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fluentmoviequoter · 11 months ago

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A Room Away

Requested Here!

Edit: Part 2 Here

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: Tired of Tim's bad moods, Angela gets him a new roommate: you. As Tim gets to know you and learns about your past, you slowly become more than his roommate.

Warnings: mentions of past domestic abuse (reader and Tim), reader has chronic migraines from past head trauma, nightmares, reader has a panic attack, angst, fluff, Nyla and Angela. (roommates to lovers)

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

A/N: Parts of this are so self-indulgent. The migraine depictions are based on my migraines, but I think they're some of the most common symptoms. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! (I'm still trying to get Tim's character down, so apologies if he's OOC.)🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Tim sits in the back of the room for roll call, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as unimpressed sighs escape him. Angela is getting tired of his seemingly perpetual bad mood. Clearly, he’s lonely, but he will never admit it. And that loneliness makes him mopey and broody (Angela’s official motto for Tim Bradford) until he has enough and snaps at someone.

Sitting at her desk, Angela watches Tim yell at a boot. He’s always harsh with them, trying to prepare them for anything, but now he’s using them as punching bags for his forbidden feelings.

“What’s his problem? He’s grumpier than usual,” Nyla says as she joins Angela.

“He’s lonely,” Angela answers. “Won’t admit it or do anything about it.”

“That man needs a girlfriend,” Nyla muses.

Angela sits up straighter and smiles. “You’re a genius, Harper.”

“I know.”

Angela opens a website on her computer, and Nyla pulls up a seat to watch her intervention into Tim’s personal life.

“You’re going to rent out his spare room without telling him? This’ll be fun to watch,” Nyla says, laughing.

“He has way too much room for just one guy. Getting him a roommate and a girlfriend will surely help with.. that,” she finishes, gesturing toward Tim.

“A roommate and a girlfriend, or a roommate who becomes a girlfriend?”

“Either should work.”

“That’s your number.”

Angela nods, putting her contact information on the listing. “Tim would shut it down after the first call, so I’ll interview them, run background checks, whatever, and find the perfect one.”

“Well, Mrs. Right is always found on Craigslist,” Nyla jokes.

“This isn’t Craigslist.”

“Semantics.”

Angela posts the listing, and she and Nyla hope getting Tim a roommate will help nudge him out of his bad mood. He needs someone to talk to and bond with, but he’ll never come to that conclusion on his own. Which is why Angela considers herself to be such a good friend.

✯✯✯✯✯

Los Angeles is a big city, which is part of why you chose it without another thought. Full of opportunities and a chance of fading into the background, it’s the complete opposite of your home, which overflows with memories. The patched drywall you were pushed into, the stained tile where you thought everything was going to end, and the china cabinet with the shattered glass are left behind and traded in for a minimum wage job, a used car, and a lot of panic that you won’t be able to find somewhere to live.

You’ll need a roommate until you can save enough money for your own place. However, finding a decent place with a decent roommate is nearly impossible in your price range. Browsing online listings, you see one that could be promising. The information at the bottom says there is an interview process, which catches your attention. Sending a text to Angela Lopez, you cross your fingers for good luck before walking into work.

By the end of your shift, Angela has replied and asked you to meet somewhere nearby. You want to go home, a dull headache building at the base of your skull impairing your mood. But you also really want a better place to call home than the pay-by-the-month motel you’re currently living in.

Angela gives you a firm handshake as she introduces herself as an LAPD detective. She asks questions about your life, job, hobbies, and finally, why you moved to Los Angeles.

“I just needed a change of pace; was ready to leave my old life behind, find something bigger and better,” you answer, a simplified version of the truth.

Trying not to show it, Angela immediately takes a liking to you. Each of your answers solidifies her gut instinct that you’re a good fit for Tim. You ask why her name was on this listing if it’s not her house, and she follows your lead and gives you the truth, but not all of it.

“Tim, the owner of the house, is a coworker and friend, and I’m just trying to help him out while he’s busy with work,” she explains.

As you leave the meeting, Angela gives you her personal number, as well as someone named Nyla Harper’s number, “just in case you need anything.”

She texts you a time and address, telling you to meet her at your new place the following afternoon. You thank her repeatedly before driving to the trashy motel one last time.

✯✯✯✯✯

Parking outside the house, you fall in love with the neighborhood and the cute architecture of the home. Angela meets you in the driveway, seeming more nervous than excited. You realize she may not have been totally honest with you as you follow her to the door.

An incredibly handsome man opens the door, sighing when he sees Angela. He lets both of you in, seeming to trust Angela completely.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim knows he will regret opening the door, but the woman with Angela is beautiful, and deep down, a small part of him wants to know who she is and why she’s on his doorstep.

“This is your new roommate,” Angela announces, giving Tim your name.

“You didn’t,” Tim responds. “Please tell me you didn’t rent out my spare room without asking me, Lopez.”

“I won’t tell you that, then.”

Standing quietly to the side, you anxiously watch their argument.

“Um, sorry,” you begin, interrupting them. “But I can go, and find a new place, since this is clearly not what you signed up for.”

You move toward the door before stopping when Angela demands, “Don’t go anywhere.”

She gives Tim a stern look before cocking her head to the side. He sighs like he has accepted his fate, a tragedy based on his reaction. Gesturing for you to follow him, he gives you a quick tour before showing you to your new room and bathroom.

“I’m not home a ton, but when I am, I’m usually watching a game or just hanging out, so,” he tells you before trailing off.

You nod before promising, “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Tim wants to believe you, but he also thinks you’re pretty and kind enough that he wouldn’t mind seeing you occasionally.

✯✯✯✯✯

You cross paths with Tim a few times in the first two days of living with him. He’s struck by your beauty each time but recognizes that you don’t open up willingly, so he never presses you to talk. Content to be ships passing in the night, Tim gives you a nod before continuing out the door.

It’s your third night in the house that Tim learns your reserved qualities may not be as simple as a personality trait. Waking when he hears a strange noise, Tim listens in the darkness before deciding it’s your footsteps he hears. Based on the sound, you're pacing, so Tim gets out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He walks right past you, and you give him an apologetic smile before slowing down. Tim makes you a mug of calming tea, sliding it across the kitchen island before sitting beside you as you drink it. Suspecting you had a nightmare or some similarly disturbing experience, Tim reminds you where you are and that everything is okay in his own way.

Over the next week, you wake him up a few more times, thrashing in your bed or exiting your room once you wake. He nudges each time, offering to let you talk about it, but you never do. You always apologize for waking him, thank him for keeping you company and making you tea before you disappear back into yourself and into your room.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve lost count of the days and nights spent in Tim’s house, your sense of time thrown off by the continued plague of nightmares and the monotony of your days. As you wake up after a surprisingly dreamless sleep, you immediately turn your face back into the pillow. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, and everything seems brighter and louder. The migraines have been nearly as consistent as the nightmares since before you left for Los Angeles.

Tim knocks on your door, and you groan as the sound echoes in your brain. He cracks the door, concerned that you aren’t up yet.

“Are you okay?” he asks, seeing your current state.

“Migraine,” you answer. “I called in sick.”

He closes the door to block the light from outside and lowers his voice to ask, “Do you need anything before I leave?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Well, call me if you do, or if anything changes, okay?”

“I will. Thank you, Tim. Have a good day.”

Tim nods, even though you can’t see him, before backing out of your room and exiting the house as quietly as possible. He keeps his ringer on, looking at his phone every few minutes as his concern for you remains at the forefront of his mind.

Angela and Nyla notice his usual grumpy disposition seems to have been replaced with concern for something, or someone. After he checks his phone for the fifth consecutive time, Angela decides to pry.

“How’s the beautiful roomie? Still just a roommate?” she asks.

“She’s not feeling well,” Tim answers.

Angela waits for an elaboration, but Tim doesn’t offer one. She looks at Nyla, who gives a knowing look. It’s obvious that Tim is softening toward you, but you haven’t made enough of an impact that he’s less grumpy or snappy. As the day continues, his usual personality returns, convinced that you must be okay, or you would have called.

The next day, after learning that you are, in fact, feeling better, Tim is back to his pre-roommate levels of anger and high strung-ness. To worsen his mood, you wake him up with a nightmare but refuse to let him in, not even acknowledging his kind questioning as to how you are. He’s worried about you because you welcomed his presence before, but he is also angry that you changed so quickly, and now you don’t trust him. Everything is piling on, and Tim isn’t sure how much more he can carry.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Just tell me something,” Angela presses.

“Stay out of it, Lopez!” Tim yells, his emotions reaching a boiling point. “I didn’t even want a puppy- a roommate! If you like her so much, why don’t you take her in?”

Angela waits for his shoulders to drop slightly before asking, “Timothy… is this because you don’t like her, or because you do?”

Tim’s jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare as he turns away, offering to go on patrol while Nolan and Celina go to the shooting range. Everyone seems to think they know Tim better than they do; Angela is pushing him toward you while you’re distancing yourself, and the push and pull is tiring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim waits in his truck in the driveway for a few minutes before walking in. When he walks in, you’re standing in the kitchen. He hasn’t actually seen you since the day of your last migraine when you stopped trusting him, and your sudden willingness to be in the same area confuses him. Anger and confusion rarely mix well; with Tim, it’s a fatal combination.

You notice his tension and knitted brows, chewing your bottom lip before asking, “Are you okay?”

Stumbling to his tipping point for the second time in the day, Tim takes all his anger and confusion over his feelings out on you.

“What do you think? You can’t decide if I’m worth trusting with something as small as a nightmare, and Angela thinks that I’m practically neglecting you,” he begins.

You swallow harshly as his voice rises, stumbling backward when he starts moving his arms.

“Especially considering I didn’t even want you here!”

Flinching, you snap your eyes closed and catch yourself on the corner of the wall. Tim freezes as he watches you. Everything begins snapping into place in his mind: your nightmares and the distance added to your reaction to him yelling and moving his hand are all signs he should have noticed sooner.

Your chest is heaving as you take short breaths, and when you finally open your eyes, you look terrified. Tim steps back, keeping his hands where you can see them. You focus on him as you slide down the wall, cradling your head in your hands as you fight off bad memories and a growing headache.

Tim watches you before sitting on the floor, keeping his distance. He waits for you to calm down, willing to let you decide whether or not you want to talk to him. You finally look back up at him, but he doesn’t move.

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Can I come closer?” Tim asks.

You nod, and Tim slides across the floor, not wanting to stand up and look any more imposing than necessary. His knee presses gently against your thigh, and when you don’t move, he gives you a small smile – the first you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” you say, fiddling with your fingers.

“Please don’t,” Tim replies, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t mad at you, just angry with a long day. But that’s no reason to yell at you or act like that. You confused me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s on me.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat.

“Don’t. When I was younger, my dad took his anger out on me sometimes. I’m sure I deserved it once or twice, but I also know better than to treat people like an emotional outlet. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

You nod before saying, “My ex.”

Tim feels a protective surge at the idea of anyone hurting you, let alone doing it enough times that yelling pushes you to the point of a panic attack.

After comforting you with proximity and kind words, Tim offers to walk you to bed. Your hand brushes his as he opens your door, and you smile as you thank him for everything. It’s a minor change in your relationship but an important one.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim leaves before you wake up the following morning, determined to find out as much as he can about you and your past. He’s not necessarily being nosy, but he wants to know if there’s anything specific that could help or hurt you.

“What do you know?” he demands as he storms up to Angela’s desk.

“About what?” she replies, raising her brows.

“What do you mean ‘about what’? Her!”

Nyla leans back in her chair, glad to watch the unfolding drama.

“Tim, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Angela explains.

“Why’d she move to LA?”

“Are you seriously trying to find something wrong with her? That’s low.”

Tim moves around her desk, dropping his voice to answer, “I’m trying to figure out who thought it was okay to put their hands on her. Because she won’t let me in.”

Angela begins connecting the dots you left untouched. You ran from the person controlling your life, not your actual life. She knew that you were omitting something during your initial meeting, but she didn’t expect it to be so big.

“Have you been open with her?” Angela asks finally. “Because that’s a two-way street. I’ll talk to her if you want me to, but she trusts you, Tim.”

“How do you know that?”

Nyla’s eyes bounce back and forth like she’s watching a tennis game. She sighs before deciding to interject. “She told her! Sent her a text one night!” she calls out, smiling and waving when Angela and Tim look at her.

Tim nods, giving Angela the closest she’ll get to an apologetic look before leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Returning home, Tim is surprised to find you on the couch, in your work clothes, with your face pressed into a pillow. You wave your fingers without moving to acknowledge him, and he remains silent as he walks to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to be silent, it’s your house,” you mumble. “I’ll figure out a way to get to the bedroom.”

“You’re fine here,” Tim answers, setting a glass of water beside you. “Another migraine?”

“Skull fractured from getting my head pushed through a window a few months ago,” you explain with a sigh. “The migraines have gotten worse since then.”

Tim lays a hand on your shoulder, giving you plenty of time to tell him not to touch you. You don’t, relaxing under his touch instead. Tim takes a seat beside you, hoping to comfort you once more.

“Your ex?” Tim asks.

You hum a yes, and Tim’s jaw tightens, even as he comforts you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into the police station, Tim’s wallet is tucked safely in your bag. Approaching the front desk, you say your name and are wordlessly handed a visitor’s badge before someone gives you directions. You don’t have time to argue, shrugging as you attempt to remember where to turn. Angela sees you before you see her, rushing to your side and looping her arm with yours.

“What are you doing here?” she asks happily.

