#also!! would it be helpful if i had an interest checker? would that make things less stressful for some of you? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cursedcola · 11 months

Text

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore(Here!), Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: May have overdone it. Also, I'm a bit rough with my french. It's been 2 years, go easy on me.

There is a word for this young man. A term that has always been a one-way thing in his past. A noun that he has experience being the target of, and not the one it is describing.

Whipped. Oh, dear heavens, Vil is whipped for you. The thought both entices him and sends a shiver of distaste down his spine. Why? Because, my dove, in recognizing that he is whipped he is also acknowledging that he is dependent. Reliant. No longer the boss a** queen who needs nobody other than himself. The man the world knows him to be but this schoolboy crush has progressed to borderline infatuation.

Let us do a little synopsis of this downfall. A summary, if you will. An exploration of this Schoenheit's thought process as his prospective future melded from being Twisted Wonderland's resident supernova, to a domestic fantasy that would make his past self vomit.

It all began with a little birdy falling into a nest of snakes. Lost, alone, scared, weak - they slowly melted the hearts of everyone they came in contact with. Vil watched from the sidelines in interest. Not enough to investigate because *why* would he place his time in the hands of prey. It would be an utter waste.

Albeit so...Vil recognizes potential when he sees it. Not unlike himself, they took the hand they were dealt and carved a path to the top. He could respect that ... until there was a collision that threatened his own plans. Suddenly their oddities were no longer amusing and instead a hindrance. Like rain. Nice at the start, but the muddy aftermath never pleases.

And muddy his life became indeed. He became the villain he always disliked. Wretched and old. Completed his self-fulfilling prophecy...and somehow lost it all, yet gained something new in such a short span of time. He was no hero in the story, had no life-changing epiphany, yet somehow it felt different. For a brief moment, he was the fairest of them all to that little birdy. Despite his venom and scales, he was the fairest.

It dawns him that they both are not as alike as he once thought. He was playing a game of chess against someone playing checkers.

The oddity turned hindrance now became an object of interest. He started to watch them again and to approach as well. He wanted to bloom the potential he saw in them. Letting it go to waste would be neglectful on his part, so he would shelter them during their time in this den.

Or so he told himself.

While they could never make it to his level...the little birdy was morphing into a beautiful dove right before his very eyes. All without his help or a need for change. He never felt so desperate to be needed by someone else.

The object of interest becomes an object of affection. He doesn't want to recommend new potions, fashion, workouts, skincare routines - he wants to do them with you. He wants to sit in a rosewater bath together and talk about the day. He wants to be chided for wearing a sleepmask, blocking your view of his eyes at night. He wants to go on a morning jog together and share breakfast. To have you on his arm as he walks the carpet at premiers - brighter than any other accessory his stylist could choose. He wants to kiss your pulse points and smell his perfume on your skin. He wants to share clothes and give the press something to gossip about. He wants to love this little birdy who has always been a dove.

And he gets this fantasy. He has it for years but there is always an underlying gnaw beneath his skin that it is going to end - which he is prepared for initially. He does not do anything half-effort and dating you is not taken lightly - but he is prepared until he does not want to be. Until the possibility of splitting up is unfathomable and he can't imagine not having all the little moments that now he has become so...

Reliant. Whipped.

He initially wants you to propose to him, and hints at it frequently. How glorious would he look dressed in white, no? Which do you like better, black forest cake or almond chip? Oh dear...these tulips would make such a lovely Boquete for a bride...

You are either too dense to understand his hints (unlikely, considering you have years of practice) or he needs to take initiative. Well, if it is a proposal you want then it is a proposal you will get.

He stages it under the guise that he needs a partner for a photoshoot. Specifically for a wedding magazine. You, thinking this is another one of his blatant hints, comply to his pleasure. He calls in a contact from one of the magazines he has modeled for before and asks if they would like an inclusive - never before seen- scoop. Aka. to photograph his proposal and feature it on their front cover. With his reputation, the offer is accepted readily and they agree to set up the shoot with whatever theme he wishes. He goes traditional - set in a gothic chapel that is decorated with red and purple floral adornments. The works for a proposal with a dark vintage twist.

That morning, he leaves before you to handle a separate modeling gig. With a kiss to your wrist, he is gone and off to make sure that everything is perfect for when you arrive later on. Photographers know him for his tenacity, but none have ever seen Vil so anal over small details. Every ribbon must be perfect, there must be both black AND white rose petals spread along the walkway. You must be photographed in rose-tinted lighting, so the camera should face towards the biggest piece of stained glass.

When you arrive, you are escorted to hair and makeup in a whirl. The scene is a blur and you're decked head to toe in white. Gothic lace as far as the eye can see...and when you are finally allowed to enter the chapel, Vil stands haloed by his arranged decorations - waiting for you to join him.

"Stunning, my dear. You look absolutely stunning. A sight I will have etched in my thoughts for many nights to come..." he takes your hand, and signals for the cameramen to get ready. They instruct you both to pose as a couple taking their vows. The camera clicks once, and then Vil gets down on one knee.

You think it's part of the act and that he is improvising. Well, until he pulls out a ring from his breast pocket. One that is a sharp contrast from the dark atmosphere and obviously not a prop.

"Alas, my patience runs dry. I can no longer wait for you..." he begins, and takes your hand in his. Another click echoes in the room, "with this ring, I make you mine. There will be no escape. No lies or uncertainties. I am already yours. I have been for many, many years. Will you finally join me in matrimony?"

{Black Opal. Staring into the gem puts any viewer in a trance. It sucks them in with bright swirls - hypnotizing. It is so beautiful with its intricate pattern, yet at a distance it appears solely black. We often narrow complex things down to one-note interpretations. Do with this information what you will}

Our man of mystery likes to keep things fresh. He loves the thrill of the chase. The anticipation. The adrenaline.

There is no better game of cat and mouse in life than romance. At every stage there are twists and turns that one can never predict. Each day brings new surprises and events! At least, that is what Rook believes a relationship should entail. No partnership should ever feel the lull of comfort...no-no. There must always be a little spice and sweetness around every corner to keep the relationship alive.

At your side, Rook does not doubt his beliefs for a second. You are like a magnet for attention and rightfully so. Out of all the people he finds interesting...you are the most tantalizing to observe. He finds himself following your every movement early on. Long before you began to enter his personal bubble, you were rare prey for the hunt. Otherworldly, full of secrets, attentive, attractive, enticing - he had his mark set so firm that he would have watched you even without Vil's order.

Nothing is missed under his fond scrutiny. Rook is the first to notice small things, like if you trimmed your hair or sewed new buttons on your blazer. He has your walking pace memorized to match when he is at your side. He knows your favorite meals in the dining hall, your habitual seat in the library, how to read your body language, what your favorite treats are and when you like to have them - his knowledge is so extensive that it's up to you if it is considered sweet or creepy. Rook's affections are often teetering the line with infatuation; however, he is not controlling or weird about it. He simply is a romantic who feels the need to know the ins and outs of the person he will give his heart to.

If that includes protecting you from ill-mannered heathens and appearing out of thin air to catch you if you trip? Well, best not question where he comes from. Just know that you have a second shadow. He will only become worse when his affections are returned. You may feel the need to set ground rules for how he can behave in public. Loud declarations of compliment and suggestive topics will not be reigned in otherwise. He is a lover and a fighter. Remember that.

There will come a day that Rook feels you are ready to marry him. Yes, specifically you. He was ready very early on, likely because pining for so long (while exciting) was a chase that gave him plenty of time to learn what he wants. Any time spent waiting was merely for your sake. Only when he notes your fondness towards the idea of marriage does he create a series of tests to ensure your desires. Things like leaving a wedding magazine on the counter to see your reaction, and taking you for a romantic boat ride that just so happens to be a hotspot for couples on their honeymoon. He also mentions the topic in his flirtations more often, to see if you'll respond in kind or shy away. He is a thorough man, if anything.

Oddly enough, he takes a reserved approach for proposing. He uses poetry, which is not unlike him considering how he loves to speak with flourishes. In his heart Rook would love to set up an elaborate event to propose. Something exciting, like a train mystery or a scavenger hunt. Yet some things do not need to be active to be thrilling. Marriage is a delicate act, so it is with a delicate hand that he pens a book of poetry over the course of nineteen days. On each day, he writes one poem to describe one reason he wants to marry you. The first letter in the title of each poem corresponds to a hidden message that you will have to decipher. He does not tell you either of these things.

He hands the book off to you with a cunning grin, and says that it is up to you to find the hidden meaning. If you can, then he will give you a 'special prize'. If you ask the occasion, he offers one of his closed-eye grins and claps his hands. 'Because why not?' He'll say, and it's enough to pacify because it is such a Rook way of thinking that you don't question it.

No matter how long it takes, he waits. He'll watch you analyze each poem and pout for an answer - one he refuses to give. It's all in the chase, after all. He can be patient. All good things come to those who wait.

One cold afternoon, he finds you curled up on the couch in your shared home. A blanket around your shoulders, a hot drink, and the book nestled in your lap. Nothing out of the usual...aside from the pen in your hand hovering over a notebook. Silent as a mouse, he hovers over your shoulder to take a peek and smirks at what has you so miffed.

"Ah...I take it you have words for me, mon coeur. Are they perhaps about a certain mystery?" You jump, and slam the notebook shut before turning around. His eyes crinkle in delight at the sight - his well waited prize. The flush of your cheeks suggest you solved the puzzle and the sweat on your brow shows that you know he knows. Rook rounds about the couch in an instant and crouches on his knees in front of you. He takes your notebook, opens it, and displays the words 'Will You Marry Me?' for you. "Is this your answer? Are you confident?" You nod, avoiding his eyes and he grabs your chin to face him. With a hum of approval, he tips off his hat to pull out a wooden box. In the box is a ring, and he effortlessly slips it onto your finger without asking permission. "Mon moitié...mon trésor. Je te chérirai. Je t'aimerai. Je ne te laisserai jamais partir. Avec cette bague, je suis à toi jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare…"

{A large pearl, nested between two emeralds, and a pure gold band. In Rook's eyes, the ring should compliment the wearer. It is the accent piece to your beauty. It should be comfortable, so you never have reason to remove it. In addition to this, it should also serve as a reminder that he is always looking for you. The pearl represents his untainted affection, and the two emeralds are his all-seeing eyes. He hopes this ring brings feelings of comfort and safety}

He is beauty, he is grace, he will punch you in the face - unless you're the object of his affections. Then you get a get out of jail free card. One use. Reinstated every time his heart skips a beat.

Our young lad is a bit of an unpredictable case when it comes to his emotions. Growing up in a small town like Harveston, there was no one his age to spend time with. NRC became his first exposure to people his age, and that made you his first love by default. He wasn't looking for it, didn't have any way to identify it, and frankly he disliked the emotions at first for various reasons. There is a lot to unpack here.

As everyone knows, Epel has a feminine appearance. The exact opposite of how he feels inside. The frilly clothes his dorm makes him wear do nothing to fix that - and now there is this tingling feeling in his chest that takes away his thought process? No. Just no. Not welcome at all. He needs his wits to make up for his unassuming appearance, and he ain't going to have some stranger twisting that about just because they're a bit attractive. Every apple tastes sweet until you try another kind - he says to himself.

He lets it fester for some time and actively avoids you. He sees the hurt in your eyes at his offput demeanor, but can't do much about it. It's your fault if you want to put yourself out there when everyone knows he's not the biggest talker.

Unfortunately...you stick around. Being in his academic year means that most of your classes align, and eventually your friend group does as well. There is no getting around you, and it doesn't take long for other people to connect the dots. Any chance at him getting a tougher reputation were ruined before they even began.

Eventually his resilience runs out and he gives in. Except now we have reason two - he has no chance with you. Zip. Nada. How Lovely.

Why the h*ll would ya go for this country bumpkin with the social skills of a rock? You'd be crazy to an' he ain't going to put himself out for heartbreak.

Now he's stuck humming love tunes and making carved apples of your face because he has years of pining built up with no outlet. It's pitiable, which makes him seethe because he can't do nothin' about it. Rook teased him once after finding Epel making yet another carving while laying in bed, and barely missed getting an apple to the head. The splattered remains of his fruit art on the wall spoke more than any threat could.

Point being, he is emotionally stunted and so he does not ever confess. Not until you do, that is. In that moment all class flew out of his body and he reverted to the socially challenged boy he was before enrolling at NRC. An extremely rare sight for anyone to see...he cringes thinking back on it. When you first said your feelings, he thought you were pulling a prank and got pissed. When he processed that you were serious, Epel lost control of himself and just blurted his thoughts out like a child.

Which is why his proposal is going to be different. It *has* to be different. This time, he'll be the one to ask you and he'll be prepared to avoid any mess ups. He refuses to be one-upped for such an important moment. This time you will be the flustered mess, and he will be the collected one.

To do this, he chooses to propose back in Harveston where he is most in his element. You'll both stay with his family on a weekend vacation in autumn, which meant there would be plenty of open land to arrange for something nice. Not to mention nice scenery from all the fallen leaves and orchards being in bloom. After a long talk with his family, he'd arrange to take you on a day tour of the land on horseback. Basically flaunt all of his farmboy knowledge for a confidence boost, and at the end of the night he'd light a campfire. With some warm cider, the noises of the night, and calm warmth of the hearth - he'd propose. It was almost perfect. *Almost*.

A simple ring feels too disconnected for Epel, and anything extravagant is too expensive considering the family farm's financial state. So, he decides to make it extra special by carving the ring box himself. Wood isn't that much different than apples...

On the first night he decides to work on some finishing touches after you've gone to sleep, and sits on the front porch to widdle away at the design. Like he does when carving apples, he hums a tune into the night as he focuses. Thoughts of the next day making him a bit louder and more excitable than usual - which, unfortunately wakes you up.

The front door opens and he pays it no heed, thinking it's one of his parents coming out for some fresh air. When you plop down next to him and look at the box - well, to say the earth shattered would be an understatement.

