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#AND THEN I SEE *REDACTED* AND I AUDIBLY CACKLE
shaniacsboogara · 9 months
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waiting for your next dnd session after answering some incredibly concerning messages from the dm
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blocksandbloops · 3 years
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May I interest you in some fem!hermit!Tommy fluff for you in this trying time?
This is set in an alternative version of @redorich 's hermit!Tommy AU. Diverging from the Dream SMP's raid on Hermitcraft. All you need to know is that family trees are convoluted, Tommy's name is Clementine. She's trans, we love her, she has wings and has adopted Grian as her weird almost twin brother.
After the whole "Dreamon" and "invasion" mess the Dream SMP folk didn't expect to hear much from the hermits besides the ones who attended MCC. They thought that the two servers would just continue to exist, independent of one another. Just drifting through the void mere inches apart but never really touching.
Oh how wrong they were.
The hermits were friendly but they had absolutely underestimated just how friendly.
Apparently, the moment Clementine so much as breathed a word about how much she missed her biological family, Scar -ever the kind and helpful mayor that he was- decided to throw a beach party!
Since Clemmy's extended family was pretty large and they didn't want anyone to feel left out, it was an open invitation to everyone on the Dream SMP as long as they behaved.
That point was driven home when a few people, like Antfrost and his unhealed, dog bitten asscheek, mentioned how upsetting the Hermits was definitely not a good idea.
(Deep down they knew that the reason they were really doing this was because the hermits were worried about them. The Dream SMP was just a bunch of traumatized children according to them. They weren't wrong in that assumption but no one wanted to admit that.)
So, when the day of the beach party finally dawned, they all put on their least threatening outfits and packed up their supplies, (where Tubbo got the surf board nobody wanted to question) and entered the portal just like they had done a few months prior.
A few things were different though, the sun was bright and beaming in the sky, soft puffy white clouds rolled by, only promising gentle shade instead of the dreary air of yesteryear.
The shopping district had been rebuilt from it's smoky ruins and they finally all had time to appreciate the lovingly built shops and roads. It looked so beautiful and vibrant, you could practically feel the fact that summer was in full swing.
The smell of nectar and sea salt drifted through the air, sweetening even the sourest of moods. This is what peace was to the hermits. This was their everyday. They were so lucky and they didn't even realize it.
Some people were taking notes of all the different building styles with bright eyes, hoping to replicate some of it when they got home, others were suddenly hit with a feeling of bitter inadequacy of it compared to their homes. Is this what a world without war could look like?
But, no matter the gloomy musings of the few, they were all here to let go for a day! To celebrate the good times and to kick back for seemingly the first time in forever.
Their welcome party this time simply consisted of one person.
It was a strange sight, seeing the Hermits' admin Xisuma without a mask on, wearing a god awful hawaiian shirt that Keralis had thrown at him with glee the moment he mentioned that he didn't have something to wear, and again, were those, gods forbid crocks?
"'Ello everyone! Wow this is quite the turn up. Scar wished he could be here to greet you all personally, but he's still too busy helping the others preparing for the barbecue, so you're stuck with me for the time being.
Now, if you'll kindly follow me, we set everything up pretty close to here, so we'll be there in a minute."
The walk over to the beach was short, but just as scenic as the rest of the server.
Warm, golden sand, gently lapping waves and lush plant life. The sound of the hermits' laughter and soft music filled the air as the smell of the previously mentioned barbecue proved a welcome distraction from whatever the hell was happening on the far right side of the beach (the ZIT trio built a karaoke machine. It was Zedaph's idea. It was also a horrible idea but they didn't seem to realize that yet.)
As they began to debate a plan of attack, no wait. ... fun? enjoyment? eh whatever.
A tall man jogged up to the group. Some people recognized him as Mumbo Jumbo, that one british guy with the mustache. Others, however, as that semi-scary redstone wizard who managed to create extremely powerful potion launchers during the invasion.
He was dressed just as down to earth as the others, holding a tall glass of lemonade in his hand and wearing a (quite goofy) sunhat he borrowed from Ren.
He was explaining something to X in hushed tones (something or other about a minor fire at the barbecue table?) When he looked past the gathering of guests and out towards the path that they had come from, and screeched.
"GRIAN PLEASE I'M HOLDING LEMONADE DON'T!" X reached over and grabbed the glass from his hands just in time for a cackling, feathered ball of something to crash into Mumbo, knocking him into the water with an audible "oof".
There was wild thrashing as the two tried to orient themselves, Grian somehow climbing onto Mumbo's back.
"CLEMMY! COME HELP ME DROWN MUMBO!" Grian waved towards a cluster of trees to their left, underneath which a small gathering of hermits was enjoying a bit of a reprieve from the sun.
"NOT YOU TOO!" came the mustachioed man's scream of distress.
Clementine, the whole terrifying six feet and three inches of a woman that she was, took off running to the water at full tilt towards the struggling brits.