“Uh, Tim forgot his wallet. I was just going to drop it off, but they sent me back here,” you answer.

Tim says your name, coming around a corner, and Angela pushes you toward him, joining Nyla as they watch your interaction.

“You know she was trying to get you a girlfriend and not just a roommate, right?”

Tim nods a thanks as he accepts his wallet, glancing over at your audience. “I’m half-tempted to make them think I kicked you out.”

You smile brightly, and Tim licks his lips to keep his smile from mirroring yours. His eyes tell you more than enough, and you’re happy to see him, too.

“Do it,” you whisper. “Just let me know when so I can play my part. Angela told me to call her if you were ever mean to me.”

“Have you?”

You don’t answer, opting to wink at him before stepping back. Waving at Angela and Nyla, you leave the station as they rush to Tim’s side. As they ask overlapping questions and talk about how cute you and Tim look standing together, Tim ignores them before walking away.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is pulled from his sleep by your panicked yell. He leaves his bed and barges into your room with no thought. His heart rate slows when he sees your teary face and tangled sheets.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you wipe your tears. “I just don’t know how to make them stop.”

Tim sits beside you, opening an arm toward you. It’s a bold move, especially for him, but you take his offer and curl into his side.

“Are- did you mean it when you said I could talk about it?” you ask.

Tim nods, and you tell him more, but not everything. You remind yourself that he’s your roommate and maybe, just maybe, he's your friend, but he’s not here to listen to all of your baggage.

“The last thing he said before I left was, ‘there is nowhere you can go that my love won’t lead me to find you.’”

“You know that wasn’t love,” Tim replies, waiting for your nod before continuing. “And I’ve got your back, Angela and Nyla are right here, and we won’t let anything happen to you. No matter what.”

Drifting back to sleep in his warm, safe embrace, you finally learn what it’s like not to be scared.

When you wake alone, neither you nor Tim acknowledge what happened. You’re okay with slow changes, as long as there are changes.

“Tim,” you say, interrupting him on his way out. “Thank you. For last night.”

“I’m only ever a call away,” he reminds you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your head starts aching around noon, quickly worsening into a full-blown migraine. When you’re ready to go home, it’s bad enough that you can’t drive. Sitting in your car and resting your head against the steering wheel, you want to call Tim but can’t find the strength to move.

Tim, meanwhile, returns home and begins wondering where you are. He calls, and you don’t answer, so he lets his worry control him as he gets back in his truck and drives your usual route. Tim hopes to pass you or find you waiting as someone changes your tire. When he gets to the parking lot of your job and sees you slumped in your car, he has to fight not to panic.

Rushing to the door, he’s both grateful and concerned that it’s unlocked. He kneels beside you, saying your name before bending to see you. Your eyes are tightly closed, but tears are still leaking out.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says.

You whimper as he picks you up, clinging to him until he lays you down in the backseat of his truck, buckling you in as well as possible.

“Hospital can’t help,” you mumble.

Tim wants to argue, but remembers what you said about the skull fracture. You’ve already been to the doctor, so maybe getting you home and comfortable will be enough.

After a nap partially influenced by unbearable pain, you wake to see Tim sitting by your bed.

“Why are you so nice to me? You didn’t even want a roommate,” you mutter sleepily.

Tim smiles, making you think you’re hallucinating. “Yet I got something better.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You don’t quite make it to work the next day. Walking into the station, you’re surprised when Nyla greets you first.

“I’m assuming it’s a joke,” she says.

You furrow your brows in confusion before you see Tim leaning on a desk with his arms crossed while Angela yells at him.

“Unless he really kicked you out,” Nyla adds.

You nod, walking towards Angela and Tim.

“No, you don’t get to blame me! I got you a roommate, a friend, a beautiful woman who could have been more than a friend, and you’re mad at me?” Angela exclaims.

Tim locks eyes with you, not changing his expression as he gauges whether or not her yelling is upsetting you.

“Can I talk to you?” you ask Tim.

Angela steps back, hoping to hear Tim apologize, but he stands up and gestures for you to follow him without speaking. Worried that you’re sick again, Tim waits silently.

“I’m okay,” you promise. “I just wanted to see you.”

Not believing something so simple, Tim shakes his head. “Tell me what happened.”

“I saw a guy who looked like him while I was driving to work. He was yelling at a girl outside of a diner, and it made me nervous.” You keep your eyes on the floor, but Tim gently raises your head.

“You’re not alone, and I know that things still seem uncertain, and probably will for a long time, but you don’t have to be afraid of anything while I’m here.”

“Then why’d you kick me out?” you tease with a pout.

Tim shakes his head, telling you to go before following you out. You wipe an imaginary tear before waving at Angela.

“No, you’re not leaving,” she says, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward her desk.

Nyla smiles at Tim, and he sighs before following.

“Tell me exactly what happened between you two,” Angela commands.

You look past her before tensing, and Tim immediately catches on. He follows your line of vision and sees Nolan and Celina booking someone. You shrink in on yourself, and Tim moves to block your view.

“Get her out of here,” he tells Angela.

Angela doesn’t wait before obeying, ushering you into the bullpen and out of sight.

“What’s the charge?” Tim asks Celina.

“Assault. Beat up a woman outside a diner,” she answers.

Tim’s jaw tightens at the knowledge that this man made you nervous this morning, reminding you of your ex. He hates abuse in every situation, but when you’re involved, his protectiveness and anger differ. Tim leaves before saying or doing something he’ll regret.

When he finds you in the bullpen, he takes one look at you before hugging you. It’s quick, but Angela and Nyla look at each other in shock.

“So, you’re good?” Nyla asks.

“We were never bad,” you reply. “Just wanted to get back at Angela for trying to set us up.”

“It worked?” Angela inquires excitedly.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Tim repeats, looking over at you. He shrugs as he concedes, “Okay.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Tim gets home, he drops his stuff by the door, raising his arms in question as he looks at you. “Not yet? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t made a move. How do I know you’re not just protective and caring under that handsome, gruff exterior?” you ask with a shrug.

Tim shakes his head, cupping the back of your head gently as he kisses you. You raise your hands over his chest to hold his jaw, pushing yourself closer as you reciprocate his every move.

“Because I don’t protect just anyone like this,” he says against your lips.

You kiss him again before asking, “Does this mean you can reduce my rent?”

Tim rolls his eyes, tucking you against his side where you’re safe from everything and everyone.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests

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bloodfin · 4 months ago

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can you feel me longing for you, forever

Air Ghoul/Earth Ghoul, background Dewdrop/Alpha

Rated: M for mature, 18+ only recommended

Word Count: 3.900k

Summary: Air and Earth petitioned the clergy for a kit and have been denied forty seven times. This time, their wish is granted. Features some abbey life, and a lot of tears.

Warnings: kit adoption; mean guy Alpha; Dewdrop is the inter-era bridge; pack feels; angsty/sad with a happy ending; fade to black ending

Author’s Note: from @anotherbananasong storyline about Earth and Air wanting to adopt a kit and being denied by the ministry. Everything changes when the fire nation attacks when Copia becomes Frater

Read on Ao3

"You need to be fully committed to the Project. No distractions."

"You just retired, you should take some time to enjoy it."

"Things are too busy at the moment."

"Everything just calmed down, we can't summon a ghoul right now. Imagine the chaos."

"The ministry's resources are stretched too thin."

"A child, in the catacombs? Absolutely not."

"We don't have space right now, we have to summon new ghouls for the Project."

"We just summoned four new ghouls."

"No."

Air's empty arms ache. The repeated denials feel like a lost dream, a lost future. Grief like that that runs deep. He had clung tightly to the hope that someday Sister would change her mind, but now that she's gone, he can't help but feel like the last shreds of that hope died with her.

Earth is wrapped around him, a low, protective growl rumbling deep in his chest. He holds Air tightly, fighting back his own tears. They'll find a way.

He keeps Air pressed to his chest, reminiscing about when they first mated. When they first decided they wanted a kit. The first time they asked, and the first time they were told no.

Earth's growl grows louder as he thinks of the excuses and yes he knows it's more difficult to summon a kit than an adult. He knows that raising a kit won't be easy. But he wants it, oh does he want it, with Air by his side.

"It will be okay, sweet skybird."

He presses a kiss to Air's forehead, rubs their noses together. Air chokes on a hiccup, let's himself be crushed against Earth. He feels bad, that Earth seems to always be comforting him when he knows he hurts just as deeply. But for now, Air lets himself be held, and lets his emotions run free.

In the room next door, Dew is reclined on Alpha's bed, heart breaking at the sound of Air's muffled sobs mixed with Earth's growling.

"D'ya think Copia knows? That they've been asking to summon a kit?"

Alpha shrugs.

Dew hums, picking at the hem of his shirt.

"Do you... want kits some day?"

"With you?"

It came out colder than intended, and Dew barely has time to mask the hurt that flickers on his face.

"Rainy and I were talking the other day and -"

"Oh, you and Rainy were talking about kits, were you?"

This time, he meant to sound cruel.

Dew scoffs and jumps out of the bed, crossing Alpha's room in six steps this time. He has the mind to pause and do up his fly, throwing a face over his shoulder that makes Alpha thankful looks can't kill.

"Why were you and Rain even -"

"Save it," Dew bites back.

"Where are you going Dew, the whole abbey is asleep already. We'll talk about this is in the morning."

Dew throws open the door and stomps into the hall.

"Maybe try getting your shit together instead."

He doesn't look back when the door slams behind him, pretends not to hear Alpha's frustrated roar. Just marches towards the library, ignoring the unwelcome tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Dew's footsteps get lighter the further he travels from the catacombs, pausing every now and then to take in the moonlight streaming in through the stained glass windows. Rests at the chapel for a quick prayer for Earth and Air, and to check on Sister's memorial flame.

It's strange, her absence. They had been through a lot together and he, in some ways, misses her. Maybe things could change now that Copia, Frater, runs the clergy.

He doesn't dwell on it too long, opts to leave the chapel as quick as he entered and veers right down a long hallway. The paintings here are poorly lit, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He’s never liked this corridor with all its knowing eyes.

He reaches the library and pushes inside, surprised to see a table still occupied. Less surprised when he approaches and realizes it's Copia, hunched over an old manuscript, making notes in a small leatherbound journal.

Dew rubs at his eyes as he approaches, plops himself down in the seat across from him, careful to not disturb his text.

"Hey Papa."

"My ghoul," Copia smiles gently, placing a worn bookmark into the tome before closing it and moving it to the side. "Are you well? It's very late."

Dew isn't quite sure how to answer that, quietly taps his fingers on the table with a shrug instead.

"You spend much time in the catacombs yes? With the Ancient Ones?"

Dew tries not to grimace, just nods yes with a tight lipped smile.

"How is Air doing? He seemed distraught when my mother passed, and I regretfully haven't been able to visit yet."

Dew rolls a few words around on his tongue, trying to find the best way to explain that particular situation.

"He was of course upset to hear that she passed, but, he and Earth had been waiting to hear back about their um... request."

Copia tilts his head.

"Request?"

"Yes, it was denied by the clergy. Again."

"You'll have to forgive me, my ghoul, but what was the request?"

"They would like to adopt a kit."

"Oh!" Copia smiles broadly. "They would make such wonderful parents, eh? Of course, of course. I'll mention it at tomorrow's meeting."

Dew blinks at Copia, jaw dropping towards the table.

"Papa, Frater, they denied their request forty-seven times."

It's Copia's turn to stare now, aghast, squeaking a bit like a mouse.

"F-f-forty seven denials? Why?"

Dew shrugs, picks at the skin around his claws.

"There were always excuses, but they don't like them. Even Secondo tried."

Copia sets his mouth in a tight line.

"Well that's just silly. Let's get them a kit."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. The cruelty ends with me. My mother may have been wise about some things, but others. Well. Not so much."

Dew is thankful for the late hour when he scrambles across the table to pull Copia into an extremely undignified hug, pushing his chair back so quickly it crashes to the floor.

"Thank you," he breathes into Copia's neck, letting his tears fall freely. He may not have been around for all forty-seven denials, but he's seen enough of them.

Copia wraps his arms around Dew, apologizing for all the things he didn't know about, but can work towards changing.

When Dew pulls away, he tilts his chin up to meet Copia's eyes.

"If the clergy tries to say no again because 'that's what Sister always said', I'll burn the room down with all of them in it."

Copia can't help but laugh, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"No, you wouldn't." He pauses, thinking for a second. "Alpha would though."

Dew can't help but agree, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands.

"You're right. He would."

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

A gentle knock on the door forces Earth to peel his sticky eyes open, crusting from the tears he shared with Air.

"It's open," he grumbles, pulling Air tight to his chest and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"Good morning!"

Dewdrop looks a little too chipper, considering they both heard him stomp out of the catacombs and slam every door in his way last night.

Air raises a sleepy brow, silently asking him why in the nine circles they are being disturbed at the unholy hour of ten AM.

"Papa, uh, Frater, would like you to meet him in your common room in twenty minutes."

He's still smiling, and Earth can't help but be a little suspicious.

Dew looks at his feet then, digging his toe into the ground.

"Could you um... could you let Alpha know? I'll go tell River. And Omega, if he's there and not. With... You know."

"Mmn."

He takes that as a verbal affirmative and quickly backs out of their room, alerting the rest of the ancients to the meeting before taking a seat near their hearth. He couldn't bear to miss Copia sharing the good news.

Dew is still smiling when the ghouls begin to file into the room, plopping themselves onto various sofas and chairs. He only scowls when Alpha looks his way, covertly flipping him off while Copia strides in.

