#i rather corny aren't i | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pretty-little-mind33 · 1 year

Text

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Since the mission in Tokyo, you wanted Tangerine out of your life as soon as possible. Instead, he stormed back in to save you from yourself.

Genre: Fluff, Enemies To Lovers <3

Warnings: excessive amount of swearing, sexual themes, canon like violence, mentions of violence, blood, career sexism

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

You were only supposed to snatch a stupid briefcase for your friend, Carver. Instead, your trip ended with a crushed up train, three concussions, one broken arm, multiple bruised egos, and a whole lot of unrequested fun facts about Thomas The Tank Engine.

Oh, and a man you were convinced wanted to become your mortal enemy.

You had heard about the infamous Twins in passing — the Bolivia case mostly — and you never questioned anyone when they assured you they were professionals. At least not until you saw them fuck up more than once in one evening.

You liked Lemon. He was a decent guy, a smart assassin, and he made you laugh with his corny obsession with a children's show.

His brother however — what a fucking asshole!

Tangerine had came in strong with an attitude. He was just eye roll here, sucker punch there, and whine, whine, whine. He also had the worst timing, somehow always running into you whenever you were trying (and failing) to do your fucking job.

He seemed just as irritated by you as you were by him, however it was obvious he loved having you at his mercy: wether that was stuck pressed between the train and his arms, with his gun lodged into your throat, or hearing you say "please" and "thank you" when he swooped in like a devilish knight and saved you from a deadly bullet to the stomach.

Still, you couldn't leave Tangerine's deranged ass quicker once the nightmare that had been that mission was finally over.

You really didn't think you'd see the twins again — certainly not at the same club where you were supposed to carry out your, rather simple, information extraction mission but when you do, your eyes narrow.

Lemon looks mostly casual. His dyed platinum hair is curled around his face as he leans his arm around the booth he's sitting in, casually conversing with another man you don't know.

Standing next to the booth, Tangerine looks even less casual. He's wearing his all too familiar dark blue blazer. His hair and mustache are just as neat as they had been on the train that evening and you smirk. He has a lit cigarette dangling from his lips as he occasionally takes it out and obnoxiously blows smoke into the air.

He looks infuriatingly good.

You cross your arms, watching them from across the room. You look around. Your target hadn't made an appearance yet and in the meantime you'd had to turn down many desperate and drunk men swarming you for your attention.

"Fancy seeing you here, luv." You smirk, hearing his voice, hoarse and velvety, near your ear. He'd found you quickly. Seems like he has a talent for that and you wonder if he'd somehow planted a tracker on you.

"Stalking me now, Orange?" You ask, not even bothering to turn around as you lean on the bar counter and start to intentionally swirl your drink around the glass.

"Tangerine." He corrects.

You turn this time. Your eyes meet his chest and they start to slowly move up until you can look at him in his annoyingly beautiful blue eyes, "Potayto, potahto." You say, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, aren't ya as chirpy as ever, Poppy." Tangerine snarls. Your lips curl hearing the code name you'd used on that train. You've been using it ever since.

You look around seeing your target walk into a small room in the corner of the club. You run a hand in your hair, smack your lips together, and glance nonchalantly at Tangerine. You send him a sweet smile, "Well, Clementine, I always enjoy our little chats but I'm quite busy and don't have time for your potty-mouth right now." You turn away from him.

He catches your arm, "I really wouldn't follow im in there if I were ya, darlin" He warns seriously. You turn around, skeptical, but listen to him anyway.

"Why is that?" You ask, crossing your arms.

"Because, luv," Tangerine smirks as he firmly holds your shoulders and turns you both around. Nonchalantly, he gestures towards the door to the little room the man walked into, "That bastard hired Lemon and I to kill ya."

You tense, "What?" You spin around, heart pounding.

"Ya seriously din't think you'd been asked to be a fucking honeypot without any exterior motives?" You feel insulted until Tangerine continues, “You're an assassin, darlin', and a pretty damn fucking good one. Having you as a honeypot is a crime in itself." You realize it's the first time Tangerine has complimented you and he's looking at you with an unusually concerned expression.

"So, what are you waiting for?" You blink, completely serious.

"Excuse me?"

"Kill me." You say calmly, "Since when do you and Lemon not finish a job?"

The brunet looks at you like you've gone completely insane (which maybe you have) and then laughs, "Ya want me to kill ya, doll?" Tangerine genuinely looks like he's just heard the funniest thing in his life. However, his eyes narrow darkly and his hands curl harshly around your arm, "Fine."

Sure, you know Tangerine had been ruthless on that train but you'd also been extremely aware that he'd intentionally missed opportunities he had to kill or badly wound you. So, when he yanks you into the men's bathroom, you panic.

You pull against his arm and push against chest as you try to take out the small knife you always cram inside your boot, but Tangerine is too quick. Your body is suddenly thrown across the bathroom like you're nothing and you crash into the mirror, ribs hitting the sink. You stare at him, eyes fluttering from the pain as you sway on your feet and clutch your side.

Tangerine looks completely unfazed as he struts over to you and then grabs your chin between his fingers so forcefully you unintentionally whimper, "Where's the assassin I met on the train, huh?" He asks, his voice smooth, "Haven't given up so easily, have ya, darlin'?"

You stare at him. He's taunting you. He wants you to fight him. Quickly, you knee him in the groin and side kick him to the ground. He stumbles a little but recovers from the hit. A sensible voice in your head screams at you to run but instead you pull Tangerine up by the collar of his expensive suit and body slam him against the wall, your forearm crushing his throat.

When you look at him, Tangerine is smirking cockily, "Atta' girl." He croaks.

You realize a little too late that the only reason you managed to pin Tangerine to the wall was because he was letting you. The moment he resists, you're the one easily pinned as one of his hands presses your wrists above your head.

Time suddenly feels unimportant as you look into his eyes. “Am I in danger?" You whisper, breathlessly.

Tangerine's stoic expression falters a little and he drops your arms and looks around the bathroom. He turns back to you, running a hand in his hair. “Yes." Your heart leaps, “Lemon and I mean you no harm, but someone else wants you dead, Poppy."

His hand slides down your back as he leads you outside of the bathroom and back into the busy noise of the club. You catch his arm as he walks in front of you, "Tangerine, wait," You say, voice raspy. You watch him turn around. His hair is messy from his hand and he's looking at you like he's never heard you say his name before.

Your heart is beating out of your chest and you want to ask him to stay. A little part of you wants him to stay so he can take care of you. Only, you can't ask him that. You've looked after yourself and you've long accepted that that's how it would always be.

"What?" Tangerine frowns, wearing an irritatingly handsome expression for someone that looks so confused and, frankly, a little annoyed.

You frown and, as hard as you can, slap him across the face. From his profile, you can see a dark glimmer appear in his eyes and his jaw tightens. He doesn't react as he slowly looks at you again, and then he can't because you're kissing him.

You bury your nails into his cheeks as he wastes no time to grip your hips with his hands. You kiss him passionately and clumsily — like you've never kissed anyone before but somehow when his lips move against yours it still feels flawless.

"Fuck," Tangerine groans when you bite his lower lip and smile proudly.

He pulls you closer to him and his hand comes up to hold your neck as his fingers bury themselves in your hair. He jerks your head backwards painfully but you groan in approval. Tangerine begins to suck on the skin of your neck like he's been starved of you for years.

You don't want him to pull away when you feel him move so you chase his lips. He chuckles, his voice low, and cups your cheeks in his hands as he looks at you. His eyes are weirdly affectionate for a man who's a cold blooded killer.

"Are you going to turn me in?" You ask him, your face still in his hands.

"What didn't ya understand when I told ya Lemon and I won't cause you any harm?" He rolls his eyes, gently patting your cheek. Slowly, as if savoring the touch of your skin, he slides his hands down your arms and then intertwines your fingers with his, "Come on, we're leaving."

You let him lead you through the sweaty bodies of the dancing crowd until you reach the booth where Lemon sits. He sees his brother and then his eyes flicker to your hands and the corner of his lips curl, "I see you found er," Lemon waves at you.

"Bugger off," Tangerine snarls, hearing something in Lemon's voice that you hadn't, "And get off your fucking arse, Lemon," He adds, "I don't wanna deal with that bloody bastard when he realizes we aren't killing er. I don't want his filth on my suit. I like this suit."

Tangerine lets your hand go to adjust his collar. You cross your arms and look around the club. Accidentally, you make eye contact with someone and your entire body freezes.

He sees you before you can look away. Quickly, you turn to Lemon and Tangerine, who haven't stopped bickering, and slap Tangerine's chest to get his attention. He looks at you, eyebrow raised, "Hate to break up the love-fest boys, but I think our little friend just realized you lads plan on keeping me fucking breathing." You hiss.

"Bloody fucker." Tangerine whispers, his eyes glued on the man approaching you all as Lemon stands. Lemon pulls out his gun and unlocks it with a click. You bend over to take the knife from inside your boot but the moment you have it in your hands, Tangerine snatches it from you and replaces it with his gun.

"I don't want this," You deadpan.

"Don't argue." He squints at you and twirls your knife in his hand.

Ignoring him, you reach for your weapon anyway, "I like my knife, thanks."

Tangerine tuts and holds it above his head, smirking, "Guns are safer, luv." He patronizes.

"Misogynist asshole." You grumble, earning a frown from him.

"Mates, now ain't the time." Lemon interrupts sternly. You look behind him and see that the man who'd hired you to kill him, just for him to kill you, has a few other bulky looking buddies with him and they're much closer than they were earlier.

Without hesitation and because Tangerine is distracted, you manage to jump up and take the knife from his hand. You then proceed to meticulously launch it past the swarm of dancing bodies. With a smoosh it lands smack in the middle of one the men's head and the sound of his body hitting the ground causes a mass panic.

"Fucking brilliant," Tangerine scolds, looking annoyed, "Now ya lost the fucking knife." His hand wraps around your forearm and he whispers in your ear, "And I ain't misogynistic, sweetheart, I just don’t wanna see ya hurt," He admits.

He starts to pull you away but you wiggle out of his grip, "Poppy!" He shouts as you sprint towards the men.

Fuck this, you think, if those motherfuckers want you dead then you won't wait around for them to kill you – you'll kill them first.

You take the man closest to you in a scissor leg takedown, slamming him onto the ground. You snatch your knife from the dead man's head as he lays not far from you and slit the throat of the man you're pinning to the ground. You spin your head around and throw Tangerine his gun. Quickly, he unlocks it and, with Lemon, starts shooting past the innocent civilians and manages to fatally hit a few of the men.

You make your way to the leader and front kick him in the hand so he drops his gun. When he does, you try and bend over to retrieve it from where it fell only the man manages to punch you in the jaw. You stumble over, tears pricking your eyes from the pain, but stand up anyways. "Who the fuck are you?" You demand, returning a punch that the man easily avoids. He backhand slaps you so hard you groan. You fall onto your knees and your knife slides out your hands and across the floor.

"You don't remember me?" The man asks with a snarl, his Irish accent thick.

"No." You hiss, crawling to reach your knife. Only, the man kicks you in the stomach and you can't help the scream that leaves your lips.

You blink, cheeks and palms pressed to the floor as you helplessly watch Tangerine and Lemon in action. There had been more men then you'd anticipated and while the Twins can certainly assert themselves in combat, they're far too concerned with defending themselves to help you.

You feel a hand grip your hair and the man harshly turns you around so he's straddling your hips. He presses your knife against your neck and smiles at you. He's young, clean-shaven, and has moles sprinkled across his cheeks like small freckles. You stare at him only to have him spit in your face. Shutting your eyes, you snap, "What the fuck?" and struggle against him.

"You took everything from me, Y/n." He growls and your heart leaps. He knows your name.

"I don't even know who you are!" You try to buck your hips so he falls but he's too strong.

"You stole my job. The hit on the Senator and his family a few months ago, remember them?" You nod, "Well it was mine and you swooped in and took it from me. My reputation, gone in seconds because of some inexperienced, useless, brat." He rants like a madman and presses the knife harder until it strains crimson.

"Everyone steals jobs, it happens." You explain, voice hoarse.

"And yet you couldn't even finish it."

You can barely breathe anymore. "I couldn't kill the child." You explain.

"I know. I did, and yet you still took all the fucking credit," He smirks and lifts his arm. "You ruined my reputation – everyone said I was beaten to the task by a fucking girl – and now you're gonna pay." You squeeze your eyes shut.

