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theshelbyclan · 4 years ago

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Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe. In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed.

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

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Carrots and Whiskers (JJK x Reader) 💜🔞🐾

🥕 Pairing: Rabbit!Jungkook x Wolf!Reader

🥕 Genre: Hybrid AU, fluff, smut because why not amirite-

🥕 Warnings: stereotyping, mild mentions of past bullying, fluff, oh god they’re so cute, Dom!Jungkook despite being technically food for Sub!Reader, Dirty talk, it’s sweet though he ain’t calling his baby a hoe don’t worry, unprotected sex because in this hybrid universe they’re unable to conceive due to their different species, please keep that in mind thank you, sweet sweet lovemaking, aftercare, buff boi JK, Big dick JK but what’s new I guess, yeah I’m done now

🥕 Summary: He’s the prey and she’s the predator. So why does she feel like the roles are reversed?

This is a oneshot! If you have any ideas for future content in this universe, feel free to send in asks or requests!

A reputation could easily define your entire life it it was bad enough.

Both sides knew this; Jeon Jungkook, being depicted as the cowardly prey hybrid he was, and Y/N, the bad bad wolf with always malicious intentions. However, none of these depictions were actually true.

Jeon Jungkook was an actually pretty rough and brave young man, never really backing down from a challenge, uncaring on who was in front of him. He got into trouble often as a kid, as a teenager, and now as a young adult.

Y/N was soft spoken, a caring yet quiet hybrid who liked to stay hidden, the spotlight being more of a fear than a goal for her. She loved the simple things in life, liked to be by herself or surrounded by people she trusted and loved.

And she also got a major crush on the bunny in her art and music class.

It was quite cliche really, yet it also wasn't- it was as if she was stuck in a bad joke, never to make it to the punchline. She knew for a fact that he probably didn't even knew who she was, and the worst part about it was that she couldn't even blame him. She loved to not be seen, after all.

"Uhm, excuse me?" Said the voice, forcefully hitting her as she looked up, her own eyes meeting the big brown orbs of-

wait.

"I eh, we're supposed to choose partners for this project, and I know for a fact that you can draw so eh, wanna be partners?" He asked, and she simply stared. Was he- talking to her? "I mean, Its okay if you don't want to-" He started, the squirrel hybrid girl behind him already perking up at her chance, making her swallow a bit.

"N-no, I uhm.. I'd like that." She squeezed out, voice quiet, but he thankfully still heard her. He smiled, brightly and so awfully cliche as his bunny-like teeth showed, sitting down next to her as he pulled out his sketches. "So uh, what did you have in mind.?" She quietly asked, and he talked away, as if he'd always known her.

"Well since we weren't given much other than the theme and colors, I made some small sketches. You know, I get Ideas that are pretty neat sometimes but then I forget them easily, so I have to draw or write them down right away, otherwise I'll wanna bite my own ass later on." He rambled on, gently moving the rough sketches towards her, his eyes watching her as she looked at them, carefully studying his lines.

"This- this one would fit, I think.." She mumbled, tapping on one of his more detailed drawings. He grinned again, nodding, seemingly in agreement. He attempted to say something as the bell rang, students around them both scrambling up to get out as soon as possible, either to catch a bus or to drive home on their bikes.

"Hey do you-" He stumbled, his foot catching on a stray chair as he almost fell. "Do you wanna meet up on the weekend? That way we can finish faster, you know, time to sleep in class." He said, and she simply nodded, until he held his hand out. Her head tilted to the side, ears flopping a bit as he chuckled, mumbling. "cute. Your phone, so I can give you my number?" He explained, and she blushed, stepping back a bit as she placed her bag down on the table next to her, pulling out her phone, charms on the device dangling, making him smile. She really was adorable. "Alright." He said as he took it after she'd opened the phone app, his fingers typing away, before he gave it back to her. "Do you take the bus home?" He asked, and she nodded. "Oh really? I thought the pink bike outside was yours actually." He chatted away as she walked next to him, now a bit shy.

"I actually.. well, I can't, you know, ride a bike, so.." She mumbled, and he laughed for a moment, until he went quiet, sensing that she was serious.

"I eh, I could you know, teach you, if you want?" He asked as he unlocked his own bike. "I mean, not now but like, this weekend?" He asked, and she looked a bit hesitant. "I mean, you don't have to. But I promise I won't let you get hurt." It seemed odd maybe, for a prey hybrid to say that to a predator, but for her, it seemed like the most cheesy and romantic thing she'd ever heard. So she smiled, and nodded. "I uhm.. I think your bus left-" He pointed out, making her ears droop as she watched the vehicle drive off without her. "I can bring you home. It's kind of my fault you missed it, after all." He said, scratching the back of his neck as he suddenly rumbled in his backpack, pulling out a zip hoodie, before folding it, and placing it on the bag of his bike. "My'lady." He offered, and she giggled, making his ears flinch in excitement.

She'd been unaware of him for long enough, and after a talk with his fellow friend Taehyung, he'd decided to finally act on his interest in her. Even though he did get some odd looks from his classmate Jimin, he didn't care about what she was- he cared more about who. Her drawings were always so detailed in a way that would show exactly what she'd though while creating each line, something he always found remarkable. She also had a talent for photography, a hobby he had for himself as well.

"Hold on tight okay?" He said, and she nodded, her arms moving around his waist, redness creeping onto her cheeks as she felt his toned body underneath his thin shirt and loose jean jacket. She held a bit tighter as he finally pushed the bike forward, paddling at a decent pace that made her hair flow a bit with the wind. She couldn't help but enjoy the moment; the way his smell calmed her, the scenery around her, and the fact that it seemed like everything was finally working out for her.

"I'm gonna let go now and you'll just-" He started, but she suddenly grew anxious, her wide eyes immediately finding his.

"no no don't let go I'm gonna fall-" She scrambled out, scared as he simply laughed, one hand on her back as he kept the other on the bike for now.

"I promised, didnt I?" He hummed into her ear, and she blushed at the gentle tone of his voice. He was everything she never thought a prey hybrid would be; he was cunning, brave, and confident in himself. He wasn't after attention at all, simply trying to live his life yet he pulled everyones gaze on himself wherever he went simply by nature. His ears seemed too soft to be legal in her opinion, black and white tuft of fur that was his tail seemingly completely out of place; the rest of his body was toned. It showed that he knew how to take care of himself, it underlined the way he held himself wherever he went.

He was the complete opposite of her it seemed.

She liked to hide in oversized clothing, hybrid features the only thing really giving away that she wasn't just a mouse in disguise.

To him however, it was an entirely different story.

She was so sweet, always trying to help, and always trying to not be a burden. She had so much talent, a unique way of seeing the world, and a gentle way of always looking out for others. It also didn't ease his crush on her that she was absolutely beautiful in his eyes; shorter in statue than him, surprisingly, but he was pretty tall for a rabbit hybrid, he had to admit. His mother had once told him about the different subspecies of wolves when she'd noticed his crush on the girl; her best friend having been a wolf hybrid as well when she'd still been in school. Apparently there were different subtypes for them; alphas, betas and omegas. He guessed that the girl on his bike was an omega, maybe, as it would explain all her characteristics.

"You're doing so great!" He said, bunny smile making her feel more confident as she noticed he only held her by her back; she was actually riding a bike. "See? You can do it!" He happily exclaimed as he helped her off, seat a bit high for her to get down herself. "Lets sit down there and exchange some sketches, yeah?" He offered, and she nodded with a smile, walking next to him as they both sat down on the grass, after Jungkook had put down a small blanket he'd taken with him. "Okay, hit me." He playfully shot her way, as she pulled out her sketchbook, simply sliding it towards him as he opened it, looking through the pages she'd opened for him. "Uah, these are great! I'd use a bit more color on these ones, but the rest is awesome!" He mumbled in thought as he proceeded to change the page, his eyes widening at a familiar pair of eyes, when two delicate hands held his wrist in place.

"Pl-Please uh, that's not for the project eh-" She stuttered, panic evident in her voice as her red face and tilted ears gave away her embarrassment. He simply stared for a moment, before his other hand simply loosened her grip on his wrist, freeing himself without much force. He slowly turned the page, revealing multiple rough sketches of..

Him.

