#But the darn book was longer
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
My friends: how’s it going?
me: *sobbing* it’s done. It’s finally DONE. I can REST.
November is my favorite month of the year I’m about to go into a coma for the first few days of December, happy NaNoWriMo everybody 🫡
#nanowrimo#nano 2023#writing#writers on tumblr#national novel writing month#my personal goal was 80k#But the darn book was longer#Nearly cried finishing the last chapter#Not because it was good just because I was so ready to be DONE#Hallelujah merry Christmas everybody
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
calling it now people are going to ship Flipclaw and Podlight
#id ship it too honestly if it werent for Flipclaw and Feather already being so darn cute#also has anyone else realized that the chapters are like. filler filler filler we are just padding out things and making them longer to#fill space then BAM BIG DRAMATIC PLOT TO GET YOU HOOKED FOR THE NEXT BOOK!#like the fact that warriors has to stick to the whole 6 books per arc thing is what really kills them in my opinion#like there would be a lot less needless filler and it could focus on just telling the story instead of being like#'uh... how do we make this 3 book thing fit 6 books...? oh i know! more journey chapters!'#at least so far i feel like TBC and ASC have been better about it. like they actually go to new and fun places and do silly things#but cmon. didja really need to go on a journey rn. it also makes the drama in the clan feel less... impactful...#like ur telling me the clans just put their incoming war on pause for you?#also stop being afraid to kill the leaders you cowards#a leader/deputy should have died each book corresponding to the title#anyway i do like the set of villains for this arc#a starless clan#asc thunder#asc spoilers#podlight#flipclaw#warrior cats#warriors#warriors ocs
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Honestly almost forgot how much I loved reading books. I love the unfathomable amount of joy they give me. I love the little stifled half squeal half scream of delight that blocks my throat for a few moments when a part of the book makes me particularly laugh or smile at a joke or wholesome moment. And when I have to try my best not to let it escape my mouth so I don't screech out loud seemingly out of nowhere like a little kid at a McDonald's playground playing tag.
#Out of curiosity I began reading “The true meaning of Smekday” and the “Smek for President” books and holy cow they're so much fun#Finished the first book in just one and a half or so days. And that's saying something#Haven't read anything that quickly and excitedly since early in middle school probably#Which is kind of sad in a way. If I think about it too much.#Just haven't had much of a drive to read something outside of classes due to time and a lack of interest overall#So so so glad this random rekindling of my interest in the DreamWorks Home stuff introduced me to these books.#They're just oozing with so much charm and wit it's overwhelming. Overwhelming In a good way.#If I ever find one of those books at a thrift/book store I'm snatching it up and basically throwing myself at the checkout counter.#Still working on the second book at the moment. Savoring it a little.#Trying to make it last a little longer and pace myself for once so I don't finish it all at once.#Sorry for rambling. Just can't not express how darn happy these books make me. I haven't been shutting up about them on Quotev recently.#I've probably been a tad annoying in that aspect but it's worth it. I hope they appreciate the random ramblings at least a little.
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Who knew being honest and direct could be so sexy? Gemma (right) spares no time in taking a little white lie about them dating told by book nerd Tansy (left) and turning it into a deal that could benefit them both. Confidence is hot!
#pretty darn good#i just think the sex scenes could have been longer they were too short and technically its only 1#spend all the time making promises and then deliver in a short scene :(#big shame super bummed about that#and not to spoil it but a public declaration of love is not my thing and i cringed the whole time even though id been waiting for it#love declarations should be more intimate what the hell#but other than that it was a great and fun read#the flirting and directness had me swooning#cani get me a gemma Please ?#I always tag my least favorite things cuz i dont want to recommend something and then have people be disappointed#alexandria bellefleur#the fiancée farce#lgbtq books#lgbt book recs#lgbt book#lgbt books#lgbt book recommendations#bisexual book characters#bisexual books
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
atlanta camp + ❛ what, am i not allowed to look at you? ❜ + eddie munson
╰ . ୭ ┆ 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ˚. ᵎᵎ
you can feel eddie’s eyes on you, watching you as you lay across his bed on your tummy, flipping through the book in your hands. he’d been staring at you for minutes now, not saying a word, just watching you as your eyes skim over the black inked letters on the pages.
it was getting to the point where it was beginning to distract you, and he’d start to let out little tiny sighs. you couldn’t take it anymore.
“what‘s the matter?” you say, closing your book but keeping your hand between the pages to keep from losing your spot.
he immediately begins shaking his head, “nothing.”
he was lying, that much was obvious, but you couldn’t be bothered diving into it right now. not when you were on a deadline to finish the book you held, and especially not when you only had a couple of chapters left.
narrowing your eyes, you continue reading — or at least you try to — but eddie’s stare only gets increasingly harder to ignore.
“okay, munson. seriously, what do you want?” you flip your book over on the bed now out of frustration and move to sit up on your knees.
“what, am i not allowed to look at you?” he retorts, eyes narrowed, but there’s no true malice behind his tone, just pure sarcasm.
this was typical eddie behaviour, all fun and games, and the worst part was that the longer you stared at him and his big brown eyes, you could feel your tension resolve. he might’ve been a pain in the ass, but, oh god, he was your pain in the ass.
“no, it’s distracting me!” you grab one of his pillows and hit him with it, earning yourself an exaggerated ‘ow’ in return.
eddie let’s out a huff before looking back at you with that cheeky smile you oh so loved, “i’m sorry. i can’t help it… you’re just too darn pretty.”
#— 𝐯𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩#— 𝐯𝐞𝐞’𝐬 𝟑𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩#— 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 ᡣ𐭩#fauna ᰔ#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fic#eddie munson ficlet#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson concepts#eddie munson concept#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x reader
353 notes
·
View notes
Note
Do you think Harry would swear or has sworn? Such a niche question, but trying to realistic write him swearing is such a mixed basket. On the one hand, I don't really picture him doing it, even under extreme distress. But I can also imagine him letting out a light swear if he's having a bad day and has a minor inconvenience
I 100% believe Harry swears. This post ended up being a little longer since I kinda went off and detailed how a bunch of characters in HP swear, not just Harry.
Sometimes, characters are shown to "swear" on page:
“Blimey,” said Ron weakly. (CoS)
“Blimey, it is!” said Ron quietly (OotP)
“What in the name of Merlin are you doing?” said Ron (OotP)
“Why the hell,” panted Ron (DH)
“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” said Neville. (DH)
“Merlin’s beard,” Moody [Barty] whispered (GoF)
“Merlin’s beard,” said Mr. Weasley wonderingly (OotP)
“Harry, what the hell’s going on?” asked Bill (DH)
“Blasted thing,” Snape was saying. (PS)
("Blimey" and "blasted" are here since they were considered mild swear words when they became part of the language like "gosh" and "darn". "Merlin's beard" is kinda like saying "Jesus Christ" which was also considered a mild swear, even if no one really considers most of the above swears by today's standards).
The above is done when the swears are (very) light and something that you could print in a children's book. But sometimes, characters swearing is censored in the books:
Dean swore loudly. (CoS)
Thankfully, Snape sneezed at almost exactly the moment Ron swore. (CoS)
Ron dropped several boxes, swore, and made a rude hand gesture at Fred that was unfortunately spotted by Mrs. Weasley, who had chosen that moment to appear. (HBP)
and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him (PoA)
The lift clattered into view and they hurried inside. Every time it stopped Mr. Weasley cursed furiously and pummelled the number nine button. (OotP)
When that happens, I assume the swears are ones JKR couldn't get away with in a children's/YA book series. Like: "fuck" or "shit".
(Molly calling Bellatrix "bitch" is the only harsher swear word not censored in the books)
When Harry swears, it's sometimes not censored:
“She doesn’t love me,” said Harry at once. “She doesn’t give a damn — ” (OotP)
“And he didn’t think my mother was worth a damn either,” said Harry (HBP)
“Why not?” asked Harry. “Let’s get rid of the damn thing, it’s been months — ” (DH)
“Where the hell have you been?” Harry shouted. (DH)
But often enough, Harry's cursing is censored:
Harry swore under his breath (OotP)
Harry swore and turned away. (OotP)
Harry swore at the top of his voice, spinning on the spot to see where Mundungus had gone. (HBP)
Harry swore. Someone screamed. (HBP)
So, to me, this suggests Harry says "fuck" or British stuff like "sod off". He 100% does use harsher swears, and it's in character for him to do so. He swears under his breath when shit goes badly or he finds himself in a situation he really doesn't want to be in. He swears loudly when Mandungus escapes him, so when he's really angry, he can go and shout a proper F-bomb. Let Harry say "fuck", his life sucks and he deserves it.
Ron also swears sometimes harsher swears than "hell" or "bloody hell" but he does so more rarely than Harry and when things are really bad. Usually, he goes for lighter stuff like: "Merlin", "hell", or "blimey".
Hermione doesn't swear except for the "Merlin's pants" comment in DH which was clearly meant to be "Merlin's balls" but JKR got censored by her editors and one time she says "damn" in DH. Hermione doesn't even use light swears like "Merlin", "damn" or "hell". She, just, doesn't swear until DH, and even then only twice. Like, her most extreme for the majority of the books is going: "oh my", "oh my god", or "oh my goodness". Hermione is the only member in the Golden Trio that doesn't swear:
“Oh, my — ” Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm. (PoA)
“Oh my goodness,” said Hermione suddenly (PoA)
“Oh gosh, I forgot!” said Hermione (OotP)
“Oh my ...” Harry heard Hermione squeal, terrified, beside him. (OotP)
“Today?” shrieked Hermione. “Today? But why didn’t you — oh my God — you should have said — ” (HBP)
“Oh my — !” shrieked Hermione, as she and Ron caught up with Harry (DH)
I went a bit off track, but theses are some characters and how they swear that I found while searching this:
Harry, Dean & Lee: swear in profanities that need to be censored ("fuck", "shit", "sodding hell") often and sprinkle lighter swears ("hell", "damn") in there. Harry uses "damn" relatively often.
Ron, the twins, Bill & Arthur: use mostly light swears ("hell", "bloody", "blasted") but use some harsher swears ("fuck", "shit") when needed (and Molly isn't looking).
(I assume Ginny is in this above category too, but I only found her saying "damn" once)
Neville, Dumbledore, Hagrid & Snape (at least, when we see him): use only light swears such as "hell", "blasted" or "Merlin" and its derivatives.
Molly: Doesn't really swear except that one time (calling Bellatrix a bitch).
Hermione & Luna: never use profanities unless really at their limit. Don't even use light swears or "Merlin" and its derivatives. Hermione says: "oh my god" or "oh my goodness", Luna says: "oh, no".
Lupin doesn't swear anywhere on-page either.
Surprisingly I couldn't find any mention of Sirius swearing, not even light stuff (like "Merlin's beard"). I guess he really was raised to have proper manners. Or maybe he's actively censoring himself in front of Harry to be a good role model.
#harry potter#hp#hp meta#asks#anonymous#hollowedtheory#harry potter meta#harry james potter#character analysis#ron weasley#hermione granger#sirius black
205 notes
·
View notes
Text
PINNED POST, FAQ, INFORMATION
Hi, I'm TBSkyen. I make videos on YouTube sometimes. This is my main tumblr blog, the "brand" blog as it were, where I maintain my Social Media Presence™ on this site.
I use the ironic ™ to signal my personal discomfort with the work of being a minor media personality even while I still do that work and make a living off it.
I have a sideblog called @tbposting, mostly for shitposts and reblogs, and in my opinion I have pretty darn good taste in reblogs, so you can follow that if you want. It's also where I'll do random personal posting, microblogging, etc.
