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anotheranimestan · 4 years ago

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Steamy Nights

Shouta Aizawa steaminess + suggestive language

Please note that y/n is obviously of age in this one

wc: 2.4k

Tell me why I got 🦋 when writing this loll. This man is fineee

Stretched out on Aizawa’s couch, you were waiting for him to get home after another long day of teaching. A little while ago he’d given you a key to his place, which was a big surprise since he values his privacy so much. Since you hadn’t been able to see him for a few days, you figured tonight would be the perfect time to use it. Work was really taxing on him lately and you knew he was stressed. Probably over stressed. To make the most of the night, you decided to set the atmosphere.

The apartment already had Shouta’s personality all over it. Lots of dark furniture and wood. Absolutely no harsh lighting, just a few dim lamps. His walls were scattered with some paintings he’d bought on your art show dates together. Old books and blankets everywhere. His sweet cat usually curled up in her corner.

He had a drawer full of scented candles. Your favorite was the cinnamon one but he claims it’s too sweet for him. Although you highly doubted he’d even notice the difference, he just holds random stubborn opinions sometimes without any good reason behind it. Just wanting things to complain about. Most people found his pessimistic grumpy attitude unattractive but...he’s just moody. An exterior shell. Inside was was soft and sweet.

You’d just finished lighting a few of the cinnamon candles and putting on some of his favorite music in the background when you heard the door click open.

He’s always so light on his feet. Sometimes if you weren’t paying close attention he’d come in and scare the life out of you on accident.

You rounded the corner, excited to see him.

“Hey Eraserhead.”

You always called him by is pro name when he’s in his hero costume. People usually assumed it was out of respect or privacy but he knew the real reason. You were teasing him. You disliked his hero name and his hero outfit. Recalling the day Present Mic convinced him to use it, you’d pestered him relentlessly to put more effort into it. Insisting he’d regret it one day. He said he didn’t care...but now look at him.

“Please y/n, when are you going to stop calling me that?” He said rubbing his eyes. He was low energy as usual.

“After you change it.”

“I can’t change it.”

“Exactly.” You whispered smugly.

He sighed. No matter how many times you had this conversation you would always win. Rightfully but he wouldn’t admit it.

You drifted over to greet him properly. Brushing the hair out of his eyes and placing a sweet lingering kiss on his cheek.

And as for his boring, baggy costume...you understood it’s purpose. He wore it to stand out less, aiding in his fight style. But it was still a pain since you couldn’t properly hug him in it. The capture weapon was always in your face and you could hardly feel his body through the layers.

His modest attire duped most people. Making his tastefully well built body underneath a best kept secret. Which you supposed was an upside. Only you (and Present Mic for some reason) had ever really gotten to see him shirtless.

“I’m going to change.” He said kissing your forehead. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

He reemerged from his room a few minutes later. Wearing a droopy black shirt and sweatpants that were loose around his hips. You could see the dipped lines of his V. Just north was his lightly defined six pack. And just south was unfortunately concealed under black briefs and his untied waistband...

He caught you staring.

Feeling red and exposed you quickly redirected your attention to something else. “So are you hungry babe? I could make something?”

He declined.

“Okay...what about grading assignments. Do you want help to make it go faster?”

Declined again. Apparently he worked straight through lunch to finish that already.

You were beginning to feel useless. You’re supposed to be making him de-stress but it’s like he was so self-sufficient there was no room for you.

You sat next to him on the couch, his arm wrapped around you. You brushed some hair behind his ear. His long dark hair was always messy from his constant naps. Plus, you constantly running your fingers in it doesn’t help that situation. He was quiet. Massaging his temples. You could see the tension on his face. It made your heart twinge with pain. Just then you noticed his ear fully. He had at least six piercings on this one but he wasn’t wearing any of his earrings. Usually he’d put them on when he wasn’t at work but he didn’t tonight. And you knew exactly why.

“Babe. I have an idea.”

“And what’s that?” He played along.

He would take them out when he secretly wanted one of your amazing head massages. You always focus on his ears and temples just like he liked so he’d left out his earrings hoping you’d get the hint. This man could never just ask for something in his life. Luckily you could read him like a book.

“Come on.” You purred. Pulling him with both hands off the couch. He complied wearily.

Aizawa didn’t spend much of the money he made from pro hero work on lavish things. The only times he splurged was to buy you nice gifts. However, you did convince him to purchase one nice thing for himself. You knew he wanted it anyways but was just too stubborn to actually buy it.

A jacuzzi tub. He loves hot baths after a day of dealing with his “problem children” students. It was the only thing that could get his muscles to relax. And the moisture from the steam felt nice on his eyes.

Making sure to bring a candle and the speaker with, you lured him into the bathroom.

“Want to take a bath with me?” You asked sweetly.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” A tiny smile spread on his lips. You were too irresistible to deny.

“Okay you run it and I’ll go get the wine.” You sang excitedly. “But don’t make it so hot. You almost burnt my skin off last time.”

“It felt normal to me.” He said casually.

“Yea because you’re a psychopath.” You quipped before springing to the kitchen.

You guys had two types of favorite wine. One was for your long deep discussions about art and literature. Or when asks for your advice on dealing with his students because he knows he’d just lose his temper and expel them without your ideas. And the other, the pricier and far more potent one, was saved for special moments. Just like these. You poured your glass full, of course, but you filled his to the tippy top. Not only did he need it, but Lord knows tipsy Aizawa was sexy.

When you returned, he was crouched over testing the water temperature. His face gently lit from the soft glow of the candle in the dark room.

“I made sure to cool it off. No psychopaths here.” He teased trying to sound bored. But his voice was noticeably happier than when he’d arrived.

You instructed him to take a few sips of wine, desperate to get that show rolling.

“I know what you’re doing.” He said with an amused little smile. He swapped the cups in your hands so you now claimed the full one.

“Good. So then you should know exactly how to play along.” You said as you switched the glasses back with a wink.

He sighed in defeat. But that rare smile was still adorning his cheeks. He took a few y/n-approved size drinks.

His hair was falling into his eyes again. You set your glass down on the tub edge and pulled him into you. He wrapped his arms around your waist while you pushed his hair back and secured it in a clip.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” He said softly.

“I know. Now that I have a key I wanted to come bother you a bit.”

His eyebrow raised at the word bother.

You panicked slightly. Hoping he wasn’t actually bothered that you’d come uninvited.

“That does sound like you.” He said as he kissed your nose. “I hope you do it more often.”

Your heart spasmed.

“Really? You do?” Your insecurities ears’ perked up.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” He said in his deep sleepy voice.

A happy little smile broke its way through. You could only shrug in response.

You slipped your hands under his shirt and pulled it up slowly. Dragging your knuckles along the dips and bumps of his abs as you went. Gently you pulled it over his head. He helped by raising his arms which just made the rest of his muscles flex. Your heart started beating a little faster. No matter how many times you saw him he always made you flustered.

Your eyes were glued on him. His tattoos were now completely visible. Another best kept secret. They trailed around his shoulder, back and half his chest. You placed some honeyed kisses on his collar bones as you pulled down his sweatpants and briefs to leave him fully undressed. He was mouthwatering type sexy. The candlelight was highlighting all his high points in the best possible way. The music was perfectly complimenting your emotions and the sleepy eyes staring at you so lovingly were severely compromising your thought process. There were a lot of things you wanted to do with him suddenly but you focused your eyes on the goal here. A relaxing, hot bath.

Bath bath bath.

Reluctantly containing yourself you pried his hands off your waist and nudged him towards the water.

“Okay okay, go on.”

“You’re coming too right?” He said as he grazed your bottom lip with his thumb.

You nodded, butterflies erupting in your tummy.

He laid down in the water and took some more large swigs of wine. His glass was half empty before you’d even taken your first sip. He watched you undress with intent in his eyes, soaking in every curve and dip of you as well. He reached an arm out to you once you’d fully unclothed. He wanted his hands on you immediately.

But you had a goal here. Bath. Massage. Focus.

You slipped in behind him so that he laid between your legs. His broad shoulders nearly covered your whole body when he leaned back against you.

The tub was huge. Easily fit you both and could probably add another person.

“And now for my favorite part.” You announced as you switched the tub on its low setting. The rumbling under the water sending tiny vibrating waves around the whole tub.

Definitely worth spending his money.

Your hands rubbed every inch of him you could reach. His abs, the thick muscular sides of his waist, his biceps. You alternated between hugging his neck whispering cute things in his ear and massaging him.

Of course he was practically falling asleep as you spent time on his ears and temples. His head was heavy against your chest. It was so cute. You loved when he fell asleep on you.

But you knew he was keeping himself awake. He was rubbing your legs and the backs of your thighs. Squeezing and kneading them gently. Placing kisses on your arms and hands whenever he got the chance.

After about 20 minutes and one refresh of hot water, both your glasses were empty. He’d drank most of it since he’d downed the last few sips of yours too.

Wanting to see his handsome face again you shifted and positioned yourself to sit on his lap, thighs wrapped snuggly around his waist. After making sure you were fully comfortable, he leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes. He pulled you close and trailed circles with his fingertips up and down your back under the warm water. He loved the weight of you on him. You both exhaled a deep stress relieving breath.

The steam was working its magic, the rumbling of the jets felt so good massaging your legs. And his heart beat, you could feel it through his chest. It was slow and steady. Making you drowsy off him.

He noticed you were lost in thought, stroking his hair and tracing your fingers along the lines of his tattoo. He took advantage of this time to soak in all your features, watching you under drooping lashes. The flush of your cheeks, the delicate arrangement of your beauty marks. The far off expression on your face, he knew it well. He loved observing you when you were like this. You were beautiful.

“Relaxed yet?” You purred. Starting to tease him with soft kisses.

“Almost there.” He replied before catching you to deepen the kiss. Your soft skin and body heat was melting him away. He wanted more. Using both hands he pressed your back into it.

He savored your lips for a long while, becoming more and more passionate as the seconds ticked by and the wine hit his bloodstream.

You felt him shifting underneath you. Squirming slightly from the pressure that was building up. More butterflies. His hands clamped down around your hips.

“Okay your plan worked.” He smiled into your kiss. Eyes still closed.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re referring to.”

He tapped his finger against the empty wine glasses.

You started sucking on the sensitive spot under his ear. You knew tipsy Shouta always got turned on by that.

His arms both constricted tightly around your waist. His hips were pressing up into you now with impatience.

“Let’s go to my room.” He concluded. You giggled, causing your lips to vibrate against his sweet spot. You heard the soft moan from deep in his throat.

He stood up keeping you wrapped tightly around him, carrying you with ease.

He half-heartedly patted you both down with a towel, his hand not losing contact with your ass for a second.

Before he could whisk you out of the bathroom you grabbed the speaker and candle again.

The scent wafted into the air around you.

“Mm that smells good.” He said distracted for only a moment before his lips gravitated to your body again.

“Oh really. So you do like it.” You said with the smuggest tone. “You’ll never guess what scent it is Shouta.”

He didn’t reply. Too distracted with kissing your shoulders.

“Cinnamon.” You said with as much sass and emphasis as you could muster.

He paused. Caught. How did you always get him like this?

He pulled back rolling his eyes with a smile. Nose to nose now, you pressed him further with a smirk.

He cocked an eyebrow at you. Looking directly in your eyes he said, “Mhm. Keep this same energy when I take you in there.”

And just like that he’d knocked down your resolve and your whole body started fluttering.

He carried you into his bed and you two “relaxed” for the rest of the night.

😳 the way I want to be y/n.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa imagine #aizawa fluff #aizawa smut #aizawa headcanons #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa sexy #aizawa sensei #aizawa fanart #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa drabble #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa angst #shouta aizawa x reader #mha shouta #shouta fluff

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forcefully-awoken · 3 years ago

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hello this is for @titan-fodder's coffee shop AU collab. you can find the rest of the amazing works here. divider by @firefly-graphics

i am patently against coffee shop AU's but i do like plot twists.

pairing: Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) x Reader

Summary: Life is boring when you work at a coffee shop in a small town and your life feels like it's going nowhere. Good thing Nemuri walks through the door and sets her eyes on you.

warnings: pining, angst, ghost shit, author has never worked in a coffee shop, period typical mentions of homophobia

WC: 4.2k

You never thought your life would turn out this way.

Stuck in a dead end job at a local coffee shop, always working the opening shift, paying off loans for a degree you barely had use for now. You weren’t so old now, barely twenty three, but starting college seemed so far away. Everything felt so much easier back then, you were so young and idealistic and you were going to change the fucking world. Now you have to listen intently while the rudest woman in town berates you because her coffee isn’t heated to the exact degree she had specified.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” You reply smoothly, voice honey sweet and fake as hell, “I’ll get that remade for you right away.” You had no such intentions, but this bitch didn’t need to know that. Instead you took it behind the counter, just out of sight while you busied yourself making another drink. Then you handed the original back to her, and watched as the woman took a sip, sighing happily.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” She snips, walking away. You roll your eyes and take up the register again. Standing in front of you is the single most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. You’re certain she’s never been in before, at least not while you’ve been working. She’s eyeing the menu board over your head, while you’re able to drink in your fill of her. Long black hair, falling in soft layers down her shoulders, pale, unblemished skin, full lips, and bright blue eyes. She’s dressed in the vintage style you’ve seen come back into fashion, red glasses perched on her face.

“W-what can I get for you?” You curse how you stutter out the question- you haven’t stuttered in front of a woman since the sixth grade and you realized you liked girls.

“I think just a black coffee, small.” Oh for fucks sake, even her voice is pretty. You mutely nod, picking up a cup to write down the order.

“And a name?” The words are routine as they slip from your mouth.

“Nemuri Kayama,” She replies, giving you a smile as bright as the sun. All you can do is nod back to her, taking her money and making change in silence. Your coworkers snicker quietly when you even go so far as to hand deliver her drink.

“What time do you get off work?” She asks when you manage to make it over to the table and set the drink down without spilling it on yourself. “I’d love to get to know you.” You check the time on your watch.

“Another two hours,” You reply, sadness in your voice because there’s no way she’ll wait.

“Wonderful!” Are you dreaming? You must be dreaming. “I’ll see you then!” Once again you can only nod in reply, silently wondering what the fuck to yourself as you get back to work. You try to look at Nemuri as much as you can, but she seems to just be lost in thought as she sits at the tiny two person table. She gazes out the window with a dreamy smile on her face, every so often bringing the cup to her mouth- though you notice it doesn’t look like she’s drinking, only smelling it.

Two hours has never seemed so long as your shift drags by. Customers come in, you take orders, your heart tries to beat out of your chest. Soon enough you’re hanging up your apron on its little hook, and ignoring the stares of your coworkers as you take a place across from Nemuri. Her cup still looks full, and you almost want to ask if there was something wrong with it before shutting that train of thought down- you’re not working right now.

“Hello,” You breathe out, trying not to sound so excited, failing miserably. “You waited.”

“Of course,” Nermuri practically purrs at you, leaning forward on the table, just slightly closer to you. “I wanted to talk to you.”

That’s all it takes- you think you’re in love now. The talk starts small, just figuring each other out, you tell Nemuri about your degree and she tells you she never went to college, that she worked as a secretary at a bank you hadn’t heard of. You figured it had to be in the town over, but the conversation moved on before you could ask. You don’t think you’ve had such a delightful conversation in ages, so far from your friends and not close to your coworkers.

Nemuri makes you realize how lonely you’ve been, but soothes the ache before it can even begin. Neither of you offer up your last names, but that seems so inconsequential. You want to know what makes Nemuri smile, what drives her out of bed in the morning (“Not a lot,” She says, smiling down at her now cold coffee, “Just getting by like everyone else.”). For all you can find it in you to care the rest of the world is standing still now. You think you could swim in her eyes, drown in the soft peals of her laughter.

It’s not until the pointed coughs of your coworkers that you realize the shop is only a few minutes away from close. She hesitates when you ask for her number, but that doesn’t slow you down. You offer to walk her to her car, but she says she doesn’t have one- doesn’t even have her license in fact. You offer her a ride home, eager to spend more time with the mysterious woman. She nods just the once, and you go to gather your things, taking her coffee to the back to pour it out in the sink. You’ll really have to figure out what kind of drink she likes.

Nemuri is standing by the table, waiting for you once again. She looks ethereal in the low light, and you tell her as much.

“You look like an angel,” You declare confidently, but she somehow becomes even more pale. There’s a split second where you think you’ve done something wrong enough that she’ll faint right there on the spot but she perks up after a moment.

“That’s the first time I’ve been compared to one,” She teases you, and you lead the two of you out the door. When you turn to grab your keys from you bag you take your eyes off of her for a split second, it’s barely anything, but there’s a gentle breeze and when you turn back Nemuri is gone- leaving you with disappointment and more questions than answers.

Namely, what the fuck.

You had the next two days off, and you were left to wonder- had you done something wrong? The signs felt like they were so clearly there but maybe you had misread them? Maybe Nemuri was just flirty like that, and ran at the first sign of queerness? For the first time in your memory you wish you would get called in so you could ask her about it. But your days off passed quietly, with you just puttering around your house, trying to get everything done that needed to be.

Soon enough you’re there, bright and early, and nervous beyond belief. It feels like it takes all day for Nemuri to show back up, but she arrives- this time right before your shift is over.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of her mouth, and damn, it’s hard to stay even a little annoyed when she looks so cute staring at you like that. You find yourself melting, smiling and taking her order- which is your favorite drink, you recommend it to her. When you join her after your shift again she gestures to it. “It’s yours.” Your answering smile is all she needs.

“Tell me about your favorite childhood memory?” Nemuri asks, and you find yourself unable to deny her.

“My mom took us to this mermaid cove place, they have a show with pirates, and mermaids, and singing, and I just remember how happy she was watching it all,” Your eyes grow a little misty thinking about the past, about your mother, “I remember telling her that I was going to be a mermaid one day, just to make her smile like that all the time. I was a very ambitious seven year old.”

“You sound like a good daughter,” Nemuri replies, smiling sweetly at you. “I’m sure your mother is still very happy for you now.”

“She passed,” You manage to choke out, trying hard to sound like you’re okay, “A few years go, but anyways, what about you? Your favorite memory?”

“I’m so sorry,” Nemuri starts, but sees something in your face so when she talks again it’s not about you, “We were down on our luck when I was a child, like everyone was. I was maybe nine or ten at the time- everything we ate was so bland, but it was all we could afford. One day papa came home with an orange- a real orange! We had to split it between everyone but nothing tasted sweeter.” Nemuri isn’t looking at you now- she’s lost in her own thoughts as surely as you’re lost in yours.

“We should talk about happier things,” You say, and Nemuri is nice enough to ignore the sniffle in your voice. “The future, maybe. Where do you see yourself in five years?” She blanches at that, actually, and you feel bad, taking a sip of your drink to focus your thoughts. “You’re right, that was bad. This isn’t a job interview.”

“I just haven’t given it much thought,” Her reply is a little stiff, formal.

“Ah, a live in the moment type of gal?”

“You could say that,” There’s a secret hiding in Nemuri’s smile, one you want to spend as long as she’ll let you trying to figure it out. “What about you? Big future plans?”

“I want to fall in love,” You blurt out, cringing back a little, “That sounds so cheesy. I just want to have a little place, just a little piece of happiness.”

“I don’t think that sounds cheesy at all,” Nemuri assures you, “I think it sounds amazing.” The two of you sit there for another moment, just enjoying each other before the alarm on your phone goes off- half an hour until your therapy appointment. You frown at the reminder, cursing it internally for disrupting your time now. You stand, gathering your things as does Nemuri.

“I have to go, but maybe I could take you out?” There it is again- the blanching, the frown that plays on her lips. “Or is that too fast?”

“We could meet back here?” She slowly suggests, “I live in one of the apartments above?” You’re not sure why she sounds so shy about it but you readily agree anyways- you don’t cherish the idea of coming back here but maybe you’ll get lucky if she’s already inviting you over.

