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zukka-pegged-by-suki · 4 years ago

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ok so guys, remember that “my father always says azula was born lucky, i was lucky to be born” line? yeah, now explain to me why tf are we even considering OZAIs words?!?! like some people use this line as an argument against azula when its literally what OZAI SAID?!?!!?!!?!

Zuko’s good and bad luck, as well as Azulas. Was either of them lucky? Let’s see.

Please read all of it before drawing assumptions.

Zuko’s luck:

- has mums care and affection

- has irohs care and affection

- can get away with being a softie as a child, because he may get disregarded and called weak but lets be honest, azula wouldnt have been able to get away with his behavior because she didn’t have firstborn privilege (which is a thing while azulon lived) or mummy’s protection like he did.

before anyone comes at me i’ll expand a bit on the firstborn privilege. as first born he was instantly considered more important by the masses since birth, that might’ve changed later but before neither could bend that much was still a fact. which means azula wouldn’t really have any recognition for anything unless she surpassed him in every way, which is what became her goal especially when ozai became the one who spent more time with her rather than ursa, anyways lets continue.

- constantly receiving second chances; iroh, the gaang minus katara, katara, azula (even if not from the “good” side), ozai (no matter the intentions, this much is true), iroh again, mai, the entire fckng world.

- he had a guide and help throughout his long healing and learning process.

Zuko’s bad luck:

- Unloving father

- Mummy disappears

- Doesn’t train that hard and surprise surprise, is worse than azula. Because if he had really trained hard, he would’ve at least known the formations wether he was able to firebend with them or not, but he was just clearly trying to copycat azula while tripping over because he didn’t have that much experience doing it. This is something no one can change my mind about. How tf did he expect to excel if he didn’t train enough. This wasnt about luck but hard work which he didn’t put in, too busy playing with mum and the little turtleducks. And I do not hate Zuko, I really love him but this is just a fact and he’s too fixed on blaming everyone else for his own mistakes and problems (esp Azula). Like, im sorry to break it out to you honey, but Ozai hates you because he’s an asshole, and that’s his own fault, not Azula’s.

- Scar and exile time, we all know this.

- Ugly haircut because of dishonor

- Finally achieving his goal of regaining his “honor” but realizing it wasn’t what he wanted only when he was already at the Fire Nation palace having all the glory from Aang’s presumed death.

- Katara’s distrust after his betrayal (bc who would’ve expected that to happen /s)

- Getting zapped in an attempt to save Katara.

I mean except for the things related to Ozai, most of this was all consequences from his own actions.

And I’m sorry but I don’t understand the fixation he has with having Ozai’s love. Unlike Azula, he has had his mother’s love and his uncle’s love. He knows what real love looks like and he has never really seen anything that could imply Ozai likes him, while he has Iroh treating him like he’s his actual father.

I’m not invalidating his traumas in any way and terrible things did happen to him, but why is he so obsessed with Ozai and why would he choose him over Iroh, he’s 16 and has been with Iroh since age 13, he was also with Ursa for the majority of his childhood, make it make sense.

Azula’s luck:

- Uh she was born rlly smart i guess

- She had some natural talent and knew to train hard to shape it to perfection, as well as studying a lot about war tactics and shit ig

- Ty Lee and Mai loved her and she loved them back

I mean as far as luck goes, that’s it. Everything else was achieved on her own merit and even if she had no scar, her traumas are just as valid as Zuko’s, neither is worse or better, we do not compare traumas in this house and they were both terrible.

Azula’s bad luck:

- Bad mother (i’ll make a post on why Ursa sucks)

- No second chances

- Mum never said goodbye just like she never said “i love you” lol, except in that one hallucination

- Never has had any real help to heal (i’ll make a post on why the asylum was a trash idea that would’ve never worked)

- Can’t fully trust anyone, not even herself, or will be punished for it

- The only people who loved her, Mai and Ty Lee, “betraying” her (check out my post on that, its under #jinta’s commentary)

- Ozai psychologically abusing her all her life

- Some characters may have been lonely, but she was genuinely absolutely alone. And she knew it.

- Hurt and self-hatred channeled through anger like Zuko did sometimes when he had that shame shave ponytail, but with her, its all the time.

- Even his abuser abandons her

- Everyone hates her but forgives Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee. And it’s so annoying because all Mailee did that Azula didn’t was swap sides almost at the end, if the excuse is that they were being manipulated well Ozai was manipulating Azula so what’s the excuse.

- Is always believed to be lying but usually isn’t (check out my azula always lies post)

- Has a mental breakdown and nobody gives a shit?! Like the first think Zuko thought of was “ooh she’s slipping lemme take advantage of that”

- Has nothing and no one, yay

- Gets thrown into a stupid asylum but not rlly because there are no comics in ba sing se

While Zuko had Ursa and Iroh to protect him and stuff, she was victim of Ozai’s manipulation and psychological abuse all her life.

So when we know Ozai said she was lucky, why tf is anyone taking his word for it??!

Plus when Zuko was born they didn’t know how he would be and Azula didn’t exist so there was no way he could’ve been lucky to be born.

Zuko was very unlucky, but he was also lucky.

Azula was just unlucky.

edit: as bellatrixobsessed1 said, azula had the illusion of luck.

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djarinvibe · 4 years ago

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Dreams (Din Djarin x F!Reader) Pt. 8

A/N: okay im so sorry this took so long, first of all. Second, this is going to be the last chapter of Dreams. I’ve honestly lost my motivation to write for this fic, and I have a new idea in the works. So, I’d like to thank you all so much for reading my little creation and I hope you continue to read my works in the future! <3

Warnings: mentions of labor, marriage, helmet reveal, fluff

Words: 3.0k

Disclaimer: The pregnancy may not be 100% accurate as I am not a doctor nor have I experience my own. All of the information I get is from maternity websites, so please bear with me. Thank you!

One and a Half Months Later…

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest.” The voice of Cara quickly caught your attention, prompting you to flip around. The woman stood in the entryway of the hut, arms folded with a smirk plastered across her face.

“Lying in bed was beginning to hurt my back.” You responded, rubbing your large bump. It’s been one month and two weeks since Din had rescued you from Tuck. The three of you traveled the stars along the Outer Rim for a bit longer until your pregnancy became too hard to manage on the ship.

It was then you decided to land back on Sorgan where you would deliver the baby, and probably stay until it was safe and you were healthy enough to continue your voyage. You’ve been here for about two weeks now, your due date approaching quickly. You’ve been instructed by the village's midwife to remain on bedrest until that moment, however sometimes it became boring, or painful.

“That excuse works for me.” She chuckled, walking further into the hut, “Maybe not your boyfriend, though.”

You laughed in response, shaking your head at the woman. You were glad Cara stayed within the village; getting to see the woman warrior again felt special, like seeing an old friend.

“Yeah well, I’m just glad he’s out working rather than hovering over me.” You smirked, looking out the window to see the man chopping wood nearby. He was surrounded by a few fellow men of the village, also doing the same task. It was nearly comical to see a fully armored man doing such a mundane chore.

“He sent me to check on you.” Cara spoke, also gazing out at the man, “And to ask if you needed anything.” She added, looking back at you.

“I’m fine,” You spoke with a sigh, holding your belly. You could feel the child kicking, causing such a pain. You’ve been experiencing false labor pains for a few days now, however they have been getting progressively worse.

“Getting close, huh?” Cara questioned, noting the discomfort on your face. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and nodded at the woman.

“I just want to get it over with.” You sighed, slowly waddling back to your bed and away from the window. You sat down with a huff, leaning back to ease some pain. The sun setting outside signaled that Din was going to be returning to your hut soon. Omera should be returning with the child as well. Due to you being on bedrest, The woman and sometimes Winta, had begun to watch over the little green boy. He spends most of his time playing with the village children anyways, so it works out.

“Can’t say it looks enjoyable.” The woman warrior chuckled. She glanced over her shoulder just then, witnessing Omera gently knock on the door frame, asking permission to enter. In her arms she held the child, squealing happily.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked after Cara nodded, allowing her in.

“Like hell.” You responded with a pained chuckle as another minor contraction settled over your body. She quietly padded across the space, sitting down next to you on the bed. The child squirmed from her grasp, sliding off the sheets and landing on the wooden floor below. His head cocked in confusion, staring up at your sitting figure.

“I think you’re going into real labor.” The woman murmured, hand gently rubbing your back. You took a deep breath as the pain passed, shaking your head in dismissal. Deep down you were scared, why wouldn’t you be? Within the next day or so, you’re going to have a physical baby swaddled in your arms.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” You whispered, looking between the two women. Cara put her hands up, backing away, while Omera only gave you a knowing look.

“I am no good at the whole… mom... thing. So, I’m the wrong person to confide in.” The woman warrior humored, folding her arms once again and leaning against the wooden wall.

“I’ll be with you every step if you’d like, alongside with the midwife.” Omera continued to rub your back for comfort and smiled warmly. You’d met the midwife, Kandri, a day or so after coming back to the planet. She’s an older woman, her age proving her experience. Later that same evening, you learned that she was there the day Omera was born; actually, one of the first deliveries she had done since becoming a midwife.

“Please,” You nodded towards the woman, resting your hands on your bump. The pain had gone away temporarily, but you know that it’s going to come back.

“Better let you get some rest.” Omera murmured soon after, “Send the Mandalorian to my hut when it's time. If not tonight, I’ll check on you in the morning.” She stood from the bed and tapped Cara on the arm, beckoning her to follow. The child crawled up the sheets hanging from the bed after the women left, eyes staring up at you tiredly.

The sun had nearly fully set by now, leaving a dark purple to contrast against the silhouetted forest scenery around. You grabbed the child, kissing his little forehead as you tucked him in your arm. He cooed up at you, a smile crossing his cheeks. Standing up from the bed took you a minute, being unbalanced, but once you made it, you padded over to the child's crib and tucked him in. Just as you stood back up, you heard the familiar footsteps of the Mandalorian step into the hut.

“Cyar’ika, bed rest only.” The man spoke, dropping whatever was in his grasp and instantly walking to you. He rested his hands on your hips, flipping you around.

“He wanted to be tucked in,” You defended, pointing down to the sleeping child. The man still shook his head, leading you back to the bed slowly. He helped you sit, before beginning to remove his armor piece by piece. You sat quietly, watching him do so.

You still haven't seen his face, not being married yet. When you reached Sorgan a few weeks back, you were curious as to when you would. The man hadn't talked of it since your time with the Armourer back on Nevarro, and secretly it's been bothering you. Of course you always respect his boundaries and creed, not pushing anything, but with the baby actually on the way now…

“He could’ve waited until I got here.” Din murmured, sitting on the bed next to you and breaking your thoughts. He was fully stripped of his armor now, save for his underclothing and helmet. Your hand slipped into his bare one, fingers intertwining perfectly. You admired the tanned skin, noting the new minor cuts he’d received from the chores just as another contraction hit.

“Another false one?” The man asked as you squeezed his hand tightly. You shook your head no, eyes closed and brows furrowed in pain.

“I’m in actual labor.” You spoke once the pain had calmed down, looking back up at the man's visor. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell his body language had changed. He felt more tense now, and had gone nearly as still as a rock.

“Okay.” He spoke after a few moments, finally showing signs of life.

“No need to panic,” You whispered, rubbing your thumb along his hand as an intimate comfort.

“I’m not panicking,” The man spoke as though you’d tempered with his ego, his voice low and stern. It made you let out a snort, shaking your head in humor.

“Of course you aren’t, my love.” You murmured soon after, patting his back. The man stood up afterwards and began to blow out a few of the lanterns lit around the room, dimming the lighting until it was a soft golden glow. You climbed into bed in the meantime, laying on your side with a large pillow made specifically to support your belly.

“Would you like me to sleep with the blindfold tonight?” You asked the man shortly after he climbed into bed beside you.

“Whatever is comfortable for you, cyar’ika.” His modulated murmur responded.

“I would like for you to hold me,” You whispered, reaching for the blindfold sitting on the bedside table. You tied the fabric at the back of your head, blocking off your vision. When you reassured the man you couldn’t see, the hiss of his helmet releasing filled your ears along with the thud of him placing it on the floor. You felt his arm gently snake over your side and rest on your belly, efficiently pulling you into the little spoon position. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, the comfort of Din encasing all of your senses.

---

It wasn't until the early morning when your water broke. Luckily, you’d already climbed out of bed due to the contractions worsening. The Mandalorian wasted no time going to alert Omera as asked; you've honestly never heard-- being blindfolded still-- him get into his Beskar that fast before.

When he left, you changed out of the soiled dress and into a different one. You then grabbed the child from his crib, awake and cooing for breakfast.

“Good morning, little one.” You spoke softly, rubbing your finger along his cheek. The boy squealed in response, a little giggle escaping him in the process. You waddled back to the bed, sitting down with the child in your arms, and held your breath as another contraction passed through you.

This one hurt more than the others, worse than the most awful cycle cramp you’ve ever experienced. Clenching your teeth through the pain, you held your breath despite knowing you’re supposed to breathe. The child squeaked in confusion, and squirmed out of your grasp. He landed on the bed next to your figure, gently raising his hand and placing it on your arm; as though he was comforting you.

Just then, footsteps settled on the wooden stairs catching your attention. Glancing up, you watched as the Mandalorian returned with Omera and the midwife. The woman gave you a warm smile upon meeting your gaze. She stepped aside, letting Kandri and a 2-1B medical droid into the hut. Your gaze then caught the intense stare of Din’s visor. Though it blocked his real face, you could sense the concern radiating off him like a fire gives off heat.

“Okay, my dear, I need to see how far you are.” Kandri spoke softly, her aged voice giving you comfort. You nodded, eyes then darting between Omera and the armor-clad man. The woman caught the hint and grabbed the child from next to you on the bed before turning on her heel, beckoning Din to follow.

Once the two of them had left, the midwife had you lay back on the bed. She was quick to check how dilated you were, knowing how uncomfortable the process is. The medical droid hooked you up to an IV that strapped to your body during, checking your temperature and vitals as well. Another contraction washed over your body, prompting a soft groan of pain to escape your lips.

“Oh honey, you’re so close.” Kandri murmured, standing up from between your legs. “Just a few more hours.”

“I want it over now.” You sighed as the contraction passed.

“That’s how I felt with my first.” The midwife smiled, recalling the memory, however her smile faltered shortly after, “He died to the Raiders last season.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” You spoke sincerely, watching as the woman shrugged it off. You don’t know what you’d do if your child died. That’s something a parent should never have to experience.

“No reason to feel sorry. Your Mandalorian avenged him by getting rid of those stupid beasts.” She spoke in reference to your time spent previously on the planet. You had nightmares of the Raider that almost killed you for weeks.

“Get out of the hut, take a walk; It’ll help the process go by faster. I’ll be back in an hour.” Kandri added after a few moments of silence, gathering up her supplies. You gave her a nod, watching as she and the 2-1B medical droid left the cabin.

---

Sunrise through the lush forest was a sight to behold. Golden rays glowing through the fog ridden trees gave a wonderful contrast against the green scenery. Taking the midwife's advice, you and Din left on a walk while Omera stayed behind to watch the child. The two of you currently wandered along the outskirts of the village, taking in the fresh morning air, even though you’ve both been awake for a few hours now.

“How do you feel?” Din’s modulated voice asked, hand hovering on your lower back as you waddled next to him.

“Better now that I’m not stuck in the hut. And whatever that droid gave me is starting to kick in.” You mused, holding your belly as you walked. The chill morning air sent a shiver down your spine, but it was refreshing compared to the stale air of the cabin’s framing. You’ve been stuck in there for so long on bedrest, you nearly forgot how beautiful Sorgan is.

