#and can also rip someone into tiny little pieces
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Nick, engaging in intense eye contact with Monroe: the sluttiest thing a man can do is know how to cook delicious vegetarian meals
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solelifauna · 1 month ago
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Oooh i really like that!!! The batfam who possessive,unhelthy protective toward each other except reader (fortunately or unfortunately 😅) I would like to know more about the other members too. What was the trigger who make them like that toward each other?
(Sorry if the english is bad , i'm belgian )
OHHHH, I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK!!!
Oof, starting out with Bruce Wayne. This man has been through it. He'd already been a little obsessive, considering his response to his parent's death was to dress up as a bat and beat people up. This, plus how he vies for control so much it becomes an obsession. It starts off with Dick, his first son. He didn't really plan to become as attached as he did tbh, he just didn't want the kid dying out on the streets, seeking the same type of retribution he also once sought. Dick was, to say the least, tough to deal with. He didn't want Bruce as a dad, Dick already had a dad and he was dead. But as days and patrols went on, Bruce became B, and on certain nights when Dick wakes up trembling, B becomes dad. And that cements it. Bruce was now a dad.
Then comes Jason. The kid was a riot, having the balls to jack tires off of the Batmobile and having the audacity to hit him with the tire jack too! Bruce knew Jason would be his son then and there, no question. Sure, Jason was a bit scared now, but once he settled in, it felt like everything was in place. He never stopped being a riot, reading and coming up with quick quips like nobody else. Eventually, Jason came to find out about Bruce's night job, and bada-bing-bada-bang, the second robin was ready to take on the streets. Dick wasn't too happy but its fine, turns out Dick ended up loving the kid just as much as him. Which is why Jason's death completely sent Bruce over the edge. His boy, his, killed by that god awful clown. It takes everything in his body to not rip the joker in two.
"It wouldn't be what Jason wanted", he tells himself as he brutalizes another petty thief. He says as he nurses another glass of brandy. He says as he benches Dick and starts another screaming match. But he doesn't care, he can't lose another son.
Then incomes little Tim Drake. He almost gets whiplash when this tiny little boy enters his office, thick folder in hand with a determined look in his eyes. Tim drake says his piece,
"You're killing Gotham."
"You're killing yourself."
"You need a robin."
"I can be Robin."
Those words set him off. Jason. His precious son-dead because of his crusade. the word "no" leaves his mouth stronger than he intends. He doesn't remember much about the exchange after that, but he remembers Alfred escorting a glaring Tim Drake out of his office. The folder remains on his desk, pictures, and documents askew. He opens it once more half-heartedly, his gaze blurring with tears as he looks down. Pictures. Hundreds of them, ones of him and Dick, of Him and Jason, and dick and Jason. He cries silently in his study that night. But it doesn't stop there, Tim Drake is persistent. He tells him to stop, but there's no quelling Tim. He follows him on patrols, stopping him when he gets too violent, and calling ambulances while Bruce tries to dampen the rage in his body.
Eventually, everything blows up one day, he yells at Drake, telling him to get lost or else he'd end up dying out here, dying like Jason. Tim never does stop. Instead, somehow, he now finds himself spending his nights with another little black-haired, blue-eyed boy. This one smaller than the last. He doesn't grow attached this time, he swears he won't. But it's hard not to love the boy. His witty banter, his long rants, and his insane cognitive skills, making even Bruce marvel at him. He's not Jason, he reminds himself, but it doesn't matter. He finds himself loving Tim Drake all on his own. Dick on the other hand had come around to loving Tim faster than Bruce had. Tim was his bird, just like Jason was. Tim had earned his respect. And now three became four.
Then the Redhood appears, a duffle bag full of heads arriving with him. He takes Gotham by storm, crime lords being killed left and right. He's elusive, obious Leauge training instilled in him and something else. Something familiar. Then Batman gets a warning from Hood,
"Keep an eye on your new Robin. It'd be a shame if he ended up like the last one."
And just like that Tim, Robin, is benched, much to Tims's outrage. Hes sent to Titans Tower, far away from from Gotham, far away from Hood. Its too bad that doesn't stop the Hood from finding the little bird anyway. Green is swimming in his vision when he first enters Drake Manor, he knows his replacement isn't here, but he's hoping somebody else will be. In the end, Hood doesn't find the Replacement's parents, when hacking into their flight logs he finds out they've been in Honduras for the past four months. Puzzle pieces click in Hood's head as he gears up towards Titans Tower. There has been a change of plans, well, not completely. Bruce would learn his lesson, but his plans for Tim have drastically changed. He'd scare the bird, nothing more,
"No more dead Robins." He repeates, a new meaning to those words.
(P.S! I know canonically the Drakes were not abusive, maybe a smidge neglectful, but they loved Tim. And Tim loved them. they were good parents. This is all following fanon.)
He doesn't expect Tim to fight back, sure it's a pathetic try considering the amount of sedative gas he'd pumped into the building. He simply cooed as he stroked Timmy's hair, watching as the bird slumped into him. The last word leaving his mouth was a slurred "Ja'sn." And Hood, Jason is pleasantly surprised. What a smart bird. Some events happen in between, but eventually, Jason finds himself back at the manor, back with his family. Bruce and Dick don't let him or Tim out of their sights their first week back.
This is when Jason meets Stephanie for the first time. She isn't adopted, no, but he could see that she's family nonetheless. As much as Bruce reprimands her, he also urgently ushers her over to Alfred for a check-up, thanks to another one of her reckless stunts. She and Tim get along great, whilst she and Dick are a rambunctious bunch, making it their life's goal to give B grey hairs. She's a feral thing, fighting to prove to herself that she isn't her father. Again, she was a Robin too, if only for a few days, still, she was there. Jason ends up cuddled on a couch with her and Tim on either side of him, watching some shitty ass crime movie. He grumbles, but there's no heat behind his complains.
Then comes Cassandra Cain. Within hours of meeting her, it was a unanimous decision to take her in. With her background, her story, and her lack of speech, it would be difficult to send her off elsewhere. And now Bruce has a Daughter, and his boys have a sister. Its not common knowledge, but Bruce has always wanted a daughter, and Cass was a saint. She was sweet yet lethal, she cared about her brothers, often going out with Dick, and learning how to read with Jason, whilst she and Tim bonded over casework. And just like him and her brothers, she wouldn't dare let a hair on any of their heads be hurt. Once she gets more comfortable talking, she doesn't ever stop reminding Jason that she's the older out of the two of them. She and Dick bond over Ballet and Dancing, his gymnastics, and time spent in the circus making it possible for him to keep up/aid Cass with her newfound hobby. Steph and Cass are even more well off together, usually patrolling together, or Steph ends up dragging Cass along to plot her next scheme. Bruce watches in adoration.
Then you arrive. He's completely blind sided when Alfred says he has a call from CPS, saying he has a biological child. You're a small thing when you arrive at the manor, only eleven years old. But right now, he just can't get over the fact that he has a child, one that was of his actual blood, and you've just been dumped on his doorstep. He doesn't know what to do, so he just gives you an awkward pat before retreating into the cave. He cant deal with this right now, he has one too many high-profile cases going on at the same time, and now, everyone couldn't just walk and talk freely around the manor. He sighs into his hands, your timing really was poor, but he knows it isn't your fault. You're just a kid, a kid who lost her mom. But yet, Bruce can't bring himself to talk to you. Alfred keeps reminding him with a disappointed tone, and Bruce promises that he'll get around to talking to you, but he just never does. It doesn't help that he starts seeing you less and less. Unbeknownst to him, you've taken the hint that nobody really wanted you here, so you just stopped caring. And Bruce doesn't care enough to amend your thoughts.
Lastly comes Damian. His blood-son. The son of him and the woman he once loved, Thalia al Ghul. Sure, there was some love lost over the years but he still had feelings for her. How could he not? All those days spent training in Nanda Parbat, how could he not still love her if even just a little bit? And Damian? He's the living, breathing amalgamation of their love. It doesn't help that the boy is adorably feisty, and dangerous, but it's clear that he's still a kid seeking approval from his father and mother. He knew Tim was going to be ecstatic, finally, he wouldn't be the youngest (though he forgets that technically you were the youngest). It's an immediate catfight when Tim and Damian meet, though Tim doesn't take it to heart, he knows how League influence works. He does, however, put Damian in his place subduing him before everyone else comes down to see what happened. Immediately Jason grabs ahold of Damian, remembering him from his time in the league. He holds Damian in a possessive grip as he looks him in the eyes, green swirling in them.
"baby bat, its good to finally have you back."
"Tch, its good to see you too Akhi."
"Still Dami, you're new here, but we also have rules. No harming family. You touch Timmy or anyone else again, ill keep you locked up in my room." Jason says gently.
Damian only nods his head, familiar with his akhi's protective behavior. Tim was his brother then, and everyone else was family.
"I understand Akhi, no harm will come to Drake. I apologize, I did not know he was family."
Tim only flashes Damian a feral smile.
"No harm done Damian, you're not the fist person in the family thats tried to kill me."
Jason grumbles. Whilst Dick laughs. What a fucked up dynamic, am i right?
Of course, nobody really tells Damian you're a part of the family too. All Damian knows is that you're the only biological daughter of Batman, you are not considered family, and he must kill you to inherit his rightful place. What he didn't know, was that you were just a civilian, someone not even worth the effort. Still, the damage is already done. Damian expects some kind of punishment, however, he only gets a light reprimand and is let off the hook.
"He's still learning." They all say.
He ends up cuddled on the family couch in between his father and Drake, whilst Grayson, Todd, and Cass fight over what movie to pick. He doesn't see you anywhere.
'Good.' He thinks to himself.
You were of inferior breeding, weak and fragile. You had no place amongst them or anywhere else. Still, you were his half-sister, meaning he had some obligation to you. Sure, he hated being related to someone so weak, but hey, according to league customs, you were marked by his sword, meaning it was now his job to be your keeper. So, he'd make sure you'd stay at the manor and stayed out of trouble and out of the way.
Anyways, y'all are going to see more of their dynamics with each other and y/n in later chapters. Just wanted to drop this drabble. Thanks for this ask! I really enjoyed writing this.
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jasperxkuromi · 5 months ago
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Dealing with guilt and shame around age regression
I've been dealing with some guilt towards my regression the past couple days. I have been feeling self conscious and embarrassed about my regression and it's been making it harder to relax and let myself get into little space. I took some time this afternoon to brain storm a few things I can do and I wanted to share!!
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🐸 Write it out! I have a "worry" journal. I set a 15 minute timer for myself and just let myself write whatever has been bothering me. After the 15 minutes is over I close the journal and throw it across my room.
🐌 You could also write a letter to someone talking about your feelings. This doesn't mean you have to give them that letter!! Sometimes it is soothing to write to someone who hurt you and then rip it up into tiny little pieces afterwards. Another option is to write a letter to your CG about how much you appreciate them and their support :)
🐸 Positive affirmations! I keep a sticky note on my chore chart of a few affirmations I can say to myself when I am worked up.
🐌 Meditation/Mindfulness. You can do ones that are made for kids if it helps! There are also kids toys that are geared at helping little ones slow down and take some deep breaths. My Furby has a relax mode where he guides me to do some breathing. It is both silly and relaxing enough to distract my brain for a little bit.
🐸 Ask your CG to write you a letter you can read when you are dealing with tough emotions. If you have a fictional CG you can write yourself a note pretending to be them! There are also people out there who will write you letters from your CG. Even if you don't have a CG, you can write a letter to yourself. When you are feeling big, write a letter of all the kind things you wish you could say to little you.
🐌 Age regression can be part of a healthy coping toolbox. You are not doing anything wrong by regressing. It is okay to regress. It is okay to take time for you. It is okay to do something that is just for your own happiness.
🐸 You are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to be messy and noisy and playful. You deserve love and care. You deserve to have your needs met. I'm sorry others in your life let you down and made you feel this way. But it will be okay, and we can heal together, I promi.
🐌 Remember; it is okay to take a break from voluntary regression for any reason. Your stuffies and dollies will understand and they will be there for you when you return. ♥️
Feel free to add your own!
If you are continually dealing with feelings of guilt and shame, don't be afraid to reach out to someone. It can hard to unlearn these sorts of things on your own. You aren't weak for needing extra support.
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munsons-melody · 1 year ago
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angeleyes
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summary: after seeing nancy get pulled into a trance, eddie gets worried the same might happen to you and makes you a tape with your favorite song on a loop, even though you're broken up
pairing: eddie munson x female!henderson!reader
cw: bit of angst but ends with fluff
recommended songs: 'disillusion' and 'angeleyes' by ABBA
word count: 3.3k
a/n: did i start crying while writing this? yes, yes i did. also NOT PROOFREAD! also feedback is always appreciated :)
masterlist
part two of this fic called ‘your song’ can be found here
i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.
-
the two of you were together for almost a year. you were inseparable from the start but as months passed, you each kept getting busier and busier and whenever you were together, it would end in a giant screaming match with one of you crying while the other stormed off with no apologies in store till days later.
even though you knew the two of you were in a rough patch, you never expected the last fight to be your final one. you were at each others throats, a silly bicker turning into a full blown fight. you were both teary-eyed, throats sore from screaming and holding back tears, pacing all around the trailer. neither really knew what the fighting was about, but it didn't stop the screaming match that definitely caused the whole neighborhood to wake up from their peaceful slumbers
you still remember the exact moment you felt your world shatter. you stood in eddie's room, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you diverted your eyes from him to the floor, littered with his clothes and various items. you didn't want him to see you cry as hard as you were.
all you wanted was him to say anything like "i'm sorry" or "come here" and have him wrap you up in those strong arms of his, while he stroked your hair and told you he loved you and the two of you would be alright. but nothing of the sort came. the quietness deafening after the two of you stopped fighting.
"maybe we just aren't good for each other anymore," eddie muttered out, and you looked up at him with bloodshot eyes
"what? no! don't say that, please" you said, inching forward but he moved back to avoid your touch
"i think we should break up y/n" he said. it was like someone knocked all the oxygen out of your body as your heart started pounding
"eddie-" you tried but he shook his head, a couple of tears slipping down his cheeks
"y/n, please, just go" he said with anger hidden in his voice, facing away from you
"fine" you said, your blood boiling. you stormed out of his trailer and walked out into the cold evening air, using your walk home as a way to cool down and soon enough your anger turned into more sadness
once you arrived home, you couldn't help but let the tears flow freely, feeling as if your heart was broken into a million tiny little pieces
"shit are you okay?" dustin asked you as you crumpled onto the couch, not caring that you would most likely have to explain why you were crying.