“It’s a date,” You declare, feeling more confident when Nemuri nods in agreement. You bid your farewells and make it home just in time to pick up your therapist’s call- the wonders of telehealth. It’s hard to focus on what your therapist is saying, and she seems to pick up on that.

“I met someone,” You say, suddenly shy. Nemuri is so new, you don’t feel quite comfortable gushing about her yet. “It’s new. We have a date tonight.” There’s not much else to say after that, anyways. After that you’re able to focus just a little bit more, and soon the hour is over, with you promising to tell your therapist all about your date.

There’s still a few hours so you take your time getting ready, trying to find that balance between casual and dressed up. You’ve never felt so nervous for a date before in your life, but then it’s suddenly, somehow, time to leave again.

Nemuri is waiting in front of the shop for you, looking nervous but she lights up when she sees you. You can see a soft glow behind her- the shop is transformed. The door is unlocked, and she mentions something about being friends with the owner again when you lead the pair of you inside.

The main lights are off but there’s fairy lights all over, and the tables pushed out of the way, save for one right in the middle. There’s some take out on it, a Thai place you know you had mentioned earlier today.

“This is all so much,” You gush to Nemuri as you take your seat across from her. She looks perfect, and you tell her as much, just to watch the apples of her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink. It’s endearing, really, the way she waits for you to serve yourself, how she just watches you, and talks to you. Conversation flows as easily as the wine you brought, though you’re the only one drinking it.

“I thought I had misread the signs,” You confess. “I thought maybe once again I had a crush on a straight girl.”

“I had the same fears,” Nemuri returns, shaking her head a little, a soft strand of black hair falling around her cheek to frame it perfectly. “I know I can be a little unusual and I thought you were simply being kind.”

“Oh, no, I totally wanna fuck you,” You try to keep your voice a little light, teasing, but it comes out damn near a purr and Nemuri’s eyes widen in response. Now, your tipsy mind thinks, now you’ve definitely over stepped and you’ll be reported, and get fired or sued, and your therapist will be so disappointed and-

“It’s good to know we’re on the same page there.” Her words bring you up short, stopping your anxiety spiral before it can even really begin. Nemuri shifts, her eyes going distant when she looks away from you. “Though there is a slight complication here.”

That sends another pang of worry through you- you’re pretty certain Nemuri is perfect, what could complicate sleeping together? A million different scenarios speed through your head all at once, but for the life of you, you’d never be able to predict the next words that come out of her mouth.

“You see, I’m a ghost.” You’d laugh, but her face is kind and serious and all sorts of heart breaking.

“I’m sorry?” Your manners prevail, and you bite back what you want to say, “You think you’re a ghost?”

“I am, I know I am,” Her words hold a note of finality, so much so that you can’t help the next words out of your own- “Alright, then prove it.”

She looks back at you now, catching your eye with a mischievous grin. She stands, but the chair doesn’t move. Nemuri walks, actually walks, through the table, standing right in your food to bend over and brush her lips against yours. It’s like there’s nothing there, only the hint of coldness, something that sends a harsh shiver down your spine.

“Do you believe me now?” She asks when she pulls away.

“I do,” You answer simply, before everything goes dark and you feel yourself slide out of your chair onto the floor, as Nemuri calls your name.

Your eyes flutter open and Nemuri’s face is so close to yours that if she had breath you would be sharing it. You scramble away from her, kicking the chair as you move, and her face falls.

“You- you’re a gh—” You choke on the word as you sputter, unable to get your mind around it. Ghosts aren’t real, your mind distantly supplies, the wine is drugged, or you’re having a stroke, or you fell asleep on the couch but this isn’t- it can’t be real. Nemuri is still frowning at you, kindness in her eyes like she understands. God, how do you even begin to tell your therapist about this? That the girl you have- had- have a crush on is a ghost?

“I have to go,” The words leave your mouth, body twisting as you grab your bag off the floor and run out the door. You think you hear your name being called but you don’t look back, you don’t stop shaking until you’re home, and the door is locked behind you. Your mind doesn’t stop racing, anxiety making your heartbeat loud in your chest.

There’s a pang of regret but all you can think is why, how, what the fuck? Nemuri is a ghost, she walked through a table and kissed you and you ran away. You had work in the morning but it was so hard to think about going back. Would the shop even look the same now to you now? God, had she died there? Is this why she lingered around it? Were her bones buried under your feet as you made rude middle aged women their overpriced lattes?

That thought is enough to have you running to the bathroom, emptying your stomach into the toilet. You slide to the floor again, pressing your forehead against the cool tile to try and stop your reeling brain. You have no idea how to process this now, electing to simply crawl into bed, deciding to call in sick in the morning.

And you do- you call in sick for two days. You curl up in your blankets, and ignore the world outside. You think about the sad look on Nemuri’s face, and it sends another pang through you every time. It’s hard to think of disappointing her again but where do you go from here?

After two days you can’t justify calling in anymore. Your bills need paid, no matter how many ghosts you think you might want to have sex with. You don’t see her your entire shift either, which makes you a little sad, and that surprises you. You hesitate as long as you can, hoping to see her before you head home, but she never shows.

And for the next week you don’t see Nemuri. You brush it off when your therapist asks after her, and try to write it off as maybe a slight psychological break. But then you see her, sitting in a corner, and you notice how the sunlight goes through her now, like she’s fading, like she’s only ever been halfway there.

You don’t acknowledge her until the end of your shift when you whisper, “Tonight. The same time.” There’s no reply but when you glance back she’s gone.

Your hands shake something terrible when you drive back to work after hours. When you arrive this time there’s no grand set up (and you really should ask Nemuri how she did that!) there’s just the table by the window, the same one you first spoke to her at. You don’t even see Nemuri as you walk in, the lights on just enough for you to see.

“Hello?” Your voice echoes around the open space and then all of a sudden she’s right next to you. Materializing out of thin air like, well, like a ghost.

“You’re here,” The word sticks in her mouth, and you feel the pressure of it on you, compelling you to take a seat. You slump in your seat, eyes widening when Nemuri is just there across from you- only she didn’t walk there. She’s just there. Everywhere. The thought makes you dizzy.

“I figured,” You voice is too quiet, you clear your throat, straightening up in your seat, “I figured talking can’t hurt, right?” Nemuri nods, a little too eager. “I don’t have to solve your murder or anything right?”

“Heavens no!” Nemuri sounds scandalized at the thought which brings you little relief. “I died of old age, quietly, in the apartment above here about twenty years ago.”

“But,” Your mind is still reeling from how old she must be, what year her date of birth is, “Why are you here then?” And from the look on her face she knows you don’t just mean why is she in the coffee shop. She doesn’t look at you when she starts her story.

“My father wasn’t a nice man,” She says, a hard line to her words. “He loved me, please don’t misunderstand that, he loved me in the way fathers love their first daughters, which is to say pining a legacy on my shoulders before I know how to walk. He looked at me and saw future generations, saw grandchildren that might share the color of his eyes, the shape of his mouth.

Unfortunately for him the first time I kissed a boy I knew- I couldn’t love him or any man. I couldn’t love anybody the way I loved the girl next door, my roommate in my first apartment, the lovely barista at the coffee shop. I was… wrong in his eyes. I wasn’t the child he had been promised and that broke something inside of him. He asked me to deny myself, if I wouldn’t have a husband then at least, I should have nobody at all.

And I couldn’t deny him that. I died here. I died alone, with regrets, and one big thing tethering me to this ground we sit on. I wanted a love. I want one kiss, with someone who looked at me and saw me and understood me and loved me so much it didn’t matter that I was wrong in my father’s eyes- because I would always be right in theirs.”

You’re crying by the time Nemuri stops talking. Big, fat, salty tears make their way down your face. Your nose is running too, and with shaky hands you move to wipe your face off with a napkin. You can’t imagine Nemuri’s life the way she described it. Your mother had hugged you tightly when you came out, had set you up with the daughters of friends, had held your hand in hers on her deathbed and told you to love as much as possible.

But Nemuri, sweet and kind and loving, had been denied that because it was the wrong time? The wrong place? The wrong family? It broke your heart to think of decades alone, closing her eyes that final time knowing there was nobody waiting on the other side.

“I’m sorry,” You gasp out, trying to stop yourself from crying more, “I’m so sorry I ran off, I didn’t even give you a chance!”

“You’re giving me a chance now,” Your heart breaks a little more at how kind she still sounds, “And you’re not running. I don’t see fear in your eyes. I see acceptance, and understanding.”

“And love,” You say with some finality. It’s hard not to love someone like Nemuri, and how could you not love her now? She’s laid her soul in front of you, and all you want to do is hold her hand. You reach out, placing yours palm up on the table. She’s hesitant, but then her hand rests in yours and you can feel her- warm and vibrant and alive. She’s solid when you look back up at her. Holding her hand in yours, you move around the table, bringing your face level to hers.

“I love you, Nemuri,” You tell her, watching as tears gather in the corner of her eyes, “And I won’t stop until my dying day.”

When your lips meet hers this time you feel them, the first and best kiss she’ll ever give you, and there’s a soft exhale from her that your greedily swallow down. When your eyes open again she’s gone, but you know that’s okay.

Somewhere, she’s happier.

Your life moves on after that.

It’s weird- you think going back to the coffee shop might feel awkward but it doesn’t. You swear you can hear her laughter in the ringing of the bells over the door, feel her touch as it stops you from burning yourself on something hot. She’s everywhere and nowhere- just the simple, calming presence of an old lover.

You meet a girl, two, three, before the fourth one finally sticks. It doesn’t feel like betrayal, not when your first kiss with her happens because an invisible force pushes you forward and into her arms. Sue, your wife, is lovely and understanding, even when you drag her to a cemetery, and introduce her to a grave holding a person you couldn’t know, given that the gravestone held a death date of when you were five.

She doesn’t question it when she finds you talking aloud sometimes, to thin air, to a person who’s name she’s only even seen on that gravestone. Sue holds you tight on your worst nights and lifts you higher on your best. Every kiss with her is full of life, of love, of a happiness you find yourself thinking you’re sharing with one other person. You give everything you have to Sue, save one little corner of your heart.

You move away, you move on from that small town and everything that held you down there. Your life flourishes out, it’s more than you ever could have dreamed of, your happiness so much that you’re not sure how your heart handles it. Every little victory feels dedicated to her, to the one ghost you’ve never been able to exorcise but that’s okay, more than, because you know Nemuri loves you still, wants you to be happier just for her.

And you know it too, when you close your own eyes for that one final time, and her voice calls to you from somewhere, far off in the distance.

#nemuri x reader #nemuri kayama x reader #midnight x reader #homophobia tw #♟.collabs #♟.bnha #♟.nemuri #if nobody cries i’ll delete bye

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Happy Holidays - BTS Style

OT7 Imagine/Reactions

Hey guys! I thought it’d be fun to to an ot7 holiday oneshot with all the members! So the following are seven different prompts from my prompt list with the seven members! Enjoy, and happy holidays!

18. “Why are you still up?” - Jin

Christmas Day had passed and gone, you were sitting in the middle of the front room staring up at the lights on the Christmas tree. Tomorrow would mean it was time to take everything down and prepare for the new year.

“Why are you still up?”

Jin enters the room wearing his new fluffy robe you had bought him more as a joke than anything; but he insisted on wearing it all day.

You shrug, keeping your eyes glued on the beautiful Christmas tree. “Just enjoying the last few minutes of Christmas.”

Jin comes up beside you, settling on the floor and sitting shoulder to shoulder. Grabbing a blanket from off the sofa he wraps it around the two of you, pulling you into his chest.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Jin’s voice is soft as he studies your face, visibly relaxing when he sees that you aren’t upset. Just contemplative.

Snuggling in closer to him, you laugh lightly. “Depends...did you bring snacks?”

Jin sighs, his hand delving into the deep pockets of his robe and pulling out a chocolate orange. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Sneaking a peck to his cheek, you giggle at how his cheeks redden in the dim light of the room. “Love you, too.”

20. “Merry Christmas, bub.” - Yoongi

It’s no secret that Min Yoongi doesn’t enjoy waking up early in the morning, and Christmas is no exception. That’s what he told you last night as you rolled out a sleeping bag in the front room, deeming it a perfect night to sleep before the Christmas tree.

You realized fairly soon that the hardest part wasn’t convincing him to sleep out on the floor - it was getting him to wake up in the morning.

You’d been patient, waiting until at least 7 before trying to wake him up. At first, he didn’t even budge. You poked and prodded at his puffy cheeks until he groaned, turning the other way.

“Yoooongi,” you coo, laughing as he dives further into his sleeping bag. “Min Yoooongi!”

Yoongi groans again, kicking at his sleeping bag until he can see your smiling face. He frowns back up at you.

“Whadda you want?”

A glance at the time shows that it’s already 7:30, obviously time to get things rolling. “It’s Christmas, Yoongs! Get up, we’ve got to eat and open presents! We’re supposed to be over at Jin’s by 10-”

Yoongi wraps his arms around you, pulling you down with him until you’re squished up against his chest. “Five more minutes.”

“But-”

Tipping your chin up, Yoongi dusts a kiss over the tip of your nose. “Merry Christmas, bub.”

Rolling your eyes, you give in, already beginning to keep time in your head. “Yeah yeah. Merry Christmas.”

6. “Snuggle season is the best season.” - Hoseok

“Is there any left?”

Hoseok peeks inside the giant pot of hot chocolate. “Yeah, you want a refill?”

I nod, handing over my giant mug that he gifted me earlier in the day. Hoseok makes a show of ladling the chocolatey drink into my mug, yelping when a bit hops out and nearly lands on his new sweater.

“It’s out to get me!” He declares, handing me the drink with a wary glance. I can’t help but laugh, shrugging as I walk away. We’ve just started “The Polar Express” as a nice way to wrap up our Christmas.

Hoseok steps over the couch from the back, making me hiss as he plops down beside me, nearly making me spill. “Hobiii,’ I mumble, carefully setting my hot chocolate down on the side table.

“Whoops,” he nuzzles in close to me. “Sorry.”

The movie unfolds before us as we watch on and comment on different things we enjoy about the movie.

“See, this is why winter is the best season,” I say. “I mean, what other season is so cozy? Just sitting and watching feel-good movies, drinking hot chocolate-”

“...snuggling....” Hobi mumbles under his breath, keeping both eyes glued to the screen.

I raise my eyebrows. “...yes. Snuggling. But you can snuggle whenever.”

Hoseok shrugs, snuggling in even closer to me. “Yeah, but this is the season of snuggles.”

Laughing, I brush his hair away from his eyes and watch as they widen as the movie. “Is that your main point for why winter in the best? How on earth would you defend that in a debate?”

Giving me a quick glance before returning his attention to the movie, I refrain from laughing as Hoseok is clearly a bit embarrassed.

“It’s easy. Snuggle season is the best season.”

Dropping my head against his shoulder, I go back to watching the movie. “Can’t argue with that.”

I can feel Hobi’s grin even though I can’t see him. “My point exactly.”

2. “Do you think anybody has ever used an ice skate as a murder weapon?” - Namjoon

Sitting amidst the piles of wrapping paper and ribbons, I look across the room to where Namjoon sits in a similar situation.

“Merry Christmas.”

Namjoon grins, grabbing a garbage bag and starting to shove the wrapping paper inside. “Merry Christmas.”

It’s quiet today, we’ll be meeting up with everyone else later in the day. For now, I’m content to sprawl out on the sofa with my new book that Namjoon got me. It’s a riveting true story, one that deals with betrayal, plot twists, and adrenaline inducing scenes.

Namjoon sets up camp on the opposite sofa, immediately diving into his new book as well. It’s a self-help book that he’s been going on and on about for weeks - he made it all too easy to pick out his Christmas gift.

The low tones of Christmas music playing from our speaker are the only sounds besides the occasional rustle of a page being turned. My book takes me on a ride, and before I know it hours have passed and I’m right in the middle of the action.

Namjoon breathes deep as though reviving from a deep sleep, looking over at me from where he lays on the couch. “We should probably get going.”

Reluctantly setting my book down, I nod. “Does this mean that I actually have to get ready?” Namjoon throws back his head and laughs, completely understanding the sentiment as he runs a hand through his unruly hair.

“Nope. I’m not going to, at least. You look great anyways.”

A few warm layers and a cold car later, Namjoon and I sing along to a few songs on the radio as we head across town. As the songs begin to change, I fall silent. Coming to a stop at a red light, I begin to ponder my book.

My face must reflect my contemplative state perfectly, because Namjoon chuckles beside me. “What are you thinking about?”

Blinking at him, I frown. “Do you think anybody has ever used an ice skate as a murder weapon?”

Now it’s Namjoon’s turn to blink at me. The light turns green, so I continue to drive, starting to wonder if I sounded a bit strange.

Once we’ve pulled into Jin’s driveway, I turn off the car and face Namjoon. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

Namjoon lets out a startled laugh, looking at me with bright eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize that I never answered you. I was...busy.”

Furrowing my brows I hop out of the car, Namjoon linking my arm through his as we make our way up the sidewalk.

“Busy? With what?”

Namjoon’s head is pointed down as he grins, his dimple making an appearance. “I was busy falling in love with you all over again.”

My eyes grow wide before I burst out into laughter, Namjoon following suit. “You love me because of murder?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Definitely. What more could I want?”

Rolling my eyes, I see that everyone is already inside Jin’s apartment. “You...wow. We’re messed up.”

Namjoon winks at me. “In the best way.”

7. “Your toes are like ice blocks! Noooo stop touching me!!” - Jimin

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Jimin comes huffing and puffing inside the house, tearing off his beanie and scarf as he spots me. Taehyung and Hoseok trail in after him.

“I assume you had fun?”

Jimin laughs, his entire face lighting up as he begins to recount everything that happened on their sledding adventure.

“...and then Tae fell off his sled and literally rolled down the rest of the mountain! I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life.” Indeed, he’s in the process of wiping tears from his eyes as he finishes his tale, the other two boys having disappeared into the kitchen where the promise of food proved to be too much of a temptation.

I chuckle at the mere sight of Jimin, his cheeks still red from the cold and his eyes wide. “Sounds like a good afternoon.”

He nods, sliding onto the couch and laying down. He stretches his legs until he’s pushing against mine. I immediately hiss and retract my feet as his cold toes brush up against me.

“Your toes are like ice blocks!” I shriek, only making Jimin tuck his toes under my legs in an effort to warm them up. “Noooo stop touching me!!” Jimin’s evil laugh rings in my ears as I glare at him, promptly standing up to go to a different couch.

“Oh no you don’t!” Jimin shouts, launching off the couch and pulling me back down in a pile on top of him. “If you really love me, you’ll help me warm up.”

I snort. “Put some socks on! I’m not sacrificing my body heat for you!”

“Wait, so you don’t love me?” Jimin’s puppy dog eyes are hard to ignore; especially when he still has me locked in his arms.

“Gahhh you know that’s not what I-”

“Well then say it if you-”

“C’mon Chim, just go put some socks on!”

Jimin shakes his head, chuckling. “I’m alright like this, thanks.”

Wriggling around until I finally break free of his grasp, I roll onto the floor with a triumphant shout. Jumping up and sprinting into Jimin’s room, I hurry back with a pair of thick socks, taking the opportunity to throw them at Jimin who remains on the couch.

He shouts when the socks hit him on the side of the head. “Hey! What was that for?”

Coming up behind the couch, I begin playing with his messy hair. “That’s how I say ‘I love you’. Didn’t you like it?”

Jimin laughs as he slips his socks on. “It was perfect. But maybe we could take a less violent approach next time?”

I shrug. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

19. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find fresh flowers in the middle of winter?” - Taehyung

You’ve been out searching for over two hours, so your state of mind isn’t necessarily the best when you finally roll into the apartment at nearly ten o’clock at night.

Taehyung tends to be spontaneous - he has an affinity for sending you out on random adventures at the most inconvenient time - but tonight it was just cold enough to have you in a frustrated mood by the time you got back.

Kicking your shoes off in the entryway, you’re just about to yell out that you’ve returned when you realize that all is not as you left it.