"Good morning my lovelies," he smiles, gently clapping his hands together. He's met with a chorus of half awake greetings, missing the rude face Alpha throws at Dew while his back is turned.

"I've just come from a clergy meeting, and I would like to gather your input on what you all would like for your new den. The ceilings can't be raised here, and I want you all as comfortable as possible, so we are building a new space for you upstairs. You can still come down here if you like. I also need to know what we need for the nursery -"

Earth sits up then, launching himself off of Air's shoulder.

"Nursery?"

His eyes are wide, hand crushing Air's as he waits for Copia to explain. His looks at Dew briefly, catching his smile and tear filled eyes.

"Yes," Copia beams at him. "Your request has been approved. We're going to help you get a kit."

Air slides from the couch and to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he sobs. Earth quickly joins him, holding him tight to his chest.

"You're serious?" he chokes out, a low growl building in the back of his throat.

"If it's what you want, it's okie dokie with me."

"More than anything," Air confirms, and rests his head on Earth's. "We're going to be dads my Earth. It's finally happening."

Dew slips out before he can be pulled into the quickly growing pile, wanting the ancients to enjoy this moment of great joy.

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

"We need to plan a baby shower!" Cumulus beams, bouncing on her toes after Dew shared the good news.

"Yes, but the ancients need time to acclimate. Sister kept them locked away for far too long, I don't want to overwhelm them."

Cumulus nods, bouncy white curls falling in her face.

"Of course! We can make cake, does that ever get sent to the catacombs? And Cici and I can help paint, I'm sure Mountain and Swiss can help build. Speaking of I need to go let her know -"

Cumulus drifts off down the hall, chatting to herself about room designs and party plans, eager to welcome the ghouls back into the main halls of the abbey.

"You doing okay?"

Rain's smooth baritone makes Dew jump, turning to face him in surprise.

"Sorry, thought you heard me come in."

"Yeah, I'm so excited for the them -"

"I know. But you were upset last night, and I want to make sure you're actually okay, not just hiding it "

Dewdrop huffs a sigh. He can't hide anything from Rain. No one can, really. Everyone's pretty convinced that whatever ocean vent he crawled out of gave him some quint-level mind reading powers.

"It's... complicated."

Rain nods and gestures towards the couch.

"C'mon. I'll even let you turn on the Hallmark channel, I think they're playing holiday movies already."

Dew grumbles while pulling some popcorn out of a nearby cabinet, trapped between being annoyed about being known and allowing himself to be comforted, a skill matched only by Air.

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

"How soon can we try a summoning?"

Air is practically vibrating in his seat, Earth's hand crushed in his own.

Copia has a stack of notes and paperwork, all the necessary permits to expand the abbey and of course Earth and Air's nursery wishlist.

"I'm afraid I've never summoned a kit before, so it may take a few tries before we are successful."

"We understand."

Air and Earth share a quick glance.

"Frater, we have been begging the clergy to help us with a kit for years. Forty-seven times we were told no. We're ready, whenever you are."

Earth squeezes Air's fingers.

"You're sure, my skybird? I know what this means to you, to us, and I fear if we rush you'll be devastated."

Air turns to his partner, holds his cheek gently with his free hand.

"I will be. But then we can try again. As many times as Frater allows."

Earth's eyes brim with tears, mirroring his mate. They turn back to Copia, smiles full of cautious optimism.

"Yes," Earth agrees. "We're ready."

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

The addition is built rather quickly, ghouls and humans alike eager to bring the ancients out of the catacombs. News of the kit spreads like a wildfire, and soon there are more hands hoisting beams and laying walls than anyone had expected.

"Which room should face the sun," Copia questions, looking over the layout on his desk.

"Alpha," Dew answers without hesitation.

Copia briefly raises a brow before finishing the room assignments, pleased that all the ghouls can now move freely through the abbey.

"It will take time to lift all of the doorways, but we'll get there."

"Thanks, Papa. Frater."

"It's fine, my ghoul." Copia wears a gentle, genuine smile. "You know I don't care about the title. Just that you all see me as a friend."

Dew relaxes again, rests his head on the soft chair.

"As your friend, and prior Papa, I feel I must tell you that I'm a little concerned about your connection with Alpha."

Dew's eyes fly open as he scrambles to sit straight in the chair, patting his pocket for his phone.

"Would you... would you look at that? Oh, Mounty is um. He's, he's calling me so I have to uh, I have to -"

Dew keeps patting himself for his phone while making his way towards the door, forgetting it on Copia's desk.

"Dewdrop, you need to talk about this at some point."

"Dewdrop!"

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

While Dew fails at making a smooth exit from Copia's office, Earth and Air are curled up in their nest, the last day they'll spend in the catacombs.

"I'm a bit nervous to go up there," Air mumbles, fingers playing with Earth's shirt.

"I know, skybird. But this will be better for your lungs. And even better for our kit."

"Yes, yes. It will be. What do you think they'll be like?"

"I think, no matter what, she'll be absolutely perfect."

Air scrunches his eyebrows. "She? We told Frater we'd be happy to raise any kit that needed a family."

"I know," Earth smiles, taking Air's hand in his own. "Call it a hunch."

They share a few kisses before cuddling back into each other, trading guesses on what they think their kit will be like. Their personality, their element. If they'll choose to veil when they get older. What their family will be like, and how it will grow in love.

So much love.

So much love, that when the time comes for the summoning, more ghouls are gathered than have ever gathered at a summoning before.

Dew stands between Alpha and Rain, arms wrapped around himself as Alpha stares into the side of Rain's head.

"Will you stop," Dew hisses, glaring at his mate.

"Will you stop?"

"Me? Stop what, having friends? What is wrong with you -"

Rain slowly sneaks away from the pair to stand with Mountain and Swiss, letting them bicker until Copia walks into the room.

His vestments are glittering even in the candlelight, casting shadows onto the stone walls as he checks the candles and offerings.

"My lovelies," he smiles, gesturing to Earth and Air. "We are gathered this evening to summon a kit for mates Earth and Air, so that may raise them in the ministry family."

"Do you accept the roles of parents, to guide this young one with love in your hearts?"

"We do," they say in unison.

"And do you promise to always be there for them and each other, in good and bad times, to offer your full support and encouragement?"

"We do."

"And do you promise to always love this child, no matter who they are now, and who they may find themselves to be in the future?"

"We do."

"Then let it be done."

Copia picks up a black candle and lights it in the north of the room before kneeling in front of Earth and Air. Earth has a small pile of dirt that Air then lifts with his own element, gently swirling the granules around the candle as Copia stands it before them.

"We open this portal to any kit in search of a loving home, eager to accept them into our arms."

The portal fizzles to life, and Air's breath hitches. Earth squeezes his hand and Dew reaches towards Alpha, who tightens his own into a fist. Rain glares while Dew frowns, before all eyes return to the swirling portal before them.

It spins.

And it spins.

Ghouls less close to Earth and Air respectfully begin to shuffle out of the room, and Copia closes the portal by extinguishing the flame while Air's broken whine echoes against the walls.

"I'm so sorry," he offers with a gentle hand to his shoulder. "But next week is a full moon, eh? We will try again."

"Thank you Frater," Earth manages, lip trembling.

They knew. They understood. They talked and talked and talked and openly acknowledged that it might not happen the first time, but all the preparations in the world couldn't have possibly protected their gentle hearts when they were so ready to love whoever came through.

"It's not a no," Air whispers against Earth's shoulder. "Just a not yet."

Earth swallows his tears down and wraps himself against Air, his shuddering breath making the ground tremble.

"If you need anything, my lovelies, I'll be in my office preparing for our next attempt. You are loved."

Alpha opens his mouth and Dew immediately grabs at his shoulder, reaching for his ear.

“For the love of Satan's taint, if you say anything to either of them right now I will send you back to the pits myself.”

“When did you grow a backbone,” Alpha scoffs, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Shouldn't you know,” Aether starts, “you’re the one always blowing it out.”

Dew's already pale skin gets paler, wiping his hands down his face.

“You are all ridiculous and I hate you.”

He steps away from the others to approach Earth and Air, sitting down in front of them.

“I'm so sorry.”

Air looks at him with shining blue eyes, Earth opens his free arm, not lifting his face from his mate's shoulder.

“Can I hug you?”

Dew asks so quietly, but Air has always been there for him. He wants to do the same.

Air nods and lifts an arm as well, and Dew quickly climbs between them, wrapping himself around the ancients as best he can. He kicks up his heat and his rusty pur, acting like a living weighted blanket.

“I kn-know it might not have worked but,” Air hiccups, “but I really hoped it would.”

“I know,” Dew sighs. “It's okay to mourn the loss of this moment.”

Rain and Mountain appear with a pile of blankets, and Swiss follows shortly with a large stack of pillows.

“Figured you might not want to go back to your den or the catacombs right now,” Rain offers, wrapping the three ghouls in a large soft blanket.

The thought of the empty nursery weighs heavy on all of them.

“Would you like us to go?”

Mountain gestures at his pack and rest of the Ancient Ones, all standing with clasped hands and solemn expressions. Even Alpha has the sense to look disappointed, though it may have been at the prospect of sleeping on the floor and not in his nest.

Air and Earth exchange a quick glance at each other.

“Get in here,” Earth grumbles, and he lets himself and Air be pulled down into a loudly purring pile.

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

They try the next summoning at the peak of the full moon.

“I'm scared,” Air admits while he wrings his hands together nervously.

“Me too,” says Earth before taking Air's face in his hands. “But no matter what, we're both here. Together. And nothing can change that.”

This time, the room is empty, except for them. They appreciated the outpouring of love the last time, but now they want to face the portal by themselves.

Dew understands, though he can't help pace the hall outside nervously.

“Would you stop it, the echo is giving me a headache,” Alpha grumbles, crossing his arms as he leans on the wall.

Dew pauses in front of him, hands on his hips.

“Why did you come with me if you were just going to be a dick?”

“I… don't know.”

Dew narrows his eyes at his mate before sitting on the ground across from him, wrapping his arms around his knees. He looks up for a moment when Copia walks by, offering a quiet wish for good luck.

Copia bids his thanks and quietly enters the room. He finds Air and Earth hand in hand at the center, the room laid out exactly as before, except -

“The candles,” he starts, seeing Earth nod.

“We hope it's okay but we changed out the ceremonial candles for a few that were more personal.”

He explains, pointing to each candle as he goes.

“The red fire candle is from our mating ceremony. The blue water candle was a gift from River when we announced that we were becoming exclusive, to certify our mating bond. The white air candle and green earth candles were from our summonings. And the purple quintessence candle is the same candle that has always been used, as it never burns out.”

Air takes a small step forward then, offering a black candle to Copia.

“I think you'll recognize this one.”

His voice is much tighter than Earth's, his emotions at risk of bubbling to the surface at any moment. Copia nods, takes it with a gentle smile.

“I think this is a beautiful tribute. We are ready to begin, then?”

Air and Earth say that they are in unison, sharing a quick smile before Copia begins the ceremony.

The portal opens, a swirling mix of elemental colors. The three men hold their breath as they watch it spin.

And spin.

And just as Air and Earth drop their heads in defeat, Copia's gasp fills them with hope.

“Look, my lovelies, something is coming through!”

Earth and Air scramble closer, seeing horns flicker in and out of the portal. They quickly take shape and soon they see the tip of a tail, a leg, an arm. A few more seconds pass and Earth feels the urge to open his arms, to step forward and catch the sweet kit as the portal closes.

They land in his arms softly and a hundred things flash before his eyes, dreams and possibilities and a future he had been so afraid to want, yet wanted like nothing else. He finally lets the tears fall, hitting the ground in big fat drops.

“Earth?”

Air has a gentle hand on his elbow, and he sniffles before turning around with a smile that could illuminate even the darkest corners of the catacombs. He feels their little heart breathing, the rapid rise and fall of their little chest. He holds up their kit, voice thick with emotion.

“It's a girl!”

#air ghoul #earth ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #alpha ghoul #air/earth #frater copia #popia copia #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fanfic #anotherbananasong #kit adoption #adoption

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cowgurrrl · 1 year ago

Text

It Ain't Me Babe

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: A holiday present from me to you ❣️

Summary: Ellie’s first art club meeting [2.8k]

Warnings: creative insecurity, mentions of financial instability, teacher things, Ellie talking about Sarah, more flirty flirt, I think that’s it??

Nothing has ever been as annoying or guilt-inducing as an unfinished piece of art. Sure, every artist— no matter the medium— has felt like an uncreative, unoriginal hack, but it still feels just as new as it did the first time. Moonlight streams through your window as you glare at the canvas, hoping for an idea or stroke of genius. It's late. You should be in bed, especially since it's a Sunday night and you spent your weekend working at the bar down the street. But you're holding a paintbrush between stained fingers and praying for a miracle. It's been eight months since you last sold a piece for a whopping $200, chump change when it comes to living in Austin these days. Even with two jobs and doing commission work, you're living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe that's why it's so hard to create? That has to be the reason. You don't remember it being this hard when you were younger.

Creating art was the only thing that brought you solace during your teenage years. It didn't matter if it was drawing, pottery, painting, sculpting. All that mattered was that you were doing it and you were good. You won awards, scholarships, and attention. Your art teacher, Ms. Henry, was a godsend. Grey-haired, glasses-wearing, colorful Ms. Henry glided through lessons and projects like it was second nature. She always had pencils in her hair, a mug in her hands, and a kind word on her lips when you entered her classroom. She's the one who pushed you to go to your artsy liberal arts college full of people richer and better than you. Even with her love and support, you struggled and almost dropped out after that first semester.