Mumbo, having already formed a strategy in his head, did a perfect T-pose and feel backwards into the water, bringing down a screaming Grian with him. Clementine did a graceful swan dive into the water (how she executed that shall be left for viewer interpretation) and happily joined the fray, even the distressed calls of Stress behind her because "Gods damn it Clemmy! I spent an hour on your hair! And now it's ruined!" couldn't persuade her to give up on her mission to cause as much friendly chaos as possible.
She climbed out of the water a few minutes later, her hair a mess and a bright smile on her face.
"Techie! Wilby! Tubbo! Thank you guys so much for coming! I'm really glad that you could make it." She hugged them each close, enjoying the comfort of having them all together again.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Techno relaxed his posture, trying not to fidget too much. He was getting better with crowds but it was still a lot.
"You may think he's joking but he literally dragged Quackity all the way to the portal because he was too busy doing his eyeliner and would've made us late." Wilbur snickered when she leaned in to hug him, earnings him one of her patented ear-splitting laughs.
"I got a recording of it!" Tubbo proudly announced, pulling out his video camera
while still holding an arm around her.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT! LET ME HAVE SOME DIGNITY MAN!" The aforementioned Mr. Fattest Ass in the cabinet screamed indignantly as soon as he got within hearing range.
"Quackity you never had any dignity. It's too late for that." Techno flicked the duck shapeshifter on the head, earning him even more annoyed rambling which he just chose to ignore.
"Well, I'm glad that that's settled, now, I have some people I'd like for you to meet."
She directed them towards the group sitting in the shade, which consisted of False, (a now soaking wet) Grian, Stess, Mumbo (who also looked like a disgruntled cat that was just given a bath), Iskall and Ren.
Meanwhile Doc and Cleo had a little cornered off area they'd nicknamed the "cool kids club" (it was because around this time the sun got strong enough to actually burn her and Doc just felt slightly iffy about the water, since he was, ya know, half robot.)
Clemmy threw herself down on a blanket in front of a grumbling Stress who set about actually making her hair look presentable.
Niki sat down next to them and began discussing the merits of different styles to put Clemmy's hair into.
Ranboo sheepishly sat down next to Cleo's lawn chair folding all of his gangly limbs under himself.
Wilbur happily plopped himself down next to Ren on a blanket and began to hum along to the other's guitar.
Techno lay dow his cape, deciding that a nap was the best course of action in that moment.
Fundy hesitated for a second before going down to the shore to relax and just put his feet in the water for now.
Philza, the awkward dad that he was, chose to sit down close enough to the girls that he'd be able to hear what they were talking about without intruding.
Tubbo placed his stuff down by Clemmy's feet and ran out to the shore with his surf board in hand.
Going through so many conflicts in such a short amount of time really tires a person out, especially ones as young as the ones from the SMP so getting this afternoon of rest truly helped ease some of the stress given to them by recent events.
(Beach episode pog?)
Of course, this little get together wasn't without it's faults. About two hours in Doc accidentally trampled False's sand castle, who in retaliation teamed up with Cleo to dump water on him while he was relaxing.
This little conflict evolved into a battle to see who could build the biggest and grandest sand castle between "Team Himbo" and "Team Women" (one of those was coined by Clemmy). Puffy and Stress set up a good system of transporting sand from point A to point B, allowing them to move faster. False got placed on detailing duty while Niki brought refreshments for the rest of the team. Alyssa was mostly helping out wherever she could, as Cleo worked her armour stand magic to make their castle feel even more alive.
Clemmy just shouted encouragements and bullied the opposing team.
(The member list of Team Himbo has been redacted to avoid any drama about who might qualify as a himbo in the given circumstances)
Somehow the guys managed to convince Techno to join them, which immediately stacked odds in their favor to which Eret and Iskall, being the non-binary legends they are, decided to side with Team Women, now renamed to "Team Prettier Than You".
Their building contest laated for another hour before X decided to try to stop them (it wasn't because of the time. It was because TFC and Grian started shouting things about structural integrity and adding stone parts to the walls and the contestants actually listened when he decided that it was getting out of hand.)
Then it was time to actually enjoy the barbecue. Techno surprised everyone with how delicious his baked potatoes ended up. Beef also got to flex his skills a little with, as you guessed it, beef.
Tubbo and Tango sadly had to eat further away then everyone because the moment they got within ten feet of the fire something mysteriously combusted.
After that, the ZIT trio busted out the karaoke machine and the night went from good to great.
The old Team Star was dared to sing a rendition of Hermit Gang and everyone younger than 25 felt physical distress during some parts.
The sleepy bois (+Tubbo) sang a cover of "Your new boyfriend" (Techno got surprisingly into it) and then Wilbur swiped Ren's guitar to sing some Taylor Swift songs (accompanied by Tubbo on a synth he seemingly pulled out of nowhere) in that one weird accent he can do which had most people wheezing on the floor from laughter after the first song.
