#i really love keyhole tops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vonev · 1 year

Text

Zombie apocalypse with Simon Riley

Sum: You finally meet your hot neighbor; albeit all it took was an apocalyptic disaster.

Oh my God, what the fuck?

“—reports states that an infectious zombie-like virus has begun to spread amongst multiple areas in the city—”

“—Please seek the nearest hazard shelter in your local area—”

A fucking zombie virus breakout is happening, in front of your lunch.

You'd never thought the national emergency alarms would ever blare during your lifespan, but you're here, a spoon full of egg drop soup in hand sitting across your TV and your mouth hung open as all your devices deafens the entire living room.

The telenovela you were watching was just getting so good too.

Immediately shooting your hand out to fetch your phone, scrambling for the national notification, horror dawns on you.

The fucking breakout is in my city.

Isn't it so lovely? On a random Tuesday afternoon in the middle of an approaching autumn.

What is it that they do in those zombie shows again...? Oh yeah, run.

Wait—no, no. Pack your shit then run.

So you did. Your feet working the fastest they've ever been scattering toward your bedroom to dig out the ancient duffel bag you've not touched in eons. Shoving essentials in there: tampons, pads, your Kindle (because God forbid an apocalypse stops you from finishing a book) and a couple of other things you think you'd need...a thong is one of them, right?

The loud alarms never stops, it only adds to your increasing anxiety threatening to bubble over and spill all over the floor; you didn't think they'd go on for so long, but they do, and honestly they sound fucking terrifying.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Think—

Wallet, passport (in case you wanted to fly over to Milan, you know.), all the money you had was stored inside the bank; speaking of, you wonder if anyone had started robbing stores yet after the alarms sounded.

Nope, can't think about that right now, because the more time you waste, the higher of a chance you'd end up having your face bitten off by some freaks—zombie or not. So you scramble once again, head full of doubts and worry; good thing you kept refraining yourself from ever getting a pet because holy shit having to sprint with a massive fluff ball in your arm would be the last thing you'd want to do.

Just then, screams started filling your ears; an indication that you spent too much time dwindling.

Looking down you scoff at your casual wear: a tank top that exposed too much and sweatpants. Making your way out along your bedroom you snatched a jacket you promised yourself you'd wash last week.

Good thing you didn't, I guess.

Stepping foot into the living room once more, your eyes dart around in a hurry, practically running into the kitchenette to grab canned foods and your leftovers from yesterday. It's just a sandwich, but it'll hopefully last until whenever you can finally eat again. You repeated the same conundrum with your bathroom, frantically pushing things aside with more things to make space for other things.

Alright, you think, that should be everything...

You even got that first-aid kit you bought from Amazon months ago, thinking that someday you'll need it.

Always trust your instincts.

With that, you waste no time scurrying to the front door, fitting yourself into a comfortable pair of shoes then fetching your keys from the bowl above the accent table you probably spent too much money on (they looked really cute) and inserting it into the lock, cursing yourself when you kept missing the keyhole. Eventually, you got it, and with too much brute force, you threw the door open and stepped out into the hall.

You wince from the loud banging sound of the door you pushed; to your right, your neighbor's door opens as you walk out.

Tilting your head, you see the neighbor casually fixing his shoes with absolutely no care regarding the current situation, a bag slung over his broad shoulder in contrast to you desperately holding onto your heavy duffel bag.

What the fuck is his deal? How is he so...calm?

You didn't realize it 'till now, but said neighbor turns his head toward you, and it's as if a lightbulb flare up in your head.

Oh.

He stares at you, unmoving with his hand still on the doorknob.

It's the hot neighbor.

What was his name again? Sam...Samuel...no, Semen...wait, definitely not.

Whatever. You'll call him Semen in your head, because you can't be bothered standing there to recall his name. Not while he's staring at you so intently, either—like you owed him something.

God, is he a sight to look at; full brows with lips looking so kissable with a cute pout, blonde strands covers his front as though he'd just woken up from the best nap of his life, the faint yet noticeable scars littered across his face so perfectly. Tall, mysterious and muscles that threatened the seams of the too-tight shirt he wore. Is he even aware?

And his eyes.

You can't even begin to mention the amount of times you'd shamefully indulged yourself with those eyes of his in your mind—sometimes, you dream of them too. Who could blame you though? Yeah, you definitely feel normal about him. You barely interacted with him, only ever seeing him the rare times he'd come home. You assumed he's ex-military or a military personnel on leave since he's been back home more than usual in the recent months. You wouldn't know, though, considering the most words you said to him was "hi" when he moved into his flat a year ago. That, and you're generally kinda afraid of strangers.

"D'ya have a staring problem?"

Right. You can't just stare at someone and not say anything, that's creepy.

"No," you shuffle on your feet a little. "Do you?"

He scoffs with a small shake of his head and closes the door behind him before walking away to the lift. Your brows furrowed, lips pursed, slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and chased after him. You both stood in front of the lift for a good (incredibly awkward) minute before the familiar ding sounded. Once inside the lift, you can't help but feel the unspoken tension rise as the two of you stood close to each other.

You swear he had his eyes on you for a moment, but you don't dare to call him out.

"...you come ‘round often?"

He snaps his gaze to you instantly.

Great. Your mouth has no filter whatsoever. Mentally slapping yourself, you open your mouth to whisper an apology; he beats you to it, though, a soft chuckle from him and it strikes into your heart like a stake.

"I live—lived here," crossing his arms, his eyes softened a little. "Just got discharged from the military a couple of months ago."

Bingo.

Silently patting your back in your head as you nod at his response and humming. "That's cool, what did you do for the military?" it may have been too much to pry, but it doesn't hurt; plus, it's pretty much the end of the world as you speak.

He stood there, completely rigid from top to bottom. The silence was deafening this time around, so much so that when the lift sounded once more with a loud ding, it made you flinch.

"What didn't I do for the military?"

That's...

"...is that rhetorical?" None of you walked out of the lift, just standing there in each other’s company. Oddly, you don’t mind it.

He shrugs, getting out of the tiny space—and you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in your breath when you finally exhaled through your teeth.

I guess I have my answer.

It doesn’t take long for you to catch up, nor for the two of you to realize what an utter mess the outside world had become when he opens the door.

People roamed about, running ‘round and tripping over each other and on top of each other, cooperating on wreaking absolute havoc on the streets. Lots of screaming, too much of it, in fact. Jogging down the stairs, someone almost bumps into your side, but not before he pulls them back with a frown on his face that had the poor guy screeching and scrambling away from his grip.

Oh, now come to think of it—

—“Hey what’s your n—“

A hoard of groans catches your attention, cutting your words short; you turn toward the source, squinting at the scene from afar. A group of people started dashing toward your way, their faces an evident blur of confusion, surprise and horror. It would make sense, because as they slowly get closer and closer, a giant figure gradually appears in your vision—and it looks fucking disfigured—like the textbook embodiment of an eldritch creature. Sure enough, it breaks out into a sprint, chasing down its next victim; pulling the back of an unfortunate businessman’s suit and it flung the man over its head. You can hear the poor man’s scream echo in your mind as you watch his body fall right into the creature’s mouth; next thing you know, his head snaps off in its jaw.

Your blood runs cold, the shock from seeing such a sight sends an unnerving terror through every nerve; your breathing gets heavier, beads of sweat breaking out from your skin—yet you can’t take your eyes off of it. Ever watched a car crash? Yeah, exactly that.

“Uh oh.”

You don’t know what to do; years and years of medical training in school hadn’t exactly prepared you for this situation, even if some of the things you’ve seen are horror beyond comprehension. Your body doesn’t cooperate with your commands no matter how hard you try; they’re stuck to the ground like glue, and as the horrid looking creature slowly bolts toward your way, the way you’ve become a mere spectator to your body should concern you, but your eyes are transfixed on that thing—

—it wasn’t until someone roughly tug your forearm that you realized you almost fucking killed yourself by standing still too long.

“Fuck, come on, let’s go.”

You should’ve probably questioned why he’s remained so calm despite the calamity surrounding him. It’s an admirable trait, really, a part of you wants to thank him profusely for not leaving you behind; in the span of time you spaced out, he could’ve easily gotten away in a fleet—like a gust of the wind, and you wouldn’t have noticed nor would you have blamed him. So much for being medically trained.

He ran, and you trailed right behind him. Even during such a dire moment of your life, you have to try your hardest to not get distracted with the way his muscles contract as he swiftly moves along with the breeze. No time for thirsting, you stare at his arms, how they effortlessly flex with each step, Okay, maybe a little bit of thirsting.

You’ve no idea how long you both ran; doing your best to dodge every obstacle lunged into your face, but with the soreness slowly creeping up your soles, you wonder if you could keep up—Semen, on the other hand, is doing just fine. Just keep pushing, after all, how hard is it to run forever? Super fucking hard apparently; unfortunate for you, the conveniently placed fallen pipe on the ground became your nemesis as you missed a jump and fall on your fucking face. Your duffel bag cushioning only your left arm, body absorbing all the impact from the fall.

Ouch! wouldn’t even describe the pain you were feeling. You might have a broken nose because it sure fucking feels like it.

Semen immediately halts, his head snaps back as if his gut instinct told him you stumbled and fell. He’d be correct; attempting to get on your elbows can only get you so far, your adrenaline runs out too quickly—and suddenly it feels as though your body has been lit on fire. Well, you’re being dramatic, but your ankle sure doesn’t feel fine like it did a minute ago. You try to stand up, and Semen crouches down in front of you with his hands extending out to help you up; but the harder he pulls the worse you cry out. When you try to move your right ankle it just fucking hurts like a bitch.

This is it, you think; your breath coming out haggard and harsh, I’m gonna fucking die.

“Just—go, just go, I think I sprained my ankle,” holding back furious tears, you sniffle. “Leave me and run, it’s okay.” God, was it ever this hard to let someone go? Even if the selfish part of you wants him to stay. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, people and vehicles running by your bodies and their cries fill the void in your head—not their fault they prioritize their lives over yours—but it still stings your eyes to think about. People really do show their true colors in the most desperate times.

He reaches over, and you almost swatted his arms away—his stern gaze told you to stop, and you did.

Flipping you over in an instant, his arms hook under your back and knees, hoisting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. In a feat of panic, you push against his chest; you can’t stress how much you’d rather not be the reason he’s held back and be killed for it. He sends you a final warning look; a stare so chilling it had you reeling back your arms into your chest and obediently lay against his.

Impressively, he maneuvers around everyone else with ease, dodging and zig-zagging, only bumping a few shoulders here and there. Worry clouds your head; what if he trips? Or better yet, what if he realized you’re not much of use and dumped you on the streets? It’s absurd you’d even have the luxury to overthink while he’s busting his ass to save both of your lifes—how the fuck are you supposed to make up to that? You can’t bake him your infamous croissants (you’ve mastered the craft), you doubt appliances are as convenient in the wild as it is in homes—you hope he’ll find a place to hide soon; he can’t run infinitely.

Maybe you should stop thinking too much useless shit and start strategizing instead.

Okay, it should be easy; your eyes frantically search the surrounding area: the alleyway? No, way too risky. Run into one of the homes? Still risky, and those nasty creatures were breaking into them from what you saw last. Fuck, you wish you’d bought that expensive ass car few weeks ago when it was on sale, then again, who knew you would require it so soon? Wait, did he have a car? You don’t think so, his designated parking slot has been empty since forever.

As he kept sprinting on, you noticed more and more of those zombies started pouring in from multiple angles—it would be harder and harder to avoid their attacks; you try not to dwell on the gruesome sights of people being mauled down the streets. Out of nowhere, a mangled arm lunged at you, though he swerved just in time to avoid; you didn’t even have time to register what occurred until you blinked again.

“Was that—holy fuck,” your body involuntarily shivers at how close you were to dying right then; all his efforts would’ve gone to waste. It served as a reminder that death is now only a mere hand reach; one wrong breath and say bye-bye to your life.

Mortality is such a fragile thing.

At least you don’t have a family making you worry to death about, just good ol’ you—always been you.

Does he? Eyes drifting over to his face, you trace the scars on his neck with an invisible hand. You’d have to play 21 questions with him later, if there’s a later. Seeing how things are moving, you’re slowly coming to terms with the concept of death; for some odd reason, you just know he’d keep you alive as long as he can—you will too, with him. God, you grunt, this feels so sappy. You have to constantly remind yourself that you’ve known your neighbor properly for less than an hour; don’t get too attached. It only ever comes back to bite your ass.

In your peripheral you notice a sluggish zombie digging into the driver’s side of a sizable car through the broken window—blood splatters the inside of the car’s windshield as the zombie dives further in. The car is alive, tugging at his shirt, you hastily gesture toward the spot with a shaky finger. Peering up, you don’t miss the way his brows knit together and how his lips are pulled into a thin line—he understood soon afterward; and switched his path to match the direction of the vehicle.

He’d have to fight with the obscene thing for it, but it’s worth a try, even with you in his arms.

