#reread them this last december

[mytdpblog]

Just binged watched the first 3 seasons of The Dragon Prince this weekend and I feel ALIVE

[puck-luck]

among the sheets | jack hughes

SEQUEL TO BETWEEN THE TILES

warnings: unprotected p in v, jealous and possessive jack, dirty talk, creampie, lots of kissing (lfg), trickery, light breeding kink (shh), mentions of masturbation (m & f), fingering, light biting, praise, ignoring the apparent repercussions of taking Plan B (cappy says that it’s bad for your body and to be real? i’ve never taken Plan B so idfk and idfc about the repercussions) pairing: frat!president jack hughes x reader summary: “Frat! Jack getting jealous watching reader get paired with another guy in their shared class together for an assignment 🤭”, “ok but reader talking to another guy in jacks frat bc she’s like whatever ur gonna act like nothing happened so will i and he gets PISSED and finally breaks telling her that he can’t stop thinking about her” wc: 6916

Three weeks. Six classes. Two Mondays, two Wednesdays, and two Fridays. One entire Thanksgiving break. That’s how long it’s been since you and Jack hooked up at his party in the beginning of November. 

December comes with a new goal for you: that you’re not going to let Jack Hughes get into your head. After all, he’s just a frat guy. It’s typical for frat boys to get what they want– laid– and then ghost their hookup. You’ve seen it happen to your roommates and close friends in years past, who always seem to fall for the frat guy that can’t commit. He’ll string them along for a fuck, convincing them that he likes them, just so that they’ll come back for more. 

Your girlfriends never stay the night, never receive aftercare, and sometimes don’t even get to come. Yet– the boy is always allowed to stay the night at her place. And he always pulls her back in, even when he’s fucking other girls and lying about it. Your mind automatically goes to Jack’s frat brother, Cole, who was the puppeteer of a miserable situationship with your close friend a few years back.

You’ve learned, just through talking with Jack during class, that he and Cole are still close friends. Cole’s his VP of Brotherhood. You don’t share the fact that you know the girl who cried over Cole every week for the better part of sophomore year. 

No, that information you keep to yourself. Although, to you, Jack’s friendship with Cole is proof that Jack is doing the same thing to you. If he asked, you probably would fuck him again. After all, he’s been nothing but kind to you since that party. But, at the same time, he’s been kind– not flirty. 

The distinction between the two is clear. Heading into finals, you’re going to keep your head down and do your work. You’ll study, you’ll prep for the second-to-last set of finals you’ll ever take, and you will not allow Jack to distract you. He’s just some guy.

You’re a little nervous heading into your first class back from break. Today, your teacher is announcing the pairs for your final project. In this class, there’s an optional written exam. Instead, there’s the required project, where you have to research and present about one of the topics that was covered this semester. With your luck, you’re expecting that your teacher will pair you and Jack together. That way, you won’t be able to avoid him. It’ll be a nightmare.

Like always, you arrive to class before Jack does. Like always, you take out your computer and your textbook, rereading your most recent notes to make sure you’re up to speed on what you’ll talk about in class today. Like always, Jack drops into the seat next to you just before the bell rings, and like always, he peers over your shoulder to look at your computer screen, snooping.

“I see you haven’t changed over break,” Jack says, sounding disappointed. “I was hoping that we’d come back and I’d get to watch you shop for a dress for formal instead of having to look at your notes all the time.”

“I’m not going to any formal,” you reply. “I’m not in a sorority.”

Jack clicks his tongue like he’s just remembering, about to retort when your professor starts class. You shush Jack, then turn your attention to your prof. 

She tells the class that today you’ll be meeting with your assigned partner and choosing a topic for your presentation. Everyone will have to move around in the classroom to do so, which is a relief– unless Jack ends up being your partner, he’ll have to leave your side. You won’t be burdened with the weight of having a man who’s seen your face when you come right beside you.

She begins to read from the list on her computer and you get lucky– Jack isn’t your partner. Instead, you get Braden Schneider, who sits across from you in the classroom, close to the back. He tucks himself into a corner every class and you’ve seen him at office hours once or twice. When you’re partnered up, he gives you a little wave and a smile.

Jack is stuck with another boy from the class, a boy named John (you think) with whom he seems to get along. 

Once the class splits into pairs, Jack raises his hand to bid you goodbye and goes to join John across the way. Braden comes and takes his seat. You don’t know Braden well, but he’s passionate about doing a presentation about the topic that you know best, so you click almost immediately. You leave class feeling confident that you will get a good grade on this final, so good that it might bump you up from a B+ to an A-... or even an A, if you can speak as well in front of the class as you can research.

You and Braden leave class together, trying to decide when it’s best to meet up outside of class and start working on your presentation. As you walk down the hall, Braden tells you that he can’t meet up on Friday because he’s going to his girlfriend’s formal– you can’t seem to escape the topic of greek life. You decide to grab coffee on Sunday morning. Outside the building, Braden leaves you with another wave and a confirmation of “It’s a date!”

Then, Jack finds you.

“How was Schneider?” He asks, eying your classmate’s retreating figure. 

“He’s good. We’re getting coffee on Sunday. I think our project will go well. How’s… John?” You reply, fixing the backpack straps on your shoulders before setting off towards the parking lot where you parked today. This class with Jack is the last of the day, so you’re ready to head home. He walks back the same way, since the parking lot is about a block closer to campus than the frat houses.

“Johnny,” Jack corrects. Then, he shrugs. “He’s fine. Why are you getting coffee with Schneider?”

You almost burst out laughing. “For the project?” You explain, like it’s obvious. “We have to talk about it.”

“Why can’t you just go to the library? Or you could work on it during class time,” Jack says. 

Now, it’s your turn to shrug. “We want to get it done and he says he works best in a more relaxed environment.”

“Of course he does,” Jack scoffs. “Those fucking Nups. They never take anything seriously.”

“‘Nups?’” You repeat. “What the fuck is a ‘Nup?’”

“Nu Upsilon Rho,” Jack says. “Our rival frat. He’s one of the brothers.”

“So… because he’s in this frat that you don’t like… you think he’s not going to take the project seriously,” you deadpan. “Do you even know him?”

“I just think he’s going to ditch you with all the work because he’s busy,” Jack says with another shrug. He fixes his baseball cap, turning it so it’s backwards atop his head. 

“Well, I have faith in him. We’ve got a plan and he seems pretty into our topic, so I think everything will be fine.” You frown at Jack, narrowing your eyes at him. “Thanks for the concern.”

“Are you angry with me, or something?” Jack asks. “You seem mad.”

“I think you’re really overstepping,” you tell him. “My project isn’t your business. We’re not partners.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Why don’t you worry about yourself?” You’ve reached your parking lot, so this is the part where you turn left and Jack continues going straight. You cross your arms over your chest and he stops in front of you, turning to face you. You’re crowded on the left side of the sidewalk. Other students walk past you, sometimes looking at you to express their distaste at the obstacle blocking their way. 

Jack looks at you for a minute, holding eye contact without saying anything. He looks confused at your retort, a slight frown tugging at his lips. 

Those are the same lips that kissed your earlobe, your cheek, your neck. Behind them is the same tongue that licked into your mouth and slid against yours. 

You’re flushing a bit now. It takes a lot of concentration to tear yourself away from him, to look down at his feet. He’s wearing those white AF1s that he always wears, creased and gross after years of wear and tear, and that’s enough to bring you back to yourself. 

“We’re throwing a party on the last day of classes,” Jack says. “It’s, like, a final hoo-rah before finals. The theme is Ugly Christmas Sweaters. I’ll put you on the list, if you want to come.”

“Maybe,” you say. You probably won’t go. The last time you went to one of Jack’s parties, you ended up losing your head after one drink and fucking him in the downstairs bathroom where everyone could hear, just because he asked you to.

“Okay. It’ll start at nine. You can come early, too. I’ll be at the house all day.” If Jack is bothered by your uncertain answer, he doesn’t let it show. He bids you goodbye and turns away, heading towards the house. 

You watch him walk away, then you don’t think about him again until class on Wednesday. Wednesday begins exam review. Your optional exam is scheduled on the first day of finals week, in just ten days. You’ll only have two classes to summarize everything you learned this semester, since Monday and Wednesday are reserved for presentations, so it’s imperative that you pay attention. You have to pay attention in case your final project falls apart and goes completely south, the way that it seems Jack believes it will. You want to ace this final exam if you have to take it.

You barely speak with him throughout exam review on Wednesday, nor on Friday. You head to the library to work on other papers and exam reviews after your classes instead of going home, just so you don’t have to walk back with him.

If Jack’s not going to bring up the fact that you fucked, then neither are you. If he’s going to be a dick about the project, and the fact that you’re paired with one of his rival frat’s brothers, then you’re just going to ignore him.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t try to bother you during class, because he does. He’s insatiable like that. It’s impossible for him to go a class period without talking or without poking you and pouting for attention. You’re just the bigger person.

Jack’s presentation is on Monday and it goes fine. He and his partner are relatively monotone and they don’t seem to care much about their topic, so you’d say that they earned a solid C on the presentation part of the project. Hopefully their research and write-up is better and can lift their grade up to a B. You give him a high five after it’s done, just to congratulate him on completing the assignment, and he slumps in his seat. 

Your presentation is on Wednesday. You and Braden met for coffee on Sunday, like you said. He told you a bit about his girlfriend’s formal on Friday, then you got down to work. You both pulled through with your end of the research, so organizing your presentation was easy. You were in and out of the coffee shop in less than two hours, feeling fully confident that you’d be able to present well and receive an A.

On Wednesday, everything goes off without a hitch. Your professor looks impressed, scribbling only a few notes on her sheet of paper. You try not to look at Jack, lest he distract you, but he’s staring at you the whole time. He gives you a tight smile after the presentation is over and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

After class, Braden comes over and gives you a hug. You’d gotten his number before your coffee date, but he assures you that he’d love to study together in the future. You’ll have a class together next semester, anyway– the same one you’ll have with Jack, since you’re all in your last semester before graduation and everyone always ends up in the same course. 

Jack walks with you to the parking lot on Wednesday, heading home in the same direction, but his hands are shoved in his pockets and his expression is oddly blank. When you reach your normal parting point, Jack stops.

“Are you coming to the Ugly Sweater party?” He asks. 

“It’s on Friday, right?” You ask, still beaming after your successful presentation. “I don’t have any plans, I don’t think.”

“Do you have an ugly sweater?” Jack asks.

“I think I can find one.”

“I have two. You can borrow one of mine.” Jack kicks a rock to the side of the sidewalk, out of the way. “Do you want to come to the house and grab it? I know coming to frat parties early, like… isn’t fun for most people. I’ll kind of be busy before, too, so. You coming to the house now to grab it would be better. If you have nothing else to do.”

His words are jilted and awkward. You’re just as aware as he is that the last time you came to the house, you came all over his cock and he shot off inside of you. You know Jack’s thinking about that because the tips of his ears have gone red and he can’t meet your eyes.

You’d rather face the frat house now, in the light of day, than go back on a Friday night when there is a huge crowd and you can barely hear Jack.

“Yeah,” you tell him. Your answer surprises Jack, but it makes him smile. 

“Okay,” he says, trying to bite back the big grin. “C’mon.”

Together, you bypass the parking lot where your car sits. You walk together to the row of frat houses down the block. Jack swipes into the house with his student ID, holding the door open for you.

You kind of think he expects you to keep walking, but you’ve never been to his room before. You’ve only been in the dancing room– which looks like shit in the light of day, on a Wednesday afternoon– the kitchen, and that bathroom down the hall. 

Jack waves at a brother who is sitting in the living room to the right of the foyer, then guides you upstairs with a hand at the small of your back. His touch is featherlight, his fingertips pressing against the back of your sweater, bunching up the fabric. 

You make it to the top of the stairs, turning towards the left. There are more doors on that side of the hall, so you expect Jack’s room is down there. There are two doors on the right.

Jack climbs the final stairs and hooks a finger through the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you gently towards the right. “My room’s over here,” he mumbles, reaching for one of the doorhandles. “The other one is the shared bathroom for the guys. If you need the bathroom during the party, you can go in this one instead of waiting downstairs again.”

You nod, not sure how to reply. You’re not sure if you can face that bathroom without wanting to repeat your encounter with Jack. 

It’s even harder seeing his bed– unmade, messy, and looking comfortable. The sheets are wrinkled and thrown around haphazardly, his pillows flat and squished like he was hugging them in his sleep.

“Sorry for the mess,” Jack offers. “I didn’t think…”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I don’t mind. My room isn’t much better.”

That’s a lie. You have a laundry basket for your dirty clothes and Jack seems to drop them in a pile in the corner. He’s got books out, whereas yours are stacked neatly on your desk. The truthful part is that you don’t mind– you didn’t expect a clean room in a frat house.

You take a seat on the edge of his bed, clasping your hands in your lap and bouncing a bit on the mattress when you sink into it. He digs through his closet, moving hangers and pulling boxes out of cubbies to try and find the ugly sweater that you’re going to borrow.

You spot a can of Zyn on his bedside table, which makes you laugh to yourself. You’re looking around the room for more when your phone dings.

You dig it out of your pocket, checking your messages. It’s Braden, who has sent you a picture of a coffee and a donut– and his girlfriend in the background– from the same coffee shop where you met up on Sunday. His message reads: “Thanks for the recommendation! Ordered your fav to celebrate our awesome presentation today. Jos says she’ll get the butter cream next time for sure :)”

“Who’s that?” Jack asks, already facing you when you look up with a truly ugly Christmas sweater in his hands.

“Braden.”

Jack’s face clouds over. His hands drop to his sides, the sweater drooping in his right. “You’re done with the project, though.”

“So what?”

“Why are you still talking to him?”

“We get along,” you explain with a shrug. “He’s nice.”

“He’s a Nup,” Jack says again, deadpanning.

You scoff and shake your head. “Jack, just because he’s in another frat than you doesn’t mean he’s not nice. I’m friends with him just like how I’m friends with you.”

“But we were friends first,” Jack complains.

“Does that mean that I’m only allowed to be friends with you?” You ask, teasing him slightly. The idea is absurd and you need to know if Jack really means what he’s implying. “Heaven forbid I have to tell my roommate that we’re not allowed to be friends anymore because the President of Pike doesn’t allow me to talk to anyone other than him.”

“That’s not fair, you know I don’t mean that,” Jack says. 

“Jack, honey,” you begin, an air of patronization lacing the pet name. “You’re overstepping again. Let me see that sweater.” You hold a hand out, making a grabbing motion at the lump of fabric in his hand.

“You can’t just look at it,” Jack says with a pout. “You have to try it on to get the full effect. That’s what my mom always says.”

A short silence hangs in the air as you both realize what he said. It’s not like you can pull this sweater over the sweater you’re wearing– you’ll be sweltering and it won’t fit right.

Jack looks so caught on the spot that you can’t help but burst into giggles.

“Jack,” you laugh. “Are you trying to get me to take my clothes off?”

“Well, you’d put a new sweater on immediately after,” Jack says, trying to make up for his blunder. His ears are burning again, eyes darting around the room awkwardly. “I’ll even turn around.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you say, shrugging him off. You start to pull your sweater over your head, revealing the bra you’d thrown on this morning because it was on the top of the pile in your drawer. You weren’t expecting anyone to see it.

“I mean, technically, I haven’t seen it,” Jack jumps in. “You kept your shirt on when I fucked you.”

It’s so jarring when he says it so bluntly. You’d both been avoiding the mention of your… encounter… for weeks.

“Well, now you’ve seen it, so you’ve collected the full package,” you concede, pulling the ugly sweater over your head and standing to look at yourself in the mirror in the corner of his room. 

It’s ugly. That’s for sure. There’s fake tinsel, there’s a stupid Christmas saying on the front, and there’s probably a Santa hat or reindeer headband to match.

Jack comes up behind you, smiling at you in the mirror. “Do you like it?”

“It’s an ugly Christmas sweater,” You reply. “You weren’t lying when you said that.”

Jack seems to forget that the mirror shows his expression, because he bites his lip and eyes you. “Looks good on you.”

You laugh, pulling the sweater back over your head, leaving you in your bra. You go to move past Jack, approaching the bed where your old sweater lies. “I think you just like to see a girl in your clothes, J. You seem to have a possessive streak.”

“Nuh-uh,” Jack refutes. 

You fix him with a look, glancing over your shoulder and seeing him with his arms crossed over his chest. “Jack, you don’t want me to be friends with a boy in another frat. I think you seem to believe that I’m Pike property because you fucked me once in the bathroom.”

Jack’s eyes go wide.

“Not that we’ve talked about it, because we probably should,” you point out. “We’re friends and we’ve fucked, then you acted like it never happened.”

“So did you,” Jack says, defending himself.

“I did because you did,” you tell him with a shrug. “I thought you’d bring it up during class or one of our walks. I don’t know. Maybe that was stupid of me.”

“I just didn’t think you wanted me to bring it up,” Jack says. “I thought you’d want it to be a one and done. I mean, I–” He pauses, wincing a little bit. “I came inside you. We didn’t talk about that. I didn’t know if you’d… be mad at me. So I… didn’t… talk to you?”

“I’m not mad at you for coming inside me,” you reply, shaking your head at him. “I don’t mind that. I took a Plan B afterward and everything’s fine. My period is supposed to come sometime this week. Plus, I–”

You cut yourself off, snapping your mouth shut. Jack’s not someone who you’d share your kinks with under a normal circumstance. He’s not your best friend, he’s not someone you gossip with, he’s not someone who you’re fucking regularly. It happened once, halfway in public, and that doesn’t mean he’s entitled to information about you. He doesn’t need to know that you felt feral over the way he came inside of you, with that low groan that has been replaying in your head every time you pull out your trusty vibrator and take care of yourself.

Jack cocks his head to the side. He raises an eyebrow. “You what?” He queries, expecting an answer. When you don’t answer, he takes a step forward and asks again. “You… what?”

“I’m not saying it,” you announce. 

Jack smirks. “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Hmm, let’s think,” he teases, tapping his chin with his finger, pretending to think. “You didn’t mind when I came inside you, so I think you might… like that?”

You pull your sweater over your head, covering yourself up again. You seal your mouth shut and look at Jack, who takes another step forward, his smile only growing.

“You… want it,” Jack surmises. 

You hope your poker face is good, because he’s mighty perceptive. You would absolutely rather have a man come inside of you than in a condom. But, once again, it’s not something you were planning on telling Jack after just one fuck.

“You might be just as possessive as me,” Jack teases. He’s close enough to touch you now, so he does. He places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb smoothing against your exposed clavicle. He pushes the fabric of your sweater off your shoulder a bit, displacing it. The knitted fabric is stretchy, so it moves easily. He leans closer. “You like when I come inside of you because, well, I’m yours that way, aren’t I?”

With his hand on you and his body so close, he doesn’t miss the way you stiffen up.

Yes, you think. That’s exactly it. You hadn’t been able to place your finger on exactly why before now– Jack seems to have opened your eyes. Yes, you like it when a man is so desperate and overwhelmed by the feeling of you that he has to fill you up. He’s yours. He might be marking you up in a way that claims you, but his come is a sign that he’s yours.

“And I like it,” Jack continues. “Because you’re mine.”

A shiver actually runs down your spine.

And then Jack kisses you.

It’s sensual. It makes your brain melt. He’s gentle with it, his tongue caressing your lips until you open up for him. With one hand, he cradles your cheek. His other hand slides along your waist, underneath the bottom of your sweater. It feels like he’s branding your skin with his touch– or maybe all of the ‘possessive streak’ talk is warping your brain. 

“Why did you put your shirt back on?” Jack murmurs when he pulls away. 

He’s genuinely asking, which makes you laugh and pull him in again. Your laughter has him smiling, which makes it hard to kiss him properly. It devolves into a series of sweet pecks, interrupted by a breath of laughter or a wide grin before your lips meet again.

“No, really,” Jack says between kisses. “Why’d you put your shirt back on? I didn’t get a good look.”

“You are such a goof,” you reply, touching his hip. “Obviously I didn’t know we’d be kissing by the end of this conversation.”

“I think we should do more than kiss,” Jack says.

Again, a bout of laughter escapes you. He is so blatant and honest about what he wants. It’s such a male trait– you can’t imagine being so brash.

“You don’t think so?” Jack asks.

“You’re just so– I don’t know,” you say, feeling flustered. He’s still touching you, his hands are  greedy, roaming along your middle.