Niki threw down a german cover of Say So by Doja Cat. Grian, Phil and Tommy were unconsciously doing the parrot dancing thing. It was great.
Quackity sang something in spanish and Karl and Sapnap made over exaggerated swooning noises.
Skeppy and Bad did a duet. It was as adorable as it sounds.
Some other people also came on stage, belting out songs in such horridly broken voices that I'll spare you the details. Let's just say, nails scratching chalkboards would sound better.
And that was most of the festivities over with.
The last thing on the agenda? A meteor shower. How did they set it up? Clemmy's weird star child thing. The aforementioned girl was huddled close together with her family as they watched the comets streak across the clear sky (all electronics and artificial lights were shut off for the night) and Melohi played from a jukebox in the corner.
Fundy was laying his head in Dream's lap, the other boy was softly threading his fingers through his almost fiance's orange hair while leaning heavily on George and trying not to let sleep claim him as it had the fox (no one knew how this happened, all they were aware of is that the three had disappeared sometime during the sand castle contest only to reemerge having finally talked things through and come to an agreement that they all seemed happy with).
Ranboo, Niki, Puffy and Eret were collapsed in a happy pile just vibing.
The sleepy bois, who were for once actually sleepy, all wore matching flower crowns braided together by Stress's experienced fingers (and Wilbur's rather clumsy ones). Phil and her had managed to come to an agreement of unofficial joint custody after he witnessed Techno embarrassedly lean down to let her place a crown of golden flowers upon his head and saw his internal beam of pride when she called him "handsome".
The boys never really had a mother he mused, maybe she could teach them kindness where he couldn't.
Another surprise addition to the family was the owner of the third pair of wings in the cuddle pile. Phil didn't expect to end up with any more children at this point in his life, but Grain and Clemmy were practically attached at the hip and it felt wrong to even think about separating them.
He only hoped that those two wouldn't cause too much chaos especially when teamed up with Tubbo.
In the end, everyone drifted off to sleep, one by one they closed their eyes on their most perfect day. Praying for whatever might be out there, that they'll have many more moments just like this.
Well,
almost everyone.
Callahan chuckled as he walked back up to his spot with Alyssa farther away from the others. shutting off his camera after cycling through the pictures he took of everyone looking goofy while sleeping (His favorite is the one where Clemmy was very visibly munching on Techno's hair). He may not use those as blackmail but he sure ass hell was going to tease them about it later. He fell asleep there on that hill, drifting off to comforting rest like the others.
After that? Life moved on.
It was chaotic sure, and not perfect.
But it was theirs. They grew up slowly, learning to be kind to one another, how to grow with one another.
Life wasn't always perfect but hey, they had each other. And in the end? That's all that mattered.
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I've seen many posts with TMP OCs, so I thought, why not? I am not a good artist, but I love knitting and writing, so here it is.
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Name: BFFs
Colours: black and white. The ghost shines with celadon color.
Sound after an answer: cackle.
Activation: press the button "Hell for the two" in game settings.
Answers: right - 1000$, one right - 500$ + punishment, wrong - 0$ + punishment.
[REDACTED]'s words after greetings but before audience description: "I guess it was a bad idea to use this doll, but you know what? Who cares, it's your burden now. Two players control one body, which means if one of you messes up, both will be punished. But you will get 500$ for each correct answer.
You know what else is double? Your punishment. Only in several rooms, though. Stay twice as cautious. Get it? I have a plenty of these puns. You know? TWICE the amount you can bear!". The host laughs hysterically laughs after that but almost immediately stops and shifts attention to the audience.
Two right answers in a row -> killing room after the third question, even if others didn't answer.
Random phrases, when [REDACTED] speaks in the elevator: "I used the scarf that my auntie gifted me. I felt sick, whenever I wore it, so I made the doll. Wasn't a change for the better".
"Thought by this time you'd be screaming at each other. Another disappointing day".
Killing rooms:
Chalices, Mirror (should be the same correct answer), Pegs, Phones, Tattoos (the sum of the votes): pair task, both should do.
Donations, Greed, Math, Rules: pair task + arithmetical mean from the score.
Dictation, Dumb Waiters, Gifts, High Rollers, Lock & Key, Loser Wheel, Mind Meld, Password, Quisplash, Scratch Off, Skewers, Skull Dice, Escape Room: random player.
If there are three correct answers in a row:
"I get a double headache because of you. It's time to reconsider your behaviour, since you're such great buddies".
"You think two heads are better than one? Don't even dream about it!".
"Three questions with three correct answers? Sounds like cheating to me. Which requires a punishment".
If both players survived: "You remind me of Aloysius and myself. We walked side by side and made a history together. But don't think that I'll spare you because of that". After that the finale begins.
Final round: only same answers are taken in account (1,2 and 1,3 -> 1, for example).
