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blainesebastian · 8 months

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celebrating you

words: 1,654 ship: austin x female reader summary: @whoreforbrownies requested: fluffy reader celebrating austin's fragrance campaign. more details in posted q and a :) warnings: none notes: masterlist is here! tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief, @stylespresleyhearted

You’ve always been someone who likes to celebrate—not just putting up Halloween or Christmas decoration months in advance or throwing surprise birthday parties, but by having this incredibly warm aura that makes sure to praise family, friends and your partner. Admittedly, that’s come with a few downfalls in the past—more often than not, you’re always looking after other people while no one looks after you. It’s not something done on purpose, you know that, yet you sometimes find yourself in this rut of being there for others that you forget to take care of yourself.

That changes with Austin.

He reminds you how good it feels to have someone take care of you, how it should be something necessary, a balance within your relationship. He celebrates you just as often as you celebrate him—there are moments that he’s completely taken you by surprise. Not because there’s some obligation of a holiday or a birthday, but because it’s a Thursday in the middle of the month and he wants to buy you flowers and your favorite latte.

So, in turn, it makes celebrating your boyfriend a lot more organic feeling. It’s not out of responsibility or requirement, but because both of you know the value of the other.

Lately there’s been so much to be excited about when it comes to Austin’s career—first Elvis and everything that it brought with it, Bikeriders wrapping up, Masters of the Air, and now a slightly different turn with this fragrance campaign. You couldn’t be happier for him, not only does it come with a photoshoot to highlight how beautiful Austin is, but an interview to also showcase that same beauty on the inside. It’s really what you love most about him, something that drew you in in the first place. Austin’s kind, thoughtful, considerate, and a hundred other things that make you feel warm from the inside out.

Pretty much why it’s a no-brainer to put together something special for him.

You decide one morning, right before Austin leaves for the day for a handful of different meetings, that you’re going to decorate the entire apartment. It’s gonna involve baking and dinner too but one step at a time. Your friend, Carly, comes over and helps, buying extra tape that she sets on the kitchen counter.

“All this for a fragrance campaign?” She asks, but she’s amused as her eyes rest on the multiple sets of streamers and balloons that still need to be put together and hung.

“Yes,” You grin excitedly, picking up a cup of coffee to take a sip. “It’s not just about the cologne, I’m just proud of him—it’s a new step in a different direction, you know?”

“I know,” Carly smirks, moving to grab the coffee pot to pour herself some more too, “You’re in love,” Her voice is warm and teasing, “I get it. I’d celebrate him too if he was my boyfriend.”

You smile, your stomach doing that flip-flopping thing that is often associated with Austin. You know exactly how lucky you are.

“So you’ll help me with streamers?” You smile prettily at her, purposely fluttering your eyelashes in a teasing plead.

“Yeah,” She laughs, tossing a package of tape at you. It lightly hits your chest and falls back onto the counter, “Wouldn’t want him to come home with you sprawled off a ladder. Not much to celebrate in the ER.”

You gather up all the supplies to take to the living room, “C’mon then, I don’t have a ton of time before he comes home.”

Regardless that it’s the morning and you do have until early nighttime, you want to make sure you give yourself enough hours to play with to bake red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing and chocolate chip cookies. Dinner will be simple enough—it’s the baking that needs timed dedication.

Standing on a small stool in your living room, you take the tape from Carly’s waiting fingers and reach up to put some of the streamers into place. You’re definitely not overdoing it, just enough to make the apartment look festive.

“So…just curious,” Carly starts and you get down off the stool and move it a bit to continue the streamer line…you already know that if she’s gonna start off a conversation like that, it’s going to be something. “If Austin asked you to marry him, would you?”

A laugh startles out of your chest because, “Carly, we’ve been dating for eight months.”

“So?” She crinkles her nose, handing you another piece of tape, “My aunt and uncle were together for six before he popped the question.”

The whole concept has your stomach erupting in butterflies. You’re not saying you haven’t thought about it, because how could you not? But still…feels like something that’s a long while away. You glance back down at your friend, trying to picture what it’d look like for Austin to come home and just—

“I’d say yes,” You reply, fixing another streamer. You can’t picture something different coming out of your mouth, but before Carly gets too wound up, “But we’re far from that being a thing.”

She grins anyways and you can’t help but smile, a fond eyeroll to follow as you set up streamer on the other side of the room so it matches. Then comes the balloons and the handmade sign that goes up a little crooked but…thought that counts, right?

“Do you think I overdid it?” You ask, looking around at the living room.

Carly shakes her head, “Nah, we went through one roll of tape…two rolls would have been overdoing it.” You smirk, bumping shoulders with her for a real answer, “No,” She replies again, “I think it’s just the right amount—he’s going to love it.”

That makes something warm and golden explode in your chest and…good, you really hope so. You thank her a few more times for coming over and promise to save her some cupcakes if there are any leftover, closing the front door after she’s left. You’re hoping it doesn’t take too long to finish things up for tonight.

Nothing is exactly going according to plan—and you already know it’s your fault because you’ve got this concept of what ‘perfect’ is supposed to look like tonight. You should really know this by now, it’s better to land on something ‘special’ rather than ‘perfect’. It’s fine—everything is going to work out, you’re determined. So what if the cheese you bought for the chicken parm has mold on it? You can just go with pasta instead. So what if your cupcake pan has mysteriously gone missing? You can make banana bread with chocolate chips in them (a personal favorite of Austin’s).

There’s no reason to freak out over this…your boyfriend is going to love whatever you’ve put together (it only took you three times to talk yourself down off that metaphorical ledge).

Luckily, nothing else throws you off balance. Though you do wish you’d been paying closer attention to Austin’s location because you hear the front door open as you’re taking the banana bread out of the oven. Quickly setting it down on a hot pad, you tug off your oven mitts, putting your arms up and out.

“Surprise!”

Austin’s eyes are bright with surprise, a soft laugh tumbling out of his mouth as he sees the put together dinner, the banana bread, the streamers and balloons just past the kitchen in the living room. He sets down a bouquet of flowers he’s picked up for you (just because).

“It’s uh, it’s not my birthday.” He says teasingly.

Rolling your eyes, you grin as you move to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Austin leans down to hug you back, squeezing, pressing his face into your hair to breathe you in,

“I know that,” You huff playfully, shaking your head, “Just wanted to do something nice for you.”

You pull back out of the hug a little bit, Austin’s arms still around your waist. He presses a kiss to your lips, your hand lingering on his cheek. Your stomach does that familiar fluttering that you’ve easily associated with being around him, running your thumb along his lower lip.

“For the fragrance campaign?” You offer, as if it’s obvious.

Then his face kinda does that handsome thing where he flushes, his cheeks kissing pink. Apparently it wasn’t so obvious and he’s genuinely surprised. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

You crinkle your nose, taking a look at the decorations, the dinner, the dessert—feels fairly apparent to you because what better way to celebrate him? This is actually pretty low caliber compared to what you could have done but…the key was really not to overdo it.

“Are you saying you don’t want the banana bread?” You ask, taking a playful step back from him, “Because I’ve been known to eat an entire loaf in bed before, so—”

You act like you’re about to reach for the pan but Austin doesn’t let you get very far, lifting you up and gracefully setting you down on the kitchen counter. A soft laugh leaves your lips, your arms resting on his shoulders as he takes a step forward and settles between your legs. One of your favorite positions with him because you’re nearly eye level now.

“I mean, there’s chocolate chips,” You grin, “I really don’t need to share any part of it with you—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand moving to cup your cheek. You lean into it, can’t help it, would gladly fumble off the kitchen counter if it meant keeping your lips locked. Eventually though, oxygen wins out. He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, pulling back a little,

“Thank you,” He whispers.

You hum a soft reply, wrapping your fingers in his shirt and tugging him forward—definitely worth celebrating with another kiss.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler x you #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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delusionally-loveless-by-choice · 8 months

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Lost in a cornfield..? Pt2

Scarecrow!Phillip Graves x Lost!Reader

summary: You learn a bit more about Mr. Scarecrow! There's something he wants to show you? What can that be?

warnings: horror aspects coming in later in the chapter >:), mention of blood, likely incorrect depictions/references to wrong periods because I forgot that light bulbs weren't invented until like 1879 (googled it), he kinda turns dark so big contrast to the first part loll

w/c - 2k

Part 1, Part 3

Author's note: its ass and its got a part 2 :)) also on ao3 under Phillip graves tag. also I know this is not a Phillip graves gif, I just wanted something to fill in so I might change it later

Oh, God, what hell is this place? You can’t help the horrified look that sits on your face, it’s paralyzing and a moment of vulnerability.

One that the scarecrow catches.

He stares at you, watching the realization finally sink into you, and he can’t help the grin that stretches on his face as he watches your expression.

He sighs, clearly amused. “I don’t just protect this ‘cornfield’. In all honesty, this land is strange compared to the one you know.” His tone was matter of factly, “I’m a guardian of sorts, one that is bound to serve it. It’s more work than it sounds, but this job isn’t really my choice, more of a burden and purpose, y'know.”

“This land.. It’s dangerous.” He makes sure to face you directly as he says this, you can feel the intensity of his tone. “There are things in the field that would do anything in its power to take advantage of your vulnerability. It also doesn't help that you’re their favorite meal: human.” He says the last part with an air of amusement; and though he’s looking at you, the way his straw hat is tilted, it hides a clear view of his eyes.

His response doesn’t help your wariness.

The scarecrow seems to take note of this.

He then says, “But I’m not gonna let that happen.”

You nod and exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Well that’s reassuring.” You nervously chuckle. But it’s only slightly reassuring to your instincts that tell you that this field, this place, is more than dangerous.

"Just remember: this place has its creatures, but it has me too." He pauses, then adds: "I've lived here ever since I was a kid, so I know every nook and cranny of the field. Ain't no pest that's gonna sneak past me."

You see something move further within the corn. Graves snaps his fingers, and the plants rustle to block a pathway. "If we head left, we'll bypass these critters."

“Did.. did you just control the field..?” You ask bewildered.

"Yes... The corn is a living, breathing organism. I can influence its growth and motion to an extent. The plants listen to my will." The scarecrow replies simply.

He pauses, and grabs your wrist to make you look at him. "Don't worry. The field is friendly to me--I grew up here, after all."

You look up at him, you finally get a look at eyes. They were blue but there was a yellow haze that slightly glowed further reminding you he was far from human. Whatever he was, he was terrifyingly beautiful, in the sense that you didn’t know what he was. Perhaps he was just a true eldritch horror.

He pulls you along to walk after him.

No, he can’t be that.. Those are monsters after all.. and he’s a guardian, not a monster! You reassure yourself.

As you think and walk, you are reminded of his presence by the yellow haze of his eyes glancing toward you. He lazily turns his head away from you.

You can’t help but ask him, “How.. old are you, Scarecrow..?” this curious whisper of yours makes his ears perk.

He takes a minute to respond, as if he was thinking.

“I’ve been around for about… two-hundred and thirty years, or so.” He finally replies. “Thankfully my age and good looks don’t seem to go hand in hand,” he chuckles.

The scarecrow smiles, then adds: "I'm proud that I've kept this place safe for so long--doing my duty, serving my purpose."

You don’t do much to mask your surprise.

“Oh, that’s.. a long time..” You muttered.

Both of you walk for a bit, before you decide to speak again.