“Is it– too much?” Jack asks, matching your tone. His face contorts with concern. “If you don’t want to go again, we don’t have to. I would… fuck, I want to fuck you again.”

The sincerity of his voice surprises you. You know that he’s a man and men are often fueled by their desire to have sex with a partner, but Jack’s words blossom in your stomach like a flower opening on the first warm day of spring.

“You do?” You ask, coyly goading him into saying more. 

“Baby, I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” Jack reveals, groaning a little bit with want. “I can’t use the downstairs bathroom anymore and all the guys think it’s hilarious.”

“So is that why you didn’t want me talking to Braden?” You ask. “Because you’re jealous, seeing me have fun with another guy, meanwhile you can’t stop thinking about how my pussy felt around your cock?”

The dirty words make Jack keen in the back of his throat, tugging insistently at the hem of your sweater. 

You start to remove it, slowly, teasing him. As you watch his pupils dilate, fixing on your newly revealed skin, you continue to talk: “Have you been fucking your fist a lot, Jack? While you think about me?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice merely a whisper.

“Good boy,” you praise lowly, trying to make your voice as seductive and innocent as possible without feeling like a fool. “I’ve been fucking myself to the thought of you, too.” 

Your shirt comes off, dropping to the ground, but Jack’s eyes find your face.

He bites his lip, his eyes dancing along your features. “Fingers?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Been using a toy.”

Jack’s blue eyes are starting to look black, shadowed and heady with lust. They’re devoid of emotion– except for one: want.

“Good?” He asks.

Again, you shake your head. “Not as good as the real thing.” You bring your hands to his pants, popping the button on his jeans slowly, to build suspense or even give him a chance to kiss you again. He’s standing still, staring at you with those dark eyes, so you drag the zipper of his pants down and reach in, palming his length over his underwear. 

Jack’s eyes stay on you as you touch him, the blue of his eyes matching the navy of the midnight sky. 

You stroke him until you’re certain he can’t grow any harder. Then, you push his t-shirt up to reveal his stomach, somehow soft and toned at the same time. You scratch along his abdomen, lifting the fabric. His mouth curves up at the edges when you’re finally able to pull the shirt off of him, leaving his hair disheveled. It’s cute like this, you decide.

The air between you is tense, his gaze weighing on you. You kiss him again, just because you can, and you use the distraction to push at his jeans until they’re falling to the ground. His lips are wet against yours. He must have licked them while he was staring, while you stroked him.

One of his hands works on your jeans, but you’re much more concerned with the hand that’s petting over the clasp of your bra. He’s able to unfasten it quickly. Once your bra is loose, he acts quickly. He brings his hand to your front and pulls at the band of the delicate piece. He drops to a knee, leaving your lips behind, but kissing over your stomach as he tugs at your jeans. They’re tight around your hips, so it takes him a second to get them off, but his fervor and determination aides him.

Once he’s got you in your underwear, completely braless, he rises. He covers your skin in wet, messy kisses as he comes back up. He captures one nipple between his teeth, then moves to the other and sucks. His hands are flush against your ass, squeezing your skin and keeping you close. 

“Fuck, Jack,” you moan, threading your fingers through his hair and breathing in languorous spurts. 

“Wanna take my time with you,” he murmurs. “But I’ve been waiting for this for weeks. I can’t wait any longer.”

“So fuck me,” you tell him. “I want you to. I want you to fuck me now.”

Jack smiles against your skin, licking over your nipple one more time before he comes back to his height. “Music to my ears, babe.” He places a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth, helping you step backwards until you’re against the bed. “Lay down. Let me touch you.”

You obey, climbing onto the messy bed and making yourself comfortable among his pillows. Jack joins you, climbing up your body and planting another kiss on your lips. He takes a pillow from beside your head and brings it under your hips, tapping your sides so that you lift up for him. 

“Good girl,” he mumbles. 

His words are quiet, but they still give you a burst of pride. 

He’s already moving to pull your panties down, biting his lip in concentration. His eyes are fixed on the point between your legs, even though his face is level with yours. His hair is falling into your space, tickling your forehead. You take a moment to take him in. Your eyes are wide and unblinking as you stare at him. You know Jack’s attractive, because you look at him all the time and you like looking at him, but in this moment, he’s a work of art. You might have stopped breathing.

You gasp when he touches you. His fingertips are blunt and careful as they sweep through your wet folds. 

The gasp takes Jack by surprise, his eyes flickering to your face, and he smiles when he meets you there. “Are you always this wet when we’re together?” He asks. “I’m imagining you in class, absolutely soaked even though I haven’t touched you.”

“Fuck off,” you laugh, bringing a hand to his hair again and smoothing it back. 

“That’s a no?”

“Definitely a no,” you say. “I’m not just wet because you’re around, Jack. It doesn’t work like that. This is because you’re a good kisser. And, well, because you sucked on my nipples.”

Jack brightens. “And I’ll do it again, too.”

You grip his hair before he can dip down and make good on his vow. “Slow down there, cowboy,” you say. 

Jack laughs at that, kissing your lips instead of finding your nipple. He swipes a finger against your clit, making you gasp again, into his mouth this time. 

“Mm,” Jack hums patronizingly. “Does it feel good?”

He fills you with his middle finger and thumbs at your clit, working the digits in tandem to make you whimper.

“Listen to yourself,” he says. “All that noise for me?”

“Fuck me,” you plead. “Please, Jack. I need you to fuck me.”

“You need it?” Jack teases, sliding his ring finger inside of you, joining the other. 

“Don’t be a dick,” you whine. 

“God, and I thought it was embarrassing how bad I want you,” he simpers. “But, you make a good point. We both want it. Let’s not wait.”

He removes his hand from between your legs, the empty feeling foreign and dissatisfying. He shucks off the final bit of clothing remaining between the two of you, throwing the underwear over his shoulder comically. It’s not sexy, but he’s so charming and goofy that you swoon anyway.

Jack fists his cock, stroking himself. He aligns himself with your entrance, teasing your folds and bumping your clit with the head of his cock. He smiles to himself, gaze meeting yours before he speaks. He quirks an eyebrow, coming lower to kiss you again because he just can’t help himself. “Let’s fill you up, hm? Just like you like.”

“Just like you like,” you parrot back.

He murmurs a quiet agreeance as he pushes into you. He goes slow, sinking into you in a direct contrast with how he fucked you last time. “Still so tight,” Jack acknowledges. “You feel just as good as last time.”

You hold his shoulder, one hand twisting into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He dips down to smear a kiss against your jugular, mouthing at the area where your pulse races. Jack starts to roll his hips, feeling you out. Even though it was the whole point, you realize suddenly that he’s bare inside of you. It’s like the piece of information was delayed and that you didn’t understand it until you felt him, felt the way his cock was weeping inside of you.

“Jack,” you moan, pulling him closer. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back. You don’t let up, not until his pelvis is flush with yours and his stomach is practically touching your own. You need him to be close– you’re drunk on the feeling of having him inside of you, bare and leaking.

“I know,” he soothes, rocking into you. He kisses you again, his tongue lathering your lips and petting whatever area he can touch– teeth, tongue, the roof of your mouth… it’s messy, but driven completely by his desire, and you love it.

Your whines and whimpers, musings about how well he fills you, and your trembling touches fuel him. 

He fucks you deeply, making sure his cock brushes against your cervix with each thrust. You lose the ability to kiss him when he taps your sweet spot, keening in a way that has him grinning. You clench down involuntarily, which makes him choke a bit on his own breath and stutter his movements. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that, this is going to end a lot faster than I want it to,” Jack tells you, grimacing through another thrust. He snaps his hips, showing no signs of stopping even though he seems determined to last. 

“I want you to come,” you goad, practically begging. “Please, Jack, fill me up. Need you to come in my pussy, I need it.”

Jack makes a choked moan in the back of his throat, his head dipping to bury itself in your neck. He nibbles your neck, keeping his teeth in place to quiet himself as he quickens his pace. His breath is like music in your ears, panting and turning high pitched when you squeeze him again. “Baby, shit,” he moans, dropping to his elbows, bracketing your head. 

You grind up against him, your hips lifting off the bed and the pillow completely. 

He rearranges his position, shifting his weight to one arm so that he can reach down and rub circles over your clit with his dominant hand. His fingers, the ones next to your head, toy with your hair. He thrusts as hard as he can, his thick cock pistoning into your heat and making your stomach turn over from the pleasure. 

The pressure on your clit sends sparks through your body. You can feel the pleasure in your clenched fingertips, the burning tips of your ears, and in your curled toes. He’s everywhere, and his cum is seconds from marking you.

“Be mine,” you plead. You mean to say, ‘fill me up, put your cum inside me until it spills out of me, come apart like your cum belongs to me,’ but what you hear is different. You hear yourself ask him for more than just a fuck– you hear a slogan from a chalky Valentine’s heart, begging for a romantic connection.

He’s a frat boy. He won’t acknowledge this, he won’t understand what you mean. He’ll take it the wrong way and he’ll never talk to you again, even if you show up to the party on Friday. He’ll say hello, then look over you to find the next girl–

“I’m yours,” Jack replies, breathless. “All yours.”

The relief that comes with his reply washes over you. You cry out, unable to stop yourself from clenching down on his member and succumbing to the pleasure that had been building up inside of you.

You let your release take hold of you, throwing your head back and baring your neck to Jack. He takes advantage of the newly revealed skin, sucking on the skin below your jaw. His nose presses against the side of your face, his breath wet against your skin. 

“Good, baby, so good,” Jack praises as he fucks you through your release. “Y’feel so perfect around me, gonna give you what you want, just another minute…”

His hips work in a frenzy, snapping into you with lewd noises that mix with the noises falling from both of your lips. It only takes a few more thrusts before Jack is shuddering in your arms, his lips coming to smudge a messy, passionate kiss against yours. He spills inside of you, filling you with his hot, intoxicating cum until there’s none remaining in his cock.

His hips slow when he’s done, his blinks becoming longer and slower as he regains his breath. He watches himself thrust into you a final few times, his mouth open slightly and eyes trained on the spot like he’s in a trance. 

You snap your fingers by his face, drawing his attention. “My eyes are up here, pretty boy.”

Jack bursts into a fit of giggles, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and peppering you with kisses. He uses the leverage, and the wide expanse of his bed, to roll over so that you’re laying on top of him. He touches your hips, your ass, the smooth plane of your back, all the way up to your shoulderblades before wrapping an arm around your waist and keeping you there. 

He kisses you silly, cradling your cheek with one hand. Occasionally, he allows you to pull away, but you never go far. He’ll play with the strands of your hair, gazing at you with a satisfied, smug smirk on his lips. 

“It’s a date party,” Jack says eventually.

“What is?” You ask, your nose scrunching in confusion. 

“The ugly sweater party. It’s a date party. I was conning you into being my date.”

You barely stifle a laugh. “You’re a fucking freak.”

“Hey,” Jack complains, pouting. “Not all of us can just say shit like ‘be mine’ in the middle of sex.”

You pat his chest, clicking your tongue at him to reprimand him for mocking your words. “Says the boy who tried to trick me into being his date for a frat function.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Jack shrugs, pulling you in for another kiss.

It’s slow, like the first one. Your lips move together until you’ve both run out of air. Jack returns to your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“Gonna get you a Plan B in the morning,” he says. His tone sounds like he’s wondering, still thinking about it, although you know that he’s stating a fact and formulating a plan. “But I think, if we want to keep doing this, we’re going to have to figure something out about birth control.”

Normally, you wouldn’t allow a man to tell you what to do with your body. Today, though, you concede. He’s right. The world isn’t ready for a little Jack, and you don’t want him to stop coming inside of you, so you make a mental note to call your doctor tomorrow.

Still, you can’t resist the chance to make a joke.

“Maybe we’ll get you a vasectomy instead,” you tease, touching his bottom lip with your index finger. “They’re reversible, you know.”

note: i couldn't resist posting this, since i finished it before i expected to. I LOVE YOU FRAT JACK! (am willing to skip the plan b but only if you're also down)

[beybaldes]

And somehow I know that you and I would've found each other

roy kent x gn!reader

word count : 8.7k

masterlist

summary : you and roy always end up finding your way back to each-other

content warning : taylor popped the fuck off with the speak now vault tracks especially timeless (another timeless fic coming out soon!!!!), slow burn that takes place over 36 years - dermatologists hate me! Roy’s sister is dubbed Molly yet again, I steal britanny brett for plot because I’m obsessed with @onceuponaoneshotfanfic and superstar (check it out now if you still haven’t, and if you have already, then reread it!!!!!!)

It's 1991 and youre not old enough to understand why your neighbour, and best friends older brother Roy, has to move away. You're only 4 years old, and so is Molly, and Roy's only 9 - so you're not sure why he's going away, where he's going, or if he's ever going to come back.

All you do know is that you and Molly's little arms are wrapped tightly around each other and you feel like it's never going to be enough to fill the hole of Roy's absence.

It's a cool September morning and Roy knows that December 19th - the day he gets to come back home for Christmas - is exactly 107 days away, but not even the last dregs of summers warmth can make this moment something he's going to look back fondly on.

He's got blankie folded perfectly at the bottom of his backpack and your favourite teddy bear wrapped up in it. Even though he wouldn't discover it until he'd arrived at Sunderland, you knew it was there and that Roy would look after it, and it made everything feel just a little bit better.

When Roy's Grandad announces that it's time to go, he gives you and Molly one last hug, pressing a kiss to both of your heads and promising to write and call whenever he can. You and Molly chase the car until the end of the street, where it turns a corner and Molly's mum calls you back to the house; you linger long enough to watch Roy turn from one of your best friends into a blurry figure in the back of a car.

Ms Kent gives you and Molly ice lolly's from the freezer and puts on 'Cinderella' while you eat them. She then sits through 'Sleeping Beauty,’ ‘The Little Mermaid', and 'Beauty and the Beast' with the two of you until your tears have long since stopped and you've fallen asleep in each others arms.

The following morning, Ms Kent nearly has a heart attack when she doesn't find you in Molly's bed, but her worry is soon ended when she realises the door to Roy's room is half opened and you're quietly curled up in tear stained sheets. Slowly, she wakes you up, and when fresh tears spring to your eyes she's quick to pull you into her arms. As she rocks you gently in her hold, she promises you that the prince always returns to the princess; even if it takes breaking a curse or waiting for 100 years.

They always find each-other in the end and live happily ever after.

And 107 days is nothing when you're 4 years old, it's the blink of an eye and sticky melted ice lolly on your hands, it's your first ever school uniform and glitter from Christmas crafts that you cant get off you no matter how many showers you take, and it goes by even quicker when Roy comes home 10 days sooner then expected.

You don't see him for the first 5 days. Roy locked himself away in his room and refused to come out or speak to anyone. But when the sixth day, and the weekend, finally rolls around, you decide to do something about it.

For a 9 year old, Roy sure had a lot to think about. He never got to say goodbye to his grandad, and he wasn't going to teach him how to ride a bike, or see him score his first professional goal, or get married, and he didn't know how to explain that when he went back to Sunderland come new year, he wasn't going away in the same capacity granddad had.

No 9 year old should've been thinking of all that.

Roy hadn't been expecting any visitors, not that he wanted any, but when you barged your way into his bedroom, he couldn't bring himself to send you away.

"Go away." Roy had growled, hidden beneath blankie and curled tightly into himself. "I want to be alone." Roy hadn't meant a lick of it and you hadn't believed any of it either.

"No, you don't." Though you had to wriggle your little self into his arms, you did it, and beamed proudly against his pyjama clad chest when he let you cuddle up to him. Roy had hugged you tightly, pulling you closer to him and wrapping blankie tightly around you both. "I missed you, Royo."

"You packed Dave in my bag." Roy stated, not asking why, or whether you wanted the teddy bear back, or telling you that he'd actually left it in Sunderland for when he went back in a few weeks time.

"You need him more then I do." Roy just nodded his head at your words, willing himself not to cry at the guilt he felt over leaving you and Molly behind and thinking about something other then his grandad. "And, if you have Dave, and Dave is mine, then you have to come and give him back to me. You have to come back from sundayland."

"Sunderland."

"What's that?" You tilted your head up to look at Roy, and found him already looking at you, half a smile on his lips.

"It's nothing."

Both you and Roy fell asleep in his room, under the safety of blankie, talking about 'sundayland' and everything good about his time there. It wasn't until tea time that his mum found the two of you and dragged you down stairs for dinner, teasing Roy once you'd gone home that you definitely had a little crush on him.

~*~

Roy's transfer to Chelsea once the season is over is announced just before your 16th birthday and you swear it's the best birthday present you've ever gotten. He's newly 21 and he's got this shaggy mullet thing going on that really shouldn't be working for him, but it is. You can't keep your eyes off of him, and Roy pretends not to notice for what he tells himself is your sake. He knows it isn't.

When his car pulls up in the drive for the first time since the weekend he came down for Mollys birthday, you and Molly run out of the house hand in hand to greet him, crying his name. He lets the two of you crash into him and wrap your arms tightly around him, almost squeezing him to death when he finds himself sandwiched between the two of you.

Roy's barely been on home soil for 10 seconds when Molly pulls away from the hug to look up at her big brother with the best puppy dog eyes she can muster up at 16. "Will you buy us drinks to take to leavers?”

"Fuck off, buy your own." You don't unwrap your arms from around Roy while they bicker, quite enjoying the familiarity of the scene before you. It was almost too long ago to fathom the last time Roy had been home long enough to start a fight with Molly, and though you never thought you'd say it, it was really nice to see.

"Incase you lost some brain cells this season, you have to be 18 to buy alcohol, fuckhead." Roy just stared blankly at Molly, and ran his fingers up and down the length of your arm as you stayed curled in his side, thinking about how similar Roy and Molly really are when it comes down to it. "So, I need you to buy it for us."

"Ask mum to buy it for you."

Molly immediately scoffs, throwing her hands in the air and muttering under her breath that she was genuinely concerned that Roy had lost some brain cells from all the headers he'd done this season. "Don't you think I tried that, dumbass? Mum said no to both of us."

Roy's gaze turned to meet yours, surprised to find you already looking at him. "Please Royo, everyone else will be drinking at leavers." Roy could never say no to you, and he was convinced both you and Molly knew that and had concocted this scheme to get him to buy it for you. He didn't mind saying yes, at least not this time, at least not when it was you asking.

Molly ran back into the house with an excited cry, promising to return with all the money she'd owe Roy for the drinks plus some as a charitable donation for his kindness.

For the first time in almost a year, you and Roy where completely alone together. He spared a moment to look at you, really look at you; notice how your hair had gotten longer and that your sense of style had completely changed, that the early summer sun was already tanning your skin and that you still had your arms around him. Roy only tightened his grip on you, dragging you into and around the house with him until you made it to the living room.

His mum had repainted since he'd last been down to visit from Sunderland and there were new photos on the wall behind the settee; mainly of you and Molly on your last day of school and one of Roy at his last match playing for Sunderland.

"You look like a proper footballer now, Royo." Despite every other seat in the living room being free, you took purchase on the arm of the chair right beside Roy and pray no one thinks it's a sign of the bubbling feelings you have for him. You may only be 16 but you're sure you've been in love with Roy for the better part of your life. It's one thing for everyone to tease you about you and Roy having little crushes on each other as kids, it's a whole other thing for people to tease you for having a crush on him when you actually did.

Roy scoffed, taking a long swig from the beer he'd grabbed from the kitchen when he first got to the house, swallowing down his smile. "But not enough for you to stop calling me 'Royo,' apparently."

"You could be the most famous footballer on the planet and I'd still call you Royo." You reached up for his hair and ruffled it, laughing at the way he pulled away from your touch and went to flatten his hair back out almost immediately. "But I mean it, you look like the kind of footballer kids have posters of up on their walls, that they want to be when they grow up."

And you're entirely right. Somewhere up in Manchester, a 6 year old Jamie Tartt is pinning a poster of your Roy up on his wall and promising himself, and his dad, that all of his time and money spent on football practice will one day pay off  - that he's going to be one of the greats, just like Roy Kent.

"You'll always be my Royo, Roy. Even when you're super famous and don't remember me anymore." Your hand had somehow found it's way back into Roy's hair and he couldn't bring himself to move away from your touch. Since his sudden rise to fame, in which it seemed like he'd become an overnight sensation, he couldn't remember when he was last touched so gently. Touching only to touch, not because they wanted something from him or his name.

Roy couldn't keep in the smile that pulled at his lips. It faltered slightly at the fact he couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled, let alone genuinely, but it quickly returned and warmed his face when he meet your eyes. "And how could I ever forget the likes of you, yeah?"

