#would have prefered they kept it book compliant i think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neverwritewhatyouknow · 1 year

Note

Hi, so, I agree that we're unlikely to get even a token reference to Hanukkah or Magen David pendant in the movie. I assume that if they'd kept any references to Nora being Jewish in the movie, the powers-that-be would've publicized it to deflect criticism about casting a non-Jewish actress. Since that didn't happen, my guess is that Jews just Won't Exist in the RWRB movie 'verse.

But I was curious about something in one of your recent posts about how, in order for the for the film to convey Nora's Jewishness despite Rachel not being Jewish, it would have to rely on stereotypes like Hanukkah or a necklace, etc. (I don't have your post right in front of me, so my paraphrasing might be slightly off.) My question, I guess, is how that differs from the book. Admittedly, it's been a few years since I've read it, but to the best of my recollection, Nora's Jewish identity relies largely on stereotypes, such as her very stereotypical Ashkenazi appearance, a necklace at the NYE party (I think), and the Hanukkah reference. I think that's it. Which was enough for me when I read the book--just the existence of a queer Jew on the page was so validating for me as a queer Jew--but, at the same time... If the movie *were* to rely on the same token references to Nora's identity--which, as you pointed out, are kind of the very low bar/lowest common denominator cultural signs representing Jews in media--then does that really make Nora's identity in the book Great Representation? I'm not terribly invested in the entire discourse of good vs. bad representation, but I'm just curious what you think about the difference between using those specific cultural signifiers in the book vs. the film, independent of the casting of a Jewish actress. Like, if the film had cast a Jewish actress--say Kat Graham, if we're looking for a Black Jewish actress relatively close to Taylor in age--and then only had her wear a necklace and make an offhanded reference to Hanukkah, would it still seem like they were relying on stereotypes to convey her Jewishness? Is it relevant here that with the other minority characters, most viewers can readily identify that the casting is book!canon-compliant, while they probably wouldn't automatically read a Black actress as Jewish without very basic cues?

(On a different topic, I just wanted to point out that Greg Berlanti has done this before. I'm not sure how much creative control he had in RWRB production, but he directed and was deeply involved with creative decisions for Love, Simon. Not sure if you've read the book/seen the film, but in the book, Simon's friend Nick is Jewish. In the film, they cast Jorge Lendeborg Jr., a Dominican actor who isn't Jewish to the best of my knowledge. The film then very clearly erased the character's Jewishness by having him make a joke to Simon about the time they got tipsy on Manischewitz at their other friend Leah's... I think it was a Seder. Anyway, Leah is *not* Jewish in the books, which the Jewish author of the series has confirmed, and actress Katherine Langford isn't Jewish to the best of my knowledge, but what does Katherine Langford have? Whiteness and wavy brown hair, the stereotypical physical markers of Ashkenazi identity! So. Anyway. Just wanted to point out that Berlanti/his production company have done this before: taking a canonically Jewish character, casting a non-Jewish actor of color while hoping no one would notice the erasure of that character's Jewishness, and in that particular case, just... faffing Jewishness on the character who ~looked more stereotypically Jewish, even though the actress wasn't, and hoping that would appease viewers, I guess. I don't know how other viewers felt about it, but I know that it really got under my skin at the time. And it felt like a slap in the face that they just assigned Nick's Jewish identity to another character. I almost would've preferred if they hadn't bothered making the other character Jewish because it didn't actually feel like real representation to me, just a throwaway line/joke, probably to avoid criticism, or maybe to appease the Jewish author. But, hey, Berlanti got a visually diverse cast, so why should he have spent the extra time finding a Jewish Latino actor for Nick??? /sarcasm. But, yeah, it's starting to feel like a pattern in media, and it just pisses me off so much because they could be casting non-white Jews! That would be really great to remind non-Jewish viewers that not all Jews are white! But instead... this.)

Anyway, sorry this is long and rambly and kind of rant-y, but I'm glad you're talking about this. I know you get a lot of hate, so I just wanted to say that I appreciate the attention you're calling to this. I often don't feel secure enough in my own Jewishness to critique antisemitism in media, so I really respect what you're doing here.

Hey Anon!!!!

You win the award for the longest ask I’ve ever had. It’s a good award, don’t worry, I love when people have a bunch of stuff to say.

I’m gonna try and answer this in parts by paragraph, but if I skip something just lmk.

1. Totally agree. They know that people, or at the very least, one person is very vocal about it and they’ve had so many opportunities to say something and haven’t. I’ve contacted them via social media and email, they’ve been silent in all the ways. While Casey has been very vocal about literally everything else, and the director (who blocked me when I called everything out and told him that Rachel was receiving antisemitic hate) is always posting RWRB stuff. So, they’re aware and vocal, just not caring.

2. My feelings on this, is that in the book, Nora is Jewish and any description of Hanukkah and her physical characteristics are there to show that she’s Jewish, because it’s a book. We can’t see it, there has to be some sort of description. Did Casey do the bare minimum and rely on stereotypes? Yes. Not harmful ones, per say, like I have dark curly hair and would go home for Hanukkah, but it’s clear the CMQ doesn’t know a lot about Jews in general (I have another post on that and about how Nora’s book rep is fine, but when looking at it from the movie lens, is a little stereotypical and can border on offensive by giving her the rich Jew trope). BUT, that said, Nora in the book, in my opinion, is solid Jewish rep because she was Jewish on every page without it being constantly brought up. I would say that given what we normally get, Nora was pretty good rep. And given what is known of CMQ’s background and present, and the lack of Jewish education, Nora was fine. Could there have been more or better or different stuff? Absolutely. But at least Nora was a person and not a caricature, you know?

3. If the actress was Black and Jewish and they had her wearing jewelry to signify it, it would fit the character more than throwing it on a non-Jewish actress and saying “look we made a Jew.” It becomes less of a stereotype and more of just a symbol. But even if they didn’t have any of the signifiers, just having a Jew onscreen would be representation enough. Would people instantly think she was Jewish if she didn’t “look Jewish?”Probably not. But she would be, and that’s what’s important. The same way that if a character (beyond RWRB) was any other minority, they wouldn’t have to parade around with a gay flag or a trans button or a T-shirt that says they’re Indigenous. Just the existence would be enough. And if they then relied on some of those signifiers, as long as they aren’t harmful or done purposely to make a drastic big deal, it wouldn’t be forced, it would be much more natural. But just relying on stereotypes is different than a little cue in. A Jewish character played by a Jewish actor wearing a Magen David… that’s power, that’s common, if handled right, it’s basic in a usual way. Is it a little stereotypical since not all Jews wear one? Sure, but it’s not a bad symbol. A Jewish character played by a non-Jew wearing one… that’s a stereotype, that’s using our most important and well-known symbol to make a Jewish character beyond anything else. History lesson for those who don’t know: During The Holocaust, Jews had to wear yellow stars on their clothes so people could instantly recognize them as Jews. So if a Jewish character (played by a Jew) is wearing one, fine, it fits, it could clue the audience in if they would have no other way of knowing but it’s not needed because their existence is enough. If a non-Jew is wearing one, it feels like you’re saying the star that was used to mark our death is the only way we can exist as alive in your production. Tell me if that was all a rambling mess!!!!!

4. No. I did not know that. I saw that movie, but never read the book, so I had no idea that he was supposed to be Jewish. Which is basically exactly what’s about to happen to Nora. Here’s a little thing I feel like people don’t know about good ol’ Greg…

He’s not Jewish. His partner isn’t Jewish. They’re raising their kids Jewish (his kids technically are Jewish via egg donor, but the raising in faith would make them Jewish regardless, I bring this up not for the kids themselves but for the fact that Greg is kinda… taking the parts of Jewish was he wants and leaving the rest.). He says he grew up in an area that was massively Jewish and Italian and said “I’m not sure that I knew if I was one or the other until I was 9 or 10.” What the actual fuck, Greg??! What?!! No. That’s not okay. He was raised Catholic and was an alter boy. He knew as a kid that he wasn’t Jewish religiously and he the way that he twists being Italian and Jewish together is just… wrong. He treats Jewishness like a toy, like a coat to put on and take off. He said he always felt enthralled and comfortable around the Jewish faith (that it was the faith he felt the most comfortable in beyond their (Catholic) faith) and that’s why he’s raising his kids in it, but he and his husband don’t want to convert, that’s fine you don’t have to, I guess that’s up to you. We’re a great religion and community, please raise your kids Jewish, if you’re serious about that. BUT the issue comes with the fact that he wants only the good parts of being Jewish, and won’t look at the bad parts— the hate, the antisemitism, all of that. We’re a toy for him. He says that since his son “thinks he’s Jewish” that it took pressure off of him actually being Jewish. His exact words are “At some point, I’m going to have to make that transition.” Being Jewish to him is a chore, something he’s reluctant to do, but he says he has to, like a child dragging their feet to do their chores. This is different from a convert who felt such a strong pull and wanted to be a part of the community and family. What Greg is doing is not that. He’s putting on a show. He’s letting people think he’s Jewish for clout, he likes that it gives him a Hollywood edge, a diverse credit, but he can still say that he isn’t Jewish when it comes down to it. They do Shabbat and keep traditions and that’s all fine, he said he went to Israel and it was profound, okay. But notice what he still refuses to call himself, what he literally laughs off being known as… A Jew. He doesn’t want to be Jewish, he just wants to reap the benefits. He’ll talk about his Jewish identity while saying that converting is something he’s going to be forced to do. He only talks about Jewish in terms of faith, and he purposely sought out a Jewish egg donor for his children which he said was “not an easy thing to find, by the way.” to keep things kosher in the eyes of religion. I wonder if since the faith was what brought him in and he seems really set upon the fact that Jewish = religious, if he doesn’t even think about the fact that Jews are more than that. He claims as a child he didn’t know if he was Jewish or Italian, while being actively raised not-Jewish, is that a man who has a grasp on the full extent of what it means to be a Jew? He’s definitely raising his kids in the most Jewish ways he’s knows, zero issues with any of that, but the way he talks about things and the way he acts just feels so much like he’ll take the cool parts of being Jewish without the rest. It feels almost like a fetish. He’ll take the benefits of being Jewish while also actively celebrating all the Christian holidays too (in his own home, not just with family), and all the while refusing to even take the idea of conversation seriously (as he says it’s “pressure” and a “transition” and something he’ll have to do someday.) He plays the role of the “Jewish” Hollywood executive to get ahead, but when it comes to standing up for Jews in his productions, he’ll erase them because he’s scared of the backlash that comes with putting Jewish characters into stuff. He wants the happy parts of being Jewish, the place that felt comfortable for him. I’m glad he feels comfortable and welcomed into Judaism, truly, but just wanting the happy parts and not facing the reality of what it means to be Jewish feels wrong.

He’s also a hypocrite. He received some hate mail after making a show with Jewish characters, with his exact words being “I chose to make the hero family of the Jewish faith— and we chose to dramatize it in a lot of ways.” and then asked how to be an advocate. Note: he claims that he experienced “antisemitism first hand” due to this hate mail. I think he experienced people being antisemitic and Jew-hate, and likely it was thrown in his direction. But… if you’re not Jewish and you’re openly non-Jewish, your experience of first hand antisemitism is going to be way different than a Jewish person’s. It’s not going to impact you the same way, it just can’t, you don’t have the lived experienced. *cough* I’ve nearly died many times *cough* He then said all this, before doing exactly what he said he would, reverting back to what he knows… Which is not having Jewish characters and using them basically as pawns.

Greg Berlanti is not an ally to Jewish characters. It’s genuinely really sad that his kids will grow up without that Jewish rep, all because of him. So far he’s done it twice, once for a boy, once for a girl— exactly like his kids.

I didn’t know any of this about Greg until this Anon pointed stuff out. But, oh boy, this is gonna be fun. Watch out, Greggy B. I’m gonna enjoy exposing you on your hypocrisy😘

Did I answer everything, Anon? Were things clear? My phone is on 5% so I’m typing super fast. Just tell me if I didn’t.

#rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #red white royal blue movie #rwrb cast #rwrb #red white and royal blue movie #nora holleran #casey mcquiston #red white royal blue cast #rachel hilson #Jewish #greg berlanti #love simon #talking with anon

18 notes · View notes

amsterdamhotelroom · 2 years

Text

the thing is……. adding the soc characters to s&b annoys me but. amita suman as inej…… <333333

#i just don’t like it very much bc putting the soc characters in a very different story naturally makes them develop differently #and kaz and inej’s relationship feels quite different in the show which makes me </3 #but amita is so perfect……….#and if they show kaz’s backstory this season i’ll get chills so <3 #i have mixed feelings on the show overall agdkdj #would have prefered they kept it book compliant i think #i feel like they’ll have to move into the soc plot now though with matthias in jail and nina in ketterdam and wylan joining the group #unless they REALLY switch things up which would bother me #but i’m excited to see wylan!!#this is just my train of thought lol #what also annoys me is that the show made it seem like kaz is the leader of the dregs #which removes inej’s debt to per haskell and makes it so she can leave whenever she wants which she would definitely do #inej just wants to be free! once she gets the money at the end of crooked kingdom she leaves ketterdam!#if she has the ability to leave the dregs right now in the show why isn’t she?#at this point in her story she wasn’t even that attached to kaz #idk #show kaz is SO much less emotionally constipated #shadow and bone

8 notes · View notes

youcouldmakealife · 3 years

Text

SOTW: Gabe/Stephen (Bryce/Jared, Canucks); trenches (pt 4)

For the prompt: Outside POV of the end of the last chapter of Jared

It’s a long flight. Gabe tries to read, but he can’t keep his attention on the words, finds himself re-reading sentences, passages, retaining absolutely nothing. He gives up after awhile, pulls up a dumb, mildly addictive — okay, extremely addictive — mobile game, because at least it’ll distract him.

“Fucking twitter,” Dmitry mutters beside him. Gabe glances over and sees a thumbnail image; a behind the glass view, right before the hit. He doesn’t need to check twitter to know the kind of stuff Dmitry’s reading.

“Don’t read it,” Gabe says. “Did they say you won the fight at least?”

“Obviously,” Dmitry says. “Except Bruins fans, of course. They’re whining that it was assault.”

“Of course they are,” Gabe says, and goes back to his game.

Gabe checks in on Bryce and Jared a few times. Jared’s out like a light, which is probably for the best — it’s not a short flight, and he looks pained even in sleep. At least he isn’t conscious of it. Bryce hasn’t let go of Jared’s hand, or if he has he keeps taking it again, phone in one hand and Jared’s hand in the other. Every time Gabe checks in he gives him a weak, sickly smile. Neither of them say a word, both trying not to wake Jared up.

Jared looks better once they land. Not great, but better. Bryce doesn’t. It’s like every improvement on the Jared front’s taken something out of Bryce, or more likely that what must have been one of the worst days of Bryce’s life keeps going and going and going. It’s a little past one, but they’ve been east long enough that their bodies are telling them it’s four in the morning, and Bryce didn’t sleep on the plane at all.

“I’m gonna drive you guys home,” Gabe says.

Bryce frowns. “I can—“

“No offence?” Gabe interrupts. “You do not look good to drive right now, Bryce.”

“Our car,” Bryce says, but the protest’s weak. He knows it too. The last thing this never-ending awful day needs is a fender bender because Bryce is sleep deprived and emotionally drained.

Gabe drives Bryce’s car so they don’t have to deal with that in the morning. He’ll have to walk it from Bryce and Jared’s, get Stephen to drive him to the airport tomorrow. Or, he decides when he drops them off, he’ll drive it over, or make Stephen do it. He’s too fucking tired. He wants to crawl into bed and wrap himself around Stephen and just not think for a bit. Preferably because he’s asleep, but he’s not picky.

Gabe herds them right to their front door over more weak protests from Bryce. Jared doesn’t even bother, practically sleepwalking, which feels wrong. Jared can find a protest for everything. Being contrary for the sake of being contrary makes him happy. Jared compliant is vaguely disturbing, like Dima quiet, or his mom without an opinion, or Stephen’s sisters being sweet to him. Stephen, Gabe means. They’re often sweet to Gabe.

The drive home’s thankfully short, or Gabe would be in danger of a fender bender of his own. He barely has the energy to drag his luggage inside, and he only does it because he’ll forget it in Bryce’s trunk otherwise, and he needs some of it. They keep losing chargers. Gabe’s not blaming Stephen, but he’s blaming Stephen.

Gabe’s so tired. He would be right now no matter what, after two weeks on the road, but he’s just — he’s so fucking tired. The adrenaline from earlier’s long burned out, along with the concern that kept him alert, peripherally aware of Jared at all times until him and Bryce were safely home. And now he’s just tired.

Stephen left the lights on downstairs again, and Gabe flips them off one by one until he hears a quiet, “Rude.”

Gabe hits the switch again, finds Stephen in the living room curled under a throw with a book.

“Hey,” Stephen says, sitting up. “You okay?”

“You wait up?” Gabe asks.

Stephen’s going to shrug and say it’s not a weeknight, but it’s well past when he’d go to bed on a night in, weekend nights included. He waited up, and not because Gabe was at the end of a road trip. His work schedule’s inconsistent, so he likes to find consistency where he can. If the game had been uneventful he would have been fast asleep upstairs, say he waited two weeks already, so he could wait a little more, see Gabe in the morning.

Stephen shrugs. “Weekend,” he says. “How’s Jared doing?”

“Still has a headache, but he’s okay,” Gabe says. “I drove them home. Team all knows about them now, though. Keeping it under wraps wasn’t exactly the first thing on Bryce’s mind once they got out of the public eye.”

Stephen nods. “You okay?” he asks again.

Gabe shakes his head, tight. He doesn’t know how Stephen’s going to feel about being touched right now, so he stays where he is, figures he should let Stephen come to him if he wants to. It can’t have been fun for him either.

“He’s okay,” Stephen says, dogearing his book and walking over to Gabe, hands out, like Gabe’s a skittish horse he’s trying to calm. “Gabe.”

“I had no way of—“ Gabe says. “I couldn’t—“

“He’s okay,” Stephen says, pulling Gabe in. “And I’m okay. Okay? We’re okay.”

Gabe nods, takes a deep breath for what feels like the first time all night, Stephen’s shampoo and laundry detergent as Stephen curves a hand around the back of his head.

“Come to bed,” Stephen says, voice reverberating against Gabe’s cheek.

“Not yet,” Gabe says. “I can’t—“

“Okay,” Stephen says, and keeps holding on.

#SOTW #fic snippet #gabe markson #stephen petersen #bryce marcus #jared matheson

173 notes · View notes

theodora3022 · 4 years

Text

Playing tricks with the trickster

Summary: Failed escape attempt from yandere Childe. He lets you play your cards, even playing along, just for his own amusement.