Instead of the pain from the knife you hear one gunshot and suddenly the man collapses onto you. Instantly, you sit up and shove him away. Your head snaps up, eyes wide, to see whoever just shot him.

Tangerine stands over you, tucking his gun back into his pants behind him. There's blood splattered across his cheeks but you don't think it's his. He grins, "Now he's a fucking misogynistic bastard." He holds out his hand and helps you stand, "Ya ok, luv?"

You nod slowly and look around the club. There are bodies everywhere. Lemon stands in the center, cleaning his gun and he tilts his head at you, "We should skedaddle before the coppers come." He points out.

You nod again and let Tangerine and Lemon walk you out and into their car.

* * *

The Twins house is as you would have imagined. It's basically a mansion and just as polarized as they are. All the rooms Tangerine touches are neat and fancy, while whatever is Lemons has more of a messy, boyish, charm.

You're sitting on the kitchen counter as Tangerine presses alcohol to your neck as he cleans your wound. He's uncharacteristically gentle with you,

"So, what did that wanker want with you anyway?" He asks, not looking into your eyes.

You grimace, "I stole his hit, apparently."

Tangerine raises his brow, "And he wanted to kill you because of it?"

"I also took his credit for killing the Senator's four year old son," You sigh, "When in reality, I couldn't bring myself to harm the little boy." You feel pathetic in front of Tangerine, who is silent for a moment until he says,

"I wouldn't have killed him either."

You look up at him, "Really?"

He looks you in the eyes, "Really. I don't harm kids." He pauses and then moves some hair away from your face so he can clean some more scratches you have on your skin, "Why'd ya take credit for the kill?"

"I didn't want to seem weak in front of my employer. He already trusts men more than women." Your sentence dies and you look away, "This is a male dominated business, you know? Like most careers, us women have to survive somehow." You bury your head in your hands, "I know it's dishonest but the only reason I got that job on the bullet train was because I earned a little reputation from the Senator hit."

Tangerine suddenly laughs and it makes you turn your head towards him again, "What?"

"I understand, luv. Ya don't need to explain yourself."

"You do?"

He kisses your forehead quickly, "Mmhm."

You feel weirdly fuzzy with his lips on your skin and you remember your previous kiss. You aren't sure if you should mention it, or simply pretend it had never happened. Tangerine pulls away from your skin, but his finger slips under your chin and tilts your head to look at him. His eyes jump from yours, then down to your lips, and you hold your breath.

When he kisses you, you know there is no need for talk anymore.

"Should have known you had a soft spot for me." You say anyway, smirking into his lips.

Tangerine frowns, "What's that, sugar?"

"You're secretly a softie, aren't you?" You tease him with a smile.

Unsurprisingly, his frown deepens and he warns, "You're startin' to get on my nerves, sweetheart. Continue like this and next time, I'll leave ya to defend yourself from that arsehole."

You fake hurt, dramatically crossing your hands over your heart, and flutter your eyelashes at him, "You wouldn't, Tan."

"Nah," Lemon interrupts the banter, entering the kitchen with his pink boxers and his mouth full of mint toothpaste, "He couldn't leave ya, Poppy. You're all he ever talks about."

"Shove one up your arse, Lemon." Tangerine hisses, eyes narrowing at his brother.

"You dug your own grave, mate, lay in it." Lemon dismisses him with his hand, "G'night." He smiles at you and spits in the skin. Tangerine watches Lemon walk out of the room. His face is deformed into an annoyed expression,and the moment Lemon shuts the door behind him, Tangerine looks at you.

"Zip it." He demands. He taps your upper thigh as an indication for you to jump off the counter. When you do, his hands linger on your waist, "Come on, you're up way past your bedtime, luv." He smirks at his own joke as he leads you out the kitchen and down the hallway.

Tangerine's room smells like him and is cleaner than your entire apartment. You walk to the queen-sized bed and marvel at how comfortable it is when you sit on it. "Here," Tangerine says nonchalantly and hands you one of his shirts. He turns around, making sure you have your privacy, as he starts to unravel his blue-tie.

You don't protest as you step out of your dress and throw his shirt over your head. You feel out of place when Tangerine turns back around and looks you up and down. He raises one eyebrow, "Well?"

"Well what?" You ask, confused.

"Get into the bloody bed, Poppy." He says harshly.

"What? Where are you sleeping?"

Tangerine runs a hand in his hair, "In the living room."

"Bullshit. You can sleep in your own bed, I’ll sleep on the couch." You pause, eyes scrunching, "Or I- I'll juts go home."

Tangerine smirks, "In my shirt?" He motions to your dress on the ground and you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, "Just shut up and listen to me for once." He says.

"Then you stay too. There is enough room," You reason as you walk to one side and dramatically pull down the covers. You stare at him with wide eyes and pat the mattress, "You aren't afraid to sleep with a woman, are you now?" You tease.

Tangerine's cheeks flame and he grumbles something under his breath but he’s shedding his blazer. You avert your gaze and climb under the covers.

Your back is turned to Tangerine as you hold your breath, eyes bouncing around the room. Then, the light switches off, the bed dips and suddenly you feel warmth next to you.

"Tan?" You whisper into the darkness after a moment.

You hear him shift in the bed and then a small hum to tell you he' listening, "Poppet," He mutters and your lips curl upwards.

"Thank you.”

Silence.

"While I do appreciate the gratitude, why ya thanking me?" He asks, his voice low.

"Thank you for not killing me, and saving my ass, and of course letting me stay here — with you and your brother — " Your chest feels lighter and your eyelids start to feel sleepy. You feel Tangerine shift in the bed again and suddenly his arm is around your waist.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps and you shiver as Tangerine pulls you into him until you're curled up against his chest. You let out a shaky breath when you feel his cheek rest near yours, "Shhh, sleep now, luv. We'll leave the thank yous for tomorrow, hmm?" His voice is uncharacteristically sweet.

You hum in approval and let your eyes flutter shut. You start to drift in and out of sleep but you're almost certain you hear Tangerine mutter, "I'd never let anything bad happen to ya, Poppy. I promise, you're safe with me," just before you fall into the most relaxing sleep you know you'll ever have.

#bullet train #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine oneshot #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #lemon and tangerine #tangerine x you #tangerine imagine #tangerine imagines #tangerine fic #tangerine angst #bullet train fanfic #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #tangerine 🍊

896 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years

Note

a hotch baby blurb along the lines of spontaneous phenomena where she works at the fbi or bau but not as a profiler and is a bit shy and quiet but he always notices her and thanks her for all her hard work ?? maybe he comes back from a case w a black eye or injury and she frets and they kiss ?? i love u mwah

I love you, thank you for your request! fem!reader

When people ask how someone as quiet as you ended up working in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, you love to say, "I just slipped in. They haven't found me yet to fire me."

For the most part, you aren't lying. You'd worked your way up by accident, and with no intentions on moving any higher you're happy in your cushy little desk job filing paperwork and typing up reports.

It also gives you a strange sort of happiness to help people out. Not for praise, though praise is nice, but just to see a usually sombre breed of people uplifted. It's why you're in Hotch's office so often. He has an abundance of paperwork. You have time to file it, or if not filing, sorting. If not sorting, tying up loose ends. You figure, why not?

You wouldn't enter his office if he hadn't given permission. He knows it's you because you always leave the door open, and you know it's him because he sighs tiredly in the doorway.

"You're here late. Go home."

"It's only…" You check your watch. "Five twelve."

More tired sighing. You quickly finish up what you'd been doing at the chair in front of his desk (which, a few times, he's told you to sit behind rather than in front, because apparently his chair has better lumbar support) and click a lid back onto your pen.

"How was– oh no, what happened?"

Your lilting tone makes him smile.

"Nothing happened."

Standing from your seat, you tilt your head to get a better look at him. A shiner stains the skin around his left eye wine dark, and the sclera is bloodshot. It looks painfully sore.

"Hotch," you say softly.

"It's alright. I've had worse."

You know he's had worse. You know he's been stabbed like a pincushion and stitched closed again, know all about his perforated eardrum, his bad shoulder. That doesn't make it any easier to swallow this injury.

Somebody as kind as he is, how's it fair he hurts this often?

You move forward in an act of brazen self-indulgence that is completely unlike you and stop just shy of his shoes, looking up into his face.

He obliges you, looks down.

You picture the violence without meaning to, the hand that had hit him.

"Are you alright?" you ask.

"I'm fine." His brows lower and he winces, but they're lowering in fondness. The corners of his dark eyes crease with it, and his tone is sweet. He sounds younger than he is when he speaks to you like this, and he's been doing it more and more. "You worry more than you need to."

"I just think that… if somebody hit me like that, I'd be upset, so…" You meet his eyes and feel intimidated, not by him, though he's imposing and tall and handsome in the worst of ways, the way that's making professionalism impossible to maintain, but because you're staring your feelings I'm the face at the same time. You really care about him.

"I like my job," you say, filling a small silence he hadn't bothered to fill, his expression suddenly unreadable, "but sometimes I wish I'd been a profiler."

"Well, it's never too late."

"No, it is. And it's not because I want to do what you do, I don't even think I could, but it's–"

You cut yourself off with a nervous huff of laughter. He takes the smallest step closer, his face dipping down incrementally. "What?"

"I wish I was so I could be there."

"Yeah? What would you do?"

"I'd take care of you," you say honestly. Your face burns with heat, and you realise how corny and out of place you'd sounded instantaneously. You turn your face to the side, grimacing so hard it hurts. "I'd defend you." You attempt to save face. "I mean, I'd try to. I'm not saying the other profilers don't do that."

"I knew what you meant," he says, and lifts a hand to your cheek.

You hold your breath as he steers your face to his.

"You do take care of me," he says. "In your way, honey. You do." His thumb skips over your cheek. He seems, for once, out of order. Unsure. "Could I kiss you?"

Your fingers find their way to his shoulder. You don't know how to say yes to that, your tongue a leaden weight in your mouth, your brain a useless mess of neurons that refuse to fire.

You close your eyes and hope he gets the memo. You lift your chin. You stay very still.

Hotch kisses like a gentleman. Chaste, completely, a firm and sweet press of the lips. Then, like he's losing a handle on it, his nose pushes into yours and his lips part just slightly, and you remember to kiss back only a second before he pulls away.

You raise a hand to his face, a mirror. "You're sure it doesn't hurt?" you murmur.

"It stings, but," —he closes his eyes again, resting his forehead on yours— "I'll be okay."

#aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

2K notes · View notes

istoleyoursk1n · 9 months

Note

Hello there! I’ve seen your stuff and it’s very good! I have one for the main crew with a Dhampire!Tav. That’s essentially a half vampire born from a mother infected with vampirism and they have all the benefits of being a vampire with no, minus the thirst for blood that’s more a craving and provides a power boost, negatives. Tav tries to abstain from blood as much as possible, but does give in for emergencies.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a Dhampir!Tav

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Ugh. Just so you know, there can only be one. And it doesn't take much to see who’s the better vampire, darling. You best not go snacking on the delights I've claimed for myself.”

You’d think he’d be relieved but he's more so irritated by your presence at first. You’re quite literally everything he wished he was, something that makes him envy you.

You don't have to constantly satiate your thirst for blood and you can walk in the sun! Sure, he can do so now, but that's only because of the squirming little parasite in his head.

However, over time, he’d get over his bitterness, realizing that perhaps he cared for you more than he initially thought.

Sure, you have advantages he only dreamed of obtaining himself but having another vampire by his side did prove to have its own perks. All so suddenly you are both drinking goblets of blood in place of wine, dancing in the glow of the luminous moonlight as the nocturnes you are.

He's a horrible influence because there's no doubt he made you indulge in your blood cravings more than you ever used to.

Though, he’d have it no other way. He does quite enjoy the sound of a vampiric power couple racing through the night, it appeals to every fanatical dark dream he's ever had and it makes it all the more special.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“To see not one but two fanged companions join us on our little adventure? Well, I can't quite tell if I should be relieved or tense. Regardless, it's a pleasure to have you.”

It was conflicting enough to have one vampire in camp but two? His job was to slay monsters but you don't seem to be posing a threat at all. Less of a threat than Astarion at least.

He very quickly moves past his whole ‘but aren't I meant to kill monsters?’ conflict in favor of befriending such a compelling companion, one he finds himself growing quite fond of.

And there was just something so incredibly romantic of being a monster hunter himself and falling for a creature of the night (and sun at this point).

As corny as it sounds, he’d been dreaming up that fantasy for a while now, finding himself going out of his way to woo and win over a vampire's undead heart.