“Uh.. so is there ever an end to this field? Or where are we going?” You asked, it wasn’t in an irritated tone but it sounded so.

He let out a short dry chuckle. “Sort of.. the best you're getting for an exit or end here is the house.”

Finally with a smooth swift gesture with his hand, the corn in front of the both of you opens up.

There then lies a large acre of land, one that wasn’t infested with the corn. Though it was surrounded by the endless crop, in the middle sat a farmhouse.

It looked abandoned. A home that hadn’t taken up well with time.

The white paint was peeling, the wood of the home looked rotten. One storm, and the house is reduced to nothing.

Yet, there the home stood.

As he walked towards it without a second thought, you were gagged.

Oh fuck, you distastefully think, but if he said it’s “a way out”.. Guess I shouldn’t judge..

“Follow me, this big ol’ thing has too many hidden entrances and exits.. I’ll take you through the safest.” he gestured for you to follow him as he made his way to the back of the farmhouse.

You politely nod and follow him, trying to mask the faces you make at the house.

He turns around to face you, walking backwards as he proudly says, “This beauty is the safest place to escape to in the fields.”

You smile at his pride, it's admirable and slightly adorable with that grin he has on.

Though, as you look at him, your eyes trail down to his left side. On his waist, his flannel shirt adorns a large red stain.

You grab him by the arm and make him stop walking. A worried face plastered on, you ask, “A-Are you bleeding? Oh God..!”

"Huh? Oh, this?" The scarecrow asks, looking down at the stain, he seems unconcerned by your discovery of blood on him. "It's nothing, just old blood. I've been hurt in these fields many times before, and I've made it out alive."

“But this blood, it ain’t mine, darlin’,” he says with a sheepish grin. Almost like he’s trying to reassure you. But it seems to do the opposite, until you remember the encounter you two had earlier with that critter, as he calls them.

“Oh..” you mumbled.

He gently pried your hand off of his arm, and started walking again. This time he directly leads you to the entrance he was talking about.

There are weeds, and junk, and rotten pieces of wood lying around. Then finally, there is a shitty little “door” that looks more like someone tried to board a window up instead of a door.

He unhooks the latch and pries open the door.

A wave of dust and spiderwebs go flying, and inside there lies only darkness.

“C’mon, let’s head in.. there’s something I wanna show ya..” he says excitedly.

You watch him duck and make his way in, and it doesn’t take longer than three seconds for you to follow after him in fear of being left behind.

It seems it was a basement of sorts that you entered through. It was dark so it was hard to see, but his blue eyes held that yellow glow that seemed to be all he needed to see.

He walked up some stairs and unlocked a door, one that presumably led to the main level of the farmhouse.

“This way!” he called over to you.

You followed him deeper into the farmhouse.

He was slightly more ahead of you, solely because you were simultaneously looking around at the inside of the farmhouse.

In the main level of the home, there was some light shining from the orange hued sun outside that came in from the boarded up windows.

The house smelled of wet wood and dust. Not surprising.

What was slightly surprising was the furniture and general state of the home. The furniture looked so old.. very 1790. If the home was well taken care of maybe the entire place would seem homely.

Instead it felt haunted.

Not innately sinister, but just abandoned. By the owners and time.

You finished looking and turned a corner to find him.

He stood at another staircase, holding his straw hat.

This one clearly led to the second story.

“All done?” he asked with a grin as he set the hat on the railing of the staircase.

“Guess so..” You mumbled and grumbled. “I thought you were taking me out of this place, not deeper into it. This farmhouse is probably dead in the center of this place with all the endless cornfield surrounding it!”

“In time,” he quickly says, “right now it’s best that you’re here. The farmhouse,” he pouts his lips in a manner that makes it seem like he’s picking his words wisely, “has its own set of.. securities.”

His eyes make it back to yours, and before you can answer he speaks again. “Now you ready for what I wanna show you?” he asked with a grin.

It was charming and alluring; his pearly fangs poking out and dimples on display.

It was enough to make any thoughts, defenses, and protests you had melt away.

You find yourself rolling your eyes and smiling back at him.

“Alright.. what do you want to show me?” you finally ask with a raised brow.

“Jus’.. follow me.. It ain’t something I show to just anyone..” he says as he turns and starts to make his way up the stairs.

As you follow him up the stairs, he walks down a hallway, it’s not very well lit.

You see the shitty discolored floral wallpaper that was definitely put up later in the owners residency from 1790. Behind the wallpaper you see the cracked walls and rotten wood that somehow surpassed the weird time.

Even in the shitty lighting you make out pictures that are hung up on the wall.

They show a family, a big one.

One that probably lived in the house at some point and were the last known occupants before it turned into whatever it was now.

“Was this your family?” You ask him.

He only hums, and you take that as all the confirmation you were gonna get.

You tear your eyes away from the wall and see him standing at the last door of the hallway.

It was especially dark, and for some reason you felt your body start to feel like it wanted to run.

“C’mere, in here.” he says with that same charming grin, it makes you want to trust him even when your body is starting to vibrate with the urge to run.

He goes to open the door, and of course it creaks when it opens, it’s an old ass house.

And of course the inside is dark as shit, there’s no electricity, the house is from the near 1800s.

“After you,” his charming southern accent rings like sweet honey, and you walk right into the room.

He of course follows right after you and shuts the door behind him.

The bit of light that shone from the hallway disappeared.

The sound of the door closing, the consumption of the room in darkness, and the click of the door being locked, cause you to turn around in the now dark to face the direction for which you think he is in.

The darkness doesn’t last, with a snap of his finger candles are set and the room is illuminated in a dim light.

Finally you get a good look at the room.

It’s small, and it smelled putrid.

You saw that the boarded up windows had curtains, but the material wasn’t cloth.

“What is..” you trailed off as the slow realization creeped in.

It was skin.

Human skin.

Your head reeled, you turned and saw that the rest of the room was adorned in furniture that was also made up of patches and pieces of skin stitched together.

Your eyes wide, they searched desperately around the room but were only met with skin.

It covered every surface.

The floor, the walls, the furniture.

It was all human skin.

There were even a few faces stitched into the wall and ceiling, portraits that blended into the wall.

Confused teary eyes wildly looked around the room.

You whipped around to find the scarecrow. He stood right where he had been, leaning on the locked door, the same grin plastered on his face.

This time it did nothing to ease you. Instead it felt sinister, taunting.

Your trembling lips try to say something but your voice dies in your throat.

Finally that southern voice you had some to familiarize yourself with spoke, his tone sickeningly sweet and that yellow hue in his eyes burned like the candles that lit the room, “What ya think? Beautiful, right darlin’?.”

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sparklepocalypse · 3 months

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Hey hi, happy Sunday my fellow weirdoes! (Weirdos? Grammarly seems to think either is fine but that seems wrong.) Thanks for the tags this fine "Make Mags Remember How To Count To Six" Sunday, @tailsbeth-writes, @inexplicablymine, @firenati0n, @futureseaempress, @littlemisskittentoes, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @energievie, and @kiwiana-writes! If I missed anyone, I blame Tumblr for being weird about tags, because I went right down through the Mentions list... anyway!

My tag is open as always, but I haven't seen anything from @duchessdepolignaca03 yet, so I'm tagging you, in particular. 🤣❤️

Who wants more Big Giant AU? I guess the first thing I should say is that the Big Giant AU now officially has an Actual Title and 45k words, so I threw together a banner for it -- the banner, the title reveal, and this Sunday's six sentences are behind the jump! (Still have no idea when this WIP will be done though, so... uhhh... sorry?)

First, for the big reveal: the Big Giant AU (AKA KHIX, AKA King Henry IX)'s title is... Facing Tempests! And yes, I lifted the title directly from the lyrics of the song I'd previously designated as the theme for said AU. Here's my lil' banner, which you'll see again in approximately (indistinguishable mumble) when I finally start posting this sucker. I'm gonna keep using #wip: khix as a tag on Tumblr for fic meme purposes, just to keep things organized. 🤣

On to the snippet!

When Alex was in seventh grade, he joined an intramural soccer team coached by the dads of two of his classmates. He played right midfielder for the first half of the season, and then the kid that the coaches had routinely put in as striker got the flu and had to sit out for two weeks, so they pulled Alex in as a substitute striker in the interim. Alex scored so many goals during that two-week period that the coaches made him the striker permanently. The next Saturday after the game, while all the players’ parents were still catching up, McKinleigh Slater, who played left wing, took Alex by the hand, then led him behind the equipment shed and kissed him. Alex has kissed his fair share of people between seventh grade and now. He’s had all manner of kisses: good and bad, soft and hungry, lingering, awkward, and sloppy, kisses that led to relationships and kisses that led to one-night stands, kisses in bathrooms and bedrooms and cars, kisses that have meant absolutely nothing... and kisses that have absolutely flipped his world on its axis.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fic #alex claremont diaz #henry hanover stuart fox #alex x henry #my fic #rwrb movie #wip: khix #six sentence sunday

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thevagabondexpress · 3 months

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something something gangs of ketterdam something something geography

Take a look at the available maps from the Grishaverse and you'll notice something. While maps of Ravka and Shu Han and Novyi Zem are nice and interesting and pretty to look at, and the Ice Court has reasonably good description, that one map of Ketterdam? Yeah. It's rendered in so much incredibly beautiful detail that you can literally see the city's devils (see what i did there? eh?). Six of Crows, and Crooked Kingdom particularly, have a very intense love for and understanding of geography that seems to be unique in the series. Alina Starkov is ostensibly a cartographer and yet Ketterdam is the city I could confidently find my way around and probably direct tourists around as well. And when you think about it, this actually makes a lot of sense. For the Crows that live there, knowing your geography could be a matter of life and death.

I was never in a gang (thank God and my faerie godmother) but I grew up in the poorer neighborhoods of a big city so I know enough about them to know that the experience Leigh describes is pretty accurate. Among the various simplicities and complexities of group crime (major organized as well as four dudes in hoodies alike), territory is a big one. It's brought up in the books, the Crows have Fifth Harbor, it's theirs, and the Black Tips pay a hefty price for encroaching on it. Gang territories are like political borders and if members cross over from their place of residence to somebody else's, it's tantamount to an invasion. The Crows would need to know the city like the back of their hand for more than just profitable purposes and it shows in the books.

Not only that, but many of them have other personal reasons to be good at geography. Kaz is not just a gangster, he's ostensibly a king among them. He's deeply involved, he's got enemies, he's got pies. He's going to want to know who everyone is and where they are so he can stay as many steps ahead as he does. Inej grew up living a nomadic lifestyle, traveling in caravans along routes laid down by probably centuries' worth of tradition. Plus there's the Fold to worry about. Or at least there was. She would have learned navigating from her family from a young age, would've learned which towns are safe and which are not, which roads to use and to avoid. She would have then applied that knowledge to the city easily, probably near-subconsciously, once she could walk in it freely. Plus, I mean, she's getting around by rooftops, she's going to need to know more than just street signs. Meanwhile, Nina is a spy and soldier, quickly learning the lay of the land was no doubt a part of her training, and Wylan was born and raised in the city. Even living in the wealthy districts for most of his life (he wasn't in the Barrel that long before the start of the book, remember), he'd still have a native's grasp of the world around him. Jesper and Matthias are the only characters who don't have a geography connection beyond trying not to start a gang war and Matthias is the only one who genuinely wouldn't probably care. Well, I guess Kuwei probably wouldn't give much of a damn about geography either if we're counting him, but he spends most of his time in the story being shunted from one place to another by other people.