“Good.” The man murmured in response, his hand slowly rubbing your back. Another contraction washed over you, causing you to pause and breath through the pain. Din gladly offered himself as a crutch, his gloved hands rubbing your back as a show of comfort. As the pain passed, you were just grateful that your baby will be here soon and the whole horrible process will be over.

Continuing on your walk, your hand found the Mandalorians as your eyes watched the local wildlife skitter about along the forest's edge, while alluring insects fluttered around the grassy meadow that separated the village from the forest. It was still so early that dew remained lingering on the foliage. Hardly anybody had exited their homes yet, leaving the village to appear quiet and serene.

In the bright golden glow of morning, surrounded by a lush forest and a dainty meadow, fingers intertwined with the man you loved, You couldn't have wished for a better moment to be alive. Maybe while not in the throes of labor, but nonetheless, it was still perfect.

Din made no comment as he quietly guided you into the forest, deep enough until the village was no longer in view. Sunlight still poured through the trees, illuminating the morning fog. Little critters jumped across the grassy path, going about their business and paying the two of you no mind.

“Where are we going?” You asked, waddling while trying to keep up the man. He finally paused his steps, content with how deep into the forest you’d gone.

“Cyar’ika,” Din’s somewhat serious tone caught your attention. You moved your gaze from the surrounding scenery and up to his visor. The man stopped walking, grasping your hips and pulling you so you stood in front of him.

“Yes?” You questioned, raising a brow. His hesitancy to speak caused concern to wash over your body, your mind running a mile a minute. His hands moved from your hips and grasped your hands from your belly, holding them firmly.

“Will you marry me?” His tone was soft, almost as though he was timid. Your shoulders released the tension they’d been holding and instead your heart picked up speed. Deep down, you'd been wondering when he was actually going to ask; ever since your encounter with the Mandalorian Armorer.

“Right now? How does that even work? I’m kind of in the middle of something…” You finished with a short laugh, your eyes casting down to your bump before greeting his visor once more.

“Mandalorian vows are simple,” He stated softly, “Just repeat after me.” You nodded, silently agreeing with the man.

“Mhi solus tome,” The man began, the Mando’a language ringing like music to your ears.

“Mhi solus tome,” You repeated, blushing at your pronunciation.

“Mhi solus dar’tome,” He spoke the second line, hands gripping your own tighter.

“Mhi solus dar’tome,” You murmured, eyes never leaving his visor.

“Mhi me’dinui an,” The words floated from his lips easily, never stuttering.

“Mhi me’dinui an,” You felt like a bird at this point, repeating the man so carefully.

“Mhi ba’juri verde.” He finished, a smile overtaking his cheeks even though you couldn't see it.

“Mhi ba’juri verde.” You reciprocated, the thump of your heart filling your ears. A soft giggle erupting from your lips disrupted the serious moment, joy overtaking your senses.

Never in your existence did you think your life would have changed so drastically; and in such a short time too. Just months ago you were a scared woman on the run, married to an abusive asshole. The Mandalorian saved not only you, but also your baby. The same man that woke you up upon first greeting by pointing a blaster square in your face is now your husband.

Din broke your thoughts by giving your hands a gentle squeeze before releasing them. Furrowing your brow, you watched in confusion as he visibly took a deep breath, slowly raising his gloved hands up to his helmet. Your heart gained speed as realization clouded your senses. His fingers latched onto the piece of metal, the sound of releasing air filling your ears. You swallowed thickly, feeling as though time slowed while watching his face be revealed inch by inch.

And oh.

Oh.

You felt tears well up in your eyes as the sight of Din filled your vision.

You slowly raised your hand, placing it on his stubble-ridden cheek, thumb rubbing softly. He was just as handsome as you pictured. Soft, medium length, curly brown hair fell and framed his face. His eyes matched with swirls of amber and mahogany staring back, accompanied by a gently hooked nose, stubble, and chapped lips.

“You're so handsome.” You murmured happily, a quiet, teary giggle escaping your throat.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” The man responded, a grin taking over his face. The two of you giggled with tears threating to spill over, admiring each other. Din, however, wasted no time leaning down and capturing your lips against his. The hand not holding his helmet quickly gravitated towards your waist, pulling you as close as your belly would allow, while you placed both your hands on his cheeks, thumbs rubbing his stubble softly. Butterflies erupt in your chest as your heart fluttered at the sensation, your lips meshing together perfectly.

-----------------

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#I cant believe its over #i loved this fic #but sometimes you just lose motivation :/#i hope i ended it okay and yall love it #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

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mellowswriting · 4 years ago

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Congrats on 100! For the requests can you write something with Marcus Pike where he never knew the reader had tattoos because her ex hated them so she covers them up with their clothing. I hope its not too specific or odd ❤ (Sorry if this sent multiple times, im having internet issues)

Ink

pairing || Marcus Pike x Reader

summary || Marcus discovers your tattoos - and why you hid them from him.

word count || 1,546

warnings || shitty ex, kinda hurt/comfort

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist

Your day, put simply, was going absolutely shittily.

First, you woke up feeling amazingly well rested. Sounds like a great thing, right? No. Unbeknownst to you, your phone charger became unplugged and your phone had died overnight. Without your alarms to get you up and caffeinated, you were left to scramble into your office attire and out the door with a frazzled mind and zero coffee in hand. You knew better than to try to tackle what was starting as a difficult day without the energy boost, so you bit the bullet and stopped at a café on your way to work.

Foolishly, you thought your morning was looking up when you made it through the line in record time - until you took a sip of your coffee and simultaneously burned the everloving hell out of your tongue and learned that your order was not only incorrect, but entirely undrinkable. The attitude in which you dropped the to go cup into the trash outside of FBI headquarters could’ve brought the entire building down, but that was neither here nor there. You couldn’t find it in you to be frustrated with the sweet baristas at the café - they were overwhelmed with the morning rush, after all. No, your frustration was placed solely on the universe.

In a last ditch effort to save your morning, you stopped by the break room for a cup of shitty office coffee to take back into your little office. You were frazzled enough that the team didn’t stop you on your march through the bullpen. With the blinds open to let the early morning sunshine warm your back, you settled at your desk and finally took what felt like the first somewhat calm breath since you opened your eyes. You grabbed your worn notepad and began jotting down the list of tasks you had to get done that day, grateful that it was mostly humdrum paperwork and not anything grueling. You wouldn’t have had the spoons for that.

There was something about having each of your responsibilities laid out and ready for you to tackle that made you feel much better. A small light at the end of the tunnel. You took a deep breath and began filling out your latest case reports, your practiced fingers flying over the keys of your laptop. Of course, in true fashion, the universe decided to put you in your place. You reached for your coffee, eyes still on the laptop screen, and severely misjudged the distance and managed to tip the cup over.

“Son of a bitch!” You hissed, shooting out of your seat at the bite of hot coffee dripping down your front. Instinct had you ripping your blazer off and pulling at the buttons of your blouse, desperate to get the soaked fabric away from your skin. At least you were wearing a tank top beneath it, even though it was thin enough to be almost see through. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Three quick knocks rapped against your door and you didn’t even have to guess who it was - Marcus Pike, your coworker, good friend and his latest title - boyfriend. He never strayed in his little patterned knocking, something you found endearing even when you were having a comically bad morning.

“Come on in, Marcus!” You called out as you dug around in your drawers for the wipes you kept there. Marcus entered with a bright smile that faltered slightly at your disheveled state. Your tone is almost sarcastic as you continue. “Good morning.”

“Oh, honey.” Marcus said, quickly closing the door behind him before anyone could catch a glimpse of you sliding your blouse off. The dark, intricate lines inked into your skin caught his eye immediately but he didn’t let his gaze linger.

He couldn’t lie - he had noticed the constant long-sleeved blouses and sweaters you wore, but didn’t pry. If you had something you wanted to hide from the world, Marcus was sure you would tell him when you were ready to. But now that he knew it was just what appeared to be some amazing tattoos, he was a bit confused. They were beautiful. Why would you want to hide them?

You were obviously having a hard time. The hard set of your jaw and scrunched state of your eyebrows would have been enough to tell him that even if he wasn’t watching you try to clean the coffee from your skin with a pack of wet wipes. Your hair wasn’t tied back like it usually would. Instead it hung loose around your shoulders, falling in your face every now and then and making you huff in annoyance.

Annoyed, sticky, and absolutely over the day, and you still looked god damn ethereal. How did he get so lucky?

“How can I help?” Marcus asked as he rounded your desk and you gave him a grateful smile.

“Can you grab the extra shirt from the cupboard? Thank god I have a back up at least.” If there was one thing you could always count on, it was Marcus Pike being the best man on Earth. You smiled when he handed you the clean shirt before he began wiping your desk clean. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” Marcus tossed the soiled wipes into your trashcan, grinning and pumping his arm animatedly when they went in. What an adorable dork. He ran his hands up and down your biceps gently and you almost shivered at the warmth of his palms. “What happened?”

“Coffee has betrayed me at every turn this morning.” You pouted again as you leaned into his chest. The sight of Marcus staring down at you with that concerned, loving gaze made fluttering erupt in your belly.

“So I suppose I shouldn’t ask if you want to get some with me for lunch, huh?” Marcus asked with that breathtaking mischievous smile and you couldn’t help but crack up at him. His thumbs rubbed circles into your skin and you glanced down, watching his fingertip run over the lines of your tattoo. You realized with a jolt that he had never seen them before.

Your body art was something you loved - you didn’t spend endless hours in a chair getting stabbed with needles a million times for nothing. The dark swirls of ink were intricate, something that you used to be complimented on often. Until your ex came along, of course. It wasn’t as if you hid them from him. No, he was well aware that you had tattoos and planned to get more, so when he asked you to cover them up before going out one night you had been confused, and then pissed.

Who the hell had he been to tell you to hide a part of yourself that you loved?

Those subtle requests morphed into small jabs and complaints. Over time, you began covering them by habit, trying to avoid the whole mess altogether. It wasn’t worth arguing about, you convinced yourself. Once he tried to convince you to get them removed? No, that was the last straw. Even though he wasn’t even a blip on your radar, you still found yourself keeping them covered, a small, insecure voice in your head warning you of a threat that was no longer there.

You held your arm out, giving him silent permission to openly follow the linework, and Marcus took the opportunity with a smile. His touch was as gentle as ever, up and down your arm from piece to piece. “Sorry, I know they aren’t everyone’s cup of tea,”

“Do you like them?” The question catches you off guard but you nod immediately. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about their importance to you or their beauty. Marcus shrugged. “Nothing else matters then.”

Tension you hadn’t even realized you had been holding melted away from your chest. The way he looked at you… it was the same appreciation and intensity he reserved for the artwork obtained by the team, his gaze hungry for every detail he had the honor of seeing firsthand.

“Do you like them?” You whispered, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“They’re beautiful.” Marcus doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d love to hear the stories behind them, if there are any.”

“Yeah, there are a few.” You guided his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles before settling back on your arm, your chest thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. Marcus immediately began following the lines again and you chuckled. “You really like them, huh?”

“Honestly? I think they’re sexy.” Marcus murmured as he pulled you against his chest by your waist and you positively flushed. The image of Marcus’s tongue tracing your tattoos enveloped you unbiddenly. You bit back a groan - that man was going to be the death of you.

You pressed up on your tiptoes and kissed him. The woes of your morning faded into the background at the delighted sound he gave against your lips, one hand abandoning your waist to hold you steady at your jaw. You draped your arms over his shoulders and lost yourself in his warmth, his comfort. There wasn’t a thing in this world that Marcus couldn’t make better with a few soft words and a gentle touch.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike x you #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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mono-dot-jpeg · 4 years ago

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red faced - a. keiji

Summary: You never thought about dating Keiji. But that thought isn't so bad..

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Bokuto’s Sister! Reader, Fluff, Akaashi is done with the Bokuto siblings, Truly Tooth Rotting Fluff

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

a/n: akaashi is so pretty???? i love him? im a simp. i want to give him a hug 🥺 anyways fluff content for the pretty owl setter !!

“Keiji-kun!” You yelled out to him as he was nearly arriving at the school gym to get to practice. You ran up to him, hugging him tightly. He moves back at the impact of the hug but regains his balance, hugging you back.

“Oh, y/n-san. Hello.” He mutters to you.

“How many times have I told you to not call me y/n-san! Just call me y/n-chan or something, Keiji-kun!” You whine as you move to hug him from behind. You were a very overly affectionate person, Keiji never seemed to mind so he was often the target of your affections. Maybe Keiji was just desensitized to anything a Bokuto kid would do.

You were Bokuto’s younger sister. While you were similar to your older brother, you had your differences and Keiji seemed to be the very big similarity you had with Koutarou. Both of you were pretty much his best friends. Classmates made a lot of jokes about how Keiji seemed to attract anyone that's a Bokuto and he never denied it.

“Oh, sorry y/n-chan.” You visibly brightened more as Keiji continued to walk with you latching onto his back like a koala. “How was your day?” He asked. You started to ramble, completely taking the conversation over as he listened. Soon, you both get to the gym, getting greeted by your older brother.

“AkAAshI! y/n!” He yelled energetically. “Give me a toss, Akaashi!” Keiji peeled you off of him, much to your dismay, before nodding to Koutarou. You go over to the female locker rooms to change into your manager clothes. Koutarou forced you to be Fukurodani’s volleyball manager since you were just as experienced in volleyball as he was.

“Yukie-senpai! Kaori-senpai!” You yell as you run over to the two third years, nearly making them fall onto the floor as you hug them both. “Hello!” You greet them with a cheeky smile, knowing Yukie wanted to scold you for almost hurting her and Kaori.

“Ah.. y/n-chan, you scared me for a second there..” Kaori laughed softly.

“y/n-chan, be careful!” She hits her clipboard onto your head (not too hard) as to warn you. “You could’ve hurt me and Kaori-chan.” You rubbed your head after you got hit.

“Sorry!” You still had a cheeky smile on your face before you start rambling to your fellow managers about how your day was. The two third years had quite the soft spot for you, probably tolerated you more than Koutarou but they would never say that. “And then...” You slowly stopped rambling as your eyes focus on Keiji. Had he always looked that handsome? He was just setting for your brother but he looked so good? You can feel your cheeks heat up as Keiji looks over to you. You smile at him and wave cheerfully as he nods at you in response.

“What’s this? Our little manager is flustered after looking at Akaashi-kun?” Kaori teased as she pinched your cheek lightly, making your train of thoughts stop.

“W-what? And who you calling small?! I’m not that tiny!” Your face is still flushed as you pout. “I’m not that small...” You sulk. Cue your emo mode. Another similarity you and Koutarou had.

“y/n-chan, your height is just fine, it just makes you cuter.” Akaashi seemed to be listening in on your conversation and noticed your sudden emo mode. You can feel your face get warmer as you cover your cheeks. What was this feeling? You've never felt this way before.

"A-ah...thanks Keiji-kun!" You smiled brightly at him. He nods slightly in acknowledgement. You were the only one quick enough to notice the small smile on his face which made you brighten up even more. He went back to practicing and your fellow managers seem to be gossiping already.

"So...you and Akaashi-kun?" Yukie asked you. You nearly blew up at the mere implication the question had. You had never thought about dating the male. "You're so red, y/n-chan!" Yukie and Kaori giggled at their flustered kohai. They never seen y/n like this before. "Do you like him?"

That's when you stop covering your cheeks. You weren't sure. Did you like him? Did you like him only because he accepted your overly affectionate self? Was is it only because he was one of the few people that you can call a best friend? Was it because he was your best friend? "I-I don't know." Your words surprise yourself. You were always sure of yourself. Sometimes you would change a choice but in the end, you had confidence in yourself. "Do I like him?"