The lights are darker, soft Christmas music is playing, and is that a poinsettia on the dining table?

Just as you’re standing there in wonder, Taehyung rounds the corner. He wearing a deep green sweater, just nice enough to tip you off.

“Ah, you found some flowers!” He gushes, rushing over to you and taking the beautiful flowers that you just bought from your grasp. When he’d begged you earlier to go out and buy some fresh flowers, you certainly didn’t expect to be returning to this.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find fresh flowers in the middle of winter?” You ask, still a little angry that Tae just sent you on a wild goose chase all around Seoul. Wandering into the dining room as though in a dream, the air is effectively knocked out of you when you see just what he’s prepared.

Taehyung’s voice drifts in from the kitchen, where he’s putting the flowers in a vase. “I know, that’s why I sent you away! I knew it’d take you a while, and I had to get everything set up.”

It’s a wonder that he was able to get everything set up and ready to go in just a couple of hours. The entire dining room is decked out in candles, beautiful placements, and a few wrapped presents lying around.

“Where’s everyone else?” You wonder aloud. After all, this is the shared apartment between all seven boys. Taehyung brushes past you, standing before the table and debating whether he should replace the poinsettia with the fresh flowers or leave it be.

“Oh, they’re gone tonight. I convinced them to...get lost.”

You can’t help but laugh, your frustration from earlier dissolving as you watch Taehyung place the fresh flowers on a side table.

“Ok, the food will be here any minute-”

“Tae.”

The man in question turns to face you, pure innocence spelled across his face. “Yes?”

“What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Taehyung chuckles, realizing that he’s kept you in the dark. “Right. Well, I just wanted to do something nice with you. For Christmas. Before we have to leave and I won’t get to see you.”

You heart melts at his words, and you follow him to sit down at the table. “So you did all of this?” He nods. “It’s amazing, Tae.”

“You really think so?”

You nod. “I know so. Thank you, darling.”

Taehyung nods, opening his mouth but the sound of a knock on the door cutting him off. “Oh, that must be the takeout!” Taehyung scurries off, leaving you in a fit of laughter as you realize that Taehyung, for all his fancy tendencies, is still just Tae.

The memory of the two of you eating cheap takeout on fine china is a memory you’ll keep for a long time.

5. “Where were you?” “Building a snow fort, duh.” - Jungkook

It’s freezing. Not the freezing that people say when they want to complain about how cold it is outside. Those people are weak. Those are the people that decide that they’d better stay inside because they can’t handle the slightest bit of cold.

No, today is actually freezing. Like, you think your toes my be amputated if you stay out here for much longer.

Huffing, you pull out your phone to see if you’ve received a text from Jungkook. You haven’t. A quick check at your conversation shows you the same thing: Jungkook telling you that he’ll be right out, and to wait for him beside the back entrance.

Well, you’ve been waiting for several minutes now outside the back entrance of the Bighit building, and you’re pretty sure you’d rather go inside and risk exposing your entire relationship to the world rather than dying a slow, cold death out here.

You’re in the middle of contemplating what your final words should be when you hear Jungkook’s unmistakable laugh from behind you.

“You look like you're freezing!”

Whirling around, you see the man that has put you through all of this suffering wading out of the tall snowbank, his beanie pulled down low over his ears.

“Where were you?” You mumble as your teeth chatter. Jungkook rushes over to you, rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm you up.

“Building a snow fort, duh.”

Oh, today might be the day you seriously consider murder. “Jeon Jungkook, I’ve been dying out here waiting for you! You couldn’t just-”

Jungkook shushes you with his woolen mitten, grinning at you like you’re confessing your love for him and not reprimanding him.

“It’s warm inside the snow fort.”

You blink, your train of thought shifting gears. “Does your snow fort take deliveries?”

Jungkook laughs, looping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you along. “Oh, absolutely. Wanna check it out?”

Giving in, you sigh. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You still mad at me for making you wait?”

“...ask me again after I’ve eaten.”

Jungkook laughs, guiding you toward his snow fort and promising to call up some takeout as soon as possible.

Merry Christmas!

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missmorosis · 4 years ago

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Zuko’s Jacket

anonymous asked: I just found you and your writing is so adorable! Do you mind if I request a little Zuko x Reader with prompt 5? Maybe something like they are on a date 🥺

5: "You're cold? Have my jacket."

YES YOU CANN!! thank you for the request and the kind words hehe!! IT MEANS SM THAT YOU LIKE MY WRITING AHHHHHH <3<3

hope you enjoy!!! I LOVE THIS PROMPT LALALLALALA

hehe sorry about my last fic- it was a bit sad SO TAKE THIS FLUFFY ONE AS AN APOLOGY

IM ON A WRITING ROLLLL AND I LOVE IT! PLEASE SEND IN MORE REQUESTS FOR BLURBS SJSHSHJDHD

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: nothing hehe <3

Summary: poor sick baby y/n who oh so desperately wants to go on a date with Zuko hehe :)

Don’t worry, this is set in a world w/o covid hehe!! ENJOY!!

Zuko and Y/N walked through the streets together as the sun set in the distance. They thought walking to their restaurant would be a good idea, rather than driving or taking the bus, but it seemed like the weather was much colder than they anticipated, and the fact that Y/N was sick wasn’t helping. She shivered for the hundredth time, even though she was already wearing multiple layers.

"You're cold?" Zuko glanced at her from the side, and she nodded. He immediately took off his red jacket and put it over her. "Have my jacket." It was a bit big, but it was definitely warm.

"T-thanks." She pulled her arms through the sleeves, and Zuko quickly zipped it up for her, smiling.

The cold breeze still stung her face as the pair walked to their date. She was starting to have second thoughts on coming on the date, because she had caught a cold a couple days before. However, Zuko had planned this date for her, and she couldn’t bring herself to cancel. She wanted to spend time with him anyways.

Her head pounded, a headache coming on strong. She winced, and Zuko looked at her with concern before she could hide it. Oh, shoot...

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His worried eyes melted her heart, and she just couldn’t bring herself to end the date there; they didn’t even get to eat dinner.

“Yeah... I’m fine,” she reassured him with a smile, tugging the jacket on tighter. The two crossed the street, almost at the restaurant they were planning to go to for their date. They turned at the corner past a stop sign, making their way over to the door. The outside of the restaurant definitely looked nice, brick walls traced with vines and large windows. The bushes lining up at the front were definitely a nice touch.

Zuko held the door open for her as the pair headed into the restaurant. She sat down at a booth next to the large windows at the front, exhaling in relief. She felt terrible, but at least she made it to the restaurant. She scooted over, closer to the window, as Zuko sat right next to her with a menu in his hand.

The upbeat music playing hurt her head, the bass felt like it was thumping around her entire body. The bright lights of the lamp above them bore into Y/N’s brain, strengthening the headache. She shut her eyes tightly, begging for it to go away, and jumped when she felt a tap on her shoulder, her eyes popping right back open.

“You okay?” Zuko asked softly. "You look a little pale." She flinched when he unexpectedly put his hand her forehead, but quickly relaxed. Wow, his hands are so warm... She started to feel an overwhelming urge to fall asleep, but Zuko’s voice woke her up again. “Y/N, you’re burning up!”

"I know," she sighed. She put her hands on her cheeks, the coldness from her fingers feeling amazing on her hot skin. He immediately got up, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

“Y/N, we need to get you home. You don’t look so good.” Once again, his concern made her smile. What did she do to deserve him?

“Zuko, I really appreciate your concern, but I just gotta... suck it up. I’ve been looking forward to this date for a long time.” She gave him a smile, but he shook his head.

“We can have a date when you feel better, bub. Come on.” He grabbed her arm, leading her out of the restaurant. “Do you feel good enough to walk?” Her honest answer to that was “no, not really,” but despite that, she nodded and went with it.

She was doing fine for a couple of streets, walking perfectly fine, other than the occasional shiver, cough, or sneeze. However, her legs grew weaker every step, slowly deflating every time she crossed the street.

Zuko was constantly watching her, giving worried glances, holding her hand the entire way, until her knees suddenly gave out. She tripped over herself, falling onto the ground. Shoot.

“Y/N!” Zuko immediately kneeled next to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just... just a bit tired,” she breathed.

"If you were tired, you could have just told me,” he said, lifting her up and hoisting her onto his back, giving her a piggy-back. “Is this okay? Are you comfortable?” She nodded, and he continued walking. She rested her chin on his shoulder, her eyes drooping in exhaustion. The comfort of Zuko holding onto her was the final straw as she gave in and fell asleep.

She woke up, finding herself tucked in with the familiar smell of Zuko and the cool feeling of his bedsheets. The pounding in her head wasn’t as loud, but the second she moved, she regretted it. She searched for Zuko, and heard something rustling in the kitchen. She slowly got up, leaning on the wall for support, and as soon as she got out of the bedroom, Zuko spotted her immediately.

“Y/N! You’re awake, how are you feeling?” He rushed over to her, supporting her and ushering her towards the couch, making her sit down. He immediately started to fill up a tea pot with water, ready to boil water to make her some tea.

“I’m... feeling slightly better.” She was honestly feeling worse, but she knew that Zuko wouldn’t like that answer. “Still feeling gross, though,” she mumbled, leaning back into the cushions. He handed her the tea, which felt soothing down her throat.

“I gotta get to work, but I’ll be back soon, okay? The medicine’s on the counter, I already laid it all out for you.” He gave her a kiss on her burning forehead and headed out the front door with a wave. She waved back with a smile. How did she score such an amazing guy?

Oh. Shoot. She realized she was still wearing his jacket.

Could she run and give it back to him now? The thought of just getting up made her cringe, so she decided to return it when he came back. She inhaled, smiling softly to herself. It smelled just like him, and it cleared her head, even if it was just by a little bit. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine him by her side, cuddling her until she got better.

THESE FLUFFY CARETAKING VIBES ARE MYYY VIBESSSS!! HOPE YOU ENJOYED AHHHH <3<3

taglist: @urmomoness @busyforkuvira @appa-gaangnam-style @zuko-is-the-sun (send an ask to get added!)

PLEASE SEND ME MORE REQUESTS LKSJDFLKJASLKDF ILY ILY ILYYY

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko x yn #atla #atla zuko #zuko #atla x you #atla x y/n #atla x reader #atla x yn

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watching-pictures-move · 3 years ago

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Put On Your Raincoats #28 | American Babylon (Watkins, 1985)

Roger Watkins spent most of his career making pornos, something which he apparently hated, and in American Babylon he turns that hatred directly at the audience. The movie is about two bozos. Losers. Schlubs. One of them, played by Bobby Astyr, spends his days doing little but watching pornography, oblivious to his surroundings and annoyed by interruptions. When his wife steps in front of the projector, he grouses at her to get out of the way. "Evaporate, Joan!" The other, played by Michael Gaunt, is weak-willed, easily goaded into doing or saying anything, whatever is the path of least resistance. Neither Astyr nor Gaunt are what you'd call conventionally attractive, and combined, they are some of the least flattering portraits of masculinity to grace the screen. I read somewhere that the popularity of unattractive men in straight porn is to help the target audience relate more easily to the proceedings. Watkins brings into focus the implied contempt in that trope.

As someone who spent a non-zero amount of time over the last year delving into vintage pornography, this movie hit a little close to home. When Astyr starts critiquing the camera angles in the movie he's watching, I felt personally attacked. Astyr's choice of entertainment here is in the form of plotless reels with titles like Teenage Pigmeat in Heat, a film by Bernard America, and Butt Girls in Bondage, directed by Hank Packard (which sounds like a dig at Henri Pachard's pretentious porn name), and starring Lonnie Lee as the Butt Girl. Astyr appears to be getting off on their dehumanizing quality ("Hey Robert, I just realized something. They don't show anybody's faces in this movie." "Of course not, it's so much better that way, it could be anybody.") The reels are shot in cold, sterile black-and-white, their mise-en-scene (power tools, gym equipment) suggesting a parody of masculinity. (I admit I was a little concerned when the male performer was firing a blowtorch in the direction of the female performer while they engaged in sexual congress.) Watkins had been steadily removing any sense of warmth or eroticism from his sex scenes, but also seems aware of the limitations of this approach (especially when you cast a performer like Taija Rae, sporting a lady mullet, hubba hubba). His critique seems targeted at the genre as a whole, which despite the level of artistry it can contain (and I'm very much on the side of pornographic films being artistically worthwhile), is ultimately in the service of prurient interests, but in retrospect, feels prescient of the kind of gonzo pornography that would become the norm in the decades that followed. There's no need for plot, character, warmth, humanity, just body parts mashing against each other. That Astyr is seen usually in a raincoat and motorcycle helmet drives the point home.

Gaunt's character is depicted just as brutally but with a bit more humour. This is a guy whose most strenuous decision in his marriage (and source of tension with his wife) is whether or not he'll drink his milk. (His wife, seen topless and in panties and heels, in a skewering of genre demands, leaves him an angry note: "P.S. Drink your milk".) Astyr's wife, played by Tish Ambrose, in need of the kind of intimacy she doesn't get from her husband, sees Gaunt as an easy mark and sets up a rendezvous at a country western bar. Their exchange and her attempt at seduction are telling.

"You strike me as the kind of guy who's good at taking orders."

"Yeah, I guess so, my wife thinks so anyway."

"You want something to drink?"

"Yeah, I guess so, my wife thinks so anyway."

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

"I beg your pardon."

"The only thing separating skirt and my quivering pussy is a layer of air. What do you think of that?"

"Me? I don't know what to think."

Gaunt reveals a talent for physical comedy with his gawking, indecisive face during their tryst, his slapstick-like scramble out of his clothes, his dash with an empty cup as part of his excuse sneak out for another tryst ("I told my wife I was coming over to borrow a cup of sugar"), and his nervous patting of strap-on before he excuses himself out of a threesome. One encounter occurs when watching a porno with Astyr, who seems entirely oblivious to what's going on right beside him but also happy to have them around. ("My best friend and my best wife, finally taking an interest in my one true passion.") Their attempts at bonding seem self-defeating from both directions, as when Astyr tries to initiate a heart-to-heart, it's not clear how truthful Astyr's tale of young love or his recollection of a threesome that sounds suspiciously like one of his movies and the one Gaunt partook in. ("They were sisters, Thomas, sisters! That's what they told me afterwards. They might have been lying of course, It's human nature to lie.") When the visual style switches over to those of his movies, the indictment is complete, but in the final ten minutes, the movie finds something of an emotional core with a montage (Menopausal Males in Bondage) that recontextualizes the proceedings from Ambrose's perspective, while dissolving the boundaries between Astyr, Gaunt, and their porno movies. A beret and checked coat, first sported by Taija Rae, helps provide a visual throughline.

While I won't deny that the kind of masculinity exemplified by the protagonists, while flawed, feels a lot more benign than the kind of toxic masculinity that's been the focus of modern discourse, the laser focus of Watkins' indictment makes the movie work. Where the movie is less cogent but admirably bold is in situating its protagonists and their pathetic suburban existence as some kind of endpoint for American civilization. The opening credits have illustrations of historical images, evangelical radio is heard on and off throughout the movie, and after the aforementioned montage, the film closes with "American the Beautiful". In a brief but forceful sequence, we hear news of Lee Harvey Oswald's murder by Jack Ruby, Walter Mondale's acceptance speech at the 1984 DNC ("Mr. Reagan calls it "tokenism". We call it America.") and the bombing of North Vietnam, while Gaunt's wife (seen again in the nude, to sate the horndogs) fires a shotgun and the screen cuts to black. Watkins produces a passage from "The Harlot's House" by Oscar Wilde to drive home the sense of finality. ("The dead are dancing with the dead, the dust is whirling with the dust.") The protagonists' suburban homes are presented effectively as purgatorial spaces, captured in cold, isolating cinematography by Larry Revene, who had collaborated previously with Watkins on Corruption and Midnight Heat. Like the latter, I watched this in a not very nice video-sourced transfer, although it didn't seem quite as detrimental here (aside from the terrible audio quality, which made Gaunt's whistling sound like nails on a chalkboard). The look of the movie is effectively sterile, with a heavy reliance of moody bluish lighting that comes through even in a less pristine copy. (I understand that this didn't play theatrically, so I'm willing to limit my complaining.) It's also worth noting that while not detrimentally so to the film's overall argument, I did find Astyr's porno movies stylish in their way, and that I was not immune to the charms of Taija Rae, particularly with the beret and lady mullet I alluded to earlier. Folks, I'm not made of stone.

#film #put on your raincoats #movie review #american babylon #roger watkins

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

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Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85

~^~

Thursday, 18:02

Song: Daði Freyr - Think About Things

Lucas finds himself pleased at how easy it is to pick Sander out from a crowd. If the white hair doesn’t give it away, the jacket does; if the jacket isn’t enough, the laughter is; and if that fails, the boyfriend is always a good confirmation.

Robbe is the one who spots Lucas first, wrapped up in his usual brown coat and then Sander, who whispers something in Robbe’s ear that makes him roll his eyes. Lucas’s heart clenches. Fondness and jealousy war inside him and tangle into a tight knot. A thin thread of fear completes it. He always marvels at them, at the openness of their affection, and yet he still finds himself casting his gaze around for the onlookers who don’t hold the same respect. Seeing them so free of any guards only makes Lucas’s heighten.

Especially when Sander turns to look at him, smile wide and eyes bright, but with faint shadows lingering underneath. He holds his hand out when Lucas is a few feet away and Lucas clasps it in greeting, allowing Sander to tug him forward into a half hug. “Hey.”

His tone is cheerful, light, and still Lucas does a discreet examination, noticing the tousled hair and drooped shoulders and worrying, until he catches sight of the faint bruise not quite tucked away under his collar. He moves his gaze to Robbe, who hasn’t unwound his arm from the other’s waist and holds a blush high in his cheeks, but seems pleased and unbothered, and he understands. He extends the same greeting to Robbe as he internally berates himself, remembering how his mother would react under the same scrutiny. Sander is the only one capable of knowing what he feels and what he’s up for, and it isn’t Lucas’s place to play doctor. Clearly, even the blonde’s boyfriend has learned that.

“So, why exactly have I been invited to third wheel for the day?” Lucas asks.

Robbe huffs a laugh. “I think that’ll actually be me today. I’m not exactly part of this plan.”

“You’re always part of my plan,” Sander dismisses easily, ignorant to the blush he earns in response as he grins excitedly at Lucas. “How do you feel about an actual lesson in art, protégé?”

“Wait, seriously?” Lucas raises a brow. He’d assumed, when Sander had reached out to him, that it was art-themed. But even now, he isn’t sure what exactly to expect.

“That is assuming you don’t already know what you’re doing,” Robbe amends. “How much practice have you had with graffiti?”

Lucas’s eyes almost bulge out of his head. “Really?”

Sander purses his lips, amused, as Robbe raises his brows. “Is that a lot, or…?”

“None. I haven’t done any. Yet.”

“Ahh,” Sander rubs his hands together, beaming. “Then today’s your lucky day. Come.”

Lucas doesn’t need to be told twice. He follows them closely down the sidewalk, the two in constant contact but never excluding, always trying to invite Lucas in. Lucas laughs at their teasing and nods at their explanations and listens raptly to their tales and only feels his excitement grow. Art is something he’s been neglecting, recently, aside from a few flurries of rushed sketches, but the passion has seemed to revive full force by just being in Sander’s presence. His love for the subject is obvious in every exaggerated word and extravagant gesture of hands, and Lucas is effectively entranced. Graffiti was never a medium he’d considered seriously, but he’s always admired. He’s more than aware of Sander’s talent for it, and admits that a lesson from such a person is not a bad way to start off.

It also makes him feel that bit more insufficient. He can’t possibly match up to either of these boys, be it in bravery or talent or both. It dims his excitement, just slightly.

But his spirits are quickly revived as they finally make it to their destination. Sander hands him a mask made from black cloth from his pocket and waits as he and Robbe tuck them over their ears. Only then does he don his own with a wink before rapping his knuckles rhythmically on the garage door.

