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metatronhateblog · 5 months

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Not to Be a Bearer of News pt 2 with some essence of Duck Duck what the Fuck

Something fowl is afoot. Between the newspapers and the ducks and the content of the newspapers. I have had the drafts for these posts sitting on my account for about a month or so now and was immediately screaming at the responses I was getting on the first part of this series of posts. So let's get further into this bit of a mind fuckery.

This one is gonna be a long one so just hang in there, I promise it's worth it. There's A LOT going on with this.

Back to the newspapers.

Last go 'round we talked about Mr. Brown (of Brown's world of carpets) and his very strange newspaper that is the cause of the opening sequence having an accordion duck in it, as well as some of the other appearances of ducks throughout the series.

This time, we're going to look more at the newspapers, with a touch of me screaming about my thoughts from the comments on part one of this mini-series of posts.

We already know Mr Brown (of Brown's world of carpets) holds a weird ass newspaper...

and how he practically waves it around like a billboard every time he's on screen, going so far as to even cover his face with it at some point.

Now I could go on about how the way time works in Soho seems practically non-existent, but we'll save that for a later day because we're talking about the newspapers. At least...the newspapers in season 2 specifically.

As we already know, thanks to the X-Rays on Amazon, Nina's coffee shop strangely holds the magazines that Adam read in season 1 (a very strange and deliberate choice to be making...) but those aren't newspapers so to speak.

(Screenshots for the people who didn't know)

So I'm gonna get started with the FIRST newspaper(s) we see in season 2.

And that would be a stack of them on the street right next to Aziraphale's bookshop.

Now unlike most of the other newspapers, you can't exactly see what these ones have to say, which is fine. I'm more intrigued by the fact that there just so happens to be (I assume that red thing is a newspaper thing because I'm from the US and that's not what those normally look like) a place to buy newspapers right outside the bookshop. The building itself says 'The News Agency' but I'm more intrigued by the little red cylindrical thing. How intriguing that so many characters wave their newspapers around for us to see and the News Paper building is literally right next to the bookshop.

Even more importantly this thing ALSO makes an appearance in the opening sequence. I know, I know, you're all probably tired of me screaming about the opening sequence at this point but seriously. Look.

And then this extra right here appears to be holding a stack of presumably newspapers, possibly making a delivery to The Dirty Donkey based off trajectory.

But I've also noticed we never really see anyone on the street holding newspapers, only in isolated locations where you can very clearly see the front page of their papers.

Which brings me to our second newspaper appearance (technically the first if you're going by readability)

Crowley (notice the ducks in the background, but kind of a given based on the location.)

We have three big 'headlines' on this one page we see right here.

"Maple Lane Post Box Becomes Home to Spider Species Not Seen in 45 Years."

"Norton Institute Reports its Highest Intake of Students Since Opening in 1888."

"Billions Still Owed to Millions."

Little weird. we have two things that are an increase in happenings since a certain time period...and a not so surprising 'billions owed to millions.'

Then we flip it around a bit (and ignore the...weird way he's holding his hand)

And we have the name of the newspaper. "TADFIELD ADVERTISER." With the main headline 'Is Tadfield the Best Village in England?' and no surprise that Crowley is keeping up to date and looking to see if anything else continues to happen with Adam.

The mini headline under the big bold one says 'According to voters of latest 'Best Village in England' poll Tadfield really is the loveliest place to live.' And in the tiny little blue box 'Entirely perfect weather AGAIN for Tadfield.'

So even after the end of season 1, it appears we still have some strange happenings in Tadfield. Right on.

By the by for those of you who didn't know, pretty sure every single page of Crowley's newspaper is the exact same.

But I think another important detail is, same as Mr Brown (of Brown's world of carpets) Crowley also seems to be holding the newspaper so you can very clearly see what's on it.

Next time something news related appears, we have our little red vessel appearing while Crowley loses his shit.

Now we don't actually see newspapers again until episode 2. This specific one is a doozy and had me and @lady-of-the-puddle screaming over it.

When Aziraphale is looking for clues over the Buddy Holly record, we see him pouring over some newspapers.

SO! Here we see Aziraphale reading a Scottish newspaper with an article titled "Everyday It's a gettin' closer" and we can see a couple more on the desk next to him. Now I've gone through and read the article (I'll post a screenshot so you can too if you want) and to sum it up it's basically the owner of The Resurrectionist discussing the records that keep changing to 'Everyday' by Buddy Holly and how he thinks it's a group of pranksters but never can catch them and the security measures he's tried to put up to prevent it from happening again.

Now the thing that's weird to me is actually the variety of newspaper articles Aziraphale seems to have...from different countries.

Now you might just kind of brush that off....but why on Earth would this news be important enough to make world news? Why would it be in news articles from different countries.

But most importantly...there's a typo.

Now. I don't speak German (so correct me if I'm wrong) but I do know how to use Google Translate.

This German article is titled 'Eden Tag nähert es sich... dem Wahnsinn des Wirts!'

And I don't speak German (though I'd love to) but I plugged this in to Google Translate and what I found was insane. Now when it translates you'll notice that the word Eden doesn't translate.

And there's a little suggestion underneath the German sentence, indicating you probably had a typo, and here's what you're probably looking for, which when you allow it to translate as such gives you...

Weird right? You'd assume the correct version of the news article would be where they're quoting the song they're talking about (unless it's a different dialect or slang of course.) But it's interesting that if I'm correct and that is a typo...it says 'Eden.' Now if you watched season 1 or have some Biblical knowledge of sorts, you might be on the same page as me...

Why Eden? Why create an article that translates to 'Eden Day' instead of 'Every day.' I wonder how many of the other news articles seemingly have a typo?

If this show has taught us anything, what do we know about typos? (Insert Markiplier voice here) DEMONS, JIM! So could that news article possibly have been written by a demon?

Anyways as we continue on, the next (and most frequent appearance of newspapers) is Mr Brown (of Brown's world of carpets.) And I won't add all the instances of that because if you read my last post, you already saw them.

But there he is, with his strange recurring article about accordion ducks.

But I actually want to focus on a different newspaper that appears in this scene. This gentleman right here.

Looks normal right? Except you can just barely make out the corner of something peaking out next to his leg. Well guess what? This is the same guy who was sitting at the table Aziraphale emptied.

In which his newspaper never comes 100% into focus, but it's right there on screen, flashing and saying 'HEY LOOK AT ME!'

in which he folds over his 'your travel' 'Milton Keynes' newspaper as such

to a completely new side of the newspaper and walks away. But wait there's more.

Check this out.

In which he turns to look at his newspaper AND ROTATES IT before going back to standing there looking like there's nothing in his hand. Look at these back to back shots though.

Would you look at that. Our newspaper is back. Guess what though. When we look away from him again and back, the newspaper is once again gone.

Mind you this whole time, when the newspaper appears, you see Aziraphale's eyes continuously flickering away from his conversation with Mr Brown (of Brown's world of carpets) and directly past him. Possibly to the newspaper? Maybe trying to direct your attention?

Here we have 'Thenewspaper' with articles

"Unearthed mysteries of sealed library basement."

and "Government approves funding for citywide [insert word here because i can't make it out thanks to his finger] stations."

Interesting....library basements and citywide funding. Huh.

Now as far as I'm aware, the only other times you see newspapers in the rest of the season, are Mr Brown (of Brown's world of carpets.) And even if there were more, I'd have to make a part 2 because I actually reached the image amount on this post.

That being said...there's a lot of weird shit going on with the newspapers, including our strange little accordion duck which has me absolutely bewildered. But I can't help but feel like the newspapers are important when everyone holding one seems to be holding it like a sign, just so that you can read it. Not to mention the freaking typo has me wide awake every night staring at my ceiling.

But for now, that's all I have. Stay tuned for another mental breakdown over something in this show that is preventing me from sleeping.

(Upon further examination I might be making yet another post about this.)

#good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #okay 100% not gonna lie #i was not prepared to post this yet #dont know what happened #but started getting notifs for it #but uhhhh i guess heres this post lol

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theravenclawlover · 2 years

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🎃Kinktober Day 10🎃

Day Prompt: Tickling/Forced Fem/Pregnancy Kink

Word Count: 1,136

Warnings: +18 (MDNI), sexual acts, strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pregnancy kink, "C" word usage, my first time at writing Eddie SO GO EASY ON ME IT TAKES SOME TRIES.

A/N: I know this is hella late but I wasn't going to not post it, and it is shit ngl lol. I am sick, so you might get updates on Kinktober late into the night.

Eddie Munson x F!Reader

You were part of what Hawkins High staff considered their pride and joy. A cheerleader, class treasurer, and a stellar student since your Freshman year. You had worked very hard to achieve the things you had in life, and you were always one to make sure to show just how proud you were of what you did. Until life turned upside down. Literally. The whole interdimensional monsters thing really put your life in perspective. And through the years, even as you upheld all the aforementioned titles, there was one you carried that not many knew: you were Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson’s girlfriend. You weren’t ashamed or anything; it was Eddie who wouldn’t let anyone know because 1) he liked the way he could sneak around school with you when free period came around or when he skipped to be with you, and b) he didn’t want your hard work to be affected because of the people you associated with. His words.

It didn’t matter to you if people knew, but it was something Eddie was adamant about. But your only consolation was that after high school, none of that would matter. In a few months, you and Eddie would walk out practically humping each other if it were up to you so everyone knew.

Eddie had another tactic for that, though.

Eddie wanted to knock you up. Sure, he would say it in a joking manner or during sex when he was really worked up, but you wouldn’t mind.

Sex with Eddie was something that started slow. Neither of you had much experience and Eddie’s was very little compared to yours. Your poor boyfriend was touched starved at the beginning of your relationship that he barely knew what to do with himself. And that’s how you both found his breeding kink. And yours for that matter.

It had been a shock to hear Eddie telling you how much he wanted you to cum so he could cum himself, wanting for his cum to fill you up. He had been wearing a condom, so it was all sexy talk, but it had turned you both on so much that you had cum so hard, and Eddie had barely done two thrusts before he followed. After that, it wasn’t rare to hear Eddie telling you how much he wanted to fill you up, see his cum trying to spill out of your overflowing hole. And from there it got even more intense when you both tried it bare for the first time. Eddie was in a fucking trance. Unable to look away from his bare cock coming out with so much slick after each thrust, your eyes too had been stuck on the obscene image. He had cum so much.

“Fuck baby, aw fuck, so much cum, I’m even fucking it in and out of you,” he had groaned before whimpering when your cunt had clenched even more.

But it never got old. Every single time Eddie fucked you it was an experience, from learning each other’s body to then using that knowledge to overwhelm each other with nothing but pleasure.

And tonight was no different.

Eddie had you on all fours, your knees digging on the mattress’ border while your head slumped on the pillow that Eddie had granted you for comfort. Your back was arched almost unnaturally, ass hitting Eddie’s hard pelvis with every punishing thrust he was giving your cunt. His hands grabbed at your hips or ass, ringed fingers bringing you closer to him to meet each of his thrusts. His cock slid in and out, the squelching of your slick and two orgasms and his previous load getting fucked into you again. Eddie was unforgiving in the way he was fucking you right now, it was obscene, like in those pornos he had ‘hidden’ in his closet. You had seen those together, great for foreplay, and now it felt like you were acting one out with the way you were moaning his name, his groaning and moaning just as loud as he babbled on about your pussy.

“Fucking perfect,” he said as his right hand grabbed even more of your ass. “Your pussy as greedy as my need to fuck you open and fill you with my cum.”

No words left your mouth, only mumbles of incoherent vowels and consonants that tried to be words. He chuckled.

“Wish you could see it,” he moaned at a specific clench from you. “Wish you could see how my cock fucks you, how after every thrust my dick is slicker than before.”

You could feel the way your legs were almost giving out, knees failing to keep themselves on the same position as your legs spread, wanting nothing but to sink into the bed and have Eddie just fuck you into the bed.

His thrusts became more erratic as his dirty words came out as less complete thoughts, half praises of your cunt and half cusses as he could only watch your pussy swallow him greedily.

“I’m gonna cum,” he whimpered, oversensitivity working him up. “Fuck, wanna fill you up baby.”

“Please,” you managed to moan as your hands gripped the sheets even tighter. “Fill me up, Eddie, please.”

“Fuck,” he whined, thrusts were shallow now. “I’ll fill you up, knock you up too. Then they’ll see, they’ll know who fucked you. They’ll know Eddie fucking Munson fucked Hawkins High’s little star student, I’ll make sure they know who’s kid your carrying.”