It was him, not very detailed, but clearly visible. Small scenarios were drawn on the page, him staring out the open window of the classroom as he talked to friends, him at the sidelines of his basketball game as he'd taken a break, or him asleep on his desk during class. He studied the drawings, noticing how she'd not cared much about his clothing, or the background; even the desk or the window weren't really drawn very realistically, simply a fast sketch. What did stand out was.. well, his face. The way the sun reflected in his eyes, how his ears had been slightly damp from the slight rain outside, or the tiny things he would've never thought she'd notice about him, like the tiny beauty mark under his lower lip, the slight scar just above his cheek, or how the sides of his eyes crinkled when he laughed, nose scrunched up.

As he looked up she was looking down, hair hiding her eyes as her ears were flat against her skull, tail in her hands, which nervously fiddled with the fur. "I-" He started, before he began to open his own bag, ruffling around in it as his own ears lowered themselves while he tried to find something. "Hah!" He exclaimed in victory, hands sliding off the rubber band of his own folder which kept his messily organized sketches and finished works. He rummaged through them, before he started to lay some of them out in front of her, one by one. Slowly, her ears turned, attention on what he'd put down in front of her.

He always had a different way of drawing things, not really putting a lot of effort into the outlines or sketches themselves; but he had a way of coloring things, a unique style that made things feel almost alive. In every picture, he'd dedicated most of his effort to color the fur of her hybrid features almost perfectly- he also payed special attention to her postures in every picture. He never drew her eyes however- which she noticed. "I uhm.. I've never got the chance to see them up close, so I had a bit of trouble with them.." He explained. "I've noticed you pretty early when we shared our first classes together.. But I never really got around to talk to you. You and Namjoon-Hyung always seemed so close, I thought.." He revealed, scratching behind his own ear as he suddenly felt a bit bashful.

"You.. I mean, Joonie is a good friend but we uh.." She started, voice a bit low as she laughed a bit.

"I know, I know, he told me-" Jungkook answered, now chuckling. "Thats why I immediately took my chance when they'd announced the group project." He said. "It gave me a chance to you know, get to know you better. Get closer, you know?" He explained, and she nodded. "So uh.." He mumbled, before he smiled at her hopefully. "Wanna uh- get cake together today? Like a date?" He asked, and she nodded, making him suddenly jump up as he fist bumped the air, making a passerby elderly couple laugh. "Yes!"

"Carrot cake?" She asked, an almost teasing smile on her lips as he looked at her.

"What? Don't judge puppy!" He said, making her scoff scandalized.

"Hey, I'm a wolf, not a dog!" She explained as she stirred her milkshake with her pink straw before grabbing the spoon from her small metal plate.

"And I'm a rabbit, not a bunny. So guess we're even." He said, before his smile faded a bit, eyes stuck to the spoonful of whipped cream which made its way inside her mouth, tongue darting out to lick her lips clean before she noticed his gaze. He snapped out of it, suddenly the one growing a bit shy. "You uh.. wait, lemme just-" He mumbled, hand moving to wipe the corner of her mouth as he licked his finger clean himself, making her eyes widen before she mumbled a 'thanks' under her breath. He grinned.

"So uh-" He asked, pushing down his small cake fork to pick up a piece of cake, holding it out towards her. "open up?" He asked, and she hesitated a bit, before leaning forward a bit, lips parting. He placed the piece into her mouth, watching as she closed her lips, accepting his offering of food before she nodded her head approvingly. "See? Don't judge before you try!" He exclaimed, and she giggled at that.

He was right.

"I'm absolutely beat." He suddenly exclaimed, falling down onto the mattress laying on the ground in the corner of the new, unfurnished bedroom. The wolf hybrid sat down next to his sprawled out form, gently moving his blonde tipped hair away from his eyes. He'd dyed it months ago, his roots more than visible at this point, yet he'd simply decided to let it grow. "Come here~!" He playfully demanded, hands reaching out for her as he pulled her down with him, happily humming when she was laying on his chest. "Can you believe we're actually gonna live together from now on?" He asked, and she shook her head, moving around a bit so she straddled him, sat on his thighs as he suddenly watches her with hooded eyes, hands on her hips as his thumbs move in circles over the skin underneath her sweater- his sweater. "Hm.. I mean.." He offered, suddenly moving to sit up, changing position as she's now underneath him, his hair tickling her face slightly when he begins to kiss against her pulse. "I was about to ask if we should at least put up the bedframe, but having a mattress on the floor.." He started, hands wandering underneath the clothing of his she wore as he continued in a low voice. "..means I can't break the bed this time." He said, and she giggled at that, remembering the time their time together had been roughly interrupted by the weak frame of his old bed breaking. "Oh, my puppy thinks that's funny?" He wonders, making her grin as he kissed her deeply.

Moments like these made her almost forget the stereotypes she'd grown up with during her live- since Jungkook was nothing like the typically depicted rabbit hybrids. Because right now the roles seemed completely reversed, as he mouthed at her neck, feeling her pulse race as he continued to map out her body with just his hands, no need to watch where they were, able to seemingly paint a picture of her by touch at this point. Clothes suddenly seemed to tight, itchy, as if bitten by a mosquito. She whined as he chuckled darkly, helping her out of his sweater as he immediately grabbed her breasts, kneading them before he continued to undress her, making quick work of her shorts as he pulled down her underwear as well- her already glistening center clinging to the damp fabric of her underwear as she squirmed, making him humm in appreciation. He pulled his own shirt over his head as well, revealing his body to her as the sun outside painted glowing stripes onto it, the blinds drawing patterns on her skin as well. He finally freed himself from the confines of his own underwear as well, standing proud and ready as she became restless.

"Hm, puppy wants to be filled up yeah?" He asked with a teasing undertone, proudly making use of the privilege to be able to call her that- since she hated it when others did it. It was the same the other way around however; typically, being called a 'bunny' was an absolute insult to him, but for some reason it seemed like a cute nickname coming from her. Maybe he was just whipped. Or maybe she was just privileged as well.

He entered her slowly as he sighed alongside her, not wasting any time as he fell into rhythm, hips thrusting forwards as her hands reached for his, intertwining their fingers as he felt his soul warm up at the gesture. He felt so loved, so cherished, it made him fear for his heart, as he swore it stopped every time he was close to her like this. He felt complete, like he'd found his soulmate, his other half- it didn't matter to him what she was. Sure, his parents were a bit dissapointed since they couldn't have kids naturally because of this, but they both could always adopt in the future. Thinking about it made his heart swell as he thought about her, caring for their kids, making this small apartment into a family home one day. Maybe it was instinct, but he'd already been driven nuts by the way she'd helped him choose furniture and wallpaper for the small living space they'd be sharing; the simple fact that she wanted to make their apartment into a home feeding his inner instincts to build a home to keep her safe in.

He felt her legs shake a bit as he shifted a bit, making her whine as he suddenly picked up his pace, sweat already slowly beginning to coat his skin as he didn't seem to notice how the sound of skin against skin still echoed in the almost empty room since it lacked furniture- but it didn't matter for now anyways. They'd both fill it with things and memories of the both of them, and he couldn't wait for it. He huffed a bit as he moved, leaning down a bit to rest his forehead against her neck as she bared it for him, a natural instinct of hers to submit to him even if he was of another species with no need of such gestures. He'd adapted to it however, gently biting the skin as he felt her shiver underneath him, a sign that she was getting close. "Hm my baby wanna cum?" He asked, gently beginning to tease her as she nodded, eyes closed in bliss. "You want a knot huh?" He asked, and she shook her head no, as he chuckled. He'd felt a bit insecure the first few times around as he knew how things worked for canine hybrids, worried that he maybe couldn't give her what she wanted or needed, yet she'd always reassured him. Now it was more like a teasing thing for him, and a way to tickle a praise out of her- a way of reminding himself that she loved him just as much as she did her. "No? You don't?" She shook her head again, her fingers holding his hands tighter. "What do you want then, huh?" He asked with a grin as she whined.

"You- you, only want ngh.. only need Kookie-!" She pressed out, and he hummed approvingly, his thrusts beginning to grow sloppy as he neared his end.