"Why aren't you sleepin'?!" His heart hammers and he tries to hide the box under one of his legs. The reaction being too late, since you already got a good look at it. You quirk an eyebrow at his haste, and a mischievous glint twists in your eye. Without warning, you fight him to see what's behind his back. 'What'cha got there Epel~ Why you so embarased huhu~' you tease and his ears flush a deep red. "It's nothin'! Mind your own buisness" 'Well clearly it's something' "I said it's not for you! Get your hands off me," 'Oh? I thought you liked my hands on you~ It looked like a ring box though. Who're you giving a ring to, huh?' "Dangit maybe you'd find out if ya stopped ruining your own surprises!" In his last attempt to avoid your teasing, he tries to yank away but drops the box. It hits the porch with a thud and the lid pops open to show an engagement ring. "...ah sh*t," he swears and hastily crouches to pick it up. You don't tear your eyes away from it, neither from the carvings or how your name is etched in perfect cursive on the lid. Still on his knee, Epel checks the ring for damage before noticing your shocked stupor. He looks at the box again, and signs through his nose before turning towards you. "I had a whole day planned, y'hear me?! For once, I wanted ta be the one surprisin' you...but seein' how you're all tight lipped now, guess I did a good, huh? So? What'dya say? Will you marry me?"

{Crafted using the common hardwood from one of the many apple trees on the family farm. On the outside, there is a carving of a tree taking roots to symbolize the start of a new life. Definitely not because he was surrounded by trees while working on it, and decided to use them for inspiration. When the box is open, the top lid has your names carved along with the date. Well, the date of his *intended* proposal. That will need to be altered. Inside is a simple rose-gold band with small diamonds. Despite the ring's simplicity, he hopes his efforts to make you feel special are not in vain}

NOTE: Translation for Rook: "I will cherish you. I will love you. I'll never let you go. With this ring, I'm yours till death do us part"

2K notes · View notes

chubbygirlfics · 9 months

Text

Request from: @jasontoddsthickbabe

Peter Parker x chubby reader

Jason Todd x chubby reader

(Separate)

Summary: what it’s like being their chubby s/o

A/n: Tysm for requesting! I enjoyed writing this and sorry if it’s not good I haven’t wrote in a long time so I’m a bit rusty

Jason Todd-

Jason has no preference in girls he dates but he’s not one to complain if his partner has more to love.

You guys met threw a mutual friend, after you two got introduced you quickly swapped numbers.

He thought you were very beautiful and breathtaking, so getting your number was a huge score

And you thought he was very attractive and didn’t think he would be interested but luckily he very much was

You guys talked for a few weeks over the phone before going on a date

He took you to a very nice restaurant and after that date u two started dating

He’s a very sweet boyfriend, treats you how u deserve to be treated and loves your body

The thing with Jason is that he’s kinda closed off for a while, he won’t fully open up to you until you’ve been together for a good minute

Which you understand but it has caused some fights.

He always makes sure he’s on time for your dates

Helps you pick out outfits that flatter your chubby body type

He didn’t get with you for your body or your beauty, but it definitely is a plus

He loves your thighs and tummy, every-time you cuddle he lays his head on either one

Comforts you anytime your feeling bad about yourself and completely shuts down any bad thoughts you have ab yourself

Don’t call yourself something mean infront of him bc he will call you dumb for saying whatever u said

Overall he loves you no matter what and is so happy that you chose him

Peter Parker-

He’s such a sweet boyfriend!

The first time you met, you had him stuttering and blushing so hard

Just imagine the joy he felt when he fount out you were into him

Your first date with him was a picnic date, he set it up all by himself, even had one of those checkered blankets laid down

Didn’t take long after that for you to completely fall for him as him with you.

He’s not really used to the boyfriend and girlfriend thing so it’s kinda awkward in the beginning

It takes him a couple of weeks to finally work up the courage to hold your hand

But after you get past the awkward stages, he constantly has a hand on you whether it’s hold your hand, his hand in your thigh, waist, or lower back.

He helps you with your homework whenever you get stuck on a question, thank god he’s smart

He loves you body to and like Jason loves cuddles and almost always has his head on your tummy or thighs but he also likes resting his head on your chest

Whenever u get insecure best believe he’s writing down everything that’s perfect about you and why you should never feel that way

Movie dates, picnic dates, small restaurants in queens dates, or even at home on the couch.

He loves you so much

#x plus size reader #x chubby reader #x reader #bxbyjinx #request #peter parker x reader #peter parker x plus size reader #peter Parker #jason todd #jason todd x plus size reader #Jason Todd x chubby reader

190 notes · View notes

neonghostlights · 1 year

Text

A/N: I'm taking a break I swear.

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Wordcount: 4k

Warnings: Nosebleed, brief mention of church, Angst, Readers kind of mean to Eddie but she is starting to go really downhill and it's just gonna get worse from here. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

Series Masterlist

I am no longer doing a tag list for this series.

Part Seven

Saturday, September 27th, 1986

The afternoon sun beat down on the top of your head. The sweet tea you were sipping on kept you from getting too overheated. The weather would start to change soon. It was nice to enjoy some warmth before the fall.

Eddie had the upper half of his body under the hood of your car. The hem of his black t-shirt rising slightly to show the pale expanse of his lower back. You could catch a sliver of the band of his boxers peeking out.

Had you shut yourself away from the outside world so much that a pair of blue checkered boxes were scandalizing? If he kept this up you were going to have to start fanning yourself like the women in those old films to keep yourself from swooning.

The past hour of Eddie working had been silent, making you wonder if he even remembered you were out there with him.

When he showed up to your house he didn’t mention anything about your episode the other day. His eyes traced your body up and down, like he was making sure nothing was out of place. Like he was afraid asking if you were okay would set you off. When he saw everything still in place, he asked you to sit with him while he worked.

Eddie peeked over his shoulder at you, catching your shameful staring. The sides of his mouth twitched at the sight.

You diverted your eyes quickly, pretending to be entranced by the hunk of oiled metal in his hand.

“So,” you started off timidly, hoping he wouldn’t bring up your gawking. “What’s left for the car?”

Eddie turned around to face you fully at this, arms crossed over his chest.

“Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?” He asked smugly.

“No,” you said firmly. “Just wondering. I feel bad for not asking questions about what you’re doing. I also need to know how much I’m going to owe you for all this.” You waved your hand at your car.

“Well, not sure on the price yet. I’ll let you know when I know. There’s a few things I’m waiting for to arrive at the shop that I ordered. Plus, I’m trying to get my hands on this really important part that might take a while to get here. They’re really hard to find,” he announced with a shrug.

“Really? What part is that?” You sat up with your spine straight in your chair, suddenly more interested than you had been. Whatever this was, it sounded expensive. If it came down to it, asking your mom for money wouldn’t be the worst decision you could make. Putting up with her lectures would just be something you’d have to deal with.

“It’s this….thing. It holds the whole car together. Yours is super rusted so it’s a wonder the whole car hasn’t fallen apart while you’ve been driving.”

“Oh, god. That sounds bad.” You pressed a hand to your forehead, anxiety causing a headache to start. You dropped your hand, focusing on the weeds that grew through the crack in the pavement below your feet.

Eddie must have noticed the grimace on your face. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll get you back on the road before you know it. Do you trust me?”

You bit your chapped lips. Did you trust him? Despite his reputation, you had no reason not to trust him. He had shown you nothing but kindness since he started coming around.

You slowly nodded your head.

A wide, beautiful smile spread across his face. That traitorous organ in your chest stuttered at the sight. You worried that you might have to start pounding at your own chest to get it back into a normal rhythm.

“Good,” he sighed like it was a relief, still standing and staring at you.

You shifted your hips in your chair, feeling your skin buzz under his stare. You decided to stand and walk over to the radio propped up on the roof of your car. The feeling of his eyes on you as you sauntered over made you feel alive.

Probably more alive than you had felt in a while.

You loved it.

You fiddled with the station, flipping from a static filled metal station to a country one. Daring a glance at Eddie, you noticed the dramatic nose scrunch he made at the music change.

His face made you laugh. “Got any good tapes with you?” You asked.

“Hm…I think I definitely have a few that you would like in there.” He gestured towards the parked van.

You moved towards his van, a hand placed on the handle, but his body suddenly blocked you from opening the door. You looked up at him confused, wondering if maybe you had overstepped by trying to go into his car.

“Sorry. I just remembered it’s really messy in there. I’ll look around for something, okay?” His voice was urgent. You fought the urge to peek through the window.

“Okay,” you agreed, stepping back and walking back to the radio to allow him some privacy. You could hear him shuffling and cursing under his breath as he dug around in search of whatever tape he had in mind.

It was funny to think maybe it was you causing him to be so flustered.

He held the tape up in his hand triumphantly as he walked back towards you. His body crowding yours as he reached onto the roof of the car to put the tape in. He didn’t move away, he just watched your face as you heard The Smith’s start to play.

You raised a curious eyebrow at him as you let out a little laugh. “Didn’t take you as a Smith’s fan,” you stated.

“They’ve got some alright stuff. Are you a fan?”

“I love them.” You couldn’t help the smile, so wide it was aching your cheeks.

The feeling in the air shifted as ’How Soon Is Now?’ played. His eyes flicked from yours down to your mouth then up to your eyes again.

When had he gotten so close to you?

And how could you get him even closer?

For some reason, the decreasing space between the two of you felt so right, like it was clearing the fog from your head. You wanted to hold onto this brief moment of clarity. A moment in time where your head didn’t ache, your nose didn’t bleed, and the nightmares couldn’t get you. Being here with him felt safe, like Eddie was a protective cocoon that wrapped you up and shielded you from all of the bad things.

“Good,” he muttered, reaching to run his thumb gently across your cheek. So softly like he was afraid you might shatter if he put an ounce of pressure behind his touch.

You wanted to shatter in his hands though. Only because it felt like when you were nothing but pieces, only he would be able to put you back together again.

His eyes searched through yours, a silent question that you didn’t know the answer to. But you wished you did.

His face was closer now, his thumb still on your cheek. You tilted your chin up to reach him as he tilted his head and brought it down towards yours. Your eyes flutter shut, scared that if you keep them open your mind will find a way to ruin this one ounce of happiness.

And just before you could feel his lips on yours, he pulled away.

You snap your eyes open to find him standing a foot away now, hands tucked tightly into the pockets of his jeans.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t- I should probably go now,” he blabbered.

You couldn’t help but feel hurt. He was turning you down. It was a harsh slap to the ego to see him so regretful over almost kissing you.

“Right,” you agreed, keeping your voice light like your feelings weren’t hurt.

His face fell as he took you in. His pity was definitely not what you wanted right now.

He didn’t look at you as he packed up his things, shoving them into the back of the van.

You made it up the porch steps when you heard your name called behind you.

Eddie stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at you.

“Do you want to go out sometime? With me?” He asked, sheepishly. You could see the way he fidgeted with the rings he had put back on his fingers.

“Like on a date?” You prayed you didn’t sound as giddy as you felt on the inside.

“Yes. A date,” he nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay. I think I’d like that,” you agreed, trying to keep your cool. You could already imagine the happy dance you would do once you shut the door.

“Cool! Okay. Let me get my schedule from work for this week and I’ll let you know when.” That smile was back now. His dimples in full force.

You said your goodbyes, both of you hardly containing your happiness. Once inside, you did your little happy shimmy behind the door.

You peaked out the curtain and laughed when you saw Eddie doing his own happy dance on the way to his van.

Sunday, September 28th, 1986

“I’m going to be late for church,” your mother fretted as she maneuvered down the roads of Hawkins.

You kept your head turned away from her, focusing on the window. It was weird driving by sites where the earthquake still left its proof in the earth. It seemed like some people in town lived their everyday life pretending it didn’t happen, like half of the town didn’t fall into the deep chasms in the ground.

Like there weren't men in suits and people in hazmat gear still hanging around.

Your mom was one of the people who pretended it didn’t happen. She found ways to distract herself, mostly by throwing a fit over something new everyday.

She didn’t go to church every Sunday, but on the Sundays that she did, she made sure everyone knew about it.

And if she happened to be late, she would make sure everyone knew it was because of you.

Her attitude has gotten worse lately. Everything you said was met with a snarky remark. You missed the days where you felt like she worried because she loved you. Now it just felt like you were a burden.

You couldn’t wait for Eddie to be finished with your car so you could feel an ounce of freedom. You loved your mom, but if you had to go grocery shopping with her one more time you were going to lose it even more than you already had.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought of your favorite mechanic.

You didn’t tell your mom that Eddie was working on your car. As far as she knew, you were saving money and trying to get worked into the schedule of the very busy mechanic shops in town.

You chanced a glance at your mother, scared that somehow she can read your mind now and will start berating you for thinking about Eddie Munson.

‘The maniac devil-worshiping serial killer’ she once called him when she saw a picture of him in the newspaper.

You nodded along, agreeing with everything she said because you didn’t know him then. You hadn’t even looked at the picture in the newspaper, His name sparked didn’t spark interest in you like it did now.

You can remember another time, you were having a bad day, the headaches and nosebleeds were constant. It wasn’t long after you left the hospital and you were struggling with the fact that you couldn’t even remember your high school graduation.

You sat on the couch in your mothers living room hugging a throw pillow to your chest. This was before you moved out, watching the evening news with her and trying to act like you weren’t on a downward spiral. His face and name were on the news, discussing his charges being dropped.

Your mom gave you a long lecture that night on who he was, and why you should stay far away from him. Even going as far as saying that if you saw him in the same store as you, then leave.

Back then, you agreed. Willing to do anything to keep yourself safe and your mom happy.

Now you knew she didn’t know him like you did. She would take the gossip and things she heard around town as fact.

“Why would a video store be open on a Sunday anyways?” She asked, bringing you back to the present.

“I don’t know, mom,” you sighed, eyes never straying from the landscape. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Sometimes you felt like you reverted back to your moody teenage years.

The car pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center. “Shoot,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I’m supposed to be volunteering with some ladies for a food drive after church. I really can’t miss it…” She chewed on her lip as she stared at the front door of Family Video.

“Do you need me to get a ride? I can ask Robin,” you offered quickly. You would walk all the way home if it meant you could get the hell out of the car and let her go on about her day.

Your mom thought for a second, like she was pondering if that was allowed or not. You wanted to scream, tell her that you were an adult. Despite your issues, you could still make adult decisions.

“I suppose that’s okay,” she finally said.

You sighed and climbed out of the car.

Steve wasn’t at work today, leaving just you and Robin to man the store on your own.

It was probably the best day you had since you worked there.

“I forgot to ask,” you said as you picked up a stack of tapes that had just been returned. “Do you think you can give me a ride home? It’s not too far from town. I can give you some gas money too.”