"no" you muttered out, curling into a ball and putting a pillow over your face. he walked over to you, sitting on the coffee table across from you
"did you break up?" he asked and you nodded, turning your head to smush your face into the pillow, letting your tears soak into the fabric of the pillow
"shit shit you're gonna be okay i promise" dustin said with a panic
.
eddie's trailer was in pure chaos as everyone ripped his room apart, looking for some tape that wasn't a heavy metal song to aid nancy in freeing herself from vecna's trance
"music! we need music!" robin screamed out as you watched as she flung a handful of cassettes onto eddies bed, Eddie swiftly picking one of the iron maiden tapes up and screamed at her "this is music!" 
right as you grabbed another box of tapes you heard steve yell "guys!" and all of you ran to the small living room, littered with debris surrounding the mattress that served as your 'landing pad'
you looked up to see steve holding nancy on the floor and you immediately thought the worst, your heart pounding as it skipped a beat, not prepared to see the potentiality of your best friend dead in steves arms 
"she's okay! we're going to come through!" steve's voice rang out, laced with urgency. everyone nodded as they cleared the area. you watched as the two of your friends individually climbed up the makeshift rope and fall through the gate onto eddie's mattress
you saw everyone, or at least assumed everyone, swarm nancy, asking question after question of "are you alright?" and "what happened"
nancy just stayed quiet, holding her arms to herself blinking away tears, and you broke away from the group to get her some water as she slowly sat down on the couch
you moved through the all too familiar kitchen of the munson trailer, wanting to reminisce about the memories you shared with eddie in this kitchen, but refusing to do so due to the fact you a) didn't want to waste time helping nancy and b) didn't want to relive the memories that would just break your heart even more
once you handed nancy the water, you let her be, not wanting to overwhelm her or pressure her into talking about what just happened. you went back into the kitchen, not wanting to be in any ones way, and stood there with your arms crossed
this time you allowed yourself to let those memories creep back in. the early mornings where you would make pancakes for you and eddie's breakfast, and what would be wayne's dinner when he came home before he would go to sleep. the times you would teach eddie how to cook when you felt like making dinner together. the late nights you spent listening to the radio and would dance under the refrigerator light. the times you two would spend after hours of endless sex where even when you tried to have a break from each other to get some water just to end up fucking on the kitchen floor. 
hell, you even smiled to yourself about the time eddie accidentally bruised his knuckles after enthusiastically waving his hands around while in conversation and smacking them on the cabinet, and you of course had to kiss them better.
you heard some shuffling and mumbling behind you and turned to the hallway just to make eye contact with eddie as you watched him drag dustin down the hall and into his room
you heard the door close and some muffled voices, but you couldn't make out the conversation 
-
eddie shut the door and turned to dustin who stood there, confused as ever as to why he was being dragged down the hall 
"what is y/n's favorite song?" he asked with urgency. dustin looked taken aback.
"excuse me?" dustin questioned, looking at eddie as if he had five heads
"your sister, y/n, what is her favorite song?" he repeated with a stern tone
"shouldn't you know?" dustin snapped with an annoyed look upon his face. even though eddie was one of his best friends and someone he looked up to, this breakup between his sister and him was so new and fresh, he didn't know how to act in this situation
"well it changes with her, like it changes all the time man... for a while it was killer queen by queen and then it changed to dreams by fleetwood mac then it changed to, i think, amoreena by elton john? ugh" he groaned
"eddie, why do you want to know? didn't you two break up like a couple of months ago?" dustin pointed out and eddie shook his head, rubbing his temple 
"it was a little over a month ago but-" eddie started before dustin interrupted him 
"and didn't you break up with her?" he questioned further, crossing his arms 
"well technically but i-" 
"'technically' my ass! you completely broke her heart and now you want to know her favorite song? why do you even care all of a sudden? you didn't seem to care when she would come home crying after seeing you at school all day. you didn't seem to care when she wanted to go to her favorite place in this goddamn town but didn’t cause she was scared she'd run into you there. you didn't seem to care when she spent all of her money to buy you those stupid concert tickets for your birthday..." dustin's voice trailed off from his originally loud tone
eddie looked down, a lump forming in his throat
"i didn't know any of that..." he admitted, moving his head up to look at dustin with glassy eyes 
"what?" dustin said and eddie nodded, sniffling 
"i didn't know she did any of that, especially those tickets" eddie said, his voice cracking which mirrored the cracks forming in his heart
eddie sat down on the bed putting his head in his hands, feeling completely and utterly stupid 
"i am the biggest fucking idiot for breaking up with her. it was just the heat of the moment with that stupid fight- and i can't even remember what it was about! i was just tired of the fighting! and now it's been a month but i haven't even talked to her until all of this shit went down but god i love her so goddamn much and i will be damned if something happens to her- if nancy can get under his trance at random who knows if she's next" eddie ranted, standing up and putting both his hands on dustins shoulders
"please dustin, what is her favorite song?" he pleaded. dustin looked at him with sympathic eyes and sighed 
"angeleyes" he muttered out and eddie stared at him with a confused look written across his face
"i think her favorite song right now is angeleyes by abba... i always hear her listening to it and singing it around the house..." dustin told him and eddie's eyes widened 
he ran to the door to open it but as he did he it revealed you standing there, with your arm and fist up in a knocking position 
"y/n" he breathed out and you looked into his eyes, the knots turning in your stomach reminding you of the heartbreak he succumbed you to and you blinked, looking past him at dustin standing there
"sorry, uh we're heading to max's next door, it's safer over there" you said bluntly before turning around and walking down the hallway, steve wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you headed toward the door 
eddie watched you leave and made a b line into the cabinet that sat adjacent to their kitchen, opening the door and starting to rummage through the boxes
"what are you doing? didn't you hear y/n?" he heard dustin ask as he approached behind him
"i know for a fact that we have that abba song on an album somewhere" he rumaged some more before pulling out a handful of tapes by ABBA
"my mom loved them so we had a lot of their tapes," eddie explained, walking back to his room and grabbing a blank tape 
he looked on the back of each tape till he saw the small words ‘angeleyes’ on the back of the voulez-vous album
he put both in his boombox, playing the song and pressing record so he was able to make a loop of the song 
"eddie we need to regroup with everyone next door" dustin pleaded and eddie shook his head
"we can meet them after we get a good loop of at least 10 minutes" he said before turning back to his dresser 
"we shouldn't risk being here longer than we already have, what if someone hears us or even sees us in here?" he pleaded again and eddie shook his head, being stubborn as a mule 
"fine, we'll be all over there where its safe and you can be over here with the fear of being caught" dustin said with annoyance, starting to leave eddie's room when eddie walked over and stopped him 
"just wait 5 more goddamn minutes" eddie told him with an angry tone 
"jesus christ okay" dustin responded with his voice higher than normal 
eddie heard the end of the song and quickly paused the two tapes, and rewinded before pressing the play and record buttons 
he sat on his bed, listening to the song and the lyrics hit him like a train 
'Sometimes when I'm lonely, I sit and think about him And it hurts to remember all the good times When I thought I could never live without him And I wonder, does it have to be the same Every time? When I see him, will it bring back all the pain? How can I forget that name?'
shit he thought to himself, continuing to listen to the lyrics of the song 
'Look into his angel eyes One look and you're hypnotized He took my heart and now I pay the price Look into his angel eyes You'll think you're in paradise Then one day you'll find out he wears a disguise Don't look too deep into those angel eyes'
once the song ended, he rewinded and played it again, internalizing each word he heard from the song 
he came to his senses that both of you were hurting just as much when it came to this break up and he felt guilt and resentment gnawing away at him
how in the world could i ever get her back? he questioned himself, feeling as lost as ever
he heard the song again a couple more times as it was recorded onto the blank tape, feeling like a piece of his heart was shattering with each note
he finally felt satisfied with the loop he had made, and quickly ejected the tapes from where they sat and slipped it into his walk man and shoved it into dustins bag along with a pair of headphones, and they carefully walked out of eddie's trailer and to max's trailer next door
-
you stood next to robin in the kitchen, the two of you hungrily snacking down a pb&j after finding your appetite now that you knew everyone was safe and was able to take a breather from the traumatizing experience you all shared 
"here's one for you and nance" robin said, handing the plates to steve and he smiled before turning to nancy who was in the living room 
"where's eddie and dustin?" max asked you, making a sandwich herself and you shrugged, gulping down some water 
"i'm not sure, i mean i told them we were coming here and that was almost 20 minutes ago" you said, wiping your face
"should we go check to make sure they're still over there and not getting sucked back into the upside down?" robin asked and you nodded
"yeah i'll go, you two finish eating" you said, putting your plate in the sink and walking out to the front door but you noticed the two of them running across the street from eddie's trailer to max's and you switftly moved from the door as they jumped in 
everyone stopped and stared at them since they were out of breath
"where were you guys?" lucas asked and dustin looked at eddie before looking at you and then back to lucas 
"uh sorry we had to reattach the caution tape to the front door so it didn't look suspicious" dustin said, and everyone seemed to buy the lie, nodding to each other as everyone convened in the living room
-
you sat in the stolen rv in the back, looking out the window at the birds playing in the trees. it was parked on the side of the store where there was room to fit it without taking up spaces in the main lot.
you heard dustin and lucas up front near the steering wheel in some conversation when you felt the seat dip next to you.
you turned your body to see eddie sitting there looking at you. 
"hey" he said softly
"hi" you said back, turning to face back to the window 
you hadn't really talked to him over the past few days, not knowing what to do or say since you hadn't spoken since your breakup
"y/n can i please talk to you?" he asked sweetly, and you looked at him again, seeing his eyes in a fixed stare
you just nodded, turning to face him completely
"the reason i was late coming from my trailer earlier wasn't because dustin was fixing the caution tape" eddie started, reaching for dustins bag which was by his feet. you blinked at him, muttering an "okay?" which came out with a more annoyed tone than you intended 
he pulled out a walkman from the bag, and popped the tape out 
"y/n... i don't know what the hell will happen next but i know for a fact if anything happened to you and we didn't have a way to save you i-" he said, wiping a few tears from his eyes
your brows furrowed as you looked at the tape and back at him, meeting each others gaze
"i made this, uh, it's like a 20 minute loop of angeleyes by abba... dustin said it was your favorite song... after seeing nancy be put in that trance just so vecna could talk to her really freaked me out, and i don't know if he'll somehow use you as a pawn in his game, so this is for you" eddie said, fiddling with the tape before replacing it back in the walkman and handing it to you
"oh eddie..." you said, rubbing your thumb over the piece of technology
eddie's heart fluttered as he heard you say his name
"listen, nothing will happen to me, i promise" you said, grabbing his hand in yours. the fact that he was in the shittiest situation to ever occur and he was still thinking about you just made your love for him grow strong, which in turn only fed into your heartbreak because he wasn't yours to love anymore, and he had made that very clear
"yeah but if anything does, i want to- no i need to tell you... i love you y/n henderson. you were the best thing to happen to me in this godforsaken town and the fact that i messed things up will be something i will always regret. i hate that i told you i wanted to break up. i didn't- i was just so sick and tired of always fighting. i've never had someone like you in my life and i thought you were going to break up with me so i went and pulled the trigger before you could. this past month has been pure agony for me, and dustin went and rubbed salt into the wound when he told me about those tickets you got for my birthday, and jesus- im just, im sorry and i love you" eddie told you, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of your hand 
you cupped his face, leaning in to kiss him, craving his lips on yours. he kissed back before you pulled away to look at him
"eddie, i don't even know what to say" you muttered out and he shook his head 
"you don't need to say anything, i just needed to tell you how i felt just incase" he said and you took in a deep breath 
"i've hated you so much these past few weeks for what you did, but fucking hell i love you more than words can say eds. it was very stupid of you to assume i would break up with you just because we were going through a rough patch but, maybe when all of this is over and you learn not to be an idiot, maybe we could have a picnic by lovers lake, just me and you," you said softly, and eddie smiled 
"yeah?" he asked, his eyes lighting up 
"yeah, maybe i can even tell you about the concert tickets i spent all my money on... it was supposed to be a surprise but i guess dustin ruined that" you joked, and eddie chuckled 
"oh honey you didn't have to spend all your money on me, especially not on tickets," eddie said, brushing his fingers through your hair to push it back on your shoulder 
"but you deserve it, your birthday's coming up and ozzy osbourne was going on tour and i knew you wanted to see him" you shrugged with a small smile 
he kissed you passionately, and you melted into his touch, feeling the warmth of his lips on yours and you didn't realize how badly you needed him till this very moment. it was soon interrupted however as the door to the RV swung open, and you pulled apart, watching everyone clamber in yelling that we needed to go
the engine of the RV roared to life as steve sped off the premises, leading you guys onto the next part of your adventure to killing vecna
fin.
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tomboy014 · 1 year ago
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Dun Dun Dunnn!!! Arkham Security Guard Danny's Epic Backstory! with Dick Grayson
I fell in love with the Arkham Guard AU by @xy-is-i and like most projects I work on, rather than starting where the story starts, I end up going backwards and delve into the backstory.  And I mean waaay into the backstory.
Because while the stories might start when the Bats run into Danny and Jazz working at Arkham Asylum isn’t where they first met.
Long, long ago, through shenanigans unknown, Robin and Phantom became friends, and honestly, they both really needed it. 
Dick Grayson, age 16, has been Robin for a while, but this is so early in the day that there just aren’t many teen heroes or sidekicks yet.  He’s basically pioneering the field of child heroes.
For Danny, 14, Sam and Tucker are great, but there are just some parts of superhero-ing that they just don’t get when you don’t have to hide a secret identity. 
Batman, for his part, does not approve of the friendship.  He’s already not a fan of metas in his city, but when the two of them get together, the chaos twin energy between Dick and Danny multiplies.  Worse, it brings about the pun-pocalypse, and there are only so many puns Bruce can take.  And then there’s the sibling discourse…
After all the stories Danny has told about his family, Dick is desperate to have a little sibling of his own, and the two repeatedly gang up on Batman to adopt another kid.  Their acting may be stilted, but the efforts are constant.
It never works.  Bruce doesn’t have empty nest syndrome yet, and tiny, homicidal Dick was already more than he could handle while he was trying to figure out how to adult, but he also can’t stand that he’s disappointing Dick.  Alfred isn’t helping either; he wants more grandkids.
And there’s no way in HELL that he’s adopting Phantom.
But for Robin and Phantom, they finally have someone they can talk to who gets it.  They can vent about their rogues, get help with homework, bitch about balancing their vigilantism with going to school, talk about whatever TV they’ve been watching, anything and everything.  It’s not uncommon to see them hanging off the Gotham gargoyles or grabbing a bite on top of the Nasty Burger.
There’s an unspoken rule between them that neither pries into the other’s personal life or secret identity, but as they get more comfortable with each other, little things slip out.  Then more.  Numbers are swapped, bits and pieces about their families come out. 
Later on, homes and secret hideouts are visited and they know each other’s first names.  It’s not a problem for Dick to go to the Fenton’s, but technically, Danny isn’t allowed in the Bat Cave or the Manor.  Those visits happen behind Batman’s back, and they were almost caught when they hid in the chandelier before Danny remembered he could turn them invisible. (Alfred encourages the friendship and bakes extra cookies once when he finds out Danny is over.) 
And eventually the relationship grows until they’re comfortable enough to swap full names.  No more secrets.