"There's always someone better," she told you when you ended up crying across from her in a coffee shop. "But there's nobody in the world who can make what you will because there is and never will be another you. I mean, God, what a gift. I'd hate to see you waste it." That sobered you enough to keep going and eventually pursue a teaching certification. Ms. Henry has since retired to the Pacific Northwest with her wife, Mable, and sends you a postcard every once in a while because she believes smartphones will be the downfall of civilization. After so many years in education, you're ready to agree with her.

You sigh, feeling your motivation fluttering away with your breath, and plop your paintbrush down in the cup engraved with the words "DO NOT DRINK" in bold. The canvas doesn't look like much of anything right now— just a mass of colors and shapes that could potentially pass as an abstract version of a landscape. It looks like the other painting you left at the school to work on when you have time. And the painting before that. And the one before that. You curse at exactly the same time your phone buzzes with a text.

You awake?

You don't bother responding and go straight to FaceTiming her. She picks up on the second ring, her beautiful, round face greeting you with a smile. You met Andie during high school, and her effortlessly cool attitude and bulky violin kit quickly became a part of your heart. You two were inseparable all four years of high school, dividing your time between rehearsals and time spent in the studio, but college took you to art school and her to a prestigious orchestra program in Vienna. She's been there ever since graduation, playing for diplomats and royals alike, but she comes home for holidays, and you've been trying to save money to go see her. Being so far from her is hard, but you make it work.

"Why are you awake?" You ask by way of a greeting, more than accustomed to your seven-hour time difference and her early riser habits. She laughs, and you hear a tea kettle whistle in the background.

"Well, hello to you, too," she says. "I have rehearsals all day today, so I got an early start. Why are you awake?"

"I'm staring at my waking nightmare."

"Oh, God, are you having another spiral?"

"I'm a hack."

"You're an artist."

"I got rejected again this weekend," you say as if to prove your point, and she sucks her teeth. "They said my art didn't fit their vision for their exhibition, but to feel free and submit another time."

"Well, they must not know great art when they see it. There will be another exhibition and another chance for you to show off your amazing skills. And when you get accepted, which I know you will, I'll fly in, and we'll drink fancy champagne and talk shit the entire opening night." She says, and you sigh. Her persistent optimism is one of the things you love about her, but sometimes, all you want to do is sulk.

"Or I could fly to you when your first composition gets performed, and we could do all those things in Austria instead of this shithole."

"Hey, some of us like that shithole."

"Some of us haven't lived in the shithole in ten years."

"Touche," she concedes. "But I'm serious about what I said. You're a good artist, just going through a little bump in the road. One day, we'll be really sexy and successful, and we'll look back at this and laugh with our rich spouses while drinking expensive wine."

"One day," you say, smiling. "How are rehearsals going?" She groans at the question, and you laugh. Whenever you talk to her, she's working on a new show or with a new conductor and always has something to say. There are many things you could call your best friend, but lazy is not one of them.

"I feel like we're stuck on this one part, but the conductor won't listen to me. He says he knows better than I do, which might be true, but also, if he just listened to me, then we can move on. I don't know. I'm sure if I poke him enough, he'll have to listen to me."

"Sounds reasonable."

"That's what I'm saying," she says as she shuffles her coffee mug and breakfast to her dining room table before checking the time. "It's midnight there. Don't you have school tomorrow?" She asks, and you sigh.

"And an early morning staff meeting and art club after school."

"Sometimes, I worry about your mental health." She says, and you laugh a little too deliriously to prove her wrong. You stay up talking with her for a while before finally getting hit with a wave of fatigue and crashing into bed.

The next day is not any less hectic than your weekend was. The staff meeting early in the morning is mind-numbing and completely unnecessary. The printer in the teacher's lounge breaks halfway through a heavy-duty print job, and you're left scrambling for new activities and lessons. Not only that, but your students were more out of control than usual, prompting a veteran teacher to come in and scold your class on your behalf. It would be kind if it didn't make you feel two inches tall and your students didn't look at you like you betrayed them. You spend your planning period indulging in the silence of your empty classroom and fighting off a migraine.

The second the final bell sounds, your art club kids are knocking down your door, more than ready to work on their projects for the winter showcase. The winter showcase is hosted by a local art gallery that opens for submissions from students every fall. If a student's work is taken, it gets shown in the gallery, and they get entered into a prize to win money and a chance to paint a mural downtown. It's a big deal. So far, you haven't had a student win first place, but you've had them get very close. You always assure them you're proud of them no matter what, which is especially true when Ellie slinks into your classroom with a shy smile.

"Hey! We're just setting up supplies to work on stuff for the showcase. Do you have something to work on?" You ask, gesturing to the students working around the room in a buzz.

"I think so. Are you gonna play music?"

"Who do you think I am?" You make a face, and she laughs. "Why don't you find a spot and get comfortable while I queue up a playlist?" She hesitates for a second before she takes a deep breath and musters up the courage to approach another student to ask if she can sit with them. They start chatting easily, and her shoulders relax as she gets more and more comfortable with all the new people. You put on a random playlist and move around the room to answer any questions about colors or give an opinion when asked for one. Over the course of an hour, Ellie makes her own little group of friends, and they all talk as if they've known each other forever as they work. She seems so in her own element, and you can't fight the pride beaming in your chest. Okay, so maybe your job can be pretty cool sometimes. Not fame and fortune cool or traveling overseas cool, but cool nevertheless.

Students gradually start packing up their things and leaving when they get texts from impatient parents in the parking lot or close to dinner time, but Ellie stays behind, bobbing her head to a beat or bouncing her knee under the table. She's the only one left in the classroom when you start packing your stuff and preparing the room for the next day. "You've got a ride home, honey?" You ask, and she glances nervously between you and her phone.

"Yeah. My dad should be here soon." She says.

"Alright, well, I've gotta lock up here, but I'll wait outside with you until he gets here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It'd make me feel better knowing you weren't left behind. Plus, I'm the adult responsible for you until he picks you up, so it's kinda illegal for me to just leave you here." You say, and she looks hesitant again but nods. Together, you walk out of the classroom and through the empty hallways until you get out to the scorching September afternoon. You stand outside in silence for a few seconds, taking in the sunset, before you turn to look at her.

"How'd you like the club?" You ask.

"It was fun! I met lots of cool people."

"I told you, kid. You just needed to give it a chance."

"I know, I know," she rolls her eyes, and you smile. "Thank you for pushing me to go. I don't think I would've gone without you." She's so genuine and kind in her tone that it throws you off-kilter. You're used to being berated by students, staff, and parents. To be told you actually had an impact on someone is not commonplace, to say the least.

"I'm sure you would've found your way there without me."

"Maybe, but you helped me get there a lot sooner than I would've on my own." She says, and you take a deep breath. It feels nice to be acknowledged, especially after the day you've had, and Ellie seems to sense it. You're looking for something to say when she looks down at her shoes and kicks a stray rock. "Just take the compliment and move on. Don't make it a thing."

"Alright." You say, laughing, and she cracks a smile, too. Traffic will be horrible on the way home, and you have nothing to eat for dinner, but it's okay. You did one good thing today. That's all you need.

"Sorry, my dad is taking so long." She changes the subject, a touch of anxiety creeping in, and you shake your head.

"Does he always work late?" You ask, and she shrugs.

"Sometimes. Dad and Uncle Tommy have been picking up jobs to send money to my sister in Boston. "

"What's in Boston for your sister?"

"Medical school. She's about to go into her internship at a hospital there."

"That's a big deal." You say, and she hums.

"Yeah. She'll probably save the world or something one day." There's a hint of something nostalgic in her voice, and you decide to push just a little.

"Do you miss her?"

"A lot," she says. "She's my best friend."

"She's lucky to have you." You say. She smiles but doesn't say anything. You want to ask more about her family, but a rickety, greenish pickup truck comes rumbling through the parking lot before you can. Ellie shifts her backpack on her shoulder as her dad and uncle come into view, and you smile at them. Joel, however, looks frantic.

He's unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the driver's side door before the car can even finish moving. There's dirt on his pants and a little bit of a sunburn across his arms, the muscles straining across the black fabric. He politely pulls the ball cap off his head to reveal sweaty curls as he approaches you, jerking his head toward the truck at Ellie. "Why don't you wait in the truck with Uncle Tommy? He's got a snack for you." He says, and Ellie lights up at the mention of food. When you're alone, he tucks his hands in his pockets and gives you an apologetic look.

"'M so sorry. We got caught up at work and lost track of time. It won't happen again." He says, wringing his hands like he's waiting to be scolded, but you wave him off.

"It's okay. Things happen, and I'm just glad she's got someone picking her up." You say.

"How'd she do today?"

"Really good. I think she fits right in."

"She make some friends?"

"I can't give away all my secrets. What else are y'all gonna talk about at the dinner table?" You tease.

"I guess that's right," he says as he stares at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Thanks for waitin' with her."

"It was my pleasure." You say. You stand awkwardly for a few seconds, rocking back and forth on your feet. His eyes are locked in yours, and there's a silent competition to see who's gonna blink first. "Well, I should let you get home. Have a good night."

"Uh," he starts, stopping you before you can even fully take a step. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say a little too quickly, and he smirks. "I was very flattered. Besides, it's not the first time."

"Beautiful woman like you, I'm sure you've got 'em linin' the block for a chance with you." He says. You're dancing a delicate dance here. You're not not flirting, and you're not not interested in him, but if your principal finds out, it could cause a whole new world of problems. Still, it's nice to be wanted after so long of being on your own. You're not a saint, but you're also not doing anything inherently wrong, right?

"The teacher thing usually freaks 'em out before they can get very far."

"That's a damn shame." He's quick with it, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the line. A buzz in your bag reminds you of the time and why you're still at school, and you find your footing again.

"Uh, I usually give out my contact information to the parents of my art club kids in case they need anything or need to contact me quickly. Since Ellie's an official part of that, I figured I should give you my phone number in case anything comes up. If that's alright?" You say, and he pulls his cracked phone from his back pocket.

"Yeah, yeah. That's more than alright." He says, handing it to you to punch in your information.

"It's for emergency purposes only."

"What d'you consider an emergency?"

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel." He corrects, and you give him a look as you pass his phone back.

"Don't abuse it. I'd hate to have to put you in a group chat with all the PTA moms."

"You're evil." He groans, and you laugh. Tommy, leaning over and honking the truck horn, interrupts your conversation, and he shoots daggers through the back window.

"I'll see you next week, Joel." You say, dismissing him, and he hesitates for another second before nodding.

"See you next week." He says and turns on his heels to get back in his truck. You think you vaguely catch Joel scolding Tommy for being impatient, but you ignore his deep voice and the engine sputtering as you walk to your own car with a little more pep in your step than this morning.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 (look at how many of you there are!)

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #the last of us au #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #joel au #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #tlou hbo #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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jnnul · 2 years ago

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things he reminds me of (nct dream)

a/n: i know i was supposed to post this on friday oops 😭 i just...have so many thoughts when it comes to love and these boys are some of my greatest muses

genre: fluff/slice-of-life maybe, just love, different types of love, young dumb broke kids in love, LOVE, idk did i say they’re in love yet, tw: mentions of kissing & hickeys lol

word count: 1.4k (idk either man)

MARK

gif credits: @jsuh

that moment when you realize how much someone truly loves you

guitars that have so many stickers, you can barely see the wood

buying a new fuzzy blanket

the little scratch of stubble when you kiss

laughing when his glasses poke you in the forehead

falling asleep with your legs on top of his on the couch

massaging his head when he’s had a long day

oversized sweatshirts to avoid the paparazzi when he’s coming over

long facetime calls even though it’s three in the morning in his time

voice messages instead of texts bc he wants to hear your voice

hearing your voice in a song

turning your little doodles into the cover of his next solo

whispers about the future that dissolve into the hot summer sky as he looks at you with eyes filled with hope

musky cologne that reminds you of the forest after it rains

the color gray

love.

RENJUN

gif credits: @faerenjun

never letting you open the door yourself

succulents for every anniversary until you have a forest in the living room

brushing his lips over your forehead before he leaves for work

having a faceless picture of you and him as his background

buying you a necklace with his initials and a matching bracelet with yours

always, always, always feeding you because he’s scared you won’t eat if he’s not there

teaching you mandarin and kissing you every time you get a word right

filming a ‘day in my life’ vlog every couple weeks that you rewatch on your anniversary to see how you’ve grown

sunset lamps that don’t work the way he thought they would

painting together in absolute silence

having a french window with billowing curtains and a bench that the two of you sit on

adopting a dog together only to find out that the dog is a demon

fighting for the remote but he lets you win every time

rubbing your shoulders when you’re stressed

forgetting why you were so stressed when you look at him working so serenely

love.

JENO

gif credits: @seomarkno

the thunder that rolls in ten seconds after lightning that shakes the high-rise apartment

quiet cups of coffee as the two of you wait for the rest of the world to wake up

words of endearment that are saved only for the most intimate moments

the wracking shoulders when he tries not to cry because he doesn’t want to burden you

the soft comfort in sleeping in his arms

the feeling of all of his worry melting away when you reach for him, even in your sleep, and look for his love

the color red that stains your white dress when you and jeno get wine drunk

waiting for the other to come home to them

home-cooked meals that are a little too hot so he has to blow on it

fights that turn into whispered i love you’s because he can’t stay away from you for too long

listening to the same song, even when you’re hundreds of miles apart

opening all the jars for you, even if you say you can do it yourself

watching a show together and hoping for different pairings

mature conversations about investing in the future

meeting his family a little too quickly - but it’s okay bc they love you

love.