At that point you could only hear the high pitch his voice took, lust clouding his mind and yours, his cock hitting your everywhere as he drove you to your orgasm.

“Fuck princess,” he groaned into your back as he fucked you through your orgasm as if you two were animals in heat, thighs wet and sticky as you whined his name when you came. “Fuck I’m cumming.”

There was something addicting about the feeling of his hot cum filling you up. The way it shot into you in heavy loads, marking you as his, a small shiver cursing through your body as the idea that this could be the one that really knocked you up. You two were practically playing a dangerous game, but there was nothing as pleasurable as the thrill it provided.

Eddie kissed your back softly as he slightly pulled back, his cock still buried inside of you. You moaned softly as his cock thrusted a few times, your cunt squelching loudly compared to both of your breathing.

Eddie pulled out with a loud squelch, his hands making sure you didn’t move. You felt a dribble of cum leaking out, but it didn’t get too far down before two of Eddie’s fingers dragged it up and pushed it back in with his ringed fingers.

“Back to where it belongs.”

#theravenclawlover #Kinktober 2022 #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x reader smut #Stranger Things

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theprettynosferatu · 11 months

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He had turned his apartment upside down and found no books at all, except of course for his trusty truck maintenance handbook, which he had already almost memorized. It made no sense, and yet quotes came to him unbidden, from authors he had never heard of, let alone read. Still, the man at the bookstore had been adamant. He had purchased Valley Flower. Suddenly, he had the simple idea of logging into his bank and looking at his card statements.

Sure enough, the evidence was there. Several payments, all to nearby small bookstores. Nothing too expensive. Somehow, he knew. The first one was a collection of Byron’s poems. The second one a history of ancient female rulers. The third was, of course, Valley Flower. He had no memory of reading any of them, and no idea where they were. Had he been blacking out more? Doing other things when he thought he was watching the game on sundays? How could he even be sure of anything anymore? Maybe Hayley was… editing his experience somehow. Making him see or not see things, messing with his memories, making him more and more confused…

He wanted to hate her. He really did. But he couldn’t. He knew what she would say, with her big green eyes pleading to him. “Sorry, I just really like to read”. He could almost hear her meek voice inside his head. How could he hate her? Besides, she had become his only true companion. Maybe it was just fair to let her have her little moments, her books. It wasn’t as if anyone would ever know.

As to where the books had gone… it was obvious.

“I donated them. I want others to enjoy books too, you know?”

How could he be mad at that?

He soon fell victim to a rather nasty flu. He spent day after day swimming in and out of consciousness, being himself for brief periods before sinking again and watching as Hayley’s thoughts occupied his consciousness in a swirl of fantasies, desires, ideas and frustrations to the point that separating what was He and what was Her was a pointless endeavor. He knew the reluctance to call a doctor was all he, though. Things would sort themselves out, as his dad used to say.

On the fifth day he felt well enough to roll off the bed and get a shower. He looked in the mirror through a feverish haze. He had barely eaten, so no wonder he had lost weight. Quite a bit of weight, in fact. His beer belly was practically gone, and… no, no way he had gotten shorter. That was fever talk. No illness could make a man shorter. Still… Whatever. He pushed the fear down and showered before stumbling back to bed.

Had he been more alert, he might have seen the single, long, red hair he had left in the shower.

There’s something special about that moment in which a sickness gives way, when one realizes that one is getting better, that energy is coming back, that the brain fog is lifting. He awoke feeling renewed, a brand new man indeed. He rubbed his eyes and soon noticed something alarming. His goatee was gone.

He rushed to the bathroom and stared at the face in the mirror. He could hardly recognize it: he had sported a beard as soon as he had been able to grow one. The face looking back at him was smooth, almost child-like in the softness of its skin. It almost seemed to glow, and a spot of panic burned inside his chest. Had he shaved in his feverish state? When? Using what? He had scissors to trim his goatee, but no proper shaver- and the job looked almost professional. Hell, it looked like he had never had facial hair at all. He studied the strange face in the mirror. It looked nice. Soft, even. It was his, no doubt about it, but it seemed… slightly shifted. The angles were a little bit different, the lines of his face just the tiniest bit altered to be… he settled for “prettier”. He needed to settle for “prettier”. He couldn’t bear to utter, even in his mind, the words that would more exactly describe the shape.

More feminine.

Also, there was no denying it: he was getting shorter. Slimmer. Even his fingers looked more dainty, and his nails had grown in a most alarming way. As far as he knew, nails didn’t grow beautifully shaped as if a manicurist fairy had worked on them throughout the night. This was, he decided, a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real. Like a child, he rushed back to bed and covered himself with his blanket. Things would go back to normal by themselves, he knew that. He was just having a little bit of a psychotic break. He didn’t want to imagine himself disappearing, becoming…

And he hated that part of his mind was thinking of the clothes he should buy.

He had to go back to normal, regular, predictable life. That was the ticket. He had been too much in his head, looking into the mirror too often. There was a world out there, a solid, real world. A world that made sense- and not a minor concern, a world that paid him for his labor. He was sure there would be someone looking for a simple delivery, something to ease his way back to the comfort of the familiar. And sure enough, there was a simple run requested waiting for him in the system. He almost slammed his finger into the “accept request” button on his phone. It might as well had been labeled “return to reality.”

Emily felt strange. Too big. Her driving wheel intimidating, unwieldy. He looked around, shifted in his seat. It didn’t make sense. He had been inside Emily countless times, had traveled the country with her. She had been almost an extension of himself. That was why he had given her a name, after all. When a trucker moves on from a loaner or a company vehicle, when he finds the right truck to call his own, they named it. And, he noticed after observing his friends, the name had to be a girl’s name. Big Bertha. Dolly. Gladys. All his friends had their truck-wives, so he felt he had to name his own. He wasn’t sure why trucks were girls, or why truckers treated them like close, cherished companions. Sure, he did maintenance and took care of his truck. He knew it inside out. He just didn’t feel that kind of… close attachment to it. But men named trucks, and so, his was Emily. But Emily felt like an unwelcoming behemoth of metal.

He took to the road as he had done so many times before. Normally he would zone out, let his muscle memory take care of the driving, listen to his sport radio and bask in that space between spaces, that special no-land that was the wide, open road. Instead, his body tensed up. His mind was racing, paying close attention to every sign, every other vehicle, every turn. He hated every moment of it, hated the way the patter on the radio only seemed to assault his brain with shrill laughter and screaming and a soundboard of air horns and silly noises. Without even thinking it, he pushed a button and the radio hissed and blabbered before finding another station. Music. That was better.

He had to admit the music calmed him somewhat. He still wasn’t enjoying the drive, not one bit, but by moments he could almost be carried away by the melodies. Maybe he could pull it off. Maybe he was returning to being something like himself again.

Oh oh you think you’re something special

Oh oh you think you’re something else

Ok. So you have a car!

That don’t impress me much…

Suddenly he caught himself. How long had he been singing along? Why were his hips moving in his seat? How did he know all the words? Why did Shania’s voice sound so… right coming from his mouth? What the fuck was going on? And did he almost crash a few miles back? He felt sweat dripping down his face. He checked in the mirror…

It was only a flash, shorter than a second. That was enough to make him pull over and jump out of Emily. He panted, his hand resting on the door, his gaze to the hot asphalt. No way. No way. He hadn’t seen… that. He shut his eyes, tried to push the image away. It was no use. What he had seen was engraved behind his eyelids.

He had become a strange sight indeed: a petite man, oversized clothes hanging off his slender limbs, propped against a massive truck in the middle of nowhere, baking under the blazing sun. He knew he needed to get a move on, but…

Deep green eyes accentuated by perfectly applied eyeliner. The vaguest hint of tasteful, understated eyeshadow. Playful freckles on his nose and cheeks. A wisp of red hair falling between plucked eyebrows.

It was impossible, yet that was what the mirror had shown him. He shuddered as he remembered a dream, a conversation in a coffee shop. Hayley. He had seen Hayley.

He could dispel the fear in an instant, of course. All he needed to do was look in the mirror. And still, he didn’t. His breath came in ragged, short bursts. It wasn’t just that what he had seen was bizarre, beyond all logic or reality. It was that if he were to be honest with himself, even for a second, he would have to admit that for the first time in his life, he had felt beautiful.

How long did he stay there? Impossible to tell. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Eventually, spurred less by bravery and more by the starting aches of a sunburn. He trembled as he glanced in the rear view mirror.

He was himself. Sort of. It was hard, with the recent changes, to be sure of what “himself” meant. He should have felt relief, and he did- but there was also a hint of something else, a longing he could not name. But there was something else. Maybe the sun had burned him more than he realized… however, the marks didn’t look like burns or irritated skin. He leaned closer to the mirror.

Were those freckles on his nose?

He’d never thought a lot about clothes. Well, that wasn’t entirely true- he had never allowed himself to think about clothes. Fact was he had thought about clothing a lot exactly once, when he had pondered long and hard what his “style” would be. He didn’t think about it as style, obviously: the proper style for a man, he had decided, was to have no style, which in itself was a rather complex style, since any evidence of even acknowledging the concept of style was suspect. Ideally a man’s clothing should embody the very concept of “default”, should be banal to the point of invisibility, should silently scream the word “normal.”

“Normal” was hard to achieve, but he had done so and buried the entire sartorial world deep underground. From that point on, buying clothes had been a functional, gray, dull affair: one punctuated sometimes by the lingering fear that a certain color or pattern was too… out there. Luckily, there were many stores that stocked their shelves with sturdy, practical, utterly boring shirts, pants, shoes. He had built himself a reasonable wardrobe, one that kept any thought on what to wear to a minimum.

A wardrobe that was of no use to him anymore.

Shirts hung off his back like he was a scarecrow, or a child dressed like a very boring, very practical ghost. His belly was gone, but so were his broad shoulders, his muscular arms (and the hair on them as well), his large back. The only word that came to his mind looking at himself in the mirror now was “petite”. It was a nice word. It was a pretty word. It was an utterly terrifying word. His body was changing and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He felt as if he was a spirit trapped in a black wind, carried away to God knew where. Sure, he could go to a doctor, but what would he say?

“No, Doc, I used to be a big burly man, balding with a beer gut! I drove a truck! And now I’m becoming… I don’t know what! I swear I wasn’t this short, or a redhead, or freckled, or… and I didn’t have boobs! You have to believe me!”

Yeah, that was a no-go. Which led him to the thing he had been trying so, so hard to avoid.

He was growing breasts.

There was no other way to call them, and Lord knew he had looked frantically for any other term, any plausible explanation. Remembering his blackouts, the novels he… or Hayley had read, he had looked up the effects of estrogen on the body. If she could make him buy books when he wasn’t looking, who could say what kind of stuff she was making him take? It would be a terrifying idea, but it would be, at the very least, an answer. As far as he knew, grown men did not spontaneously manifest tits, after all. Sadly, even the most superficial research was enough to inform him of the fact that no, estrogen did not work that fast, or change hair color.

The person in the mirror resembled him less and less by the day. He kept turning around, spinning, taking in every angle. He needed to stop it, and he needed to stop it right then and there. But how? Tears pooled in his eyes, and his fists clenched in complete, impotent rage. Rage was good. Rage was manly.

Before he knew it, he was on the ground, surrounded by reflective glass shards, his hand bleeding. He hadn’t meant to punch it. To punch himself. To punch her.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m not”, she said, an echo in his head.

“Then what is happening?”

“I… I’m not sure. I think I’m starting to become… myself. Just… by moments. They add up, I suppose”

“Well fucking stop it!”

“I tried! I did, at first. But… don’t I deserve some happiness too? Don’t I deserve to exist beyond the cage in which you’ve locked me? The world has so much to offer, so many wonderful things, art, books, music! I can’t just look at it from behind your eyes”

“No. No, no, no. Fuck you. My body isn’t a fucking time share and you sure as shit are not allowed to redecorate it, so take your red hair, and your boobs, and fuck right off! I was fine before you came along!”

“Were you happy?”

“That’s not the point!”

“It seems to me like it should be the entire point. Happiness. How long do you expect to keep living a lie?”

“I’m not… I was fine!”

“Well, change is inevitable. I’m not going anywhere, so you can suffer every day or you can at least try to have fun. Speaking for myself, I’d much prefer it if you didn’t suffer. For instance, you’re going to have to buy new clothes. Why not enjoy it?”

“Fuck. You”

Hayley didn’t respond. He hated to admit she was right, tough. He did need new clothes.