One blissful dance by the lake against the twinkling stars of night, hands interlocked, and the sudden burn of piercing fangs caressing his skin only for his own soft kiss to follow—romance and its finest.

All so suddenly he's fallen head over heels for the same type of beasts he's sworn to rid of, though you are no beast in his eyes, more of an angel whose sharpened teeth could be nothing more than a sweet blessing in disguise.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“The more the merrier I suppose. You never know when one needs four sets of fangs in the journey ahead. Perhaps, you could talk sense into another particularly bloodthirsty friend of ours, hm?”

And then there were two.

He didn't quite trust you around him at first, you were still a vampire, and frankly after the Astarion encounter, he’d rather not be bled out dry.

Over time, he’d grow curious. It's not every day he encounters a dhampir out and about. He’s read about them of course but studying an actual dhampir was a whole different story.

He would often compare you to the books he’s read about your kind to the actual information you provide him, noting that once the whole absolute mess is over, he’d gladly rewrite the dhampir section of his book collections.

Eventually, the fact that you're a dhampir would easily go over his head. He can't see you as anything else except for the companion he's grown to be incredibly fond of.

Perhaps he’d try to find other ways to satiate your blood cravings if he's ever reminded of them, doing his own little research as to what the best substitute could be. It's more so for convenience so he wouldn't have to witness another chicken being drained raw.

Other than that, he's completely contented with you, fangs included. There is no other he could have chosen to have endured this treacherous journey with.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“Fucking hell! Another vampire?! Well, shit, I must be pretty damn lucky or something. Between you and me, I think it's great to have another fanged friend join us, you have got to meet Astarion!”

She gets excited over the fact that you're a dhampir for about a day before it goes over her head.

She's seen far more threatening things than a human half-vampire to ever feel the slightest bit of intimidation at your presence.

Besides, if you ever do try biting her, good luck handling blood as hot as the flames of Avernus. That’ll give her a good laugh.

She has a lovely little thing for nicknames and if she gets to call Astarion ‘Fangs’ you’re being called ‘Fangers’. Cheesy, but it makes her all the more happy.

And if the need for blood ever arises, fret not, she would gladly beat the shit out of some bastard goblin for you to snack on (if you don't mind the taste of goblin blood of course.)

Overall, the fact that you’re slightly vampiric never bothered her at all. You’re the best thing that's ever happened to her and she wouldn't mind no matter what form you took.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“It seems that another vampiric acquaintance joins this strange little party of ours. I suppose finding ways to satiate another vampire’s odd diet wouldn't be too much of a hassle with all the dead goblins lying around. Enjoy the meal.”

She was a bit apprehensive at first. She was already a little put off by Astarion being a vampire, she didn't quite trust herself bearing her neck around that man and now there's you.

You’d have to slowly build some trust in her if she were to ever let her guard around you, of course, there are the playful jabs here and there but she seems mostly impartial with your presence for now.

Her weariness fades soon enough, it's not as though your blood cravings are bad enough for you to turn to your own companions for a taste. She’s only ever seen you feast on animals.

Over time, she’d grow contented with your presence, hardly ever pointing out your own vampiric features as you seem quite normal for the most part.

Your advanced healing at least gives her a break from having to constantly use her healing spells so she's at least grateful for that.

She truly doesn't have any qualms about you now that she fully understands your capabilities and who you are as an individual. You are a lovely companion to have and it's fairly nice having you by her side.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk. Best you keep your thirst for blood on our foes lest I pull out your sharpened fangs from your gnawing mouth. I will not have you or anyone come to draw blood from my own skin.”

As long as you don't intend on placing her fangs anywhere near her, she doesn't care.

She’ll base her opinion on you depending on what use you could provide to her, and seeing as you are essentially a vampire without all the negative effects that come from being one, that's perfect!

You are quite effective in and out of battle, an admirable trait she has directly told you on a handful of occasions.

It's rather flattering to hear ‘compliments’ or more so tactical observations come out of her mouth from time to time but she does seem quite impressed by your abilities.

Even the part of you that craves blood is one she doesn't quite mind as long as you aren't senselessly draining out the blood of every creature you pass.

If you two do grow close, she does actually hunt animals for you, bringing them back to you as ‘tokens of appreciation’ so you’d have something to snack on (She doesn't want to show it but seeing you indulge makes her happy).

At the end of the day, she truly sees you as a worthy companion to travel alongside her. A companion she wishes to treasure and travel with for as long as time allows her.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“How lucky am I to have lived long enough to witness vampires having the capacity to walk in the sun? Truly such a special gift to have especially for someone like you. Perhaps one day all of your kin could have the chance to see the sun again.”

The least concerned out of all of them.

He’s lived long enough to understand whether or not you could possibly pose a threat and honestly? You don't even seem intimidating enough to phase him.

The only thing he's actually upset about is the fact that you have to kill precious creatures of nature to satiate your occasional cravings for blood.

He wished there were other alternatives, and honestly, he’d rather see you snack on a goblin than the poor critters living in the forest. Though, he does understand how foul the taste of goblin must be.

At some point, he probably would have offered himself as a substitute for your blood cravings. Better him than the animals. Though, you couldn't quite tell if he was nervous or excited about the prospect of you biting into him.

It turned out to be both when you first tried, and now it's become quite a normal thing for you two. Halsin doesn't seem to mind and you get to have a free snack from time to time.

Besides, there's something about your fangs that makes his own heart beat a tad bit faster than usual. A detail you don't miss at all and something he's very much aware of.

He trusts you enough to not drain him, and regardless, he treasures you as a companion. What you are could never stop him from being as close to you as he is now.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanon #bg3 headcanons #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #bg3 lae’zel #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 karlach #astarion #wyll #gale #halsin #shadowheart #lae’zel #karlach

215 notes · View notes

solradguy · 11 days

Note

Recently I've started to try and study a lot of the artwork for Guilty Gear, particularly the artwork by Daisuke. I was reading your translation of the notes in the XX artbook and I realized that on a lot of the artwork I really liked, Daisuke mentioned mistakes he made. I found this odd since, again, most of them I thought were absolute masterpieces.

I know that people always say "You're your own worst critic", especially to artists, but I guess that it never really set in until I was reading those.

I get nobody's art is perfect (Daisuke is no exception, there are pieces in the artbook that even I could see were rather flawed), but the fact that I am staring in aw at some artwork and I then read that the creator of it was upset that the perspective was all off feels insane. Kinda makes me think about how I critique my own art when I have so many people in my life who think I'm an amazing artist.

I know this is gonna sound stupid and corny but I wanted to get this out of my head since it's been in there for at least a week or two now. Probably didn't word this the best since it's getting a bit late since I decided to stay up to listen to the new (and by new I mean two years old) Red Hot Chili Peppers album while drawing and I thought of this again.

Also thanks for translating the art book. Although the artwork by itself is still great, the comments (as I have stated) were really insightful for me personally. You really are a rad guy, at least in my eyes.

When I first translated Artworks of GGX 2000-2007, I thought Daisuke's harshness towards his art was possibly a Japanese cultural thing, since it's not uncommon for creators in Japan to kind of talk down their own accomplishments ("kenkyo"; [1] [2]). But then I got a bit better at Japanese and read commentary and autobiographical works by other artists—Hirohiko Araki, Kentarou Miura, and Ryoko Kui [3]—and they're much more positive about their creations. They're still humble about it, as any professional generally is, but they certainly aren't as critical as Daisuke is in Artworks 2007. It's definitely odd.

Artworks 2007 is an updated/expanded reprint of an edition that came out 3 years earlier, Artworks of GGX 2000-2004, so a little over half of the captions in Artworks 2007 were written between 2000 and 2004. If it wasn't kenkyo that made Daisuke critical about his art, then, I thought, maybe all the work he had on his plate leading up to the Sammy-Sega merger, which threatened the Guilty Gear IP as a whole[4], had him in kind of a depressive/hyper-critical mindset? That still feels like it could be plausible; his more recent (>2010) commentary is a lot kinder.

It is reassuring knowing that even incredibly skilled artists like Daisuke can still fall into being mean about their own art. Some things never change haha Here's hoping, like Daisuke, we all crawl out of that hyper-critical borderline self-loathing art pit 💪

Thanks for reading the translation!! And for the compliment. Artworks 2007 was my very, very, first large scale GG translation project and I'd like to redo it some day, some of the translations are a little wobbly.... I didn't make a Japanese manuscript for it though, which means I'll have to rescan every page again to get the text off them 😵‍💫

~ https://sakuratips.com/2020/10/20/humble/

~ https://interculturalwordsensei.org/kenkyo/

Hirohiko Araki is known for Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Kentarou Miura for Berserk, and Ryoko Kui for Dungeon Meshi

~ https://www.siliconera.com/arc-system-works-now-owns-the-rights-to-guilty-gear/

(sorry for the ~ before the links lol tumblr really wanted to turn them into embeds...)

#asks #I didn't make a JP manuscript for Artworks 2007 because I didn't think I'd actually end up doing the entire book u_u #Some of them I did directly in a notebook too before switching to doing them almost entirely on my computer lol #(which is muuuuuuch faster my god have you ever looked up kanji by radical instead of just using an OCR and pasting them in?!?)

33 notes · View notes

luneariaa · 4 months

Text

✧ getting through class.

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : { ps5 } harry osborn x fem! reader.

✰ 𝐰. 𝐜. : 1k+

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : harry and you communicate through small notes during class.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reader mentioned math to be one of her greatest enemy, other than that, none aside from fluff!

. dividers by @/cafekitsune !! 💌

It's still in the middle of the day, but the number of times you've quietly yawned during the current lesson is pretty concerning. Probably could be considered as your own punishment since you barely got any sleep last night due to the stack of homework.

Mathematics, or in other terms, one of your greatest enemy. It doesn't help the fact that the class feels super slow, and boring as well, which made it harder for you to concentrate.

You clearly aren't too fond of the subject itself, yet you still tried your best to stay awake for the sake of it-- you sure as heck don't want to risk anything further.

Harry silently observed your actions from his seat, which is just next to yours. By the looks of his expression, he's well aware on how you seemed to be struggling to stay conscious but wouldn't dare to do anything else regarding to it since it's still in the middle of the lesson.

Neither of you dared to disrupt the pervaded stillness within the class at the moment, so Harry took the opportunity to slip a small note to you, after he has scrawled something on it.

'Hey, you look tired. You okay?'

Your attention shifted downwards at the paper, even taking immediate notice of the small doodle of a cat, which is just beside his words. It's adorable, actually, that it even managed to draw out a grin on your face; replying to the same note while putting a book in front of you to make it appear as if you're reading.

'Uh-huh. Really sleepy.'

'The cat is so cute though.'

You passed the note to him after, even doodling a small bird next to the cat as well. A smile is present upon Harry's lips when he sees your reply.

'You're gonna make me catch feelings for you again.'

The look of pure amusement was plastered across your features at this, letting out a subtle smirk.

'Well, I love you too.'

It's not entirely a lie, so you nonchalantly wrote that in purpose.

Once the note is within his grasp, he could feel his heart pounding wildly, even from such a casual type of reply. But still, it's not something that either of you would blatantly tell one another; finding it harder to express it verbally for some reason that's rather stay untold for now.

'I love you times two.'

Harry doodled another, smaller cat, but this time he used a different coloured pen. Throughout the times when those small notes got exchanged, the teacher-- Mrs. Johnson, didn't seem to notice. Even the other students are either that unbothered or simply lazy to care.

'Silly. You know you can just like, talk to me, y'know? We literally sit next to each other.'

But maybe, you're the silly one too. A chuckle was elicited from you, but it's not too loud enough to gain any possible attention within the class. He knows that what you've written is only the mere truth, but--

'I know, but where is the fun in that?'

'And plus, your smile looks so pretty for me to stare at.'

Oh, so now he decided to sound all corny, right on top of the note as a proof? His words just prompted you to beam at him, while keeping your own gaze from his side. And God, he swears-- Harry swears that you looked beyond perfect from that angle; you always do. But it just hits different right at this moment, and he doesn't even know how to explain it himself.

His eyes; his very own eyes, which consists of an amazing combination of the freshly, well-alive forest and the bright sunlight itself, bore onto your figure; not even realizing that he had spent his several minutes off to simply admire you, whose head are already rested atop of the desk ahead.

Harry wouldn't dare to admit it out loud, but if simply gazing at you was a hobby, then he'd be wanting to fully dedicate himself to you. Such a sight for sore eyes; the mere sight of you put all those museums and living arts into shame.

After the realization struck him back into reality, he wrote something in a rather quick fashion, before handed it over to you.