This main blog is primarily for 1) answering asks, and 2) posting my Original Content™, usually my main channel videos, as well as the occasional longer essay or critique. Sometimes I'll reblog an interesting or useful thing, or boost a friend's work, but I try to keep the spam to a minimum.
---
About Me
I am a thirtysomething content creator whose primary expertise is character design.
I have a bachelor's degree in English, never finished my master's, did most of a bachelor's degree in history, and that's it. These are my academic qualifications, no more and no less.
My professional experience is primarily being a freelancer and self-employed creator. I spent the better part of a decade working as a commission artist, running webcomics, drawing fanart, and the occasional animation work and not safe for work commissions, and I have at this point a decade of experience and self-study in the subjects I cover. I have also done online community management for, god help me, almost twenty years, so that's a part of my skillset I'll never escape.
I do not have any particular professional creative industry experience, although given what I hear from my professional friends, sometimes that seems like a blessing.
Please maintain a critical distance when engaging with my work. I am a critic. My work is very rarely meant to be taken as authoritative or didactic, and when it is, I will make it clear in my writing. Just because I speak with confidence doesn't mean I am trying to assert objective truth.
---
TAGS (to follow, or filter)
#tbanswers is the tag for every single ask I answer on this blog
#tb reblog is the tag for reblogs
#tb essay is for the occasional longer essay or critical writing
#tbvideos is for my videos and Content™
#tb recommends is for the occasional recommendation of a video essay or other creator
Yes, I know the spaces are inconsistent. It's not on purpose, I just typed them in haphazardly when I started using them and it's stuck.
---
FAQ (before you ask)
Q: Will you ever do a video about ____ ? A: The answer to this question is almost universally "maybe someday, if I have time, and if I feel I have anything worthwhile to say." And the more realistic answer is "no, because I already have far too much on my plate and I have burned myself out too many times." In general, please don't ask me this question, I will most likely not answer it because I have given the same answer a thousand times, but I still feel guilty about not answering them.
Q: Will you continue your series of videos about ____ ? A: Yes! I will continue the let's plays I started, I will finish the Boss Designs series, I will do another What's the Deal With, I will do more shorts about the subjects I've got going on. The main obstacle is, again, my tendency to overload myself.
Q: Do you have a PO box? Can I send you something? A: Not yet, but I'm looking into it. It may be a while before I get it set up.
Q: Do you have merchandise? A: A little bit, yes, at tbskyen.redbubble.com.
Q: What's your opinion on [game/movie/comic/book/etc]? A: I struggle to answer very open, broad questions like this. Most things I have opinions about, I have multiple opinions, and different ones depending on the perspective and specific element in question. I'm much more likely to answer specific, bounded questions.
Q: Can I send you fanart? A: PLEASE. Askbox, tag me on bluesky, send it to my email! I love seeing every piece of it!
Q: Why do you never appear on camera? A: A forest witch cursed me to look not quite but ALMOST like Paul Giamatti in all photos and videos ever taken of me, and his laywers sent me a cease-and-desist.
Q: Are you gay/straight/bi/other? A: The decision I've made for myself, at least for this period of my life, is that privacy is precious, and once given up can never be reclaimed on the internet. I am open about being aromantic (not asexual), because it's a sometimes invisible and underdiscussed identity, and I know it would have helped me a lot to see someone speak about it when I was younger.
The rest of it is for me to know, and for you to speculate about, although preferably somewhere I can't see it. I accept that this is a part of being a Personality, but it still feels weird, y'know?
Q: Is it weird if I find your voice kinda hot? A: I've put a lot of work into developing this voice and making it nice to listen to, so that's not weird at all and I find it quite complimentary, thank you.
I generally don't mind people doing flirty/thirsty posting about or at me, just so long as we all understand that 1) you should never give a stranger like me information which could be used to harm you. Nicer-seeming YouTubers than me have turned out to be monsters.
And 2) it will never go beyond playful online flirtiness. I like to fluster my live chat, I'll flirt back in an ask or a post maybe, but I am not flirting with you, or inviting any kind of closer intimacy with you, the person I responded to.
Think of me like a comedian doing crowd-work at a show - you can chat to me in the bar after the show, but when I asked you what you do for work I wasn't looking for a personal connection, I was doing my work as an entertainer. Please no sending me nudes, or propositions, or confession letters in my email inbox. We are strangers, and I am always performing a persona in public.
297 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I finally finished Rivals
so here's my review followed by my episode-by-episode, PowerPoint presentation, Danny Motta style reaction (which no one asked for)
⚠️so massive spoilers heads-up⚠️
WHAT A WATCH! for the first time in, well, forever I did not binge the show immediately after it came out. I gave it time. Watched one episode each day and I think I liked the experience! I remembered a lot more stuff that I do when I binge things. But that's not what I'm here to talk about. Pfft let'g get into it huh!
So I read the book like ages ago when the show was first announced and though I remembered some stuff from the plot, I mostly let myself be shocked by it. Would I have watched it if David Tennant wasn't in it. Hmmmm? Probably not!
I mean this show....ugh... man there's no one word to describe it, is there! It's not all romp and pomp although it may seem like it. The strangest part is that for a show that's dealing with some really dark matter it (for some darn reason) refuses to take itself seriously (as @davidtennantgenderenvy wonderfully put it). I mean one minute we're dealing with woman rights, the other Matador Ole is playing while Rupert and Cameron stare each other like that.
I think it's unfair that the media constantly limited the premise of the show to its sexual aspects. The story is a clear socio-political critique of the power politics, sexual politics, and elite culture of the time and it's still quite reflective of the same things in our time too. In fact, the very fact that it disguises itself as a period piece makes it all the more applicable to our time. While watching the show I felt as if each character represents a different segment of the upper class; like Antonio Gramsci said the capitalist class is not a unified group. We have Rupert who represent the political elite, the ones that come from powerful families and then we have Declan who's the intellectual elite, Tony who's one of those new-money business elite people who will never really fit into this cult, Fred the technology millionaires, and Monica who represents that fading, waning part of old British aristocracy that was all about decorum and honour and values and virtue, something that is no longer valued in all the new kinds of elites that are springing up.
It's a very turbulent time. We're on the brisk of turning the world into the way we have it now, pulling it out of another era that is now fading away.
Rupert.... um man! Alex Hassell should be banned from playing this character because he injects more charisma in it that he deserves. I almost started liking him. And it's weird to me that his character development is fine, it's great it's wonderful, he goes from a careless heartless scoundrel to a nice caring person. The only problem I have here is what he did to Taggie in the beginning. How can someone ever possibly expect a woman to forgive a man for s3xual abuse or harassment. That's like major rizz-killer. But his friendship with Lizzie was one of the things I really liked. Made him seem so much more human.
Talking of Lizzie. My girl. My favourite character. Although if I'm being honest EVERY single woman in the show was impeccable. Every one of them ten thousand times more complicated than any male character. We need more women written by women. Sarah looks like a dumb blonde but she's not. She's just a woman who's trying to make something of her life in this male dominated world. Cameron Cook. Absolute goddess. She's powerful. She knows what she wants and how to get it. We just don't have enough ambitious women in media portrayed as "good". Ambitious women are always shown as bitches. And she's not passive in regard to her sexuality. It's her weapon and she uses it with her full agency. Monica, what can I even say about her. Perfectly embodies the crumbling grace of old aristocratic families. Beautiful performance, beyond words. Maud. Oh boy. I lowkey hated her for a bit but her last scene was so amazing.
Aaaaaaand Tony. Tell you what they should NOT let David Tennant play bad people. 'Cause he's gonna do it so good it will give you nightmares for ages. I love that he is always in command of the kind of response he wants to elicit from the audience in regard to his character especially when playing an antagonist. I mean if we compare them, Des makes you feel like you're gaping at the fucking abyss, Tom Kendrick is just awful and scary like a bad father, Kilgrave is (like the character's personality) the kind of performance where you want to hate this person bcs you know they're awful but something about them is sucking you in and you hate that feeling but you can't stop it somehow (cz that's what Kilgarve does!). For Tony he knew what he was doing. He knows how to turn on maximum rizz and then turn it off. He reels in the viewer, making them think oh this is the most charismatic human being I have ever seen (just like Tony does to other characters) and then he strikes when you're in deep.
Another interesting bit about this character was how (esp in eps 7 and 8) there's bits where you think that maybe he's not altogether bad, that maybe there's a bit of kindness and love hiding there somewhere. But then you realise there isn't. All that tenderness is deliberate. He does it on purpose because it draws people in. He cannot love because he doesn't have it in him. Everything is, for him, about social status and winning. He doesn't love his wife. He doesn't love Cameron. He just wants to have them because she feels like he didn't have the things he deserved at some point so now he's gotta have everything. Like he says "just let me have this one"; it's all about winning. Heard someone call him a cartoon villain. Nope guys he's very real. Also the only time you feel like he's being genuine is when he's being a sopping wet pathetic mess in the end.
And he's also very relatable to some extent. I get that what he goes through. His insecurities and whatever complex he has. I do. I go to a university with rich kids from filthy rich families. My parent's parents weren't rich. They just made their fortunes in the last generation and even though I get to be in the same circles as these rich pricks, I feel always (or they make me feel) left out. Like I'm an imposter. Like I could never really have any real class. And that itches a very particular itch in my brain.
As an afterthought, I think you can measure men's personalities and worthiness in terms of DT characters: On a scale of Alec Hardy to Tony Baddingham what kind of man are You!"🫵
On the whole it was a great show. Lovely music. Loved the introduction of each character and how it just lets you know what kind of person this guy/gal/person is! Wonderful cinematography and visuals. Gripping sub-plots. An what an ending! Perfect cliffhanger. And tbh I'd really like it if they left it here. To me a good story doesn't always need to be resolved. There's something to be said for those little ambiguities and uncertainties in life and all the thigs left unsaid. [and if someone is really anxious they can go read the book] Remarkable watch. ★★★★★ (5/5)
And now the reaction!
(Tap for full picture and better quality)
Anyways, here's some memes I made while watching Rivals
Episode 5 Live Reaction:
#rivals#david tennant#tony baddingham#rupert campbell black#monica baddingham#declan o'hara#taggie o'hara#cameron cook#freddie jones#lizzie vereker#aiden turner#alex hassell#bella maclean#nafessa williams#rivals spoilers#Rivals review#long post#my memes#good omens#doctor who#rivals 2024#kilgrave#des#alec hardy#deadwater fell
103 notes
·
View notes
Note
Shark
- 🦈
(WOBSVHDVUH. HOLY MOTHER OF SHARKS. HOW DO YOU WRITE SO GOOD. Gosh you, darn you, daum you. Fuel my god daum brainrot.
Now im thinkin of angst. DONT WRITE IT, I CANNOT HANDLE YOUR WRITING IN ANGST. THIS IS JUST A BRAIN BLURB.
Price is close to death whether it be the ultimte battle between the destruction of all that can die or of a horrid enemy, they have yet to defeat.
Price is alive, but too far to be ever saved. The boys want to summon their captain's ole friend, to say a well had goodbye, maybe even save him. But no books, no scrolls, nor anything etched in stone on the surface depicts them. Nothing.
Price dies knowing hes lived a good life, praying to all the gods that his beloved eldritch dosent destroy the surface he called home.
The only way the poor eldritch finds out, are when Prices ashes are swallowed by the waves.
