vehicles carrying him deeper into the shadows beneath the heavy boughs rustling above. The lights seem bigger now, the sparks collecting together and forming into a larger shape. He couldn’t quite tell what it was, it was fluid, changing even as he looked right at it.

For the first few steps, thin moonlight glinted through the branches. No longer, every stride carried him deeper where even the moon couldn't penetrate. The only light was the face in front of him and when had it become a face? Stretch wasn’t sure, but he followed it, fascinated by her parted lips where that song formed and was cast out between them, drowning in it as surely as those who lost their way in Waterfall.

Her face was as white as the moon’s, surrounded by a cloud of long, pale hair, nothing more than a face that hovered out of his dreamy reach. He kept walking, following along with the double enchantment of that voice and face, even though that vision began to blur, melting like candlewax into something else entirely. Beneath the veneer of loveliness something was hidden, awfulness lurking under the surface, rotten with sharp teeth. The head hung in the air in front of him and slowly he was beginning to see what was dangling under it. Glinting wetly was no body at all but horrific, dripping entrails that heaved with every croon of song.

He could see it, yet even as something deep within his soul was howling in terror and beating against the bars of his mind, he only felt a sense of numb lethargy. That song ended and he only stood there, blinking dumbly and yearning for its return. She reached out to touch him, her spindly fingers tipped with long, curling claws, and he didn’t flinch as they brushed his cheekbone, caught him under the chin to yank his head painfully up.

“Too old.” Even those few words were sonorous, as lilting as a lute. That beautiful voice warmed him, so lovely, the most gorgeous thing he’d ever heard and the disappointment it held made him want to weep. He might have cast himself at her feet to plead forgiveness if not for her ruthless grip on his chin. She let out a disgruntled hiss, low and sibilant, “Much too old…a Monster? No blood, no flesh, no bite—ah, but wait.” She leaned in, sniffing delicately and something about that was familiar, something— “but you have magic, plenty of sweet, delicious magic.” She smiled and he stared dreamily at the rows of razor-sharp teeth, her long tongue lolling out and leaving a sheen of dark saliva on her lips. “You’ll do.”

It was only when she came closer and he could smell the fetid stink of her breath that a worm of panic finally wriggled its way through his calm. Gone was the angelic aura, her appearance twisting instead into that of a haggard ghoul, an anglerfish dangling her lure. He could smell blood and decay, and something worse, rotting meat and vinegar.

Her jaw seemed to unhinge, showing a gaping maw wide enough to swallow him whole, her gullet a deep, moldering gray that exhaled a fresh stink of vinegar, and he still couldn’t move, his silent shrieks only in his own mind as she drew him closer.

As she reeled him in, a loud, cracking sound filled the clearing, a splintered branch falling heavily to the ground. It broke whatever spell that held him and with a violent wrench, Stretch tore away from her, turning and running in a blind panic. He couldn’t see, crashing painfully through the trees in front of him but he could hear and behind him was something else tearing through the branches and tree trunks.

Stretch didn’t dare look back, he only ran, all the panic he couldn't feel earlier boiling up in him. He wasn’t even sure if he was going the right way, lost in a panicked flight away from whatever was following him. Reaching for his magic was pure instinct, for an attack, a shortcut, anything at all. He nearly gagged at the agonizing burn as it rejected him yet again, a splintering throb of pain jabbing into his temples.

He stumbled over his own feet and nearly fell, skittering in damp leaves and barely caught his balance enough to keep running, tearing through the whipping bushes, thin branches snapping around him. There was no time, nothing he could but let loose the screams denied to him earlier as something heavy caught him right between the shoulder blades and sent him sprawling to the ground, knocking the breath out of him.

“no!” Stretch panted out, clawing at the dirt, fallen leaves scattering as he tried to crawl free, grasping at weeds that pulled up uselessly from the soft ground. “no, no, no.” His voice rose into a panicked scream that only cut off when he was abruptly rolled onto his back. He cringed, expecting to feel needle sharp teeth sinking into his skull, crunching him down in a single gulp, and his skittering regrets were only for his brother, his dear, sweet little brother worrying over him back in Ebott and who would never know what happened to him.

Seconds ticked by and nothing happened, nothing but deep, heavy breathing coupled with the weight holding him down.

Stretch braced himself, taking a trembling grip on his sanity as he finally opened his sockets and found himself looking up into a pair of deep red eyes set in a large white skull. Bony paws were on his ribcage, pinning him down into the leaves and dirt. The creature was skeletal, like him, but like no skeleton he’d ever seen. The frontal bone of its skull was ridged with bony outcropping like horns or antlers, its sockets large and slanted, and its wide mouth was set with the teeth of a canine predator. But this was no dog or wolf, nothing that belonged in the current animal index. It was something prehistoric, dragging its bones from the murky depths of time to stand above him and stare with burning crimson eyes.

Thick, damp breath whuffed into his face with blistering heat and Stretch could smell its breath. Not fetid meat, but something oddly spicy, something---

It looked him over, crimson eyes flicking down and up, and then through that mouth of sharp teeth said perfectly clearly. "Did it bite you?"

The only sound that escaped Stretch was a near wheeze, "nnnnnnn...?"

The creature snarled louder and Stretch flinched, cringing away from those jagged teeth as it demanded, louder, "Did it? Did it bite you!"

"n-no," he shook his head frantically. "no, no, it didn't."

“You’re sure?” Another growl, more breath scented with that strange spice and when Stretch didn’t reply, another loud, feral snarl, “Are you sure??”

“yes!!” Stretch screamed back, coughing on a near sob.