"That's right, only me, only mine, yeah?" He asked, and she nodded, suddenly opening mouth as her head buried itself into the mattress below her, clenching around him as he groaned out, burying himself deep inside her as he spilled. "Thats it, take it like a puppy- good girl!" He praised, making her whine as he leaned his body down, kissing her neck, her throat, and then her lips as they both calmed down from their highs, breathing slowly growing more and more even as he moved a bit to grab a box as he slid it towards him, rummaging through it before he took out a roll of kitchen towels, grabbing a few as he slipped out of her, carefully catching his release and her own juices as to not make a mess. He had a gentle smile on his face as he carefully cleaned her up before he stood, walking towards another box where he pulled out a large pillow and a few blankets, instincts taking over as he began to cover her now rapidly cooling body in soft fabrics before cuddling up next to her, pulling another blanket over his own form as he made sure his partner was comfortable. She slipped out of her makeshift blanket burrito to invite him in, making him grin his signature bunny smile as he held her close, skin on skin as he closed his eyes, the only light in the room the streetlamps outside.

This already felt like home.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook #bts reactions #hybrid imagine #bts hybrid au

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cotccotc · 4 years ago

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MAKE ME PRETTY — hhj

summary: your curious boyfriend hangs out with you as you do your makeup for a party.

genre/s: fluff, established relationship, hyunjin x gn reader (leaning feminine)

warning/s: none !

wc: 1.2k

a/n: i just have big dreams of painting hyunjin’s face one day,, let me be lmao.

you are super excited for the party tonight. you haven’t seen your best friend in ages, and you can’t wait to wish her a happy birthday. you also can’t wait to introduce her to your boyfriend, hyunjin. you’re leaning over the sink, liquid eyeliner in hand. you carefully glide the pigment onto your left eyelid, just above your eyelashes. beginning at the innermost section, you create a thin black line that thickens as it extends further toward the center of the eyelid. once the line reaches the outer corner of your eye, it’s time to create a wing.

that is, until hyunjin lightly knocks on the opened bathroom door. “hi, baby~” he coos, not wanting to fully interrupt but rather to make his presence known.

you carefully place the tip against your eyelid, sweeping up to create a line from the outer edge going slightly upward. “i can hear you breathing,” you mutter with a slight smile, preparing for the next line. your statement is true. you watch him through the mirror as he takes a deep, dramatic inhale and holds his breath.

you make a new line, connecting the base to the tip of the wing. you then fill in the gap using small, careful strokes. after you’re done, you back up from the mirror to compare the two eyes. eh, they’re even enough, you think to yourself. you glance at your boyfriend, whose cheeks are still filled up with air. you remark at how absolutely adorable his pursed lips look, when you notice his face turning red and his deep brown eyes urgently staring into yours. you walk over to him and release his breath by squishing his cheeks together in between your fingers and thumb. his shoulders drop and strands of his long, golden hair fall forward over his face as he also releases his silly pose. he sighs with relief, which makes you chuckle.

hyunjin wraps his arms around your waist, placing his hands on the small of your back, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck. as your foreheads touch, he asks in a soft, playful voice, “are you almost ready?”

“almost,” you respond, matching his tone. “i’m not done making myself look pretty.” you both faintly smile at your remark.

“but you’re already so pretty, baby…” he rebuttals, leaning in to connect his lips with yours. he gently kisses your bottom lip, then looks back into your eyes.

“thank you.” you maintain eye contact with him for a brief moment, then add, “i’ll be done soon. i promise.” you break away from his grasp, heading back over to the counter to apply mascara.

as you dig through your makeup bag to find your mascara wand, hyunjin hops onto the counter next to you and takes a seat. you find what you’re looking for and his hand replaces yours in the bag. he rifles through it a bit, careful not to make anything fall out, until he happens upon your highlight powder. you’re already part of the way through mascara application when he opens the palette and states, “i want you to make me pretty, too.”

you pause, setting down the mascara. you shift to the spot in between his legs, placing your hands on either side of him. on your tip toes, you repeat his words, saying, “but you’re already so pretty, baby…” and placing a soft kiss on his bottom lip just as he did yours.

without skipping a beat, his right hand catches the side of your face, cupping your jaw, just before you can flatten your feet. he guides your face slightly to the left, leaning in to place a deeper kiss onto your lips. as you fully disconnect and settle to the ground, he gazes into your eyes once again. except, he then rolls his eyes, pretends to flip his hair, and replies, “i know...”

you roll your eyes in reply, stifling a laugh. you go back to the sink to finish what you were doing. you smile as you listen to his cute, resounding laughter. you could listen to it all day long.

“y/n, put this on me,” he insists; not in a demanding way, but just enough to be deemed adorable. after you finish up your mascara shimmying the wand back and forth one last time to coat your eyelashes, you direct your attention to the palette in his hands.

you chuckle. “fine.” you take the highlighter and grab a small fluffy brush from your bag. he leans down a bit so you can reach his face. “look this way,” you direct him, lightly guiding his face to the side with your thumb on his jawline. he closes his eyes... which is unnecessary, yet cute, so you’ll allow it.

you circle the brush around the content of one of the pans and tap it against the rim of the palette to dust off the excess. you then begin applying the champagne tint onto hyunjin’s cheekbone. the color suits him well, as it has just enough creamy pigment and soft gold sparkles to emphasize his high points. you use a light hand, careful not to go too intense but to rather create a subtle, realistic glow on your already handsome boyfriend’s face. you tilt his head the other way and apply the powder to the other side. then, you angle his face forward and put a small amount of product on the tip of his nose. his nose lends itself nicely to this type of thing, as the tip protrudes slightly, allowing the powder to emphasize its adorable shape.

“that tickles,” he comments with a slight laugh. slight creases form around his eyes when he does so. he couldn’t be any cuter than right now, sitting on your shared bathroom counter, glowing and joyful.

“okay. you’re pretty now,” you say a bit sarcastically as you put the palette away. to yourself, you mutter, “one more step,” while you grab your favorite lip tint. it has a soft strawberry pink hue that compliments your skin tone. you reassume your position in front of the sink, leaning over to better see the application in the mirror. hyunjin watches you attentively, with almost as much focus as you. you glide the liquid over your lips, carefully outlining the shape of each one before filling them both in. using your index finger, you tap your lips to soften the intensity of the pink pigment.

“can i have some?” asks hyunjin. deciding to be bold, you apply a bit more product to the center of your own lips, then pull his face down and kiss him, distributing some onto his. you tap each lip gently, just as you did to your own.

“take a look,” you direct him, grabbing his hand and guiding him off the counter. he turns around, leaning over just as you had done moments ago. he moves his head from side to side to observe the highlighter shifting in the light. you rub his back softly with the tips of your fingers and say, “do you feel pretty now?”

“yes, baby. thank you,” he responds, spinning around and dropping his hands to your waist. with a small squeeze, he says, “let’s go, beautiful.”

and with some extra touch ups and a few selfies, you and your boyfriend are out the door.

✧･ﾟ:* ・゜゜・．.・゜゜・ *:･ﾟ✧

#*fics #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #*mine ♡#hhj

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retvenkos · 4 years ago

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created // nyx squadron

Star Wars: The Clone Wars - A Nyx Squadron Story

teaser for a long fic, feedback is appreciated! author note at end.

“He who faces himself, finds himself.”

The day was hot enough to roast the tips of your fingers if they were exposed for longer than ten minutes, but under the weight of his armor and bucket, Styx thought it might just be the lesser evil. Master Kanai wanted to get to the bottom of the craggy mesa before resting for the day, and some of the troopers - Tye most especially - thought they all might die of heatstroke before they got there (“Can’t put bacta on that, eh, Styx?”). The only thing that kept the squadron going was the stern eye of Captain Vic and the Jedi’s promise of sleeping until nightfall, seeing as there didn’t seem to be any droids on the outskirts of the planet. The only thing here was the sweltering heat, their footprints in the earth, and heat mirages towards midday.

Desert planets. Every clone in the GAR hated them.

“With all due respect, General, where are we going?” Vic’s tone was polite and delivered lightly, but there was gravity in his words. Styx had seen the Captain’s gaze on every trooper in his squadron since the sun had first shown it’s flaming crown on the horizon, nearly three hours ago. Vic’s worry for his troopers is what Master Kanai said she liked about him. But if Styx knew Jedi, obedience to the Order and greater cause came first, and Vic’s loyal charm would soon wear off.