Notes: My first genshin piece yay... I had a sweet and terrible dream of me running from Childe in the woods. Also some inspiration was drawn from @cinnamonest‘s this post, one big virtual hug to her! I hope I did Childe justice, what can I say I love manipulative smiling boys. It has become a pattern as I dash from one fandom to another. This is had turned out to be longer then I expected...Ginger boy demands my time and energy too much omg. Mind the warnings, although there is nothing extreme in this.

Fun fact, I was looping to Nintendo game by Alessia Cara when writing this down. I believe it fits the theme of this fic quite well.

Tagging: @akutaguagua a great friend who patiently beta-read this mess of a horror dream and gave me lots of kind praises!

(Offical art belongs to miHoYo! This is a cover page of this video, if there is any issues, contact me and I will remove it at once)

Warnings: Implied past abduction,dub-con touching, mild degradation, drugging(not on reader), implied non-con/dub-con at the end, this is not healthy love and I do not condone this irl.

It has been nearly a month since the youngest Fatui Harbinger had “taken you in”. After a few tries, you were too horrified by the punishments to continuously fight him. You learned on the first day that Childe’s smiling, the friendly mask would come off towards you. Your behaviour would decide if that is a curse or a “blessing”.

So you had quieted down, struggling to restrain yourself from yelling or screaming, carefully not to provoke his anger. Despite being compliant to his orders, you never truly showed him any affection either. Sure, you would sit on his lap if he asked, but you never initiated anything intimate with him. No matter how much Tartaglia spoiled you with clothes, books, jewelry or other luxuries, he is still the one who holds the commanding end of your shackles. It’s the best not to get used to all of that when your sight is set on the door.

Although he has taken your freedom away, you are not kept in a windowless room. On the contrary, you have too many outings now. Wherever he goes, you have to be present in a 2m radius, including meetings. Being a Harbinger is no easy job, so he prefers not having to worry about your safetly during buisness hours. The best way to do that is never let you out of his sight.

“Love, no one should witness our little problems. Well, no one alive that is.” Of course you wouldn’t want to put innocent people's lives at stake. You never dared to act out when you two are in public, and no one would bat an eye if a Fatui had taken a lover.

You had taken an emotionless approach towards him. If Childe wants a kiss on the cheek, you’ll give him a quick light peck. If he wants breakfast, you’ll go make some pancakes with the topping he likes. Luckily, Childe had not done anything too extreme yet. If cuddling to sleep does not count as extreme that is. The only time you slipped up is when he suddenly hugs you from behind when you’re cooking.

You thought maybe, just maybe, by being as boring and dull as you could, this bastard might just get tired of you and let you go. Childe only loves the fun of it right? Or maybe it could lower his guard.

Oh, how naive you are. You should have known better than to underestimate a Fatui harbinger. See, this is exactly why he needs to keep you around. Yes, unfortunately for you, Childe loves you, so very much. Speaking to him with a monotone voice isn’t going to alter that fact.

You have been devoid of emotions as of late. While Childe does appreciate fewer screams for the sake of his eardrums, this schemer can sense you are up to something. Perhaps this is the peace before your “storm”(he thought of it more like a drizzle)

You want to play a game? Okay, why not? Childe cannot wait to see what tricks you got on those sleeves. Are you ever getting away? Does an amateur ever win when they play a game with a professional trickster? Never.

Still, nothing bites like a cornered rat. You are no airhead, and he is fully aware of that. Just not as cunning and observent as him, that’s all.

The way you just kept your emotions sealed up is impressive, even to someone like him. Even when he got hansy, you did not flinch and just stared at the corner. Childe can only catch faint glimpses of anger when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Hm, when are you pulling your trigger? Tonight, or tomorrow night? Not that Childe is impatient, anything from you is worth waiting. But he would need to dismiss his patrolling underlings in the nearby woods beforehand. No extras would be allowed to disturb this game.

There is no chance during the day, a somewhat mutual understanding for you two. Night time in comparison, is a different story.

Anyone’s sleeping hours is their most vulnerable time of the day, Childe is no exception. You do not plan to harm him, not that you don’t want to. But you are willing to swallow the pent up frustration towards him if you would never see his face again after this. Maybe beating up some slimes would help with the release?

You somehow managed to slip a mixture of herbs into his tea. Since he would buy cooking ingredients for you from time to time, you had requested a bunch of herbs along with the ingredients of a sleep inducing medicine you remembered. Although Childe does all he can to keep you near him, there are inevitable hours that he needs to be somewhere without you. He cannot jeopardize your safety with troublesome monsters. On a side note, he loves showing you off to anyone, his colleagues, acquaintances, business partners, anyone he does not deem a threat.

Enough time for you to make those herbs into powder and cover it up with a few spoons of milk. Tea with milk has become quite popular in Liyue as of late. Childe has grown to love them, so you have learned how to mix it up. He always let you handle his food and drinks, saying that he “trusts you”. What you do not know is this is one of the openings he exposed on purpose. It’s not like you can aquire anything deadly under his suffocating supervision.

Your plan will work, or so you think. Childe will not wake up when you wiggle out of his grasp, because dreamland will keep him occupied. All you need is a glider and a usable sword from Liyue and you’ll get your life back. Bottling up extreme emotions has certainly taken a toll on your mind, but it will be worth it if that is the prerequisite of being free.

Something about this being so easy sits ill with you. Have you really been with the youngest Fatui Harbinger this whole time? But that was brushed off your shoulders by the sheer excitement of regaining your long lost freedom. You know Liyue is in walking distance, all you need to do is cross these woods and-

The moment you dive into the forest, you think you heard an amused chuckle.

That smooth voice terrifies you to no end, the same voice you took orders from for the past month.

Oh, how Childe loves seeing you happy. It’s priceless, both literally and figuratively. No matter how many things he buys you, you had not shown him even one small smile. Enjoy your sweet freedom, because it ain’t going to last. You certainly will know your place after this right? If not you are just dumber then he give you credit for.

That glow of relief in your eyes is worth every last bit of this intense dizzying feeling to Childe. To make sure your plan go through, he had drunk the tea without hesitation, quick enough to catch the momentarily excitement you expressed. He knows the game is on, therefore he had given the night patrol guards the entire evening off. Forcing himself to stay concious by digging his nails into his palms, Childe followed you into the woods.

Your potion is quite strong. Excellent, you’ll have to give him the recipe for informational purposes later. Especially how you managed to achieve such effects with a few herbs you had. He never took you to be anything less than a smart girl, but this has exceeded his expectations. Where’s the fun in a game without challenges?

How you storm through the forest wearing that cute terrified expression looks so endearing, it’s surely not his fault if he wants to enjoy this sight to be longer right.

So, each time you feel the slightest at ease due to whatever reason, expect Childe to make some sound to send you running like your life depends on it again. The sadistic man is hunting you down playfully, like a cat chasing a stray mouse to the inevitable corner.

You know he is toying with you. There is nothing you can do to make him shut up though.

“Love, you had scratched your leg. Must hurts by the looks of it.”

“Liyue is that way, you know.”

“Are you tired? If you want to jog in the middle of the night, you should have called me to come along!”

How can he say those things nonchalantly while you are trying to escape from him? Here he is, daunting you with that signature smile he wears so very often. That is when reality slaps you right in the face. No matter how hard you plan, no matter how fast you run, there is no getting rid of him.

When your stamina runs out, a simple pull and push on your left wrist is enough to let you fall onto the ground panting. Even now, you still refuse to beg for mercy. You would take the cold grounds to the warmth of Childe’s embrace anyday.

“Aw, burnt out already? Pathetic. Looks like we need to work on your stamina more. But this is not the place for exercise.”

“Look at me.” His slender but forceful fingers tilt your head up, making you look into those ocean blue orbs. There is anger present in his eyes, but those emotions are more a mixture of delight and that. His smile had also been replaced by a mocking smirk. “You, trying to leave me? Your sense of humor is...well, let’s just call it unique. Lucky for you, you amused me nonetheless.”

“I know what you’re thinking. How I’m a selfish jerk and you hate me. Why be so ungrateful? You get to live in luxury thanks to me, you know. I am selfish, yes, but look how stupid you are. I know you added something extra in my evening tea, my beloved.”

“Come now, we are going to do some exercises suited for a night like this once we’re back home. It is our one month milestone, after all. You had already given me your gift, it is only fair for you that I do the same.”

Childe is not making a sarcastic remark. The thrill of that chase was the best fun he had in months. And you are going to love his gift too, maybe not right away, but surely sometimes after.

You have to mentally prepare yourself for the worst as he dragged you back to the prison, hopefully you’ll still be able to walk properly after whatever Childe got in store.

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #this is a dream fleshed out into a fic #i am not sorry

524 notes · View notes

greenhikingboots · 2 years

Text

A Rabbit Hole of Fan Theories - The Faceless Man, The Elder Brother, and More (Updated)

Here’s nearly 6,000 words of ASOIAF fan theory exploration. On the one hand, a lot of it sounds like crackpot, tinfoil nonsense to me. On the other hand, I might be a genius who has solved some mysteries. Feel free to disregard or indulge, whichever you prefer.

Okay, so it started like this: I was thinking about how TWOW might go, more specifically how Robb’s letter legitimizing Jon and making him an heir might finally come into play. I was wondering what happened to the letter, which led me to this post. It makes a strong case for the letter being sent with the captain of the Myraham to either White Harbor or Oldtown. As for White Harbor, the post says Robb would have sent the letter there because Wyman Manderly, wealthy and loyal to the Starks, has the means necessary to “champion the contents of Robb’s letter.” That wasn’t enough reason to excite me, truth be told, but I kept reading anyway.

As for Oldtown, Sam’s there now (more specifically at the Citadel), so Robb’s letter finding its way there would tie story lines together in an interesting way. Additionally, I’ve always found a certain scene from the show rather suspect. “A raven came from the Citadel. A white raven. Winter is here.” It’s a nice nod to House Stark’s words, and it gives Jon a chance to bring up Ned. And maybe that’s all it was ever meant to be. But I don’t recall the show mentioning white ravens at any other point, so I thought, “Maybe it’s a nod to something that will happen in the books.” With that in mind, I went searching for information about white ravens. In the ACAK prologue, there’s this: “They are larger than other ravens, and more clever, bred to carry only the most important messages. This one came to tell us that the Conclave has met, considered the reports and measurements made by maesters all over the realm, and declared this great summer done at last.” I hate to make generalizations about the fandom, but there seems to be this false idea that white ravens only announce the transition of seasons, but as I’ve just noted they actually announce “the most important messages,” and the transition of seasons is but one example. So that got me thinking that Robb would have wanted his letter to make it to the Citadel so that his legitimizing Jon was known far and wide. (For what it’s worth, I tried to find out if there is a precedent for this in the books — if this is the sort of thing that white ravens have been used for at any point in the already published story — but no luck. Still, I think the theory holds weight).

Recent addition: I think the maesters are neutral for the most part, or at least they’re supposed to be (though Marwyn’s obviously up to something). Meaning, their sending out a bunch of white ravens about Jon being legitimized isn’t necessarily an indicator that they support the North’s independence. I think of it more like them saying, “Hey, here’s the latest news everyone needs to know.” This reddit post (from 9 years ago!) has some good conversations about it.

After that, I read more about Sam at the Citadel because I want to make my fanfic ideas as canon compliant as possible. I’d previously read the chapter where he arrives there, but overall I wasn’t a careful reader of the books. With each one, I skimmed more and more and skipped some POV chapters completely. And while House Martell sounds wonderful when I read about them online, I struggled to get into chapters which feature them. So I missed it completely, that Sarella Sand and Alleras the Sphinx are one in the same. But after reading some fan theories on it, it seems more than plausible to me. It seems indisputable, actually. “Well, then how do I want to incorporate that into my writing?” I asked myself. I mean, Sarella wants to be at the Citadel badly enough that she’s pretending to be a boy to do so. But why? Sure, she could be seeking knowledge simply for the sake of it, but this is ASOIAF so that seems unlikely, doesn't it? After all, the Citadel has all the answers to all the ancient secrets, right? The last copy of certain books, information about dragons and Valyerian steel and dragonglass and magic… Meaning Sarella probably has a specific agenda in support of House Martell. I don’t know enough about them to guess quite what it is, but put a pin in that anyway because I’ll come back to it later. A lot later and only briefly. But it will happen. Moving on now. Wait, wait, wait. Sidebar before moving on. I should note that because the Sarella = Alleras fan theory is indisputable in my opinion and because examples of it are easier to find than the one I linked above about Robb’s letter being sent with the captain of the Myraham, I chose not to link anything for it. Just an FYI for why I give links sometimes and not others. That pattern will continue throughout this post. Okay, so what else is happening at the Citadel? Jaqen H’ghar, of course! Arya’s Faceless Man friend is there, passing as Pate. “Pate, like the pig boy.” Like Sarella = Alleras, this becomes quite clear after reading up on it a bit. And also like Sarella = Alleras, I doubt Jaqen is there simply for the pursuit of knowledge. That dude has a mission and it has something to do with — well, with a dragon egg, right?

Hey, look! A fan theory I knew about before falling into this rabbit hole! It’s a popular one, but in case you aren’t familiar: Euron Greyjoy had a dragon egg at one point, but he used it as payment to the Faceless Men when he hired them to kill Balon. So, most likely, Jaqen is at the Citadel wanting to learn how to hatch a dragon egg. Well, even though that seemed pretty straightforward for me, I went on to read about Jaqen anyway. Just in case. Now, I could be misinterpreting my internet findings, but it seems these next fan theories I’m going to talk about aren’t as widely known as Sarella = Alleras or Jaqen = Pate, despite there being several Quora and Reddit posts about them. Perhaps because there’s more to dispute? Let me explain. Jaqen H'ghar is a Targaryen, everybody. Or so the theories go. More specifically, he’s either the real Aegon or Rhaegar resurrected. Oof. Sounds complicated, right? Have you heard these theories before? I’m really not sure how popular they are, therefore I’m not sure how much I should dive into them. Whatever, here goes, I guess. Some points to support Jaqen being either the real Aegon or Rhaegar resurrected: First, he’s got the Targaryen look in some ways. Second, there are parallels between him/Arya/Gendry and Rhaegar/Lyanna/Robert. Third, in ACOK, just before Arya gives Jaqen his own name, she says, “Anyone? A man, a woman, a little baby, or Lord Tywin, or the High Septon, or your father?” And he replies, “A man’s sire is long dead…”

Sire? Hmm. Interesting. Okay, Arya again: “Even if I named the king?” Jaqen: “Is it Joffrey?”Arya: “It’s Jaqen H’ghar.” That could totally be a clue, right? Classic, GRRM, you know. Oh, and how about the fan theory that says Jaqen has gone rogue, that he’s not doing Faceless Man things the way a Faceless Man is supposed to? This link sums that up nicely. I like it a lot. Wait, another sidebar! When discussing Jaqen, I especially like the questions, “How did he end up in King’s Landing? Why was he taken prisoner and set on the path to the Night’s Watch?” I’ve read some theories about those questions too, but I’m not going to go there in this post. I’ve got enough to try to unravel as it stands. Back to speaking more generally. Why would GRMM have Jaqen go rogue and be important to the story if he’s just some random Faceless Man? Isn’t it more interesting and doesn’t it tie story lines together better if he is in fact the real Aegon or Rhaegar resurrected? So there I was after reading a lot more fan theories, thinking, “Okay, yeah, I’m fully on board with Jaqen being one of those Targaryens, but which one?” Maybe I was overthinking it. Given Jaqen’s age and given that Rhaegar, after being resurrected, probably wouldn’t just go into hiding and wind up a Faceless Man, Jaqen being the real Aegon does seem the better theory. But I guess I’ve always liked the idea of Young Griff being the real Aegon because… Well, I don’t really know why, really. Everyone seems to expect him to be an imposter, so wouldn’t it be more interesting if he wasn’t? Maybe I just need to drive into the Blackfyre Theory more. Only, every time I try, my head spins uncomfortably fast and I give up. Young Griff and Varys and Illyrio and Serra and JonCon and Septa Lemore. Ugh. I can’t keep track of it all. (I haven’t read this particular post in full, only skimmed it, but it looks like an extremely detailed summation of the Blackfyre Theory, if anyone is interested. I know I’ve got it bookmarked and will be returning to it in the coming days). Want more on the theory that Jaqen is the real Aegon? This Quora user makes the case for it in great detail across several posts. I’ve only read a few so far, but much of what I’ve read made me think, “That’s good, but it doesn’t necessarily rule out the other theory I’m seeing, that Jaqen could be Rhaegar resurrected. It still sounds like it could be either of them.” I mean, Faceless Men could be a different age they appear, right? So I kept digging, but with more of a Rhaegar angle. I’ll say it again: oof! Where to begin with that theory?

Well, we know Rhaegar was obsessed with prophecies. He’d been trying to make sense of them for a long time and even changed his mind about which parts apply to him vs. his child/children. So it seems he understood prophecies are — well, fickle bitches, right? (To paraphrase another fandom which was paraphrasing an author who is not GRMM. That is, Ben Linus from Lost referencing Black Company by Glen Cook. Oh, I digress.)