The creature sagged, some of its ferocity draining into peculiar relief. Its claws dug in briefly as it moved, large paws settling on the forest floor as it released Stretch and padded away. “Don’t move,” it ordered.

He very nearly disobeyed it immediately, don’t move, what the fuck, who did Not Wolfy think he was fooling? Stretch was three seconds from fucking gone when a loud, ghastly shriek came from far too close, that same unearthly voice from before.

The beast snarled again, but not at Stretch, it turned and directly that roar in the direction of a faint, moony glow that wasn’t the moon, not at all. Stretch closed his sockets and didn’t move, shivering as the cold ground beneath him seeped into his clothes.

There was another round of incomprehensible growls and shrieks, all too close, and exhaustion was spreading through Stretch with the cold, it all seemed like so much, too much, and all he could do was croak out a miserable, “please,”

“Be quiet!” From much closer than he’d expected, and that voice held nothing of the sibilant appeal that led him into these woods. It was deep and rough, dark as the night sky and the words bitten off on jagged edges. “Stay quiet and don’t move. Don't run, it'll only make her chase you. Give me a moment to calm her down."

More growls and shrieks filled the cold night air that seemed to count as a sort of language, and Stretch could only lie there in the surreality of two creatures of woods arguing over him. He didn’t want to look, still couldn’t help opening his sockets a bare slit to see that horrible head hovering in the air in front of the creature that was like a reverse Night Fury, all sharp teeth that snapped and clenched, their voices squabbling loudly.

Mini-Smaug didn’t look at him, but it spoke again, low and steady. "She's angry that I am attempting to steal her rightful prey and the only reason she's not fighting for it is she hadn't bitten you yet. I told her you're mine.”

It…She? Whatever she was, she didn’t seem too happy to be giving up her midnight snack to the local dragon contingency. She huffed angrily, baring needle-sharp teeth then turned in her hovering way to vanish into the woods with a last angry shriek.

Falkor’s evil twin watched her go, waiting until that pale unearthly glow faded entirely before turning back to Stretch and the only light in the clearing was the crimson of its eyes.

Laying there so far from home, for the very first time Stretch wished that he’d never gotten on that bus. He didn't even have his phone to tell his brother goodbye, could taste his bitter regret from not answering any of those worried texts. He couldn't teleport, couldn’t fight. He was useless, always had been, and so too would be his death.

He could hear footsteps moving across the clearing, soft in spite of the creature’s size. Stretch squeezed his sockets tightly shut and managed a single, desperate plea. "make it quick."

There was a significant pause, a moment of utter silence, then, "What?"

"please, make it quick," he begged. "don't drag it out. eat my soul first, get it over with." The rest of him would dissolve to dust pretty quick after but he didn't see a need to mention that. He let his soul form in his ribcage and a new silvery glow filled the small clearing, the light seeping through his thin t-shirt. Hopefully this creature wouldn’t take too close a look at it before starting its meal or else the deal might be off, and Stretch wasn’t sure he wanted to consider what might be worse.

Silence, then the creature made a sound that Stretch slowly recognized as laughter. A strange clattering sound rose up and he opened his sockets again to see the creature rolling around in the leaves, still chuffing out great guffaws. Okay, getting eaten was bad enough, he didn’t need to be seasoned with any extra humiliation. He glared at the creature and huffed out, “what the hell is so funny?”

It rolled to its feet, clawed toes gouging into the leafy soil and returned that glare with sour amusement, "I'm not going to eat you, fool," it growled out scornfully, "The taste of idiot would spoil any meal. I told her you were mine, not mine to eat."

How that sort of face could raise its brow bones suggestively, Stretch didn’t know, but it took a minute for those words to combine with that expression. When it did, his shock and fear didn’t lesson, only took on another flavor.

"oh. oh, yours…you…uh." Stretch sat there dumbly, staring at the creature with wide sockets, ‘cause holy shit, it was fucking huge. He wondered if he wasn’t better off getting eaten.

The beast let out an irritated huff, its long tail lashing agitatedly. “Don’t look at me like that, I told her that to get her to leave, not because I was after a mate.”

“oh. right.” At least some part of him had already been consumed tonight, because someone had obviously already eaten whatever sense he still had rattling around.

“She won’t bother you again, but she’s hardly the only one out here looking for an easy meal. Can you walk?” The beast sat down, tail curling around its feet, and Stretch took that moment to scramble to his.

He gave himself a once-over, wriggling his ankles and bending his knees. Everything hurt, sure, he was gonna be one huge bruise tomorrow, but nothing was broken, thank the stars. “yeah, i’m okay.”

"Good,” The beast yawned, a weirdly benign way to show off those rows of menacingly sharp teeth. “Now get out."

Get out. Right. Getting out sounded like a top-notch plan. Stretch looked around at the woods, at the trees towering over them. There was no path, just a bunch of damn trees that all looked the same in the dark. "pal, i would love to, wanna tell me how?"

The creature let out an annoyed grumble and stood, pushed past him in a rough scrape of bone, "Follow me, outsider."

Follow me. Welp, he was at least seventy percent sure this one wasn’t gonna eat him and if they bumped into anything else that might, those claws and teeth would probably dissuade them better than Stretch’s current brand of useless. Cautiously, he trailed behind the creature, two steps behind that long tail that moved with sinuous ease. He still wasn’t sure quite what this guy was, but asking seemed kinda rude, all things considered, what with the saving his life and all. Seemed like getting saved was starting to become a trend here in Backwater and it was not one Stretch liked much. Someone else needed to take a turn at playing Lois Lane because he was done with his turn

But that didn’t mean that all questions were off the table. “what was that? that…lady thing?”