HAECHAN

gif credits: @huangrenjuns

quirked eyebrows as you vehemently counter his argument about ice cream

making you sit on his lap as he games until ungodly hours to feel your warmth

kissing the nape of his neck bc you love the way he melts in your arms

dropping the cake on his birthday, only for him to eat it anyway so you wouldn’t feel bad

secret getaway trips that you have to beg and plead the company for

telling him how much you love him and seeing his eyes well up

feeling his heart swell with pride when you come home with a new accomplishment

only saying i love you when he really means it - but he says it every morning

gently explaining to you why you should love yourself the way he loves you

green accents everywhere bc you think it’s vibrant

calling him a loser affectionately

looking at him like he put the stars in the sky

the deep rumble of his chest when you’re curled into him

the way he hums when he thinks you’re not listening but you are

being able to calm you down within 30 seconds no matter what

love.

JAEMIN

gif credits: @jaemtens (thank u for doing the lord’s work)

letting him play with your hair until it looks ridiculous

making peach cobbler but you accidentally added too much sugar

waking him up with a mug of fresh coffee and so much affection

letting him pull you into a dark corner to press a soft kiss to your lips

him tugging a blanket over you as you fall asleep waiting for him

carrying you from the kitchen counter to the sofa, insisting that he was going to cook for you tonight

letting him buy you pink accessories bc he says you look soft

getting the silent treatment from him when he’s mad but he can never stay mad for too long

promising him that you’re never going to leave him when he’s scared about your relationship getting discovered

surprising him backstage at an overseas concert

seeing his eyes light up when you walk into the room, no matter how long it’s been since you started dating

feeling the hard planes under his shirt when you bandage his back after a long dance practice

texting you at insane hours to sneak over to his place and order takeout

frowning when he sees you wear revealing clothes only to say, “you wear whatever you want, baby. i can fight.”

he can’t fight but he tries to seem tough for you anyway bc that’s what he thinks you want. you don’t. all you want is him.

love.

CHENLE

gif credits: @jjsungie

oversized jerseys which all say ‘curry’ on them somewhere

buying him presents only to find out that he already has it

seeing him cry when you tell him about your deep and personal secrets bc he’s never felt so much pain for someone else before

convincing you to get matching tattoos but both of you pussy out

renting out an entire arcade to go on a date

not letting him rent out an entire arcade bc wtf who does that chenle

always celebrating your anniversaries in a lowkey, private, and humble way

going 50/50 on everything in the relationship even if chenle would rather die than make you pay

playing rock, paper, scissors to decide how to split the chores. for. everything.

playing cards against humanity except the two of you are just looking for the craziest combinations

brightly colored scrunchies for his hair, not yours

stealing the blankets bc you run cold and he runs hot

wearing sweatshirts to colleges that neither of you attend

sober advice bc he doesn’t understand why you get stressed sometimes

knowing that you compliment each other, rather than complete each other

love.

JISUNG

gif credits: @leemarkies

thinking he’s rizzing you up but it just looks rlly silly

asking you what-if questions at ungodly hours and then leaving you on read

do not disturb until he dies. and then he comes back with a pinterest reaction meme.

feeling frustrated when he can’t tell you how much he really loves you

getting confused between love, lust, and like but knowing that he feels so incredibly safe and warm with you

fighting his instincts to run every time he realizes how down bad he is for you

having to physically drag him out of the dance studio bc he’s going to collapse from exhaustion

not letting anyone but you touch him when he’s sick

telling you abt his dreams to become a big star

rambling about his theories abt humanity and the universe for h o u r s

not realizing that his sweatshirts are disappearing until you wear them around him

nearly having a heart attack the first time you give him a hickey (and then asking for three more)

the purple light glinting in his eyes as he rewatches his stages for mistakes

gently coaxing him to be a little less perfectionist

splitting a pizza with you and thinking it to be peak romance bc it is to you and him

love.

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atlas-of-the-mind · 10 months ago

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[Img ID in alt text and under cut]

I don't go here but this Thang wouldn't leave me alone until I drew it. Enjoy

IMG ID: A bust of the Lamb from cult of the lamb(a white sheep with a black face, and this version of them has large, curling horns) facing 3/4 to the right. Their chin is tucked to their chest and their mouth is open to reveal flat teeth save for extra large canines that curl out over their lips. Their visible eye is wide and bright red with a cross pupil and two streaks of red tears -- one thicker one thinner -- leak from it down their face, stopping at their lip. More red streaks flow from their open mouth down their chest to give the illusion of a cut throat. There is a bright, spiky star of light, partially obscured by their wool, in the middle of their chest. The style is blocky, almost stained glass window esque, with thick smooth lines and large shapes. The thick, smooth line art accentuates the swirls of the Lamb’s wool and gives it a stained glass window style, and there is yellow highlights and shadows around the swirls. The bright spot in the center of their chest is glowing brightly and has stylized spikes extending out from it. A large, gold, crown-like halo circles their horns that has a thick band, a thin band, spikes through both bands, and small floating white teardrop shapes. The halo acts as a second source of light. The background is a deep red with barely visible silhouettes of large chains in other shades of red. End ID.

#art #artwork #my artwork #digital art #cotl lamb #cotl #cult of the lamb #cw bood #there is also an idea for that fucked up cat in my brain #we'll see if that comes to fruition

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sunny-honeytears · 4 months ago

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Okay so I was originally going to wait until I'm done with the full project but I HAVE to share this

It was originally supposed to be a crochet tapestry pattern because if done with type3 yarn it would be the size of my pillow, but the art itself looks to pretty not to show you guys

Tadaaa-

So theres a lot to unpack because neither of my parents understood a single thing about this and why it took me 5 hours to make

First, the border. The border is supposed to be the actual set on hungarian Tdv, designed by Kentaur (if i remember correctly), in the middle its a bat, hanging down. The stained glass kind of melts in the details but its also an actual prop on the set, just with blue lighting. The middle has a hidden VB in it, which refers to Vámpírok Bálja, the hungarian name.

Now the characters!

Krolock and Sarah were inspired by The Kiss, with Krolock draping his cape over the both of them, mostly so I don't have to draw Sarah's dress. He also bit her <3 I tried to make the cape look like the dress in the og painting but with only grey so I don't have to buy 20 balls of yarn :')

Herbert and Alfred were also inspired by a painting,I know its very hard to see because its like 20 pixels, but its Dante and Virgil in Hell (fun fact my name is Dante lol)

And then professor is just..existing really. I tried to find a painting for him but I couldn't and at this point I was really mad at the program, because for some reason it didn't like idk SAVING MY PROGRESS? Once I lost a whole finished Herbert and Alfred, then I lost the colourwork on Professor, then I lost a background so what should have taken me 3 hours, ended up being 5. But honestly I dont regret it, Krolock and Sarah look amazing, I might make a tapestry of just the two of them.

Also I love the devil in the Dante painting, just floating there with crossed arms like yeah thats so me

#artist #tanz der vampire #count von krolock #herbert von krolock #tdv #vámpírok bálja #tanz der vampire alfred #graf von krolock #art #fanart #pixel art #pixilart #digital art

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jamneuromain · 2 years ago

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When Pigs Fly

Steve Rogers x You (Reader)

Warning: Swearing, a lil humor, a lil fluff, agent!reader

W/C: 1.7K

Summary: Is there a chance for Captain America, to be your friend?

A/N: Big smooch to @rogerswifesblog, who forms this idea with me together.

Steve is using his serious face again.

He crosses his arms, standing upright, looking down at you with a stern look.

“You were reckless in the field, Agent.” He addresses you coldly, “I will not tolerate that sort of behavior.”

This isn’t the first time when you argue with Steve Rogers because of the way you behave in the field. If you are being honest, Captain Rogers himself is also behaving recklessly, doing stupid shit all day, with no one up on his ass.

“And I saved the team. You’re welcome.” You retort back, fiddling with your tactical suit and the stains of dirt.

“Nearly killing yourse-” Anger bubbles in his stomach. Steve takes a deep breath, calming himself, “until further evaluation, you’re on desk duty.”

You don’t care about desk duty. You could fool those tests easily and get back into the field in no time. But you can’t help but tease him, wiggling your eyebrows, “killing myself? Care so much about me, Capitaine? What, you have a crush on me or something?”

You swear, some newbie gasps in the background.

Utter silence.

You witness Steve’s ears flush red, while his jaw clenches.

Quinjet is so quiet that you could drop a needle on the ground, and the whole team can hear it.

“Landing in five.” A pilot speaks through the broadcasting system.

“NO.” He pushes the words out of his tight lips, “no, Agent, I do not have a crush on you. Now sit back and report to the mission center after landing. You are off the team for a month. End of discussion.”

Wow, I wonder if someone takes the wrong medicine this morning.

They would’ve taken you off the team completely if you weren’t one of the best field agents.

They still need you.

But you’ve poked the Captain enough for today.

“Aye aye, Captain.” You buckle yourself into the uncomfortable seat, patting the dust on your sleeves.

“Damn, desk duty again?” Sam, who’s around the mission center when you submit your evaluation form, asks you in surprise, “what did you do this time?”

You press your lips into a flat line and shrug, “reckless. Guilty as charged.” You eye your paperwork while mouthing “Captain America”.

Sam huffs out a laugh, “c’mon, it’s been what, two weeks? Since you have been back on the field? You really pissed him off, huh?”

You nod to the mission dispatch lady at the front desk, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. You can’t tell if you pissed off THE Steve Rogers. However, you know, deep down, that if he is angry, you will face something much worse. You don’t know how you will face an angrier version of him, which makes you slightly uncomfortable.

You choose to steer away from the topic, “I’m heading to the weapon room to return my stuff, you coming?”

“Uh-huh, I’m picking up my gears there.” Sam smiles, gesturing to the special elevator five feet away, “might as well use the shortcut.”

The weapon room is a few floors below. Instead of taking the staff elevator, which is three hundred feet away, Sam is kind enough to let you ride the “Avengers only” elevator with him, leading to the conference hall floors below.

You can hear two voices before you even reach the conference hall.

“…can’t do this, Buck.”

“…then what?”

Sam murmurs quietly: “Speak of the devil.”

“…risking her LIFE! I can’t exactly watch…”

The conference hall is empty. The only possibility is that Steve and Bucky are talking in one of the conference rooms down the hall.

The voices getting clearer as you approach one of the rooms, the glass door of which clearly leaves on open by accident.

“Geez, calm down, punk.” You hear Bucky speaks in a low voice, “you like her or something?”

Awkward silence.

Sam spares a glance at you briefly.

You keep your face strict. Even the world’s most impressive interrogator couldn’t read anything from your expression right now.

“…I don’t like her.”

You hear Steve say.

Cold. Distant. Indifferent.

It will be lying to admit if his words didn’t just hurt you.

All this time, you thought at least, you and Steve could reach the bar of “barely-friends”.

Hearing he doesn’t like you is like a bucket of ice water dropped from your head, helping you realize that work buddies don’t socialize. Colleagues will never be true friends.

Not in your line of work.

Well, it’s his loss. You scoff, walking further away from the room they are in, nearly stomping your boots off.

Bucky catches a glimpse of Sam passing from the door. He lowers his voice even more: “I’m on your side, punk. I can tell-”

Steve shakes his head, carrying the shield on his back, clearly doesn’t want to continue this conversation,“see you in the training room in twenty.”

Steve pushes through the door.

He does not have you in sight, but his super hearing captures Sam and you.

“I’m sure Steve means it in a good way.”

“Yeah, when pigs fly.”

It is two weeks later when Steve sees you in such a big compound again.

He is supposed to deliver his mission report to the mission center when he runs into you, knocking over the box of files in your hands.

You look surprised, but only a little, crouching to pick up the files. “Hello, Captain.”

“Hello Agent.” He feels sorry, helping you to put the files back into the box, “how’s desk duty? No hard feelings, right?”

You don’t know whether he’s mocking or just caring.

“Not as exciting as in the field, but I’ll manage.” You cover the box with a lid, avoiding his gaze, “not my first time anyway.”

You speak with a careless tone, as if nothing truly frustrates you.

Steve has checked your evaluation progress. There is only one assessment left. His own.

He has been pending the result for three days, yet he still could not determine whether or not to let you back in the field.

On the one hand, you are one of the best agents he knows. You are loyal, decisive, and above all, capable.

On the other hand, you are truly reckless. Some might even say cold blood when you are evaluating your life against others.

You tend to choose others over your own.

Two weeks ago, if it hadn’t been you taking out the last bomb on the very last second of the countdown, it could have been one-half of the team that was buried under the building, him included.

You also could have died because you try to disarm it even if he told you to retreat to rendezvous.

“Do you need anything else, Captain Rogers?”

You ask him with the heavy box under your arm.

He feels sorry for you, somehow. Steve wants to make it up to you.

“We’re having pizza night, tonight, in the compound. Sam, Bucky, Nat…a small group of people, basically everyone you know. We thought it’d be nice if you could join us.”

They didn’t.

They don’t know about this.

It is purely his idea to have you join them. To get to know you better.

It’s not even pizza night tonight. He said so because he figured you would be more comfortable with familiars around.

“Raincheck.” A polite smile hanging on your lips, “schedule’s full tonight. Sorry.”

Your heartbeat perks up, because you are lying, and he hears it.

“…OK. Maybe sometime next week?” He asks hopefully.

You love pizza. But he made it clear to you, socializing with heroes is dangerous. And he might not want you there. He doesn’t even like you. He probably asks you out of politeness.