Anyway, when it came time for Rhaegar to join the fight against Robert’s Rebellion, he was probably worried he’d die before getting it all sorted out, before doing all he needed to do to ensure the prince who was promised would one day deliver the world from darkness. Well, what if from his place of worry, his heightened motivation to survive and get the prophecy right, he came up with a plan? “Not today, death,” he might have said. Just kidding. Kind of. I’ve read that fan theory too by the way, that Jaqen = Syrio. But I’m not buying it. This is just a little jaunt into cheekiness. Back to the point. So at first I thought, “Maybe Rhaegar just brought a red priest or priestess along to the battle, came back to life, and went on to be known as Jaqen H’ghar from some TBD reason.” But then, as I was researching the likelihood of that, I read this Reddit post that talks about the possibility of Rhaegar’s rubies being used as a glamour. Body switch style. Mance and Rattleshirt, anyone? Now, unless it’s buried in the comments somewhere, I don’t think any connections are made in that last link to Jaqen, but it got me thinking. We know from Melisandre’s time at the Wall that there are some rubies that can be used to glamour people. So what if Rhaegar planned to have someone glamoured to look like him, to fight and then die in his place? Wait, wait, wait! But the fan theory I’d been exploring said Jaqen was Rhaegar resurrected, not just Rheagar who faked his death but never died. (I can’t find it back now, but I particularly liked a post that related the Jaqen = Rhaegar resurrected theory to one of Dany’s visions in the House of the Undying). So I started to feel overwhelmed. I’d gotten even deeper in the rabbit hole but was no closer to making book predictions (or decisions about how to write my fanfic for that matter). I’d switched from the Jaqen = real Aegon angle to Jaqen = Rheagr resurrected angle, and now I needed to switch again? To the Rhaegar faked his death angle? I didn’t want to. Instead, I asked myself, “What do I know about other resurrections in ASOIAF? What clues do I already have?” Well, I know that Thoros “kissed” Beric and Beric “kissed” Catelyn… but only after Thoros refused to do it himself. *Looks at the camera like I’m in The Office.” I’ll come back to that later. For now, recall that Catelyn had been dead for so long that it became a trading of lives; Beric died to bring her back. and even then she became… well, Lady Stoneheart. This suggests a few things, not all of which are super relevant, but I’ll spell them out just in case. 1. Less relevant: The person who performs the “kiss” loses something — let’s call it health — in doing so. This is further supported by Thoros becoming loose skinned and gray haired the more times he brings Beric back to life. (For what it’s worth, we also saw this in the show: Melisandre looks loose skinned and gray when not using her ruby necklace/glamour. But I can’t remember if that is included in her POV chapter or not). 2. More relevant: Beric wasn’t a Red Priest in the past the way Thoros was, and yet he’s able to “kiss” Catelyn. I think this means the ability to resurrect someone is duplicated in anyone who receives a “kiss.” (Catelyn’s probably an exception to this rule though, don’t you think?) Emphasis on duplicated, not transferred. Otherwise Thoros wouldn’t have been able to bring Beric back more than once, right? Um… did I say I had a few things for this list, not a couple things? Well, it turns out my list is actually rather short. I thought I’d have had more to add, but I’m now realizing otherwise. Nothing to add about resurrections that I can conclude based on what I know about Thoros and Beric alone. *Looks at camera again.*

“What about the Elder Brother and Sandor Clegane?” I asked myself. “What can they tell us about resurrections in ASOIAF?” Actually, not much? I mean, I knew about this theory which says the gravedigger Brienne sees when she visits Quiet Isle is Sandor Clegane, resurrected by the Elder Brother. And based on what I’d read about Thoros and Beric, I figured Sandor can probably now resurrect people too. So that’s cool. But the theory doesn’t do a lot for me, you know? As with Sarella = Alleras and Jaqen = Pate, I’m fully on board, but that doesn’t mean I’m any closer to answers. Does Jaqen = real Aegon, or Rhaegar resurrected, or Rheagar who never died thanks to his magic rubies? I still didn’t know! I gave up for a bit. Went on with my life for a day and a half. Showered, ate dinner, went to bed, woke up again. The usual stuff. But then I returned to the Elder Brother, wondering if I’d missed anything there. “He’s just a guy. There doesn’t need to be a mystery,” Reddit told me. “I wish people could accept that some characters don’t have mysterious pasts and are just who they say they are.” Okay, fair. But the Elder Brother!? The guy who has a veined red nose and shaved head? Who was a Knight who fought for House Targaryen at the Battle of the Trident? Who said others thought him dead so they stripped his armor, dumped his body, and then he floated downstream to the Quiet Isle? And then he spent the next ten years there in silence? That’s a fascinating backstory for someone who’s “just a guy.” “What’s really going on with him?” I wondered. I tried to make it fit with Jaqen = Rhaegar resurrected or Jaqen = Rheagar who never died, but I wasn’t able to come up with a clean idea. I did, however, find myself liking those rubies more and more. What if Rhaegar had a ruby related plan for survival, but something went wrong and the Elder Brother was involved somehow? I kept stewing on it, switching angles back and forth, moving between them more rapidly than before. Again, I thought of how I agreed with that one Reddit comment, sometimes a guy is just a guy. But if the Elder Brother was someone important, who would he be? “Maybe his title is a hint,” I thought. “So who in ASOIAF is important because of their role as an elder brother?” *Looks at the camera like I’m in The Office yet again.” No, not Thoros. I’ll get back to him soon, I swear. No, the Elder Brother is… Brandon Stark resurrected.

Wait, what? I’m so serious, everyone. Hear me out. Brandon Stark, Ned’s brother, died by strangulation. Signs and symptoms of strangulation? Well, among other things they include broken blood vessels in the nose and damage to vocal cords. Remember? The Elder Brother had a veined red nose and spent ten years in silence. What, that’s not enough, you say? Because what about everything else we know about him, that he was a knight who fought for House Targaryen at the trident? Why would GRRM include all that just for it to be a lie? And on the other hand, how could it be true? Why would Brandon Stark, resurrected, have fought for House Targaryen? Well, I don’t think that he did, not exactly. Okay, here’s my theory. Thoros — woop, there he is — I think he was present when the Mad King tortured and killed Rickard and Brandon Stark. We know Thoros came from Myr to try and curb the king’s fire obsession and that he was distrubed by the violent acts against Elia and her children. So it stands to reason that he was also disturbed by what happened to Rickard and Brandon. Oh, okay. What happened next, you say? Well, Thoros went to wherever dead bodies are dumped, performed the “kiss” but believed his attempts failed. Remember how in the show everyone was already out of the room by the time Jon gasped for air, convinced Mel’s efforts hadn’t worked? So, yeah, Thoros believed he failed, which helps explain why his faith was so shaken when he joined Beric and the brotherhood without banners, why resurrecting Beric reaffirmed his faith, and why — here it comes — he wouldn’t attempt to resurrect Catelyn. A lot of Thoros build up for a payoff that isn’t that great, I admit, but it fits, right? I mean, I think by the time the brotherhood encountered Catelyn, Thoros had started to realize there are levels of dead, and some folks are just too dead to ever be brought back to life. So there’s that. But it doesn’t explain why Brandon would kind of, sort of, not really have fought for House Targaryen. Let me get back to that. In my theory, poor Rickard was dead dead, so after grieving for him some more, Brandon had to decide what to do next. And he decided he could use his new situation to his advantage, go undercover to learn Lyanna’s whereabouts. He shaved his head to make himself harder to recognize, then joined the Targaryen army to get closer to Rhaegar. If you read the Robert’s Rebellion timeline and/or Rhaegar’s main page, you can see he didn’t fight in any battles before the Battle of the Trident. He was probably at the tower of joy with Lyanna. But then he returned to the crownlands to take control over the Targaryen army. So that would have been Brandon Stark’s chance to go undercover without doing any real fighting for House Targaryen. Maybe at some point he did something outside of battle to be named a knight? Maybe — I’m moving further and further into wild speculation territory, I know, but go with it, okay — maybe he realized Rhaegar actually loved Lyanna, didn’t see the point in the war anymore, didn’t want to fight against Stark and Baratheon forces, figured he was meant to be dead anyway, somehow learns there’s a ruby-related plan for Rhaegar’s survival, and he volunteers to be the one glamoured to look like him? Or something kinda, sorta along those lines? Maybe? He figures he might as well help Lyanna get her crown prince back. And because of that, Rhaegar names him a knight? “Arise, Ser Silent the Body Double,” Rhaegar might have said. Because, don’t forget, the ten years of silence would already have already started for the Elder Brother = Brandon Stark resurrected.

Just over here thinking like a crazy fanfiction writer, I guess. Anyway, has a theory like this been shared before? I wanted to know, so I went searching yet again. But I wasn’t able to find anything. If it's out there somewhere while I’m over here acting like I’m the first person to invent it, I am so, so sorry. But like I said, I wasn’t able to find it. But then that made me second guess myself, you know? “Maybe it’s a fun fanfiction idea,” I thought, “but not at all where GRRM is headed.” Well, hang on a second! I didn’t find a theory to match mine, but I did find this Elder Brother theory which says that he and Ser Morgarth are one in the same. Ser Morgarth? Remember him? If not, don’t worry. I didn’t either. Now, I’ve only skimmed that last link, but it seems that theory goes like this: in Sansa’s final chapter of AFFC, she’s sent to speak with Littlefinger. Before they get into all that talk about Harry the Heir, she’s introduced to three hedge knights. One is Ser Morgarth, who is described as having “red nose bulbous with broken veins,” a similar description to the Elder Brother, you’ll recall. (If I remember correctly, he’s also the least talkative of the three). Now, to be fair, he’s also described as having a thick beard and salt and pepper hair, which doesn’t fit the shaved head description of the Elder Brother, but, hey, hair grows, right? Also, I know Littlefinger challenged Brandon to a duel over Catelyn way back when. So that raises an objection. “But Littlefigner would recognize him!” But if you think someone is dead, are you really gonna be like, “Oh, I guess not because this guy kinda, sorta looks like an older version of him.” No, only crazy people who are trying to predict GRRM’s books think like that! (Besides, maybe that’s why he’s the least talkative of the group, doesn’t want Littlefinger to get suspicious). Also in the room with Sansa, Littleginer, and Ser Morgarth is Ser Shadrich (and one other person whom I’ll come back to soon). Earlier in AFFC, Ser Shadrich is the one who told Brienne he was looking for Sansa “for love.” And it turns out, there’s yet another fan theory floating around about him. It’s not based on much, just both of them being described as short, but some suspect Ser Shadrich is Howland Reed. Plenty of imagination stretching happening here, sure, but if you look at some of the above theories at the same time, they actually become more convincing, I think. It would mean neither Ser Morgarth nor Ser Shadrich are newly introduced randos, working independently to snatch Sansa and take her away from the Eyrie. They’re characters whose backstories we already know, whose motivations make sense, and they’re working together, “for love.” I’m inclined to believe Shadrich on that point at least. Okay, what about that third hedge knight, though? Because if the first two are working together, it seems the third would be in on it too. Let’s go to text! The third hedge knight is called Byron the Beautiful and he’s described as “an elegant young knight whose thick blond man cascaded well past his shoulders.” Brienne?

Listen! I know her last chapter in AFFC has her meeting Lady Stoneheart, who gives her an ultimatum: kill Jaime or die. And then in ADWD, Jaime’s POV has Brienne showing up at Pennytree talking about Sansa and Sandor. But what if it went down like this: Howland Reed and the Elder Brother/Brandon Stark meet up, discuss how they both met Brienne and she’s clearly looking for Sansa, and Howland’s like, “I tested her with lies and trickery, and she didn’t give in. I think she wants to protect her, same as us. Let’s go after her and get her and all work together.” So they go riding after her, and they save her from Lady Stoneheart just in the nick of time! Apparently GRRM has said the word Brienne shouted in her last AFFC chapter was “sword.” So I’m thinking she realizes folks are there to save her and she’s like, “Give me a sword! Let me help!” Maybe? Oh, also Brienne the Beauty (the backstory included in AFFC) = Bryon the Beautiful? I mean, it just fits, right? Plus I’m over here thinking how those who know Brienne to be a woman would judge her appearance differently than those who meet her when she’s presenting as a man. If one didn’t know better, she could come across as an elegant knight with cascading hair, I think. Also, I checked and book Brienne does have long hair. Ooooof! Over 4,000 words into this thing now. And more to go. Is anyone still reading? I just want to circle back to the top a bit, sprinkle in a few more thoughts, and then close out. So, what’s taking the captain of the Myraham so damn long to deliver Robb’s letter? I don’t know. Maybe it only seems like a long time because AFFC and ADWD run concurrently? Or, you know, because ADWD was published over a damn decade ago? Or maybe it actually is taking a long time and something went wrong for the captain? Sam saw some wreckage near White Harbor, right? Maybe the Myraham went there first, then the crew had to go by land to Oldtown because of a wreck (the Myraham is a trading cog from Oldtown, btw). Also, I don’t have any evidence to support this, but I’ve been wondering if the captain of the Myraham and Sarella = Alleras are connected in any way. That’s right, I’m finally back to her. Her mother is the captain of a ship as well, so… maybe the Myraham wrecked and it was Sarella’s mother and her crew who saved him? Maybe they confiscated Robb’s letter and have their own Martell family reason for holding on to it? Anyone who knows more than I do about the Martells want to help me speculate on that point? What else, what else?

Jaqen! Oh, Jaqen. Is he real Aegon? Is he Rhaegar? Or is he just a talented Faceless Man who has gone rogue and thinks he can hatch a dragon egg, even though he doesn’t have Targaryen blood? Someone make it make sense! As much as I initially found the idea fascinating, I’ve decided I’d actually hate it if Rhaegar was still around. So I’m leaning towards him trying to do something clever with magic rubies, but it didn’t work. Now he’s dead dead, but Brandon Stark resurrected was involved somehow, so maybe we can get the story for him. And therefore Jaqen is the real Aegon and Young Griff is the imposter. I mean, in my opinion, Young Griff being an imposter is more acceptable if the real Aegon is still around somewhere, lurking. And him being around somewhere, lurking, is more acceptable if GRRM has been doing a hiding-in-plain-sight sort of thing with him. By the way, I still can’t keep Blackfyre theory stuff straight, but I’m starting to agree with the folks who say Varys and Serra (Illyrio’s supposedly deceased wife) are siblings (making Varys and Illyrio brothers-in-law and Young Griff Varys’s nephew) and Serra is not in fact dead, she’s Septa Lemore. (I can’t find it back, but somewhere there’s a good post that talks about how Serra worked in a pillow house, which fits with Septa Lemore not acting very Septa like + something about how Septa Lemore cutting up baby clothes fits with this theory…?) Recent addition: While we’re on the topic of Septa Lemore… have you heard the theory that Ashara Dayne = Septa Lemore? Yeah, I’m not buying that one. I’m with the folks who say if that was true, Tyrion’s POV would have made note of Septa Lemore’s eye color, because Ashara’s eyes are violet. So then I was like, “Okay, sure. Why not go further down this rabbit hole. People are clearly trying to figure out what’s going on with Ashara, so might as well nibble at that too.” So if you don’t already know, Ashara was a lady-in-waiting to Elia and present at the infamous Tourney at Harrenhal. Some in Westeros say she and Ned Stark fell in love during the tourney, and since Brandon Stark was still alive at the time and promised to Catelyn, there was no shame in it. Pretty sure Catelyn’s first POV chapter in the series also says she thought Ashara was Jon’s real mother. Other parts of the text kinda, sorta suggest it might have actually been she and Brandon who fell in love and/or another unnamed party might have dishonored her during the tourney.

Basically, shit’s complicated with Ashara. And then! Supposedly Ashara’s brother, Arthur (more on him soon), died at the tower of joy, Ned returned his sword to House Dayne, and then (trigger warning!), she jumped from a castle tower to commit suicide. Her body was never found, and the reason she killed herself is unclear: maybe a broken heart, maybe a stillborn daughter, maybe a stolen child, maybe grief over her brother’s death. Oof. Okay, now to Arthur. He was a chivalrous knight and Rhaegar’s best friend. He supposedly died at the tower of joy, where Rhaegar left him, among others, to protect Lyanna. But there are clues in the text that leave readers wondering if that’s true. This Reddit post covers them well, but basically the theory goes that Arthur was the better fighter, would have totally killed Ned “if not for Holwand Reed” (Ned’s POV words) and Howland Reed, apparently, is great with words, so he must have been like, “Listen dudes, you both just want to protect Lyanna. Let’s cut a deal.” Plus! There’s this one tiny choice of word use (also in a Ned POV) that has given readers pause. Ned’s with Lyanna and says something about when they joined, not when he (Howland Reed) joined. And isn’t that exactly the sort of sneaky shit GRRM does? I mean, there’s also the unkiss and the intentional changing of the name of Joffrey’s sword, so…. So, yeah, as the Reddit post summarizes, “Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, does the only thing he can do to protect his charge: he dies. He hands over Dawn [sword], builds a phone funeral cairn, and disappears, leaving Jon in the hands of the only person who can still save him.” Oh! And! The Daynes still in Dorne go on to name a kid after Ned a while later. What’s up with that? Hmm…

Here’s the thing that really gets me, though. The fandom wants to figure out what’s going on with these Dayne siblings, but very few posts mention them at the same time. Like, a post will mention theories about one and comments on the post might sometimes mention the other, but there’s very little trying to solve their mysteries by looking at the at the same time. That’s bonkers to me.

Because clearly Ned helped them both fake their deaths, right? And the other Daynes know. (The “clearly” here is hyperbole. Nothing about ASOIAF is clear. For real, why do we put up with this shit from GRRM? He’s terrorizing us. He’s a terrorist.) So then I was like, “Well, if there’s more of this hiding-in-plain-sight sort of thing going on, who could the Daynes be now? The Rhaegar and Elia loving Daynes… the real Aegon Targaryen loving Daynes… Oh, seven hells. Here it comes. This is so ridiculous and I hate it and I don’t want it to be true, but what if they’re the Waif and the Kindly Man at the House of Black and White? I’ve only seen one other person say this (the Quora user I linked earlier). Actually, no. I think that user only said Ashara Dayne = the Waif, but never said the Kindly Man = Arthur. But, you know, maybe? Here’s a post I couldn’t fully wrap my head around, but it does say that the Waif told Arya at some point that she’s actually 36. Oh, and it says the cook at the House of Black and White, Umma, could also be Wylla (the wetnurse from Starfall, another woman who is sometimes suspected of being Jon’s mother). Oh, and before I forget: let’s say Jaqen is the real Aegon with a team of supporters at the House of Black and White. Well, doesn't it fit pretty well with the book foreshadowing of Arya taking down some Targaryens and/or dragons? Either she helps Jaqen = real Aegon take down Dany or she takes down Jaqen = real Aegon herself. Yeah? End of recent addition. Oof. Did I say earlier that I wanted to sprinkle in just a few more bits? And then I went on for forever anyway? Damn, that was a lot of sprinkles. Blame the Daynes. Almost done now. Truly. A question: are there any theories that attempt to explain the meaning behind the number of days Azor Ahai labors over the swords? As I was thinking about Jaqen theories, I had Azor Ahai theories in the back of my mind, trying to see if anything meshed together. No luck, but it reminded me that I’ve long been curious about those days - 30 days, then 50, then 100. What’s that about? What else, what else? Brandon, Howland, Brienne? Someone tell me I’m not crazy. I’m thinking they’ll help Sansa escape the Eyrie and then head to the Wall. Maybe they get separated at some point? By Ramsey’s dogs while he’s chasing after Jeyne? Because Sansa might still be the girl in gray, right? (Reddit link). But Mel’s vision has her by herself, not traveling with allies disguised as hedge knights, so who knows. Welp. That about does it. I know that makes for a TON of fake deaths, and fake identities and hiding-in-plain-sight and blah blah blah. And it sounds crazy. But like with the hege knights, when you start to look at it all at once instead of in fragmented pieces, it seems a little more likely. At least I think so. I feel like I should end on a more exciting note than that, but that’s all I got. Someone who hasn’t skimmed and skipped over so much of the books, please help! Which fan theories work? Which ones don't? Can we solve anything new together? Let’s try. Or at least iron out some damn good fanfic ideas. Thank you and goodnight!!

#ASoIaF #asoiaf fan theories #fanfiction research #jonsa fam #help me #the faceless men #the elder brother #brienne of tarth #mix of crackpot and genius #gifs not mine #the house of black and white #house dayne #make it make sense #brandon stark #im bad at tags

8 notes · View notes

naomifj97 · 2 years

Text

It's nice to have a friend

"Amity Blight had forgotten what having a friend was until Luz Noceda arrived at the Isles."