The creature didn’t turn around. “She was a penanggalan.”

“well, that sure cleared things up,” Stretch muttered. He followed the creature over a fallen tree, wincing as he scraped his ankle on the bark. “how did you even pronounce that? it sounds like you gargled with broken glass and chased it down with a bottle of motor oil.”

The creature didn’t seem to care much about linguistic issues, it didn’t even look back at Stretch to make sure he was keeping up, only kept forging the trail. “Be that as it may, it is what she is.”

“evil penguin, got it.” Then warily, not sure he wanted the answer. “so what would have happened if she’d bit me. you would’ve handed me over with a bone apple tea and a napkin?”

“If she’d bitten you, I would have had to kill you.” It was said so matter-of-factly that at first it didn’t even register.

Once it did, the new murder threat did not sit well. Stretch stopped, clapping a hand over his mouth against a sudden rush of nausea and took a stumbling step back as he stared at the creature in horror. “you…what??”

The creature paused then and this time it looked back at him, crimson eyes cutting through the blackness. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed it.”

“oh, like that’s reassuring!”

“It would have been necessary,” the creature said heavily. Their tail lashed agitatedly. “Their bite is infectious. You’d soon be covered with running sores and an insatiable urge to spread that bite to others until you died in slow agony. There is no cure, it’s generally an exceedingly rare disease. They usually eat their prey entirely.”

“oh, well, nice to see they have their own version of pandemic control!”

The creature turned away and started walking again. “Better that than the alternative.”

“so why didn’t you kill it, then?” The evil penguin was still out there looking for a snack and whoever it ran into next time probably wouldn’t be so lucky.

The creature stopped again so suddenly that Stretch ran into it, wincing as that agitated tail lashed against him like a whip.

“And are you one who dictates what should live and what should die?” the creature demanded. “Do others get to be predator or prey by your leave? She was hunting in the manner of her kind and you think you can demand her life as penance for that?”

“uh.” His first instinct was to say fuck, yes, but a harder look at it all made him think this guy had a point. As much as he didn’t want to be anyone’s lunch special, could he really fault another creature for simply doing what they did? It was an uncomfortable thought and maybe one he’d revisit later, but for now he only said, softly, “no. i don’t. you’re right, sorry.”

The creature stared at him with those burning eyes then swung back around and walked on, Stretch at his heels, and there didn’t seem to be anything else to say.

The walk back took longer than he expected; it was slow going, it felt like the trees were closed in around him and he kept stumbling into them, the rough bark scraping his bones and catching at his clothes. It was getting colder as well, his thin t-shirt and shorts offering little protection against the chill. Stretch started to shiver, wrapping his arms around himself to hold in whatever meagre warmth he could, but he could still hear the dull rattle of his own bones as he shook.

The creature paused and made a weird, rough sound deep in its throat.

"what? what it is?" Stretch looked around a little wildly, half expecting to see something else crawling out of the shrubbery, ghouls, vampires, the knights of Ni, who the fuck knew.

What he wasn’t expecting was for the creature to say abruptly, "Get on my back."

"uhhhh.” There was probably a good reply for that, but Stretch felt like his mind short-circuited, leaving him with only a mess of vowels and constants to string together into incoherency.

"Get on my back," the creature repeated impatiently, “I'll carry you."

Well. If this guy was gonna eat him, he'd already be chow. When in the woods, do as the creatures did, he guessed.

The creature crouched down and Stretch managed to clumsily clamber up, using the bristling bones as handholds until he could settle on its spine. It was more comfortable than he would have guessed and almost before he finished the thought, they were off. He scrambled to grab hold, clinging desperately as it ran unerringly through the woods. Its large paws were silent as they fell on the underbrush, never missing a step or falling for a trick of shadows, weaving easily between the tree trunks and bushes so that they didn’t even brush against Stretch’s legs. He huddled down against the spine behind that large, ridged skull, and into the warm bone beneath him, and let the world fade around him.

It seemed like hardly any time at all passed before the creature slowed again, then stopped. Stretch slowly loosened his hold, half-expecting to find something blocking their path. But in front of them was the tree line and he could see a single yellowed light in the distance, the one from Red’s porch.

Stretch slid off the creatures back and took a couple of stumbling steps towards it, choking on relief and wonder.

“how did you know to bring me here…” Stretch trailed off and looked back. Those crimson eyes cut through the darkness and memory clicked like a key turning in a lock, a half-forgotten dream of crimson eyes through window glass, staring in at him. “it’s you! you’ve been watching me!”

The creature only gazed back at him, unperturbed. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“the fuck you don’t, you liar!” Stretch sputtered. “I saw you outside my window, you…you creeper!”

Maybe not wise to shout names at the dragon creature who’d saved his life, but it’d been a long night. Didn’t seem to matter much, the creature only rolled their shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. “You’re a stranger on my territory. That bears watching.”

“oh, are there bears out there now?” Stretch snapped. “are they spying on me, too? ‘cause i have the right to bear arms of my own, you know!” Or, you know, he bet Miss Maggie sold civil war muskets alongside the bicycles and probably wouldn’t bat an eye to sell him one.

An irritated exhale puffed smoke out through the creature’s nasal cavity. “All you have to do is stay out of the woods, fool. Even you should be able to manage that.”

“i didn’t mean to go into them the first time, my dog—my dog!” All his anger slid away and Stretch fell to his knees on the ground, his skull in his hands, “oh, fuck, the dog, red is gonna be so upset.” Tears were burning in his sockets, he’d fucked up big this time, Red was so kind to him and all Stretch gave him in return was bullshit and pain.