The battlefield stretched before him, infinite. He saw safe areas, sensible shirts and gray pants. He also saw the minefield he would have to cross: rack after rack of yellows, reds, greens and pinks; tops and blouses and skirts, menacing like fanatical enemy soldiers, sharp like spike traps trying to break him, to send him into a pit from which there would be no escape. He took a moment to get his body ready, to make sure his oversized t-shirt properly hid his breasts. He wore a ballcap to somewhat obscure a face that, it pained him to admit, could just very well belong to a woman. The point was to avoid the dreaded Shopping Assistant.

That particular fear had come from a long, unflinching, objective look at the bathroom mirror, given that he had smashed one in the bedroom. He did his best to push away how he had once looked, the residual image of himself he had been holding onto like a piece of driftwood in a stormy ocean. What would other people see when they looked at him? The answer was obvious. Devoid of his masculine clothing, he looked like a slight, petite, slightly androgynous woman. He hoped that a new outfit, a manly outfit that actually, well, fit him, would push him at least to the level of a slight, petite, slightly androgynous man. He just hoped no one at the store would peg him as a woman and drag him to the women’s section. He was terrified of what might happen then.

He took a deep breath and went inside, heading straight for the safe, masculine blues and blacks.

It took him a moment to understand where he was. The white light overhead hurt his eyes. The miniscule cubicle made him feel trapped. His heart was racing, and he could feel something in his chest, some residual adrenaline… no, not fear. Something else. Something like joy. It was overwhelming, so much so that a full minute passed before he realized he was naked, staring at himself inside a changing room, a pile of colorful clothes arranged by his side.

Hayley, you absolute bitch. Of all the times to give him a blackout…

He looked around. His t-shirt and pants were gone. Hayley had thrown them out the changing room while he was away. Fuck. Check and fucking mate. What could he do? Call for assistance? They would think him crazy- or more accurately, they would think her crazy. Who knew what Hayley had told the workers at the store? And walking out in the nude was, obviously, not a choice. Fine. He would wear whatever the hell Hayley had set out for him, just to fetch his own clothes and get the fuck out. He picked up a top.

Huh.

He couldn’t be sure, but at a glance it didn’t look as bad as he had feared. It wasn’t some pornographic, stare-at-my-boobs top. If anything, it was modest, the emerald green would compliment his eyes, and what cleavage the top did have was tasteful, playful, flirty but not trashy. Of course, there was only so much he could eyeball holding the top. There was only one way to be sure of how it would look…

Wait. What the fuck was he thinking? Tasteful greens? Playful clothes? Those weren’t his thoughts. They couldn’t be. They shouldn’t be. He would just… wear the damn thing, then find his own clothes. Quickly.

God fucking damnit. Hayley might be some sort of… weird mind… stealing thing, but she did have a good eye. Before he knew it, he was turning, checking the top from different angles. It fit his new body perfectly, drawing tasteful curves on his skin, suggesting a trove of beauty while concealing it. A smile escaped his lips. Coy, yet flirty. Cute, yet slightly provocative. The kind of smile that was a promise and a dare, a diamond half-seen through the glint of morning mists. A smile he had never smiled before. When had he last smiled? Truthfully, spontaneously, not the result of a calculation or social norm? He couldn’t remember. Had he ever smiled like that? Just… naturally?

It just felt… right.

Suddenly, he snapped back. What was he doing? He was being ridiculous. He was being a fool. He was being a freak. Then again, no one was watching. Yes, it was a ridiculous image to be sure. He was wearing a top and nothing else. What was he, Donald Duck? He put on a pair of pants in a hurry, grasping for some notion of normalcy.

Well, that was new. He turned and stared at the mirror in primal fascination, like an ape seeing fire for the first time. He had a butt.

He had always possessed a behind, of course. It just had never been a factor in any aspect of his life, much less on his appearance. Men did not care about their asses. Or at least he didn’t think they did. His friends never mentioned their asses except in the context of working those butts off behind the wheels of their trucks. Did they secretly care about how their asses looked? He now did, that was for sure.

He did a little twirl. It was a thing of beauty, of absolute joy. Cute, not too big but certainly appealing, highlighted by the perfect fit of the shiny, black pants. A part of him was aware that if he came across a woman with that pretty butt he would stare. Would others stare at him? He wasn’t sure how to feel about the idea. He suspected a part of him liked it. He ran his hands over it. It felt so sensitive, so smooth, so firm… and yet it seemed to give him a balance, a sense of truly being on the ground he had never known he had lacked. But how could one miss what one had never known existed?

He felt light. Bubbly. As if he could skip, hop, dance. Instead, he did a little wiggle, and a cute laugh sneaked out of his chest. He didn’t mind. Instead he felt slightly miffed as he looked around the changing room. Where were the shoes? Surely Hayley would have picked out shoes to go with the outfit! Maybe they were outside? He felt almost outraged. Who didn’t choose cute shoes when putting together a wardrobe?

Without a thought getting in the way, he left the changing room. There, on the floor, he saw a dull, brutal heap of cloth. It took him a moment to recognize them as the clothes he had been wearing not long ago. They looked heavy, as if they were made of lead. The thought of putting them on sent a shiver up his spine. A picture of iron chains flashed in his mind. He started sweating. He knew he should put those terrible clothes on. That was the plan, after all. Instead, he stared, paralyzed, shaking.

“Oh. My. God. You look so good! Honey, you were made for those clothes!”

He turned around. The clerk was there, her eyes beaming. Sure, it was her job, but… it felt so sincere. It felt like the blonde woman was genuinely amazed and happy for him, like she was a sister in a world he had never imagined. There was so much emotion in her eyes… and all for a stranger. His friends didn’t show emotion like that. Even their support was usually more… ironic, or clad in jokes or teaseful ribbing. This was different. Unvarnished. Unashamed.

“Girl, I have to say… when you came in, wearing… those things I thought you were a lost cause but damn! You are positively radiant!”

Girl. She had called him a girl. Should he correct her? Could he? Could he really, with a straight face, utter the words “I am a man” after all he had felt? Also… he did feel radiant. He felt as if he was hovering above the ground, surrounded by a halo of bright, white light. He searched for words, any words, anything at all.

“Shoes”, he blurted out.

“Shoes indeed! Let me show you”

The pile of discarded clothes said nothing as it was left behind.

VII

Horns shook the city air. Angry, shouting voices lodged themselves in her stomach. The shift stick felt stiff, unwieldy. She preferred to stick to the pedals, which the drivers behind her didn’t particularly appreciate. The wheel felt like an enormous monster she was forced to fight at every turn. The truck was a lumbering leviathan, and with every block she realized more and more of the simple, undeniable fact that she hated the damn thing.

At some point she found herself parked on the side of a quiet road. She looked at the trees beside her, the birds above her, the scattered clouds lazily floating along. She looked at the mechanical monstrosity that appeared to her eyes as a sort of disgusting predator. Large, cumbersome, threatening. She sat on the grass by the road. What was she doing driving that thing anyway?

Looking at the sun, it seemed to her as if she had been living inside a trench, toiling, fighting a war with no meaning or purpose. Sure, the truck was her job. Or his job. The distinction grew less clear by the minute. What was evident was that she simply couldn’t keep going. She couldn’t spend her hours inside that awful metal prison anymore. But where to go next? What did she truly want to do? Who was she, really?

Her phone vibrated. She glanced at it, recognized it was someone from work and let it shake impotently in her hand. She supposed the name on the screen belonged to a friend, in a way. He just didn’t feel like a friend. Not anymore. Before, friends and coworkers had been the same thing. Now she saw inside herself, realized how lonely she truly was. She wanted more.

She dreamed of smart conversation, of books, of delving deeper into the world of Literature. She dreamed of cozy coffee shops. She dreamed of laughter, of sharing. But how could she turn those fantasies into more than mere dreams?

The answer was staring right at her.

She could feel the wind picking up. It was something electric, exciting. She knew she had been scared of change, not that long ago. Now her life was growing, flowering, transforming. Her body was never exactly the same by morning as it had been at bedtime, and waking up was an exciting thrill. Why then had she insisted on keeping the rest of her static, trapped in amber? The truck, the apartment, his friends had been essential in the past, but now they simply didn’t fit her.

Well, what would fit?

She was looking into the mirror, trying out a new makeup look she had seen on Youtube. A thing that was becoming more and more apparent with each passing day was the cost. Makeup was expensive, that much she had realized immediately, especially since she had resorted to trying out various shades, brands, styles. But that was only part of the cost: the rest was time. She had a foggy memory of waking up, throwing on some clothes and stepping out into the world; such a notion seemed absolutely ridiculous to her now. After a few missed appointments (one to get her nails done, one to buy a particularly rare book from a private seller) she had learned to clear out at least a solid hour to get ready before heading out. She really hoped practice would make things quicker. Besides, once she had learned her… style, she supposed, things would go far more smoothly.

There was a joy, a playfulness to the whole affair. Her face was a canvass in which color, shades, highlights danced and underlined this or that feature, made her cheekbones more pronounced, or her lips look thicker, or her eyes pop. She felt a bit like a newborn fawn, learning what other girls had mastered by age fifteen, but she took to her new hobby with the excitement of a teenager. In a way, she felt like one, like she was going through a second puberty. The right puberty, this time. Back in the day, she… or he, had been afraid of the changes, afraid of what they meant about her place in the world. She vaguely remembered feeling as if she was not ready, silently begging for more time to figure the world out. Those memories seemed more and more distant every day, like a half-forgotten movie. Well, she didn’t have time to reminisce. She could not miss the day’s appointment.

She had done her homework. She knew what she had and what it was worth. Still, she was a bit shocked by the tone of the man, the way he talked down to her. She understood: a willowy redhead girl who had “inherited” a truck would look to a sleazy auto seller like a prime mark. She was many things, but gullible was not one of them. Politely, always wearing a disarming smile, she refused to budge an inch. In the end she got the proper value for the vehicle. Enough to purchase a small, compact, rather cute electric car. One that felt like her. And enough to kickstart the next step in her project.

The ads went online later that day. So many people had trouble interpreting books, analyzing them… while she could do so quickly, effortlessly, with sensitivity and academic rigor. It made her happy, and she wanted to share that happiness, to teach others to see the wonderful world of words the way she did. Besides, she needed a job. Tutoring sounded just perfect.

Of course, her plan included a couple more steps. Steps that required certain paperwork. She had been lucky in that the gods of bureaucracy had chosen to answer her requests speedily, and had scheduled the big day for less than a week since she had requested it. She smiled, pondering if ever paperwork had felt so good for anyone else.

Two days later, she walked out of the big, gray building. She was beaming, holding the small piece of plastic. The picture on it was terrible, as such pictures inevitably were. She didn’t care. She looked at it again and again, and every time a surge of energy burst from her chest and made her laugh in sheer joy. Terrible, overexposed, harshly lit photo or not, it was a photo of her. There could be no doubt about it. Surrounded by all the official seals and symbols, made official by the hologram that guarded against forgery, validated by all the boring, subtle aspects of properly-acquired government I.D. Her. And the ink, black, impossible to erase, proclaiming that she had always known to be true.

“Hayley”, it said in the space allotted for the citizen’s name.

VIII

The huge man looked at the I.D., then at Hayley, then back at the I.D. She couldn’t help but smile. She had never been carded before. She understood the man’s confusion, given the date of birth on the card and the way she looked. Of all the changes, her apparent youth had been the most surprising one. Sure, her skin had become smoother, softer, more sensitive. Her once imposing frame had become petite, slender. She had grown breasts, a source of endless fascination for herself and others, just the right size to fit her body without looking artificial. She had a shapely butt and a vagina. That last one she couldn’t remember getting, couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had happened. It just felt… like it had always been there, even if she knew that wasn’t the case. Just like the way she spoke, her thoughts, her dreams. They had slowly made themselves apparent, washing away what had been a false self in a slowly rising tide. Where the past ended and she had truly begun, she couldn’t say. She didn’t much care either. She was in the world now, and she intended to make up for lost time. On this particular night, by celebrating her first batch of students.

She knew clubs weren’t her thing, but… better to make sure. Besides, what was life if not there to be experienced fully?

One minute inside and she knew she was in the wrong place. Or at least not a place that felt… hers. But she did have to admit one thing: she looked amazing. She was proud of that. It had taken a lot of work! Choosing clothes, seeing how they fit, trying out different styles, practicing with endless tutorials to get her hair and makeup just right… in a way the looks of the people around her were invasive, yes, but also… validating. After years of feeling invisible behind the wheel of a truck, she felt seen, physical, real. Sure, she didn’t intend to make clubbing part of her life, but for one night… The books and coffee could wait. Even the new friends she had made at her advanced Literature courses could wait. For one night, she would just… let go.