Onsehot, Amity-centric, canon-compliant (except when its’s not) Lumity songfic, featuring “Friends” trope and the tag #GiveAmityABackpack because, really, this girl needs one.

Inspired by It’s nice to have a friend by Taylor Swift.

So, I actually wrote this during the hiatus between s2A and s2B and never got to post it here, but since "King's tide" absolutely DESTROYED me, I figured we all could use a light-hearted fic. For obvious reasons, this is canon compilant until "Knock, knock, knockin' on Hooty's door"; after that is a bit of AU.

Enjoy! (Also, please, excuse typos and grammar mistakes, English is not my first language).

School bell rings, walk me home

Sidewalk chalk covered in snow

Lost my gloves, you give me one

“Wanna hang out?”

Yeah, sounds like fun

The bell’s scream is high-pitched, loud and annoying. It echoes through the corridors and almost every single student in Hexside welcomes it with joy and delight, picking up their things between laughs and wails.

Amity, however, lets out a quiet, veiled sigh against her uniform’s collar.

It’s time to go home, but she doesn’t really want to. She knows her mother is going to pester her about the tiny slump on her school performance, that her father won’t make the slightest attempt at raising his eyes from his work desk while her mother berates her, that she will have to listen and nod grimly, not having the option to defend herself.

Amity is not in a hurry to live that. So, she delays the task of gathering her things on purpose, slowly organizing and piling up her books until they form a perfect pile over her table. She knows it’s an almost compulsive habit, but she can’t help it.

Class is almost empty by the time she leaves the room with her pile of books in her arms. Amity walks down crowded hallways, cramped with noise and students of different classes waiting for their friends to make plans for the afternoon or, simply, to go home in company.

No one is waiting for her. Ed and Em have skipped class, Cat, Skara and Amelia have planned to meet to go to the market together, and Amity would prefer to rip her ears off before having to listen to Boscha talking about grudgby and her self-centered-bully bullshit for the whole way home. To be honest, Amity prefers going alone and in silence. So, when she runs into the back of the aforementioned, just after turning around the corner, the youngest Blight violently stops in her tracks and purposedly avoids her. She even walks backwards comically and very slowly so Boscha doesn’t notice her.

In her crab-like walking, Amity passes by the lockers and stops before her own because she’s kinda just remembered she has to take home vol. 7 of “Abominations’ behavior”. She bounces and struggles to hold onto the pile of books in her arms while getting her arm on her locker’s and taking the damn chunky book before the huge mouth of her cubby rips out her arm, but that turns out to be a very bad idea. And Amity realizes when the until then perfectly, well-ordered pile of books between her arm and her chest fumbles and crumbles, slipping over her uniform and falling to the floor one by one with a huge fuss.

To add humiliation to infortune, her locket decides to spit out a winter glove that, for some reason Amity can’t really recall, was being kept inside. It stays right there, crowning the disaster of books spilled over the floor, like the cherry on top of a destroyed cake, as if making fun of her.

She’s a bit tempted to kick them, but losing her composure is unproper of a Blight. And lately, Amity is being losing it too much. So she just huffs, grunts and groans before kneeling, angrily thinking that she needs a backpack urgently. She’s busy ruminating her disgraces to herself when, out of the blue, someone kneels before her and hands her the unpaired glove.

—Hi, Amity! Looked like you could use…a hand.

Maybe it’s the way she makes a small pause before saying the word “hand”. Or maybe the fact that she’s said it while shaking the glove in front of her nose. Or maybe it’s that stupid face she’s making as she speaks (eyes half-shut, raised eyebrow and lips tense of holding back a laughter), as she has said the wittiest joke in the world.

The point is Amity chuckles.

Luz Noceda has those perks.

—Hi, Luz. Thanks —Amity replies, taking the glove and unceremoniously throwing it into the depths of her locker once again.

Luz takes that laugh as a small personal triumph. It has not gone unnoticed to her that Amity is a bit down, that she’s being down the whole day. And Luz Noceda is not the kind of girl who lets her friends be down. She’s gonna cheer Amity up even if it’s the last thing she does (that day). She’s thinking on a way to do it when the solution passes right in front of her nose. Or, well, her hands, as she’s helping her friend picking up her books.

—Oh, abominations’ behavior! I should get to that, actually… —she runs a hand over the back of her neck, ashamed, with a small chuckle dorkily adorable—. The other day one of mine threw themselves over the stairs and stained them with goo, even if I had ordered them to roll over the hall and not the stairs. Principal Bump was not happy.

Amity reminds the incident well enough. She’s still deciding if the funniest thing had been the expression of absolute happiness of the abomination as they rolled over the stairs, Bump’s frown or Luz’s face of desperation and utter panic as she ran after the mass screaming something similar to “No! Don’t roll like a croqueta!” (whatever that was).

—I remember. I think he was debating between crying or resign directly.

Luz looks at her with a huge smile, a dorky one that makes Amity feel her stomach tinkle. Suddenly, the human’s eyes illuminate as she had just come up with the best plan in the whole universe.

—Amity! You’re the best in abominations’ class. You wanna come to the Owl House a while and study together? Only you can help me to understand…this —she adds, pouting, still holding the textbook.

Amity has only been to the Owl House once, after almost turning Willow’s brain into abomination goo. She knows she should say no, knows she has too much to do, too much schoolwork to catch on.

But she doesn’t want to go home, and Eda’s house has something welcoming in between all that havoc of messiness, and Luz is kind, and funny, and Amity would have never guessed it, but she enjoys the human’s company.

So, she accepts.

And Luz smiles, more than just happy, grabs half of the pile of Amity’s books and starts walking beside her (“Jeez, girl! Has anyone ever told you you need a backpack?”). They fill the silence with theories about the forthcoming sixth Azura book: Luz is certain Hecate will end up changing sides after a long redemption path; Amity is not so sure about that.

Luz takes the disagreement almost as a personal affront and spends more than half the way to Eda’s exposing her case. Amity finds enthralling the passion she speaks and moves with, how she defends her theories and the certainty that always seems to emanate from her every single cell, from every word, from every gesture.

Not taking her eyes off the human, the youngest Blight smiles.

And, as they walk, Amity thinks it’s nice to have a friend.

Video games, you pass me a note

Sleeping in tents

It’s nice to have a friend

(Ooh)

Amity has never given dating too much thought. It just wasn’t something that lingered in her plans for a future.

But then Luz arrived to Bonesborough, and Amity tried to get her dissected by principal Bump, and then that human who absurdly tried to pass as an abomination like that was going to fool anyone anyway, turned out to be funny, chaotic and unpredictable in the most charming way.

And so everything became extremely confusing.

Amity doesn’t get along with chaos. She likes things neatly in order and well-placed, situations she can handle, and things going according to plan.

She already has a plan. Had one.

And Luz was not in it.

But, suddenly, as days pass, Amity finds herself getting closer to the human; suddenly, her plans start mattering less and less every time; suddenly, wearing a “top-student” star on her lapel is not what makes her get up on the morning.

And, suddenly, Grom it’s just a few days away and the note burns inside her pocket as if it was on fire.

She doesn’t dare. She can’t give it to her.

Because it’s nice to have a friend, it’s too nice, and Amity does not want to, nor can, risk to lose her.

So, she keeps the note on her pocket and tries to ignore its presence against her hip with all she has.

An hour later, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because now Amity is Grom Queen and her worst fear is going to be widely cut open for all the school to see.

For Luz to see.

It’s being nice to have a friend.

It’s nice to have a friend

(Ooh)

The next night arrives. And her fears no longer matter, because Luz has jumped straight to occupy her place, because Luz is in danger, and Amity does not even think twice before going after Grom and step in, between the monster and the human that has slowly won her heart.

Her worst fear comes to light, as the most terrible pollution daunting the night’s air.

Amity can’t move. She’s sure she’s been turned to stone. The sound of torn paper rumbles in her ears louder than it should be, because, after all, it’s just a damn sheet of paper. But to her is thunder, one she’s sure she won’t ever forget. Her chest hurts, breathing hurts. Her eyes feel itchy when she kneels and picks up one of the fragments, the smaller one, in which she can backlight read Luz’s name.

Oh, Luz. Luz, who kneels and picks the opposite end of the paper, who reads quickly and suddenly understands everything…or almost everything. Luz, who reaches towards her, Luz, who says it’s okay. Luz, who tells her that, if she wants to, will go with her to the dance.

Amity’s heart jumps on her chest.

—Really?

Titan, Luz Noceda’s smile is almost a wonder of the Isles.

—That’s what friends do.

Amity smiles back, ignoring the tiny pinch of pain in her chest at the word “friends”, because that’s what they are.

Friends. They are friends.

The witch then banishes the feeling of rejection in favor of a warmer one that initiates in her chest and spreads through her whole body, cooed in the calm Luz’s eyes ignite.

Be brave, Amity Blight.

It’s a night to be.

—Well, if that’s settled… May I have this dance?

With a mischievous smile, Luz takes her hand and Amity suddenly feels she could kick the mighty Titan’s ass.

They defeat Grom together, hands tied and a perfectly improvised dance, and they dance a few more times, and Luz drags her to get a picture together because “We haven’t beaten a legendary monster for you not to take a photo with me tonight, Amity!”.

And Amity laughs, and enjoys the night more than anything, and stares at Luz like she’s all that matters in all realms.

Because they are friends, but how she would love to be more.

It’s nice to have a friend

Oh…

Luz Noceda is out of her mind.

Amity has suspected it for a while now, after seeing her facing Boscha, the very same Emperor and her terrifying mother. But when the human, that sweet, stubborn, beautiful, frustrating, amazing human shows up at her house, clothes ragged, smelling like smoke and with her library staff card in her hands, Amity is surer than ever that Luz Noceda is bloody nuts.

Nuts, nuts, damn it, absolutely nuts (and what’s that about taming a paper dragon?).

And Amity is head over heels for her.

So much she does not even think about what she’s doing, what she’s about to do. Wind ruffles Luz’s hair, brings Amity the scent of her hair and a slight hint of scorch, and then the witch ceases having direct line with her brain. The feeling of brunt plastic on her fingers reminds her Luz is there for her. And what she’s done for her.

The kiss on the cheek is quick. Just a tiny caress between her lips and Luz’s skin, which is as soft as Amity had imagined.

The kiss is quick and, at the moment, not confusing at all.

Confusing comes later, when Luz stares wide-eyed at her after letting out a surprised breathing in, reddened cheeks and parted lips. Her pupils dilate (that’s okay on humans, right?), her eyes glisten…and then her gaze lingers on Amity’s lips, on those very same lips in the witch still can feel the warmth and the tingle of the young human’s skin.

But she does not react.

Oh, no.

OH, NO.

Amity is not quite sure of what she says then, because all the blood in her body suddenly congregates on her face. Her tongue gets tangled on the “Why did I do that?” during minutes, while she hastily enters her house and collapses on the hall, and nothing, not even Ed’s chuckles or Em’s words of encouragement, manage to get her move away, face against arms and back towards the door.

She knows there is no turning back because friends don’t kiss on the cheek, do they?

No, they don’t.

A few days later, Hooty kidnaps Amity and locks her on some kind of basement no one on the Owl House had noticed before. Then, the youngest Blight stars in the most picturesque love confession the Boiling Isles has ever seen, because, opposite to what her panic attack had suggested her that night on her house’s porch, Luz does reciprocate her feelings.

Until that moment, Amity didn’t know one could burst of happiness. Now, she’s not so sure about that. Luz and her hold hands and Amity is sure she’s gonna explode, certain she can’t get her face to be redder, convinced that she’s happier than she’s ever been in her whole life. She knows her palms are sweating and her heart is beating hard against her ribs. It’s new, and terrifying, and wonderful.

They spent hours together, sitting on the floor of the Owl House, taking notes on the revelations they get from the echo mouse. Well, Luz takes notes. Amity just stares at her with tender eyes and a smile on her lips, memorizing how Luz sticks out her tongue while she focuses on writing every word, how the brown locks fall over her forehead, how her eyes gleam with that curiosity of hers.

Amity Blight is very, very much in love with her best friend.

No.

Not friend.

Girlfriend.

They are girlfriends now.

Light pink sky up on the roof

Sun sinks down, no curfew

Twenty questions, we tell the truth

You’ve been stressed out lately? Yeah, me too

Something gave you the nerve

To touch my hand

It’s nice to have a friend

They’ve been together for three months when all hell breaks loose.

Belos tries to kill everyone, they face him and the emperor loses on the Day of Unity.

Afterwards, calm arrives. Or almost.

They have made the greatest party ever seen on the Owl House. They have celebrated all they have achieved and more, and now everyone is dragged. Eda is soundly snoring on the couch while Rain snoozes at her side; King has curled up in an adorable ball in Luz’s room and Hooty is pestering Lilith to catch on while Hunter pretends to be bored when he’s, actually, exhausted. Willow and Gus leave with Ed and Em a few hours away from dawn.

Amity stays, because she’s not just going to return home after everything that has happened.

Eda doesn’t seem to mind taking her in; she’s done it already for weeks, and the Owl Lady has barely batted an eye while the purple-haired witch gradually slipped into the house’s daily routines. Even King seems to enjoy having her there. So, Amity is staying. Besides, she wants to relish every single moment with Luz before she has to return to the Human Realm.

It’s just for a while, and the portal works, so they are gonna see each other often, and they have their thingies to text, and Luz will probably spend more hours there than in her mother’s house, but, despite all that, Amity can feel the panic gulping on her stomach and rushing up her throat, making breathing hard.

The night is calm, the air is gentle there, at the Owl House’s roof; Amity hides in the silence and the darkness that surrounds them, in the small bubble Luz has created with her glyphs, dozens of tingling spheres dancing around them isolating them from the rest of the world. The witch nuzzles against her girlfriend’s side, warm and welcoming, buries the nose on the skin of her neck and breathes in deeply. Luz smells like a mix of sugar, paper, ink and something that is inherently hers, and Amity feels at home. Her heart soothes lightly, her angst apparently retreating; Amity is thankful, because she does not want to spend what’s left of the night anticipating something she knows will make her sad.

But Luz notices, because Luz always notices. She tugs at the blanket surrounding them both, as butterflies on their cocoons, and hugs her tightly. Suddenly, her lips are on the young witch’s hair, her hands on the purple-haired girl waist and there’s a telling blush on her cheeks. She tells her not to worry, that she will be back in no time, that it will only be for a while and that Amity is “gonna have to try harder to get rid of her”, making the witch chuckling sarcastically because how in the name of hell is she going to want to get rid of Luz? And, almost as if she can read her mind, Luz gives her a breathtaking wink and nuzzles the tip of her nose with the witch’s one, before getting lost in Amity’s eyes.

Words arrive without anticipation.

—I love you, Amity Blight.

Amity blushes to the hairline. She is paralyzed; blinks once, twice, opens her mouth, not knowing what to say, or do, or how to react, because, Titan, Luz Noceda has just told her she loves her.

Luz blushes, too, but her nervousness is never silent. So, the human lets out a small chuckle, half jokes about having broken her girlfriend, but, before she can enter on the spiral of fussy rambling, Amity raises a hand (a frozen one, by the way, because of them both she’s the cold-sensitive one) to her cheek and replies with unexpected calmness and domain of herself:

—I love you too, Luz.

And Luz beams, shining brighter than her glyphs, the stars and the dawn that peeks timidly over the horizon. She smiles and hugs her tighter, and Amity feels loved, worshipped, happy. And brave.

Her frozen fingers reach the human girl’s mouth; in her eyes there is a question that Luz answers with a tiny nod and a kiss to her tips.

When their lips meet, Amity thinks she will wait all the time she has to.

And Luz promises the wait will be short-lived.

Call my bluff, call you “babe”

Have my back, yeah, everyday

Feels like home

Stay in bed the whole weekend

It’s nice to have a friend

Luz snores.

Amity would have never supposed it, neither would have thought about it before knowing, but after months, years, hours and some moments of insomnia, she knows Luz Noceda snores. It’s a hoarse, constant, tiny noise, made with the base of the throat and accompanied by a soft “mmmm” when breathing out. Something kinda like a purr, and, to her surprise, Amity finds it weirdly adorable.

The witch remembers cheerfully the first night they spent together, after Luz permanently moved in the Isles when she turned eighteen: Amity spent more than half the night awake, fearing falling sleep in case her human would be nowhere to be found when she woke up and everything turned out to be a dream. Eventually, she did fall asleep, of course, out of pure exhaustion, but was woken up by Luz’s snores by dawn.

Maybe that’s why Amity is quite fond of her human’s snores. They convinced her that was real, that they had a life together ahead of them, that she was there and was never leaving again.

A new little noise coming from Luz, mouth half-open in deep slumber, takes Amity back to the present, to those first hours of the day and the few rays of sun that sneak lazily through the colored window. They are still occupying Eda and Raine’s attic, but they are already thinking about moving to a small house just for the two of them. Amity does not want a mansion, not even for all the snails in the universe.

It’s still early, very early. It has barely begun to break dawn, but old habits die hard, so Amity is awake. It doesn’t matter. She can stay like this, watching how Luz sleeps soundly at her side, feeling the heat emanating from her girlfriend’s body as if she had casted some kind of fire spell, feeling how she purrs every time she breathes.

The sun is starting to caress Luz’s dark skin, her shoulders and cheeks, those brown locks that fall carelessly over her forehead. Amity brushes them off with a lovingly touch that’s barely more than a brush, and Luz, as if she can feel her from the oneiric world, mumbles in satisfaction, melting the witch on a puddle right there on the mattress. Unable to help herself, Amity cuddles against the human and places a small kiss on her clavicle, exposed due to the oversized pajama t-shirt. Without waking up, Luz encloses her in her arms and takes her in, making a new little noise that tears a small chuckle out of Amity’s lips, places her chin on top of the witch’s head and keeps sleeping without the slightest worry.

And Amity is happy. Incredibly happy.

On that very same moment, on a dusty attic, sharing a very tiny bed with her girlfriend and during the most peaceful moment in her life, Amity Blight makes a choice.

She’s gonna marry her girlfriend someday.

It’s nice to have a friend

A/N: Not my best work, I'm aware of that, but I hope you liked it. I just love this series, and I love this two. THEY ARE GIRLFRIENDS, WORLD.

#lumity #luz x amity #amity blight #luz noceda #toh #toh fanfic #toh fanfiction #toh fic #toh spoilers #the owl house #GiveAmityABackpackPls

9 notes · View notes

codename-adler · 3 years

Note

Hey! So I saw someone ask you for kevaaron recs and I saw the ones you recommended. I have read like more than half of those and I really like your taste (especially the one on Instagram, that one's great). So, I wanted to ask if you would give some of your favorite jerejean recs, since you also ship them. I don't have a problem with explicit scenes btw, but I don't prefer kerejean (I am sorry if that doesn't suit with you, but it's just not my thing)

This will be an honor and a pleasure!