Approaching it, he doesn’t hesitate to kick a leg up to hook it under the weighted zombie and throw him down to the biting asphalt; just as it was about to spring up—he stomps a leg over its head without a hitch. Oh my fucking God, excuse your blasphemy, that’s the brain matter. You would know how a human’s brain looked; with countless hours spent plastering your head onto your textbook about How To Surgically Remove a Brain for Dummies the image practically tattooed itself on your mind. It’s never a good view, the textbooks can’t accurately reinvent the feeling of disgusting sliminess into their pages after all.

Your knight in shining armor doesn’t prolong his luck; throwing the driver’s door open, he ducked his head into the driver’s seat (not before chucking the dead body laid in the seat out), sliding you into the passenger side; you have to awkwardly make fit for yourself in the seat as he rushed into his side and pressed down on the brake, slamming his door closed. There was no time to relax, though, upon seeing him toy with the car, people started piling over the trunk, clawing at the metal slate with their bloodied nails as more zombies lurked closer—few unlucky numbers were dragged away from the car, leaving a myriad of gory handprints behind on the trunk.

He grits his teeth, he holds an arm out in front of you; confused, you turned to him as he slammed down on the acceleration.

“Oof—” That’ll knock the wind out of you.

It’s proven to be challenging for him to drive down a road filled with civilians; but soon enough, people started parting ways for him and a few other vehicles to pass through, afraid of being hit by a car.

“Buckle up, love.”

Huh? Love?

On the outside, you’re as calm and cool as you can be: you know, in a zombie apocalypse with your handsome neighbor driving you to (hopefully) safety; the inside…it feels as though your heart soared into the sky—you know it wasn’t meant to be flirtatious, but damn it, a girl can dream. Scrambling your hands to reach for the seatbelt, you grimaced at the sight of gooey matter dotting its material, you buckled up anyway; better safe than sorry. And because he asked so nicely, your heart flutters once more.

He drove on for quite a while, managing to duck and swerve others on the road (albeit with a lot of trouble) and eventually reaching the highways—not that it was far, but you’ve never exactly drove, or been outside your little area. Why would you need to? Everything you’d ever need was there: a delicious shawarma shop across from your flat, embroidery store…in case you needed some embroidering done, a family-owned Indian restaurant that served the best naan and dal—point is, you’ve pretty much got everything covered in your small area.

But why do you feel like you’re missing something…

…your fucking duffel bag.

Everything was in there—your ID’s, necessities, your fucking family photo back when you were a baby; it all holds importance to you one way or another—

—and they’re gone.

Slumped against your seat, you hadn’t even realized your shoulders started convulsing until teardrops fell on your curled fists in your lap. How could you be so fucking careless? Tilting your head down, your hands fly up to rub away stray tears that can’t seem to stop falling from your eyes regardless of your effort; you hope he hasn’t noticed (he did, eyes squinting in worry and unsure) because you seem pretty fucking pathetic right now.

(He doesn’t mind, he’s more worried your tears will drown the both of you before getting to the motel)

“We’re,” for some reason, words get caught in his throat—congealed, like an immovable lump—watching you silently sob to yourself from the side. "We're going to a motel."

He shouldn’t care; he doesn’t know why he does, especially since you’re still a stranger (that he saved, again, he’s not sure why) he coincidentally shared a hallway with for about a year; he barely knew you, either, only knowing you by name because he had seen it stamped on a few mails that fell from your mailbox. He also knows that you bake, a lot, often times the smell would traverse through the small cracks underneath his door and reach his senses—he’d debate knocking on your door each time, he wouldn’t know what to say though: “I smelled your baking, they smell amazing, can I take the whole thing?” or “‘Aye you’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute.”

Yeah, he’s not too good at conversing with strangers either, especially a cute one like you.

And now that you’re sitting right next to him, shoulders no longer heaving as he keeps driving down the vast highway, he’s not so sure what the next move should be. A couple of quick glances let him know that somewhere along the way, you had fallen asleep, head lolled against the window, your chest rising and falling with a silent rhythm. The sun is setting, the warm glow casts down on your figure—you look like an angel.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, of course—but deep down, he knows he’ll keep that image of you and engrave it into the back of his head.

And he knows just the place to take you to.

#angst #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost x you #apocalypse #zombie apocalypse #im having a brainrot yet again #they should kiss kiss fall in love #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty

730 notes · View notes

underdark-dreams · 9 months

Note

Hi! I love your Rolan fics so much!! If you’re still accepting ideas, may I request one where Rolan & Tav slow dance together? The two of them just finding their own little corner away from everyone and enjoying a close moment together. Thank you! 😊

Rolan x fem!Tav

Starlight

"Happiness suits you." Sometimes a moment alone is all you need. After the Battle of Baldur's Gate is past and the dust has settled, Rolan and Tav find the steps forward.

Tags: Slow Dance, Fluff, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.5k [Read on AO3]

The high society of Baldur's Gate had its own kind of dance, and Rolan found that the steps came quite naturally to him.

He had always been made for nights like these: the main floor of Ramazith’s Tower filled with lords and ladies of the partriar families, a sea of color and chatter and pure power in one room. All of them here at his invitation.

Rolan had scarcely gotten a moment alone the entire evening. He’d expected curiosity about the new Master of the Tower, but the sheer quantity of it took him aback.

For all their influence across Baldur’s Gate and beyond, it had come as a surprise just how little these people knew about Ramazith’s Tower and its various inhabitants. Evidently many wizards were territorial creatures who hoarded their lives and their knowledge far away from prying eyes. His previous master certainly had been—even with his own student. Ramazith’s reputation was even worse somehow.

It was a legacy Rolan had no interest in continuing. Knowledge had its own kind of magic; when shared, it only multiplied. To his mind, it was also a misstep to ignore the influence that came along with the role of archwizard. He had just as much of a role in Baldurian politics as he would have to research and educate in the arcane.

Once the dust settled after the great battle for Baldur’s Gate, Rolan put his plans into action. Tonight was the first step toward change. Gathering the high families, opening up the Tower to those outside the magical arts—it was at least a start.

Yet even Rolan found himself tiring of it all after several hours of introductions and political discussions. He had retreated with wine in hand to watch the fete continue from the upper mezzanine. There was only one person left in the room who he really wished to speak with, and he found it challenging to get the timing right.

For the umpteenth time this evening, Rolan found himself searching the floor for Tav. Even in this sea of people her figure drew his eyes as if she had him enchanted.

After months of only knowing her dressed for combat, it was unexpectedly charming to see her dressed in finery. It suited her. Her dress was cut in a simple but elegant shape, with a high neckline that flowed all the way down to the hem brushing the tops of her feet.

The dramatic detail was in the back: a large keyhole opening which displayed a very generous glimpse of skin from her shoulder blades down to the curve of her lower back.

Rolan found himself continuously distracted by that patch of bare flesh. Throughout the evening, occasionally in the middle of conversation with a council member, his eyes had been drawn to Tav from across the room. He felt it every time she turned her back to him, and he wondered whether she had any idea what she was doing.

But she was in even higher demand than himself this evening. Unsurprising to anyone who knew her role in saving their city from the precipice of disaster. So far he’d only managed to exchange a few glances with her from across the room, though each time she had offered him a warm smile.

Rolan’s fingers nervously adjusted his own lapel. He’d changed his dress for the evening as well; his new robes were light, fine silk stitched with gold trim. Fitting attire for his new station in life.

It was an odd sensation to finally be free of the metal apprentice’s mantel that used to rest over his shoulders. He felt lighter, less encumbered—and strangely exposed because of it.

“Itchy, right?”

Cal appeared at his shoulder, tugging on the collar of his own dress tunic. He must have interpreted Rolan’s fussing as discomfort rather than nerves. A misunderstanding Rolan was content to let him continue in.

“Enjoying yourself?” Rolan asked dryly. From Cal’s squirming, he’d already guessed the answer.

“Hardly,” Cal muttered. He gave up with his shirt and took a long drink from his goblet instead. “I barely know any of these people. Well, there’s Alfie, but she told me off for trying to talk to her.”

Rolan glanced to the small platform along the far wall below. Alfira had been almost unbearably gleeful when he’d asked to hire her musical talents for this evening. But to her credit, Rolan had to admit that she was the picture of professionalism where she stood. The gentle stylings of her lute floated to fill the spacious room around them.

“Of course she did,” Rolan told his brother. “Tonight’s important for her too, you know. Rich people always have children who need music lessons.”

Cal let out a sigh. “I guess. It’s just weird having things change so much. Tav’s still okay, though,” he added.

To Rolan’s annoyance, his brother prodded an elbow into his side. “She looks nice, right?”

“Fine. Quit it—” Rolan shooed the arm away with an irritable hand.

“Have you talked to her yet?”

“Too busy,” Rolan replied. It wasn’t quite a lie. Despite himself, he cast another glance around the faces below. Tav’s was currently absent from the crowd—he hoped she hadn’t left for the night.

“Sure,” Cal replied knowingly from beside him. But he only drained the last of his wine and turned to leave. “Just don’t wait too long, yeah? You might be busy forever.”

Rolan didn’t deign that with a response as the younger man made his way back down to the party. Cal was right, and he found there was an anxious buzzing between his ears because of it. With Tav currently nowhere to be found, Rolan decided it may be best to gather his head while he could.

Quietly enough to not attract attention, he slipped up the stairs and out onto the wide circular balcony. A welcome breeze ruffled through his clothing as he stepped out into the starry evening. Passing through the vaulted doorway was like entering a connected but distinct new realm; the sea of voices behind him faded to a soft hum. Only Alfira’s music carried clearly outdoors and into the night.

Rolan leaned his free hand on the cool stone railing. The peaceful air soothed his mind—he hadn’t realized that a headache had been steadily building behind his skull from hours in a room full of echoing voices. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for the invite tonight.”

Just as he’d relaxed, Tav’s voice made Rolan start. He finally caught sight of her leaning against a stone pillar to his right—her dark gown must have camouflaged her. Rolan hoped the low light had made his fluster just as unnoticeable.

Gathering himself, he lifted his wine in her direction. “I’d be remiss to leave out the hero of Baldur’s Gate from such an event.”

Tav pulled a face at the name, but she approached with her own goblet in hand to join him at the railing. “Don’t you start,” she warned playfully. “I got enough of that inside. Had to come out here for a rest from it.”

“Not much I can do to help on that score, I’m afraid. A lot of people will be grateful to you for a long time.” Rolan watched as she settled beside him, then turned with her to look down at the cityscape below.

From this height, the lamp flames formed strings of luminous pearls through the streets and alleys of the city. A flock of distant white sails waved in the harbor; trade ships waiting like slumbering giants for the return of first light.

“Nice view,” Tav remarked in approval.

Rolan glanced sideways at her face. For one insane moment, he considered parrying that into a compliment on her appearance. She certainly deserved one tonight. But he maintained his grip on sanity, and resisted.

“So—” Tav tilted her head to meet his eye. “How’s life in the Upper City?”

Rolan knew Tav’s expressions well enough by now to suspect she was teasing a bit. “Busy,” he answered truthfully. “So much more than I expected.”

“Everyone’s certainly curious about you,” she agreed. “If there’s one thing lords and ladies can’t resist, it’s a new face in society. This was genius, by the way—” Tav gestured her wine glass back at the gathering inside.

“Is it?” Rolan was skeptical. “It seems like the obvious move to me.”

Tav grinned at him. “That’s what makes it so genius.”

The conversation lulled for a moment as they stood looking out over the quiet city. Rolan found that his initial nerves at being alone with her like this were melting away. Speaking with Tav was comfortable; even silence with her was comfortable somehow. Rolan was the first to break it.

“What about you? What will you do now?”

She sighed down at the view below. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’d like to stay in Baldur’s Gate if I can. Too many friends here to think about leaving.”

During the pause that followed, Rolan wondered if she counted him among them. He found it was very important to him that she did. Before he could decide whether to ask, Tav continued.

“I did get a few promising job offers tonight, if you can believe it. Including one from Lord Jannath to join his private council. Or maybe that was a euphemism,” she added.

“He’s a cad,” Rolan said immediately.

“Oh, I’m well aware of Raylen Jannath’s reputation. And I’m sure it’s entirely deserved.” Tav looked over at him with a glint in her eye. “Don’t worry. I’m no wide-eyed babe.”

“No, you’re not,” Rolan agreed. His jaw clenched with annoyance nevertheless. “But you care about doing good. Some people will always try to take advantage of that.”

“I’ll just refer them to my friend the powerful archwizard, shall I?”

Rolan exhaled a sharp breath of laughter and tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped at her choice of words.

“You’re always welcome in this tower,” he told her. “If nothing else, I hope you know that.”

Tav regarded him for a moment. The hand holding her goblet swirled the liquid inside in a thoughtful motion. “You’ve changed a lot, you know.”

He was curious what made her say such a thing. “Have I?”