Dick likes going over to Danny’s place since it’s a chance to feel a lot more normal, even if they have to be very careful and either stay in civilian clothes in the shared areas or stay locked in Danny’s room if they’re in uniform.  Danny also goes out of his way to keep Dick from ever meeting his sister, Jazz (Danny knows he has a type).  It doesn’t stop them from swapping their numbers under the door.  (Jazz will unofficially be Dick’s therapist for years after this)
But being this close, Dick can also see just how stressed Danny is trying to maintain this lifestyle.  Doesn’t help either he has to listen to Danny’s parents go on and on about wanting to rip their own son apart, molecule by molecule.  Sure, Danny has a couple friends to help him, but he doesn’t have the same mentor or support system Dick has.  For a kid his age to be anything other than a sidekick is practically unheard of in this day and age.  Superheroes are still fairly few and far between, but Batman helped start a group called the Justice League a couple years ago with the idea that heroes could help each other.  Maybe there’s something there…
So, Dick starts the Teen Titan.  He had originally intended for Danny to join him as one of the founding members, but are you kidding?  Jump City is on the opposite side of the country!  He has school! and parents! (That’s the point, Danny. We’re trying to get you away from the parents that want to dissect you) He can’t just up and leave home and run halfway across the country!
So, Dick found the other iconic members and still joined the Titans, but Danny will always have an open invitation to join them and a room at the Tower, something Danny does occasionally take advantage of.  Jump City doesn’t spawn as many natural portals as Gotham, but he visits whenever he can and basically haunts the tower the entire month of December to get away from his family.
Still, the distance and growing up are hard on Dick and Danny, and they grow more distant over the years, but they’ll always have each other’s backs in an emergency.  Dick was there when Danny thought he was turning into a monster (it was just ghost puberty).  Danny stole the Spectre Speeder so they could scour the Ghost Zone after Jason died.  And Danny would eventually become godfather to Dick’s daughter, Mar’i. 
But things cooled down between them… at least until a panicked Danny called because his sister just took a job at Arkham…
Next>>
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aclowntiny · 1 year ago
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A Date Like No Other- Basketball Player!Mingyu x Female!Reader (College AU)
Inspired by the famous tumblr post 😄 also I’m quite tempted to do a part 2 for this one if anyone is into that hehe
Word Count: 3600 | College AU, Basketball Player!Mingyu, Humor, Fluff | Warnings: drinking mentioned, one suggestive comment, one minor swear
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He was the guy on campus everyone would have sold organs to go on a date with. The sports guy. The really tall guy. Handsome, plays on the school team, movie love interest guy.
You were the weird girl hardly anyone talked to, and you just liked him because he drew on your notes with you.
History was boring you- you’d already answered the questions and they read the pages out loud at a snail’s pace, sending your eyes diving into the pages lest you want to rip your hair out and coat your long thin institutional table in it. Saving that, you reached into your backpack and pulled out a green ultra fine marker, popping the cap. You reached over and doodled a frog sitting in his funny little amphibian hunch on one of the multitudinous papers strewn about the table before the guy sitting next to you glanced over, a huge smile spreading across his face before he suppressed laughter.
"I've been frogged!" That, of course, had him almost snorting in aborted amusement.
Wait...did that mean? "Oh, sorry, those were your notes, huh?" You asked in response, hand hitting your head lightly. "I got them mixed up, sorry for defacing your property. I can get you a new sheet if you were going to turn that in-"
"Nah," your neighbor, whose name was Mingyu if you remembered from roll call, held up a hand of both restraint and reassurance, "it's fine! I'm going to keep it. I love him. I think he needs a hat, though."
"Oh, I got it." This time, it was a brown marker you grabbed, quickly outlining and filling in a tiny cowboy hat for your creation. "There we go, how's that?"
This time, a full snort. "He looks handsome to me. What's his name?" Mingyu whispered as your professor drew a tad bit closer.
"Uh, Clint Eastwood?" You shrugged, having not exactly thought that far- in fact, not at all, the whole shindig starting at full zero thoughts, head empty.
"Well, I'll take him with me to every class I have," Mingyu replied, glancing fondly at the doodled frog before taking his pencil and drawing a fly between two pieces of bread, "and feed him, too."
At that, you exhaled a quietened laugh, smiling back as wide as he'd done.
"What? Wouldn't that be what a frog eats?"
You had to admit that it would be.
From that day on, you two added one or two things onto Clint Eastwood's page every class session. He had a top hat at the ready for dressing up, a little garden of flowers, a very badly drawn horse to ride, a soccer ball to play with, and a plate of the takeout Mingyu had just really wanted that day. You didn't even know what his major was. Maybe it was just sports. Could one go to school for simply basketball? Who knew? You guys didn't really talk, just drew and whispered and laughed about your froggy little world. Either way, to your simultaneous amusement and annoyance you found yourself really able to see the hype behind the legendary Kim Mingyu. For all the popularity, he was a good guy. And you know what, he was cute. But, like, heart cute. The face cute was just a bonus.
~
"Hey (y/n), do you ever go to any games? I've never seen you at one," Mingyu mused as you strode out of class, backpacks loose over your shoulders.
"Well," you paused, letting your expression be cut by a half-joking, half-serious wince, "no offense, but I'm not a huge sports person? So I haven't gone because I don't have anyone to go with and it hasn't seemed worth the money. Not because of the game, just because of how much they charge for the ticke-”
"Hey, don’t worry, I get it," he laughed, "well, my little sister could use someone to go with, and the ticket would be on me. I save on buying them for myself because, well, you know."
"You're too busy slamming dunks or whatever it is basketball players do," you supplied.
"Depends on your position," Mingyu just chucklef in response, pushing the big silvery-painted fire exit-esque handle of the history building's double doors open.
"Basketball has positions?" You burst out incredulously, squinting both in confusion and at the onslaught of sunlight assaulting your eyes as you emerged past the threshold.
Another laugh. "Come and find out."
~
The game was made more fun by knowing a player- it gave you something to care about as your eyes followed Mingyu's run along the smooth floors, the way he leapt to toss the ball to some guy just as tall or even taller than him. He really played with passion, passion and a clear sense of fun if his remarks on the court were any indication. His sister was pretty cool, too. She looked like a fashion model straight out of Seoul, but she was fun and sassy, not afraid to tease her big brother about the shot he missed when he ran up and greeted you at the sidelines or shoot a questioning look between you two as you told him to do it for Clint Eastwood, whom Mingyu replied was his good luck charm before shuffling back off on sneakers that squeaked against the floor.
Even though you didn't actually hang out with him the whole time, just at celebratory victory ice cream after, you came to history lecture the next session feeling closer to Mingyu, and he must have felt the same as he started talking to you instantly. You rarely initiated conversation, but always welcomed it.
He thanked you for coming to the game as if he hadn’t paid for it, then asked what your major was. You told him and bounced the question back. Turns out it was business, not sports. That history lecture was just GE you both had to get out of the way. The most interesting history lessons to you weren't generic national history or war maps, but all the odd sideline stuff like how some people believed huffing toilets might have helped them during the Black Plague.
"They what?" Mingyu asked, eyes widening and mouth agape as class commenced.
Maybe that was why people didn't really talk to you.
Such reflection was inaccurate, however, as you mindlessly doodled a ridiculous-looking bug-eyed dog on the now-shared note paper and Mingyu chuckled and gave it a collar, smiling when your glance upward met his eyes.
The moment you rose from your seat after lecture, notebook shoved back into your backpack and pencil case into one of the side water bottle holsters or whatever they were called, Mingyu started talking to you again, this time about how glad he was that he didn't join a fraternity like his teammate Johnny.
"Yeah, because see, this one guy just got so drunk he didn’t know where his car was and his girlfriend lost her nose ring, then another guy was sick and they threw him outside and he woke up in the cold locked out of the house, and the houses stink, too, like they smell so bad…”
"Yeah," you muttered, taking each of your bag straps in your hands this walk, palms sliding over the rough fabric, "dude, you couldn't pay me to live in one of those."
“…they’re practically taking after those Black Plague people!” He joked, bringing a smile to both your faces as he mimed taking a sniff, waving his hands in front of his nose and bursting into laughter.
“Except they should know better,” you added, shaking your head in amusement, “they need to get smart like you and I.”
He didn’t laugh, just nodded in approval. "Right? And everyone there has already hooked up with each other. I'm so tired of all that, too. That's not the kind of date I've been looking for, you know?”
In a sense, you did not know, being that none of your classmates had even hardly made conversation let alone a risqué pass, but you got it. Being as popular as Mingyu was, you’d seen how fellow students threw themselves at him sometimes. Had to get uncomfortable, especially if his facial expression at a few of them said anything. They weren’t usually very original, either, poor guy. He was just a clear end goal, and someone who loved his sister and his little drawings and celebrated with ice cream as often as cocktails and laughed at toilets didn’t deserve that. Mingyu wasn’t an ideal, he was a real person. Someone who just needed to have some damn fun for once.
“Sure. You need some- no, you deserve some- creativity. If it was up to me, I’d take you on a date like no other,” you joked, chuckling as your gaze rose back up to his eyes.
“You would?” At the sight of Mingyu’s eyes widening, you wondered if your phrasing had inadvertently crossed a line. Sure, you were totally willing, but- “Alright, just name a time.”
“Wait, really?” This time it was your turn to gape, one hand dropping off your backpack strap to fall to your side. Your heart picked up its pace. Never in a googolplex of years would you have thought Mr. It Boy K. Basketball would want a date with you. Being his friend was surprising enough.
“Yeah, of course. I think it’d be fun,” Mingyu beamed at you, “and I trust you. My sister likes you, too. If…if you really meant it, that is.” He added that last bit as his own gaze dropped and one hand reached up to rub the back of his neck.
Giggling shyly at his sudden sheepishness as well as the situation’s sheer absurdity, you tilted your head his way, smile melting back out of the shock. “Well, thanks, that actually…really means a lot. Get ready for an epic time, then!”
He cocked a brow, turning down between a row of potted trees toward the food court. “Have something in mind already?”
Actually, you did have something you always wanted to do if you could get someone else- it would look too weird to be the only one. Why not do it with Mingyu?
“Be afraid,” you nodded, smirking in satisfaction.
“Well then, how should I dress?”
“Just casual is fine,” you shrugged and teased, “we can’t all afford black tie, Mr. Business Major.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckled, still giving that wide smile you’d come to anticipate seeing, “Friday night?”
“Friday night,” you repeated.
~
“Get ready for Friday Night Showdown!”
“Um, (y/n), this is the grocery store.”
Your lips turned upward proudly as you rotated from a fist pump into a Vanna White pose before the mart. “I know.”
“Are we…” Mingyu paused, clearly searching for words. “Fighting in here or something?”
“We are not,” you replied cryptically, looking all the more satisfied as you passed between the automatic doors, Mingyu at your side.
“Am I doing your shopping?” He looked at you with still-raised eyebrows, though amusement colored his expression.
“That would be messed up!” You denied, shaking your head. “Though admittedly funny.”
“Don’t get any ideas for date two!”
Your heart flipped at Mingyu’s easy smile, how casually he said that…the way he flushed and looked away the moment the words left his mouth. He was already thinking of your next date? Hope he likes seafood, you internally joked.
“Yeah, no shopping tonight unless you wanted some snacks. Because tonight,” you skipped over all the central aisles of kitchen supplies, soap, and dry goods, making a beeline for the meat section… well, more specifically the fish counter, “is all about the face-off.”
In a split second you caught Mingyu’s eyes dart down once more past rows of cans, bottles, jars of just about every color you could ask for, dancing over their numerical markers as if to say farewell to actual shopping. Then, his gaze was back on you, your gestures, over your shoulder to the tank at the end of the fish counter. The tank full of lobsters with big claws and small patience. His eyes met yours again. He knew. You could see it.
You nodded. “Oh yeah. Pick your champion.”
He twisted his cap around backwards, revealing his face, those big, innocent brown eyes, once more. “Uh, quick question: how do you suggest I keep mine straight from the others?”
He was asking in earnest. That was another thing you liked about Mingyu: not only did he possess childlike wonder beyond what somebody in his age and station in life probably should, he was also a bad liar in the purest, kindest of senses. He really, truly, had never had a grocery store lobster beatdown date, and he couldn’t fake interest if he tried. So now he wanted tips, advice you could give him as if you had already had loads of grocery store lobster beatdown dates. All you could do was smile back at the tall basketball player and every small kindness he’d shown you thus far. The way he’d simply seen you.
“Good question. Don’t they have different colored wristbands?”
He arched a brow, clearly fighting a snicker. “Different what?”
Pantomiming a band with one hand grabbing the other, you stuttered. “You know, the… the claw restraints! The wristbands!”
“I don’t think they have wrists, (y/n),” Mingyu teased, reaching over and ruffling your hair.
Well, of course you realize this means war. “Alright, you are on,” was all you said, eyes narrowing.
He perked up at that. “What’s the bet?”
“Winner gets to pick the next activity,” you reply, sauntering a few steps closer to the lobster tank and pointing to one with a purple band over its claws that was clearly ready to throw- well, for lack of better terminology- hands, “and I choose this one.”
“Well, in that case,” Mingyu returned to your side, arm pressed against yours as he peered into the tank, “the logical choice would be to pick the one in red in front of yours. May the best crustacean win.”
And at that, his competitive stare melted back into that boyish look as he turned to you. “…did that sound cool?”
It almost came out as a snort, you burst out laughing so violently. “That was legendary,” was all you could wheeze out.
~
“Ha ha! I can’t believe it!” Mingyu grinned and bobbed up from his bent tank stare like an excited puppy, pumping the fist that wasn’t holding the mart beer can he’d bought as his lobster shoved yours away in victory.
The pair of crustaceans had been locked in claw-to-claw combat, tussling very slowly over nothing in particular but their proximal frustrations, and Mingyu’s had apparently vented harder, shoving yours back after some aggressive minutes. Mingyu had gotten into the fight, nudging you when something extra exciting happened and even providing commentary on sideline fights between sips.
First drawing a fly sandwich, then that. Truly, who'd've thunk?
“Neither can I," you mock-pouted, crossing your arms, "purple always wins."
"Says who?" Asked Mingyu, who leaned down closer to you, face mere inches from yours.
"Says me," you shrugged, feeling warmth spread across your face.
"Well, you know what?"
You could feel warmth of his breath ghosting faintly over your cheeks, your lips. "Wh- what?"
"As much as I enjoy a good bar," he leaned back a bit, clapping, "I did need something else. Something new. This was fun! Wanna go play basketball in the park? I bet we'll have the court to ourselves!"
There it was again. The reason everyone liked him. Movie love interest vibes, even beneath the oddly-tinted fluorescent lights of commerce. A smile like a boy on the body of a man. Probably not something they usually imagined to see over a lobster tank. Over hoops in the park, though? That tracked, even if it was a bit of a one-eighty from his breath fanning your face.
Beside any of that, he had won the right to choose.
"Sure," you smile, "let's keep your winning streak up."
And with a hand clasped around yours, that athletic strength was tugging you out the grocery store door to a rush of evening wind and the sound of mutual laughter.
~
Basketball really was that man’s passion. Just about the only thing about it you knew about the sport was what a slam dunk was, but what different shots scored different points? You wanted to throw a three-pointer, but what was a three-pointer?
You learned what it was, what an assist was, that elbowing was illegal or something like that because every game had a reason to send the players to sports jail like grown-up cops and robbers.
You got the ball in the basket twice with no help, and that was achievement enough. Mingyu had ran across the court to high-five you both times as if you’d just won him a game. When you messed up the angle of another throw, he got behind you and, trying your best to focus with his chest flush against your back, you tried again and sent the ball sailing without the betrayal of the previous throw’s dramatic arc.
“So can we give Clint Eastwood a basketball now too?” Mingyu asked out of the blue, dropping to the concrete at your side, legs crossing and knees brushing.