In every storm, waves tower over the heights of skyscraper, to the point not even those that could fly can cross. Death is quick when it comes to the ocean, like it trying to collect all power it can withhold. Creatures are cruel when it comes to what has killed their gods beloved, relentlessly acttacting what they can. Sharks are rare, to the point their sighting have come near myth or legend. Yet, they will always come come towards any that is draconic for they miss them. Ocean creatures, humanoid or not, would cry with no control, close to fire, dragons or smoke. They grieve. They all grieve.
But, Dragons seem to live longer when close to the waves. Saving them in dire situations when the fall from they sky, wounds healed when submerged in the salty sea. Even if you were pure fire, absolute whole magma. You'd be saftely cradled in any and all water. Water is the safest, the safest they have ever felt in all of their exsistence. They know this feeling, it is old, it is familiar, it is embedded in blood.
For the ocean rembers, it always remembers.)
Okay honestly your brain farts are always so good but. . . But . . . I'm so sorry sharky. This came to before you even wrote your ask and now I have to do it, you're just the sacrificial goat. . .
CW: SFW, angst, made myself cry :/ Got some idea inspo from @heliumknife
John Price doesn't die on a notable day. He doesn't die on the day of reckoning, doesn't die on the day fire rains from the sky and blood muddles your oceans, doesn't die alongside human gods, doesn't die on the day he may meet what made him and hear he was a good man.
John Price dies on a regular Tuesday night.
Not even a blip on the radar.
Having saved the oblivious world yet again he retches a bloodied cough as he stumbles on the beach he'd ended up on. His legs give out, the course sand rubbing his skin when he falls, red blood slowly seeping between the grains. Distantly he can hear his boys calling for him, watching the waves wash onto the shore, the tide too low to reach him; too low for you to sense him.
He can feel Gaz scrambling to stem his bleeding, Soap desperately searching through the first aid kit, Ghost barking on the coms that Price is hit. And as the world begins to grow quiet, the low murmur of waves washing upon the sand filling his ears, washed up amber glittering in his blurring eyes, the scent of seaweed and brine filling his rapidly slowing lungs—
Price smiles — he'll slumber with you soon.
Only when the morning tide comes in do you sense his blood, do you rouse from the depths like lightning, waking from a nightmare to find it has followed you to the waking world.
You're too late.
Like always.
He's so still.
Peaceful — worry lines and wrinkles smoothed out and face relaxed you could delude yourself into thinking he's just sleeping. Oh those dragons with their slumber; he'll grumble when you go to wake him, demanding five more bloody minutes of your attention as if he's the god here. Cling to you like a barnacle and growling like a kitten until you give in and lay down next to him. Give a rumbling purr and laugh at how he got a god wrapped around his finger until you shut him up with a kiss.
But you can't.
Your vessel's eyes keep darting to the blood staining his clothes, the crusted red lines trailing from his lip down his chin, the stillness of his chest, the silence.
They tell you John Price died protecting his team from a brutal foe. John Price died protecting the world. John Price died protecting the very people who in your recent shared memory had been happy to sharpen sticks and melt rock into to steel all in an vain attempt at glory. . .
John Price died a hero.
Your John died.
And you weren't there.
"Hey. . ." You look at Gaz when he speaks, standing on the opposite side of the medical table they've laid his body on. ". . .I know you two were, close." He chokes up, voice rough and nasally, fresh tear tracks staining his cheeks.
You envy him for it. For once you wish you were the ant on a circuit board instead of it's maker, just so you could see the world like they do, mourn like they do — open, visible, showing you cared, showing he wasn't just a toy in your sandbox. That Price was the voice you'd hear when loosening the noose of the rope, the beckoning call beyond the reach of your waves, the one that held that wretched excuse you call a heart.
But you can't.
All your treacherous vessel manages to achieve is a small dip in the corner of your lip. "So were you." Your voice is low and garbled like you're drowning, the rumble of icebergs scraping on the ocean floor filling the silence behind each syllable.
Gaz flinches like he'd been slapped, unable to look at the man he loved as much as you did. "Yeah," His gaze flickers everywhere like fleeing fishes in a reef, "I'm sorry." He blurts out.
"Don't be." You don't look at him, your cold hand reaching out to trace Price's jaw, coarse beard scratching your flesh. "You loved him when I couldn't." A part of you wants to be angry at Gaz for harboring John's affection and attention, that it's not fair for him to be able to mourn when you've known your John long before Athenians and Spartans decided to throw hissy fits in your waters. But you can't call yourself a lover he deserved when you met him so rarely, a blink of the eye for you and a century passes.
"Are you going to kill us now?" Kyle asks, not scared, as if he's expecting it.
It shames you, but you thought about it; of sea life growing gigantic and voracious under your influence, of making the sky weep in your stead, of violent waves rising up and devouring the planet for taking away your world. What's the point of it's existence when the one who made it shine has been snuffed out?
"No," You sigh in resignation. You can't, not while there are still people and places John loved, not while vestiges of him remain. You can't kill what's left of him, protect them like you couldn't do with him.
Gaz tells you they plan to cremate him in line with dragon customs, only to take a step back when you pick your John up to cradle in your arms, his loose wing draping over your shoulder, his head resting on your shoulder, nose buried in your neck as if he's scenting you once again.
"I'll come to collect the rest of you when you pass." You say before disappearing with Price, because if you had to answer Gaz's questions — Why are you taking his body when you weren't even there when he died? Why do you act like you care when you saw him so rarely? Why are you taking him away from Gaz when he was the one who loved Price? What gives you the right? — you would have drowned a country.
Water rushes around him the moment you are back in your element, holding him in a cradle made of your waters like the first time he'd fallen into the ocean so many millennia ago. Water bubbles escape his open mouth as your waves caress and kiss each inch of him, crusted blood muddling the brine around him as you pull him as close to your real body as you can.
Searching.
You can feel his soul once your waters have kissed every inch of his skin, faint yet stubbornly clinging on somewhere in the aether, no doubt giving Death a headache.
You were once a soul too were you not? Just a dead thing too dumb to know it died; somewhere deep beneath the individual writhing sharks and decaying corpses and fossilized bone making up your body resides your original one, nothing but a chunk of rock with the imprint of what you had as a skeleton at the time.
For if Death doesn't come to claim it, a soul won't die until the body's gone. You had slipped past the cracks, grew fat and large on the other souls until Death could no longer touch you without fear of being swallowed whole.
You doubt it would let Price slip through like it had with you, fortunately you put claim on his soul long ago. You swim to the deepest part of the earth where burning geothermal vents spew minerals into freezing cold waters, where you slumber and feed on the souls of the dead.
You curl around him, living and dead bodies parting until Price rests wrapped around the oldest part of you.
Embracing you like he always wanted to.
He waited so long for you.
Now it's your turn to wait. This time you will be there.
And if the oceans above rage for months, if the season long rain floods the streets, if the weather makes it so that in the crushing depths no one can pick out your tears from the ocean brine, all the better.
#gnome correspondence#cod mw2#x reader#male reader#trinkets from the hoard#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#price x gaz#captain john price x male reader#captain john price x reader#eldritch reader#angst#immortal x mortal#john price cod#cod monster au#monster 141 au
287 notes
·
View notes
Text
Test run might continue this, might not (;-ω-)ノ
Twst NB/MR insert! I'll be using both terms interchangeably
Mexican inspired reader
Don't mind any spelling/grammar mistakes plz
Ah...my beloved, Beautiful flower of evil
You are the most beautiful in the world
Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the best?
There is a person setting marigolds in a vase by an altar, the sound of galloping horses caught his attention.
“At this hour?”
Opening the rolling gate enough for them to slip out stepping into the street their eyes landed on the most peculiar thing.
“Un carro fúnebre?” looking around, the street was dead silent. No person in sight.
"Oye amigo, odio decirte esto pero…” Their words came to a stop as they saw, there was no coachman. Their eyes widened as they stumbled back a few steps.
'What in the white-chick, horror movie situation is this' they thought. Curiosity consumed the figure, they stepped closer to the carriage, as they did, a dizziness took over until everything turned
Black.
‘Perdóname amá’
Guided by the mirror of darkness,
If you ever so desire,
Take thy hand that lies within the mirror.
Flames that can turn the moon into ashes,
Ice that can freeze time,
Earth that can swallow the sky.
Show no fear to the power of darkness.
Come now, show me your power.
We only have a little bit of time left.
At all costs, do not let go of that hand.
Welcome to the villain's world.
Dark.
That was all they saw when they came to, everything was a blur and they weren't there completely. Nothing but darkness surrounded them. In that darkness came a sound.
"Darn it! People are coming soon! I have to get this uniform on fast!" said the voice
A voice?
"Unngh!! This lid is so heavy! If this happens... it might come down to, Ngghh...that's it!"
A sudden burning sensation woke them up, right out of their daze. Falling forward with a thud they groaned and looked around. There was a coffin that looked like it was blown open, which is where they must have been previously.
"Alright, here's what we're looking for!" the voice said again
They looked before them and saw a fluffy creature, it turned to face them and they both stared at each other for a few seconds before both of them let out a screech.
"GYAAA! You!? Why are you awake?!" it yelled.
"A talking raccoon dog?!" They stuttered.
"Who are you calling a raccoon dog?" said the flaming raccoon in an offended tone. "I am the great Grim, you know!"
"It doesn't matter. You, human! Gimme those clothes!" Grim demanded. "If not, I'll burn ya!"
"Clothes?" They muttered, looking down they saw that his previous attire was no longer on them. Instead, they wore a black robe with a violet lining, as well as gold accents along the hem. With the top, he had on black trousers and dress shoes of the same color. Looking up from their clothes to Grim they shook their head.
"A dream where I get burned alive by a raccoon? How wonderful?" They remarked sarcastically.
"I said I'm not a raccoon!" Grim roared in anger.
The figure scrambled off the floor and booked it out of there. They ran through hallways and courtyards until reaching the library. They placed their hands on their knees as they panted.
"Where am I? What kind of dream is this?!" They then saw blue as Grim appeared.
"Did you really think that you could run away from me? Now if you don't want to get burned gimme those clothes- FUGYA?! That hurt! What is this? String?" Grim cried
"That is not a string. It is the whip of love!" said a man with a plague doctor type of mask.
"A whip of what now?" They muttered to themselves.
"Ah, I finally found you. You are the new student, correct? Well, this isn't good, without authority you just went through the gate." the man continued.
‘No manches’
"And on top of that, you brought a wild familiar with you against the school rules." He then held up a squirming Grim by the scruff.
"Let me go! I'm not this person's familiar!" complained Grim.
"Yes yes, that's what they all say. Let's try to be silent now, shall we? Honestly, it's unheard of for a new student to go through the school by themselves." Crow man then sighed. "Are you this impatient?"
Hijo de- I was running for my life! I'd like to see what you would do when being threatened to become a barbeque! They huffed in their head as they held an 'are you kidding me' expression.
"Well, come along then. The opening ceremony started long ago. Off to the Mirror Chamber, we go." The man then started to walk away with Grim. Our main character would be lying if they said they didn't feel a little bad.
"Wait, wait, wait, new student you say?" They said as they darted next to the crow-like man.
'This has to be a mistake I was tending to our ofrenda a minute ago’
"The room in which you awoke in. The one with the coffins. Every student before you went through that door to come here. However," he paused. "Usually students don't awaken until we open the door with a special key but..."
"Does that mean the fire 'opened' the lid?" The outsider asked as they recalled the lid being blown off.
"So in the end it seems that the main culprit was that familiar huh? If you were the one who brought him here, then you must take responsibility for him." He explained
"Oh...This is not the time for a long talk. If we don't hurry we'll miss the opening ceremony. Come, come, let's be on our way." He said turning to the entrance of the library.