'Your head's going to hurt from resting on the desk like that.'

But before you got any chance to write out your answer, he casually, yet delicately pull you closer; allowing your head to rest upon his shoulder. Your eyes widened at his sudden actions in astonishment, not expecting such a move from him at all.

His fingers would tenderly brush atop of your head, quietly humming in satisfaction by how the whole ordeal turned out to be.

When you managed to regain your composure, you gave him a sly grin, poking the side of his nose. "Down bad behavior."

A tad bit surprised expression crosses over his features-- blinking his eyes several times from the nose poking, and his cheeks started to redden as everything around them suddenly got completely silenced out from sight.

"Not down bad if the feeling is mutual though."

But deep down?

Your words truly struck him as the mere truth, especially right in this situation. He wouldn't even dare to make any attempts to say anything opposite from it, knowing that it would be quite pointless.

He's into deep, and there's no turning back at this point.

Unfortunately, the moment doesn't last long when the teacher started to call out on you both.

"Are you two going to study, or continue flirting and playing around with each other? If so, not in my class." Mrs. Johnson's tone was filled with displease, glaring at the both of you while speaking those words. Out of nervousness, it made you immediately adjusted your sitting position properly once again.

Harry snapped out from his deep thoughts the moment Mrs. Johnson's voice rang through the air.

"Sorry, we're studying." He speaks up, partly on your behalf as well, nodding slightly as he spared a fleeting glance over your face-- which has a tinge of crimson on it.

"Alright." She sighs, "If I catch you two repeating those again, you both are going to get detention. Is that clear?"

You both simply nodded, still feeling utterly embarrassed by the whole thing-- especially by the sounds of the other student's laughter, and some other stifling it, clearly directed to you and Harry.

Once the teacher averts her attention elsewhere, Harry sends you another note.

'Detention with you? Sounds like a plan.'

He can't be serious. You rolled your eyes while outrightly muttered at him, pinching his hand that's under the desk, but not too hard. "Shut up."

A muffled snort could be heard out from him, amused by your own response. Even your expression, which is a mixture of bewilderment and a flustered one seemed to just fuel him further, finding it comical in a way.

"Make me."

56 notes · View notes

feyascorner · 7 months

Text

please skip this if you don't want to read me being a sap 😭 it's not about astarion (ik very surprising!) but about my personal life

I'd rather not go into specifics but, I've worked very hard for something in my life and the results are not as expected. And by hard I mean I skipped everything else others are doing at my age to pursue this goal, spent countless nights just sobbing, and lost a lot of what I loved and things just ugh…everyone else around me seems to be doing a lot better with their luck and as happy as I am for them (because they really do all deserve it!!!!), I'm also sad because things aren't working out as much for myself 🫠

Im trying to remain optimistic but it's very very hard. I have a history of completely shutting everything out for months if things get too bad and I'm hoping it doesn't get to that point because it's very damaging 😞

Id talk to my friends about this but they don't take me very seriously because I'm always joking around so I have no idea how to cope but spill my feelings onto this silly blog bec at least here people won't judge me for this!!!

I'm just getting very hopeless about everything and it’s also reflecting on my hobbies!! Like this blog and other aspects of my life, it's a lot harder to do things but it’s also the only things that bring me joy so it’s just a repetitive cycle💀

I hope this doesn't sound like I'm asking for pity, because I'm not!!! I really just don't have an outlet for things like this and I'd rather not just bottle it up until everything comes down ten times worse 🫠 ive already lashed out at two people and I felt so bad about it after when apologizing and I'd rather it not happen again!!

For anyone who's going through something similar or just aren't feeling their best please know you are not alone!!! Life sucks sometimes but there is joy in it too! Like this blog and my thousands of other social media platforms, games, and hobbies I like to take up :) and as corny as it sounds this game and this character really do make me feel better 😭 seeing people react to what I write and interacting with random people on the internet truly does make my day and makes me forget what’s happening in my actual life :)

so genuinely, thank you all for being here ❤️

#feyascorner

61 notes · View notes

demonicnarwhale · 23 days

Text

Carapaces!!!!

RC / Raptorial Clerk: RC is one of the archivist on Prospit who deals with mainly Prospit's history and keeping things neat and tidy (just in case if it's needed then carapaces can go to him and retrieve that information) there's other archivists for different sections of society like political, economical, etc. When Midnight City happens / fall of the kingdoms he ends up being a librarian teehee

his origins: and due to his specialties being historical archiving, he's in the same department or area as HK and the two are actually hatch friends!!! YAYYYYY!!!! (they are both smiling)

HN / Harbinger Newel: Newel is just the sort of look the outpost tower he's situated at looks like as seen in the small doodle. He just blows his clarinet looking instrument (i giggle since he choses to play the actual clarinet in CMS) when there's some arrival. There's a certain tune he plays depending on what it is. Enemies/Derse army or Prospit army / workers.

WN / Willowy Notary: She's basically some note taker for court records and such. The cloth covering her eyes is a form of "judgement solely based on the case itself" rather than having any bias (that and I wanna continue her lil "no eyes can be seen" thing going on :D. So like she sits in the court room (grinning so wide when i get to share their architecture and infrastructure) and notates what happens and is being said so that if the case needs to be continued/looked at later to come up with the "right" decision they have a reference. Or if there's important documents being signed and such, she's a witness. (like whatever actual notaries do)

MG / Monoceros Goliath: I thought I was gonna be so smart with the first word, tried searching up for a word to describe a horned animal or synonyms for rhinos (cuz haha helmet rhino beetle) but i got no answer(s) and the ones I did related mainly to constellations. Monoceros mainly just being some Greek word for a legendary animal with a horn so like a unicorn. Weeps guys I'm not cut out for elaborate names.

Also she's (so far) a pawn mainly or somewhere near being a rook but not quite there hence being goliath as she's pretty strong/big for a pawn yay. oh yes and she's well aware of innocent lives (aka farmers or pawns that aren't in either army) and so she'll send out a warning or make it known so said carapaces can evacuate/gtfo (both for Prospit and Derse). Like she wants to make it fair and also avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Or something like that cuz overthinking on it makes me think it sounds silly and odd.

Her armor does have some little pearl-like beads cuz why not :) and- and- and it's supposed to be like constellations with the metal engravings (that im too simple minded to give detail to)

Tallest soldier i have and the shortest (also! I had realized that Dynastinae is, THE SCIENTIFIC NAME FOR RHINO BEETLES OAUGRHAUGHRA clawing at my under eyelids (ive realized this while typing this all out <3) so it's either she's MG or DG

SH / Splendorous Headhunter: Basically she goes out and recruits or finds Dersites (who don't already have a job) some role in society that benefits both the community and themselves. Like she's not just going to randomly assign them jobs but try to understand the individual and go suggest jobs. Cuz like, there's of course other Dersites in this similar role (as her) that don't care. But to SH she thinks of it like "why would I make someone miserable, it makes no sense to force someone to do a job they dislike cuz work won't get done at an efficient rate" that and so there's no strikes-

CC / Canorous Clergyman: just listen to this: (and Powerwolf in general please guys oaughh I fucking love this band so so so so so so much)

Midnight Madona teehe i love Powerwolf so much oaugh my goodness (so much so i would've done gone gatekeep em but then i realized. that's corny. and this sorta genre??? is corny on its own in the best way possible, to me :)). but yes im just adding this here because i kept listening to it when drawing this mf

Midnight Madona (Orchestral Version) also the orchestral version fucking ROCKS (and all the other songs they do orchestral versions of) and is what I like to imagine Derse's choir would sound like (the tone or feeling more than the words teehee and of course not with a big ass orchestra track behind ok you know what I MEAN) like do to around the same time stamp as the version above gehehee

I also already kinda explained his whole deal in a previous post. here be CC. But basically, he's more of a figure for individuals to look to either for help or a sense of "oh so this is what we should be doing for our society". So yeah, he's like, the royal family lol, no real political power as he's a lower status bishop. Like, he's a Bishop for the individuals, to ensure they fall in line and yadda yadda support the community and all. Kinda like, a pastor lol

KH / Kinetoscopic Hallucinator: Due to Derse being, ya know, Derse, connections with these fuckassers (horrorterrors) is prone to happen. As we've seen with players and even Feferi having gigglybob and yay yadda Derse Void dreamers yadda. Basically he gets to listen to all the wonderful stories of the past these eldritch beings share with him. Whereas Prospit gets those lil clouds from Skaia to hint at the future. So, he takes the words and stories from horrorterrors as signs of "precautions" or warnings of what may happen in the future. A sort of doomsday gig going on.

Teehe. He still gets to deal with trying to predict Derse's future but that's a bit hard on him so he turns to memorializing Derse's past, and the Horrorterrors give him information that can precede Derse or even what was missed from its history. But it's mainly just them messing with him going "oooh Derse is doomed in the foreseen future! OoooOoooh" and he goes "aight bet" then boom red miles upon ye. Oh and the kinetoscopic thing is just the fact he has his own lil kinetoscope where he enjoys (the process not the actual fact he needs to listen to them) trying to figure out what the Horrorterrors tell him and depicts it as short stories and then draws frames for a lil animation. He just replays them only to get a sense of dread lol. Later on just outcasts himself in his tower to deal with the horrorbobs instead of looking like a loon in front of everyone, possibly to Derse's moon because ahA obvious motifs! of like, the horrorbobs keeping him chained down and yeahhh

It's basically the medium or locations for Sburb/Sgrub but at the moment I'm more focused on Carapace + etc instead of trolls and humans. I ain't no physic astronomer or something so I'll go back and change things up if it's needed but like, I can bs some stuff right??? yeaaahhhhh.

The idea is like I know it's made for the game but what if no game??? It still very much takes after the set up for the medium with Sgrub but woe upon yet.

The locations of Prospit and Derse is why HK (Historiographic Knitter) and KH (Kinetoscopic Hallucinator) are able to look into the future/past. Due to the locations of their respected planets

HK being on Prospit can receive snippets of the future but it's all randomized so it's like she needs to put it all together, or just write down what she sees. She uses these to make stories or piece them together then create textiles for them along with the stories recorded of the past

KH being on Derse, yeah you read his gig.

Skaia: Trying to deal with what the point of Skaia is for both sides. I think I'll go with it's just been so embedded in both societies to either protect or destroy it that carapaces at this point just need to continue what their ancestors had fought for. Honestly, I'm just going to go with Jack Noir doing his red miles thing and destroying Prospit and Derse then killing (almost) all soldiers and the Kings on the battlefield leaving Skaia dormant. (But then whYYyy would he do that in this context)

Midlay: Basically this version's planet of where exiles go and where Midnight City will soon be made.

The Veil: just asteroids to make traveling to and from Prospit and Derse to be dangerous-ish so it's not like carapaces can just go to the opposing planet and cause chaos. If it's really needed then there's only a handful of carapaces suited for that job.

Dream Bubbles: I know it's thanks to Feferi that they're a thing, so they're not a part of this actual universe, BUT I thought they were just cool to include where I think they'd go.

Green Sun: hi Doc Scratch

In terms of like biology/features of carapaces:

I'm going with Carapaces either being like RC where they got them bug-wuggy/crusty marine life features or like HK with a more chess-come-to-life sort of look, thinking it might just be from the cloning? or however these freaks are made getting fucked over with the system or something, just cuz it could be like "oh it derives from chess pieces but also some bug-crustaceans-alien thing" and sometimes the bug-crustacean just wins. It's totally not so I can shit and giggle with other designs and stuff, what??? no. And then of course carapces can have spawn of their own, but lay eggs yadda yadda and so some of these features can get passed down and such. It's just cloning is used in both kingdoms to ensure there's a steady flow of carapaces to work on the planets or get thrown into battle and yeah.

NOTE AS OF NOW: I just copied and pasted information i had saved on them all and so I will most likely go back and fix things up, or make a new post if it's anything major like "Oh I'm changing this character up" but yeAH

#my art #carapaces #RC #Whole Note #Half Note #Eighth Note #MG #SH #CC #KH #commons midnight swing

38 notes · View notes

artofkhaos404 · 10 months

Text

"Dating Edgar Allen Poe"

Bungo Stray Dogs

🖤SFW🖤

Drop any headcannon requests in my ask box or the comments, I'd love to do them! My fandom masterlist can be found at the bottom of my top pinned post.

_________________________________________

× Poe is a certified workaholic; total perfectionist. When it comes to his writing, whether it's a novel or some obscure poetry, you can get his attention on nothing else until it's exactly as he first envisioned it.