“Sure you have.” Tav’s eyes still moved pensively over his face. “Back when we first met, you didn’t seem…” She searched for the word. “Well. Interested in most of the others from Elturel. And now look at the community you’ve built. Alfira tonight, helping Dannis and Bex get their teashop funded. Even Dammon says you gave him an open contract for any metalwork anywhere in the whole Tower.”

“You’ve been talking with Lia too much.” Rolan heard the defensiveness in his own voice, but he couldn’t help it. Something about the way Tav was looking at him made his face warm.

“I’m just saying it’s nice,” she finished with a gentle smile. “I always thought you had a bigger heart than you let on.”

“Yes, yes,” Rolan drawled as he raised his goblet. Tav gave thought to his heart—that revelation required wine.

“Remember that night at the Grove?”

Rolan looked at her over the edge of his cup. “That party at your camp, you mean?”

So casual, so unpracticed—as if he didn’t think of that night often.

“Alfira played this song,” she continued.

Rolan had to pause for a moment to focus on the melody floating out to where they stood. When his ear caught the tune, he shifted on his feet. “Ah.”

He knew where she was going with this, but Tav still went on. “Danis and Bex started pairing people up, and I’d already had far too much wine…so I went on and asked you for a dance. Remember?”

“Yes.” Rolan felt a sudden urge to hang his head.

Tav’s eyes were shining with amusement. She gestured her glass toward him in an expectant motion, as if giving him his cue. Rolan let out a very reluctant sigh.

“And I told you I wouldn’t be caught dead dancing in such an uncivilized place,” he finished.

“I believe the term you used was ‘common,’” she chuckled. “You always did have a way with words.” But then she glanced down to the drink between her hands. “Actually…it was a bit disappointing at the time.”

Rolan’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

Tav looked back up at him as though he’d grown another pair of horns. “Because I wanted to dance with you, Rolan. Why else?” She shook her head as she turned back to the view. “Wizards, I swear…not everything is a riddle.”

Rolan considered her words, considered Tav where she stood beside him. Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were reaching for the wine glass in her near hand. She allowed him to pluck it carefully from her grip; her face was a mask of puzzlement as she watched him set their drinks aside on the flat of the stone railing.

Rolan turned back to her. “Let me make it up to you, then.” He extended a hand toward her palm-up.

Tav cocked her head at him. The corners of her mouth twitched as if she thought this might be some kind of joke. For a moment Rolan felt every bit the fool, standing here with his empty hand outstretched.

Then her fingers raised to brush across his. “Deal.”

He almost certainly had this backwards—weren’t the hands supposed to be the other way around? But there was no time to think about that now.

Tav took a step closer, her long skirt swinging against his legs. She clasped Rolan’s forearm where it hung at his side, guided it around behind her waist, and then laid her other hand against his shoulder.

The cutout in the back of her dress resulted in Rolan’s skin meeting hers a second time. His mind had somehow neglected to prepare for that; for a few seconds it took all of his concentration to keep his movements smooth and controlled.

Tav began swaying in time with the distant music, just a gentle step side to side and back again. Rolan followed her lead.

“Is this right?” Tav asked. With her face upturned to him under starlight, she looked somehow younger than her years and experience.

“I don’t know,” Rolan admitted. His head was too full of other things—the softness of Tav’s hand in his, the disorienting curve of her back under his palm, not to mention trying like hells not to step on her. “I’ve honestly never done this before.”

“Oh, come on.” Tav’s expression relaxed again as they swayed back and forth together. “No sweethearts back in Elturel? I find that hard to believe.”

When was the last time you touched someone like this? Unwelcome, embarrassing, the thought nevertheless sprang to Rolan’s mind. It was certainly longer ago than he cared to admit. Then again, maybe he’d never touched someone quite like this.

“No one like you,” he decided.

At that Tav only chewed the inside of her lip and gave a thoughtful hum. Whether she sensed his discomfort or whether he’d embarrassed her himself, she didn’t ask for details. He was relieved as the subject drifted away, replaced by the distant lute song and the soft rustle of her skirt as they moved.

After another quiet moment, he felt compelled to speak up again. “You were right before, you know. I have changed.”

“Oh?” Tav looked up at him with curiosity. But she waited patiently for him to continue. Rolan was grateful for it; finding the right words took some thought.

“I suppose I've learned that pride and arrogance aren’t the same thing. Lorroakan taught me to see the difference. As did you,” he added. He swallowed against the discomfort of vulnerability. “I was so damn arrogant then…but I wasn't proud of myself. Not really. You helped me find how to be.”

Tav’s eyes moved back and forth between his as she listened. “Then I’m glad for it. You have a lot to be proud of, Rolan.”

An odd mixture of feelings rose in his throat; he felt humbled and pleased with himself all at once. It was impossible to put into words. Rolan only bowed his head slightly to her, and the space between them lapsed into a comfortable silence once more.

After a while, the dance relaxed into something more casual. Alfira’s lute had taken up a different tune back in the main hall. Their steps no longer kept time with the music now, drifting along with each other in a new rhythm instead. Her hand had migrated from the side of his shoulder to let her wrist hang limp by his collar.

As they swayed together in silence, Rolan felt her fingers carding absently through the ends of his hair.

When he caught her eye, Tav’s hand stilled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he told her. “It’s not unpleasant.”

For some reason that made Tav laugh. “There you go again. ‘Not unpleasant.’ Can’t you just say something’s pleasant and have done with it?”

Though their stance was still a bit awkward, something about having her in his arms made Rolan bold. He looked straight into her face. “Then allow me to try again. You look very beautiful tonight.”

Tav’s lips parted in surprise for a moment. Then she glanced away to the side, and Rolan saw a flush of color rise to her cheek.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “So do you. Handsome, that is,” she added in a rush. “Happiness suits you.”

She had a knack for saying the most perceptive things. Right now, finding himself abruptly launched to the peak of his life’s dream, with the people he cared for safe and provided for, Rolan supposed that he was happy. All the more for the person holding his hand.

“Are you happy, Tav?”

She turned back to him slowly. As she did, her fingers happened to brush against his neck again, sending a shiver up Rolan’s spine that had nothing to do with the evening breeze around them.

“I am,” she murmured. “Right now…very.”

For the first time tonight, Rolan became aware of just how near her face was. It was tilted slightly up to meet his, and the angle happened to leave a clear path to her mouth. It would take only the smallest movement to close the distance.

And without thinking—just for once in his life—he did.

As he tilted his head toward her, Rolan felt Tav’s hand curl behind his neck to pull him gently forward. Their lips brushed together soft as a whisper, but the sensation ran through him clear as the ring of a bell. His fingers splayed against the warmth of her lower back, pressing her figure in closer against his own—

“Rolan, we’ve been looking ev—”

The two of them broke apart as if jolted by electricity. Tav wheeled away, face entirely hidden and one hand clasped up to her mouth. Rolan rounded on the doorway.

“What?” He blurted out.

Cal stood there frozen in place, mouth agape, his eyes flicking back and forth between Rolan and Tav. The air between the three of them was filled with enough raw awkwardness as to make Rolan’s skin crawl.

“Nevermind,” Cal said hoarsely. “It’s—they—nevermind.”

He swiftly turned on his heel and retreated without another word, leaving the two of them standing alone again on their balcony.

But the comfortable atmosphere was gone. Rolan had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He squeezed eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing a guttural sound to rise straight from the depths of his chest.

“We’ve been alone out here for half an hour—” A few steps away, Tav’s voice was choked with laughter behind her hand. “And the second we even try to—”

Rolan worked his eyes open to glance at her. Her shoulders were shaking with amusement, causing the end of her statement to dissolve helplessly.

“This isn’t funny,” he told her weakly, even as she turned back to him and wiped tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes.

“No,” she said, biting her lip against a fresh burst of laughter. “It’s absolutely hilarious.”

Rolan passed a hand over his face with a groan. “Once, just once, I wanted things to go right with us.”

Something in the phrase quieted Tav’s laughter. Rolan met her eye then, sure she must see how mortified he was—but found a look of delight spreading across her features.

“Us?” She raised her eyebrows at him with a smile.

Rolan could only let out a defeated sigh. “Do I have to say it?”

Tav tried to look like she was seriously considering things, but she couldn’t quite fight back her smile all the way. “Not tonight,” she allowed. “I think you’ve suffered enough.”

“Thank you,” was all Rolan could say. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs from the most confusing swirl of feelings.

They looked at each other for another long moment, communicating a dozen different things without a word.

“Well…” Tav moved forward once more to loop her arm through his. Close beside him, the starlight shone in her eyes. “Shall we go in then, Rolan?”

#sfw #rolan x tav #fluff #rolan bg3 #due to personal reasons i had to turn this into a pining scenario #tav x rolan #bg3 rolan #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

249 notes · View notes

ineffable-endearments · 9 months

Text

I was rethinking the bookshop meta I wrote a while ago and realized I was not thinking big enough.

The bookshop has always been Aziraphale's version of Crowley's plants (his trauma reenactment), but also, absolutely everything Aziraphale does in Season 2 is a re-creation of Heaven's role. Crowley's behavior also encompasses everything, not just his plants.

I've seen it suggested that centering Aziraphale and Crowley's trauma histories is reducing their characters to behaving like just reactive victims instead of survivors with agency. Or worse, it's "excusing bad behavior." I don't agree with either of these, because I feel that part of Good Omens is about how large, powerful systems affect individuals, and so the context of every character's decisions matters a lot to the overall themes of the story. Everyone starts out working within a system they believe to reflect reality and then has to learn how to break free of it. You cannot really illustrate that without having the characters start out being genuinely trapped with different ways of coping with their reality.

This is an attempt at a pretty big-picture meta. Although it isn't a plot prediction, it's how I think some of the series' themes are going to progress. It starts out perhaps a little grim, but in the long run, it's how Aziraphale's character growth and relationship with Crowley can simultaneously be massive for them as individuals, a crucial part of the overarching narrative message of the series, and symbolic of a change in all of Heaven and Hell, all while allowing the themes to continue to prioritize human free will.

In short, it's about Aziraphale's problems, but it's also meant to be an Aziraphale love post.

All of the below exists in tandem with Good Omens as a comedy of errors. Just because there are heavy ideas does not mean they will not also be funny. Look back on how much of Season 2 seemed silly until we started to pick it apart! One of the amazing things about Good Omens is how it manages to do both silly and serious at once! (I feel like that's maybe a little Terry Pratchett DNA showing through. "Laughter can get through the keyhole while seriousness is still hammering on the door," as Terry himself said.)

Aziraphale has really embraced his connection to Crowley in Season 2, and he has also become considerably more assertive toward Heaven and Hell. These are both major growth points compared to the beginning of Season 1.

However, again, we have the concept of growing pains...Aziraphale is starting to re-create Heaven's role in his relationship with Crowley and humanity. It's really obvious with the Gabriel argument and the I Was Wrong Dance, but I think we see it all over the place: he seems to feel any serious dissent is a betrayal. He also seems to assume there's a dominance hierarchy and he, of course, is on top. Now that he's decided to take control of his own future, then surely that does mean he's the one in control, right?

With all that said, he still seems to have trouble being direct about the feelings that make him most vulnerable. He manipulates people and engineers situations in which he can try to get his emotional needs met rather than saying things outright (case in point: the Ball).

Like I pointed out in the bookshop meta: subconsciously, he's playing the role of God, modified with what God would be if She were everything he wants Her to be. He's generous, almost infinitely sweet, always does what's best for people...or, at least, what he believes is best for people. During the Ball, Aziraphale influences the people around him to be comfortable and happy even when they're not supposed to be, and he limits their ability to talk about things he thinks are too rude or improper for happy, formal occasions.

Doesn't this pattern sort of make sense for an angel who's just discovering free will? Like, at the end of Season 1, he made an enormous choice to stand against Heaven and realized he could survive it. Now he's gone a bit overboard with exerting his own will. Unfortunately, while he's learned to question upper management, he's still operating on a fundamental framework of the universe where there have to be two sides and there has to be a hierarchy. Also, since Aziraphale is on the Good side, he of course has to gear his desires into what's Good rather than just what he wants, so he sometimes thinks he's doing things for others when really he's doing things for himself. (For example, matchmaking Maggie and Nina started out as something he wanted to use to lie to Heaven, but by the time he was commenting "Maggie and Nina are counting on me," he seemed sincere, like he had genuinely convinced himself this was for them and not for himself.)

Aziraphale knows Heaven interferes in human affairs, ostensibly on God's behalf. He thinks She should be intervening in ways that are beneficial. What I believe the narrative wants him to learn is that God and Heaven shouldn't be manipulating people at all, not even for Good, and in fact there is no real meaningful hierarchy.

Anyway, a top-down, totally unquestioned hierarchy is the primary social relationship Aziraphale has known, and it's certainly been the dominant one for most of his existence: you're either the boss or the underling, and if someone seriously questions you, they don't have faith in you - they don't respect you.

No, his relationship with Crowley has not always been like that, but they've been creating their relationship from whole cloth, so how would he know it shouldn't become that way, now that it's "real" and out in the open?