Somewhere between shared words and glances, his hand had found yours and the two of you couldn't tear your eyes away from the other. "Dinners ready, guys." Molly was well known for her perfect timing, and despite some initial upset at the moment being taken from you, you knew it was for the better. Roy was Molly's brother, your best friends brother, who had 5 years on you yet.  Though you knew it was unlikely anything would ever happen between the two of you, moments like this made you think there was a small possibility something one day would. The thought wasn't one worth seriously entertaining. "Did I... interrupt something?"

"What? No way." You and Molly ran from the room hand in hand, giggles bubbling past your lips and exchanged, in hushed whispers, the conversation that Molly had just walked in on.

It was like Roy had never left as he followed the two of you into the dining room. He took his seat across the table from you like he always did and knocked his foot against yours every time he wanted your attention. Dinner was good and before he knew it you were half on top of him on the sofa, sneaking bites from his plate of dessert as everyone else partook in the worlds most heated game of Pictionary.

He gave a sharp nudge to your ribs when you stole the last bite but quickly soothed it over with the gentle drumming of his fingers against your skin. The pair of you talked in hushed tones for the rest of the evening about his transfer to Chelsea and everything he was looking forward to now that he was back in London, as well as all your plans for your super long summer before you started college in September.

It was only when Roy's mum turned to ask if you were going home or staying over that anyone had noticed the two of you cuddled up in the armchair in the corner of the room, both fast asleep. She didn't dare wake you, thankful to see her son at peace for the first time in what felt like years, instead placing a blanket over the two of you and ushering Molly up to bed despite her insistence that you come with her.

One day, she thought, the two of you would finally see yourselves in other people, realise that if love looks like that then the two of you must be in it, and with any luck she'd still be alive to see it. She knew Roy was stubborn enough to keep that from happening. Maybe he would't be this time; at least, not when it came to you.

~*~

When the rumours of Roy's relationship with Britanny Brett are confirmed by a quote she gives in an interview, he finds himself typing out an apology to you. He stares at his phone for 3 hours and the most he can type out is 'I didn't want you to find out like this, I'm sorry,' but he still doesn't send it. Roy's not entirely sure what he's apologising for.

It's the night before his 27th birthday and he's debating whether or not he should show up to the birthday dinner his mum has planned for him tomorrow. You'll be there. He knows it. But only because he knows that Molly dragged you back from uni with her just for the occasion. And for some reason that he can't quite place, or just doesn't want to yet, he feels bad about having to see your face and hear you talk about his girlfriend.

Although Brittany Brett is smoking hot, and they have really great sex, he's not sure he wants to take her home to meet his family. To meet you. Sure, she's a great footballers girlfriend, but he's a little worried about what the people who know him as just Roy will think of her.

When she appears on the other side of his door the morning of his 27th birthday, the first thing he says to her is 'you can't come to my birthday party' and he feels like he's 8 years old again and making mortal enemies in the playground at school. She doesn't acknowledge his comment, instead inviting herself in and making herself at home in Roy's living room, and he's never been more thankful for her 'too good for everyone' demeanour.

He drops her off at her house on the way over to his mums house later that evening. Roy decides he hates the way her perfume lingers in his car and has buried itself under his skin. He wants nothing more then for it to get away from him but there's still 20 minutes left of the drive and he knows the second you hear the car pull up you'll come running out the door and he won't have anytime to get the smell off of him.

When he pulls up on the doorstep of his childhood home 20 minutes later, only Molly comes running from the house to greet him. For a minute he thinks you haven't shown up to celebrate his birthday with him and he feels his heart break in two. He tells himself he doesn't know why. However, when he walks into the house and heads straight to the kitchen in search of a beer to calm his nerves, and help him forget about you, he finds you there, helping his mum with making his favourite dinner and a wide smile on your face.

You notice him lingering, shocked, in the doorway and pull him into your arms. There's less strength to your hold then he's used to but he feels grateful that you even want him in your arms after everything he's done. Now Roy really isn't sure why he's talking like that; like you've been hard done by from his relationship with Brittany Brett. To a degree he feels like he's cheated on you, but he can't have done because the two of you were never together. However, he doesn't let the thought linger, instead pulling you tighter against him and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Of course you'd be here, of course you would, but he finds himself holding onto you for a little longer then he probably should just to make sure you're really here and really staying.

Dinner is nice. It's a piece of simplicity he's missed every night since he was 9 years old and heading away to Sunderland for the first time. It's not often nowadays that he gets to eat dinner at a dining table surrounded by people he loves and who love him, so he relishes in every moment of it. He lets his hand brush against yours when he asks for the salt and he nudges your foot with his every-time he wants your attention. Being in this room, in this seat, with you, is like being 8 years old again and everything bad is yet to happen to him. Roy realises he likes the feeling of it more then he ever remembers.

No one brings up Brittany Brett, the way Roy smelt like her when you hugged him, the apology he never sent, or the way you cried in Molly and Ms Kent's arms when you found out he had a girlfriend. Dinner is peaceful and you and Roy share a slice of birthday cake on his Grandad's armchair, then fall asleep together there like he doesn't have a girlfriend and you don't have a broken heart.

His mum feels like she's got two children in her house and she wishes it would stay like this forever, as long as that meant Roy couldn't hurt your heart more then he already had. But Roy is stubborn, and she knows that. When she comes downstairs in the morning it's just you on the armchair with Roy's jacket over your shoulders like a blanket. You're hugging the material tightly against you as if it could ever replace Roy's presence, and even though you're still asleep, both of you know it won't.

When Roy sneaks out at 4am, the first thing he does is drive to Brittany Brett's house and breaks up with her. After all, there's no point being with someone when you know for a fact that you're in love with someone else.

~*~

Molly's dating this guy who doesn't let her speak to you, or Roy, or her own mum and you're scared for her life. In the two times you've managed to get a hold of her, you begged and pleaded with her to leave him. She's only 25 and so are you, you could run away together and start it all over and no one would know any different. Both times she said she wanted to be with him, that she loved him. All you want is your best friend back and for her to be safe, and rather selfishly, because you need her more then you've ever needed anyone.

Despite trying all day, you can't reach her, or her boyfriend, and you don't know who else to call. Ms Kent was the only real parental figure you'd had growing up, but it was pushing midnight and you didn't want to wake her up for the sake of your own comfort. Roy's number is below hers on your favourite contacts and you don't hesitate to ring it. You know he's got a match this weekend and practice tomorrow but you need someone and you have no one else to keep you from your own mind.

Roy's in some club in north London when his phone rings and his screen illuminates with your name and a picture of the two of you from last Christmas. It's one of the newcomers 21st birthday and he remembers being 21 and moving to Chelsea, moving back home, like it was yesterday. He's got 10 years on the kid who's just starting his career while he's going on aging out of it. It's almost enough to make him feel old.

He's quick to answer the phone, practically running out of the club to make sure he can hear you and he's already walking back to his car when he hears the suppressed sniffle to your voice. Roy can't see 100% past 9pm anymore so he doesn't drink when he goes out with the team, he knows it'll only make it worse, and for the first time ever, it's actually come in use.

It takes him 37 minutes exactly to drive from the club to your childhood home that's pressed brick by brick against his, and that's only because he made a pit stop to his own house on the way over. Every time he comes back here lately, it feels like some cruel trick of fate, that he can't have you but can have his entire life shaped by you.

He's banging his fist loudly against the door before he can take into consideration that your neighbours, one of which is his own mother, are likely asleep and wouldn't take too kindly to being woken up at this hour. When you open the door to a friendly face, you all but collapse into Roy's arms, already sobbing and heaving and trying to get the words out but not being able to do so. He scoops you up into his arms, years of intense football training allowing him to do it without second though, and carries you to your bedroom.

He placed you against the pillows and then kicks off his shoes, he definitely scuffed them up in the process but Roy couldn't seem to find the time to mind. Before you've managed to get a single word out Roy's stripped off the bulk of his suit, leaving him in just a shirt, boxers and socks. The image is kind of funny and if you weren't so devastated, you were sure you'd be laughing.

"What's wrong?" When Roy's hands gently wrap around your wrists to try and pull them away from your face and get a glance at you, you just start crying harder. "C'mon sweetheart, talk to me."

When he's met with more silence he pulls out his surprise weapon, a raggedy, old teddy bear, with matted fur that smells surprisingly like Roy. "Would it be easier to talk to Dave?" Finally your hands move away from your face to get a look at the teddy bear, not believing it's right in front of you when you know you haven't seen it since you were five yours old. It took a couple of minutes, lots of sniffling, and really willing yourself to say it, but eventually you did. Roy's arms around your and the soft touch of Dave's fur against your skin settling your nerves.

"My dad died this morning." Roy didn't hesitate to pull you into his lap, settling himself against your pillows as he brought you closer to him. "And I have no one to tell. Molly's boyfriend won't let her speak to me anymore, and I didn't want to burden your mum with it, and I just... I didn't know who to call or talk to and I know you were probably busy-"

"Hey, hey, don't. You did the right thing calling me. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, yeah?" Both of Roy's hands are cradling your face, forcing you to look at him and really listen to what he wants to say. "I'm here, okay? I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

You shuffle in his lap, turning enough that you can bury your head in the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Roy's warm and surprisingly comfy, but you reckon that's more so because the skin of his thighs are pressing into the skin of yours and you're sure it's the closest you've ever been to him. You try not to think about how you wouldn't mind being this close to him more often.

The rest of the night is spent with you in Roy's arms, his hand running up and down your back, his other hand cradling your face and wiping away each tear that spills over. He lets you ramble and ramble about everything on your mind with no regard for the fact he's got practice at 8am tomorrow. Even when you fall asleep in his arms, tears staining his brand new shirt, practice is the furthest thing from his mind, so much so that he doesn't even remember sending  Di Matteo the text saying he wasn't well and wouldn't be able to make practice in the morning.

Roy wakes up a long time before you, and he finds he has to practically drag himself away from you and the bed. When his eyes blink open he sees the sight he's spent the better part of his life waiting to see: you're in his arms, fast asleep, looking entirely peaceful and for a minute he can pretend that this is his life. While the haze of sleep has yet to fade, he can act like he wakes up to you every morning, that you love him like he loves you, and that, if he wanted to, he could press kisses all over your face until you woke up and flashed him that bright beautiful smile of yours.

If he wanted to, he could press kisses all over your face until you woke up and you would greet him with a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his face in return and not caring if it landed against his lips, cheek, or jaw, because you know you'll be able to kiss the other places whenever you like.

Roy pulls himself out of bed and drags his feet all the way to your kitchen where he cooks the two of you breakfast. Nothing about it is rushed - he knows that he has nowhere to be but here, with you. He knows you've woken up when he can hear the gentle padding of your feet against your bedroom floor. Roy hears you walk down the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where you then cross the room to him, and wrap your arms around his waist. Dave is clutched in on of your hands and your head is pressed against the dimples of his shoulder blades, your other hand fiddling with the hem of the front of his T-shirt, so casually that any passer by would think this was routine. And even though it isn't, Roy takes the risk of placing his hand atop your own and lacing his fingers through yours. When he can feel you smile into his back, he thinks maybe he should've kissed you in the bedroom, that maybe you'd have liked it just as much as he would've.

~*~

It's another year after your dad died before Molly finds out. She doesn't show up to Christmas, or Easter, but she comes by one late spring afternoon when Ms Kent had invited you and Roy over for picky bits in the garden, with a bin bag full of her belongings and a black eye. If your hand wasn't holding Roy's so tightly you were sure he would've been right out of the door, driving off to find the prick and give him an even worse beating then he'd given his sister.

You pull Roy with you when you cross the garden to engulf Molly in a hug, both of you breaking down at the contact and apologies tumbling from both of your lips. Molly apologises for not being there when your dad died, and not attending the funeral, you force her to take back her apology while also shoving your own down her throat, apologising for not finding her, for not being there. The two of you only cry harder when Roy pulls the two of you, still hugging, into his embrace. It's warm and his hands are big and it makes you feel like you're a child again, and you suppose that in some ways you still are.

It takes almost half an hour for the two of you to calm down enough for any coherent words to get out, and the first ones that do is that Molly's pregnant and she needs somewhere to stay. Immediately you ask her to move in with you. It's perfect really, you're next door to her mum and you've got a room for her and for the baby (when it comes) now that your dads passed. Roy likes the idea even more; something about his three, soon to be four, favourite people being in one place taking his fancy.

The eight months between Molly showing back up and beautiful baby Phoebe being born seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. The soft, warm, yellow paint of phoebes nursery smears your memories of those months; everything about it is caked in the glow of the summer you have when you're 5 years old and have no care in the world.

You and Molly are best friends again and it's like you never missed two years of each others lives; everything just falls right back into place. The two of you do everything together and you wouldn't have it any other way, even when everything includes being in the room with her and Ms Kent when she's giving birth.

Roy, unluckily, is the only one not invited into the room, and he spends almost 6 hours pacing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth in the waiting room, waiting for some kind of an update on his sister and his niece. It's you that comes to give it to him. You're in blue scrubs that you pull off further with every step you take into the waiting room, running right into Roy's arms with the widest smile he's ever seen cross your face.

"She's beautiful, Roy. She's so beautiful." He just nods his head and allows you to take his hand and pull him in the direction of the room Molly and his mum are in. "I love her so much already and she's only been here for 5 minutes."

Roy understood what you meant as soon as he walked into the room. Molly was absolutely glowing, and cradling this tiny, tiny baby in her arms like she was terrified any movement at all might hurt her - she didn't even look like she was breathing less it hurt the baby.

"Do you want to hold her?" You whispered, nudging his foot with yours to gain his attention. "You won't break her, promise." You didn't give Roy the opportunity to answer, instead eagerly taking the baby off of Molly and walking over to Roy. His mum all but pushed him into one of the chairs they had in the room and lectured him on how to hold the baby correctly. Slowly, you lowered her into his arms, making sure he had a comfortable and safe grip on her before you removed your arms from the little Phoebe completely. "Isn't she amazing?"

Roy can already picture it and it's breaking his heart. You, and him, and a little baby wrapped in a blanket with eyes that don't yet know how to open. But, in the daydream he doesn't tell anyone about, you're holding the baby and his arms are around you, whispering how much he loves you into your ear and promising to do everything for that baby. Your baby. He doesn't yet know if a day like that is ever going to come; he'd have to get over himself first, and he doesn't see that happening anytime soon. For you, however, he just might try.

"Yeah, yeah she is."

Molly and little baby Phoebe have to stay in the hospital overnight, but can be discharged in the morning, and Molly doesn't let any of you stay with her. In fact, she demands the three of you head home and come back tomorrow, well rested to drive her and newborn Phoebe home.

The three of you pick up some chinese takeout on your way home and eat it around Ms Kent's dinner table. Molly's absence is so heavily felt that part of you feels thrust back in time to a year ago, when you didn't have any contact with her and didn't know if she was even alive, let alone okay. It shakes you to your core and you leave your dinner half eaten as you excuse yourself to the bathroom just to breathe. When you return to the table, you find that dinner has been cleared away, but Ms Kent is holding out a spoon for you, pointing you in the direction of the living room.

Roy's sat in his grandads armchair with the biggest bowl of ice cream you've ever seen and he opens up his arms to you when he feels you staring at him from the doorway. You didn't hesitate to sit with him, squished up in the seat that fit the both of you slightly better when you were kids, with Roy's arm around your shoulders. When you didn't take a large helping of ice cream for yourself, he nudged the bowl in your direction.

"When Molly came home, I'd get in bed with her each night." You whispered, only loud enough that Roy would be able to hear you. It felt embarrassing, to try and explain why you felt Molly's absence for one night so vastly, but you knew that if anyone would get it, it would be Roy. "For the first month or so, she'd ask me to stay with her, so she knew she wasn't alone and she was safe. So I did. And then one night she was like 'I don't need you in bed with me anymore, I think I'm okay now,' and I didn't know what to do." You stuck your spoon inside the ice-cream, stirring it around the bowl but never bringing the build up of vanilla on the spoon to your lips. "I got in bed that night and I couldn't sleep at all, so I went and knocked on her door and she was still awake. Told me she couldn't sleep either, and I got right back into bed with her." Tears pricked at your eyes and your spoon fell against the bowl. "I don't know what to do without Molly, Royo, I don't want to have to do without her again."

Roy quickly moved the half eaten bowl of ice cream to the coffee table, pulling you into him and cradling your head against his shoulder. "Molly's not going anywhere, babe, she'll be home in the morning. Everything's going to be okay."

Neither of you brought up how he called you babe, and his mum didn't bring up how you fell asleep cuddled up in the armchair like you did when you were kids. But when Roy brought Phoebe and Molly home the following morning, and Molly and Ms Kent had taken Phoebe upstairs to get her settled into her new home, he pulled you in for a hug.

"Told you so." He whispered in your ear, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. Then Roy grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers with his and pulling you up the stairs to join Phoebe in her new room. Dave was in his other hand and he continued to stand by you as you placed it in the crib with her, knowing that she needed Dave more then you or Roy did now.

All of you couldn't wait to watch this little girl grow up surrounded by people who loved her so, so much.

~*~

Roy gets transferred to Richmond just before Phoebe's 4th birthday and you tease him that he has a penchant for getting the best kinds of birthday present. He asks why you remember so clearly that his transfer to Chelsea 15 years ago was just before your 16th birthday, and you answer honestly that it was the only thing you'd wanted for your birthday that year - for Roy to be closer to home. You immediately get to tease him again as a blush coats his cheeks.

On his first day at Richmond, he gets you, Molly and Phoebe seats in the family box, says that they'll always be there if you ever want to come and watch him play, and you reply that you always watch him play.

"I've been playing professionally for half my life. Sunderland, Chelsea, and now Richmond. I've never seen you even glimpse at a football match."

You scoff immediately and Roy's slightly taken aback, you almost look angry at what he's saying and he doesn't know why because he's right. Not that it matters to him, but you just don't like football that much; he doesn't blame you or anything, each to their own, but he wishes you'd like it for him. "I've seen every game you've ever played."

"Yeah, right."

"Yeah, right." You turned to Roy, putting down the bag filled with Phoebe's first ever school uniform inside now that you'd made it back home. "I'm serious. I've watched every match you've ever played in. All of your games with Sunderland and Chelsea, and I'll watch all your games now that you're at Richmond." You turn to Roy with a tense crease in your brow and he's wishing he never brought it up. "You're important to me Roy, of course I'd watch every time you play."

"What's sundayland, babe?" Phoebe had ran into the living room when she'd heard the door go, excited that you and Roy returned home. Molly and you had called each other babe since you were teenagers, and Phoebe had taken to calling you babe over your actual name. It didn't help that Roy had let it slip a few time too, only reassuring her that she was calling you by the correct thing.

"It's nothing, pheeb's." You scooped the little blonde into your arms, resting her against your jutted out hip and beginning to wander through the house. "Where your mum? You need to try on your uniform."

"Can I give you a fashion show?" She asked, leaning her head against your shoulder in a way that had Roy thinking about the two of you with a kid again. He'd have to ask you out first, and with each year that passed, the possibility of him actually doing that seemed to get slimmer and slimmer.

"Of course you can, Pheeb's. Go get dressed. Me and your uncle Roy will wait in the living room."

You stuck to your word, watching every single match that Roy played in. Sometimes at Nelson road, sometimes with Molly and Phoebe, sometimes in Ms Kent's living room - but you always watched him play.

The first time Molly let you take Phoebe to Nelson road was as your birthday present the same year Phoebe turned 6. You'd been pleading all year for Molly to let you bring Phoebe along to a home game, and she finally caved - on the condition you kept her ear defenders on all night and left if it got too much for her. Phoebe loved every minute of the match, screamed her little heart out just for the sake of joining in, even if she didn't know what people were saying; You were certain her cry of 'uncle Roy' every time she saw him with the ball was the loudest in the stadium.

When the match was over, a man with glasses found you in the stands, introduced himself as 'Higgins,' handed you two family lanyards with Kent plastered all over them, and asked you to follow him. You're barely in the changing rooms when Phoebe lets go of your hand, crying Roy's name and interrupting a speak from that new, American coach that Roy had complained about.

"Phoebe!" The blonde didn't wait up for you, running right at Roy and knowing he'd catch her when she flung herself the remaining foot into his arms. "What did I tell you?"