“You mean other than the mesa?” The Jedi’s eyes were bright and her lekku twitched playfully. The Twi’lek hailed from the Jixuan desert on Ryloth and had no qualms with the overbearing heat. Even though she hadn’t lived there long enough to find beauty in the desert heat, she was made from it. Her body knew it, even if her mind didn’t.

What did the clones’ bodies know? Kamino? Mandalore? From where did they hail? What life did Styx’s bones (that no longer felt like his) know from a lifetime ago, when he was not many, but one?

“I know you boys aren’t used to this kind of sun, but we’re headed to a village not far from here to meet with an informant of Master Kenobi’s.”

Tye, who had never taken well to formalities, scoffed. “A friend of General Kenobi and they sent us?” Styx could imagine his brother’s eyes rolling behind his helmet, his mouth hanging open as though waiting for a punchline.

The Jedi just laughed. Styx heard an echo in it, like a distant scream. Everyone had it, anymore. It was the sound of fallen soldiers and broken Jedis; the echo of ghosts.

“They sent General Kanai. You’re just a glorified luggage carrier.” Clik slammed his elbow into Tye’s arm, his gruff voice more laboured than usual. The two troopers continued to push each other playfully, forgetting the instigating question entirely.

It wasn’t of real importance why they were on this maker forsaken planet, meeting up with an informant who wasn’t their own. At the end of the day, they’re actions could be chalked up to ending the war. It’s what they were bred to do.

Besides, if Master Kanai wanted to keep secrets, no amount of prodding would win her over. Clones weren’t made to keep the secrets of the war. They were made to end it.

By the time they made it to the sparse shade they would sleep under, even Kanai was losing steam. The sun was almost at its highest, now, and it beat down on them without mercy. The group laid down (Clik taking the first watch) and fell into an uneasy sleep, plagued with unwelcome memories.

It was chilling to see the body of what he had once been; a child, seemingly drowning.

The bluish light above was meant to be calming, but it put his nerves on edge and gave him the overwhelming urge to shiver. He was paralyzed, only able to move his eyes from cloning chamber to cloning chamber, hundreds of bodies floating in thick liquid behind impenetrable transparisteel.

They called his number but he didn’t have the strength to turn away.

It had only been three years since he had left his own tank. Perhaps his body knew that and had an inexplicable desire to return while his mind looked at the eerie room and wanted to run from it, explaining his inability to move.

His body knew this place. His mind wanted to be separated from it forever.

Suddenly, as though hit by a wave, anger flooded his body. Why bring him here? Why show him this? What kind of cruel punishment was this?

A clone would spend his whole life trying to become more than the chamber he was created in. The visions of this place would never leave him. No matter what he did for the Republic, he would always be a body locked in a nutrient bath, drowning.

Clones were bred for war, death, and pain.

Was this his first test of will; his first reminder of what he was created to be?

They called his number again. He pulled his eyes away.

…

“There’s a village about 15 klicks to the east.” Clik looked out onto the horizon, his visor set to night vision. The sun had gone down a while ago, when Styx had been unceremoniously woken by the older clone. Even with the light gone, the heat lingered - the dry, dusty earth still hot to the touch. “17, exactly,” Clik finally determined, his eyes the sharpest in the squadron.

“Is that the one we’re looking for?” Vic turned to Master Kanai, exhaustion clipping his tone.

“So I’ve been told.” Master Kanai looked at the troopers determinedly, rolling her wrists nervously. “This planet is neutral, but the Separatists have been encroaching on the land, so we may run into trouble. Keep your eyes open, boys. We might have to make a run for it.”

The troopers nodded and started their trek across the rocks. Clik (true to his namesake) counted the klicks as they went, his gruff voice alerting them of when they made progress. It was a habit of his, one that Vic allowed because it did them good to keep in mind just how far they had to go before they reached their goal.

Styx followed silently, considering his older brother. Clik was the best with numbers, in their small squadron. Even though every clone was good with numbers, Clik understood them better than anyone else.

There was no explanation as to why he understood them the way he did. Vic said it has something in their shared DNA, a predisposition of facts and figures that hit Clik like a truck. Styx thought it was a byproduct of being known as a number - it was only natural to understand what you were.

Numbers were forged into their skin, on the inside of their wrists. Clik was older than Styx and Tye; maybe those numbers had migrated, trapped on the inside of his mind.

A trooper’s life was distinguished by the number of clankers he could shoot down. His skills lie in counting the number of klicks between one target and the next. His legacy was written in how many days he would achieve, how many battles he would be devastated in.

How many klicks had Clik counted? How many more would he count before he was felled?

He counted another, the village closer than before. Styx shook his head. There was no use in focusing on the inevitable, Clik had told him so on multiple occasions. You had to focus on what was in front of you, otherwise you would be paralyzed to the spot.

Styx could feel Master Kanai’s eyes on him, the Jedi not bothering to probe his mind, but keeping tabs on him nonetheless. There was always an uneasy tension between the two of them, not quite suspicion, but far from trust. Both soldiers had seen too much of the war to believe in anyone for long. Perhaps the Jedi could sense those nightmares that plagued every clone from the moment they were created, those realistic images that filled him with such visceral feelings it seemed real; it was real, in some regard.

Perhaps he knew that when it came down to it, his Jedi General would desert him. If he were to be compromised, he would be replaced. Would Kanai mourn for him the way he mourned the loss of his brothers?

The village was upon them; each hut identical, a thatched roof covered with dust, a small fire within. Styx watched as Vic scanned the area, looking in every corner for a droid or sign of life. All was quiet, as though the village had been abandoned.

Tye, the youngest and shiniest of them all, scoffed. “I think you’ve been lied to, General.” Captain Vic turned his head, shooting him a glance, and the trooper quieted.

“You weren’t misled.” A voice called out from a nearby home, feminine and accented with something otherworldly. As though their vocal chords were made for something foreign - different than anything else in the universe. “My name is Xavina.”

A short woman, eyes averted, stepped out from the shadows. In the dark, little could be distinguished, but as they entered the candle-lit hut and took off their helmets, more of her features came into focus. Her skin was a warm brown, and when she moved her head, her cheekbones and temples glinted, metal laced into her skin.

Styx stared at the cyborg, his interest in the informant palpable in the dim room. It wasn’t everyday the troopers interacted with a cyborg. He had seen a lot in the GAR - in the galaxy entirely. He knew of cyborgs - had fought against them, sometimes - but being close to one was something else entirely. By the placement of the metal, she was an Inteli-Unit, her brain altered to function properly - chips and wires added to her biological makeup. What secrets did Xavina have hidden in her mind?

“Xavina, this is Nyx Squadron - Captain Vic, Tye, Clik, and our medic, Styx.” Master Kanai interrupted the silence, her voice as professional as always; efficient.

The informant nodded at them all in turn, and the troopers watched her, their eyes catching onto the way her cheeks glinted in the firelight.

What was she created for? The war? Something else?

“How do you know General Kenobi?” Tye, forever the inquisitive, leaned in to get a better look at her.

Xavina smiled complacently, used to the questioning. “I’m a Xenolingust and Translator. I’ve worked with the Senate on multiple occasions.” Her voice dipped in volume, then, her Basic taking on a formality; something that made Styx feel like a soldier, something that brought him back to those cloning chambers. Something that made him feel different. “I’m not simply on this planet to study unknown languages. The Separatist movements here are also of great interest.”

Master Kanai nodded in understanding, “So you have something for us?”

The cyborg nodded.