All of these can be found on ao3, as they are from my personal bookmarks of Jerejean fics (12 in total, you can also find them regrouped on my dashboard @ codename_adler on ao3, just put the Jeremy Knox / Jean Moreau tag to filter down your research!)

I should also mention that these are all pretty long, triggering, explicit, mature and more or less canon compliant, considering how little we know in the books. To me, Jerejean is about healing and mending and finding solace in each other. If you're looking for something more... bright and AU-ish and short & sweet, I'm... yeah, not the right gal to ask. But please give these a shot, they are all so brilliant and beautiful!! ALSO, any Jerejean fic without Laila and Alvarez is lacking that quality content. I said what I said.

Alright, come on now!

Jerejean Fic Recs

Marrow Without Bone - exyfexyfoxes

First AFTG fic I ever read, first Jerejean fic I ever read, first ao3 fic I ever read... My first love. Always and forever in my heart.

(19 chapters, 79k, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

. When they laid Riko’s body to rest, the only thing Jean could think about was Kevin Day. Kevin Day, Castle Evermore, and the fragile blades of grass near his feet. He thought he must’ve been imagining their brightness, the absolute intensity of the iridescent neon bright fucking green of them.

Riko was dead.

'The Ravens never scouted me,' said Jeremy. He was bouncing his leg under the table. 'Didn’t you know why?' ''

playing on - flybbfly

Oh my god, they were roommates, but make it Jerejean with a bucket of angst, feels, trauma and sexual tension. So long. So slowburn. Yet never enough.

(31 chapters, 142k, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

(this one is also one of two fics that can only be accessed by registered users, make to have an ao3 account to read!)

" "Who knew California Golden Boy Jeremy Knox could play dirty?”

Jeremy grins. “Best kept secret on the west coast. Told you there was a western division striker who could dispossess you.”

“On a practice court, maybe," Jean says. "Try to get it away from me during a game.”

Jeremy leans back, bracing himself on gloved hands. “Luckily, I won't ever have to.”

In which Jean Moreau and Jeremy Knox play exy, share a dorm room, and accidentally insult each another a lot. "

philtatos - lydjah

A Jerejean getting together and healing fic with references to TSoA? It's more likely than you think. Hurts more than you think, too.

(5 chapters, 21k, completed, M + TW)

" Helping Jean Moreau heal is a game Jeremy Knox feels the stakes are too high to even consider the thought of losing. Jean’s first game as a Trojan against Edgar Allan feels like even higher stakes. Falling in love with Moreau - well, those are the highest stakes of all.

“You are his Achilles’ heel,” Laila whispers, in the dark, and her words bleed straight into the empty places in Jeremy’s heart. "

Quicksilver - lydjah

Alternate POVs between Jean and Jeremy, and so, so much love.

(5 chapters, 21k, completed, M + TW)+ Non-explicit sex)

" Jean’s first month at USC is nothing but darkness. Of course, he is used to this. The only colour Jean can anchor himself to in that time is Jeremy Knox’s bright, golden hair.

Fucking martyr, Jean thinks in savage French. "

Saturday Sun - bamboo_astronaut (A_Lesbian_With_Pink_Hair)

Setting beloved characters on the path to healing is its own form of therapy. I'm not even joking.

(1 chapter, 32k, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

" Jean Moreau arrives at USC bruised and battered, and Jeremy Knox is determined to help him heal from his painful past and welcome him to the Trojans with open arms. "

between hoping and believing - cryptickidprem

A soulmate AU!!!

(16 chapters, 47k, completed, pretty G-rated, slight TW bc duh it's Jean)

" Jean convinced himself a long time ago that he doesn't have a soulmate. Or maybe he just wants to believe that. Things would be easier if he was destined to be alone. It will at least hurt less when he inevitably winds up that way anyway.

And then there's Jeremy, who's been dreaming of meeting his match for years. For some reason, Jeremy seems determined to convince Jean that sometimes he might actually be able to have the things he hopes for, and that soulmate or no, Jean Moreau has people who will stick with him. "

Unholy Revelation - the_oxfordcomma

Brace yourselves. This isn't pretty. This isn't nice. But. Doesn't mean it's not worth it.

(1 chapter, 6k, completed, VERY M + TW + Explicit)

" Jeremy didn’t see the approaching Ravens. He was chattering away with Kevin and Matt Boyd, dazzling grin still in place from an hour ago when he’d climbed the stage to accept the award on behalf of his team for the final time. Although everyone in the room had known the Trojans would win, Jeremy still lit up with pride at the announcement, eyes sparkling as he squeezed Jean’s hand under the table. Jean had squeezed back.

Of course the Ravens would try and cast their shadow on the brightest thing in the room. "

Coupure Électrique - lscar123

The only uncompleted fic I'd recommend (last updated in 2017), although the last chapter ends in a way that could be a valid ending, which is why I'm putting it here anyways. The French is cringy but because the rest is so good it deserves a shot.

(21 chapters, 58k, incomplete, M + TW + Non-explicit sex)

" Jean and Jeremy spend the holidays together and learn more about each other than they ever could have imagined. "

Shield for a Heart - neilskey (spellitwithyourpeas)

Oh, the ansgt. Oh, the slowburn. Oh, my heart.

(16 chapters, 55k, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

" “It’s your choice, but you’re rotting away in here, Jean and no matter what she says, you can’t live in Abby’s spare bedroom forever. Time to start fighting again.”

Kevin’s hard and commanding tone was no surprise. The softness had been beaten out of him around the same time as Jean.

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

Maybe it was because he had been half hidden in shadows-Jean had kept the shades drawn, but light still seeped in the cracks- but Jean thought he had seen something akin to understanding paint Kevin’s cool expression. “He’s gone. You survived. Play or don’t, it’s up to you, but you need to get out of this fucking house.” // Jean's first year at USC. Jeremy falls hard, Jean comes around eventually. "

He Could Taste the Stars - subtlehysteria

Yeah, there's a happy ending. But first, pain!

(25 chapters, 48k, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

" I am a Trojan. I go to USC, Jeremy Knox is my roommate, he has blue eyes, I have grey –

Jean recollected himself. Those were unimportant details. So why couldn’t he get the thought out of his head?

Jean is still adjusting to being a Trojan, Jeremy tries to help Jean open up to his new team. "

I Guess I Like You Like You - lazarusthefirst

This one goes pretty quickly into what matters and we like it like that.

(1 chapter, 7k, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

" ‘Even if it’s just sleeping, I’d rather do it in your room.’ "

Ask the Messenger - Metis_Ink

Second soulmate AU! But this one is very heavy... Made me cry. I cannot stress enough how sad and triggering this one is, even though it ends okay. Please be careful.

(5 chapters, 33k, completed, VERY M + TW + Explicit)

" Jeremy Knox and the soulmate.

Guest starring: Exy, a transfer student, generalized anxiety, older sisters, drunk lesbians, bread, cake, a shed, the beach, the absence of Hennessy, Star Wars, Renee Walker, self-taught smooth talking, gratuitous French, No. 1 Trojans fan Kevin Day, relationship drama, general drama, the power of Friendship, questions, answers, team spirit!, and, of course, romance. "

AND THERE YOU GO!

#jerejean #jerejean fics #jeremy knox #jean moreau #aftg #aftg fic #aftg fanfic #all for the game #usc trojans #exy #fic rec

127 notes · View notes

cherrynojutsu · 3 years

Text

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out. And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief. A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 2/?: A Poetic Sort of Procrastination, Indeed

Sakura saunters home late in the evening, admiring the stars above her in a daze of spring air and clutching her tote bag to her shoulder as if her very life force is tethered to it.

In the flurry of emotion, she completely forgot about returning her library books, but she doesn’t give a damn.

She drudged through her entire pile of paperwork, though it was an almighty effort requiring every ounce of her discipline. Even after Sasuke left, she kept tearing up and just gawking at the impossibly beautiful gift he’s given her, affection requited bubbling up inside her ribcage and unleashed into the air she breathes like some sort of ambrosial perfume she can finally afford to bask in. She has always known there is a softer side to him, that there is much more beneath the surface than he lets on with his laconic demeanor, but this is something else.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out.

And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief.

A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

She hangs her tote on its entryway hook and carefully removes the box inside once she reaches her apartment. After she’s padded her way to her bedroom, she flips on the two lamps before placing it tenderly on her bed.

Sakura briefly contemplates taking the lid off then and there, but she knows she really should shower first, because otherwise the evening is going to quickly spiral away from her, whirlpool of tender feelings that it already is.

It’s the quickest shower she’s ever taken in her life; berry-scented soap floods her body and seems to take forever to rinse clean in her haste, although it can’t actually be more than a minute or two in reality. It’s also the quickest she’s ever toweled off and changed into pajamas, scurrying back to her room and grabbing the first pair she lays eyes on from her dresser drawer.

Once she has shimmied them on, she opens the box again, and just looks.

It still exists - it doesn’t disappear or dissolve as a figment of her imagination - so she picks it up with careful hands.

It is so, so pretty, exquisite in a way that makes her heart hammer relentlessly against her sternum, a catharsis in her chest sweeter somehow than anything she’s ever experienced.

It’s unavoidable; her eyes well with tears again, because he said he had it made for her. Not found in an antique shop off the beaten path or some happenstance market who knows how many miles away. Not just something that reminded him of her.

Made for me.

Which means he thought of this himself. Silk that shifts colors like the Uchiha crest, fastidiously stitched petals, and a cherry blossom tree, carved light wood that is startlingly similar in tone to the accents here in her bedroom.

And the way he looked at her, after, a storm of silver and obsidian that took her breath away.

And he kissed her.

Sakura doesn’t know how she’s supposed to fall asleep tonight, deliriously happy as she is, or how she’s going to spend any of her free time from here on out not staring at this supernal treasure. She strokes the wood with careful fingers, bringing the carving upwards for closer inspection. Every inch of it is gorgeous; she is especially enamored with the pink and pearlescent stitching, coruscant in the low light. She assiduously counts the slivers of bamboo, too, and follows the rivulets of fine branches stretching upwards to the boundaries of the framework. Upon her inquest, she notices an impossibly tiny etching, faintly whittled on the interior of one of the slats of bamboo. Tai Ro, it says; she assumes that must be the craftsman’s signature. She wonders where it came from, which far-off land Sasuke traveled through to commission something so resplendent.

She has never seen anything so bewitching, except maybe silver flecks.

Tearing her gaze away from the fan, Sakura eyes the vanity by her balcony door, an idea brewing.

It’s an aged piece, of a bygone style featuring small drawers on each size and a sunken point in the middle, from which rises a large circular mirror. A framed copy of their original Team Seven portrait sits pushed against the framing, right in the center. She placed it there because she enjoys seeing it as she gets ready for the day. It’s a good memory, one of her favorites, sentimental in a way that makes her heart swell, after everything. A pale wooden hairbrush also sits perched atop its surface, given to her by her mother forever ago while she was still at the Academy.

“I found it in the market today, just after swinging by to pick up rose food from Ino’s mother. It’s old, an antique, but I think it suits you, my dear,” she’d said, ruffling her hair, still long at that point and chattering a mile a minute in the overbearing way she has always tended to. She’d brushed her already combed locks in the manner that Sakura thinks all mothers must with their daughters, even when they are starting to become too grown for that sort of thing. “What I wouldn’t give for your hair! So unique; you should have something lovely to brush it with. You’re already such a pretty girl, but someday you’re going to bloom, and when you do, heaven help the boys.”

There’s a cherry blossom on it, too, adorning the back simply with five perfect petals.

When Sakura moved out of her parents’ house, she chose the tones of her bedroom accents, inclusive of the frame, with it in mind; she’d been using it for years by then, and had developed a fondness for pale wood rooted in familial nostalgia. Most of her actual furniture in the room is secondhand, of an older variety and painted with a white stain to make them somewhat match - she prefers things with a little bit of history, has since her mom gifted her that hairbrush - but the few frames and wall-mounted shelves are lighter washes of wood.

Many of the surfaces in her apartment are cluttered with books and other knick knacks she has accumulated through the years, but she tries to keep the vanity’s top clear, almost like an altar, an ode to the things she finds lovely atop it to give her hope with which to greet the day.

Still clutching the gift tenderly in her hands, Sakura ventures over to it.

She holds the fan close to the frame as well as the brush, comparing the color, near an exact match, a fresh memory making her heart swell in a completely different way, a way she had previously thought was maybe unrealistic.

She’ll get a stand for it, she decides, and display it in the spot the frame currently sits; it would look perfect there, the curvature echoed above it in circular looking glass, a hairbrush of a similar stain beside it. Then she’ll be able to gaze at it every morning and evening. There is no way something this precious to her could ever be stored away in a box and only seen on special occasions; it’s the same reason she struggled with the idea of hiding his letters away in one.

No, Sakura is resolutely sure that admiring it will be a daily ritual.

She can relocate the photo frame to her bedside table, maybe, next to An Introduction to Electrocardiography , or perhaps to her living room, though it doesn’t really match the wood out there.

That gets her thinking. We’re... together now, right? He’s kissed her, and she really hopes he will again, surprisingly soft lips against hers, an aroma of woodsmoke, and butterflies unleashed in her stomach. Maybe she should put the frame on the shelf in the main room. He might come over, sometime; it would be good to have it visible, situated in a place where he can see it.

With the utmost care, she lays the fan on the surface in front of her. Sakura combs through wet locks, coaxing out tangles with an old gift and appreciating a new one with watery eyes. When she’s finished, she carefully clutches it again and admires it atop a lavender comforter for the better part of an hour, alternating between mentally mapping its fine stitching within the confines of her hippocampus and paging through her book of Sasuke’s letters in a way that is more than fond, affection freed from her chest after so very long. The jubilance crests to a sense of omneity as she does so, moon glow filtering in by way of the gauzy white curtains that shield the balcony’s glass door.

She absolutely can’t wait to see him tomorrow. She sincerely hopes she’s not dreaming all of this.

She is so enamored with it that she doesn’t even drink her customary evening tea, her being warmed in an entirely different manner she is as of yet unaccustomed to, better than earl grey or some variety of dessert. It’s immensely difficult to pry it from her own hands when the time comes to do so.

Always is the last word she thinks of before she succumbs to slumber, curled up in soft colors and hoping he has found somewhere comfortable to sleep. Treasured memories emanate from objects old and new, brewing together before a looking glass where she’s placed them for safekeeping and admiration.

XXX

When she awakens in the morning, Sakura jerks upright in bed, turning to her vanity to ascertain if it was all a dream, cozened in by her subconscious as she slept.

It wasn’t. The fan is still there, precious and so enchantingly beautiful, dawn flavoring the memory of Sasuke’s return just as sweet as it had tasted yesterday with his lips on hers.

She brushes her hair again, working at the task way longer than necessary and trying not to cry out of sheer happiness. She feels so light, as if being pulled upwards by a latterly existent force of gravity, theoretically possible in terms of relative physics and with the right circumstances, but never actually experienced.

Birds are singing on the balcony when Sakura finally steps outside, snacking on seeds from her bird feeder as she gives her fledgling plants a drink before leaving for work.

It is such a lovely morning.

XXX

Sakura makes it through work as if encapsulated in a brand of inertial navigation system, floating as if she’s a bizarrely sentient cloud from patients to test tubes. She feeds the mice and records the brief observations she usually does on Wednesdays, and then a Genin is being brought in with a linear fracture in their tibia, twisted wrong and impacted during training. She gives instructions to nurses, too, taking care of smaller tasks in between, part of her feeling like she is barely there.

Well, not barely. She still keeps her wits about her and heals people; she takes pride in what she does. She just… daydreams a little, too, sage, smoke, and silver occupying her spare moments, flitting in between the corridors of her head as she flits from exam room to exam room.

She’s sitting at her desk, eating an early dinner and working on a new pile of paperwork before her next appointment arrives at five thirty, when one of Naruto’s clones bangs on her window.

Her gaze shifts to the glass at the familiar boisterous whining of her name - “Sakura-chaaaaaaan!” - and she rises to open it the rest of the way, allowing him entry into her office, an easy grin coming to her lips.

“Naruto!” A million thoughts run through her head. He has to know Sasuke’s back at this point, right? Has he seen him? He must be so happy.

Cyan bores into her, and he grins as he steps down. “Sakura-chan, teme’s back! Can you believe it? Though I guess you knew since yesterday.”

Sakura’s cheeks warm at the implication of that, wondering how he knows this information, but her friend is plowing onwards.

“Anyways, wanna have an original Team Seven reunion dinner on Saturday night? Or maybe Sunday night? Kakashi-sensei said Saturday would be better for him, if it works for you. And we should also make it a housewarming party for teme, but Kakashi-sensei says DON’T tell him that, or he won’t agree! It’s a surprise.”

Laughter erupts from her chest, rich and joyful, because it is crystal clear in that moment that Naruto is as elated at Sasuke’s return as she is - okay, maybe not quite on the level that she is, but close - even through a clone. “Of course, we should! I don’t have anything planned for Saturday night.”

Her teammate grins, all infectious happiness in the way that is so utterly characteristic of him, eyes crinkling at their corners. “Good, great, awesome! Be sure to mention it to him when you see him at seven. I’m sure if you suggest it, he’ll definitely agree.” Sakura blinks in surprise, cheeks staining darker. “Man, this is gonna be so great! Team Seven is fucking back ! I can’t wait to get a mission! It’ll be just like old times. I gotta tell Hinata-chan, too!”

She can’t help it; she smiles so wide that it hurts her face, tears paying her another visit. Sasuke’s back. He’s really back. And-

“Well, anyways, I’ll leave you to eat your dinner, Sakura-chan, but we have to force him to be social. I can’t wait to spar! But also, we gotta have a picnic, and no tying me to the pole this time. We could even challenge Kakashi-sensei to get off his ass and give us another go at the bell test. And, and! We should have a movie night. And go drinking! I’ve never seen teme drunk. I bet he’s a lightweight, and he’ll probably say all sorts of embarrassing shit! And-” Naruto’s clone’s expression turns unexpectedly serious, blue eyes suddenly narrowing in a way that is all-seeing and a tan finger suddenly pointing at her accusingly.

“-I mean social outside of you and him, Sakura-chan! Don’t think for a second that you’re gonna escape my questions later, when my brain isn’t fried from staring at that stupid scroll Kakashi-sensei has me slaving over. I want answers. ”

And then Naruto’s clone disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving her blinking in a strange combination of bewilderment and somehow, shyness, too.

And ebullience. Mostly ebullience.

She stands there grinning like an idiot for a long time. She can’t wait to see him at seven.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like silver #fanfiction #labor day weekend = finishing things

25 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

The Cowboy - Part 4

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) --- there’s a bit of angst in this part

Word count: 2078

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

“That was delicious, thank you!”

“I hope you have room in your stomach for apple crumble,” Mr Jung said, leaning across the table towards you. “June is a mighty fine cook but an even greater baker.”

“The reason he married me, so he says.”