So yeah. When you think about it, geography's gonna be hella important to the Crows and it makes sense that it shows up like this in the books. Now, do I necessarily like that I could probably give Barrel breakfast restaurant recommendations to a friend? Not really, unless I'm writing fanfiction. But it's fun knowing why. Now, the mystery of why Alina isn't this geography-knowledgeable when she's literally a cartographer . . .

(tagging @tleeaves @4uru and @immortalarizona for your thoughts if you have any)

update: map:

#six of crows #shadow & bone #ketterdam geography #this really isn't an analysis post so much as it's me pointing and going “hey cool thing!”#or maybe the crows are all secretly canadian #now there's a rare joke

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twodragons-blooper-reel · 3 months

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Let's roll the bloopers!

POST LIMIT: I LIVE

Hi there! It's @twodragonsinatrenchcoat I run several Pokemon IRL blogs in the rotumblr sphere and I wanted to make a sort of hub for them! Not just for organization and a spot to hold onto ask games I enjoy- but for meme and AU purposes as well!

I'll post ooc updates as well as jokes I have while writing here from time to time as well :3

Feel free to ask any and all questions pertaining to the blogs that are listed below!

Active blogs are one I'm posting on actively, Light Activity Blogs are ones I'll reblog to occasionally and Inactive Blogs are blogs I have no intention of returning to in the near future.

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Active Blogs:

@piplup-at-naranja <- An in character liveblog of my playthrough of Pokemon Scarlet :]

@magical-girl-evoli <- An eevee magical girl! Because I'm not immune to brain rot

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Light activity Blogs:

@rotumbeast <- The spirit of Rotomblr. Might be responsible for chaos

@synthetic-radiance <- Cursed Chosen named Orion, Type:Null hybrid.

@psychic-type-appreciator <- Seraphina's sister Agni. She's less of a wet cat

@ghost-type-appreciator <- A Ceruledge hybrid blog :] her name is Seraphina! She's a wet cat

@clockwork-soul-heart <- Princess Steele! She's been trapped in a clockwork kingdom by a haunted doll for the last seven years of her life.

@disparate-traveller <- A faller blog about my character Diamond who yeeted themselves into Rotomblr to hang out with their bestie

@drifting-rocket <- Kidnapped Aegis a couple times. His name is Drifter, he's a Team Rocket Executive. He's got so many issues.

@oreburghminingmuseum <- A blog about Aegis's caretakers and the museum they work for! Mostly an excuse for a place where I can post non-shieldon fossil pokemon art-

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Inactive Blogs:

@fields-of-gracidea <- Vio! Branded chosen of Shaymin, Sawsbuck Hybrid, tasked with taking care of the younger brandeds

@sturdy-and-soundproof <- What you probably know me from! Aegis! Shieldon boy! I'm not sure how best to explain him besides he's cute. Has a whole slew of blogs related to him which are up next :)

@mareeplings <- My first pkmn Irl blog :D I dream of returning to it someday but I can't find the inspiration.

@snarling-maschiff <- a blog with a normal person running it as opposed to all my other blogs (whoops) They like dog pokemon!

@spiralled-and-spliced <- Another blog with relation to Dakota, was my first attempt at a villain blog. Never really took off but the character exists :)

@wayward-silver <- One of 13* Silver blogs, he's a mew taking the form of his past life. Was stuck underground as a ditto for like 20 years though.

@devilisinthedeinos <- A "Sleeby" named Eris who turned into a deino after getting top surgery. There's something else behind the scenes there...

@distortion-escapee <- A blog for my personal take on giratina, related to Dakota's blog.

@dakota-and-paris <- About a girl who has had way too much on her plate for thirteen years and will continue to have too much on her plate until I say so.

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That's all my blogs. If I'm answering a question about a specific blog I'll put it in the tags as "blog talk: [Blog name]"

I'm open to questions directed at characters, directed at myself, au talking- Just about anything honestly! This is just a fun sort-of hub for my pokemon blogs.

uhhh love y'all bye for now! <3

*there's so many silver blogs on this website i'm not gonna keep this number updated but that's how many there was when I made the blog

#pinned post #intro post #hub blog #tori talks

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godtier · 4 months

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so i wasn't gonna make a separate post about this but @sapphire-weapon had a post (that i reblogged a few days ago) in which someone mentioned that they think it was a missed opportunity in RE6 for jake to not have spoken to wesker. i had a p long conversation with sirea about it and my thoughts about that sentiment, but it was also nearly 3 AM my time when that happened so i dunno if i was even articulating my thoughts properly lmao

and yes... this is technically a meta post and i know i said i was gonna do the mmx meta post first... but this one isn't gonna be nearly as long (i hope) and i gotta get the brainworms out before i die

(quick edit note: i reworded the list item below from saying he was "likely a drug addict" to "likely a recreational drug user" because i feel like that better encompasses what i'm trying to get across

(another edit note: i made another post regarding jake's usage of drugs that stemmed from this post! it's marked as mature bc of drug usage, so it won't show up in tag search. if you're interested in that, look here!)

so the idea that wesker being alive in OG RE6 would have brought an opportunity for jake's character is kinda, imo, antithetical to the purpose of jake's character in the first place.

when we meet jake, we know a few things about him, right off the bat:

he's a mercenary

he's likely a recreational drug user or at least heavy/risk-taking user

he doesn't give a fuck about anything but making money

his whole character journey is going from this selfish, money-focused dickhead to someone who actually cares about doing something good, just because it's the right thing to do. at the start, jake refuses to simply give his blood away when sherry mentions needing it for a vaccine. no, he wants a cash payout. 50 million dollery-doos for a pint of his blood. by the end, he lowers the price to a mere 50 dollars. one could argue that was symbolic and he actually didn't care if he was paid or not, but that's neither here nor there.

but why was he like this? because his childhood was shite; his mother was sickly, he had no father figure, and by 15-ish, jake had to learn how to hustle to keep food on the table. and by "hustle" i mean "do a bunch of mercenary work and killing people." and when shit went south with his little group of mercenaries (their entire group was sold out by a heel-turner), jake basically went "fuck alla y'all" and lost all sense of conviction or morals.

during the game, he expresses his bitterness for his father, wesker, pretty clearly. even though his mother still loved wesker, tried to raise jake to respect him despite never knowing him, it didn't matter to jake. he hated that guy. well, really, who doesn't?

we're not gonna talk about excella rn ok

jake's entire character arc is built up around this hatred as well as a subconscious fear of becoming his father. the fear part doesn't show up until later in the story, after he and sherry were captured by the Big Bad's organization. they were both experimented on for several months, during which jake overheard the researchers talking about his father, wesker. this gives jake a sort of "explanation" as to why he is the way he is; he takes the "nature" side of the nature vs nurture argument.

ofc sherry scolds his ass and basically tells him "grow up and take responsibility for your actions."

and here's the thing... this fear, narratively, works just fine without wesker being there.

(since this got obscenely long, pls continue below for the actual explanation lmao)

jake eventually comes to the conclusion that yeah no it's definitely up to him to not become wesker, not his genetics. he does this without wesker being there. that's the entire point of his character journey. in order for an interaction with wesker to even matter or have any sort of impact on jake's character arc, his character arc as a whole would need to change.

see, imo, wesker being there diminishes a lot of the power of that journey. in the game, he isn't there for jake to scream at, to question. all those thoughts in his head that might be circulating around, like why he left his mother, why he did what he did, etc, cannot be answered. this is not a bad thing in a character arc as this is shit that happens to people all the time. people don't always get the answers they may want from family members because those family members are dead. they have to learn to move on without those answers or they have to rely on people who knew that person to fill in the blanks. this is what jake already does in game. he has to rely on sherry, and by a smaller extent, chris, to fill in those blanks for him.

but we as players, observers of the narrative, already know the answers to some of those questions. why wesker did what he did, primarily. anything else is only pertinent to jake and him knowing those answers doesn't change anything for his character arc as it is.

if wesker was there in the game, what would that even add to jake's narrative? a scene where jake yells at his dad? asks him "why did you leave?" when wesker wasn't even aware that he had a kid in the first place? remember: wesker had no fucking idea that he had a child. there would be no reason for wesker to even believe jake in the first place. sure, there could be a scene where he goes "well i'll be damned, ig he really is my misfired chromosome," but... then what? what does that add?

you could argue that wesker could use jake, maybe try to manipulate him into doing shit for his plans, but... that wouldn't work with the way jake's characterization is mapped out. his entire characterization would have to change for this to work in a satisfying way.

jake already hates wesker without ever meeting him. he would not willingly participate in anything wesker offered to him. he already knows that wesker nearly destroyed the world multiple times and had a hand in destroying an entire city. even if jake has no moral compass at the start of the game, by the time he learns about what wesker really did, who he really was, he's already showing that he does have one, it was just dormant up until that point. he's clearly disgusted by what wesker did. what foothold would wesker have that wouldn't immediately result in it just falling flat?

given how wesker is, i could see him perhaps belittling jake, maybe saying "wow you suck for being my spawn," or something during a fight with the intent to rile him up. would that work? no, not narratively nor not in the way jake is characterized. again, jake doesn't want to be like wesker. why would insulting him and saying he's not "as good" as wesker expected him to be motivate jake or even anger him? it shouldn't, because jake doesn't want to be anything like wesker. if anything, it may annoy him, but that's kind of a lame reaction, right?

if anything, the most i could see culminating out of this would be jake standing over wesker after he's defeated again (because it's resident evil and obviously wesker can't win) and having a "wow idk what i was worried about" moment. that's it.

but he doesn't need that. having a scene like that cheapens the weight of him figuring that out himself, without wesker there as "proof."

because the point of his story, of his character arc, is that he figures that out on his own (and with the help of sherry and the events he witnesses) because he has to. he doesn't need wesker there to spoon-feed that to him. he figures that out by working with sherry, by seeing the effects of the C-Virus on everything that it infects. wesker being an abstract entity in his life is enough, because the frustration of not seeing him, not being able to put a bullet in his skull himself, fuels the rest of his journey.

this is where i think that people who make these observations or criticisms (primarily those who think that jake's character would have been improved if wesker was there) need to understand the difference between what's good for a character as a person and what's good for their arc.

interacting with wesker would be good for jake as a person, in that he would no longer need to wonder about it. the answers would be spelled out for him, and he wouldn't have to do any wondering about the what-if. he wouldn't have any doubts left that he'd need to untangle.

but in doing that, it cheapens his arc; it would do more of a disservice to it, imo, than anything else. it would make his journey more formulaic and boring.

it would also clutter up the already cluttered narrative of that game. you have him not only struggling with his heritage, struggling with the fear of becoming his father, struggling with needing to be the "savior" by giving his blood, struggling with his moral compass, but now also struggling with seeing his father for the first time in person?

it makes his arc top-heavy. in that scenario, you could easily replace him with another, completely new character who has zero ties to wesker and the story wouldn't change in any meaningful way. the reason why it works the way to does now is because wesker is already dead. it creates that internal conflict, that internal frustration, that jake has to learn how to deal with since he cannot take that frustration out on his father in-person. he has to make peace with that struggle in other ways.