A/N: so i finally caved and started to write that clone fic that i asked about a while ago. this is the most cohesive part of what i have (written and planned) so far, and i just wanted to post a part of it to gauge reactions to it.

it’s not going to be an x reader, just an oc story with mentions of canon characters.

also,,, i wanted to add a cyborg character to the mix because i have some angsty ideas coming! i scoured the wiki pages to find some info on cyborgs in star wars,,, but it was largely uneventful. i figured it was fine to bend canon, though, because isn’t that what fanfic is for? to explore new avenues in an already established world? anyway,,, let me know if you have any actual knowledge of star wars cyborgs,,,, i’m at a loss, lol.

also, i think i’m just going to write one long fic for my squadron, i’m not exactly sure how everything works in the star wars universe, and i feel like just getting it all out will be easier than trying to make it a multi-chapter thing (plus, we all know my track record with multi-chapter fics is sketchy at best).

umm,,, if you ever want to ask me questions about nyx squadron or any oc characters involved, message me! they’re my first oc’s that i’ve shared with people, and i would love to flesh them out more.

i hope you liked it.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #sw #oc #imagine #fic #wip #preview for a work in progress #tcw #the clone wars #clone wars #feedback is appreciated #nyxsquadron

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rosylipsandcheeks · 6 years ago

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Compassion and Suffering: The Redemption of Rodion Raskolnikov

I am a huge fan of the character of Kylo Ren/Ben Solo. I’ve been thinking about my favourite literary human disasters and their fates. Dostoyevsky’s Rodion Raskolnikov is high up in my ranking of protagonists so broken, so misguided, and so lost. Both Star Wars and Crime & Punishment carry a message that “It’s not too late [to make amends and choose the path of good]” and “No one’s ever really gone”. Thus this fan of both compiled the post below :)

A cursory knowledge of the plot and themes of the novel and its context is really handy, I encourage you to click through these if you never heard about C&P before (I provide a morsel of that under the cut):

Read a quick synopsis here

Wikipedia

Here’s an extra bonus, a fragment describing Raskolnikov’s appearance:

An expression of the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man’s refined face. He was, by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the average in height, slim, well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown hair.

tell me I’m not the only one casting Adam Driver in this role!

DISCLAIMER: I’m NOT claiming there’s a direct parallel between Rodion and Kylo Ren, nor Rodion/Sonia and Rey/Kylo Ren. These are very different stories: C&P is a realist novel while SW is a modern monomyth. Rey and Kylo Ren are equal protagonists (it’s her story) - the R/S dynamic IS a product of its era (19th c. tsarist Orthodox Russia). I’m a literature major and I believe in exploring the richness and thematic similarity across history, geography, and media.

I didn’t give much commentary - my main aim was to put some interesting quotes to the light. I’m open to discussion with merit. Pointless anti-ism and anti-intellectual arguments will not be addressed. A long read-more, enjoy!

To quote this summary,

A former student, Raskolnikov lives in poverty and chaos and is eventually driven to murdering an aged woman (a pawnbroker) and her sister. He believes he has devised the perfect crime, as no one will regret the loss of his victims. It is a crime novel without a mystery, as from the very outset of the novel Dostoyevsky draws the reader into the interior of Raskolnikov’s mental life; the reader knows “who did it” (i.e., the crime) and sees his reasoning and can explain his actions.

The narrative’s feverish, compelling tone follows the twists and turns of Raskolnikov’s emotions and elaborates his struggle with his conscience and his mounting sense of horror as he wanders the city’s hot, crowded streets, and the novel’s status as a masterpiece is chiefly a result of its narrative intensity and moving depiction of the recovery of a diseased spirit.

The story is set in the 1860s, in the bowels of Saint Petersburg, tsarist Russia, bathed in the creed of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Dostoyevsky’s novel remains one of the most vital texts and literary achievements in European culture.

I have gathered several fragments of Rodion’s scenes with Sonia; I think the way they discuss morality, sin, and forgiveness could be an interesting reading for those interested in the theme of redemption in culture.

Rodion’s deed has been tormenting him increasingly.

‘Of course you’re right, Sonia,’ he said softly at last. He was suddenly changed. His tone of assumed arrogance and helpless defiance was gone. Even his voice was suddenly weak. ‘I told you yesterday that I was not coming to ask forgiveness and almost the first thing I’ve said is to ask forgiveness…. (...) I was asking forgiveness, Sonia….’

He tried to smile, but there was something helpless and incomplete in his pale smile. He bowed his head and hid his face in his hands. And suddenly a strange, surprising sensation of a sort of bitter hatred for Sonia passed through his heart. As it were wondering and frightened of this sensation, he raised his head and looked intently at her; but he met her uneasy and painfully anxious eyes fixed on him; there was love in them; his hatred vanished like a phantom. It was not the real feeling; he had taken the one feeling for the other. It only meant that that minute had come.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Sonia, dreadfully frightened.

He could not utter a word. This was not at all, not at all the way he had intended to ‘tell’ and he did not understand what was happening to him now. She went up to him, softly, sat down on the bed beside him and waited, not taking her eyes off him. Her heart throbbed and sank. It was unendurable; he turned his deadly pale face to her. His lips worked, helplessly struggling to utter something. A pang of terror passed through Sonia’s heart.

‘What’s the matter?’ she repeated, drawing a little away from him.

‘Nothing, Sonia, don’t be frightened…. It’s nonsense. It really is nonsense, if you think of it,’ he muttered, like a man in delirium. ‘Why have I come to torture you?’ he added suddenly, looking at her. ‘Why, really? I keep asking myself that question, Sonia….’

He had perhaps been asking himself that question a quarter of an hour before, but now he spoke helplessly, hardly knowing what he said and feeling a continual tremor all over.

‘Oh, how you are suffering!’ she muttered in distress, looking intently at him.

Her terror infected him. The same fear showed itself on his face. In the same way he stared at her and almost with the same childish smile.

‘Have you guessed?’ he whispered at last.

‘Good God!’ broke in an awful wail from her bosom.

She sank helplessly on the bed with her face in the pillows, but a moment later she got up, moved quickly to him, seized both his hands and, gripping them tight in her thin fingers, began looking into his face again with the same intent stare. In this last desperate look she tried to look into him and catch some last hope. But there was no hope; there was no doubt remaining; it was all true! Later on, indeed, when she recalled that moment, she thought it strange and wondered why she had seen at once that there was no doubt. She could not have said, for instance, that she had foreseen something of the sort—and yet now, as soon as he told her, she suddenly fancied that she had really foreseen this very thing.

‘Stop, Sonia, enough! don’t torture me,’ he begged her miserably.

It was not at all, not at all like this he had thought of telling her, but this is how it happened.

She jumped up, seeming not to know what she was doing, and, wringing her hands, walked into the middle of the room; but quickly went back and sat down again beside him, her shoulder almost touching his. All of a sudden she started as though she had been stabbed, uttered a cry and fell on her knees before him, she did not know why.

‘What have you done—what have you done to yourself?’ she said in despair, and, jumping up, she flung herself on his neck, threw her arms round him, and held him tightly.

Raskolnikov drew back and looked at her with a mournful smile.

‘You are a strange girl, Sonia—you kiss me and hug me when I tell you about that…. You don’t think what you are doing.’

‘There is no one—no one in the whole world now so unhappy as you!’ she cried in a frenzy, not hearing what he said, and she suddenly broke into violent hysterical weeping.

A feeling long unfamiliar to him flooded his heart and softened it at once. He did not struggle against it. Two tears started into his eyes and hung on his eyelashes.

‘Then you won’t leave me, Sonia?’ he said, looking at her almost with hope.

‘No, no, never, nowhere!’ cried Sonia. ‘I will follow you, I will follow you everywhere. Oh, my God! Oh, how miserable I am! … Why, why didn’t I know you before! Why didn’t you come before? Oh, dear!’

‘Here I have come.’

‘Yes, now! What’s to be done now? … Together, together!’ she repeated as it were unconsciously, and she hugged him again. ‘I’ll follow you to Siberia!’

He recoiled at this, and the same hostile, almost haughty smile came to his lips. ‘Perhaps I don’t want to go to Siberia yet, Sonia,’ he said.

Sonia looked at him quickly.

Again after her first passionate, agonising sympathy for the unhappy man the terrible idea of the murder overwhelmed her. In his changed tone she seemed to hear the murderer speaking.

‘And why, why did I tell her? Why did I let her know?’ he cried a minute later in despair, looking with infinite anguish at her. ‘Here you expect an explanation from me, Sonia; you are sitting and waiting for it, I see that. But what can I tell you? You won’t understand and will only suffer misery … on my account! Well, you are crying and embracing me again. Why do you do it? Because I couldn’t bear my burden and have come to throw it on another: you suffer too, and I shall feel better! And can you love such a mean wretch?’

‘But aren’t you suffering, too?’ cried Sonia.

Again a wave of the same feeling surged into his heart, and again for an instant softened it.