You smiled warmly, enjoying the banter between the pair. Their love for one another was evident. You hadn’t seen such a genuine display of affection in years. The city had jaded your parents and kept them looking for the next big project instead of cosy nights curled up together.

They’re professionals, you reminded yourself when you felt a sense of sadness for your parents. They don’t have time like they do out here.

“Were the heifers put into the bottom field?”

You had almost forgotten Jaehyun was sitting at your side until he cleared his throat then, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, I moved them this morning.”

“By yourself?”

“You had Caleb up in the high fields with you and Avery was otherwise preoccupied with someone,” he continued, and you felt eyes boring into the side of your head on the latter half of the conversation.

You smiled brightly. “It must take a lot of people to run such a big ranch like yours, Mr Jung.”

“We make do with the help we have.”

“We could do with three more men,” Jaehyun muttered, and you looked at him, pausing in saying anything in response when you noticed the dark look within the elder’s eyes.

Blayne was under-populated. You already knew this from the basic land per capita estimates online and in the business proposal for Blayne’s development. If more jobs were created here, then the farms that were struggling would be able to hire more help.

But Blayne also lacked housing. It would need to supply appropriate accommodation for new workers. You stewed over the thought of how many changes would be needed to not only make Blayne easily accessible but also improve the existing community until a dessert plate was placed in front of you.

Blinking out of your reverie, you beamed up at June. “I cannot wait to try it!”

After dinner, you thanked both your hosts generously. “I’ve not had a home-cooked meal quite as tasty as that before.”

“Your mother?” June enquired.

“She’s a professor at the School of Commerce.”

“Ah, she would have been too busy to make meals a priority.”

“It’s okay! I admire her for her work ethic. She’s taught me a lot. Both my parents have always been busy, but that’s how it is in the city.”

“Busy people don’t often see the bigger picture. I can tell by how eager you were to take up the position out here,” Mr Jung mentioned gruffly and you nodded despite his expression. “A woman of marrying age coming up here all alone is usually unheard of.”

“Perhaps Blayne will leave an impression on Y/N, honey.” June offered, patting her husband’s lower arm fondly. She then smiled at you. “You seem quite confident.”

“I’m hopeful I can make a positive change here,” you stated, your own smile fading when you heard a scoff, and then feet moving across the gravel behind you. Darting your focus to the disappearing man that had been waiting nearby, you looked back at his parents. “Thank you again!”

“We’ll have you over anytime, sugar!”

Turning on your heel, you took the pathway that Jaehyun had just departed down, finding him strapping up the horse that had brought you here earlier in the evening. You stopped near his side, frowning at his efforts. “Should you be asking the horse to work again?”

Jaehyun looked in your direction before returning his gaze back to his efforts, not answering your question.

“Your mother said it was too dark to ride last night. Shouldn’t we take the truck since the moon is now up in the sky?” you prompted, shifting your eyes to the heavens. You gasped in awe. “Wow, I’ve never seen such a clear night sky before!”

“Pollution inhibits that,” Jaehyun explained curtly, yanking on a strap and tightening it into place.

“It’s so beautiful out here, though. It’s a shame not many people have experienced it outside of a postcard.”

“Why don’t you save the speech for someone who is interested?”

“Excuse me?” Staring back at the man beside you, you tilted your head to the side. “You’re awfully moody tonight, Mr Cowboy.”

“Back to that name, huh?”

“Well, since you’re feeling a little cold towards me, I don’t know if it’s my place to call you by your first name,” you explained. Jaehyun didn’t respond again, and you sighed. “What did I do wrong?”

“Are you always this self-centred? Can’t you see the bigger picture than the goal inside your head?” Jaehyun questioned, sliding his hands onto his hips and finally facing you. He looked you over again, much as he had earlier when he first saw you as he jumped down from the wagon. Instead of the kindness you had experienced then, it was laced with scrutiny this time. You lowered your gaze to your outfit and stepped back.

“Hey…” you started, and then squared your jaw.

Just who was this guy to act so blunt with you? You should have stuck with believing he was the rude and full of assumptions jerk just as you had thought of him earlier in the day. Perhaps it was the fresh air and gentleness of the wagon ride that had softened your heart to him somehow. You should have known better to trust in your instincts.

Turning on your heel, you started walking down the drive towards the field you had travelled across from your place to the main homestead on this land. You didn’t get far before a hand reached out and yanked on your forearm roughly. “What are you doing?!”

“Going home!”

“Oh, is that so? Through a darkened field? See, this is why you belong in the city, Y/N. You have no idea about the dangers of a working farm. You’re used to living in tiny apartments and navigating mazes of streets and buildings and-”

“I didn’t come here to have you tell me what you think about me, Jaehyun.”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t. But you did come out here all alone with zero understanding of how the country works. You’re here to change how we are? What a joke. You have no concept of what Blayne is about. You’ve not even stopped to take the time to listen to those around you. Instead, you’re dreaming up something big that none of us wants. Can’t you tell that? We might be showing you some country hospitality right now, but don’t go thinking people want you here.”

“That’s incredibly evident, don’t you worry,” you bit back, shaking his grip off your arm.

Jaehyun ran an agitated hand through his hair before looking at you again. “I’ll take you home. Come on.”

“I’m good with directions. I’ll take myself back.”

“What you see during the day changes at night around here. Hate me all you like, but I’ll take you home so I don’t have to worry about you falling in an open drain pipe.”

You opened your mouth to refute the offer, but the image he had painted was enough for you to silently march back over to the wagon. Jaehyun checked everything over again and jumped up into the seat, his hand reaching down to help you up.

Stubbornly, you ignored it and heaved yourself into the seat.

The ride back home was silent, and you preferred it that way. After the outburst in the field, you had little to say to the man. You were grateful he seemed compliant of such silence and didn’t offer any conversation from his behalf either. All the same, you were somewhat holding out for an apology.

You gained none, however.

Leaping down from the wagon, you merely tipped your head as Jaehyun did in farewell and then headed inside without a single word. You watched as the wagon disappeared thereafter, and finally, let out a string of incoherent cursing and annoyance.

You blew a strand of hair away from your face and glowered out the window. “God, I hate him.”

When the morning rose, you got up with a new plan in place. The night before, you had spent the first part of it packing your belongings and then unpacking several times over. You were done with Blayne. If the people didn’t want you here, then you would take heed of their warning and leave.

However, you had been too confident when your boss assigned you with this project.

“They will resist change, you know.”

You nodded. “Of course, but I’m equipped to handle it.”

“Are you?”

“You wouldn’t have pitched the proposal to me if you didn’t think I was the best to acquire the deal, Pierce.”

That, along with the fact that everyone seemingly had bets on when you’d depart played into your new resolve. You would show them just how capable you truly were.

First, however, you needed more information. “Is there a local library or archives here, May?”

“Library?”

You nodded. “Or a town hall? Surely the public can access the information there?”

“Our town hall was burned down ten years ago,” another person at the diner counter mentioned, despite May’s obvious hand swatting him off. He smiled at you. “You’ll have to go to the town over for anything like that.”

“Thank you, you’ve been a great help. Thanks for the coffee, May!”

Once in your car again, you headed back down the country highway and took the forty-five minute drive to the closet township. You cried with comforting relief when you heard the usual bleeps of your phone notification ring in succession.

“Ah, I’m back in a place of proper civilisation!”

Although this township had most amenities, you still were surprised by how small the town hall was. Having no luck there, you went next door to the equally quaint library and piled up all the documents and texts you could find on Blayne.

With a pen in hand ready to take down notes, you picked up the first journal and began to read.

You weren’t aware of how long you spent perusing the history of the area or familiarising yourself with the generations of family lines that were born and bred in Blayne. Stopping on an interesting line in the Jung family, you let out a low whistle. “June and May aren’t originally from Blayne?”

“Perhaps Blayne will leave an impression on Y/N, honey.”

June’s comment from last night pulled a smile onto your lips. At least there seemed to be one person rooting for your stay in Blayne.

It was then when you saw how late into the afternoon it was and you collected up your belongings, asking a clerk if you could take a couple of the history logs with you. After registering with the library and checking them out, you stepped into the warm air, smiling triumphantly at your discovery.

You then pulled out your phone, browsing through the messages you had received. Natalia had contacted you the most, and you pressed call instead of replying, waiting for the call to connect.

“You didn’t let me know if you got there safely!”

“I couldn’t really, the signal out in that place is something else,” you admitted with a grin as you headed to your car. You climbed inside it and then sighed. “I miss you, Natty.”

“Not enough to assure me that you’re alive!”

“Come on, it’s only been a few days, and I’m talking to you now. Isn’t that enough?” you humoured, watching a family cross the intersection up ahead. The little girl skipping across the road seemed so carefree compared to what you had been at that age.

You wondered if the city environment had made you cynical or if that was just who you naturally were.

Natalia cleared her throat and gained your attention again. “Yeah, yeah. So, any hot cowboys out there?”

The image of Jaehyun immediately appeared in your mind, and it ruined your mood entirely. “No. Not a single one.”

“Aw man, here I had you pegged for having a hot summer romance with some farm boy out there.”

“I’m here to work, Natty,” you reminded, both for hers and your sakes. “Even if there was someone handsome, he’s not going to do anything for me.”

_________________

Part 5

[NCT Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

109 notes · View notes

needleanddead · 2 years

Note

Ooh I’d like to know how you think your MCs would get along/what endings they’d get after they were bought

i'll shove this under a cut for spoilers. but obviously it's most fun to imagine endings that don't exist in the game. preferably ones where they survive and get Kept and proceed to (continue to) have the worst and most horrible times and i will continue to imagine those scenarios for my own amusement and enjoyment fgbkjngfkjn.

the 'personality test' of the auction scene and letting whoever fight it out suggested teddy would go home with mason; he probably dies in the end, but i think he certainly gives a good hunt! he's fast, graceful, and strong; he also knows a little bit about camping because of shoots he's done in the woods. he could successfully fish! he’s keeping himself warm successfully! he’s not going that stir-crazy! the fact he's basically twirling and tee-heeing to himself anytime he sees mason is probably not helping here at all, so i think he’s more likely to falter on the ‘remembering he’s being hunted’ hurdle; possibly he'd forget mason could see the smoke from the fire. that ending is . . . halfway enjoyable for teddy until it's Not anymore!

if he went home with celia he's probably puppy-ish and eager enough to please for her to at least develop a fondness for him even despite being a Man, but i think he might be a little too much personality-wise. he's kind of loud! he's A Lot!

and. uuh. derek's route. well for one thing, i think cham would remind him of rose and he'd be Pissed Off throughout the entirety of however long this lasted. but i also think he's really not that smart and would eventually drink the Bad Water, maybe even early enough for the sacrifice ending. is an eternal lifetime of being a gift for a demon of pain really all that bad for teddy. if not, he also might be foolish enough to wander into the camp while derek’s there. lot of possibilities for a guy who doesn’t think things through!

i'd like to point out that every single option sucks for rose. celia's is probably the least terrifying, but. oof. an +f in the chat for them. rose is very frightened and well-behaved for celia. they probably have the capability to get her 'ran away with her' ending, if they can get over the fear of Leaving The Room To Begin With, but more likely they do everything right and still get ‘cleaned up’.

mason's route would suck for them. all of that unfamiliar confusing terrain, mind already prone to thinking they're crazy. they might get shepherded along a bit by any of mason's former victims, but they're really not athletic or anything; anything they know about survival is gleaned from books. so they're not sleeping with fish in their pocket or anything, and they're dismantling traps and not letting their smoke be seen . . . but they probably either lose sanity or bleed out, instead.

and the same 'personality test let whoever fight it out' at the auction tactic sent them home with derek, which i repeat is the worst possible outcome for them. there is nowhere to hide in the desert. it is all wide-open space; it’s an agoraphobia trigger and a half, even for someone who’s ‘recovering’. add in the 'being able to see ghosts' thing, and the fact that the thing that's usually enough to make them non-compliant for once is 'watching other people get hurt for no reason' . . . yeah. rose is having a bad time. derek would also definitely remind them of their ex-boyfriend lmao. if rose is lucky and lucid enough to pay attention the warnings of ghosts, they might actually get somewhere re; a 'survival' or 'escape' ending (being able to see ghosts and possibly interpret what they're getting at seems especially useful for the machete ending). unfortunately, they also are very likely to hide in what they see as the first 'safe', slightly tucked away place, and they also Immediately and Stupidly trust anyone they clock as an 'authority figure'. so, like. probably they die to jack.

#tpof posting

6 notes · View notes

hargrove-mayfields · 4 years

Note

Autistic max? I’m all in -🦖

yes!! Max being on the spectrum is one of my favorite headcanons! Here’s a bit of my thoughts and hcs for you anon! <3

okay so first i wanna talk a little about where this hc came from! this idea was born in my head for a multitude of reasons, but the general summary is this:

-she misses a lot of social+emotional cues! she didn’t pick up on just how annoyed Mike was with her in the gym and kept pushing until El intervened, she didn’t detect any of Lucas’ panic or frustration when he was explaining the upside down to her until he touches her, and when el is jealous and just not interested in meeting her, she seems to be completely unfazed by that until she walks away. also every scene she has with Billy, he’s very shut off and she seems to be confused about what she’s expected to say, missing that he’s angry until he’s lashing out, and idk to me it just seems like she doesn’t really have a grasp on understanding others’ emotions!

-similarly, she only seems to react in the face of immediate danger, as if she’s a lot of the time unaware of how bad things truly are around her. like when she’s helping to find dart without even knowing what’s going on, driving a whole muscle car and going down into the tunnels without a hint of fear, seeming barely concerned when the mindflayer was about to drop through the ceiling. it’s almost like she has trouble fully processing the consequences of certain things, which could also explain why she sneaks out even though she probably knows what Neil is like and the fact that it could potentially put her in danger.

-the way she dresses just screams tactile sensitivity! she doesn’t ever wear anything flowy, any scratchy materials, and even at the snowball, where we see Susan fussing over her, she’s still dressed for comfort. what young girl with a mother clearly interested in making her pretty is going to get away with wearing jeans to a school dance if she doesn’t have sensory issues?

-also, whenever she gets upset she seems to shut down. like she almost never talks to Billy after he yells at her unless it’s necessary, when her and Lucas are talking on top of the bus it definitely seems like she’s struggling to voice her feelings or put words to her emotions, when Billy’s in the sauna, after he’s activated she starts turning in on herself, and after his death she’s just sitting in his room. like maybe she doesn’t really understand her own emotions that well either.

I’m not really viewing any of this as like, solid evidence or anything btw, these are just some things I’ve noticed about her as an autistic girl her age and living in a very similar situation that I think are neat and relatable!

onto the stuff I literally made up because I love her!

-Susan gives me autism mommy vibes. Like, making it her identity that she has a child with autism, and at times that can get super frustrating for Max because she hates being her mom’s little trophy daughter, gossiped about at all the potlucks so people feel sorry for her. Her absolute least favorite thing is “She’s such a handful.” and when Susan pulls the I’m so lonely because of taking care of you card to make her feel bad. Especially because she doesn’t feel very taken care of, once she’d hit a certain age her mother decided she’d be alright without all that “kid stuff” and basically tossed her into the world on her on. (hence why she’s Billys responsibility)

-In the 80s (and still now if we’re being entirely honest) it was very normal to just throw a casual r slur into conversation and it kills Max every time her friends say it, especially Mike because she thinks he’s being mean and doesn’t like her. She doesn’t know how to explain to them that that hurts her feelings because she doesn’t even know how to bring it up that she’s autistic. Billy tells her once to try to cheer her up that he could beat them up for her but she cries even harder because that’s what she doesn’t want, is for them to think she’s overreacting. He feels bad and tries to make up for it bringing it up with some of the moms of the group and asking that they tell their kids to stop using that word ever.

-In California she was in special ed classes, but Hawkins Middle deems that not necessary for someone of her “functioning level” (yuck) and she gets landed in coed instead. It might’ve been alright if that was how she started her education, but she was already used to classes of four or five kids like her, and she just cannot learn in that new environment. So she does really, really bad in school her first year in Hawkins. She feels kind of self conscious around her friends because they’re all so smart and her grades make her feel stupid even though it’s not her fault, and that’s why she kinda drifts towards being close with El because she struggles with learning things too.

-Smells are probably her worst overstimulation triggers. Things like cigarette smoke, fresh brewed coffee, her moms perfume, cooking and baking smells, the automatic air freshener thing, candles. Pretty much anything stronger than the smell of water is just overwhelming for her, especially if there’s something else already working her up, because then a whiff of something too strong can put her straight into a meltdown. Billy decides to quit smoking for her (he’ll never admit that, he’s adamant that it was because it was messing with his lung capacity and he’s trying to work out) and he also does things like buy Susan a new, less offensive perfume for her birthday and open windows to get stuffy air out of the house. They never really talk about what that does for her but like, that’s part of how they start getting closer, is when he starts making little accommodations for her like that.

-In addition to smells, there are very specific sounds she can’t stand. It’s not all loud noises, some of them like the rev of Billy’s car or a bass guitar at an outdoor amphitheater are some of her favorites, but the ones she doesn’t like, she really hates. Things like styrofoam, dishes hitting off of each other, something scratching against ice that builds up in the freezer, TV static, the toaster popping up or the oven beeping, and people who can’t chew with their mouths closed (looking at you Billy, keep that gum in your mouth please) all make her feel gross. She’ll try to physically shake off the way those sounds make her feel but sometimes they’re just too much and she shuts down for a while until she gets to hear something else. In that case usually really quiet music or someone talking to her quietly can reel her back in.

-Her interests vary a lot! The longest she’s ever held one special interest was a Miss Piggy phase! Susan liked that she was showing interest in a feminine character because of a lot of her si’s were tomboyish, but Max liked Piggy because she knew karate and punched people who laughed at her or tried to make her feel bad about herself! She has all sorts of Piggy collectibles, like toys, bed sheets, posters, books, mugs and watches! Otherwise her interests and fixations tend to come and go pretty quickly, like one week she could want to know everything there is to know about pro skaters, and the next she’s into the history of circuses! She liked cars for a little while and Billy was really excited to indulge in that and let her get familiar with the camaro, but she shifted to video games pretty soon after and he had to let it drop.

-Another interest that’s also pretty constant for her is nature! Not only for the sensory experience of it, listening to leaves rustle and birds chirp and water rush, but also all the knowledge about it. She can identify any type of flower, grass, tree, critter, or fungus! When she’s melting down and needs to be away from the house, she asks Billy to take her to the state park so she can just sit and be quiet and calm down on a fallen tree or a swing set somewhere. They do have some woods behind their house but she’s too afraid to venture out there and prefers to be out with her brother anyways.