“What,” you chuckled, “do you have him with you or something?”
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled a small white square out and unfolded it to reveal the piece of lined notebook paper with margins full of marker and pencil scratch, most notably your hatted frog friend. He kept those notes in his pocket?
With the one not holding Clint, he ran a hand through his short black hair. “I do like to have him with me,” he answered with a tentative smile.
You twisted slightly, feeling your spine pop from its prior exertion, and remembered his words from the basketball game as he’d visited your seat, making you laugh with a failed attempt at spinning the ball on his finger. “As a good luck charm?”
He shook his head. “I think we’ve added something almost every time we’ve been together. He’s like a log of all the memories we share.” With that, he scooched closer to your side, his jacket falling over the folds of your own clothes slightly. “And I like our memories, Frog Girl.”
What could you say to that? “Frog Girl?” You just giggled, eyes on his.
“That’s right,” Mingyu nodded, “I can’t believe I would never have talked to you if you hadn’t drawn a frog.”
“Ah, college,” you sighed, tilting your head, “the golden years, and yet it’s so easy to ignore everyone else.”
“Well, no longer,” Mingyu shot back, gaze honing in on…well, you weren’t sure, but you liked it, “I figured out what I want to do with my victory wish.”
You smiled at the phrase ‘victory wish’, a term that was just so him. “I thought that was this.” For emphasis, you waved a hand along the court, feeling the night breeze that much more on the skin of your palm.
“Nope,” he shook his head, smirking as his eyes fell back on yours, “I didn’t say I was using it then, I just asked if you wanted to come out here and you said yes."
Well, coat you in flour and call you a biscuit. "You evil genius, you." At that, you gave a grin and a shake of your own head, unable to resist feeling a bit impressed. Man plays games, he picks up some strategy. You'd have to remember that.
"I prefer to think of myself as a nice genius," Mingyu said, and then, switching tones completely, doing another one-eighty to one sweet enough to make your heart swell, he continued, "and about my wish: can I kiss you? I can't think of a better way to end Friday Night Showdown."
Deathly afraid of saying something stupid, you answered by shifting from your crossed legs, folding them to the side as you sat up, knee resting slightly on the edge of his leg as you pressed your lips to his. The slick of his sports jacket between your fingers felt cool as you gripped it to hold both yourself and Mingyu in place as he surged forward into you. For his speed, his eagerness, his kiss was surprisingly soft, not digging too deep but just firmly holding you, treasuring you as if the feeling of your lips was about to fade. Oh, buddy, I'm not going anywhere, you murmured in your head against the feeling of his ever-so-slightly chapped lips.
And as he pulled away, separation painfully slow, deliberate, Mingyu looked you dead in the eyes, blinked at the sudden return of hazy park streetlight, and said “Wow.”
You nodded. “Wow.” Can’t believe how well those lobsters worked, you wanted to say. "You're full of surprises, Mr. Basketball."
“Mr. Basketball,” he mused, gaze briefly drifting from yours, then back. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be that into me, being so funny and smart and artistic and stuff, but I just couldn’t help myself. And boy am I glad for that,” he grinned.
For that, all you could do was kiss him again.
No more hoops were shot that night, only words tossed out with new glee as you, now wrapped in Mingyu’s jacket, pointed out lesser-known constellations, like the Dutch giraffe one or the Poop Deck. After all, you had a reputation to keep up on that date, and everyone had already seen the Big Dipper.
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midnightbears · 8 months ago
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✿ tell 'em how the crowds went wild! tell 'em how i hope they shine!
⎯ in which you look back on how grateful you are for the opportunity bestowed upon you. aka: you joined the opla's cast!
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#STARRING. iñaki godoy, mackenyu, jacob romero, taz skylar, emily rudd ft. fem!reader [elle fanning 4 faceclaim but u can imagine y/n anyway u wish!].
#TAGS. sfw, kind of context, a bit of smau but its tiny. mentions of covid just in case it's triggering?
#NOTE. pardon my rusty writing but i really wanted to get this out!!! i added an oc from one piece for the sake of the story but she's barely mentioned so uuuh yuh! timeline may be wrong but i work with what i'm given please bear with me. let me know if you would like more fics of this y/n??? ALSO IGNORE THE WATERMARKS ON THE PHOTOS I NEEDED TO MAKE THEM NEATER
© midnightbears on tumblr, apr 2024. please do not repost to another platform, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.
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In the past, if someone were to come up to you and tell you that you’d be a part of the One Piece Live Action main cast in the future, you would’ve probably laughed in their faces despite your wishful thinking.
At that time, you were content with your work, doing short theatre plays with companies or gaining minor roles in musicals. Everything changed when you landed the role for the one-woman show Fleabag for a limited time on London’s West End after the leading actress underwent emergency surgery for an appendectomy. You only acted as the sex-obsessed mess of a woman for about three weeks, but it was enough time for people to notice you, to really see you.
You believed your career had reached its pinnacle when you were cast as Katherine Howard in Six: The Musical in London. Your name had become somehow well-known in the musical theatre world, and you had a small but dedicated fan base who liked uploading edits of you being a dork during the Megasix on YouTube and TikTok. 
Months later, you were bound to play as Fantine for Les Miserables when COVID abruptly struck, and you were dismayed that your job was ripped from you so abruptly. Your best friend, the sweetest person on earth, insisted on you moving in with her in fear that you’d be evicted from your apartment.
Months passed, and you eventually found a small way to help your friend pay rent by offering singing and acting lessons online to musical-aspiring teenagers. Since you had gained many followers from your earlier work on social media, it didn’t surprise you when the classes became sold out.
Your friend also convinced you to create a YouTube channel for you to upload videos of yourself (sometimes joined by her) where you watched and commented shitty movies, followed DIY tutorials just for the fun of it, performed covers of your favorite songs, and just generally vlogged your life (along with reactions to Taylor Swift’s (From The Vault) songs).
At first, you thought it was pretty stupid, but you were delightfully proved wrong when your videos harbored over 200k-300k views on a bad day, so you found no reason to stop as COVID-19 continued, growing to gain a little over five hundred thousand followers. Your reactions were often used for TikTok audios or clips, so you found your popularity growing and evolving during that year.
You believed yourself to be a general, simple woman. People liked you because you were elegant and levelheaded, although you could sometimes be chaotic. You also had a subtle sense of humor that many found charming. But mostly, you grew a steady fan base because your videos and presence comforted countless young adults and teenagers.
You were an optimist and a reassuring one, so during the times when COVID was so prominent, people sought refuge from the monstrosities of the world in your videos, where you seemed to connect with them even though you were on the other side of the screen.
However, everything changed somewhere in 2020-2021. That evening, your best friend got home from work with excitement practically oozing out of her every pore. You and your best friend were avid anime watchers and manga readers, so you couldn’t help the face you made when she told you that One Piece was getting a live-action.
Although you were skeptical, your friend practically insisted you send an audition tape. You grimaced at that. It was well-known that live anime actions were almost always corny and cringeworthy compared to the original work, and people never liked them. You had learned that much from Death Note and a couple of others. However, your best friend convinced you with this argument:
“If it’s that bad, then at least you’ll gain more followers out of the memes that people will make, and if it’s good, you’ll still get famous anyway!”
Eventually, you sent a video of you performing one of the lengthy monologues from Fleabag to your agency and simply hoped for the best. Your friend was practically rooting for you to get the role of Anastasia, one of the first integrants of the Straw Hat crew, joining before Sanji and after Usopp. You adored her as she greatly reminded you of your late mother, although you would be happy with any role.
Somewhere in November 2021, you remember a lot of screaming and crying. When you try to look back on it, all you remember is the happiness you felt when you received confirmation of the role of Anastasia. You were practically over the moon, and you and your friend celebrated inside your small apartment. You were entirely alone, just two drunk girls dancing and cheering, until one of the neighbors knocked on the ceiling with a broom.
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liked by inakigo, emilyrudd and 574,949 others
yourusername actually lost for words and filled to the brim with gratitude...... i cannot express how excited i am to play my girl anastasia and bring her to life. from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has supported me. your faith in me means everything. congrats to iñaki, emily, jacob, mackenyu and taz, thank you to onepiecenetflix, thank you to my best friend for convincing me to audition for the role, and thank you, oda sensei, for putting anastasia's heart in my hands. love u all <3
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November 10, 2021
y/nsfanclub.02, AAAAAAAA SO EXCITED FOR THIS I ACTUALLY CANT BELIEVE IT
⤷ starl6ighwnb, LIKE FR IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE THIS IS INSANE
user8392y3r927y, HELLO YOUR GRACE ANASTASIA
inakigo, Congrats!!!!!!!!
taz_skylar, 🔥🔥🔥
The One Piece fan base dearly loved the character of Anastasia, a well-mannered, bubbly, upbeat, fashion-loving duchess who always spoke in a Transatlantic accent but also had a quick wit and a bit of a sweet tooth. Anastasia’s dream was to become the most dangerous pirate to ever grace the seas and prove everyone who doubted her wrong.
Of course, with a big character came a big responsibility.
Sometimes, insecurity nearly got the better of you. You had to fill huge shoes, and there were many people to convince and impress. However, your love for this project was bigger than the gnawing uncertainty on the back of your neck, so you continued strongly until the end of Season One, finding comfort in your cast mates and the countless people who counted on you and, most importantly, believed in you.
Oda handpicked you, and that argument alone was enough to shoot any insecurities away.
Well, needless to say, people loved you!
Critics acclaimed your portrayal of the character, as well as the commendable chemistry you shared with the rest of the cast. The fans found it incredibly funny that your character was the complete opposite of how you actually acted in real life, and you often found yourself blissfully immersed in the fan base's love and praise.
Your channel and social media suddenly grew tenfold. Although you had stopped uploading videos every week due to the recording of season one, your followers were more than happy to wait for your return, and as one would expect, they were thrilled to have you back once you did upload a vlog explaining everything.
Over the course of the six months, you had been recording from time to time for a YouTube video in the set. Previously, you had asked the producers for permission to record some behind-the-scenes for your channel and your usual interactions with the rest of the cast with your personal Sony camera, as you felt it would be a nice way to bring the fans and the cast closer.
The producers gave the okay on the condition that you would wait until the first season aired on Netflix. You happily agreed and carefully began recording some scenes of your dressers and hairdressers as they prepared you, a few shots of your instructor showing you how you were supposed to use the guns that Anastasia employed... simple things.
Back in the day, you were still getting acquainted with the other cast members, and you didn't want to seem rude by forcibly making them appear on your videos, so you waited for a few weeks until you could properly call yourself companions. Then, you invited them to appear in the videos.
Iñaki, Taz, and Jacob liked to take advantage of the little free time they had between scenes they didn't appear in to innocently steal your camera and use it to their heart's content. One day, you got home only to find the memory card was completely full. It was an extensive video of them walking around the set, with Taz recording while Kiki and Jacob pointed out random stuff to the people who lived inside your camera, as Jacob liked to call them.
Mackenyu, being more reserved and introverted, mostly liked to act as a cameraman for you as you showed the props you used and other things, often making comments or turning the camera around whenever you referred to something.
Meanwhile, Emily had a natural knack for being in front of the camera. Whenever you asked her to join in, she effortlessly slipped into the co-host role, bantering with you and adding her own insights into the behind-the-scenes world of the show.
With the first season out of the way, you took the time to carefully pick what videos you wanted to use in the final tape, and it took you a little over a month and a half to properly edit it and turn it into a wonderful thirty-minute-long behind-the-scenes. You even sent it to the producers and your co-stars in case there was a scene they wanted deleted. Fortunately, they all gave you the okay.
You teased the video a bit on your Instagram before uploading it a few days later, and the support it received was out of this world. It gained over two million views and hundreds of thousands of likes.
You were kind of expecting this. While some BTS had already been uploaded on YouTube, yours was different because you were showing it from your perspective. The fans loved every second of it, and even started asking for a second or third part. You even saw new videos on YouTube of recompilations from your video with the titles being silly things like The One Piece Cast Being Chaotic for Seven Minutes.
At that moment, your life felt so full. You were getting contacted by industries who wanted you to appear on their videos and their stages, thousands of fans who loved you, and a feeling so peculiar that this would be eternal.
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liked by taz_skylar, morganlogoff and 1,523,199 others
yourusername missing my wig and my gang hours ☹️
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November 10, 2023
morganlogoff, love love love you💗💗💗
curlikaqy, NO ONE KNOWS I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN
emilyrudd, GIRL I WANT TO SEE YOU COME BACK TO AMERICA
bookofjacob, missing your camera hours💔
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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago
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I AM RUSHING TO GET THIS IN!!!
Friends to lovers maybe with a disabled reader?? Maybe she's someone he knew from back home who he runs into at a diner she's working at now. Maybe she feels like he abandoned her and her life fell apart when he moved away?
ANyway love you lots!!!
warning: there’s a lot of parentheses (it’s a choice) and a lot of swearing (I do what I want)
reader’s dialogue/feelings are based off my own experiences so if u read this and are like ??? don’t worry about it. i’m just projecting. the chronic illness is unspecified.
LOVE U BABE
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you’ll probably date her
It’s hard enough growing up in a council estate in a shit part of Manchester (although you’d staunchly defend there’s no such thing as a shit part of Manchester) but it’s harder with fucking chronic illness. It manifests is clumsiness (joint pain), fidgeting (widespread pain), and bruising (skin problems).
Not to mention the fucking tiredness.
School is complete shit all the time, and life is complete shit all the time too. 
Okay fine, not all the time, but a lot of the time.
There are bright spots in between flare ups, bright spots that consist of learning how to bake with Simon (Jamie’s stepdad) and petting Roy (Jamie’s cat) and watching horribly cheesy movies with Georgie (Jamie’s mum).
Oh, and Jamie. 
You’ve known Jamie since birth, probably, when your mum brought you home and Jamie sat down on the saggy couch, aged two, and asked, “When does it open its eyes?”
He took it upon himself to look after you, magnanimous in a way he would not have been if you were actually related to him (thank god). When he starts to get tired of you, he can go back home to his own room and his own mum and hug her tight without having to share her with anyone else.
When you’re three and he’s five, you get a diagnosis. Jamie says, “That’s shit,” when your mum tells him you can’t play, and you’re told that you echo him with your first swear. 
“That’s shit,” comes your tiny voice from the sofa, face down and covered in bags of frozen peas.
Your mum is too surprised by the first words you’ve said all day, that she a) doesn’t scold you and b) doesn’t catch Jamie as he slips by her into the house. He sits on the floor and starts to tell you about primary school and helps your mum when it’s time to put the peas back in the slightly-broken freezer.
It goes like that for years. 
When you’re feeling well, you kick a football around with Jamie. When you’re feeling poorly, he climbs the steps to your room and tells you things, anything at all to distract you from the pain ripping through your body.
It’s nice. It makes you feel, like, someone cares, almost? Or someone understands? Or maybe the world isn’t carrying on without you, that a piece of it does stop when you do, and maybe you aren’t entirely alone.
You first realize you like Jamie (like-like) when you’re twelve and it feels like ice-cold water has been poured on your head, but not exactly in an unwelcoming way.
A shock, sure, but a soothing one.