“Oh, sorry. I don’t drive. Steve’s picking me up. I can ask him…” She trailed off awkwardly. The unspoken words hanging in the air. Steve probably wouldn’t give you a ride home. If he did, it would not be a fun car ride.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” You waved your hand in the air like it wasn’t a big deal. You wracked your brain for a moment before an idea dawned on you. “Actually, do you have Eddie’s number?”

Eddie agreed immediately when you asked him for a ride home.

He showed up 15 minutes before closing to pick you up. He waved enthusiastically through the store window when he noticed you staring.

All thoughts about being a burden for needing a ride disappeared when you caught sight of his joyous face.

Robin nudged you playfully when she noticed your bashful smile.

“Come on. Let’s finish up so you can go see him,” she said with a smile.

You rushed through closing, excited to get going. By the time you and Robin locked up for the night, Steve was standing next to Eddie’s van. Eddie leaned up against the passenger side door, a forgotten cigarette burning in his hand.

The conversation looked tense. Steve’s hands moved through the air while Eddie kept his mouth pressed in a thin line, his jaw tense.

Eddie lit up when he saw you approach. He tossed the cigarette to the side, stomping it out with his boot. He waved his hand in the air to try to clear the smoke before you got closer.

And they say chivalry is dead.

“You ready to go?” He asked, cutting Steve off mid sentence.

“Yep,” you chirped. “Hi, Steve,” you say politely.

He nodded his head at you as a greeting, not saying anything to you. You could see the way Eddie’s hands turned into fists for a moment as he glared at Steve before seeming to remember that you were standing right there.

He turned and opened the door for you to climb into the van. You could tell based on the crumbs and small pieces of trash on the floor that he had done his best to clean it up. A strong smelling air freshener hung from the rearview mirror.

When he jumped in the front seat he turned and smiled at you.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Thank you for picking me up. I’m really sorry for having to call you…”

“I told you I can give you rides!” He exclaimed. “It’s really no problem. I’m happy I get to see you again.”

There were those damn butterflies again. You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your traitorous smile.

Eddie pulled out of the parking lot. You noticed he was going slightly under the speed limit, surprising because he usually pulls into your driveway like a bat out of hell.

“Do you mind if I stop by the gas station real quick? I just wanted to run in and get a few snacks,” he explained.

“Yep! That’s fine,” you said. Even with him going under the speed limit the car ride was going by way too quickly. Before you knew it, you were pulling into the gas station.

Eddie hopped out of the van. “Do you want anything?” He asked.

You shook your head no.

“Okay, well, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a wink.

You watched as he crossed the parking lot. People loitering around the building eyed him suspiciously. Luckily, no one bothered him.

You looked around the van a bit, hoping to get an insight into Eddie. It wouldn’t hurt to snoop a little bit. You were positive if the roles were reversed he would definitely go through your things.

The cloth seats were surprisingly comfortable. You ran your finger over what looked like a cigarette burn that left a hole in the seat. You wondered who sat here before you to leave that permanent mark in his van.

You glanced back over at the gas station, seeing Eddie still roaming the aisles through the large windows.

Deciding the best place to snoop was the glovebox, you popped open the latch and started digging around inside.

Scraps of paper and some trash fell out first. You pushed some tapes aside, thinking that there would be nothing of interest until your eye caught onto pink cloth.

You reached your hand tentatively to grab it.

You held up the cloth to realize it was a pink scrunchy. You checked back to make sure Eddie wasn’t coming out of the store.

You were confused. Eddie wore black all of the time. He didn’t seem like the type to wear a pink scrunchie in his hair. But what did you know?

Setting the scrunchie in your lap, you reached your hand back into the glovebox to see what else you could find. Your hand made contact with smooth glass. You pulled it out to inspect it.

Your stomach dropped when you saw what it was.

Perfume.

Girl's perfume.

You shoved the perfume and scrunchie back where it belonged and slammed the latch shut.

Eddie has a girlfriend.

And if it’s not a girlfriend, then he has a girl in his car enough for her to keep her things in here.

Your stomach dropped and your chest felt like it was cracking in half.

If he has a girlfriend, why would he flirt with you and ask you on a date?

No wonder he didn’t want you to go into his van yesterday to find a tape. He didn’t want you to find out and ruin the little game he was playing.

The driver side door swung open. “Hey, sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t decide on which soda I wanted. But I got you this,” he said as he handed you a bag of M&M’s and a Dr. Pepper.

“Thanks. These are my favorites,” you said quietly.

“You okay?” He questioned. A concerned look crossed over his face as he looked at you, making you wonder how awful you looked right now.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just really tired.” You did your best to muster a smile.

He looked like he didn’t believe you but decided not to press any further. The rest of the car ride to your house was awkward and quiet, filled with Eddie’s attempts to joke and make you laugh. You could tell your one worded answers were hurting his feelings but you didn’t really care.

He pulled into your driveway and opened the passenger side door to help you out of the van. He walked beside you silently up your porch steps and to your front door.

“Look, are you okay? Because you’re being really quiet, and I don’t know if I did something or if you’re not feeling well…”

You looked up at him, his hair and face illuminated by the porch light you always left on. He twisted and turned the rings on his hand as he searched your face for a clue on why you were suddenly acting so distant to him.

The fact that he was acting so innocent made you even more mad.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You asked, the words coming out as a harsh accusation.

Eddie looked taken aback for a moment. “Yes- I mean no-” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Then why did you just say yes so quickly?” You pressed.

“It’s complicated,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to say yes.”

“He’s lying,” a deep voice whispered in your head, surprising you with its intensity.

The voice was right. Eddie was lying.

Your temples pounded. The edges of your vision start to turn black from the incoming pain.

You needed to go inside.

“I don’t believe you,” you gritted out.

“Why? Did Steve say something to you?” His voice came out strained and angry.

“He’s hiding something from you,” the voice informed you.

“No, no one told me anything. If you don’t have a girlfriend, then what is there for Steve to tell me? And if you don’t have a girlfriend then why is her perfume and scrunchy in your van? Am I some kind of joke to you?” Your voice was growing louder with each word you said. You could feel the anger pouring through your bloodstream.

An unnatural anger that you had never felt before in your life.

You didn’t care if you were overreacting or not. You just wanted to get him away from you.

You turned and unlocked your door quickly, ignoring the pleading look from Eddie beside you.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, can I come in and we can talk about this?”

“He’s trying to use you. Don’t let him in,” the voice that only you could hear stated.

You listened to the voice, trusting it fully. You couldn’t trust Eddie.

“Shit, are you okay? Your nose is bleeding, and you look really pale.” Eddie’s hand reached towards you, but you pushed it away.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Eddie. Don’t come back here or I’ll call the cops and tell them how much of a creep you are,” you spat.

Eddie reared back like he had been hit. His mouth opened as he stared at you in shock.

He didn’t move to reach out to you again as you swung the door open and stomped inside, turning to lock it immediately after it shut.

You even shut off the porch light for good measure, leaving him in darkness.

You crawled to your bed, not caring if he made it back to the van or not. Not even bothering to clean the now drying blood on your face or change out of your work clothes.

How had you not seen he was messing with you? Was he just trying to get in your pants the whole time? Or was he going to butter you up in hopes of getting more money out of you when it came time to pay him for his work? Were he and Steve acting like highschoolers and teaming up to make you miserable? Was Robin in on it too?

One thing you knew for certain, was that you would never trust Eddie Munson again.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #mechanic!eddie munson x reader #mechanic!eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #mechanic eddie munson #eddie munson angst

223 notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

Note

i'm not trying to prioritize this ask above your others or anything, i promise, but wednesday is my birthday and I was wondering if you could write something about celebrating your birthday with tangerine? 💓

hii angel!! absolutely no worries!! I always do fics first if they’re needed by a certain time (ie if someone is sick) thank you for helping me with it :) thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

also a big fat happy birthday!! hope you have a lovely day my sweet🎉❤️ @dynamitehacke

birthday

tangerine x f reader

wc || 1k

warnings || none

masterlist + rules

taglist

Tangerine is the kind of guy to go above and beyond for the special people in his life, going out of his way for his loved ones. With you, it was no different.

He had you to himself for the entire day, wanting nothing other than to spoil you and make you smile. He had spent weeks planning for your birthday, organising everything to the second so that he could give you the special day that you deserve.

This morning he had treated you with a home-cooked spread in bed, a tray of all your favourite breakfast foods with a beautiful bouquet of fresh-picked flowers. He was always very prompt with timing but even more so with the day he planned for you, so the next thing on the agenda was gifts.

He had his hands clasped over your eyes as he lead you down the stairs, ushering you into the living room where you were surprised with a floor full of presents, balloons and banners. He slowly removed his hands, watching your expression as you gazed around at the decorated room, taking in his sweet grand gesture.

He lead you to the sofa where he handed you your first present, placing the neatly wrapped gift box on your lap, waiting patiently to see your reaction. His tender blue eyes followed your every movement as you made your way through the many piles of presents, watching in anticipation as you tore the paper.

He really spoiled you, he got you everything you could possibly want and then some; the bag you had your eyes on, the series of books you hadn’t yet got around to buying, the full-length floor plant you were saving up for, that sweater you really wanted, the lip gloss you were running low on. Anything he thought you needed or wanted, he got it all.

After the presents you both snuggled on the sofa where you thanked him endlessly, littering each other's faces with kisses until he shared the next part of the plan of today.

He had taken you to lunch at that little restaurant by the river where you indulged on whatever it was that you were craving, chatting and laughing the whole time as you both enjoyed a couple light alcoholic beverages.

On the way back home, he had stopped by the bookstore, leading you inside with his hand in yours, swinging in unison. He slipped his hand from yours and into his pocket, reaching for his bank card, instructing you to “go crazy.” He followed you around the shop, holding the numerous books you had picked up, balancing them in his arms as you continued to search through the sections, seeing what would catch your interest.

The rest of the day was spent at home, enjoying each other's company as you found new homes for all of your new gifts.

———

There was one more thing Tangerine had planned for the night, but he wasn’t able to do it with you around. So he ran you a bath, filling the tub with bubbles, rose petals and bath salts, lining the surrounding area with candles and incense. He allowed you some alone time to soak in the warm ambience-filled room while he set up for the next portion of the night.

After a short while, you left the tub, wrapping yourself in the towel he had been warming on the radiator for you. Upon exiting you notice arrows placed on the floor, following the directions, you see a neat pile of his pyjamas on the bed that he had laid out for you. Drying off, you dress yourself in the checkered bottoms and baggy tee. Applying a shortened version of your skincare routine before continuing after the trail of markings.

Following the arrows downstairs and into the living room you see a bed made up on the floor with mountains of blankets and pillows, the cosy space lit with fairy lights. “No fucking way.” You whisper, far too stunned to muster actual words.

“Surprise,” He grins, kneeling on the covers, holding a basket of snacks. “Come sit.”

“You did all this?” You quietly ask, looking around in astonishment at the decorated area.

He boyishly smiles, placing the basket aside, slinking his arms around you and flopping you both back onto the makeshift bed. “Mhm. Ya like it?” He cutely questions, kissing your temple.

“Uh-yeah. It’s beautiful, thank you.” You smile, cosying into his side.

“Alright give me a minute,” he smiles, slowly removing himself from your grip.

“You leaving me already?” You playfully whine, sitting up as you follow his gaze

“Hm… yeah. Park ya arse there.” He grins, patting at the edge of the blow-up mattress. “Will only be a minute.”

“Can’t believe you’re leaving me again… on my birthday, too.” You smirk, watching him leave.

“Yeah well, shut up.” He calls out from the other room, chuckling earnestly. “Alright, close ya eyes.” He instructs.

Particularly doing as he says, you cover your eyes, separating your fingers so you could see through the gaps.

“I see that,” he grins, poking his head into the room. “I knew you’d do that, close ‘em.”

He slowly makes his way over to you, lightly humming the tune of ‘happy birthday’ as he walks towards you. Stopping once he gets to your feet, kneeling in front of you with a homemade cake in hand, smiling at you with admiration as you open your eyes. “Make a wish.”

Beaming at him, you blow out the candles as you silently made your wish. “Did you make that yourself?” You ask as your eyes darted over the icing and decorations. “No way you made that.”

“Why? Is it bad?” A playful expression spreads across his features.

“God, no. It’s incredible… thank you.”

“I watched a couple videos online.” He chuckles, sitting beside you with the cake in his lap. “Go on…” grinning as he pulled two forks from his pyjama bottom pocket.

“Not got a knife?” You laugh, eyeing him as he passed you the utensil.

“Nah… actually, you know what. Dinner is on its way.”

“Nah, cake first,” you waft your hand, dismissing him as you picked up a fork. “What’d you get for dinner?”

“Surprise.” He wryly grins, avoiding your questioning.

For the rest of the evening, you ate dinner from your favourite takeout spot as you binged on shitty reality tv and junk food. Appreciating one another’s presence as you enjoyed your quiet birthday night-in with your charming boyfriend.

@tangerinesgf @kpopgirlbtssvt @v1ntage-daydr3am @earth-elemental18 @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @thewinterv @navs-bhat @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @theredvelvetbitch @randomawesomeperson102 @lov3lypeaches7 @princess-pebbles-things @woffelle

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine and lemon #tangerine imagine #tangerine blurb #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine fluff #lemon and tangerine #bullet train tangerine #tangerine drabble #tangerine x y/n #bullet train fanfic

195 notes · View notes

thetopichot · 2 months

Text

•° The Middle Ground °•

☆ Chapter 1 ☆

*Runs on all fours* Hi SHIT I've been still working on this. Writer's block is a bitch. Anyway, *Throws this at you* enjoy. Also sorry if the food is little burnt, I wanted to pushed this out before the end of the month. *Runs away*

Word Count: 2.1k words

After the calamity that happened in the shop, you both went on that fall evening picnic date that you both planned awhile back. Finn absolutely adored fall since it's when he gets more inspired to cook his little pumpkin breads, more tea recipes, & he starts to get into his little hibernation phase which you always find adorable. You guys deserved it after a bit of a long day but with the questions that you still had in mind, might make it get even longer. You both prepared your little fall picnic under the park's willow tree with your checkered picnic blanket & a basket. You both laid back onto the blanket & began to gaze at the stars.

Finn sighed & fidgeted with his fingers as he stared at the stars in the sky. "Today has been a long day, hasn't it?" Finn broke the silence.

"Yeah it has." You answered awkwardly. You still felt bad about the situation that happened earlier today. "Hey, Finn?" Finn hummed in response.