That question ran in your mind for a long time. While you still acted the same, your mind was truly a mess. Why did your heart beat a little faster when Keiji would compliment you or hug you back? Why did your face go red at the thought of dating him? Why did he have to look so cute when he smiled or he got focused on his work?

So many questions ran in your head that you didn't even realize you haven't greeted said male with a hug as he was getting close to attend practice.

"y/n-chan." You jump a bit at your name, looking at Keiji. "Why haven't you hugged me like you usually do?" Oh, how you wanted to melt at how cute he was being right now. He appreciated your hugs, you can feel your heart beat faster at that fact alone.

"Sorry! I'm just all over the place, Keiji-kun! Hello!" You give him a big hug, moving to cling onto him from behind. "Do you like my hugs, Keiji-kun?" You rest your head on his shoulder as you continue to cling onto the male while he piggybacks you.

"They're really nice. I like them." He says softly. Unbeknownst to you, his cheeks are dusted with pink. "Better than Bokuto-san yelling at me to set for him." You laughed in reply.

"Kou-nii just gets excited, you know that! He likes having you as a setter. You're really good, Keiji-kun." Your arms are loosely wrapped around his neck as your hands trail onto his shirt to pick at any stray fibers. You always needed to be doing something with your hands.

"You think so?"

"Of course! Best setter I know! I'm your number 1 fan, Keiji-kun! I always will be.." Your voice fades a bit towards the end. Maybe you do like him..

"y/n-chan? Are you okay?"

"Oh! Yeah! We're here!" He opened the doors of the gym as you quickly hop off of Keiji's back to go to the locker room. Koutarou immediately demanded for some sets like always.

"Ne, Akaashi?"

"Hm? What is it, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi looked at your brother.

"Do you like my sister?" The setter looked at Koutarou, noticing how serious he was being at the moment.

"Yes." Akaashi answered bluntly.

"More than a friend? Like you wanna date her?" Now that put Keiji in a bit of a loop. He liked you as a friend, yes, but did he see you as more of? He wasn't completely sure.

"I'm...not sure." He says softly as he sees you enter the gym once again and greet the other managers was a tumbling hug. You were laughing loudly while Yukie shook her head, laughing at your antics. Kaori was on the ground with you, comically yelling at you to be more careful. He wanted to make you smile that wide. But was that just a sign of being a good friend or wanting to be more?

"Just...take good care of her when I leave Fukurodani." Your sibling looks over at you while you notice the male duo staring and you wave at the two with a blinding smile. "Now send me some tosses, Akaashi!" Koutarou yells as he gets himself hyped up to practice his spiking. Keiji looks at you, waving softly in response.

"Are you sure you don't like him as more than a friend?" Kaori asked. You blush as you sit on the bench.

"U-uh, I don't know? What if he doesn't like me back?" You mutter, slowly going into your emo mode as you think about Keiji rejecting you. You sit down on the ground, moving your legs up to your chest while you hug yourself.

“Does your heart beat faster around him? Do you feel yourself wanting to do more with him than just hugs? Maybe like kissing him?” Kaori asks. You curl up further into a ball, hiding your red face.

“Kissing?” You ask. You look over at Keiji who was very focused on practicing like always. He looked so pretty.. You could imagine him kissing you- “U-um, m-maybe..” Keiji seemed to notice how you were curled up in a ball. He walks over to you.

“y/n-chan, are you in your emo mode again?” He crouches down to your curled up form. He pats your head. “What is making you sad?” You feel your face heat up more. His worried eyes look into your nervous eyes.

“It’s just...” Do I like him? But what if he doesn’t like me? Should I back out? No! A Bokuto shouldn’t back down! Your hands move to cup his cheeks before you quickly kiss him. It was more of a peck but nonetheless you did. “I like you! As more of a friend!” You yell, uncaring that it caught everyone’s attention. It was quiet. You look at Keiji and you notice the red dusting his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” You say, scared that he might just push you away.

“Why are you saying sorry?” He mumbles to you.

“Huh?” He grabs your hand, pulling you to stand up. He pulls you out of the gym.

“DON’T HURT HER, AKAASHI!” Koutarou screamed as he watched you two leave the gym.

“Where are we going?” You ask him as you struggle to follow him. He stops in the empty hallways.

“y/n-chan.” You almost wanna flinch at how serious he was being. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I like you too. More than a friend.” You see a small smile on his face, you smile back at him. You hug him.

“KEIJI-KUN!” You cried out while you hug him tightly. “I thought you didn’t like me like that! You scared me for a second there!” You whined as he chuckled softly, brushing his fingers through your hair.

“I’m sorry that I scared you, y/n-chan.” He moved back a bit to kiss your forehead. “So...are we dating?”

“OF COURSE, KEIJI-KUN!”

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu+x+reader #haikyū!!#akaashi keiji #akaashi oneshot #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #anime #anime fluff #anime x reader #haikyuu anime #haikyu anime

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Green Eggs and Ham: “Train” Review or A Little Better Now (Patreon Review for Emma Fici)

Hello you happy people and all aboard! We’re back on the Green Eggs and Ham Train for a Train themed episode. Train. As you can tell I like trains... admitely I don’t see enough episodes et on them and I don’t buy books or obess on them but I like the idea of a train, the comfort, the use of a mode of travel that was once common but is now simply used on occasion with the dawn of air travel, and it confining our heroes to a smaller space with limited room to move. it’s good stuff. I even tolerae the band train... I mean yes their music is okay at best, but the lyrics.. are wonderfully delightfully insane. Who else would use a garbage bag as a genuine romantic metaphor?

When last we left off things ere a bit ehhhhhhhhhhh: Sam went from delightfully quirky with some issues ot adress to annoying, and Michelle went from kin dof a bitch ot ENTIRELY THAT BITCH. Outside of Guy’s mental breakdown/heatstroke episode involving hallucinations of green eggs and ham, yes that did in fact happen, it wasn’t much to write home about and I worried the series simply had a good PILOT but the series itself wasn’t going to be fun sit through.

If I was right or I was rilla.. will have to wait till after the cut. But first as always i’d like to thank the person who payed for this episode Emma Fici. Emma is one of my closest friends and one of two patreon patreons. If you’d like a reivew of your choice eveyr month guarnateed, then please hop over to patreon.com/popculturebuffet and back me at the 5 dollar level. You also get access to my exclusive discord where I ocasoinally post about work in progress stuff and tlak to my falns, to pick a short any time I do one and EXCLUSIVE review, as well as helping me hit my stretch goals. So line up, sign up then join me under the cut.

So we pick up where we left off with Guy hurtling into a lake. Eh I dunno i’ve heard being naked ina lake is pretty neat.

youtube

All you’d have to do is take off the hat and your there. But Sam saves him wiht the weird train of hats he put at the end of the car for some reason, and our heroes are saved.. but down a vehicle. Oh and Sam’s vehiclular neglgence costs a bunch of fish their home.

And our heroes are without a car and Guys at the end of his rope with Sam.. I mean granted he’s been there since he met the guy but it’s down to like the tiniest thred, not helped by Sam casually stealing his wallet to pay for train tickets depsite Guy , UNDERSTANDABLY, not wanting to hang out with the guy who has stolen with him, gotten him implicate din animal trafficing and dosen’t really respect personal space. Also it’s taken me embarassingly long to remember Micheal Douglas played my boy Hank Pym in the Ant Man and the Wasp films. Seroiusly I don’t know HOW I forgot that, him being aged up and thus unable to do ANY of the things he is constnatly denied credit for in canon (Founding the avengers, being the first ant man.. and the first goliath and the first yellow jacket and the first giant man.. and the only doctor pym...).. but instead the film kept his troubled nature and ego, but removed the domestic abuse (which is something I will not go into but needless to say the comics version went above and beyond to try and make up for that and redeem himself soley because it was the right hting to do) and by making im older still gav ehim a roll as Scott’s mentor. What i’m getting at is I freaking love Hank Pym and I could’ve been making hank pym jokes for several episdoes now. That’s a mistake I itned to recitfy.. right away as Guy looses his suitcase as a result of it and whie he lcaims not to be bothered his voice says otherwise. Eh i’m sure the world can wait for ultron Guy.

So anyway, Guy reluctantly agrees to the train travel idea and being parked across from Sam on the grounds he has no real other options. Meanwhile the BAD GUYZ.. and i’ve also decided to drop spoilers as the series is two years old, most people reading this have probably seen the series, and it makes analysis rough when I have to dance around spoilers. So yeah the BAD GUYZ aren’t villians.. kind of a dickhead on the blue guys part, but not EVIL. They figure out their going by train it’s a whole thing.

ON the train we run into michelle again...

Yeahhh for the first half she’s as inusfferable as she was the last two episodes and it lead me to believie the rest of the series was going to be constant suffering as she’d be in every episode, likely because they DID get Diane Keaton for this and you don’t waste Diane Keaton. You just don’t. But while they got their money’s worth in having her on screne wise they just..w asted her for the first 2 and a half episodes: Michelle is a judgemental, unpleasnt suffocating bitch and it’s going to take a lot , even if this episode helped, to make me truly like her as a person.

Case in point her first two scenes this episode are just.. dragging her daughter past a play place uncarring about her feelings because while I DO get she cares about her child’s saftey and is terrified afte rloosing her husband.. it dosen’t EXCUSE her actions. It dosen’t forgive her locking her daughter up constanlty, not talking to her like a human being and oh yeah PUTTING A FUCKING LOCK ON HER SHE CAN CONTROL. I mean my god I don’t think they INTENDED for her to come off as abusive as she does, and i’ve seen far worse inteitonally and untietionally, but it’s still not remotely plesant. There is a larger issue baked into that the episode brings about, but we’ll get to that.

And naturally at breakfast.. she procedes to top herself. ONCE AGAIN she treats guy like trash as guy UNDERSTANDABLY didn’t want to talk to her after her previous layers of bullshit which, just as a refresher, involved insulting his invention constnatly (even if it turned out ot be dangerous she did not know that till the last second) then refusing to help a man BAKING in the desert and mocking him to his face.

So yeah unsuprisingly instead of you know, APOLOGIZING for that episode or anything else she mocks him again and calls him sad. I just.. I get they were trying to have her come off as a jerk and then slowly develop.. but you can’t overdue the jerk part. It has to be juts the right amount and if it is this much there has to be a commpuance. There is none as far as I can tell because god is a spiteful two faced prick.

So naturally Sam forces the two parties together, and orders green eggs and ham for everyone, except guy who refuses. We do get a really great bit though as EB turns down the idea and we get a tremendous rant from Micheal Douglas as he talks about how a girl in his clash, veyr likely just him, got a rash from tring new things and you shouldn’t and to watch out for the scarlet beetle he’ll steel your ants and try to conquer your planet and is not a guy in a costume but in fact an actual beetle. EB naturally tries it.

We get a brief interlude with Snerz that’s funny enough: he outright calls his visotrs flunkies, they enter to the song money, and his minon throws dollar bills at their feet. I imagine this is what visitng Mar a Largo is like. They turn up his noses until he mentions getting a chickarffe for his animal crutelty wall. And i’m torn about Snerz. On one hand he can be generally entertaining in his dickery.. but ont he other I do question why he’s in EVERY episode. We don’t NEED him in eveyr one and I feel he’s only in them because Eddie Izzard was expensive so they had to get him as a regular to justify the cost. We really DONT’ need this scene funny as it is and it adds nothing so far. Maybe i’m wrong and these guys end up being important. I don’t know.

So yeah so far this episode was miserable getting through and I expected it to be another long sit... I was wrong. The second half.. is really damn good and reminded me why I liked this series so much. No really. We get two stories,both really good following one half of each pair teaming up. As for why their split Guy is annoyed with Sam, as well as dosen’t want him letting the chickaraffe out because you know lots of people dosen’t want ot go to jail and leaves to find a quiet place to work on watching paint dry while Michelle tucks a sleeping EB in, her first really truly humanizing moment, which should NOT have taken three episodes but hey, i’ll take it, and goes to find the same.

So starting with Sam and EB, naturally Sam takes all of a minute to let his buddy out and it gets loose on top of the train. EB hears the familiar sound and gives chase and the two meet properly. After Sam covers for his buddy and realizes the creature is asleep in his car safe now, he properly talks to EB and we get a truly magical sequnece: The two talk with Sam whoelheartdly supporting her free spirit and finally giving the girl what she badly needed: someone who treated her not as something to be tied down but you know.. a child who just wants some expression and as she literally lets her hair down, It’s truly adorable and it just has a magical quanitity as they enjoy the beautiful view from the train top.

Granted this takes at urn later when EB brings up her mom, and Sam.. supports her mom, pointing out she’s just looking out for her.. which she is but in a deeply unehalthy way and I don’t like the show just.. brushing over Michelle’s terrible actions because “she’s her mom”. But it’s also hard to tell if they are: Sam’s mom left him as we’ll find out, so he likely colors his memories of her rosey and simply envys EB still HAVING hers. It’s not BAD stuff but I don’t like a work saying “You should love your family just beacause your related”. Instead of because they lovea nd support you and if they dont’ love you or treat you remotely well or don’t give an ass about you fuck them. Thankfully I DO love my family and have no issues with them, my immediate family at least, but i’ve had friens with downright abusive or neglectful parents. It’s not that black and white. Ducktales also hammered in the family theme but was transparent in how it can me messy, harm each other and that it took true love and consideratoin for it to work at it’s core.

It’s still not a terrible scene and what comes next is neat as earlier it was shown the train has loops, because Seussworld, and now that’s a problem because their on top of it. Michelle’s jail braclet thing ends up coming in handy the first loop, as while she can’t unstick it means she and sam can suririvie it. They do get it loose, turns out the password was indeed password, because of course, and they end up narrowly suriving a roller coaster bit of track, with the help of MR. Jenkins who I can finally name because EB names her in the next scene. Understanding her need for a pet, Sam deputizes her, and gets her back in bed in time for the next plot.

Speaking of which winding back a bit as these two go back and forth, Guy goes through two rather hilarious cars: First a bath car that has a bubsby berkely style water number and then a model train car.. with the train on the track showing guy watching guy watchin gthe train etc.

It’s great. Guy ends up finding the quiet car.. and Michelle. And in her first scene of acting like a human being and not if julie powers was a soccer mom, Michelle, while standosfish as usual, not only unites with guy to shush a loud guy in the car, but is genuinely apricative when Guy helps her get her place back, she was doing some literal bean counting.

The two genuinely hit it off, first with some adorable silent bits and then by talking, with Michelle appreciating his now safer job and warming up to him. Keaton and Douglas have GENUINE chemestry and it annoys me itt took the series this long to use that instead of wasting Diane Keaton on being

It’s really great stuff and i’m actually rooting for the two.. once she gets her shit together obviously. Guy does make the mistake of lying abotu knowing about the chikcaraffe.

This ends up being bad as he finds out EB knows the next day and after she leaves the car RIGHTFULLY tears the fuck into same for getting him accused of crime, stealing from him and now puttin ghim in a precarious situation. While Guy DID lie, he idd so well meaningly and trying to impress someone whose ineherntly judgmeental. Douglas also does REALY well in the scene, calling sam out but it dosen’t feel cruel.. it’s justified. While guy is miserable and does need to work on himself.. Sam also needs to work on himself and is putting guy in serious danger just by forcing him into his animal smuggling scheme.

So Guy leaves.. and naturally given the unvierse hate shim runs into the BAD GUYZ, who aren’t much better. No really they refuse to belieive guy might be innocent, use excessive force on everyone. They have better GOALS than sam but I woudln’t really call them good people. Smash to black and we’re out.