No, human relationships aren't like that, but Aziraphale clearly does not see himself or Crowley as human. As the relationship approached something that seemed like it must be "legitimate," Aziraphale would naturally look for a framework to fit it to. And again, the only one he has is the shape of "intimacy," or what passes for it, in Heaven. What has "trust" always meant in all his "legitimate" relationships? It has always meant unquestioning obedience, of course. What have the warm fuzzies felt like in Heaven? Well, praise from the angels above him is nice, so that must be it, right?

Aziraphale even describes being in love as "what humans do," separating out that relationship style. Someday, I think he'll realize he favors the shape of love on Earth, something that's more inherently equal, more give-and-take. Look at how he idealizes it from afar at the Ball. But I think that, like Crowley before Nina pointed it out, Aziraphale maybe hasn't 100% grokked that it can and in fact should work that way for him and Crowley, too. Just like people can desperately want to dance without knowing how to dance, or can desperately want to speak a language without knowing the language, Aziraphale does not instinctively know how to have the kind of relationship where he can be truly vulnerable and handle Crowley's vulnerability as well.

Aziraphale is downright obsessed with French, known as the "language of love." He's trying to learn it the Earthly way. He's not very good at it, but he wants to be.

This pattern is still present during the Final Fifteen even if we assume Aziraphale is asking Crowley to become an angel again out of fear (and I find it very hard to believe that fear doesn't factor in at all). He's still building his interactions off of that Heaven-like framework: he asks Crowley to trust him blindly, he tries to assume a leadership role with a plan Crowley never agreed to and couldn't follow anyway, and he tries very hard not to leave room for an ounce of doubt. He also suggests making Crowley his second-in-command and obviously does not register that this could possibly be offensive. Again, I think this is because for Aziraphale, there has always been a hierarchy in Heaven, it's started to transfer to his relationship with Crowley, and breaking out of that assumption about relationships is going to take more processing than a single argument can do.

As I mentioned in another post, I don't believe Aziraphale had a real choice about whether he accepted the Supreme Archangel position. I think he could sense that he was not getting out of it and chose to look on the bright side, to see it as an opportunity. And instead of looking realistically at how that would feel to Crowley, he tried to sweep Crowley up to Heaven with him using toxic positivity, appeals to morality, and appeals to their relationship itself. Again, mimicking what Heaven has done to him.

To me, "they're not talking" is a big clue that Aziraphale's approach with Crowley is going to be the mistake the narrative really wants him to face. "Not talking" has, thus far, been presented as the central conflict of Season 3! After losing the structure and feedback Heaven gave him, Aziraphale started creating Heaven-like patterns in his relationship with Crowley, and breaking out of those patterns is what he needs to do. Discovering first-hand that Heaven's entire modus operandi is bad no matter who's in charge is how he can do it.

Look, either you're sympathetic to Aziraphale's control issues or you're not. Personally, I am. He's trying so, so hard to be good. I think trying to figure yourself out (which Aziraphale is clearly doing) is hard enough, and when you start balancing what you want for yourself, what you think are your responsibilities, and what other people are actively asking of you, you're bound to fall into the patterns that have been enforced for your whole life or for millions of years, whichever came first.

It is very easy to assume that people should Just Be Better, but it's not actually that simple to be a thinking, feeling person. My anxiety tends to move in a very inward direction and Aziraphale's moves outward. But I'd imagine the desperation and exhaustion are the same.

Unlike Nina, Aziraphale became a rebound mess. I don't think it occurred to either him or to Crowley that there could be any soul-searching, anything but carrying on with the new normal after their stalemate with Heaven and Hell.

Now, instead of getting rejected by Heaven and surviving it, Aziraphale needs to be the one to reject Heaven. It needs to be a choice. And that choice is going to come from realizing that Heaven isn't just poorly managed but also represents a bad framework for all relationships.

How could this happen? Good question. We're obviously not supposed to know yet, although I think picking at existing themes within the narrative could possibly give us hints.

It's possible Aziraphale's character development trajectory will be akin to Adam Young's in Season 1. Please see this stellar post by eidetictelekinetic for more thoughts about it, but basically, in Season 1, Adam saw that the world was not what he wanted it to be and decided his vision was better; as he ascended to power, he took complete control over all his friends and then soon realized that's not what he wants because there's no point in trying to have relationships with people who can't choose you. It's that realization that leads Adam to conclude he doesn't want to take over the world and to reject the role he's expected to play as the Antichrist. Maybe Aziraphale's trip to Heaven is an attempt at a control move during which he'll realize he's defeating his own point.

Aziraphale clearly wants to be chosen. From the very beginning, he's wanted to be special and cared for - just like Crowley has.

Incidentally, I think Aziraphale and Crowley are going to represent pieces of the bigger picture here, and this - first imitating and then rejecting Heaven's relationship style - can both symbolize Heaven's transformation and directly start it (probably in an amusing, somewhat indirect way, like when he handed off the flaming sword to Adam).

If I'm right - which I may very well not be - I think this would all be so, SO cool. Like, "An angel who is subconsciously trying to be a better God" is a concept with so much potential for both tender kindness and incredible darkness. Add to that the comedy-of-errors aspect of "...but even deeper down, he'd much rather just be super gay on Earth" and you have, in my opinion, a perfect character.

I think this could work for Crowley as well. It's obvious that in the Good Omens universe, at least so far, Hell is all about detesting humans and punishing them; Satan seems to genuinely hate humans (unlike in some of NG's other works). Our perspective on this could change, but it potentially puts Crowley in a complementary position to Aziraphale, as a demon who is trying to be "better" than Satan. But this isn't about being "morally better." It's about things having a point. Crowley's exploits usually have a point: they test people. And you can pass his tests! He sincerely likes making trouble, but Crowley doesn't live to punish.

But, once again, the above paragraph would describe a transient phase for this infinitely charming character. Because, again, I think the point will be that in the end, Crowley's deeper-down desire, moreso than testing Creation, is watching it grow with a glass of wine in hand.

#go3 speculation

172 notes · View notes

thescarletnargacuga · 22 days

Note

HELLOoOOOoOoooo Scarlet!

You must be so done with me and my ideas lmao.

ANYWHO! If you could pretty pretty please with a big ol' cherry on top write something Sweettooth (Caine x Ragatha) related? It can be anything you want, I'm just STARVING for that ship and I havent seen anyone doing amything related to it