"I'm sorry for what happened during the shop today. The dude...um damn. What was his name again, babe?"

"Auron, darling."

"Yeah, Auron! That asshole really pissed me off." Well, apparently he pissed you off so much that you legit forgot about his name. "He is such a snobby prick & the way he treated you is just UGH. He treated you like you were just a damn peasant or like-"

"I was just there for one purpose?" Finn sat up on the blanket & curled his legs up. His face was exhausted, but he still had his soft smile. "Yeah, I know." You frowned at his voice. "You eventually get used to it when you work in service jobs. Your whole thing is just being a punching bag for people."

You sat up & leaned closer to Finn. "You have to deal with insults about almost everything. Like no matter what you do, it's always wrong. Then, eventually, you get used to the disrespect that is given, even though you always give them the respect that everyone deserves."

"That's just how service works. You deal with verbal abuse almost every day, but in the end, if you do anything about it, you're always in the wrong." Finn laid his head on top of his knees. "So I don't really care about what he said to me. It was just business." You rubbed his back.

"Finn. No one has the right to treat you like that. I don't care if they're a customer, friend, or family, no one should treat you like that ever. Period." You gently held his face in your palm & turned him to look at you. "Has Auron always treated you like that?"

Finn chuckled softly. "No. Not at all, actually." You were confused by the answer since that didn't really add up. "He actually treats me with the upmost respect. He enjoys hearing my flower facts. I just don't know why he acted out like that today."

"In a mood or not, he's still an asshole for saying that to you." You sighed. "Finn, you have to give yourself more self-respect. You're more than just a worker. You're a person." Then the long silence between you two began.

However, it wasn't really those long awkward silences. It was a silence of both thought & comfort. It was silence that was needed. As the silence went on, he stared at the black card that had been left by Auron earlier. The white font practically glowed in the moonlight.

Why would he leave his card here? It was pretty obvious that Finn wouldn't be interested in getting a job since he already had one. Maybe you could call this number?

"Finn." He turned to look at you. You showed him the black card that you kept on you. "Let's call this number." He raised a eyebrow.

"Why?" He squinted to read the card. "Don't you already have a job already?" He paused to think. "Unless you're trying to juggle 3 jobs? Which I don't really recommend you doing. I tried to when I was helping my dad when it was his flower shop."

You shaked your head. "No? Maybe this might be his number?" Finn got even more confused.

"I doubt that, darling. That phone number could just lead to some operator at the end of the line & it's like what? 9 pm & it's a Sunday. Almost everything is closed right now!" Finn asserted.

"Hmmmm." You thought naught about the consequences & decided. "Yeah, I'm going to do it." Finn exhaled as there wasn't much he could do. "& maybe.." You added. "You could cuss him out for the way he treated you."

Finn was taken aback. "What? No! Why would I do that? That's just being plain petty."

"Being petty never really hurts, ya know." You said with a devilish grin, but it was soon shot down by Finn's 'Come on, now' look. "Or maybe just a little bit?"

"Darling, no. That conversation that happened earlier is done. We should just forget what happened & just accept the situation like the bending willows." You frowned.

"Well, alright." You put the phone down. "But I'm just saying it would be a good idea to call this number. I don't think he gave it to you for no reason." Finn considered that thought.

"Hand me the card, please." You did as he asked you. You handed the black card & Finn took a gander at it. Maybe you were right about calling the number. He grabbed his phone from his pocket & you smiled at him.

"So, you're going to call the card?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to do anything petty." He said sternly, but that sternness soon turned into dread. "But what do I say though? I don't think I've talked to a customer outside of work."

"A-HEM." You coughed loudly.

"I mean besides you, plus when we went somewhere to have a conversation, we never really talked on the phone about it beforehand." That gave you an idea.

"You should invite him for some tea, then."

"What?"

"Yeah, invite him for some tea! Like you did with me." Finn laid back down on the blanket awkwardly as he groaned. "Come on, babe. I doubt it's going to be that bad. Well, if you cut out the tea spilling thing then yeah everything is going to be fine." His phone covered his face as he just felt the weirdness of talking to him.

You laid sideways next to Finn. "But if he treats you like shit again, I will kick his ass for real this time."

"That doesn't really help, dearest."

"Listen, I'm just saying & to be honest, I might kick his ass anyway because he's a dick."

"You JUST met him today."

"Okay &? I'm about to throw hands the next time I see him." Finn groaned even louder as he turned to the side. You rubbed the side of his waist. "But you should still go talk to him. You have the card in your hands." Finn took one quick look at the black card again.

Finn finally gave in. "Fine, but I will not be a happy camper if it either goes to voicemail or it's just a operator on the line." You smiled. Finn dials the number on his phone, '717-XXX-XXXX'. His phone vibrates for about 3 seconds. Then 4. Now 5.

The phone picks up & Finn puts it on speaker.

"Welcome to the Talent Agency. How may I help you today?"

It wasn't his voice, sadly. It was a feminine voice on the line. It wasn't high-pitched, but it was a rich voice with a hint of gentleness.

Finn could've hung up from there since it wasn't the result that anyone was hoping for, but for some reason, something in him possessed him. A voice told him to continue the call.

"May I speak with Auron?" The lady on the line went silent but you could both hear typing, so there was some hope left.

"Who am I speaking with?" The lady sounded suspicious towards Finn as the sounds of typing stopped, but to be fair, you wouldn't send some randos to your boss. It would be a waste of time & annoying.

"Finn. From Talk Floral...?" Finn's response sounded worried. Like if you were dialing some random code in & praying that it would work. Finn cheesed so awkwardly & squinted his eyes like he was prepared to be slapped in the face with disappointment.

"Oh! Finn? Sorry, dear. I didn't recognize you. It is late after all." Your eyes both widened at the lady's response. Finn recognized the voice better, but you were even more confused than before.

"How many people do you know?" You mouthed quietly.

"A lot. It's been awhile." He mouthed back quietly. "Heyyyyy, Trish! It's been awhile, huh?"

"It sure has been, honey. I'm assuming he gave you the company card?" He both looked at the black card & some things were kinda starting to add up but at the same time, more questions than answers here.

"Yes & I was also wondering if I could go to Auron?" Finn asked.

"I would, but he's out of the office. He doesn't stay for long."

"Then why are you still at the office if he's gone?"

"I don't slack, you know. I'm just finishing up some leftover memos & emails that need to be sent tomorrow. However, it is nice to hear from you, Finn. Always been a joy to talk to!" He smiled at that compliment & looked at you.

"The teaaaaaaaa dateeeeee." You whispered.

"O-Oh! Um, is it possible to set up an appointment with him? Sometimeee?"

"Yeah, I can schedule that, but I have to let him know first. Can't be setting up blind dates as funny as that would be." Finn's face flushed.

"NONONONO IT'S NOT A DATE-" Trish chuckled on the other line.

"Jesus, ya sound like him. 'It's not a date, it's a business trip.'" She mocked Auron's voice. "But yeah, don't worry I'm just messing with you." Finn sighed loudly as he just laid down onto the blanket in exhaustion. "Don't worry, dear. I can try, key word: try honey, to see if he's willing to join you. Can't make any promises to you."

"If he does say yes & that's a big if, when & where will it be?"

"There's a little local tea shop that a good family friend of mine owns. It's called Hattie's & it's just right around the square. Maybe he can come by around like 12? That's when the shop closes for the day, since it's a Sunday." The sound of typing resumes from the other side of the call.

"Well, I'll let him know that you want to see him."

"Thank you so very much, Trish."

"Anytime, dear. Bye-bye." The call hung up. Finn puts his phone down on the blanket & just stares at the stars.

"That went well, didn't it?"

"nO." Finn's voice cracked.

"Come on, Finn. Are you worried that he might want to see you again?"

"YES."

"Maybe, & hear me out with this one, I come with you." Finn sat back up. Jesus, Finn is doing some goddamn sit-ups in this chapter, goddamn.

"With what happened today, no. I don't want you to cause a scene again & you just said earlier that you wanted to kick his ass."

"Still do."

"See?!" He groaned. "I just want it to go right & just not screw up this time."

"& you won't. I believe it's going to go well but if anything goes wrong, I'm always here for you alright?" Finn just nodded & you put your hand on his shoulder. "How about we enjoy the rest of this night, hmm?" You both layed down on the blanket. Y'all be getting abs after this.

"Hey, Finn. One more question for you. It's about Auron." Finn hummed a 'Yes.' "How long have you known him for?"

"I've known him for a while, but around 2 years sounds to be specific. I would say we've been, um acquainted."

"For two years of knowing each other, it doesn't seem like it." You quirked a eyebrow. "I don't buy that, Finn."

"But it's true!"

"Is it true? Or are you scared to just establish something between you two?" Finn hid his neck. He didn't have to say a thing to answer that question. His body language alone was enough. The rest was just an awkward silence as he was afraid to answer the truth about himself.

Nothing else needed to be said for it just unveiled itself.

He was alright with admitting mistakes, but when it comes to the truth about himself? He's scared of looking towards his own reflection. You both spent the rest of the date within silence but within that silence, you comforted him with your touch.

☆ミ Author's Notes Underneath 👇 ☆ミ

🩷 - Ngl did not know how to end this chapter so I'm sorry if the ending to this kinda sucks. I'll work on how to end chapters better or even how to write chapters better. The other reason is that I keep ignoring the asks in my little mailbox so if you sent me anything, I'm so sorry for not answering sooner. Gots alot on mind but don't worry I'm still chugging.

#the cat speaks #yuurivoice #yuurivoice auron #auron yuurivoice #finn yuurivoice #yuurivoice finn #the middle ground #middle ground #writing #chapter 1 #I'm still chugging don't worry yall #just fixing my brakes rq

30 notes · View notes

goodluckclove · 13 days

Text

The Hot Dog Scene (Migration Patterns Preview)

I feel like I have to include this to provide closure to those invested in my Hot Dog Discourse. It's a first draft so it might look different when the book comes out next year, but like...here it is. The Hot Dog Scene.

Edgar lingered. He looked tired in a positive way. Tired like how a person feels after they stop shouldering as much of their unimaginable burden. His eyes locked with Tenzin and he twitched an attempt at a smile.

“You want to get a hot dog?” Tenzin asked him.

He blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

“Or chili fries, maybe? I’m probably going to get chili fries.”

“It’s the place next door,” Jude told him. “It’s good. They make a great Seattle dog.”

Edgar furrowed his brow. “What’s that?”

“Polish sausage with grilled onions and cream cheese.”

“They also,” Tenzin’s stomach lurched again and she sighed inwardly. “They also make regular hot dogs that humans can eat.”

Apparently all it took was the concept of a new type of hot dog to immediately start lifting Edgar’s spirits. “It’s – good?” He asked. “I never thought...I couldn’t even imagine that to be a thing that existed.”

Jude got this devilish look on zir face that Tenzin hated. “You’ve had a bagel with cream cheese and lox, right?”

“I suppose I have.”

“It’s the same idea! If Riley’s working the counter ask them to add grilled cabbage with a sprinkle of jalapeno brine. You won’t regret it.”

A slow, warm smile blossomed over Edgar’s face. He was excited, genuinely excited, despite the looming life-changing circumstances hanging just above their heads. Earlier today he was questioning if Scott would still love him under a new set of pronouns. Now all of that was rendered unimportant thanks to the promise of a singular, five-dollar hot dog.

It was childlike in a way that struck Tenzin right across the face. She knew then why Scott fell for him so instantly. Why Katy considered him family.

She bopped him with the corner of her briefcase and nodded towards the door. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

“Right now?” Edgar looked uncertain. “Don’t you still need to..?” Eventually his anticipation for a new flavor overtook whatever hesitation he had. “Uh – yeah! Yeah, okay. Cool!”

The hot dog place was dingy, yet clean. The checkered tiled floors were scuffed in the way that implied a heavy amount of foot traffic, while the furniture looked brand new. Tenzin and Edgar took a seat at the counter by the large window after they ordered.

Tenzin got a bite to eat here whenever she was in the area because it was a weird enough eatery to stock RC Cola. She sipped at the rim of her mug and enjoyed the icy, sweet fizz. Beside her Edgar watched out the window with the straw of his own glass held between his teeth.

“It’s interesting,” Edgar began.

Here we go. “What is?” Tenzin asked hesitantly, wiping her mouth with a napkin from the nearby dispenser.

“RC Cola is more sour than I expected. It’s not bad – I like how smooth it is. It’s like…” Edgar took a drink from the straw and analyzed it carefully. “Cinnamon, maybe. Some kind of orange or lemon, and – it’s crazy, but I almost get a hint of rose. It reminds me of kombucha.”

She didn’t even realize that Edgar got the same soda as her. It looked like he enjoyed it, though with much more thought than Tenzin tended to give to anything she ate or drank.

“Do you do that all the time?” She said. “Do you just analyze everything you taste?”

Edgar shrugged. “It helps me appreciate it.”

“You never just eat something just to eat it?”

He looked close to embarrassment, but something changed at the very last moment and he doubled down. “It feels more mindful to...know what I’m eating. And why I like it. How it makes me feel. I mean, growing up I didn’t always get – I don’t know. I like to be grateful for things like this.”

Tenzin let out a stifled laugh. She worried Edgar would take it personally, but when he spoke again there was a smile in his voice. “Do I sound like a crazy person?”

“You sound like a birthright.”

She looked at him sitting beside her. Edgar was newly relaxed – more so than usual, especially with it just being him and her on their own. He smiled easily with his eyes shimmering in a soft gold glow, one that held its potency without trouble. This might’ve been the first time she saw him use his abilities with total control. He looked in that moment like any other witch town member. If she noticed him in the Mess Hall she’d take him to be a new employee she just didn’t get a chance to meet yet.

And he was reading her now. Reading her like Regina used to when they first met. Or was he? Growing up Tenzin would see her mom’s eyes glow momentarily in moments of high emotion. Regina told her it was an empty gesture, a reflex that couldn’t actually gain any real information. Not from Tenzin. Not anymore.

Edgar wore another beaded bracelet around his wrist that she didn’t notice until now. It was done up in multiple colors, just a repeating line of black and gray and white and green. She recognized the Agender pride flag as one of the gender identities Scott, and by proxy Tenzin, were informed of in their childhood.

That must’ve been one intense conversation between Edgar and Jude. Tenzin was grateful she didn’t have to be the one to navigate it.