now, that's not to say there aren't ways that adding wesker into the story of RE6 that don't disrupt that balance. primarily, when it comes to a potential RE6 remake, the writing team can (and hopefully will) rework aspects of the entire game to make the plot more streamlined. this could include adding wesker in and redoing jake's characterization and character arc entirely.

this would be the only way i could see it working out. if jake's entire motivation was changed, his entire backstory was tweaked, then wesker being around could probably work! an interaction between them could be made to make sense and not bog down the rest of the plot as a result.

sirea also mentioned to me in our conversation that adding wesker in to RE6 remake could actually help streamline the plot and i do agree with that. she mentioned that all of the main characters have a tie to wesker in some way, which is absolutely true. having him there would neatly tie their campaigns together in the plotline and make the game as a whole feel less disjointed and messy.

this is especially true when we consider there are 4 fuckin campaigns that all run alongside one another and intersect at random points. it gets so fucking difficult to page through and figure out when certain things happen in the plot. you'll see them happen in order in chris's campaign, for example, then you go start leon's campaign and have to start over again and try to remember what happened at the same time during chris's campaign and so on.

now imagine that not with just two campaigns but four. it gets gross quick. sure, there are parts where the characters run into each other and that helps ground a general timeline in your head, but as far as time elapsed... it's so fuckin hard u guise

there's a reason why it's so hard to summarize the plot of RE6. it's because there is just so much going on in that fucking game.

anyway, that's my rant/sort of meta analysis about why i think wesker didn't need to be in OG RE6 and probably would have made jake's entire arc stupider than it already was

#resident evil #resident evil 6 #jake muller #albert wesker #meta analysis #pls don't look at me i only write posts about characters no one cares about #stay tuned for my meta analysis on HUNK next #(may or may not be serious about that)#(also this post is the epitome of tl;dr)#(u been warned)#text post

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kraviolis · 1 year

Text

debris becoming whole again (The Owl House)

Rating: Teen Relationships: Amity & Hunter, Belos & Hunter Words: 4.4k Additional Tags: Birthday Trauma, Pre-Canon Flashback, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Reference Child Abuse, Angst & Fluff, Banter, Grief/Mourning, Complicated Feelings, Post-Canon (W&D Timeskip) Summary:

Hunter blinks at her in pure disbelief. “There’s no way you forgot my last birthday.”

“I’m sorry.” Amity does look genuinely sorry about it, which is nice but not what he was getting at.

“No, I mean, it’s actually impossible that you could forget it. You were there.”

“I’m gonna be honest… I don’t think I even know when your birthday is.” She admits, looking sheepish as if that’s her fault, somehow.

AO3 LINK

__________________

Hunter is smiling as he makes his way down the castle halls.

No one sees it, of course. All the coven scouts see as they’re passing by is the Golden Guard power walking with purpose down the hall. They step out of the way and avert their gaze, avoiding any kind of eye contact, which is just fine to Hunter. He doesn’t want to be delayed for a second longer than necessary.

It’s not every day that Emperor Belos wakes him thirty minutes early with a coven courier giving him a letter requesting his presence in his Uncle’s workshop. Hunter had barely been able to contain his excitement long enough to close the door before he was smiling ear-to-ear and rushing through his morning routine. His hair was still slightly damp, but he couldn’t be late– not today.

When he reaches the door, he straightens himself out and clears his throat before knocking.

“Come in,” Belos calls through the wood, and Hunter obeys.

The workshop is one of Hunter’s favorite places in the whole imperial palace. It’s always a cluttered tangle, with half-cooked blueprints and random tubes and bolts and pieces of scrap metal scattered across any flat surface. He’s always careful to step over the various items littering the floor, knowing that it may look like a huge mess but isn’t actually. His Uncle prefers an organized chaos just like Hunter does, and he’ll do his best to respect the space as a guest in it.

“Good morning,” Belos greets him from his seat at one of the benches, his own mask and cloak nowhere to be seen and his long hair pulled back out of his face. He’s bent over, charcoal pencil in his hand scratching away with quick strokes, but pauses his ministrations to turn to Hunter as he approaches. “I see you received my invitation.”

Hunter moves to kneel, bowing his head. “Good morning, Emperor B–”

His Uncle cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “No, none of that, if you please. I do prefer my mornings outside of court and with as little bureaucracy as possible.” He turns back to the bench, pencil in hand as he continues his sketching.

Blushing under his mask, Hunter stands and nods. “Uh. Right. Sorry.”

Belos swipes a hand over the paper he’s working on, brushing away any particles. Then with the same hand, he beckons Hunter closer without looking up. “Come, nephew. Tell me what you think of this– and take that mask off while you’re at it.”

With a practiced hand, he removes his mask and hood in a single swift motion, leaving the golden vizard on the first clear surface he sees. Belos leans back so that Hunter may look over his shoulder at the sketchbook laid on the table.

“It’s… a new artificial staff?” Hunter leans closer, putting a hand on the table to get a better look. His eyes widen as he takes it in. “No, wait, is that my staff? Are you planning another alteration to the mechanisms?”

“It is, and I am.” His Uncle confirms, pointing with the pencil at the fresh blueprint. “There’s actually quite a bit I’d like to implement, but for now– do you see this modification here? With the internal wiring? What do you make of it?”

He absorbs the page, soaking in the looping cockatrice-scratch of his Uncle’s handwriting. “Mixing metals in the wires– tonguesten, copper, and Titan’ium?” He murmurs to himself, trying to connect the dots in his head. “Using copper as the conductor instead of gold would increase power, even if the charge becomes unstable… but putting those two metals together like this wouldn’t work, right?”

Hunter looks to his Uncle, who tilts his head to one side wordlessly with a neutral expression. Seeing that he won’t be getting any hints, he hums and goes back to squinting at the page in front of him.

“This configuration would brick the staff at best, or at worst, cause it explode in your hand the second you try to use it.” He crooks a finger against his chin, running through all his knowledge of magical engineering. “Copper is leaky and Titan’ium reflects magic, which is why normally you should make an effort to avoid using them together, but… not unless… the tonguesten! ”

He straightens his back, holding back a smile as he finally makes the connection. “Using tonguesten as the barrier because of its density will prevent the leaking and keep the refractions of magic within the wire itself, which lets it flow faster and at higher concentration!”

“Very good, Hunter.” Belos nods his approval, making Hunter swell with pride. “These new wire compositions should prevent both that pesky half-second delay and make this mechanism here unnecessary. Once we can remove that eyesore, the head will become lighter and render the staff more balanced than ever. In fact, all these changes I’ve noted down should make it all feel a bit more… natural, so to speak.”

Hunter can’t stop the grin this time. “That’s so– Uncle, you’re a genius! This is incredible!” He says, turning to the elder in excitement.

Belos smiles back, but it’s tense in a way that gives Hunter pause. When he raises a single brow, Hunter suddenly realizes he’s grabbed the Emperor of the Boiling Isles by the shoulders. He pulls his hands back quickly, cheeks and ears burning like he’s just slathered firebee honey on them as he takes a step back.

“I– uh. Um.” Keeping his eyes to the ground, he clears his throat and tries to regain his sense of professionalism. He bends at the waist, arms planted to his sides. “I apologize for my overenthusiasm, sir.”

“That’s quite alright, Hunter. I’m glad to know you’re appreciative of my work.” Belos puts a hand on his head, patting gently. “Just don’t make such reactions into a habit, hm?” Hunter’s breath catches, something warm blossoming in his chest at the gesture even when his Uncle quickly pulls his hand away.

It’s not every day that he receives so much casual affection, as his Uncle has never been very open with his touch– which Hunter understands, of course! The curse is dangerous to those around him, and Belos doesn’t like Hunter getting too close just in case he accidentally injures him. But today must be a good day, one where his curse isn’t bothering him too badly.

“Are you ready to get started?” His Uncle asks, drawing him from his mind.

Hunter blinks and tilts his head. “Started on what?”

“On your staff modifications, of course.”

“Today?” Hunter breathes, lighting up at the nod he gets. “Really? And I get to help?”

Belos chuckles, regal and dignified. “It is your staff, Hunter. You know it nearly as well as I do.” He glances to the door of the workshop, his brow raising again. “Though, I don’t imagine we can begin right this second.”

“Oh.” Something deflates in Hunter but he does his best not to frown or whine like a petulant child not getting his way. “Do you need me to gather the materials first?”

“No, I should have everything we need already.” His Uncle gestures towards his storage containers in the corner, half the lids off of the containers and several labels misplaced or illegible from age. Hunter glances from the materials back to Belos, still not understanding. “It’s just that… well, it would be rather difficult to begin when your staff isn’t here.”

Hunter gasps. “I forgot it in my room! Agh, stupid!” He hits his forehead with his fist a couple times, then turns to run out the door. “Sorry, Uncle! I’ll go and–”

“Hold a tick,” Belos grabs his own staff from where it leans against the wall to his right, using it to levitate Hunter’s mask over to him. “You don’t want to forget this as well, do you?”

“Right– Thank you!” He slips it over his face and pulls his hood up swiftly. “I’ll be right back!”

Before he can rush out of the door, his Uncle calls him back again. “Oh, and one more thing.”

He freezes and wrenches his head back into the room, buzzing with enough energy to power his staff a hundred times over. He forces his tone to stay polite and respectful, no matter how badly he wants to just take off running down the hall towards his bedroom. “Yes, Uncle?”

Belos smiles kindly at him. “Happy sixteenth birthday, Hunter.”

Hunter is so, so glad his Uncle can’t see his face anymore. The second he processes the words, he smiles so wide it makes his cheeks hurt and has to blink the sudden blur in his vision away. It feels like his chest is about to burst from nothing but pure joy.

He has an urge to run back across the room and throw his arms around his Uncle, or even just tell him for once how much he means to him, but he fights it back. No matter how much he cares for him, he can’t cross those boundaries.

His Uncle is a complicated man and has been through a lot of pain in his life– he wouldn’t be appreciative of gestures like that. It’s not in his nature, and Hunter refuses to make his Uncle uncomfortable or, Titan forbid, start putting up his walls when it’s just the two of them again like he did when Hunter was small.

(Back when his Uncle was so distant he often would go weeks without seeing him at all. When he couldn’t find a single chance to show his Uncle how helpful he could actually be to him. No, he won’t go back to that.)

(He’ll show the Emperor every single day just how much he can rely on Hunter, how useful he can be. He’s not going to become more dead weight, and he’s not going to let anyone else take his place.)

(Plus, it’s best for Hunter to remain as professional as possible in the castle. After all, he can only take so much muttering behind his back about nepotism and daycares.)

Instead, Hunter just nods quickly to show his appreciation. “Thank you, Uncle!”

He waits a second for his Uncle to wave his hand, officially dismissing him, before he closes the door to the workshop politely and takes off in a dead sprint down the hall.

Hunter grins under his mask the entire way there and back.

_________________

Hunter sniffles, drawing his knees to his chest tighter.

It’s getting colder out here by the second as the sky darkens, the sun already gone below the horizon. His back is pressed against the wall of the Owl House as he hides away in the backyard. The sounds of the birthday party still going on inside does nothing but make his heart sink even lower.

There’s a sudden raucous of muffled laughter and Hunter squeezes his eyes closed. Everyone is having such a good time. Why can’t he? Why does everything have to be ruined by his dumb brain? Why does he have to be ruined?