You don’t tell him, but you think he probably knows. He’s not an idiot, he’s had girls swooning all over him since he was eight. 
(And your mum knows, and she and Georgie talk, and Georgie tells Jamie to be extra nice to you and maybe a little bit careful not to be mean about it.)
He carefully slips on your small bed when you’re fifteen and he’s sixteen (almost seventeen, but it’s the one time of the year when you’re only a year apart) and balances on his side so he can look at you.
“You’ll be alright?” he asks, and you don’t have to ask what he’s talking about.
He’s going to play for Manchester (City, not United, and not the Premier League Team), and it’s all you’ve been able to think about.
You don’t say anything, so he gingerly pats your head. It messes up your hair, but it also feels like tiny electric sparks are shooting through your body (not the pain kind).
He lays there for a long time, whispering about secondary school and football and making enough money to buy houses for everyone he’s ever loved, you included.
(He promises he’ll call all the time.)
He does call, until he doesn’t.
Some days are good, some days are bad, and now the bad days feel like they’re your fault.
“You’re overdoing it,” your boss says, “You need to slow down or you’ll be out sick tomorrow.”
You bite back the words I’m doing my fucking best, and just nod. Fuck him, and fuck this. You can work just the same as everyone else, pain be damned. There are fucking bills to pay and yeah, this shit hurts, but what the fuck are you supposed to do. Benefits aren’t enough at the moment, and it’s been a solid two years since you’ve given up on waiting for a knight in shining armor (even if that knight is in the Premier League now, just like he always swore he’d be).
Your boss is fucking right the fucker, but you push through on Friday (it’s fucking shit) and crash on Saturday (it’s even more fucking shit).
Your mum places bags of frozen fruit on your joints, rearranging the pillows on the floor. You’ve long since outgrown the couch, instead needing more space. Your dad moved the coffee table, saying, “It’s on its last legs anyway,” and the space you called a living room now became a treatment room of sorts.
Georgie and Simon come over all the time for family dinner (potluck-style) and they are comfortable enough step over you or sit down on the floor to talk.
It sounds worse than it is, but when they’re in the flat it feels better, all warm and glowy, like things are right.
Nights are the worst, with the moving around trying to get comfortable, so you’re awake bright and early on Sunday morning. Early enough to sit on a bench in front of the estates, bundled up in your duvet and puffing cold air out into the sky.
You hear footsteps splashing down the tunnel, someone on their way home after a long night. Or maybe it’s one of the many kids who like to sneak out to play footie in hopes that they’ll be the next Jamie Tartt.
He’s not that great, you want to tell them, except you don’t even believe it yourself. He is that great, he’ll always be that great, and you should have fucking known that he was going to fuck off and fuck a gorgeous, carefree model and not you. 
(Not that you want to fuck him. Well, you do, but you also want to, like, hold his hand.)
It was always going to end up this way, you should have known not to actually have real feelings for him, you should have left it at a childhood crush and not let yourself believe something could actually happen.
The footsteps pass you by, and it’s a man in a baseball hat and an awful silk-print tracksuit carrying a Gucci travel bag.
He’s out of place here, and you wonder if he’s lost. But no, he strides up to Georgie and Simon’s door like he owns the place, pulls out a key, and walks right in. It’s only after the door swings shut behind him that you realize it’s Jamie.
“Oh shit,” you whisper, clouds accompanying the words.
(You won’t admit it, but the surprise has rebooted your system a little bit, aching limbs forgotten for a moment.)
“This is shit,” you say as you lean on your fucking cane of all things. “It’s one thing if it’s Simon and Georgie, it’s another fucking thing if it’s Jamie fucking Tartt.”
“That’s a lot of fucking fucks,” your father says sagely, ignoring the glare you send his way and saying ow as your mum swats the back of his head.
“It’s only two fucks and one shit,” you tell him. “And I’m not going.”
“Then I’ll tell them to come over here,” your mum says placidly. 
Absolutely not. Also-fucking-lutely not.
“I am going to my room,” you say with dignity, turning to go back up the stairs.
Your dad waves, the prick. “Have fun,” he says helpfully. You flip him off without looking, and you know for a fact he’s doing it back. You know he’ll be up in an hour with a plate of dinner and sneak you early desert.
There is no fucking way you’re seeing Jamie after two years like this.
The cane is a relatively new development and sure, it’s helpful with walking sometimes, but a cane? The fuck were the doctors thinking when they suggested this? You’re barely twenty, not a damn convalescent. 
By the time you make it to your room, the doorbell’s ringing and voices are filling the flat. You reach for your bottle of pills and carefully tap the right amount into your hand (even though you know there is no drug on earth to calm down your traitor heart).
You lay down flat on your back with no immediate plans to move. You find your playlist and slip an earbud in, letting the music take you somewhere else. Somewhere where you don’t hurt for no reason, where you can focus like you’re supposed to, where you aren’t so damn tired all the time.
There’s a tap on your door.
“Come in,” you call to your dad, except the door opens and it’s Jamie, no longer in his stupid outfit from earlier, but in a nice jumper that you think might be Simon’s.
He smiles like he didn’t abandon you and sits down on the floor. You hand him the other earbud (it’s better than talking) and let Stevie Nicks croon in your ear.
“How’ve you been?” he asks (the prick) and you have half a mind to ignore him. 
“It’s been two years,” you remind him. “Try again.”
Jamie looks stricken. “Right, yeah, I know, it’s just- I’ve been busy.”
“Yup,” you reply. “Me too.”
(The cane is leaning on the wall by the door, and you need Jamie to not notice it.)
Jamie points to the cane. “That’s new.”
“Yep,” you say because it’s not the same as yup. It has a different vowel. It’s a different word, you’re having a civil conversation, your brain is making sentences just fine.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds like he means it, which is worse. “I went through some shit, you know? It don’t excuse it, but… got a new gaffer, Keeley dumped me, then I got sent back to City right when I were getting better. It’s been shit. I’ve been shit,” he corrects.
Your arm’s falling asleep so you shift, trying to stifle a groan.
Jamie’s up in a moment, all concern. “You alright?”
“Clearly,” you gasp out as savagely as possible. “Fuck off, alright? I don’t need your pity, not now, so go find some other charity case.”
Fucking flare-ups. Fucking Jamie. Fucking chronic illness and its fucking lack of a cure.
Jamie looks like he’s been slapped. To be fair, you would if you could get in the right position.
“You’re not charity,” he says, and unfortunately (and again) he sounds like he fucking means it.
“Okay,” you say. “That’s fucking mint. Thanks for staying such a good friend all these years, it’s been real fucking fun. I’ve got to lie here in discomfort, so I imagine you’ll be leaving now. Goodbye.”
Jamie stares at you a moment, then leaves.
It’s a good day. It’s a good day and it’s raining and you don’t even care because it’s a good day. Nothing can ruin it (this isn’t a premonition) not even stupid Jamie showing up out of nowhere.
(It’s a little bit of a premonition.)
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says when he turns up in his mum’s kitchen, an hour before he’s supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be long gone by now, but you and Simon have cheese pinwheels in the oven that aren’t done for another twenty minutes, so now you’re stuck here until then.
“Fucking mint,” you say, just like the night before. Simon freezes but Georgie just rolls her eyes. 
“We’ll be in the other room, loves,” she says. “Jamie, don’t be a fucking idiot.”
You tell him, “I’m having a good day, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fucking ruin it.”
“You’re not a charity case,” he says, and you think maybe he is broken, but like a record is broken, not like a teacup.
Jamie says, “I weren’t lying about going through shit,” and you snap (like a rubber band, not a bone).
“Big fucking deal, Jamie, you’ve been going through shit since you were six years old. I’ve been going through shit too, in case you didn’t fucking notice. It’s not an excuse to be a shitty person or a shitty friend,” you burst out.
“I didn’t say it as an excuse, it’s just a fucking reason,” Jamie shouts back. “Jesus Christ, you’re not the only person with fucking problems! You’re allowed to be mad shitty sometimes, I didn’t ever complain, so why’s it fucking different for me?”
You open your mouth to tell him why it’s fucking different, except you don’t actually have a reason. How many times did you sit with him as he iced his knee, or his face, or his arm while you iced your back, or your chest, or your legs?
Pain is pain, your fucking government-issued therapist had said. And shit if she isn’t right.
“You abandoned me,” you reply, voice small. “You left me for Keeley and I wouldn’t have minded, I really wouldn’t have. I just wanted to talk to you.”
Jamie rubs his face with a sigh. “Didn’t know how to talk to you, after. I knew you liked me since we were kids and I liked you too, so it felt fucking… weird. Dunno. But, I was with her because it was what I was supposed to do and she was mad fit and fucking funny. I’ve had a crush on her for fucking… ages.”
“Right,” you say, feeling one millimeter tall, “I get that.”
Jamie shakes his head and says, “Nah, you don’t.” (The fuck does he mean? He can’t read your mind).
“You don’t get it,” he continues. “Had a crush on her, didn’t I? Not the same as you. You were proper in love with me, and I…” he trails off.
“He was proper in love with you too,” comes Georgie’s voice.
Jamie turns bright red and you do too, and it’s like you’re kids again and he’s in your bed and you’re trying not to think about how close his lips are to yours.
“That’s… well, that’s…” You try and fail to come up with the right words.
“Yeah,” Jamie says, still blushing. “Yeah, suppose I was. Couldn’t do anything about it, then. Could do something about it now. If you’ve forgiven me.” He says it casually, like he won’t mind if you tell him to go away out of his own mum’s house and never return, when in reality he’ll burn up and die if you do.
“I will. I do,” you say. “I’m sorry too, I am. I can be a prick sometimes.”
Jamie shrugs, but he’s smiling a little. “I’m a prick all the time, love. Fucking… fucked childhood or some shit.”
“Some shit,” you echo. “So, proper in love with me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jamie says. “Proper. Wrote my first name with your last on every bit of paper I could get me hands on, didn’t I?”
“Fuck off,” you say with a grin.
“It’s true,” Simon shouts from the sofa. “Found some bits when I was cleaning one day.”
Wait. Simon didn’t move in until Jamie was a teenager. That means… 
“Oh my god, were you fifteen when you were writing that? You weren’t even a kid anymore! What the fuck Jamie, you had it bad!” you tease.
“Fuck off, it was just a stupid joke,” he says defensively.
“Uh huh, sounds like,” you say as you go to wrap your arms around him. “You liked me.”
“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your head. He’s never going to fucking live this down.
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cloudyskydreams · 8 days ago
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Scenario: the sanses are being chased by a murderer and when they get cornered in the woods bonewalker shreiks and tears the murderer into tiny bits and pieces before dragging the end body to their cave (he protects his friends)
HOW DO THE SANSES REACT?!
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Bonewalker to the rescue!!! They're quickly becoming one of my favs to see in my inbox lol.
To set the mood boyos magic is depleted so they can't really fight back, they've been running for ten minutes straight now and it's getting darker and darker in the woods. Their souls are screaming out with hopelessness. When all of a sudden a loud shriek causes the attacker to pause and then try and run. The boys are shocked to see Bonewalker quickly emerge from where they were hidden in the trees and tear into the attacker ripping flesh and muscle from bone. Once done Bonewalker stands up and looks over his friends checking to make sure they're alright before grabbing his now dismembered prey and bringing it home.
Thanks Buddy I guess you're alright: Sans, Red, Edge,Stretch
You could've been less murdery but thanks for the assist anyways: Papyrus, Willow,Blue
Trying not to slip into an episode from what they just watched: Willow, Axe
Sans, Red, Edge, And Stretch are thankful for the chance coincidence of Bonewalker being in the right place right time to save their lives. They probably feel a little indebted and will treat Bonewalker better now.
Blue and Papyrus are also thankful but they do think it could have been less gorey and uh murdery. They're a tad traumatized honestly everyone is a bit traumatized from the whole situation.
Axe and Willow can handle some blood and gore I mean come on with everything they dealt with they're not going to crumble now they're strong motherfuckers. It was just so violent, so brutal and animalistic it triggers them somewhat.
Axe is excited he smells the blood and he's hungry he wants some, he might follow Bonewalker and might even fight him if he doesn't get some. Let's hope Willow can calm down quick enough to stop him.
Willow is sick and on the verge of a full blown panic attack the weight of his "sins" settling on him making him feel small and awful. He's freaking out someone help him please.
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sideblogforweirdshit · 1 year ago
Text
Whump Reference Post for Fingernail Removal Torture
 Hi whump writers of Tumblr! I recently made a little introduction post in which I said I’d be making reference posts. This is one I already had typed up, because for some reason this was the first thing I thought of.
There are no images attached, but I’m putting the rest of the post under a readmore since the majority of the content is semi-graphic written description of the how-to’s and wherefore’s and such of fingernail removal torture.
To be clear: I will be going into as much depth as I possibly can without using images. The content of this post will be purely academic. There will be no artistic liberties taken. This post is meant to be as accurate to (and descriptive of) a real-life situation as possible.
I hope some part of this post eventually winds up being a helpful resource for someone!
1) Not as painful as it’s made out to be
-It's painful, but definitely not to the extent it’s shown in movies or whatnot. A lot of the "pain" comes from the shock factor of seeing your body without something it’s always had, as well as the inherent "wrongness" that comes with experiencing a part of your body being removed.
2) There is very very thin film of skin between the fingernail and the finger.
-If one is careful in removing the fingernail by peeling it back slowly, one can preserve this thin piece of skin. -If one pulls the fingernail back quickly and without taking care, this thin film will rip, and the nail will pull away with bits of flesh attached.
3) The flesh under the nail will be vertically striated.
-If one uses the peel-back method, and is careful to not let the thin film of skin between the nail and the flesh rip, the skin/flesh underneath the nail will be as visibly striated as the fingernail itself. If you look closely at your fingernail right now, you’ll see that there are many tiny grooves from the tip of your nail to the base. This is true for all human fingernails. If the nail is peeled back with sufficient care, those striations will be echoed on the skin underneath the nail.
4) The  “peel entirely off” method versus the  "peel back and then stop" method versus the "pull out entirely" method.
-The “peel entirely off” method is how I will refer to the method of grasping firmly the tip of the fingernail in some sort of vice (usually pliers) and then peeling it backwards, moving the pliers from the nail at the tip of the finger towards the hand itself. Using this method, the nail will remain firmly grasped in the pliers the entire time. The movement of the pliers only stops when the base of the nail is ripped entirely out of the finger. This will necessarily result in ripping out a fair bit of skin past the cuticles, as the technical base of the nail (aka “nail matrix”) is generally around half a centimeter hand-wards past the cuticles (and follows the curve of the nail, so is deeper than the cuticles as well). Due to the nature of skin, I would expect a tear reminiscent of an extremely deep hangnail that goes from the base of the cuticles to at least halfway between the first and second knuckle (and at most goes to the second knuckle). In this case, it is not guaranteed that the nail will grow back. There is a chance it’ll come back, but there is also a chance that the nail matrix is permanently damaged and will not be able to grow a new nail. Since every human is different, there’s not an exact science to determining where a person’s nail matrix is before it’s ripped out. A (very) general rule of thumb is to follow the curve of the existing fingernail, and draw a point on that curve before it hits bone. Obviously, this is extremely subjective.