The inside space is much bigger than Lucas expects, opening up to reveal rows of large containers, all decorated with at least one piece of art. Sander guides Lucas and Robbe through them, indicating artists he ‘knows’, complete pieces he’s captured while they were still in progress, and a few small things of his own tucked away behind new layers.

“Take a good look around,” Sander says, turning to wink at Robbe. Lucas only has a few seconds to be confused before he adds, “You might find the love of your life here.”

Lucas raises his brows. “This is where the two of you met?”

“Met is a strong word,” Robbe says, rolling his eyes at Sander. “I didn’t even see him.”

“No, he was too focused on his girlfriend at the time,” Sander agrees lightly.

“But he claims he saw me and it was love at first sight.” Robbe reaches up to pinch his boyfriend’s cheek, and Lucas allows a small laugh. “Even though he could barely see my face.”

“Didn’t need to,” Sander shrugs. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

Robbe comes to a halt and tugs at Sander’s hand, drawing him around to face him. He pulls down Sander’s mask after tugging away his own, leaning in for a short kiss. It takes Lucas longer than it should to avert his gaze. He just doesn’t think he can ever get used to it.

While actually watching them, he doesn’t think he could ever do that. He doesn’t think he could ever be that.

But he wants to.

When he looks away, his gaze catches on a bright patch hidden amongst a cloud of grayscale. His feet carry him towards it on their own accord, and it takes a few moments for him to realise what it is. It’s a patchwork rainbow of colours, blended together but with dark, specific lines cutting through and outlining it to form a heart, in its scientific detail. Lucas would scoff, if there wasn’t something about it that had ridden him speechless in awe, hand reaching out to brush over the dried paint.

He doesn’t notice Sander until he’s right at his shoulder, then he jumps when he speaks.

“Huh?” Lucas twists to look at him.

“Nice piece,” Sander repeats. “I don’t actually remember seeing it before.”

“You don’t know who did it, then?”

“No. Even the style isn’t familiar.”

Lucas nods and lets his hand fall away, following when Sander sets off in a new direction. He’s led to a blank spot on one of the containers, with a crate of spray paint already waiting at the top of the short steps. Excitement bubbles back up in him as he jogs up after Sander, only to turn back in confusion when he realises Robbe hasn’t followed. He catches sight of him fist-bumping another guy in greeting, over a head taller than him and built like a wall. Sander follows his gaze and snorts at the picture, giving a little wave when Robbe turns his gaze on him suspiciously.

Then Sander turns back to the space and rubs his hands together. “Okay. Have you ever done any spray-painting before?”

“I haven’t even held a can.”

Sander immediately picks a can out and smacks it into his hand. “Then today is really your lucky day. We’re gonna start with a neutral layer then, just to get you used to how it feels. You can try with some vague shapes just to practice lines?”

Lucas nods, trying not to appear too lost already. Sander smiles slightly, anyway, and picks up a can of his own, giving it a vigorous shake as he finally tugs his mask back up over his face. Lucas copies him, getting used to the hold of it, adjusting his grip a few times until he feels more comfortable. When Sander uncaps his Lucas does the same. Then he watches as Sander sprays a quick, messy wave downwards in example.

When Lucas moves to copy him, Sander quickly catches his hand. “Woah, woah. First lesson—always make sure the nozzle is pointing the right way, yeah? We don’t want you losing an eye. Jens will never like me.”

Lucas flushes, turns the can around the right way, and hesitantly presses down when Sander nods. White covers gray in a sudden, heavy stream, and he carefully moves his hand in a small circle. He’s shading this in under Sander’s mildly impressed—but still watchful—gaze before the end of his words sink in.

“What has Jens got to do with spray-painting?”

Sander glances at him, then shrugs, raising his own can again and looping a circle through Lucas’s. “Not the painting, just you. You’re his new favourite, aren’t you? And he already didn’t seem impressed that we knew each other. Last thing I ever want to do is prove Jens right.”

“You don’t get along?” Lucas asks carefully.

“Oh no, we do. We just also like the healthy sort of competition we have going on. He acts like he’s annoyed and I annoy him a little more. It’s nice. Works well.”

Lucas smiles in mild confusion. “Why, though? You’re both really cool, you probably have a few obscure things in common. Wouldn’t you rather be closer?”

Another shrug. “It’s not completely up to me. I don’t know that Jens is acting, all the time.”

“What, you think you annoy him?”

Sander examines the little symbol they’ve created as he searches for a response. “I think I’m always worthy of concern, in his eyes. He’s very protective of Robbe, and I respect that,” he settles on.

It doesn’t entirely satisfy Lucas. “He doesn’t need to protect Robbe from you.”

Sander turns towards him and offers, from the new curve of his cheeks, what Lucas assumes is a smile. “No?”

Lucas shakes his head. “No one loves Robbe more than you. It’s not possible.”

That seems to brighten the other boy, slightly, and Lucas wonders if Jens is even aware of this doubt in their relationship. It seems unlikely. If he knew the way it weighed on the blonde, Lucas is sure he’d quickly set him right. It saddens Lucas, to see the tightly-drawn curl of Sander’s shoulders as he ducks down to collect a new can and doesn’t quite meet his eye as he rises again. He’s sure Jens wouldn’t like it, either.

“Robbe told you, right? About my…”

The reason for the tension suddenly becomes more clear. Lucas hates that the other boy can’t even say it. “Yeah. I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to know, I wasn’t meaning to pry—“

“No,” Sander cuts him off, raising his free hand and giving a small shake of his head. “I told Robbe it was okay. I’m sorry that I couldn’t explain it myself. It’s usually...not an issue so quickly after I meet someone.”

“It isn’t an issue,” Lucas says softly, simply.

Sander shakes the new can and watches his own movements closely. “I would have just liked you to get to know me first. I understand if you—if it changes how you see me.”

Lucas tilts his head and sets a gentle hand on Sander’s arm, waiting until the other boy looks at him. There is, Lucas realises, a vulnerability in him that he hadn’t noticed in any of their previous meetings. A dull, contained sadness behind the eccentric persona. It strikes a chord more familiar in Lucas’s chest than the initial one, the one that had seen an outsider and an extravagant and an artist. Now he sees more clearly—a struggler and a fighter and a savior.

The only thing that has changed, in Lucas’s opinion of Sander, is that he’s ten times more interesting than he’d originally thought. Lucas views him as more of a kindred spirit now than before.

“How I see you,” Lucas muses. “You mean as the scarily talented, intimidatingly cool, older guy who is literally teaching me one of the most awesome art-forms ever right now? Yeah, Sander, it’s real disappointing.”

He shakes his head, disbelieving, and is gratified at the small laugh Sander lets out in response.

“Wait,” Sander teases, “do I have my first fanboy?”

Lucas scoffs, then nods his head behind them. “I doubt I’m the first.”

The mask works at hiding his cheeks, but Lucas still sees his neck reddening as he looks over his shoulder at Robbe. His eyes seem to brighten and soften at once when he finally catches sight of him. Lucas realises then how deep their affection actually goes. It throws him, how clear it is suddenly, how little Sander does to hide it, how easily Robbe feels his eyes and turns to reciprocate even though there shouldn’t be any way for him to know. They are that in tune, that in sync, that it baffles Lucas to watch them. He can’t imagine anyone ever looking at him like that.

Aren’t you lonely?

Lucas shakes the memory way and finds himself admitting, “My mom is bipolar, too.”

Sander looks back at him instantly.

“No one else here knows that, so. You’re the first,” he continues, awkwardly, pointlessly, stupidly. Where is he going with this?

It doesn’t matter. He just needed to say it.

“Oh,” Sander says. Then his tone softens. “Is that why you moved here?”

Lucas averts his gaze and gives a small, jerky nod. “My dad...he made us. He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t stay. I miss her. Everyday. It doesn’t make me love her any less. I just miss my mother.”

Sander’s shoulders slump, but before he can say anything else Robbe is climbing the steps and joining them. “How’s it going?”

Sander shifts his gaze to his boyfriend and Lucas feels the tension holding his spine seep away. Robbe and Sander pull their masks down again in tandem, sharing nothing more than a quick peck. It’s just enough of a distraction for Lucas to make himself look busy, as he sprays the hasty shape of a designer-heart on the container, next to their circles. Then he does a careful ‘R + S’ inside.

Robbe makes a small noise that may be a cheer as Sander snorts. “We have a natural here. I think he might even have something to teach me.”

Lucas turns to him with a retort ready on his tongue and stops when he sees Sander’s serious, but warm gaze. He realises that it isn’t about the painting.

He reaches out and knocks Sander’s shoulder fondly, smiling to himself when Sander squeezes his in response.

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years ago

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The Mandalorian Chapter 11; the rewatch edition

I have found a bit more enthusiasm for this one on the rewatch, so here goes!

- din snapping ‘I’m trying my best here!’ in a vaguely annoyed tone as his entire ship is going up in flames around him because he mostly doesn’t get angry as much as sulky... the height of cinema

- I love frog husband’s clothes, because they’re in a very similar style and colour scheme to frog lady’s but also incorporate the knitwear we see on the people of trask, so it both underlines his belonging with her and implies that he’s been on this moon for quite a while, they may have been apart for some time

especially his scarf is a darling detail and there’s a bit of contrast in texture to it next to his wife’s, it’s nice. he’s wearing a similar kind of vest to what we see on the fishermen later, too

- I think my favourite part of this entire episode (well second after din cradling the baby against him after nearly drowning) is just the design and Vibe of the planet and especially this harbour

for one I LOVE that it’s shown that even in the middle of the day it’s dark enough that the electric lights are still on when it’s overcast (it reminds me a bit of norway during the winter, actually, when dawn just never quite breaks and then slinks off in embarrassment before it’s even noon). and there’s also the... sails? nets? hanging around looking almost like flags, which are very Aesthetic but god knows what they’re for. maybe for drying fish on in the summer?

I think the building in the distance behind frog husband’s back here is a lighthouse? or it could be one of those towers for loading you see when they scout out the empire ship too, I suppose!

and one for my strange obsession with Texture on this show: these fabric-covered crates!!! they look exactly as dingy and moldy as you’d expect them to be in this climate, I wonder what they’re for (& I vaguely want to touch them)

- from the sound of it din’s vibroknife is uh ‘on’ when he pokes the squid thing, and he also goes for the tentacle the furthest away from the baby <3

proof the calamari flan have been scratched up a bit during all that time in din’s pockets! (the attention to detail in this show sometimes istg)

- this is 100% me reading too much into things again, call the overthinking police I’ll do my time meekly lol, but the boat looks a little bit like the mudhorn signet from this angle:

again din keeps his hand on or sooo close to his blaster in this entire scene, he knows this is sketch as all hell

a) once again I want to praise the effects team for how GOOD the aliens look in this episode holy shit and b) the hell is this dude wearing on the straps of his overalls tho

- the dude mando (axe woves) uses his little... wrist launcher thing to shoot with to finish two off the fishermen, so my theory that they can be loaded with other things than the whistling birds for slightly less effective use (maybe without the level of honing we’ve seen din’s be able to do?) is looking good!

- din actually has quite good form when diving into the water, I’m guessing he can swim at least tolerably when not in full armour, being stabbed at from all directions, having just had his son eaten by a sea monster and also being trapped in with said sea monster (I’m a strong swimmer and I can tell you that there’s a reason they make you swim with clothes on from time to time to see how hard it is, it sucks. with metal plates strapped all over you as well? yeah good luck) people don’t tend to hit the water that gracefully without some kind of training in my experience lol. might be some of the training with the jet pack has carried over too, considering he throws himself off that cliff in chapter 12 with similar confidence?

it’s interesting that they’re once again showing us a threat where the armour doesn’t help and even hinders him. we’re so used to the ways it can make him near-invincible, but it can also drag him down (literally, in this case. aha ha ha. well if I’m not here for my own entertainment then what am I here for honestly)

- din’s voice sounding like he’s just on the verge of crying as he cradles the baby (and the sound he makes as he realizes the baby’s alive) is my kryptonite, turns out. fucking breaks my heart into tiny pieces every time, I would die for this man and he wouldn’t let me

- in support of din’s paranoia: so far this season we haven’t been able to go five minutes without someone talking about peeling the precious beskar off a mandalorian corpse, I can see why his mind was primed to move in one particular way there

- I think the fabric of din’s cape has been treated with something that makes it waterproof; the water seems to pearl on top of it rather than soak in! can you imagine how heavy it would get if it did absorb water tho christ

(a bit hard to see at this size but that’s what it looked like to me close up anyway! could also be that it’s wool and that’s why it looks that way but I prefer an elaborate sci-fi explanation here, because it doesn’t look particularly weighed down afterwards) might also explain why he doesn’t seem worried about it catching on fire when he uses the jetpack haha, maybe this is something the mandos do with fabric they’re going to use for a long time

I also enjoy part of the gambeson/undersuit thing poking up from under the shoulder pauldron and cape; I think this is about as disheveled as we’ve seen him since immediately post-mudhorn

- the sound mixing in this scene, where din’s breathing is layered a bit over everything else so you almost feel like you’re in the helmet with him listening to what the others are saying........ oh my GOD, it embeds you so deeply in his POV but so subtly

- not to be biased or anything... but din and the armorer’s armour design is so vastly superior to these guys it shouldn’t even be a competition lol

din looks like an honest to god knight in shining armour except also sci-fi western and the armorer looks like a fucking war goddess from a time beyond memory; the clone wars mandos look like high end cosplayers (eh maybe it’s just my dislike for the boobplates that has me so 😒 lol. also a lot of dudes were very shitty about that whole thing and I don’t say anything but the ‘vaguely-concerned will remember this’ telltale message pops up in the corner every time)

moment of saltiness over: I do like the differentiation between their individual character designs

the differences in body type and helmet design is nice! they look like a unified team, but with individuality. I suspect the ladies have those belts and their armour plates on the hips instead of the front of the thighs to emphasize the ‘female’ silhouette, which. okay fine whatever

- bo katan looks very pointedly down at the baby after saying ‘a group of religious zealots who want to return to the ancient ways’ which makes me VERY nervous for reasons I can’t quite articulate

- the mournful guitar version of the mando theme as din watches the sunset...... hmmmmngh (this might be some Symbolism happening to us folks strap in for the identity crisis he still hasn’t processed)

- I Cannot get over din being so unimpressed by and uninterested in bo katan’s ‘retake mandalore’ sales pitch from literally the first moment dfhasdkjfhsad sorry lady kryze this man just does not do main quest shit, he’s all side quests all the time and that’s why I love him

- as someone who after chapter 8 wrote a whole-ass fic that was wholly & exclusively about din telling the baby he’ll always come back for him... some of the shit he’s been saying this season does feel like it’s been written to mercilessly victimize me, personally and specifically

- guessing this structure in the background is the traffic control tower! doesn’t really matter, I just thought it was neat

- this part of the soundtrack is called ‘ship o hoj, mandalorians!’, which I found incredibly charming haha (it’s ‘ship ahoy’ except how you write it in swedish, good one herr göranson)

- bo katan is vague about who exactly the new mand’alor would be if they took back mandalore to begin with, she doesn’t specify she is planning to be the ruler until she’s already got din on the ship and in no position to refuse to help. gotta respect the grift at least lol

I do love her voice, though, it reminds me a bit of jennifer hale as shepard

- “I need to get back to my ship, with the foundling” your honor I uh love him so fucking much

- frog lady stroking the baby’s back a bit as she holds her hand behind him to make sure he doesn’t fall backwards while playing with the tadpole ;___________;

and also frog husband and frog lady reaching out to hold hands and frog smooching as din and yodito leave ;____________________________________________;

- when din says the exasperated “mon calamari. unbelievable” line, the baby makes that little blowing a raspberry sound he does as if to agree ‘uh-huh unbelu -- unbelly -- unbelievable dad smh’ and it is very very adorable

- there’s quite a bit of Stuff in the concept art that didn’t make it in this time around; I wonder if maybe they cut some stuff for pacing or whatever and that’s why this episode is so short? water leaking into the cockpit of the razor crest, something that looked a bit like whaling going on on the docks and more spaceships taking off (maybe there were originally meant to be some smaller ships defending the big empire one?), there’s quite a bit here

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta

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crazynekochan · 4 years ago

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Okay, I have an idea for a AU. It comes based on how, aside from the pretty factor, we never really get to see Junko use her Ultimate Gyaru Talent in her plans. I was inspired by hearing about the Amekaji or 'American Casual' subculture of Gyaru and thinking "hey, yknow who this style reminds me of? Kazuichi" A quick reference to some samples before I get into my idea:

(Please excuse the fact that I didn't crop the screenshots)

Anyway- in this AU, I wanted to use how we all wanted Junko to manipulate the Remnants into following her and Kazuichi's trust issues. Junko, finding his talent to be one of the most immediately useful of the class and him to be one of the most easily manipulated and emotion driven of the class, decides to become his best friend! It starts slow, her beginning to hang out with him after classes and eventually during lunch, constant compliments, telling him what he wants to hear, comforting him when he trusts her enough to open up about his issues with trust. Soon enough, she's wormed her way into his circle, becoming his closest friend. He reveals that he didn't chose his appearance for his own happiness but for his image and she pounces. She insists that she can give him a glow-up- give him a partial overhaul. Help him with the god awful layering in his hair, maybe even make Sonia like him (or Gundham, depending on whether or not he has realized his feelings for him/given up on his crush on her if he has one at the start of this au). This is where the Amekaji Gyaru part comes in, she pretty much turns him into one. The way the class gets introduced to this style change is by Chisa coming by to round up Kazuichi when he doesn't come back after lunch. This is an approximation of what I think she would do on such short notice. (He was meant to have an expression but I gave up on that front on the sketch to have an easier go at designing his clothes without obstruction or scruntiching). Oh yeah, it's an Omegaverse AU btw, because I am predictable and pathetic lol.

I kinda want to make a fic with this and I'm planning on using Gundham's POV because he already likes Kazuichi before Junko began sinking her claws into him and he wound be concerned and conflicted from the get go. Because while Junko is very much using Kazuichi (though they don't catch onto that aspect right away), she's boosting his confidence. He's happy to have a best friend who cares about him seemingly unconditionally. But they also realise that he's becoming obsessive in a way that she's certainly not discouraging. He's always talking about her, texting her, hanging out with her, he even picks up some of her traits. At one point someone (Fuyuhiko most likely) would comment along the lines of "what are you in love with her or something" and Kazuichi would respond with something like "oh of course not! Junko deserves much more than me!" Or something equally self-deprecating and out of character like that. It's not healthy.

He would voluntarily watch the brainwashing video with Mikan (like in the Siren AU), believing that Junko just wanted to show him something cool. He would despair at the betrayal, since the despairs are aware enough to realise things like that. If he contracts the Remembrance disease, he would probably go for the convincing Ibuki into suicide route like in the Siren AU, for the opportunity to watch the despair. I love the idea of having an active despair in the cast and with this AU, instead of him just continuing to be devoted to Junko like in the Siren AU, I wanted him to actually come around as a Despair to Hope because of the others. Hajime is there now, he would've begun to be friends with Kazuichi and continue after Kaz remembers and he, being the good boy that Hajime is, actually treats Kazuichi like a real friend should. He didn't get to become close to Fuyuhiko before Junko got to him so he also becomes friends with him. Also, of course, Soudam happens. I'd imagine that they would make him come around enough to rebuke the Junko AI in the end.