"I didn't know grandad fancied himself a cradle robber." You'd heard enough complaints to know the dig at Roy was from Jamie Tartt, the season loan from Manchester City. "Surely, someone like you isn't married to someone like Roy."

The twinge of disgust that slipped from the mans mouth when he said Roy's name had your blood boiling. "Why? Would you rather me with the likes of you instead?"

Jamie stood in dumbfounded silence as you turned back to Roy, your face entirely brightening, and his presence being totally ignored for the rest of your stay in the lock room. He wasn't used to that. He was trying to compliment you, say you were way out of Roy's league - maybe even ask for your number - but you didn't even spare him a second glance. In fact, now that your eyes were back on him, he wasn't entirely sure you were ever going to look away from Roy again. It made sense when he thought about it in bed later that night, even though he teased the fuck out of Roy and sometimes plainly treated him like shit, Roy Kent was one of the greats. Even Jamie Tartt knew that, and had known it since he was 6 years old - of course he'd managed to score someone like you.

Murmurs of Roy Kent having a secret spouse and daughter had filled Nelson Road before you'd even left the building.

It wasn't that Roy didn't want to talk about you. If he had the opportunity, he'd scream about you from rooftops, but being a footballer was a very public affair and he loved his privacy. Almost as much as he loved you.

The dog track didn't think they'd ever see your face again, not when Roy had growled at them after he'd guided you and Phoebe out of the changing room. Unfortunately for them, they would, under the worst possible circumstances.

You'd been on the edge of your seat the whole match. Roy's been benched for the first time in what you're sure is his entire career and doesn't come on until the 60th minute and when he does, you swear he's on fire. He's playing better then he'd ever played before, running faster then he's ever ran in the past few years, and he's slide tackling Jamie Tartt and getting the ball away from the goal. People are screaming his name and so are you.

And then he's not getting up.

And then he's still not getting up.

And then he's still not getting up, the cheers have died down, and everyone's waiting with baited breath while it's determined if they've just seen the end of Roy Kent's 30 year long career with their own eyes.

And then Roy gets up, and for a fleeting moment you think that maybe everything's okay, that Roy's okay, and he's going to carry on playing.

And then he's walking from the pitch, limping, and your sprinting from your seat in the family box and running up to the owners box. You don't have to say a word because Rebecca calls a member of security over to you, and asks with a kind smile for him to guide you down to the changing rooms.

You linger outside the door for about 5 seconds before you push it open. If you were anyone else, you'd were certain he would've yelled at you to get out, even though he didn't mean it, just for the sake of his image. But you weren't anyone else, you were you.

"I'm fine." You hadn't even made it fully into the room and Roy was already trying to make his pain seem less bad then it was. "I'm fine. Go watch the rest of the match. You might have to drive us back to yours though."

"Roy." He doesn't say anything as you cross the room and sit beside him on the bench. You slowly wrap your arm around his shoulders and tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head down to rest against your shoulder. "Don't. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, yeah? You're important to me, let me be here for you."

Roy kisses you and you instantly realise you'd have waited 33 more years for it, if that meant it would happen.

His lips are chapped, and his beard is slightly scratchy, and he's already breathless before he even leans into it but you don't mind. You find that his lips slant against yours perfectly and he slides you closer against him on the bench, using the hand he'd placed on your hip to give it a squeeze, eliciting an gasp from you. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth but he pulls away before it can escalate.

You hope to anything listening that he wants to kiss you again, because you're sure he's ruined the touch of everyone else's lips against your skin for you.

"I've been in love with you since I was 5 years old." Roy pressed his lips back to yours in a quick succession of kisses and you're sure that thats a good sign.

"Since you were 5 years old?" He asks, nudging his nose against yours, pressing his lips firmly to yours when they brush slightly as he speaks. "Fuck, did we waste a lot of time."

~*~

Roy's been the manager of Richmond for the last 4 months and you're thankful that there's no football on over Christmas. You get Roy practically all to yourself for three weeks and it's the best feeling ever.

Phoebes still in school until the 22nd, and you live together at Roy's house, so there's no chance Molly will walk in on the two of you or his mum will hear you through the walls - meaning 90% of his first week off work is spent having sex on every surface in the house, in every position imaginable.

The second week off is the main bulk of Christmas. You pick Phoebe up from school on the 22nd and she has a sleep over at your house. The 23rd is spent curled up on your couch, with Phoebe sandwiched between the two of you, watching Christmas movies all day and stuffing your faces with popcorn and hot chocolate. Phoebe spends the night again, and then the three of you drive down to Ms Kent's house at lunchtime on the 24th. Molly comes home from work around 6pm and the 5 of spend the rest of the evening in the living room, watching 'love actually' and 'the polar express,' until it's time for bed. Even though you and Roy have been together for nearly 3 years now, you sleep in Molly's bed with her and Phoebe, reminiscing on the christmas's of your childhood and giggling over them until you fall asleep.

When christmas morning finally comes, you and Molly are the last awake, Phoebe jumping all over the two of you and demanding you get downstairs as soon as possible to see what Father Christmas has left for her. You let Phoebe drag you down stairs even though you're barely awake and you crawl into Roy's lap, in his grandads armchair, at the first opportunity. He's already got a coffee made for you, just the way you like it, and a warm hand that he slips up the back of your tshirt to scratch gently against your skin as you watch Phoebe begin to open her mountain of presents.

"How many of these are from you?" You whisper, feeling Roy smile against your temple as you sip on your coffee, slowly waking up in his arms.

"Enough. They're not all for Pheeb's anyway." Roy picks you up enough to adjust your position in his lap, making it more comfortable for the both of you to sit and talk and watch presents getting opened. "Some for my mum, some for Molly, some for you."

"You're too kind to me, baby." You lean up enough to press a kiss to Roy's lips, ignoring the loud screech Phoebe lets out at the display of affection. "I got some stuff for you under there too, handsome."

"I don't see you under that tree, Father Christmas clearly mustn't have got my list." Even though you're not looking directly at Roy you can feel the smirk that is pulling at his lips.

Before you could comment on what that could possibly mean Phoebe was calling your name, sticking her hand out with a tiny, paper-wrapped box in her palm. "This one's for you, it says it's from uncle Roy!"

"For me, huh? Lets have a look then, shall we Pheeb's?" Phoebe abandoned her half opened pile of gifts to stand beside you, leaning over the arm of the arm chair and over your shoulder to get a prime look at the gift as you opened it. "Thank you, baby."

Roy pinched your hip teasingly, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he intently watched you carefully unfold the wrapping paper. "Open it first, you might not like it. I kept the receipt so... just say the word and we'll get it changed."

"It's from you, Royo, I'm sure I'll love it." You punctuated your words with a kiss to his lips, not realising just how much your words would ring true until you'd fully unwrapped the box; finding a navy blue, velvet ring box and tears in Ms Kent's eyes. "Roy..."

"I spent 36 years of my life not knowing you felt the same way about me as I felt about you." Roy took the box gently from your hold and opened it, taking the dainty and elegant ring from it and holding it between the two of you. "And I don't plan to waste another moment of my life without you by my side."

"Yes."

"Oi, you're supposed to let me fucking ask you first." A laugh bubbled past your lips despite the tears building in your eyes. "Will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?"

"Yes." Your hands found Roy's face before his could place the ring on your finger, pulling him into a hot and forceful kiss, tilting his head back with how much you leaned into it, into him. "Yes. Yes. Yes, please."

"You owe me £1, Uncle Roy."

Tears are shed and the rest of the gifts are opened. Christmas dinner goes by without a hitch, and before you know it the days nearly over and you find yourself in Roy's lap, in his grandads armchair, with one bowl of dessert between the two of you, like so many times before. Ms Kent is sat across from the two of you with her own bowl of dessert and she looks like she wants to say something about it. She doesn't, but only because she knows, and she knows that you and Roy know. This day was a long time coming and she's over the moon that it's come in her lifetime.

Roy's love for you was stronger then any will he had to remain stubborn, and after a life time of waiting, he'd finally found his way to you, and she was sure he would find his way to you in every lifetime; even if it took 100 years or breaking a curse. Like she'd told you on that cool September morning, the prince always comes back, and they always live happily ever after. And she was sure the two of you were going to as well.

an : if you made this this far I love you!!! I hope you enjoyed another super long Roy fic, feel free to leave some feedback or what your favourite part of the story was, or even a request from my summer sleepover prompts!! Mwah <333

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 10-Defeated

Damian sat at his desk and briefly scanned the files of the new departments he was overlooking. One of them was the art department, which he was greatful for. The only thing that bothered him was the fashion department. He didn't agree that it was art. It was business. Clothing was a necessity, not a luxury. Clothes could be sold in stores. Art was meant to be displayed and shared. The Wayne heir scanned the file again.

'Head of fashion department was listed as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm sure I can get rid of her and move the department. Nothing will get in Damian Al Ghul-Wayne's way.'

The Wayne heir approached the fashion department. He saw the office door open and observed the inside. There was a small woman with blue hair drawing on a tablet. He could see a gown forming under the movement of her stylus. Damian stood tall as he knocked on the open office door, but she never turned around.

'Brat.'

"Miss Dupain-Cheng!" he shouted.

To his surprise, the designer slammed her hand down on her desk and glared at him.

"You made me mess up." she snarled, "Who the fuck so you think you are to come in here and bother me?"

This wasn't the type of meeting he had been expecting at all.

"Damian Wayne." he answered, not use to people glaring at him, "I wanted to inform you that I will personally be keeping an eye on the department and see if it's truly necessary."

"Fine." Marinette snapped, "There's the door. I'm busy; you can show yourself out."

Marinette turned back to her tablet and began ignoring him, again. Damian couldn't believe that she didn't get scared by his name. She talked back to him! Damian walked out and slammed the office door.

'What a horrible person. I'm not just gonna get rid of her; I'm gonna fire her entire department! I'll just exploit her weaknesses and show that she's incompitent at her job.'

Marinette had noticed that Damian taking to lurking around her department. He had inserted himself into meetings and questioned everything: Is what you're buying necessary? How could it help Wayne Enterprise? Why did you choose this fabric? Why this shade? Why not vermouth?

It had been six months and she was ready to punch him. Mari had heard rumors that he was starting to neglect other departments he was covering. She couldn't understand his fascination and distaste for hers. After another grueling meeting, everything came to a head.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng, I highly suggest rereading the code of conduct." Damian stated, in front of the entire department.

Marinette could feel everyone's eyes on her, "And what have I done now, Mr. Wayne? I don't believe 'bow down' is a rule."

"Your behavior and attire are innapropriate in the work place." Damian commented, irked that she still went against his authority.

"Excuse me?" Mari shouted, "I am completely professional!"

Damian snorted, "You regularly seduce your staff."

"I wish." someone whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Mr. Wayne," Marinette spoke, "please, tell me how my business attire is innapropriate so that I may correct it."

Marinette knew she had him this time. She still made all her own clothing and inspected them the day before for any rip or loose seams. She wore button up blouses with short sleeves and a blazer. She made sure to wear pants as she didn't want to kneel in a skirt. Was this about her heels? Sure she didn't wear four inches like everyone else; she preferred something that was easy to move in. Especially if something had gone wrong and she needed to hurry to the other sde of Wayne Enterprise.

Damian's eyes roamed over Marinette. Her clothes were the same as they had been for the last six months, they hugged her curves. When she took off her blazer, he could see how her neck curved, especially when her hair was puled up in a messy bun or ponytail. He had seen her hair that way, too many times, when she was busy designing. Not to mention how her pants accentuated her when she yelled at an employee for ordering the wrong fabric. Those stupid tops that she crossed her arms under her chest when someone contradicted her.

"Well, Mr. Wayne." Marinette called out, "I'm waiting. Tell me which part of my outfit is the problem, right now. I'm buttoned up and tucked in. My pants go all the way down to my ankles or are my ankles distracting someone? I certainly can't be distracting someone with a foot fetish, as I don't wear anything open-toed. There are many more employees, here at Wayne Enterprise, that dress provocative."

"Are you sure?" the Wayne heir questioned.

"I can name five ladies on this floor alone!" Marinette growled, "Two are wearing corsets with a blazer. Another is in a mini skirt and if she sits, you can see the garter straps. Another is wearing the same outfit as yesterday and reeks of cigarettes, sweat, nd bad cologne. The last one is wearing last seasons Belmere cocktail dress with tulle bishop sleeves! Thy are sewing a collection and if that sleeve gets caught, we have to destroy that fabric and her sleeves will be ripped off. I am not losing product because someone decided to be stupid this morning, Carol!"

Marinette glared at Damian Wayne, "So, tell me how innapropriate I am or you can fuck off!"

"The clothes you wear demean you and suggest you are welcoming others to join you for a night." Damian stated.

Marinette felt all the rage bubble over and she punched him in the face, sending him across the floor.

"I quit!" she snarled.

Damian looked on as Marinette walked away.

'I won.'

What he didn't expect were the not so hushed whispers of the fashion department.

"I think Mr. Wayne had a crush on her."

"I wish she would seduce me."

"You and me both."

"Apparently, she was very popular in Paris with both genders."

"Wait, what?"

"Really?"

"I heard she dated Jagged Stone's only son."

"Wasn't Adrien Agreste trying to date her?"

"So was Zoe Lee."

"The actress!"

"Mmhmm and she's the second daughter of Style Queen."

"Damn! Why is she here then?"

"She could have gone with one of them and likely inherited a fashion label!"

"Marinette always yells at us when we dress innapropriate."

"Carol."

"I pushed my sleeves up, okay!"

"I think she wrote this years dress code herself."

"I wish that I could see what Mr. Wayne saw."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding me? Stuck up Dupain-Cheng as some sexy thing and not yelling a us? Talk about a perfect fantasy!"

Damian sat there blushing as the employees talked amongst themselves.

'Did no one really see what I saw? They hadn't seen the way her clothes accentuated her? They didn't see the way her body called out to others? Was I the only one who wanted to pin her down to gain control?'

Damian stood up, admitting defeat. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the person who irked him for months, hadn't been at war with him or seducing him; he liked her. He couldn't tell until the evidence was stacked against him. As the other employees said, she didn't even need to be there. She could marry into money, likely immediately, and run a corporation against them.

'She's not going to get away from me that easily.'

By the time Damian found Marinette, Tim was already on his knees begging her to stay and his father was apologizing about his attitude.

"I can personally guarantee that Damian will be moved departments and you never have to see him again." his own father pleaded.

Tim noticed Damian out of the corner of his eye and stood up.

"You!" Tim shouted, stalking over to his younger brother, "What the hell? Marinette is dressed perfectly fine for her job!"

"Please reconsider, Miss Dupain-Cheng." Bruce spoke.

"I will work from my own home." Mari stated, "I will come to the office only for meetings; everything else will be paper trailed through emails and run by one of you."

"That is perfectly doable." Bruce answered, "We can send any equipment you need and-"

"I have everything already."

Damian looked on confused. He had never known them to suck up this badly, not even to board members.

"You don't even know who she is; do you?" Tim exclaimed.

"An employee by the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng." Damian answered.

Bruce sighed. Apparently his son had never read her file and background information as to why she was the head of her own department.

"She is Jagged Stone's personal and exclusive designer." Tim snarled, "She designs for many different celebrities world wide. She is known throughout Paris! You can obviously see why we wanted her here."

Damian had no clue that the she was that well known or that his family was that desperate to have her.

"What can we get you to continue to work here?" Bruce questioned, "We can pay you how ever much you want."

"I'll bump your salary to $65,000 a design." Tim offered.

Marinette shook her head, "I only want one thing and I want Damian Wayne to apologize to me."

"80,000 a design!" Tim quickly shouted.

Damian could clearly see his family was horrified. They had zero faith he would apologize or admit his mistake. Damian swallowed his pride and bowed down, as he would to his mother.

"My apologies for making my own personal assumptions." He began, "They were baseless and you truly did nothing wrong. It was my own assumption that you were attempting to seduce me that caused this."

Marinette's cheeks turned red as she listened to his in shock.

"My parents did not conceive me naturally. My mother drugged Father. I was raised and taught by her, from an early age, that women will use any means necessary to seduce who they value as someone of interest; even wear revealing clothes. They will cling to those they desire. They will feign innocence when confronted." Damian continued, "I only observed what I was told, but my family is alos correct. Your clothing is appropriate for the work place. You have never touched me inappropriately. You also have never tried to suede me. You treated me as everyone else in your department and yet-"

Damian was smacked upside the head by Tim. Damian turned to glare at him, but when he looked up, she saw Marinette covering her face with her hands and her ears were bright red.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng?" Damian spoke softly.

Marinette looked between her fingers at him, nervously.

"Miss Duapin-Cheng?" Bruce questioned, cautiously.

"I-I don't understand how-how you can like me." She stammered.

"Well, for one thing, you have a killer right hook." Damian stated.

Out of all the things, he could have answered, that was not one of them. Marinette began laughing and her hands fell away from her blushing face.

The Wayne heir smirked, "I'm also not use to people telling me to 'fuck off'."

Marinette snorted as she thought back to the first day they met. Bruce and Tim nodded as they slowly made their way away from the young adults.

"Everyone back to work." Bruce commanded, "If I see this online, I'll personally make sure whoever posted it, is fired."

The fashion department was quick to get back to work, leaving Damian Wayne to confess to their blushing designer.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events@animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[anhonest-puck]

more anderperry because i miss them (under the cut, 630 words) (also in an au where lettermans are a thing and not achievement pins or whatever 😭)

about a week or so after neil died, his mom had come up to welton to help todd clean out his stuff. over the few hours she was there, the two had bonded quite well. todd sharing his story with her (this being a big feat for him, he’d never been good at telling people about his childhood). around the end, they had finally come to his things that he’d used or worn the most often. some things in the pile were his favorite shoes, a childhood plushie that he insisted that he couldn’t sleep without, and his wallet. also in the pile of things that laid on neil’s old bed was his tattered, worn (but well loved) letterman. todd loved neil’s letterman, nagging neil to get to wear it every chance he got. 

“neil i’m cold, can i borrow it one more time?” of course, neil would always cave and say yes, but todd savored every moment with his jacket on. to him, it was a promise. a promise of “i’ll be with you no matter what. even when i’m not there physically, i’m there; supporting you every step of the path you take.” it was like a long hug from neil. he enjoyed every minute with it on, basking in its warmth and comfort. it smelled like home. because to him, neil was home.

“so what would you like to do with it?” mrs perry muttered. she held it up. there in his right pocket, where he’d always put his hand, was a small slip of paper. she took it out gently and read the front of the slip out loud: “to: toddy” oh god. 

“i think this is for you then?” she sighed, handing the note and the jacket over to a rather speechless todd. he timidly opened the note. the writing was scribbled, but somehow the scribbled letters felt like home. home, home, home.

“toddy,

i know that this whole situation seems like absolute shit. i’m sorry. i’d understand it if you’d never forgive me; however, i know how much you loved my jacket (i noticed, you weren’t slick). so as my final parting gift, i wanted to give this to you. i hope this letter doesn’t go unnoticed, and you toss my jacket under the bed, but if you read this: know that i love you. nothing will ever change that. i’ll miss you. stay safe for me, alright toddy bear?

from, neil. 

dated: december 4th, 1959.”

from that moment todd knew that he had planned his death ahead of time. it wasn’t a ‘final hurrah’ like he had previously thought. but god, why didn’t he tell todd? maybe he had thought that it was too much of a burden. was he angry? no, anything but angry. he was upset. he left todd. alone.

 it was absurd of him to even think about tossing something so valuable and meaningful into a place where it would simply collect dust and be forgotten about, which wasn’t what neil deserved. his memory deserved to be hung up and shown to the whole world, the patches of sports he’d played and clubs he was a part of displayed in all their ragged but beautiful glory. 

todd didn’t know how long he’d sat there, staring at the note, but by the time mrs perry snapped at him to bring him back down to earth, he’d noticed that there were several tear stains on the page. he had read it and reread it over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. he finally let out a small laugh.

“toddy bear… really neil?” he giggled through tears.

and just like he used to, neil had made todd smile for the last time.

[kurisus]

Noragami: Final Chapter thoughts

For the last time :') I've been making these for roughly half the manga's runtime, both in chapter count and years. Which is wild to think, but anyway, spoilers under the cut. One final time.

I really spent the first half of this chapter with bated breath alternating between being relieved that Hiyori is okay and grew up to be a doctor and everything, and stressed about where Yato was and where her memories were. Then Yato showed up, and I think I burst into tears out of hysterics. They really got me, I thought he was gone.