Why would you embarrass yourself when you don’t know all of them that well?

You come so close to smiling at his attempt, “Captain Rogers, we’re not the same kind of person. I get it. You don’t have to do this. We don’t have to be friends.”

He sighs, putting up his hands as a sign of giving up, “not the slightest of chance?”

“When pigs fly.” You joke, “seriously, though, have a good night, Captain Rogers.”

Steve goes to bed that night, can’t stop thinking about you.

He mutters God knows how many times “I don’t have a crush on her” before he could go to sleep.

Two more weeks flew by when you receive an anonymous note.

Two simple words.

“Look outside.”

There’s swooshing sound outside. Your colleagues are rushing out of the compound in laughter. Some open the window, also laughing.

You wonder if there is a gas leak.

However, you follow them out of the building for your own sanity, looking up as most of them point their phones to the sky.

Swooshing sound grows louder.

You crane your neck and see the most unbelievable thing in your life - and you are saying this when you can see Hulk’s transformation and Ironman’s suit on a weekly basis.

Ironman’s suit - no, a small Ironsuit with a pig in it, is flying across the compound in low air.

The Ironsuit literally has four legs.

The pig is squeaking, thrusters are booming, ridiculous and laughable at the same time.

Never in one day of your life have you ever thought of the proverb “pigs fly” would come true.

“We’re doing pizza night, wanna come?” A familiar voice stands on your left. You know who spoke before you turn your head and look.

“Pigs fly. Steve. Wow.” You exclaim, “how did you get it done?”

Steve Rogers beams, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He is only wearing a simple shirt and jeans, his hands in his pockets, giving off a relaxing vibe.

“Well, Tony helped. Clint too, he offered a piglet.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head in amusement.

“So, pizza night…?”

“If pigs can fly,” you point to the sky, a genuine smile on your lips, “why not?”

Bonus:

You meet Tony on your way back to the building.

Tony pointed at Steve with his index finger, “you, Mister Rogers, owe me. Big time.”

Steve and you exchange a knowing look. Steve grins, “thank you, Tony. The plan worked.”

“Oh no. That’s not what I’m talking about.” Tony grinds his teeth, “Nobody told me that pigs could shit their pants ... shit their suit.”

You smother your laugh with your palm, shaking like a leaf in the autumn air.

The billionaire let out a shriek, “now that lump of meatloaf has ruined my million-dollar custom-made suit. Shit. Shitted - HOW AM I GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS TO PEPPER???"

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #agent!reader #captain america fluff

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journalsouppe · 1 year ago

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THE WIND WAKER AHHHHHHHH I love this game SO much, ranked right below OOT and MM for my all time favorites.

One of my biggest critiques of the game is that I wish Aonuma was given the proper time to develop the game since you can tell that there should be more but a lot was cut out for time constraints. Still an incredible game but what I would give to have a full scale sequel or the full scope of the original game T^T!!!

Writing typed below as well as my game notes! (Game notes won't be typed since it's just a mess of notes for puzzles and things to come back to)

Rating: 9.0 Played: Su 2023 Recommended by: Rylan Version: Original Port: (originally Dolphin emulation but bought a Gamecube and OG TWW bc the emulator kept crashing)

Comments

iPad kid... my son (about link)

love Mkaar

THE LITTLE ANIMATIONS

ww Ganondorf is my favorite

LOVE YOU ARYLL

the kids are adorable

the music and SFX are SO CUTE!!!!!!

the actual GC version is much better than emulating

Link's too small for the door i_i I love him

ooo the upside down triforce in outset

I like the wind waker (the instrument lmao)

oo god of winds

ooo you can control seagulls?

MASSIVE pig...

PEAHATS? >:(

oo a cauldro lemme climb in -> THEYRE SAVE POINTS!!

DARKNUT AND ARMOS

I HATE GOHMAS

link is just a sweet little guy T-T <3

inch resting great deku tree

STUPID 25 LETTERS

LOVE the syrup Korok

LINK IS THE SAME HEIGHT KOROKS

how long has hyrule been flooded and how old is zelda? why is there a statue of link...

Oooo did Link from OOT speak a different language with the Great Deku Tree? (bilingual king)

ooo I love that King of the red lions joins you at the tower of gods

magic is in this game *eye emojis*

ooo ganon's tower theme when stormy

all the OOT sages in stained glass omg :)

NOT TETRA'S PIRATES HOLDING THE BOMB GUY HOSTAGE

there's a lot to process at the cabana

TETRA IS LIKE 10 YOU CREEPS

HYRULE CASTLE THEME

i'm forever haunted by the floormasters

why did zelda lose all of her melanin

is the king of red lions actually the king of jyrule?

PHANTOM GANON DEAD MANS VOLLEY FUCK

the return of tingle...

ZELDA 2 STORY

moe the MOBLIN?

MAKARS WALK T-T

THE MEOW

schooner

love the maze idea

ghost ship next to me!!!!

GANON MOLDORM

I love this game so much holy shit. What a perfect sequel to the Hero of Time story, what a great continuation of Ganondorf's motive. I definitely wish there was more, esp dungeons and zora and towns, but this game was made pretty quick after MM and on the GC so I know there are limitations. Everything from Link, Tetra, the sound effects, the stylization, the Rito, the Koroks, Ganondorf, oh my god I absolutely adore it. Everything about it is so unique yet having the core Zelda elements within it. I also noticed how many future games took a lot of inspiration from this game, esp TP and TOTK. I also love how involved Tetra/Zelda is to the plot, Link could not have succeeded without her help, esp in the final battle and when saving Aryll. This game gives so much personality and background to Link and Tetra, every single cutscene is such a delight. This would be a super replayable game if my GC wasn't so wonky. Hopefully it'll come back to the switch. I love this game :')

#journalsouppe #bullet journal #journal #tloz #legend of zelda #loz #the legend of zelda #zelda journal #tww #the wind waker #wind waker

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catholic-character-tournament · 2 years ago

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CONTESTANTS

I will make the bracket soon but if anyone has any reason why X character shouldn't be in the tournament, let me know. (Please no Kristen Applebee discourse, the pro-Kristen is catholic got to me)

Philip Wittebane has been disqualified

The main I'm ??? Idk if they should be allowed is Philip Wittebane/Emperor Belos

Propaganda was:

Okay okay so like he's technically Puritan-coded but like the Catholic background is still applicable imo. This man truly acts like he's a "savior" and really goes full martyr mode where instead of being like "yeah no my actions were reprehensible" he's like "I AM BEING PERSECUTED FOR DOING WHATS RIGHT BY RIDDING THE WORLD OF THESE WICKED VILE WITCHES". He also follows some Catholic symbolism pretty heavily in the last episode: he's posed similarly to Jesus being crucified, in a monster form he strikes a pose reminiscent of the Adam and God painting from the Sistine Chapel, and he even calls the Boiling Isles(a place full of witches and demons separate from the human realm) a "Perdition", which is "a state of eternal punishment and damnation into which a sinful and unpenitent person passes after death." in Catholic theology. So YES he's Puritan coded but I feel there's enough overlap to consider him for Catholic. Hear me out I know I said Philip was probably Puritan so like. Imagine how funny it'd be to be lumped in the Catholic pool. He would be FURIOUS at being called Catholic he would HATE it. It'd be hilarious. Please consider it.

His whole villain modus operandi is crowning himself Emperor in what could reasonably be interpreted in-universe as Hell (it's not, but it sure does fit a lot of the stereotypical requirements of Hell in roundabout ways, specifically Dante's Inferno kind of stuff) by claiming that he's a prophet/follower/proclaimer etc. of "the Titan's Will" which is basically just a reskin of God's Will aka the typical uber-controlling religious fear mentality the Catholic church was and still kind of is known for. He claims that "wild" or unrestricted magic is displeasing the Titan (the main, uh, god-figure? sorta? of the show) leading everyone to destruction (sin) and that the only way to "please the Titan" is to submit to "magical purification" aka have one's magic be sealed off to only allow one type of magic to be used at a time. Those that don't adhere to this "purification" are evil Wild Witches that must be eradicated. The whole ideology is just Catholic repentance and crusading with a different coat of paint. Not only that but he literally built himself a castle with Catholic aesthetics, specifically church/cathedral ones—it has tons of stained glass windows and painting depicting his "virtues" and accomplishments in clearly religious ways, similar to how Catholic churches use their stained glass windows. He also cloaks a lot of his actions as being a part of "the Titan's Will" and is the main interpreter of said Will, which is pretty much like being the Pope. The kicker of it all is that he's just using all of this as a ruse to eradicate all of witch/demonkind because he's a witch hunter with a grudge nearly 400 years old and still going strong—the ends justify the means and all that.

This bitch is a radical Puritan Protestant witch hunter (the Puritan part being subtext due to where he specifically originated from, the witch hunter part EXPLICITLY CANON) and he just goes full ham on the Catholic Pope aesthetic when he becomes Emperor—lots of gold, grand regalia/clothing, religious iron fist, the whole bit. Over witches and demons, the very thing he's trying to wipe from existence to "save humanity." He basically becomes the fucking Demon Realm Anti-Christ Pope or something. Something something you became the very thing you swore you would destroy something something. The finale of the show ends off with him BECOMING A DRAGON (Revelations allegory) because he got turned into parasitic green goop. The irony here is so massively ridiculous it's insane. Not only that but HE'D HATE BEING NOMINATED AS A CATHOLIC. CAN YOU IMAGINE? PURITAN WITCH HUNTER BECOMING TUMBLR'S CANONIZED PATRON SAINT? HE'D BE SO FREAKING PISSED ABOUT IT (deserved)

List below cut

Matt Murdock/Daredevil (Daredevil)

kurt wagner/nightcrawler (x-men)

Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun)

Homura Akemi (Madoka Magica)

Vector the Crocodile (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Kirei Kotomine (Fate franchise)

Ronan Lynch (The Raven Cycle)

Temenos Mistral (Octopath Traveler 2)

John Ward (FAITH)

Claude Frollo(The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

Eddie Brock (Venom)

Enrico Pucci (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Amon from (Tokyo Ghoul)

Galahad (The Mechanisms)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus (The Locked Tomb)

Johnathan (Shin Megami Tensei IV)

Seeley Booth (Bones)

Doomguy (Doom)

Pope Pinion IV (Cars)

707/Luciel Choi (Mystic Messenger)

Aymeric de Borel (Final Fantasy 14)

Dana Scully (the X files)

Father Alexander Anderson (Hellsing)

Ky Kiske (Guilty Gear)

Akane Kurashiki (Zero Escape)

Hell boy (HellBoy)

Kristen Applebees (Dimension 20's Fantasy High)

Louis de Pointe du Lac (Interview with the Vampire/The Vampire Chronicles)

Pastry Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

Sister Michael (Derry Girls)

Wesley Hailoh (Rhyme and Reason)

Abuela Alma Madrigal (Encanto)

The Derry Girls (Derry Girls)

Aslan from (Chronicles of Narnia)

Father Paul (Midnight Mass)

Helena Bertinlli (DC comics)

Jean Valjean (Les Misérables)

Mac McDonald (It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia)

Mark Heathcliff (The Mandela Catalogue)

Saint Citrina Rocks (Dimension 20's A Crown of Candy)

Tatsumi Kazehaya (Ensemble Stars)

Belizabeth Brassica (Dimension 20's A Crown of Candy)

Caesar Zeppeli (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure)

Chrollo Lucilfer (Hunter x Hunter)

Father Brown (Father Brown)

Gabriel (Ultrakill)

Hot Pants (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Javert (Les Miserables)

Jeanne d'Arc (Alter) - Fate/Grand Order

Justin Law (Soul eater)

Lady Rhea (Fire Emblem)

Luis Serra Navarro (Resident Evil)

Mello (Death Note)

Ryker | Show: Roleslaying With Roman

Nate Ford (Leverage)

Nico D'Angelo (Percy Jackson)

Patton Sanders (Sanders Sides (Web Series))

Pucci (Jojos Bizarre Adventure)

Puss in Boots

Quasimodo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

SCP-166 (Just a Teenage Gaia)

Shadow the Hedgehog (sonic)

Sir Keradin Deeproot (Dimension 20's A Crown of Candy)

The Penitent One (Blasphemous)

Tobias Schneien (Ghost Eyes)

Vito Corleone (The Godfather)

Angel (Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series)

Asia Argento (High School DxD)

chuck e. cheese

Bishop Raphaniel Charlock from Dimension 20 - the Ravening War

Blake Langermann - Outlast 2

Brother Cellanus from The Completely Unerotic Adventures of Brother Cellanus

carlos reyes from 911 lone star

Carrie White (Carrie)

Catherine of Aragon (SIX the Musical)

CC from Code Geass

Detective William Murdoch (Murdoch Mysteries)

Double (Skullgirls)

Doug Jones from The VelociPastor

Dracule Mihawk (One Piece)

Duo Maxwell from Gundam Wing

Father John Mulcahy- MASH

Felicia Hardy (Black Cat) | Spiderman

Firestar warrior cats

Flayn from Fire Emblem Three Houses

Frank Castle

Gerard from Unholyverse

Gloria Maria Ramirez Delgado-Pritchett (Modern Family)

Ibara Shiozaki from My Hero Academia

Inori Yamabuki/Cure Pine and Fresh Precure

Jason Todd in DC Comics

John "Soap" MacTavish (Call of Duty)

John Gaius (The Locked Tomb)

Junk rat from Overwatch

Knuckles the hedgehog from Sonic.