Hayley closed her eyes and let the music vibrate inside her. She let her body feel light, her hands go in the air, her feet do as they pleased… She let herself fly.

Many saw her that night. They couldn’t know the effort, the pain, the silent suffering that had come before that moment. The dull, heavy years behind her were invisible and growing less and less substantial, leaving not a hint for anyone to observe. They didn’t see the full picture, and yet what they did see was, in the end, what truly mattered.

They saw a woman dancing with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. They saw a beautiful girl letting loose, not caring about the weight of the world, twirling and enjoying herself under the shifting, colored lights. They saw someone utterly comfortable with herself, with her place, her body, her life. They saw sensuality and joy, euphoria and childish abandon. The Universe clicking into place.

They saw, quite simply, happiness.

#writing #fiction #short story #fantasy #writers on tumblr

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kim-ruzek · 3 months

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Valentine's day

Summary: “That’s it.” Kim announced to Roman as soon as they got back into the squad car. Her head hit the back of her seat with a gentle thud, her neck aching. “I officially hate Valentine’s day.” Sean Roman can be a good partner, sometimes. He can also be a really infuriating one. Unfortunately, today, he chose to be an infuriating one. “Not even married and already out of the honeymoon period, huh?” He snarked and maybe, maybe, he was just trying to be funny, lighten up her mood but if so, he really failed to read the room. It's Valentine's day, Kim is engaged, and yet she couldn't be more unhappy and Adam isn't as clueless as she thinks. Word count: 2.1k Read on ao3

It was the fifth domestic dispute Kim had to break up that did it.

It had been building all day. From the fact that even before this day started she was bone tired, having worked almost non-stop for a few days due to a lack of variable officers for the shifts, to Intelligence also being so busy that between her shift and their case, she had barely gotten to even have a glimpse at Adam, which was really hit home this morning, when she woke up in bed alone, his side cold and finally to her partner talking all day about his ‘ultra romantic’ plans with a girl he had been only seeing for what feels like five minutes.

But the final straw was this fifth (fifth!) domestic dispute which, according to both people involved, merely started because of the number of roses the guy got his girl—a completely and utterly ridiculous reason to chuck the man’s xbox out of the window, if you asked her and, she hopes, literally anyone else.

She’d have also hoped that the guy would also realise it was ridiculous, and she thought so depending the neighbours called them about the way the pair was yelling at each other, but as soon as Kim had informed them that the girlfriend did property damage and she can be arrested for that, the boyfriend had the audacity to be upset with her.

That, probably, was the actual final straw, if Kim was honest to herself.

“That’s it.” Kim announced to Roman as soon as they got back into the squad car. Her head hit the back of her seat with a gentle thud, her neck aching. “I officially hate Valentine’s day.”

Sean Roman can be a good partner, sometimes. He can also be a really infuriating one.

Unfortunately, today, he chose to be an infuriating one.

“Not even married and already out of the honeymoon period, huh?” He snarked and maybe, maybe, he was just trying to be funny, lighten up her mood but if so, he really failed to read the room. Kim glowered at him warningly.

“I take it that Ruzek doesn’t have any plans for the two of you then?” Roman failed to take the warning.

“That’s so not the point. Did you not just witness the same stupid idiocy that I did? This holiday makes everyone go crazy.” Kim sat up straighter, staring at her partner incredulously. Infuriatingly, Roman just laughed at her in response.

“No plans then. No wonder you’ve been in a bad mood all day. And this is an easy day, just a day filled with easy jobs, that’s it. If you had plans, you’d be able to see that and appreciate this day. Everyone knows the only women who bitch on this day is those without a date. Or in your case, a fiance who’s true love is his work instead.” Kim wondered if she could get away with murder. Maybe if she pretended that her and Roman was having an affair, she might be able say it was an act of passion? After all, it is the day of love.

“It’s not Adam’s fault Intelligence has a big case.” Kim, instead, chose to bite back at her partner. Something she regretted as soon as the words left her mouth as she realised that she basically confirmed what Roman thought; that she and her fiance have no plans, and it’s really upset her.

“I don’t know. If he really loved you…” Roman trailed off, but his words still cut deep. Before their work got busy they did have tentative plans to go out, but with everything getting so busy, they never got chance to finish making the plans, so Kim understood, but waking up alone, just reminded her that this was not how she imagined being engaged.

Work can’t be helped, but Kim couldn’t help but wonder if she should read more into Adam’s actions, or lack thereof. After all, he’s barely texted her these past few days and has been radio silent all day—not even responding to her text.

“Oh, don’t be so moody. It’s not his fault,” Roman then said, seeing her frown. Kim was surprised that he was actually agreeing with her but then he continued talking and those hopes were dashed.

“After all, you’re fiance number three. Not especially special, right?”

Yeah, if Kim thought she could get away with it, she might have actually killed him. Some partner, picking at her wound that’s only started to heal.

By the end of her shift, Kim was beyond bone tired and beyond done with the whole holiday. Valentine’s day had always been one of her favourite, even on the days she didn’t have a boyfriend for it. She was the person who, in high school, would get chocolates for her best friends—not that her high school boyfriend particularly liked her doing so. But this might as well sealed in her forever hatred of the day.

It was not how she imagined her first valentine’s day as an engaged woman—she would’ve thought only, but with the way the wedding planning was going, it’s shaping up to look like she’ll spend a couple of years engaged.

The journey home only served to remind her, over and over, just how tired she was, Kim had struggled to keep her focus on the road and already, she was dreading her shift the next day. And Adam would get in late again which meant she was going to bed, alone, again, and she really can’t sleep well without him.

Opening up the front door was a struggle, or at least Kim thought it was being. She struggled to get the key in the door, her hands not feeling like they were very strongly wrapped around the metal, but when she finally managed to insert it, she found that the door was already unlocked.

That was a surprise. Adam must’ve gotten off at a decent time, she thought. Or maybe he’s just stopping by to shower before heading back in, a part of her mind whispered traitorously at her. He’s done that before.

Those thoughts, however, was quickly squashed and instead replaced with confusion as soon as she opened the door. The lights were off, only the lamps on and candles lighting the room.

Candles?

That was the first thing that confused Kim. The next was the trail of rose petals leading into the apartment. She put down her bag, taking off her coat and just leaving it by the door, wasting no time following the trail.

She still felt confused, having expected to come home to the apartment exactly how she left it in the morning, but as she went further into the apartment, it was slowly replaced with a nervous sort of anticipation. Her mind was trying, hard, not to think too ahead, not to theorise of what was going on, but it couldn’t stop her body from ignoring what she was trying not to put into words.

The petals led her into the bedroom, and Kim thought that was where the trail would end, but it didn’t. The bedroom was similarly lit up like the apartment, but the trail continued to lead into the bathroom.

There, Adam was. He was leaning up against the sink, a soft smile on his face—there was some traces of smugness in it, but Kim didn’t mind. The bath had been drawn, all bubbled up with scented candles nearby.

“Adam,” Kim said, looking between him and the work he had done, the first, genuine smile she had pulled in ages breaking out on her face.

“Happy Valentine’s day, darlin’,” He greeted her, before leaning forward to give her a kiss. It was a small one, simple, short, but perfect. Kim restrained herself from deepening it, even though he was oh so kissable in that moment, because she still had things to say—and it’s really hard to talk when you’re kissing and when she kisses him, she really prefers to stay on task.

“What’s all this?” Kim said, stepping toward him as he leant back, getting into his space. Something he was all too willing for her to do, if the way he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her tighter to him was any indication.

“What does it look like? I’m spoiling my very, very hard-working fiancee,” Adam responded, lifting up her head with one hand so that could puncture every word with a kiss on a different part of her face.

“You’re not the only one with a hard working fiance. I thought you’d still be at work.” Kim told him while snaking her arms around him, relishing in feeling his warmth against her.

“We’re engaged, you’re more important than work.” Adam shrugged, and maybe it is just that simple, and maybe she should’ve just left it at that, but she just couldn’t, not entirely.

“Hm. You didn’t reply to my text.” Feeling him, having him in her arms and her in his, seeing him be the romantic doofus she loves, it washes away all the irritability she was feeling all day, took away the her Adam withdrawal but it doesn’t take away all the hurt she felt.

To Adam’s credit, he did look a little shamed. “I know, darlin’. I was trying to finish up everything I had to do at work so that I could guarantee Voight would let me go home on time. I mean, I cleared it with him—well, Al—but you know the man. And by the time I realised you had messaged me, it was getting to the time to clock out so I thought… I’m sorry.”

That mollified Kim a little bit more.

“Is that why you left so early today?” She didn’t think she would be bringing up that, not wanting to sound so desperate when she knows, she knows, how demanding their work can be, but with what he had just said, she felt emboldened.

“Yeah. You’ve been working so much I didn’t want to wake you before your alarm. Plus you looked very adorable, I couldn’t even think about disturbing you.” At that, Adam kissed her again, briefly on the lips, then on her jaw, before kissing her neck. Kim decided to let go of the hurt, he’s not perfect but he tried and she loves him so damn much.

“Now, enough chatting. You’ve got a bath to soak in, before it gets cold. I didn’t time it this well just for you to distract me.” Adam pulled back, and Kim couldn’t help but pout at the sudden lack of contact.

“I don’t want the bath, I want you.” She pouted, only to have Adam shake his head.

“Later, darlin’. C’mon, let me spoil you.” Adam was undeterred. It was sweet, if not a bit frustrating, and when he started to help her undress, Kim knew it wasn’t for sexy time reasons.

“Adam,” Kim whined. “Look, I appreciate all this, I do, but we’ve barely seen each other recently and we might not get another evening like this, so please. Can we have sex? I’ve missed you and I need you—and if it’s between a bath or you, I choose you.”

Kim’s body ached, her over-worked muscles would’ve probably appreciated the soak, but Kim’s need for Adam, for just to rejoice in having physical contact with the love of her life, that was what she really wanted and their time was so precious. And sex with Adam, while it could be quite the workout, also always made her feel so boneless and relaxed afterwards, which her muscles would’ve also appreciated.

“Kim. You don’t have to choose. No, look—so I was going to tell you this after, but since you’re so bloody stubborn, here. We’ve both got the day off tomorrow, so if you want, we can spend the whole day in bed. But right now, you need to relax.”

Kim frowned. “No we don’t?”

“Yes, we do. I’ve sorted it, don’t worry. I’ll tell you more later, I promise, but can you just please, please, just let me look after you. Shut off that beautiful mind of yours, okay, baby,” Adam stroked back some of her hair he had released from her ponytail and it was just a simple action but it just hit home what was happening: here, she had the man she loves, her fiance with her, time to relax and just be with him, everything she’s wanted for days, everything she spent all day moping about… and she was trying to ruin it, ruin this wonderful surprise Adam had prepared for her.

So she did what he asked, and she just let herself be.

And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate Valentine’s day after all.

#burzek #chicago pd #kim burgess #adam ruzek #ree.fics #ree.writing #kim burgess x adam ruzek #chicago pd fanfiction

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twisted-writing · 1 year

Text

Diasmonia & fem!reader

---------------------------------

For Anonymous

Who asked: Hello! Could I get headcanons about how Diasomnia would react to a female student who seems intimidating (looks goth and loves bats, gargoyles, snakes . . . basically anything most people are scared of) but she actually has a really kind personality.

Note: I had a lot of fun writing this one! Especially Lilia’s part

——————————————————————————————————————

POV: First Person

Characters: Malleus, Lilia, Silver, Sebek, Female!reader who is goth

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Malleus

•To say that Malleus was surprised that his gargoyle club received a new member would have been the understatement of the year.

•Especially since the new member was you, the new girl who everyone was talking about.

•They always gossiped about how intimidating you were, how your glare could turn a person to stone, and how disinterested you seem to be with the things everyone else seemed to be interested in.

•And he couldn’t help but ask why you had chosen his club to be a part of instead of any of the other clubs.

•”Why not? Gargoyles are so fascinating. It’s a shame that people don’t want to learn about them.” Had been your reply.

•And Malleus was glad that he finally found a kind and kindred spirit who shared his interest.

-------------------

Lilia

•”Oh my.” You giggled softly at the bat who was on your shoulder, it didn’t want to part from you after you had saved it. “I guess this is a thank you for earlier.”

•It seemed to be clinging to you, and you certainly didn’t mind. You always had a soft spot for animals, especially bats.

•”I’ll have to find out who your owner is, so I can take you back to them.” The bat seemed to sulk at that. “I know I know, but if they don’t mind, they could let you come and see me.”