Final Thoughts: This one was better. As I said the first half or rather third drags slightly but once we get to the two seperate plotlines it’s REALLY damn good stuff and reminded me what the series was capable of in character in creativity. Hopefully it keeps this up

Next Time on the Blog: We return to mewni for the penultimate chapter of season 3 as Moon and Eclipsa have some fundemtnal disgareemnts on how to handle Meteora that wind up costing both dearly.

See you at the next rainbow

#green eggs and ham #guy am I #sam I am #dr seuss #netflix #animation #patreon

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yoon-kooks · 5 years ago

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Witch Hazel- Pt.4

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: my hope is that the idol industry can one day become a safer place for those who have dedicated their lives to making others happy ❤️

“Let me guess, you’re the type who needs to feel needed but also pushes people away?”

“How would you know that, Bunny Boy?”

“It’s my power.”

“You have powers too?” Snow blinks her pretty blue eyes. “Can you read minds?”

“I certainly can’t read minds,” Bunny Boy laughs. “But I am pretty good at reading hearts.”

“Oh yeah? What’s my heart feeling right now?”

“Well for starters, you seem to be annoyed by me prying too deep.”

“You are annoying.”

“And you also think I’m kinda cute.”

“I do not!”

You giggle into your phone screen for the hundredth time as you read through the latest Witch Hazel update. With the reveal of another character with secret powers, you wonder what Snow will make out of him. A friend? An ally? Or perhaps just someone who gets her.

Beneath the last comic panel of Snow rolling her eyes at the unofficially named Bunny Boy, you find cute little comments from the author.

“all i hope is for snow to take care of herself during this hiatus”

“even if it’s only a tiny amount, maybe witch hazel can help supplement as new snow content for now;;;;;;”

“ah i didnt mean to sound as if i were anywhere near snow’s level or anything;;;;;;”

“i just hope she knows she doesnt have to carry any burden all on her own”

“she has people on her side”

Your face doesn’t know whether to smile or shed tears, so you do a combination of both. It’s true, you’ve always felt alone. Always. No matter how many staff members it takes to produce an album or how many fans buy that album, you’ve never once felt that people could look beyond your idol music, your icy eyes, your mask.

But that’s exactly why you’re taking a break. You need to separate your worth from the music attached to your name. You need to prove to yourself that you’re more than what the critics and magazines say. And you’re only realizing it now that you can’t do it alone.

If only you had your own jk.seagull in your life. You’re sure the two of you would mesh well together.

“Where is that kid?” Taehyung pats the empty seat next to him before class starts. “He never skips class. I remember one time he literally rejected a date with a super cute girl because he ‘had to get to class’. Can you believe that?”

“Knowing Jungkook, I’d believe it,” you shrug. It does feel oddly empty without his presence, though.

“Oh really? You know all there is to know about the mysterious phenomenon that is Jeon Jungkook? It sounds like you guys got real acquainted on that date the other day.”

“It wasn’t a date, Taehyung. It was a meeting for a group project that you didn’t show up to.”

“Well it all evens out since Jungkook didn't show up today. Who knows, maybe you won’t show up tomorrow.”

“I’m sure he has a good reason for being absent. Unlike you.” You have to admit, it does worry you a little. Especially after the hints of doubt Jungkook expressed about his own beautiful art. You wish he knew how amazing of an artist he really is.

“What are you talking about? My reason was valid.”

“Having your cock sucked for five hours straight is not a valid reason, by the way.” You roll your eyes. “Let me guess, today you have a threesome scheduled after class and dinner date at 5?”

“Ouch, you don’t have to be so harsh, Y/N.” Taehyung pretends to be offended, but he doesn’t deny your comment either. “You’re really his type, you know.”

“I’m whose type?”

“Jungkook’s.”

“Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

“I’ve said this before, but you’re a lot like Snow.”

“How?”

“In how you present yourself,” Taehyung says. “You and her both come across as cold and heartless, but somehow I don’t buy it.” He doesn’t buy what? That you’re just as much of a bitch on the inside too? Ha.

“Jungkook must have weird taste then,” you shrug. Because in your opinion, you’re not exactly an easy person to love.

“But-” Taehyung is cut off by the professor starting class. You don’t know what more he could’ve said to make you change your mind anyway.

“There won’t be any lecture for today’s class.” Your professor is busy typing away at her computer, perhaps trying to get caught up on paperwork and grading old assignments. “Instead, I want you all to take this time to work on your group projects. You may leave the classroom if you must, but remember to stay on task!”

With that, your classmates jam out of the room as if they were just freed from prison. You hear a couple of friends deciding which boba place to try out. Another group, the overachievers of the class, head somewhere outside to actually work on the project. Taehyung, too, looks as if there’s somewhere else he needs to be.

“So I-”

“Go ahead and get laid,” you sigh, shooing the boy away with your hand. “We’ll work next time when all three of us are here.”

“Thanks, Y/N! You get me,” Taehyung waves bye before dashing off.

You wave back as the hall clears out around you. It seems everyone else has found somewhere to go. Everyone except you.

But it’s fine. You’re fine.

Buzz! You jump at the sudden phone notification that seems to echo off the walls of the empty hall. Oh look, it’s a text from your only friend.

10:32AM jinnie❤️ “good morning ^O^// just checking in on you”

10:33AM jinnie❤️ “how are you holding up with everything?”

“I’m fine!” you mumble rather aggressively to yourself, sliding your ass down onto the filthy hallway floor before texting back. Your chunky guitar case sits in your lap like a baby so it doesn’t get dirty.

10:34AM Y/N “i miss seeing you at work everyday :((((”

10:34AM Y/N “lololololol jk”

10:35AM Y/N “fuck work, am i right”

10:36AM jinnie❤️ “Y/N”

10:37AM Y/N “😒”

10:37AM Y/N “im fine”

10:38AM jinnie❤️ “thats exactly what people say when theyre not fine”

But you are fine. You’re completely fine with sitting all alone in an empty hallway, texting your only friend who also happens to be your manager.

10:39AM jinnie❤️ “what are you doing now?”

You pick up your guitar and start walking away. Obviously, you can’t tell him what you were actually doing because it would worry him too much. But you can’t lie to him either.

10:41AM Y/N “if you really must know”

You wait until you arrive at your new location before answering Seokjin’s million-dollar question. You’ve found your place.

10:45AM Y/N “im practicing in the music room before my theory class starts”

He sends you the Surprised Pikachu meme but also a few supportive comments.

10:46AM jinnie❤️ “good luck!”

10:46AM jinnie❤️ “and if you ever need something, please reach out to me!”

10:47AM jinnie❤️ “ill be checking in on you every now and then, but please enjoy your time off~”

10:48AM Y/N “thank you seokjin”

With your manager off your back, you settle into the empty music classroom and pull your trusty guitar out of its case. The flat and out of tune strings remind you of how long it’s been since the last time you touched the guitar. Because despite carrying it around wherever you go, it’s all for show.

In all honesty, you’re too afraid to let others hear, and yet, part of you wants them to know. You want them to know you’re an artist in your own right—without the judgment. But that’s asking for too much from this cruel world. Especially when you know you aren’t there yet.

One by one, you turn the pegs on your guitar, fine tuning each string by ear. That’s always been your secret talent, and maybe that’s how you’ve never been off-key since the moment you said your first words. If there was one thing you had going for you as an idol, it was that.

Once all the strings are tuned, you just sit there, staring at your fingers curved naturally in the C chord position. The muscle memory is still very much ingrained in you, but so are the scars. The last time you actually held your guitar, you were told you weren’t good enough. So you ended up settling for something else.

Today, however, you want to change that. You shouldn’t let several people’s opinions determine what you can or can’t amount to just because they were the professionals of the industry who supposedly “knew” what they were doing. They didn’t know you then, and they certainly don’t know you now. They don’t even know your real name.

But that’s okay. Having a secret identity makes you feel as though you can someday become a true superhero, someone who makes the world a better place from behind the scenes. In that sense, you want to be someone like your current favorite person on the internet, jk.seagull. You don’t know him, nor do you know his real name.

All you know is that his craft makes you happy.

With the funny fanfic boy in mind, you glance up to make sure the coast is clear before taking your first strum. Despite the dullness of your old worn-out strings, what your ears hear is crisp and bright.

You aren’t sure how much time has passed since you began singing along to a melody only you know, but you’re suddenly pulled back into reality with a single mention of her from outside the classroom.

“What do you think about the Snow news?”

“It’s honestly sad.”

“With how little she contributes to her music, I really don’t think she deserves a break.”

“She should just keep going. How hard is it to sing a few songs? I hope she knows she’s letting a lot of people down just so she could relax.”

“Or better yet, she should just retire early.”

You set down your guitar on the piano bench. You’ve heard quite enough and you’re ready to slam the door on the noisy group passing by. But by the time you peek your head out from the crack, the group is already at the other end of the hall. You do, however, find a surprise sitting right outside the music room.

The boy who was supposedly too sick to come to class is too busy sketching away to notice you staring at him.

“How long have you been sitting out here?”

The tiny hairs on the back of the boy’s neck stand up as his drawing hand freezes at the sound of your voice. He turns around, looking up at you as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

“Since I started sketching.” Jungkook shows you a simple yet pretty drawing of a flowery spring field. By his art standards, it couldn’t have taken him long to draw that one page.

But it isn’t until you start flipping through the rest of the pages in the sketchbook that you realize he’d been sitting there for quite a while. Each page is similar to the last with only slight differences in between. When you fly through the pages like a flipbook, you see the whole picture.

From the first sketch of spring flowers, snow slowly covers the field until only a single flower remains in a winter wonderland. If you go in reverse, you can watch as the snow melts away until that one flower disappears amongst its brethren.

“What kind of flower is that?” You point to the one that somehow managed to blossom through the thickness of the snow. Maybe if it were colored in, you’d have a better idea.

“A strong one?” Jungkook shrugs as if he’s not the artist who knows the the answer. You hate yourself for cackling along at his lousy joke. He closes his sketchbook as a way to change the subject. “Why aren’t you in class?”

“Funny you should ask. The professor dismissed our class to work on the group projects. And then Tae ditched to go do his usual skirt-chasing shenanigans because somebody in our group didn’t show up.”

“Sorry,” the boy bites his lower lip with a hint of regret. “I didn’t really feel well enough to sit in class today.”

“Then why didn’t you just stay at home?”

“I still had this project to turn in and finish for my other class.” He raises his sketchbook. “And besides, music is the best medicine.”

You feel your cheeks burning up. The last person you expected to catch you messing around with your guitar in the music department was the art student who was supposed to be out sick. “How much did you hear…?”

“All I heard was one song…” He assures you for a slight second before going in for the kill, “…that you kept replaying over and over and over-”

“I get it. You heard a lot,” you hiss. “You better not tell anyone! Not even Tae.”

“I won’t,” he promises, chuckling at your distress. It seems the kid’s gotten comfortable enough around you to start clowning you. “It’s a nice song, by the way.”

“Really?” You want to believe him, but you have a hard time doing so. When all you’ve heard was brutal criticism for the past few years, it’s difficult to accept any compliment without feeling like there’s ill intent behind it. It feels wrong to feel good about yourself.

Besides, maybe he’s just complimenting you out of obligation. Like he’s trying to be nice, even if he doesn’t actually feel that way about your song.

“I’ll burden the pain so you don’t have to,” he says.

“What?”

“That’s a line from the lyrics, right?”

You nod.

“It’s a very Y/N thing to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook shrugs and swirls his Sailor Venus keychain around his index finger. “Just take it as a compliment, Y/N.”

If not for his soft teasing smile, your mind would still be filled with doubt. Instead, you accept the compliment and gain a tiny bit of confidence back.

“Come in for a second,” you start walking back inside the music room. “And close the door behind you.”

Jungkook does as he’s told, his eyes glued to your guitar as you pick it up off the piano bench. There, you do something you’ve never practiced but had always hoped to perform as Snow—your own acoustic version of one of your songs.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve never practiced or touched your guitar in years. You know the key, the chords, the strum pattern. And you know how to make it your own. Not Snow’s or anyone else’s.

When you’re done with your mini acoustic performance, the boy can’t help but chuckle. He’s about to clown you again. You can feel it.

“What??”

“It’s nothing.”

“Jungkook.”

“It’s seems like you don’t hate Snow as much as you lead on.”

“I was only trying to show how I would’ve done the song if I were her.”

“Ah, so you criticize Snow so much because you think you can do better?”

“Not necessarily better… just differently.” You hope that answer is enough to satisfy the boy. But it’s not. He only nods with an awfully suspicious smirk. “What now??”

“It’s cool that you want to be a songwriter.”

“I never said that I did,” you say with a slight pout and hmph. You’ve never once mentioned your true dreams to anyone besides maybe some random kid at camp when you were ten. You’d hate to announce your bold aspirations with the utmost confidence, only to flop and fail before achieving anything. You’d rather keep it a secret until you perhaps “pop-off” as the kids say.

“Sure.” He doesn’t believe you.

“Are you always this sassy when you’re sick?”

His long locks flow as he shakes his head. “I’m feeling better now, actually. Thanks to your medicine.”

Maybe the kid was faking his sickness all along. Then again, Taehyung did say Jungkook wasn’t the type to skip class under most circumstances. Perhaps there was something else that was bothering him.

“Wait, you weren’t upset about Snow’s hiatus, right?” You remember the gossip from the noisy group that had passed by earlier. The beating you took from their words still stings.

“To be honest, I was worried about her at first with everything that went on,” Jungkook says. “But I think she probably just needed some time away from all that.”

“Probably,” is all you say, doing your best to downplay the amount of relief his words gave you. He isn’t upset or let down; he just wishes the best for your well-being. And as an idol, that’s all you’ve ever asked for. “You know, you’re the nicest Snow fan I’ve ever met.”

“You know a lot of other Snow fans?” Jungkook tilts his head at your odd statement. Oh right. You’ve only really met other fans as Snow, not as Y/N. Now you sound suspicious.

“Oh yeah, for sure. My friend, Seokjin, reads Snow smut all the time,” you force out a laugh while making a mental apology to your manager. Then you decide it’s best to change the subject before you blow your cover. “Speaking of fanfiction, I need your opinion on Witch Hazel!”

“What about it?”

“The new bunny character.” You whip out your phone for direct reference of the comic. “He’s funny, right?”

“He’s good at teasing Snow,” Jungkook looks at your phone screen of the bunny saying that Snow thinks he’s cute. “I wonder if he’ll make her fall for him.”

“I want him to.” Your eyes light up without knowing. To have Snow fall in love is wishful thinking, but a large part of you craves romance deep down—even if it’s only for the fictional version of yourself. “But at the same time, he’s not Snow’s type.”

“What’s Snow’s type?”

“Huh?” You somehow managed to fuck up again, so you shrink yourself and hope to disappear. “I don’t know… Why would I know what Snow’s type is…? It’s probably not a playboy like the bunny, but I wouldn’t know that…!”

“So you think she’d like someone more… considerate?”

You nod. “Probably just someone who takes the time to get to know her.”

“I guess we’ll see in the upcoming chapters.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You can’t quite hold back a smile. After all, your day always feels a lot better when it involves your favorite little comic.

Jungkook must’ve noticed your face because he makes a comment. “I am curious, though, as to why you like Witch Hazel so much when you clearly don’t care for Snow herself.”

“For me, it has nothing to do with Snow.” To mask your smile, you make a cute duck face instead. “Reading it just… makes me happy.” As much as you’d hate to admit it, it’s been a long time since anything has given you good vibes the way that one comic does.

“That’s good,” the boy says, gathering his things to head to his next class. “It’s the same for me with Snow’s music… in case you were wondering.” And with that, he leaves you with something to think about.