"I'm not a dog," They huffed "-wait, never mind that. Who are you if I may ask?"
"Oh? Are you not fully awake yet? Maybe your memory is distorted from magic transportation. Well, it does happen often. I will explain as we go." He said. "Well, I am quite kind after all."
The “new” student followed Crowley out of the library, down the hallway, and out into the courtyard. The bird-man coughed to get the attention back on him and began to explain.
"This is 'Night Raven College' a place where Magicians with Talent come together. Twisted Wonderland's most prestigious magicians training academy. And I am the Headmaster of this Academy, the board chairman, Dire Crowley."
"Magicians?" The shorter person asked.
"The only ones who can enroll in this school are those with exceptional qualities of a magician. And those who the 'Mirror of Darkness accepts', and those chosen are called to the academy through the 'door' from all over the world." Crowley took a breath before continuing. "But for you, I believe an ebony carriage came to pick you up,"
Grim then started to struggle even further, to this the headmaster paid no mind. "Now then, on our way to the opening ceremony."
#twisted wonderland x male reader#twst cater#Twst#disney twst#twist wonderland male reader#twst yuu#twst oc#twst gn#ace trappola#deuce spade#malleus draconia#cater diamond#twst trey#gn reader#male reader#fic
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fic 1/2 made for the amazing @cinsilly for winning this contest I hosted a while back. I hope you like it and also thank you for participating in my silly little shenanigans. If I did my job right, hopefully you’ll join future events too! 🙆🏻♀️
The candle by his side burns faithfully as Julian leans over his cluttered desk. Wispy strands of his ginger hair wave back and forth as he grumbles in frustration. With an aching back and cramped wrists, his sleep deprived mind urges him to take a break.
But he won't. Because there is much to be done. Far too much.
He chides himself internally for not working enough. For not being fast enough. Because, despite the countless hours he’s spent here, there are still too many old journals to comb through. Too many documents he’s scribbled and had to scrap or re-read. He's frustrated. Tired. Hungry and extremely worried for all the people out there in worse conditions than he is. The physical states of those already infected aren't getting much better, and the count's temper is only getting worse. "DAMMIT WHY IS NOTHING WORKING!" He curses slamming his fist down on the poor table. It's like he's walking around in endless circles, isn't he? There has to be a cure! He chants in his head. With a library as huge as this, there must be something here about a plague spreading by beetles.
It’s almost beginning to feel like he’s drowning in pile and piles of unending assigned reading. Even with an apprentice, there’s still so much he has to do. If he doesn’t . . . No. Julian shakes the thoughts away. He doesn’t want to think about those consequences. Finding the cure is too vital a task to slack on. And he won't discover it if he spends all his time wondering about what will happen if he doesn't manage to uncover it. He can do it . . . Well, even if he couldn’t, there are too many people's lives at stake to not try his darn hardest. Too people relying on him. The countess. The citizens of Versuvia. The count. But most importantly . . . his apprentice is counting on him too. So, he has to find a cure. No.matter.what.the.cost.
Books, letters, documents and other knick knacks are sprawled all over the cinnamon-coloured table. But the mess inside his head is even worse than the one infront of him. A looming giant window behind him gives a glimpse into the internal state of the city. Cold, dark, deserted and in complete disarray. The normal hustle and bustle is no longer as usual as it once used to be. You’d be lucky if you saw a single person in sight. Not anymore though. They’re all hiding away inside their homes. He has no doubt that you would be too if you gave yourself the luxury too.
But he’s glad you haven’t taken that liberty. That you care enough to stay by his side. To risk your life. He has no idea how he'd do this without you. Throughout all his travels at sea, he's spent a great deal of his time alone. But he doesn't think he could ever go back to that lifestyle anymore. He needs you.
He needs you to check up on him. To hold his hand and cheerfully tell him everything will be alright again. To not give up. He nee- No he wants you. Wants you to sit suspiciously close by as he navigates the medical forms. While he relays the important findings he just discovered. As he flips through the records. Patient after patient, case after case. It’s almost too much, but he knows he can handle it. With you by his side, he’s sure he can handle anything. Fatigued eyes search all over the table but his thoughts wander to you again. Like they always do when he’s stressed out. Are you hunched over a desk like he is? Huddled up in your shop researching old tomes? He wonders if you think about him too. He wonders if you miss his company as much as he misses yours. He can’t imagine those talking books to be good company.
[ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @/fairytopea]
#dividers by fairytopea#ℭ𝔥: 𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔞𝔫 🦜⊹ ࣪ ˖#irides writes 📝#the arcana x reader#the arcana#arcana x reader#arcana#julian x reader#julian#julian the arcana#julian headcanons#the arcana headcanons#julian arcana#the arcana fanfiction#the arcana fanfic#arcana fanfic#arcana headcanons#julian x mc#the arcana game#the arcana x mc#the arcana julian devorak#julian devorak#the arcana julian#julian the doctor#julian devorak x mc#julian devorak x apprentice#julian devorak x reader#julian x apprentice#the arcana imagine#𝔗𝔥𝔫𝔵 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔞 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤 💟✨
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
snow birds.
‣ pairing — frank adler x f!reader
‣ contents — xmas/holidays, angst [referenced character death, grief], fluff, childhood frenemies in love, mutual pining, not actually unrequited love
‣ summary — frank thought he closed that chapter of his life on love and romance a long time ago, but a fateful reunion on the dirt paths of a christmas tree farm seems to reopen an entire book of possibilities.
‣ word count — 5.1k
‣ notes — okay, again i’m not exactly thrilled about this one and also the first half of this turned out way angstier than i’d originally intended… but hey, i can’t help the way these stories turn out (i say, as if i’m not the one actually writing them 🫣). i also left the ending kind of open, but i think it works and at least i’m finally finished with this one! another character to add to my roster 🥰 i hope i did our frankie justice!
✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog
The rusted pickup truck rumbles to a stop, its wheels crunching on the gravel parking lot. Outside, the rich scent of pine needles perfume the humid air. Festive red and green ribbons adorn the nearby farmhouse, strings of twinkling lights strung overhead, the atmosphere absolutely screaming Christmas despite the blazing Florida sun.
Before Frank even puts the truck in park, the passenger door flies open and a little blonde blur is bounding out, a scruffy one-eyed cat leaping out after her.
“Stay close!” He calls as he follows suit, sighing heavily. That darn cat goes everywhere with them now, even places cats have no place being—like a Christmas tree lot, for example.
Frank had tried to convince Mary to leave Fred at home, but she just looked so reluctant to leave this morning. He ended up relenting, even though the idea of letting a cat have the final say in which tree they brought home was actually ridiculous, but he couldn’t say no to her this time; she’d been through a lot these last few months.
“Hurry up, slowpoke!” Mary shouts back as she reaches the entrance to the lot. He ambles after her casually before she can’t wait anymore, turning and running up the paths between rows of towering firs and blue spruces with Fred hot at her heels.
Frank keeps a watchful eye on her as he trails behind, taking in the scene with a mix of nostalgia and bittersweet longing. The farm looks just like it did when he was a kid, and for a moment he could almost see Diane running ahead of him in Mary’s place, her blonde hair flying behind her as she wove between the trees.
Come on, Frankie! She’d giggle, ducking into the next aisle. Before Dad finds us!
His throat tightens at the memory. It’s been years since he last came here with his sister, even longer since his old man was alive, but the ache of their absence never really fades. Especially not around the holidays, when every tradition seems to carry the weight of what he’d lost.
But then he catches sight of Mary again, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she points out a particularly massive pine to Fred, tilting her head as she asks him what he thinks. Because again, Fred is a cat, he looks disinterested as he licks one of his paws.
And just like that, the heaviness in Frank’s chest eases, replaced by a fluttering warmth he’s grown to recognize all too well. He quickens his pace to catch up with them, trying to ignore the way his heart stumbles when Mary looks up at him with her mother’s eyes.
“This the one, kid?” Frank asks, hands on his hips as he regards the tree. He peers around it to the next row. “Or should we keep look—”
But when he peeks past the spiky branches, he halts mid-movement, breath catching in his throat. For a minute, he thinks he might be hallucinating—because standing there, looking frustratingly gorgeous in a cream cable knit sweater and black leggings is a blast from his past.
Or maybe he’s dreaming, he thinks as his pulse quickens traitorously. He hasn’t seen you outside of his dreams in years.
“Look, mister, all I’m saying—” you huff, one hand perched on your hip, gesturing animatedly with your other hand while arguing with the middle-aged tree farmer who looks just as done as you do. “—is that if you’re going to advertise ‘tall, full, and handsome’ trees, you need to deliver, okay? Also, a hundred bucks?! This thing can’t be worth more than fifty, maybe sixty. Or does it come with presents already underneath it?”
Some things never change, do they? You always did like to haggle.
“Frank?” Mary asks, reaching up to take his head. You look over then at the sound of the girl’s voice, your gaze colliding with his. Just like when he was a teenager and he saw you for the first time, it’s like the ground shifts beneath his feet, the world tilting on its axis.
It all started with a favour, more than half a lifetime ago.
Frank remembers jolting awake to the shrill ringing of the phone, rubbing his bleary eyes and glancing at the clock on the bedside table only to find it was 2:17 a.m. in the morning.
His sixteen-year-old self moved quickly, throwing the covers aside, running down the hall, and flying down the stairs to try and reach the kitchen before the phone could wake his mother. He picked up halfway through the third ring, his eyes closed as he held the receiver sleepily against his ear.
“‘Lo?” He mumbled, his brow furrowing when he heard Diane’s voice on the other line. He tilted his head up in the direction of his sister’s bedroom, completely unaware that she’d even left the house.
She needed a ride home, she said; she’d snuck out and went to Trish Aalerud’s party after all, the one their mother had expressly forbidden her from going to. There had been a big ensuing fight, one which he’d tried his best to mediate, but it ended with Evelyn once again laying down the law.
Diane, once again, was faced with the choice to either obey or rebel. For once, it seemed, she’d finally chosen to rebel.
A part of him was proud of her; they couldn’t live like this under Evelyn’s reign of terror forever. But on the other hand, he knew how their mother could be. Her expectations were sky high and her disappointment was even greater when her children failed to meet them.
But another part of him wanted to slump over in dread. If he were being honest, Diane got the worst of it. For some reason, it was just easier for him to shake off his mother’s lectures, to shrug off her impossible ideals, and to take a path away from the one Evelyn had so calculatingly laid out for him.
His sister, however, was different. Frank got good grades and was well-liked by his teachers, but Diane was downright brilliant, destined for greater and amazing things that Frank could only ever imagine. And somewhere beneath it all, she thought that maybe if she worked hard enough, if she were smart enough, maybe if she were the kind of genius Evelyn so desperately wanted her to be, then their mother might finally realize their worth. Maybe even love her.
But, unfortunately, Frank knew better.
So, despite being annoyed that he’d been woken up in the middle of the night on a school day, he shook off the cobwebs of sleep still clinging to his brain and promised he’d be there as fast as he could.
They couldn’t risk Diane getting caught, because he knew what it would mean. Evelyn would simply double down, her punishment swift and severe, maybe even lock his sister in her room again for days at a time “until she came back to her senses”. Never again, not as long as Frank could help it.
He hung up and dragged himself back to his room, pulling on some jeans and a hoodie, before grabbing his keys and carefully tiptoeing towards the front door. He listened for any signs that his mother had woken up, but thankfully only the sound of silence greeted him back.
Satisfied, he slipped out into the humid night air, climbing into the beat-up Chevy pickup he’d inherited from his late father the moment he got his learner’s permit. It only took him fifteen minutes before he was pulling up to the curb outside a large house still pulsing with music.