“Outsider, look up.” Gruffly said, but not unkind, and he did, still blinking hard. To see the dog sitting on the porch, wagging his tail happily and brimming with delight from their adventure.

“you little bastard,” Stretch said, relieved. Seriously, he was glad Mutt was okay and not only because it’d give him a chance to murder the brat himself.

A nudge at his back made him startled and he turned to see the creature next to him, “Go on, outsider. Count your luck this once and don’t come back to the woods.”

Like he was about to hop on Trip Advisor to plan another tour? “trust me, you wouldn’t catch me in there on a bet.”

“Keep your bets and stay away.” The creature turned and started walking towards the woods, only to hesitate, glancing back with those deep red eyes staring at him unblinking. “Outsider,” it said, softly, “I would have hated to kill you.”

“yeah, well, i would’ve hated to die, so, thanks, dread pirate roberts, i’m off.” Stretch didn’t wait for a reply, only scrambled to his feet and headed towards the house, but he could have sworn he heard a soft sound behind him, almost like a laugh.

He trudged up to the porch, squinting in the glaring yellow light and the dog let out a happy bark, tail wagging furiously.

“shhhh!” Stretch scolded. He snagged his bag from the chair on the back porch, he’d had more than enough of the night air, probably enough for ten years or so. “i’m mad enough at you right now, if you wake up red, i’m selling you to the kids tomorrow along with the candy.”

The dog only kept thumping his tail unrepentantly, following Stretch into the house all the way up the stairs to his room. He hopped up on the bed next to Stretch as he sprawled out on the thin mattress, settling in with a sigh by his hip.

Probably Stretch should take a hot shower and wash away any lingering stench from…everything. At the very least he could curl up on the bed in a ball of incoherent, gibbering terror, probably nobody would fault him for that. Probably.

Instead, he dug out his phone from his bag. It felt heavy in his hand, the weight of it more than mere electronics and he only held it for a long moment. Then he opened the messaging app and started scrolling through his brother’s old texts.

They were hard to read. The first few only curious, barely tinged with worry as they wondered where he’d gotten off to so early and with every lack of reply, the texts were worse, moving through panic to angry scolding, then outright fear before finally into resignation. His little brother was so very worried and had no idea where he was, if he was truly safe, and Stretch couldn’t even promise he was.

hey bro, i have a place to stay, he wrote, made some friends. i’m doing okay.

It was the truth. Mostly.

He started to set his phone aside, but before he could, it buzzed with a reply despite the late hour. Stretch took a long, slow breath, let it out, then checked the message.

That’s good. I love you, Pappy.

Tears stung in his sockets again, trailing down his face in twin warm streams. He wiped them away impatiently, then had to fend off the dog when he tried to lick them away with a whine. Once he was no longer in danger of smothering from a wet tongue, he texted back a hasty, love you, too, bro.

Stretch closed his sockets and let his head fall back against the thin pillow. One hand settled into the dog’s thick fur, the sturdy warmth of its body cuddled close to him and in the other, he held his phone tightly against his sternum, right over his damaged, aching soul.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

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fallen-gravity · 4 years ago

Text

Snow Day

13 year olds Dipper and Mabel decide they want to spend their winter break up in Gravity Falls with their Grunkles and experience their first blizzard. Chaos ensues.

Notes: Here's my submission for a Secret Santa I participated in on discord! It was so much fun and I'm so glad I decided to participate this year!

Happy new year, @anistarrose! I'm your Santa!

The prompt: "I will crave and enthusiastically consume any form of Pines family bonding, time travel shenanigans, Bill getting dunked on, or any combination of the above." I, of course, had to go with the former, because you can never have enough plotless fluff and shenanigans!

AO3

Having been born and raised in California, Dipper and Mabel never got to experience winter the way television always promised they would. They never got to experience snowball fights, sled races, or building snowmen the way all the kids on TV got to.

Sure, they’ve seen snow before, it’s dusted here and there, but it was never enough to stick to the ground overnight. When they were younger, they always hoped the spirit of the season would be enough to bring them a blizzard so they could get snow days like all the kids on the east coast got to have, but it never came to be. They’d just about given up hope on the idea of playing in the snow in their own backyard when they were around ten years old.

Regardless, they looked forward to winter break every year. Their parents used to always take time off work to take them on a short vacation, and when Dipper and Mabel begged them to let them spend their winter break after their thirteenth birthday up in Gravity Falls with their Grunkles, their parents had said yes, which only made Dipper and Mabel look forward to break even more.

They left by bus an hour after their school let them free, and they arrived at the Mystery Shack eight hours later to their attic bedroom already set up for them.

Dipper awakens to the sound of Mabel shrieking her head off at six in the morning. He nearly jumps half a foot in the air, scrambling to turn his bedside lamp on.

“Mabel?” he squeaks. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Dipper, look!” she beams, bouncing up and down on her feet and pointing out the window.

“Seriously?” he groans, rubbing at his eyes as he stands from his bed. “I thought we were already numb to Gravity Falls weirdness by now” he says, but can’t help the gasp that escapes him when he looks out the window to humor her. There’s so much snow falling from the sky that Dipper can’t even see the tree line of the forest beyond the shack, and there’s a layer of snow coating the ground so thick that it completely covers the steps of the back porch.

“Woah,” Dipper gasps. “I didn’t think it could snow that much in Oregon”

“That’s just the thing!” Mabel grins. “What if it can’t? What if the reason it snowed like, two feet overnight is because it’s all a part of the Gravity Falls weirdness? You remember what Stan said when he came to see Grunkle Ford, right? It was snowing!” she throws her arms up in the air dramatically. “Dips, do you know what this means? This could be our only opportunity to see snow like this without having to go to like, Alaska or something!”