That aside, it was an excellent chapter. I was right when I said that this would just be an epilogue and the true suffering was over, but god. god. I'm relieved they gave me that open ending and the chapter was mostly good old-fashioned Noragami silliness. With the expected gut punches.

It's probably a good thing that Yuka never got to reunite with her brother, but at least knows that he's resting in peace. That he was given a proper burial by someone who, at the time, barely knew him but wanted to make things right anyway. Great now I'm crying again.

Hiyori's pocket with the little capyper keychain she bought forever ago. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Yato's CPR being so intense it cracked Hiyori's ribs. god he was so desperate to save her. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

HER TOUCHING HER LIPS WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Fujisaki getting nostalgic seeing tall grass (as we know from the omake is called kaya) was weirdly touching. Though Father has faded, Kaya is the one that is still remembered. We never got to learn his real name, and while I am still curious about it, I can see the purpose--by not knowing his name, we the readers don't give him a lifeline.

That's not the only fourth wall lean in the final chapter. There was also Yato being able to save himself by becoming a meme, much like how the fandom and Adachitoka have memed on him for years as well.

Back to the chapter, it looks like Father's consciousness had always been lurking alongside Fujisaki's, maybe making him do things from time to time, which is really weird and creepy. Maybe he was dormant until the Yomi arc, but either way he's been doing this to a dozen other guys over the centuries. I'm glad the cycle was broken.

It's hilarious that Fujisaki tries to ask Hiyori out and she's just like haha not interested coo phone be upon ye.

I'm so glad the cherry blossom party has become an annual tradition with even more gods invited to the party. I'm also so glad that Yato refuses to release Kazuma and Bishamon apparently makes it a point to bully him about this whenever she sees him. But also, Kazuma doesn't seem to want to be released. He's just like yeah whatever man I'm glad you saved us. Cheers.

Side note, Kazuma's new glasses look a lot like the ones he was wearing in that 100 years ago flashback of him and Bishamon, around chapter 68 or 69 I think?

So we also get to see the aftermath of what happened to Yukine--he still transforms into a wolf every now and then, because much like how Nora transforms into a snakelike creature whenever she loses control of her emotions, his form is a wolf, and unlike Nora he's always been very emotional. So the nightmares come out and Yato's left with a giant wolf thrashing around in their shared living space lol, but at least his dad is there to hug him :')

WAIT STOP PAUSE EVERYTHING IT LOOKS LIKE THEY SHARE A BED NOW. I JUST COLLAPSED INTO A BALL.

AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH

The panel of Yato hugging him made me lose it again. THEY'RE SOOOOOOOO.

So we never did get to find out what happened to Yukine's father--but as I pointed out in the reread I did during December, I don't think it matters. Yukine wasn't going to exact revenge on him anyway because he's not the kind of person to do so.

The page of Nora reading Hiyori's diary also made me so sad. Hiyori's right--she probably did have parents who loved her, but she never got to meet them. One thing I noticed throughout this manga is shinki habitually chasing something relating to their pasts. Yukine craves a good relationship with a father figure, Kazuma is obsessed with Bishamon because he missed out on marrying a girl he loved, Daikoku acts like a dad to every child he meets because he died before having his own kids, and like Yukine, Hiiro craves the parental love she never had. And as Hiyori pointed out, being given a name by Father was like being given life.

Since we didn't get to see what became of her name situation, but Yukine still bears the Hagusa name, she must still have Mizuchi. If her master is gone, can she still draw borderlines? Does she hang around with Yato and Yukine still? Adachitoka didn't say Kofuku DIDN'T name her, so...

The way Hiyori remembered Yato because of his scent had me SOBBING, yall. She didn't forget, but she did solve her problem and it was solved by people, just like they've been saying throughout the manga. But now, they can be together again. Yato was away from her for some years, and maybe he'll leave for several more (it's been a repeated thing in the manga that he'll insist he has to stay away for her own good), but the point is that even if it's been years and years, she'll always remember him. It's open-ended, but that just means it can be my preferred ending of Hiyori not forgetting but choosing to distance herself. She'll meet up with Yato and Yukine every once in a while living her own, separate, fulfilling life. They've been watching over her all these years anyway.

And so, that brings us to the close. It's as happy an ending as we could have possibly gotten, and above all else, I'm relieved. I've been saying for...years, probably, that I want an open ending, but I really thought it was off the table with recent events.

Final hangups are the same as they were in my final reread (tagged under #Noragami reread on my blog), so I won't repeat them, but the bottom line is that I got everything I wanted out of this ending--except maybe a trio hug? But that interior illustration of the four of them, all smiling and happy, Yato's arm around his sister, made up for that. I kind of wish there was a Yatori kiss for real, but the panel of her touching her lips also assuaged that.

Anyway, I'm not sure what other manga would/will make me unhinged enough to type up monthly thoughts posts for years, but I'll be tuned in to whatever new Adachitoka has coming up. Whether it's a full series, a short series, or just a oneshot, I'll be reading every word. I'm also looking forward to getting the final volume once it releases here, and praying for an artbook announcement.

Thank you for reading! I have some posts to make, some projects to plan, and I'll be diving into the tag once more for old times' sake. This won't be the last of me!

[anotheroceanid]

I'm so tired that I'm almost passing out, so here is the first scene of chapter 5 (it's the better revised scene so far) so I can take a nap. I'll post the rest of the chapter later. Welcome to the 17 years later. Everyone is kinda bitter...

The search for Percy Jackson started on December 22nd, 2010, same day she was identified as missing. With no witnesses or trails to follow, mistrust installed amongst gods and demigods. For the next months, the lack of clues and the shrinking list of suspects led to threats and accusations thrown by both sides.

Despite the efforts to find the Hero of Olympus, her sudden absence was the last straw needed to ignite a long-anticipated gods’ war.

ANNABETH

FEBRUARY 5TH, 2028

THE GREAT CITY OF PERSES

Annabeth should’ve reacted better.

Not only that morning in Olympus, but so many times before and after it.

She and Percy hadn’t been on the best terms when everything happened. They hadn’t been on good terms before everything happened and, though sourly, Annabeth concluded the argument was mostly her fault. If she had dealt with things smoothly, perhaps Percy wouldn’t be alone in her cabin during that Winter Solstice.

Annabeth should’ve reacted better. But she didn’t.

Her eyes painfully burned as she finished reading Nico’s letter, but Annabeth didn’t cry. It’s been years since she such humanity been at her reach.

Whilst her eyes were dry, her heart drowned.

Annabeth licked her lips nervously as she went through the content of the letter a second time. She expected she had misread it all. Or at least that she would notice the new source of their obsession. Something the others had missed, something that could… would change it all. It was always like this, for almost two decades.

‘…and despite all my uncle’s efforts, it seems that her presence is too foggy and dispersed to be tracked back to its source. But he swears he heard Percy calling for him.’ Annabeth reads aloud, not allowing herself to sigh before the last phrase, ‘Uncle intends to keep trying.’

Of course he will, thought Annabeth, he’s chronically delusional. Like I am. Annabeth knew what people spoke about her behind her back, what they thought of her determination to find Percy.

No one was brave enough to say it to her face, though. She could count on her fingers how many people spoke freely to her. Wherever she went, fear struck people’s hearts. Whatever their real opinions were, it all died in their throats when they stood in Annabeth’s presence.

What they didn't say mattered little, she saw in their eyes everything she needed to know about them. Their whispers always got to her ears. Percy Jackson might not be dead, they would say, for her friend’s soul never got to the underworld, but she’s beyond the reach of mortals, was what most concluded.

To it, Annabeth would snarl and urge to cry at the same time. There weren't tears to shed. Which was good. Crying is for humans, mortals if one will, Annabeth had become something else these past seventeen years. The wars had hardened her heart. Wherever Percy might be, she had half of Annabeth's soul with her. Annabeth's shift had been inevitable, but for the best.

Sure, Percy was out of the reach of mortals, it mattered nothing to Annabeth. She’d allow monstrosity to take over her entire self if needed. It was not exactly a challenge, given her origins.

Percy was out there, somewhere. They’d reunite again. Should it take seventeen years, twenty years, a century, or a millennium. Annabeth was ready to crawl back from the death.

Annabeth reread Nico’s a third time. For much less, they had looked in the Sea of Monsters. Now… This time they had reasons to indulge in delusion. For the first time, in seventeen years, they weren’t dealing with a theory, or hopes or suspects. No, Poseidon felt Percy’s presence in the ocean, he heard her voice. If the Lord of Seas believed such thing, then he couldn’t be wrong.

That’s not true, is it? Her own voice hissed inside her mind, everyone knows Poseidon is losing his marbles, and so are you.

Could gods hallucinate? If so, Poseidon might’ve imagined it all. After all, how much of a god's mind was trustable? Often, Annabeth pondered if all that wasn’t Poseidon’s punishment for his crimes; finally loving someone so purely, just to have her taken from him so suddenly and cruelly. He deserved some retribution. Most gods deserved, even some of those Annabeth didn't absolutely despise.

Unfortunately, gods couldn’t even suffer without crushing the world under their misery. How many men lost their daughters because of Poseidon? What had they to sink but their own hearts?

Annabeth envied the God of Sea. She wanted everyone and everything to drown in her sorrow, to have their lungs filled with her venom and share her pain. Instead, she’s forced to this position.

She also envied Percy. Her friend, gone and loved, while Annabeth was none. Not even as a child—her father didn’t even mind searching for her, let alone rage for her.

Annabeth was fixated staring at Nico’s handwriting for so long, the words started to lose their meanings. Dispersed…

Why can’t we be together, like we used to do?

Her eyes raised from the letter to the photography she kept on her desk. Percy and her, their arms thrown above each other’s shoulders, smiling mindlessly to the camera. They were fourteen at the time, clueless about all the pain there was yet to be witnessed.

They had so many opportunities to disappear, to be sisters somewhere else far from the gods instead of crawling back to them over and over again. They should've run, let them fight their own battles. They would've preserved what really mattered. Themselves.

Seventeen years past the Titanomachy, it is hard to recall what was the significant difference between the Olympians and their predecessors, the titans. Zeus even looked like his father, should Hecate’s words be trueful. The world ended up in shambles anyway; at least with the titans Annabeth knew what to expect, she could've planned something.

The sound of a pouring liquid on her goblet drags her away from her thoughts, that's when Annabeth’s reminded that she isn't alone in her office. She turns her eyes to face youth and strength, embodied by a boy who's been alive for less time than Percy’s been missing.

Sometimes, Annabeth had a tough time not holding it against Dennis. He'd be turning seventeen in a few months. Percy's age when she disappeared. Annabeth envied his vigour; she loathed how Dennis wasted it in goodness. The boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Unless I told him to do so. He'd bring me Jason Grace's head if I demanded it. If he weren’t such a great asset, I’d do it already. No… Not right now.

Still, that simply wasn't Dennis’ nature. He could follow orders, but there was so little fury on him. Why? What kept him from succumbing as so many others did? What was his secret; why does he smile so kindly when there is nothing to smile at all? How does he keep that madness glitter in his eyes under control? When will he seek revenge against her? He should've already. It'd be so easy to poison my wine…

Annabeth brings it to her lips. No poison unless one counted the alcohol.

‘I hope they'll find Persephone Halosydna this time,’ he says sincerely, not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone.

Annabeth take a bigger sip. She hates how kids these days call Percy. Everything, anything, but her name. Those stupid titles and epithets. Annabeth hates them, even more because she was the precursor of their use.

‘Hope is all we, the Earthshaker included, have in regard to Percy.’ Another voice spoke, this one tired and far from kind. Clarisse annoyedly stretches her burnt fingers before reaching for her own freshly filled goblet.

‘Well, it's his daughter…’ Dennis quietly argued. He talks just barely higher than a summer breeze, and the only reason he's heard is because the sound of his voice had an almost narcotic effect. Makes one want to hear it.

‘I'm not questioning that.’ Clarisse deep inhaled, ‘I’d react the same in his place. It's just that...Every time he gets disappointed… Well, how long until we run out of food?’ She spoke darkly and her eyes focused on Annabeth’s.

Annabeth noticed how Dennis bit his lips nervously. He didn't like this talk; he didn't like the implications. He'll have to get over it. Soon.

Four years prior, an armistice was necessary.

Both sides couldn't fight a war while corpses flooded the entire territory due to the plagues. People died overnight, no one had the necessary supplies to deal with the simplest of diseases, and the decomposing bodies in open air increased the infectious hazard.

Without the pandemic, the Greeks would've had an unquestionable victory of the war, conquered all Western territory, and destroyed Rome. However, they had to retreat to solve that more urgent matter. Had it not been Zeus' speaking in their behalf, the Romans would've had already starved to death. But Annabeth needed to keep the Oracle under Greek sole control. So, she complied to a lot of distasteful things.

Four years past the armistice, it seemed that Jason Grace saw the Greeks’ territory as Rome's farm. It was not their fault that the Roman's had spent most of their supplies during the war. The Romans’ curses weren’t the Greeks fault.

Demeter was letting their enemies starve. Poseidon often flooded or sent an earthquake on the Roman side of the continent. In the beginning, it didn't matter. Not to Annabeth. The Greek's harvests thrived. In fact, making the Romans so dependent of them was something positive. Feeding them was a sour matter, but it was always meant to be a temporary resolution... Everyone knew the war would ignite again.

Then, last year happened. They barely produced enough crops to finish a year without messing with the reserves. A good share of the livestock died of hunger or disease. The drought kept going.

Zeus refused to let it rain, and everything not so depended on water that they tried to plant ended up cursed. This meant Poseidon would get mad and attack Rome. Zeus and his allies couldn't attack Perses directly, so he used of other methods to pester their lives. While Romans and the Greeks might've ceased fire, the gods never stopped their war.

As Katie always said, warring against the Romans was cheaper than feeding them. This time was also a matter of resources.

Annabeth bet they'd be back to the battlefield in less than a year. Clarisse shared the same opinion. Right now, every advantage was theirs. The Greeks couldn't lose their momentum—they had to attack while they were strong. All Annabeth waited for was Poseidon's signal. They needed to wait for Zeus to turn their eyes somewhere else, so nothing would stop their advances against Rome. It needs to be soon, she thought, if this drought keeps going for much longer, we won't have reserves to feed the army...

Anytime, she expected. Then, the realisation came to her mind, Percy’s return, and Rome's downfall in the same year. If Annabeth still prayed, she'd pray for it to turn into reality.

‘Soon, we won't have to worry about it anymore.’ Annabeth said, turning to Clarisse, ‘If there is anyone you think suitable for the Fields, the moment is now. We must be ready.’

Clarisse pondered for a second, but nervously circled her goblet with her fingers. ‘From the top of my mind, I can't think of anyone.’

Liar. ‘What about Ajax? You said he's been bothering you about it.’ Annabeth recalled a talk they had in the last Council. Which had been months ago, and a slip from Clarisse’s part. There was a time that the way Clarisse looked at Annabeth would've made her shiver, but not anymore. ‘Prepare a sparring session, I want to see how the apprentices are doing.’

‘Don't you trust my judgment?’ Clarisse growled. ‘Jack's not ready.’

‘He’s older than Andromachus when we sent him there.’ Annabeth pointed out.

‘Jack ain't Andy, Annabeth!’ Clarisse slammed her goblet against the table. ‘All the talent he has with weapons is worthless when compared to his lack of common sense. I'm saying it as his instructor and superior.’

Annabeth remained silent for a second, studying Clarisse's troubled expression. ‘And as his mother, what would you say?’

‘He’s only fourteen years old.’

So was half our army in both the wars we fought, Annabeth thought of saying, but preferred not to start this discussion in front of Dennis. ‘He'd be with Chiron. Drew is there for a reason, too. It’s not as if they’ll allow him to cross the border.’

‘Yes, Annabeth.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Thank you for giving me a lesson on my own child.’

‘I was right about Andromachus. And Dennis.’

‘Not every kid is Andromachus or Dennis.’ Clarisse spoke gravely, and Annabeth saw Dennis flinch. ‘I can prepare a sparring session, but my answer about Jack is still no. And the authority to decide who’s sent to the Fields remain in my hands. You won't change my mind this time.’

Annabeth shrugged. ‘You're wasting his potential.’

‘I can live with that.’ The older woman spat.

Shouldn't she want him strong to defend himself? Andromachus and Dennis had never been in a war field, but their names were already whispered either with fear or adoration across the whole continent; they could defend themselves against anything thrown in their faces. Ajax was good but sloppy; his feelings were always in the surface—the Spartan Fields could help him overcome it.

The Fields had borders with the Wild and the Lost Lands, but most importantly, it was the only piece of land where the Greek and Roman territory met. Therefore, the only border they had to defend, so the recruits were sent there to brush up their abilities. It was an honour. Only the best of the best went there, and as much of a troublemaker Ajax could be, he still fit the part. There was nothing for him in Perses, under his parents' wings and his brother’s shadow. Dennis had been in the Fields for a while, and so did Andromachus, eldest of the La Rue-Rodriguez kids. Chiron called them prodigies; Annabeth agreed.

Ajax was far from prodigious, but talented enough to become great. However, there wasn't anything else his mother and father could teach him, and Annabeth could not have a loose canon once the war started. Clarisse and Chris would have to get over it.

‘I could try working on Jack.’ Dennis interjected, his soft-spoken words cutting through the tension. ‘I mean, maybe the Fields ain’t for him, but he needs to learn some discipline. Especially because, in the absence of Andy, the younger kids look up to Jack. He needs to be a good influence for...’

Dennis never finished.

His already mellifluous voice got completely muffled by high pitched screams and doors being slammed. Annabeth closed her eyes, as if it'd make all that noise go away. Instead, they got closer and closer as the kids ran through the corridors of Annabeth's compound.

The door slammed open, and an army of kids invaded Annabeth's office, screaming excuses to why they looked like that.

‘...if Leocito wasn’t a prick!’

‘Silena!’ Clarisse shrieked. ‘What sort of language is that? Look at the state of... Your arm!’

The three younger kids looked as if they had been at a battlefield.

Leander, Silena, and Penelope were all covered in dust. Penelope's usually shiny long hair was all tangled, as if some animal had a fight there. Annabeth wouldn't be surprised if Leander revealed he had tried to dive on dirt, for he’s covered in it from head to toe, spreading it everywhere in Annabeth's floor. Silena's sweater had a hole from shoulder to elbow, and she had a long cut on her arm. She had both hands placed above her heart, and Annabeth noticed she was holding something.

Though the cut didn't seem to be deep, Clarisse still ran to her youngest child as if Silena were at risk of losing a limb over that cut. ‘How did it happen?’ She shrieked. Instead of looking at Silena, her eyes darted to Ajax, who avoided his mom's eyes at all costs.

Finally, the children decided to shut up. Ajax's gaze focused on the ground; arms crossed in front of his body. He wasn't nearly as dirty as his younger siblings or Penelope, excepts for some little scratches on his hands.

Annabeth didn't need him to speak, already knowing the answer. It was not the first time they showed up looking like that, and despites all warnings they received, she doubted it'd be the last.

‘They were at the Old Camp.’ Annabeth hissed, raising from her chair. Dennis hurried to get her cane, but she used the table to stand. ‘Again. Do any of you...’

‘It wasn’t my fault, Aunt Annabeth!’ Leander cried out. The boy took a step forward, but thanks to Clarisse, Leander never gets close to the carpet. His mother grips his arm and stops him and the dirt on his shoes from moving any further. Great, it’d be a nightmare to clean. ‘They went there on their own, as always!’ Leander accused, pointing the dirty finger to the girls, who sneered.

His mother, however, didn't look impressed. ‘And you followed?!’

Clarisse’s face got furiously red. Her eyes went from Silena's wound to Ajax ashamed expression then back to Leander, who kept blabbering accusations. Beside Annabeth, Dennis sighed and shook his head in disapproval.

Despite Leander’s attempts to explain his lack of fault in the matter, his excuses didn't seem to appease Clarisse, who got more outraged at every word, facing morphing from disbelief to horror to anger within milliseconds. Ignoring the youngest of her boys, she turned to Ajax, ‘I told you to keep an eye on them!’

Ajax shrugged, ‘I was training.’ He mumbled.

‘And left your little sister and brother alone at home?!’ Clarisse nervously stretched her fingers, gritting her teeth.

‘Nothing happened.’ Ajax argued, timidly. As hot-headed as he could be, he turned into a scared kitten in the presence of his mother. He had been a shy baby, and a part of him never outgrew that. Nor it ever will if he stays in the nest.