Kazuichi definitely would feel guilty as hell when this is all said and done, however, the class would also feel guilty for letting him fall into Junko's clutches too. Also, the greater trauma of him knowing that his second best friend after the one in middle school pulled the same shit but worse? 👌👌👌. I have other sketches of them hat I plan to colour, so I'll be back. I'll link you the fic once I write it. Tell me what you think about this, please! Spare no thought! Oh yeah, I'm mentally calling this the Gyaru AU

---

Mod: It will never stop being huge wasted potential that Junko didn’t manipulate all the Remnants by using their trauma and weaknesses, and specifically chose them for their useful talents like it was implied in the game, and instead just went with them being chosen at random because they were Ryota’s classmates

Having Kazuichi be Junko’s first victim is perfect, because with his talent he is super useful to her and can easily make her unstoppable the moment she has him under her control. And with his trust issues and straight up need to have a friend in his life he would be an easy target for someone like Junko, who can very quickly play him like a fiddle. Let him vent to her, tell him what he wants to hear, give him confidence and then put him into his place so that he becomes her loyal dog who sees her like some god who will do anything to please her, just like Mikan did. Until she then finally breaks him by betraying him like his best friend did in the past. The pain must be so unbearable for the poor guy. I feel really bad for him, but at this point the brainwashing is already in place sadly, so he will just get some high from being used and betrayed all over again and again

Kazuichi going through the simulation way past getting infected and having all of his memories must be such a trip. Because he has to pretend like nothing is amiss while everything else is going on and make sure that no one notices his change in character (Which could be hard for him to do, since he doesn’t seem like a good actor) I could even see him during the last trial to try and push the others into doing the wrong choice until they manage to make him believe in hope again and having trust in his friends that they will not betray him ever. Which must be so hard for him to believe after being lied to so many times by people he trusted blindly, where Junko even made him and the others do such horrendous things. But it wouldn’t be DR if hope doesn’t win in the end and everyone manages to have a future

Though the most hurtful part must be seeing everything from Gundham’s POV, because he is stuck with having to watch how Junko is getting close to Kaz. Which is at first of course a nice thing on the outside, but when Kaz starts getting seriously degrading about himself it’s really getting concerning but it’s already too late. Even more painful for Gundham when he might have had a bad feeling about the “friendship” but has pushed it onto him probably just being jealous or something and as such never intervened when he really should’ve done so, because then all of this could’ve been avoided where Kaz was turned into a pupped who got to build the most brutal killing machines imaginable for Junko’s absolute insane plan of creating a world of despair. When the truth comes to light he would be feeling such immense guilt over not having seen the signs and came to help Kaz when he still had the chance (Could be even something Junko could use against Gundham, both back at HPA and in the last trial if he’s still alive at that time in the AU)

Also the artwork of Kaz after his makeover looks sooo good! He is beyond cute and it mixes so well his actual nerdy aesthetic he had before with something more fun and colourful (quite literally) ♥♥

#submission #soudam #au #Gyaru Au #mediamaxine #danganronpa #omegaverse

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thedeaconj · 4 years ago

Text

A Cup Of Sugar Part 4

(Link to part 3: https://thedeaconj.tumblr.com/post/624738938039533568/a-cup-of-sugar-part-3

And parts 1 &2 https://thedeaconj.tumblr.com/post/624650236299821056/a-cup-of-sugar-parts-1-and-2)

Sophie awoke happy and almost carefree on another warm, sunny day in the city. Today, she got out of bed and carried out her yoga and exercises just in her new undies. She may have worn them for a day already, but they were the only cute pair she had. Everything else was frumpy and covered so much, she could always get a new pair later when Mark paid her. After her exercises, Sophie couldn’t help but once again admire herself in the mirror, although one thing did stand out to her more than the rest. Her long, black hair. It just didn’t match her new style at all, she’d need to pick up some blonde hair dye too, so she could be a nice, cute blonde. Or rather, her hair could be a nice, cute blonde, she thought. Then she giggled, her, a nice cute blonde? What a silly idea. Sophie also couldn’t help but admire her breasts more today. They were so perky, she just had to cup them, and her nipples felt far more sensitive today. Sophie ran her fingers over them in a circular motion, shivering as she did. She remembered that great technique Mark did yesterday, where he ran his thumb around her forehead. One of Sophie’s hands started to drift downwards, when she snapped out of it. What was wrong with her! Mark had been such a gentleman to her, and here she was letting all these lewd, naughty thoughts run through her brain. She went and took a shower to cool off, then laid out her outfit for the day.

She’d cut up an old white t-shirt, so it showed off part of her midriff, alongside it was her new skirt. She’d worn it yesterday though, Sophie frowned at it. It was nice, but it wasn’t quite fitting her new style. The colour was nice, but it felt so warm going all the way to her knees, did she really need that much coverage? So, Sophie got out her scissors, she took a whole layer of it off, the skirt now went to just below her thighs. She also looked down at her bra, it was a practically Victorian garment, so concealing and tight, why not just go without a bra today? She was just cleaning Mark’s and then doing some shopping afterwards, it wasn’t like she was doing anything too formal. Mark wouldn’t stare anyways, he was such a gentleman, he knew how to treat a girl properly. Sophie pulled together her outfit and put it all on, her pair of flip flops again too. She gave a twirl to the mirror, and could feel a low, constant pleasure from how her t-shirt caressed her nipples. Sophie went across to Mark’s place and knocked on the door.

He opened it, and to her surprise he was much more casually dressed than usual, a t-shirt and shorts! The heat must have been getting to him too. He also had a big smile on his face, which caused Sophie to smile back. If he was happy, she was happy, since he was so smart, he must have a good reason to be happy!

‘Hi Mark, what’s up?’ Sophie asked.

‘I’ve got great news! I found some fantastic blonde hair dye. An old friend of mine must have left it here, but I think it may be the exact colour you were looking for!’ he said.

Sophie was overjoyed! She could save money on hair dye, which meant more cute outfits! Still, she did have one question.

‘Don’t I need to ease my hair into it though through like, lighter and lighter dyes?’

Mark shook his head, he explained it was a specialist dye, quite expensive stuff that could do the job near instantly. He said he’d be happy to help and dye her hair for her, then she could get to the cleaning work. Sophie agreed, so happy he was able to help her out and provide for her like this. It would have taken her so long to get that nice, cute blonde hair she wanted, and now Mark was able to get her straight there. She’d do an extra good job at cleaning to make up for this, she just had to please him. Well, as in please him by doing a good job cleaning, she thought. As Sophie headed into the apartment now, she by instinct went to sit on the sofa, but Mark’s hand touched the small of the back.

‘I’m afraid the sofa may be too risky what with the dye, I’ve got an old chair over here in the kitchen area, I’ve set up a mirror by it so you can see how it looks,’ Mark explained.

Sophie looked up at him and nodded, a little embarrassed by how silly she’d been thinking she could sit on the sofa for this. She let Mark’s hand rest on the small of the back as he walked her over to the chair, where she took a seat in front of the mirror. Sophie kept her legs close together, so as to not flash Mark her undies. He placed a bib around her neck that covered her upper body, it felt so tight against her throat. She shivered a little as it locked into place, what a strange, yet enjoyable sensation. As if something belonged around her throat, but she wasn’t sure what. Mark put on a pair of gloves and readied the dye. As Sophie looked at herself in the mirror, with her long flowing black hair, she began to have some small doubts.

‘Mark, is this the right choice? I mean my hair’s such a part of who I am, it feels weird changing it like this,’ she said.

Mark smiled at her, he placed his hands on her shoulders in a soft, yet firm grip.

‘Please Sophie, you know your hair would look so good like this, and besides it’s what’s on the inside that makes up who we really are, right Sophie?’ Mark asked.

With his grip on her Sophie simply relaxed, smiling at herself in the mirror. It would look good like this, and it wasn’t like dyeing her hair would change who she was. She was still strong, still independent, it was so nice of Mark to remind her of that.

‘Yes, you’re right, sorry I’ll let you get on with it,’ she said.

Mark took his hands off of Sophie’s shoulders, she felt a tinge of disappointment, but then felt something far more wonderful as he started to rub the dye into her hair.

‘I’m going to be doing this all with my hands, so I may need to move your head around a little,’ Mark said as he rubbed and massaged the dye into her hair.

Sophie barely registered it, the feeling as it soaked into her hair was so wonderful, so powerful. It coated her hair and mind all at once, she saw her lips twitch into a smile, her eyelids flutter as it first hit.

‘That’s okay’ she droned out.

It wasn’t just the hair dye either having this effect on her. The way Mark rubbed it in was more like a head massage. Sophie could feel those small doubts being rubbed straight out of her head, straight out of her mind.

‘How does it feel Sophie?’ Mark asked.

‘Mmm so nice,’

Mark chuckled, so Sophie giggled.

‘Why not find something to focus on Sophie as we do this, maybe your eyes? Just stare into the mirror as you see yourself transform,’ he said.

Yes, her eyes. Her big brown eyes, she was caught in her own gaze. It was as if they pulsed and sparkled, she felt as if her whole world was getting caught up in her eyes. She didn’t notice at first that her legs drifted apart, giving Mark a full view of her undies. Once she clocked it, she snapped out of it for a moment, starting to stammer about how sorry she was.

‘Shh, it’s okay dear, you’re just relaxing and letting the dye do its work, no need to worry about it,’ Mark said.

Yes, there was no need to worry about it. Mark was right, as usual. She could just relax and let him do what ne needed. Sophie now let her legs drift open freely, her arms lay lazily by her sides. Her mouth started to drift open as her eyes glazed over. The dye was working so quickly, her hair was already turning such a nice, cute blonde. The head massage just felt so good, Mark’s hands were so perfect on her, even with the gloves on. He was telling her smart things again, but her brain was going all mushy. It was better for her to listen and accept. His words flowed through her, sometimes she’d speak them herself, although she was unsure what exactly she was saying. Why should she care? This felt too good, so good that a damp spot was forming between her legs. This time though, Sophie didn’t go out like a light, instead she went into her daydreams.

Sophie saw visions of herself in this mirror. In some she was kneeling, others bowing down. She was always naked, and always wore a pink collar with a chain heart at its centre. Words flowed out of her mouth in a constant chant, a mantra, but she couldn’t tell what they were, not yet. There was a man in these visions too, sometimes he held a leash attached to her collar, other times he caressed and played with her body from behind. She couldn’t make him out fully, but could tell he was an older man, a commanding man. He was in control, she was his to play with. Sophie then saw herself kneeling before the man, his shorts were unzipped and pulled down, she could feel the drool coming off her mouth. There it was, her object of desire, the thing that would fill her and make her whole. It started to come out as Sophie brought her head down and…A splash of water?

She felt water running over her hair, her head was tilted back, she blinked and looked up to see Mark washing her hair.

‘Alright the dye’s done, just getting the excess off, you okay there Sophie?’

‘Oh, yes, sorry just daydreaming a little,’ she said.

Mark smiled at her, which gave Sophie a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. As Mark finished washing her hair, she raised her head, then looked into the mirror. It was so cute! Sophie smiled and giggled, running her hands through her light, blonde hair. It suited her so much now, went perfectly with her new look. She could style it too, maybe some cute little pigtails. She was now a nice, cute blonde after all, she could lean into that.

‘It’s perfect, soo cute! Thank you so much Mark, my hero hehe!’ Sophie said.

She then covered her mouth, barely able to believe what just came out of it. Maybe the dye had some fumes that made her feel funny, but Mark just laughed at what she said.

‘No problem, now are you ready to do something for me?’ he asked.

Sophie nodded, eager and ready to do her work.

‘Oh, before you do, one moment, I have something you might find amusing,’ Mark said.

He headed off to his bedroom, while Sophie undid her bib, and stood up from the chair. She couldn’t help but notice how damp she was between the legs, which was rather humiliating to her. She couldn’t even have an older man dye her hair without getting so horny, she hoped Mark hadn’t noticed, Sophie wanted him to like her and approve of her, which he might not if he saw what a mess she was. Older men were such a weakness to her though, and she did have to admit Mark looked good today in his t-shirt and shorts. Then, he returned holding up on a coat hanger, a maid uniform.

Except, maid uniform wasn’t quite the right term. It was a hot pink like the sofa, a two-piece outfit with essentially a bralet and mini skirt, and a thin mesh material that connected the two pieces. She could also see it came with pink and white striped knee-high socks.

‘Wouldn’t it be funny if you matched the sofa? It might even look less out of place then!’ Mark chuckled.

Sophie giggled, but knew she couldn’t possibly wear such an outfit. It just looked so, well so slutty and naughty. What would Mark think as she went around his apartment in that, shaking and stretching her body as she cleaned up for him?

‘It’s a little cute but maybe not my style entirely, it’s funny though!’ she said.

Mark almost looked a little disappointed, was he serious about her wearing the outfit?

‘Well, I was just thinking how you’d be such a good girl if you wore the outfit, and I mean, you mentioned when I was dyeing your hair how you wanted to be a good girl, isn’t that right Sophie?’

Yes, Sophie wanted to be a good girl. It echoed in her mind, such a catchy phrase that she couldn’t stop hearing it.

‘Yes, I want to be a good girl,’ she said.

Maybe the outfit wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t too far off what she was currently wearing. It would be a good thing to do, and Mark was nice enough to buy it for her. Sophie walked over to Mark, eyes glazed over, and took the outfit in her hands. The material felt silky, soft, pleasant to the touch. If this top was rubbing against her nipples it would take a lot of effort to hide her pleasure.

‘That’s fantastic, please change in the bathroom, then you can get to work,’

She took the outfit and headed into the bathroom. There was a bag there she could put her regular clothes in, when Sophie began to feel just how uncomfortable her damp undies were. She could always take them off with the rest of her outfit, Mark would no doubt be too busy to even notice she wasn’t wearing them. She stripped down, putting on the maids’ outfit, allowing herself to get into the mentality. She was Mark’s maid, at least for a little while, so it made sense to act and think like that. She now noticed there was a big pink bow too, which Sophie wrapped around and wore atop her head. She pulled the socks up, then pulled up the two-piece outfit itself. It felt so good against her skin, like a gentle caress, it concealed so little of her. Her nipples and breasts were just about visible through the bralet, her shoulders were entirely exposed. The mesh did little to cover her midriff and lower chest region, even giving a peek of her underboob. The skirt meanwhile left little to the imagination. Sophie was still a bit nervous about the outfit, but she did want to be a good girl, and to do so she’d clean for Mark dressed like this.

Sophie came out of the bathroom, blushing at Mark’s awestruck expression.

‘Beautiful, you look more like a princess than a maid,’ he said.

Sophie couldn’t help but blush some more. Princess, what a cute name for her.

‘Thank you, I aim to please Mark,’ Sophie replied, a smile spreading over her face.

‘Oh, one more thing, a bit odd I know, but I’d like to have some level of professionalism. Is it alright if you call me Sir while you clean for me Sophie?’

It seemed a bit odd, but what was the harm, Sophie thought.

‘Okay sir, no problem!’ Sophie said.

Mark walked over, handed her a pink feather duster, and she got to work. The place was already looking pretty good, but Sophie worked hard. She aimed to please, part of who she was, of her independence, was showing just how dependable she could be. Maybe Mark would ask her back more, it certainly beat working in the warehouse. She’d still be her independent self after all, but Mark was just someone worth listening to, he was so capable, it would be silly not to let him guide her a little. Mark himself went about some of his daily business, only catching glances at Sophie now and then, seeing how every time she bent over, everything was on display. She was trying to hide the moans, but her rock hard nipples gave away just how good the material felt on her.

‘So, have you given any more thought to coming to my gathering Sophie?’ Mark asked.

He was sat upon his black leather chair as she scrubbed down the floor on her hands and knees, with a perfect view. Sophie absentmindedly hummed a tune and shook her hips to keep her mind off just how good her nipples felt.

‘Oh yes sir! I’d love to come!’ she said.

‘That’s fantastic sweetie, I’m sure the other guests will appreciate all your hard work, you’ve been such a good girl doing this for me,’

There was something so pleasant about Mark’s words that made it harder to hold how she felt in, a low soft moan escaped Sophie’s lips.

‘Everything alright there?’ Mark asked.

‘Oh, oh yes sir not to worry, and thank you so much, I hope you’re happy with the job I do,’ she said.

‘Of course dear, it’s perfect, I’ll come with you later to the store personally and buy whatever you desire,’

Sophie let out a pleasurable sigh, what a wonderful idea, he was so nice to her, and the pair began to talk about what she had in mind. Mark had such good ideas, about tube tops, thongs, booty shorts, all fun, cute outfits Sophie could show herself off in. Sir even mentioned getting a camera and doing a photoshoot of her modelling in her new clothing. Sophie giggled, what a fun, silly idea, her as a model. When she finished the cleaning job, Sophie found herself wandering over to the mirror again. It was such hard work that she just fell to her knees, worn out. Mark came up behind her, stroking her hair with one hand. She leaned into it, enjoying the feeling.

‘You’ve been such a good girl today Sophie and done such a good job. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come,’ he said.

Sophie looked at herself, legs spread, dripping from pleasure, hair dyed blonde and nipples so hard still. She’d definitely changed the last few days, but that was okay, she was becoming who she really was, and not just trying to rebel against her parents or authority. She’d been a good girl today. Soon she’d be rewarded, but right now she had to say her thanks to Mark.

‘Thank you so much Sir, I’m eager to please,’ she said.

She was too, maybe it was the maid mindset getting to her but pleasing felt so good. She could stay on her knees having her hair played with for hours if it pleased Sir.

‘Very good sweetie, now it’s time for you to put your regular clothes back on so we can go shopping,’ Mark said.

Sophie rose to her feet as Mark patted her on the head. It felt nice to be patted like that, it was such a basic show of approval but it meant a lot to her. Then, as she was walking to the bathroom, Mark’s hand drifted lower, giving her a nice pat on the butt. She just giggled, he’d probably meant to give her a pat on the back, it felt so naughty to have his hand down there. Sophie went to the bathroom, she changed back into her normal outfit, although didn’t go for the still damp undies. Sophie walked out, simply leaving the maid outfit and underwear in the room. Mark smiled at her, and put his arm around her, resting his hand on her lower back as he guided her away. Tomorrow it would be back to the grind of the warehouse, but for today, Sophie could enjoy a nice shopping trip with Sir…or Mark, she thought, then giggled. She was still in maid mode a little, but hey, it felt good to please.

#hypnosis #erotichypnosis #hypnotized #hypnokink #brainwashing #brainwashed #brainwash #mindcontrol #mind control #oc

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possum-rat · 4 years ago

Text

Not fun memories involving fire

(Y/n) bolts up from a bed. Sticky hot sheets sticking to their legs. Someone took the time and effort to unzip most of the pant leg turning the cargo pants into shorts, and pull off the sweater leaving them in a whitish shirt.

Their head aching they press their palms to their temples in an attempt to relieve some of the pain. "(Y/n) It's been a while! How are you?" Wilbur's voice erupts cheerfully. (Y/n) drops their hands to their lap staring intently at their grayish-tinted hands. "T's only been a few weeks Wilbur." They murmur tiredly. "Uh no? It's been a few years. Like 6 years." Replies Wilbur confused. "You feeling okay?"

(Y/n) frowns slightly and replies "Nah haven't been for the past... Wait how old am I?-" There's a pause as (Y/n) counts on their fingers before continuing completely serious "Uh not for the past like 16 years. But hey I'm alive? With 1 more life!" Wilbur blanches. "How the hell- What? How'd you lose your first?"

(Y/n) freezes and coughs. "Uh. Long story?"

-----

"(N/N)? LOVE? WHERE ARE YOU?" A panic-filled voice shouts from beyond the burning cottage. As smoke fills (y/n's) lungs they cough violently as they look around for a small tuxedo kitten. "Ailuros? Where are you?" They wheeze. As the fire continues eating at any and all flammable objects (Y/n) runs toward a shucker box. Patting their hand on the burning embers they grab the Shulker box and quickly tap the air infront of them before placing the box inside.

a pitiful mew comes from beside their feet."Ailuros." The word spills from (y/n's) mouth before they can stop. The small cat leaps up onto their open arms. Clutching the cat close to their chest they run toward the nearest door. Kicking it open their greeted by an angry mob.

shouting and sadistic grins illuminated by the light off the flickering burning flames.