“You never showed her your work,” Edgar said, eyes pointed down towards Tenzin’s bag.

“Mm,” Tenzin quickly put on an indifferent demeanor. “Don’t really need to.”

Edgar raised his brow. “Really? We drove all this way.”

“Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? That’s exactly what Jude’s thinking right now. So when I go ahead and ignore most of what ze told me to do, ze can’t get that upset,” Tenzin raised her drink to punctuate her point. “Because we drove all this way.”

“Clever,” Edgar said.

He said that with both sarcasm and admiration. Very recently she described Edgar as her brother. He technically was in at least a few senses. Absolutely not in many others.

When they met Tenzin was so crazed by her Knight’s Bond that she elbow struck him off his feet and could’ve easily beaten him to death. She cleaned the blood off his face once she healed him and he sat so carefully, not even wincing at the sight of his own blood.

It could be that he was used to the sight. The smell. The taste, even. Enough so that it didn’t surprise him anymore.

I won’t let anything put you in danger, she told him when he lingered in the car before meeting Regina. Tenzin meant it, too. She couldn’t explain why and even now the reasons confused and aggravated her.

The cashier that took their order came by with two baskets with hot dogs and fries. The teen placed one in front of each of them, muttered a weak bon appetite, and retreated back to the register.

Edgar’s attention was fully enraptured by the meal. He looked down at it and grinned. His eyes were massive and bright with shy excitement. Tenzin wonders how something so tarnished could be cleaned to glimmer so brightly.

It is unfair for Tenzin to feel an echo her feelings for Scott reflected in a separate human being. It just wasn’t right.

She took a french fry from the pile in her basket and bit into it. It was hot, but no too hot.

“How is it?” Edgar asked, hushed and eager.

Tenzin ate another fry. “Uh – good?” She attempted. “It’s...crispy. Salty. Made of – potato.”

Edgar picked up a french fry. It was a french fry. It was the first result in a stock image search of the word french fry and did not deserve remotely as much focus as Edgar was giving it.

“You know what I don’t see a lot of?” He looked at Tenzin but didn’t give her time to answer. “Waffle fries. Why do you think that is?”

He’s supposed to be the normal one, Tenzin thought in stunned silence. He’s supposed to be the one that got to be a regular human being.

Edgar didn’t look like he noticed her silence. “I think they’re harder to fry. That’s just my theory though. I never got to work a deep fryer,” he ate the fry in his hand and smiled. “Ooh, it’s fresh.”

He took a sip of his soda and took a deep breath, rubbing his hands in private anticipation. Edgar Gallows was the origin of Scott’s agony for his entire life, and now the guy was revving himself up to eat a hot dog. Treating it like he was about to land a perfect back flip on the first try. How did the events of Tenzin’s life lead up to this of all things?

She watched Edgar tenderly handle his Seattle-style hot dog, a title of which sounded deeply questionable since Tenzin had been to Seattle for business and didn’t see anyone slathering their processed meat with cream cheese. She wasn’t sure if it was an actually style native to the city as a whole. It was far more likely to her that some pervert thought himself clever and decided to make Washington worse as a result of it.

Edgar bit into the end and chewed. His focus was refined and laser sharp, but Tenzin knew she could’ve left the restaurant right now and he wouldn’t notice her absence until she was halfway home.

An entire conversation was being held with himself through the slight twitch of his brow and narrowing of his large eyes. The gold returned in a soft shimmer, showing just how much emotional stimulation Edgar was getting from just one bite.

He’s...reading the intentions? Tenzin truly felt one misstep away from losing her mind. Is Edgar reading the intentions of his hot dog?

She smiled deliriously thinking about it. Then, softly, she began to laugh. Eventually the sound was loud enough to attract Edgar’s attention. He swallowed and smiled sheepishly.

“’S good,” he said.

Tenzin tried to speak and could only laugh. She held her hand over her mouth, lolled her chin down to her chest, and laughed even harder. By the time Tenzin finally got a hold of her senses Edgar was already halfway done with his hot dog. He ate calmly and paid little mind to her hysterics. Edgar remained perfectly satisfied with the situation he was in.

“It’s really good,” he clarified while she caught her breath. “It’s probably top – top five. In my list of hot dogs.”

“It’s not even number one?” Tenzin’s voice was hoarse from laughter and she was forced to drink some cola to dull the burn. “Ah. Ah man. What a shame.”

“No, it’s good!” Edgar grinned. “I always love to try a new food.”

He looked happy. The affection Tenzin felt for him in that moment was stark and disorientating. It was something long-sleeping in her chest suddenly startled out of hibernation.

This was her brother. No. Yes. Maybe. The answer didn’t matter as much as Tenzin’s new conviction. Edgar was here now, after all this time, and there was no point resenting him for things he didn’t know, understand, or have any control over.

Scott was willing to die in his search for Eddie. If he didn’t find Edgar when he did, he likely would be dead. Or worse. But none of that happened, and now the two of them could sit together and eat a strange and slightly sacrilegious hot dog.

Edgar went back to happily eating. Tenzin decided to join him then, and she picked up the soft bun and bit into the sausage. She tried to focus on what she was eating. It was – crispy? Crispy, but not crunchy. It tasted like cooked meat and tangy cream – so creamy meat, but not like that because that sounds terrible.

It was okay.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writing #authors of tumblr #queer writers #actually writing #migration patterns #novel excerpt #book excerpt #writing excerpt #the hot dog scene #hot dog discourse

21 notes · View notes

adaptacy · 8 months

Note

Can I request a Leland x reader going on a date? I feel like he would like either star gazing dates or going to get milkshakes. Or anything else! Whatever gets the write juice going thank you!!

ugh yes absolutely im so happy im getting leland requests <333 keep 'em comin!

GN!Reader, completely SFW, just Leland bein a cutie hehe <3

"Can't believe you've never been here," the brunette laughed, picking up his pace for just a few steps, enough to cross in front of you and grab the handle of the glass double-doors, opening it for you. You shot him a smile, and he dipped an imaginary hat at you as you entered the building. Leland followed you in, placing a hand on the small of your back for just a moment before he quickly pulled it away, not wanting to be too forward.

The building you'd entered was practically a pastel and neon heaven; a quaint café, with checkered floors, a bar lined with white lights, and a dining floor with purple and the closest thing to neon blue chairs. You watched Leland as he stepped in front of you again, beckoning you over to the bar.

"Best damn milkshakes in town. Seriously, you've been missing out," he laughed, hopping onto one of the black barstools and giving it a spin before planting an elbow on the bar. "You have had a milkshake 'fore, right?"

You chuckled, sitting next to him and nodding. "Yes, of course I've had a milkshake before. I don't live under a rock," you teased, looking at the cow-spotted menu and scanning the options.

"Coulda fooled me. D'you have a favorite flavor?"

"Hmmm.. Strawberry's always nice. Pretty, too."

"Oh, yeah. Mine is cookies 'n cream. Especially when they give me the big chunks of Oreo- Really hits the spot." Leland raised a hand as the waitress behind the counter looked in your direction, and she gave the two of you a smile, trailing over with a small notepad in her hands.

"What can I get y'all?" She asked.

"Uh, a cookies and cream, and..." Leland looked over to you, not wanting to jump to assumptions. Maybe you wanted to switch it up this time around. He shouldn't assume that you'd get your favor-

"Strawberry, thank you," you requested, and the woman nodded, scribbling down your requests.

"I'll be right out with that."

Leland turned his head back to you, resting his temple against his fist. "Keeping it classic. Respect."

"...You ordered your favorite too?" You laughed, shaking your head, a little confused by his statement.

"Yeah. 'ts why I respect it," he chuckled, awkwardly, and then cleared his throat. He sat up, laying his arm flat on the counter. He seemed to be thinking of something to say, and you tried to help.

"So, why are these the best milkshakes? What makes them so special?" You asked.

Leland thought about it for a moment, scratching his neck. "Well, they're super sweet, and pretty flavorful. And, uh... Just really good, I guess. You'll get it when you try it, I promise. And if you don't, I'll cover it." He grinned, and then his smile dropped, and he shook his head, his cheeks growing a small tint of pink. "I mean, I'll pay either way, I just meant-"

"Leland, it's cool, I got it," you chuckled, finding his clear nervousness rather adorable. He wasn't usually like this- he gave off a rather confident vibe, but you also didn't know him super well. You were sorta surprised when he asked you out, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't somewhat interested in him. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

Leland let out a breath of relief, and he nodded. "Sure, go for it."

"What got you into wrestling? You don't seem like a wrestler," you asked, leaning your head on your palm. He smirked, and it was only for a split second before his gaze wandered off to the side and he thought of an answer. Still, that smirk was definitely ingrained in your memory. It was a strange expression on someone so innocent, so vibrant- you wondered what it meant.

"Honestly, always been more of a football guy myself, but I got recruited by the Captain, and originally I just meant to try it out, but I actually ended up liking it quite a bit. And the schedule conflicts with football, so I chose wrestling, ultimately," he explained, still looking off in the distance as if in a different world completely. His gaze then snapped back to you, and he grinned. "You in any sports?"

"No, not me. Interesting to watch them, though. That makes a lot of sense, actually. You seem like way more of a football guy than a wrestling guy. Not in a bad way, just in a-"

"In a jock way?" He laughed. "I get that a lot. I was, actually, in football, all throughout high-school. Was a linebacker," he bragged, showing off his teeth once more. His grin was adorable, in a goofy, playful kind of way. And he grinned a lot. He was just nice to be around. Inviting, gentle, maybe a little dumb, but he clearly meant well.

"Yeah, yeah, in a jock way. I'll be honest, when Connie told me about you, I kind of assumed you were some playboy ass, but clearly you're not," you hummed, and Leland looked as though he wasn't sure how to take that. But after a moment of processing, and smiled.

"Yeah? Mkay, what am I then?" He asked, his tone playful instead of hurt.

"Hmm..." You murmured, looking him up and down. He wore a white button-up with red flowers embroidered on the shoulders, and typical southern jeans, along with... what looked like cowboy boots. You looked back up at his face, and he narrowed his eyes, curious. "You're friendly, and outgoing, but not in a playboy way. A little awkward, if I'm honest, but not in a bad way. In a cute way," you complimented.

Leland's smile looked a little more genuine, and he scoffed, his slight blush returning. "What a sweetheart," he hummed out.

"What about me?" You asked.

Leland looked you over, taking in your outfit choice, and he took a little longer to think. "Hmm... Connie told me a bit about you, too, and I kind of assumed she was just throwing people my way because she could, but I actually think she saw something. Potential, yknow?"

"Potential?"

"Yeah, like- Well, you aren't in sports, but you said you like watching them. That's one point right there. And... you like milkshakes. That's two. And you're definitely confident, from what I can tell, but... hmm.."

"...Buuuut..?" You asked, leaning a little closer.

"I think you're just tryin' to impress me," he chuckled, his eyes shifting over to the waitress as she emerged from the kitchen once more and presented the two of you with milkshakes. Sitting at the top of his whipped cream was half an oreo, and he smirked again. "Hell yeah."

"You sure its not just your ego talking?" You asked, taking a sip of the milkshake. It was definitely rich, and Leland wasn't lying- it was really good. Genuinely probably the best milkshake you'd ever had. You took another sip.

"My ego? I, uh, I don't think so. I was mostly joking, I don't mean that-"

"I am," you confessed, finding the guilt that covered his eyes cute. He really was trying his best to be a gentleman, and you had to commend his efforts. He was doing fine, but maybe overthinking things a bit.

"You are?"

"Well, yeah. From what I've heard, you're pretty popular. Plus, athletic. And attractive. 'course I wanna impress you."

Leland nodded his head, taking a sip of his milkshake. "Well, you're doin' fine in that department. To be honest, I was a tad surprised that you took me up on this date. Figured you'd have a boyfriend already, or something. Glad I was wrong."

"Might have one by the end of the night," you teased, and Leland took a second to realize what you were implying, and then the smirk made a return. And then it spread into a smile again. You really wanted to know what that was about.

"Yeah? I wouldn't be completely opposed," he hummed. "How's the milkshake?"

"Even better than I was expecting. You were right, I think it's the best I've ever had," you complimented, drinking down the sugary delight.

"What? You didn't trust my taste? C'mon now, sweetheart. Surely I get more credit than that," he laughed, taking another sip of his milkshake, seeming to not even notice the nickname he'd slipped in.

But you definitely did. And you wished you could blame your blush on the strawberry milkshake. You cleared your throat, nodding. "Well, you have my trust now. Hard not to trust a man with good taste in milkshakes."

"I'm honored. Just glad I could show this place off. Real underrated, if you ask me."

"Seeing as how I'd never heard of it before, I have to agree. Surprised to find it's not some hole-in-the-wall bar."

"You think I'd take you out to a shithole on the first date? And for milkshakes?"

"Hey, acquired taste. I'm pleasantly surprised. Take it as a compliment," you laughed, nudging his arm with your elbow, and he smiled at you.

"If you say so, sweetheart," he hummed, a little more flirtatiously this time. Right. Of course he'd noticed the blush. Would've been hard not to.

"You're still paying."

"I know, I know. Can't go back on a promise."

#tcm game #tcm #leland mckinney #Leland mckinney x reader #Leland mckinney x reader fluff #Leland mckinney fluff #adapting to leland mckinney

65 notes · View notes

the-insomniac-emporium · 11 days

Text

random RL headcanons: game night edition

Mia is weirdly and inexplicably good at charades/any similar games. just anything to do with abstract communication. Poetry With Neanderthals is a personal favorite of hers.

(silly OC addition: Mia and Caldwell have a game they created for parties that's essentially just an alternate version of charades. Caldwell, who is cursed and cannot speak coherently, draws a prompt from a hat, and has to try to explain it. the audience is split into teams and attempts to guess the prompt. Mia, who is an expert at interpreting Caldwell's speech, is usually barred from playing (the exception being themed rounds where the theme is outside her specialties) and acts as a judge/curates the prompt list)

Angie is both very, very good and very, very bad at Monopoly Cheater's Edition. seems to get better the more she's had to drink, of course. gets caught cheating 90% of the time, but usually manages to pull off something insane near the end of the game.

Bela is surprisingly killer at games like Cards Against Humanity. nobody ever expects her to play the cards she does, no matter how many times they've played with her. equally an expert at games where having a good memory comes in handy.