•”I wouldn’t mind at all~” a familiar voice from above you called out. Glancing up, you saw the Vice housewarden for Diasmonia, Lilia Vanrouge with an amused expression. “I’ve never seen my bats cling to anyone. Most people find them unnerving.”

•”I have a fondness for animals, especially bats.” You admitted. “And not everyone understood that.”

•”Well, you’ve found someone who shares your interest.”

•That made you smile a bit.

-----------------------

Silver

•When you were paired up with Silver for an assignment for Crewel’s class which involved crafting an original elixir, he didn’t know what to make of you.

•The new girl who turned Night Raven College upside down.

•Who wore gothic style clothing and had no interest in what everyone else was doing.

•He was kind of scared of you, tbh. Especially with the glare you would give someone if they annoyed you.

•That changed though, happened on the day that the both of you had presented your project, an original elixir, which when used could alleviate a person’s fatigue for a certain period of time, and at the end of the presentation, you told Silver he could keep it and use it.

•To say that he was surprised would be an understatement.

•”You want me to have it?”

•”Yes.”

•”Why?”

•”Why not?”

•”You don’t need it?”

•What was this, a hundred questions or something?

•”Not really. I don’t want it to go to waste. You’ll probably get more use out of it than me.”

•”…I see. Thank you.”

•”Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re welcome.”

•And if you smiled whenever you saw Silver who seemed a little bit more awake, that was nobody's business except yours.

------------------

Sebek

•Sebek was not spying. He wasn’t!

•He was just..observing!

•The scene he was observing in question?

•It was of you, comforting a student, a first year,most likely, after a confrontation of some sort.

•He watched as you pulled something out of the pocket of your leather jacket and handed it to them and they seemed to be objecting but you must have been adamant so they accepted it as if the object was a rare treasure.

•The smile you gave them was gone when your gaze met his, over their head.

•Well, this was going to be something.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland self insert #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland & reader #reader imagine #reader insert #female reader #female reader insert #diasmonia #diasmonia x reader #diasmonia & reader #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #silver twisted wonderland #goth!reader

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002yb · 1 year

Note

I absolutely adore your DickJay fics, scenarios, and thoughts! They're so fun. I am curious, though. What are your headcanons on the other Bats reaction/opinions on their relationship? What members are supportive? Do any of them disapprove?

Oh, anon. The way my thoughts scattered every which way with this hahaha. We've got a little bit of everything here; vibes separated by bullet points. ٩(๑ơలơ)۶♡

Bruce

Simultaneously overprotective and aggressively supportive; wars with himself over how his dear boy is defiling his darling baby boy and like, he doesn't know how he feels about it. On the one hand, fuck Dick. On the other, there's no one that Bruce trusts more with Jason. So. Both earnest and begrudging acceptance.

'Don't get weird about it,' Jason says. Only Bruce gets weird about it anyway. Just so intense that it's embarrassing. Fuck forbid Bruce remembers his own anniversaries, but he'll send reminder texts to them both and send them congratulatory flowers or champagne the day of. Just weirdly involved despite keeping to the fringes.

Forever oblivious. Doesn't matter what precarious situation he catches dickjay in, it never registers. 'World's greatest detective' title revoked.

Pragmatic. Uncaring so long as it doesn't impact work. Seemingly indifferent, but would capitalize on what relationship can mean for his mission. Would probably try to use Dick to manipulate Jason.

Not supportive. No blessings given. Unfortunately this sort of situation feels more like Bruce holding onto grievances with Jason and not trusting him to not corrupt Dick's morals (though like, lbr; Dick doing a lot of corruption/defilement in his own right lol).

Tim

Accepting, supportive, but also very done with these two morons because dickjay harass him with their shenanigans (intentional and not); so tired.

The above, but Tim is sort of into it (freaky freaky (*°∀°)=3)

Pragmatic. Would play their feelings for each other to his favor. Not usually in a negative way, but not above it. Generally indifferent to the feels, just sees the utility in it.

Damian

Protective of Dick (but supportive)

Protective of Jason (begrudgingly supportive after a period of failed attempts to sabotage Dick hahaha; just a whole jealousy thing because Jason is Damian's and Dick is infringing on what isn't his and Damian's patience is short and his tolerance at the end of its rope so help him Grayson, Damian will fuck him up if he fucks Jason - sorry, fucks up Jason in any way).

Protective of both and at a standstill because of it (still supportive, but too many shovel talks too little time).

Oblivious. Just oblivious.

The above would be fun in a fic where father dearest, world's greatest detective, is also oblivious lol. It runs in the family.

Devastated, but bears the heartache well (unrequited crush on Jason)

Have I made it apparent that I really like Damian crushing on Jason? Because I do. Weird place to ask but if anyone has a fic rec with this premise (bottom!Jason if anything veers that way lol) then like, yes please??

Adamant supporter because it's like his second dad/mom are hooking up. Dick and Jason are the only people worthy of each other in Damian's eye, so it works. This Damian is having a good time, given Bruce won't make an honest woman out of Talia (alternatively, Talia isn't making an honest man out of Bruce either so lol)

Cass

Supportive, no doubt or question to it

Teasing (specifically of Jason hahahah she can fluster him so easy; she sees why Dick enjoys it).

Alfred

Supportive. Content. Pleased.

Concerned, given both boys are dear to him and both are moderate disasters. He doesn't want any heartbreaks. ):

Exasperation because he finds them all over the manor, without fail.

=======

Thank you so much, by the way!! It makes me all sorts of happy that you enjoy my stories and the little informal things I put out there. (´⌣`ʃƪ)♥ Thank you for the engagement, too! This was a lot of fun. Have a lovely weekend, anon~ ♥♥♥

#jaydick #dickjay

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raraeavesmoriendi · 2 months

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I just finished last night and I have some questions for people who have read mike bockoven’s fantasticland -

[for those who have not:

- take a climate change-charged hurricane that’s the worst noaa has seen in recent memory and the first to hit daytona beach since 1960

- throw it at a Not-Disney-World Florida theme park with major national nostalgia, where a bunch of the Not-Disney College Program kids and some adult staff have opted to get paid extra to stay inside the park through the storm to prevent looting

- watch as people trapped within the park for more than a month - still with plenty of food and water, mind you - lose their minds, fragment into factions, and begin going full battle royale/lord of the flies on each other

- tell the whole thing testimonial style with different witnesses interviewed each chapter, a la World War Z, with some insanely unreliable narrators to boot

if that sounds like your kind of horror novel, give it a go. it’s not perfect (especially when they call the factions ‘tribes,’ which. yikes.) but I tore through it in like, two days.]

okay, questions below, spoilers for the novel:

1. …is the pirate who comforted the little boy who was evacuating, in interview three with the kansas city dad, Brock Hockley? am I reading too much into that?

like. I don’t remember that we ever get a description of him, so I don’t know about the “weird beard/mustache thing” the dad describes, but just. the emphasis put on “I’d like to shake his hand. I might even give him a hug.” feels so purposeful. part of me wonders if that’s supposed to add some further hindsight horror to what happened in the park and then his prison interview. he says early that he found making little kids happy a fulfilling and rewarding part of his job as a character actor in the park, and we know other people found him charismatic enough to follow, not just because they were scared but bc he could have these moments of surface-level charm or rationality (the code, etc.)

idk, I just thought it felt a bit too one-off to read it as Just Some Guy. but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I could be wrong.

2. we never get any hint as to the identity of the warthog couple, right? I remember the FNG found their masks discarded outside the World Circus, they’re first mentioned in the book as hanging around/inside the circus, and the guy from the Dreamland Hotel interview talks about still getting postcards from them whenever he moves (scariest part of the whole book for me ngl), so we can assume they were walked out with the rest of the survivors. I just wasn’t sure if there was anything else to do with them that I missed.

I’m still thinking about the fact that they turned the Dreamland lobby into a torture theater. like… who was that for? just for them, or did they have an audience? probably not, right? since they weren’t affiliated with anyone? but still. also, who were they taking there, just people they could pick off???

hmm. I wonder if any casualties thought to be faction-related were actually theirs.

3. in Travis’s interview (the guy with the body camera), do we know who the girl is that they found in the crawlspace of the employee locker room? the one whispering “Mommy” over and over? there were enough survivors left that she could be someone we didn’t encounter before, but I just thought I’d check that there wasn’t some other interview where someone describes a girl running off to hide. the Anonymous shopgirl mentioned one of the girls disappeared during the cannon raid on Pirate turf with the Deadpool soldiers before they turned on each other, so I wondered if it could be her.

4. Brock in his interview mentions that Sam Garlieck’s people were terrorizing others during the power outage in the storm shelter, specifically mentioning an instance of sexual assault. does anyone else corroborate this in their interview? Adam Jakes sounds skeptical, saying his research would have turned that up by now, but the only people we really hear from about that period are Sam himself (obviously an unreliable narrator, like, duh) and Stuart Dietz, who mentioned that Sam definitely killed Maria Flynn. did anyone see any other mentions of this anywhere, or did we just move straight out of the storm shelters and never talk about them again once we get to the park? is this just Brock being an unreliable narrator himself to justify how things went down? (but then why would he need to be, when Bryce definitely died?? although he himself says that wasn’t as big a motivator as people writing about him want it to be, so maybe that’s moot)

5. not really a question just an observation: Stuart Dietz, the maintenance guy/Mole Man, is the only person to get two interviews in the entire novel. Not Sam, not Jill, not Brock. I don’t know, I just find that really interesting why he was selected to come back twice. I know part of it is to describe the botched demolition, but I’m also wondering what effect it has on the novel that the only person we hear from multiple times is an older dude from one of the pointedly non-aggressive factions.

6. in looking through posts already in the tag, I don’t quite follow some readers’ comments that there was an attempt at a “cell phones bad!!” message here. I feel like every time it’s come up, it’s been shown by Adam Jakes (author stand-in) to be minimizing what really happened and looking for an easy scapegoat. I don’t think that was part of the intended story at all, I think it’s just been stated over and over as people using an excuse to not think themselves capable of similar violence. just wanted to put that out there.

anyway. one of my favorite things about novels with multi-witness perspectives is finding threads that leave off in one person’s story and pick up in another, so I’m going through my digital copy and highlighting all the places two different interviews tie together (Austin’s fate, the guy who botched branding Adrienne as part of his Pirate initiation, etc.)

if anyone else has noticed anything interesting, I’m all ears 👀

#fantasticland #mike bockoven #horror novels #it’s been a while that I’ve been so taken by a book that I stop to write a post about it #especially when I have housekeeping chores looming over my shoulder #glenn guignol is my favorite to no one’s surprise #his name was a delightful reference and the character delivered on that #if I had to do the v thing the novel calls out and over-identify with a faction it would be the Freaks #bc I feel like I’ve had to build myself up to be scarier than I was to be left alone at various times when I was younger #so that would be my strategy too v likely #although then I would have to grapple with if it only spread further panic and hysteria so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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tibby · 1 year

Note

will u tell us more ab jigsquad adam immediately post bathroom please :~)

oh you're in luck i was talking about it with claire earlier today.

adam's survival in jigsquad was never part of anyone's plan, not originally. amanda makes the impulse decision to save him because she realises she can't bare to leave him to die so horribly when he doesn't deserve that fate, and because she knows it will secure lawrence's loyalty. mark goes along with it because he wants to anger john and dim amanda in his eyes (cringe! world's worst fridge shaped man agrees to save some greasy twink as part of his elaborate jigsaw legacy longcon but ends up remembering he has a heart instead.) adam gets dumped on lawrence's bed in the makeshift jigsaw warehouse hospital, half dead, and lawrence agrees to sign his life away if adam lives.

and adam does.

so adam wakes up in the warehouse hospital, and things are...bad. his arm fucking hurts and he doesn't know where he is but his instincts are telling him that it's dangerous, and it doesn't help that hoffman is on "keep an eye on adam" duty, so he's greeted by the sight of the world's most off putting man eating cold ravioli out of a can. he's not entirely convinced he's alive, and wonders if he's in hell or purgatory or some fucked up heaven, or just hallucinating back in that bathroom. he gets a few moments of happiness once he realises lawrence is with him, that he’s alive and they’re together even if they’re apparently still playing some twisted fucking game. but then lawrence admits the truth of the situation, that adam was saved so lawrence would become john’s apprentice, and adam really doesn’t take that revelation well. he freaks out, and they end up having to sedate him, and that sort of becomes the routine for a week.