It’s not fair of him. It’s supposed to be Gus’s special day. Hunter is supposed to be inside playing games with him and teasing him for turning fourteen and still being a pipsqueak, not sitting outside in the cold and having his own little pity party.

Gus is gonna notice he’s gone soon, and then he’s gonna have to deal with Hunter’s stupid problems instead of getting sick from eating so much of the human cake Luz and Camila brought. But even though Hunter wants more than anything to just suck it up and let himself have a good time with his friends, he just… can’t .

“Stupid,” He mutters to himself, sniffling again.

“Hey.”

Hunter whips his head around, startled. Amity is standing to his right, hands folded in front of her awkwardly. He hadn’t even heard the backdoor open.

She frowns at him and Hunter quickly turns away again to wipe at his face. “Hu–” He cuts himself off and clears his throat before trying again. “Hey.”

Amity approaches carefully and sits down right next to him, not touching but still close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of her. Ghost is conspicuously absent from the palisman’s constant post of circling her ankles, and Hunter knows it was on purpose.

His friends can’t even just hang out with their palismen near him without needing to walk on eggshells because of how stupidly sensitive he is. Like, it happened months ago, and Hunter still can’t even think about Flapjack without–

Hunter sniffles harder and scrubs at his eyes. Stupid. He’s so stupid . What’s wrong with him?

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Amity tells him, and he realizes he was talking out loud. “You’re just having a hard time.”

“I’ve been having a hard time for seventeen years,” He says bitterly and continues to fight his own tear ducts. “I should be used to it by now. I never had these kinds of problems before– before I…”

“Before you left the Emperor’s Coven ?” She gives him a look, flat and unimpressed. “The same coven where showing an ounce of real emotion like this was– how did Luz word it? Like bleeding in shark infested waters?”

Hunter looks away without answering, frustrated over hearing such a logical comment in the face of his very illogical emotions. It makes too much sense for him right now, which makes everything about what he’s doing feel even more stupid.

Amity sighs. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Hunter stares ahead, eyes fixed on the edge of the forest around the Owl House. The crowd inside laughs together at something again, muffled and barely-heard through the stone walls and thick glass window next to them.

“I’m just being stupid.” He repeats, turning his head to look at her.

“I mean, when are you not?” She elbows him, smiling. He glares at her in mock-offense and elbows her back, causing a mini elbow war that ends in seconds after a mutual surrender. “Seriously, though. Spill it already.”

Hunter moves a hand down from his knees, picking at the red grass underneath him. “Swear you won’t make fun of me for it?” He asks.

“Swear. Look,” Amity makes a gesture across her chest. “Cross my heart.”

Hunter raises a brow at her. “...What does that even mean?”

“Luz did it once. It’s a human way of pledging a serious promise.”

Hunter sighs. “If Luz used it then good enough, I guess. Fine.”

There’s a long stretch of silence between them. Amity twiddles her thumbs together and Hunter tries to fit the words together in his head in a way where it possibly, just maybe, won’t actually be the stupidest thing he’s said and ever will say to another living soul.

“So…” Amity says. “Are you gonna–”

“My birthdays have always been my favorite memories.” Hunter blurts out, digging one hand into the grass and the other into his hair. Amity goes silent instantly, fixing her attention on him. “Except for– well. You know what happened during the last one.”

“...Do I?” She asks, squinting.

Hunter blinks at her in pure disbelief. “There’s no way you forgot my last birthday.”

“I’m sorry.” She does look genuinely sorry about it, which is nice but not what he was getting at.

“No, I mean, it’s actually impossible that you could forget it. You were there.”

“I’m gonna be honest… I don’t think I even know when your birthday is.” She admits, looking sheepish as if that’s her fault, somehow. “I didn’t realize you already turned seventeen until you said so just now.”

“I… Oh, Titan.” He laughs, but it’s not actually funny. He stops quickly. “I– I just remembered I never actually told anyone. I was so focused on everything else, I never…”

"When is your birthday?"

“My birthday is– Amity, it’s on Samhain." He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. "Or, well, technically last year it was on Halloween.”

Amity blanches. She’s frozen in shock for a second, staring at him with wide eyes, before she nearly scrambles to take his hand in hers. The pressure is grounding, and he squeezes back just as tight. “Hunter,” She breathes in that same old tone– the one that everyone uses whenever Hunter shares anything about his life that’s less than perfectly happy. Horror, concern, and pity mixed into one single specific tone of voice.

“Don’t.” Hunter shakes his head. His free hand twists itself in the front of his shirt. “I already know. It’s– That isn’t what I wanted to talk about.”

Amity purses her lips and nods, but that doesn’t stop her from looking like she won’t be forgetting it. He just hopes she doesn’t let it slip to Luz before he can get the chance to tell her on his own– that will only end in a grievous amount of tears and yelling. Again.

“Anyways,” He clears his throat. Amity gives his hand another squeeze, encouraging him. “Um. Where was I again?”

“You said your birthdays were always your happiest memories.” She tells him, and he nods.

“Yeah. They were. Are? It’s– complicated.” His shoulders fall, and he leans his head against his knees again. “I didn’t get my birthdays off, in the Coven. No one did, really, but even when I was a kid I never had any birthday parties. Not like this one.”

“Are you upset because you… want one?” She guesses.

He shakes his head. “I– I don’t think that’s it. I think…” He hesitates, rolling the next words on his tongue before deciding to just spit them out. “I think I miss him.”

Amity doesn’t ask who ‘him’ is. She doesn’t have to. Hunter avoids looking at her face, not wanting to take the risk of seeing disgust or hate in reaction to his admission. She doesn’t stop holding his hand, which he takes as a good sign.

“He always made time in his day to spend my birthdays with me.” He keeps going, not sure if he can stop now that he’s started. “Even if it was only for fifteen minutes, even if we spent it going over budget reports, he always made an effort. For me .

“It’s stupid, right? How idiotic does someone have to be to miss him ?” Hunter growls, clenching his hands. “He was nothing but a liar and a murderer. He wasn’t even my uncle! I was only a tool to him, one that he had no problem with throwing away the second I–”

Amity quietly lets out a pained squeak, and Hunter rips his hand away from hers quick as lightning. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” She can’t hide the wince in her face as she rubs her palm with her thumb. She shakes her head, her purple bangs falling out of place. “Don’t worry about it, keep going.”

Hunter hesitates but with a threatening brow raise from Amity, he deflates and curls back in on himself. It takes him a second to regather his thoughts from where he’d left them.

“You know what the worst part is?” He says. “When he wasn’t actively making my life into a living nightmare, he was actually really nice to me. For example, he used to sneak me hard candies during meetings that went long. Oh, and he’d let me sit in his workshop with him and rant about my day, or ramble about magical theory while he tinkered. That’s the version of him I miss more than any other. The version who felt like… like an actual, real person.

“And I know it wasn’t ever real to him, I know that everything nice he did was just another way for him to manipulate me, but… but it was real to me.” A lump begins to form in his throat, and it doesn’t fade when Hunter tries to swallow it down.

“Belos,” He spits the name like it’s poison. “Never cared about me, but I cared about him. I– Damn it.” He scrubs at his traitorous eyes again, his breath hitching. “I- I loved him.”

His voice breaks, and so does Hunter. Unable to hold it back anymore, he wraps his arms around himself as his body begins to tremble and jolt with every sob that rips from his throat. Amity pulls him in, leaning him on her shoulder as he cries.

It’s stupid. It’s so, so stupid . He should know better. Yet here Hunter is, grieving a genocidal tyrant who wouldn’t have given his own death a second thought. Grieving the man Hunter had thought he was. Grieving a family he never even had when his new family was right inside. They’re going to smile at Hunter when he goes back in later and look at him like he’s made their lives better just by being there, but right now he’s sobbing over someone who made Hunter feel like he had to earn the right to be his nephew.

“Stupid,” Hunter chokes out through his tears. “‘m so stupid.”

“It’s okay. I- I get it.” Amity tells him quietly, one of her hands rubbing up and down his back. “I miss my mom, sometimes.”

Hunter leans against her with more of his weight. “Your mom s-sucks .”

“I know,” Amity laughs wetly, ducking her head down. “How awful is that? I still love the woman who tried to kill Luz like, twice. I’m a horrible girlfriend.”

“Shut up.” He sobs, serious despite his sniffling.

“It’s true.” She argues back, something weird in her voice. “I have dreams about my mom waltzing into my life again, completely changed and telling me how sorry she is. I always end up crying when I wake up and remember it’s not real. I’m such an idiot .”

“Shut up.” Hunter repeats, shifting his neck to look her in the face. He barely blinks at seeing Amity with tears streaking down her face, too. “Don’t– don’t say that. You aren’t an idiot for missing the person who– who raised you.”

“I know I’m not,” Amity agrees breezily, tears all but forgotten in the blink of an eye. “And neither are you.” She pokes him in the forehead, and Hunter stops crying out of pure shock.

“You…” He trails off, pulling back from her even more.

“Now, if you say you’re stupid for missing your Uncle, you’re calling me stupid, too.” Amity flutters her still-wet lashes, as if she’s one of those innocent little angel baby statues that sit on the shelves in the Noceda living room, and not what Camila calls el diablo .

Hunter stares at her, mouth gaping like a fish. She giggles and the sound makes him scowl. He crosses his arms, glaring at her. “I’m– I’m changing my mind; you also suck.”

“Gotcha.” She grins wickedly, taking a second to wipe her face. Her eyeliner had run when she was crying, painting black streaks down her pale cheeks before her hands smeared it all into an even bigger mess.

He groans and pushes her away, rubbing at his own eyes and nose. “I can’t believe you. You can’t just– trick someone into not calling themselves stupid over something that is objectively stupid!”

“I just did, though.” Amity leans her chin on her hand.

“That’s not how it works!” Hunter argues, throwing his hands up. “I’m not gonna stop doing it just because you– you think you trapped me!”

“What if I blackmail you?” She says it so sweetly, like she’s asking to give him a hug and not attempting to threaten him into being nice to himself. Honestly, Hunter is ninety percent sure she doesn’t actually have anything to blackmail him with, but that ten percent is making him nervous.

“I know for a fact that you don’t have anything on me.” He calls her bluff.

“Do Camila and Mr. Deamonne know when your birthday is?” Amity asks, checking her nails casually.

Hunter reels back, eyes widening. “You wouldn’t. I told you in confidence!”

“Hmmm,” She rolls her eyes up to look at the stars in the fully darkened sky, tapping a single finger to her cheek. “I really wonder what they'd say if they found out.”

“This is low, Blight.” He shakes his head. “Even for you.”

“All you have to do to guarantee my silence is agree to my terms.” She smiles at him, waiting for what she knows is inevitable.

Hunter plants his face into his hands and groans into them. “FINE!” He bursts, throwing his hands up. “ Fine! I won’t call myself stupid. You happy now?”

“Very.” She nods primly, a smug little smirk on her face. “Though, I would be happier if you went back inside, hugged Camila, and had some cake.”

“You’re so bossy.” He rolls his eyes, using the wall as leverage to lift himself up. His legs take a second to solidify under him, but he manages.

“Hunter, you’re the only one who lets me boss them around like this.” She tells him bluntly as she holds out her arm in a wordless command. He sighs and pulls her to her feet in a single smooth motion. “I have to capitalize on that. Where else am I gonna get the same rush of power and superiority now that I’m not a total bitch?”