“You know what else this means?” Dipper asks, frantically grabbing at her shoulders.

“What?”

He smirks, shoving her towards her bed as he books it for the door. “Race you outside!” he calls behind her, not even bothering to look behind his shoulder for her reaction.

“Hey! No fair!!” Mabel cries, scrambling to her feet and sprinting out of the room in an attempt to catch up with her brother. The young twins tumble down the stairs, and nearly collide with Ford on their way towards the kitchen where they’d last dumped their coats.

They yell a frantic apology in his general direction and unison, but they’re moving too frantically to hear his response. Dipper eventually makes it out of the shack first, and he’s standing with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face when Mabel meets him outside.

“You better not be telling me that I owe you any of my special cocoa for beating me out here” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest to mimic Dipper. “Cheaters don’t get cocoa”

Dipper chuckles, his arms slipping to his side as he cautiously steps down the snow-covered steps of the deck. “Alright, fair enough.” He points an accusatory finger at her. “But it’s been eight years. You’re gonna have to tell me your recipe someday”

“In time, brother o’ mine,” she replies as she joins his side. “In time.”

For a few moments, neither of the young Pines twins say anything. In unison, they throw their heads back and lift their arms up into the air and let the snow fall gently on their face. Catching snowflakes on their tongues is a lot harder than TV makes it seem, but it feels good to just stand out in the snow and let it land gently on their face.

It’s peaceful. Dipper closes his eyes, and he knows if the snow weren’t so thick and wet and if his winter coat were better suited for it, he’d let himself fall back and lie down in it. But since it’s not, he settles for standing in place and just listening.

It’s peaceful, until it isn’t.

Something cold and wet smacks him in the back, and he’s so startled by it that he yelps. His eyes pop open, and he whips around frantically to see where that could’ve come from.

Dipper just barely misses the sound of Mabel’s maniac giggle before he’s pelted again, this time in the forehead.

“Yes!” Mabel cheers, pumping her fists in the air. “Bullseye! Two in a row!”

“No fair!” Dipper pouts, brushing the snow off of his hat. “I wasn’t paying attention!”

Mabel smirks as she bends to prepare another snowball. “What, so now you’re against cheating? You seriously need to work on your moral compass, bro”

He just manages to duck in time as he bends to form a snowball of his own. “That was different! It’s not like I’m the one who woke you up unreasonably early this morning!”

“Pssh,” she waves a dismissive hand. “I just as easily could’ve come out without you if I wanted to”

Dipper takes her brief moment of distraction to pelt her in the arm with a snowball. “Nuh-uh,” he mocks, the same way he has since they were toddlers. “Admit it; you don’t have the heart. You love me too much”.

“Ewww, never” she cringes dramatically, and lunges the snowball she’d been solidifying between her hands directly towards his face. Dipper tries to duck, but miscalculates the force and speed of her throw and the snowball splats against his face so roughly and suddenly that it knocks him to the ground.

“Ohmigosh!” Mabel declares, the playful tone in her voice gone. “Dipper, are you okay?” she asks, running to his side. His response is an incomprehensible mumble, muffled by the snow he hasn’t wiped off his face yet.

“What was that?” she asks, leaning closer.

Underneath the snow, Dipper smirks, and balls the pile of snow sitting on his face and shoves it into Mabel’s. “I said you’re going down”

He stands to his feet, bunching his fists into the snow to gather a bunch of it at once, and Mabel half-shrieks, half-giggles as she makes a run for it. Dipper almost manages to snag her right in the head, until she suddenly takes a sharp turn to hide behind one of the wooden columns supporting the roof of the shack.

“Hey!” he shouts, and just barely dodges a snowball she lobs at him from her hiding spot.

“What?” she calls, popping her head out from being her hiding spot. “Nobody ever said that hiding was against the rules! Besides!” she gestures to the column mirror to hers that’s closest to him. “It’s not like I’m hiding somewhere super-secret, or anything!” She lobs another ball in his direction. “The longer you stand there the more vulnerable you become!” she singsongs, tossing a snowball back and forth between her hands teasingly.

Dipper makes a dive for it into the snow, and crawls along until he’s standing behind the wooden column, shoving fistfuls of snow into his pocket along the way. Mabel groans, like she can’t believe she didn’t think to crawl away before he did, and attempts to launch a snowball at him as he’s standing up. She misses, and Dipper can’t help but laugh as the snowball sticks to his wooden column and doesn’t budge.

He mashes the snow in his pocket into a ball, and grabs a bunch more snow to make it even bigger. He winds his arm back like throwing it harder is going to make aiming it any easier, and hears the back door creaking open just half a second too late.

The snowball flings out of his hand, but instead of hitting Mabel, his intended target, the snowball hits Ford as he’s coming out of the door with such force that it knocks his glasses off of his face.

Dipper freezes, looking absolutely horrified, and Mabel bursts into hysterical laughter.

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper shouts, wiping his hands off on his jacket and running towards his great-uncle. He’s expecting him to look shocked, or sad, or even angry, but when Ford gets his glasses back on his face he’s nearly laughing as hard as Mabel is.

“I…” Ford starts, removing his glasses for a brief moment to wipe some of the excess snow from his lenses. “…came out to see how you were doing, because I saw you running by me in the kitchen, but I guess you’ve already answered that question for me”

“Grunkle Ford, I’m so sorry,” Dipper’s gaze falls to the ground, his cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. Ford only chuckles and places a gentle hand on Dipper’s shoulder, prompting him to meet his eyes again.