because he is just. so scared. they won’t let him leave because they’re not sure if he’ll go to authorities and also he needs time to recuperate, but being in the warehouse and under the eye of john makes it hard for him to start his mental healing process. and because he keeps trying to escape or swing at them and fucking up his arm in the process so they have to keep him restrained, which isn’t good for adam given that the last time he was restrained he almost died in a decrepit bathroom. they’re sedating him constantly for his own well-being but he doesn’t see it that way, especially with john and amanda lurking around. hard to start your recovery process when the people who kidnapped and tortured you are always around.

they don’t really want to keep drugging him, if only because their sedative supply isn’t exactly never ending (mark’s perspective), but it’s better that he’s drugged and loose and somewhat calm then lucid and scared and angry. he can still be pretty mean when he's drugged, and since lawrence is really the only one adam can be around for extended periods of time, lawrence gets the brunt of the insults and harsh ramblings. says stuff like you should have left me to die instead, and lawrence isn’t sure if adam even remembers any of the shit he says and he’s too scared to ask, but it all fucking haunts him anyway.

so adam doesn't do well at all, not for a long time. not in the warehouse and not when he and lawrence are finally allowed back out into the real world. by the time they're unceremoniously dumped at the hospital almost a month after being kidnapped, adam knows he’s not going to tell. if only out of fear and a loyalty to lawrence. but when the hospital staff tell them that the police want to ask you a few questions, and mark walks in…well. that fucks with adam too. he can’t even be honest when asked do you remember anything after losing consciousness in that bathroom?, because the person asking it has the same empty eyes that greeted him in the warehouse, the same hands that adam saw building torture devices. and adam isn’t sure if he’ll ever be safe again.

his own apartment doesn't even feel like a haven, because that's where he got kidnapped he can never feel confident that he’s alone. he checks rooms and cupboards again and again, spending hours every night to make sure that nobody is hiding somewhere, ready to attack at any moment. he can’t handle being in there in the dark. he has a panic attack the first time he tries to be in his bathroom/darkroom with the door closed, the photos and the bathtub reminding him of who he is and what he’s done and where he’s been. the horrible shit that happened to him and why he deserved it. he throws his camera against the wall on one of his first nights back, unable to think about the photos he took with the flash. he never ate or slept or took care of himself much to begin with, but he just ends up spending most of his days crouching against the wall, shaking with fear and his baseball bat beside him. if he lets his guard down for even a moment then he’ll end up back in that shithole. sometimes lawrence will come by and adam will feel safe again, but then he’ll remember: lawrence is one of them now. and maybe he’s not safe anywhere anymore.

#ask #bestjoycestan #sawposting #jigsquad #adam faulkner stanheight

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kkcauseway · 4 months

Text

Upgrade To Grandpa

Summary: Sarah survives that fateful day and so she and Joel are happy in Jackson surrounded by family. She has been feeling off for a little while and so goes to get checked, its there she finds she's pregnant. Aged 22 and having recently lost her boyfriend she needs her family around to support her and they do just that. Content and warnings: Tw-depictions of childbirth, brief mention of sickness. So much fluff, Caring!Joel, Parent!Joel, Joel being the best dad imaginable. Word count: 4.4K Authors note: Okay so I was so excited the entire time I was writing this! Like it honestly makes me happy writing about Grandpa Joel. I really really hope you enjoy this. 🩷

After missing her period for three months in a row, firstly expecting it’s due to stress and then grief, Sarah finds herself at Jackson’s doctor with Maria in tow for support. It’s there she finds out that she’s pregnant, she cries for a long time having just lost her boyfriend; killed in an ambush a few weeks prior. She’s definitely happy about it to an extent, but what sort of life is this child going to have, Jackson’s safe, probably the safest place on earth but anything could happen. That thought is always in the back of her mind, even though she berates herself for ever thinking it. However, having a piece of Sam with her forever in her child is somewhat a blessing. Is 22 too young to have a baby, especially alone? Her dad, did it? Her mind’s constantly jumping with questions, fears, even regrets. How is she going to cope with all this?

After having a long talk with Maria, once she’s calmed down from the initial shock of news, she decides on telling her dad that night. ‘Just bite the bullet and get it over with’ Maria encourages; she knows Sarah doesn’t need the extra stress that keeping a secret like this would entail. And it’s not like anyone was going to be mad she’s an adult, but she’s still scared of disappointing her dad.

“Daddy you’re gonna be so mad at me…” is how the conversation begins. And it ends with ‘Baby I’ll always support you; nothing would ever make me turn my back on you, ever, I love you forever, that will never change, I’m happy s’long as you’re happy.’ And she’s happy, -well since the initial shock of the fact she’s growing another life inside of her blew over that is. He gives her a long hug at the end of their chat.

Her dad, Tommy and Maria have been there for her all the way through her pregnancy. Anyone would think they’re more excited than she is. Tommy and Joel especially dote over her and the bump, and as soon as she started showing she wasn’t ‘allowed’ to do anything. They’re always adamant on her resting, and them doing the jobs she needs to do for her. Does she listen hell no! It’s boring being sat around all day; she may not have been going out on patrols, but there’s enough to do around town to keep her occupied. It’s only when she’s near full term that she agrees to ‘light duties only’ if she refuses rest.

It’s a cool December’s afternoon, she’s at the stables with Tommy helping him to brush the horses. She’s been feeling off since the night before, so Joel demanded ‘no lifting and no excessive exercise’ if she refused to stay home, which she did. She’s feeling a little off, not incapable of any and all activity, and so brushing the horses under the supervision of her Uncle it is. She loves them, and they help her to feel at ease; nobody could be mad at her for that.

They’re down to the last four mares when Sarah feels some pressure below and something of a small gush. Did her water just break? When she feels a second small rush of liquid accompanied by a spasm in her back, she’s sure.

It’s starting.

“Erm Uncle Tommy” Sarah breaks the comfortable silence between them as she puts the brush down on the nearest surface she can find. Holding the underside of her belly with her free hand.

“What is it, Babygirl?” he looks up to her over the horse he’s brushing.

“I think… I’m pretty sure my water just broke”.

“Ha ha good one”

“No Uncle Tommy I’m serious, I definitely felt something, and I know for sure I didn’t pee myself”.

Tommy throws his brush down and races over to her. He automatically goes into panic mode on seeing the wet patch of her trousers. Sarah actually has to calm him down before they can go about doing anything about the current situation.

“Tommy it’s okay it’s just my waters, I’m okay it’s not like the baby is just going fall out we have so much time. First babies take forever we read all about this. Let’s just put these horses away and then we’ll walk back home, okay?”

“Are you sure? Cus we can just go back now. Fuck the horses.”

“Tommy I’m okay, promise”. She laughs.

Once the horses are tied back up- Sarah isn’t allowed to help, she’s told ‘to sit her ass down and look pretty’ whilst her Uncle rushes to finish the current task- they get ready for the walk home.

“Right Babygirl, let’s get you home.” He says walking back over to her. He holds his hands out to her, and she takes them gladly, pulling herself up. Tommy zips her coat all the way up before linking arms with his niece, they then begin the slow walk back to the house. Snow is falling, it’s a pretty sentimental moment.

“How you feeling Sar?” he quizzes softly.

“Uncle Tommy I’m okay”.

“Are you sure?” his words catch in his throat slightly.

“Are you just gonna keep asking me?” she asks with a soft chuckle.

“Heck yeah I am!”

“You’re funny” she pats Tommy’s arm as she laughs.

“Ah, I know” he laughs with her “So, y’think them pains and the way y’been feelin’ was to do with labour then?”

“Early labour probably, I dunno, but I’m glad I stayed active this morning, couldn’t stand the idea of being stuck in bed.”

“Bed is what y’needed girl”.

“God how did I just KNOW that’s what you were gonna say, stop sounding so much like dad you’re supposed to be the cool one”. She pulls a face at him.

“Listen I am the cool one, but you’re in labour I cannot be cool right now, it’s taking everything in me not to run around like a fuckin’ headless chicken to ask anyone and everyone I can see for help.”

“Jeez you drama queen. Never thought a baby would turn you into such a wimp”.

“I ain’t no wimp”

“Mmm you sure about that?”

“Super sure.” But he couldn’t sound less sure if he tried.

They continue on the walk, snow crunching underfoot when a wave of pain overcomes Sarah, she tries to walk through it, but Tommy can feel the tightening of her arm on his and he sees the way her expression begins to change. He makes her stop then and turns to look at her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“You’re okay Baby just breathe, okay?”

She nods as she exhales looking him in the eye.

“Good then”.

Sarah takes deep breaths in and out. The pain not being too bad to manage yet. But she knows what’s to come and that’s what panics her. She can’t handle this. She’s not ready for this. Her breathing begins to speed up, but not because of the pain.

“Uncle Tommy I can’t do this, I’m not ready, I’m not ready to be a mom. I’m not ready yet.” She looks down in teary eyed shame to her bump as she gasps.

“Babygirl” he grabs her chin softly, raising it so she has to look him in the eye “you’re so ready, so so ready, we’ve been preparing for so long now. And you’re so excited for this so don’t go getting scared now. You’re going to meet your baby! After all of this time waitin’ an plannin’, you’re finally gonna meet them! It’s excitin’!”

Tommy manages to bring a smile to her face, and with the pain completely gone they can continue walking.

They eventually make it to the front door; Tommy knocks rather frantically which of course is gonna scare the shit out of Joel.

“There’s no need to knock like that, he’s gonna think someone’s died.” She scoffs as they turn their heads to look at one another.

“Meh, play with his head a lil, give him some excitement.” He jests cocking his brow at her.

“Listen Dad’s gonna have more than enough excitement, anger and literally any other emotion you can think of thrown at him till this baby is born he don’t need you starting him off.”

“Sorry mommmm” he utters in exaggeration rolling his eyes.

“Shut up” she says hitting his side with a smile.

Joel doesn’t answer, but the lights on inside prove he’s home, meaning he’s probably too busy focusing on his latest woodwork project in the back and can’t hear them or he’s sat on the back porch with his guitar in hand. Something like that, curse his bad ear.

“Let’s see if we can get in round the back gate, your dad’s so deaf I swear”.

“Hey.” She hits him softly. “The man has been shot at and shot more guns than literally anyone else I know at least he has reason.”

“Nah he’s just an old fart.”

“Well, that still makes you the old farts younger brother, the younger fart”.

“Aha you’re sooo funny.” He remarks sarcastically.

“Runs in the genes so thanks I know I am.” She smiles, before shivering slightly. Tommy notices.

“Right, come on sweet girl let’s get you in the warm. S’freezing out here.” Tommy sighs.

He guides her round to the back gate of the house.

“Joel you here?” He shouts, letting go of Sarah to open the gate leading to the back of the house.

Once open they make their way through. Because Joel’s home as to be expected the back door is unlocked. Yet Joel is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m gonna get some water.” Sarah says solemnly, waddling to the sink once inside.

“Sure, I’m gonna go upstairs n’find your dad, he must be there.”

“Okay. Just, don’t panic him please.”

“Promise.” It’s said with sincerity.

Tommy makes his way upstairs and finds Joel exactly where he expects to, whittling away in his woodworking room. Vinyl player playing softly next to him. Completely in his element. Tommy knocks on the open door as he walks into the room.

“Oh, hey Tommy, you guys are back early, everything okay?” he says as he swivels around on his chair.

“You promise me you’ll stay calm?”

“Tommy what is it? Where’s Sarah, she okay?” he puts his latest creation down, before crossing his arms.

“Promise me” he puts his hand up in front of him, and that’s when Joel realises how serious it is.

“Okay fine, I promise”. He sits up straighter.

“Sarah’s water broke, I think she’s real scared, she’s trying to act brave, but she’s scared”.

“Shit Tommy her water, you’re sure?” he jumps out of his chair then.

“She seems pretty certain. It’s time.”

“Shit.” It’s a whisper as he rakes his hands through his hair.

“We’ve gotta stay calm, I can tell how scared she is”.

“You’re askin an awful lot of me there Tommy, she’s my little girl.” He laughs nervously.

“I know, but that’s also gonna go in your favour, you always know how to calm her down, so just be yourself, you can let the panic out when it’s all over”.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He looks behind Tommy to the landing then, knowing his daughter is in labour down those stairs. Panic evident on his face.

“Joel she’s gonna be great. She’s got”- he’s interrupted by a glass breaking.

They’re both quick to run down the stairs then.

“Sarah! You okay?!” Joel shouts as he scrambles his way into the kitchen. Almost tripping over where Sarah has left her shoes, right in the damn middle of the floor like usual, he takes a mental note to tell her off about that later.

They find her gripping onto the worktop hard; Joel runs straight to her rubbing her back.