“You’re just taking advantage of my brainwashing from being a child soldier.” Hunter sniffs.

“You can’t keep pulling the child soldier card.” Amity argues. “It’s so unfair!”

He doesn’t actually care that he was a child soldier or whatever– it was quite honestly the least of his worries. He’s just echoing the words that Darius or Raine or Eda have said to him after witnessing one of his more unnerving habits. Like the compulsive kneeling.

“Whatever. I know when I’m not wanted.” Hunter raises his nose at her as he says it, brushing past towards the door leading into the kitchen. “And, for the record, you still are a total–”

He yelps in a very dignified manner as something trips him and he falls face first towards the ground. Before he can hit the ground in a way that definitely could have broken his nose, he’s caught in a levitation spell.

“You wanna finish that sentence?” Amity asks from behind him.

“...no.” Hunter grunts, struggling in the grip of the magic.

“I thought so.” She says happily, helping him to his feet.

“That’s cheating.” He huffs, brushing himself off. “I can’t do magic like that.”

Amity breezes right past him and to the door. “And I can’t use my childhood trauma as a trump card to win every argument. We all have our strengths.”

He grumbles under his breath but follows her. Before she opens the door to rejoin the party, she pauses, as if realizing something.

“Did my makeup get smeared?” Amity asks, looking up at him.

Hunter blinks. “No. Not at all.”

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awakenthemusic · 7 months

Text

Swap-Meat

Cas' first thought was, We never, ever should have let Dean and Claire organize the storage rooms by themselves.

Tags: Short fic, ~550 words, Humor

For Suptober 2023 Day 12 - Swap-Meat

Under the cut or on Ao3

Cas' first thought was, We never, ever should have let Dean and Claire organize the storage rooms by themselves.

Sam took the words right out of Cas' mouth. "What the hell did you do?"

"He did it," Claire said immediately in Dean's voice, overlapping with Dean as he said, "She did it," in Claire's voice.

Dean shuffled awkwardly, started to fold his arms defensively over his (Claire's) chest, then flung them apart like he'd been burned.

"Watch it," Claire growled in Dean's voice.

"I'm trying," Dean replied in Claire's much higher register, returning his (her) arms back where they'd been before, hovering stiffly a little too far away from the sides of Claire's body.

Sam sighed. "You touched something you weren't supposed to, didn't you?"

Dean shot a panicked look down at the body he was inhabiting before jerking his eyes away again. "No, I didn't."

"Not th—" Sam let out a frustrated huff. "I meant, you touched some kind of cursed object while you were sorting through boxes, didn't you."

Both Dean and Claire shuffled nervously, the light glowing up from the map table highlighting the fact that their eyes wouldn't meet anyone else's.

Sam was completely exasperated now, "Did you both touch it?"

Dean and Claire immediately began talking over each other, blame volleying back and forth as they argued over who had done what first.

"They were just a couple of little lady statues, Sammy. How the hell were we supposed to know they were gonna do this," Dean said, flailing an arm between himself and Claire.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Did you bring them with you, or do I need to go get them?"

Claire pulled two wooden statuettes out of Dean's jacket pockets and placed them on the table as Dean complained quietly about women's fashion. "Seriously, who the hell makes clothes with such small pockets? You can't even get your phone in the things, much less anything else."

The twin figures stood about nine inches tall, their definitely female forms carved from dark wood with matching necklaces made of tiny shells.

"I assume," Cas said as he took a closer look. "That you tried touching them again in the same way you did the first time?"

Claire— No, Dean (her vocal cords, but his inflection) said, "Yeah, no dice."

Cas frowned down at the statuettes. "They're Ibeji statues, traditionally from an area of Africa around what is now Southern Nigeria, though these appear to be Central American in origin. Twins are believed to have divine powers in the Yoruba religion, but I've never heard of Ibeji statues being used for this purpose before."

"I'll see what I can find in the Men of Letters files," Sam sighed and stepped into the library.

Dean pulled out a chair and slumped down into it, groaning up at the ceiling. "I'm never touching anything in the storage rooms again."

"Me neither," Claire agreed flopping down across from him.

Cas shook his head with a fond grin. He'd give them about three days before their curiosity, or boredom, got the better of them and they were back to poking around where they shouldn't.

"Hey, I was freaking out too bad to ask earlier," Claire said, narrowing a suspicious look at Dean. "How are you so good at walking in my high-heel boots?"

#suptober23 #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #myfics

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mrs-monaghan · 10 months

Note

Honestly, I think payola is happening for JK because it’s nearly impossible to make it onto Hot100 “organically” now. (No doubt he’s being pushed, with Scooter, BPD, radio stations, everybody and they mama posting and hyping Seven.) But we have to remember that Seven only has Itunes, Amazon, Qobuz buys, and no D2C, which was our most powerful tool in getting our JM the #1 he deserved. Without the company stepping in to support it with radioplay, the #1 on Hot100 would be impossible. Now the question is whether or not they will support PJM2 the way they’re pushing Seven. I’m withholding judgement until we see how the company treats PJM2.

Still, this doesn’t negate how LC had INSANE potential to be HUGE, and HYBE completely fumbled the fucking bag. And by fumbled I mean they just about dropped it over the rooftop of the building that JM and BTS built. Kicked it to the curb like it was worth nothing. And that pisses me off and it always will. But Jikookers, please try to tone back the hate towards JK. He doesn’t deserve it. I know the main question is “how can JK accept all this help knowing that JM was snubbed and didn’t get any?” I don’t know, but we do know that Scooter is involved. This man is a toxic snake. We have no idea what’s going down behind the scenes. Really, we have no fucking clue. We can only guess. So please, support Seven if you want to, don’t support it if you don’t want to. But don’t be so quick to jump on JK and accuse him of not caring about JM. Are you kidding me? You’ve really forgotten how much JK loves and takes care of JM, everything they’ve had for the past ten years, everything in the past few months even.

I promise you, there will be a day when we’ll get a tell-all, be it leaked emails or JM himself addressing the issue, perhaps even JK will do/say something. Nothing shady stays hidden forever. Until that day, let’s be patient and kind.

Oh, and for those accusing JK of plagiarism, are you serious? Like, look in the mirror and say that to yourself. “JK is stealing JM’s creative work without his permission.” Yeah, do you realize how fucking dumb you sound? There is undoubtedly glaring similarities between their style and concept choice. Do you ever think for one second — okay, since it’s obviously not plagiarism, what could it be? Could it be that JK is trying to send a fucking message? Or did you ever think for one second that JK could have gone to JM and said, hyung, I really liked what you did, do you mind if I do something similar? They could be laughing and giggling together about the photos literally as we speak, meanwhile people are going after JK with pitchforks saying he’s stealing JM’s story. Fuck off.

Now the question is whether or not they will support PJM2 the way they're pushing seven

This special treatment is for JK and JK only. When we say he is the golden goose that's exactly what we mean. They had plans for him, from day one. He is who they will use to pave the way for BTS and Kpop ig. Idk. Is this for BTS or for themselves? Who tf knows?

Jimin could have done this too. Was doing this. But he isn't who they banked on. Invested in. His success continues to shock them. They had a plan and they refuse to deviate from it.

We saw it coming y'all... why are people mad? Guys, I'm not gonna lie, I'm as as cool as a fucking cucumber. This is my only option. Its either that or join everyone else and be fucking pissed and what good does that do? 😂😂😂

Jimin solos already tagging BH to ask why LC didn't get pushed for radio play like that's gonna do dick. There is a plan in place and there ain't nothing nobody can do to change it.

JK didn't steal shit. You're bonkers if you think Jimin wasn't aware of what JK was going to do. And was perfectly okay with it. They are matching on purpose. It's on purpose. Period.

#ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #jimin and jungkook

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songliili · 2 months

Text

writing patterns!!

tagged by @father-salmon, merci mon coeur!

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

i don't even have 10 fics posted, literally. i'm gonna take two from my wips cause one of the posted is a collection of drabbles and i don't think that qualifies.

from oldest to newest, let's go.

you should floss more | T, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 15k

The thing is. Dean Winchester is not a teenager who doesn’t know how to act in front of hot people. He’s 32 and his reputation as a player says otherwise. He’s pretty smooth (most of the time), it comes with knowing his charming points and having no qualms in using them with women and men alike. In his younger years he liked to say he had a big heart and his mission was to give some love to as many people as possible. But once his 30s approached he started thinking it was time to settle down and he slowly stopped picking up people at dive bars, much to Sam’s relief.

You're a witch, Dean-o! | T, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 7k

When Dean is 25, a couple of things happen. The first one is, obviously, his birthday party: a full blown party organized by Mary and Ellen at the Roadhouse. The whole family is there and they have the time of their life. Dean even manages to convince Lisa to go home with him, which he's got nothing to complain about.

the great dean court off | M, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 21.5k

Of all the things Dean Wichester expected to find when he came back from the bathroom break, a folded piece of paper with ‘hey, if you’re not gay, my friend thinks you’re cute. here’s her number 316-557-9608 (and if you’re gay, here’s mine 316-997-2018)’ written on, was not it. Hell, he almost expected to not find his laptop.

I Had Some Time (With You) | E, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 23.9k

It's 2005 when things go to hell. Well. They go to hell for everyone except Dean, ‘cause he was ready for it. You see, Dean Winchester is a grumpy 36 year old paranoid bastard who spent a) the first 27 years of his life keeping up with his doomsday prepper of a father, until the bastard kicked the bucket in ‘96; b) his whole adult life running Chitaqua’s Survival Camp, that his father had started; and c) the last five years building the perfect apocalypse bunker in one of the cabins of said camp.

we all have a hunger | E, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, 22.9k

Alex Claremont-Diaz, for all intents and purposes, is a smart person. He aced high school, he aced college, and he aced law school. He knows he is smart, and if that wasn’t enough, Nora once confirmed it. Sure, she also said that he’s just as dumb when it comes to, y’know, being perceptive, but beggars can’t be choosers; and actually, that doesn’t count because Nora was just getting back at Alex for not realizing she was dating his sister and they weren’t just best friends.

Fill My Stocking | E, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, 22.9k

It’s silly, Henry thinks, that Alex is convinced of not being an open book for him by now. They’ve been together for three years, four if you count the one they spent as long distance friends with benefits, and Henry knows him and his tells pretty extensively. Alex’s media face might be blank and unknowable for other people, but not for Henry, who knows him and all his facets.

we started at the end | E, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, ???

Henry’s alarm rings, as expected, at 8am on December 21st and, as usual, Henry blindly reaches for his phone to turn it off and then roll back to sleep, until his next alarm in ten minutes. Though, this time, there is a difference in his morning routine.

your body is the Sistine Chapel | T, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 3.7k

The first tattoo Dean Winchester gets is an ugly stick-and-poke with one of his 'friends' from the school he's been at for two months. They're sixteen and Ryan has an uncle with a tattoo shop, so he steals some ink, a couple of needles, and they spend the afternoon hiding behind the school gym giving each other shitty tattoos.

bro, you're fucking hung! | E, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, 3k

n💖💜💙 @hollerinn514 · Jan 20 oh my fucking god alex and henry are having an argument on who would top if they were a couple i shit you not alex just said “i think my dick is bigger so i'd top” i just know henry's face went fire engine red

can i ask you a question? | ??? (it's probably gonna be E, let's be honest), Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, ???