If both players made zero mistakes or gave a wrong answer only once, the plushie changes for a single-headed rooster. [REDACTED] says: "Unexpected. A-anyways lets return to business". Then the same line from the normal survival.
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If the changed plush wins, we witness the cutscene. We see the backroom of the scene, where the same doll is sitting on the box for sawing, a double-sided saw, covered in blood, is sticking out of its slot. We hear two people angrily whispering to each other. It's Aloysius and [REDACTED]. Instead of the second name we hear audible interference. Aloysius blames the younger host for being immature since he whimpers about the deaths and the police and says it was a mistake to take a college student with him. Then the cousin orders [REDACTED] to hurry up and assures him that the host will improve his abilities in killing in no time. Then there are police siren's sound and a stomp of two pairs of legs.
After that we return to reality. The winner is in the hospital. We don't see the host but hear him:
"It's hard to escape the past, isn't it? Congratulations, you won, but to survive you have to answer one last question: "Who am I?".
When the last players are choosing the answer, the host continues:
"You don't know my name, but you learned a lot about my past. My family, my hobbies, my sense of humour, my job. So, am I even a human in your opinion?" (It's hard to win with this character, so the players must have played many games before).
Answers:
●disgusting creature, that doesn't deserve to live.
●a horrible sibling, who ashamed his own family.
●a lost person, who made many mistakes, but who can still confess.
●a weeping loser, who achieved nothing in life.
Any answer would lead to him saying the players are wrong. After all of them, except for the third one, the players die.
Third answer makes [REDACTED] become silent for some moments. Then he chuckles and discards players' assumption: "You are either crazy or too naive for your own good. There is no point in killing someone who didn't learn their life lessons. Get out of here. Your presence have already ruined my mood for a week".
We see a newspaper, where "the killer is still in run", no matter what the choice we made. If players survive, their plushie apears in the newspaper. If not, we see remnants of the hotel in the photo.
Interesting fact: first victims, who tried this plushie survived with 5 wrong answers. They had Grandpa's glasses, but pulled through as a ghost in the final round.
It's a purely fan-made concept. The game, characters and the original lore belongs to Jackbox Games. Only this character and the written above description belongs to me.
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hollypastl · 3 years
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the disappearance of [REDACTED] ch.3
miya atsumu/reader
Summary: "MISSING: MIYA Y/N" It reads. Underneath is a picture of yourself. Age, height, weight. Everything important is listed. How embarrassing.
Genre: angst/mystery
Warnings: missing persons, time skip spoilers
Notes: crossposted on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726002/chapters/70566306#main
[y/n] 10:27pm: i’m heeeereeeee
[y/n] 10:29pm: i said i’m here you asshole
[y/n] 10:29pm: hurry tf up
[y/n] 10:29pm: did you fall asleep
[y/n] 10:29pm: i’m leaving if you don’t respond in the next 30 seconds
With a painful squeak, the window slides open. “Wouldja shaddup?” He hisses. “Yer gonna wake up ‘Samu if ya keep buzzin’ my phone so much.”
“Too fuckin’ late, asshole.” Osamu groans. You can hear him rolling over in bed and Atsumu disappears from view, courtesy of a pillow flying towards his face at light speed.
You take over the spot he’d been occupying to pop your head in and lean over the windowsill. “Hey, how are you?”
“Tired.”
“Then go back to sleep, stupid ‘Samu.” The killer arm flies out again and this time the pillow lands. Atsumu’s head gives a sick crack against the drywall.
You let out a low whistle. “Nice one.”
He finally sits up and comes into view. “[l/n], right?” He’s obviously tired, and you feel kind of bad for waking him up.
Your face quirks a performative smile, remembering that you do still have to respond. “The one and only.” You straighten your arms and hoist yourself up, over, and in through the window, taking a seat and holding out your hand to shake. “Hey, you don’t mind if I call you by your first name, do you? It’d be kinda weird to call you Miya when I already call Atsumu, Atsumu. You can call—”
Without warning, you shoot to the other side of the room and stick yourself to the wall.
The door swings open.
From where you stand, Osamu’s eyes connect with the person at the door, darting towards Atsumu for a split second. He realizes there could be big trouble really quick. His mom might be pretty chill, but having a random girl sneaking into their room? Does he realize that? He was suffering from brain damage at the moment.
A silent conversation takes place between the brothers and their mom, who stands silently at the door. It kind of freaks you out, how you can see her shadow splaying out from the light in the hallway and not hear a sound.
“Go to sleep.” She commands, slamming the door shut.
A breath of relief leaves all three of them.
It swings back open. “Sorry fer slamming the door. G’night, love ya.”
“Love ya, too.”
“Love ya, mom.” They chorus, slightly out of time with the other. When they speak in tandem like that, you can’t tell who’s voice is who’s.
“And close the damn window; it’ll mess with the AC.”