Frank remembers drunk teenagers in skimpy outfits stumbling around the lawn and pouring out the front door, their silhouettes illuminated by strobe lights flashing in the windows. He scanned the crowd for Diane, his jaw clenching before finally spotting her near the mailbox.
And there it was, where it all began.
She wasn’t alone. For the first time, Frank laid eyes on you, swaying uneasily on your feet beside his sister who looked on with sympathy. She made a move to touch your arm, but you twisted away from her and angrily began stalking down the driveway, swiping the back of your hand across your face.
“Frankie!” Diane called, her eyes widening when she saw him. You paused briefly, long enough to look up so he could get a clear view of your face. It occurred to him then, as he took in the sight of the tear tracks on your cheeks, that maybe you were the reason Diane had called in the first place.
“You’re both sitting in the back,” he said once he found his voice, looking away and feigning indifference despite the stuttering of his heart. “I don’t need anyone puking in the front seat.”
“I’m not drunk,” you snapped, eyes flashing in a way he decided he rather liked. But then you turned around and addressed Diane, “and I don’t need your damn charity!”
“Please,” Diane said, approaching you slowly and cautiously, as if trying to corner a hissing and frightened kitten. Frank could practically see your hair standing on end. “Just let us take you home?”
“I can call someone else, Adler,” you scoffed, wrapping your arms around your middle even though it’s hot and sticky out, shivering as you resumed your descent down the driveway.
“The hell you will,” Frank almost growled, a sound he didn’t know he was capable of making, placing the truck in drive and swerving to stop right in front of you and blocking your path. “It’s almost three in the morning. Both of you just get in the damn car.”
“Please,” Diane implored again, opening the door to the backseat and waiting. After a few seconds of hesitation and a tense staring match with the siblings, you relented with a huff and slid into the truck. Diane followed suit and once she slammed the door shut, Frank peeled away from the curb.
“You don’t know how to mind your own business,” you told Diane, the lot of you not even clearing the end of the street before you started in on her. You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the door, angling yourself as far away from her as you could. “You and your… whoever that is.”
“This is Frank, my brother,” Diane tried to explain kindly, before locking eyes with him in the rearview mirror. Judging from the way you were speaking to her, it was clear the two of you weren’t exactly friends, but Diane didn’t need to say anything to clue him in that something must have happened back at the party. If anything, your drying tears already told him as much.
“I think what you meant to say is ‘thank you’,” Frank scoffed however, unable to help snapping back. You were being a giant pain in the ass.
“Frank—” Diane admonished.
“Oh, right, thank you,” you began, your words soaked in sarcasm. “Thank you so much for practically forcing me into your car. You did everything but drag me in kicking and screaming.”
“Just tell me where you live so we can drop you off and be done with this,” Frank fired back, “you ungrateful twerp.”
“Sorry that sissy here interrupted your beauty sleep, pretty boy,” you leaned forward, eyes blazing as they met his in the rearview mirror. “But if I recall, I didn’t ask for either of your help. You insisted, remember?”
Frank remembers that the bickering didn’t let up the entire drive to your house, barbs flying fast and furious, all the while Diane kept trying to play peacemaker without much success. By the time Frank arrived in front of your place, your tears were forgotten, sadness replaced by a fire he much preferred, even if his knuckles were white with irritation around the steering wheel.
“Frankie…” Diane sighed disapprovingly from the backseat, once you exited the truck with a slam of the door and a final parting shot, along with an exaggerated flip of the bird.
“Don’t start, Di,” he snapped, turning around in his seat to fix her with a glare of his own. “That girl is a menace. You sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?”
“She’s had a rough night,” Diane smiled wryly, glancing out the window to watch you remove your shoes as you trodden up the driveway, dangling them by the straps at your side.
“Join the damn club,” Frank shook his head, but he was watching too, making sure you stepped into the house and closed the door behind you before beginning to drive away.
“They weren’t very nice to her tonight,” his sister murmured. Frank took a deep breath, something a bit like guilt settling like lead in the pit of his stomach, knowing very well just how cruel his schoolmates could be. And because Diane was always too soft-hearted for her own good, he knew what she was trying to say even though she fell quiet the rest of the ride home.
They weren’t very nice to her, but maybe we could be.
Frank remembers that it wasn’t long before the change, and he began seeing you with his sister more often than not. It only took a few more weeks before the two of you were inseparable, practically attached at the hip with Diane hanging off your arm with a big smile, bigger than he’d ever seen on her, and you letting her while looking only partially annoyed.
You were seen together in the school cafeteria, Diane talking your ear off as you ate; in the library, Diane’s legs stretched across your lap as you took notes; or sitting at the bleachers with your textbooks open, quiet conversations punctuated by the occasional giggle or reluctant snort.
What began as a random act of kindness blossomed into a true and rare friendship, much to Frank’s pleasure and dismay. Diane didn’t have a lot of close friends, or at all actually. Evelyn had made sure of that, but even she couldn’t keep you apart.
Diane would lie and say she was going to the library to study when in reality she was at your house. You’d invite her to your family gatherings, where your parents plied her with food and affection. At school events, everyone just knew that you and Diane were a package deal.
But you just got under his skin so easily, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to give as good as he got. The two of you would maintain a facade of civility in front of Diane, but the second her back was turned all bets were off.
“Well, well, well,” you smirked as you passed him in the hall on your way to your next class, Diane up ahead and out of earshot. “If it isn’t dear ol’ Francis. I see you still have a knack for showing up where you’re least wanted.”
“Nice haircut,” he retorted, unflinching as his own smirk rose to meet yours. “Did you lose a bet or something?”
“Nah, just trying to keep up with your… ever-changing style,” you drawled sardonically, your eyes sweeping over his usual ripped jeans and button-up shirt over a white tee. “Is that really your only outfit?”
The barbs were sharp but never cruel, the both of you committing to a strange dance of wit and veiled…
Frank swallows hard.
He can call it what it was now, even though it still hurts, even though he can’t bring himself to say it out loud. Who would be there to listen, anyway? The only person he’d like to tell is long gone.
Because it was affection. It was always affection.
It was there in the quieter moments, tantalizing and unusually sweet, when his gaze lingered on you a little too long after a round of half-hearted insults, or when his hand accidentally brushed yours when he passed by. But he was always careful to stand behind that line, the one Diane had long ago forbidden him to cross.
“I see the way you look at her, Frankie,” Diane had said softly, her eyes pleading. “And I don’t blame you.”
Frank couldn’t look at her, his heart twisting in his chest. His first instinct was to deny it, to tell her she was seeing things that weren’t there. But he couldn��t lie to her, he never could.
“But please… don’t go there. She’s my best friend and you’re my brother. If things went wrong…” she trailed off, but he knew the implications. He’d be putting Diane in an impossible situation, because the thing she didn’t say was that you were her only friend.
And so he decided he wouldn’t ever make her choose.
Besides, to you, Frank was probably just your friend’s annoying brother and nothing more. Repeating that to himself made it slightly easier to keep his promise for years after, burying those feelings deep and putting up a front of playful antagonism whenever he saw you. It had been torture, especially during the more genuine moments shared during a movie night at your house, Diane asleep on the couch, or under the bleachers at one of his soccer games.
“I never did thank you for that night, did I?” You whispered to him, eyes bright, so close and yet so far out of reach. He swallowed down the words he really wanted to say, like—I’d go anywhere, no matter how far, to be your knight in shining armour.
Instead, he joked, “Yeah, well, it’ll never happen again, all right? So don’t go around making a habit of stranding yourself at parties.”
“Well, good,” you smirked, those walls going back up, the chasm between you once again opening up to something seemingly insurmountable. “Because your truck is an abomination. It’s, like, rolling probable cause with that illegal ass window tint.”
“Take that back. That truck is a national treasure,” he hissed, and you threw your head back and laughed. It was all he could do not to close the distance between you and lay his lips on yours.
It was torture, but he’d done it for Diane. He would’ve done anything for Diane.
Frank remembers the sky wept the day they laid her to rest. He’d stood beside her grave, his face a mask of stone, but his eyelids were heavy and swollen with grief. You stood just a few feet away, clutching at a sodden tissue in your trembling hands, sobbing as your eyes fixed on the casket that held your dearest friend.
As the service ended and the mourners began to disperse, Frank found himself face to face with you, the weight of your shared grief hanging heavy in the air. Words rose to his lips—confessions and apologies, longing and regret—but even then they remained unspoken. He couldn’t bring himself to reach out to you; he didn’t know how. Diane’s death had changed everything and yet nothing at all.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, your voice barely audible above the patter of rain on fallen leaves. You leaned forward to press a kiss to the tiny little bundle fast asleep in his arms—Mary, the only piece of his sister he had left. “I’m so sorry, Frank.”
He wanted to ask you to stay, to navigate this dark and desolate new world without Diane with him. He wanted to say he’s loved you since he was sixteen, that Diane loved you too, and that like always he was here for you no matter how you needed him. He wanted to ask you to be in Mary’s life, because if she couldn’t have Diane then at least she would have you.
But he couldn’t, the words once again stuck between his lips. Instead, his heart clenching, Frank forced himself to let that dream go. He watched you walk away, turning away reluctantly himself to begin picking up the pieces of his shattered life, with half a lifetime’s worth of unspoken words lodged in his throat.
You would see each other around St. Petersburg every now and then, but then you took a job all the way across the continent. Mary had only been a year old when you came around to say goodbye, bringing toys and baby clothes, looking at him with all the silent apologies in the world in your eyes.
And despite the lightheartedness of your voice as you joked about how much you were dreading your new life in Toronto, he could see how desperately you needed to escape the suffocating grip of Diane’s absence.
“Take care of yourself, Frank,” you smiled, a sight so familiar and yet so foreign, the lines of your face tinged with profound sadness rather than the usual mirth and good-natured teasing.
And that’s how it was supposed to be. Frank thought he would never see you again. You were supposed to remain firmly in his past, a distant memory he thought back on whenever he visited Diane’s grave, whenever a postcard arrived in the mail with a short cursory message written on the back, whenever he pulled out photos of his sister for Mary to look at whenever she wanted to see her mom.
But six years later, after all that time telling himself that he was over you by now, that whenever he felt for you now was simply nostalgia, that the schoolboy crush he’d had was exactly that—fleeting and innocent and not at all life-changing, you’re here.
Years of history and unresolved tension zings up his spine like an electric current as his eyes find you again. Your expression mirrors his own, shock and awe rolled into one, and a flicker of something indecipherable in your eyes before your lips quick in that familiar smirk, a single brow arching in challenge.
“Francis,” you say in a tone that brings back an unbidden rush of memories. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to steal my Christmas.”
And just like that, Frank feels himself slipping back into old patterns, his competitive streak flaring to life as he realizes you’ve both set your sights on the same tree. Frank realizes right then, that no matter what he’s told himself these last six years, you’d never actually left him at all.
“Please, I was here first,” he outright lies, “this tree clearly has Adler written all over it.”
“You can’t possibly need a tree this big,” you scoff, falling easily back into that rhythm of banter, like no time had passed at all, like the two of you were still a couple of teens arguing over the last slice of pizza while Diane watched on with thinly-veiled irritation. “What are you decorating, a ballroom?”
“Maybe I am,” Frank retorts, crossing his arms, stubbornly not wanting to admit that, yes, this tree is definitely way too tall for the modest apartment he shares with Mary. “What’s it to you?”
“Don’t even,” you roll your eyes, “you wouldn’t know how to properly trim this thing down if your life depended on it.”
He opens his mouth to deliver a blistering response when a small voice interrupts him, “…Frank? Are we getting the tree?”