‘Sonia, I have a bad heart, take note of that. It may explain a great deal. I have come because I am bad. There are men who wouldn’t have come. But I am a coward and… a mean wretch. But … never mind! That’s not the point. I must speak now, but I don’t know how to begin.’

He paused and sank into thought.

‘Ah, we are so different,’ he cried again, ‘we are not alike. And why, why did I come? I shall never forgive myself that.’

‘No, no, it was a good thing you came,’ cried Sonia. ‘It’s better I should know, far better!’

(...)Do you understand now?’

‘N-no,’ Sonia whispered naïvely and timidly. ‘Only speak, speak, I shall understand, I shall understand in myself!’ she kept begging him.

‘Oh hush, hush,’ cried Sonia, clasping her hands. ‘You turned away from God and God has smitten you, has given you over to the devil!’

‘Then Sonia, when I used to lie there in the dark and all this became clear to me, was it a temptation of the devil, eh?’

‘Hush, don’t laugh, blasphemer! You don’t understand, you don’t understand! Oh God! He won’t understand!’

‘Hush, Sonia! I am not laughing. I know myself that it was the devil leading me. Hush, Sonia, hush!’ he repeated with gloomy insistence. ‘I know it all, I have thought it all over and over and whispered it all over to myself, lying there in the dark…. I’ve argued it all over with myself, every point of it, and I know it all, all! And how sick, how sick I was then of going over it all! I have kept wanting to forget it and make a new beginning, Sonia, and leave off thinking.

‘Don’t interrupt me, Sonia. I want to prove one thing only, that the devil led me on then and he has shown me since that I had not the right to take that path, because I am just such a louse as all the rest. He was mocking me and here I’ve come to you now! Welcome your guest! If I were not a louse, should I have come to you? Listen: when I went then to the old woman’s I only went to try…. You may be sure of that!’

‘And you murdered her!’

‘But how did I murder her? Is that how men do murders? Do men go to commit a murder as I went then? I will tell you some day how I went! Did I murder the old woman? I murdered myself, not her! I crushed myself once for all, for ever…. But it was the devil that killed that old woman, not I. Enough, enough, Sonia, enough! Let me be!’ he cried in a sudden spasm of agony, ‘let me be!’

He leaned his elbows on his knees and squeezed his head in his hands as in a vise.

‘What suffering!’ A wail of anguish broke from Sonia.

‘Well, what am I to do now?’ he asked, suddenly raising his head and looking at her with a face hideously distorted by despair.

‘What are you to do?’ she cried, jumping up, and her eyes that had been full of tears suddenly began to shine. ‘Stand up!’ (She seized him by the shoulder, he got up, looking at her almost bewildered.) ‘Go at once, this very minute, stand at the cross-roads, bow down, first kiss the earth which you have defiled and then bow down to all the world and say to all men aloud, ‘I am a murderer!’ Then God will send you life again. Will you go, will you go?’ she asked him, trembling all over, snatching his two hands, squeezing them tight in hers and gazing at him with eyes full of fire.

He was amazed at her sudden ecstasy.

‘You mean Siberia, Sonia? I must give myself up?’ he asked gloomily. ‘Suffer and expiate your sin by it, that’s what you must do.’

‘No! I am not going to them, Sonia!’

‘But how will you go on living? What will you live for?’ cried Sonia, ‘how is it possible now? Why, how can you talk to your mother? (Oh, what will become of them now?) But what am I saying? You have abandoned your mother and your sister already. He has abandoned them already! Oh, God!’ she cried, ‘why, he knows it all himself. How, how can he live by himself! What will become of you now?’

‘Don’t be a child, Sonia,’ he said softly. ‘What wrong have I done them? Why should I go to them? What should I say to them? That’s only a phantom…. They destroy men by millions themselves and look on it as a virtue. They are knaves and scoundrels, Sonia! I am not going to them. And what should I say to them—that I murdered her, but did not dare to take the money and hid it under a stone?’ he added with a bitter smile. ‘Why, they would laugh at me, and would call me a fool for not getting it. A coward and a fool! They wouldn’t understand and they don’t deserve to understand. Why should I go to them? I won’t. Don’t be a child, Sonia….’ ‘It will be too much for you to bear, too much!’ she repeated, holding out her hands in despairing supplication.

‘Perhaps I’ve been unfair to myself,’ he observed gloomily, pondering, ‘perhaps after all I am a man and not a louse and I’ve been in too great a hurry to condemn myself. I’ll make another fight for it.’

A haughty smile appeared on his lips.

‘What a burden to bear! And your whole life, your whole life!’

‘I shall get used to it,’ he said grimly and thoughtfully.

‘Listen,’ he began a minute later, ‘stop crying, it’s time to talk of the facts: I’ve come to tell you that the police are after me, on my track….’

‘Ah!’ Sonia cried in terror.

They sat side by side, both mournful and dejected, as though they had been cast up by the tempest alone on some deserted shore. He looked at Sonia and felt how great was her love for him, and strange to say he felt it suddenly burdensome and painful to be so loved. Yes, it was a strange and awful sensation! On his way to see Sonia he had felt that all his hopes rested on her; he expected to be rid of at least part of his suffering, and now, when all her heart turned towards him, he suddenly felt that he was immeasurably unhappier than before.

‘Sonia,’ he said, ‘you’d better not come and see me when I am in prison.’

(all quotes above from Part V, Chapter IV)

Raskolnikov decides to turn himself in, he visits Sonya though leaves her without a goodbye, goes to the market square and prostrates himself on the ground as she told him to, almost confessing his deed out loud. People think he’s drunk. At the station it turns out that the man who suspected him shot himself, Raskolnikov is relieved, but:

He went out; he reeled, he was overtaken with giddiness and did not know what he was doing. He began going down the stairs, supporting himself with his right hand against the wall. He fancied that a porter pushed past him on his way upstairs to the police office, that a dog in the lower storey kept up a shrill barking and that a woman flung a rolling-pin at it and shouted. He went down and out into the yard. There, not far from the entrance, stood Sonia, pale and horror- stricken. She looked wildly at him. He stood still before her. There was a look of poignant agony, of despair, in her face. She clasped her hands. His lips worked in an ugly, meaningless smile. He stood still a minute, grinned and went back to the police office. (Part VI, Chapter VIII)

EPILOGUE

Rodion confesses and is convicted to 8 years of penal servitude in Siberia after many people supplied evidence of him helping them and being a good but troubled man. His mother dies, his sister marries the man she wanted, Sonia follows him there.

His clothes were warm and suited to his manner of life. He did not even feel the fetters. Was he ashamed of his shaven head and parti-coloured coat? Before whom? Before Sonia? Sonia was afraid of him, how could he be ashamed before her?

And yet he was ashamed even before Sonia, whom he tortured because of it with his contemptuous rough manner. But it was not his shaven head and his fetters he was ashamed of: his pride had been stung to the quick. It was wounded pride that made him ill. Oh, how happy he would have been if he could have blamed himself! He could have borne anything then, even shame and disgrace. But he judged himself severely, and his exasperated conscience found no particularly terrible fault in his past, except a simple blunder which might happen to anyone. He was ashamed just because he, Raskolnikov, had so hopelessly, stupidly come to grief through some decree of blind fate, and must humble himself and submit to ‘the idiocy’ of a sentence, if he were anyhow to be at peace.

Vague and objectless anxiety in the present, and in the future a continual sacrifice leading to nothing—that was all that lay before him. And what comfort was it to him that at the end of eight years he would only be thirty-two and able to begin a new life! What had he to live for? What had he to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live in order to exist? Why, he had been ready a thousand times before to give up existence for the sake of an idea, for a hope, even for a fancy. Mere existence had always been too little for him; he had always wanted more. Perhaps it was just because of the strength of his desires that he had thought himself a man to whom more was permissible than to others.

And if only fate would have sent him repentance— burning repentance that would have torn his heart and robbed him of sleep, that repentance, the awful agony of which brings visions of hanging or drowning! Oh, he would have been glad of it! Tears and agonies would at least have been life. But he did not repent of his crime.

Sonia works in the town, befriends the prisoners and their families, becomes a liaison between them. She’s adored while Rodion is disliked and people don’t understand why she’s there for him.