‘Something could've happened!’ Clarisse argued back, putting her hands on his shoulders to shake her son.

‘Not if she had stayed at home, I didn't want to go there, and I didn’t tell her to go to the other side of the hill.’ Ajax stared at Silena who, with hands still carefully cupped, widened her doe eyes and turned to her mom, forming with her lips a delicate pout, which spoke louder to Clarisse than any argument her second son could use.

‘We didn't mean to go so far in the woods, we got lost.’ Said Silena, voice one octave higher than it usually was, lashes fluttering as she recoiled herself, making her figure even smaller. Clarisse got a shade less red.

‘You shouldn't be in the woods in the first place!’ Ajax interjected.

‘No, but you wouldn't stop bragging about how life is unfair.’ Silena said, furrowing her brows, but before her brother could say anything else, she changed the subject. ‘He's still mad that dad and Uncle Leo took Andy to Rhode Island and not him.’

‘I'm not!’

‘He is!’ Leander said, and Annabeth noticed Penelope biting her lips to hide her subtle grin.

‘Why did you followed them instead of calling me, idiot?’ Ajax inquired with an eyebrow raised in an expression that was remarkably like his mother’s when she got mad.

‘Don't call your brother that!’ Clarisse barked, ‘Why didn't you call him?’

‘I... I wanted to make sure they'd be fine.’ Leander said as it was obvious.

Finally, Penelope, the youngest in the group, broke her silence, ‘You ran into the Big House, and we had to save you.’ She was at once struck back by screams from Leander trying to defend himself, followed by Silena's arguments to defend her best friend. Ajax had an annoyed sneer watching it all.

‘We weren't even that close to Old Camp; we were near the beach!’ Silena said, and just like that Clarisse went from mad to perturbed.

‘Where is safe.’ Penelope hastily remarked.

‘Leocito came running and said he wanted to see if there were spoils in the Big House to steal.’ Silena explained, shaking her head disapprovingly.

‘We only went into the Big House when we heard his screams.’ Penelope added. ‘He thought he had seen a ghost but turned out it was just a curtain.’

Leander opened his mouth to explain himself, but Clarisse made an indignant sound. ‘The thing is falling to pieces! It could've fallen to pieces on your heads!’ The more she spoke, the higher her voice got, but now out of worry. ‘What would I tell your parents if you died smashed by debris, Penelope?’

Without flinching, Penelope answered, ‘That their daughter left a mark.’

Dennis chocked a laugh, louder than his speaking voice. Flushing, he brought a hand to his lips to hide his sudden amusement.

Slowly, without saying a word, Clarisse turns to Annabeth, face frozen in disbelief.

‘Your, or even Leander’s, disregard for you own life does not give you permission to break rules, Penelope.’ Annabeth intervened, staring at the girl’s face. ‘I should expect that, out of everyone, you’d understand why Camp Half-Blood is off limits.’

‘Well, it shouldn’t be.’ Penelope petulantly crossed her arms, the little brat. ‘We should be working to rebuild it, I mean, people arrive every day. We’re getting crowded. We either rebuild the Old Camp and expand the city, or it’ll expand itself against our will. Also, at this point that’s lighthouse for monsters and worse things, don’t you think it’ll become a problem soon? Do you want your Magnum Opus to be ruined?’

Annabeth’s eyes twitched. ‘You’re exceptionally good quoting your father. Almost word by word.’ Annabeth responded, unimpressed. ‘What you’re hiding, Silena?’

Silena blinked a few times, then opened her mouth in a perfect ‘o’ and smiled as she intonated, ‘I saved him, it’s a bird.’ Annabeth hated birds. Little devilish creatures. ‘It sought refuge inside the Big House, I believe.’ She carefully shows a feathery thing, small enough to fit inside her little hands. If the thing weren’t trembling that much, Annabeth would’ve believed it to be dead. Noticing it, Silena snuggled the bird against her sweater again. ‘We were already there to save Leocito, so I thought...’

Clarisse exhaled, ‘What did your dad say about bringing animals back home?’

‘But mom…’ Silena pleaded, fixing her big eyes on her mother again. Voice even more childish, helpless expression. ‘He’s so small, and he needed my help… And… And… Look how pretty his feathers are! They’re so gold, I mean, it is now that we cleaned him a little, I thought the poor thing was grey. He was calling for us, asking for help. I couldn’t just live him there.’

Dennis chuckled. ‘He is adorable.’ He agreed, walking near Silena to have a better look at the bird, and she proudly raised her hands near Dennis face. ‘Really adorable!’ He confirmed.

‘Yeah, and she’ll cry like a baby when it dies.’ Ajax scorned.

‘He ain’t dying!’ Penelope and Silena roared as one.

‘Sisi…’ Clarisse tried, and Silena reached out for the fabric of her cloak, pulling it gently.

‘Please mom! Please, please, please!’ Her eyes filled with tears, so naturally that impressed Annabeth. ‘I know he still might die if I bring him in, but he’ll surely die if I don’t do anything. Please, mom.’

Clarisse closed her eyes for a second and grimaced, trying to fight her own daughter’s words. Then, she opened her eyes and, of course, ‘Fine!’ She never denied Silena anything. Whatever kept Silena occupied and ignorant to the world surrounding her, Clarisse obliged. The tiny girl cheered as if she hadn’t just broken a rule set to keep people alive, followed by Penelope who happily jumped around her. Here it is, this carpet is never getting clean again. ‘But if it lives, you’ll have to set it free in the wild.’

‘He’ll won’t die!’ Silena protested.

‘We’ll take him to Uncle Will!’ Added Penelope.

‘And don't expect me to take care of it, it's your responsibility.’

‘I'll help her!’ Penelope didn't fret to say, and for some reason Annabeth's chin trembled.

‘And you’re both still grounded. You’re all grounded, in fact.’ Clarisse said. All the kids groaned, probably hoping they’d get away with it. ‘Until your dads are back, then they'll ground you all again.’ No, they'll not, Annabeth thought, they're softer than you.

Ajax eyes pictured his outrage, ‘But it wasn’t my fault!’ He cried out like a baby, shivering ashamedly as he noticed his tone, ‘Mom…’ He softly pleaded, being not nearly as gifted as his sister on doing so. ‘It’s not my fault!’

There was a moment of silence, and Clarisse's eyes locked with Annabeth's for a second. She licked her lips, and her jaw was tight. ‘You need to take your responsibilities more seriously, Jack. What if something caught you? How’d you feel if a monster ate your little sister? They’re little, but you should know better.’

Ajax inflated his chest and took a step further, ‘But I…! Yes, ma'am.’ He didn't finish. Just like he did when he was scolded as a toddler, he lowered his head, and quietly apologised for his misbehaviour.

[crossbowwwdotcom]

camilo's blue lock ff reccs ^_−☆ (as of december 25, 2023; may be updated):

- a shiver i cant shake by lockedskies .., 4k words and 1/1 chapters. a tabiori ff where they carpool on their way to bluelock from kansai which turns into a sort of roadtrip ff that lowkey had me kicking my legs

- behind the mask by kae_karo ... 6k words and 1/1 chapters. tabieita assasin au where theyre trying to kill each other but theyre pining!

- white tea and blackberry pie by juryrouge ... 12k words and 2/2 chapters. a kaisagi future ff from an outsiders pov of them slowly getting set up! its just rly cute

- electric blue by ithildin_23 ... 13k words and 4/? chapters. ANOTHER kaisagi ff where theyre all content creators! isagi is a gamer whos RLLY good at valo and kaiser is a blogger. unfortunately discontinued but still one of my favs!

- and if you flow with me (i hope it goes slow) by xshieru .., 18k words and 1/1 chapters. RLLLY cute bachisagi ff where they slowly get together over the course of blue lock. just generally rlly cute ^^

- im scared you wont be waiting on the other side by jumpinginmuddypuddles ... 7k words and 2/6 chapters. bachisagi where isagi is being hunted down and bachira is his bodyguard. very good but it hasnt been updated in so long so 😔

- like staccatos by rinksskii ... 18k words and 3/? chapters. rinsagi orchestra au with a very interesting plot that im very curious about!! sadly has not been updated in a while

- customer service by amazing__gracie ... 3k words and 1/1 chapters (but is the second work of a two work series!). very funny rinsagi where rin is a racer and isagi is an awesome mechanic. from the tags: "rin likes isagi" "isagi likes rin's car"

- no mountain too high, no river too wide by miyaeruisa .,, 36k words and two work series. featuring: figure skating kaisagi. GODDD ITS SO GOOD!! rivals to lovers with great amounts of balance of focus on the individual chars and their relationship and one of my favs to reread (esp the second work)

- go together by heartbeatrelics ... 3k words and 1/1 chapters. nagireo ff where nagi is searching for an apartment for him and reo to live in while reo has no idea theyre gonna live together...theyre so domestic and ughhhh yeah!

- kintsugi kids by retrosas ... 10k words and 1/1 chapters. rare chigisagi ff where theyre childhood friends and chigiri is healing from his knee injury (+ an isagi injury). really good!

- got me feeling like damn! by retrosas ... 11k words and 2/2 chapters. allsagi ff with just. everyone simping over each other while at a bllk party. SOOO rereadable!! staged in the future

- apricot scones by orphan account ... 4k words and 1/1 chapters. soft coffee shop bachisagi EXCEPT a secret someone is actually spiderman!!!! sooo cute

- sights worth seeing by mxmasochist ... 15k words and 6/6 chapters. 5 + 1 ff featuring yukki's injury!! just some plain old good hurt/comfort

- rhythm only you can follow by katlov ... 8k words and 1/1 chapters. kurosagi in bastard munchen where theyre just. soft. real cute and kurona gets hit in the face

- and they were roomates by chameleonardodicaprio .., 17k words and 2/2 chapters. nagireo stuff that had me TAKING LAPS. this is so!!! nrhdkdvj!!!! just nagireo being gay and everyone speculating in the nel

- the third time by anonymous .., 66k 12/? chapters! rinsagi stuff where isagi is a super famous idol and rin is training to be his backup dancer!! realllly good stuff with both of them being good at what they do and. yeah!

- the universe thinks we should kiss or something by misstresssleepless ... 4k words and 1/1 chapters. AWESOME tabieita soulmate au where theyre just a little funky. figuring things out for 4k words basically

- im working on it by orphan account ... 52k words and 10/10 chapters. LAST CHAPTER IS SMUT beware!!! really good slow burn tabieita in blue lock with great character plot!! theyre so cute

- the little things by meemawz ... 1k words and 1/1 chapters. just a gen fic of isagis senses being way too strong. very cute hurt/comfort and fluff (i also love this trope so much plspls write more for this)

- streamer nagi cinematic universe by okwa ... 12k words and 4 works. what it says on the tin! js lots of cute stuff with nagireo!

[exhuastedpigeon]

December 2 - 8

Here's your weekly rec list! I didn't reread anything this week, but I will be rereading some of the fics I read this week so it all balances out, probably.

The lists are tagged as ‘Han’s Buddie Recs’ and 'Han's Weekly Fic Recs'. Comments in italics are from me! 

Newly Read

Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/@letmetellyouaboutmyfeelsExplicit || 67.9k When Eddie's son claims he has an imaginary friend, Eddie doesn't think much of it. Christopher is seven, it's what kids do. But then weird things start happening around the house, and Eddie starts dreaming about a handsome blue-eyed man.

Turns out, Christopher's friend isn't so imaginary.

Their house is haunted.

If you liked Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston this fic is for you. 

Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars Mature || 62.8k The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back

This fic made me rabid. I’ve bullied at least three people into reading it in the last week and now you all are my latest victims. Read this story!!!!! It’s so damn good.

you and i'll be safe and sound by spaceprincessem/@spaceprincessem Teen || 50.8k the buddie hunger games au

This fic does such a great job staying true to Buck and Eddie’s characters while keeping the same plot/structure as The Hunger Games books. Highly recommend it! 

yearning from wanting you by farfromthstars/@buckactuallys Mature || 18.3k while christopher is at camp, buck and eddie strike up a friends with benefits situation. it doesn't really get complicated until the kid comes back.

it hurts to hope for more by 42hrb/@exhuastedpigeon Mature || 15.5k Buck wants to be a dad, it takes a couple break-ups and a major non-romantic heartbreak for him to figure out that maybe he already is.

This is half shameless self plug, half I actually read this fic this week after I posted it and was like 'damn bitch you actually did it, you wrote the fic you wanted to read'

reachin for me (makin love to someone else) by inbetweenthestacks/@organizedstardust Explicit || 8.3k Buck says Eddie’s name while having sex with Natalia.

can't do a love song (not the way you sang them to me) by hattalove/@hattalove Mature || 7.3k in which buck sleeps around for healthy reasons, and thinks about his next-door neighbor a healthy amount.

even when the heat breaks I’m still yours by thewolvesof1998/@thewolvesof1998 Explicit || 6.1k Buck and Eddie get stuck in a cabin during a heatwave, they finally take the next step and fuck nasty on the floor.

Ruin Me Like Castle Walls and Burn Me Like a Village by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels Explicit || 6.5k When a call goes wrong, Buck sees a new side to Eddie, and starts to realize a lot of things about his best friend. And himself.

Dragon Eddie and extremely hot sex? Yes please. 

I have not wanted syllables by iphigenias/@oatflatwhite Mature || 3.3k Five times Buck and Eddie don’t say “I love you” + one time they do.

moth to a flame by brewrosemilk/@gayhoediaz Teen || 1.7k Eddie’s kiss is so gentle that Buck aches.

From the way in which he could be pushing Buck back into the lockers and cage him in - but is doing anything but. To the careful, barely-there hold on his face, and the sweet brush of his lips - light as a feather, no pressure added, tongue absolutely nowhere in sight.

WIPs

let you set the pace by devirnis/@devirnis Explicit || 12.7k (1/2 chapters completed) When Eddie had first broached the idea with Buck – haltingly, like he was afraid Buck was going to take offence, or something else ludicrous – Buck had gotten hard so fast that he’d felt lightheaded. Two whole days where Eddie would keep him tied to the bed (or other furniture, Buck’s sure) so he could have his wicked way with him? Buck must have done something very good in a past life.

[mxtxfanatic]

Hello!

First - general well wishes on your birthday month and onward.🎉😊🌸

Second - what things do you enjoy about Mu Qing's character? And kind of expanding on that - what things do you enjoy about the Xianle trio in general?

Third - I am so tempted to read MDZS after seeing your WWX's appreciation posts last month. I didn't read all the posts in depth but just seeing them pop up was so wholesome and sweet. Like, this is a well loved character for you and others and it showed in all the fun and thoughtful posts that were shared last month. 🌸 In my head I am like, I want to get on this and read it now. 👍🏾😊

Thank you, thank you!

On Mu Qing: I like that he sticks by his convictions but also can (eventually) take an L. For better or worse (because some of them are actually terrible), Mu Qing stays consistent with his opinions and morality for the 800 years that we see him, including being A-ok with sacrificing innocent lives for the safety and comfort of his loved ones. But while this would typically make him a villain—and he does spend a good chunk of the novel as an antagonist—the thing that redeems him is his willingness to change. At the end of the day, Mu Qing doesn’t want to be a villain and, thus, changes his beliefs and behaviors to match being a decent fucking person, which is something that 95% of all mxtx villains and antagonists are simply unwilling to do.

The lava pit apology is the perfect encapsulation of this: Mu Qing spent 800 years trying to convince himself that Xie Lian is just a hypocritical version of him, then another few months of the present timeline trying to gather proof of this, and when he no longer can deny that fact that he’s been in the wrong the whole time, he fucking apologizes. He gets over himself! He admits he’s wrong! He confesses that what he wanted was not to be superior but to be a friend! And that’s what I love and why his stans piss me off so much about how they discuss his character.

On the reread: thank you! Admittedly, I had to skip some of the things I probably would’ve loved to go more in-depth about from this reread because it wasn’t on-theme and also character embargo, but I’ve saved those threads for December ☺️

[utilitycaster]

Did you write or reblog posts talking about Imogen saying "the gods don't love me, why would I want to save them" way back when? because I recalled how absolutely wild that was and in the wake of Downfall i wanted to reread to compare her mentality nowadays, and idk if you can find them easier

Hi anon, I did.

I mentioned this last week but summer is my busy time for work, and I have some (positive, but stressful) things going on personally and so I'm going to post the links, but I'm also going to post the process by which I found them in the hopes that it will be helpful in finding such things themselves. I know Tumblr isn't great for search but that's true of me on my own blog as well and so I'd appreciate it if folks could put in that effort themselves; you are fine but I've gotten like 4-5 questions of "can I watch Downfall without C3" at this point and it's like please guys, at least try to search.

Anyway:

use the transcript search, filter on Laura; try variations of "don't love me" which pretty quickly brings up episode 3x79

Check when that aired (YouTube, Beacon, Twitch, etc will have this, just adjust for VOD dates or use the wiki); it was on December 7th, 2023.

Filter my blog archive on that date and by "Imogen Temult" in the tag

Here's a couple posts about that:

short post talking about Imogen's tendency towards impatience (reblogged by me)

a discussion of Imogen's attitude and perspective (reblogged by me)

question about Imogen's background and mindset towards religion (answered by me)

There might be more if you broaden the search; I'm usually decent about tagging by character but I'm not perfect about it, and I didn't include some posts about Imogen not relating to that statement, so feel free to poke around that date more generally.

It's funny because in-game it's only been a week or so, but the thing with Imogen is that I'm not sure she's great at like...an abstract "well, but this may be important to other people and so I should respect it" but she is quite receptive to actual interactions with people. I think seeing firsthand how oppressive the Weave Mind and Kreviris Imperium are; interacting with some of the child soldiers her mother recruited; having those few frustrated conversations with Liliana; losing FCG to Otohan (who no longer cared if she was kept alive, at that point); her limited communion with Predathos; and then viewing the events of Downfall have all influenced her position. Honestly, I wonder if her own "I love you but I don't know what to do with it" regarding Laudna's leaning in to Delilah has given her some insight as well; an understanding that she doesn't know how the gods feel about her specifically and that even feeling love for someone is no guarantee for how you will act towards them. She's had a lot of perspective-shifting experiences in a short period of time, and that line of not being sure she wanted to save the gods was only an abstract confession. And she said she didn't know! She didn't say she didn't want to; she said she was unsure.

[short666bread]

No one Tagged Me But… ^ I love to yap

Besides @smehur tagged @s0lifuge which is basically like if they tagged me, just, eventually. with extra steps

Last song: according to Spotify, I’m in the middle of listening to Das Model by kraftwerk but the actual last song I listened to is Tambor Urbano. Does ensuing tinnitus count as a song?

Favourite Colours: lately I’ve been wearing a lot of green and browns. I like all colours really except for the ugly ones. They know who they are.

Last Book: literally, The Pale King. I am always fucking relistening to The Pale King especially on airplanes. it’s my favourite, and embarassing. at least if I were into Infinite Jest people would know I’m insufferable. Instead I’m forced to explain that I’m insufferable. The indignity of it all. I am also reading Naked Lunch, slowly.

Last Fic: When I typed this it was Alpha Watch I: Sin For Me by furiosity (my kingdom for part II, alas) but between then and now I saw a post that made me reread Leather Mommy by deja_lu (my kingdom for chapter 6, alas!!)

Last Movie: I rewatched Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop and am now halfway through Spirited Away in French, repeating words to myself as language practice

Last TV Show: if YouTube counts as TV, TheRealJims Simpsons videos. If YouTube counts but only if it’s also actual television, John Oliver. Otherwise, I’m watching OK KO with a (currently) long distance friend.

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: this is not enough info but I’ll say savoury? Because it’s the broadest category? Spicy things are usually also savoury things I feel like. But also I’ve been big into fruit so, idk. I think food is abt relationships, one note is no good - hypocrit who also loves plain oat gruel.

Relationship Status: aimless, basically, romantically. considering being less aimless, aimlessly.

Last Thing I Googled: is doxable. But basically internet drama re: a formerly local nonprofit.

Current Obsession: oh, god, unfortunately my health, rumination go brrrrr. Drarry, obv. I love to talk about them. Trying new kombuchas (a bev I used to capital H Hate!)

Looking Forward To: December, I’m scheduled for de-tit-ification :) and tomorrow, seeing my cat again.

It’s supposed to be ‘10 people you want to get to know better’ but. Not tagging anyone in the spirit of If You Read This And Want To Do It Just Go For It, since that’s clearly my current MO :) Q and A is fun!!