The door clicks closed, the lights in the hall are flicked off, and footsteps walk away.
You hop over to give Atsumu a hand up. He’s still sulking against the wall. “Like I was saying, you can call me [y/n].” You pat him on the shoulder, which is slightly awkward because the boy is so much taller than you. You wonder what their mom feeds them. Then you remember why you’re here in the first place. Seems like the trauma of almost getting caught redhanded was getting to you.
“[y/n] can we hurry up and go?” Atsumu whispers in your ear. You’re not paying attention, you’re too busy rustling through their closet and dresser.
“I’m kinda busy, right now. And we’ve got plenty of time. What difference is a few minutes gonna make?” You slide one drawer open after the other. “Eww. Teenage boy sock drawer.” Atsumu kicks it shut and you almost lose a finger in the process. You can’t see it, but intuition tells you he’s red in the face.
“Do I even wanna know what you two are up ta?” Osamu drawls.
“We’re breaking into an abandoned sweet potato farm.” You throw a different shirt at Atsumu. “Change into that.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so, that’s why.”
“I meant why are you breaking into an abandoned sweet potato farm?” Osamu corrected. You faltered. Why did their voices sound so similar?
“The third years are planning a party to kick off summer break, but they need a location. We just need to check if it’s safe, and we’re in.” Your head shot back at Osamu and you ignored Atsumu stripping in the corner of your eye. The room was dark enough. “Wanna come?”
“Uhh, I’ll pass.” He flops back down on his mattress with an audible whump and throws the duvet over his head.
You shrugged. “Suit yourself.” You turned to Atsumu, now dressed in a shirt that wasn’t cringy as hell. “Ready?”
He was already lifting himself out the window and extending a hand to you. “Bye, Osamu!” You whisper-yelled. “Sleep well. I promise Atsumu will try to not wake you up when he gets back.”
Outside, it was much brighter. From the light of the moon and stars, you could fully appreciate the scowl Atsumu directed at you. “What?”
He shuts the window first, obviously struggling not to slam it. “Didja have to spend twenty minutes flirtin’ with my brother?”
He’s already hiking his way up the hill that they called their front yard, probably looking for his bike. “Oh, was I? I didn’t even realize.” It takes you a second but you find it fallen in the bushes of his neighbor’s lawn. “Can you blame me? He’s pretty cute.”
Atsumu sputters, yanking the handlebars from you. “Will ya stop teasin’ already?”
He’s so easy to rile up. “I’ll have you know I’m never anything but truthful.” He swings his leg over the bike and checks the road.
“Hurry up and get on. Let’s go.”
“Yeah, one sec.” Without warning, you stick your thumb and middle fingers in your mouth and whistle nice and quiet. Wouldn’t wanna wake the neighbors.
The hair on the back of his neck shoots up and he waits a good thirty seconds for the lights to switch on in one of his neighbor’s houses. “WHAT THE HELL?” He whispers. When he looks back, you’re just tapping your foot and debating whistlin’ like a banshee again.
“Just callin’ our friend.”
“Wha—”
Finally, a giant dog bounds up from the woods, surprisingly silent for his size. “Good boy, coming here.” You rub his face affectionately and finally sit yourself down on the back of the bike. “Taro, meet Atsumu. Atsumu, meet Taro. Taro-taicho, really, but he’s not militaristic about his title.”
“Whydja introduce the dog first?” He grumbles, toeing the kickstand up.
The bike jerks forward and you wrap an arm around Atsumu’s waist to balance yourself. It’d be inconvenient and uncool to fall off. A piece of dried jerky is also tossed to Taro with your free hand and you call for him to follow.
The air feels nice, breezing through your hair and tickling your skin. July heat has been unbearable, you’ve hated it ever since you were a child. But it felt nice with the sun being long gone. Even the crickets and cicadas relentless buzzing was oddly tolerable. Maybe you should make late night summer outings a habit.
After twenty minutes of coasting up and down hills and towards their destination, Atsumu breaks your comfortable silence. “Yanno, this is kinda romantic.”
“Huh?”
“You. Me. Alone. Under the stars.” Objectively, he’s not wrong. Last time you heard, sneaking out with a boy in the middle of the night did fall under the spectrum of dumb high school romantic activities to engage in. You might have even entertained the thought of playing along if Atsumu hadn’t carelessly pointed it out.
“Don’t forget about Taro.” You reminded. “Or that I wanted your dreamy brother to come along—” You fail to deliver the line flat and a laugh bubbles up.
“Will ya stop with that?” He lurches forward and peddles twice as hard, putting his frustration into kinetic output.
You cackle and lean against him. “C’mon, I can’t help it, Atsumu.”
“Help what?” He sounds exasperated, like he regrets even agreeing to this whole adventure in the first place.
“Making fun of you whenever you try to flirt with me.”
He scoffs. “M’not flirtin’ with ya! That’s just how I am!”