“Henry!” Henry’s head shoots up as he hears his name in Bea’s melodic voice, and smiles, closing the distance between him and his older sister.

alright this is all i have. you can clearly see that the first four had a thing going on and it was fully intentional. i think i realised when i was writing You're a witch, Dean-o! then idk, i think i just didn't remember. i would've kept it up if i did, i would've found a way to make things work in the new fics as well. but it is what it is. maybe i'll go back to it one day!

---

no pressure random tags: @leojfitz @happiness-of-the-pursuit @read-and-write- @gayrootvegetable @littlemisskittentoes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @firenati0n @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @cactusdragon517 @rockyroadkylers @kiwiana-writes @user-anakin @inexplicablymine @anincompletelist and whoever else wants to play this game!!

#songliili writes #tag game #the patter was there #it got lost #rwrb #destiel #firstprince #fanfic

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apoptoses · 2 months

Note

DANIEL -

3. What first drew you to this character? 12. If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character? 26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding? 34. Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life? 50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

okay you also asked for Armand with the same questions so for the sake of organization i'm gonna do both in one post!!!

What first drew you to this character?

Daniel: I just really like what a great stand-in for the reader he can be because yeah, I'm sure EVERYONE who read these books at some point had the same thought- that they would want to be turned and they'd see immortality as a gift. I like his shameless love of these monsters, the line about liking kissing and snuggling with dead things? Made me absolutely insane. I like that he's not afraid to mouth off to something so dangerous while he's still mortal. I like his drinking issues, his weird craft fixations. Basically everything we got in the text was incredible imo, he's a fave!!

Armand: Honestly Armand didn't really click with me until QotD. In my mind he was a Louis-simp in interview, and then an angry bitchy little Jesus freak in tvl, but then he shows up in QotD and he's putting cigarettes down the garbage disposal and throwing money at Daniel to make him teach him about international calls and I was like- damn, this one is a FREAK deep down. So seeing him be erratic and out of place and curious about the world made me view him in a new light, and the moments of gentleness he shows later in the book really pulled the pieces together for me.

If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character?

Fuck, I really want some newly turned Daniel at Night Island for both of them. Like what went wrong? What kind of maker was Armand with all these ghosts from his past around? How long did it take for things to fall apart and what were the ups and downs of that period like? I really, really wanna work through that but I don't have even the slightest inkling of where I want to begin yet.

If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?

So generally I start with fic rated Explicit or Mature, not just for pervert reasons lmao But I feel like if a writer can write some smut that really gets the characters and explores something interesting about them then most likely their fics with lower ratings are gonna be interesting and not pure woobification. (also if they're writing the kind of smut I like? Then we're likely similar flavors of freak and I know anything else they do is gonna be safe)

Also while I wanna write some vampire on vampire stuff, I generally prefer Daniel to be mortal for bodily exploitation purposes 😂

Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life?

Kacy pls you know what things have been like for me lately, every two weeks something is going on that has me feeling like I'm living the Full Molloy lmao I'll never live down the experience of sitting in my car at 10pm and having that liquor store owner come outside and wave to me while Lixx runs around inside with an armful of bottles of wine for my shot nerves.

Anyways in all seriousness I think about Daniel's speech to Armand when he's dying a lot:

“But don’t you see,” Daniel said, “all human decisions are made like this. Do you think the mother knows what will happen to the child in her womb? Dear God, we are lost, I tell you. What does it matter if you give it to me and it’s wrong! There is no wrong! There is only desperation, and I would have it! I want to live forever with you.”

The refusal to ruminate or get sucked into thinking of all the possible wrong outcomes, that at the end of the day there is no wrong decision there's only action- I think there's something poignant there and I would do better to not be like Armand, convinced everything will turn out poorly in the end.

Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

The fanart of Daniel that will always live rent free in my head is @nightislandofficial's art of him in tank top and cut off shorts bitching about 'give me what I want' lmao (though honestly all of their comics featuring Armand and Daniel send me, what a fandom gift)

Your series the Usher will forever have me in a chokehold like. Fic of all time!!! Also the thing you wrote for my wedding 🥹

God, for headcanons- anything stupid. Any headcanon that is really just a shitpost.

And my favorite quote for the two of them, just off the top of my head, would be Daniel saying "let me be a lover in the savage garden with you". He really had some killer lines, despite what little he got lol

#apoptoses answers #armand/daniel

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p3ski · 5 months

Text

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 3.9K

Gavin didn't take his garbage out nearly as often as he should. His apartment was on the fourth floor, and the communal trash cans were on the opposite end of the building - down several flights of stairs. It never really occurred to him how much junk had amassed until he was literally wading through it, unable to see his floors.

It was odd how his sudden compulsion to clean coincided perfectly with Nines' visit. After all, the android was already acquainted with his usual living standards. He had hardly concerned himself with making a good impression before. After securing the ties on two weighty trash bags, he surveyed his progress, feeling satisfied. That was until he heard a gentle rapping at his door.

" Fuck. " Cursing under his breath, his watch informed him that it was 8 pm exactly. He should have known Nines would be the punctual sort. Attempting to slip the trash bags inconspicuously onto his fire escape, the bottom of one started to rip. He cursed again, louder this time, as the persistent rapping continued.

Abandoning the bags in the centre of his kitchen, Gavin wiped his grubby hands on the front of his jeans. Once they were sufficiently clean, he navigated the cramped walkway through the living room, and went to answer the door:

"Give me a second, Jesus Christ - " Swinging it open, he readied himself to continue his tirade when his words caught in his throat.

Nines stood on the mat, so broad and tall that it was partially obscured by the doorway. Its hair had been rinsed of its usual product, giving it an uncharacteristically soft and bouncy appearance. Its CyberLife attire was absent, replaced by a grey turtleneck sweater and straight-leg black pants. The style and colour complemented its features, and Gavin couldn't help but notice just how well everything seemed to fit.

"Good evening, Detective."

He had completely zoned out, staring vacantly without sense or purpose. Upon realising this, he forced himself to look away, thoroughly unnerved. "Come on in'', he said reluctantly, trying to swallow the traitorous lump that had formed in his throat.

Passing the threshold in silence, the android studied the living space, eyes darting between the uncharacteristically clear floors and surfaces. "I had not expected you to clean on my behalf."

"It needed it anyway", he quickly excused, "Was getting out of control."

"The gesture is appreciated."

"I'm gonna finish - that", Gavin gestured vaguely to the kitchen and the abandoned bags on the floor. "Make yourself home, or whatever. Tiff is in the bathtub, don't know how much luck you'll have in coaxing her out."

Returning to the kitchen and creating a comfortable distance between them, Gavin attempted to tie off the damage he had done to the split bag. This only worsened matters, as the tear nearly doubled in size. Admitting defeat, he went to his cupboard and retrieved a second bag, slipping it over the first and manually gathering the loose remnants. Upon exiting the room, his houseguest was nowhere to be seen. Presumably, it had gone to the bathroom, searching for Tiffany. He seized the opportunity to drag his overstuffed bags out of the apartment, heading in the direction of the stairs.

On the way down, he cursed himself for not sticking to his earlier convictions. Inviting Nines over had been a terrible idea. One that he was already coming to regret. The only person he had allowed to stay in his current apartment had been Tina - a tenuous arrangement in itself, given her vendetta with Tiffany. Hosting Nines felt…different. It couldn't be so easily categorised. They weren't friends, nor were there any romantic or sexual pretences. It was the sort of dissonance that could only be quelled by a drink. Or six.

Making his way back up his stairs, he reasoned he should be upfront, telling Nines that he'd changed his mind. Writing the experience off as a lapse in judgement would be much easier than enduring an evening of painful awkwardness. This changed, however, when he made his way back into the apartment and saw it standing in the living room. Cradling Tiffany in its arms.

The usually fractious cat was surprisingly calm, purring appreciatively as the android scratched behind her ear. "She seems more affectionate than usual." As if on cue, the cat's head lolled back, tucking into the crook of its elbow. "I suspect it is due to the change in her hormones."

Gavin had never seen his pet look so peaceful nor his partner so content. There was no way he could ask it to leave now, he was trapped.

Having made a swift break for his kitchen - and, more specifically, the beers in his fridge - the bottles clinked together as he rustled to grab one. "I, uh, don't have anything you can drink," he loudly excused, pulling out a beer and using the magnetised bottle opener on his fridge to crack the lid. "Sorry."

"No need to apologise. Although I wouldn't think it the most opportune time to be consuming alcohol," The disembodied voice was calm and distant, but with the subtle air of judgement. "When did you last eat?"

Gavin pursed his lips as he stared haplessly into his fridge. It was devoid of contents save for the remaining bottles and a half-eaten yoghurt. "I'll order something later."

"I really would advise against drinking until you have compensated for -"

Slamming the fridge door shut, he returned to the living room, annoyed. "Can you stop making me feel like I'm on trial?" he snapped, pointing forcefully to his couch. "Sit down. I told you to make yourself at home."

"I rarely sit down when I am home", Nines reasoned, combing its fingers through the expanse of Tiffany's back, "I prefer to stand."

"Well, I'd prefer it if you didn't. It's fucking creepy."

His companion stirred at the insult but quickly grounded itself, shrugging dismissively, "If it makes you feel more at ease, Detective, then I suppose I can sit."

"Do it then - and stop calling me ‘Detective'. We're off duty; Gavin is fine."

"Alright then…Gavin." The words sounded stiff as it tested the name on its tongue. As requested, it sat itself onto the couch, shifting Tiffany into its lap. The cat remained docile during this, never once stirring.

Gavin busied himself with his television. The set was a relic - early 2010s, with limited functionality, save actually switching on. The remote had to be smacked several times before it would even respond. Still, it was one of the rare models to have a DVD player built into the screen, which paired nicely with his expansive collection.

"It's still early. Thought we could watch something." Running a finger across the boxes, he wondered what, if anything, would be the best choice for entertaining an android houseguest. "So dipshit…what's your favourite scary movie?"

The reference flew directly over Nines' head. It looked back at him with a blank stare before shrugging its shoulders. "I am unfamiliar with the horror genre. I do not believe I have seen any films that fit the criteria."

"We'll be starting with the classics then." After some deliberation, he selected two DVDs from his collection and held them up to his partner. "Take your pick: A or B."

Its eyes narrowed, carefully scrutinising the box art of both choices. Its LED whirred yellow briefly before it let out a gentle hum. "I find the synopsis of A more compelling. It would be my preferred option."

Realising what it had done, Gavin allowed his arms to fall limply to his sides. "I told you to pick a movie, not read the Wikipedia."

"Should I not inform myself of the plot of a film before I watch it?"

"It's more fun if you go in blind." He popped the disc into the side of the TV, and the old mechanism whirred to life. Remote in hand, he slumped himself into the space on the left side of the couch.

Once the menu had booted up and the movie started, Gavin tried to get comfortable, picking up his beer and sinking further into the cushions. Nines sat in silence, intently focused on the scene playing in front of it. As ominous music played, a young girl walked alone through a boiler room. This continued for quite some time until she was loudly accosted by a deformed-looking man in a striped sweater.

Much to Gavin's delight, Nines reeled back at this, visibly startled. Tiffany, who had been stirred from her nap, yowled and scampered away - but only made it as far as their feet before settling down again.