[lunabug2004]

New to the stranger things fandom. Do you have any good fic recs? Especially byler.

First of all, omg welcome! I hope you're enjoying being a part of the fandom!

Second, bestie I wish I could supply you more but I don't keep track of the fics I read at all :(. I have a few that I remember so I'll link those after the break! (but I gotta warn that all of them will be Mike-related and not necessarily canon because I have an addiction to his character):

'a cruel summer with you' by andiwriteordie, astrobi, and wiseatom: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48097207/chapters/121281193 Byler summer camp AU. Iconic & rightfully so. So so so good. [Ongoing, currently ~303k words]

'It's still raining. Why is it still raining?' by bouncehouce: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41543979 Mike angst, love it. + Mike&Hopper fiction is my fav tbh (after byler ofc) [Finished, ~2k words]

'The snow won't melt in mid-december' by GhoulSanderson: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45649651/chapters/114871651 Again, pure Mike angst. Love it. Also Byler, but might be pretty slight, I don't remember. [Finished, ~39k words]

'Please stay' by GhoulSanderson: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42486687 Madwheeler. Again, Mike angst but this time with Max. Madwheeler fiction is also my fav (also after byler ofc). [Finished, ~1.8k words]

'Code Purple Series' by BewitchingNotes: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3039501 Pure Mike angst as a series. No Byler unfortunately but very good and very sad. I reread a lot. [Finished, 15 works, ~24k words]

'Force of Gravity' by oceanfruit: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40134231/chapters/100515708 Byler modern AU. Also pretty iconic. Very good. [Finished, ~170k words]

'a stranger things group chat <3' by cosmicbrowniefan: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39748521/chapters/99513723 Byler. Everyone's LGBTQIA+ and it's amazing. This one's just very fun and lighthearted if I remember correctly. [Finished, ~69k words]

This last one's only for registered AO3 users so it's being difficult but it's 'The Darkest Eyes' by light_lanterne. Byler. This one is probably my top favorite but it's incomplete and seems to have been abandoned. It's "a semi canon-compliant character study of mike wheeler, his unaddressed trauma and his relationship with will byers, told through the eyes of a very tired jim hopper who can’t help but to become attached to the boy who keeps dating his children". (Yes this is the only one I'm using the actual summary for cuz I'm lazy by the end of this.)

Anyways, I hope you find enjoyment out of at least one of these! Sorry I couldn't give you more, I haven't read ST fanfic in while as my hyperfixation has died down atm (still there, just not as crazy as a few months ago). Also I'm so sorry for how long this response took me! I had to gather the fics and had lots of family gatherings going on these last couple weeks so my time was limited!

Thanks so much for the ask! I appreciate you so very much! <3

[frodo-with-glasses]

25 Questions with Phil Dragash: YES, SERIOUSLY!

So y'all know how I was reviewing Phil Dragash's audiobook of LotR last year, but kinda fell off somewhere in the middle of Rohan?? Well, guess what! A couple weeks ago, I received a tumblr message from the man himself, saying he'd read through all my reviews, had really enjoyed the little blast from the past, and was open to answering questions if I had any!

So of course, I had LOTS of questions.

The first one being: "Are you actually the real Phil Dragash??"

But I'm delighted to say that after exchanging emails with the work email listed on his website, I can confidently say that it is the real dude, and I've had a blast chatting with him! So for those of you who urged I listen to this audiobook—especially @laurelindorenan for her glowing recommendation—and for everyone else who likes the audiobook and/or enjoyed my reviews: I am delighted to present, ladies and gentlehobbits, this peek behind the curtain!

But of course I'm putting it all below the cut, because this man rambles like I do 🤣

Obligatory disclaimer: All opinions presented by Mr. Dragash are his own, I am not necessarily condoning any of them; please do not come after me for his opinions regarding pineapple on pizza.

25 QUESTIONS, LET'S GO!

1. Tell me how you got into Lord of the Rings!

I was ten years old when my dad took me to the library, and found a VHS copy of Ralph Bakshi’s 1978 animated Lord of the Rings film. I was already a fan of the “Chronicles of Narnia” and my dad just handed the tape to me and said “Look, C.S. Lewis’s friend made this”. I watched it, and had no idea what was going on. It was so hard to understand.

Fast forward to the year 2002 when “Fellowship” was out on DVD, and we had a movie night at my older cousin’s place, and watched the film for the first time. My 13 year old self was enraptured by it. Dad bought the DVD first thing the next day, and I’ve been a fan ever since! I, my brother, and our dad watched “Return of the King” in theaters four times, which was saying something, considering we only ever saw a movie once in cinemas. Between “The Return of the King” opening in December ‘03, I picked up the books and read (as well as I could) through them. A lot of friends kept joking “tell us how the damn story ends!”, good times.

2. When and how did you decide to make this audiobook? What’s the story behind the entire project? 

I was a very ambitious lad, and my first and biggest interest was filmmaking. I used to direct short films with my friends ever since my 11th birthday, and was the youngest in class at the filmschool I attended a few years later. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that I had massive ambitions to direct “the Hobbit”, which is silly in retrospect considering I was 16 years old at the time. I even sent my portfolio and DVDs of my films to Peter Jackson’s manager (who actually got back to me with a wonderful response, despite not being able to accept my ‘completely reasonable’ offer) When I was heartbroken and torn to pieces knowing I wouldn’t be directing the movie, a few more years went by, and I decided to reread some chapters of the “Lord of the Rings” books. I remember really well that this was late at night, laying in bed, and going through “King of the Golden Hall” and seeing how close to the movies it was, but also far more expanded. I thought “my extensive home-made short movies experience with sound design and sound mixing could work here, and I could just read a few chapters and try to make the soundscape as realistic as possible. Why not try it?” 

So, the next day I tried. The first two chapters I tried were “King of the Golden Hall” and “A Journey in the Dark” (which partly answers your other question about that chapter). I was so absolutely surprised by how well it was going, that I decided to upload them onto YouTube in March 2010 I think. I got a fairly good response, and I was planning on doing a few more random chapters. I never intended to do the whole thing. But this one comment on YouTube I’ll always remember, it said: “I think you should go from start to finish, because you’ll probably get used to the characters and sounds and people can also follow along in the story gradually”.

Taking that suggestion to heart, in August 2010 I went from Chapter 1 onward. 

3. Were you inspired by any other audiobook versions of LotR (such as the BBC radio drama)?

I was not, I actually haven’t listened to the BBC Radio drama until far ahead into the project I was doing. I did some research on what other audio productions anyone did with LOTR, from The Mind’s Eye edition, to the ‘60s Hobbit Radio Play; so I felt pretty confident. I just fell in love with the way the films brought Middle-Earth to life and seeing their incredible dedication for authenticity (from the props department, to the music), you really couldn’t do any better than that visually or audibly - at least in my opinion. I just wanted to hear Tolkien’s text but with the realisation of the films. 

However, if you listen to Chapter 1 of TTT, and hear how Legolas laments their absence from not being there to help Boromir at Amon Hen, you can clearly hear the inflection from the BBC Radio play’s version. I just lifted that because I thought it was a fantastic way to deliver the line.

4. Did you have any rituals for “getting into character” before recording?

If I were to show you the raw unedited recording sessions, you’d probably be surprised at how underdeveloped it is! I had no real rituals or warmups, I just went for it. Usually went in cold, and tried reading the entire chapter and doing all the voices at once. Then I’d be exhausted, and afterwards start cutting all the mistakes, and separating each character into different tracks – and then re-recording 50%-70% of it, as I was laying in the sounds. 

I think any character just needs a few words for me to say in their voice, and that helps for the rest of their dialogue. For Aragorn it was usually: “You cannot wield it! None of us can.” for Pippin it was: “Sometimes”, just random things that make things ‘click’ in my head. If I got lost or didn’t feel like the performances were working, I’d simply just watch scenes from the films to hear the real actors again!

5. Who was your favorite character to voice? Who was your least favorite? And why?

People who know me, know I love doing the villains. Sauron, the orcs, the Nazgûl, etc. I just love the idea of personifying things that scare you. Something completely the opposite of who you are. Always a fun time! Any character I can nail extremely accurately always makes me happy, but I’m always very critical of my own work, so it’s a rare thing.

My least favorite characters to voice are: Imrahil, Denethor, Arwen, Celeborn, Galadriel, Erestor, Lindir, Haldir, Goldberry, Gildor… I think the pattern is pretty obvious if you realize that I am incapable of providing a satisfactory voice that feels unique enough. They just sound to me like “I wish I had a broader range. They weren’t done justice.” I have feelings for most of the characters in this situation, but I’m a mere mortal. I can’t do all of them as well as I wish I could. I wish Aragorn was more like Viggo Mortensen’s voice (I tried with the nasally yells you mentioned!), I wish Gandalf had a richer tone, I wish Saruman sounded more majestic, and I wish Frodo was - in retrospect- more older sounding, too. There’s so much I wish I could do better, but to hell with it, I tried.

Fun fact: my least-favorite to voice are also Orcs because they destroy my throat after a while. Which is ironic, because of my first statement.

6. I noticed that you gave the men of Rohan and Gondor slightly different dialects! Are you pulling from any real-world accents to make that happen?

I did try to listen to Anglo-Saxon, and ancient norse but I just tried to make Rohan and Gondor slightly distinct in any way I could. I never really tried to make things too obvious, but admittedly, I think I just used my intuition (smoothing the R’s for the Rohirrim, making the Gondorians more ‘proper’, etc.). I do want to emphasize that this was a one-person project and keeping things together or consistent is definitely an extraneous exercise when you’re just trying to get something finished by yourself! 

7. Some characters (like Beregond and Quickbeam, to name a couple of my favorites) aren’t in the movies, so they don’t have an actor for you to imitate. How did you decide what they would sound like?

Well, in the case of Beregond, I realized he was just “your ordinary guy”, and seeing Minas Tirith through his eyes (and Pippin’s)  is such an amazing and interesting opportunity. It made the city feel so real, and I wanted to take advantage of that. I think I started with a ‘generic’ voice, but when I re-recorded him knowing more and more of the context and what he was saying to Pippin, and as a result who he is, made me adjust what I felt were more his personality. But still that ‘ordinary guy’ idea was the bedrock, and it’s been years since I heard that chapter, but I hope it holds up! (I just remembered Bergil is in that too, another voice I wish I could have done better) 

Another fun fact: when Pippin scares the kids in Minas Tirith, the audio was from something I videotaped when I was 10 years old with my friends, it had the perfect “kids-going-aaah!” sound.

If I had it my way, I’d have a cast of dozens in this Audiobook, so a lot of times I never felt like my voice was enough to truly capture the “We’re in Middle-Earth, we just have microphones to record it” idea. So I have to make compromises since I was the only one doing the voices. That being said, Quickbeam was a fun surprise because he felt like, as you said “young treebeard”, and these things just worked out through experimentation! I think Quickbeam turned out pretty nice. I like Quickbeam.

8. HOW—I ask with great enthusiasm—DID YOU DO TREEBEARD’S VOICE? How did you get that resonance and woody sound? Did you send your voice through a wooden box and re-record it on the other side like they did in the movies?

It’s really great that you know all the behind the scenes stories from the films! Especially what Ethan Van der Ryn, David Farmer, and the late Michael Hopkins have done with their incredible creativity. I had no such resources to produce Treebeard’s sound. What I did was a digital facsimile: a special ‘room’ reverb, with some other equalizing effects to boost the bass and (maybe, I can’t remember) another higher pitched track of the same voice faintly in there. 

You won’t believe this, but I was not going to do The Two Towers audiobook unless I could do a good Treebeard voice. In 2011 after finishing “Fellowship”, I was on the fence about continuing, and only committed once I knew I could do Treebeard right. Treebeard was the key to all this. This should come to no surprise to the ones who played the game, but I used a lot of sound effects from ‘Battle for Middle-Earth’ which contained a lot of clean sounds for ents, trolls, the balrog, the ringwraiths, and other monsters from the films. I used the ent’s footsteps from the games, and recorded my own foley for some of the trees snapping and leaves rustling as well. The “fart” sounds were the low creaking of tree branches, and - as they stated in the making-of for the films - very pitched down cow moos. 

9. Tell me about the foley work! Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been that nerd who watched the Behind The Scenes featurettes for fun, so I’m very interested to hear how you made the sound effects for footsteps and whistling arrows and jangling horse harnesses and such. 

I’m glad you are! I’ve collected sound libraries (ripped from video games, and finding and buying sound packs) for a literal decade, because I always needed sounds for the short films I made when I was younger. I just kept learning about how to mix sounds together, and it’s very creative and very enjoyable! That being said, the foley work itself is mostly recorded by me. If I can’t find a sound in the library I have, I will record it. Clothing rustles, and touch are all recorded while I listen to the audiobook playback and ‘perform’ each character. It’s a really arduous process, but I think it adds so much life into the sound. 

I went out into the woods (or backyard) with my mic to record footsteps, sometimes I would listen to the audiobook with headphones while performing the footsteps. When I would have traveled somewhere with different terrain I would be sure to record more foley (rocks being moved, or pebbles being stepped on) knowing I’ll use it for certain chapters. I do not want to reveal a huge secret about the predominant foley for the character's clothes, but an old backpack I used were 90% of the characters’ ‘movements’. Some wingflaps of the fell beasts were just my jeans. It’s a really creative process trying to find things that ‘sound’ right for an environment or action. The magic is putting them all together and hearing the result. Also, yes Sam’s pan is my grandma’s frying pan, and I know it’s sometimes annoying, but - look - Sam has a lot of stuff to carry.

I start with the background sounds (wind, tree rustles, water if there is any, etc.) lots of layers of them just to make them sound unique and not the same. Then I move to selective and nearer environmental background sounds. Then, the ‘hero’ sounds, the effects that are integral to the story (if it’s sword clashes, or an explosion, or who knows what), and finally the foley (footsteps, clothing rustles, breaths, etc.) - I had a friend record her own horses breathing and moving for a lot of closeups of the horses in the audiobooks. I think even if you can’t really hear some of their low breaths, their presence is still ‘there’. I personally think I got a lot better by the end of LOTR than when I started! 

I wanted to add, the sounds for little Elanor in the very last scene of “The Return of the King” (the baby sounds), I was not happy with the stock baby sounds I had, and asked my older cousin (an audio person too!) to send me recordings he made of his then-1-year-old daughter in a studio. So, my first-cousin-once-removed is Elanor! She’s 22 now. I feel old.

10. Do you have a favorite sound effect from this project? Mine is the “pat-pat” against cloth that’s used to denote a hug.

Absolutely, do you remember the two “watchers” before the tower of Cirith Ungol? The vulture-like statues that block the hobbit’s path out? The alarm sound is a wholly original sound design I did, and I’m really happy with it. It’s just ugly sounding, and that’s the point. I always wished I had more Nazgul, and I think the worst moments I had with mixing were the battle scenes. There’s just too much to handle and make it sound good. But I really tried.

I’m very glad you heard the ‘pat-pat’s. I try my best to perform every character when recording foley, and want even some of the sounds to convey something in the telling of the story.

11. What's the thought process behind your use of the various musical motifs from Howard Shore's score? (Read: Why do you use the Shire theme so often, and why does it get me in the heart every single time?)

I want everyone to know that this is a really important and valuable question, and one I never really get to talk about: To me, Howard Shore’s music is one of the very best things to come out of the films. He truly made an opera out of the story, and all his leitmotifs and orchestrations are a stroke of genius. They work on their own, and when reading the books as well, and as a nerd for films and all that stuff, I wanted to put a lot of care into how I’m placing the score, and for what scene, emotionally and leitmotivically, if that’s a word.

The Audiobook I did is obviously a ‘standing on the shoulders of giants’ situation, so I can’t credit myself for the majority of the Audiobook I did, but I wanted to use all my filmmaking intuition to properly use the music to enhance the telling of the story. So, just like the filmmakers had to change and mix lines from the book, or make changes to make it work as a film, I felt like a lot of instances happened with the music for the audiobook. Obviously, I used the score when applicable to the intended scenes, but there are very often cases where they won’t work. I read as much as I could in the past about what the motifs were and where Shore used them in the movies, so I followed that trajectory for the most part. Gondor is Gondor, Rohan is Rohan, Mordor is Mordor, etc. 

Changes happen when I feel the emotions for a scene in the books do not match up to the ones in the films, and then there are brand new scenes and characters not in the movies at all, that I have to figure out! Take the pause from music between Gandalf falling into the chasm with the Balrog, and the fellowship successfully escaping. It’s perfect in the film, but I knew I couldn’t put the lamenting heartbreaking music in there yet, since the descriptions all drive the idea that escape is paramount. So I treated it as a ‘shock’ moment. No music until they’re completely out of the mountain, then the grief comes in. Things like that, a lot of fun creative thinking to get those emotions working!

I recall you mentioning the ‘Gimli / Legolas drinking game’ statement and how I used the hell out of it throughout the Audiobook, which is a good example. I pitched it up and down, for different moments, and it just has that hobbit mundane and jolly quality to it. So, in it goes to fill moments from the books. 

I also edited and modified existing motifs for completely different scenes and ideas. One of my favorites is when Treebeard talks about the Entwives. I needed this melancholy yearning sound that was really essential, and found it by reversing Eowyn’s theme, and pitching it down so the violin sounds like a cello/bass. To me it just felt extremely appropriate for the sound of a long-lost relationship while portraying a larger-than-life creature. 

Let’s also say Bombadil. I made up the idea that the last statement in the credits for “Return of the King”, was Bombadil’s theme. It’s actually just a reference to Der Ring des Nibelungen by Wagner, a very verbose beautiful crescendo, but I thought “I’ll pretend like it’s Bombadil, he’s last in the score even though he’s the first in Arda”. So I used that musical progression in his songs, that’s his leitmotif now (to me, anyway) He sings in that wavy up-and-down melody. Which is why you hear a lot of that in those chapters.

I also try to use recordings not from the original score: I looked far and wide for alternative recordings, predominantly the album by the Royal Prague Philharmonic, and the “LOTR Symphony”, just to make the Audiobooks feel different. I pitched down and moved and reassembled a lot of different cues for different scenes as well.

There are not a lot of instances of music from other movies, however, they do exist! I used music from “Battle for Middle-Earth”, the game “War in the North”, and for the last few chapters, “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” since it just came out at the time. I used a lot of music from Howard Shore’s “Seven” and “The Game” during Shelob (I think), and for the Barrow-Downs. I used a tiny bit of underscore from the brilliant Don Davis’s “The Matrix Reloaded”, it had a really eerie choir which made me feel like it would be perfect for the fatigue and dizzying unreality of Mordor when Sam and Frodo were on their last leg, trying to get to Mt. Doom. Lastly, I used a little bit of music from Howard Shore’s “Twilight: Eclipse” for some dialogue scenes during Return of the King! And music from the independent film “Mongol” by Tuomas Kantelinen for the Woses when Theoden has to get help from Ghan-Buri-Ghan. Also the ending of ROTK has a few cues from “The Lord of the Rings musical”, lovely stuff.

It may surprise you that there is a small amount of score I actually ‘wrote’ with help from my brother (he’s a musician). It’s in the coronation of Elessar. It’s not very good but I needed something. There is also a cello version of “to the edge of night”, which I kindly asked permission to use by YouTube celloist, but I sadly don't think that video is up anymore.

Lastly, I use the Shire music so much because - just like Howard Shore said - it becomes a ‘hymn’ or an ‘anthem’ for the hobbits as they leave their comforts behind and are in a wide and unfamiliar world. Every little bit that reminds them of home, or relates to each of them, usually deserves a little ‘shire’ statement here and there. I feel if it’s in the characters’ hearts and minds, it has to be expressed in the music!

12. Out of all the chapters I’ve listened to so far on the Internet Archive, “A Journey in the Dark” is the one most plagued with editing issues; Sam’s temper tantrum over leaving Bill the Pony is cut out entirely. Which is a shame, because I was really looking forward to hearing your take on that. (Is it strange to say that I wanted to hear you break down into blubbering tears? Probably. Let’s ignore that and move on.) Is there any chance that you have a cleaner edit of that chapter somewhere?

I think you’ll be very unsurprised to know that “A Journey in the Dark” is the first chapter I ever recorded. I think you’ll also need to know that I did FOTR when I was 21 years old, and my grasp on doing better sound mixing or even getting the characters right was still a work in progress. I learned so much going chapter-by-chapter and felt that each succeeding one improves from the former. As a demo-run, I did “King of the Golden Hall '' and “Journey in the Dark” in early 2010 (in fact, I did only the first half of “JITD” back then. Stopping right after they are barred inside the mines, as the Watcher destroys the gate. I did the second half once I caught up with the story going chapter-by-chapter.)