“There’s no need to apologize, my boy. I love the snow. Stan and I used to have snowball fights all the time when we were kids”

“Really?” Mabel beams, stepping out from her hiding spot.

Ford nods. “Every time we had the day off from school, he’d wake me up by sneaking a snowball into the house and throwing it at me while I was still asleep in bed.” He shakes his head affectionately. “You could never wake Stanley up early for anything, but the moment school got cancelled on account of a blizzard, he was up an hour earlier than even Ma or Pa”

Ford takes a few steps forward and leans against the wooden pillar, gazing out at the falling snow. “I always did wonder what he was up to those first few winters after Pa kicked him out. I tried forgetting, I tried telling myself he wasn’t worth the time of day, but…”

For the briefest of moments his shoulders tense, like he’s suddenly overcome with the image of Stan freezing to death in his Diablo, but he shakes that image off with a deep breath and his shoulders relax as normal. He bends to pick up a handful of snow, and lets it fall between his fingers. “Now, though, I’m just happy to see it again,” he turns his gaze back towards the younger twins. “Haven’t had a chance to see it in thirty years”

“What?” the young twins ask in perfect unison.

“Not even in the multiverse?” Dipper asks, and Ford shakes his head.

“Most dimensions didn’t have a concept of weather. Even the dimension that was supposedly a perfect copy of our Earth was eternally summer” he muses, and steps down from the porch and into the snow. For a brief moment he too merely stands where he is and watches the snow fall, until an idea visibly comes to him and a devilish grin spreads across his face.

“I have an idea,” he says, grabbing two handfuls of snow, and disappearing back into the house.

There’s nothing but the sound of Ford’s boots on the hardwood and the whistling wind, and then nothing at all, and then the sound of Stan shrieking.

Ford comes running out the door again, grinning so hard that his smile could split his face in two. Stan follows close behind, but stops in front of the doorway, clad in his ratty tank top and boxer shirts with a large chunk of snow splatted against his chest.

Dipper and Mabel exchange glances, and can’t help the snickers that escape them.

“For your information, I was in the middle of something very important” Stan grumbles, jabbing an accusatory finger at Ford.

Ford only laughs, forms another snowball, and throws it at Stan, still in the doorway. “Mm, how dare I pull you away from your black and white Victorian era romances right?”

“Alright, that’s it” Stan growls, and slams the door closed. He’s only gone for a minute or two, and when he opens the door again he’s wearing a puffy winter coat and pants. “You want a fight? You’re gettin’ a war.”

He steps outside, sprinting down the porch steps and shoveling handful of snow onto the sleeve of his jacket until he’s got an entire armful. He bunches it all together until he’s got a singular giant snowball in his hands. Ford’s eyes go wide at the sight, and he takes a few cautious steps backwards.

“S-Stanley, I was just joking, you must understand that I’m not properly dressed for this” he chuckles nervously, raising his hands in the air in defeat.

“Y’got your turtleneck, don’t ya?” Stan grins devilishly, solidifying the snowball in his hands. “Besides, that never stopped me when we were kids, now did it?” He steps cautiously towards Ford so as not to drop his snowball, and lunges it right in his brother’s face.

The hit lands, and Ford falls to the ground the same way Dipper had just moments ago.

The two young twins exchange glances, and can’t help but break into hysterical laughter. Ford sits up, removing his glasses to remove the snow that had gotten shoved behind the frames, and wipes them off on his sweater before heading back towards the door.

“Fine,” Ford replies. “If you want a war, you’re getting a war”

“Hey, now wait just a minute, brainiac” Stan crosses his arms over his chest. “I recognize that tone. Don’t think I’m letting you use any of your fancy-schmancy interdimensional weapons against me. We got all the weapons we need right here” he gestures to the snow around him. “I may be a professional conman, but at least I have standards when it comes to these sorts of things” he closes his eyes, nodding sagely. “If we’re waging a war on each other, it better be waged fairly”

He pauses for a few moments, his gaze turning to the young twins. “…and turn those two against each other!” He points towards them, and approaches the two of them. He picks Mabel up by her waist, and places her on his shoulders. “I call Mabel! Girl’s got aim and can take you and brainiac junior down any day”

“Yes!” Mabel chants, pumping her arms in the air. “Team personality reigns superior again!”

“We reconvene here in five.” Stan says. “Go and get your coat on if you so insist to put any more layers on, and then all bets are off” he bows sarcastically to Ford, Mabel giggling on his shoulders.

“Best of luck to you, Sixer” he teases. “You’re gonna need it”

Dipper watches as Ford disappears inside, and Stan and Mabel run off to another part of the shack’s backyard. Stan kneels on the ground, and Mabel leap-frogs off of his shoulder to help him build a snow fort for defense. Upon seeing that he’s watching them, they both form snowballs in their hand and threaten him with them.

Dipper yelps, and runs back towards the porch before they can hit him. Something creaks, and Dipper nearly jumps a foot in the air, but his tension melts when he just realizes that it’s Ford coming back outside with a thick coat and winter hat.

“How are things looking?” Ford asks, placing a gloved hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

Dipper shakes his head. “It’s not looking good. Mabel’s got strength and sculpting abilities, and they’ve already started on their fort. By the time we can even start on our foundation they’ll already have a castle built”

Ford hums in acknowledgement. “And we both know how Stan is with cheating” he taps at his chin. “What we’ll need is strategy”

“Hey!” Stan shouts from across the lawn. “Are we talking or are we fighting? Get a move on!” He tosses a snowball that lands in the space between Ford and Dipper.