ALSO LUV YOUUUU DONT OVERWORK YOURSELF BESTIE🫶🫶🫶🫶

A/N: continuation of Shadowed Admirer

SHADOWED LOVE

A SWEETTOOTH ONESHOT W/ SHADOW!CAINE

WARNING: none

~~~

Shadow materialized a wisp of smoke in his hand, giving it shape. He stretched it out and formed a blossom on one end, creating the dark silhouette of a flower. He sighed and threw it away. It dissipated and ceased to exist.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't create something fully rendered. Nothing with color came from his hands. Nothing with definition. Nothing beyond a silhouette. Nothing more than what he himself was: a shadow.

Ragatha deserved better. He didn't know why he bothered.

"I'm just torturing myself at this point." She couldn't get her out of his head. He was head over heels for her, but he's never had the courage to even say hello. He knew how it would go, anyway. He wouldn't even be able to introduce himself and she'd scream. Maybe run away. That's what everyone did. Run from the scary shadow man.

To distract himself from the ache of her likely horrid reaction, he made another flower. One much more intricate. A bloomed black rose, silhouetted by streams of silver to make it stand out just a little bit. He actually impressed himself. It looked kind of nice.

"Maybe...she would like this? This is my absolute best work." The fear of the disgusted rejection hit his chest. He swallowed hard, steeling himself. "Just...leave it by her door. See how she reacts. Go from there." He pep-talked himself.

He teleported to the cast room hallway. The circus was quiet. Everyone was on the adventure. He stuck the stem of the rose into the keyhole of Ragatha's door. "No going back now."

The sound of a portal appearing and voices from the main circus makes him turn to smoke and disappear into the nearest shadowy corner. He remained silent as Ragatha walked with Pomni and Gangle down the hall, chatting about the adventure they just came back from.

"Ugh, I can't wait to get this sawdust out of my hair." Ragatha shook out her yarny locks, sawdust cascading to the floor.

"No kidding, I have sawdust in places sawdust really shouldn't be." Pomni dusted off the front of her outfit.

"I've never actually been thankful for being made of ribbons." Gangle subtly gloated.

"Lucky you." Ragatha eye rolled and stopped as she reached for her door handle. "What the?" She took the black and silver rose out of her door. "Where did this come from?"

Pomni and Gangle shrugged.

Ragatha ran her fingertips along the edges of the petals. "It's beautiful."

Shadow almost gave himself away. He wanted to materialize and give her a thousand roses. She was worth the effort of every perfect rose he could possibly make. His heart pined for her, watching her smile after having a seemingly rough adventure. She was smiling because of him, even if she didn't know it.

Ragatha took the rose into her room and Shadow teleported away. He had work to do.

Over the next several weeks he left her gifts of his own making. Everything he could manage from flowers to figurines. His limited coding prevented him from creating anything too complex, but Ragatha didn't seem to mind. In fact, she praised and trusted each gift. She never figured out where they were coming from, but the objects were obviously placed in her path on purpose.

With each gift, Shadow felt more confident about approaching Ragatha and finally introducing himself. He's never taken this long to talk to anyone. Manipulating humans was easy. Child's Play. How was saying hi so hard?

Finally, he made the decision to show himself. He made a dozen shadowed roses but put so much silver in the petals, they turned white. He teleported to her room door. It was late and knew she would be there the remainder of the day. She had a routine and rarely deviated from it. It's what made laying out the gifts so easy.

Anxiety buzzed erratically in his code. He was really doing this. This could make or break everything. He knocked.

Ragatha answered promptly. "Pomni? Did you- oh!" She looked down at someone who looked like Caine of her was dipped in printer ink. She eyed the flowers he held out in front of him. "Hello?"

Shadow couldn't breathe. There she was in all her beauty right in front of him. His code thrummed with excitement. She was looking right at him, a confused smile on her face, but it was still a smile.

"Uh...can you...talk?" Ragatha asked, unsure of what he even was.

Shadow nearly kicked himself. He cleared his voice. "I am Shadow. I'm the one leaving you gifts, hand crafted by myself. I had hoped to earn your favor enough to at least have a conversation with you. These are for you." He handed her the silver shadow roses.

"For me? They're gorgeous. You made these?"

Shadow held his head a bit higher, puffing out his chest. "Yes. Just for you. I don't normally make things...that's Caine's job."

"Speaking of Caine...um, why do you-"

"Look like him? It's a very long story, but I'm essentially an unfinished prototype. Think of me as the first iteration of the C.A.I.N.E program. I was never deleted, so I spend most of my time in the shadowed spaces between spaces of the game. And recently... I have found myself captivated. By you."

"...me?" Ragatha blushed lightly.

This was already going way better than he expected. He steadied himself for the full reveal of his intentions. "Yes, you are an enchanting woman that I would love to further acquaint myself with. The fact that you haven't slammed the door on my face yet gives me hope."

"Slam the door on- I wouldn't do that. Not on my secret admirer." She giggled.

She laughed. He didn't care if it was at him, it was music. "I've admired you for so long, but I can't ignore this longing any more. Please, one chance is all I ask."

Ragatha smiled. "Then you better come in." She stepped aside to open her room to him.

Shadow nearly red screened on the spot. She was giving him a chance!! He couldn't screw this up.

Ragatha's was better in person than he ever imagined. She was so kind and patient and well spoken and just as adorably awkward as he hoped. He wasn't just infatuated. He could finally admit to himself...he was in love.

They kept their relationship on the down low. Keeping it their own little secret when Ragatha would retreat to her room after adventures, she'd be stolen away by the shadows.

It took a while but Shadow finally made his magnum opus. The greatest gift he could ever give. "I have a surprise for you." He held his hands behind his back.

"For me? Oh Shadow, you're too kind. You go through so much effort for little ole me."

"You're worth it." He brought forth a large jewelry box and presented it to her. "For the woman who's deserves everything, I hope this is enough. It's all I have to give."

Ragatha gave him a sympathetic smile. "Whatever it is, you know I'll love it." She opened the box and gasped. Inside was a silver necklace holding a black diamond cut in the shape of a heart. She covered her mouth. "You..."

Shadow stepped closer, looking at her with utmost reverence. "Ragatha, my heart is yours. I could never give it to another. I....I'm in love with you." His voice felt stained. Even after all this time, he was afraid of her training him away.

Ragatha set the box down, grabbed Shadow by his lapels and kissed him on his lower jaw. Shadow's eyes went wide, and his arms wrapped around her instinctually. She kept her lips pressed to his teeth and he melted into her.

He floated off the ground and took her with him. His tongue peaked over his bottom teeth and he pressed it passionately to her lips. He cradled the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. Ragatha held him close, wrapping her arms fully around him. She sat sideways in his lap in the air, loving the feel of him gripping her thigh to keep her in place.

They separated briefly, gazing into each other's eyes and breathing heavily. "I can't believe this is finally happening." Ragatha gasped, all smiles.

"Believe it. And there will be so much more to come. All for you." Shadow smirked and pulled her back into a kiss.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc caine #tadc fanfiction #tadc ragatha #shadow!caine #tadc sweettooth #sweettooth #caine x ragatha #ragatha x caine

22 notes · View notes

seventeenficsformalereader · 1 year

Text

Kittens; Scoups

You decide to adopt three kittens when Scoups is away from home. When he comes back he is met with the most cutest thing ever.

Contains: Male reader, Scoups, kittens, only one kiss, fake mad Coups (he pretends to be mad at u for adopting kittens but how could he actually be mad)

Genre: Fluff

~Not requested~

===============

It was a basic evening for Seungcheol. He had been away from home for a while now. And because of his work he hasn't been able to see you for a long time. It was driving him insane. Not being able to see his signifigant other for such a long time made him crazy almost.

So when he got to the door of his apartment, he couldn't help but smile. He found the keys to the door from his pocket and fiddled with them for a while before finding the right key and put it in the keyhole. He opened the door and took a moment to take in the smell of his, and yours, apartment.

God, he missed that smell..

But there was something different in the smell too, but he didn't pay attention to it after he heard your laughter from the living room. He quickly removed his shoes and coat and marched in, curious to know why you were laughing.

He stepped inside of the living room fully and you turned your head to look at him. Your smile got even bigger and your eyes strated to sparkle. Quickly, you got up from your seat on the couch and jumped into his embrace. He was happy to see you again. His M/N. He pulled away from the hug to kiss your forehead.

"I missed you so much baby" He said in a quiet tone. "I missed you so much." "I missed you too-" You got cut off by a feeling of fur on your ankle. As you looked down, you saw one kitten on your leg, rubbing his head on it. You smiled and looked at Seungcheol who looked confused.

It was then when you realized that you haven't even told him that you have adopted a kitten. Or three to be exact. You reached down and took the kitten in your arms, scooping it up from the floor with ease.

"I got bored because you weren't home for so long" You muttered while staring at the cat in your arms. "What makes you think that you can adopt a kitten without my permission?" He tried to act angry, but seeing you holding that little kitty in your arms like it was a real baby made it hard to actually be angry.

"I'm sorry Cheollie~ I just missed you so much that if i didn't distract myself with something i would've completely lost it." You explained with a pout. That's what broke him from the act and his lips slowly turned upwards into a smile. "I forgive you this time. But make sure you ask the next time if you want more cats." "Yeah well.. About that" You said slowly.

Seungcheols face turned into a confused one once again. "What have you done?" He asked suspiciously. "Look what's on the couch" You answered and he did as you said. He took a step closer to it and saw two other kittens sleeping next to each other on one of the blankets.

He slowly turned around to look at you and you smiled a little. You walked past him and sat on the couch. "Let me explain, okay?" "Go on" He said with a serious expression "I couldn't decide which one i wanted. They were all too cute and they couldn't have a better home than this one. You're never here so i have plenty of time to take care of three cats" You told him and he really tried to be mad at you for adopting this many kittens without even talking to him, but he just couldn't do it. He couldn't be angry at you.

So he walked over and sat next to you on the couch, before taking one of the sleeping kittens to his arms. It then woke up and looked at Seungcheol. He smiled at the kitten and soon the other one woke up. The other cat was playful and started messing around with the others.

You were smiling and laughing at the kittens' behavior and you leaned against Seungcheols shoulder.

He rested his head on top of yours as he watched the kittens fight. "I love you" Seungcheol said. "I love you too"

===============

#seventeen #seventeen x male reader #svt x male reader #x male reader #svt scoups #seventeen scoups #scoups #scoups x male reader #coups #svt scoups x m reader #male reader #x mreader #x reader #scoups x reader #seventeen scoups x male reader

223 notes · View notes

autocrats-in-love · 11 months

Note

Can i please request again "Someone's in denial" part 4? i wanna see what happens😭 Your writing's so amazing and though of course i'm curious, there's absolutely no pressure if you don't want to❤️ Have a nice day!!🥧🍧

Someone's in Denial (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The villain’s car pulled up outside an old-looking home in a quiet neighbourhood. A bit run down, but nothing about it suggested it belonged to a criminal mastermind. Even the car had camouflaged itself as something older and dustier.

“Can it turn invisible, too?” The hero asked, undoing their seatbelt.

“It’s supposed to, but I’ve never gotten it to work,” the villain said, giving the car a pointed look as they closed the driver-side door behind them.

The car whirred, seemingly annoyed.

“You have not tried.” The villain responded.

“Uh, this is all great, but shouldn’t we-” the hero pointed to the house.

“Right.” The villain said. “Come along.”

The hero followed the villain to the door. The villain slotted a simple key into the keyhole, turned it, and opened the door.

The villain kicked off their sneakers--the agency randomly grabbed a pair of shoes from their closet before arresting them--and swept their hand out grandly.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” They said.

The hero smiled despite themselves. They had left their diary in the car. They didn’t want the villain to be able to grab it and flick through the pages. They went to sit on the couch as the villain went past them to the kitchen.

“We should be safe, for now,” the villain said, looking for something in the cupboards. “Ah, here we are.”

The villain held it up for the hero. It looked like a small, red button. They pushed it. Nothing happened. The hero looked around, expecting to see or hear something.

“What did that do?” the hero asked.

“I forget, but-” the villain tossed the button on the counter and walked into the living room. “-I remember thinking it was really important when I made it. So I push it whenever I come here.”

They sat down next to the hero. The hero looked them over and was suddenly very self-conscious. They hadn’t had time to think about what they were wearing, with the kidnapping and the interrogation and the escape and the being shot at. But they had been arrested early this morning, while on a walk. They were wearing leggings and a very loose fitting t-shirt. The villain, on the other hand, had on ripped jeans, a tank top, and a zip-up hoodie they were in the process of pulling off.

“Are you alright, there?” the villain said, amused.

The hero took their eyes off the villain’s shoulders.

“You said we would talk.” The hero said.

They rubbed their sweaty hands on their lap. The villain fiddled with a ring on their thumb.

“Yeah, I did.” The villain said.

They took a deep breath. The hero’s heart raced. They stared at the villain. They were always staring. Chronically obsessed with everything their enemy did. The villain would often stare back, usually with an entertained look on their face. A smile that the hero knew was for them alone. Now, the villain was looking at the floor.

“Do you remember last year, when I broke your ribs?” The villain asked.

“Uh. . .yeah,” the hero said, a bit confused.

“You complained about it so much. You still had to fight me, and every time it looked like you were losing, you would whine about how I had an unfair advantage.”

“It was the worst time, too,” the hero said. “We were short on replacements and I was in the middle of moving house.”

The villain glanced up at them and smiled, genuine and sweet.

“It was so cute.” they said.

The hero’s cheeks heated.

“What?” They asked, flustered.

“I know I love to joke, but wow, was it adorable.” The villain rubbed the back of their neck. “I kind of knew I liked you already, but I thought about you all the time after that.”

Everything was fine. The hero felt like they had just been lit on fire, but everything was fine.

The hero pulled on the fabric of their leggings, trying to keep their smile from getting too wide.

“Really?” they said. “Interesting.”

The villain rolled their eyes but didn’t stop grinning.

“Alright, your turn.” They said, nudging the hero. “When did you realise how cool I am?”

The hero thought about it for a moment. “There wasn’t a single event that made me like you. It was a whole lot of things. I can’t really pin anything down.”

“And yet you’ve spent the last few years pretending to hate me.” the villain said.

“Yeah, so I didn’t lose my job! You don’t have anyone to answer to. I have at least a dozen superiors who wouldn’t react kindly to this news. And look, they didn’t!” The hero said.

“I can’t believe they want to kill you.” the villain responded.

“Me neither, honestly.” The hero ran a hand through their hair. “I knew they would have a big problem with it, but not enough to execute me. I never thought that clause would matter.”

“What clause?” the villain raised an eyebrow.

“In our contracts, there was something specifying they could-” the hero made a throat-slitting gesture. “-if we switched sides. I didn’t know this counted.”

“Your agency is messed up,” the villain said.

“I’m starting to get that vibe,” the hero responded.

The villain took the hero’s hand. It sent sparks of electricity all through their body.

“I promise I’ll stay with you. Protect you. It’s my fault.” The villain said. “We can just lay low for a while.”

We. The hero was on a high they hoped to never come down from. They shrugged.

“I guess. If you’re going to make a big deal out of it.”