-The “peel back and then stop” method is how I will refer to what is essentially the previous method, but one stops before the nail-ripping goes past the cuticle and snips off the peeled part, leaving a milimeter or so of fingernail existing on the nailbed. In this case, it is assured that the nail matrix is undisturbed, and the fingernail will grow back. This is the method I will assume is taken for the future steps
-The “pull out entirely” method is how I will refer to the situation where one grasps the protruding part of the nail firmly, and applies force away from the hand and in the direction the finger points. In this case, there���s a large chance that the nail will rip. This depends largely on the care taken with the pulling object (pliers, usually) to grab the nail exactly parallel with the sides of the pliers. If any part of the pliers digs into the nail at a singular location, this will create a point at which pressure will build up, and the nail will likely rip at this location. The strength of the individual’s nails also affects the ripping. The individual’s nail strength can vary based on nourishment as well as on a general person-to-person basis. Personally, I do not recommend this method.
-If one wants to make the removal definitely permanent, there’s the possibility of peeling it back all the way down and out, and then chemically burning where one assumes the nail matrix is. (Some serious irl hikers do this to their toenails on purpose, to reduce the chances of getting ingrown toenails from being laced into hiking boots for days on end.) Removing the nail permanently will obviously reduce the opportunity to peel it off again, but will give a permanent Horrific Aspect to the victim.
5) For the first three days, the exposed flesh will be painful.
-The entire tip of the finger will be a constant deep and throbbing pain. Any deviation from this norm will be an increase in pain, never a decrease (save medication or an ice-bath-for-full-minutes immersion to the point of numbness).
-Any contact with the exposed nailbed will increase the pain. Knocking the exposed flesh against anything, even extremely gently, will result in a visible bright red welt under the thin layer of skin (bright red on light skin only! on darker skin, the welt will still be visible, but will show as a dark red-brown). It is a visual similar to an extremely tiny, non-protruding blood blister. Knocking the nailbed against something less gently will result in fully scraping off that delicate outer layer of skin.
-Using the finger for anything will be painful (though not unbearably so), and it may even be painful to bend the finger at all.
-Any moisture on the exposed flesh (including anything from regular water to antibiotic ointment) will hurt a lot. This will intensify the throbbing at least twofold across the entire nailbed, and will also result in an amount of stinging as if one had just realized one had been stung by a bee.
6) For treatment and healing thereof (if quick healing is desired)
For those first three days, any bandaid application is inadvisable -The exposed flesh will be so tender and vulnerable that any bandaid (even the non-stick kind) will stick to the exposed flesh and rip it upon removal. I can only assume this is in part due to the curvature of the finger, which means that any wrapping-around type bandaid will inherently put pressure on the nailbed, resulting in sticking.
-To promote healing, the first three days should be without any sort of covering on the wound.
After the first three days, a scab will form. -At this point, the pain will be much less. it might be uncomfortable to bump the nailbed into objects, but it will not be the same pain as in the first three days.
-The wound will also be much less sensitive to moisture.
-When the scab starts to crack (usually a vertical crack), one should apply antibiotic ointment and a bandaid. At this point in the proess, it is desired for the scab to remain as consistently moist as possibly. This will help the scab fall off when it is ready to do so.
-At this point, the finger can be used normally (within reason) without much (if any) pain.
After two or three days with the bandaid covering, the scab will start to fall off.
-One may expedite this process if one is careful.
-At this point, the skin on the nailbed is sensitive to the touch, but not to the point of pain.
-There will be some dry, loose skin around the edges of the nailbed.
-The previously visible striation will no longer be there.
-Pressure on the exposed nailbed will not be necessarily painful, but it will feel decidedly Odd. Though not painful, It will be an extremely sensitive area.
-The nailbed will be a delicate pinkish color.
Around a week after the initial scab falls off, there will appear to be another scab. It will be a relatively thin layer of dry, dead skin.
-If the nail is allowed to grow normally, it is likely that it will cover this second scab before it has the chance to fall off.
-If the stub of the fingernail is trimmed routinely, it is possible for the scab to fall off, leaving only relatively smooth unblemished skin where the nailbed is. This skin will be roughly the same color and texture as the skin on the tip of the finger. 
7) The rate at which fingernails grow back is extremely slow
-The average growth rate is about 3.5 milimeters per month. There are several factors that can cause this to vary:
-Fingernails on the dominant hand grow back faster than the nails on the non-dominant hand.
-Fingernails grow back faster than toenails.
-Nails grow back faster in warm weather than in cold weather.
-Depending on the nail and the aforementioned conditions, one can expect a total regrowth time of anywhere from three to six months (or more).
8) Life Without Fingernails
-Fingernails affect a large part of our everyday lives. We mostly use them when we’re manipulating objects with our hands, and we use them to scratch. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but it’s a lot. It’s hard to explain just how weird it is to not have fingernails to someone who’s never experienced it, but here goes:
-Fingernails are the Hard Backs used to brace our fingers against a hard shell when we manipulate something with our hands. If you pinch your fingers together right now, you’ll see a white band along the top of your fingernail. This is where the pressure from the pinching goes; it’s braced against your nail.
-Picking something up without fingernails feels extremely odd the first few hundred times you do it. It takes a long time to get used to it.
-Writing is even worse. Without the hard shell backing your fingers, the pencil tends to slip out of your grip more often. If you usually have long enough fingernails that you balance your pen/pencil on them, you’re extremely likely to have the pencil completely slip out of your grip multiple times a sentence.
-You don’t realize how much you unconsciously scratch itchy parts of your body until you no longer have the ability to do so. If you’re only missing a few nails, you have to consciously adjust your hand so that you can scratch with the existing ones. If you’re missing all of them, you have to actively find an external object to alleviate the itch.
Some places on the body one can scratch with their teeth, but for most places, one needs to either find an “itch stick,” or rub that part of their body on something scratchy. A lot of clothing is scratchy enough to work for this. One needs to learn how to vary the pressure so that one can alleviate the itch without tearing through the skin or scratching themselves.
Pros:
-Body horror
Fingernail removal is a more mentally significant mutilation than cuts or burns, if only because it draws on the "that was there and now it's not" aspect of body horror.
-Can be inflicted more than once
Since fingernails grow back, they can be removed again and again and again. Though it may take some time for the nails to regrow, it isn't even close to the type of permanent that’s chopping off a finger or a toe.
-Helplessness
Since it takes a few days for the nailbeds to heal enough to be able to use one's fingers, a complete removal of all fingernails will take away one's ability to use their hands. Even after this initial period of extreme sensitivity, the lack of fingernails is something most people aren’t prepared for. The previous section explaining how fingernails affect daily life is significant here.
 Cons:
-Can’t repeat often.
Once a fingernail is off, it's not coming back for at least three months (likely longer). It doesn't have the relatively quick reset time that burns or cuts do.
-Relatively short amount of time in pain
All of the pain is in the first few days. It is inconvenient afterwards, but there is little to no pain at this time.
-Amount of care needed
One needs to be relatively careful inflicting this. Fingernails are not as resilient as you'd think, and the likelihood of them ripping before you can finish ripping them off is fairly large if you're not being careful.
If you have a short-tempered or impatient whumper, this might not be their particular wheelhouse.
 Conclusion
Overall, I’d say that the effectiveness depends entirely on the desired result. The time it takes for the fingernails to regrow versus the amount of time in which the subject is in pain is not a very productive ratio, so if you’d want your whumper doing a particular torture regularly, I wouldn’t recommend this.
However, if the whumper’s goal is to appeal to the body horror aspect without permanent damage, this is a great option. The fact that it takes nails so long to regrow gives the victim a sense of horrified freakishness. It also has the added benefit of reducing the victim’s maneuverability far after the fact.
The semi-visible nature of this method of torture can be effective if one wishes to horrify characters outside the whumper/whumpee relationship. You don’t immediately look at other people’s hands when you meet them, and as such it might take a while for outside characters to notice the lack of fingernails (especially if they’re past the three day mark). But once they notice, it will be hard to look away.
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kittievampire · 2 years ago
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Kin of the Demon Prince (pt. 2)
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Warnings : Cursing, Childhood Trauma, Mention of drugs, Mention of alcohol, Mention of violence, Mention of getting jumped, Angst, Thoughts of Abortion (IT DOESN'T HAPPEN THO), MC is a fuckin unit, Female MC, Pregnant MC, Single Mom MC, MC x Diavolo
Link to part 1
Link to part 3
Link to part 4
Link to part 5
Link to part 6
Link to part 7
Link to part 8
Link to part 9
Enjoy.
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You felt like you could hear your heartbreak. Like a glass window slowly beginning to crack, little pieces falling out and hitting the floor with tiny clanks. Diavolo, your beloved King, he didn't want you anymore?
"W... What?" You asked softly as tears welled up in your eyes.
Solomon furrowed his brows and rubbed the back of his neck. "I... I told him... About the baby and he said that he didn't want a child with you... He said that the future king of the Devildom couldn't have some half-breed child," He said softly, not meeting your eyes. "He asked that you keep this a secret and never try to contact him again."
Your heart shattered as tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. You were frozen in your spot, to the point where you didn't even sob or cry loudly. No, there were just tears. An endless stream of them pouring from your eyes.
Solomon sat down beside you and placed his hand on your shoulder, biting his lip as he thought of what he would say next. "If... You want... I could place a cloaking spell on you and your child..." He offered quietly.
You looked over at him. "Why... Would we need that? I-If he wants n-nothing to do with me... Why would he come looking for us?" You asked, your hand being placed on your hand on your stomach, almost as if defending your baby from someone who wasn't even here.
Solomon placed his hands on his lap. "Security purposes. Now that you're someone who has... Something that could ruin his reputation—" He shifted in his seat- "He may send people to get rid of you. Of course, I may just be overthinking. I could also cast a spell that lets you know if his people are nearby. I just don't want you to get hurt again."
Your bottom lip quivered as you looked down at your stomach. You didn't want to put the baby in danger. After all, you were planning on keeping it. Hesitantly, you nodded your head.
After Solomon cast the spells and left your home, you finally buried your head in your hands and wept.
Your body racked with sobs, letting out the occasional scream as a result of the anger and sadness you felt. You ended up gripping your hair at the base and pulling at it, almost as if trying to rip your locks from your scalp as you tried to think of what you'd possibly done wrong.
Were you wrong in thinking he wanted a child?
Were the two of you supposed to break up once you left?
Were you only temporary?
"Diavolo!" You screamed, earning the sound of silence in response. Your sobbing calmed and you went silent. Sinking into the couch, you looked down at your stomach as your mind wandered.
What was the point of it then?
If your child looked like him, wouldn't that only bring you pain?
Why, then, should you be forced to live with that kind of suffering? You couldn't give up a demon child for adoption, but you could abort it.
Then, you thought about yourself when you were younger. Your living situation. That time your mother almost killed you by smashing a glass bottle over your head. How she'd abandoned you as soon as you were born, instead devoting her time and life to drugs and alcohol.
No.
You wrapped your arms around your stomach.
You can't give up your baby so easily.
You're better than that bitch who gave birth to you. You wouldn't abandon your child as she did hers. Even if Diavolo didn't want it, he didn't have a say anymore. Now, it was only you.
"Baby..." You whimpered out. "I'm so sorry," You apologized, a soft smile forming on your face. "Mama's going to do everything she can to make sure you have the best life, okay?" Your trembling hand caressed your stomach. Leaning your head back, you let out a sigh. "Even if Papa won't be a part of it."
_
Time had passed by so quickly. You didn't even realize when you were in your third trimester. Carrying the child of the Demon Prince was definitely no easy feat. You sometimes craved those weird foods that could only be found in the Devildom, like Super Spicy Newt Chips or Barbatos' tea. And, for whatever reason, you always gagged at the sight or smell of pickles. Your energy depleted twice as fast as the average pregnant woman. While Solomon was there to help every now and then, you accepted that this was the pain you had to go through for your baby's sake.
The day of her arrival, though, was probably the most pain you've ever felt in your entire life.
Solomon had managed to somehow get doctors to your house to help with the delivery of your daughter. He used magic to ease the pain a little, but this was the offspring of a powerful demonic bloodline you were pushing out of you! Screams filled the room as you pushed, the sides of her horns scraping your insides slightly. You thanked the heavens that her horns were curved inward, or else you'd practically bleed to death then and there. Your wails of pain were silenced as you heard the cries of your child. With blurry vision, you looked at one of the doctors who was holding your baby. They cleaned her up, tucked in her wings comfortably, swaddled her up in a red blanket, and handed her over to you.
They said something to you that you couldn't be bothered to make out. You were too busy staring in awe at your baby.
She was beautiful.
Black and gold horns with a red shading sprouted out of either side of her head, curving inward a little, a few tiny sprouts of red hair were present on the top of her head, and her golden eyes stared into yours.
Gently, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, cradling her as gently as humanly possible in your arms. "My baby... My sweet child..."
_
You and Diavolo had discussed the topic of baby names before. This was a pre-relationship question that came up during a game of Twenty Questions. Of course, you had to explain the game to him, as it was a human game.
Which was funny, because he had heard of the game, pitched the idea, and had no clue how to play.
So, you looked up some questions on your D.D.D., hoping to find some funny questions to ask while also being respectful to the future king of the Devildom.
"Let's see... What would the perfect day look like to you?" You ask, causing him to look up for a moment, pursing his lips as he pondered for a moment.
"Perhaps a calm and quiet day. Barbatos would make tea, there wouldn't be too many documents for myself and Lucifer to fill out, and perhaps a long bath." He looked down at you and smiled warmly. "Of course, it would be better if you were there to spend the day with me," He said, hand reaching over and gently grasping yours. "If you would allow it, a day of privacy with you would be perfect."
Your face flushed a bright shade of pink and you swallowed the lump in your throat. "Yeah... Maybe... U-Uh, anyways, it's your turn." You quickly move your hand away from his and place it on your cheek to feel just how hot they'd gotten.
Diavolo chuckled softly. "Hm—" He thought for a moment— "What makes you feel the most loved, MC?"
You blinked, cursing under your breath. Of course, he'd ask something like that. Honestly, you didn't quite know what you expected from him.
You took a moment to think carefully about your answer.
"Probably just being there," You answered quietly, making his ears perk up a bit.
"Oh? How so?"
Your teeth bit down on your bottom lip as your body tried to stop itself from answering. Thanks to the life you'd lived, you had grown quite accustomed to hiding things from people. Specifically, personal details about your feelings and your past. However, when you looked into Diavolo's eyes, you saw that you could tell him anything. He wouldn't judge you, mock you, or claim that you're overreacting. He would be there for you. That was part of what drew you closer to him.
"My family practically abandoned me when I was born. Since I had no one else to rely on, I started relying so much on myself that I just kind of... closed myself off from everyone else. I had friends, but they were never there for me when I needed them to be. One time, I got jumped just outside of school when a few friends and I were headed to the arcade. Instead of helping me, they ran. When I got home, my mother berated me for being so weak and 'putting myself in the position to be jumped.' The next day, when I confronted my friends about it, they just shrugged off my feelings and continued about their day—" You started rubbing your shoulder in an effort to comfort yourself while you remembered that day— "No one was ever there for me when I was alone... So, if someone would just be there for me, in any way, shape, or form, I would probably appreciate that more than anything."
The silence that fell upon the two of you was blatantly awkward, mainly to you. You didn't want to look up at him, worrying about his reaction.