"Don't tell me that actually got you?" Gavin snorted before breaking out into a fit of cackles. "Big scary Robocop can't handle a jumpscare."

"I wasn't scared. It was an involuntary reaction to what my central processor perceived as a threat."

"Sure, I believe you," his laughter tapered off as he took a generous swig of his drink, "Want me to hold your hand in case there's another one?"

"That won't be necessary", The android fired back. It clearly did not appreciate the mockery, jaw hardening defensively. "I know what to expect now, and I shall be more prepared next time."

Nothing more was said for a while. Gavin finished his beer, setting the empty bottle in front of him. He was about to fetch another when his stomach let out a thunderous growl. This did not go unnoticed by his guest, whose attention snapped from the movie over to the source of the noise.

"You are hungry," It said matter of factly. "It is getting late, you should consider acquiring food."

Gavin tensed, resenting the fact that the machine was calling him out. He honestly couldn't afford to order another takeout despite his previous assertion. Perhaps some beans would be enough to quell the lingering pain in his gut, as well as to keep the android off his case.

"You are partial to pizza, correct? I recall several empty boxes the last time I visited."

"You mean the last time you tried to break in?" There had been little point deflecting the question. Nines was frustratingly astute with details, and there was no convincing it to drop something once it had committed. "I'm not feeling pizza tonight. Might just see what I've got in."

"That is unfortunate, given the fact I have already placed an order."

Gavin shot up, thrown by the statement, "Are you being serious? When did you -" He cut himself short, catching sight of the LED that spun on his partner's forehead. He held his breath, exhaling deeply before he continued. "You're not supposed to buy me dinner. I'm the damn host."

"I do not need to eat, and you do - As you could not be trusted to make arrangements, I took it upon myself to do so."

Ignoring the backhanded nature of Nines' remark, he pushed himself up from his seat, muttering under his breath. "You better not have got me trash. Any olives or pineapple, and I'll fucking end you."

"I made an order based on your established preferences."

It had been a while since someone had thought to buy him dinner - and even longer without an ulterior motive. The conflict of emotions it left him with made his stomach twist. He grabbed two bottles from the fridge, one for enjoyment and the other for assurance, before pocketing the bottle opener.

Gavin returned just in time to catch one of his favourite scenes. Upon witnessing the comedic extension of the killer's arms, his shoulders shook with involuntary giggles. "Good old Stretch Armstrong. Just wait until he starts running at her. It's fucking hilarious."

Nines seemed perplexed by this statement, "I thought the intention of this film was to frighten, not to amuse?"

"Ehh, it's a bit of both with this franchise." He opened one of his beers before sitting back on the couch. Propping his elbow onto the armrest, he leant his head on his hand as he gently sipped the foam. "The later movies get really stupid. Freddy's Dead is a straight-up comedy."

"For a series you hold in such high regard, you seem rather critical of it."

"Nah, that's the beauty of these old movies. Sure, the effects are goofy and outdated, but that's part of what makes them fun."

Nines looked away, tuning in to a series of loud, pained screams emanating from the television. "...I can see how you might find it entertaining, although the logistics of this scene are rather questionable."

"That's because it's a dream, dumbass", he chided, rolling his eyes. "Dream rules means no rules. Get used to it."

It wasn't long until a knock could be heard on the door, disturbing what was building into a suspensefully quiet scene. Before Gavin had a chance to stand up, Nines had already done so and was answering the door with a polite greeting. A few muttered words were exchanged, after which the android returned with a large paper bag, handing it to its partner. "Here you go."

Tiffany, who had been curled up asleep on the floor, abruptly stirred at the new sounds and smells. Her head peered up at the bag, nose upturned curiously. She let out a small yowl as her owner pulled it open.

"No. Not for you. Fuck off", he said, firmly waving her away. "You've got food in the kitchen that you've barely touched."

Retrieving the pizza box from the bag, he scrutinised the label. "Double pepperoni with stuffed crust. Very nice." Digging further into the bag, he noticed an unlabelled polystyrene container sandwiched at the bottom. Opening the container, he was hit with an abrupt wave of disappointment and confusion. "Did you order a fucking side salad?"

"Given your affinity for calorie-dense, processed foods, I felt some nutrients would not go amiss."

"I'm not eating the salad."

"You may find it agreeable", it argued, the corner of its lips pulling upwards. "Surely I don't have to feed you?"

Gavin pulled a face, smacking his hand open and closed to mock the nagging tone. Setting the unwelcome salad down at the table's edge, he cleared space for the pizza. Not long after he'd pried the box open, he dug into the food like a hungry animal. Slurping at the cheese and tomato shamelessly, licking up remnants from his fingertips. Tiffany was still skulking around their feet, groaning and growling, to which the Nines picked her up and settled her back into its lap.

"I must admit, I am enjoying this more than I anticipated", it said. "Lieutenant Anderson and RK800's taste in films leaves much to be desired."

"Oh yeah? What sort of garbage have they got you watching?"

"The Lieutenant is partial to action films, whereas RK800 leans more towards romantic comedies."

Gavin set down a half-eaten slice of pizza, pointing to his throat in a gagging gesture. "Figures Connor would be into chick flicks. Remind me never to come round on movie night."

"Fortunately, they are both equally partial to animals, so we find some compromise there. I must say, though, I found the last film we watched to be…distressing."

"What was so distressing about it?"

Nines looked on, a little forlornly, "It is about a couple who adopt a Labrador, and it follows their life as the dog grows up. Towards the end of the film -"

Oh no. The detective cursed his curiosity as a wave of unpleasant memories swiftly assaulted him. "Let me guess. Marley and Me? "

"I take it you've seen it before."

"Once, when I was six. That movie was why I wasn't allowed pets growing up. It took me a week to emotionally recover."

"I imagine that came as a disappointment," it said with a look of solidarity. "You seem very fond of animals."

"I made up for it as an adult." Gavin went to take a sip of his drink before realising it was empty. Picking up the bottle opener, he retrieved his third beer of the evening and gently pried off the cap. "Got my first dog straight out of college. Great Dane, called 'im Scoob. Was great until I realised what a fucking ball ache he was to take care of. After that, I got Dipshit, a rescue tabby. Been a cat man ever since."

"When did you purchase Tiffany?"

"I didn't. She was a gift from - " Gavin stopped himself, realising he didn't want to go there. At least not now. "Not important. I've had her for about four years."

They returned their attention to the movie just in time to witness one of the more iconic scenes. Nines tilted his head to the side, evidently struggling to process what was happening. The killer pulled a man into his bed before a geyser of blood erupted from the mattress. "Is this another instance of dream rules? Because there's far too much blood to realistically be contained in a single person."

"With this scene, I've got no fuckin' clue. I think they just wanted it to look cool."

"I find it surprising that as a child, you were so deeply traumatised by a fictional dog when this level of violence did not faze you."

Pausing for a moment, Gavin wondered how honestly he ought to respond. "That's not completely true", he confessed. "When I was little, my dad would stay up late watching movies every single night, but he never let me join 'im. I was a stubborn shit and kept sneaking peeks around the corner, so eventually, he sat me down to watch Child's Play . I was shitting my pants the entire time. Gave me all kinds of nightmares."

"If the films frightened you so much, why did you continue to watch them?"

Gavin knocked back his bottle, swilling the liquid around his mouth before swallowing heavily. "After my parents split up, I only ever saw my dad on weekends. I wasn't about to waste any of the time we had."

Nines said nothing but listened closely, its lips pursed tightly in thought.

"When he got sick, he couldn't do much of anything. Except watch his movies. We’d worked through his whole collection in months, and I was desperate to find something new we could watch together." He started to laugh. "One time, I convinced him to take me to see some shitty slasher movie, and I decided I'd make myself look older. In case the workers got funny about it. I wasn't very convincing, drew on stubble with my mom's eyebrow pencil."

"I'm sure your father found that amusing."

"Sure did, it was great. You should have seen his face" The laughter he had forced throughout the story promptly stopped. His chest felt heavy from the exertion, and he struggled to breathe. "It's weird. He's been gone for 23 years, but it still feels like yesterday that I was at his funeral. Grief like that never goes away; you just learn to live with it."

"...Gavin." He wasn't sure when Nines had moved, but the distance between them haf decreased massively. A hand slid out towards him, stopping just shy of grazing his fingers. "I know you may not appreciate me saying this, but I am genuinely sorry for your loss. I can't imagine the pain you must feel."

The detective bit his lip as his increasingly inebriated state threatened to breach his resolve. "You ever lose something, Nines? Something that tears you up until you feel like there's nothing left?"

Nines stilled, its LED shifting to red instantaneously. It opened its mouth, emitting a crackle of static. "Yes."

"Then you get it. To be honest, I think you get a lot more than I've given you credit for."

It raised a quizzical eyebrow as the corner of its mouth pulled into a faint half-smile. "If you didn't detest me, I might hesitate to call that a compliment."

"Don't get used to it. I won't be doing it again any time soon."

"A shame, really." Having turned its body away from the television, it was now staring directly at Gavin. "I would consider it a great honour to see more of this sincerity from you."

With only a dull light to guide him, Gavin struggled to make out the other’s expression. In his efforts, however, he picked up on something that had previously escaped his notice. He had always assumed Nines' skin formed part of its 'perfect' design - being smooth and entirely free of blemishes. However, on closer inspection, he noticed a faint dusting of freckles across its cheeks and nose. It leant its unusually stern face some much-needed softness.

His lips felt dry, and he subtly tried to wet them.

Why did they have to make him so fucking attractive?

The rogue thought slipped its way through, emboldened by the alcohol. As it began to sink in, Gavin felt overwhelmed by an abrupt sense of panic. Pulling back, he scurried to his feet.

"I need a piss."

Nines, confused by the abruptness of the statement, also inched back. Its mouth gaped open, but it was unable to say anything as Gavin made a hurried exit for the bathroom. Once inside, he took himself directly to the sink, running the tap until it was cold and splashing the water into his face. He tried to calm himself down as his mind worked over itself in a frenzied internal debate:

I mean, yeah. Objectively speaking, it’s hot. A lot of the androids are -

Exactly. It's an android. Have you lost your mind? What the hell is wrong with you?

Tina was right. His current dry spell had gone on for too long, and it was time to do something about it. He resolved to call her tomorrow. Right now, however, he faced a more pressing issue.

He had locked himself in his bathroom, with the machine he had made accidental eye sex with sitting feet away behind the door. Gavin knew he had to face it eventually, and after taking a long, steeling breath, he prepared himself to do so.

Inevitably, Nines was waiting for him as soon as he emerged. It followed his movements closely, face marred with a look of concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, all good", Gavin said smoothly, doing his best to avoid eye contact. "I'm really tired, think I'm gonna head to bed."

"Did you not want to finish the film? I imagine we are close to the end."

"Nah, it's fine. The ending kind of sucks, and I've seen it a million times."

The android was clearly unsatisfied with this response but relented in arguing back. Its concerned expression morphed into something more detached and neutral. "I understand. That was the purpose of my visit, after all. To ensure you got a good night's sleep."

"Right." There was little else Gavin could think to say as he made his way to his bedroom. Before disappearing into the room completely, he spared his partner a quick backward glance. "See you tomorrow."

Nines watched after him, a little too intently, before letting out a gentle sigh. "Goodnight, Gavin. Sleep well."

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