Kuroe (Magia Record)

Kyoko Sakura from Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Leliana (Dragon Age)

Lestat de Lioncourt - the Vampire Chronicles (Books/Movies/TV)

Libra (from Fire Emblem: Awakening)

Link - The Legend of Zelda

Maddie Fitzpatrick (Suite Life of Zack and Cody)

Marcy Park (The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee)

Mercedes - Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Michael Carpenter (Dresden Files)

Michael Corleone, the Godfather

Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg from Ride the Cyclone

Philip Wittebane/Emperor Belos - The Owl House (disqualified)

Pontifex Belizabeth Brassica from Dimension 20's A Crown of Candy

Rin Okumura from Blue Exorcist

Robocop

Sasuke from Naruto

Shiozaki Ibara bnha

Shiro Fujimoto from Blue Exorcist

simon belmont castlevania

Steve Rogers

Tammy Edwards from the play Legoland by Jacob Richmond

Valeria Garaz (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 reboot)

Valery Michailov (Goncharov - 1973)

Zakuro Fujiwara from Tokyo Mew Mew

Kawabuchi Sentarou (Kids on the Slope)

Kaworu Nagisa (Neon Genesis Evangelion)

Emilio Santoz from The Sparrow

Remy LeBeau (Gambit) from Marvel Comics X-Men

jesus but from jesus christ superstar. i think this should count

Leon from 8:11

Sister Mary from The Young Pope

Replacement:

Miles Morales (Marvel Comics)

Friar Tuck (Robin Hood)

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uraniumnm333 · 1 year ago

Text

I NEED TO TALK ABOUT ALL THE SYMBOLISM + REFERENCES IN THE NEW EVENT CARDS !!!! OR I'M GOING TO EXPLODE !!!!!!

Okay so FIRST i'm going to go thru what i think are all the refs here, obviously most of these are probably wronga nd i'm just grasping at straws BUT:

jackpot sad girl (obvious)

white day mafuyu (similair color pal, strings in the front kind of look like the glass shatter effect ? plus the ribbons kind of look like shizuku's card)

kanadetomosusora (that's what i thought when i saw the window in the right background, but i could be wrong)

(not in her card but everyone else's) hidden snow white event (the heart/apple shaped gem)

(ALSO not in her card but) tricologe (the gem)

ANYWAYS i have. a lot of thoughts and theories about this card. FIRST I'd like to bring your attention to the mask that's split in half. what i noticed was how there's a little bit of the white side still clinging onto the black side. i saw this as maybe how a bit of himself is still going to be lost ? like he's never going to be completely whole, as someone else (his mom) stole it (childhood). another thing is the ribbons. if you look closely, most of them appear to be dirtied, much like the vocaloid's drip in the empty sekai. i don't think mafuyu's really worn a dirty looking outfit. i'd argue even in the snow white thing his skirt didn't give the appearance of being dirty, just foggy. but the ribbons all look frayed and stained. and my third thing here is the string that's almost pulled tight around his neck. it's like if he doesn't cut the string with the scissors in his hand (might i mention they look a lot like embroidery or sewing scissors) the string will pull tight around his neck. but it'll also bring everything else crashing down, like the furniture. maybe this is like, a reference to how by embracing how he really feels his life is going to have to crash down before he can rebuild it ?? just a thought yk. ALSO I JUST NOTICED THIS BUT THE LIGHT IS COMING FROM THE SIDE OF THE BLACK MASK MAYBE SYMBOLIZING HOW HIS MOM THINKS SHE IS SAVING HIM (ie light is usually seen as good) BUT IS STILL BAD FOR HIM !!!!! also the wind is blowing in the opposite direction of the light soooooooooo. yeah. mafutime over.

the refences HERE are kinda easy. i think it's mostly a ref to infinitely gray but there might be an i nandesu/nomad ref that was absolutely lost on me. but the way ena is jumping from the gray reminds me of the gray from the infinitely gray set (take a shot everytime i say gray). it almost makes it kind of look like she's jumping out of a painting which i thought was cool. ANYWAYS m thoughts on this card are everything everywhere all at once. i think they gemstone heart apple thing is supposed to represent mafuyu. ena is reaching out because she wants to express her feelings towards mafuyu (she's jealous she's proud of him ect ect ect) but can never seem to reach him. but instead of giving up he's pulling the words apart (the strings) to get to him instead. ena's driven by passion, and even though she's stubborn, that's good sometimes. she wants to save mafuyu, going so far as to break out of her infinitely gray moment. also it kind of appears as though she's going from the light into the dark ? i dunno these thoughts are all over. i also think this card's fun bc ena and mafuyu's dynamic is the most interesting. in the main story ena was the only one not to idolize or pity mafuyu. unlike mizuki or kanade who kind of coddled him or whatever ena was just firing shots at him. ena's card also features a lot of tools used to create things, or artistic kind of things (that thing you use to spin thread, books that someone's written, a picture frame w what appears to be a painting) which might allude to how badly she wants to make things.

i'm pretty sure mizuki's references their ID SMILE event w all the glossy ribbons and such. NOW with mizook's,,,, i have a lot to say. first of all the fact that it looks like they're singing to the heart gemstone. it looks like they're quietly supporting it, but never really getting close enough to touching it. similar to mafuyu and mizuki's relationship, they're usually standing on the sidelines and giving mafuyu pieces of advice but never getting close enough to sharing their own feelings. kinda like how mizuki's afraid of getting close to people, so they never get too close to the crystal !!! another thing is the heart gem on their lapel. for this i'd like to cite their relationshipt to mafuyu as stated in the wiki: "Fellow circle member. Mizuki seems to understand Mafuyu's experience, and does their best to support her quietly." which is basically alluding to the fact that mizuki can closely relate to mafuyu !!! just like how mizuki's gem on their lapel looks similair to the apple gem thing, they both relate to one another in these experienes. mizuki, though, keeps their feelings close to their chest (literally in this card) and doesn't let them interfere w their support w mafuyu. also w the whole shared experiences thing, the string in the front of the card is already cut. this made me think that mizuki has already cut the string binding them to the expectations of others, and is now trying to help mafuyu do the same ? what made me think this was that there's no scissors in mizuki's card, which implies that it's been cut for a while. also there looks to be a vanity stand, dresser and teapot which makes me think of mizuki's love for cute things. similair to ena's card. or maybe i'm just reading intothese props too much i dunno.

i wanted to do kanade's last bc i was just. so hyped. i love this card. i'm listening to the kanade solo cover of hated by life just for this. i love her so much. okay. so first of all i think the ivy growing is a reference to carnation recollection just like how mizuki and ena's are refs to their first focuses. also there's all the musical things which are LOVELY. I AM IN LOVE (is about to change their blog theme just for this). something i noticed was how even though the strings are still present in kanade;s card, they're not tying her down to anything. the things around her aren't tied down, either. honestly it almost looks like the shine of a gemstone (... tricologe. also i'm sure there's a samsa ref here. kanade's special she gets all of her focus events). anyways another thing i love is kanade's relationship to mafuyu portrayed in the card. nobody else is as close to mafuyu as kanade is. unlike ena, she doesn't need to fight to get close. unlike mizuki, she's not afraid to get close. she holds mafuyu close to her heart, without fear of what loving him might be. she's just,,,, *starts sobbing*

she also seems to be underwater which is kind of ???? to me bc like. i don't think there's really any ocean cards. maybe it's a ref to the kanadetomosusora mv when the water's dripping ??? so like now the water's not just dripping it's fully filled up now ? also maybe, since the strings seem to be refering to the control mafuyu's mom has over him, kanade's protecting him from it ??? yeah i dunno.

#ran thoughts :thumbs up:#project sekai #pjsekai #mafuyu asahina #mizuki akiyama #kanade yoisaki #ena shinonome

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sleep-can-wait · 2 years ago

Text

Something Has Changed This Time

Slight TW: it explores a few serious topics such as suicide and death, is heavily angsty, and contains a few curse words. You have been warned.

---

One year left. She wondered how she would go out this time. Perhaps getting stabbed? Hanged? Stuck in a crossfire? She’d done it all.

For three thousand years, Aru had been alive. Every generation for the past centuries she would restart her life at the age of seven and see it till the end of her seventeenth birthday when she would die a brutal death and the process would then repeat.

She was always invisible to all but herself until the day she passed, then she’d become a star for a few days until her case was dismissed. Then she’d quietly creep into another family as if she had always existed there for seven years. And Aru was exhausted.

She had tried to take her own life, but then she would go into painful comas that lasted until her fateful birthday or be saved by someone who thought themselves a hero when in reality they were doing her no favors. All the world was against her.

Slowly her hand spun the spoon that made the coffee it was dipped in become a vortex of brown. It was pretty here, with its windchimes and large windows that persuaded more sunbeams than needed to enter. They called this place a ‘cafe’. What a stupid name, she thought.

People dotted the room reading novels, perhaps with the motive to seem naturally aesthetic. What idiots they all looked like, holding aloft their books with an imperious look etched on their faces as they pretended to read words they didn’t actually understand while putting on an air of grace and poise. One man was reading an economics textbook with his expression saying he was in the middle of a heart-wrenching romance scene. Another was leafing through a comedy while gasping as if someone had been killed. A hysterical giggle passed through Aru’s lips. Murdered. Being accused of murder. What did it all matter?

The best feature of this tiny shop was perhaps the flowers. Placed here and there and staining pastel colors into the monotone background. There were none in the dungeon, she thought absentmindedly.

Just then a waiter dropped a glass cup near Aru, and a few shards flew her way, trying to embed themselves in her leg but only managing to scrape the surface instead. Red pooled from the scratches and slowly rolled down her skin.

It hurt, she thought distantly. Everything hurt so fucking much.

“I’m sorry! Damn it, I messed up. Are you alright, it must be painful? Shit, I’m so sorry!” She looked up at the blabbering waiter and startled. Him. She could never, would never, forget how he looked, how he smelled, how he touched. Would never forget those eyes.

Her second life. The one she had loved most in this cruel place. The one who had told her he loved her back. The one who had ended his own life to protect hers. Her sixteenth life. Her two-thousandth life. The list went on.

“Aiden?” He looked up.

Besides the second time she was reincarnated, she never talked to him. So why now…?

“How did you know?” And for the first time in years, she let her tears drop. Aiden panicked.

“Oh no please don’t cry I’m really sorry I was being a stupid clumsy jerk I’m sorry-!!” He too looked close to breaking down with her.

“No, no, I just- just had a really bad day. I… heard a customer say your name, that’s all.” She squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

“Oh, ok. That- that’s good. I mean not good!” He rubbed furiously at her eyes, and she remembered how they used to comfort each other like this. Bawling their eyes out and the other too would start crying because they thought they were the one who messed up. Not the world.

It was him, Aru knew. She would always know, even in death. And she knew she couldn’t mess up his second chance at life. Not again.

Remember, it’s me against the world.

“No,” He would say whenever she said that. “It’s you and me against the world. Remember that.”

“I’d better get going.” She got up swiftly, placing a few shards gently into his palm and telling him to not hurt himself, before hurrying out the door.

“Wait!” He called out desperately, pleadingly. She should have cut him off, leaving only the splayed string behind. Instead, she called out:

“Arundhati Shah,” Then left. He understood. He always did.

But something had changed this time.

---

Let me know if you want an explanation of the entire plot, though it won't be the actual story.

#aru shah #the pandava quintet #tpq #roshani chokshi #rick riordan presents #aruden #aru x aiden #aiden acharya

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quietlyblooms · 4 months ago

Note

“ look at me. “

send “ look at me. “ for my muse’s reaction to yours grabbing mine by the chin and forcing mine to look at them during a tense / highly emotional moment.

@killerhubby won't let chiyo look away!

it's moments like this when she really does wish to be nothing more than a background character, easily overlooked and forgotten. her emotions are her own, and only she should have to struggle with them, accept these ugly moments of weakness ( but has she ever done that? has she ever been that kind? ). she doesn't want anyone else to see her like this, doesn't trust anyone else to see her like this. she's been burned before. she's smart enough to not reach for the same flame twice.

so chiyo doesn't want to look at mirage. it's only a bad day, she tells herself. it's only a rough patch. she doesn't need to be saved. she needs a bandage for the finger she's sliced upon broken glass. she needs to replace mirage's picture frame, get an apology out that doesn't sound so damn sad. she needs---

mirage takes her chin in his hand, gentle but firm as he tilts her head up, and chiyo can't do anything to hide from his gaze as their eyes lock. try as she might, her mask won't fall back into place, though she suspects it wouldn't do her any good anyway. he sees her. it's too new a feeling to be comforting yet. hope whispers that it's fine, and experience begs her to pull away before she unravels.

but chiyo stays. brow furrowed and lips stubbornly pursed, she stays and cradles her hand against her chest as if her injury might defend her. look! look how she bleeds! look at the scarlet staining her fingertip and the tears that are but a result of a sharp edge sliding through soft skin; there is nothing else to see, so do not look so closely.

" i'm fine," chiyo tells him despite how futile it feels. the futility stirs something in her chest that can't be pushed down, that can't be ignored. those stubborn lips tremble. " don't look at me like that. i'm really fine. "

#killerhubby #um. so i kinda got carried away while writing this one ASDFGHFD #and i keep thinking about the line you wrote in our thread where mirage says he sees chiyo and just!! oh the impact of that #to be perceived is terribly scary to her for a multitude of reasons but it boils down to: she's afraid that what's seen isn't loveable #like when she's getting overwhelmed and teary-eyed over a knocked-over picture frame :' )#and so you can see how this one got away from me :' )))#i hope you enjoyed it though!! and thank you for sending this prompt in bc i love it very much uvu #i had to be there to be loved | interactions #to restart this heart of mine | main

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ejzah · 2 years ago

Text

The Agent and the Fireman, Part 3

***

Marty Deeks sat down on the end of his bed, a business card that wore signs of being held multiple times in one hand and his cell in the other. He’d reached this point half a dozen times before, but been interrupted, or chickened out, every time.