× Thus, there would be days he's working on a project and can't seem to reach those impossibly high standards. On these difficult days, when he's moping around being hard on himself and declaring he will abandon his career, it's up to you to comfort him. Remind him that his work is amazing, and so is he.

× Because that's his love language: words of affirmation. This man EATS IT UP when you give him reassurance, compliments, anything. He's having a low self esteem day? Just read over his shoulder, praise the intricacy of the written words and flirt. He'll be beaming.

× Poe is just as sweet and considerate when you have low self esteem days, maybe even more so! He's not the most socially aware, since he daydreams so much, so you'll have to let him know if you're down. When you do his response is always "I cannot imagine what for! You are as the moon in the night sky, the flowers of the valley." Corny? ABSOLUTELY. He talks to you like an 18th century poet. You thought it was weird at first, but now it's totally endearing.

× His love style is flamboyant; a traditionally romantic lover. Late night strolls and candlelight dinners- but he always does it his way. His favorite walks with you are in the rain, when you both dress in heavy jackets, you curled against his arm, under the umbrella. The candlelight dinners are always lit by black candles.

× Obviously, he's goth. If you aren't, he doesn't mind... but if you are, he'll love you even more for it.

× Though romantic, he's shy about it. Not the dashing gentleman, sweep you off your feet type. He's more the type that, when you come home from work, he'll have a surprise candle light dinner laid out with some soft goth rock playing in the background, dressed in his very best. He won't address it as anything unusual, but hopes you will praise him. And when you do, he blushes and stammers like nuts.

× I'm sure this goes without saying, but he also writes you romantic poetry. That stuff is like reading "Song of Solomon." Once again, never addresses it, but he'll leave any poetry he wrote for you under your pillow or beside your toothbrush in the morning, get up and get to work before you awaken and find it.

× He's fairly quiet and shy most of the time, content to listen to and watch you rather than interacting. But if you want to hear him talk, ask about his newest novel. He'll go on for HOURS.

× One stress between the two of you is that he struggles to take care of himself. Mind almost always on his work, he lives perpetually in his own fantasy world; the world he's building on paper. That often causes him forget to shower, eat, etc. If you've been out of the house, it's almost certain you'll return to a hungry, frail grease ball of a boyfriend leaned intently over his manuscript.

× Since he's LOADED, he spends ridiculous amounts of money on you like it's nothing. All his gifts are atrociously expensive, often times for no reason. It's rather concerning.

× And lastly, since he's more traditionally minded, he wants to wait to ~do the deed~ until marriage. However, he'll kiss and cuddle you every day, and he is SUCH a good kisser.

#bsd poe #bsd #bungo sd #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd fandom #edgar allen poe #boyfriend headcanons #bsd x reader #poe x reader #sfw headcanons #anime boyfriend #anime headcanons #weeb #the guild bsd #bungo stray dogs fluff #bsd fluff

107 notes · View notes

brisquad-unit-4402 · 9 months

Text

christmas cookies

it's christmas now in my timezone. so happy holidays from unit 4402, and a lovely winter ahead. please stay warm comfy and loved wherever you are. this was inspired by a george strait song of the same name sans vox. he is one of the few country artists i trust. please be kind to him and enjoy my guilty pleasure corny christmas music fave

(btw i've always wanted vox to do a karaoke and sing at least one george strait song i just know he'd eat it up. tbh christmas cookies is the song i associate with vox the most even more than new cydonia. you have to understand how important the imagery of vox singing this song is to me i can't describe it in words nor fanfic)

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, food descriptions

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A comfy night in while the air turns icy outside. Your home runs warm, especially as you pass by the oven, and when you lean over Vox's wing-and-shoulder to watch him mix some icing together.

"Pass me the powdered sugar, Reader?"

"Sure thing."

"Thank you, baby."

Before you can utter any sweet nothings back to him the oven interrupts you as the timer goes off. You slip on one of Vox's mitts (a ruby red with a paw-print pattern and a scorch mark on the side, what were you expecting) and open the oven door.

The sweet smell of freshly baked cookies pours out from the oven, and as you set them on the cooling rack the scent grows only more enticing. Vox insisted on making cookies from scratch this year rather than from a box, and you have to admit, you don't even need to sneak a bite to admit he was right. The scent and golden-brown color is already miles ahead of the batches you made alone in the past.

The heat spreads behind you, trademark Vox and his demonic blood. Your suspicions are confirmed once he peers over your shoulder just as you did, and swipes an oven-hot cookie from the rack.

"What the—Vox!" You lightly slap his hand. "Those are hot!"

"I was born in Hell," he says, mouth full of cookie. He swallows. "Mmm, tasty."

"They aren't even frosted yet!"

"It's a good goddamn cookie, Reader, what do you want me to do, say they taste like charcoal?"

"No, Vox, I want you to be patient and wait for them to cool and decorate them like a normal person before eating them! We're going to have a full bowl of icing and no cookies to ice if you keep taking them like that!"

He pops another cookie into his mouth much to your playful dismay. "What kind of normal person doesn't eat a cookie straight out of the oven?" Then he takes another, places it on a napkin, and sets it on the counter in front of you. "Would having a cookie yourself make you feel better?"

"Normal people that don't have heat resistance like you." You stare down at the cookie. It has a soft crack through the side from cooling improperly, so of course it would be perfect for a taste test. "But... thanks."

Vox brightens. "Eat up. Er, in ten to fifteen minutes when cooled."

You nod, and watch as Vox shovels cookie dough onto a new pan. You snuck a tiny Santa hat onto one of his horns earlier this evening, and even now the pompom at the end sways as he moves the next batch into the oven.

The oven settings chirp, chirp, chirp until the temperature and timer is set.

"Should be fine to eat your cookie once those are out of the oven," he says. Baking your holiday sweets was an equal effort, but his lips are curved upwards and his wings raise in quiet pride. "I can tell you what it tastes like if you're too impatient to wait."

He's right. You're impatient. So you take Vox's hand to lower him just enough for your mouth to meet his.

You return back down from your tiptoes a second later, sugar on your tongue and sweetness all the way through. "Damn, we did great."

He scoffs but his wings let out a happy little flap. "If you wanted me to kiss you, you could've just asked."

"Well, we have—"your eyes flit to the timer—"Ten minutes until the next batch is done." You squeeze his hand. "Gotta spend the time somehow."

The corners of Vox's lips curve a little higher. He sweeps you up only to seat you on the clean side of the counter, just so you can see that eager, dorky little grin at eye-level, wings around you and arms on either side. "'Tis the season for giving, mm?"

"Cheeky bastard." You close your eyes as if you were irritated, but you're the one that leans in first, and the taste of the cookies spreads through your mouth as the minutes go by.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #4402 writes #vox akuma fluff #vox akuma headcanons #vox akuma imagines #someone send me an ask i need to rant abt how fucked up it is that my V0x Akum4 brain receptors are the exact same as my George Strait ones

68 notes · View notes

ornii · 2 years

Text

Bitterly Beautiful, Part 3

Part 3: “Do You See what I see?”

"Let's assess this situation, shall we? There's Bag over my head for, whatever reason. My wrists tied tight enough to cut off circulation, and no idea if I'm going to live or die. Wednesday is probably upset I somehow didn't see this coming, as Corny as that was."

(Y/n) and Wednesday sit side by side in chairs, bound by rope and Bagged. Their bags are removed. They're still within the library, surrounded by masked and cloaked individuals.

"Hmmm, what's the best response, a cry for help? A plead for a deal? Perhaps I'll yell at them to let us go, oh! I have it!" He thinks and spoke up.

"Just a word of advice before you guys do another kidnapping, it's pretty offensive to put a bag over the head of a guy who can't see to begin with. Be better." He says, and one of the members steps up.

"Who dares breach our inner sanctum?" They say.

"You can take the mask off, Bianca." Wednesday said, and Bianca removes her mask.

"Ah, I knew that voice had a distinct bitchy tone."

"And just like that, my hopes were dashed against the rocks of bitter disappointment. My foe was no psychotic killer. More like a bunch of high school clowns." Wednesday thought. "Wait, I preferred you with it on."

"How did you get down here?"

"I tracked the watermark to the Poe statue." Wednesday said.

"Then I solved the riddle to get in here." (Y/n) chimes in.

"Wait, there's a riddle? I thought we just snapped twice." One member asks.

"Wow, this is probably the least threatening group of Kidnappers i have ever seen, it's not many I've seen but still."

"Well, aren't you the brightest in the bunch?"

"The Nightshades are an elite social club." Bianca said, and Xavier steps up, revealing he himself is also one with Ajax and others. "Emphasis on elite."

"We have roof parties, campouts, the occasional midnight skinny-dip."

"And Yoko's an amateur mixologist. She makes a killer virgin mojito. It can get pretty wild."

"Wow. Do you guys even have a bedtime?" Wednesday said. "Last I heard, the Nightshades had been disbanded."

"Yeah, the group kind of lost its charter 30 years ago after some normie kid died." Xavier adds in.

"But we have a lot of wealthy alumni, so Weems looks the other way as long as nobody makes any waves." Yoko said.

"Someone like Rowan?" Wednesday asked.

"We booted that loser last semester. Question is, what are we gonna do with them? Only members are allowed in this library." One asks, and Xavier steps up next to them.

"I say we invite them to pledge. They're both legacies, Especially (Y/n), son of King Buarainech, the last leader of the Fomorians."

"After the crap they pulled in the Poe Cup, there's no way in hell. We talk about not making waves? She's a tsunami and he's just a thunderstorm brewing."

"Just because I beat you at your own game? Let me save you the trouble. I'm not interested in joining." Wednesday said.

"You're seriously turning us down?" One asks.

"Can you believe it?" Wednesday responds coldly.

"Untie her."

"I freed myself five minutes ago." Wednesday stands up, showing her untied rope.

"It's amateurs like you who give kidnapping a bad name. Anyway when you're done with toying with the Bootleg Secret Society (Y/n), I'll be waiting." Wednesday left, they stood there, looking a bit dumb, only the silence to be halted off by laughing. (Y/n)'s subsequently.

"That girl.. she's a force of nature.." he says smiling, he sighs eventually and cracks his neck.

"As much as I'd enjoy the parties and Skinny dipping, I'd rather do that by myself than a bunch of rich elitism bearing assholes, so...Go dtuga gaotha Sídhe saor m'anam."

A gust hits his bindings and unties him, he stands up and dusts himself off. He heads upstairs, leaving the elite looking even more dumbfounded.

"There were so many threads to my investigation, I could weave a burial shroud. I still have no idea how Rowan mysteriously rose from the dead. Or why that monster is prowling the woods. But right now, nothing intrigues me more than this book. If I'm going to be responsible for Nevermore's demise, the question is, why am I sharing this apocalypse with a pilgrim?"

The Next Morning Rose Like an undead zombie , early and still. Students stand in the courtyard to gather for what Principal Weems has to say, (Y/n) arrives as Enid drags him along out of bed.

"All students will report for their volunteer jobs at 10:00 a.m. sharp, followed by a community lunch at 1:00. As you know, this year Outreach Day culminates in a very special event, the dedication of a new memorial statue in the town square, which will also include performances by Nevermore students." She begins, while (Y/n) and Enid catch up.

"So, what's the deets between you and Wednesday?" She asks, her interest in his relationships was, off putting a bit.

"I.. haven't a faintest clue what you mean." He says acting dumb

"You can't play dumb, your best asset is that you're insanely Smart and like, Super Hot. Like a tragic poet. But seriously everyone sees you prowling around with her." Enid says, and has a hint of jealousy in her voice. "We haven't been spending as much time together." She says and he lets out a soft sigh.

"I know, sorry about that, I'm just showing her the ropes and, admittedly she isn't as bad as i thought she would have been. She can be absolutely terrifying but I mean who can't? You can be pretty scary when the Kittys claws come out." He says, which is reassuring to Enid.

"Well, at least I know I'm not losing my Bestie." She says warmly and takes his hand. Wednesday tilts her attention towards it, watching.

"Of course not, we can hang out after Outreach day. I'll smooth everything over with Ajax for you too, he's not as, cloud minded as i thought." He says, they're approached by another school member and handed Pamphlets, Enid opens hers and squeaks a bit.

"Yes! Yes! I got Pilgrim World. I have natural people skills and a love of performing, so it's kind of the obvi choice." She says, he hands her his and she checks it. "You got it too! This is perfect! All we need is Wednesday—"

As if speaking the Devils name and she appears, Wednesday approaches them as she’s watching their very... friendly, interaction.