“M’kay.” You hum. You don’t buy it for a second. “Well, that’s just how I am too.”
“Fine.” He huffs.
“Fine.” You mirror his tone and he isn’t sure if you’re teasing him again or not. “Turn here.”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” He swerves to the left and you let out a short whistle to alert Taro. Just because you’re feeling extra nice tonight, you toss the dog another piece of jerky, which he leaps in the air to catch.
“Hey, want some jerky?” You’re already pulling apart a nice, soft piece for him. You’ll feed the tough bits to Taro.
“You mean the stuff you’ve been feedin’ the dog?”
“It’s for humans, too.” It definitely wasn’t.
He thinks it over for a second. “Only if you feed it to me.”
Oh, the stuff that just pours out of his mouth. Does he think before he speaks? You’ll miss hearing it someday. Just to play along, you let your breath catch. It’s just loud enough for him to hear.
“C’mon, my hands are busy, just give it here.” He argues, turning his head slightly so you can see his mouth but he can still see the road.
“‘Kay.” You pop the meat in his mouth. “Huh.” You stare at your fingers.
He groans. “What now?”
“I’m just surprised you didn’t try to suck on my fingers or anything!” You explain.
At that, you can feel him stiffen up immensely. “I—If anything, y—you’d be suuuuuh…” He trails off.
But you know exactly what he wants to say. “I’d be…?” You almost miss the sign. “Oh, hey we’re here!” You bounce off the bike before Atsumu has a chance to stop, and run up to the gate. “Wow, lucky it’s only rusted shut.” You give it a few good kicks before the metal snaps open. “It would’ve been so annoying to lug my bolt cutters all the way back here. Hey, you’ve got your tetanus shot, right?” You shoot over your shoulder.
Taro beams ahead once he can wiggle through and you’re right behind, waving the flashlight on your phone around and picking your way through overgrown weeds. You’re glad you wore tights under your denim cutoffs or else your legs would be itching like crazy right now.
“Atsumu? You coming?”
He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. He must be tired. It is almost midnight after all. After a moment, he follows after you. Even from several feet away, you can see his eyes drooping and the sluggishness in his step. Right, he did just bike forty minutes with you balancing behind him and not helping in the slightest. Not to mention your personality can be… grating. Or so you’ve been told. When he gets close enough, you offer your hand and he takes it without any fanfare. This old place is creepy as hell and he’s not gonna say anything to make you take it back.
To Taro, you direct three short whistles, signaling him to lead the way, but stay close. He picks his way through the field carefully and you follow dutifully behind. The fields are full of holes and pits, you’re again glad that you wore clunky hiking boots with ankle support over some flimsy sneakers. The LED light on your phone can only help so much.
“Should you be wavin’ that thing around?” Atsumu asks, voice low with trepidation.
“What thing?” You ask.
“Yer flashlight.” He clarifies, halfway between a hiss and a sigh.
Your brow involuntarily furrows. Where had he gotten that idea? “Why? Kind of need it to see, ya’ know?”
“But what if someone sees?”
You stop in your tracks, drop his hand, and turn around. “There’s no one around for miles, Atsumu. Nobody’s gonna see.”
“Then why are we even here?”
“To check if it’s safe, I told you that.”
“From what? Some old farmer’s ghost?”
“When did I— Actually, you know what? That’s a good point. I didn’t think about the place being haunted.” Considering what you knew about the history of the property. You continued to mutter under your breath and swiped your phone on. Did you have a signal here? Could you download a ghost detector app? “Maybe I’ll just have to borrow one from the paranormal club at school. They owe me a favor, after all.”
“Can you PLEASE stop rambling and tell me what we’re doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night?” His palms land on your shoulders. From the way his fingers dig into your skin, you’re glad he religiously clips his fingernails.
“—”
He shakes you, roughly. “EXACTLY?”
You dropped your arm from where it was held in the air, trying to get a better signal for your phone. “We’re checking for bombs.”
The annoyance in his expression drops and leaves you looking at… You didn’t really know what that emotion was. “What?”
“I told you it was abandoned in the 40’s.” Maybe you hadn’t been clear enough when discussing it with Atsumu the day before. In your defense, it seemed pretty obvious. Why did he think there were people here? You had said it was abandoned.
“You’re tellin’ me...” He sputters.
You cock your head to the side. “I mean, why did you think I brought Taro?”
His eyes dart behind you to where the dog is patiently waiting.
“We’re leavin’.” Before you know it, Atsumu has a vice grip on your wrist and is dragging you back the way you came. But you can’t leave yet, you haven’t cleared the property. At the very least, you wanted to make it to the old farmhouse and see if the floorboards were safe for dancing!
A sharp twist and tug of your wrist frees you for a split second, but his reflexes are quick, even when he’s not looking and it’s dark out. “Let go!” You whine. He doesn’t. Any attempts, physical or emotional, are useless. You’re caught off guard by just how much stronger he is than you and you’re not sure what makes it more infuriating: that you’re weak, or that you’re stupid for not knowing.