If Snow’s music is Jungkook’s medicine, Witch Hazel is yours.

By the time you get home from school, you’re still smiling like an idiot after what Jungkook had said. Snow’s music makes him happy, and the mere thought of that makes you happy. It’s in (very rare) times like this that you remember why you chose to become an idol in the first place. It’s why you endure the pain.

With your mind clouded in an unfamiliar wave of emotion, you pull out your phone and tap on Jungkook’s contact information. After changing his contact name to something cuter, you start composing a casual message just to say hi.

Jungkook. What if I told you a secret?

Delete. You’ve never deleted a message so quick. You don’t even know which secret you would’ve told the boy. That you’re his crush, Snow? Or that he’s yours? Not that you have a huge crush on him… You swear it’s just a tiny one!

Regardless, you shouldn’t be sharing any of your deepest secrets with him—at least not for now. It’s not that you don’t trust him. It’s just that it’s a tricky situation to be in.

Your eyes move from your guitar, to the stacks of handwritten sheet music beside it, to the album that won you your first award—where the pain all began. Even the most supportive fan could not imagine what you’ve given up to be the idol that you are, to be someone with a name.

The only thing you can do now is take it all back. And only then will you let Jungkook in. But until that time comes, you don’t belong to him or anyone else.

4:44PM Snow “Are you free to talk?”

4:46PM Jimin “Yeah”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #btsboulangerie #bts fluff #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #bts college au #bts idol au #jungkook #bts #bangtan #witch hazel

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cryptidkieren · 5 years ago

Text

come around (4/6)

hi guys!! im sorry this took so long to get out, but these chapters are steadily getting longer (over 5000 on this one alone!!) and im working 2 jobs so balancing all that has been fun :)

yesterday was my BIRTHDAY so i cranked out the last 2000 words to get it out asap

hope you like it! 💛💛

ao3 link

-----

Crowley slept for a week and a half.

Aziraphale barely left his side during the first few days. He was strung as tight as a bow, his anxiety through the roof, as he waited for Heaven or Hell to come after them.

They didn’t, though, thank- someone.

By the time the angel finally calmed down enough to roam the apartment freely, Crowley’s wounds had healed completely. Only a thin white scar was left of the gaping wound on his chest, thankfully, though he knew the demon would be cross. Having gone close to 300 years without another miraculously healed injury would leave him a bit sour now that his streak was broken. Removing scars from their corporations that were healed with divine (or occult, on occasion) powers was difficult, so it was better in the long run to leave them be.

Aziraphale was prepared to deal with his pouting and snark, only because he knew how close Crowley had come to total destruction.

In his weaker moments, Aziraphale wished he had laid waste to Hastur that day in the alley for daring to harm his demon. The guilt would come rushing in, of course, even though he knew it was more than the revolting demon deserved.

He was less guilty about the righteous anger he felt towards the Archangels.

The angel didn’t know when they would come for him after the stunt he pulled with Uriel’s dagger, but he knew it would happen like he knew how he would react.

Aziraphale had chosen his side, after all, and nothing would get in his way of protecting Crowley.

-----

The day before the Winter Solstice, Crowley finally woke up.

Aziraphale had just returned to the sparse flat after checking in at the book shop, a take out cup of tea steaming in his hand, when saw his companion shuffling out of the bedroom. He nearly dropped the cup when he saw how the demon looked.

Crowley looked like death warmed over, his skin paler than normal from being inside for so long. His hair was a right mess and he was still without a shirt, his dark boxers slung low on his hips. The late afternoon sun streamed through the picture windows of the living room, setting the entire apartment ablaze in warm golden light.

He imagined this was a glimpse of what Crowley was like before he Fell.

“‘Lo, ‘Ziraphale,” he yawned, completely oblivious to Aziraphale’s inner turmoil. The demon lurched towards him suddenly, forcing a very undignified noise out of the angel.

The paper cup was stolen from his hand as Aziraphale blushed hotly, silently cursing his racing heart to Hell and back. Crowley hummed as he sipped on the tea, grimacing comically when he swallowed.

“Ugh, you always make your tea too sweet, angel.” The demon peered at him, his amber eyes still a little foggy with sleep. His cheeks were a bit flushed, faint pillow creases marking one side of his face, good Lord- “Why’re you so red? You alright?”

“It’s cold!” Aziraphale blurted out in a panic as his heart practically beat out of his chest. “Very cold, yes! Wasn’t very prepared, to be honest, those winds could sweep someone off their feet!”

Crowley scrutinized him a moment longer before appearing to accept the explanation, as inane as it was. The angel felt his ears burn as chagrin filled him, pressing a hand to his face before following the demon into the kitchen.

Propped up on the high bar stools at the island counter, Crowley sat hunched over the warm cup, the plastic lid tossed to the side. He looked about ready to fall back to sleep, despite how long he had been out already.

“How are you feeling, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked as he struggled to get onto the next seat at the counter. This happened every time, they were too bloody tall-

The demon snorted as he watched the angel wrestle himself onto the stool. “Loads better, honestly. Though I’m not really digging the new addition, if you know what I mean.” He gestured to the long scar across his chest with a sneer.

“I don’t think it’s terrible,” Aziraphale puffed, slightly out of breath from his battle with the chair. “It’s dashing, I think. Though I suppose you’re pleased that the one on your arm is gone.”

He reached over to touch the area of Crowley’s bicep where the cut had previously been. The skin there was perfect, as if nothing had happened in the first place. Non-miraculously healed injuries that befell them usually disappeared without a trace after a few days, so after taking out the stitches a day later, the demon was right as rain.

Aziraphale suddenly realized he was stroking the area where the injury had occupied and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. He glanced up at the demon, his cheeks flaming, as he stuttered out an apology. Crowley seemed a bit red himself as he bit into his bottom lip and turned his head away.

It was stiflingly quiet between them for a moment, the angel’s awkwardness growing by the second.

“Well!” Aziraphale yelped, a few octaves higher than he would’ve liked. “It’s good you woke up when you did, my dear, since Anathema’s party is tomorrow night!”

“Is it really?” Crowley sounded just like he always did, if a bit choked. The angel felt his heart drop a bit at the clear intent to dismiss what just happened. It was what he wanted, of course, but…

“I can’t believe I let Hastur, of all people, catch me by surprise and send me into a week long coma,” the demon lamented, almost knocking over the tea when he dropped his head into his hand dramatically.

“It was a week and a half, actually,” Aziraphale interrupted softly. He picked up the discarded cup lid to fiddle with, but mostly so he wouldn’t have to look the demon in the eyes. “A very long week and a half, but only just that. It could’ve been much worse.”

Crowley was silent for a short time after that. So when a cool hand covered his own, it forced Aziraphale to look up at his companion. His eyes swam with regret and fondness and- something else the angel couldn’t name.

“I am sorry, Aziraphale, for putting you through that,” the demon said equally softly. “But I’m just as glad that you were there. I don’t think any other angel could’ve scared Hastur so completely.”

Aziraphale smiled at the demon’s grin, patting his hand gently and, after a second of hesitation, dared to leave it there. “I’m glad I was there too, dear. Now, let’s head to the parlour to wrap these presents before tomorrow finds us. I waited for you.”

Crowley’s smile widened as his eyes sparkled with mischief, the sheer beauty of him making the angel lose his breath. Before he knew it, the demon had taken off towards the living room, where the presents had been piled high when the angel had nothing better to do.

Aziraphale found his lost breath and heaved a sigh, following after his demon. Crowley was going to be the death of him, he was sure.

-----

The following morning was hectic, to say the least. They had both fallen asleep on the living room rug, empty wine glasses knocked over and bits of wrapping paper strewn about. Aziraphale had been so relieved to have his friend back that the exhaustion that had plagued him from the day in the alley caught up, knocking him unconscious for the first time in a few decades after a glass too many. All of the presents had to be piled into the back of the Bentley, completely blocking the rear window, to Aziraphale’s distress.

Crowley had reassured him (“It’ll be fine, angel, I’ve been driving since they invented the car!”) but the angel wasn’t convinced.

They were on the road shortly after, though not before coming to a sort of compromise to keep them both sane during the trip. The music would be a touch louder than Aziraphale liked it, while Crowley drove a few notches slower than he preferred (if only to protect his leather armrests from the angel’s whiteknuckled grip).

Once they left London proper, the scenery flew by. The rolling green hills that usually surrounded the road were covered in powdery snow. It was almost blindingly white in the midmorning sun, making everything feel like a storybook.

It was peaceful, in a way their lives hadn’t been since moving to London all those centuries ago. The complete absence of towering buildings, the smell of the streets, and the ever present aura of so many people in one place was staggering compared to the open, quiet hills of the country.

Aziraphale’s thoughts aimlessly drifted during the ride. Crowley was surprisingly silent, only humming idly along with the long standing Queen tape. Before they knew it, the small sign for Tadfield village was upon them and they were rolling down the ancient cobbled streets.

Jasmine Cottage was as lovely as ever, even in the dead of winter. The expected greenery that surrounded the house was replaced with bare branches and copious amounts of snow. A large evergreen wreath, strung with holly, sprigs of rosemary, and white ribbon, hung on the front door. It sang of home: a warm meal, fire in the hearth, a good conversation deep into the night.

A group of bicycles were haphazardly piled by the front gate. The beginnings of a snowman stood off in the garden, where two heavily clothed figures were pushing the vague approximation of the head. The other two children in the garden were engaged in what looked to be a snowball fight to the death. A scream of laughter was heard as snow was pushed down the back of a coat.

Aziraphale smiled, catching Crowley’s eye across the center console as they pulled up to park. The demon had his own smile, a touch fonder than his own. He always knew Crowley had a soft spot for children, but it was especially tender for this group.

A chorus of “Mr. Crowley! Mr. Zira!” erupted as they clambered out of the Bentley. The two beings were almost tossed into the snow when the Them made impact, their hugs tight enough combined to knock the wind out of them.

“Hello, children!” wheezed Aziraphale, grinning widely through the pain. His hands came up to pat the two heads closest to him, which happened to be Pepper and Wensleydale. He heard Crowley issue a similar greeting to Adam and Brian, who had clung just as tightly to the demon. “Would you mind releasing me? Getting a tad hard to breathe, you see.”

“Actually,” Wensleydale started, causing Pepper to groan next to him. Thankfully, they let go of the angel before the boy got started on his expected commentary. “If you were really asphyxiating, your body would prioritize getting air into your lungs before speaking, so if you can talk you have plenty of air.”

“That’s fascinating, my boy,” Aziraphale tugged the boy’s hat down his forehead, eliciting a giggle. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I find myself struggling for air.”

Pepper snorted. “You’re an angel, Mr. Zira, it’s not like you need to breathe anyway.”

“Well, when you’ve up kept a habit for close to 6,000 years, it’s hard to break.”

“Quite right on that, angel,” Crowley smirked at him, causing the angel to roll his eyes back. “How’s things inside, Adam? Christmas in full swing and whatnot?”

“Oh, don’t call it Christmas, please,” Brian begged. The other children nodded solemnly around him, looking far too haunted. “Anathema will be very cross if you call it Christmas.”

“He’s right, you know,” called the woman in question, startling everyone gathered in the front garden. She smirked at them from her position of leaning against one of the posts by the door, appearing quite pleased with herself. Her long, dark hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, curls spilling about freely, as her sweater-clad shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “Now, come inside before you all freeze to death. Don’t think I didn’t see you shove snow down Pepper’s jacket, Brian.”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged looks before ushering the children indoors. The presents that had taken over the backseat of the Bentley were miraculously placed under the modest size pine tree in the front room, but who could really tell how they got there?

Anathema and Newton had really outdone themselves, though the angel had nothing to base it against. The cottage was warm and homey, the smell of cooking meat and vegetables mixing pleasantly with the burning fire in the hearth. Boughs of evergreen and vines of ivy braided with red or white ribbon consisted of most of the decorations, though Aziraphale warily eyed the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway of the living room; he would have to keep himself on his toes not to get caught under it.

“Wow,” remarked Crowley, peering above his glasses at the decorations. His eye seemed to have caught on the mistletoe, too. “Looks great.”

“Oh, Newt actually did most of the decorating,” Anathema called from the kitchen, where the children had followed after shedding their outerwear at the door. Aziraphale knew the demon well enough to know he rolled his eyes at their mess before snapping his fingers, all of the coats hung up and the snow boots neatly lined against the wall. Their own coats were also magically off them and onto the hooks on the walls. Chuckling, the angel led him after the group and into the very messy kitchen.

Bowls were strewn about the counters, spoons abandoned in their own sticky mess, flour dusted almost everything in sight, and there was Newton, standing at the stove with a spatula and a grin for the newcomers. “So glad you two could make it, considering London is so far.”

“Pah,” Crowley scoffed dramatically, prompting a round of giggles from the children and a fond smile from the angel beside him. “Nothing is too far for the Bentley, Newton.”

“Newt, please, Mr. Fell.”

“Then it’s Crowley to you, Newt,” The two shook hands, all very manly like. Aziraphale had to stifle a laugh.

“Well, now that we’ve introduced ourselves again,” Anathema rolled her eyes, though her grin gave her away. “Does anyone want wine?”

Aziraphale and Crowley graciously accepted glasses, while the children were given a stern look from the witch when they asked for the same. They were each given sparkling cider instead, so there were no further complaints.

The small group drank quietly for a moment before Anathema set down her glass.

“Alright then, does anyone want to help me decorate the tree?”

Predictably, the Them jumped at the request, running and shouting their way back to the living room. The sound of something glass shattering echoed back to the adults just as the witch yelled “Don't’ run in the house!” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose under her glasses before pointing a severe finger at her boyfriend.

“We’re not having children any time soon.”

Newt only blinked, squeaking out a small “Yes, dear,” before the woman stormed off after the group of children.

Aziraphale grabbed the forgotten wine glass, watching as Crowley chuckled and turning Newt back to the stove firmly. Before the angel followed after Anathema, he heard his companion ask “How can you operate a stove without it exploding? I thought all machines were your enemy.”

The young man’s reply went unheard, instead drowned out by four pre-teens all loudly talking over each other. Aziraphale paused as he reached the doorway to the parlour, his smile growing as he watched this little group of humans they had claimed.

Anathema, her arms crossed tightly and her expression dark, only had to raise a hand to gain complete silence. A broken picture frame laid at her feet, the shards of glass scattered on the worn wood.

“I don’t want excuses,” she said quietly, since she had all of their attention. “I just want to know who broke it.”

A moment of stillness, the hesitance palpable in the air, before Adam stepped forward.

“I-I did, I’m sorry,” he murmured. He kept his eyes averted from hers, absolutely radiating regret and shame.

Anathema crouched a bit to be on eyelevel with the boy. She caught his gaze by ducking her head, a small smile on her face. “And what have we learned from this?”

“Not to run in the house…?”

“Right!” The witch’s smile widened as she stood back up. All of the children looked confused.

“You’re- You’re not going to yell? That I broke the picture?” Adam asked. His dark eyebrows were knit together, his nose scrunching up.

Anathema just put her hands on her hips. “Of course not. You already know you did something wrong and you apologized for it, so what would yelling accomplish? I’d just hurt my throat and it’s Solstice! No one should be sad today!”

Aziraphale hid his smile behind his glass, twitching his fingers to fix the broken frame. It flew back onto the table it previously occupied, the glass perfectly intact. A beautiful picture of Tonantzin, the Native Mexican goddess, sat in the frame.

The woman glanced back at him, her smile still in place as she nodded in thanks. She turned back to the group, who were inspecting the perfectly fine picture frame. “Do you guys want to set up the candles to burn later? You can make the shape whatever you want, as long as it connects together.”