He startles, turning to find Mary looking up at him. He’d almost forgotten she was there and, judging by your bewildered expression, you didn’t even notice her until now. He hears the hitch in your breath as you drink in the sight of Diane’s daughter, the little girl you never really had the chance to know.
She has Diane’s high cheekbones, her stubborn chin, her vivid blue eyes—and he knows it’s like staring at a ghost of Christmas past.
“Mary, this is…” he says, resting his hand on his niece’s shoulder. Mary squints up at you, her brows furrowing thoughtfully before she grasps her uncle’s hand.
“it’s the lady from Mom’s pictures,” she observes, recognizing you from the photographs currently tucked away in an old shoebox at the back of Frank’s closet. She turns to you and repeats, a bit quieter this time, “you’re the lady from my mom’s pictures.”
You stare at her for a few more seconds, before a slow smile spreads across your face. “Well… yes. I, uh, I knew your mom a long time ago.”
“And Frank, too?”
You nod, your smile wobbling. “From way back.”
“How far back?” She asks, her curiosity piqued as she twists her fingers around Frank’s shyly.
“Oh, ancient history,” you laugh in a way that has his heart aching, your eyes glistening. “Back when your uncle was still cool.”
“Frank was cool?” Mary looks up at him with a hint of a grin, slightly skeptical. He playfully pinches her cheek.
“Actually? No,” your voice taking on that teasing tone he’s so used to. “I was only saying that to be nice.” Mary manages a tiny smile as a silence descends, like a quietly mounting blanket of freshly fallen snow. “You know what? You should take the tree.” You say suddenly, your voice falsely bright.
“Really?” Mary asks, sounding hopeful. She picks up Fred, squeezing him in her arms. The cat meows indignantly, but allows her to manhandle him all the same.
Frank frowns, “No, you don’t have to—”
He feels you slipping away again as you shrug, your eyes still holding a glimmer of sadness despite your playful tone. “It’s just a tree, Francis. No big deal.”
But this is a big deal, he wants to shout. It’s never not when it comes to you. But you’re already backing away, forcing smiles and your gaze darting between Frank and Mary. He calls out your name, but you don’t look back as you avert your eyes and turn to leave, a faint “Merry Christmas” vanishing into the warm Florida afternoon.
“Frank?” Mary is tugging at his hand, but he watches your retreating form until the very last second, so many things bubbling up to his lips but going unsaid, held back by a childhood promise to a person who is no longer here.
But he never did tell Diane, did he? What the thing she always saw brewing there whenever he looked at you was.
He waits too long, and you disappear into the crowd, as if swallowed by magic, just as quickly as you’d reappeared.
You sit curled up by the crackling fire in your childhood home, nursing a mug of mulled wine as your nieces and nephews chatter excitedly around the brightly decorated fireplace. A pot containing a mixture of cranberries, rosemary, cinnamon sticks, and cloves simmers on the stovetop, the oven baking away at a batch of sugar cookies, filling the house with the undeniable smell of the holidays.
Despite the fact that you are thrilled to see all of your relatives after such a long time away from home, you have a hard time mustering up any holiday cheer.
All you can think of is Frank, the way his eyes widened when he saw you, the way they softened when you said his name, and the way his deep voice rumbled through your body like that distant thunder of longing you could always seem to hear on quiet nights, hovering nearby like a persistent storm cloud.
There was always a chance of running into him here, and you thought you’d been prepared for that possibility. And yet, your heart still soared at the sight of him, no longer that boy who had—albeit, reluctantly—come to your rescue that night of Trish’s party, but you’d recognize those blue eyes anywhere.
The couch sinks beneath you, and you turn to see your mother settling down beside you with a mug of her own. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah, Mom,” you force a smile, tearing your gaze away from the fire. The twinkling fairy lights cast shadows upon your mother’s face, the lot of you having had to decorate the fireplace since you walked away from the tree farm empty-handed, almost running with your need to escape. “Sorry I couldn’t get you a tree.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” your mother waves a hand, gesturing at her grandchildren who are screaming at each other as they play a board game, “they don’t even know the difference.”
But she knows you, this woman. She studies you for a moment, her eyes soft with understanding. It’s a tough time of year for you; traditions feel somewhat incomplete when someone important is missing.
“I miss her, too,” she says, grasping your hand as she leans back against the couch. You smile to yourself, swallowing past the lump in your throat. So many nights you and Diane fell asleep on this couch watching TV or studying, only to wake up to find a blanket thrown over you and the smell of dinner wafting in from the kitchen.
“I know,” you lean against your mom and she wraps her arm around your shoulders. You sit there in her embrace, enjoying the sight of most of your family all gathered together in one place, but a commotion erupts near the front window of the house.
Your relatives are clamouring over each other, their excited shouts filling the air. You grin, their enthusiasm, even though you have no idea what about, is contagious. One of them calls out your name, beckoning you over. Reluctantly, you rise from the couch with a soft groan and make your way over to the window.
You peer out the glass, pushing aside the curtains, thinking maybe—despite the impossible odds—that it’s snowing outside. But something even more inconceivable happens and there, at the end of the driveway, is Frank’s beat-up old truck, the Christmas tree you’d surrendered tied up in the back.
Frank himself is walking up the driveway, hands in his pockets, until he stops in front of your door. He looks hesitant, completely oblivious to the fact he’s being watched. One of your cousins elbows you, hard, giving you an incredulous look when you glare over at them, “What are you doing? Go!”
This is a dream you’ve never dared to voice out loud, seeing Frank here again. But here he is, on Christmas, and you tell yourself that second chances like these are so rare.
So you get up and open the door before he’s even had a chance to knock.
He looks surprised, but you hold the door open and smile.
We’ve lost so much time.
I don’t want to waste another second.
Frank steps closer.
I fell in love with you when I was sixteen.
I have loved you ever since.
And he smiles back.
fin.
© 2024 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane
#frank adler x reader#frank adler x f!reader#frank adler x female reader#frank adler x you#frank adler x asian!reader#frank adler fanfiction#frank adler angst#frank adler fluff#frank adler x y/n#frank adler#chris evans character fanfiction#go frost yourself! winter event
46 notes
·
View notes
Note
Aaah open requests! Yay! I loved the fic about the peacocks interrupting Baldwin and I NEED more light-hearted reader x KOH's Baldwin. Could you pretty please do reader "arguing" with Baldwin over something silly where he ends up teasing her into giving in to what he wants? Basically them behaving like two lovesick teenagers instead of king and queen. Thank you!
♤ All In Good Fun - King Baldwin x Reader ♤
♤ Crack Fic ♤
A/N: Hello Anon! I'm so glad you enjoyed that fic! I agree, I need to do more lighthearted stories and hopefully this one turned out how you wanted it to! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!
PS: I used the same scenario from the “Those Darn Birds” fic, just maybe like a week later from when it was set :)
The union of Baldwin’s cousin and her, now husband, had proceeded as planned.
The king did his best to not speak to his new cousin in law and avoided him at all costs to prevent an uncomfortable and insulting interaction.
Y/n stayed beside Baldwin all day, as the king and queen should, so other than a brief awkward congratulations to the newly married couple, there was no other issue.
Still though, Baldwin was not enjoying the event at all. For the entire day, all he could think about was retiring to the royal chambers and getting away from the chaos.
Finally, evening arrived and the guests went to their rooms to prepare for dinner.
--------------------
“Oh thank the lord that is over!” Baldwin sighed as soon as the door was closed.
Y/n chuckled, “it's not over yet my love, we still have dinner”.
This earnt a heavy sigh from her husband as he removed his mask and veil, sitting his tired body down on the couch.
“Must I go darling? I am sure my presence will not be missed. I barely spoke all day?” he protested.
Y/n laughed again as she sat down at the vanity to fix her makeup.
“You're the king sweetheart! You're the single most important man in the kingdom! You must attend!”.
This earnt another tired groan from Baldwin, “you could just tell them I was too sick to attenddd?” he asked, raising his one good eyebrow.
“Are you suggesting we lie to our own friends and family about your wellbeing?” the queen gasped sarcastically, turning dramatically to look at him.
Baldwin grinned at her reaction.
“Maybe I am! As you say, I am the king after all. I can do what I please” he added in a sarcastically upper class voice, standing to approach his wife.
Y/n laughed again, turning back to the mirror as Baldwin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on top of her head.
“Is that so? Well I guess you must stay then if you are soo tireddd” y/n teased.
“Well are you going to attend?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes, I must attend. Besides, I need to tell the guests that you ‘were so exhausted’ and that you ‘couldn't possibly even stand up any longer’”.
The king’s smile widened.
“Thank you my loveee” Baldwin said, kissing her head before going to get changed into a nightgown while y/n continued to ready herself for dinner.
She finished getting ready just as Baldwin was snuggling underneath the bed covers with a book in his hands.
Y/n smiled and rolled her eyes as he looked up at her with a cheesy grin.
“Well, you sure look comfortable” y/n teased again, standing from her seat.
“Yes I certainly am, but I would be much more comfortable with you in here thoughhh” he teased back.
The queen bent down to kiss her husband on the forehead.
“Well I shall be back in about an hour, would you like me to bring you some food your highness” she curtsied dramatically causing Baldwin to chuckle.
“Yes pleaseee, you look beautiful by the wayyy” he replied, the goofy grin on his face widening.
“You're lucky that you're sweet” y/n replied, turning to leave.
“I love you!” Baldwin called out.
“I love you too!” y/n called back, slipping out of the room with a small smile on her face.
#king baldwin iv#kingdom of heaven#kingdom of heaven fandom#king baldwin#king baldwin iv x reader#king baldwin x you#king baldwin x reader#kingdom of heaven 2005#the leper king#king baldwin iv x oc#kindgdom of heaven#leper king#kingbaldwin#baldwin iv#baldwin#baldwin iv of jerusalem#koh fandom#koh
93 notes
·
View notes
Note
I absolutely love fics that give all the Links different written languages.
BUT
For the ones that don't...
Who do you think can or can't read/write cursive? I firmly believe that Wind's grandma taught him how to read it, but he never writes in it so he can't without double checking certain letters multiple times.
Ooh!
Yes, Wind is quite proficient in Hylian cursive! He and Aryll actually both are since Granny doesn't really use anything else except back when she was first teaching them how to read, and even then, her letters are all swoopy and graceful (they love that). He reads it well, but his handwriting is still awkward and crooked (JoJo had it overlapped onto Warriors'). Aryll spends more time writing things down so she's a bit better than he is, but only a bit.
Four is familiar with cursive, since he spends a lot of time at the castle and most of the royals use it. he can read it well, and he can sort of write it, but Blue finds the excessive loops to be ridiculous and while Red thinks they're pretty, it's too tricky to do all the time, so only really Green uses cursive, and only when split. Vio likes how it looks, but he writes to get things down, and he thinks too fast to care about how his writing looks (it looks like chicken scratches).
Legend is also quite used to cursive, and he can write in it, when he takes the time to try. Most of the time, he's like Vio and just trying to jot things down, but if he's writing a letter or a note to someone, he tends to at least try and make it look nice, and cursive does a decent job of that. I'd like to note, also, that since he's a bit of a book collector too, Legend is very good at reading even the crappiest of handwriting, not just cursive.
Hyrule hasn't got much expose to written materials, but most of what he has seen are old books with the gilded letters and the like, so he doesn't even know cursive is a thing until Aurora introduced him to it. He's not very good at reading it, and definitely can't write with it, but he's getting better.