(y/n) backs up dropping the cat allowing it to run. "Lilith?" (Y/n) voice comes out below a whisper. Pulling a sword from their inventory they point it toward the Tall brutish men break down the front door. Sprinting out of the house and toward the opisiete window (Y/n) slams their foot into the side of the window. The tinkle of glass and sharp pain flashing up their leg make's (Y/n's) eyes water more. Jumping from the window the cool air is a welcomed reilef compared to the sweltering heat of the burning house.

Staring in disbelief at the sight faintly as if in the deepest corner of their mind a song begins to play. Melancholy and slightly sad.

"All my style

All my grace

All I tried to save my face

All my guts, try to spill

All my holes, try to fill

All my money been a long time spent

On my drugs, on my rent

On my saving philosophy

It goes, one in the bank, and the rest for me

It goes, all my troubles on a burning pile

All lit up and I start to smile

If I, catch fire then I change my aim

Throw my troubles at the pearly gates"

"(N/n) oh there you are! Oh, I was so worried!" Lilith's voice erupts from behind (Y/n) causing them to flinch still feeling adrenaline in their veins. "Oh thank god. I thought they killed you." (Y/n) murmurs as they pull the raven-haired girl into a hug. "Yeah I'm alive hun." The sound of metal against a sheath causes (Y/n) to tense up.

the cool feeling of a blade to skin causes (Y/n's) eyes to widen in fear. "Lilith?" They whisper fear evident in their voice. "Hm? What's wrong love?" Lilith asks calmly. "Why? Why do you have a blade?" (Y/n) asks quietly as they back up while Lilith grins and points the blade toward them.

"Tch. You afraid to die? Hm? Does death scare you?" She erupt coyly as she adjusts her long dark green blazer gently pulling a long slightly waves strand of dark hair off before rolling it in her fingers and dropping it to the ground. "Ye-yes. It does." (Y/n) mumbles quietly.

"Well (y/n) you should remember. Those stupid children's books you'd read? Percy Jackson? Love and death aren't as different as one might think. You shouldn't fear death." (Y/n) feels their heart beginning to beat against their heart as they back into a tree. As they scoot away from it they trip over a root and smack to the ground.

"You're pathetic." Lilith snarls. The world blinks in and out of existence. "How in the world do you think I could ever like-Love someone like you?" She scoffs "I mean. I only stuck around because you're the famous '(Y/n)! The famous Healer/Alchemist! You know Wilbur Soot. How the fuck do you think I'd ever love you."

she bends closer toward (Y/n) placing the heel of her boot into their throat. "Oh." (Y/n) says simply.

Death gently places a soft kiss upon (y/n) forehead.

-----

(y/n) rubs their neck nervously as they stand up. "Anyway. Wilbur, do you have a potion stand?" Wilbur nods and stands up. As the two of them walk out of the tiny little makeshift hut (Y/n) spots the distance figure of Tubbo and Tommy. Sprinting toward them wincing at the light.

"TUBBO!" they screech as they pull the Ram-hybrid into a hug. "(Y/n)? YOU PRICK I WAS TALKING TO HIM."

Tubbo wraps his arms around them in return. As they cling to each other (Y/n) stands up holding Tubbo like a child. "Jesus Christ- Wow you've grown," Tubbo says excitedly. "Welp I need to go to the nether to grab some supplies wanna come with?" (Y/n) asks more to Tommy than Tubbo.

the two agree, letting (Y/n) get more appropriate clothes on. As the trio walk-Run toward the portal Tommy asks confused "Why do you seem taller?" The familiar whurring of the portal fills the silence as (Y/n) pulls at the brightly colored sky blue sweater before rolling up the sleeves. "Uh that'd probably be the boots? Anyway what's happened? How've you been?" They say as they follow the other two boys.

"Oh not much, the usual. Well Part from being killed once." Tubbo informs as he walks infront of (y/n) his brown hair bouncing slightly as he walks. "Hm. So you both have 2 lives left?" They mutter quietly. "Okay."

Small whispers in their head begins creating a wave of sound.

"Keep them safe."

"Watch Tommy."

"Grape."

"Meow."

the voices eventually move on too chanting "Meow." Contentedly. The whistle of a fire ballT makes (y/n) jump. Turning toward the sound they shove Tommy's head down along with Tubbo's just in case. They flinch violently as a freezing feeling spreads over their cheek and neck along with part of their forearm.

The sudden alarmed shout of Tubbo and Tommy causes (Y/n) to jump and turn toward them in fear. "Are you alright?" They ask. The sound of a skeleton walking towards them causes Tubbo to tense up. "Tommy? Do you wanna stick with them? I just got a message from Wilbur." Tommy nods uncertainly. As Tubbo dissapears (y/n) turns toward the skeleton.

"Child. Is this human being troublesome? Do you need me to remove him?" (Y/n) shakes their head wincing at the pain in their neck. "Tommy, go with Tubbo." Tommy happily obliges.

The world seems to tip and swirl underneath (y/n) feet.

-----

The loud crash of something metal causes (Y/n) to bolt upright. " YOU'RE GOING TO WALK THE CHILD DUMBASS." Snaps someone from out of sight. Another voice replies quietly "Please stop shouting. The child is awake." There's shuffling before two faces appear. (Y/n) squints at the trio. The tallest of the three has broken chain-mail armor layered over a purple uniform with a crest of arms on the left-hand side over their heart.

The skeleton nods and groans as they sit down infront of (Y/n).

"Hello (y/n) It's been awhile. But you probably don't remember me. You were but a baby. I'm Theodore." He says in a deep slightly raspy voice. (Y/n) nods and scans around. Theodore points toward the smallest of the three and informs " the one over their beside the door is Loren."

Loren gives a shy wave before tapping the wood on the side of the door. ".. - .-..-. ... / .- / .--. .-.. . .- ... ..- .-. . / - --- / ..-. .. -. .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / -- . . - / -.-- --- ..- / -- -..- .-.-.- -.--. -.-- -..-. -. -.--.-" it takes (Y/n) a second to decipher the tapping. Before translating it to "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Mx.(Y/n)" Loren wears an off white dress shirt along with a pair of dark plum pinstripe pants, and a black corset. They smile kindly before glancing toward the ground. "It's nice to meet you Loren." (Y/n) rasps.

"And that over behind you is Clementine."

(Y/n) try's to look toward the direction Theodore had said but a hand presses against their shoulder. "Here let me move hun." A poofy dark blue shoulder poof thingy floats into view. An orate old dress appears into view. Clementine smiles ghostly at (y/n). "You're going to hurt yourself hun. When's the last time you had a proper glass of Wither affect?"

"What? I- I've never had a 'Proper glass of Wither affect?' I'm pretty sure it'll kill me?" They murmer.

"PREPOSTEROUS! This is why you were so weak and frail. SEE CLEMENTINE I TOLD YOU." Theodore states exasperated. Loren sends a look like "I'm sorry about them." Clementine sights and daintily sits down on the bed beside (Y/n) "hm. Dear? Are you okay? Oh cra- Sorry excuse my vulgar language. Theodore pass me the Potion of healing?" (Y/n) frowns and coughs "I'm not- I'm pretty sure that I'm fully human. I don't think wither would help me."

Loren shakes their head and taps the wall again. "No no. Your right about the human part. You're part human, and part well us." They state as they point to themself Clementine and Theodore.

(Y/n) nods slightly and sighs in relief at the cool sensation of the liquid against the raw burnt skin. "OH CRUD- Sorry, but I really need to go find my friends. Do you have a portal by chance?" (Y/n) yelps as they sit up causing Clementine to jump.

Loren nods and taps "We have two compasses. One will lead you home and the other here. Please come back. We'd like to see you more as we're not able to go to the overworld. It get's quite lonesome down here."

(Y/n) nods and smiles as they pull on the fresh clothes the three of them had given. As Loren hands one compass (Y/n) realizes that the three of them have matching golden rings adorning their ring fingers.

-----

As (y/n) gets out of the portal they're greeted by a confused/concerned Eret. "(Y/n)? Where've you been?" They ask bewildered. (Y/n) frowns slightly and asks "Honestly no idea. But where's Tubbo and Tommy- wait I still haven't made a hous- nevermind." They look down to Eret and ask "so what's happened? I've probably missed something?" Eret shifts uncomfortably before saying.

"Uh so L'manberg was blown up everybody lost a life. Part from me and a few others. I don't remember who thought. Tommy has 1 life left I think." He trails off before turning the other way and murmurs "I betrayed them. (Y/n) I helped kill them. I've been dubbed a traitor."

(Y/n) nods understandingly "Hm. Well, if you did what you think is right then that's on you. If they're calling you a tratoir then so be it. I'll still stick by your side." Eret smiles slightly and says "You said you needed to make a house? Do you need supplies?" (Y/n) shakes their head before replying "Nah I'll get that stuff myself. I'll go visit Philza."

"By the way. Nice outfit." Eret says.

(Y/n) scans their outfit taking in the outfit for the first time. A purple shawl-type thing with golden detail over a pale off-whitedress shirt with poofy teardrop-shaped sleeves, tucked into black pants and blackish boots. Glancing at their arms they realize that they're wearing marble patterned like gloves. Affecticivly protecting them against the sun, and any harsh weather.

Tapping the air infront of themself they click onto 'Main menu'

There's a suck before a sudden 'Pop'

As they sit in an empty blank room they scroll through the options of 'Servers' eventually there gaze lands upon a server and seeing Philza's name amount the others They click.

#y/nxmcyt #mcyt #eret myct #tommyinnit #tommy and tubbo

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writerfangirlbooks · 4 years ago

Text

Bobby’s Daughter Part 1

Dean x Y/N

Prompt: Imagine flirting with Dean Winchester before he finds out you're Bobby's daughter.

A/N: I know Bobby never had children, but let's imagine for now. I've got a cool idea, for the most part, to go with this prompt. As always, feel free to request any ideas you would like me to write! I've had quite a few Dean ones recently and even more coming up soon. Thanks for sticking with me. Also, I just can't write a story without a backstory, I just need it desperately haha, so enjoy this midnight mess. And uhh, this one gets a little steamier than the others, just a heads up. Also this one is getting multiple parts! Word Count: 1800

Credit to gif owner!

It took you long enough to convince your dad to so much as let you hunt by yourself.

You heard the story of your mom once, and only once. Your dad hated discussing what happened to her. It broke his heart, losing the love of his life. Bobby often declared he didn't know what he would do without you, that you being born was a blessing and miracle tied into one burst of joy in this miserable man's life. That was quite a bit to live up to. Fortunately, you weren't stuck with him all of the time. Once he stopped homeschooling you, you were able to have real interactions and get to know the real world.

Every once and a while, a friend of your father would drop his sons off at the doorsteps to watch for endless amounts of time. Sure, the boys were a couple of years younger, but at least they never said you had cooties. They were excited to be with Uncle Bobby, though they weren't related. It occasionally made you doubt your place in his heart, wondering if he wished you had been born a son instead. However, it was nice to not be made fun of not having a mom and having a drunkard for a father. You saw the brothers young and at one point, hadn't seen them since. It wasn't uncommon for traveling hunters to occasionally leave their children for a weekend or two, so you didn't easily remember all of their names.

Growing up a female was tricky in small-town Iowa, even more so as a hunter. Your father spent some time away hunting when things began to go awry in nearby towns. You started public middle school around age eleven, but your father feared you were simply too young to spend nights by yourself, and you didn't exactly have a bunch of friends to spend the nights at. That ended up causing extra frustration and stress on his plate before you suggested an idea you watched on television: private school.

In a way, Bobby was a better father after you went away. You became more outgoing, learned what it meant to be a lady, and more importantly, how to use that to your advantage. You were encouraged to learn other languages, try extracurriculars. So you did, studying Spanish and French for the rest of your education. You joined the photography club, acted in theatre, and played soccer. You went home on holiday breaks, summer being your favorite as it meant spending more time with your dad. He did his best to be home as often as possible. You got excited to fix cars if it meant spending time with him. Despite his protests, you felt encouraged to hunt, so he gave you pointers. It was years before around age sixteen, he finally allowed your first solo hunt. It was thrilling and unsurprisingly, it went great. He preferred playing board games and watching television with you, making him overall pretty chill.

The one thing he was not a cool dad came to your dating life. You tried getting a boyfriend young and Bobby insisted on meeting him before your first dance. Let's just say the two of you didn't leave together by the end of the night. He was more lenient toward regular, mediocre guys. His one rule was the most adamant: don't date hunters. Fortunately enough for you, most hunters were around your dad's age, so, very much not your type.

That could lead to some very lonely tonights as you became an adult, leading to one night stands in apartments. Of course, you skipped past the whole college scene. Far too expensive and not something you seemed interested in, anyway. Despite your father's protests, you decided to spend time traveling rather than staying with him. You had gotten used to your independence and was somehow nearing thirty way too quickly. You considered yourself content in life. You were a darn good hunter, a woman that could hold her alcohol, and a successful freelance photographer. You weren't sure where your dad's income came from and you decided it best not to ask, sticking to making an honest living while hunting as often as possible.

It was late summer and Bobby's birthday was coming up soon. Although he hated celebrating, you made sure to be around during this time. It just so happened to coincide with a case you were tracking. You figured you would surprise him tomorrow evening and make his favorite dinner. For now, though, you rented a small apartment half an hour away. You felt motels were dirty and a bit pathetic. You did have some class, after all.

Tonight you were looking for a good time, clothed in one of your favorite dresses, with matching heels and handbag. You headed to the bar, pulled up a chair, and ordered your favorite margarita. Soon enough, a man's build and shadow blocked your view of the door. He cleared his throat and you turned your head, taking in the view of messy brown hair and mischievous green eyes attached to a face full of sun-kissed freckles. The man wore nothing special, just regular jeans and a plaid shirt layered with a hunter-green jacket. It was a look that fits well in Iowa, but his voice showed quickly he was not raised here.

"Not a beer girl, huh?" He asked, raising an eyebrow towards your bright colored drink. You did a quick assessment and deemed this man as not a threat. He could be just what you were looking for. As you began to speak, you watched his attentive gaze dip from your eyes to your lips then back again.

"Not quite my style. I like something a little sweeter," you said with a small smile. Leaning back in your chair, you aimlessly twirled the straw around in your drink as you looked back up to the handsome stranger.

He draped an arm around your chair, his fingers lightly brushing your shoulders in the process. "Then feel free to call me sugar, sweetheart," he said. His eyes crinkled with the flirty grin. You wanted to laugh at what a bad line it was but figured his looks could make up for a lacking game. You bit back your smile by licking your lips and tacking a long sip of your drink.

"Well, I don't know about that, but you can call me Y/N," you offered.

The conversation quickly led into basic first date questions, leading you and the man who later introduced himself as Dean to realize you had quite a few similarities, such as bands, landmarks, and even pies. Neither of you was able to persuade the other to change interest in alcohol. Once you got to the topic of cars, you had lost track of time. Dean claimed to have an older Impala and was eager to show you. You were used to the ploys of cool cars to get a woman outside, but you weren't objecting to where the night was headed. You were left intrigued and somewhat shocked that someone this good looking was actually telling the truth about having such a well kept and beautiful vehicle. You were hoping to get the chance to impress him with your own knowledge about cars at some point if things actually made it past three am leavings, which was typically not likely.

When Dean proposed the invitation, he noticed your response was less than immediate. You didn't mean to hesitate but was trying to work out to tell him how you did not feel comfortable leaving your own car in the bar parking lot. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. It typically wouldn't have been that noticeable except behavior change was something you studied in school when taught how to create poses for your photos. His green eyes were bright and eager, reflecting from the yellow lights outside of the bar.

"I, uh, if you're not interested... we don't have to..." Dean began stuttering, changing pace. He must not be used to rejection, you decided. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

You took one of Dean's hands, finding the new change endearing. Although it could've been funny to turn down someone that seemed like a player and innate flirter, that was not your plan for tonight. "Dean, I'm fine. I just don't like to leave my car, so if you want to follow, or go with me, back to my place?" You offered. You tilted your head, waiting for an answer.

He nodded. His grin had returned widely and he used his other hand to indicate for me to lead the way. And off Dean and you went. The two of you stumbled into your apartment in half the time it should have taken you to get back. Dean's chatter filled your ears up until you unlocked the door to your room.

Your keys were tossed onto the television stand while shoes were being kicked off against the closet door. Heat filled the room as your bodies filled the bed, disregarding your clothes and newness to one another. You felt much more connected as Dean kissed you, a sense of familiarity in his warmth and scent. It began with an intense and heavy makeout before his lips left yours, and began to trail down your neck, continuing further as time ticked away. The clock on the wall was the only sound you could hear besides your ragged breathing and the squeaks of the bed. The sheets were too weak for your grip, so you moved your nails into his back. You could feel his smiles trace your skin. You couldn't help but shudder when Dean whispered into your ear. It was a beautifully messy sight, watching Dean and you move as one, clinging to one another. Your eyelids fluttered, unsure of where to focus as the sensations grew stronger. Arching your head back to allow more room elsewhere, you thought you had lost your voice before one simple movement reminded you how to speak, urging you to call out Dean's name.

The night carried on for much longer.

Wattpad/Pinterest: writerfangirlbooks

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Tags: @akshi8278

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #spn imagine #SPN #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spnfandom #dean winchester #dean #flirting with disaster #flirting with dean #the winchesters #winchesters #winchester boys #bobby singer #dean x y/n #dean x reader

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years ago

Text

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Three

Ao3, MasterPost, C.1, C.2

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality

Warnings: swearing, innuendo (thanks Remus), a bit of spiraling thoughts, even more guilt (patton get a grip man),

Word Count: 2,721

Patton stood in the center of Remus’ room, waiting patiently while the being darted this way and that. Maybe he should’ve sat down, but none of the furniture in the room looked domesticated enough. Maybe he should’ve moved out of the way, at the very least, but the edges of the room rolled and moved and Patton did not want to know what made the corners seem so indefinite.

Remus moved in repetitions. First, he would reach into some shelf or jar or receptacle (or, on occasion, stick his hand right through the wall)- retrieving some item large or small- and hold it in his claws. He would then turn it over in his hands, and smell/lick/poke it. Each time he’d deem it not what he was looking for, drop it- never in the same place that he’d gotten it from- and then move on again. Around and around he went in the room, doing the same thing on each cycle.

Patton was starting to get dizzy watching it, honestly.

Remus stopped in front of his closet this time, and leaned in. He rummaged, loudly, but this time there was a shout of “Aha!” that made Patton start in surprise.

“What-!” He cleared his throat, “What did you find?”

Remus jumped to his feet, shimmying his shoulders back and forth. A loud clatter followed each movement, like legos in a barrel. When Patton tried to see what he had, though, he turned his back to him again.

“I found something to do that won’t traumatize you!” He sing-songed, dancing around and keeping up the clamor of his mystery object. Patton laughed, light and surprised, trying again to take a look. Again, Remus danced ridiculously out of the way.

“Well, that’s very considerate of you," he trailed behind the source of the noise, smiling, “Mind telling me what it is?”

“What’s it sound like?” Remus shook the box again. Although- Patton could see now that it wasn’t a box as much as it was a case; a very, very large and heavy-looking case, half the size of Remus’ torso.

“Um- bean bag filling?”

Remus cackled, his head tipping side to side.

“Nope! I’m pretty sure I would’ve eaten it by now!”

“Uh-huh,” Patton couldn’t help giggling to himself, as Remus’ laughter- along with many things about him- was infectious. “Is it a box full of maracas?”

Remus bounced on his heels, shook his head. Patton didn’t waste time guessing again. He knew just what an impatient Creativity looked like, and so he waited the last few moments before Remus couldn’t help turning around on his own and happily displaying the container.

Cradled in the Duke’s arms was the enormous case of clear-plastic, filled to the brim with what Patton could now see were pony beads. The beads came in every color thinkable- plenty of varieties, too. Glitter, metallic, letters, star-shaped, heart-shaped, tooth-shaped, et cetera et cetera! There were also, of course, spools of elastic. And charms, metal or rubber, plenty of those for decorating.

Patton examined this carefully, as a cautious excitement warmed him through his chest. He looked from the case to Remus, finding the side grinning proudly up at him.