The children wholeheartedly agreed to the task, immediately getting to work on the pile of long candles on the coffee table.

The angel handed Anathema her glass of wine when she joined him by the doorway. Her smile was bright as they watched the Them argue about what sort of shape they should make.

“They’re quite the handful, eh?” Aziraphale nudged her with a grin of his own.

The woman laughed into her glass. “Yeah, but they’re good kids. They’ve been helping me get this place together on the weekends.”

“I must say, you’re quite good with them,” the angel sipped at his wine, his smile fond as Brian and Adam broke out in a candlestick sword fight. “You’ll make a fantastic mother, should you choose to have any of your own.”

Anathema blushed, her smile growing wider as she looked at him. “Do you think so? Newt and I are young still, but I think I might want kids someday. Especially if they turn out like this lot.” She gestured to the children with her glass. Her eyes, hidden behind her circular glasses, were bright with emotion.

Aziraphale felt his chest tighten as he watched this young woman who he had come to admire and respect. One of his hands came up to lightly rest on her shoulder, bringing her attention back to him. “Of course I do, my dear. You and Newton will make wonderful, if entertaining, parents one day. You don't need a prophecy to tell you that.” He patted her shoulder gently as she hid her grin in her wine.

“My mother would kill me if I didn’t have a binding ceremony first. She’s still a little old fashioned that way.” Anathema giggled, her blush not receding the slightest. “What about you and Crowley, though? How long have you been married?”

Now it was the angel’s turn to flush in embarrassment. “Ah- Well, we’re not actually m-married.”

The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh? Are you two just not for it? That’s understandable.”

“W-We’re actually not… Together. Like that. Romantically.”

At that, Anathema’s brows tried to merge with her hairline. “Really? That’s honestly quite- Oh, the invitation must have confused you both, sorry about that. I just assumed-”

“No no, it’s no problem, my dear,” Aziraphale waved off her apology, desperately trying to hide his burning face in his wine glass.

He knew it was over for him when a suspicious look entered Anathema’s eye.

“So… Does he know that you’re obviously in love with him?”

Aziraphale choked on his wine, briefly drawing the attention of the children. They quickly went back to their job when they saw he was alright. The witch hadn’t taken her eyes off him, cataloguing his reaction stoically.

“I-I don’t-”

All she had to do to cut the angel off was lift one of her dark brows, in a move quite reminiscent of Crowley. A moment passed between them, a battle of wills; one that Aziraphale quickly lost with a noisy sigh.

“He… Doesn’t. Feel that way about me, you see.”

Anathema then, to the angel’s surprise, snorted in disbelief. “Are you blind? He so obviously looks at you like you hung the moon, Aziraphale.”

“He really does,” piped in Adam from the couch. The other three nodded vigorously behind him. “That is, if you’re talking about Mr. Crowley. Though I suppose he would be quite put out if another person looked at you like my parents look at each other. I know my dad gets huffy when guys talk to my mom like he does.”

The angel buried his burning face in his hands, the drained wine glass hanging from his fingers. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Crowley’s voice was suddenly right next to him.

“Alright then, what’s going on in here?”

The room was silent, no one was even breathing, before the Them broke out into giggles.

Aziraphale raised his eyes from his hands, looking at the group of humans in confusion. Even Anathema and the freshly washed Newt were chuckling. The only one who wasn’t was Crowley, who looked just as confounded as him.

Crowley. Who was standing next to the angel. Under the living room doorway.

They both seemed to understand at the same moment, tilting their heads back to gaze at the pretty sprig of mistletoe hanging above them. Aziraphale felt his already blushing cheeks positively ignite just as Crowley’s face did the same.

They blinked at each other, a moment of embarrassed hesitation passing between them, before the demon scoffed.

Aziraphale felt gentle fingers on his chin tugging him towards his companion. His own fingers tightened rather involuntarily around the delicate stem of his empty wine glass. This wasn’t how the angel imagined how their first kiss would go-

“Relax, angel,” murmured Crowley, only inches from his face. His wine-laced breath was warm where it hit Aziraphale’s mouth. The angel felt faint, as he was reminded of the similar encounter they had in the former St. Beryl convent, as mortifying as that was. If the demon didn’t do something, he was going to-

A soft pair of lips firmly pressed against his cheek, just beside his mouth. Crowley pulled away with a loud ‘smack!’ which caused the children to start laughing again. The demon looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Did you lot really think I’d give you a free show?”

The front door opened behind them suddenly, allowing the figures of Shadwell and Madame Tracey in from the cold. The two newcomers hadn’t immediately noticed the gathering, as Shadwell was complaining about something or other in his rough brogue.

When they did notice the group, all staring at the two red faced supernatural beings, Madame Tracey only quirked a smile while her companion looked at them in confusion. “Ay, what’s all this, then? Yer waitin’ for a photo or what?”

-----

The rest of the evening passed rather comfortably after that. Wine and tea were given to the older couple and presents were passed around. The group of children gathered the most, of course, but everyone got at least one present from their otherworldly friends.

Anathema in particular was delighted by the ancient pagan books Aziraphale had gifted her, swearing to keep them safe and preserved under her care. The talisman Crowley gave her and Newt to protect the cottage against anyone who wished to do them harm was also greeted with equal enthusiasm.

Aziraphale had to nudge the demon with a grin for that one. Crowley only responded with a huff, his cheeks coloring as he muttered about “necessary precautions.”

Dinner was marvelous, though a bit pedestrian by the angel’s usual standards. Newt had turned out to be a very proficient cook, though the amount of compliments he received turned him bashful. The wine flowed as much as the laughter did, smaller pairs or groups having several conversations at once.

They continued to drink, popping open the bottle of champagne that Madame Tracey had brought around sunset. Someone had put on music at some point, soft guitar and piano mixing together to create a cozy atmosphere, though Aziraphale couldn’t tell who did to save his life.

He was comfortably chatting with Anathema and Madame Tracey in the living room when he saw Crowley flapping his arms around in a strange dance with the children. Adam and Pepper were the best at the dance, from what the angel could tell, though Wensleydale and Brian were nowhere near as bad as Crowley.

Aziraphale snorted into his half empty glass. “C-Crowley, dear, what on earth are you doing?”

“It’s called a ‘flosser!’” The demon was grinning widely, his glasses abandoned at some point in the evening, allowing his slitted eyes to sparkle with amusement.

Pepper sniggered as the boys groaned around her. “It’s not ‘flosser,’ Mr. Crowley! It’s ‘flossing!’”

The group on the couch devolved into giggles as Crowley dramatically rolled his eyes, his hips still swinging out of time with his arms and making him look quite foolish. The children continued to perform their strange dance when the demon broke off from the line, tossing himself inelegantly to sit at Aziraphale’s feet. His back was warm and solid against the angel’s shins.

Aziraphale quickly found his glass emptied.

The music on the radio changed just as the Them abandoned their dance in lieu of playing their half finished board game. Crowley, who the angel assumed had fallen asleep since he hadn’t moved in a bit, perked up as a gentle guitar sounded through the machine. He tilted his head back with a wicked grin, essentially planting it in Aziraphale’s lap.

“Want to show them real dancing, angel?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale blinked in surprise, a little woozy from the amount of glasses he had emptied during the visit. “I don’t th-think I’ll be up to a gavotte currently, dear. Think I might’ve had a tad too much.” He wiggled his glass with a smile, making Anathema and Madame Tracey laugh next to him.

Crowley rolled his eyes as he stood, taking the still wiggling glass from the angel’s hands. “That’s not dancing, Aziraphale, no one wants to see that.” It was quickly passed off to one of the women and suddenly the angel was pulled to his feet.

He stumbled a bit on the rug, firm hands holding onto his arms and keeping him upright. Crowley smirked at him as they stood in the middle of the room. “C’mon now, angel, you never let me teach you the waltz in the 17th century! You owe me!”

“I don’t believe there’s enough room for a waltz, Crowley,” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the demon, trying to hold in his laughter at the silly excuse. He knew how much Crowley enjoyed dancing, making up crazier and more inappropriate dance trends as the centuries went on just to get a laugh. “Not quite a ballroom in Versailles, I’m afraid.”

“We’ll make due,” the demon nodded decisively, already reaching for the angel’s waist.

Aziraphale suddenly realised how bad of an idea this was.

“Ah- Well- I can’t really dance, you see,” he stuttered out as one of his hands was captured in Crowley’s own. The demon only stared at him blankly, looking unimpressed. Aziraphale held out for a moment, trying to convince him to let it go, before sighing and giving in.

Crowley’s shoulder was firm under his hand, the angel couldn’t help but notice. He tried to hide his warm face by staring at their feet.

The demon spun them in a slow, easy box step, murmuring encouragement as they went. Aziraphale eventually gained confidence after not stepping on his partner’s foot, allowing Crowley to speed up the dance to match the music.

Anathema and Newt joined them after a few minutes, spinning around in circles and laughing instead of actually dancing the waltz. Madame Tracey could be heard trying to convince Shadwell to dance, to no avail. Soon, though, the older woman was led in by Adam, making everyone smile.

The ethereal and occult pair eventually slowed their dance, only rocking in a slow circle in one spot. They had moved quite close together and Aziraphale, in all his tipsy brilliance, had rested his head against Crowley’s shoulder. He was very comfortable, if a bit bony.

“This is nice,” the angel sighed, his eyes closed. He felt more than heard the demon chuckle.

“It is,” he agreed. His voice was softer than normal, a touch deeper. Aziraphale quite liked it. “And we could’ve been doing it this whole time, too.”

Aziraphale hummed. The combination of the alcohol, the slow dance, and Crowley’s warmth was lulling him to sleep, so he chalked up the kiss he felt on his brow to his impending dreams.

“I think it’s time to go, darling,” the demon whispered. They had stopped dancing, standing in the living room wrapped up in each other. The angel hummed again, already half asleep in Crowley’s arms.

He heard a soft laugh as an arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him along. Murmured voices surrounded Aziraphale as he was moved through the cottage, his steps stumbling and clunky.

He woke a bit more when a blast of cold air hit him square in the face. They had gotten outside, his coat somehow on without his input. The full moon above them provided ample light to see, though they didn’t really need it. The snow shined in the light, making everything else seem washed out in comparison. It was quite beautiful, even the half asleep angel could recognize that.

Crowley helped him get into the Bentley, actually lifting his feet into the car when Aziraphale forgot to.

“Honestly, angel, I can’t take you anywhere,” he joked, his breath coming out in little puffs of steam. His skin was white in the moonlight, glowing like the snow that surrounded them. ‘He's quite beautiful, isn't he,’ thought the angel distantly.

The demon started to move back to close the door when Aziraphale reached for him.

“We should stay,” the angel muttered.

“What? Stay? You’re about to pass out.”

“Hmm, no, not stay stay, but get out of the city.”

Crowley was silent, causing Aziraphale to pry his eyes open (when did they close?) to see what was wrong. He was just standing there, the angel’s hand still on his wrist, looking- hopeful? Confused? Oh, he was too tired for subtlety.

“I’m asking you to run away to the country with me, Crowley.” Aziraphale grinned sleepily at him, his eyes already sliding shut again. The angel felt his hand taken off Crowley and tucked gently into his lap. He was drifting off again when he felt something brush against his cheek, almost lovingly, and a sigh.

The door was shut and the driver’s side opened, the engine rumbling to life under them. The cab was immediately filled with heated air, forcing the angel to fall further into sleep.

Before succumbing totally to his dreams, Aziraphale swore he felt fingers lace through his own and another soft sigh from beside him.

The angel was asleep before he knew it.

-----

[beginning] // [previous chapter] // [next chapter]

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ijustreallylovesanderssides · 6 years ago

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Doritos ≠ Emergency

A/N: This fic is based off this text post by @joygaytrash with a comic by @so-many-ships-i-have-a-fleet.

This was supposed to just be a funny fic, but it kind of turned into brotherly logicality fluff.

Once again, thanks to @virgilisaneternalmood for beta reading.

Summary: “I gave you the key for emergencies.”

“We were out of Doritos.”

Logan sighed wearily as he approached the door to his apartment. His students at the high school had been particularly rowdy today and he had stayed late grading tests. He looked forward to a quiet night at home with some Crofter’s jam and an Agatha Christie novel in the unicorn onesie his younger brother Patton had given him (although he would never ever admit to Patton that he actually used it.)

He went to unlock his door, but found it already unlocked. Odd. He could’ve sworn that he had locked it behind him when he left that morning. Perhaps the stress of the incoming standardized tests was getting to him.

Logan entered his apartment, but stopped short in the entryway. The light in his living room was on and he could hear rustling sounds coming from within. There was someone in his apartment—several someones by the sound of it.

All right. There was no need to panic. Logan quietly set down his briefcase and tiptoed towards the living room with his phone in hand. He would assess the situation and call for help as necessary.

He peeked around the corner and had to hold back a scream of frustration. Lounging on his couch, with a bag of Doritos between them, were his friend Virgil and his roommate Remy. His younger brother Patton along with his roommate, Roman, sat on the floor working on their homework.

Logan pulled back and put a hand to his forehead. Why him? He just wanted a quiet night after a stressful day. Was that too much to ask?

He took a deep breath. He was okay. He was fine. He would handle the situation calmly.

He stepped into the room. “Hello, people who do not live here.”

Virgil gave a little wave without looking up from his phone. “Hey.”

Roman’s “Hi” was nearly drowned out by Patton’s excited, “Logan!” as he threw himself at Logan, who caught Patton with a small “oof.” Logan accepted the hug, although he didn’t hug back. While Patton was the only one from whom Logan would accept physical affection, right now he needed to remain serious. Over Patton’s shoulder, Logan could see Remy’s obvious smirk as he said hello.

After shifting his weight to better support Patton, Logan gave Virgil a stern look. “I gave you the key for emergencies.”

Virgil shrugged. “We were out of Doritos.”

“That hardly counts as an emergency,” Logan said.

Remy looked over the top of his sunglasses at Logan. “Gurl, do not knock the need for Doritos. That is Dorito erasure and I won’t stand for it, no ma’am.”

Despite the many, many responses he could give to that statement, Logan decided to ignore Remy for now. He did not have the energy to deal with that bright ball of sass and pop culture.

Logan returned his attention to Virgil. “And Patton and Roman.”

Virgil gave Logan a meaningful look. “I’m tired of getting texts from Patton asking me how you’re doing because you’re not responding to his texts and calls.”

“I hardly think a few missed texts warrants such drastic measures.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “A few texts? Logan you haven’t responded to any of Patton’s messages in a month.”

Logan felt Patton’s grip tighten at Virgil’s words. Logan blinked at Virgil in shock. A month? Surely it hadn’t been that long. Maneuvering around Patton’s limbs he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his text history with Patton. Sure enough, the last time he had texted Patton occurred on September 20th, thirty-three days ago.

Now he noticed Patton’s trembling frame and the fact that he had yet to release Logan from his tight hold. He felt a pang of guilt. He always intended to return Patton’s messages, but always became so absorbed in his work that he forgot. He had not realized just how much time had passed.

He wrapped his arms around his younger brother. “Patton, I am truly sorry. I did not realize how long it had been. I did not mean to ignore you like this. I became so absorbed in my work that I—”

“It’s okay, Lo,” Patton said softly. “I’m just glad to see you’re doing okay.”

Despite Patton’s reassurance, Logan could feel him trembling slightly. He also had been clinging to Logan far longer and tighter than normal for a simple greeting hug. It had been such a foolish oversight on his part. Patton was an emotional extrovert and required quality time with those he loved. In addition, as the self-proclaimed Dad friend of their group, he worried over everyone’s well-being excessively.