Cassandra excels at games of deception, trickery, and mindfucks. playing a game like Werewolf with her is honestly insane. will attempt to "seduce" (i.e. distract) players she thinks are close to figuring her out. she's also decent at trivia games, but likes to narrow down the categories if the other players are cool with that.

Dani mostly likes chill, shorter games (the kind where you can play multiple rounds in one sitting), especially card games. I can see her enjoying Here To Slay, Muffin Time, and Happy Little Dinosaurs. on a semi-related note I think she low-key went through a magic trick/sleight of hand phase, but these days she doesn't usually do tricks unless she's had a couple drinks and someone brings it up.

Miranda prefers 1v1 games... on the rare occasion where someone (*cough* MC *cough*) convinces her to play. she's decent at actual chess, but is prone to starting out overconfident, only to end up getting flustered towards the end because she overthinks her moves. do not play checkers with her. she will win. you will lose. you will lose by an embarrassingly large margin.

Alcina is only slightly more interested in games than Miranda, and usually uses them as an excuse to socialize. likes big group games where there are opportunities to chat with other players while someone else makes their turn. probably plays the kinds of games that I've seen on TV a lot (classics like Mahjong) but don't personally have enough experience to talk about.

Donna kicks ass at pool, but almost never plays. you (and Angie) would have to talk her into it. totally worth it tho, because she'll have a lot of fun, especially if you're on her team and let her "show you the ropes". if you catch my drift ;) aka that thing where she'll lean a lot of her body against you, her arms alongside yours, helping move you into position. that thing tv shows/movies do to increase sexual tension between two characters.

Mia is also unfairly good at darts. it's honestly really attractive.

#I've been watching too much Smosh Games while doing art #it's my whole brain right now #resident lover #the angie hc is somewhat ironically inspired by angela from smosh #that shit she pulled in monopoly lives rent free in my brain

18 notes · View notes

ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys · 23 days

Note

I'm not sure if you've talked about this before, but I've always been interested in Tobias and Alice's relationship because we heard/know so little. All we know is that she was the love of his life (stated in tbh). I think their relationship is definitely going to come up in the Prague story because, tbh scene where Tobias talks about Alice makes it seem like he knew or at least suspected her survival of whatever killed her (saving Alice's opinion/judgment of the boys when they're ready/done. It could either be interpreted as him knowing alice so well he knew what she would say or he was literally going to save her judgment for another time). Because it's Tobias, the comment about saving Alice's opinions for when the boys are ready/worthy, her cause of death never being explicitly stated (It just said the grief of losing toby had something to do with it in thl. WAS THAT ONE OF YHE CLUES JLB SAID SHE HID IN THL?!), and the fact that he knew toby was alive, I think Tobias had known about Alice or helped her disappear. Btw I lowkey think Nan knows because it's her daughter. This probably didn't happen, but It'd be so interesting if toby and Alice had crossed paths while he was on the run.

Sorry for the rant. I just had to say it. Do you have any headcanons about Alice and Tobias's relationship?

guess what; i'm finally doing this 🤭 it's gonna be like really short because i'm in a creativity drought rn but yk @mafiasliege ik you also requested this so here you gooo

~ before she "passed away" they would play chess, checkers and scrabble together and she would always win

~ we know that they met before he was wealthy so i think that they would have a really cute story of meeting and the first thing that comes to mind is how my grandparents met

~ so the story is that she was moving into an apartment and she needed help getting her tv up to her apartment and he was also living there and he came up and asked if she needed any help

~ as soon as he know that he had enough money and they were VERY stable, he started buying her everything that she wanted

~ they would read together in one of the hawthorne house libraries

~ a lot of the additions that tobias made to the hose were her ideas (he even used them after she "passed away")

~ while they were in the early stages of knowing together he would write her letters and then send them to her even if they weren't romantic

~ their whole thing when they were young and when they got older was always spending time together

~ whenever tobias was sick now only would she take care of him and make him food herself even when they had people that could do it for them

~ not only that but to make sure he had nothing to worry about she would have little girlboss moments where she would get his work done for him

~ as old rich people they liked to match outfits (no because i can totally see them doing this

this is so embarrassing but when i finished tbh i thought that alice was the one on the phone.... anyway....

#the inheritance games #tobias hawthorne #alice hawthorne #jennifer lynn barnes #the hawthorne legacy #the grandest game #games untold #the final gambit #avery kylie grambs

10 notes · View notes

hwapetals · 1 year

Text

baked with love!

the title is so unoriginal im sorry, hope u enjoy it though! this is my first fic on here so reblogs and likes are appreciated <3! constructive criticism is as well and this wasnt really proofread oops

pairing: bakery owner!seonghwa + domestic!seonghwa x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of food and baking

word count: 3129 words

story starts under the cut! main story is sectioned into 3 with a bonus part at the end

PREP!

the sweet scent of fresh croissants and a variety of cakes attacked (y/n)'s nose, making their stomach grumble and mouth water in response.

"my god, i'm starving. the smell is NOT helping one bit," (y/n) mumbled to themselves, tapping their foot impatiently as they stood in line.

(y/n) hated their job. sure, it paid a lot but it didn't make them happy. it took countless sleepless nights and they found themselves with a huge workload every day.

the only thing helping them hold on was their lunch breaks. they were extremely thankful that they were situated in an area where there were shops everywhere, mostly food shops.

they had tried quite a few stores but this one pastry shop in particular had caught their interest and one of their favourite places to eat at now, making them a regular there.

(y/n)'s thoughts were quickly interrupted by the queue moving in front of them, making them be at the front of the line to face the cashier now.

"what would you like— oh, hey! (y/n), right?" the male said to them. he was kitted out in a white long sleeved blouse and a blue apron with a checkered pattern with a small logo stitched in the corner.

he also had a pair of round glasses on and (y/n) could recognize him from the name tag attached to his blouse.

"oh, seonghwa! it's a pleasure to see you. you normally don't work the register, what's the special occasion?" (y/n) greeted him enthusiastically, the male matching their bright smile with his own.

“we’re currently training a new intern in the back and the cashier is having a day off today to go to a wedding so i’m taking his place for now. did you want your regular order?"

"oh, that's cool!! and i was planning to get something different today, but i'm not sure what to get so, surprise me, will ya?" (y/n) said, pulling out a 20 dollar bill from their wallet and placing it on the glass counter.

"will do! i'll bring you your change when i serve you," seonghwa said with a nod, sliding the bill into the cash register, before handing over a plastic table sign with the number 18 printed on it.

"thank you!" (y/n) said, taking it and walking towards a nearby table, directly in sight of the cash register.

their lunch times were slightly later than the typical office worker's so the café was usually quite uncrowded and quiet, allowing them to fully relax and eat in peace.

they pulled out their phone and plugged in an earphone into their ear, before putting on some music and opening their emails to check for any important emails to take note of.

unluckily for them, their boss had emailed them saying that the document originally intended to be sent out the week after was brought forward to the next day, making (y/n) sigh in response, shutting their phone off and place in on the table in front of them.

"god, this job fucking sucks. why does my boss always do this to me?" (y/n) mumbled in exasperation, not noticing the man approaching them wiith a tray of their food.

"hey, you alright?" seonghwa questioned with a concerned expression, setting down the tray onto the table gently.

"yeah, i'm fine. just work stuff, you know?"

"ah, understandable. wanna talk about it? the café isn't busy, i can keep you company for a bit," he offered, putting his hands in front of him neatly as he awaited their response.

"it would be great but the real question is, do you mind me rambling for a bit?"

"oh, of course not. i'm willing to listen and help you out if needed,"

"you're too sweet. thank you," (y/n) said with an appreciative smile, beckoning seonghwa to come sit next to them.

"it's no worries, gotta look out for one of my favourite customers!" seonghwa said, scooting closer to (y/n).

"so, where shall i start? there's so much i want to talk shit about," (y/n) said, slumping into the cushioned bench, with a loud sigh.

all seonghwa could do while (y/n) ranted away was to nod and make small remarks so they knew he had his whole attention on them. it wasn't that hard for him to pay attention to them, though.

after fifteen minutes, (y/n) stopped talking and just let out another loud sigh, checking their phone to see that their lunch break was almost over.

"well, it looks like i have to leave to continue working. it was nice chatting with you, it was more one-sided, actually. sorry about that. thank you a lot though, i appreciate it," (y/n) said, flashing a brighter smile to seonghwa and finishing the rest of the strawberry milk that seonghwa had made for them.

"oh, no! i didn't mind it at all. thank YOU for confiding in me. did you like the strawberry milk and apple pie?" seonghwa said, getting up as (y/n) did the same, dusting off his apron.

"of course! it was delicious. i'll take my leave now, i'll be able to work better, thanks to you," (y/n) replied, putting their phone into their small bag, preparing to head off before they felt seonghwa grab their wrist, making them turn to face him.

"sorry if this is a bit… sudden. would you like to maybe work here? we're looking for new workers and i need an extra pair of hands to help me with managing stuff anyways," seonghwa asked sheepishly, releasing his grip on (y/n)'s wrist while mumbling an apology.

"that sounds pretty good, actually. but i'm still kind of scared, to be honest. but i'll definitely think about it!"

"take your time! it's alright if you decide not to, it’s just an offer!”

“i’ll keep it in mind! i’ll see you tomorrow during my lunch break again,” (y/n) said, pushing an earphone in their ear before waving at seonghwa before scurrying out the door hurriedly as they felt their phone vibrate from a text from their coworker.

BAKING!

seonghwa and (y/n) leaned against the kitchen counter, both finally being able to relax after a busy day of work, both having to clean, bake and serve constantly throughout the day alongside a few other workers. this day was especially busy due to it being valentine’s day and (y/n)'s suggestion to make the menu themed specially for holidays which boosted customer rates.

"you know whats so funny? our bakery is the most popular during valentines day but we ourselves don’t have anyone to celebrate it with,” (y/n) noted, glancing over at seonghwa who laughed in response.

“you’re right, it is pretty ironic. we could change that, actually,” seonghwa said, turning his head to face (y/n).

“how do you suggest we do that?” (y/n) questioned, raising their eyebrow at seonghwa’s statement, before they were caught off guard by him turning around and using his hands to pin them between the counter and his body.

"oh? how bold," (y/n) teased, looking up to meet his eyes. they were awfully close to each other and (y/n) was panicking but they weren't going to let that show.

(y/n) had liked him for a while now, but they didn’t change much in how they were interacting with him, it seemed subtle to them at least. but seonghwa had definitely noticed their ‘subtle’ change in behaviour when in interactions with him. he noticed how nicer they began to treat him and how flustered they got when he flirted back with them amongst other small things they did.

seonghwa had his eye on them for a while now, but he wasn’t going to make a move until the right time. it killed him having to wait but seeing their reactions to every little thing he did was entertaining to him. it was worth the wait, he would say. he wasn’t going to deny that he enjoyed seeing them flustered, rather he found it cute.

“mmm, one of us had to be direct eventually,” seonghwa said, moving in closer to lessen the gap, making (y/n)'s face flush redder as their eyes flickered away, gulping in nervousness.

“eyes on me, darling. would be rude if i didn’t pay attention to you while you’re talking, right?” seonghwa purred, using his thumb and index finger to gently grab their chin to successfully guide their eyes back onto him. he smiled smugly, seeing their eyes lock on to his.

(y/n) was definitely unfamiliar with this side of seonghwa, mostly only seeing his kind and sweet side. they couldn’t deny that they found how he was acting at that moment was rather attractive.

(y/n) was conflicted as to what to do. it was painfully obvious that he was flirting with them but it was more than that, they felt. be direct or back off? they were afraid that making the wrong move would destroy their relationship.

seonghwa laughed, moving backwards slightly, after seeing (y/n)'s reaction to his previous action, before he was caught off guard by (y/n) pulling his tie forward harshly, their lips meeting with his.

he happily reciprocated the kiss, tilting his head and using his hands to hold their waist as (y/n) wrapped their arms around his neck. it felt like an eternity but they weren’t complaining. they wanted this feeling to last forever. his soft lips against theirs and his warm hands holding their waist, before they pulled apart to (y/n) and seonghwa’s dismay.

“damn. that was better than i thought it would be,” (y/n) said, smiling, as seonghwa grinned back, this time his face redder than before. it had just sunk in what happened and seonghwa was extremely embarrassed but happy.

“how’s that for being direct?” (y/n) teased, staring at the male who was looking away, his hand covering the bottom half of his face, clearing his throat while (y/n) readjusted themselves so that they were now not leaning against the counter.

“very great. ten out of ten. would do it again,” seonghwa mumbled out, attempting to look back at (y/n) and failing miserably. (y/n) laughed at his ‘review’ of the kiss, making a remark of how he sounded like a really bad food critic.

“okay, on a more serious note, i need to ask this now. what are we?”

“mm, whatever you want. we can make it official now or take it slow and go on some dates and stuff,”

“if you don’t mind, we could take it slow, go on some dates and see if we’re compatible as a couple, you know? not saying that it wouldn’t work out!!” (y/n) suggested, panicking at the last bit as they didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

“no, no. i get you. i’d like that too,” seonghwa said with a warm smile, taking (y/n)'s hand in his.

“shall we talk more about this over a movie and some instant ramen?” seonghwa asked, awaiting (y/n)'s response.

“sounds great! never pegged you as an instant ramen kinda guy, though,”

“shhh, it’s a guilty pleasure of mine,”

SERVING!

(y/n)'s eyes opened widely, in response to their stomach loudly grumbling in the early hours of the morning.

it was barely bright enough to see outside, but the faint silhouette of the sun shining indicated to them that it was time to get up. normally, they would get up earlier to go to the bakery to prep for business but since it was a public holiday, they were allowed to wake up later and do whatever they wanted for a few hours.

(y/n)'s turned to the side of their king sized bed, shared with their significant other, with a frown after realizing that he wasn't there, quietly whining in slight annoyance before they stretched their limbs and sat up, kicking the thick blanket off their body.

they continued on with their morning routine that included sitting on the bed for an extra 10 minutes before going to brush their teeth and sleepily going to the living room to go on social media.

there was a certain familiar smell going around the house that (y/n) very much recognized and enjoyed. the scent of the butter of the crust, the mouthwatering spices and the aroma of the main and best ingredient of the pastry made (y/n) salivate. it was very surprising to (y/n) that apple pie became one of their favourite desserts, considering they weren’t a fan of it before with its mushy insides and overwhelming spices at times, but it made sense somewhat because they were literally dating the best baker they knew. biased? sure, but it didn’t matter to them.

they swung open the door quietly and peeked their head out to the living room and the kitchen. the apartment was small but cozy, and definitely an upgrade from their old apartment. the smell only got stronger, prompting them to walk out. they were greeted with the sight of their boyfriend, seonghwa, humming to himself as he stood in front of the stove, stirring as ingredients were neatly placed next to each other on the countertop.