-Stims! She’ll fiddle with zippers and buttons and loose threads constantly to the point that they buy her three or four of the same jackets and shirts for when she inevitably breaks them. She also chews on sleeves and hoodie strings a lot. Other tactile stims she favors are string tricks and braiding and tieing knots! Braiding her and Billy’s hair is something she’ll do anytime she needs to feel grounded, and she has a whole bunch of those little wooden boards that kids use to learn how to tie their shoes to tie knots with. She also always has a pocketful of yarn, and her favorite thing to make with them is a spider web or a star!

-Sort of related to her fascination with string is that her shoelaces never ever match, she has like a whole drawer in her room full of different ones to change them out! (and she has Miss Piggy Bow Biters to put on them!)

-She’s also a very verbal stimmer at times! Giggles for days with Max, if she’s excited, happy, nervous, whatever, she’s giggling. Humming and mimicking too, like if she hears a sound she likes she’ll try to make it, whether it be part of a song or something she hears outside. But if she is sad she’ll get as quiet as a mouse.

Idk these are just like my sort of canon compliant hcs I guess? Like what I feel would be true for her in the timeline and storyline of the show!

#answered #anonymous #max mayfield #hcs under the cut because I’m long winded lol #thank you lovely anon for giving me the opportunity to ramble about this <3 #I could go on about this for eons #I actually have three fics planned out centered around Max’s autism #it just feels nice to project onto a character I relate to on so many levels #hope you like tho anon!#also always happy to share more!#<3

21 notes · View notes

mariekavanagh · 4 years

Note

I’ve seen you express this a couple of times and I’m honestly curious - how does Sirius’ character usually end up “butchered” in wolfstar fics, in your opinion? It’s not that I disagree, I’m just interested in hearing what you think. Bc the only thing I’ve personally noticed is that the abusive-Black-parents seems to be especially... gratuitous in ws fics somehow? (Also this is totally not coming from a person who enjoys ws as a pairing but is afraid to possibly butcher characters haha)

Perhaps “butchered” was too strong a term for me to use. Everyone is allowed to interpret a character how they prefer and it’s not for me to say that’s a bad thing. But honestly, one of the main reasons I struggle to enjoy wolfstar is because Sirius and Remus both often feel so out of character, which is a shame because I’m sure it’s perfectly possible to write this pairing more canon-compliant - if anything, I think it would make for a more interesting plot/relationship.

I’d say my main issue is that so many wolfstar fics portray Sirius as this rather dumb, immature person who needs Remus to either nag him to do his homework or get him to help him/do it for him Hermione-style. This is just so not true to canon. In the Snape’s Worst Memory scene, we see Sirius casually commenting on how he doesn’t need to study. Which is pretty cocky. But also, not untrue. Sirius was clever. He successfully became an Animagus aged 15. It was commented that James and Sirius were both very clever people. And yet so often they’re portrayed as dumb or underachieving because of their mischievous side. In a similar sense, people tend to turn Remus into this Hermione-esque book smart person, I’m assuming simply because he came back as a teacher. It isn’t suggested in canon that he was actually particularly smart, and there’s even less evidence to suggest that he was the “smart one” of the group having to make sure James and Sirius kept up with their school work. I just feel like this is a situation I’ve only seen in the wolfstar fandom and it bugs me.

This ask has sat in my inbox for ages because I couldn’t work out how to properly answer it, and honestly I’m still not sure. All I can summarise it as, besides this one explained point, is that I just find Remus and Sirius often very out of character in these stories. I honestly struggle to explain precisely why. And truly, I’m not avidly against wolfstar as a pairing. It’s just that the most popular portrayals of the characters by this area of the fandom just aren’t what I find enjoyable, if that makes any sense whatsoever.

If anyone would like to extend on the discussion below, please feel free. Perhaps someone else can offer an explanation which I can respond to with “YES, that’s exactly what I mean” xD

#sirius black #remus lupin #I'm not tagging the pairing as I don't feel like getting jumped today lol #I'm not on tumblr often enough right now to be able to spend my one day a week arguing #discussing however is another matter #please feel free to comment

20 notes · View notes

castielific · 4 years

Text

The list

AO3 Link

Tags: Supernatural, Destiel, Alternate Ending, Canon Compliant (up to 15x10), Human!Castiel, First kiss Summary:

Once there are no more monsters, the only thing left to fight for is happiness.

Here is my take on our boys’ happy ending. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

**************************

"I hate you", Dean grumbles into his elbows. His arms are on the table, his head buried into it as he squeezes his hands over his ears.

"I think he’s getting better," Sam lies, hiding his grimace just in time so that Dean doesn’t see it when he raises his head to glare at him.

Dean opens his mouth, but is cut off by a particularly shrill note that makes him feel like someone is drilling right into his tympans. Even Sam can't help but squeeze his fists in pain, crumbling the edge of the book he's trying to read.

"'This would be good for you, Castiel'," Dean says, imitating Sam. "What about us, Sam? This doesn't feel good for us!"

"It's not so bad," Sam offers miserably.

Yes it is. It's even worse than bad. Dean flinches in pain at every horrible noise that resounds all around the bunker as Cas continues to play - or more like, tries to play - what Dean thinks is supposed to be 'Twinkle twinkle little star' on his newly acquired violin.

Truth is, it is all Sam's fault. Dean can't ressent him that much though, because the look on Castiel's face when they went to the music store was worth the torture they've been enduring for the last two days.

Since God has been defeated, they've all been having a serious case of cabin fever. Heaven and Hell have closed up their doors, angels and demons alike running home with their tails between their legs. Even the common monsters have gone into hiding. Apparently the Winchesters killing God has impressed them enough that they've all decided that they better keep quiet. Of course, they're still there, but smart enough not to do anything that might attract the wrath of the hunters. Apparently, they are exceptionally good at hiding when they want to because the only case the brothers have had in the last six months had been a rogue vampire that went on a rampage. He was still young and out of control. It took three hours to take him down, the whole deal was done in less than a day, even counting the drive.

In short, hunting has become boring. All they've had to keep them busy have been some random salt and burn, nothing exciting. The rest of the time, they've stayed cooped up in the Bunker and it didn't take long for them to go crazy. Each in their own personal way.

For his part, Sam has gone a little too far on his healthy lifestyle penchant, to the point that it became borderline unhealthy: Running up to three hours a day and eating nothing but vegetable smoothies. It lasted two months before he realized that all it was doing was giving him diarrhea and making his shins look like basketball. So now he's taken to digitizing and translating every book in their library….which sounds as exciting as getting all your teeth pulled out, if you were to ask Dean, but at least it passes the time.

Dean's way of coping was on the polar opposite as his brother's: he decided it was as good a time as any to learn to cook better. Dean has always loved cooking and has been having a blast since they found the bunker. For the first time of his life, he has a home and a kitchen of his own. Until now, between the Amara, the Men of Letters, and all that crap with God, he never had time to really enjoy it, limiting himself to the few recipes he already knew: burgers, steak, and breakfast food. With the hunting gig slowing down though, he had all the time in the world to try his hand at more ambitious things like roast, chili, lasagna and way too many pies.

His personal wake up call came when he tried to put on clothes one morning and couldn't find any pants that fitted him anymore.They hadn't had a case for three weeks, and he had to admit that he became a little too familiar with sweatpants. When confronted with the terrible truth of his every single one of his jeans being suddenly too small, he had no other choice: he spent the whole day dismantling the dryer to find out why it was shrinking all his clothes. Sam had a blast mocking him and Castiel, with his usual discretion, was quite pointedly avoiding looking at Dean's stomach during that conversation. Dean spent a long time in front of the mirror after that. He regrettably had to admit that his stomach resembled more Father Christmas's belly than David Beckham's abs at this point. He started to follow Sam's health routine the very next day. Or, tried to, at least. It didn't last long before he couldn't take the smoothie torture anymore, and decided that limiting his pie intake to two per week and doing some exercise should be enough.

Sam and him actually came to an agreement on food after that, and while Dean would never ever drink a kale smoothie again, it actually wasn't so bad to add a little more salad to his plate.

All in all, it was a difficult time for everyone, but especially for Castiel.

Castiel used to be an angel with a Godly purpose, a mission grander than anything people could even imagine. Then suddenly Chuck was gone, and the angels were gone too, and he just became a puny human with no real purpose, a soldier of God with no God to serve and no war to fight. Easy to say that he quickly joined Dean in his sweatpants' aficionados club. Except where Dean was happy to indulge in a laziness that he never really had a chance to try out before, Cas soon fell into depression. Even the best pies Dean made seemed tasteless to him after a time. He was lost in a human routine that he could find no pleasure in. It came to a point where he didn't even sleep in his own bed anymore, never leaving the couch except to satisfy the most basic needs. Sadly, on most days, showers didn't seem to be considered as one of those needs.

Once they had their breakthrough about their own miserable situations, the Winchesters decided to tackle their new mission: helping Cas.

It was Sam who proposed that they should all write a list of things they always wanted to do, but never had time for.

They took a trip to the Grand Canyon on the very next day, dragging a reticent Castiel along. Their road trip lasted nearly a month, because they kept getting distracted by new destinations. Sam wanted to see the Harold Washington Library, Dean wanted to go to Baltimore to go to the Dangerously Delicious Pies shop he heard about while searching for new pies recipes, and so on.

Castiel never asked to see anything, pretending gloomily that he used to be able to go anywhere in a flap of his wings, and therefore had seen everything he ever wanted too. Dean dragged him to an amusement park anyway, because he was pretty sure the angel had never been on a rollercoaster before. Dean regretted that pretty fast when Cas became strangely fond of them, saying that it reminded him of flying. They took so many rides that Dean threw up and Sam's nose bled for nearly one hour after.

Still, it seemed like a wake up call for Cas. He spent the rest of the drive home lost in his thoughts or scribbling a list on the back of a gas station's receipt. He even asked them to stop in Utah on the way back to see the largest bee hives in the US. They ended up buying so many types of honey that they now have a cupboard full of it in the kitchen.

They had been back to the bunker for two days when Cas declared he wanted to learn how to play an instrument. They went to a music store, where Castiel tried on every instrument from a harmonica to a full drum set. After the obligatory harps jokes, Dean tries to entice him to buy a guitar, and learn all the best Zep songs. Cas was too polite and knew better than to criticize Dean's taste in music, so he chose the guitar. Dean wasn't oblivious to the way his friend kept lingering in front of a black violin though, so he relented and bought that instead.

He's sorely regretting it now.

It's still totally Sam's fault though, he was the one to come up with the idea of this stupid list in the first place.

**********************

"I've decided what I want," Castiel declares as soon as the movie's credit starts rolling about a month later.

Sam snorts, waking up from the doze he'd fallen into. He blinks at them, wiping his eyes tiredly.

"I said no cat, Cas," Dean reminds. Apparently, one of Cas' item on his stupid list is to get a pet.

"I don't want a cat."

"I'm allergic to animal's hair," Dean reminds him, suspicious. Last night Cas declared he wanted a Camel. A freaking camel.

"Of course, Dean, your health comes first," Cas concedes amicably. "Although, I do wonder if you're not using this as an excuse, and would not have been amenable to adopt a pet anyway, were it not the case."

Dean scratches under his ear. "What? No. Of course, I'd want one. I love animals. Just, no snakes or anything that eats living food. I know you, and you would just end up saving all the mice or something."

"You know, they do make hairless cats and dogs," Sam pipes up, smirking when Dean sends him a side glare.

"Those are majestic creatures, indeed, Sam, but I much prefer the softness of fur. Don't you Dean?"

"What." What kind of question is that?

"Wouldn't you like it if you could have a pet with a soft fur that didn't make you sneeze and suffer so much?"

"Huh. I guess?"

"Good," Cas concludes with a jut of his chin. "His name is Honey," Cas announces, raising the kilt that was on his lap to reveal a…

"What the hell is that thing?" Dean shouts, jumping to his feet.

"Honey is a texel guinea pig," Cas says, cuddling the little beast to his chest. The pet starts emitting a little noise in pleasure as Castiel caresses his fur. It has long curly hair. Its head is black with a white spot on the top while the rest of its body is a mismatch of large black, white and orange spots.

"It looks like a freaking sheep!" Dean exclaims, sending a betrayed look to his brother that is already kneeling next to Cas and petting at the small animal.

"See, Sam, we do have a guinea pig now," Cas says proudly, making Sam chuckle at what is obviously a private joke between them.

"We don't have anything! I'm allergic, Cas, remember? My health…," Dean finishes, faking a cough. Sam rolls his eyes while Cas squints at him.

"I don't think you are, Dean. Honey has been on my lap all night and you haven't shown any signs of allergy. I've looked at you closely to make sure."

"Do you think he likes kale?" Sam asks, taking the little beast on his own lap as he sits on the ground.

"I think he might, Sam. The internet says guinea pigs need to eat a lot of vegetables. Do you want us to go and try to feed him some?"

"Yes!" Sam declares, squeezing delicately the pet against his chest as he gets up.

"But-," Dean tries to protest.

"I bought him a little hammock that he really likes," Cas tells Sam as he gets up too.

"But I haven't-"

"That's cute! I want to see it!" Sam says eagerly.

"My allergies…," Dean finishes lamely as he watches the two other men leave the room without a look in his direction. He scowls, staring at the beer he's still holding. He sulks for all of thirty seconds before he grumbles. "Dammit, I want to see the tiny hammock too. Guys, wait for me!"

**********************

"Oh, that's...that's a nice...tree."

"It's supposed to be Sam," Cas says with a pout, looking at his very first painting.

"Yeah no, I mean, behind him? The big woody thing?"

"That's you," Castiel pouts, looking dejected.

Dean grimaces, inclining his head to try, and identify himself in the glob of paint on the canvas.

"So you're not Van Gogh," Dean finally declares. "Or Mozart. The important thing is that you wanted to give it a try and you did. If you liked doing it, then that's what matters, no matter the end result," Dean tries to reassure, squeezing his friend's shoulder reassuringly. He learned his lesson when his words about Cas' lack of music skill were not so delicate, and the ex-angel ended up giving him the cold shoulder for a whole week.

When he looks back at him, Cas has a small smile on his lips and a look so full of...of something, that Dean can feel his cheeks warming a little. Seconds pass and Cas keeps staring until Dean clears his throat, forcing himself to look back at the ugly painting.

"What's next on your list?"

A hand pulling on his arm makes him turn back toward Castiel. Dean barely has time to react before his friend's lips brush with his. It's so fast and soft that he's left blinking in confusion, wondering if that really happened.

"This was."

Cas is still smiling, even though Dean recognizes the worried line creased between his brows. The hunter opens his mouth, but doesn't know what to say. To say that he wasn't expecting it would be an understatement. To say that he never thought about it, a lie. To say that he regrets it…

"I liked doing it," Cas declares, nodding his head in satisfaction. "Now I want to ride a horse."

"A- a horse?"

"Unless we can still get a camel?" Cas teases, acting hopeful. He sends Dean a wink - a goddamn wink - before he grabs his painting under one arm and leaves the room.

"Ride a...Wait. Cas! We're not getting a horse either! Cas!!"

*************************

When Dean finds him, Castiel is sitting on the bench Dean made from the trunk of one of the trees they had to cut down to make this space into their garden. The sun hasn't set yet, but the end of september's evenings are already colder. The last flowers of the season are blooming, and the vegetables they planted in the spring are starting to wilt, only a few tomatoes popping red among the green and yellowing stems.

Cas is bending forward, forearms resting on his legs. His eyes are closed and for a minute, Dean is worried that something happened, that he's sad or sick. He's reassured when he hears the low murmur of Cas' words, see the slight smile at the corner of his lips, the one Cas always gets when he's trying to be funny.

His friend hasn't heard him approaching yet, so Dean waits, trying not to eavesdrop on a conversation he's not supposed to be a part of.

Dean takes the time to check on the apple trees he planted instead. They're too young yet, too small to give any fruit, but by next year, maybe...He can't wait to bake a pie with his own apples. He rolls his eyes at the thought, that's so domestic. Yet here he is, planning on planting strawberries and raspberries, checking on the squash that is starting to grow and wondering if it'll be ready by Thanksgiving.

Vegetables are Sam's thing. Flowers and the small hive they've built are Cas'. Dean is in charge of the fruits.

They planted their garden over the underground garage, hidden by such a large ply of trees that there is no risk of anyone stumbling upon it by accident. They had to cut down trees, dig out every root, and plow the whole area to prepare the soil. They've spent nearly all spring and a good part of summer working to create that little bit of garden on the Bunker's roof. They've bought so many gardening tools that they're already making plans to build a shed here in the spring.

It's nice. The bunker is feeling more and more like a home, like a place Dean could feel himself growing old in, maybe.

They've talked about buying a house, especially Sam, but somehow they can't see themselves leaving anywhere else than in the bunker. It's their legacy, the place they were always meant to be, and they've come to love it despite all the horrors that happened there in the past.

Maybe it will change someday. Maybe Sam will want to marry someone, to buy a more traditional place with a white picket fence where he can raise kids without fearing that they'll choose a cursed object or weapon laying around as their next toy. Dean has noticed more and more of Eileen's clothes in the laundry, more of her things left behind every time she comes to visit. He hopes it's only a matter of time before he's not surprised to see her at breakfast anymore.

By the time he's checked on the fruit part of the garden, Cas has stopped praying and is observing him. The sun is setting, painting an orange glow behind him, and for a second it nearly looks like Cas has a hallo.

"You told Jack about the horse riding lesson?" Dean asks as he straddles the bench to sit next to his friend. He rubs his hands against the cold, blowing into them to try and warm them up a little.

"Maybe," Cas says with a mocking smile that makes Dean balks.

"Oh, come on, you promise you wouldn't tell anyone about me falling on my ass!"

Cas chuckles at the memory of Dean's horse throwing him into a giant mud puddle. Dean had cursed for a whole ten minutes as he struggled to stand up but kept falling right back on his ass. It made Cas laugh so much that he'd started crying. That's a thing Cas does now, he laughs. He does it more and more, and Dean is amazed by it, every single time.

"Technically, I didn't tell anyone anything," Cas argues with a smirk. He's not wrong. They have no idea if Jack can even hear their prayers now that he's taken charge of and close up Heaven. That doesn't stop them from regularly praying to him, especially Cas.

"You tell Sam and I'll bury your damn guinea pig next to the tomatoes," Dean threatens.

"No you won't," Cas says with a fond smile.

"No, I won't," Dean admits, pouting half-heartedly. He's actually come to like the damn beast. Which no one would actually know if Honey didn't start screeching every time Dean comes near it, calling for the treat that he knows Dean will give him. It was supposed to be their little secret but Honey blew their cover more than once. Dean is still pretending he hates the little ball of fluff, on principle, even though no one is fooled anymore.

"You were right about the horse, I hadn't realized the amount of dejection it actually produces," Cas concedes. "Also, my bottom is sore from the ride," he adds, squirming a little in his seat.