Taro barks and your eyes widen. On instinct you grab the arm Atsumu’s dragging you with and throw your entire weight back. By the grace of the gods, it’s just enough to send him stumbling back and you both topple over in the thistle.
“Owwwww.” You moan, already second guessing yourself. There are thorns digging into every inch of your skin and Atsumu’s bony elbow has planted itself in between your vital organs.
Slowly, he lifts himself up. “What the hell was that for?” By now, Taro has bounded over and is shoving his nose in your face. He growls when Atsumu extends a hand.
“Taro, heelAHHH!” One after the other, you take the proffered hand up, tell Taro off, and rise up. Except when you put weight on your ankle, it screams in protest. Tears prick your eyes and you grip onto Atsumu for support. You feel bad for him. Your nails probably hurt.
“Don’t step back.” You warn, remembering at least that through the pain searing itself up your leg.
He shifts his weight and Taro barks a warning again. “Is he barking because of the…”
“Yeah.”
From your spot hanging onto him, you can hear his heart beating faster and faster. It wasn’t a situation you were familiar with. Should you just tell him not to be scared? But that tactic never worked for you in the past.
He’s the first one to work up some courage and kick his mind back in gear. “Can you walk?”
You test it, setting some weight on your heel. Probably not as carefully as you should have because you hiss in pain.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He sighs, gingerly turning around and crouching down, listening for Taro’s warning the whole time. “Hop on.” You comply. “Taro-taicho? Lead the way.”
The dog stares Atsumu down while you bury your face in his back. You’re so angry. At what? You’re not quite sure. Definitely not Atsumu. It’s not his fault. Then again, why did he get so mad anyways? It’s not like you were purposefully— That’s a lie. Abandoned farm from the 40’s wasn’t specific enough. Even with the additional context of your bomb sniffing hound. You let him assume and from how quiet he’s being, he’s pissed. You would be too if the roles were reversed.
Vaguely, you process him helping you back onto the bike, giving his shoulder for you to hang onto. The person you’re mad at is yourself.
“Why’re ya snifflin’?”
If this were a movie, your tears would be shining in the moonlight as the wind whipped them off your cheeks. But it isn’t and you’re glad he’s not looking at you.
“I’m sorry.” You choke out. Your throat is closing up and they’re the first words you can think of. “Are you mad at me?” They’re whispered as loud as you can make them, but you can’t put any real force behind them because the frog in your throat is getting bigger by the second. The atmosphere is nerve wracking. His answer can’t come quick enough because your mind is already jumping to different, more effective, ways to apologize. What should you do? How do you make it up to him? You’ve never been good at gift giving. Was running an option? Let him take you home and then lock the door before he can say anything. Delete his phone number and ignore him at school.
The manipulative bitch inside you wonders if giving him a piece of yourself would suffice. Would he even want it? He sure spoke like he did. Sometimes. How far would be enough? A kiss? On the cheek, or lips? How long? What if he wanted more?
He had asked before. Half joking, half serious. Unwilling to commit. Back then, your rejection had been painless. The both of you laughed immediately after and went back to normal.
But that was then and this is now. 'Now' is painful and suffocating. It's a shot in the dark, but maybe the opposite action would give you room to breathe.
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If le petit prince Crowley is your fourth favorite thing about Good Omens fandom, I implore you to share the first three! (Also, what fictional character do you have the same energy as: I can't figure it out because I associate people too strongly with their favs! DO YOU have Crowley energy? Is that what the kids these days call "vibes"? But if I got creative I could absolutely justify saying you have Crowley energy anyway so moot point!)
Oh god. I don’t know if I have Crowley energy. I certainly have ‘asking-too-many-questions, wanting-to-sleep-for-literal-years, past-me-constantly-inconveniencing-future-me’ energy, but I don’t know if I can claim that certain je ne sais Crowleyness of him. He really is relatable for a demon though, right? Like, I too just want to drink wine with my friends and have my plants be verdant and be left alone by my boss to FUCKING PINE. The cute girl I like that I rudely turned down because of my rude brain posted an internal profile to the department the other day and I was just sitting at my desk going ‘OH NO, SHE’S STILL CUTE AND GREAT, FFFFFFF.’ I’ve done this to myself, but then so did those dummies. 
Anyway! KL’s Top Three-ish Favorite Things About Good Omens Fandom 2K19!