"MC..." You heard him say softly. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that... It's infuriating to hear, I wish I could be more helpful to you."
You shook your head. "The past is the past, it won't change. Besides, I don't think I would want it to. Everything I've been through made me who I am today. That's the only thing I'm thankful for," You said, looking up at him to see a sweet smile form on his face.
"I agree wholeheartedly. Had you been a different person, I may not have fallen so hard for you, MC," He said, smiling growing only slightly wider, causing you to blush. Fumbling, you quickly grab a hold of your D.D.D. and scrolled through the questions on the screen, picking a random one in your desperation to change the topic.
"What is your favorite baby name?" You asked him, placing your D.D.D. down on the table in front of you. Immediately, you ask yourself why the fuck you would choose a question like that. Damn these awkward and slightly intimate 20-question pages. Diavolo leaned back, looking up at the ceiling while crossing his arms.
"My favorite baby name..." He repeated with a small sigh. "Well, for a boy, it'd have to either be Andras or Damien. For a girl... Hmm, that's a tough one... I do love the name, Selene." You smiled at him as you leaned forward against the table. "Any special reason?"
Diavolo laughed a little at your response. "Not really, no, I just like the names. Especially Selene."
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Tag list; @lavynne , @jessiegerl , @romaissa , @krispsprite , @unlikelysublimekryptonite
Likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!
Weekly updates!
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moodymisty · 2 years ago
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Wondering if you’re in the mood to write a tooth aching Crosshair fluff? Female tall reader if you’d like specifics? I think your writing of the boys is spot on, and all your Tech fluff fics are so cute!
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Author's note: Am I in the mood for- of course I am! It's been a hot minute actually since i've done something for snipeyboy, so lets rip. It's as fluffy as I feel Crosshair would get, without treading into what I'd feel was too out of character (for me! everyone has their own vibe). (Also thankies for such kind compliments, I'm glad you enjoy my interpretation of the boys)
Warnings: One or two silly little lewd jokes, shooting a rifle, references to canon typical violence
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"So, what's it like?" "Like shooting. What did you expect?"
"Have you always had that same rifle?" "Maybe."
"Can I see?" "No."
Crosshair was, complicated. Is, complicated; For as long as you've known him.
He fights almost every single one of your attempts to get close, and only when the lighting is perfect and the wind sings, does he leave a tiny opening for you to squeeze in.
It wouldn't be worth it, if you didn't love him and those perfect little moments in time so damn much. How his touch lingers for ages and his lips taste like fire, you can never get enough of him because for awhile, he didn't let you have enough.
But your incessant hammering on that wall of his has left cracks, enough so that he lets you close more often now; Enjoying a part of him that no one else has seen. You just needed to prove you were sticking around. And overtime, you've learned that Crosshair enjoys the type of interactions where you can both relax and just enjoy each other's presence, when he feels like no one but you is watching.
Now is one of those moments, as you lean against the wall next to where Crosshair is standing, looking down the scope of his rifle and preparing to take another shot.
You don't really know why he even entertains a range like this; It's so far underneath his skill level that it's almost laughable. Though you've learned it's more of a relaxing thing for him to keep him busy than anything. Much like some people tap their feet or chew their nails, Crosshair shoots. You'd call it a mindless gesture, but when is Crosshair ever really mindless?
You don't mind if he does this anyhow , as it's just as entertaining for you to relax here and just watch him. It's quiet and almost peaceful, the quiet noises other than the occasional shot. He's never directly asked you to leave, and while at first you might've thought it was to show off, he also seems to just like someone being around.
You run at a different pace than Crosshair, and he's become quite attached to it over time. You doubt the words will ever leave his lips, but his body and his eyes show it enough.
He fires another shot, hitting a small rock balancing off the hillock on the far end of the range.
He always makes this sort of stuff look so easy; And though you quite well know it isn't, you can't help but be curious about it all. You're always watching him intently when he shoots, and he's probably caught on, if you're being honest. But he's never let you anywhere near his beloved rifle; The closest is when you sit next to him while he cleans it.
Maybe today he just feels different; Or perhaps your curious stare has finally wore him down enough to share his passion more intimately, as he leans back and jerks his head in the opposite direction of you.
"Come here." He's staring at you, the barrel of his rifle pointed at the ground and the butt at about his hip. It takes you a second to realize what he's trying to do.
He's actually going to let you!
You almost have to contain your excitement, after so many times of just watching him. Scurrying closer he stands just behind your right side, speaking as he does something with the scope. His fingers deftly slide over a million different unknown pieces as you watch, the barrel pointed down to the dusty ground. The all move against each other in different ways, speaking a language only he knows.
"Ever shot a rifle before?"
You’ve shot normal blasters before, but not this. The toothpick between his lips flicks from one corner of his mouth to the other, looking down as his fingers brush over the dials of the scope. The base you're at is mostly dirt and dust; Hot and dry. It makes you miss Coruscant, even Kamino.
"Nope, not like this." He hums in acknowlegment. Crosshair finishes whatever he'd been doing it to ready the rifle for you and sets it in your hands, pushing the butt into your shoulder and adjusting your hands, and then your shoulders and back.
"Handling something a bit big for your first time."
He hears the way you snicker, and sighs.
"Dirty mind."
Once you're firmly holding the rifle he doesn't back away, instead just jerking his head quickly in the direction of the far end of the range and giving you a blunt:
"Shoot."
You can feel his eyes on you; They've always been so sharp that it's as if he's cutting right into you, as they glance over your body. They don't stop when you glance in his direction of a moment, before looking down the scope. You know snipers have to take into account things like gravity and the wind, and at some points even the curvature of the planet, but this is a shitty target range on some dusty no-name planet, so you just decide to wing it and see what happens.
Finger curling over the trigger you slowly tense, feeling the way the rifle kicks back into your body as you fire it. His hand against your back presses harder, as if trying to counteract it. You then instantly pull your face away from the scope, looking down the range.
It's not a perfect shot by any means, but it's a chest shot on the target. For a novice still at such long range weaponry you'll consider it a victory.
"Not bad." Crosshair says it with no undertone, lacking the snideness or venom he usually coats his words with for others. He tells you to do it again, and so you line up as best you can, adjusting before taking another shot at the same vaguely bipedal shaped target.
Better, right in the middle of the upper chest. On a person, it would've been quite close to their heart.
"Hmm. Good job." Crosshair's hand is still laying on the small of your back, and even drifts up and down once or twice, ghosting against your skin through your clothes.
You've seen glimpses of this Crosshair before; You know he's there under all of that prickliness. It's just apparently taken some quality time alone to bring it out.
"I think I still have some practicing to do, though." He looks down towards the end of the range.
"More than some." You can see he's baiting a response from you by the way his eyes are raised and his mouth is tight, trying not to smirk. It's one you know quite well, as it's the main way Crosshair gets you to do the things he might not want to say outright.
“What, are you gonna teach me?” Crosshair let’s a out a small hum. “Depends; Are you going to listen?” He watches the way your mouth curls into a sneaky little grin, with his much more reserved amused expression.
“I’ll listen at least sixty percent of the time.” Gently taking his rifle from your hands, he switches spots with you but doesn't assume a shooting position quite yet.
"That's wishful thinking. I know you don't have any patience." You roll your eyes.
"Can you just come here so I can give you a kiss? jerk." At first he doesn't, looking at you with a shit eating grin; Before he finally relents only in the slightest. You move the rest of the way, hands cupping his jaw as the tips of your fingers brushing against his hair.
His lips are warm against your own, before he pulls away and your lips part with the smallest 'pop'.
"Awfully rude to demand things from someone before insulting them." You see the rest of the Batch walking this way, so you just shrug and smile. "It works, doesn't it?" He can't disagree with it, since it's one of his main go to's.
Especially when he's being particularly bratty.
But with the rest of the group having located you both it's probably time to head out, leaving your brief little moment to end here.
"Ready to head out, you two? We have the coordinates and the ship's engines are hot." Hunter looks between the two of you, while Crosshair puts the Firepuncher in it's case. Hopefully this isn't the last time he shares it with you.
"Lets go!" You nod, before following him with Crosshair right beside.
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poupeesdecirque · 2 months ago
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Travel Blog - Connichi 2024 - Part 3
Convention Saturday or: Positive and Negative Surprises
Saturday was a rollercoaster for me, this blog entry is ... truly a lot.
There is a lot of personal talk in this but also lots of photos of meet ups, photoshoots and an adorable engagement we were allowed to partake in.
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After a nice Breakfast we first went to buy an umbrella for me as the sun was supposed to be shining all day long and I am sensitive to brightness (heat is bad yes but the bright light ... I'm getting overstimulated by it easily).
I got asked for photos by civilians and it really made my day, I made children smile by gifting them ballons and despite the weather (bright af and 30°C+) it seemed to be a good day. We started by some photos.
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And then went inside to meet friends, check some things out before it became to full. And we went to the cosplay repair as some more seams of my collar came loose.. I didn't see some of them though, but alright. I fixed them after the convention.
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I met some more D.Gray-man Cosplayer along the way and as you know me I make this tiny game in which I aim to find as many as I can.
But to be honest I was miffed by some arrangements regarding that day and was not that keen to meet some people, I am ... weird sometimes.
I still decided to visit the "base camp" after calming down a bit from the brightness which always leads to me turning into a little Chihuahua in those regards.
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We were a quite huge group and taking photos was kinda ... hard. Especially with two cameras. Alice and Mika had the same issue .. low energy that's why they didn't join us for the other group photo. I felt my energy was at a lower point and walked a few rounds without anybody to kinda recharge but ... eh. I felt it was not the best day for me, despite the fact this was supposed to be my 'main' day with my dream cosplay and all.
But an absolute adorable highlight was what happened during the group photosession...
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In which Cake asked Yuna to marry her, this was downright such a beautiful moment, I had to include it here. Look at this wonderful couple, I wish you ALL the best!
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We then kinda scattered and some took a few photos together. I did with Anbu (Grave of Maria) and Nagi (Mana), I will post them later on.
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After that we took another small shopping trip in the vendor's hall. I got a new bamboo plate and 3 blind box figure.
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Then Alu and I went for Ice Cream as it was about time to get some more food into me, knowing I kinda was on the edge of snapping and as we went for Bubble Tea and the flavor I wanted (rip milk tea) was sold out I ... did. It took a lot for me to calm down, this was overdue with the overstimulation all day long. I kinda was possible for me to come down with some relaxation techniques.
We then went to check on Loki (Cross from Friday) as she felt awful that morning and I told her to check on her. I was worried. In hinsight I wish I didn't insist on doing that as ...
I got told to leave as someone in the One Piece/Hazbin Area was afraid of Clowns. I covered my face with the umbrella. But then more people came and I was told to leave again because someone there got raped by a Clown. i just cut the conversation short and left. It was hard for me to mask to be happy as I was approached by someone who recognized me as Allen just a few feet after that. Fighting down my tears I can tell that information did not only ruin that day but the whole weekend and the days after for me.
Alu did his best to suggest comforting things, and things I was looking forward to. Like the Bubble Photoshoot we had planned but it didn't really help... sadly I didn't pack my drawing materials which is a way for me to cope sometimes and sitting around wasn't helping either. My mood was down the drain, I just had recovered myself from a meltdown and then that.
It took me a while but I then decided Nagi to ask for some more Mana/Allen photos and they luckily agreed. I am extremely grateful.
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Thank you again for doing all the silly Clown things with me.
As we were taking the photos I discovered two street artists who were juggling with pins over the street and I was amazed by them, as I am still learning how to juggle it's like magic to me when somebody can do it that well.
I had the idea to maybe ask them for photos and ... Alu went over there and asked them so...
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... these cool photos came out. As mentioned before I will feature the full photoshoots later.
This helped to improve my mood a lot.
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Then we finally came to take the photos with the bubbles, I was looking forward to them since the day before but I was kinda bummed all day long .. and I was not even sure if they would turn out. My mood was better yes but was it enough?
I have no idea how long I just played along but it helped, I love those child-ish acts they help me to relax a lot.
After that someone english speaking recognized me as Allen again (I got recognized a few times which truly surprised me!) and told me they only had seen the Clown Allen as Cosplay once and that was from someone in the US. I am glad I was able to make more people happy than I frightened with my costume.
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Later on I even met more incredible D.Gray-man Cosplayers I didn't meet in before. Especially all the Lenalees were so cute and adorable. I met @the-bat-cat-art (Allen here) on sunday too, but only short.. I hope we can meet later on and talk more.
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And I found a little pick me up at the artist alley.
Alu suggested even more photos and as I returned from the artist alley I had found the perfect spot for them.
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After than we went to the street food festival, got some churros and watched a dance battle in the streets. Those dudes were pretty cool.
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Back at the con we tried to take some lantern photos but the street lamps went on and ... it was too bright then.
We decided to call it a day and fetched some Pizza for dinner. In the restaurant I was recognized as Allen one last time for the day by a former Kanda Cosplayer.
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I was glad as we were back in the apartment. Oh and I am aside everything amazed how well the make up did during the day I only corrected the lips here and there. And even with the little tearing up it looked still quite nice.
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I'm still torn about Saturday there is a lot to digest and... to foreshadow Sunday a bit: my sleep was almost not existent. :')
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malcolmschmitz · 3 months ago
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Hi 👋🏾 what was it like the first time you realized you wanted to write and publish, and did it seem like a daunting undertaking or did you know easily how you’d make it happen?
Hi, Jay, thanks for the ask!
So... hm. I always hate answering questions like this, because My Experiences Are Not Universal. Specifically:
I am a creature of supreme hubris. If you tell me that something is hard to do, my first reaction is "well, I don't know how to do this, but I'm gay, so how hard can it be?"
The first time I realized I wanted to write and publish was when I was, like, ten years old. It was the aftermath to realizing that being a Muppeteer/movie director required you to interact with people, but being an author meant you could do your own thing.
This means that, at the time, I didn't get daunted, because at the age of ten I was the kind of kid I like to write about- smart and brave enough to try for the hard thing, and dumb enough to not realize how hard it is until I backed myself into a corner.
I published my first short story when I was 14, under a pen name, in a tiny online SF magazine that does not seem to have survived. It was an absolutely terrible, maudlin little piece - time travel to cure the main character's disabilities. This particular SF magazine had a section of "discussion questions" under each story, and they ripped me a new one in the questions- asking a bunch of questions about why the time travel didn't work and why the main characters talked like autistic robots.
I was, again, undaunted by this- though maybe I should have learned a little more daunt here- and swore up down left right and sideways that I was going to publish again, in a way that no one would make fun of me for this time! And, well, here I am, with a handful of traditionally published short stories and a book on sub. :)
So, this is not particularly helpful advice for anyone who didn't start writing when they were a middle grade protagonist. But I can give a few tips, as someone who's older, wiser, more anxious, and actually capable of feeling fear:
Learn everything you can. The unknown is always scarier than the known. If publishing looks like a big black box to you, you're going to have a lot more fear of the process than if you know most of what's probably happening. @literaticat on Tumblr, and QueryShark's blog archive, are both great resources for discussing querying and trade publishing; I've also heard good things about the Absolute Write forums. @thebibliosphere on Tumblr talks a lot about self-publishing, specifically through Draft2Digital and Amazon KDP.