There are so many issues with it, and I haven’t listened to it since. If you have headphones you’ll also notice that none of the voices really pan from left to right, or feel like they’re ever anywhere else except the dead-center. I was lazy back then. 

When I read the chapters, at the time, I was sharing an ‘office room’ with my younger brother, and as a teenaged younger brother does - continues strumming his guitar no matter what the other brother is doing. It was really fun, and funny and I was extremely sloppy with editing things out, and taking it too seriously. So, for sure you can hear ‘someone’ in the background during the early parts of FOTR, and I was too lazy to re-record or edit out the noises that weren’t supposed to be there.

Forgive me if this part is a lot longer, but now that you mention it, I want to get on my soap-box and rant about how many things I agree with about the Audiobook’s shortcomings and how many things have changed since the wee days of 2010: 

I didn’t really get a grasp on the characters, and I had no idea I was going to do the entire book. I did not take enough care with sound mixing (it’s a highly technical and rigorous practice, I’ve discovered. Even now, ten plus years later - it’s too technical for me to fully understand yet), and I did not thoroughly re-listen to the chapter when I was done with an edit or a sound-effects pass. Therefore there’s always been mistakes still in there, and just unpleasantly careless placement of sounds and music. I have often thought about re-recording it to get it up to scratch, but it’s been over a decade and I haven’t properly preserved all the sound stems without having to re-sound-mix the whole chapter again, and there is that little thing called ‘burnout’ which is hard to ignore. So, I apologize to everyone who has to suffer through that huge drop in quality with “A Journey in the Dark”. It quite literally was my first attempt, and it definitely shows. 

The good news is that a fan asked me the same thing about the missing piece in that chapter (the one you mentioned! With Sam and Bill!), and I’ve heard the same comments about it throughout the years. Why is it missing? I don’t know why! I recorded it, but in my loose run-and-gun past when I was a wee lad, I was careless, and just had the mp3 with that part missing. A rendering error, perhaps! Stupid 21 year old Phil just hodgepoging everything.

A Few months ago, I did get another email about that missing piece. I thought “okay, once and for all, I’m going to find that missing part.” - and I searched my old harddrives for some kind of archival copy with that part in it. Amazingly, it was a lot harder to find than I thought. Every rendered version of JITD either stopped right before that scene, or had it omitted. I actually found one half of it as a ‘demo’ piece I rendered years ago for a ‘sound trailer’, and then I finally found the original YouTube video I made - which had it intact! Now the hardest part was stitching it together with the rest. Took longer than I thought, but I finally amended this horrible incompetence. And yes, I will share the link to you! And be prepared to be disappointed at the 2010-era quality!

I don’t know if anyone knows this, but with the mp3s circling around, I have taken the liberty of re-recording and re-working some chapters from their original versions. I try my best to preserve the originals, but I also wish people to listen to the re-records. I have actually re-recorded and re-mastered “A Long-Expected Party” three times. 2011, 2013, and 2014. I re-recorded “King of the Golden Hall” in 2013, and “Shadow of the Past” in 2014. I usually try labelling the dates on the mp3 files themselves. The one I’m most proud of re-recording bits of, is “The Pyre of Denethor” as the first time I had Denethor say his last words he was mildly raising his voice, but I listened to it again one day and went “this man should be at the edge of sanity.” - so he absolutely yells now, and it’s such a night-and-day comparison.

Another addendum: I completely understand the complaints about ‘the sound/music drowning out the dialogue’. It’s been the #1 complaint over the decade. I completely understand. I never had professional sound mixing gear, nor did I have proper mixing headphones or speakers or a proper studio (most of the audiobook was recorded at my grandmother’s house!). The balance of the audio making it sound immersive, (like you are there!) and having clear dialogue to hear is - like I said - an extremely technical and complex process that I’ve never had the ability or tech to master. Let alone for a book that’s 48 hours long, and has so much sound and music to it. Nothing would bring me more joy than to work with an experienced sound mixer, and find all my audio stems, and for us to work together to clear up any and all issues. But as this project was a simple fan-made work, and I haven’t distributed it myself for a decade, who knows?

This is also why I never went on to do “The Hobbit”. Burnout is real, and I’ve never recovered from LOTR. The burnout… “it’s never really healed, Sam.”

13. What was your favorite scene to record and mix?

Mount Doom. Can’t get better than trying to make the climax as horrible and eucatastrophic as that. It all led up to this, and it was such a rush to work on. I remember how I was at the edge of my seat watching ROTK in cinemas for the first time, and how amazingly they pulled it off, and I wanted to definitely imitate that, but using Tolkien’s own writing. Just so cool.

I have two favorite chapters: The first one is “The Scouring of the Shire”. I remember well, when I was working on it, I realized this has never been ‘dramatized’ before. At least not in full. I felt so special being the first one (probably) to do it. I could imagine the entire chapter in my head like a film, and I could bring it to life with very little outside influence. Such a poignant and shocking chapter. 

I don’t think I would have done it as well without the experience I gained doing the rest of the Audiobook. Showing the strength of the four hobbits, portraying the dignity and resolve of their kind, giving that pathetic yet dangerous authenticity to Sharkey, and the ruffians, illustrating the battle of bywater with sound… this was done in 2013, so we all were able to listen to new music by Howard Shore (for The Hobbit), and I would be able to transpose motifs from that, into “Scouring”, and honestly I wouldn’t know how it would have worked out if the Hobbit films didn’t come out just at the right time. I think the score fits so well with the events of “Scouring”, there is a ‘mordor’ theme but it feels ‘unfinished’, like the remnant of an old defeated foe; there’s that wily progression for Radagast in the films, that I used for the hobbit’s rebellion and the conflict, and there’s a new ‘hobbit/shire’ motif that worked so perfectly for a ‘wounded, but recovering’ Shire. I feel so silly talking about decisions I made for this, but I always wanted to share some thoughts I had! 

Fun fact: I had a wonderful person ask if she would be able to play Rosie Cotton back in 2013, and I asked her to perform her lines. She was great, but I realized a very strange thing: when I put her in the audio mix, it would actually break the immersion, because you can hear a voice that wasn’t mine, and as a result - I couldn’t help but keep thinking - my voice for Rosie’s mother sounded like a Monty Python skit in comparison! And thus her lines had to be unused. It kind of just opened the fourth wall, breaking the illusion. Which is a shame, because I always dream of having a fully-cast LOTR Audiobook, maybe someday officially.

The other favorite is “The Tower of Cirith Ungol” just because I listened to it one day in 2014, and heard no errors. I was so proud. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to change substantially. No one dislikes all the errors more than I do!

14. What’s your best memory from this entire project?

My late dad drove me and my brother out into a clearing at midnight in the forest. The sky was so clear and starry. And we were here simply to just yell at the top of our lungs to record material for “Helm’s Deep”. All the clear yells: “Elendil!!!” “Gúthwinë! Gúthwinë For the Mark!”etc. Etc. - I lost my voice, it was a fun time. He held the microphone for me as I splashed around a stream (for Gollum), once again at midnight since there were fewer background sounds.

I also tell this story a lot: A friend of mine who was listening to the chapters as I finished them - she hated the sound of knuckles cracking. And hated spiders. So, obviously, Shelob would have to have knuckle-cracking sounds for her limbs. So I recorded my own knuckles cracking and tried using it as much as I could for Shelob’s legs moving about. My friend was soooo ecstatic to know this fact.

15. If you could do it all again today, what would you change?

I would consider doing a ground-up re-recording of everything. With a budget, with a cast, with a lot more understanding of the story and intentions behind them. With VR sound options. With extra original music. That’s the dream. 

If we’re back to reality, I guess I’d just re-record a bunch of chapters since they could always be better, and tighten all the technical errors. But that would require a lot of assembling of the raw archived files, and re-building of sounds, and re-recording of lines. Also, as I stated before, I do not want to distribute my unofficial fan work just because I know that it’s a copyright nightmare. And burnout… “it’s never really healed, Sam.”

I like taking other people’s opinions to heart, such as the issues with Frodo’s youth or inflections and intonations for certain scenes that I didn’t quite fully grasp the first time. I would love to adjust things and make it closer to the book now.

- - - - -

And now! The Silly Questions Lightning Round!

(With thoughts from Lady Glasses in parentheses and italics!)

1. In Fellowship, long stretches of dialogue would often have someone randomly cough in the background. Tell me about the Cough. Why is the Cough there?

No one hates the coughs more than me. That’s either my brother minding his own business in the other end of our ‘office room’. I think you now know I was 21, I didn’t care, so these things are just left in because I was careless. However, sometimes there are intentional coughs to make it feel more realistic. It’s been years since I listened to it, so unless I somehow do a massive commentary stream someday (thinking about it), your guess will be as good as mine! The coughs heavily subsided once I did Two Towers, since I was by myself.

2. During the dinner scene with Farmer Cotton, someone burps. Who was that?

Mine. I have no regrets with that one. Or Pippin. I guess it could be Pippin.

(Darn! And here I thought it was Farmer Cotton, LOL)

3. How did you manage to make Bill Ferny’s voice so perfectly obnoxious?

I imagined Bill as an obnoxious guy. The image in my head gives me a good idea of what he’d sound like, and I’m so glad he’s so obnoxious that you had to mention it.

(He sounds perfectly punchable. Thanks, I hate it.)

4. Did you crack yourself up at any point in the recording?

Oh yes, in fact I have a whole outtake reel just for you!

(Warning to anyone who clicks the link: the April Fool's audio had me ON THE FLOOR)

5. Voice acting aside, who is your favorite character in LotR and why?

If you asked me in 2002 it would be the Balrog, if you asked me now it would be difficult because so many of them mean so much to me, and each of their aspects have something to aspire to. Gandalf, Aragorn, Sam, Frodo, Galadriel, the list goes on and on.

(That's beautiful, and so true. The story really grows with us, doesn't it?)

6. What’s your favorite color?

Blue. Always has been.

(Blue is a good color! 💙)

7. Political question: Pineapples on pizza, yes or no?

Yes, I still don’t get what the fuss is about

(Oooh, controversial)

8. Is a hotdog a sandwich?

No, it’s a hotdog!

(Counterpoint: A hotdog is a taco.)

9. What’s your opinion on geese?

They’re racist

(Racist against the entire human race, apparently)

10. How much would I have to pay you to say “I love boats!” in Merry’s voice? (It’s an inside joke with my friends.)

Nothing, it’s on the house!

(HOLY CRAP I LOVE YOU)

- - - - -

Thank you so much for taking the time to chat with us! What are you working on nowadays?

I’ve actually had a few people ask me if I’ll ever do more audiobooks like this, and I seem to have tapped something. Yes, in fact! I’m working with a few creative collaborators on a small company to do the exact same sonic experience with other books! Since we’re very small, we are starting with stories in the Public Domain, and have successfully kickstarted (and finished) “The Jungle Book” by Rudyard Kipling. Which will be out (hopefully, officially) by early September! I’m really excited and hope this will lead to more projects, and - hopefully- back to Tolkien someday, in an official manner. Please follow my Instagram or Facebook for more info about it. (I also have a Twitter and Tumblr and more, but they’re all completely unrelated to LOTR and are just me drawing doodles and being a nerd, very unlike the Audiobooks I did, which is a bit confusing, I admit.)

- - - - -

And that concludes our interview! As I told Phil, it was so much fun to discuss a fellow fan's passion project like this. The more I read about it, the more I realized just how similar it was to my own experiences as a fan creator. We all start out as just a noob with a few unpolished skills, making something because we love it, and we learn and grow and hone our talents along the way. It's legitimately inspiring.

Needless to say, I am stoked to finish listening to the rest of this audiobook! Is it a bit weird knowing the creator of the thing might drop in and read my reviews?? Yes. Yes it is. But I'm gonna do it anyway. No holds barred! If I hear another cough, you're gonna know about it, Phil!

Also I may or may not do something with that audio of Merry because I'M STILL DYING OF LAUGHTER HELP

Anyway! If you made it to the end of this, you deserve a cookie! Everybody say thank you to Mr. Dragash, and go check out the other stuff he's doing nowadays! Namárië!

[dndads-winter-gift-exchange]

Welcome- again!

Hello and welcome to the Dungeons and Daddies winter gift exchange official blog! This gift exchange (also called a “secret santa” in some places) will be run by fans, for fans, and will be a place to spread some DnDads joy. This is our second time running the event!

If you don’t know how this works, basically: Soon, we will be releasing a Google Form where we will gather general preference information from everyone who wants to participate. We’ll be using this information to both assign you someone to create for, and assign someone to create for you! Who’s creating for who will be kept a secret until it’s all revealed during the final week of February(the 22nd-29th), where everyone will be gifted their works. Fun!

(edit, Novem. 19th: the form has been released!! here's a link)

This event will be accepting all kinds of creations: fanfics, fanart, cosplay, crafts- you name it! Here’s our official rules, which include some regulations on what you can request content-wise. Returning people should make sure to reread them! They’ve changed since last year.

This event will be celebrating season 1 AND season 2 of Dungeons and Daddies, along with some of the miniseries when possible. All of this will be tagged accordingly so people won’t be spoiled, and in your preferences on the sign-up sheet you’ll be able to state what you are and aren’t interested in. Easy as pie!

Our current schedule is:

November 15th to December 15th: Sign-ups open!

December 15th to January 1st: Sign-ups close and assignments are sent out, including a link to the (once again optional) Discord server.

February 22nd to February 29th: Gifts are revealed!

Returning people may notice the creation period is a little shorter this time around- this was unavoidable since February is a short month, but after careful consideration we’ve concluded that the lack of holiday chaos will probably mean people have more free time, even without the extra days. If this ends up actually being an issue, we’ll extend a little into March! Winter starts then for people in Antarctica anyway.

When the time for gifts being revealed comes, we’ll be asking everyone to post their gift here on Tumblr with the tag “#dndads winter gift exchange 2024″. There will also be a collection on ao3 for any fic that ends up posted there!

(p.s… you may notice we skipped a year, even though the events have been consecutive. we’re basing our event year title on what year gifting week takes place in- and since it’ll be in 2024, there you go!)

And as always, here’s our little FAQ for some more common questions.

The ask box and our DMs are open and will remain open for the whole event. Feel free to send in any questions! Or you can email us at dndadsgiftexchange@gmail.com , which we check regularly. We’re so excited to get back at it!! See you all November 15th :]

[oneeyedoctogod]

Disclaimer: long, extremely personal rant. Yes, it's also about mdzs and Jiang Cheng but mainly, it's about me trying to deal with my own trauma when I'm being hit in the face (metaphorically) with it by putting my feelings into words. The posting is so I don't erase it and force myself to forget about it.

You know it's funny, but as I was trying to sleep (and failing. Badly. It's 2:38 am.) I kept on finding myself thinking about why I didn't like Jiang Cheng. Because you see, it's rare for me to dislike a character that much, to the point I actually have blacklisted all his tags and avoid any fics that talk about him positively.

(Again, this is an extremely personal post about my own feelings. This is not meant as a rebuke if you love him. On the contrary. Keep doing what sparks joy. Just, you know, far away from me.)

I have a funny history with the mdzs fandom. I first started watching the donghua when it started airing back in... 2018? 2019? Can't remember for sure. Then I was left hungry for more because only the first season had aired, and it ended on a big cliffhanger. I saw it was an adaptation, so I went looking for the source material... and found the manhua (I was used to japanese animation at that point and thought that was it). The manhua was also being fan translated, and despite being extremely different (and confusing for poor past me), ALSO left me on a cliffhanger. I was desperate and saw someone pointing out there was a novel! I finally found it, read it in a few nights, and loved it. I read a bunch of fics, enjoyed myself, met and befriended people. Then I moved on after a while. I remember, distinctly, that I wasn't a big fan of Jiang Cheng but that I could at least stomach him in fics.

Last December, I felt the urge to reread some mdzs fics. I read some popular ones and, after falling into the animatics and amvs rabbit hole, decided to rewatch the donghua. Except for some reason, Jiang Cheng's character rubbed me wrong. I remembered not liking him much but he wasn't that bad in the fics so I couldn't see why he was so distasteful in the donghua. I'd been warned that the donghua wasn't that faithful (my own memory was extremely hazy), so I just shrugged it off. Maybe the people behind the donghua weren't fans of jc?

I saw there was an official translation of the novel and, by that point, DEEP into the hyper fixation, I bought all four available volumes and read them. At the same time, I was still reading fics. It was fine after all, I already knew the story.

By then, I had realized something was a little wrong with the characteristization. Some of the tropes given to Wei Wuxian rubbed me the wrong way. I looked it up a little (remade a tumblr, found amazing meta, the rest is history) and figured "Ah that must be cql fics. That's the problem."

And yes, that's true. In part.

The other problem lies with the particular way some people write Jiang Cheng. I'll be clear again: I have nothing against those people. Most of them I don't know and I'm aware this is very much a, shall we say, "me" problem. It's why I avoid the positive Jiang Cheng content. I don't care if you keep writing it so long as you keep it away from the canon jc tag.

But whenever people write Jiang Cheng and completely erase his crimes and abuse of both Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling, I feel it like a slap on the face.

Last Monday, I saw a therapist and talked about her about many things (I did warn this would be a very personal post). Part of it was my mother and her treatment of me and my brothers. And after barely a few words, she said, very simply "Oh so your mother abused you."

I already knew that. I use those words myself to describe my history with her. But the validation is always nice to hear, you know? Especially because so many people try or have tried to brush it off as "nothing." My own mother did, both about her own behaviour and when I was being abused by other people and tried to seek her help. Hell, even I still do it sometimes.

And I think that's why I hate Jiang Cheng so damn much now. His canon self is... Well, I'm not a fan, but he's a well-written antagonist. But dear gods, I've seen so many people brush off his canon characteristics to make him into a more palatable character, the loving uncle, the funny tsundere brother, the ace guy who hates mushy romance (let me tell you, as an ace person I am also real fucking tired of homophobic characters being hc as ace)... Even the ones who mention his bad parts feel the need to immediately add his achievements, as if they don't dare speak badly of their fave. "Yes, he tortured Wei Wuxian, but he also sacrificed his core to save him!" "Yes, he hit and verbally abused Jin Ling, but he also lovingly raised him!" "Yes, he tortured and killed innocent people but he also has trauma and had to lead a sect when he was so young!"

And this feels familiar, every time. This feels like the people telling me "Yes but it's not that bad" or saying "Yes your mother gave you panic attacks but she made sure you didn't fail at school" or "Yes but she made you love reading" or "Yes but she gave you so much, don't be selfish" or "Yes but she was here for you when you were depressed" or "Yes but she has it hard too" until I fell in the habit of saying "Sure, my mother insulted me and threatened me financially and there was a long, long time I was convinced she didn't love me... but."

Always that damn BUT.

So you might be able to understand why I have a hard time with Jiang Cheng when people pull the same shit all thenfucking time. I'm working on it because I'd rather not be stuck feeling anxious about a silly purple grape just because he happens to be fandom fave in my current hyperfixation but in the meantime, I have to deal with it and it's... annoying. To say the least.

(I'm going to insist here: I know that Jiang Cheng isn't my mother. That's not the point here. I am fully aware he's a fictional character and that me feeling that way is something I should be working on. I am. And I'm not telling people to stop writing positive content for him. This is just me trying to put into words my complicated feelings for a complicated character. And ranting, a little bit, about badly tagged fics I admit.)

It's easier on social media. You just block the characters tag and, if people bother you about it, you block them. Friends being friends, I just need to tell them "I don't feel comfortable talking about this character" or "let's agree to disagree on this interpretation" and because my friends are the best, they agree and we move on.

Fanfiction is where the problem lies.

I know why people erase the 'hard' parts, or at least I have a good guess. It's easier that way. Fanfiction is about having fun! It's about writing about your blorbos the way you want to! I don't want to police anyone's content. I'd just like it if people tagged their OOC and stopped trying to make me feel as if I'm the one who misread the book because I don't feel like erasing the canonical abuse this character did or because I don't like that they keep putting down my favorite character to uplift theirs.

I'm not sure how to conclude this. I should be sleeping honestly.

Let's try this: if you read this to the end, congrats I guess. I want to reiterate I don't care if you make Jiang Cheng into the most loving, best brother and uncle ever. Just be aware of what you're erasing first. And tag your goddamn fics.