"Wednesday, What'd you get?" Enid asks.

"Uriah's Heap, whatever that is." She replies.

"Ew. It's this weird, creepy antique store." Enid explains, (Y/n) taps his cane on the ground.

"It actually had some pretty neat stuff, it's where I got my cane, You'll love it though." He said, they're shuttled to Jericho, they depart off the bus and to their respective locations, but Wednesday approaches Enid with an offer.

"Enid. Switch volunteer assignments."

"What? No. Uriah's Heap is definitely not my bag."

"It's an emergency. I need to check out Pilgrim World." Wednesday says, and Enid frowns at her.

"You know you can go a day without (Y/n), it's toxic to get so dependent on someone." Enid says, trying to help Wednesday, who was actually a bit stunned by that. Her jaw locks and she stiffens up a bit, keeping her emotions in check but internally boiling at the thought of her and (Y/n), Together? Perhaps it's anger, Perhaps it's embarrassment, perhaps it's wanting. Wednesday, as usual, shoves her emotions down deep and calms herself.

"(Y/n) and I work a professional relationship to investigate something, nothing more. Nothing less." Wednesday said through her gritting teeth. Enid just sighs.

"Denial is the first Symptom, of Love Struck-itis." Enid says, much to the annoyance of Wednesday

"Why would I agree to spend the entire day at some dumpy emporium of crapola?" She said, and Wednesday offers her a very enticing offer.

"Because Ajax is volunteering there. Thing sneaked a peek at his assignment. But if you're not interested..."

"No! Oh my God, thank you. You're the best!" Enid takes it and runs off, Wednesday heads to pilgrim World with an awaiting (Y/n) he turns to Wednesday, sending the dread approaching.

"Hey, want to take a Pilgrim group photo?" He Says Smiling, which Wednesday just stares daggers at him.

"Guess not." He says shrugging. They're interrupted by a woman dressed as such a pilgrim.

"Good morrow, my young Nevermore kin. I am Mistress Arlene. A real OC..." she begins, which confuses most. "Original colonist. Now prithee, put your cell phones on vibrate and make haste, for you are about to travel back in time to the year of our Lord 1625, to Jericho's first pilgrim settlement. Yonder. Behold, the meeting house. Inside is a collection of artifacts related to Jericho's most beloved and pious founder, Joseph Crackstone. And beyond is our privy, America's first gender-neutral restroom."

"I haveth a query." Wednesday chirps up from the ground, standing by the wayside with (Y/n), who feigned interest.

"Pray, be quick, child." She replies.

"In the meeting house, which of Joseph Crackstone's artifacts are on display?"

"It is truly a treasure trove, including original farm tools, tableware, even the Crackstone family chamber pot."

"Riveting" (Y/n) said sarcastically.

"I volunteer to work in there." Wednesday says.

"Pray, no. That exhibit is being renovated. Today, thou will all be working at the beating heart of Pilgrim World." She says and Leads them to a building, with a sign (Y/n) looks up towards.

"...So, what does it say?" He asks Wednesday.

"I'm not your personal eyes." She says with her cold classic demeanor.

"Please?" He asks, turning up his cuteness, which just makes Wednesday want to vomit. She scoffs.

"Only to make you stop making those faces, it says "Ye Olde Fudgery"..More like ye olde diabetes in a box."

"Volunteers, prick up thine ears. Fudge is the lifeblood of our humble community. And samples equal sales, so grab a uniform and a box and make our forefathers proud." The woman hands the two uniforms of that of ancient pilgrims. The two look at them and take them, reluctantly the two dress as pilgrims and prepare to serve the people, Wednesday, being as creepy as she usually is, prepares blocks of fudge and speaks in fluent German.

"Enjoy your "authentic" pilgrim fudge made with cacao beans procured by the oppressed indigenous people of the Amazon. All proceeds go to uphold this pathetic whitewashing of American history. Also, fudge wasn't invented for another 258 years. Any takers?" She says offering to the German tourists, who do not take it, she takes this opportunity to walk off, and find her partner in crime, which (Y/n) was using a knife to, with scary precision, cut blocks of Fudge into tiny squares, he halts as he sensed Wednesday. Her lack of Heartbeat and Cold aura was easily detectable.

"So, enjoying Tormenting Tourists?" He said and jams the knife into the table, she stands there.

"Come with me, there is something we need to investigate."

"Hm, I thought you were flying solo." He said, "You know, no friends and that." He said and Wednesday looks at him, no hesitation in her eyes.

"As Annoying, egotistical, overbearing and as much of a nuisance as you are, you're valuable to the investigation." She says, he smiles and walks over to her, and with no fear in his heart, pats her head, which causes her to scowl at him.

"Thanks Shortie... okay, lead away." He says, they sneak away as (Y/n) follows.

"So, besides you hating everything about me, why do you tag me along?"

"You remind me of my brother, sans the desire to strangle him every waking moment. Now follow me. I need to know more about this Crackstone. We have a meeting house to break into." she says and they get to a door, Wednesday, using a hairpin picks the lock and the door opens, they slowly open it and peer inside, they step in and close themselves in to investigate the old museum, which has glass displays of items back from that time, even a statue of Crackstone.

"My grandmother once told me secrets are like zombies... they never truly die. I'm not sure what secret Crackstone is hiding, but I have a strange feeling the answers to my future lie in the past." Wednesday says, the two look around, his hands slide across something, it's indented, he can make out words.

"The Old Meeting House, 1625. Wednesday.." he says, she walks over to see it.

"(Y/n), this is the girl I've seen . She's even holding the same book. That black one she had outside Crackstone's crypt." Wednesday says, they turn around and (Y/n) turns around to a display case. Wednesday peers into it.

"This is the book! Codex Umbrarum. That's Latin for "Book of Shadows." She says, she opens the case and picks it up, flipping through it, which the pages are blank.

"They're Blank, the pages."

"Hm.. sounds like my kind of book." (Y/n) said.

"It's a fake. I don't know who Etsy is, but I doubt she was an outcast settler." Wednesday said, (Y/n) folds his arms.

"Cheap Props then, where the real one?" He asks, before the door bursts open.

"Just what the fudge are you two doing in here?" She said, glaring at the two.

"Mistress Arlene. How now?" Wednesday said.

"How now, indeed. I proclaimed the meeting house is under repair. I know thoust heard me."

"mistress, We're simply dying to learn more about Crackstone." (Y/n) says trying to Wesel his way out of it,

"Yes, and this display case was already open."

"That book's a replica."

"You don't say." Wednesday said sarcastically.

"The original was stolen last month during the two o'clock witch trial."

"It was probably the only authentic thing you have in here, yet you still charge $29.95 a ticket?"

"Hold thy tongue. I'm reassigning you both. To fudge-churning duty." She said to them, (Y/n) shrugs.

"Fine."

"The original meeting house, the one in that painting, where is it?" Wednesday asks, and the Mistress finally drops her Gimmick.

"How the hell should I know? I only moved here from Scottsdale in April." She says, and sends them off to churning, which they easily escape from as well, changing attire, the two head off to the cafe.

"So, were leaving again?"

"I deserted it while my sanity was still intact." Wednesday said, "Okay, then what are we here for?" He asks.

"I'm actually here for Tyler."

"Tyler? You mean the Normie working there, why talk to him?" He asks, and Wednesday cuts him down.

"Who I speak to is my business." she says; they stop at the door and (Y/n) just scoffs, "Fine, do what you need to do then, I'll be waiting." He says, "Outside." He sits at a bench, not wanting to go in. Wednesday enters to find Tyler and Xavier.

"Want the usual?" Tyler asks approaching.

"And some help. You know the original pilgrim meeting house, the one from the 1600s? You know if it's still around?" Wednesday pulls out a map of Jericho and places it upon a table.

"What's left is out in Cobham Woods, but it's pretty much a ruin."

"Show me." She said, and he put his finger on the map.

"Uh... There, but, look, it's kind of sketchy. Squatters and meth heads use that place as a crash pad. My dad has it cleared out every couple weeks. What's this about?"

"Nothing."

"You're becoming obsessed with this monster in the woods thing."

"Would you rather I develop an obsession with horses and boy bands? Thank you for the help."

"Hey, listen, the ruins are kind of tricky to find. I could take you this afternoon. My shift ends at 2:00." Tyler ask, Wednesday does consider it, "Principal Weems would hang, draw and quarter me if I miss the big statue dedication. And as enticing as that sounds, I'd prefer to keep a low profile. Besides, I know my way around the great outdoors."

"Don't tell me you were a Girl Scout."

"I could eat Girl Scouts for breakfast. I have an uncle who went to prison for that." She says before leaving, she exits the Cafe where (Y/n) continues to sit, listening to the wind rolls along the sky. He feels someone stand in front of him, but he ignores her.

"Ready?"

"..." he began to ignore Thrace raven haired girl.

"You haven't gone deaf as well? You'd be useless at that point."

"No, I have not." He replies, Wednesday frowns slightly.

"You’d do your best to Cheer up, your smile is your only appeasing feature." She says, he scoffs at it but laughs.

"God aren't you just the charmer." He says before standing up.

"Okay, where to Short stuff." He asks, and (Y/n) and Wednesday leave, trudging through the forest, their journey comes to An end, finally entering a rundown burned down, building. Thing exits Wednesday backpack to assist searching.

"So, how do you know that you're going to destroy Nevermore exactly?" (Y/n) asks.

"A vision I had, from what I understand my, mother had them as well." Wednesday explains, but the two find nothing.

"Hm, empty..." he says.

"I was expecting more too."

Who "you talking to, little girl?" A man says. The two turn around to an obviously homeless man, long beard and disheveled look.

"Use "little" and "girl" to address me again and I can't guarantee your safety."

"This is my place. Get out!" The man yells, Wednesday turns left to (Y/n), "(Y/n), a hand here?" She says he sighs and walks over and picks up a leaf, he crushes the leaves into a dust.

"Go dtuga Do Bhrionglóidí Oíche Uafásach Ifrinn ar ceal." He says calmly and blows them in the man's face, he tries to swat it away, before all he sees is Fire, his arms; legs, hair all ablaze, he screams and runs out of the place. But to Wednesday, (Y/n) simply blew clumps of crushed leaves into his face and he ran away.

"What did you just do?" She asks.

"I put a hex on him, making him believe he's on fire. Good thing about being a Fomorian is you learn how to curse people at a young age."

"Curses? Hexes? You must Teach me that."

"I'm not teaching you how to curse people, if I did you'd just curse anyone that's a minor inconvenience to you to death." He says, "Anyway. Can't you just touch something and a vision occurs?"

"No, I can't just touch something. My visions seem to happen spontaneously." Wednesday says.

"Okay... why not ask your Mom? If she had visions before." (Y/n) says, and Thing agrees:

"I would rather dye my hair pink than ask my mother for advice."

"Sounds like you just don't want to try." He says, which raises the ire of Miss Addams.

"Oh, you want me to prove it to you?" She says and begins to touch things.

"No. Nothing. Ah, I bet this will give us some real insight." She holds up a Taco Bell bag and shakes it at (Y/n) who folds his arms.

"Well jokes on you, i can't read that anyway." He says smugly, Wednesdays scoffs at him and walks back to the gate.

"My visions are about as predictable as shark attacks." She says and touches the door; her body looks like it was struck by lightning, she stiffens like a corpse in Rigor Mortis. (Y/n) quickly rushes to her before she falls on the ground; and he holds her, like the Corpse of a Bride.

"Wednesday? Wednesday can you hear me? Thing! What's happening?!" He yells; Thing makes motions but (Y/n) shakes his head.

"I know I know!" He yells; and a storm begins to brew.

"We gotta get out of here, I hope you're okay Wednesday." He says as he walks with her in his arms, her vision was much more vivid; this time she was in a completely different place, watching a mob of pilgrims surround a woman.

"Burn her! Burn her!"

"Devil spawn! Devil spawn!"

"Beast! Witch! Repent! Begone! Witch!"

"Stand aside!" A voice bellows through the crowd, adorned with fire and pitchforks, they split like the Red Sea to the founding father, Joseph Crackstone.

"Goody Addams! You have been judged before God and found guilty. You are a witch, a sorceress, Lucifer's mistress herself. For your sins, you will burn this night, and suffer the flames of eternal hellfire." He says, and they cheer, Goody looks at him. As her resemblance to Wednesday was uncanny; besides the blonde hair, she was picture perfect.