Don't stress the statistics. Yes, it's a bad time to be a writer. It's a really bad time to be a professional writer. But if you dwell on the numbers- who's getting published and how and when, and the money you might make or not -- you're going to drive yourself insane. Someone has to make it, and if you keep pushing, that someone might be you.
Cultivate community. Having writer friends to share your successes with- and commisserate about your drawbacks with- takes the sting out of the daunting parts of writing, a lot. Egg each other on! Yes-and each other! Critique each other's work!
Celebrate failure. When I'm submitting a story- short or long- I have a goal for each one- a goal of how many rejections I want to get. I keep track of my rejections and treat each one as a step towards a larger goal. (I think THE CROWNKNAPPERS, my middle grade fantasy-heisty-politicky thing, is up to 3 at this point; To Clear The Air got 3-4, and I was lucky enough to get Hazard Pay through on the first try.
Hope this helps!
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charlesjosephwrites · 4 months ago
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Dead Darlings Tag
Thanks for the tag @oh-no-another-idea! This one seems like a lot of fun.
🌑 Rules: Share a part of your writing you love that got cut for the greater good. It doesn't matter if it's a line or a paragraph. It doesn't matter if you might work it back in. If it's not currently in a WIP and you want to share, please do.
I'm gonna pass the tag along up front because this got a bit long. Softly tagging @ahordeofwasps, @wordwizards, @enchanted-lightning-aes, @dontjudgemeimawriter, and anyone else who sees this and has some cut content from their wips they want to share.
Now, without further ado, here's a character I absolutely love who I had to cut from the current draft of The Magician and Ms. Psychic that I've been looking for an excuse to talk about. I do have plans for bringing him into book two, but he unfortunately Does Not Fit into book one.
I put the scene under the cut because it's a bit long. (Also, please excuse the First Draft Rambling™)
There were at least a hundred rats all crammed into the old broom closet. Worn out pillows and blankets were spread out all across the floor, most of which were coated in rat droppings and teeny tiny teeth marks. Sitting cross legged on a thick cushion in the middle of the floor was a middle aged dude with a scraggly beard who didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the fact that there were at least a dozen rats climbing all over him.
"Are you the Rat Man?” I realized how stupid the question must have sounded the moment it let my mouth, but I couldn’t help it.
See, the Rat Man was something of a legend out on the streets. I’d heard countless stories about the man with the army of rats patrolling the city and reporting back to him with whatever juicy gossip they were able to scrounge up. If you needed an inside scoop on what was going on in the streets of Metrovale, your best bet might just be the Rat Man. He’d tell you what you needed to know, alright, but if he got a bad vibe from you, he might tell his rats to eat you.
“That’s me alright.” He chuckled, a soft little noise that may have put some of my anxieties at ease if it wasn’t for the fact that I currently had several hundred rat eyes all staring directly at me. “Please. Take a seat.” The Rat Man gestured towards the cushion on the floor across from him.
As far as I could tell, that cushion was the only thing in the room not completely covered in rat shit. That didn’t exactly inspire me with confidence, but I managed to swallow my pride enough to sit across from him.
“So…” The Rat Man rested his hands on his knees as he leaned towards me. A rat poked its head from somewhere in the mess of curly hair on his head to stare at me with its bright red eyes. “What can I do you for?”
“Well, um…” I tried not to stare, but that was much easier said than done. By some miracle, I managed to shift my gaze down towards my bag. “I brought…” My voice caught in my throat, and I drew in a shaky breath. “I brought lunch.”
I’ve never seen someone so happy to see one of those cheap ass gas station sandwiches in my life. I’d barely gotten it out of my bag before he lunged forwards to take it from me.
“Oh wow. You’re a real peach, you know that?” The Rat Man ripped the plastic wrapper off the sandwich and tossed it aside. A couple of rats grabbed the wrapped and dragged it out of the room.
He’d barely freed that thing from it’s plastic prison before he went at it, chowing down until he was left with just the sandwich crusts. He stared down at the crusts in his hands for a moment, then tore it up into little pieces to toss to all his little rat buddies.
I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until he turned back towards me. I tried to play it cool, but judging from the embarrassed smile that tugged on the corners of his lips, he had definitely noticed.
“So uh…” He accepted the water bottle from me with a gracious nod, but he wasn’t nearly as eager to get at it as he was the sandwich. A little sigh fell from his lips as he cracked open his water bottle. “What did you want from me?”
“Well…” I cast my gaze down towards my lap. I couldn’t quite figure out what I was supposed to do with my hands, so I just sort of held them out in front of me awkwardly and hoped that I didn’t look too weird. “I was hoping someone could tell me where I might find that Shapeshifter Guy.”
“Shapeshifter Guy…” The Rat Man echoed thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one long, bony finger. “Let me see…”
The rats all fell silent as he turned towards them. He started making some weird chirps and coos like he was giving a rat speech to all his rat friends. He looked so ridiculous I may have laughed if he weren’t taking it so seriously.
As the Rat Man finished his weird rat-speech, all of the noise in the room quieted down. The rats stared up at him for a few moments before slowly parting to form an aisle in the middle of their group. For a moment, they all stood still, staring up at the Rat Man expectantly. Then, one rat slipped out from somewhere near the back of the crowd, and it ran right up into the Rat Man’s outstretched hands.
“Anton!” The Rat Man chuckled happily. He carefully cradled the rat in his hands as he sat up straighter. “I knew you’d come through for me!”
“Um… it has a name?”
He didn’t even justify my question with a passing glance. He just lifted the rat up to his ear to listen to it squeak away, presumably letting him in on all of its juicy rat-secrets. The Rat Man listened intently, nodding along for several moments before he finally turned towards me.
“I have an address,” he said. “Do you have something to write it down with?”
I couldn’t help the little frown that tugged down the corners of my lips as I patted around in my pockets for my phone. “Do rats even understand street addresses?”
The Rat Man’s mouth gaped open slightly, like he couldn’t believe I would even ask that kind of question. “They understand a lot more than you think they do.” He looked me up and down, nose wrinkling up in thought. “Magician.”
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goldeneyedgirl · 11 months ago
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TwiFicmas23 Day 8: Mary-Alice & Feral Jasper
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Good evening!
Tonight we're opting for some Mary-Alice & Feral Jasper because @sonyawix deserves nice things, and these two are so cute to write. It's a soft and gentle little fic where they get to be cute and awkward together.
This is a bit of a patchwork of bits and pieces from throughout the fic, and kind of establishes some of the dynamic.
I am off to sleep for eight hours and procrastinate over tomorrow's post! I hope you enjoy this!
She watches him from the bower of the tree, as he picks his path away from his coven. She’s lucky she’s downwind; her visions show her that they won’t scent her from this perch. 
And she finally gets to see him in person. 
He’s very tall and lean, but he walks slightly stooped and she wonders why. He looks like he’s waiting for a blow to fall, and she doesn’t like that at all. His hair looks clean and is pulled back from his face, and his clothes are … better than hers, at least. She had to rip up a shirt into strips and knot them tightly into a belt to make her dress sit a little better, and it was filthy and torn. His are ill-fitting and worn, but they aren’t dirty. 
His eyes are still black, and that worries her. She cannot think of any vampire whose eyes have remained black for so long, not even when Maria was holding hostages to get more information.
But she doesn’t know how long he was locked away, and she knows nothing about torpor. Mary-Alice has never been around a vampire that wasn’t healed up in a day or two. Or rather, they’d never kept any soldier that wasn’t healed that fast unless they had a special reason to keep them. This kind of injury is entirely foreign to her. 
//
The girl appears from the trees in a split second, as if she’s materialised from  thin air, and there’s enormous relief that he’s not imagining her, like the Cullens think, and he’s not going mad. There was someone watching him
He stares at her with unbridled fascination. 
She’s so … beautiful. Wide red eyes, a pale face framed in uneven black hair with hopeful little curls. She’s tiny, she doesn’t come up to the middle of his chest, and as thin as a dancer. Her clothing is shredded and filthy, there’s blood and mud on her dress indiscriminately. She’s a new kind of vampire, not like the Cullens, and not like the kinds that he can vaguely remember from his past. There’s something wild about her, like she’s just been formed out of the trees and dirt around them, and he likes that.
The scars take a moment for him to notice. They are littering her bare arms and legs, some of them faded and worn into the fabric of her skin, some of them fresher. There’s a nasty one over her eye, and he’s suddenly intensely aware of his own scars. He remembers the pain that came with them, the suffering, and he hopes this girl hasn’t fallen victim to the same misery he only remembers in fragments of agony and rage and fear. 
“Hello?” His voice is still more of a rasp; his healing is slow, and it’s embarrassing to show such weakness to her. He’s also not the one who usually speaks first, and he wonders if he should have waited. He doesn’t know. Usually, the Cullens correct him if he makes a mistake, but they aren’t here. 
It took him weeks to convince them that he was well enough to go on walks alone. He’s grateful that Emmett took his side. He’s got nowhere to run to; he doesn’t understand this world and how it works, and he knows that until he heals, he probably wouldn’t survive long. 
But Esme worried so much, as if the foxes and deer in the woods might be the thing that carried him off. 
He’s rather tickled that only his second time out alone, and he’s found… her. Except, she just studies him with a blank look; not anger but no pleasure or joy. Just quiet consideration, and he wonders too late if she’s planning to attack him. 
//
He looks better. 
She likes that. 
He’s clean and wearing new clothing, and not stooping any longer. His eyes are a funny gold-tinted colour but he’s been feeding - they’re lighter and they’re clearer now, no longer clouded over. Good, that’s good; she’s oddly grateful that the Cullens know how to help him because she had asked Maria casually about some of the injuries he’d bore, and Maria had not had the faintest clue about what she spoke of. It had made her suspicious, which had slowed down her escape exponentially. 
She might still be annoyed about that. She could have been here weeks ago if Maria hadn’t decided to be difficult. 
Jasper seems calm and curious as he moves closer to her; but he’s still limping. And it does frustrate her that the Cullens have let him out to roam the forest without warnings that he shouldn’t be approaching strange vampires. Anyone else might have taken his head before he realised they were even there. 
Something else she’ll have to explain to him then. She’s got a mental list of things already, and she wasn’t expecting to stay that long, truly - just long enough to make sure that he was okay and safe. Then she was going to go and see what snow was like. 
It looked nice in the pictures she’d seen. 
He’s getting worried now, at the silence since he greeted her, and that’s her fault. She’s not used to having people to talk to - unless she was fucking them or they had a particular gift (well, at least, one that was common knowledge), Maria liked her soldiers silent. 
“They’re taking good care of you,” she says abruptly and wonders when she lost the ability to converse with others normally, and not like a soldier. 
“Who? The Cullens?” He stops and gives her a strange look. “Do you… know the Cullens?” The words rasp and catch in his throat, and he struggles to form the entire sentence, as if he’s trying to find and catch each word. Definitely still healing, and it sounds painful and dry when he speaks. 
Perhaps she can convince him to hunt more often to try and speed up the process. There’s a town less than an hour’s run from this place, it wouldn’t be hard for him to slip away and return before the family even knew. 
“Mmm. I wanted to … I wanted to make sure you were safe.” Her words are flat and short, and she can see his uncertainty. 
//
Emmett recognises the longing in Jasper’s eyes as he stares after the small girl wading in the lake. It’s pretty much the same look that Emmett had on his own face when he woke up and saw Rosalie - properly saw her - for the first time. 
Mary-Alice is really strange, but it doesn’t take rocket science to realize she’s had a bad time - even just the overlapping scars on her arms tell a story of violence and fear, but it’s in every part of her - by the way she moves, the way that she watches and stares, the way she speaks in the flat, even voice devoid of emotion, in short sentences. Wherever she came from, it wasn’t a good place, and Emmett’s oddly pleased that she’d found them - even if she was only hanging around because of Jasper like a stray cat, a thought that made him chuckle to himself - and had looked vaguely disgusted with the idea of spending time with the rest of the family.  
Of course, the rest of the family still thought Mary-Alice was some kind of imaginary coping-mechanism for Jasper that they were tentatively ignoring, so maybe she was offended. 
He should be grateful, actually. It’s taken a few weeks for Mary-Alice to stop glaring at him, to stop prowling around like some kind of jungle cat and freeze up, the second he appears. She’s still distant and rigid whenever Emmett appears, but she doesn’t treat him like he’s a danger anymore. And maybe he’d believe that this was trust and the path to friendship, except he’s seen her with Jasper.
When she’s focused on Jasper, there’s a gentleness in every aspect of her. She’s softer with him, patient and sweet. And she revolves around him like she’s his bodyguard against the world. She almost fusses over him, demanding to know when he’s hunted and how he’s healing. Emmett’s nearly certain he’s caught her smelling Jasper’s hair and clothing - perhaps to make sure he’s clean? Mary-Alice doesn’t seem to give much thought to her own state of cleanliness or her clothing, but Jasper’s are clearly important to her. And the way she stares up at Jasper - Mary-Alice has to be the tiniest vampire that Emmett’s ever seen, and Jasper’s only a few centimetres shorter than him - with this look that he suspects might have human feelings behind them.
Jasper would know better than him, though. But on the few attempts Emmett’s made to ask about that, Jasper’s given him a flat, stubborn look and refused to speak. 
So the longing is probably reciprocated - maybe. Alice just hides it better, behind a wall of protectiveness and anti-social personality traits. Emmett honestly can’t work out why she’d be caring and smelling and fussing over his brother if she didn’t care. 
But Emmett also worries; Jasper was walled up alone for so long that they’ve practically had to resocialize him. He remembered so little of human interaction that it had been a war zone at home for a while. Even now, he still had so many behaviours that Esme politely referred to as ‘quirks’ that they had to correct every day (and now Emmett’s wondering how many of the newer ‘quirks’ had been introduced or encouraged by Mary-Alice, who is practically a wild animal). The idea that Jasper is pining for a girl and all that a relationship entails…
Emmett really, really doesn’t want to have to give his new brother the sex talk.  And he knows if he tries to convince either Edward or Carlisle to step in and have the world’s most uncomfortable conversation, they’re going to want toknow why and then remind Emmett that they aren’t encouraging the idea that Mary-Alice is real. And if Mary-Alice isn’t real, then Jasper doesn’t need to suffer through the indignity of a sex-talk. 
It’s a mess. And Emmett’s relieved that Carlisle has decided not to introduce Jasper to the cousins yet because they all know that the sisters are incorrigible flirts, and he’s got a fifty on Jasper (and Mary-Alice) being utterly humourless about that kind of behaviour. 
Emmett also knows that if he tries to push Jasper into introducing Mary-Alice to the rest of the family, it will be a complete disaster. She’ll refuse point blank and then he will be persona non grata around her and … he doesn’t want to piss her off, and he doesn’t want to piss Jasper off. 
He also doesn’t want to have to refresh his brother’s memory on the mechanics of sex and why waiting to be fully healed might be the best choice …
He’s overthinking this. He should really stay out of it entirely. The thing is, he really wants this to work out for Jasper. He’s a good guy, if weird as fuck, and he deserves to have a nice home and a girlfriend that he’s madly in love with - even if the girl happens to be some scary little traumatized gremlin who Emmett can’t imagine smiling let alone being in love with someone. 
He really hopes this works out. 
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