“…Right,” Ford says. “We’ll strategize as we go along then”

Dipper drops to the ground where he stands, bunching armfuls of snow together to build a small wall. He silently gestures for Ford to help him, and he obliges, wordlessly kneeling to the ground and helping to pile snow onto the singular-walled fort. Once it’s tall enough to cover Dipper, he tugs Ford to a crouching position.

“Okay,” Dipper whispers. “So far, Mabel’s strategy has been to…not have one. She builds a bunch of snowballs at once, and then flings them all at once. If we want to knock her out, we need to wait until she needs to restock”

Ford chuckles affectionately. “She sounds just like Stan when he was a kid. He’d have to make the biggest snowball he could. I’m sure there’ll be an overlap between the two of them needing to restock at some point”

Dipper smiles. “They sure do have a lot in common, don’t they?”

Ford ruffles his hair. “I’m sure they say the same exact thing about us, my boy”

Dipper beams at that, but before he can respond he’s interrupted by the sound of Mabel screaming “CHARGE!” and snowballs being pelted at their small wall. Dipper and Ford dive out of the way, and Dipper starts shoving snow into his hands. Without lifting his head over the wall, he attempts to throw his snowball back at Mabel, but misses and only hits the edge of her fort.

“Hah! That the best you’ve got?” Stan taunts, popping his head out from behind cover. Beside Dipper, Ford flings a snowball back at him, and a soft oof escapes Stan as the snowball hits him in the shoulder. He grumbles something to Mabel that neither Dipper nor Ford can hear, and soon after Mabel pops her head out too. She and Stan start pelting snowballs at Dipper and Ford in unison. A good number of them miss, but when Dipper pops his head up during a short pause to check and see if they stopped to reload, he’s pelted right in the forehead. Stan and Mabel high five, and Dipper groans as he attempts to scrub the snow away.

“Okay,” Dipper whispers, crouching to the ground once more. “I think they’re restocking.” He bunches some snow into his arms. “You ready?”

Ford nods. “I’m ready”

The two of them pop out from behind their wall, and start pelting as many snowballs at Stan and Mabel as they can manage. Some of them are tiny, some of them are huge, and Dipper doesn’t notice that one of them had a frozen acorn in it until it was too late, but they’re getting a good rhythm going. Dipper manages to knock Stan’s hat off his head, and Ford’s able to knock Mabel’s snowball out of her hand as she’s still trying to put it together.

“Yes!” Dipper cheers, and from across the yard Mabel crosses her arms across her chest.

“Booo,” she calls. “No fair! We never said anything in the rules about strategizing!”

“It’s a snowball fight, Mabel, there aren’t any rules!”

“Exactly!” she calls back. “Snowball fights are supposed to be about chaos!” She throws her arms in the air. “Not calculating the best angle for wind trajectory, or whatever nerdy thing you and Grunkle Ford have been talking about!”

She chucks another snowball as hard as she can, and this one smacks against Dipper and Ford’s tiny excuse for a fort. It crumples to the ground with a pathetic splat, leaving them vulnerable from every angle.

“See?” She grins. “Just like that!”

“Hah! Nice shot, pumpkin!” Stan cheers, and he and Mabel high-five again. Even from where Dipper sits he can see their playful grins melt away into maniacal smirks, and just barely has enough time to see them shoveling snow into their hands before Ford grabs his hand and begins sprinting to another part of the yard, doing anything he can to avoid being pelted with snow.

“New plan,” Ford whispers to Dipper as they run frantically around the yard as if it were a minefield. “Take down their fort. Once their defense is gone, they’ll be just as vulnerable as us, and it’ll give us a better chance at taking them down”

Dipper salutes him, trying and failing to keep the goofy grin on his face. “Understood”

With that, the two of them split off into different directions. Dipper doesn’t quite see where Ford disappears to, because as soon as he splits off from Ford he’s on his knees smushing together as many snowballs as he can in one go. Once he’s got enough, he stands to his feet and charges back towards the direction of Stan and Mabel’s fort. He starts blindly lunging snowballs at them, not risking even a second to give them an opportunity to knock the snowballs out of his arms. Dipper knows that without Ford by his side he’s twice as vulnerable, but he also knows that once Stan and Mabel’s fort comes down they’ll all be on equal ground.

He misses every shot he takes at the fort, but finds malicious satisfaction in “accidentally” hitting Stan square in the face. He dives to the ground shortly after to avoid being hit by the retaliation attack, and his frantic recreation of more snowballs is frozen dead in its tracks at the sound of footprints crunching in the snow quickly behind him. Dipper curls in on himself, afraid of the possibility that Stan snuck away when he wasn’t looking to sneak up and attack him from behind.

The attack never comes, though, and when Dipper finds the bravery to sit up and glance behind him he sees Ford sprinting towards the three of them with a massive snowball in each hand. Stan and Mabel yelp in surprise, ducking beneath their fort for cover, but it’s no use, for when Ford hurls his snowballs at their fort it comes crumbling to the ground.

For a few moments, nobody says a word. Dipper, Stan, and Mabel sit in shock, exchanging glances. There’s nothing to break up the silence between them but the whistling wind and their heavy breathing.

Until Mabel stands to her feet, brushes herself off, and shouts “FREE FOR ALL!!”