(y/n) sneaked behind him, before placing their hands on his waist and burying their face into his shoulder.

“good morning! what’re you making?” (y/n) asked, tip-toeing to peek at whatever he was cooking in the pot.

“i’m making apple pie and strawberry milk! and also strawberry jam for the bakery, we’re planning to release scones as part of our menu,” seonghwa replied, leaning into (y/n)'s touch as he stirred constantly to avoid anything burning.

“oh, sounds great!! do you need any help?”

“no, not really! just go put something on on the tv or something and i’ll be out with the food soon,”

“alright, i’ll go put on some breaking bad and clean up the bedroom real quick,” (y/n) said, releasing their grip on seonghwa before scurrying off to do what they said before. several minutes passed, before seonghwa’s voice rang, summoning (y/n) to the dining area instantaneously.

on the table, there were two porcelain plates with apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and a mint leaf neatly placed on top of it. a see-through glass cup was at the left side of it, containing a layer of chunky homemade strawberry syrup with fresh milk layered on top of it, a bubble tea straw inside, leaning against the edge of the cup.

(y/n) sat next to seonghwa, fidgeting with their hands in anticipation and excitement, as they stared down at the food, before glancing back at seonghwa who raised his eyebrow, beckoning them to try the apple pie and strawberry milk.

seonghwa watched as (y/n) happily began to dig into the pastry and drink, smiling to himself as he watched them enjoy it. the one thing in the world that made him the happiest would be seeing his significant other enjoy whatever he made for them. it was definitely great that he had a partner who shared the same passion regarding baking and cooking like him.

he couldn’t wish for anything better than this.

BONUS SCENE!

(y/n) yawned, rubbing their eyes before they continued to type away at their keyboard. it was around 2 am, and they were almost done with the new menu design. they took a sip of their lukewarm black coffee, letting out a soft sigh of satisfaction, the coffee giving them a little more energy.

“mm, what’re you doing awake at this time?” a soft voice rang out from behind (y/n), making them turn around abruptly to see it was their boyfriend, seonghwa, who was leaning against the door frame.

“oh, i’m just finishing up the menu so we can get it printed by afternoon,” (y/n) said, facing seonghwa with a tired smile. they knew that they didn’t have to get it done this early but they just wanted to for some reason.

“nope, we’re going to bed right now. it’s cold without you,” seonghwa said, making (y/n) laugh at his second statement.

“nah, i wanna get this done quickly and i’ll go to bed. i won’t take long, go get some rest, you need it more than me,” (y/n) said, with no intention of changing their mind which seonghwa could notice. he sighed, walking up to them to wrap his arms around their shoulders.

“okay, okay, fine. what if i make you something real quick? i’d feel bad if i didn’t help you or anything,” seonghwa suggested, (y/n) sleepily insisting that he should go back to bed and that he doesn’t need to do that for them, making him scoff.

“no, i insist, you deserve it for working so hard," seonghwa said, releasing his grip from (y/n) who whined in response to his stubborness, glaring at the male who just laughed and left the room to go to the kitchen.

all (y/n) could do was sigh and continue to work while they listened closely to the sounds of plates clinking and the sizzling of food as they took sips of their coffee in short intervals.

after around 20 minutes or so, seonghwa came into the room, holding a plate and set it down next to (y/n)'s laptop. they quickly took a peek at it, their eyes lighting up after seeing the golden brown exterior of french toast, with maple syrup and condensed milk drizzled over it and a small square of cold butter placed in the middle of it.

now that they were closer to it, they could smell the eggy scent of the perfectly cooked piece of toast and the subtle aroma of the maple syrup drizzled over it.

"thank you. for this. i appreciate it," (y/n) said, glancing over their shoulder to look at seonghwa whos lips stretched into a wide smile after hearing what they said.

“anything for you!” seonghwa replied, quickly kissing the cheek of (y/n) who rolled their eyes jokingly, looking back at their laptop.

“god, you’re the cheesiest person i know,”

“and you love that, don’t you?”

“no comment,”

“damn. i just got rejected, i’m so heartbroken,” seonghwa said, feigning sadness to evoke a laugh out of (y/n).

“don’t take it personally, sweetheart. now, go to bed, you need your sleep,” (y/n) instructed, continuing to type quickly and move images around with their mouse.

“nope, i’ll stay here until you’re done,”

“no, you’re going to bed. how about this? i’ll finish the food, you go to bed and i’ll work there beside you instead. and no exceptions! i want to finish this today,” (y/n) suggested, turning again to look up at seonghwa who frowned and began to protest until they shot him a look which made him whine again but leave the room.

“what a child, i still love him though,” (y/n) said to themselves with a laugh, before starting to dig into the food he made for them.

END!

#ateez fanfic #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #seonghwa scenarios

30 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 9 months

Text

the parent trap

CHAPTER TEN: domine dirige nos

Remus spends a great deal of time weighing the most British way to say hello. He’s going to have to repress throwing in a what’s all this then, guv’nor? the entire time.

⁂

It’s hard to believe that eight weeks have gone by, Roman reflects as he looks around their cabin.

All their battle plans have been disassembled, the pieces of it packed carefully away to avoid any prying parents who might cotton onto their plot too quickly. Their beds are stripped, their trunks are packed (the pair of them packing their own trunk and helping the other twin pick out an outfit for the plane and subsequent reunion with each parent) and the cabin looks just as empty as it did when they first arrived.

“Big day’s here,” Remus says, and Roman turns to look at him.

He looks only minorly uncomfortable in Roman’s tweed suit; Roman can’t blame him in this blasted heat. He has Roman’s case in hand, Roman’s earrings in his ears, and even though they’ve done this sort of thing before, it’s still rather jarring.

“All right,” Roman says, adjusting Remus’ bright lime duffle over his shoulder, pushing Remus’ sunglasses up onto his head, Roman in green checkered shorts, and a jean jacket over a green, barely-clean Camp Walden t-shirt; Remus assures him that this will track well with the adults. Roman can only imagine this is the case, considering Remus had never once voiced interest in seeking out laundry services during their entire roomateship.

“Tell me what the plan is when you get to London.”

“Arrive in Heathrow, where Uncle Logan will pick me up,” Remus says promptly. “Do the handshake, get in the car, be subtle, blame any weirdness on jet lag. You?”

“Arrive in San Francisco and switch planes for Napa County airport,” Roman recites.

“And chew your nails on the plane.”

“Ugh. And chew my nails on the plane. Papa will be there to pick me up and drive us back home. Maybe Virgil also, but most likely just Papa. Pa,” he corrects, enunciating it in Remus’ accent.

“Reunite with Pa.”

“Reunite with Dad,” Remus says quietly.

They are both quiet at the enormity of this.

“Okay,” Roman says, and looks to the last piece of the cabin they have to pack up. “Last things.”

“Last thing,” Remus repeats.

Roman picks up Paddington from what has become his usual spot next to Cuppy, briefly kissing Paddington’s fuzzy little forehead.

“Take care of him,” Roman says anxiously.

Remus squeezes Cuppy tightly to his chest before he extends Cuppy to Roman.

“You’re probably going to do a better job with him than I ever did anyway.”

Their childhood bears change hands; each boy turns to lay their bear carefully in their luggage. Well, Remus tries his best to settle it neatly, finding a spot nestled within one of Roman’s jumpers; Roman figures chucking it in where it fits tracks well with Remus’ personality, just barely doing enough to make sure that Cuppy isn’t pinched by re-zipping his bag.

“Okay,” Roman says, and he inhales, exhales. “Okay. When we walk out of those doors… I’m you.”

“I’m you,” Remus repeats.

In unison, each boy takes on the habits they’ve spent six weeks observing. Remus straightens his back while Roman slouches; Roman cocks a hip to the side and settles his sunglasses low on his nose while Remus does up his top button; Remus starts to stride out of the door while Roman swaggers.

From now on, I am Remus Parker.

And I’ve never even heard the name Roman James.

⁂

When Roman said this was a looong plane ride, he was not kidding.

He shuffles through his carryon to make sure it’s as organized as Roman would have it. He digs through his pockets for anything fun to play with—no luck, but he does find his notes that he’d smuggled away. He reviews those to stay up-to-date on the minutiae of the life he’s about to steal.

That takes him about an hour.

Only about twelve hours to go.

Remus groans to himself and thunks his forehead against the plastic food tray.

Sleeping eats up about eight hours; the in-flight movie takes up another two.

And, very suddenly, the plane tilts, and the pilot comes over the crackly intercom, and Remus seeing his uncle and Dad is very suddenly less a vague in the future and a much more solid just about now.

Remus’ hands go up to his mouth, and he just barely stops himself before he bites down with a vengeance, instead adjusting to sit on his hands. Roman doesn’t chew his nails; Roman taps his foot or bounces his leg or messes with his hair.

So Remus starts bouncing his leg, staring out of the window as the plane breaks through the clouds, swooping low over the gray skyscrapers and massive churches and winding roads of London.

My Dad is somewhere down there, Remus thinks, and he starts bouncing his leg faster.

⁂

Okay, so when he thought just about now, he’d handily forgot the business of departing the plane.

Which takes. For. Ev. Er.

If everyone would just hurry up and grab their bags from the overhead bin—

But it’s fine, because now Remus is speedwalking through the hallway that attaches to the plane—Roman would know the word for that, so Remus just resolves not to say it—and racing into the gate, then through customs, holding his case tightly, turning to look through the crowds…

No, that man with spectacles has entirely the wrong hair color—that one almost looks right, but he’s too short—a similar suit as to what’s in the photographs, but the wrong face entirely—

Remus clambers up onto a seat to stand on, looking through the crowds, straining his neck, until—

“Roman!”

Remus turns his head; bustling through the crowd, hair a similar shade of brown as his and Roman’s, yes—there he is.

Remus’ Uncle. So strange he’s got an uncle!

(Yes, technically their dad’s cousin, he knows.)

“Uncle Logan!” Remus blurts out, grinning, and Uncle Logan’s upon him quick; before he can even think about it, Remus leans forward and wraps his arms tightly around his Uncle Logan’s shoulders.

Before Remus can panic if that’s something Roman would do or not, Uncle Logan is already holding him, lifting him up, and depositing him back on the ground.

“I missed you!” Remus says loudly, over the rush of the crowd in the airport.

“I’ve missed—goodness, Roman, what have you done to your hair?”

“Dyed it!” Remus says, combing his hand through his hair the way he’s seen Roman do it. “There was a boy in my cabin who—oh, it doesn’t matter, anyway, do you like it?”

“It’s very modern, isn’t it?” Uncle Logan says, briefly smoothing a hand over Remus’ hair. “Is this your first step toward trying out… oh, what are they called. That boyband boy, he has them—?”

“Frosted tips?” Remus says, then, thoughtfully, “I hadn’t really thought about it. Maybe I will.”

“Well, regardless, it’s very fashion-forward of you,” Uncle Logan says, then he extends a hand.

Remus doesn’t gulp, even though he wants to: this is his first real test.

One shake—two—three—then Remus sticks out a hand, Logan puts his hand on top, the Remus’s then Logan’s again, down with their hands and up—they hit backs up of their hands, clap up middle down down down, snap to the hip—bump one hip, then hop for the other—grin to each other—then swap places, and shake hands once more.

Uncle Logan smiles at him. “Welcome back.”

Remus lets out a soft sigh of relief.

“Come along, then,” Uncle Logan says, gathering Roman’s case. “Let’s get you home.”

Remus beams up at him.

⁂

Oh, wow, this is swanky, Remus thinks, trying to be subtle about running his hands over the nice leather.

Uncle Logan and him are seated in the back of a chauffeur’s car, Uncle Logan occasionally switching from reading the society pages of the paper to asking Remus the occasional question about camp to watching as Remus stares out of the windows, trying not to be too obvious about gawking at all the landmarks that speed by.

Big Ben—the London bridge—Remus abandons all pretense and just starts leaning out of the open window at that point—Westminster Abbey—Buckingham palace—

“Eight weeks at camp and you’re acting like an American tourist,” Uncle Logan says, amused, folding down one corner of the newspaper.

“Camp makes you appreciate home more, I guess,” Remus says, distracted by some street performer holding still as a statue. “Oh, Uncle Logan, look at the guards with their funny little hats!”

“You’ve seen the guards a thousand times!” Uncle Logan says, the edge of a disbelieving laugh in his voice.

“But never with dyed hair,” Remus retorts, “and never after eight weeks away from home!”

Uncle Logan simply shakes his head and returns his attention to his paper, murmuring something about children.

They keep driving past great big museums and churches—a lot of other buildings Remus is sure are historically important for some reason—and they turn onto a quieter side street, lined with roses and hydrangeas, and Remus is suddenly very sure they’re coming up on Pembroke Lane.

Remus sits abruptly back in his chair, rolling his window up and combing his fingers quickly through his hair.

“How do I look?” Remus asks Uncle Logan.

“Only a little like you’ve just spent the past thirty minutes with your head out of the car window.”

Remus combs his fingers through his hair a little more aggressively as the car meanders through the lanes, and suddenly they’re pulling up to a door and they’re slowing down and—

And there’s a set of columns with the number 7 on them.

“Here we are,” the chauffeur says, putting the car in park, before he gets out and opens the door for Remus. “Home again.”

“Thank you,” Remus says breathlessly, staring up at the house.

There’s an open window, and curtains that move with the faint suggestion of someone behind them.

That could be my Dad.

And Remus is up the stairs and his hand is on the great golden knob before anyone else can open any doors for him.

Roman’s sketch, come to life in roaring color; the walls are painted a faint shade of orange, the stairs curving up the wall just like in Roman’s image. Remus takes a deep breath and sidesteps into the parlor, yes, that’s right, that’s what Grandfather calls it—

Only to see a banner hanging from the ceiling above the arch that leads into the less formal dining room.

WELCOME HOME ROMAN, it reads, with Roman in a glittery red script, streamers hanging down, and Remus can’t help but grin at it.

Roman probably would’ve loved that.