Here’s the very ending of the novel and the moment of Rodion’s change of heart.

On reaching the prison he learnt from the convicts that Sofya Semyonovna was lying ill at home and was unable to go out.

He was very uneasy and sent to inquire after her; he soon learnt that her illness was not dangerous. Hearing that he was anxious about her, Sonia sent him a pencilled note, telling him that she was much better, that she had a slight cold and that she would soon, very soon come and see him at his work. His heart throbbed painfully as he read it.

Again it was a warm bright day. Early in the morning, at six o’clock, he went off to work on the river bank, where they used to pound alabaster and where there was a kiln for baking it in a shed. There were only three of them sent. One of the convicts went with the guard to the fortress to fetch a tool; the other began getting the wood ready and laying it in the kiln. Raskolnikov came out of the shed on to the river bank, sat down on a heap of logs by the shed and began gazing at the wide deserted river. From the high bank a broad landscape opened before him, the sound of singing floated faintly audible from the other bank. In the vast steppe, bathed in sunshine, he could just see, like black specks, the nomads’ tents. There there was freedom, there other men were living, utterly unlike those here; there time itself seemed to stand still, as though the age of Abraham and his flocks had not passed. Raskolnikov sat gazing, his thoughts passed into daydreams, into contemplation; he thought of nothing, but a vague restlessness excited and troubled him. Suddenly he found Sonia beside him; she had come up noiselessly and sat down at his side. It was still quite early; the morning chill was still keen. She wore her poor old burnous and the green shawl; her face still showed signs of illness, it was thinner and paler. She gave him a joyful smile of welcome, but held out her hand with her usual timidity. She was always timid of holding out her hand to him and sometimes did not offer it at all, as though afraid he would repel it. He always took her hand as though with repugnance, always seemed vexed to meet her and was sometimes obstinately silent throughout her visit. Sometimes she trembled before him and went away deeply grieved. But now their hands did not part. He stole a rapid glance at her and dropped his eyes on the ground without speaking. They were alone, no one had seen them. The guard had turned away for the time.

How it happened he did not know. But all at once something seemed to seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round her knees. For the first instant she was terribly frightened and she turned pale. She jumped up and looked at him trembling. But at the same moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her beyond everything and that at last the moment had come….

They wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other.

They resolved to wait and be patient. They had another seven years to wait, and what terrible suffering and what infinite happiness before them! But he had risen again and he knew it and felt it in all his being, while she—she only lived in his life.

On the evening of the same day, when the barracks were locked, Raskolnikov lay on his plank bed and thought of her. He had even fancied that day that all the convicts who had been his enemies looked at him differently; he had even entered into talk with them and they answered him in a friendly way. He remembered that now, and thought it was bound to be so. Wasn’t everything now bound to be changed?

He thought of her. He remembered how continually he had tormented her and wounded her heart. He remembered her pale and thin little face. But these recollections scarcely troubled him now; he knew with what infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings.

And what were all, all the agonies of the past! Everything, even his crime, his sentence and imprisonment, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact with which he had no concern. But he could not think for long together of anything that evening, and he could not have analysed anything consciously; he was simply feeling. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind.

Under his pillow lay the New Testament. He took it up mechanically. The book belonged to Sonia; it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. At first he was afraid that she would worry him about religion, would talk about the gospel and pester him with books. But to his great surprise she had not once approached the subject and had not even offered him the Testament. He had asked her for it himself not long before his illness and she brought him the book without a word. Till now he had not opened it. He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind: ‘Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least….’

She too had been greatly agitated that day, and at night she was taken ill again. But she was so happy—and so unexpectedly happy—that she was almost frightened of her happiness. Seven years, only seven years! At the beginning of their happiness at some moments they were both ready to look on those seven years as though they were seven days. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it, that it would cost him great striving, great suffering.

But that is the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.

If you made it this far, I hope you got something out of it! Read the book, it will leave you with the best literary fever :)

#kylo ren meta #ben solo meta #reylo meta #kylo ren #crime and punishment #star wars #books

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ramdomddadds · 7 years ago

Text

Dream daddy ask: dino-nerd dadsona

He was a nerd wasn’t he?

So, um... holly motherfucking cow, I just remembered how much I love acurate, updated dinosaur stuff, and how it could fit the dream daddy fandom?

so, yeah.

I know I’m such a nerd and I’m so late to the fandom but I had fun writing this and here it is

-ROBERT

He notices how fast you get to withling, and how you always make some animal.

He also notices how interested you are in anything supernatural, But always fiting the science factor in there. Like how it could be that jakelopes exist, and they could crosbreed with hares but not bunnyes becouse they are too diferent or how the yeti could be a distant relative of the orangutan...

Or how you are pasionated about movie making too, but prefer realistic stuff, but he says nothing, because he likes silence.

Then, one day, he comes over for movie and pizza, and he finds it: notebooks.

Notebooks all over the house.

There are three different notebooks on the stack of the tea table. One, opened, on the big table at the dinner room. Another one somewere on the kitchen, and many, intersected with books, on the shelves across the house.

With the excuse that it was open and in the same room, he takes the one in the big table, and flips over it.

Its filled with drawings, sketches, notes and doodles of people, planst and animals.

There’s him, and betsy, so thats… there. Theres a lot of Amanda… and many, many animals.

It calls his atention that many of the drawings fit conversations they had.

MC hadn’t hear speak of the dover ghost before he met Robert, but here they were: pages and pages of sketches and different designs of how the dover ghost may look like.

Some of them were more animal-like, others where very human, and other were made of shadow, the mark of the pencil, smugled with the author’s fingers to make it look like smoke. A chill climbed up Robert’s spine when he came across a particular drawing that did look just the way he remembered it, dragging something behind.

There were steps behind him.

“…Robert?”

Ups. MC was back in the room, and he had his nose deep within the sketchbook. Robert concentrated in another drawing, one that was very common, and odd.

Robert lifted his gaze.

“…dinosausr, with feathers?”

“Oh fuck, Robert! Uh…”

Robert held his gaze, smirking

“Yes. Yes, ok? Dinosaurs with feathers. I can explain it”

Robert closed the notebook, but held it as he crosed his legs, leaning in the table

“Im listening”

And he kept listening as MC went on and on, telling him how come dinosaurs actually had feathers, and the remains of them that could still be found in birds, and so many little fascinating facts, with such passion, similar to when Robert himself told intrinsek made up stories.

He smiled. This could be so much fun

-DAMIEN

He was delighted, with MC’s appreciation of his abode. He even said he felt sorry for the dead butterflyes, but still appreciated the beauty of his colection, and the work that went into it.

As soon as they were sitting at the couch, he had asked for the skulls placed across the room.

They walked over to them and talked about fosils. MC tried to guess the species and origin of the bones, and if he did not get the exact thing, he could deduce a lot from looking at them.He took a bit longer to mention the feathers issue. It was nice to have interests in common with Damien and he didn’t want to ruin it with the stupid argument of the feathers.

Of course the day came. They went to the movies, and Damien turned out to be very scared! MC held his hand and rambled on and on of how unrealistic they were, and why some choices were made, and later on the conversation developed into a very popular, clasic movie:

Jurassic park.

“Most raptor species were smaller but there was one or two species the size of the ones in the movie, in wich they were inspired… but they had feathers, all of them, including the T-rex”

“Wait, what?”

“Ups. Uh… see…”

And it was down hill from there.

-CRAIG

When MC got to the BQ and saw Craig waving from across the yard, he recogniced an SOS call. His buddy needed him.

“Dude, I have no idea what is going on”

MC listened quietly for a moment and then leaned onto Craig and wispered to him

“Moustachasaurus is asking a simple question. Rastasaurodon misinterprets it and makes stuff way more complicated thatn it is. Both monsters engage in an eternal loop of bloodshed, a battle of giants. Is the dress blue or yellow? Are best cats or dogs? Pineapple or pineappleless?”

Craig gigles and covers his mouth, wile looking at the two men arguing in front of him.

Hugo tells Mat why he thinks you can not compare two pictures from different moments in history, but when Mat repeats the question, down they go again.