“Bracelets?” Patton questioned.

“Bracelets!” Remus answered.

He was caught off-guard by such a wholesome hobby, he couldn’t lie, but Remus showed no signs that any of this was odd at all. As he wandered across his room, kicking heaps of trash and laundry out of the way to make room for them to sit, Patton found himself following his lead without much debate.

“I know you like to make those little thread ones,” Remus sat down on the floor, gesturing loosely to Patton’s arm, “And I make these beady things every now and then, so.”

“But I’ve never seen you wear any?” He sat down across from Remus, folding his legs beneath himself. The carpet was stained with many unpleasant colors- mostly dark red, and an upsetting amount of yellowed-gray. He was careful to avoid those patches.

“I wear ‘em under my sleeves, for when I wanna play with them. Making them gives me something to do with my hands, I guess,” Remus slid his fingers under the ruffled cuff of his sleeve, slipping a bracelet off his wrist. He held it up, displaying its murky green and black beads, the word ‘vomit’ spelled out with square beads in the middle of it.

“Oh!” Patton reached forward in excitement, rolling the plastic between his fingers. It felt smooth, movements fluid, the beads rattling pleasantly against each other. “You use them to stim?”

Something in Remus’ expression lit up like fluorescents, replacing his usual unnerving mania with a flash of genuine excitement.

“I use everything I wear to stim, Daddio,” he gestured first to his frayed sash, then the teeth sewn into his shirt, and onto the layers of glittered fabric. He was covered in flashing colors and textured fabrics and different parts, all apparently intentionally placed.

That spark of similarity was all it took for Patton to forget the vestiges of his awkwardness, as he let go of Remus’ bracelet and yet again laughed.

He helped Remus set up the case, slotting the different sections of it out and setting them down in between themselves. There were so many, and once it was all set, Remus wasted no time in getting to work. The motions he went through were practiced, well-worn with almost nothing other than muscle memory and a vague sense of design.

Just like that, they were both quiet again- Remus because of his focus, Patton because he lacked the words to say. He tried to follow the other side’s lead, snipping a bit of elastic off a thick spool from the center of the case and grabbing a handful of beads, haphazardly.

Opening up his hand to look at the selection, he found a few neon pink ones, reds shaped like anatomically accurate hearts, and an oblong metal charm that bore striking resemblance to a-

Oh!

He tossed that one back, feeling flustered.

They’d both been quiet for too long, he realized. He didn’t know what to say, still, came the dawning fear next. Patton looked up from his work, mouth falling open without any plan, to find that Remus was already staring at him. Intently.

“Hi,” Patton blurted.

“Do you like music?” Remus said it at almost the same time as him, the words chasing each other. In his voice was a trace of awkwardness- not nearly as much as Patton’s, but it was there, and that was… comforting, somehow.

He looked down at his hands, looping a few pink beads down his string.

“What kind?”

Remus hummed confusedly, giving the distinct impression that he’d forgotten music came in different varieties.

“Most kinds!” He began, “But today, I think I’m feeling violent- violent in a cute way, don’t worry,” he smiled, too, like that made sense at all, like he was trying to be persuasive. It was- what, endearing? Or at the very least it was funny.

Patton smiled back, his hands twisting around his string.

“Whatever you want, bud.”

Remus had summoned a speaker already, but as he leaned over to place it he dropped it with a weighty thump. Patton jumped, seeing Remus sitting slack-jawed in surprise across from him. Concern filled his head, but then it clicked.

He’d never called him anything so… friendly.

“Oh- Remus, I-”

“It’s fine!” Remus scrambled to grab the speaker, claws skidding off it more than once. “Call me whatever! I don’t care!”

But his voice was a little too pitchy, and his pupils a bit too dilated, and Patton thought that he did care- that he in fact cared very much.

When music filled the room, painfully loud at first, Patton said nothing. He watched Remus, twisting the volume knob in a very focused manner, and he felt warm.

The sounds weren’t what he was used to, to say the least, but it was almost nice. Everything was a little too noisy, and a little too vulgar, and a lot too foul, but beneath it all he could see the appeal. He listened to it, and it seemed almost like he was learning. Patton scooped up another set of beads- this time with a bit more care- threaded them together contentedly.

It felt like Remus was really trying to be hospitable. He wasn’t doing too bad of a job about it, either- which was more than Patton could say about himself, in years past. A lot more, actually.

Remus’ voice broke through the music: “What are you thinking about?”

Patton blinked, smiling up at his maybe-sort-of-potential friend.

“What do you mean?”

Remus’ face was angled down towards his project, contorted with concentration.

“You’re thinking about something. You make less noise than a day-old corpse when you get caught up in your head.”

“Oh!” Was he really that easy to read? Wait, don’t answer that… “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

“C’mon, don’t do that. Take it from me- reigning champion in thinking about upsetting shit- talking about it is how you make sure your brain doesn’t devour itself Ouroboros-style.”

And Patton said, quietly:

“Yeah, but your upsetting thoughts don’t upset you.”

“Who said they don’t?” Remus sounded confused- genuinely, sincerely confused. Patton winced, taken aback by his own insensitivity.

“Oh my goodness, it- I had no idea, I’m so sorry.”

Remus’ confusion mounted.

“That’s alright?” He started, “I’m used to it all, I know how to handle it. Which is why, I was going to say, if you keep it all up here-” he tapped his head, a faint rattling resulted in it, “-then all your brains are gonna goosh out from your ears and eyes and nose from the stress! Probably.”

“I-” his voice wobbled, “I know.”

There was a beat.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” it wasn’t a question, but it was soft enough to sound like one. Patton refused to look up anyway, hands pulling taut the elastic of his bracelet. His eyes slipped closed for merely a moment, and he sighed.

“I can’t stop feeling guilty around you… but that’s just my problem, okay?”

Remus’ reaction was unexpected, even for him. He breathed out slow, exhaustion crawling down his face in such a foreign expression for him. His lips were quirked down in a half-scowl.

“I make you uncomfortable, yeah?” He rolled his eyes, gesturing with his free hand. “This was your idea, you know. You can leave anytime you want, I’m sure as fuck not gonna think you’re rude- you think I’m in a place to judge people?”

With a sudden intake of breath, Patton twisted his partially made bracelet around his hand and pulled it taught, startled and fidgeting.

“What-? No! You aren’t the problem, Remus, I am,” he shook his head in bewilderment, “I don’t- I have no idea how to talk to you, but I know that I do want to! Everything you’ve done today makes me want to talk to you more, and I still can’t figure out how, and I- I’m sorry. I can’t get over the- well, the everything, Remus.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Remus looked oddly vacant.

“Do you-” He stopped short.

“I should-” Patton cut off.

This was a bad idea. It was a bad idea and he never should have done this and he never should have accepted Remus’ help in the first place. He wasn’t going to get the hang of this no matter how hard he tried, and now he’d somehow rendered Remus speechless, which clearly meant he’d messed up beyond what he thought possible. Patton hadn’t changed a bit, still so ungrateful and insensitive to this creature, who’d so selflessly helped him and held him and. And.

He felt sick.

“It’s not your fault?” Remus’ words came out like a question. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, actually. Or why you’re doing that.”

Patton dropped the last few beads onto place, staring blankly at the untied jewelry in his hands. He counted the beads. Tried to breathe.

“I’m sorry because you think that I don’t like you.”

Remus snorted.

“You don’t like me.”

“Wh- yes, I do!”

“Oh, do you? Or do you like that I did something nice for you, and you think you need to pay it forward.”

Patton ground his teeth, indignant. No, he was confused about a lot of things, but this much he knew wasn’t the reality anymore.

“You know what? Maybe that was true, when I first decided I ‘had’ to do this, but I’ve done a lot of thinking- I can’t stop thinking about you, actually. I had so many ideas about what you were, what you meant, and it’s hard to understand that for thirty years- thirty years- I was wrong,” Patton set his jaw so tight it hurt. “But I’m going to understand it because I can see that you’re- you can be kind. You did a nice thing for me and you didn’t have to. You’re funny, too, I never thought you’d make me laugh, but you-”

Remus interrupted him with a snort. And then, he was cackling, doubled over and wheezing and Patton had no choice but to wait for him to finish.

“Stop, fuck, stop talking,” Remus giggled, “I knew you were a himbo, but wow, dumb. You’re really beating yourself up about this, huh?” Remus had his chin resting on his hand, leaning forwards with half-lidded eyes and a lazy grin. “You don’t have to list all the reasons you should like me. You don’t owe me anything, and I like it that way.”

Patton didn’t respond. Remus continued anyway.

“I let you cry on me cuz you were having a meltdown. That’s just what people do. You’d do it- you’re way more cuddly and lovey-dovey than me, you’d do it for anybody. Anybody would do it for anybody. It doesn’t matter, Pops.”

Patton tied the knot of his bracelet, finally. looped the string over itself thrice and tightened it well. The backs of his eyes stung.

“Is it really so bad that I want to try being friends with you? Is that really so stupid?”

Remus’ expression cleared, the words not yet processed. Slowly, his mouth twisted, his eyes went just a bit wide, all in a look that shouted something like epiphany. He sunk his teeth into his lip.

Remus snapped the bracelet he’d made with his claw, letting the beads scatter across the floor. He dove forward for the case, scooping up a new set, and got to work. He ordered them strategically, fixing them all into a line and moving so quickly that Patton realized he’d only been working so slowly before so that he was matching Patton’s own pace.

He was done in a minute or less, tying it off and slicing off the excess elastic.

“Arm, gimme.”

Patton felt a small rush of surprise, not even hesitating to stick his wrist out and let Remus push the bracelet up past his hand. The touch was gentle, letting the accessory fall into place on his arm.

It was bright and neon- more so than anything Patton would ever wear, usually. The colors were an eyesore, but they were. Well. Teal, white, interspersed with occasional green, and that said more about the jewelry than however saturated it was. There were unique beads dotted throughout, too- teddy bears and hearts. It was cute. It was comfortable.

Patton glanced up, so many things that he thought he should say but none of them came to fruition. Remus’ eyes bored into him with their intensity, questioning and fierce and almost confused.

Patton picked up his own small creation. It was pink and gray and white, all pastel and pretty, with metal charms that were cool to the touch. He nudged it over to Remus, fully aware that it contrasted with the side’s aesthetic even more than Remus’ gift did for him, and that he already had so very many.

But Remus didn’t hesitate either, shoving his sleeve up and adding the new piece to his collection. He grinned.

And, as cheery as he ever sounded, like nothing odd had happened at all, Remus said:

“We should do this again sometime, then. Maybe I’ll even make you something with real hearts!”

Chapter Four

Taglist: @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

#sanders sides #ts #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #intruality #platonic intruality #patton #remus

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

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Pizza Party (2/1/2021)

Alastor gets a part in Hell’s first totally-unauthorized smuggled-down-from-the-living-world production of Hamilton, and he wants to celebrate; Sir Pentious @usedhearts reveals he hasn’t had a meal in A While; Alastor takes the opportunity to come over with pizza to celebrate and moon over Sir Pentious some more in a totally normal very platonic friend way. They talk about Alastor’s part in the show, discuss relocating the airship for further repairs, and Alastor invites Sir Pentious to a Mardi Gras ball. You know. Platonically.

usedhearts

🎩 ALASTOR, I WOULD HATE TO BE A BOTHER BUT I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN TO....EAT....AGAIN HA.....

🎩 I ONCE AGAIN GOT TOO ENGROSSED IN MY WORK IT SEEMS!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh, wonderful, I need someone to celebrate with! In the mood for anything in particular? I’ll probably just harass one of my regular haunts for a couple of plates!

usedhearts

🎩 NO NOTHING PARTICULAR THAT I CAN THINK OF! I WOULD LOVE TO CELEBRATE WITH YOU THOUGH!

🎩 I'M AT THE AIRSHIP! I WILL LOVE TO SHOW YOU THE REPAIRS SO FAR TOO!

🎩 I MAY BE IN THE BATH WHEN YOU ARRIVE, I NEED TO SCRUB OFF ALL THE GREASE AND OIL FROM MY WORKING!

🎩 MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME THOUGH, I WON'T TAKE TOO TERRIBLY LONG!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh!

🎶 Sure sure, that’s fine! Where should I wait?

usedhearts

🎩 THE KITCHEN SEEMS LIKE A GOOD CHOICE! OR THE BRIDGE! WHICHEVER YOU WISH!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Kitchen seems most convenient for a meal, I’ll wait for you there! I’m sure you’d like to give me a tour of the bridge’s repairs, anyway.

usedhearts

🎩 bossman said to tell u that he would like to do that also hi this is egg #310 :)

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Well, hello! Tell your boss I'm bringing pizza. It's quick and it leaves leftovers.

🎶 But quality pizza. Not one of those junk food chains.

usedhearts

🎩 i told him he said that that sounds good! we are helping him scrub off all the grease!! :)

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh.

🎶 Super!

🎶 Be there soon.

usedhearts

🎩 yes, it is! we will see u soon mr radio man! :)

Alastor

Alastor had arrived early with three boxes of pizza and was waiting in the kitchen—not that anyone had probably noticed that yet. He hadn't turned the lights on and he'd been uncharacteristically dead silent since his arrival—listening to the faint sound of singing echoing from elsewhere in the airship.

Sir Pentious

He had good timing, Telly was now out of the bath, mostly dry, and slithering back into his bedroom. He just finished Jolly Sailor Bold and slid immediately into another song. "_I'm a killer, cold and wrathful/Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom/I've murdered half the town/Left you love-notes on their headstones/I'll fill the graveyards until I have you._"

Alastor

Oh, now there was something different. Thus far it had been all show tunes and shanties, but he just barely recognized this one as a modern tune.

It wasn't a pleasant recognition. But he could close his eyes and pretend the song was being sung for him. The thought of being murdered for was... nice.

Was Sir Pentious a little louder? Maybe he was getting closer.

Sir Pentious

Telly slithered about his bedroom, towel wrapped around his hips-- not that he needed it, just a habit really. He headed towards his dresser as he kept singing. "_Moonlight walking, I smell your softness/Carnivorous and lusting to track you down among the pines/I want you stuffed into my mouth/Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you, love/I'd never hurt you/But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix/I will eat you slowly..._"

Alastor

Oh, what a beautiful sentiment. Maybe Sir Pentious *was* singing about Alastor—

Ha! Sure, keep dreaming. And try not to drool. He'd just enjoy the performance as long as he could.

Sir Pentious

"_Oh, the horror of our love/Never so much blood pulled through my veins/Oh, the horror of our love... never so much blood._" He spun around the room, belting the song as he put on his shirt. He sang the next few verses, and noticed the kitchen light wasn't on. Alastor must've still been waiting on the food. He slithered through the door singing the end of the song, and flicked on the light-- and was startled to see Alastor's there! His hood flared in surprised before settling instantly. His hand on his chest, he shook his head.

"You startled me, Alastor!"

Alastor

Alastor was so absorbed in listening to the singing—hovering near the doorway, glowing eyes shut as he listened—that he didn't even register that the singing had drawn dangerously close until the lights flashed on. His eyes snapped open. Oh, whoops.

"You think *you're* startled?! Imagine this from my perspective! Here I am, minding my own business lurking in the shadows, when someone turns on the light and flares a cobra hood in my face!" Studio audience laughter.

Alastor gestured with a flourish toward the kitchen table where three pizza boxes are stacked. "Here we are! Someday I'll make something fancy for you, but in the meantime I thought it was more important to get you fed sooner rather than later."

Sir Pentious

Telly was, once again, VERY thankful that he couldn't blush. God, he would be bright red right now if he were still human. He glanced over at the pizzas, barely registering them or what Alastor was saying. He should pay attention, shouldn't he? Yes, but also....Alastor was right here and Telly was feeling oh so warm and cuddly.

And so he indulges his urges a little, moving closer to coil around Alastor and give him a hug. Warm hug from a snake in a t-shirt.

"Congratulations again on your roles! I haven't had the chance to see Hamilton yet, but I'm sure whatever the roles entail, you'll excel at." He didn't want to let go, but his stomach gave a painful sort of twist-- one that came from being empty too long.

"Let's eat, though, I'm starving." He laughed.

Alastor

Oh, good god, he was so warm. Warm and wearing nothing but a single layer of cotton, and he smelled fresh and perfumy and clean, and at the moment the thought of stuffing as much of Sir Pentious into his mouth as he could fit and ripping out a chunk was wildly appealing.

It took him a moment to register what Sir Pentious had actually said. "I'm starving, too." *Part* of what Sir Pentious had said.

Sir Pentious

Telly opened one of the boxes and flicked his tongue to sniff. Oh, that smelled good. He didn't even bother with a plate, taking a slice and swallowing it whole-- as a snake normally would, but that just looked odd for someone who was normally so prim and proper. He took another slice and this time bit it, y'know, like a normal human being. After swallowing his bite, he spoke.

"So, tell me about the audition, how did it go? I saw the outfit you wore, it was very bad, but in a very you way, I adored it!" He let out a Pentious Cackle.

Alastor

Oh wow. Never mind, maybe what Alastor wanted was to be stuffed inside Sir Pentious's mouth.

He opened a second box—helpfully labeled "SOYLENT ;)" in marker—and grabbed a slice for himself. "Oh, *right!* Why, for a moment there I nearly forgot what we were celebrating, what with the"—singing and hugging—"pizza and all."

Alastor had been congratulated a moment ago, hadn't he? "Thank you—apparently it went well! Hah! I wasn't sure it would! The casting director was impressed by my performing abilities and my resume—but not my performing *style.* It's a... are you familiar with *rap?* Most of the show is rap. My natural instinct is to go a little too melodic. There's a couple of songs I'm not sure *how* I'm going to do." He looked nervous for a split second; but only that long, and then the look was gone. "But if I was good enough for him, that's good enough for me! We've got plenty of rehearsals, we'll make it work."

Sir Pentious

Rap! Oh yes he'd heard a few rap songs, even liked a couple! He nodded. "Yes, that does seem outside your normal range, but I'm sure you can find a way to do it! You are the most skilled performer I know, Alastor."

He's purring now, and taking another bite of pizza. God, he really was hungry right now, how had he not noticed earlier? "I'm very excited to see you on stage! You'll get to show all of Hell a whole new side to the Radio Demon! Or maybe, just a slightly different songs-- it's not like anyone who knows you isn't already aware that you love musical theater!"

He chuckled. Telly folded the rest of the pizza slice in half before swallowing it down like the first. He really was too hungry right now. "I'm certain that the speed of these raps won't be a problem for you-- is it just the style you're worried about?"

Alastor

"Hah! Don't know many performers, do you?" He tilted his head dismissively, like he was ducking the compliment. "I'm better than most, sure—but half of that's because I've got my own traveling band. That's not going to be the case up on the stage, it'll be just me. And by myself, among a whole cast of professional musical theater actors? I'm just the guy who got turned down by every show in New York for three years straight." He clucked his tongue. "But, here I am. I don't know if standards are that much lower in Hell than they were in New York, or if I got that much better—but I hope it's the latter."

Oh, the *thought* of getting to show that side to Hell—of being up on the stage, all spotlights on him, drowned in thunderous applause... Don't mind him if he stares off into the distance for a moment as applause faintly plays, he's fantasizing. Sorry, what were they talking about? "Sure! Anyone who knows me won't be surprised—but how many people know me? Everyone else in Hell will be meeting me for the first time!" He desperately hoped it made a difference.

"Oh, the speed's no problem—the fastest song in the show goes like so—" He played a clip from one song, "—*I'm takin' this horse by the reins makin' Redcoats redder with bloodstains*—" then cut back in and picked up where it left off, "And I've got no trouble keeping up, 'And I'm never gonna stop until I make them drop and burn them up and scatter their remains,' see." He did indeed sing it just as fast as the recording—but that was the thing, he was definitely singing it, setting the lyrics to a mostly monotone tune. It didn't sound bad, but it definitely stood out as Not Rapping.