Normally, he wasn’t shy about asking a woman out, but Kensi Blye did something different to him. She was blunt, fearless, funny, and absolutely gorgeous.

He smiled, remembering his initial shock, followed by amusement and finally admiration when she grilled him about calling. Even though her tone had been joking when she called him out, Deeks had a feeling he wouldn’t get another chance if he waited too much longer. Brushing his bangs from his eyes, Deeks thumbed in the number on the card.

***

Kensi got home, kicking off her shoes on the way and leaving a trail of clothes on her way to her bedroom. There, she she rooted around in the pile of clothes next to her bed until she found a reasonably clean shirt and tugged that on. After that, she collected a glass of water, a beer, and the pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream from the kitchen, settling herself in front of the TV.

It had been an incredibly long, tiring, not to mention frustrating week. They’d finally pinned down the person stealing confidential information from multiple companies, as well as linked him to their two cases of arson. Kensi took his arrest personally after nearly burning to death.

Prying the lid off the tub of ice cream, Kensi settled in for a night of burgeoning supermodels and delicious carbs.

Her phone rang two and a half episodes on, and she picked up without looking.

“Nell, you had better not be interrupting my Tara Banks time with another case.”

“Hi, uh, it’s Deeks actually.”

Kensi’s eyes widened, words for escaping her for a second.

“You know, from LA fire department,” he added, like Kensi could forget the man who had literally carried her out of a burning building in his strong arms, like something out of a romance novel. “Please tell me this is the right number.”

“Yes, it is,” Kensi said quickly. “Sorry, I thought you were a coworker.”

Despite her teasing and pushing, she truly hadn’t expected him to call at this point. As though he could see her across the phone, she shoved the half-eaten carton of ice cream under the coffee table, and straightened her stained t-shirt.

“Thank god. That saves me the trouble of choosing a wrong number story.” He cleared his throat, and something in the background rustled. Kensi immediately pictured him laying down in bed, shifting among the covers.

Ok, get a grip, Kensi, she told herself before her imagination turned more inappropriate.

There was a extended pause, and even with the distance between them, she felt the tension grow.

“So, I believe you owe me a date,” Deeks said softly, the slight drawl sending unexpected warmth to Kensi’s cheeks.

“Um, if anyone owes a date, it’s you,” Kensi objected instinctively.

“I believe I saved your life, Agent Blye.”

“And I had to wait over a week for you to call me.”

Deeks chuckled, a throaty sound that Kensi was already a big fan of. “You make an excellent point. Alright, so Agent Blye, would you go out on a date with me next Saturday? World catastrophes notwithstanding.”

“Yes,” Kensi agreed without hesitation, and for once she didn’t even care. “And just for future reference, I like sushi, Mexican, and Korean food,” she added.

“Noted,” Deeks responded with a soft chuckled. “Alright, I’ll text you with the details.” He paused a beat. “I’ll let you get back to your important Top Model,” he teased.

Al Kensi got out with was a gasp of protest before Deeks signed off with a laugh filled goodbye.

***

A/N: Thanks for everyone who has expressed their enthusiasm for this story. I hope this less action filled chapter is still enjoyable.

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #firefighter deeks #the agent and the fireman #part 3 #au #ejzah fanfiction

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 9 months ago

Text

Blood and sand - Chapter Nine

At the end of the room was the largest stained glass of them all. Huge, set deep in black stone with veins of gold all through, it depicted an upside-down city, cradled in black tentacles. Luke knew, suddenly, that that was once Carcosa.

Carcosa as it was, before the King went mad.

Written for the @malevolentmadnessmixup. Art by @aktrashpanda.

>>>>READ ON AO3 OR BELOW<<<<

----------

Chapter Nine: The Test

Luke woke and felt like a different person.

Weird inside. Sort of numb. Older. Definitely grown-up. Not a child, ever again. He shifted, and the cot creaked.

Beneath him, the bottom cot creaked in response. “Luke?” said Arthur.

“I'm here.”

“Are you okay?”

What a question. “I don’t know,” said Luke, because neither yes nor no worked.

Arthur sighed. “Fair. I… I wasn’t okay the first time I had to kill, either.”

Luke swallowed. That bitterness was back in his mouth. “I hate this.”

“I know.” And it spoke to Arthur’s wisdom that he did not say anything like I told you so. Maybe he knew Luke wouldn’t be backing down. Because Luke wouldn’t. He just… wouldn’t be telling Parker what happened, either.

“So,” said Arthur. “You have magic.”

Luke swallowed. “Yes.”

“A fair amount of it, it seems.”

“I don’t know. I… I don’t know.”

Silence for a moment. Other conversations buzzed and rumbled, rising and falling like gentle ocean waves as the tide went out.

“It’s a lot of magic, Luke,” said Arthur finally.

Luke didn’t really care at the moment. “Good, I guess.”

“Very good.” The cot creaked again. “When you go to train today, see what Dennis says. You may be able to use it. To… not have to…”

“Get gored through the stomach?” said Luke, and his voice cracked. “Or maybe have to dig a knife into someone’s throat?”

“Maybe,” said Arthur carefully.

Luke rolled to face the wall. “I don’t want to train today.”

“Please do,” Arthur said softly. “Please. Nobody can afford to save you. You have to save yourself.”

Luke closed his eyes. He’d never been this tired. Was this what grown-ups meant when they always said they were tired? This? Awful. Why had he ever wanted to be grown?

“Please, Luke,” said Arthur quietly.

“All right,” said Luke, because Arthur was kind to him, no matter how crazy he was, and besides, training was practical.

Although… Dennis had seen him kill that guy. Luke’s cheeks heated.

It shouldn’t matter, but it did. Luke rolled again, planted his face in his pillow, and stayed there for the night.

Dennis was in the same place he had been: leaning against the arena entry, watching others spar with a critical eye. Threadbare, too, clothes as always leeched of color. The cut was slightly different, but the gist was the same: trousers, shirt, suspenders.

Luke had a sudden, weird insight: clothing did not matter to this man. It was camouflage; it was necessary to keep him in the background, unnoticed, blending in. Now, there was a thing to consider. To move through life, invisible. Yes; a thing to consider.

Dennis spotted him. “There you are. Hoped you wouldn’t skip today.”

“No, sir,” said Luke, and almost couldn’t hear himself.

The Butcher studied him, wearing that usual smile, but his eyes were sharp. Studying, analyzing, weighing.

Luke swallowed. “Sir?”

“Follow me, lad.” And instead of walking into the arena, Dennis headed down the curved hall.

Luke frowned and jogged to catch up.

The sounds of fighting in the arena vanished completely, stolen by thick walls. Dennis did not hum. It was the first time he hadn’t filled that silence with his voice, and Luke didn’t know what to do about it. “Are you angry with me, sir?”

“No, lad,” said Dennis. “You caught some attention yesterday. It’s a good thing. And, well, I’m thinkin’ hard about things. You know how it is, don’tcha? Sometimes, things don’t go quite as you thought they might, and then you find yerself questioning the whole deal.”

Luke sighed. “I do know that, sir.” Because he did. He’d left the world of his birth behind, possibly forever, if he could convince Parker to stay here. (And he would.) This was so much better than anything either of them had ever had, even with all… this.

This. The arena. The Games. None of this was normal for the Dreamlands. He could take Parker back to Celephaïs. They could start a new detective agency. Arthur could even come. It would be like Arkham, but better.

Dennis was watching him. “Not crushed, then, by it all?”

He was not. “No, sir.”

“Bit fucked up, though, aren’t ya?” lilted the Butcher in a light, friendly tone.

Luke swallowed, but his traitorous voice cracked anyway. “I’m not f-fucked up. I just… I didn’t like it.”

“Most people don’t,” Dennis said mildly, like there was some hidden meaning to those who liked it.

Luke didn’t know how to pursue that, or where to even start. “Oh,” he finally managed, and his cheeks burned.

“Nothing to worry your little head about,” said Dennis mildly, and stopped beside a stretch of wall that looked as blank and subtly curved as the rest of this place. “See anything interesting here?”

Luke did not. He shook his head.

“Oh, I think y’do,” said Dennis. “Look harder.”

Luke frowned. He squinted.

“Use your knack,” Dennis murmured.

So Luke tried. Looked, trying to see into this thing the way he could into bodies, into places that required healing, into the strangeness of disease.

The wall shimmered.

Luke gasped.

Gold sparks rose like from an oil drum fire, and gradually, faintly, revealed a long, narrow outline. “A door!”

“Knew you could do it. In you go.”

Luke frowned. It was dark; it should lead to the arena, but it did not. “Where does this go?”

“Somewhere good for you,” said Dennis.

You caught some attention, he’d said, and Luke hadn’t parsed it. Oh, no. Was he in trouble after all? “I don’t want to go.”

Dennis’ expression didn’t change. “Afraid you've got no choice, laddie. Go on, now. You'll be fine.”

Oh, he really didn’t want to go. His hands shook; his face felt numb.

The Butcher waited.

Luke was no stranger to adults forcing him into places he didn’t want to go. He didn’t need to be told that would happen here. “What’s inside?”

“Possible your destiny,” said Dennis Collins like that was no big deal.

Luke’s eyes went huge.

“In you go,” said Dennis about the mysterious wall-cave.

Luke took a slow breath and stepped inside.

Stairs. So many stairs, leading up and up and up, and he could only see because of the strangely patterned colored light leaking from above. It reminded him of something, these colors, but he couldn’t place them; very dim, just enough to ensure he didn’t trip, they beckoned, waiting and unknown.

Familiar, though. He’d seen this. Somewhere.

The smells hit him not long after that—warm and lovely, enticing and strange. He had to stop walking for a moment, close his eyes, and breathe it in; it reminded him the tiniest bit of the incense Phoebe occasionally lit to honor their grandparents, whom Luke had never met.

The scent soothed him. Made him want to curl up on the stairs and just be for a while. But Parker was still dead, and Luke could not afford the time. He resumed his climb.

More steps. More steps. He had to be walking magically past the Arena at this point, maybe even at the far side. More steps. More—

At the top, a Dancer waited, and Luke froze.

He’d seen them in the hall. They were beautiful the same way a well-forged blade was beautiful; her limbs ended in sharp and deadly points, and there were no straight lines anywhere on her. A swath of gauzy gold wrapped her, more symbolic than anything, and she had no face.

Luke’s throat closed with fear. For one moment, he balanced on the edge of just running back the way he’d come.

Parker. He couldn’t do that. No. For Parker, he would see this through. Luke swallowed around the tightness and resumed his climb.

She waited. Follow, she said without speaking, and drifted away, walking, but making no sound.

He now understood the colors. It was like a cathedral up here—like Saint Patrick’s on Mission street, which he’d visited once when he’d briefly had a white neighbor his age, years ago. Stained glass windows pierced the dark stone, shattering the two suns into warm, rich glory, a kaleidoscope of magnificence that tinted the very air. Gawking, he walked, looking up, staring around.

The windows were not of human saints. They showed monsters.

Behemoths rose and flailed terrifying limbs in small pieces of colored glass. Lightning cracked eternally over impossible seas, shown in darkening colors and clever bubbles and tiny, frightening ocean monsters that glowed in the deep. Fire plunged down from above, impossible and magical, seeming to dance at the whims of multi-headed creatures that reached toward their flames. And blood—

Most of the glass windows showed blood. Spills of it, splashes of it, viciously red and bright, pooling around faceless dead bodies in battlefields, decorating angry gods.

They got worse the further in he walked. Glass caricatures of people being skinned. Glass images of people being digested. Glass fields of parts, organs and limbs and heads just lying there like spilled buttons.

Luke decided to focus on the Dancer instead.

Carcosa as it was, before the King went mad.

Jagged and perfect, it stabbed the golden sky, glints all through its dark architecture as if the city itself had been studded with jewels. He could get lost staring into it, at the detail, slightly dizzied as if he could fall into that towering window and find himself in a city that no longer was.

Below it loomed an empty throne, far bigger than any human would ever need, made of the same shiny, black stone as the walls and also threaded with bright gold veins. It was empty.

Luke had gotten distracted. The Dancer was gone. He was alone. He turned, taking it in, and looked up.

The ceiling was the night sky, but not one he’d ever seen, not even in the Dreamlands. It was not pure black, but some dark, warm color, like the darkest of golds, and black stars flickered and slid slowly across its breadth. Luke stared, mouth open. It was wonderful. It was awe-inspiring. It was unspeakably grieved.

Luke didn’t know how he knew that. Maybe it was a glimpse of what Hastur had been, his taste and power. It wasn’t like Luke would ever find out—

“Do you find it beautiful, human?” said the King in Yellow, appearing against one wall and teaching Luke that gods could hide their presence. Back-lit by stained glass, the King loomed, enormous, and his power and presence and attention came down on Luke like a bag of wet cement.

Luke fell to his knees, and for a long, awful moment, forgot how to breathe.

[chapter ten] [masterpost]

#malevolent #malevolent au #malevolent fic #arthur lester #john doe #dennis collins #luke yang #kiy malevolent #malevolent madness mixup #blood and sand fic #kayne malevolent #oscar malevolent

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