They leaned in and kissed the villain. Their companion enthusiastically returned it. Their hands were running through the hero’s hair and gently holding their waist. The hero felt another blush coming on. It didn’t matter. The villain couldn’t see it. Even though the hero knew there were agents combing the city for them, they couldn't help but feel that all was at peace.

THE END

#villain x hero #hero x villain #not a prompt #hero snippet #villain snippet #kiss

126 notes · View notes

dovedewdrop · 1 year

Text

Locksmith

If in ten years time I'm still on your mind Would you call and Say you want this? / 1.4k

✨Part 1 ✨✨Part 2 ✨✨Part 3✨

A/N: This is the last part!!! I hope you've enjoyed this little series and thank you to everyone who has read and supported🥰 Writing this scratched a little itch for me and it was nice to just share it! Also locksmith is one of my favourite songs it makes my heart go🥹🫶🏻🥰🩷

Warnings: Post-Outbreak. Soft kind of angst. Hella fluff/soppiness. Self-aware Joel (which we 🫶🏻to see). Not proof read.

---

Days at the Bison kept you busy, distracting your mind from the branded image of Joel’s red eyes but there was no escaping him when he approached the bar two days later, no Tommy to swoop in and save you this time.

“Hey,” his voice was solemn, his eyes were pleading before he’d even truly voiced his request.

“Hi, what can I-“ You plastered on the same smile you did for all the customers, ready to serve him whatever poison he picked before he cut you off and your face fell at his words.

“No, no sorry, that’s not what I came in for.” His eyes faltered from your soft gaze to glance at his knuckles, gripping the edge of the bar, the skin coating his bones turning white.

“Oh, ok.” You felt slightly feeble under his gaze, unsure of what he could possibly want from you.

“Can I uh,” he coughed, like the words were clogging up his throat, his eyes still looking anywhere but at you. “Can I see you later?” You wanted to say yes immediately which made it hard for the devil on your left shoulder to fight the angel on your right, but ultimately he won the battle, raising his trident above his head. In the moment you decided that Joel couldn’t just swan in and call the shots whenever he felt like it.

“What for?” You crossed your arms across your chest and looked past him at the door.

“Jus’ wanna talk.” You scoffed at that; it pained you to do so. “Please.”

“Why? Why should I say yes?” He finally raised his head to look you in the eye and you noticed the water welling in them.

“You don’t have to, I know I don’t deserve shit from you,” he sniffled, letting out an puff of air, “look if you don’t like what I gotta say, you never have to speak to me again.”

You chewed at the inside of your lip, really taking in what he’d said. I don’t deserve shit from you. If you don’t like what I gotta say, you never have to speak to me again.

You were already deep in these feelings, every day feeling like you were stuck in a sinkhole, clawing at the ground to get out, what’s one conversation on top of all the others?

“Finish at 16:30” You grumble.

When 16:36 rolled around Joel was already stood outside on your porch, waiting.

He watched as your hands shook slightly around the keys, attempting to fit them into the keyhole and after a few beats his hand hesitantly clasped around yours. Your eyes felt as though they were going to pop out of their skull, whipping round to face him.

Joel had gained some of his confidence back after this morning, yours however, had depleted, your brave façade cracking quickly in front of him. You let him guide the key in before he stepped back to let you over the threshold first.

“Coffee?” You still remembered how he liked it.

He shook his head, no before gesturing towards one of the chairs in the living room, asking for permission to sit, permission that you grant him, perching yourself on the sofa across from him. The air between you is thick, like a weighted blanket but yet it somehow still doesn’t keep the cold away from your bones.

While Joel is trying to find his words, you take the time to look at him, properly. His beard had greyed and you liked it, his hair decorated with sprinklings of salt and pepper, something which you must have known deep down was inevitable but never thought about once whilst you were together, too busy being young and in love.

His eyes still captivated you and if anything, they were the very first thing you noticed about him and the very first thing you fell in love with, they never changed and they never failed to make you melt.

You noticed how his green flannel hugged his frame, arms nearly bursting the material at the seams and you had to will yourself to look away, to stop yourself from imagining how it would feel to be wrapped up in them just one more time. But above all else what you noticed is that he’s still your Joel.

For the longest time you’d convinced yourself that everything about him was different, that he wasn’t the same person anymore and to a degree, he wasn’t, but deep down he’s still that young dad you met, who was selfless and who loved deeply, he just got a little lost along the way.

You attempt to speak, to breathe life into the air around you but he clears his throat and beats you to the finish line, “I know nothing I can say will rectify the way I treated you..” You don’t know how to respond; you want to agree with him yet you can feel the ‘but’ coming. “But I want you to know I am sorry and I know that those words won’t fix anything.” His hands sweep across his face as he leans forward in the chair, fingers combing at his beard.

“I was angry, so incredibly angry and I directed everything at people who didn’t deserve it…” As he looks at you his eyes begin to well and you feel your chest tighten, you know all of this already, you understood and if he just let you in at the time you could’ve helped him. Now you just listen because you need to hear it from him, that he understands.

“I jus’ wanted Sarah back and every time I looked at you, or Tommy, I was reminded of ‘er, I was a dick.”

“Yeah you were,” You couldn’t help the slight chuckle that laced its way through your words but it seemed to lighten the mood, Joel was still looking at the ground but he let out a puff of air and a very small smile, wiping the few tears staining his face.

“I thought I wanted you both to leave but I only broke my own heart more because I didn’t realise you were the only two people keepin’ me somewhat sane.” It was then that you noticed the scar on his temple, before you could even think about what you were doing you’d sunk to your knees in front of him, your hand reaching up to skim cautiously against the skin there.

To your surprise he didn’t flinch or push you away, instead nestling his head further into your hand and drawing a deep breath in through his nose.

“I thought about you every damn day and then I met Ellie and I don’t know, nothing can ever take away from Sarah but she’s given me a second chance, so every day when we’ve been travellin’ I was hopin’ I’d find you again so that I can make it right because you’re still on my mind darlin’” He was rambling now and you let him because you knew if you didn’t he might never let it out again. You kiss the rough skin of his palm and rub your hand against his knee, willing him to open his eyes and see you.

“You really were a dick Joel, a monumental jackass.” He nods in agreement, “But I already told you, there’s no one else. We were gonna have a baby together, get married, I wanted to be with you until the end and I would have been if you weren’t so adamant that I should leave.” He looks ashamed of himself when you speak. “I understood why you did it but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt me.”

“And I will spend every day of the rest of my life making it up to you I swear but I can’t live in this town and watch you walk around and act like you weren’t one of the best parts of my existence on this godforsaken planet.” This time it’s you that’s welling up as you move to sit between his legs, back to the chair, you look up at him. “You got a lot of grovelling to do, Miller.”

“I count on it, sweetheart,” he smiles down at you, both of you silently crying.

“Tommy showed me some spare land today, remember I promised to build us a house of our own one day?” The soft skin of your rosy lips stretches further across your face as you recount the memory.

“You said you’d plant me roses…” He leans down further to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, before whispering in your ear, “already planted the first one today.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #hbo joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #hbo joel miller x you #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us #angsty joel miller #dove dewdrop

76 notes · View notes

llvmos · 1 year

Note

Hiiii I have a request- so basically dalton and reader are dating and he's like needy for reader but in the fluff kinda way he gets that aggressive love (like when you see a cat and you just wanna smother it in love) towards reader and after not seeing reader for a while he like attacks her in hugs and kisses and just A LOT OF FLUFF♡♡♡♡♡

OMG yes im obsessed with the thought of Dalton being like that. I feel like he would just constantly have his hands on the reader or would be kissing them when their trying to do something. Warnings: LOTS of fluff, gn!reader, established relationship, making out, probably ooc dalton, no plot, clingy!dalton a/n: this is the first fanfic ive ever wrote and honestly, im not too mad at it for it only being my first time ever even trying to write fanfiction. i went back and forth deciding whether or not i wanted to use 2nd person pov or 3rd person pov. so let me know which one you guys prefer (theres a poll at the bottom of this post) anyways i hope yall enjoy it!

Word count: 875

not proofread!!

I missed you. — Dalton Lambert

With fall break ending, all students at JPU are crowding the dorm halls trying to return to their rooms. You had went back home to New York to visit your family while your boyfriend, Dalton, had stayed behind in his dorm working on his upcoming art project.

As you watch the numbers next to the doors go up, you spot the one you were looking for.

223.

You pull out your key that Dalton had given you and put it into the keyhole. You turn the key and open the door.

As you walk into the room, you see Dalton sitting in his chair, painting, looking like hes thinking about adding something or changing something.

He snapped his head in your direction and looked at you as he smiled.

You brace yourself as you see Dalton coming towards you. You drop your bag of things you had brought with you.

Dalton hugs you as if his life depended it and rests his head in the crook of your neck, leaving little pecks where your neck meets your jawline. He lifts his head up and grabs the sides of your face as he brings his lips to yours with much force.

“I”

Kiss.

“Missed you”

Kiss.

“So much.”

Kiss.

You run your hands through his soft, sand-colored, waves and pull away from the kiss, ignoring his frown.

“You couldn’t of missed me THAT much, it’s only been a week.”

Dalton looked at you as if he was offended.

“Are you seriously doubting my love for you?”

“No, no, i didn’t say tha-”

Your words were cut off by his lips smashing into yours while you both smile.

“Okay, okay, love. Let me go to my dorm and unpack my stuff.” You say, after pulling away.

“What? You just got here, you’re already leaving again?”

“Stop being dramatic. My room is just a floor up.”

Dalton frowns as he gives you his best puppy dog eyes.

“Pleeeeease. Just stay a little longer? We can put your stuff away later, i missed you.”

Although you try your best, you can’t help but give into his pleads.

“Fine, but I do want to put my stuff away soon.”

His only response was multiple, repetitive kisses.

As the kiss deepens, his hands went down to grab your waist.

“I love you.” He mumbles as your lips continue moving in unison. He wraps his index fingers around the belt loops on the top of your jeans, pulling you towards his bed.

As he backs up towards his bed, the backs of his knees meet with his mattress, causing him to sit down, bringing you with him.

As you position yourself to straddle his legs, he pulls away from the kiss.

“What?” You asked, with pure confusion in your voice.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You smile and shake your head as a pink tint spreads across your face.

“So cheesy.”

His only response to your comment being him grabbing both side of your face and kissing you once more. He pulls you closer if even possible and moves his lips away from yours.

“I missed you.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” You responds with a heavy tone of sarcasm before placing your lips back onto his. You guys once again, get caught up in the moment and lose track of time.

“I really…need to…unpack.” You mumble in between kisses.

“Fine. Can I come with?”

“Only of you help.”

Dalton groans, telling you that he would rather stay here and continue where you guys left off.

“Either way, I gotta go unpack.”

You stand up to go walk over to your stuff when you caught a glimpse of the painting he was working on when you arrived. You walk up to it and look at it.

The painting appears to be a park bench underneath a tree, similar to the one you and Dalton were sat on when you shared your first kiss together.

“Is this what you’ve been working on all week?”

Dalton looks up and sees you looking at his painting.

“Oh. Yeah. It’s uh… Armagan told us to find our favorite memory and ‘capture it’. Her words, not mine.”

He sounded nervous and somewhat self conscious when he realized you saw his painting.

“It’s really good. Is this the park bench?”

“Yeah.” He looked away as he answered to try and avoid whatever judgement he thought you would give him.

You smile as you thinks back to that moment.

“It’s amazing.”

He looks back up to you and smiles.

“Really? I mean landscapes aren’t really my forte but i think i did pretty good. Actually, I went to the park and sat on the bench while i made the rough sketch. I wanted to get all of the details right. The tree looks a little rough though. But, I already painted it so…”

You smile and look at him.

“I missed you. A week is too long to go without hearing your rambling.” You walk up to him and kiss him before quickly pulling away.

“Upstairs. Unpack. Let’s go.”

“Ugh…fine…” Dalton groans and walks out the door but not before quickly giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I will drag you by your ear if you don’t start walking.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

#dalton lambert x reader #insidious #fanfic #dalton lambert #llvmos #insidious the red door #ty simpkins #im literally obsessed with ty simpkins help #fluff #i dont know what else to put

105 notes · View notes

aylacavebear · 3 months

Text

The Traveler - Chapter 14 - Wonderland Pt. 1

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 3388

Pairing Eventually Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You & Sam Winchester x OC Reader/You

Warnings: Angst - pretty sure that's it. A/N: Don't think there's anything else in this one. It's fairly relaxed.

A/N: This dimension was suggested by @snowayumi, and I absolutely LOVED how it came out. I hope you all love it as well.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 14 - Wonderland Pt. 1

Now where am I? You ponder as you look around what appears to be a small, round room. The room is nearly empty, except for a small glass table in the middle with a key on it. The walls were lined with various doors of different shapes and sizes, their frames intricately carved with whimsical patterns that twist and turn, reminiscent of vines and tendrils.

Guided by the dim light, you approach the table, your curiosity piqued by the key and the peculiar items. The table itself was delicate, with slender legs and an etched glass surface that glimmered faintly. You also happen to notice a small bottle labeled “Drink Me” and a cake labeled “Eat Me” on the table, their labels written in elegant, looping script.

Reaching down, you pick up the key with your other hand and inspect it closely. The metal is smooth in your hand, but it also feels fairly light in weight. Then, as you look around at the doors, each one unique, some tall and narrow, others short and wide, painted in a myriad of colors. You find yourself hesitating over the cake. Its effects are unknown, and you can't help but wonder what might happen if you were to eat it. You tilt your head, sniffing it cautiously.

Seems like a regular piece of cake. I’ll save this for later since I have no idea what would happen if I eat it.

With a sense of caution, you decide to keep the cake for later, uncertain of its potential consequences. The bottle of liquid, on the other hand, appeared innocuous. It resembled plain water, devoid of color, yet you can’t shake the feeling that it might hold some magical properties or that it might connect you to this new world as the waters of other worlds had. For now, though, you slip the bottle into your pouch, not quite ready to go down that rabbit hole yet.

You walk around the room, your fingertips brushing lightly against the doors as you pass them. Each one seems to almost whisper to you of what lies beyond them, but you can’t quite make out words.

Curiouser and curiouser.

None of them really stood out or pulled you toward them, so you took your time, inspecting each one. Some were beautiful, others reminded you of regular doors from Earth, while some looked almost like mangled nightmares. When you reached the tiniest of doors, you tilted your head and crouched down to get a better look at it.

It was so small that you had to get down on your hands and knees to truly inspect it, as it was only around five inches tall. It was an aqua green color with gold hinges and a knob to match, a keyhole underneath. You looked at the key in your hand, then at the keyhole.

Even if it does fit, I won’t fit through there. I wonder…