"I am innocent. It is you, Joseph Crackstone, that should be tried. We were here before you, living in harmony with nature and the native folk. But you have stolen our land. You have slaughtered the innocent. You have robbed us of our peaceful spirit. You are the true monster. All of you!" she yells, and he laughs at her falsehoods.

"You are abominations in the Devil's grip! I will not stop till I have expunged this New World of every outcast. Godless creatures! Set it ablaze!" He yells, they drag Goody to a building and toss her inside and locks her within. Wednesday follows and sees Goody look around, and she sees someone, a man who looks eerily similar to (Y/n) she rushes to his side.

"Cianán! Cianán!" She says, his weary head looks up, but it was obvious from the dark rings around his eyes, something happened. She grasps his wrists.

"There's no time, my Love. Leave me. Save yourself. He's chained us all to the floor." He says, Goody sees the bindings upon his wrist. "Crackstone, he laid black tar upon my eyes, I cannot see any more." His heartbroken Irish accent whispered sadness into her ears.

"I shan't leave without you." Goody grasps him, holding him so desperately. Her hands raise and gently grasp the sides of his chin. Tears flow solemnly down her cheeks.

"I shall only be a burden, Please. My Sweet Goody, Run. Run as fast as you can. You are our only hope." He said, his hands rose and gently took her wrists, She leaned into his face and laid her lips upon his, a long kiss of farewells, he whispers gently into her ears.

"I mBás, beidh grá agam duit i gcónaí"

And Goody leaves, escaping as flames dance along the building. Even now she's longing for the embrace of her love, Wednesday watches their kiss and departure, but smoke begins to fill her lungs, and she finds herself surrounded in the dark, mist swoons the ground and Goody runs up to her:

"He won't stop until he's killed us all! He's here." She runs, and Wednesday turns around to Crackstone staring her down.

"There will be no escape for you!" He yells and trips her up, she falls back and awakens from her vision, she lies on the ground, wet. She sits up to see herself not within the broken down building, but a small bear cave and a lit fire next to her body to attempt to warm her up, it was (Y/n) who was also wet.

"Back?" He asks, Wednesday stood up and looked around.

"Rainfall, had to drag my Corpse Bride to safely... that's you." He said, "Thing helped." He adds in, thing is sitting next to (Y/n) on the back of his palm. He can feel the slight shiver on her body and he tosses another piece of wood into the flames.

"You're shivering, Cmon sit." He says and Wednesday opens her mouth to speak.

"Look, before you say anything, just shut up and let me help you. It's not wrong to ask people for help, and if you think I'm somehow a threat then you're probably as blind as I am." He says, Wednesday stares at him, but then slowly obliges and sits next to him, warming herself in the flames.

"So, saw anything in your Vision?" He asks.

"The girl from my visions. Her name is Goody Addams, and I believe she's my ancestor from 400 years ago." she explains, the rain pours, but Wednesdays focus was on the shadow that rushes past the entrance. Wednesday gives chase and (Y/n) stands up.

"W-Wednesday? Wednesday!" He yells, he runs after her, barely able to keep up. He finally reaches her as she's kneeling down.

"What are you looking at?" He says. And She stands up and turns to him.

"The monster is human. Its tracks turned from monster prints to human ones." She explains, (Y/n) kneels down and feels only water.

"Hm.. that's just water to me. I can't smell anything the waters washed the scent away... your visions, When did they start?"

"About a year ago. When they happen, it feels like I'm touching live wire. I usually enjoy that sensation."

"Yeah, but you can't control it and that freaks you out, doesn't it?" He says, "What could you possibly know about me?" Wednesday said.

"You like to be in control of everything, your life, your feelings, so when something comes in that changes it, you push it away, out of the fear of something you can't control. You're a force of nature... it's terrifying and, at the same time, I can't keep my.. heh, eyes off of it." He says, tuning his attention to Wednesday, there was silence between them, a slight bloom of emotion came from Wednesday, but she quickly buried those feelings.

"Anyway, your visions seem, erratic, I don't think we can trust them."

"I saw Joseph Crackstone in front of me as clearly as I'm seeing you now. He gathered all the outcasts in the meeting house and burned them alive."

"It was 400 years ago, what does that have to do with you?"

"Rowan's drawing. Crackstone was standing in the quad."

" it sounds like You're creating a story in your head and using visions to back it up. They're telling you what you want to see.

"Are you mansplaining my power?"

"Is me saving you from a creepy old man "Man-Saving" or is that just me doing my job? All I'm saying is that you can't rely on things you can't always be sure of." He said.

"I believe Rowan was right. Something bad is going to happen, and I need to stop it. Starting with that monster. Whoever it is."

Wednesday and (Y/n) finally reach Nevermore and Wednesday poses a question.

"You Speak Gaelic." She says.

"Gaelic Irish, Yes."

"When I was having my vision, someone said something I want you to Translate: "I mBás, beidh grá agam duit i gcónaí" Wednesday Said, relaying the words Goodys lover one said to her, (Y/n) takes these words and seemingly processes them in his head, his hard ass demeanor slowly fades.

"If my translation is correct, and it usually is... the person said. "In Death, I will love you always." He says, meaning the final words Cianán said to his lover Goody, is that even in his death he will love her in the after life. Wednesday begins to consider things much, drastically. Could history be repeating itself? And could the Man talking to her end up dying for her? For his Love? Will She end up falling for him and watching him suffer a miserable death all the same?

"Hello? Earth to Wednesday?" He asks, she finally looks at him and he asks again.

"Who said it? The message." He asks, and Wednesday kept her deadpan expression.

"I don't know, I couldn't make out their face." She replies, (Y/n) shrugs and decides to trust he, as scary as that was, the end of the is slowly rolling in and students arrive at the heart of Jericho for the celebration, stufende gather and specifically for the music presentation. (Y/n) and Wednesday walk together towards the gather.

"I thought nothing scared me, but that was before I stared into the eyes of Joseph Crackstone. I don't believe in heaven or hell. But I do believe in revenge. I usually serve it warm with a side of pain, but I've never faced an adversary cast in bronze"

(Y/n) sits down, and Enid scoots over to be next to him, he smiles and they watch and or listen to the Mayor as he stands before a podium, a statue and outdoor fountain combination, made of striking bronze.

"Thank you. It is my honor to celebrate our town's history and Jericho's noble forefather, Joseph Crackstone. Now, he believed that with a happy heart and an open ear, there was nothing our town couldn't achieve. So together as one, our community and our friends at Nevermore Academy, we've built a monument to celebrate his memory. Now, may the spirit of Joseph Crackstone be memorialized for eternity." The Mayor Says, and the class begins to do a rendition of "Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac, A Water Like liquid begins move within it, splitting out like said fountain. (Y/n)'s nose crinkles up.

"Enid..do you smell that?"

"No, is it my breath?" She asks panicked, "I was really close to Ajax and I hope it didn't—"

"No, you're fine, it's odd it smells like—"

Before his nose could discover the origin of the scent, a flash of burning heat washed over him like a fuming blanket. He couldn't make it out perfectly but he could easily tell that the statue was burning. Students ran, teachers and adults struggled to understand what was going on. What cut though most of the screaming was music, (Y/n) tried to understand where it was coming from, and he eventually did as the harrowing strings of Vivaldi's "Winter" bellows from the side, he can only imagine that's it's coming from one person. Wednesday Addams, and it all slowly began to piece together who was behind this, while it couldn't be proven. (Y/n) wasn't the only person to figure this all out. Weems, who dragged Wednesday into her office was more than upset, she was enthralled with rage.

"That was a disaster. The mayor is furious! I've lost count of the angry phone calls, emails, and people in the town, alumni and parents. They want answers and so do I."

"I would lead the inquisition, but I left my thumbscrews and rack at home."

"Miss Addams... you're already on thin ice. Wafer-thin ice. I swear on my late scorpion's soul, my hands are clean." she said, which is only partly true. As the only "Hand" involved was Thing.

"I may not have hard evidence, but I see you. You're a trouble magnet." Weems glares at the child, who stands up, literally for herself.

LIf trouble means standing up to lies, decades of discrimination, centuries of treating outcasts like second-class citizens or worse..."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jericho. Why does this town even have an Outreach Day? Don't you know its real history with outcasts? The actual story of Joseph Crackstone?" Wednesdays asks, and Weems frowns, admittedly nodding.

"I do. To an extent."

"Then why be complicit in its cover up? Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.

"That's where you and I differ. Where you see doom, I see opportunity. Maybe this is a chance to rewrite the wrongs, to start a new chapter in the normie-outcast relations."

"Nothing has changed since Crackstone. They still hate us. Only now they sugarcoat it with platitudes and smiles. If you're unwilling to fight for truth—"

"You don't think I want the truth? Of course I do. But the world isn't always black and white. There are shades of gray. Maybe for you.

"But it's either they write our story or we do. You can't have it both ways."

"...You're exhausting." Weems sighs, but Wednesday hasn't moved an inch.

"I know."

"..Goodnight, Miss Addams. But you should know... I don't tire easily." Weems says, before Wednesday is excused back to her room. Wednesday types on her vintage Typewriter, as on the other side of the room Enid was trying on clothes, as (Y/n) was sitting on her bed, helping her choose. Enid shows different styles one of a pot heirs of colors.

"Too much?" She asks.

"So glad I have my date with Ajax tonight. Get my mind off that trainwreck of an afternoon. I literally think I have PTSD. I didn't even get to do my dance routine."

"Wow, What a tragedy." (Y/n) says.

"What kind of twisted psycho would want to sabotage such a life-affirming event?" Enid asks, (Y/n) slyly smirks and shrugs.

"You're going to be late." (y/n) says as she gets dressed, Enid gives him a reassuring hug.

"Wish me luck."

"If he breaks your heart I'll curse him and his family for all eternity." He says and Enid leaves, (Y/n) and Wednesday are alone together. He lets out a sigh and turns to face her.

"So, gonna Just act like you didn't Blow the statue up?" He says as he approaches her, she continues to type. "Weems was pretty ticked off, angriest I've seen her in a while. So I have to ask, why?" He says. Wednesday continues to type, not paying attention to him.

"To Send a message, I don't believe in mandatory volunteer work, sugar-coated history, or happy endings, but most of all... I don't believe in coincidences. To paraphrase Agatha Christie, one coincidence is just a coincidence, two are a clue....and three are proof. Rowan's drawing of me and Crackstone happens sometime in the future. Goody Addams' warnings about Crackstone were in the past. And the monster is here in the present. Three coincidences that I know are connected. That monster could be anyone. The sheriff thinks they only exist behind the walls of this school. The truth is, there are monsters everywhere. And sometimes the monsters we least suspect are the most dangerous. They don't need teeth and claws to terrify. They hide in the shadows until no one is looking. And then they strike. But I'm looking now. And I won't stop until I find the truth." She says euch such intensity, she truly believes in herself and her words, and (Y/n) feels, confidence in that.

“I mean I get that you want to figure this all out, but you have to be more careful. And try and play nice with others.” He said.

"And if I don't?" Wednesday said, still working and tapping.

"Then I'll be forced to... Hmm. punish you." He said, and he could hear Wednesday scoff dryly.

"What could a blind warlock possible do to—" she says, before Wednesdays face freezes up like ice, her entire body stuff, and she just stares forward. She felt the warm arms and body of (Y/n) as he snuck up behind her for a soft hug. Wednesday had never been hugged, her intimidation was more than enough to keep most people away, but then again, (Y/n) really isn't "Most People".

“See? I know your weakness, Human interaction.” he laughed for a moment, before he can even say her name; Wednesday had him pinned down on the ground, full Mount with a pair of sharp pointed scissors aimed at him, she gripped them hard, and with her other hand she tightly grasped his shirt. Despite her petite form and body she was surprisingly well built and versatile.

"Tell me why, I shouldn't kill you.. Right now." Wednesday voice had no emotion, cold and for most to hear would be absolutely terrifying. But (Y/n) just laughed a bit, his focus was on her, even if he couldn't see.

"I told you I could get you, you know when we got captured by that Society, I told them that you.. Wednesday are a force of nature, and.. it's amazing. You're amazing.." He says, which somehow cools her boiling rage and for the first time in her life Wednesday Addams, is embarrassed; and the tiniest hint of red was on her pale skin, she stands up, getting off of him and tosses her scissors down near his neck.

"Leave, Now." She says, she turns around and he just stands up, Chuckling.

"Okay, okay, sorry for upsetting you... I'll see you tomorrow?" He asks. Hopeful.

"....I'll consider it." She replies and he smiles a bit wider.