He broke out of his thoughts when Virgil stood and stretched. “Well, this is sweet and all, but I’m afraid I don’t have much of a sweet tooth today.” He held up the bag of Doritos. “I’m taking these with me.”

“Gurl! I don’t think so! I worked hard to get those Duritos.”

Virgil snorted. “You walked the few feet from our apartment to Logan’s, then settled on the couch while I got them from the cupboard.”

“The mundane details of life mess up my vibes,” Remy said. “You do not appreciate how hard I work to be this fab.”

“Can’t say I do,” Virgil replied. “I’m leaving. If you want Doritos, get your hiney off the couch and get those legs working.”

With a large groan, Remy stood and walked over to Virgil, muttering about how he didn’t deserve this kind of treatment and that Starbucks wouldn’t treat him like this.

Virgil ignored Remy’s complaints and turned to Roman. “Oi, Princey. You’re coming too. I need your health with something.”

Roman held out a hand. “Um, excuse you, I am not some—”

He stopped when he caught Virgil’s meaningful glance at Logan and Patton. He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Oh, very well, I suppose it is the duty of a prince to help poor souls in need of assistance.”

This spurred a stream of offended objections from Remy, all of which Roman ignored as he gathered his belongings.

Patton pulled away from Logan to speak to Virgil. “Do you need any extra help, kiddo?”

“Nah,” Virgil said. “We’re good.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Patton said. “Just give me a text when you’re ready to take us home.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Actually, Patton. I was thinking you could stay here tonight and I could drop you off at your apartment on my way to work tomorrow morning. After all, it’s been a while since we last watched Sherlock together, so…”

Patton gave an excited gasp and clasped his hands together. “I’ll go get the costumes!”

He dashed off to Logan’s room where they stored their Sherlock and Watson costumes.

Virgil raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Costumes?”

Logan fiddled with his tie. “It is merely to get us into the proper mindset to appreciate the brilliant mind of Sherlock Holmes and to help us apply our own deductions as we view the episode.”

Virgil started to usher Remy and Roman out the door. “Uh huh, sure. Well, we’re heading out, so say goodbye to Pat for us.”

“Virgil,” Logan called after him.

Virgil turned. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Logan said, completely aware of the reason for the hasty departure.

Virgil gave him a thumbs up, then turned and pushed the other two out the door. Just as the door clicked shut, Patton rushed back into the room, two bundles of clothes tucked in his arms, one with neatly folded garments stacked neatly, while the other looked more like a tumbleweed of cloth.

Patton’s face fell. “Aw, did the others leave?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “It seems whatever Virgil needed from Roman was somewhat urgent. He told me to pass on their farewells to you.”

“He’s so sweet,” Patton cooed. “Oh, here!” He rushed forward and shoved the neat bundle into Logan’s arms.

They put on their respective, hats, scarves, and jackets, then settled onto the couch with Logan’s laptop. Patton snuggled into Logan’s side and they started their favorite episode. Later, they would have a discussion about Logan’s negligence. He would apologize once more and they would come up with a plan to prevent it from happening again. For now, Logan allowed himself to sit back and enjoy the presence of his best friend in the whole universe.

@seas-space-and-stardust @ravengrangergirl @hi-disappointed-im-daughter

@milomeepit @alurea-actually-a-prince

#sanders sides fic #platonic logicality #logicality #alice writes #alice's posts

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domesticangel · 6 years ago

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here’s a big ol dump of art thats been sitting in my folders for anywhere between 1-3 years that at this point ill probably never finish to accompany some Really Long rambling under the cut

im a junior in college now (””should be”” a senior/whatever that means/since i took a gap year but) but when i was in my like....sophomore-senior years of high school i drew like.....every. freaking. day. like literally i feel like i would draw like, 1 or 2 fully fleshed out, give-all-my-attention to type drawings every single day of my life, and i always had so much fun doing it.

after having a while to self-reflect though ive concluded theres kind of some layers to this. because i figure theres at least a little romanticization of the past going on, because i KNOW i wasn't a very happy person in high school; in fact, mental health wise, late high school into my freshman year of college was probably my very lowest point. i did lack motivation at these points, but not for drawing; i kind of put off school work and college prep, which wasn't good, but drew like HELL every single day, and pretty much all of it was fan art. thats one of the main differences between me then and me now; i used to dedicate so much of my time and energy to “fandom” and the media i was into, and it totally fueled my desire to draw, whereas now, i obviously still enjoy different series, but... my life doesn't really revolve around them like it used to.

the way i see it, i think i definitely used to use media and fandom participation as a form of escapism, but not really the good kind... i think it was more of a maladaptive obsession i failed to keep in check that i know for a fact really got in the way of my schoolwork, and i only doubled down when it came time to apply to colleges, because of course that stressed me out and scared me; during times like that, which was almost always due to my mental health issues at the time, i clung to fandom because its what brought me comfort and kind of shielded me from my responsibilities.

either way, that obsession with whatever media i was into at any given time is also what i think gave me that desire to draw all the time that i miss so much. i think being THAT invested in something is what actually gave me the constant desire to create, and being able to create something and feel accomplished in something without having to face anything uncertain or scary kept me totally hooked. so its weird trying to parse how i feel about that time period in my life.

on one hand, my mental health has gotten SO much better. obviously ive matured a lot since high school, so over time ive learned about much better coping mechanisms and ideas about mental health, ive gotten on a medication that works for me, and ive really gotten into my major so I'm really enjoying school as well. and obviously this is progress that i would never, ever, just want to give up or throw away. however, its also this progress that seems to have inadvertently influenced how often i draw, because I'm no longer fully diving into media/fandom because i dont need that escapism anymore, and therefore i don't have this like, feverish, obsession-fueled desire to draw like i used to. its kind of a double edged sword i guess and something i don't have a clear answer to.

i also think another factor i can't ignore is that i used to have a very large following in a lot of fandoms on tumblr, and if i remember correctly before i deleted my old tumblr i had around 12,000 followers that i had accumulated over probably the course of about 5 years. so that meant that my fan art got a LOT of attention. not to sound like hur-de-blur-social-media-is-evil but like at least in my personal experience, i kind of taught myself to think, “your art is only worth something if it gains a huge, instantaneous reaction, and peoples’ reaction to your art is the ONLY thing that decides its value.” and thinking like that really has hurt how i feel about my art over time! often times, after deleting my tumblr, i would find myself thinking, “well whats the point in doing any art, because nobodys going to see it anyway” so i honestly didn't draw or feel anything for art for a long, long time. in that time i channeled my feelings and energy into much more harmful activities, and i really could've used art at the time, but it had become such a worthless concept in my head since i could no longer associate it with immediate praise and attention.

i forgot a lot of important things about art, most importantly, how it could be fulfilling to just ME and that that was ok. i forgot that drawing regularly would help me improve, or give me something to focus on when i felt down, or give me the power to create something when i felt like i messed up everything else around me, or just make me happy because i thought of something i wanted to put on paper and then just put it on paper. and thats one of the main reasons i created this tumblr; i want to kind of rekindle that passion i had for art, but this time, without the maladaptive obsessions and without the need for approval from everyone around me. and i know this isn't a unique struggle; i know lots of artists who share their work online get discouraged by how little attention their work gets after they put so much time and effort into it, and like them, i don't have an answer as to how to “fix” this feeling either. but i can at least try. i want to prove to myself that the time i spent feeling hopeful and happy about something i created justifies its entire existence regardless of now many notes it gets, whether its OCs, fan art, digital, traditional, whatever. i just want to learn how to draw because it makes me happy.

that said, finding the motivation can be hard. however, i think I'm sometimes a little too hard on myself. I'm on winter break right now, and ive kind of defaulted to thinking “you haven't drawn enough, you've wasted so much time wishing the motivation fairy would visit you and make you draw that you haven't put in the time and effort needed to make yourself do it, youre pissing away every chance you have.” but when i think about it, i don't think thats true.

ive spent a lot of time thinking about OCs recently, which is kind of wild, because i haven't had the desire to make OCs in probably literally ten freakin years, so thats honestly huge for me--i actually really WANT to make original content despite the fact that i know it won't get as much attention as fan art, and i want to just do it for me, because i want to get it out. ive done a whole character sheet and I'm working on another! and sure, it didn't take me half a day like it maybe used to would've, but what does that matter? i thought, hey, i wanna get this out, and i got it out, and thats good enough for me. ive even written up storyboards in case i wanna ever make some small comics about my OCs just for fun, which is exciting cause ive never done it before. ive also been working on a commission for a close friend who wanted me to design her a fursona, and not only has it been a really fun process, but its the first commission ive done in a really, really long time, and it feels really rewarding. on top of that, I'm working on a painting for my dad as a late christmas present, and its my first really ambitious traditional piece in a while, so thats been pretty exciting too. and sure, ive done some fan art, but it feels like its coming from a better place; its less “please assign me value” and more just, really feeling something for the characters and wanting to try to connect with other people who feel something for those characters as well.

so, while it seems challenging, i also need to remind myself not to be blind to my own progress. i think i am doing better, and feeling better about art even if sometimes it feels like i spend way more time thinking about doing art instead of actually doing it. i think thats probably normal, and i think i can keep heading in the right direction.

ANYWAY this got really long but sometimes typing out how i feel about something and then reading it back helps me understand my own head a little better, so thats ok

#art #theres some scattered tf2 stuff in here but its mostly old tf2 ocs so

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worldsandwonders · 6 years ago

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I glanced down at my phone, staggering down the dark, lonely street away from joes, and smiled. Noah. He was offering to pick me up, an offer of which I gratefully accepted and decided that it'd be best to find a dry spot to wait as the heavens opened. I stood in the start of an alley under a metal staircase to keep out of the rain, pulling Noah's scarf tighter round my neck, covering my ears and wishing I'd remembered a hat this morning.

The scarf I wore was the same one I always wore when it was cold out, grey and covered in these cute little owls and foxes pulling funny faces, which may be childish but at that time of year there were constant storms and it was freezing most of the time, and that was the warmest scarf my boyfriend owned

clouds swirled above the empty streets, they looked dark enough without a storm brewing above them. Most of the street lights around this part of town were either smashed or pretty much dead, providing little to no comfort in the dying light. With the little light they did give off, they only unveiled the piles of rubbish and empty beer bottles nestled at their base.

Neon lights from the strip club across the street were the only other source of light. They flickered every now and then, as the door opened and slammed to girls in red high heels and tiny dresses skipping out with drunken married men in tow, back to empty cars or back alleys, if I didn't know any better I'd say the girls were just happy for an excuse to do something even vaguely warm. I watched for a while, one of the girls I saw- I think she lived in the same building as me, helped me with my shopping once- looked barely over 16, petite with pale skin and short brown frizzy hair. I could've been certain she'd had a nice smile last time I saw her but this one looked wide, scared almost, too many teeth... Bile rose in my throat, I diverted my attention. That man looked about 70.

Rain splashed into the gutter in front of my feet, as I lazily traced patterns into the grime on the floor with my boot, watching the occasional car pass at the end of the road. Hoping every time that it was Noah coming to get me. I could've sworn by that point that my lips were blue, as I felt a drop of water from my drenched hair hit my face. I just needed to get home. Off of this damn street.

That's when a familiar car pulled up next to my little hiding spot, it wasn't big or expensive, a bit battered but it was warm and smelt like home somehow, and had the only thing I really cared about right now in it. I shuffled round to the other side and pulled on the stiff handle, my boyfriend throwing me a gentle smile and a blanket as I sank into the seat next to him.

"I brought you some clothes to get into" His eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Thanks" my voice trembled as I reached for the warm pair of black joggers and one of his many Queen t-shirts he brought for me.

It took a bit of shuffling but I was, eventually, in suitably warm clothes, wrapped up in a thick blanket that Noah brought from home. It was the one we usually curled up under when someone had a bad day and needed to be able to attempt to subtly cry into something whilst pretending that the other person couldn't see them. It had come in handy a few times since the attacks had started, for both me and Noah

"You look like a Pokémon" my boyfriend commented fondly as he started the engine,

"Swadloon?" I couldn't help but laugh a little at that, I guess I kinda did. Noah nodded, a grin spreading over his face

"Nerd"

"Says the guy with a degree in both chemistry and biology. But sure, IM the nerd here"

The rest of the drive home went by in mostly comfortable silence with him occasionally glancing nervously in my direction and asking if I was feeling okay. I would simply nod, staring out at the buildings we past, the raindrops on the window contorting the shops and houses.

When we pulled up outside the block of flats we live in, Noah was quick to get out and scurry round to my side of the car. Opening the door he picked me up bridal style, despite all of my protests, announcing that we would come back for my clothes left in the car tomorrow morning and carried me inside.

The building was old, with creaky floorboards that you had to avoid to make sure you didn't wake up that crazy drunk guy next door, and there was always atleast one grumpy looking cat sat waiting on a chair sat by the front door. That damn chair must've been dumped there at some point, though I couldn't for the life of me tell you when, and was left so long that the cats claimed it as their own. Tonight it was an old tabby cat with patches of grey fur and half an ear missing. It was of my assumption that we had both a drunk guy and a crazy cat lady living in our building, because fuck knows where all of those damn cats come from if not.

After the treck up four flights of stairs (the elevators been out of order for ages, I'm pretty sure some teenagers did something to it, though I can't prove anything) we arrive outside our door. Reaching out I grabbed the keys, of which Noah had stuffed in his back pocket in favour of carrying me, and turned to unlock the door.

He only let me down once we were safely inside the flat, with the lights on and with me on the bed. I watched intently as he changed his clothes and wandered over to me, clambering under the covers. Shifting my position, I layed my head on his chest and looked up at him. He grabbed his book off of the nightstand and busied himself with that, as I admired the way his lip curled up slightly, and his adorable freckles, scattered across his his cheeks and how his intelligent, gentle, dark eyes reflected the light on the bedside table. How his brow creased slightly when he focused, and his head tilted slightly.

I hadn't realised I had been staring, but apparently he had, as he smiled down at me, one eyebrow raised. I felt heat creeping up my neck, despite us having been together for so long now, I never got over the embarrassment of being caught admiring him.

"You should get some rest babe, I don't want you getting ill" he trailed his fingers in patterns on my lower back, just underneath my shirt. Placing his book on the side, he ran his hand through my still damp hair and pulled me closer. I wanted to argue and tell him I wasn't tired, but I felt my eyelids start to droop, before I could even get my words out, and relaxed against him. Maybe I did need some rest....

I awoke to the smell of waffles wafting in from the kitchen, the corners of my mouth twitching up into a smile, waffles were a privilege we didn't often get now, it was mostly toast and rice. As I moved, I became very aware of the way my limbs ached, my head throbbing, and my throat burning. Shit.

"Babe" I called for Noah, my voice coming out as an awful croak. I pulled my legs up to my chest, already too warm, as I heard him come shuffling into the room, bringing the smell of waffles with him. Managing to open my eyes, I looked up at him placing the plate of waffles onto my bedside table, his other hand was occupied with a cold rag, kinda like he had predicted this.

"Urgh, how is it even possible to even get ill this fast" Noah simply smiled and pecked my pouting lips gently, pressing the cold cloth to my forehead.

He fussed around me for another hour, taking my temperature 4 times for accuracy (despite my protests) and made stupid jokes about taking my temperature from "other places" which I politely ignored. Whilst my boyfriend went through every possible illness I could have and then requested that he be allowed to have a bit of blood to look at through a microscope (which I, again, protested against, joke or not). Coming to the conclusion that I had the flu and that I wasn't going to die, he shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving me alone in our shared, and slightly messy, bedroom. It had been a while since I had resigned myself to domestic life, something I would've scoffed at a few years ago. The flat was filled with pictures of us, all of his favourite science books neatly stacked on a shelf in the corner, blankets piled up by my side of the bed, an overflowing washing basket that could be "sorted later" next to my record and comic book collections piled high; they were most likely going to topple and make a mess at some point.