Wild might have been able to write in cursive before he lost his memories, but he doesn't any longer. Most of Hyrule doesn't bother with cursive, not even Flora, since she, like Legend and Vio, has only the intent of writing things quickly and no longer has anyone to tell her to make it look nice. Purah and Robbie are the same. Sidon and the Zora do use cursive, but Wild doesn't really care enough to try reading it, since most of the time anything they bother to write is just official mumbo-jumbo to him anyway. He does have rather neat printing though!
Sky can read cursive, as can all the students at the academy, but he prefers to print things out, because it's easier and he was always a rather lazy student. Zelda feels the same way, but Groose actually has the best penmanship out of them all (he wanted to be better than Sky). They can all write cursive, but again, Sky never cared to practice enough to make it look very nice, so he sort of struggles to do it.
Twilight on the other hand! Twilight has the fanciest gosh-darn handwriting out of the whole chain! Since he's a total book nerd (look at his house), I'd say he's probably been exposed to all sorts of handwriting, and as a kid decided he would make his handwriting look like the stuff in fancy books. Ulli helped him to learn, and he now writes with a very neat hand indeed. Most of the time he prints things, to save time, but this man could be a calligrapher if he so chose! He really likes to do those embellished first letters like in old books, and while sometimes he gets teased about it, Shad may or may not have asked him to help with some of his publications because of his skill.
Warriors has very neat handwriting, but unfortunately, cannot read or write in cursive. I'm a street-rat Wars truther, so this man probably only recently learned to read in my take on him. He makes sure his handwriting looks nice, but cursive is a bit too much for his needs. Soldiers don't get sent things with cursive most of the time, so when he does, he can usually just ask Impa to help him read it, as it's usually in regards to an official frivolity anyways.
Time cannot cursive. Malon can, but she's not very good at it either (reading or writing). Time doesn't care to learn, Malon doesn't really care to improve, and the only way to get Time to even try would be to tell him he could use it top mess with Wars.
#asks and answers#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu legend#lu warriors#lu wild#lu twilight#lu four#lu time#lu wind#lu sky#lu hyrule#ketto's brainfarts
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
The new NCR students (twisted wonderland x reader)
This oneshot was inspired by this:
warning: Toxic behaviour?
Summary: Yuu has always had a slightly snide side to them and now, the longer they spend at NCR the more mean they become.
You didn't get to return home. It was to be expected but when you heard the news it hit you like a ton of bricks. It was the very first time you dropped that very nice facade you had build up for yourself, because to say the truth....
You weren't kind.
You weren't loving.
You weren't hard working.
But that is what people thought about you, adding that they thought that you were naive. So imagine their suprise when you look at Crowley, your face scrunching up in disgust and calling him a useless, greedy bastard, before smiling sweetly and exclaiming that you had expected that out come.
Now, months had passed and all the first years had changed, but the biggest transformation was coming from you. Usually you wanted to uphold the reputation of a nice and polite kid, but now? You acted like a fucking thug.
You sigh heavily, looking down on your food. Because you and your friends had fought so many Overblots you guys were constantly the hot topic around the campus and the subtle but noticable change didn't help with that.
"Ace has been getting into more fight! He has developed such a bad temper. Just like Housewarden!"
"I swear to good Jack's worse than Azul when it comes to returning favours."
"Deuce acts exactly like Trey-senpai. You remember? Last years vice housewarden?"
"Epel has gotten so darn mean, sevens he is a master at snide remarks."
"What about the Ramshackle student?"
"We don't talk about them."
You stand up rolling your eyes, they were making an elephant out of a fly. It wasn't like any of their behaviour was weird in NRC, so why were people so suprised. You had done your very best to uphold your good grades, after all even in this world education was important.
In the hallway you run into Ace, who is holding a bunch of papers grumbling under his breath, the second he sees you he rushes over. "Man! I haven't seen you in a while! Who would have thought that being a second year would make our schedule so tight."
You smile quietly, not wishing to tell him that you had reduced all contact with twisted wonderland to the bare minimum. You never really cared about this place anyway, but not being able to leave had made you extra bitter.
"Yeah, seems like it." You mumble, starting to stare into the distance, you didn't know how much time had passed until you feel Ace brush past you, hitting your shoulder in the process. He was rambling on about being ignored by everyone and how angry he was about it.
He sounds like Riddle...
You think to yourself before contining your way.
The days passed in a daze, sometimes you met some of your friends in the hallway, but you always cut short any contact.
"Uh, have you done your part of the assignment yet?" Sebek asks annoyed, dragging you out of your mind. You shake your head sheepishly. "Sorry, I promise I will work on it right away."
Sebeks shook his head standing up. "Forget it, you won't do it anyway. Your promises don't mean much you know?" And so he left. You just shake your head in annoyance.
"My promises mean a lot, asshole." You mutter under your breath, before making your way back to Ramshackle. Grim looked at you, his eyes filled with worry, but you brush past him only passively mentioning that there was tuna in the fridge, before looking yourself in the bedroom.
Said bedroom was filled with books. Books about portals, magical realms and even forbidden rituals. You wanted to leave this fucking place and there was nothing holding you back from doing so. Not even your "friends".
You look up from the book your holding for a second. Wasn't it wrong to think that? Despite everything they had been there for you when you needed it, right? You smirk slightly, you had proven to yourself that NRC was only bringing out the worst in people, so who ever ended up here was bound to become an ass one day, right?
You snicker before contining to read the book, even trying out some of the spells by improvising with diffrent types of magic you could use, because it was more of a sacrificial nature.
That went on for months.
But the person who had it worst was Grim. He watched his only family fall apart because they started to adapt to their surroundings, but what hurt the most was you dismissing everyone and thing.
So he did what he always did, lay down on the sofa and wish for everything to be a bad dream and that when he woke up, everything was back to normal...
#twisted wonderland#x reader#unistwistedwonderland#ace trappola#sebek zigvolt#twist grim#deuce spade#epel felmier#jack howl#writing#twist oneshot#oneshot#drabble
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
🌸~Kisses and Confessions~🌸
||art by @/partycoffin ||
══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══
╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗
Wally Darling x GN!Reader
╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝
══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══
||Work is also available on my ao3 account ||
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Third person p.o.v
It was a lovely day in the neighborhood. You were sitting outside playing julies complicated hop scotch game while frank stood by reading a hook. Right now you were shockingly winning even though you couldn't understand a lick of the rules she came up with. "Gosh darn it! How am I losing to you so quickly?" Julie complained as she stomped her foot in anger. Frank looked over and scoffed. "Julie if (y/n) is so confused by your rules and yet still manage to win at this game then don't you think maybe you ought to change the rules and make it more playable?" He spoke keeping his eyes peeled to his book. With you hands placed proudly on your hips you let out a victory laugh. "Hahaha! Well, looks I win Julie! You owe me that cake now!" You beamed in joy.
Julie threw her hands up in defeat. "Arg! Alright fine you win!" She cried out loud and playfully slapped your arm. You let out a chuckle and patted her back. "Hey frank how long did it take for us to finish the game?" You asked looking over at the other who was very well invested in his book. "Approximately 1 hour and 35 minutes." You blinked in awe. "Wow it felt way longer then that!" Julie nodded in agreement.
As the 2 of you cleaned up the sidewalk and proceeded to doodle with colored chalk you looked up and saw wally strolling down the sidewalk, hands rested behind his pockets. "Hi wally! Wanna join me and Julie for some chalk art?" You asked as you waved your arm. Wally stopped looking down at your little drawings. He held back a chuckle seeing a doodle of frank looking like an angry monster. "Those look really good. I particularly like this one of frank looking mad." Wally hummed as he pointed at the drawing. "EXCUSE ME?!?" Frank yelled as he scrambled to look at the drawing. "I do not look like that! Julie!" Frank yelled some more. "How did you know I was the one who drew it?!" "Because (y/n) doesn't draw me like that!" Frank and Julie argued as you and wally watched them bicker back and forth.
"So you up for some drawing?" You asked holding up some chalk. "It seems fun but I'm afraid I might have to pass." You cocked your head to the side. "I'm on my way to howdys shop to grab a few things." "Oh! Sorry to keep you waiting then! Go on and head to the shop, oh and tell howdy I need some more glitter glue please? Julie used up all of mine for Sally's last play" you spoke with a pout.
Wally softly chuckled and nodded his head. "I'll be sure to let him know." He hummed getting ready to head off. "I'll see you later then (y/n)." Before you could wave goodbye you watched with wide eyes as wally lifted his hand, pressed it against his lips and sweetly blowing you a kiss with a wink. Your face flushed a bright red and your heart skipped a beat as you watched your neighbor walk away.
Since...when did he know how to blow a kiss? You don't ever recall barnaby ever teaching wally how to blow a kiss. And barnaby usually teaches wally a whole bunch of things. Perhaps you'd have to ask barnaby yourself.
"Me? Teaching wally how to blow kisses? Nope sorry little bud but I never taught him how to do that." Barnaby hummed looking down at uou as you walked beside him. Holding a hotdogs in his hand. "Really? So...you mean he learned how to blow kisses all by himself?" You asked slightly surprised by this fact. "I guess it is kind of shocking isn't it? Little wally learning how to do something without my help this time! My buddys growing up" Barnaby spoke as he faked a sob causing you to chuckle. "Might as well start getting used to it. Once wally learns something new he'll be doing that non-stop for days." You blinked slightly confused. Who would blow kisses every single day?
That sounds absolutely ridiculous!
.
.
.
Oh wow barnaby was actually right. As each day passed wally would continue to blow kisses to every neighbor he ran into. He'd blow a kiss at Eddie as he passed by delivering his mail, He'd blow a kiss to howdy after leaving the store and even blowing a kiss to frank while he was out catching butterflies. But for you, it was completely different. Wally wouldn't just blow kisses in your direction. Whenever he greeted you he would grab your hand a place a soft kiss on your skin. Whenever he'd pull away he would never let go of your hand. He'd firmly grasp it between his fingers. His thumb rubbing in slow circles over the top of your hand in a soothing notion. You didn't mind of course. It was rather nice to be greeted with a kiss on the hand. Especially when it's someone you fancy over.
Day by day you'd gotten very used to the casual greeting of the platonic hand kisses. But today was much more different than it was before.
You were at poppy barn helping her make sugar cookies for julies little tea party and sleepover that was going start in the afternoon. As you were busy mixing the dough poppy plopped down on a chair next to you. Dusting the flour off her apron with her feathers. "Thank you once again for helping me dear." You shook your head with a smile. "Aw it's no problem poppy! I always enjoy baking with you. It's much more fun than staying at home." You hummed as you begun to roll out the dough. "I'm looking forward to what the others will bring to the tea party!" Poppy nodded in agreement. "I believe frank told me he was going to bring lemon custard." Your mouth watered-down you heard the word 'lemon.' Frank had always told you how rich custard was and it seems today you'll finally be able to try it!
"Wow that sounds yummy. I hope this time Julie has actual tea instead of fruit punch. Last time she added too much sugar! I didn't get a wink of sleep that night either!" You huffed while cutting out cookie pieces. Poppy let out a chuckle, flinching when she heard the oven ding. "Oh! The first batch is done!" She got up and grabbed her mits and pulled out the pan of freshly baked cookies. "Now we need to wait for them to cool and then we can decorate them!" Poppy sung, her feathers ruffling in excitement. You smiled as you proceeded to place the next batch of cookies onto another tray. You hummed a sweet tune looking forward to the party and sleepover later tonight.