Sir Pentious

He blinked at the speed of that-- wow it really was fast! He'd never be able to sing that, certainly. But Alastor definitely could and Telly leaned closer as he did. Hm, yes, there was that tune to it.

"Well, perhaps all you need is to practice? It's something new, you're not going to be perfect at it straight off the bat." He leaned closer and playfully blelele'd against his ear. Oh, wait, was that weird? He pulled back and went back to eating. Monch monch.

"It's like...swimming or engineering or even singing normally, it's a skill you'd have to develop, right?"

Alastor

Oh, tongue flick. He hoped his ear smelled okay. Of course it did, why wouldn't his ear smell okay? He took a bite of his pizza, he'd hardly eaten so far.

"Sure," he sighed. "Can I develop it before opening night, though—that's the question! What I'd like best is if we could tweak the songs a little to mesh with *my* style—but then getting that to mesh back into the *show's* style will take time and practice, too, so I've got to decide which it's going to be soon enough that we can figure it out before opening night... The director might come down hard one way or the other and settle the matter, but what if they're too nervous to give me direction because I'm the Radio Demon?" He flung up a hand. "It will be fine, I'm sure it will be fine. I know. But I don't like the waiting. Anyway, if the whole show crashes and burns, at least it'll be fun to watch." He already had a plan B, apparently.

Sir Pentious

"Maybe you'd just need to workshop it a little? Try it out different ways and see if the director likes it?" There WAS that intimidation factor of him being the Radio Demon. "I don't know what to do about the reputation part of it, unfortunately, that's a conundrum."

His head tilted, and he swallowed down another slice. Whole. There he goes. And he's picking up another slice.

"Perhaps having a one on one talk with the director to ensure them that you won't kill them for simply doing their job?"

Alastor

"That's probably what we're going to do. And see how it goes from there, I suppose."

And there went another slice, down the hatch. Was Sir Pentious even tasting them? Alastor finished his first (!) slice and grabbed a second.

"I'm going to be having talks like that for *weeks.* With the director, with the other actors, with the crew backstage—in groups, individually, in public, in private... I'm bringing a cake and my best sweet-and-innocent face to our first rehearsals."

Sir Pentious

"That's a good idea! Just try to be as non-threatening as possible." He shrugged a bit, taking a bite this time.

"If you want help practicing or running lines, or whatnot, I would be very willing to help with that." He smiled. "Oh!" He moved to the sink and turned on the tap, looking proud of himself. "The water's fixed! And the heat too! The warehouse is also almost done being repaired, though I'm sure that people have seen the swarming eggs and know I'm here now. I should probably look into moving soon, or hire some guards."

Alastor

"That's the plan! If everything works out, by our third rehearsal session they'll be wondering whether all the rumors about the Radio Demon were complete hogwash!" Assuming none of them had met him before. Ooh, maybe they'd met him during his brief foray into the theater scene in the seventies, he'd made a good impression on a few people then, hadn't he? He could hope.

"With Valera in the show and Charlie falling all over herself with excitement that I've picked up an activity that doesn't end in bloodshed, I think I'm fine on practice partners." Especially considering that *all* the lines were music, and mostly very fast music. "But I'll be more than happy to come by and show off in front of you!"

He played a round of applause for the demonstration of running water. "You have other warehouses you can move to, I hope?"

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I do. I just need to get the airship mobile before I can do that. Or find a truck capable of taking it somewhere else." He sighed and moved back next to Alastor. Telly finished the slice in his hand and then got another one. Why yes, he was that hungry.

"I'd love for you to show off for me, though. It'll be my first experience with the musical! I haven't gotten my hands on a copy yet." He shrugged a bit.

Alastor

Telly was already on his fifth slice. Alastor was glad he’d gotten three pizzas. “Or find an incredibly powerful friend capable of opening a portal big enough to transport an airship through?” Look at that sweet smile.

“Oh! The hotel has a copy, we could watch it together!” Too presumptuous? “Or I could—send it to you, whichever you prefer.”

Sir Pentious

"I would love to watch it with you, Alastor. Who better than one who's going to be in it?" He grinned, nibbling at this slice. "We can make a night of it! It'll be fun!"

He hummed. "Would it be alright for you to transport something so large? And would I need to brace anything within the airship or without?"

Alastor

*Movie night.* Oh, that sounded delightful. “We’ll call it part of my practice! I can get up and perform my parts for you.” And spend the rest of the time in Telly’s coils... He liked coiling around Alastor, right? He sure seemed like he did. That’d be fine.

“Why, sure, not a problem! Just buy me dinner.” Speaking of dinner—he finished of his second slice and grabbed a third. “Brace it the way you would for any other transport. I can open the portal underneath, so gravity can do most of the work—but I presume you don’t want it to go into free fall. Might be best if you set up some cranes or whatnot to lower it through a little more gracefully. And of course, it’s going to be passing through my friends’ dimension. It shouldn’t be a problem, but if I were you I’d keep the doors locked just in case.”

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded, humming a a bit. "Yes, I'll need to make some preperations before we were to move it then. We don't want it becoming _more_ damaged after all."

He nibbled more at his pizza, and smiled. "Thank you for coming over, Alastor. You always make my day better when you do." Oh no, was that too much? He cleared his throat and looked away. "So, ah, when would you want to watch Hamilton? I would be 'down' for whenever."

Alastor

There was a burst of interference noise as Alastor’s heart lodged itself somewhere in his throat. He swallowed it back down with half a slice of pizza. “And it’s always my *greatest* pleasure to do so! You make for fine company, my friend!” He resisted the urge to lay it on even thicker. “I’ll have to find out when rehearsals are starting up and what that schedule looks like—oh, and Mardi Gras is coming up, I *must* find out when all the parades are this year—so I’ll let you know once I know when I’m free!” He laughed, “I’m not used to having a schedule!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, Mardi Gras! Yes, the Alastor here gets very excited about that too!" He laughed a bit. "I didn't know about it before I met him, but it all seems like fun!"

He leaned his elbow on the table and then his chin on his hand. "You're becoming a busy man, just hope you'll have time for me. It'd be nice to still see you, every now and again."

Alastor

“Of course I’ll have time for you!” He reached out to grab Telly’s hand. “You don’t think I’m the kind of man who’d abandon his friends just because I caught a hint of medium-level semi-stardom, do you? If I get so busy I don’t have time to visit you, then I’m dragging *you* along to visit *me.*” He registered, belatedly, that holding Telly’s hand meant he was also holding Telly’s pizza. He politely relinquished his grip. Ahem. “Maybe Mardi Gras is a good opportunity for that! Have you ever been? I can’t take you to *everything,* but the parades are all public! And maybe one of the balls that doesn’t need an invitation—“ Did he just invite Telly to a dance.

Sir Pentious

"I went one year with the Alastor here-- it's terribly loud with so many people, but it was fun too." He smiled, and didn't seem to mind when Alastor grabbed his hand and pizza. He even, rather pointedly, still brought the slice up for another bite.

"We never went to a ball, though, that sounds like fun. Oh!" He seemed to light up. "Would we get to wear costumes? Would it be like a masquerade? I do miss those, all the vibrant costumes and the intricate masks!" He sighed dreamily, then blinked, straightening a bit and looking a little abashed.

"Well, good, though-- I can't exactly pop open a portal to come to you, so this will only work with your continued interest," He said, laughing, but there was certainly a bitter tinge to it.

Alastor

“Oh, some of the balls are snobbish black tie affairs—the only costuming is rich people trying to look like even richer people.” He scoffed. “At the *good* ones, though—costumes are *highly* encouraged, masks and all. I never go without a mask—ha, as if anyone would talk to me if I did!”

He heard that bitterness. His hand crept back over to... he’ll go with Sir Pentious’s wrist this time. “If I’ve got anything to say about it, you’ll never have to worry about that.” Maybe there was a way he could give Telly his own way to open up portals to come visit...

Sir Pentious

His heart clenched at that touch, those words. How he wished he didn't have the little voice whispering in the back of his head saying that it wasn't true. But this wasn't Leclerq, this was different. This Alastor hadn't hurt him, and he looked so earnest right now...

Telly took a breath, looking away a moment, his chin coming off his hand so it could cover Alastor's. "I know, I'm sorry-- it's nothing that has to do with you, just....old worries raising their heads again. Things that I have no reason to ascribe to you. Thank you, for reassuring me, though, Alastor. And I'd love to coordinate costumes with you for the actual good balls." His smile returned now, a bit more genuine and much more warm.

Alastor

“No need to apologize! I’m not a figure that inspires trust, I know that. I’ll just have to keep saying it until it sounds believable, won’t I?” He’d say it for decades if he had to.

His eyes lit up and he squeezed Telly’s wrist excitedly. “Oh—I’ve never coordinated costumes with someone before!” He looks like a kid who’s been handed a dollar in a penny candy store.

Sir Pentious

Telly sat up straighter and his face brightened again. "Oh, yes, it's sso much fun! We can pick a theme and find a tailor and--" He cut himself off his face screwing up momentarily.

"Though all the onesss I know are rather too expensssive consssidering I ssstill have to pay for all thisss." He gestured to the airship around them. "Damn angelsss," He muttered.

Alastor

“We can get pre-made costumes and tweak ‘em a little. And Rosie can help! She’s a regular sorceress with a sewing machine!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh! We'd need to find ones that aren't cheaply made, you know how they love to mass produce everything nowadays. Sacrificing quality for quantity..." He shook his head and sighed. Telly's face turned shy and laughed softly.

"I actually have never met Rosie, if you can believe it. Not even when Alastor and I--" He cut himself off. Nope, not going to start digging into that right now. He'd _just_ pushed those feelings aside. "Anyway, I haven't met her, but I'd be happy to do so with an introduction from you."

Alastor

"I *know,* the cheap polyester things that aren't even hemmed properly!" He shook his head while his invisible audience booed disapproval. "No, we'll have none of that cheap Halloween fare! We'll be going for theater costumes and rental costumes, the high quality products! I know some *wonderful* little claustrophobic holes in the wall—clothing racks packed so tightly you can hardly move between them, jewelry and decorations arranged in rainbow order down the length of an entire wall, an entire room dedicated just to masks, dressing rooms the size of closets and restrooms smaller than the dressing rooms, no two costumes alike in the whole store! It's going to be such fun!" He was practically bouncing in his seat.

Sir Pentious

His excitement was infectious and it had Telly nearly bouncing on his coils too. "Oh, yes, that does sound like fun! I've never done anything like that, I've always had my things bespoke from a tailor's or given as gifts. But I do wonder what we can find hidden like jewels in the depths!"

As he's nearly vibrating, he slithered around the table, getting ready to put the boxes in the fridge. "Are you done eating? I want to show you how much I've gotten done! But first the leftovers need to go into the icebox."

Alastor

"Oh, hold on!" He grabbed two more slices and stuffed them in his mouth. "Don't put them in the icebox in their boxes, that'll dry them out and the leftovers won't last as long! You want them in cling wrap or a ziplock." Mr. Foodie over here getting fussy over food he didn't even make. "Careful with mine, it's got people on it. Do you eat people?" He didn't think they'd discussed it before, had they?

Sir Pentious

"I eat what I can get my hands on." Oh, he said that too fast and that was a bit too honest. So he's going to busy himself looking for something suitable. "I think I have some cling wrap in here somewhere..."

Alastor

Oh, that was heartbreaking. "Then my leftovers are yours!" He leaned on a counter to wait while Telly searched. "We'll see about finding costumes and then visit Rosie if they need altering. She'll be pleased to meet any friend of mine—especially one willing to dine in the Cannibal Colony! Just don't mind her if she gets a bit... tease-y."

Sir Pentious

"Tease-y?" He looked at Alastor as he finally fished out the roll of cling wrap. He offered it to Alastor-- he didn't really like the stuff, but hey, if it kept the pizza fresher longer....

Alastor

He started wrapping up slices in little stacks of three at a time. "She's noticed my tendency to befriend every snake I cross paths with and has taken to poking fun at me for it, that's all." She also heartily disapproved. She was convinced it was just going to keep ending in heartbreak, and wasn't impressed with Alastor for becoming the kind of person who'd do that to himself. But surely she'd be courteous to Sir Pentious himself.

Sir Pentious

"Ah, I see." He nodded. "I suppose your relationship is one of those vitriolic friendships, where you tease one another? Or am I assuming wrong again?" His eyes narrowed as he thought.

Alastor

"I can't stand vitriolic friendships. Just enemies who smile at each other—and I have enough of those. No no—at most, harmless friendly banter, and even that's rare." And powered not by vitriol but by concern, worry disguised under jokes.

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded. "Yes, I, too, do not like that. I have enough enemies, but most don't smile anymore, just laugh in my face." Said face twisted into a hateful expression before he sighed and relaxed. He started putting the finished packets of three slices into the frige-- one of those really old kinds with the handle in the middle.

Alastor

"I've got one or two like that. I've found the best way to deal with them is to ignore them completely. Let them stew unhappily in your lukewarm indifference!"

Sir Pentious

His head tilts and he frowns a bit. "People dare to laugh in _the_ Radio Demon's face?" He hummed. "They either must be brave or stupid. Or both. But unfortunately, I don't think I have a talent for indifference."

Alastor

"Powerful," Alastor said. "And stupid, but that's unrelated." A shrug. "Indifference is a skill! It can be practiced. But step one is 'keep smiling'—and I'm afraid you're very expressive, my friend."

Sir Pentious

And Alastor's point is proven when his face scrunches again. "Yes, it's always been a problem, even when I was alive." He let out a huffy sigh, putting the rest of the pizza packets in the fridge before closing it. His arms crossed. "I don't think I've ever been able to control my expression..."

Alastor

"In your case, you might have an easier time practicing an equally valuable skill." He smiled maliciously. "Teach people to fear the sight of your displeasure."

Sir Pentious

He blinked, and then that patented Evil Pentious Grin slid over his face. "You know, Alastor, I think you're right." Telly laughed, that evil laugh that Alastor loved, and then put his hands on his hips, his chest puffing.

"Which the repairs to my airship will help accomplish! Come, come, let's go to the bridge! I want to show you how good it looks now."

Alastor

Oh, *there* was a glimpse of that villainous megalomania Alastor so adored. He gestured grandly. "Lead away!"

Sir Pentious

And lead he does! Through the bedroom-- which, if Alastor will notice, looks much more put together than before and there's a special place on the coat hanger for the leviathan leather belt he'd gotten Telly-- and then up the ramp to the bridge. Look! No glass on the floor now! Everything's clean and dusted and in order. Telly beelines it for the organ, and presses a key. There isn't the normal organ drone, but it DOES tink like a piano key.

"I UPGRADED A BIT! I FIGURED WHILE IT WAS OUT OF ORDER, I COULD ADD A FEW MORE INSTRUMENTS TO THE ORGAN'S REPERTOIRE!"

Alastor

He spared a passing glance to the bedroom, picking up random details as he hurried by—including the belt, oh, that warms his dead heart—but not slowing down as they hurried on to the bridge. What was Sir Pentious so eager to show off? A completely overhauled bridge? Glowing hologram projections, perhaps? Additional weaponry?

He was not expecting “an organ with a piano hidden inside it.” Somehow that was more outlandish than anything else he’d expected.

“*You what.*” Alastor was fighting not to laugh in delight. He took a seat and tried a couple of random keys on separate keyboards—were all of the keyboards outfitted as pianos now?

Sir Pentious

Telly was downright delighted by Alastor's reaction. Only the main, lowest set, keyboard made the piano sounds. The other two still sat dead.

"YES! I wanted it to have more versatility, and I thought, why not? A piano has keys, and so does an organ, it was simple enough to fit them together!" He laughed, slithering behind Alastor. He placed his hands on his shoulders, before leaning close over him to press a few keys.

"At least it can be played now, until the pipes for the rest of it is fixed!"

Alastor

He momentarily stiffened in shock when Sir Pentious leaned behind him and placed his hands on Alastor’s shoulders, instantly distracted by being *loomed over,* hyper aware of the hands on his shoulders. He shook off the feeling and quickly leaned forward to try out the piano, hoping that Telly wouldn’t notice the momentary tension.

He ran a few quick arpeggios to see how it sounded; then, on a spur of the moment decision, launched into a familiar blues bassline—familiar to him, anyway. After getting into the rhythm of it, he started singing: “‘So what’d I miss? What’d I miss?’—this is one of my songs—‘Virginia, my home sweet home, I wanna give you a kiss...’”

Sir Pentious

He did notice the tension, his hand feeling it in Alastor's shoulder, but he didn't say anything. Instead he moved to the side, where the violins were kept, his head tilting as he listened to the music.

"That ones seems very _you_! It's very jazzy." He hummed along as he opened the panel to retrieve one of the instruments. He propped it on his shoulder, taking another few moments to listen before he joined the melody. He wasn't sure if this song had violin originally, but it did now!

Alastor

Alastor’s grin widened when Sir Pentious started playing along. There hadn’t been violin where Sir Pentious happened to be playing, but he was the last person who’d complain about an impromptu addition to a spontaneous musical number.

He played through to the point where his part ended and some other as-yet-unknown actor was supposed to pick up the song—“‘He grabs my arm and I respond, what’s going on?’”—then cut it off with a glissando and a flourish. “*That’s* the song that convinced me I want to be in this show.”

Sir Pentious

Telly finished his bit with a vibrato and then lowered the violin. "I can see why! It's definitely in your wheelhouse. I like it."

He put the violin back and shut the panel again, slithering back to sit on his coils near Alastor. "I look forward to hearing your other songs, as well." He sat up, remembering the real reason they'd come to the bridge. "Oh! Yes! So, I have the water fixed, plumbing is coming along, no leaks so far. Electricity is back up and running, so the heat is back as well! The outer areas are being repaired nicely and quickly, and soon we'll be able to start adding the pipes for the organ and the tanks back in!" He ticked all of these off on his fingers.

Alastor

“And it’s even better in context! Much darker.”

He turned to straddle the bench and look at Telly directly as he spoke. Water, plumbing, electricity—it struck him as odd that heat was a higher priority than air conditioning, in Hell of all places, but then the air was colder higher up, wasn’t it? Was it cold enough to require heating? Or did Telly just get cold that easily? “Sounds like you’re coming right along! You’ll have this bird back up in the sky in no time.”

Sir Pentious

"Indeed! I hope that it will be sky-worthy again in at least a few months! That is, as long as I don't get distracted by other ideas and projects, but at least the Eggs will keep up with it, even if I am not actively working on it!" He laughed again.

"But so far, there's now MORE outside the bridge! Come, see!" He gestured for Alastor to follow and went over to a closed set of doors-- which opened to a rather plain looking, but functioning, hallway. After about fifty yards, it dropped off suddenly, with scaffolding and some Eggs continuing the repairs. "Obviously, all the flourishes aren't added back in yet, but function before fashion is the name of the game currently!"

Alastor

“What a pity, being so beholden to pragmatism!” He shook his head in sympathy. “Does the hallway lead anywhere interesting yet, or is it a spine without ribs at this point?”

Sir Pentious

"Exactly that-- spine without ribs, buuuut..." He trailed off, leading to the edge and leaning out to peek over. "Down there, you can see the tanks being rebuilt!"

Alastor

“Are these the water and toilet tanks?” He leaned over to see for himself, a bit farther than necessary. Don’t worry, he’s got great balance.

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Currently the water's hooked into the city lines, but once those are done, I'll be able to unhook it without loosing water access." He pulled back, a smirk on his lips.

"Would you like to see them up close?" He asked his hand reaching out to grasp a pole that looked sturdier than the rest of the scaffolding. It stretched all the way down to where the in construction tanks sat, looking like something from a fire station.

Alastor

It looked *very much* like something from a fire station. The temptation was irresistible. “Absolutely!” He grabbed the pole and slide down it, spinning around it as he went.

Sir Pentious

"Oh!" Telly laughed when Alastor slid down and waited until he reached the bottom before grabbing on himself. He twirled the end of his tail around it for support and down he went. The tour continued!

#usedhearts #chat log

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