At the time, me and Noah had been discussing getting a dog, for purposes of completing our tiny happy family, however we never seemed to get around to it.

He entered the room again about a half hour later, all dressed up to go to work, and plonked down on the bed. His face was carved with lines that made him look like a completly different person and he was refusing to look me in the eyes. I knew what that meant. Someone else was either missing or dead.

"Who was it this time?" His raised his eyes wearily, twiddling his thumbs "Noah, come one"

"The girl from next door, the young one" I felt bile rise in my throat. The one I'd seen last night. I should've said something, I knew she was young why didn't I say something. Guilt swirled in my stomach and it must've showed on my face as Noah raised an eyebrow at me, "you saw something." It wasn't a question.

"I saw her coming out of that club across the street from Joe's, with some rich old white guy, looked like 70" I turned my head away and sank down in bed, "Jesus. This is so fucked up." Noah just nodded.

"They found her body down that alley by Joe's under a pile of rubbish, I tried figuring out what was going on but everyone's telling a different story, some say she had her guts ripped out, some said she was shot... I dont- I honestly.... Fuck."

I shifted forward in bed and wrapped my arms around him. We may not have known her very well but she was young and kind, and that was enough. The list of bodies and missing persons was getting longer and longer every fucking week but nobody thinks there's a pattern, nobody has noticed a pattern, and it was getting closer to our front door too, 3 people from our building, dead or missing.

"Maybe we both need a day off today" Noah let out a breathy laugh and leaned into my arms

"I fucking wish".

I spent the rest of the day dozing, waiting for Noah to come home and thinking about how long it had been since I'd seen my friends. At 2:30 I ventured to the kitchen in barefoot (Noah wouldn't have approved) to make Mac n cheese (you know the really crappy stuff out of a can?). Our kitchen was filled with pots and pans we never actually used, Noah couldn't cook and I was a lazy bitch so we never really bothered, but as more and more people went missing or died, the more jumpy Noah got around people. Anxious and paranoid, he'd decided that we would just have to figure cooking out, cause anyone could be a threat. There was no blaming him for his fear though, as far as the public was aware, there were no suspects, no evidence, no witnesses. Whoever the fucker was, they knew what they were doing.

Being home alone had started becoming increasingly scary, so I checked locks, behind doors, in cupboards, under the bed. Like when I checked for monsters when I was little. Except this time the monster was real.

Around 6:00 Noah got home, his face slightly pale and with bags under his tired eyes. I opened my arms for a hug, which he gladly accepted, basically melting as he sagged.

"I am so glad this week is over" he shifted, pulling me towards the sofa, groaning as his bones cracked "two days of worrying about things that aren't science, before it's back at it again"

I smiled sadly, slumping into the sofa with him. My entire body was still aching like hell and my throat felt like someone had taken a flame thrower to it, but I could cope(kind of).

Our sofa was comfy and soft, covered in blankets at my own request, ready for that kind of situation( and also ready for the colder seasons as the heating had stopped working ages ago but the guy we hired to have a look never turned up). Also a billion different scented candles for as many different situations and moods as I could think of. There was a small TV that we never used perched on a stand in the corner (we were considering selling it)and the rest was essentially books that we'd collected since we moved here. Noah always said we should move somewhere nicer. But that place felt like home. Maybe that's why we stayed as long as we did.

I demanded that Noah go get changed so that we could cuddle, and despite all of his protests of "no, I'm too tired", he did. Coming back 2 minutes later in a pair of shorts and a pink Floyd t-shirt, and slumped into my arms as I pulled 3 or 4 blankets over him. His head found my lap, as I crossed my legs underneath me, holding his hand and petting his hair. Clinging to both me and the blankets he started to sob, heaving and crying into blankets, and my chest ached. I wished there was something I could do. I wished I could help him.

#writers #writing #writers on tumblr

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thepringlesofblood · 3 years ago

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ok i have a semi-decent success rate with using this site like a scrying pool to try and find things i can’t quite remember so here’s another

in 4th grade, my teacher read us a book, chapter by chapter, over the whole school year. I do not remember the name of the book. I do not remember the names of any of the characters, or the author.

what i do remember is what the cover looked like, most of the major plot points, and that it blew my 4th grade mind. it was an awesome book i’ve been looking for it ever since to see if it’s actually as good as I remember it being or if I was just ten.

so if any of this rings a bell to you and you remember the book please god tell me the name of it bc it has been plagueing me for literally over a decade

(under the cut bc its a long description)

The main plot was that a kid was hiking in a canyon/gorge and fell into a complex underground cave system and got trapped there. as he’s going around trying to figure out a way out he meets a guy who’s been trapped down there for years, a sort of eccentric doc brown type, who teaches him how to survive. the detail I remember most specifically is that they survive by eating prawns that live in all these underground pools, and bc its pitch-black in the caves they make light by making oil out of these prawns and then lighting the prawn oil on fire? anyway them just surviving is the main plot of the book, and the eccentric guy dropping weird cave wisdom on the kid, there might have been a subplot where a mining company was going to blow stuff up? but there might not have been. I think at the end when the kid escapes the guy goes back into the caves and lives there but I could be wrong. the general vibe was my side of the mountain meets 127 hours, leaning heavily towards my side of the mountain.

i don’t remember names specifically, but I think that the kid’s name started with L or had an L in it. I’d guess “Ledger” if i had to guess. when I’ve tried to dredge this memory up before I’ve guess that the title was something like “ledger’s peak” or “ledger’s gorge” or just the name of the gorge it takes place in like ‘sunset gorge’ or ‘spencer gorge’ or something like that

and I remember what the cover looked like - it was a close up of a pair of red converse sneakers from above, the tips of the shoes were peeking over the edge of a cliff that looked into a gorge of jagged grey and white rock with a river, mountains fill up the whole horizon, the sky was super super light, almost white, with the title in red letters, comic sans if I had to guess. here’s the general gist (please do not make fun of my shitty ms paint drawing)

it would have to have been published at the very least before 2011, probably earlier. it wasn’t super long, like novel length, and the genre was definitely the sort of Young Reader genre that like the percy jackson books belong to, the 8-12 audience, since the main kid was i think 11, maybe older.

most of this is mutable or changeable or possible that I remembered wrong, the only things i’m entirely certain of are:

the time period - before 2011 at least, probably earlier.

the prawns. it’s stupid, but for some reason the detail my brain latched onto is that they ate cave prawns/crayfish/shrimp and turned them into oil and lit fires with it.

the general structure of boy falls into caves, boy meets guy who’s been down there for longer, they work together to survive and escape

the cover, more specifically red converse sneakers on the cover. again, i don’t make the rules of what details my brain latches onto. it could’ve been a reprint or a second edition so this really doesn’t help much except as a confirmation

im well aware this might not be anything. but fucks sake i loved that book. im always into that my side of the mountain shit. lmk if you know this book

#tumblr scrying #original post

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percivalvonsmokey · 7 years ago

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Pike noticed something about Percy. Something that wasn’t exactly unusual for Percy, just when it came to her.

He was avoiding her. Maybe not on purpose, could’ve been subconscious. But even so, she noticed, and it kind of hurt.

“For someone who claims so often that you miss me you don’t spend much time with me when I come back.” Pike mentioned casually as she drank from the giant flagon of ale set out in front of her. The group was talking and Percy had been listening but quietly, avoiding Pike’s eyes.

He smiled. It was a small wretched thing. Typical Percy smiles, he doesn’t give out much else. She smiled back on instinct, always ready to console and shoulder touch. He held his smile and looked up at her eyes. “You never miss a beat, do you? Sometimes I worry when you’re away too long that you’ll miss us growing up. Like we’ll bloom and be on our way to wilting just as you come to smell the flowers.”

“Percy,” she started quietly. “You shouldn’t steep yourself so much in depressing thoughts. Focus on being a flower, don’t think about the wilting. It’ll come later. On its own and without your help.” She wasnt always great at cheerful words but the spirit of it was in her and he smiled a bit more genuinely and in return made her smile brighter. It made his heart flutter.

“Would you like to walk with me? I’ll try to explain my line of thought.”

The rest of Vox Machina continued to yell at each other amicably. Their conversations drifting into a more neutral ground of who did what amazing thing during battle that day and by the time Vex turned to yell “And Pike with the totally clutch Guiding Bolt!!” she and Percy were already gone.

Outside of the bar Percy took off his outer cloak and handed it to Pike, who looked comically small in it. She only accepted it once Percy assured her that he would be warm enough in his typical 3 layers of clothing and that he really didn’t need the cloak. She wore it well and wrapped it right and it almost looked like a dress on her. A very stiff, low collared dress, but she looked beautiful nonetheless.

“So what’s been on your mind? Why have you been avoiding me?” She asked, once they had been situated and started their slow pace down the streets of Whitestone.

Percy was silent for a good bit. He kept his eyes to the floor in front of him, almost like he was measuring his steps before he took them. He finally let out a sigh and started talking, still without looking at her. “I’m afraid I’m corruption. Not just corrupted myself, which I am, but corruption. I feel like my diseased way of thinking will bleed into the rest of the group and taint everyone and then you’ll all be like me. You may not have heard but just before we encountered the Briarwoods, before you joined the fight, Tiberius mowed down an old arcana user with a weapon he designed that wasn’t at all like my own creations, but possibly just as gruesome. I can hear it in Keyleth sometimes when she speaks about the way she feels or her plans of attack and it sounds just like me. I feel like im corrupting everyone and i don’t want it to happen to you.” He smiled his wretched smile again, more like a grimace than anything. “But I’m such a horrible person that even with this realization, I’ve never considered leaving you all. Maybe some distance, maybe a bit of avoiding like how i ended up with you. But I’m not a good person. If i was, maybe i wouldnt still be travelling with you all.”

Pike regarded him quietly for a moment, watching his eyes go from the road ahead back to his feet. She wrinkled her forehead a bit at his expression. “Percy.” She paused, waiting for him to look back over at her. “For one of the smartest people i know, youre really dumb.” He smiled at that. A nice soft one, reserved for soft talks with vex or usually pike herself.

He chuckled. “You’re always so good with words,” he mused.

Pike laughed back at him. “Im serious. All your talk of corruption and how you’re tainting us with your bad influence. Percy,” She stopped walking to make him look at her. “You are not the worst of us. Just as I’m not the best of us. We are all pieces of a bigger puzzle. That’s why we’re together. We’re all good and we’re all bad. None of us is purely one thing.”

She grabbed his wrist and started walking again. “We all make mistakes.” Percy snorted at that. “Yes, Percy, making a pact with a smoke demon was a pretty big mistake, but you were young and traumatised, and Orthax took advantage of that. I’ve made mistakes too. You’ve seen my holy symbol crack. No one can tell me it was ‘no big deal’ because it was bad enough to disappoint a goddess.”

They walked in silence while Pike let what she said soak in and thought of what else to say if that didn’t console him.

He let out a huff of air and slid his hand into hers so she wouldn’t have to hold his sleeve anymore. “You may have a point.” He conceded. “I’m having trouble imagining us on the same playing field. You having devoted your life to a goddess and me having promised mine to a demon.”

“We make it work though.” She gripped his hand tighter and he looked over at her. “Don’t we?” She was smiling softly. It set off a spark in his heart and he suddenly remembered why he felt so ashamed to be near her again.

He wasn’t worth her.

No matter all the talk of them just being pieces of a bigger whole, it didn’t change that his piece was broken and crusted with mud while hers was shining and clean. He wasn’t fit to be near her.

A smile ghosted his face but Pike felt his hand loosen in her grip. She lost him somehow. “Percy?” She questioned. “ You always overthink about the bad your deal with Orthax caused, but do you ever think about the good?”

His eyes focused back in on her face and he almost snorted again, choosing to mask it as a cough and straighten his glasses with his free hand. He licked his lips and let out an amused sound. “What good might you be referring to?” He couldn’t remember anything but the fear in the twins’ eyes. The fire in Grog’s at the realization of how strong Percy could be. The concern in Pike's.

"I won't bring up all the times you've manifested smoke, I know you think about it enough on your own, but next time you do try to think about the enemies it's defeated. Try to think about the ones we didn't have to kill because it scared them into telling us what we needed to know. Yes. It was a bad thing and it might be something we have to face again in the future. But right now, try to keep in mind the things you've accomplished because of it."

Pike felt Percy's hand tighten on hers. He spoke quietly. "You're too good to me, Pike."

"Someone has to be." She joked, nudging his hip with her shoulder. "If you keep hating on yourself then that just means that I'll have to keep loving you enough for the both of us."

He started. A jolt of electricity ran through his entire body and he flexed his hands on instinct. She let go when he did, caught off guard by the motion. "Percy?"

"Sorry I'm... " He chuckled and shook his head, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "Sorry it's not you I'm just... Did you say?"

"I have to love you enough for the both of us? Percy. Why do you think I'm so distraught every time you try to distance yourself from me? I want to spend time with you. I want to be around you. I love you."

Of course she does. He laughed again, softly. Of course she loves him. She loves all of them. Pike would never think twice about telling any of them that she loves them, that's who she is. She has a lot of love to give. Shes not saying...

"Pike, I-" She cut him off, grabbing his hands and yanking downwards. She's a strong little gnome and he went easily.

"Don't overthink what I'm trying to tell you." She said, pulling until he was on his knees, hands in hers, eye to eye. "I love you. And yes, I love all of you, but right now I'm talking about you. I love you, Percy. And I miss you a lot. And if you're done brooding, I'd really like to kiss you."

All of the air in his body left in a very unrefined almost whimper-like noise. Which he followed with a, "You what?"

"Is that a no?" She asked, pulling him a little closer.

He cleared his throat. Shook his head. "It's definitely not a no." And with that she pressed her lips to his.

The only real way to keep him from talking was to keep him occupied and she bad been wanting to occupy him for days.

Well. Days meaning since she met back up with the rest of Vox Machina. If she was thinking of how long exactly she had been waiting for this? Years would be the correct answer.

To be completely honest, when they had met and he told them all the story of, well, basically the story of how Percy became Percy. The stories of his hazy memories at sea were her favorite and she longed to take him out one day. Show him the good of being a sailor. She loved the long nights when they couldn't sleep and Scanlan would play a tune and her and Percy would sing sea shanties around the fire to amuse themselves and their friends.

He always asked about Sarenrae, even as his tenuous respect for the gods wore thin and then out completely. He never made fun of Pike or said anything bad about her god. He still asked of her often and how Pike was doing with her and the temple.

They had a connection. If that connection was friendship only, Pike would be okay with that. But if it could be more. Then she wanted more.

The kiss lingered and went from a chaste press to something Percy was a little too excited about doing with a holy woman in the streets.

"We should perhaps move indoors, as much as I'd hate to break this up." Percy breathed quietly, feeling Pike's breath ghost over his face, a warmth in the cold Whitestone night air. "I'm afraid my knees will freeze solid if we continue like this."

Pike looked down when he mentioned it and noticed a thin pool of water among the snow where his knees melted the ice so that he was now kneeling in a shallow pool of cold water. "Im so sorry." She sputtered, quicky letting go of his hands so he could get up and fix himself. "I just... I got carried away. I'd been thinking about doing that for so long and I just... sorry."

"There is absolutely no reason to apologize, though I do suggest we head indoors now before we both freeze."

#blessed bullets #percy/pike #long post #critrole fanfic #in honor of pikes big reveal here's a fic i wrote an undetermined about of time ago #it's small and just my way of exploring what i thought of their relationship #sorry no read more i'm on mobile and dk how #my writing

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