As the hours pass, and after you helped poppy stack the cookies on a bigger tray, you rushed home to get your sleeping bags and dress in another more casual outfit. Once you made sure you were neatly dressed and had everything you needed you quickly ran back to poppys barn. The two of you happily walked towards julies hose together. Chatting about you've been up to. You even brought up how wally has been greeting you with hand kisses. Poppys eyes widened. "Oh does he now. I know the dear likes to blow everyone kisses these days but I dont believe I've ever seen him be as gentlemanly with anyone else other than you (y/n) hun!" Poppy chirped. You lightly blushed looking at the ground. "Oh I'm sure he's just trying to be more neighborly. I am still pretty new to home after all!" You stumbled over your words.
Poppy squinted her eyes leaning her head down towards your level. "Perhaps it's something more than just wanting to be more neighborly hmm?" The bird teased. You chuckled and shook your head. "Oh stop! I'm fairly sure wallys just trying to be nice" you softly spoke thinking about what poppy had just said.
Could wally possibly...be doing more then just trying to be friendly towards you?
As the two of you reached julies house you noticed you were the last ones to arrive. Uh, you didn't think baking cookies would have kept you that long. After setting down the tray outside in the back on a neatly decorated table you noticed wally talking with howdy and barnaby. Your face wanted up when you made eye contact with your little crush who begun walking your way. Your heart fluttered once wally was a few inches away from you. "U-uh hi wally! Nice to see you at the tea...party....today-" you paused as you noticed wally leaning forward.
He lifted his hand and cupped your cheek. Tilting your head to the side wally softly pressed his lips against your cheek giving you a gentle loving kiss. Your eyes widened and face flushed a bright red. A few seconds passed before wally pulled away holding both of your hands, intertwining your fingers with his. "Hello (y/n), I'm glad you were able to come today." Wally spoke in his casual monotone voice. You couldn't manage to stare at your neighbor in the eyes. "O-oh wally, I couldn't pass up the chance to spend some time with all my friends!" You stuttered feeling wallys soft grip on your hands. You glanced up looking at the others droopy eyes and sweet cat like smile. "Ahahahaha-" you let out a nervous laugh. Wally tilted his head to the side. "Is there something wrong? You look rather nervous." Wally asked leaning closer to your face. You shook your head. "NO, NO, NO of course not! I'm all good!" You exclaimed out loud.
Good going (y/n), way to make yourself look like a fool!
Throughout the duration of the teaparty wally didn't seem like he wanted to leave your side. At the table while the others mingled over sweets and tea, wally scooted his seat close to your seat, your shoulders brushed up against each other. You listened to julies story about how one time her and frank where chasing butterflies and frank ended up rolling down a hill. You chuckled as Eddie held back frank from tackling julie to the ground for bringing up the story while poppy and howdy panicked at the scene.
As soon as night time fell and everyone cleaned up outside the rest of the gang set up their sleeping bags in the living room. Of course some furniture had to be moved around to make enough space for poppy, barnaby and howdy to all fit in. But once everything was set up, Sally rushed to set up a pillow fort for her special puppet shadow show. She's been working on it for days just for this special occasion and she's been very eager to show off her skills!
Crawling underneath the fort and finding a comfortable position to sit in you waited for the show to start. You chatted with howdy about his day. He told you about his massive shipment he received early in the morning that took him hours to stock up on the shelves. You promised him next time you'd be there to help. A moment later Sally crawled underneath the fort, a big flashlight in hand. "Ok guys! I finally found my flashlight! Now, gather around as I tell you the tale of a princess and her knight who saves her from a big scary dragon!" Sally exclaimed waving her arms up in the air as she plopped down in the ground.
Just as you were getting comfy in your spot, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You looked behind you to see wally staring right at you with his usual droopy eyes. "Are you excited for the shadow puppets (y/n)?" He asked pulling you closer resting up against his chest. You were thankful it was ŕatger dim under the fort else wally would gave been able to see you blush like crazy. "U-uh yeah! Sally's been talking about it all week, I've been looking forward to...it..." you slowed your speech when you felt wally lean down rubbing his cheek against yours. "I've been looking forward to it too. I'm glad I get to watch it with you" he softly hummed pressing a kiss against your cheek once more.
You were extremely confused on how wally started to randomly become very touchy with you. You didn't mind it at all! Really, you enjoyed it but you still didn't know if wally saw you as something more then just a neighbor. Which it slightly frustrated you not knowing if he reciprocate his feelings back. Perhaps maybe after the shadow puppets show you'll talk to wally privately to finally ask.
You adjusted yourself in wallys grasp while the others crawled into the fort, while poppy slightly struggled she currled up behind wally. You looked over and patted your lap motioning for poppy to rest her head on your lap, which she gladly did. You hummed softly patting her head as the phppet shadow show began.
In the middle of the little show wally would sneak kisses in between. One kiss on your cheek, one kiss on the crook of your neck, one kiss at the back of your neck etc. You couldn't help but shiver with every kiss given. It distracted you from focusing on Sally's play that you flinched when she let out a loud "ROAR!!" Startling both you and poppy. Well that definitely woke you up. "And after the prince destroyed the dragon, he took his princess by the hand and rode happily into the sunlight. The end!" Sally finished with a bow.
Everyone clapped while julie hooted and hollered. "WHOOPIE! HOORAY!" she yelled furiously clapping. You let out a chuckle. "That was really good sally! I'm impressed you managed to learn shadow puppets so quickly." Sally proudly grinned. "Why thank you (y/n)! I bothered howdy for days as practice!" Howdy nodded his head letting out a chuckle. "I'll admit it gave me something to do during slow days. You've gotten really good the first time you showed me sal." howdy spoke before yawning.
Julie clasped her hands together, Startling frank who glared at her. "Alright I think its time for all of us to hit the hay!" The others nodded in agreement while yawning in synch. You let out a yawn as well and stretched your arms as wally finally let you go from his grip as you each crawled to your sleeping bags. "Julie why must you insist on sleeping next to me?" You heard frank complain as he settled in his blankets with julie snuggling up beside him. "Because frank! I like sleeping next to you!" Julie sleepily sung while rubbing her tired eyes. "But Julie do you not recall the other times we had a sleepover and you kept repeatedly hitting me in the face while you were sleeping?" Frank grumbled while julie let out a weak laugh. "I pinky promise I won't hit you at all! And if I do then next sleepover I'll sleep next to (y/n)" you snapped your head looking over at the two. "Hey- what!? But I don't want to be slapped in the face by Julie! She hits hard!" Frank smirked as he settled in his sleeping bag. "Trust me, I know." He ended with a snicker. You let out a groan laying your head down on your pillow waiting for the others to fall asleep.
A few hours had passed. You opened your eyes and peeked around the room seeing the others sleeping peacefully while frank was being squished to death by Eddie and julie. You smiled before looking over at wally. You reached out about to tap his shoulder when you paused. You began to grow nervous. You never had to talk about your feelings to anyone before other than poppy at times let alone wally. Would it be a good idea to talk to wally? What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he brutally rejected you? The fast racing of your heart got your nervous shooting up. You shot up out of your sleeping bag and quickly, yet quietly, ran out of the living room to the backyard.
You sat on the swing set outside. Lightly swinging back and forth. Shivering at the cool air that hit your skin. "Agh...what am I thinking? He's just being nice is all..." you looked up at the night sky. Staring at the stars that twinkled brightly. "Wally probably thinks I'm weird..."
"I think you're very lovely (y/n)."
You flinched hearing the sound of wallys voice coming from behind you. You jumped off the swing stumbling as you turned around seeing wally standing a few feet behind you. His figure luminated by the moonlight. Drowned in a soft light glow.
'He looks so beautiful...' you thought to yourself.
"OH-UM...wally I thought you were sleeping hehe" you nervously laughed fidgeting with your fingers. "I couldn't really sleep. What's got you up at this time of night neighbor?" He asked walking forward standing much closer infront of you. Your face scrunched up as you looked down at the ground. "Well...I uh-...the same with me. I couldn't really sleep either" you lied while rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Wally tilted his head to the side. You could feel his eyes piercing right through your lie. "Hmmm is that right?" He asked resting his chin in the palm of his hand while his arm rested underneath. You slowly nodded your head, refusing to make any sort of eye contact with your crush. "You seemed rather tired during Sally's shadow puppet play. I saw you yawn many times."
You hitched your breath.
"You seemed to sleep peacefully a few hours ago before you woke up so suddenly. Are you sure it's because you couldn't sleep and its not something else?"
Your face flushed red as the embarrassment grew. He watched you sleep so he most certainly knew that not being able to sleep wasn't an excuse. You looked up finally feeling defeated when you gazed right into his eyes. You let out a sigh and shook your head. "No...it's not because I couldn't sleep." You turned around wrapping your arms around yourself. "What seems to be bothering you friend?" Wally asked. You cringed at the word 'friend'. "Well...I just...wally I-" you struggled to find the right words to say. Wally patiently waited for you to speak. You let out a shakey breath before you finally found the courage to confess.
"Well..you see..these past few days you've been...er...doing certian things that make my heart flutter. At first you only blew kisses, not just to me but to the others as well. Hehe I was rather impressed you learned how to do that without barnaby teaching you. But, later you've been giving just me all kinds of kiss. Fist it was in the hand and then it was on the cheek, my neck and- ARG" you slapped your hands over your face feeling more embarrassed than ever. "Wally... I'm just confused if you...see me as just your neighbor or as- something more. I can never understand what you do or say." You mumbled into your hands.
Wally walked up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and carefully turned you back around facing him. He reached up and slowly removed your hands from your face before cupping your softly. His eyes staring right into yours. "Silly (y/n). You're so sweet and kind," he begun, his thumb softly stroking your cheek. "I love all my friends the same but, you're much more different then they are." His smile widened when he saw your eyes light up. "I only begun to notice it a while after you moved to home. But I very much adore everything about you." Wally could feel your face heat up between his hands. "I don't think there's anything about you I could ever dislike. To me, you're the most wonderful person I've ever met." He finished as he went and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.
A smiled painted its way onto your lips as you reached up and softly grasped his hands with yours. Your heart skipping a beat as you leaned into the kiss. All of your nerves suddenly disappeared. You pulled wally into a hug. His body going limp yet he didn't seem to mind it at all as you squeezed him tightly.
"I love you wally..."
.
.
.
"I love you more (y/n)."
While the two of you were outside having your moment the others had woken up and watched the entire thing go down behind a window. Julie happily stimming from excitement while slapping frank on the back. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT!" Frank let out a grumbled grabbing julies hands and placing them down by her sides. "It was very much obvious that these two had a thing going on. However I think wally may have been a bit TOO obvious." The others nodded in agreement.
As you pulled away from the hug you glanced over and noticed the other peeping from the window. "HEY!" you yelled causing them to scrambled and fall. Poppys feathers flying in the air as she squawked. You shook your head and let out a chuckle. "We sure do have some crazy neighbors don't we?" You asked as the both of you began walking back inside. Wally nodded in agreement. "But I enjoy their company very much." He leans down to give you another sweet kiss on the cheek.
"But I enjoy your company most of all~."
||THE END||
[[OUAGH I hope I did a good job here. I tried to add as much fluff as possible so it ended up being pretty long. My apologies. But with this story finally out of the way ill be able to work on requests in about a week or so! Thank you all for the support! It means alot to me♡]]
#welcomehomearg#welcome home puppet show#wally darling#welcome home wally#wally darling x reader#wally x reader#canon x y/n#canon x self insert#wally darling x self insert#self insert#gender neutral insert#welcome home julie#julie joyful#welcome home frank#frank frankly#welcome home poppy#poppy partridge#welcome home eddie#eddie dear#welcome home howdy#howdy pillar#welcome home sally#sally starlet
833 notes
·
View notes