Dean chokes a little on his saliva at the image that brings to mind. Honestly, even without the innuendo, watching Cas ride a horse, hips rising and bending over the saddle, has done quite a number on Dean's libido. If he hadn't been questioning his sexuality before, he would definitely be now. Good thing he already was. Cas kissing him has been the only thing on his mind for days now. They haven't talked about it, and Cas is acting like it didn't even happen, but Dean has barely slept since then, spending his nights thinking about Cas' lips on his, and how he might possibly maybe want to do that again.

"Did you kiss Sam too?" he blurts out. It's not the most subtle or delicate way to bring up the subject, but apparently that's what his brain has chosen to say. Damn you, brain!

"Why would I kiss Sam?" Cas asks, looking genuinely astounded by the question.

"Wasn't that on your list?" Dean asks, scratching the back of his neck.

Cas squints at him like he's the most idiotic thing he's ever seen and, well, Dean probably is.

Dean squirms under the stare, rubbing his hands again, as much against the cold as in nervousness. The ex angel gives a long suffering sigh before he grabs Dean's wrists. He pulls on his hands until they're under his own sweater. Dean is so startled that he just looks at the bulge his hands are making over Cas' stomach with wide eyes, not daring to move his fingers. They're nestled between Cas' tee-shirt and his abdominal muscles. It's so warm under there that his skin is tingling from the temperature difference.

"You're an idiot, Dean Winchester," Cas declares. Dean looks up, and Cas is looking at him so fondly that it makes him blush a little.

"Yeah," he sighs. "I know."

"I must be one too, because I would very much like you to be my idiot for as long as you would have me," Cas confesses, a little shy as he draws patterns on the shape of Dean's fingers over the tissue of his sweater.

"I'm not sure, Cas," Dean says, making the other man tense up. "Are you sure you want to be stuck with me forever?"

It takes a minute for Cas to get his meaning, brow furrows intensely before they relax in realization.

"That was my plan all along," Cas says, his smile so wide it's showing his gums.

And yeah, knowing Cas, it probably was. Cas would have stayed by Dean's side forever whether he was an angel or a human or even a God. Hell, Cas was ready to stay by his side when Dean was turning into a monster bearing the mark of Cain, and when he was a demon. He wanted to stay by Dean's side even when Dean was cruel and screaming at him to go. It was the irony of it all, wasn't it? It always felt like Cas was leaving him, running away for angel business or whatever, but Dean never ever doubted that he would come back. He always knew Cas would come back somehow. After all, even death could never keep Cas away for long.

Dean slides his hands a little higher, making Cas shiver as they travel over his torso under his shirt. Dean's fingers tightens around the cloth, and pulls Cas closer, close enough that their noses are nearly touching.

"And now it's mine too," Dean sworns,resting his forehead against the other man's. He cradles Cas' jaw, passing a thumb under one of his eyes. The stubborn angel refuses to close them, even though they're so close that he's going cross eyed. Still, he keeps looking right into Dean's green orbits and hell, that must mean Dean can't keep his eyes off Cas either

When they kiss, it's sappy and tender and sweet and everything Dean always thought he could never have. The relief he feels makes Dean wonders if it isn't everything he's been waiting for all along, without even realizing it.

Cas is right by his side, as always, and Dean is damn well going to keep him as close as he can for as long as he possibly can. And hey, he knows the guy ruling Heaven now, so that might just be forever.

The End.

#destiel #deancas #dean/cas #dean/castiel #destiel fic #spn fix it #fic #destiel fix it #ao3 fic #Dean/castiel fanfic

45 notes · View notes

themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Oneshot: Starlight

So this was the prologue to a multichapter PMD fic that will never be written, though I spent quite a bit of time creating the characters. This oneshot was sitting on my computer for several months, I just thought I’d share this with the Internet.

Summary: A lonely rich girl named Luna has been best friends with Penny the Meowth for years. But when Luna receives a series of strange dreams, she makes a decision that will change their lives forever.

AO3 Link

Penny nuzzled her human’s cheek, mewing helplessly as Luna succumbed to another nightmare. Not for the first time, she wished she could learn Dream Eater so she could take away the pain, the torment, the guilt that persisted in Luna’s eyes during the day.

Her human cried out, almost flinging Penny off her chest as she rolled onto her side and curled into a tiny ball. Her entire body was wracked with tension, and Penny stifled the instinctive rumble building in her throat.

Purring didn’t work. Luna would just think Penny was another Meowth crying for help. Purring was supposed to bring comfort, but now it just added to Luna’s stress.

Penny didn’t understand what brought the nightmares, nor was she privy to the content. Luna was tight-lipped and quiet on her best days, though Penny could easily bring out a giggle or two if she just batted a Poké Ball around.

If she listened too closely, she heard whispers of catastrophic floods, devastating earthquakes, and the faraway pleas of countless Pokémon who didn’t understand why their world was being torn asunder.

“I’m sorry…” Luna whimpered, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead. “I don’t understand…”

Penny unsheathed her claws, lightly tracing the tips against Luna’s arm. Not hard to enough bleed, but just so Luna could feel the pricks and come back to reality. She left light, barely visible trails across Luna’s skin, withdrawing as Luna’s chest gave a sudden heave. Then Luna broke into a coughing fit, catapulting into a sitting position. A pillow and Clefairy doll fell from the bed, landing on the carpeted floor with a muffled thump.

Through a thin sliver of light in the bedroom, Penny saw the terror turn to relief in Luna’s eyes. Luna sighed, her breath hitching as she slumped forward and pressed her head against her knees, face hidden through a curtain of dark hair.

Penny retrieved the Clefairy doll and pressed it into Luna’s side.

“Thanks,” Luna whispered. She placed the doll in her lap and scratched behind Penny’s ear.

Penny released the purr she’d held back, resting her head on top of Luna’s other hand. Focusing on the vibrations of her throat, she tried to imagine a calming wave flowing into her human, though she didn’t know any healing moves.

Eventually, Luna’s breathing evened out. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting at the edge for a brief moment before standing up, the Clefairy doll clutched tightly in her arms.

Without a word, Luna crossed the length of her enormous bedroom and flung the curtains open, allowing more moonlight to filter in. Then she settled against the cushioned windowsill and stared out into the night sky.

Penny jumped onto the windowsill, nudging the Clefairy doll aside so there was room for both of them on Luna’s lap.

“She doesn’t make sense,” Luna murmured. “A role to play…it means something, but I don’t get it. What role can I play when I’m locked in here?”

Penny bristled, hissing in frustration at the reminder of being a secret companion for a secret girl. Luna’s parents were important figures in some organization Penny didn’t care to remember the name of. Luna was unknown by the world beyond the manor grounds. And while Penny was allowed to stay in the manor, she knew Luna’s parents viewed her as a means to keep Luna compliant and out of the way.

Her parents certainly didn’t expect Penny and Luna to bond so quickly, but as long as Luna never expressed a desire to explore the world, they wouldn’t complain.

Luna loved stars and legends and Pokémon.

But she never experienced them for herself when so many others could. She was stuck with books, television, and the stars she could see from her windowsill.

Luna opened the window and a gentle wind blew into the room, chasing away the stifled air.

“The stars are so beautiful, Penny. See that cluster next to the moon? We have a clear view of the Perished Ones tonight,” Luna said, pointing to a group of stars that held some sort of pattern to her, but none to Penny. A breeze gently blew strands of long hair away from Luna’s face.

Her eyes sparkled, holding no traces of the haunted look she’d wandered around with for the past month.

A Meowth’s instincts were drawn to sparkling things, to hoard them and never let them go, and Penny was no exception. She held Luna’s gaze, waiting for her to continue.

“Long ago, a tower was struck by lightning and caught fire, which was then quelled with a cleansing rain. But not before three Pokémon perished in the flames. Ho-Oh revived them with his sacred ashes, and they were reborn as Beasts who roam the land. It’s said that Ho-Oh gave the remnants of the Beasts’ old lives to a deity with power over the stars, and she hung them in the night sky as a reminder of that fateful night. The trio of constellations became known as the Perished Ones.”

It was the most she’d said in a month.

Luna rested her head against her knees again. The contemplative look returned.

“Ho-Oh gave them new roles,” Luna whispered. “He cleansed their spirits and bodies so they could rule over lightning, volcanoes, and the north wind with no regrets.”

Though Penny only considered it a legend, it was clear that Luna was putting much more thought into the story than was necessary. She mewed in displeasure, pawing at Luna’s face so she would focus on petting the itchy spot that Penny could never reach no matter how much she twisted while grooming.

Luna gave a tiny smile, scratching Penny’s back until she fell asleep once more.

They slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

o-o-o-o-o

For once, Luna’s parents were home. But since they preferred to be left undisturbed by both staff and daughter unless there was an emergency, Penny and Luna rarely saw them. Because they had a reputation for firing staff for the slightest indiscretions and hammering them with lawsuits if they talked, nobody was keen on facing her parents’ wrath.

Until now.

Out of self-preservation, Penny did everything she could to dissuade Luna from an audience with her parents. Just as she was debating the pros and cons of knocking her human down and sitting on her until she got the message, Luna crossed the high archway that marked the parlor entrance and stood in front of the Master and Mistress of the Silano household.

Penny swallowed, but padded onto the expensive Kalosian rug that nobody was ever allowed on and wound her tail around Luna’s legs for moral support. Luna glanced down for the briefest moment, then returned her attention to her parents, who were still discussing some trivial matter.

“-Mr. A wants more funding towards the research department. Their top scientist believes he’s found a faster method that will boost a captured Pokémon’s power a hundredfold,” Master Silano explained with a long-suffering sigh, though Penny couldn’t tell if it was directed at Luna or his wife.

“About time,” Mistress Silano said, her manicured nails tapping at the couch impatiently. “He should’ve improved the field equipment a long time ago. Why waste time on common Caterpie when they could have the power of a Legendary?”

“You know he wants to maintain his reputation, Catherine,” Master Silano said. “It’s better to keep these sorts of activities under the radar.”

They ignored their daughter completely, and Penny knew Luna was having second and possibly third thoughts about her plan.

Luna stiffened, but she balled her fists and forced the words out of her throat. “Mother. Father. I’m interested in getting a Drowzee. I’ve been doing some research, and-“

Mistress Silano huffed. “A Drowzee! As if that mangy furball wasn’t enough for you!”

She glared at Penny as if offended by her very existence. But Penny lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to be cowed. After all, she was a prideful Meowth, loyal to those who earned her trust and uncaring about those who didn’t.

“Mother, please.” Luna’s voice quivered. Penny’s tail tightened around Luna’s legs. “I’ve done some research. Drowzee can sense and eat people’s dreams. They can even project the eaten dreams to anyone they trust. It…would be interesting.”

Penny disliked the Drowzee idea, but for Luna’s sake she kept the bouts of jealousy to herself. They both knew Dream Eater was their best shot at understanding the nightmares, but Penny wished that didn’t involve getting another Pokémon since she was meant to be Luna’s constant companion.

“We allowed you to keep that stray Meowth as long as you took responsibility for it. You don’t need another Pokémon.” Master Silano didn’t look up from the stack of papers. “You will not be gallivanting around Kanto doing whatever you want. One Meowth is sufficient for your needs.”

“I’m…I’m only asking for a Drowzee,” Luna said. She tried to copy Penny’s haughty act, but couldn’t keep her head up under Mistress Silano’s scrutiny. “Nothing more.”

“You heard your father,” Mistress Silano snapped, dismissing them with a lazy flick of her wrist. Several golden bracelets clinked with the movement. “Leave us. We have important business to discuss. Later, we will talk about this rebel behavior of yours. I assure you it will not be tolerated again.”

On the verge of tears, Luna spun on her heel and stormed away, abandoning her usual caution in favor of stomping on the floorboards. A rebellious act that would surely add on to her troubles, but Luna didn’t seem to care.

Penny flattened herself to the ground, slinking quietly behind Luna until they reached the modest dining room next to the kitchen. It was their favorite place to take meals. They avoided the large, lonely dining hall the Master and Mistress preferred.

“It’s not fair, Penny!” Luna cried. Penny’s ears flattened as Luna scraped the legs of her chair against the floor. She fell into her seat and slammed her head into the table. “Is understanding my nightmares really too much to ask?”

Penny jumped onto the table, not caring if she was allowed on the furniture or not. If they found her pawprints on the polished wood, so be it. Compared to the demands Luna had to put up with, obtaining a Drowzee was a perfectly reasonable request.

Penny rolled onto her belly and mewed pathetically. She hadn’t needed these deliberately vulnerable positions to garner sympathy and food since she was taken in, but it was the only thing she could think of.

But Luna didn’t move.

Penny’s fur bristled along her spine. She yowled at the top of her lungs and startled Luna, who jumped to her feet with an expression that would’ve been comical if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

“Don’t do that, Penny!” Luna shouted, her eyes blazing. “You have no idea what I’m going through!”

A growl escaped Penny’s throat. These dreams terrified her human and nobody else was aware. That’s all she needed to know.

They glared daggers into each other. Penny flexed her claws against the wood, leaving shallow scratchmarks behind.

Then a knock on the side door broke their concentration.

“Ms. Luna, are you feeling alright?” Michael called, his polite voice soothing as always. He opened the door as far as it would allow with the chain attached. He was an elderly man, tall and well-groomed, and he was the only other person in the manor Penny liked. “Do you require anything for yourself or Ms. Penny?”

Despite herself, Luna couldn’t help but laugh. Penny casually licked her paw and drew it over her ear, trying to appear nonchalant about being called ‘Ms. Penny’, but mostly she was just happy about Luna smiling for the first time in several weeks.

“I think we could use a light snack to settle our nerves,” Luna admitted.

Penny meowed in agreement, licking her lips at the promise of her favorite berries.

Michael unlatched the chain and stepped into the kitchen, nodding politely at Penny before pulling out ingredients and equipment for a light fruit parfait.

“I assume your audience didn’t go well,” Michael said, carefully dicing several strawberries with a practiced hand.

Luna filled a water bowl for Penny and grabbed a glass of juice for herself. “They didn’t listen to me. But it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” she sighed. “I shouldn’t have said those things, Penny. I’m sorry.”

Penny purred, rubbing her cheek against Luna’s arm. Then she settled in front of her bowl, eager to quench her thirst.

“Ms. Luna, forgive my curiosity, but what reason do you have for staying here? You have a Pokémon. Most children these days would leave home the moment they’re of legal age for an official license.”

“My parents would hunt me down if I left. You know that, Michael,” Luna said. “Penny and I would be on the run constantly. I can’t make her commit to that.”

Penny scowled. Of course she would commit! She had claws and fangs for a reason.

Michael chuckled as he set the finished parfaits in front of Luna and Penny. “Ms. Penny seems to disagree.”

“She likes to contradict me,” Luna muttered, swirling the blueberries around with a spoon.

“It sounds as if fear is your only reason,” Michael mused. “But you were also courageous enough to request a Pokémon from your parents. Many staff members never would’ve confronted them directly.”

Luna dropped her spoon on the table. Yogurt splattered onto her sleeve, but Luna didn’t seem to care. She whipped around and stared at Michael in surprise.

“You think I’m brave?” she asked, her eyes wide.

Michael shook his head. He took a napkin and dabbed at the yogurt on Luna’s sleeve. “No, Ms. Luna. Bravery can easily turn to folly, and I know you’re not a fool. But I believe you display true courage when the situation arises. You found Penny as a critically injured stray who’d happened to wander into the garden, and you nursed her back to health.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Luna said. “You were the one who took care of her.”

“You don’t wear self-defeat well. It’s not a matter of who took care of Ms. Penny’s needs, but rather that you chose to help her at all despite knowing your parents would disapprove. I would dare call that an act of true courage.”

“True courage…” Luna murmured. She finished the last of her parfait, giving the empty bowl to Michael.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

Penny swiped the blueberry juice off her mouth, adding her own questioning meow to Michael’s worried tone.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Luna smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for everything, Michael.”

Penny followed Luna out of the kitchen. Her ears twitched at the running water and tinkling of dishes behind her.

“Likewise…”

Only Penny caught the sadness in his voice.

o-o-o-o-o

Luna wasn’t changing into her pajamas. And she always changed into her pajamas before reading a story to Penny.

Penny narrowed her eyes. There was an odd lilt in Luna’s voice, like she wasn’t enthusiastic about the story tonight. She was lost in her own mind, somewhere Penny couldn’t ever reach.

“’Awakened, the human dons the Pokémon hide to roam villages.’” Luna finished Sinnoh Folk Tales, then put it back on the shelf. She trailed her hand over the book covers, hesitating over a frayed photo of herself and Penny.

The camera had been nothing but a cheap disposable, but the maid who’d taken the photo was kind enough to get the picture developed somewhere. Shame she’d been fired. She’d made the tastiest poffins that Penny had eaten in her life.

Penny closed her eyes and burrowed into the blankets, leaving nothing except the tips of her ears poking out. She placed a paw over her face, flicking her ears as a light laugh filled the room.

But the atmosphere soon grew somber again.

Under the covers, Penny took deep breaths to fool Luna into believing she was asleep. She’d get to the bottom of this, no matter how much her human believed it was her burden to bear.

A Meowth never let anything escape her claws.

“Penny…I-I’m…” Luna’s voice faltered. “Please understand.”

Her footsteps sounded faintly on the rug, thudded against the floorboards, and slapped against the tile until the sound faded away completely.

Penny’s ears swiveled to the door, listening for Luna’s soft, cautious steps.

Five minutes passed, the Hoothoot clock marking every agonizing second with a faint click.

Her human just wanted a glass of water. That was all. She shouldn’t worry.

But the doubtful voice in her head told her otherwise.

Soon the waiting grew unbearable, and Penny finally threw off the blankets and stalked out the bedroom door. Her skilled paws slid over the ornate rug, but she had no time to be proud over the abilities she’d honed because of her humble beginnings.

Learn where to find food and water. Learn who to avoid. The two most basic rules of the wild.

Luna and Michael were good humans. Avoid the Master and Mistress. The rest of the staff were a gamble, though better moods generally meant less trouble.

Penny crept downstairs, then ran for cover behind a couch at the clack of a high heel behind her.

Luna’s dark hair streamed behind her as she moved into the garden of red lilies. Penny heard Luna’s ragged breaths, smelled her fear, but her steps never wavered. She lifted her face to the stars above.

“I’m ready, Gardevoir. Please guide me and test my resolve if I’m truly destined to be your world’s hero.”

A shimmering blue portal opened before Luna. She stepped through it, leaving no trace of her existence behind.

And Penny cried under an endless canopy of stars.

End AN:So planned concepts: Luna would’ve gone to the world of Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, specifically Rescue Team. She gets transformed into a Skitty and teams up with a Charmander named Sunny, who’s the son of the Charizard on Team ACT. There would’ve been a concurrent plot with Penny dealing with the fallout of Luna’s disappearance from her world as well. Overall, the concept was fun to create, but it was too ambitious for me.

But I hope you found this enjoyable regardless.

#pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon ocs #meowth #pokemon fanfiction #fanfiction

2 notes · View notes