“Moustachasaurus displays his extense knolege of taking pics throu the ages and Rastasaurodon tries to scape, but Moustachasaurus attacks from behind and they engage in tragic battle again. It must be mating season or something”

Craig breaks into laughter, distracting the two men with glasses, and pretends he was having an innocent conversation with MC

“Do you remember how into dinosaurs we were?”

Oh no

He’s got a funny, smug look. Its a trap! ABORT! ABORT!

“eh… were?”

“Bro”

“Broooo what do you think the tyranosaurus rex did with those tiny arms?”

“Don’t do it bro. I found out. You won’t like it”

“I need to know bro”

“noo”

“Tell me, MC Tell me…”

Craig held him by the shirt and roughly wispered in his ear

“What were those tiny claws for?”

“Mhhh huu aaaah FEATHERS”

Craig stepped back, shock written all over his face

“Bro… not you too”

“Im sorry Craig. It is true”

“No… its impossible. It can not be!”

“The t-rex had feathers. He probabbly had fluffy and colofull arms for display, when fighting for terrytory… and mating”

“Nooooo!”

“I would never lie to you, bro. It is true”

“…the velociraptor too?”

“…specially the velociraptor”

-JOSEPH

MC tried not to talk about it in front of Joseph. He just didn’t know how he would take it, being religious and all. Until…

Joseph has a yatch. OMG. He has a yacht.

Before they got off the shore, MC was already creeping him out.

“I just love the sea. It holds so many misteries… do you have interest in all of the marine life? Why would you own a boat if not?”

“hehe, I just enjoy the fantasy of sailing aways into the sunset… just the sea and I”

“But its not just the sea and you. There’s the giant squid. You knew that? its real. They are out there”

“Shh, don’t be afraid. I will protect you”

“No, Im not afraid, Im fascinated! There’s so much we don’t know about the sea, I mean, it is the origin of all life…!”

And then, an akward silence

…he was nervous, ok?

“uh… I mean, after God put it there, of course”

“…right”

“…sorry. There’s not a door we can close and open again this time”

Joseph laughts, maybe to make it a bit less akward

“Actually, speaking of marine life, we may see whales”

“Whales!”

“And dolphins”

“Oh my god, really? Do you see them ofthen?”

“Yeah. You are interested on them? you know they can be cruel right? They drown theyr babys for fun…”

“Oh no, they don’t. Dolphins are some of the most inteligent and social creatures out there. If they ever do that is as a punishent to a misbehabing child, or to teach them to survive when they have trouble. Of course they can go mad or try murder too but it is…”

Joseph was staring at him in disbelief

“…rare. …uh. …yeah”

“Wow”

“hmh. Did you know dinosaurs had feathers? Why do you think they died?”

“…what?”

-MAT

Mat is such a dork. And he babbles. Its adorable! I guess I feel less self-concious near someone who’s also self-concious.

…ok.

He starts talking about music. I don’t know much about music, but it is nice and sweet and Mat knows lots of stuff and it brings memories from a while back, so it is easy to listen and just roll with it.

Speaking of wich.

Retro music reminds me of retro stuff.

And that reminds me of Dinosaurs, and how awful and fake they looked back then.

“What you talking about, man, dinosaurs are cool. …I think”

“Yeah, but, compare the ones in black and white movies with Jurassic park”

“Oh, yeah. Thats the stuff”

“Ok, now let me tell you: jurassic park is now outdated too. Dinosaurs did not look like that”

“what!?”

Mat lays down and listens in awe to me babling abut the found proof that dinosaurs had feathers, and not only that, but also also spikes and colorfull crests and shiny scales, and the misterious noises they may had made. Even the spinoaurus from the third movie, turns out it didn’t walk on two feet. I start realising Im babling a bit too much, but he just looks at me with his sweet, big brown eyes and smiles

“maaaan. I feel so old”

“well, look at the bright side. Not as old as those fossiles”

-HUGO

Going to the acuarium with Hugo was an exciting adventure. And I got to awe a bunch of kids with my extense trivia about penguins, while he got some kid out of the penguin enclosure. How did she get in there? oh well.

Trivia nights were also fun. Hugo and I make a good team and there’s lots of cheese!

It was the dawn of a new era. It really started the time the quizz master got some wrestling trivia wrong, and Hugo went head over hills for it.

I went for all the natural history and nature ones.

Thats what I told him when he showed he his colection.

“Don’t be ashamed of this, man. Remember how I get when Master quizz talks about dinosaurs?”

“Oh. …OH. Oh, boy”

“Oh yeah. I too, have a dark seecret”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. …but, what could it be? You are just very educated about nature. It is interesting, many people enjoy the nature channel”

I was giving him a mischevous look

“It goes deeper than that”

Hugo looks at me in the eyes and then carasses his chin before daring to ask

“…how deep is that?”

I walk closer to him, wrestling belt over my shoulder

“Remember you asked”

He doesn’t moves, but gulps when I wisper on his ear

“Dinosaurs had feathers”

“… what?”

“And shiny scales, and colorfull crests, and they made all shorts of music”

“Whait, what, for real?”

“And not all of them went extinct. Not only crocodiles and turtles survived. It has been proved: the birds that we have today descend from dinosaurs like raptors and relatives of the t-rex. Thats why they call it the extintion of the non-aviar dinosaurs now”

“…for real? I… didn’t know that”

“and there was a period, the triasic, when nature was on drugs, and it produced all kinds of crazy stuff!!”

“Say waaaat?” Said his kid, Ernest, standing in the door. How much did he listen?

-BRIAN

“oh, is that a dinosaur book?” said MC, and Amanda turned in horror.

“Oh no”

“yes, it is” Said Daisy, with a wide smile “I wish we were studing theese in class, but they don’t talk much about fosiles, just rocks…”

Brian laughted proudly. “Daisy is not happy with all they teach in class. She is always looking for books with extra stuff…”

Only then he noticed Amanda frantically denying with her head, and making ‘cut it’ gestures. He then looked back at MC. It was too late.

He was sitting next to Daisy, pointing at pictures in the dinosaur book.

“Ok, you know this one?”

“Yeah, that’s a brachiosaurus”

“The long-neck one” added Brian “That one’s easy”

“yeah, but it did not look like that. Book is a bit outdated. New data travels faster online. See, look at the skull. Now, where are the holes of the nose?”

Daisy thoug for a moment.

“… they are… above its eyes? On the top of the forehead?”

“Exactly. Now, don’t you think that’s a bit weird? Having such a wide, weird nose, and a big mouth way apart? Something’s missing”

“Yeah…?”

“Ok, now look at the skull of an elephant”

MC took out his phone and showed her pictures

“… it doesn’t have a nose! And the cavities are huge and… oh my god!”

“Exactly. The trumpet is big and important, but it has no bones. If someone found the fosil of an elephant, but never saw one, they would draw him without a trumpet”

“Like it happened to the brachiosaurus. It had a trumpet! Dad!”

Brian nearly flinched. He was barely catching up

“The brachiosaurus had a trumpet, dad! Can you believe it?”

Brian looked at Amanda. She was scrolling throu her phone like nothing was going on.

“actually, not necesary a trumpet, see…”

Daisy turned her attention fully back to MC

“They are both big hervibores, but the brachiosaurus had a very long neck. It didn’t need a long trumpet. …kind of like a giraff. Have you seen what they do?”

Daisy denied. MC was already playing a video of a giraff using its lips, and loong, sticky toung to catch things and eat them.

“it probably didn’t have a trumpet. Nor a long tounge, but there was definetly something important on its nose, wich it probably used for eating and for singing, kinda like cows do, and maybe it was colorful, or diferent between males and females…”

“wooow! It is a big feature, why they don’t use it in movies?”

“see, it is kind of risky, to design such an extrange animal, so they play it easy and just cover the skull with skin. And that’s not all”

“there is more!?”

“this animals had spikes all over their tails, wich have been found incrusted in the skull of predators like the T-rex”

“Wooah!”

“Don’t feel left out” Amanda said to Brian, seeing that the poor guy needed some company “he can’t help it, loves the stuff. Just make sure you can handle it before letting him anywere near the museum”

“uh… ok”

“And whatever you do, never ask about dinosaurs with feathers” she wispered this “You will never hear the end of it”

#dream Daddy #DDADDS #ask #dinosaurs #nerd #dinosaurs had feathers #dinosaur facts #nerd dadsona

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