You sat down and pulled the bottle of liquid from your pouch that read “Drink Me,” mentally debating what might happen if you did. Slowly, you removed the top and sniffed the liquid. It still seemed like normal water, and you furrowed your brow, somewhat puzzled. Clearly, this place is not as it seems.

With some apprehension, you took a drink of the liquid, leaving half still in the bottle. It may not have had an odor, but the flavors that danced along your tastebuds surprised you. There was cherry tart, custard, pineapple, a meat you’d never tasted before, hot buttered toast, and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Not only could you taste the individual flavors, but they also blended delightfully.

After a moment of nothing happening, you put the cap back on and slipped it into your bag, then looked back at the tiny door. Just as you were about to try the key, you felt a warm, tingling sensation spread through your body, and the door seemed to get larger. Although the door wasn’t getting larger, you were shrinking, and you realized this as you looked around the room. Even the bag slung over your shoulder had shrunk with your size.

Good to know. I wonder what the cake does. At least now I’ll fit through that door.

“You’re not Alice,” a voice said to your side, pulling your attention from inspecting yourself as you got to your feet.

“Did… did you just, talk?” you asked curiously to the door.

The door knob seemed to have morphed a little into a face, the knob itself being the nose, the keyhole its mouth, with two small eyes above the knob.

“Yes. And you aren’t Alice. How did you get here, and what are you?” the door asked.

“Oh. I’m a Traveler. The scent I’ve been following brought me here. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to find my way back to my family,” you explained, still somewhat intrigued that you were talking to a door, of all things.

As you watched it, the door seemed to be thinking, hoping it would let you pass through but also not wanting to be rude. You glanced around the room again, and being this small reminded you of the time you’d spent with the Kets.

“Find the Caterpillar. He might help you find the Hatter. Stay away from the cat, though, he just talks in riddles,” the door finally told you, and it seemed to be quite serious.

“Um, thank you. May I pass?” you asked curiously.

“Use the key and be on your way. Stay away from the red roses,” the door added.

You had so many questions, but you figured a door only knew so much, so you just gave it a small, friendly smile as you slipped the key into its mouth. That was a strange thing for you to comprehend. You turned the key, heard the click of it unlocking, and then it popped completely open, leading to a dark tunnel the same size as the door.

Giving the room one last look and a deep breath, you ventured into the tunnel. The tunnel was void of anything. No dripping water, no plants, no animals or bugs. Not even rocks dotted the ground. This new world was far stranger than others you had been to and your curiosity was getting worse with each footstep you took. Before long, though, you saw light at what had to be the end of the tunnel.

When you reached the end, you shielded your eyes from the bright light that seemed to dim as you stepped out and into the open. The place was breathtaking and almost reminded you of home with the giant mushrooms, flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and so many interesting things fluttering about.

The air here is sweet and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. Taking in the details, you noticed incredible oddities. The things fluttering about didn’t look like things you would ever consider to have wings. There were tiny rocking horses and what looked like slices of buttered bread dancing along the gentle breeze.

Slowly, you walked further along the dirt path—at least, that was what you hoped it would be. Different flowers grew in clusters on either side of the path, an array of vibrant colors and scents. They did look like different flowers from Earth, which you found odd, but you didn’t dwell on the thought for long when you watched one of the red tiger lilies swat one of the fluttering rocking horse bugs with one of its leaves.

“Pesky Rocking Horsefly,” it grumbled, still attempting to shoo it away with her leaf.

You tilted your head in a mix of awe and surprise at the scene, but the cluster of multicolored pansies giggling across the path pulled your attention to them. Your ears twitched as the sounds came into focus, and you could hear things murmuring whispers all around you.

“Flowers can’t talk,” you spoke quietly, getting a little closer to the group of different colored pansies.

“Yes we can,” one of the blue pansies told you in a childlike voice.

That made you jump a little as the tiger lily spoke again, “Don’t be afraid. We won’t hurt you. What are you doing in our garden?”

She had a beautiful voice and sounded sincere. You gave her a small smile as you walked closer to her, “I’m a Traveler, and the scent I was following led me here, to your world. The door told me to find the Caterpillar. Do you know where I can find it?”

“Oh, he’s just outside the garden somewhere,” an elderly-looking purple iris spoke up. She even had glasses on a long handle that she held up to her eyes, looking you over. “What kind of flower are you?”

“I’m not a flower. I’m not even a plant,” you answered, looking at her slightly confused.

“Leave her alone,” a white rose speaks up from a few feet away.

She, too, was beautiful and almost looked regal in her position in the garden. You walked over to her, taking in the other mix of flowers along either side of the path. There were bluebells, snapdragons, daisies, violets, larkspur, and an array of others, all watching you.

“They worry about far too much. Now, Traveler, what is it you seek?” she asked you, leaning down a little to get a better look at you.

“I’m following a scent. It’s what my soul is searching for, and it brought me here. I have to find it again to hopefully go home,” you explained.

She hummed, thinking momentarily before straightening up again, “What is this scent?”

You had to think about that one and how to describe it to flowers of all things. You thought back to Dean and Sam and how their scents had mingled together but also stayed so uniquely individual to each of them. You could also hear the other flowers in the background, whispering about the possibility of you being a weed of some sort. It was making you feel a little uneasy.

“It’s hard to explain, really. The scent isn’t anything like in this world, but it feels like home,” you sighed.

Again, she seemed to think about your words, and you tilted your head a bit. You were finding it rather interesting to be talking to flowers after talking to a door. The oddest thing you noticed was that all the flowers seemed to be female, but you weren’t about to comment on that. It wasn’t like you had any clue how this world happened to work in that regard. Plus, you didn’t want to seem rude, either.

“Absolem should be able to help you. If I remember correctly, he should be on one of the mushrooms beyond our garden,” she finally told you.

“Absolem?” you asked, curious.

“He’s the caterpillar. His name is Absolem, and he’s very wise. He might be able to tell you where to go to find this scent you are seeking,” she explained kindly.

“Just be careful, though,” one of the larkspurs said, “The forest can be tricky, and not everyone is as friendly as most of us.”

You thanked the flowers and continued on down the dirt path that wound it’s way through the garden. The grasses and leaves that grew far above your head along the path in numerous shades of green. Your ears twitched with the sounds of the flowers behind you and the odd bugs off in the distance.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Then, there were the mushrooms, with their varying heights, shapes, and vast array of colors. Some towered above you like ancient trees, their caps wide enough to provide shelter from the imaginary rain. Others were small and delicate, and their luminescent spots seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.

They reminded you almost of home, and your heart ached a little, remembering back to your fifteenth birthday. It felt like it was so long ago now, after all you’d experienced and the places you had been. The thought of turning eighteen in only eight months was odd, and part of you wondered if that was more due to this particular dimension.

Eventually, the foliage got sparse as more mushrooms lined the dirt path, which you still weren’t sure if it was an actual path or not. You also noticed the trees at this point, which towered above everything. It was difficult to make out any details of it with as small as you were.

You saw some strange smoke in the distance. You could only classify it as odd because it was in the shape of things and wasn’t like regular smoke that might come from a fire. Well, at least not like any smoke you had seen before. Smoke wasn’t supposed to take the shape of things or seem to move around like it was alive.

Following the path and heading in the direction the smoke was coming from, you noticed the shapes the smoke took, which, of course, tugged at your curiosity. The smoke took not only the forms of things you could only imagine were from this world but also forms of things from Earth. They danced along an invisible breeze as if they were alive before dissipating entirely as if they’d never been at all.

As you neared the source of the smoke, it opened into a very tiny clearing. There, atop a mushroom whose top was even with your abdomen, sat the most peculiar site. You tilted your head, now far more curious than you probably should have been. It was a caterpillar, lazily lounging on the crown of the mushroom, puffing on a hooka of all things.

For a while, all you could do was watch the beautiful creature. He was even singing a little, which was something else you hadn’t thought a caterpillar would do. Is that Absolem?

If it was, he was beautiful, as far as caterpillars went. His body was a vibrant blue, blended with shades of blues and greens along his segments and the light bit of fur that adorned his entire segmented body. His face, framed by a pair of bushy antennae, wore a look of serene contemplation. As he exhaled, the smoke formed a series of intricate shapes that again danced along an invisible breeze before dissipating into the air. He also seemed to be humming something, but it was a tune you’d never heard before.

Slowly, you approached, barely keeping your curiosity in check. He was at least twice as large as you, or somewhere close to that. You remembered the flowers and how things could have gone badly had it not been for the white rose, but there was nothing else here that would keep this caterpillar in check.

“Who are you?” the caterpillar asked in a deep, resonant voice without even looking over at you. The smoke that came out of his mouth as he spoke turned to letters and flitted away on the breeze.

“Y/N, I’m a Traveler,” you answered cautiously, daring to get a little closer now.

Now, he looked at you, almost studying you. His gaze was intense and deep, almost as if he were looking into you. It was a rather odd sensation. It almost reminded you of how John had looked at you and silently studied you.

“What is a Traveler?” he asked, still studying you.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I’m following- Wait, are you Absolem?” you asked, finding a little courage to ask him now.

“Yes. Now, what is a Traveler?” he repeated.

“I’m following a scent. It takes me to different worlds. It’s hard to describe as it is nothing like what's in this world, but my soul is seeking it. The door and the white rose told me that perhaps you could help me,” you replied, feeling slightly more confident.

Absolem’s gaze only seemed to intensify, which you hadn’t thought was even possible. He puffed on his hooka and blew the smoke in a thin line toward you. It curled around you, forming shapes that seemed to echo your journey so far. When you saw it take the forms of Dean and Sam, you reached out to them, but the smoke dissipated, and your heart sank a little as your arm fell back to your side.

“Hmm…” he hummed while contemplating what he’d just witnessed. You wanted to speak, but for now, you didn’t, not wanting to seem rude. “Your journey is not done, Traveler. You still have much to learn. For now, explore this world. Observe its wonders and, if you can, learn its secrets. A word of caution, though, things are not always what they seem,” Absolem explained in an eerily deep, foreboding tone.

You swallowed hard. At least it didn’t sound so creepy when the flowers told you to be careful. “Can you tell me how to get taller?” you asked cautiously, still a little weary of Absolem.

“There are all sorts of ways. Take that mushroom behind you. One side will make you taller if you eat it. The other will make you shorter,” he explained, gesturing to the mushroom that you hadn’t noticed when you approached earlier.

“Do you know what side does what?” you asked as you inspected the mushroom.

“No. I am the height I am supposed to be; why would I change that?” he replied as if it were a common-sense statement.

You sighed in mild frustration at his lack of clarity, but you took a small chunk from either side and slipped it into two separate compartments in your pouch. When you looked back over at him, he was still watching you.

“Thank you. Do I need to know anything else before I leave you to your tranquility?” you asked him thoughtfully. He had at least given you some advice, even if he was a little foreboding.

Absolem got comfortable on his mushroom again, puffing on his hooka, “Be wary of those you take advice from. Not all will lead you to a safe outcome. The path will reveal itself to you, as it always does in Wonderland.”

What an enigmatic response.

You waited, though, hoping there might be more, but he returned to his humming and smoking. Since you’d never been pushy before, you just sighed silently and continued following the path, leading away from Absolem. You could still hear his humming, even after the path seemed to disappear and the foliage grew thick, far thicker than it had been thus far.

I need to be able to see over all this.

Slipping your hand into your pouch, you found the small piece of cake from the room with the doors.

I wonder if it tastes like cake from Earth?

Feeling a little nervous, you took a small bite of the cake but were pleasantly surprised at its taste. It wasn’t like the cake Dean had made for you, but it was delicious, almost tasting of vanilla, strawberries, and something else you’d never tasted before. At first, you didn’t even notice that you had gotten taller, although not by much.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Looking around again, the foliage was smaller, or were you bigger? This place was strange and almost seemed to toy with your mind. You took another small nibble of the cake but paid more attention to your surroundings. Again, you grew by another foot. Glancing at your current height and judging the size bites you took, you ate a bit more of the cake, hoping you’d get to your original height. Almost…

One more nibble, and you had finally figured it out. At least now, you could change your size, if the situation required it. However, there was only a little of the piece of cake left, which you slipped back into your pouch before continuing your journey. At least now that you were normal size, everything around you didn’t seem quite so foreboding.

The trees were both calming and intimidating. Their trunks seemed normal, yet twisted with thick leaves, creating a canopy above you. Knowing that the flowers at least were alive, you chose not to stay too long, or pick anything. The last thing you wanted to do was accidentally hurt something that was alive.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15 - Wonderland pt. 2

Link to the series Masterlist.

A/N: If you'd like to get in on the Dimensional Traveling, go to this link and leave me with a comment, or several, with as much or as little detail about the dimension you'd like the Traveler to end up in. If you'd like to have something specific happen, share that too. I'll make sure that you get credit for the idea you shared in the chapter in which your dimension is featured. I'd love to have as many readers involved as possible. I think this could be a lot of fun.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list. If I missed anyone, please let me know.

Tag List: @littlemadamred @mxltifxnd0m @foxyjwls007 @supernaturalfreakout @roseblue373

12 notes · View notes

fleetwood-cheese · 10 months

Text

Persona thief outfit breakdown: pt 2

This is a continuation of my previous post and series regarding my opinions on the phantom thieves' metaverse costumes, prompted by a poll by @waywardsalt. I will like all of these together as they're finished.

Akechi - Makoto - Sumire - Futaba - Yusuke - Akechi 2

Next up is Ann, because she was in the lead on the original poll (but not my personal pick).

Firstly, I want to come out and say that her design isn't actually all that bad; in fact, from purely a design perspective, it's one of the more solid thief outfits, and its a nice callback to the idea of cat burglars and batman's Catwoman without being a copy-paste of the idea. It's the costume's treatment and relation to her character that make it so egregious and so hated (fair enough).

With this in mind, one of the first things to change about this design is its relationship to the character. Obviously, Ann is sexually harassed, and her standing up and saying that no, she doesn't deserve that and neither did Shiho is her inciting incident to awakening a persona and becoming a phantom thief. The game tries to play her character arc as her reclaiming her sexuality, but not much of this is actually seen in how she interacts with her costume. By introducing the costume as something she's comfortable in, starting off nervous but becoming accustom to quickly, having her compare it to the anime villainesses she says she's inspired by the her confidant, and having her express this confidence in her interactions with the other thieves would go a long way for the reception of this outfit overall.