“You’re okay Babygirl just breathe; you’re doing so good”.

“It hurts Daddy” she cries.

“I know Baby but you’re doing so good. You just remember to breathe through it like we read about, in an out, good, in for four out for six. Calm it right down that’s it.”

Sarah lets out a shuddering breath as the pain begins to deplete. “I am not looking forward to how this is gonna carry on” she says as she stands up straighter.

“Don’t move Baby” Tommy says softly, “you’ll cut yourself on the glass, just stay still and let me clean this up”.

“I’m sorry I broke it”.

“Joel, sort your daughter out, fuckin’ apologisin’ when she’s got nothin’ to apologise for”. He shakes his head scoffing as he bends down dustpan and brush in hand to clean up the glass.

🌷🌷🌷🌷

After about an hour Jacksons midwife Alison makes her way over to their house to check in, it seems the beginnings of labour are really taking their time. It’s like they always say first babies take their sweet time. Sarah’s warned that it’s ‘gonna be a long one’.

The next few hours are spent with them finding any way they can to entertain Sarah. Games of cards, they manage to get an old DVD player working and watch a classic, heck her and Maria even bake some cookies. Well, more they TRY to bake cookies, its Mainly Maria with the slightest input from Sarah when she’s not in agony. Anything to distract her from what’s to come.

The fresh batch of cookies make everyone’s mouths water. And Sarah eats four before any of the rest of them have finished one. Usually they’d tell her it’s too much too fast, that she’ll make herself sick, but anything to keep her strength up. She needs all the energy she can get even if that is helped by a sugar rush induced by freshly baked cookies.

When the pains begin to get worse, but it’s obvious it’s still going to be a long time until baby comes, they use exercise to try to move it along.

Tommy and Maria stay behind to help set the room up ready for when Sarah is ready to give birth, and Joel and Sarah decide on a walk. Joel helps to wrap her up warm, layers and layers so she will be comfortable. They take it slow walking the dark snowy streets of Jackson, lit up by strings of lights, stopping with each pain that hits.

“Oh Babygirl, what are we gonna do with you. Forever scarin’ the shit outa me.” He laughs shaking his head.

“Oh, I apologise that the birth of your grandchild is such an inconvenience.” She laughs back.

“Hey, no you take that back, I’m only jokin’.” He’s serious.

“Jeez dad so am I, God you really are on edge.”

“You bet your fucking ass I am. Takes me right back to the day you were born.”

She sighs solemnly “Was it awful?”

“Mmm, well it was awful watchin’ your mom in pain especially when there wasn’t much that I could do to help. I felt more like a nuisance than anything. But when it was all over, I’d never been so happy.”

“You and me against the world huh Daddy?”

“Babygirl, when I first held you in my arms I couldn’t stop crying, shit I was just a kid myself, I didn’t know what I was doin’, but from that day onwards I vowed to always be the best version of myself for you.”

“You’ve always been so amazing.” She smiles at him cuddling into his arm much harder.

“You had so much hair, God I’ll never forget thinkin’ I’ve never seen a baby with so much hair, and your tiny little hands and feet, you just really were perfection. The definition of perfection was born that day. My beautiful Babygirl. I knew from that day on that everything was going to be okay, I vowed to work so hard to give you the best life I could, and I know we weren’t rich, and obviously your momma decided she couldn’t cope, but I always tried to keep you happy, this end of the world bullshit makes me feel like I failed but-”

“No stop- I was always the happiest child; you don’t have to worry about failin’ me. I’ve always been so happy because of you. Even with the end of the world and everythin’ else we stayed together; we grew together. Honestly dad if I’m half the parent to this one than you’ve been for me, they’ll never want for anything!” she rubs her stomach as she briefly looks down to her bump.

“Oh, Baby you have no idea how happy it makes me feel hearin’ that.” He says his voice breaking as he evidently tries to hold back tears.

“Dad don’t cry cus you’ll make me cry.” They look to each other briefly and Sarah being so up and down hormonally, breaks at the sight of her teary-eyed father, which then sets him off too. They stop in the middle of the street to embrace. Before they both burst out laughing tears still streaming.

“Whew, emotions really are high tonight.” Joel laughs.

Sarah goes to reply but is sidetracked by a really bad pain. Instead, she leans into her dads shoulder as she groans through it. She’s grown to be very vocal as times dragged on, which Joel knows means she’s progressing as she should, but he hates everything about having to watch her go through it. He reaches to try to push on the bottom of her back, whispering to her to keep breathing and reminding her of how good she’s doing.

She eventually lets out a long breath standing straight. “I just want them to come out now. I can’t take much more of this” She groans sadly.

“I know Babygirl I know; they’re coming I promise. First babies always take their time, but it’s almost over. N’hey listen Sam would be so proud of you, you know that? He was a good kid. Y’know I never liked him at first, but he really grew on me, he was a good man to you, and I respect him so much for that. He’s gonna be lookin’ down on you so so proud” he whispers.

“I miss him, I wish he was here to help me.” She begins softly crying again.

“Shhh, I know you’re scared; I know you feel unprepared trust me I felt the same, and in a way you’re never really ready, you just learn as you do. You’ll be an expert in no time Babygirl. You’re a natural anyways, always have been with your dolls when you were younger, and you’re amazing when you help out in the nursery. Everyone says so. So, there’s none of this ‘I can’t do this’ ‘I’m not ready’ because you’re so ready. Plus, this walkin’ will really help trust me and when we get back Alison already said she’ll check you to see how far along you are, as it’s been a while, I’m sure it won’t be too much longer now.”

“I really hope so, I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“You got this Baby.” He kisses the top of her head before they link arms again and carry on walking back to the house.

🌷🌷🌷🌷

It’s another two hours till she gets to the point where she can push. They set the living room up for her ready. And she opts on squatting before the sofa as she finds that is the most comfortable position. Alison is on the floor watching between her legs waiting for the signs she can begin to push; ready to catch. Maria next to her in awe rubbing at Sarah’s lower back so that Tommy and Joel can sit on the sofa either side of her, both holding one of her hands. Unable to see anything more than her face which is just as she wants it to be.

“I feel sick.” She whimpers when in position just having got through another contraction.

“Theres a bin here ready just in case.” Maria reassures.

“A lot of ladies feel sick or even throw up when they’re in labour, it’s okay don’t be worried; all perfectly normal.” Alison states rubbing a hand up one of her legs.

“Okay. Can I have some more water?” she asks to no one in particular.

“Here Baby.” Joel is quick to grab a glass of water from the side. Sarah sits back on her heels releasing both hands she holding to take a large swig from the glass.

“Ugh.” She grimaces handing the glass back to her dad. “That’s made me feel worse, I thought it might help.” She moans.

“I’m sure it has helped baby y’bodys just goin’ through so much right now s’finding it hard, you’re fine Baby trust me.” He strokes her cheek.

She nods then briefly smiling at her dad before moaning as another pain begins. She quickly grabs both hand back and sways in her squatting position.

When she gets the all clear to push, she gives it absolutely everything she’s got, desperate for it all to be over now so she can finally meet her baby.

“Come on Babygirl!” Joel shouts.

“You got this!” Tommy shouts.

Alison counts to ten and at ten Sarah lets out a large gasp.

When She’s able to get her breath back enough to speak before the next contraction she adds “No one tell me what it is, okay? I wana see for myself when they’re in my arms.”

“That’s fine sweetie we can do that no problem, you can be the one to announce it okay?” Alison utters.

The next pain then takes over and Sarah is right back into the pushing mindset, going completely silent as she pushes and pushes. Finally releasing her breath with a gasp.

“One more and the head will be out Sarah come on, baby is nearly here.”

“Come on one more Baby and the worst is over.” Joel reassures.

“Promise?” she looks pleadingly to her dad.

“Yeah Baby, heads the worst part, the baby will be out before you know it after that.”

“Oh thank God.”

“Push with all you’ve got on this next pain! They’re almost here!” Alison enthuses.

When the next contraction begins Sarah screams the house down as she pushes, squeezing her dad and uncle’s hands to death. She feels the head pop out and Alison requests that she pants.

“Can I feel?” Sarah requests frantically between pants.

“Sure!” Alison enthuses.

She releases her dad’s hand to feel her baby’s head.

“Is that hair?” she questions.

“Yup, they’ve got a hell of a lot of it!” Alison exclaims.

“That’s just like you Baby.” Joel utters causing Sarah to look into his eyes. She smiles at him, and he smiles back. “Now gimme your hand back so you’re ready to push again.”

“No Daddy, my hands gross now.”

“I don’t care come on I’m supposed to be supportin’ you.”

She seems hesitant but when the next contraction gets into full swing, she throws her hand back at her dad and pushes. She takes a quick breath in and is advised to push again. With that final push the baby leaves her body, and she relaxes instantly.

“Good well-done Sarah! They’re gorgeous!” she exclaims as she begins wiping the screaming babies face with a clean towel. “Let’s get this cord cut so you can sit back nice and covered up whilst we wait for the afterbirth, okay? Then everyone can meet this beautiful baby.” Now the cord is white she cuts it, and Sarah carefully moves so her back is against the sofa and Maria carefully picks up the swaddled baby and places them in her arms. Alison places a sheet over her knees so she can focus on getting the afterbirth out without anyone having to see.

“Well, what have we got?” Joel whispers leaning over his daughters shoulder to coo at his beautiful grandchild screaming softly swaddled in the towel.

Sarah opens up the towel to investigate letting out a wet chuckle at her findings. “It’s a girl!” she announces excitedly.

“A girl!” Joel replies wetly, unable to stop the tears that begin to flow.

Joel is besotted.

“God she’s so beautiful Baby. Looks so much like you did too.”

“I can’t believe I did it.”

“You did amazin’.” Tommy praises. “S’like a trip down memory lane aint it, God she could be your twin Sarah aint that right big brother?”

“Absolutely.” Joel agrees.

She turns her gaze to her uncle. Then she looks to her dad. “I’m sorry if I killed your hands.”

“Nah none of that.” Tommy quicky shuts her down.

“She’s so beautiful.” Joel coos bringing a finger to stroke over his now silent and content granddaughters hand.

“You wana hold her?” Sarah whispers questioning her dad not taking her eyes off her daughter.

“Please.”

“Maria can you-?” she begins but Maria is already moving “I’m one step ahead of you” she laughs. Helping to remove the baby from Sarah’s arms to give over to Joel.

“God she’s so gorgeous” Maria coos before handing her over to Joel.

He sits back with his granddaughter cradled in his large arms.

“Oh.” He whispers quietly when her big brown eyes open to study him. “Hello beautiful girl, God just look at you. Aren’t you just the most beautiful little thing. And little do you know just how lucky you are having Sarah as your momma? You’re so lucky babygirl, just like we are all lucky to have been blessed w’you.” He shushes her when she makes a little grunt noise, but she settles quickly. “Sarah m’so proud of you she is the most beautiful little thing.”

“She’s got a name y’know dad” she jests.

“She does, well what’s that then babygirl, can’t keep calling her ‘she’ now, can we?”

“Bea. It means ‘she who brings happiness’, I read it in a book and knew instantly that that was gonna be her name if she was a girl.” Sarah utters, with a big smile plastered on her face as she looks back at her dad cradling her tiny daughter.

“Bea huh?” he chuckles wetly. “Well aint that just the most beautiful name, for the most beautiful girl.” She coos in response. Making everybody laugh. He adds “Yeah y’know it don’t you Bea Miller, you’re gorgeous just like your mama.”

“This is the best day of my life.” He adds a short while later, “’part from the day you were born of course babygirl.” He strokes Sarah’s head, and she laughs lightly before he looks at his granddaughter again.

He’s besotted, so full of love he could burst.

#joel miller #the last of us #tommy miller #pregnancy #maria the last of us #fluff #childbirth #sarah miller #family fluff #caring joel miller #upgrade to grandpa #pedro pascal character fanfic

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sapphire-weapon · 10 months

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I'm the anon that asked about the backstory before and I can't believe the mafia thing is in the main section if the wikia page like it is canon, but it's like, the only one in there. I knew it wasn't canon because I saw it mentioned before but people really act like it's some well established thing and not something from an ad. I guess it's only good for pictures at this point. x.x

real talk if I didn't have a full-time job, I'd try to be diligent about keeping the wiki clean. it's been eight years since the circumcision incident. it's time for old guard to come back -- especially RE old guard, since we have so, so many new members of the fandom.

but I just don't have the time, man -- and, probably, neither does anyone else. because we're all in our 30s and 40s now and just can't dedicate ourselves to that kind of stuff anymore.

and that just sucks. it sucks for you new folks so fucking bad. it's not fair to you, and you all deserve a better fandom experience.

all I can do is keep screaming into the tumblr void and keep hoping that I can start attracting eyeballs to this blog somehow.