"Well..be seeing you, Miss Addams." He said as he leaves the room, letting Wednesday have a shaky sigh. She looks at her hands, and clenches them, wondering one thing.

"What is this.. odd feeling in her heart?"

#wedensday x you #netflix #wednesday x reader #male reader #reader insert #wednesday #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday addams x reader #wedesnday 2022 #enid sinclair #enid sinclair x reader #Enid Sinclair x Male Reader

229 notes · View notes

mikeysbride · 9 days

Text

Welcome Back to Trench

When our kids introduced us to the world of the twenty one pilots fandom a couple of years ago, we were initially full of corny parent jokes:

Why are they called twenty one pilots when there are only two of them?

That's way too many pilots.

They're gonna need a bigger cockpit.

Why, for the love of God, don't they capitalize their name!?

That's not to say we don't still say those things sometimes (thank goodness our teens generally find us amusing), but it's also wild to see how big a part of our family dynamic this duo has become over these couple of years...so much so that I've even suggested that when we finally get a dog, he should be named Clancy. [T.O.P. fans will understand.] They are in regular rotation in our home and in our cars. Last year, they were one of my top 5 most listened to artists on Spotify! And last night, at last, we all went to see them perform live on the aptly-named Clancy Tour. It was the first time seeing them for all 5 of us - our family of 4, along with my 16yo's...um, favorite boy, we'll call him. I don't think she's been quite this happy since maybe when we first surprised her with AJR tickets. But as much as she loves AJR (we all do now!), twenty one pilots is HER band as Living Colour is mine, and Genesis is her dad's. Now we are all along for the ride.

And last night, much of Orlando was also along for that ride, having sold out the Kia Center pretty much immediately when the tickets went on sale months ago. I had a feeling their show would be high energy and that the crowd would be super hyped, and I was not wrong about that. But after being as impressed as I was by AJR (twice!) this year, I wasn't 100% sure what to expect. Tyler and Josh did not disappoint, though, and I have to say I am also quite impressed with THEM...not that I didn't think I would be. We've watched enough of their music videos and live performance clips (full concerts, even) on YouTube for me to know this, too, wasn't going to be just an ordinary concert.

To the point, Tyler and Josh have a way of immersing themselves into the crowd (literally) that makes them feel like they are right there with you - because they are - spending quite a bit of time out amongst their fans instead of on the stage. They are seemingly everywhere at once, making it feel like an intimate performance even with thousands of people in the audience. And the fire. There was a lot of fire, which I rather appreciated because, being prone to being cold, I was chilly in the arena, and it was nice to sometimes be able to feel a bit of warmth from the flames, all the way up our cushy club level seats!

We heard so many favorite songs of theirs last night, including my newest favorite from them, the super catchy "Lavish," but I have not stopped playfully pouting yet that they didn't do my O.G. favorite of theirs - the one that really stuck out to me when I first heard them, and that is "Lane Boy." I love that one so much that I have a bit of a reputation for it at this point. With a catalog as extensive as theirs is, they can't be expected to play everything, but man, hearing that one live would've made the night absolutely, undeniably perfect for me. Here's hoping they'll add it back in on a future tour.

Also on the subject of their music, I couldn't help but giggle thinking that Tyler doesn't really even need to know his own lyrics because that arena full of fans was more than happy to sing every line for him. From the first notes of every song, they were READY. If anyone knows the assignment, it's T.O.P. fans. Apparently, my kids aren't the only ones who can recite their songs like the Pledge of Allegiance. This is a thing I know now.

And finally, a huge thank you to Tyler for actually telling those of us in reserved seats to sit and rest for a few songs. Not to be the old lady in the room, but I'm long past the age of wanting to stand for an entire show, in most cases preferring to sit and truly hear the music and watch what is happening on the stage - or in this case (also) in the middle of the crowd somewhere. It was a bit of a reprieve when he said that.

Eh, so maybe I'll let that "Lane Boy" thing slide after all.

#twenty one pilots #live music #orlando #kia center #tyler joseph #josh dun #concerts #momlife #ajr brothers #ajr #the clancy tour

8 notes · View notes

how-very-salty · 9 months

Note

id love to see veronica talking care of a sick jd ❤️❤️

as you wish <3

hot soup

link to ao3

Veronica Sawyer x JD (pure au)

__________________

The world around him was melting and shaking like jelly in a hot oven. JD squeezed his eyes shut with a groan: it hurt to look at the light, but he didn't have the strength to get up and turn it off. Nor to take the blanket out of the box: even though October had been surprisingly warm, he'd been shivering with cold all day. His head felt empty and sticky, he felt an unpleasant buzzing in his ears, and every joint in his body ached with pain. Fucking flu!

He hadn't been this sick since he was a kid. The last time had been when he was nine, shortly after his mother had died. He'd been sick for almost a month then - and he'd recovered for months. It made him realize that his father didn't care about him: even in that state, he had to cook for himself and take his sweat-soaked pajamas to the laundry every morning, bending over and coughing.

As he struggled to get back on his feet, JD promised himself he would never get sick again. He'd kept that promise for eight years, only to fall apart after his first fight with Veronica. What a bad time...

If they hadn't had a fight, she would definitely come to visit him, and then he wouldn't have to be sick alone again. He could try to put down his metal shell for a while and let someone else take care of him. Or rather not someone but Veronica: she was the only one he could show his weakness to. At least he thought he could... But they'd had their fight, and now he'd never know for sure. Because JD had said so much crap that she would probably never look at him again.

Why is he such a jerk when it comes to her?

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, imagining Veronica coming into the room and sitting on the mattress next to him. Her cool fingers gently brushed the damp strands away from his face. She tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned over him. Soft lips pressed against his forehead for a moment and Ronnie gasped softly, feeling how hot his skin was.

"Why didn't you call me, you idiot?"

JD's brow furrowed in confusion: sure, he'd fucked up, but shouldn't she sound more gentle, at least in his own fantasies?

"Because you're mad at me. Aren't you?" he exhaled hoarsely, half coughing. The thoughts in his head were jumbled, fading into a thick, heavy fog.

"Sure, I'm still mad," Veronica gently wiped away the salty trace that stretched from the corner of his eye to his temple, "but that doesn't mean you can disappear for three days and expect me not to care! We can work things out after you're healed, okay?"

JD opened his watery eyes and focused on her face... So he hadn't imagined her? Veronica was really here, coming to him after all he'd said to her?

"I don't want to fight! I just want you here," he blurted out carelessly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, please."

JD reached for her hand and squeezed in his own. Veronica's eyebrows were raised sadly.

"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard," she looked up at him guiltily, "It was just something in my head, you know?"

"No," her expression darkened, and JD, suppressing the urge to punch himself, hastily clarified, "I mean, you have nothing to apologize for! I really need to trust you more. And not just in words... You're the only one I can trust."

He stopped awkwardly. Didn't that sound too corny?

"That openness of yours is why it hits me so hard when you suddenly shut down," she chuckled sheepishly, ruffling his sweat-soaked curls. "But still, let's put this conversation aside and take care of you first, okay?"

"No need," JD said curtly. "Everything's fine. it's not the first time," he closed his eyes and cursed mentally. He's doing it again. Now she'd leave him and he'd be alone because he'd decided to play cool. But he wanted her to come, didn't he?

"JD," Veronica sighed reproachfully as she rose from the mattress, "there's no shame in asking for help! Nor in accepting it."

"I know," he forced himself to say, "I'm just not used to it, okay? I... I need your help! Don't go..."

"Dummy," her soft lips touched his forehead again, "I'm not going anywhere. How could I leave you like this?

"Then where are you going?"

"I thought I could find something to make soup. My mom always makes it when I'm sick," she trailed off awkwardly and gave him a quick look, "um... when was the last time you ate?"

"I think it's been two or three days," JD admitted reluctantly, and Veronica put her hands over her mouth. "Don't be so dramatic. I'm not really hungry."

"There you go again," she sighed, and left the room without another word.

A short time later, the front door on the first floor slammed. Did he say something wrong again?

The soft sound of footsteps woke him from his restless slumber. JD opened his eyes and stared at Veronica. She was standing over him with a stern expression on her face, holding a bowl of steaming soup.

"Are you going to pour it on me?" he muttered, staring at her in fake horror.

"Sorry, I had to go to the store," Ronnie snorted and sat down on the bed next to him. "You don't have any food in the fridge, just beer..."

"What's beer to you, isn't food? You know, there's a German proverb: 'Beer is liquid bread'," he chuckled hoarsely, finally waking up. "You shouldn't, honey, I'm really not hungry. But I'm glad you're back."

"I don't care, you need to eat and you will eat," Veronica scooped up the soup with a spoon. "Open your mouth, here comes the plane..."

JD rolled his eyes, sat up on the pillows and opened his mouth obediently. Sometimes it was easier to do what Ronnie wanted than to argue with her - she was so damn stubborn!

Most of the time she was right. As soon as the soup was in his mouth, his stomach rumbled with hunger.

Okay, okay, you were right," he sighed, reaching for the spoon, "you can say your famous..."

"Nah, cranky sick people are hand-fed," she showed him her tongue and took another spoonful of soup. "And yes, I told you so!"

When the plate was empty, Veronica set it on the floor and climbed into bed with him. She shoved her icy feet underneath him, as she always did, making him wince from the cold.

"You might catch it," JD tried to pull away, but she just shrugged it off, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.

"Who cares? I miss you so much," she murmured, snuggling into his shoulder.

"I care! I miss you too, but..."

"Tsk, tsk! I'm the nursing expert here, and I can authoritatively say that you are in dire need of a hug," Ronnie snorted, giving him a sly look from under her lashes. "If I get sick, you'll come to me too, won't you?

"Sure," JD couldn't resist anymore, so he gave in and hugged her; it felt much warmer. "And I'll feed you with a spoon, too, like a little girl.... "

"I don't mind," she giggled softly, lifting herself up and kissing him on the cheek. "You can tell a story, too."

"I can't remember a single one," he licked his dry lips, hesitantly trying to change the subject. They would have to talk about this fight anyway. Right now, he could at least hope that she would have mercy on him. "Look, about the birthday..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Veronica interrupted him hastily. "I was wrong to keep pushing... I should have stopped when you asked me to, and then we wouldn't have had this fight!"

"Maybe, but that doesn't excuse me. I acted like a real asshole anyway," JD looked away guiltily. "I shouldn't have talked to you like that, and I was clearly wrong to say that you were prying and clingy. And I definitely shouldn't have said that you..."

"That I'm training you like a dog to raise your voice on command? Yeah, you went a little overboard there," Veronica's voice was fake funny, and it made him feel like the scum of the earth.

"I'm sorry," JD swallowed and stammered, trying to explain himself, "I don't know how I could even think of that! I don't think so, I just..."

He shut up, wishing he hadn't brought it up: the mood in the room had changed for the worse. He hoped they wouldn't get into another fight...

"You do that all the time when someone tries to get under your defenses! You get angry and then you attack," Ronnie looked up at him wearily, "only I thought I was allowed to..."

"You are allowed," he protested heatedly, "you really are! But I'm just used to not needing other people. To need someone is a sign of weakness. And it always, absolutely always ends badly."

"But I need you," she frowned, leaning on her elbows, "and I admit it. Does that make me weak?"

"No, but..." he didn't have time to finish, coughing and turning away hastily.

"It doesn't work like that, JD!" she waited until the coughing was over, cupping his face in her palms and gently turning him toward her. "You can't always just give. Relationships are also about taking and letting someone take care of you."

"I'll try, but," his lips curled grimly, "it won't change that quickly, darling. I didn't have anyone to teach me that, I didn't have anyone to care about me at all until you came along..."

"Shit," her eyes widened in realization, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking! I... I seem to be pushing you again, yeah?"

"It's okay, love," JD pulled her gently toward him. "You're saying all the right things, but... We both just need time and a little patience."

Veronica nodded curtly and suddenly hugged him tightly, pressing her face into his chest.

"My birthday is Wednesday, next week," he whispered softly, burying his nose in her soft hair. It smelled of cherries, as always, but now it was lighter and cleaner, and his heart suddenly beat faster, whether from love or the rising fever. "I don't want to celebrate, but I'd like you to spend this day with me. And, Ronnie, can you... can you stay with me tonight? I usually get worse at night."

"Sure," Veronica lifted her head and pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss. "Of course I'll stay! Do you want anything?"

"How about some more soup? I think I'm still hungry."

#heathers #jason dean #j.d.#heathers musical #veronica sawyer #jdonica #heather fic #fic request

24 notes · View notes