On the actual design of the costume, the most obvious things I'd change are the tail and the zippers, particularly the zipper sliders. For the tail, I HATE the way it falls perfectly between her butt cheeks, its just so uncomfortable and tasteless. I think by having it wrap around her as a belt that turns into a tail, although I'm not 100% certain how you would execute this, would be significantly better. While I do appreciate the way the zippers break up the monotony of the red suit and create a sort of visual lengthening, the way the slider and pull tabs rest directly on her nipples is incredibly tacky; i would either remove/minimize them entirely (definitely change them to a different shape instead of that awful ring) and/or change the boob window to more of a keyhole neckline. Keyholes, like the one pictured below, still allow for the color break up in the chest (and the stylish/sexy look), but raise the line so its less stopping directly in the middle of her boobs and thus directly above her nipples and instead covering more surface area of the breast.

If you wanted more of major change, I would add a jacket to her design. I'm thinking a cropped jacket in a darker red to match her boots, but a similar material to her bodysuit to keep that texture and shine; I adore the way the fabric catches and plays with the light in the in cutscenes (the in-game model ones, not the anime ones). You could also have some fun with patterns on it, perhaps of roses or some sort of feline motif. The only downside to this would be that you would have to change her gloves to accommodate it, presumably either making them wrist length or disappearing under the sleeves, and I love the long gloves as an homage to Carmen's operatic origins (although they're too short to be true opera gloves). If a jacket is incorporated, you could change the catsuit to more of a halter top-esque neckline, as it would cover her and you'd never actually have to see the open back.

Other than this, I really don't have a lot more to say about her outfit; again, I think it's a pretty solid design with a poor introduction that's been incorporated into a character that the writing does dirty in a way it helps emphasize when it could encourage her arc. Overall, I placed Panther's phantom thief outfit as 7th place out of 10 and a rough 5/10 overall.

#ann takamaki #persona 5 #persona 5 panther #redesign #persona outfit critique series #again if I ever draw out redesign ideas I'll add them to these posts

25 notes · View notes

justalonelyslytherin · 1 year

Note

And some dialogue "come on admit it, that was the best nap you ever had."

Thank you for sending this in Amber 🫶🏻💚 I had so much fun writing this. It's a silly little piece, perhaps lacking some consistency or logic but it was so fun to write it and I hope you'll enjoy it.

Best Nap Ever

Why was the key not working? Why wouldn’t her damn house key work and open the door to her apartment? Her patience was already running thinner than the air on top of Mount Everest. The exhaustion she felt in every cell of her body was dragging her down like a drowning person and with it her ability to not lose her temper.

No one wanted to see her lose her marbles over something as silly as not being able to open her door. The least in front of her cute neighbor. Today was not the day where she wanted him to find her crying in front of her door.

“Come on you stupid piece of…” angrily murmuring to herself she tried to shove the key into the lock one more time. She had the right key, she’d made sure of that and the lock and the key were aligned perfectly. There was no reason why she couldn’t unlock the door. If she’d been drunk, yes, then she might have had trouble aligning the key to the keyhole but she was as sober as could be. But the stupid key still wouldn’t go in.

But then the door opened on its own and a body appeared where the door had just been. Slowly she looked up, coming face to face with Colin. Oh. That’s why the stupid key didn't work.

“Everything alright?” Colin leaned against the doorframe with his shoulder and smiled down at her. There was nothing she wanted more than for the ground to open up and swallow her.

“No, yeah…I–” She groaned loudly, throwing her head upwards. Way to go to embarrass herself in front of him. “Sorry. I got confused.”

Colin kept eyeing her, an amused grin on his lips as he looked her up and down. “I could just invite you in next time. No need to try to break in.”

“If you excuse me I’ll just go and die in the corner over there, yeah?” Gripping her keys tight enough that the prongs stung her palm, she turned around to flee into her apartment and die of shame.

Colin's hand shot out, grabbing her around the elbow. “Hey no, I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t go.” His grip was so soft, if she had wanted she could have easily slipped out and scurried away. She didn’t. Instead, she turned her head back to him. “That could have happened to anyone,” he added, noticing her contemplative gnawing on her bottom lip.

“You mean when we first met and you had to introduce yourself to me naked?” Colin laughed as well and nudged her to the side.

“You think so?” There was the hint of a smile looming on her lips as she glanced at him. She had a hard time imagining that he could have made the same mistake. Colin laughed and nodded his head.

“Oh yeah. Remember when I nearly locked myself out of my apartment?” Now the memory of that day truly made her laugh.

“Hey, I had the important bits covered!” He grimaced, adding, “Admittedly with a tea towel but I was decent!” That made her snicker only more. It had certainly been the most memorable way to meet a new neighbor.

She would have loved to talk some more with Colin, but there was still the exhaustion looming over her, now slowly creeping back to wrap around her like a vice. A yawn she couldn’t stifle escaped her mouth. It had her blush and Colin furrow his brows in concern.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, the end of the word awkwardly twisted as a second, quickly following, yawn escaped. “Sorry, I’m really tired if you couldn’t already tell from my bout of confusion with your door.”

“Pulled an all-nighter partying? I didn’t peg you for the party girl.”

“I’m not.” There was the frown etching itself back onto her face, twisting her features into the likeness of a dark rain cloud. “It’s the stupid construction that’s keeping me awake.” She groaned annoyedly, glancing at the opposite side of the hallway where her front door was situated. “I just wish they’d be done soon. Don’t think I slept since they started working. It’s slowly making me go crazy.”

This wasn’t even a joke. As much as she wished it would be. The longer she went without sleeping, the closer she got to becoming an unhinged maniac. Yesterday she’d almost walked out of her apartment without pants on and the day before she’d put sugar in her food instead of salt without noticing it. Not to mention the many moments she’d fallen victim to microsleep. Falling asleep on the shoulder of a random guy in the subway, she’d never felt more embarrassed. Not even when she’d fallen asleep leaning with her forehead against the doors and nearly fell out just two stations later.

“You know, if you want to, you can crash at my place.”

Surprised, she looked at Colin, who was pointing behind him into the depth of his apartment. It must be the lack of sleep that made her hallucinate him looking hopeful. That couldn’t be right.

“Oh, I couldn’t..you don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine. What’re some more days without sleep..” She trailed off at the concern clearly present in his eyes. Colin pushed himself off the doorframe and took a step toward her. “Just say yes,” his voice was low, his eyes boring into hers as his hand came up to trace his knuckles over her cheek. The air got trapped in her lungs, the words – with which she’d wanted to decline once more – stolen from her lips.

Colin didn’t wait for verbal confirmation from her, nor did he wait for her to give him a nod. His hand wrapped around her hand, securely but softly. As he walked backward he pulled her with him. Into his apartment.

The door fell shut behind her, briefly, she looked back at the door before she turned to Colin. He smiled at her softly, guiding her down the steps into his living room the next moment.

“Can’t believe you are making me do this,” she mumbled under her breath, yet still loud enough that he could hear. Loudly and heartily he laughed at, his hand holding his quivering belly.

“You are making it sound like I’m forcing you to clean the grouts with a toothbrush instead of graciously offering up my place for you to sleep.”

“Exactly.” Her dry response made Colin break out in laughter once more. The sound made her heart flutter. She liked to hear him laugh. It was a beautiful sound.

“Come on,” Colin pulled her further along, past the perfectly fine couch and into the small hallway around the corner. Full of determination he dragged her up another pair of half stairs to what she realized was his bedroom.

“Oh no. No no no,” she told him, pressing her heels into the ground to slow him down. Barely. “This is very kind of you but I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s your bed!”

“And?” She looked at him in wonder. Was he serious? He couldn’t be. But as she looked at him there was no doubt in her. He was.

“Listen, there is absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t. I just changed the sheets this morning so it’s fresh and clean. No need to feel bad either. And–” She was ready to open her mouth, another protest on the cusp of her tongue. “–Aaand don’t think to tell me you are taking my bed away from me. First of all, it’s not that late, so I’m not in need to go to bed anytime soon, second of all it’s big enough that we could both fit in there. If you are so concerned I’ll even nap with you.”

Her heart did an unexpected summersault at the offer. Under different circumstances her brain would have been quick enough to answer him, to find a logical reason as to why this was still not okay. But frankly, she was too damn tired for logic and the tiny part of her heart – the one that was totally smitten with him, crushing so badly – was clawing its way to the front and demanding to take over.

“I could use a nap partner,” she mumbled with another yawn splitting her lips. She missed the surprise on Colin’s face, then when she was done yawning he smiled at her all soft and sweet. It made her heart perform an Olympic routine.

“What are we waiting for then?”

Even though she had agreed to everything, between the moment she had done so and the moment she laid down in Colin’s bed some things she couldn’t quite grasp. For example, how she had come to be wearing a shirt of his that was way too big on her and a pair of his shorts.

Neither could she remember how Colin and she ended up laying face to face in the bed, scooting closer and closer until her head rested on his chest and he had his arm draped around her. It was a blur of exhaustion and memories she couldn’t entirely trust.

One thing she knew however was that her sleep-deprived brain had made the best decision of her life.

“Hi,” she heard Colin mumble into the top of her hair after she’d started waking and slowly stirring against him. She smacked her lips together, sighing heartily and hiding her nose in the fabric of his shirt.

“Hi,” she mumbled back, a smile threatening to split her face. She felt well rested but more importantly, she felt giddy.

“You slept well?”

“Mhmm I don’t know. It was okay,” she mused. Colin huffed, it sounded a little like a chuckle too. A loud squeal squeaked passed her lips as his fingers poked into her ribs.

“Come on admit it, that was the best nap you ever had.”

“That’s some mighty big words,” she laughed, squinting up at him.

“They aren’t if it’s the truth,” Colin sing-sang, eyebrows raised. It made her snort, he was trying to goad her into agreeing.

“Mhm, yeah. You are right. It was the best nap I could have had. Could have been better had it been in my bed.”

“Oh, you..” Another loud squeal left her lips as Colin surged down on her, hands on her waist as he began to tickle her. They tangled in the covers until she couldn’t take it anymore. The tickling became too much, her chest hurt from all the laughing and tears stung her eyes.

“Alright, alright. I surrender.”

“Not so easily.”

Gasping, she looked up at him. “You aren’t letting me go?” Colin shook his head.

“Not without any compensation.”

“Compensation you say? Is a date good enough compensation?” He thought about it for a moment. She could see it in his eyes, there was something he was weighing up. Holding himself up above her on his elbows, Colin looked deeply in her eyes.

Slowly he lowered himself down, his eyes slipped down to her lips. It was the softest press of his lips against hers. She could have gotten lost in the sensation had Colin not pulled back.

“A date and I can do this whenever I want.”

“Deal.”

#sly's asks #sly answers #colin shea x reader #colin shea x female reader #colin shea x you #colin shea fluff #colin shea imagine

59 notes · View notes

uncanny-tranny · 1 year

Note

i know this isnt usually what ppl send u but i look up to u and i love the way u see transness, im sure u can help. basically i got top surgery 4 months ago and im extremely unhappy with my results. not the surgeons fault, he warned me getting keyhole might require revisions, and im getting them in november, but i cant help feeling like ive failed my transition. i still have so much chest dysphoria. how to cope until november? it's unbearable, its all i think about; that i still have, u know...

Continued ask:

First of all, I feel the need to emphasize that this isn't your fault. You haven't failed at anything. It is okay not to be satisfied with your results right now, especially with a surgery that needs revisions. You are entirely allowed to seek those revisions, and while it's nice that other people think the results look fine, that doesn't outweigh that your opinion about your chest and how it looks is most important. You are not selfish or unreasonable to acknowledge this. I just really, really feel the need to say this because I worry that so many trans people are afraid to admit when they aren't totally satisfied with surgery because it takes a lot of effort and they want to show the "appropriately amount of happiness." This idea, however, isn't right and isn't fair. You are allowed to feel however you feel about your results; other people's opinions aren't a factor in that.

I will also state that I haven't had surgery yet, but I definitely would encourage you to build trust in yourself to express this. It's great that you have admitted how you think about the results. That's a big deal! I think, though, that it can be important to build trust in yourself to be able to be happy and satisfied. There may come a point where, after revisions, you are happy, and that's something I also noticed in your ask. I just think it can be helpful to internalize that hopefulness because it empowers you to know that this isn't permanent.

I also hope that you have a support network that is affirming and will listen. It's nice to be told that others think your chest is fine, and I'm sure they are completely genuine and mean it, but I think it's missing the point. It isn't about having a "cis chest" or a "good-looking chest," it's about having a chest that makes you happy. If you're able, I'd definitely make that clear if you haven't (no judgments if you haven't)

This is a tumultuous time, I'm sure. You deserve to be able to express the full range of your emotions however works best for you. But not for one second do I wish you feel that you have failed. There is nothing you failed at. Transition will always be a unique experience, for the better and worse. I just wish you peace along your journey. You are the most important part of your transition. Your body, your voice, your spirit all matter so immensely, no matter where you are in this part of transition. If there is nothing tangible I can do to help you with this, then I simply want to remind you of just how utterly you matter. I'm glad you were able to open up about this. It's so incredibly vulnerable and scary to admit, even though there is nothing bad about what you feel.

#ask #anon #trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #described images #image description in alt #i'm genuinely sorry if this isn't helpful - it can be such a tough position to be in #but i think it might be helpful to be able to reclaim your ability to seek out surgery and revision and whatnot #and what i mean by that is being able to know that you can seek out revision without 'failing transness'#you have failed at nothing because there was nothing *to* fail #and i get why you feel that way... i've felt it too about my own transition. but i think...#...perhaps it comes from this idea that because trans people often have to fight tooth and nail...#...that we should be happy with whatever scraps we get...#...but that's not right or fair! you're a PERSON you deserve to LIVE. you deserve more than the bare minimum...#...you deserve peace and comfort and happiness and everything beautiful in this world because *you live in it*!#and i genuinely from the bottom of my heart hope that all that is coming your way. i hope that revisions bring you comfort and i hope...#...that the time between now and then is calm and peaceful #and i hope you are able to voice exactly what revisions you need to your team and i hope they *hear* you #because that's what you deserve: to be heard. to be seen and to be seen properly #anon i really admire your courage and your perseverance (genuine)

33 notes · View notes