She gathers a bunch of snow between her hands, throws it at Stan’s chest, and all chaos breaks loose from there. The rest of the family is on their feet in an instant, chasing each other around the yard in a blur of jackets and gloves and flying snowballs. Dipper gets knocked to the ground face-first by a snowball to the back of the neck, but he’s having too much fun to notice the cold feeling on his face. Ford manages to knock Stan’s glasses off of his face, and Stan retaliates by throwing a wad of snow at the only exposed part of Ford’s neck. The high-pitched squeak that escapes Ford at the sensation makes the kids laugh, and they form a temporary truce to team up against Stan to see if they can get similar results from him. It works, once they’re able to lunge a snowball at his exposed wrists, but comes at the cost of Stan turning and lunging snowballs at them in return.

Dipper’s laughing too hard from the chaos of it all to notice Ford approaching him until it’s too late. Instead of pelting him with snow, though, Ford picks him up by the waist. “I’ve got one more idea to take the others down, if you’re still willing to work with me” he whispers, and Dipper nods wordlessly. Ford places Dipper on his shoulders, gently bends to gather a snowball in his hands without letting Dipper slip off. He then offers it to Dipper, and even without saying a word Dipper can tell he’s got a smirk on his face.

Dipper glances between the snowball in Ford’s hand and Mabel and Stan, and finds a smirk spreading to his own face. He takes the snowball from Ford, and as soon as it’s out of his hand he starts charging towards the other two.

“Sweet moses!” Stan yelps, leaping out of the way of their path. He jumps to his feet, brushing the snow off of his coat, and looks to Mabel. She nods, and he picks her up and places her on his shoulder as well.

“Winner takes all?” Mabel smirks, leaning her elbows against Stan’s head.

“You know it,” Dipper grins, mimicking her gesture and leaning against Ford’s head. “If we win, you have to make us your special hot chocolate. If you win, I dunno, you just get the same old boring hot chocolate I always make because someone is too stubborn to share her recipe”

Mabel sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry at him. At Stan’s call, the two pairs messily charge towards each other. Stan and Ford struggle to bend down to pick up mounds of snow without accidentally dropping the younger twin off of their shoulders, and Dipper and Mabel struggle to throw the snowballs handed to them by their Grunkles without almost falling backwards off of their shoulders. For the first few minutes Dipper wonders if this was a bad idea, but as soon as Stan and Ford figure out their balance and fall into a pattern with the respective twin on their shoulder, Dipper almost wishes that they’d been doing it this way from the very start.

From up here on Ford’s shoulders, Dipper feels like he can accomplish anything. He knows, logically, that Ford can’t be any more than two feet taller than him, and that he already has gone through the apocalypse and won, but there’s something about this height that just makes Dipper feel safe.

That is, of course, until Mabel pelts him in the forehead with a snowball and nearly knocks him to the ground. Dipper grips onto the edge of Ford’s jacket just a bit tighter, and Ford nods silently to reach a hand up and gently squeeze Dipper’s hand in reassurance that he doesn’t intend to let go that easy. The two pairs prove to be a near-equal match, and their battle lasts for nearly an hour until the moment that Stan misinterprets Dipper’s body language and ducks at the wrong time, and Dipper’s able to knock Mabel off of her grunkle’s shoulder with a soft thud.

“Yes!” Dipper pumps his fist in the air as Ford helps him to the ground, and goes to offer Mabel a hand to help her off the ground.

“Good game”

She tries to fake an angry pout at him, but it doesn’t stick. “Good game, you dork” she takes his hand to stand, and punches him in the shoulder as she stands. She walks to take Stan by the hand, and gestures towards the shack. “But you’ve made one fatal mistake, brother” she smirks over her shoulder as she and Stan make their way inside. “You never specified that I had to tell you the recipe if we lost, just that I had to make it for you”

Dipper splutters, and opens his mouth to respond, but she’s already gone before he can think of a good comeback. He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. A gentle hand on his shoulder tears him from his thoughts, and when he looks up at the source he sees Ford smiling at him in amusement. He doesn’t say anything, just sort of shakes his head, and the two of them follow Stan and Mabel inside.

Once inside, Dipper runs up the stairs to kick off his wet clothes and to change into something dryer and warmer. While he waits for Mabel to finish preparing everyone’s cups of cocoa, he drags all of the blankets from their beds downstairs and drops them into a pile on the living room floor, climbing underneath it for warmth. To Dipper’s surprise, Ford kneels on the ground and joins him under the blanket pile, winding an arm around his nephew for warmth.

“It’s ready!” Mabel cheers, stepping carefully into the room with two nearly-overflowing mugs donned with whipped cream, chocolate shavings, chocolate sprinkles, and a straw-shaped cookie sticking out of the mound. Dipper takes his mug carefully, and Ford chuckles as he takes his own.

“You know, Mabel, the multiverse had thousands of different flavors of whipped cream. The Pines Family sweet tooth is a strong one, and I collected as many as I could without getting caught by their equivalent of customs”

“Really?” her eyes become stars, stopping in her tracks on her way back to the kitchen. “Did you sneak any back home?”

Ford nods. “I’ve got a lovely cherry cream locked away in the basement lab for safe keeping.” He takes a sip of the hot chocolate in his hands, leaving a white moustache of cream across his lips. “If you’d like, I’d love to experiment with making a cherry cordial hot chocolate sometime”

“Are you kidding?” She squeals. “I’d love to!”

If it weren’t for Stan’s soft grunt as he takes a seat on Dipper’s other side, he’d have been too distracted watching Mabel and Ford geek out over food experiments to notice his arrival. Dipper smiles at them one last time before shifting his gaze to Stan.

“Grunkle Stan?” He says, before taking a sip from his own cup.

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I wish all of our winter breaks could be like this”

Stan smiles warmly, ruffling up Dipper’s hair. “Me too, kiddo. Me too”

#gravity falls #my writing #pines family

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