3. How it just fucking, rose from the depths!! I was mostly a lurker in Good Omens fandom back in the late 00s. I wrote some (VERY BAD, DON’T FIND IT) fic and I roleplayed Crowley in a multi-fandom game where he got to terrorize Cesare Borgia a bit, but I didn’t really feel like I was a part of it. Probably because I was in Too Many Fandoms at the time. But now this has happened and I’m just. SO. ECSTATIC. There’s so much new art and fic and headcanons and discussion-and and and-for this book turned tv show that I absolutely love to pieces and have for YEARS. There’s so much art in particular that I queued that Le petit prince post a month and a half ago and when I saw your ask I had to stop and go ‘WAIT, WHAT WERE THE OTHER THREE THINGS??’ My queue is groaning. My drafts folder is burgeoning. MY PLANTS ARE WATERED AND MY ANGEL IS FED. 
And mainly, mainly my favorite thing about all of this is that I haven’t seen a single person try to make a distinction between book fans and tv fans or “real” fans and “new” fans. We’re all just in here crying about these idiots (and I certainly mean Crowley and Aziraphale, but also everyone else HEY ANATHEMA, HEY I LOOOOOOVE YOOOOOU) together and it’s beautiful and I’m so happy. 
2.5 The David Tennantssance. Look. I’m just. If you need me I’ll be huddled in my blankets re-watching that whole four seasons of Doctor Who again and also everything else he’s ever been in. Just yesterday Audible informed me they had a voice play of Carmilla with him in it and I cackled to myself in my bed for close to a minute. Like yes, lesbians, vampires, and David Tennant, the true trifecta of common interests. 
2. ALL OF TIME AND SOME OF SPACE. Don’t get me wrong, there was always fanwork for Good Omens that utilized historical moments (for all the characters I believe, because why not). Especially that much detested fourteenth century. But now I feel like that cold open gave us carte blanche to just go ape shit by breathing a little more context into those moments. Never have I been so pleased to see so many people utilizing their hyper specific knowledge/education/interests/upbringing when it comes to depicting these characters because it all works! It’s all on the table! Pick a time period! Pick an occupation! Pick a favorite dessert or type of flower! Pick a PLACE IN THE SKY BECAUSE CROWLEY HELPED BUILD THAT NEBULA. God, I am never going to get over that stupid, single line. I am here for Crowley among the stars, especially outside of time and space. TV!Crowley hits so many of my buttons and I AM ABSOLUTELY LIVING. 
1.5 ALL OF ART HISTORY IS AN OPEN BOOK. God you guys, I am just, never getting over fandom’s decision to redo EVERY PIECE OF ART with Crowley and/or Aziraphale in it. It’s AMAZING AND BRILLIANT THANK YOU ALL. I’M JUST SO HAPPY. And I’m still trying to think of a reason to ask fandom to redo John White Alexander’s Isabella and the Pot of Basil with Crowley because I am IN LOVE with the lighting in the fucking painting and of course I want to put Crowley in it. 
1. Gender? I don’t even know her! WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT MY BUTTONS? Because like, what even is gender? Fuck if I know. I once asked a salesperson at Kiehl’s that after they apologized for trying to sell me on a men’s moisturizer and they did NOT have an answer either! (Probably they thought they did not get paid enough to deal with that, but I don’t care what side of the store the moisturizer is from, my man, just moisturize me! *spritz spritz*) I’m just out here living in the world being both fine with and affronted by the way strangers read me day in and day out like. It depends, but also WHY DO THEY HAVE TO?
So I love every fucking discussion post about Crowley’s gender presentation in the show and outside of it. And I imagine much of that was the work of the costume department with notes from GNeil et al, but it works because, honestly, why would non-euclidean beings give a toss? They have to blend in, so they do, but for all they’ve come to love us they’re not us. Which leaves them free to do whatever, which fandom has fucking run with. My heart grows another size every time I see art or fic of both Crowley and Aziraphale (especially Aziraphale, hedonist extraordinaire) depicted in a way that embraces that, however the artist or writer chooses to depict it. 
And outside of the aesthetics of it, at the risk of being Serious here for a sec, I love the way that lets other fans explore and express themselves. Here are these characters that canonically love humanity but sit outside of it, so why shouldn’t they navigate those spaces of gender and sexuality to the fullest? For research or business or pleasure or whatever? (I mean, also, more angels-are-monsters interplanar weirdness in your sex scenes 2k20, but that’s a separate issue.) 
And I think they as characters should be allowed to do that in the works we create with them because I feel like it’s a very human thing to want to explore and for some people fandom is the safest place to do that. I’ve always been a big proponent of fandom as catharsis, or even as expression of joy that can’t be shared with the outside world for whatever reason. Which is why I go so fucking feral for Michael Sheen telling off jerks on the internet who think fandom is loving this thing The Wrong Way. Mostly, the wrong way to love something is to assume your way is the right and true way when [rant about the nature of art and ownership and belonging redacted]. Kindly fuck all the way off indeed. 
Anyway, I want people to feel safe to find themselves. Honestly, this is a selfish desire, because I’m in my 30s and I also just want to be safe to keep finding myself for however much time I have left. And I think this is a canon and a fandom sort of uniquely positioned to allow for all of it. So we should continue to celebrate that. 
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