I want you guys to be able to enjoy RE in a way that my generation never got a chance to. we were always arguing over canon back in the day, because so little of it was clear, and new shit was coming out all the time, and it was so hard to keep up.

RE isn't that series anymore. we get a new game every few years and maybe a CGI movie and that's it. it's so easy to keep track of the canon these days, and it really is such a fucking bummer that there's people in the fandom actively trying to make it harder for you.

it's a very easy formula these days to understand this canon:

numbered game entries are the most canon. numbered game entries will always have the final say. period.

spinoff games starring the recurring cast* (Revelations, Code Veronica, etc) are the second highest tier canon.

CGI movies starring the main cast are the third highest tier canon.

spinoff games not starring the main cast (Outbreak, Dead Aim, etc) are the fourth highest tier canon.

anything else should be ignored.

*spinoff games that have a story, that is. things like The Mercenaries 3D and RE:Verse clearly don't count and are there for fun gameplay purposes only.

in an instance where things on the same tier contradict each other, the most recent installment wins out.

so, Sherry's age in RE2 is 10 because RE6 said so -- even though OG RE2's manual had her age listed as 12. her age of 10 years was then also reaffirmed in RE2make. so she was 10.

and Gaiden's not canon, despite it starring Leon and Barry, because RE4, RE6, and Revelations 2 do not acknowledge it as such.

it is very easy to follow this canon if you follow that recipe. please don't let bad faith actors lead you astray.

and please send people over here, if you can. despite the fact that I spent like 16 hours today raging out over the whole Adam Benford thing, I will still always be open for questions if anyone isn't sure if a thing they heard about is actually a thing or not. I will always cite my sources and explain why a thing is or is not canon if I need to, and I will even provide screencaps if I can. the wiki will not do this. because the wiki is being written by assholes.

also don't forget that I have an essential canon list already typed up and ready to be handed out. please use it as a resource. please.

#resident evil #leon kennedy

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holocene-sims · 1 year

Text

next // previous

july 4, 2021 7:30 p.m. adam's house

[wyatt] i'm gonna ask again...

[grant] alright, well, let me put it this way. what i didn’t like was very, very specific to me. it was a me thing and you are totally different than me. we are different people and the time period won’t even remotely be the same for us, so things will have changed. so, the experience i had isn’t going to be the one you would have. it’s not worth talking about because it just doesn’t matter.

[wyatt] boo, that’s not an answer.

[grant] okay, yeah, i hated it. still, i would absolutely, like, with every fiber in my being and all of my heart encourage you to go play college hockey if you’re interested. and yes, at the school i went to, if you’re interested in that school in the future. it’s so far off from now that you shouldn’t worry about it but you know what your dreams are and you should follow them. don’t ever listen to anyone else. do what you want. you know yourself best.

[grant] the only thing i'd say–and this goes for literally everything in life–is that if you do something and think it’s going to be amazing and you find out it’s not, trust yourself enough to leave and change paths. don’t stay with something if you’re not having a good, healthy, or safe time.

[grant] now i'm really going to get off my soapbox. i'm not here to lecture you. boring! gross! i'm supposed to be the fun uncle.

[wyatt] safe? did you get arrested or something? my friend at school has a big brother in college and he's in jail for selling cocaine.

[ezra] HAHAHAHA!

[grant] uhh–

[grant] i don’t know what to say but, uhh, i have never been arrested.

[wyatt] so, you didn't get arrested like papa?

[grant] you know about uncle paddy going to jail?

[ezra] he has his mugshots in his car!

[grant] oh, i forgot about that.

[wyatt] wait, why did you call him–

[grant] uncle paddy?

[wyatt] he’s your dad.

[grant] oh, no, buddy, i'm about to destroy your whole worldview…

[ezra] hey, the dragon is here! geez, the head chopping thing took soooooo long.

[grant] yay, alduin time! RIP to the others, though.

[grant] but, um, buddy, he’s not my dad. and your dad isn’t my brother.

[wyatt] liar!

[grant] i didn’t know you didn’t know!

[wyatt] how’s he not your dad? you wear glasses like him! and you laugh like him!

[ezra] wait, what?

[grant] i guess you’re confused because he calls me his son? and, well, your dad and his siblings and i call each other by, like, sibling-y terminology.

[grant] my mom is your grandfather and aunt bridget’s older sister.

[ezra] no! great-grandma aoife and great-grandpa joseph don’t have another–

[grant] no, no, they do.

[ezra] you're lying! liar liar pants on fire!

[grant] i am telling the honest truth! and i'm sorry to surprise! i really thought you knew.

[ezra] well, uh, you can still be uncle grant because you’re cool. you fly planes and do cool stuff like that, and you’re nice and funny and good at video games.

[grant] aww, i still make the cut? i'm still good enough to be an uncle?

[wyatt] of course! but if you become less funner than uncle alex, then you’re gonna get fired from the uncle job.

[grant] at least i know the terms of the contract!

[grant] but damn, you don’t like alex?

[wyatt] he’s kind of annoying. and he and lilly have a crusty white dog. i'm scared of crusty white dogs. they look evil. they’re gonna eat my limbs in my sleep.

[grant] that’s very oddly specific.

[ezra] i'm scared of sporks.

[grant] sporks?

[ezra] and i don’t like ladders.

[grant] okay, but sporks?

[ezra] it’s a fork but uglier and stupider.

[grant] you know what? valid. you’re not wrong.

[wyatt] i hate clowns, too!

[grant] also valid.

[wyatt] you aren’t scared of anything?

[grant] lithium-ion battery fires.

[wyatt] what?

[ezra] that’s a lot of big words.

[grant] yeah, lithium-ion battery fires, especially on a plane, and people being mean to me. germs, too. can’t forget germs.

[wyatt] if i sneeze into an open hand, would it make you cry?

[grant] yeah, a little bit.

[grant] don’t make me summon the crusty white dogs.

[ezra] summon! summon! summon!

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 screenshots #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #this scene is for the lore lovers just fyi #holocene.docx #holocene.png #hlcn: grant #hlcn: ezra #hlcn: wyatt

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uppastthejelliclemoon · 10 months

Note

What pre-reconciliation Tugger and Munk’s dynamic like?

how do their run - ins with eachother go?

is old Deuteronomy aware?

What cat is the most desperate for them to makeup?

and anything else u wanna add on:0

BLESS LET’S TALK ABOUT THE ANGST

Before i get into it, Tugger and Munkustrap’s relationship pre-reconciliation, and how they reconcile is based around my own personal experiences with one of my siblings. While not as extreme, the emotions, the refusal to speak to each other, the struggle with opening up and recognizing that they’re both in the wrong is something i 100% experienced with my sibling. So this whole storyline within my cats canon is really emotional for me, so i have a lot of thoughts about it.

Pre-reconciliation, it’s mainly just tension. They both feel responsible for what happened with Macavity, and Munkustrap wants to reach out to his brother, but Tugger is very closed off and defensive.

Macavity said a lot of things that weren’t true in order to sway Tugger into preferring him as an older brother, mainly about how Munkustrap really only put up with him to make their father happy, and how Tugger just annoyed him, and how Tugger was the reason Grizabella left. During this period, Tugger’s still struggling to figure out what was true and what wasn’t, so he just pulled away. There’s also the additional aspect of Tugger resembling Macavity more than he does Munkustrap, and I’ve mentioned before that in the weeks following Macavity’s departure, there were whispers in the Junkyard about the possibility of Tugger following, because of how close they were. So Tugger just shut himself off from the rest of the Jellicles, really only ever speaking to Old Deuteronomy and spending time with his dad, and to Plato, who comes along soon after everything, but bonds closely with Tugger, and they become inseparable. Their pair grows into a quartet when Mistoffelees and Victoria arrive, and Tugger finds himself opening up more to them than anyone else, which in turn makes Munkustrap feel more than a little jealous that his brother feels safer around them.

The run-ins that they do have are just silent. Munkustrap tries to reach out to Tugger, but Tugger just sort of hunches in on himself and turns away. During that time, they’re both very much still trying to heal and fight against the things Macavity said and did, and they both definitely recognize that it’s affected their relationship as siblings, but they also realize that they can’t go back to the way things were. Their relationship is more of an acquaintance during that time, with Tugger only speaking to Munkustrap when they’re planning patrol schedules and the ball.

Old Deuteronomy is 100% aware, and it breaks his heart. Both of his sons go to him to talk, and he’s really the only cat that Tugger trusts. As much as they talk to him, and as much as he urges them to speak to each other, there’s only so much he can do. The last time he tried to have them both in his den at the same time, Tugger didn’t talk to him for a week, and Munkustrap didn’t come see him during that time. Old Deuteronomy recognized that he can talk to his sons all he wants, and tell them to talk to each other, but the decision is ultimately up to them. But he asks the Everlasting Cat every night to help his sons reconcile.

Besides Old Deuteronomy, Mistoffelees is one of the main cats who wants Tugger and Munkustrap to reconcile. He arrived in the Junkyard after everything happened, but he’s heard the stories, and seeing as he’s one of the only cats Tugger feels 100% comfortable around, he’s seen the pain Tugger’s in. He’s the one whose encouragement finally pushes Tugger to talk to Munkustrap.

Another pair of cats who are adamant about Tugger and Munkustrap reconciling are, of course, Jennyanydots and Skimbleshanks. They never in a million years blamed either brother for what happened with Macavity, so they’re two other adults who try to talk the brothers into reconciling. Jenny and Skimble are like another set of parents to the Deuteronomy brothers, seeing as Jenny stepped in as a maternal figure after Grizabella left, so they’re the ones who Munkustrap goes to before he and Tugger actually reconcile.

When they do finally sit down and talk, it’s probably a few months to a year before Demeter and Bombalurina come back. Tugger goes into Munkustrap’s den, and they sit together, and they talk for an entire day. There’s shouting, there’s a LOT of tears, and the conversation ends with both of them crying as they hug each other. They both go into Old Deuteronomy’s den at the end of the night, when the other Jellicles have gone to bed, and Old Deuteronomy is waiting for them, having heard the shouting, and he’s sitting there with tears on his face as his sons walk into his den together for the first time in years, and the boys just collapse into their dad’s arms, clinging to him like kittens.

They stay in Old Deuteronomy’s den the entirety of the following day as well, and they just talk. Old Deuteronomy explains how he’s still recovering from Grizabella and Macavity leaving, Tugger opens up more about what Macavity said, and Munkustrap whispers how he still thinks it’s his fault. There’s more tears, more hugs, and, near the end of the night, there’s laughter.

The next day, when Old Deuteronomy leaves his den smiling, his two sons following behind him, Tugger and Munkustrap teasing each other with easy-going grins and brotherly affection, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, the entire tribe can’t help but feel the joy radiating off of the trio. Jenny and Skimble definitely shed a few happy tears, and Tugger and Munkustrap’s reconciliation also happens to be the catalyst for Tugger and Mistoffelees’ relationship going from balancing on the edge between platonic and romantic into specifically romantic territory. (Munkustrap is absolutely the #1 supporter of their relationship, and he has a private conversation with Mistoffelees, expressing his gratitude for the help the magician gave Tugger when he wasn’t around. Much like Tugger and Victoria become incredibly close due to their relationships with Mistoffelees, Munkustrap and Mistoffelees become close friends as well!)

Tugger and Munkustrap definitely make up for as much lost time as possible, which leads into my reasoning for Tugger bursting into the Ball that we see in the show. He’s making up for all the missed moments of being an annoying younger brother, and as much as Munkustrap sighs and rolls his eyes, secretly he’s overjoyed that his brother feels comfortable enough with him to let down his walls.

When Demeter and Bombalurina return, there’s another massive shift in the tribe, and many of them are worried that Tugger and Munkustrap’s progress will disappear. However, if anything, they become even more clingy with each other, because Tugger is furiously defensive of his older brother, and Munkustrap’s the same, and Munkustrap absolutely refuses to let the old feelings for Demeter, no matter how important they are, impact the relationship he’s rebuilt with his brother.

But yeah, I just think they’d be so so inseparable and protective over each other after reconciling, and they’re trying so hard to make up for the time they lost together.

#cats the musical #rum tum tugger #munkustrap #old deuteronomy #mr mistoffelees #jennyanydots #skimbleshanks #demeter #bombalurina #macavity #deuteronomy brothers #DO NOT TAG AS TUGGER/STRAP

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