There’s a faint cough, and Remus jolts to attention—yes, there’s the doorway to the study with the leather chairs and the towering bookshelves, and Remus scampers toward the sound as quickly as he can.

Remus comes face to face with—

A newspaper.

Remus chews his lip, before he clears his throat.

“Grandfather?”

It comes out reedier and higher than expected, but the newspaper folds and suddenly there’s a man; white-haired and balding, bespectacled, besuited, be-tweeded, be-mustached, a pipe in his mouth, just like Roman said he might.

“Is that my little boy?” Grandfather exclaims in amazement, taking the pipe from his mouth and removing his glasses. “That tall, gangly thing?!”

“It’s me,” Remus manages, dropping Roman’s case to the floor as Grandfather stands, spreading his arms.

“Welcome home,” he says, and he embraces Remus. Remus wraps his arms around his Grandfather—his Grandfather!—and hugs him for all he’s worth.

“Did you have a good time, darling?”

“Uh-huh,” Remus mumbles, burying his face into his Grandfather’s chest, covered in tweed as it is. “Great time.”

“What on earth are you doing?” He says, amused.

“Just… smelling.”

“Smelling?” Grandfather chuckles. “Whatever for?”

“I’m making a memory,” Remus says. “Whenever I think of you, Grandfather, even if it’s when I’m all grown up, I’ll remember that you always smell of—” he takes a big whiff, “peppermints and pipe tobacco!”

“Be a dove and don’t tell your father I was smoking when you got back, hey? I’ve told him I’ve cut back,” Grandfather says, chucking his chin, and Remus thinks of Pa and misses him so intensely for a moment, just a moment, and—

“I never do.”

“Good lad.”

“Roman?”

A voice floats down the staircase, through the parlor and the study, a lovely voice like one on a radio or a nature documentary with a smooth accent just like Uncle Logan and Grandfather’s and Roman’s.

Remus jolts for the archway of the parlor, where he stares up at the face of the voice in question.

Remus’ entire body locks up for a moment.

He looks almost entirely like his photograph, except at this angle Remus can see the port-wine stain splashed across his cheek and he’s changed the way he styles his hair. His Dad is dressed in tailored palazzo pants, brown, high-waisted, and cinched at the waist with a crisp white shirt, with pretty gold-and-pearl dangly earrings and a matching bracelet.

He’s still so handsome; even outside of the elaborate suit he’d worn for his wedding all those years ago, he looks like a movie star.

And then Remus is running.

“Dad!”

“You’re back!” His Dad says, quickening his pace down the stairs, and Remus flings his arms around his shoulders, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

His father presses a kiss to his temple, and smooths a hand over his hair just like Roman said he would, and Remus inhales like he did with Grandfather too. Remus’ burgeoning vintner nose picks up freesia, sandalwood, sage; some fancy, expensive cologne to match with the rest of his glamorous appearance.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Remus says, and hopes beyond hope he isn’t snotting into his father’s fancy shirt. What a first impression that would be, even if his Dad doesn’t know he’s making one!

“And I can’t believe it’s you,” his Dad says, putting his hands on his shoulders and pulling back to look at his face. “And with dyed hair!”

“A boy I met at camp did it—do you like it? Do you hate it?” Remus says anxiously.

“I absolutely love it,” his Dad reassures him, smoothing a hand over it. “Very unique! Whichever friend of yours helped with this managed a good dye job for a boy your age! Oh, and a switch to silver, I see,” he adds, touching Remus’ earrings.

“Uh—yeah, I thought I’d try it.” Remus says. “Silver and diamond—old classics, right?”

“It’s all very chic,” his father says warmly, and Remus glows from the praise. His Dad thinks he’s chic! “Experimenting with your style is precisely what you should be doing at this age. I’m very proud of you, finding ways to express yourself like this.”

His Dad is proud of his self-expression!

“Any other surprises?” His Dad says, grinning. “I’m afraid I shall have to have a stern word with any of your camp counselors if you managed to sneak off and get a tattoo or something.”

Remus laughs, wiping a hand under his eye and shaking his head.

His dad cups his face and sweeps his fingers under his eyes.

“What is it, Rome?”

“I’m sorry,” Remus chokes out. “It’s just—I’ve missed you so much!”

“Oh, darling,” his Dad says, leaning in to hug him again. “It seems like it’s been forever.”

Remus snuffles, leaning harder into the embrace. “You have no idea.”

⁂

Roman, Janus thinks as he observes his son carefully splitting open a scone and smothering it with jelly, seems a bit… different.

He seems mostly recovered from his tearful little wobble on the stairs—at least, he’s been devouring the tea that Logan’s set up for them both.

(Logan, the neat freak, is unpacking Roman’s luggage to tuck it all away and start on laundry. Clutter seems to give him hives, always has, since they were children together and Logan would categorically refuse to leave any room without returning his books to the shelf and the toys to their proper places.)

Perhaps it’s just because he’s a few centimetres taller. Or he’s jet-lagged, or it’s the hair, or he’s recovering from eight weeks spent around a boisterous crowd of teenage boys.

There’s something. Janus just can’t quite put his finger on it yet.

“Should I get more?” Janus says, watching Roman carefully as he attempts to fit the scone into his mouth whole. “Would you rather a late lunch or an early dinner? I know plane meals aren’t necessarily the most appetizing…”

Roman shakes his head, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk. Janus waits patiently as he chews, takes a small mouthful of tea, and swallows.

“It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper tea, s’all,” Roman says, before he picks up a sandwich.

“Well, I can certainly understand that,” Janus says, picking up a sandwich himself. “No one makes a cuppa quite like a James. I’ll have to thank Logan again.”

Roman nods eagerly in agreement, about to shove the sandwich into his mouth before he hesitates and takes a much more manageable bite.

Americans have eroded his table manners, Janus thinks but doesn’t say, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Tell me all about camp,” Janus says. “Have you made plenty of new friends?”

“Some,” Roman says, then, gesturing to the streak in his hair, “The guy in my cabin who helped me do this—Augustus, but everyone calls him Gus—I guess I got closest to him. He’s an American, he lives in California.”

Janus’ back stiffens. Ever so slightly. Not so much that Roman can tell.

“Have you ever been to California?”

Hm. Maybe he could.

“Once,” Janus says in a light, airy tone, setting down his sandwich. “A long time ago, before you were born.”

Roman accepts this without much commentary, instead changing the subject to how Camp Walden looks; Janus has heard some of this from Logan, but it’s nice to hear it in Roman’s own words.

And also to steer away from that particularly smiley, tall, infuriating, dishy subject—

Stop, Janus orders himself, and refocuses on Roman’s descriptions of the lake, watching the way his hands cut through the air as he describes it.

(It’s no use; Janus thinks of him at least once a day, (oh he’s lying to himself with that number) more so when Roman smiles in that way he does, that same dimple flashing out of his cheek.)

And then Janus’ landline rings.

Janus sighs in frustration, setting down his teacup. “I’m sorry, dear, would you mind—”

“No, go on, go on,” Roman says, getting up himself; Janus crosses the room, picking up the phone and placing it to his ear.

“Janus James speaking.”

He turns slightly to watch out of the corner of his eye as Roman meanders to his dresser. Roman lifts his cologne to his nose, sniffs it, and examines the label; he sets it down, and then lifts the lid of his jewelry box.

Little cad is probably trying to find some jewelry he can pretty-please borrow it for just thirty seconds Dad please, Janus thinks in amusement. He hopes he does; Janus thinks those imitation-emerald teardrops might suit him well, now that it seems like he’s taking steps outside of his red-and-gold signature colors...

An aggrieved sigh makes its way through the phone lines. “Hi, Janus, it’s Vendela.”

“Ah. Hello, Vendela,” Janus says, trying not to wince; if Vendela is calling, then it’s probably a fiasco. “How’s the photoshoot going?”

“No one can make a decision and everyone is five minutes away from nuclear war, from the sounds of it. I mean, really, we’ve had this look set for ages—”

“Precisely—we’ve had it set for ages, can’t you manage without me? Roman’s just gotten home from camp.”

“Oh, bring him, please, if that’ll get you here!” Vendela urges, then, in a whisper, “this photographer they’ve brought is a nightmare, honestly, and this director of photography barely knows lace from satin, so he’s no help at all—”

“Okay, hold on a moment.” Janus puts his phone to his shoulder. “Roman?”

Roman turns from where he’d been tracing the frame of one of Janus’ sketches, the first design that had really netted him any sort of main-stream attention.

“Would you mind terribly coming to the studio with me?”

A huge grin bursts out on Roman’s face. “I’d love it!”

⁂

And so they’re off through the streets of London again, Remus now admittedly a little loopy from the whole meeting his Uncle and Grandfather and Dad and that tea may have been a bit more caffeinated than he’s used to and also the jet lag—but Roman had said it would get worse if he went to sleep earlier than he usually went to bed according to local time, so up Remus will stay with absolutely no napping.

His Dad holds his hand when they walk along major streets, which, if it were anyone else, Remus would probably protest, but as it is, Remus is happily swinging their hands between them and is only vaguely aware that he’s probably jabbering Dad’s ear off.

“—and eventually I ended up winning a key to the kitchen in a poker game, so I could get into the kitchen at night like all the older boys at camp.”

“Yes, I remember you wrote me about that. Odd tradition, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Remus says in an enthusiastic tone he realizes is a bit off for Roman on this particular subject, but he hastily adds, “Dad, there are so many weird American foods!”

There. He’s righted the course. Roman had been very enthusiastic about the concept of American foods.

“I don’t doubt it,” Dad says, amused, then, craning his neck to look ahead, “ah, blasted traffic! They’ve started construction up there since you’ve been gone.”

Remus nods, pretending he knows anything about London roads.

“All right, hold on tightly, now, we’re taking an uncharted course.” Dad says, and Remus falls in quick step alongside his Dad as they skirt around cars come to a dead stop in this traffic, heading quickly for another sidewalk.

“What was your favorite?” Dad urges, squeezing his hand once they’ve gotten past all the cars. “Of all these weird American foods you tried.”

“Chili,” Remus blurts out, curses himself for saying his favorite food rather than Roman’s, and then realizes that Dad probably wouldn’t have asked if he already knew what Roman’s favorite American food is.

“Isn’t that some sort of stew? Odd choice for summer.”

“Nice on rainy days, though,” Remus says, craning his neck up to look at the cloudy, overcast skies above.

“Yes, I suppose a nice warm stew is rather nice on rainy days—and we’re back on course,” Dad says, adjusting the brown, buttery leather satchel slung over his shoulder with his free hand. “Just a bit longer now, Roman, I wasn’t expecting us to have to deal with a fashion emergency today…”

“S’allright,” Remus says contentedly, skipping over a crack in the sidewalk. “I like the studio. An official photoshoot sounds fun.”

“Well, I’m pleased one of us thinks so,” Dad says. “Tell you what—we’ll stop at that dreadful little chippy you like on the way back. I’ll phone Father and Logan for their orders, remind me to do that after the shoot, won’t you?”

“Deal!” Remus says happily. Roman had raved about fish and chips; Remus is excited to try for himself.

And soon—very soon—a building Remus has only seen in sketches:

JANUS JAMES is on the building above an awning, and Remus pulls his Dad up to the window, gawking at the mannequin.

The mannequin is wearing a dress that would look perfectly at home in a Disney movie: a full, ballgown style skirt, dramatic lace details, the back studded with buttons like pearls.

They’ve also put a Vespa in the display. A full, real white Vespa!

“Wow!” Remus says.

“Well, I had to do something while you were away at camp,” Dad says, amused, and Remus curses himself again: what if this had been a design that Roman had seen a hundred times before?!

There’s a mannequin clearly meant to be a spouse, too, in a suit that matches-mostly-but-not-too-matchy, in Remus’ professional opinion; he stares up at it thoughtfully.

“You know who would look beautiful in that?” Remus says, pointing. “Like, really beautiful?”

“Who?” Dad says, still examining the display with a critical eye.

“You.”

That gets Dad’s attention. “Me?!”

“You look really good in white and pearls!” Remus says, gesturing to his outfit today; Dad’s added a matching brown coat to his flowy pants, and the buttery brown satchel is resting casually on his shoulder. Remus is frankly uncertain how he still looks like he could be on the cover of a magazine after walking through city streets for so long.

Dad snorts, reaching over to gently tweak his ear. “I think this jet lag is making you a little loopy.”

Remus cannot deny that. Especially in comparison to what must be Baseline Normal Roman Behavior.

“C’mon,” Dad says, physically turning him away from the window and towards the door. “Let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”

They enter the boutique, and Remus, wary of his near miss with the window, tries his absolute best to act like he’s never seen the inside before.

But it’s really something.

There’s flowy white gowns made of almost every material and style Remus can think of, and quite a few he can’t even name; suits are tucked alongside one side of the building; and Remus can’t get much of a closer look at the impressive chandelier or the couches meant for people to spectate dress shopping without losing track of his Dad, who is heading for a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY with the sort of confidence that, Remus assumes, can only come from having his name on the building.

Remus falls into step beside him as Dad traverses up the stairs, past a few assistants who bid them both hello and keep going, and finally, he opens a door ahead of them.

“All right, I’m here,” Dad announces, removing his jacket and satchel and tossing them onto a nearby chair without breaking stride on his way to the mode.

Remus gapes safely at the scene before them. Makeup artists, lighting technicians, the director of photography, and some of who must be Dad James employees who are fixing the train of the models’ dress all turn to look at him.

“Ah, we’re saved,” says the woman who Remus is pretty sure is Vendela. “Sorry—we don’t know what to do with the veil…”

“If she wears it, it covers the back of the dress,” the photographer explains, “if she doesn’t, it looks—”

“Incomplete,” Dad finishes for him. “Quite right. Now,” he addresses the model, “can you try turning sideways with your chin up?”

The model positions herself accordingly.

“Yes, I see the problem,” Dad says, putting a thoughtful hand to his chin. “Can I have the veil?”

An assistant quickly hands it over.

“Roman, darling?”

Remus startles, not expecting to be included in Grown Up Business Of Import.

“Pass me one of those hats on display in the window, will you please?”

Remus scuttles over to the display in question; he’s not really sure why his Dad has requested a hat rather than a tiara (several on display to the right) or a jeweled headpiece (one’s already attached to the veil, but there are more options in the display to the left) and hesitates at the sight of his options.

He picks the two fanciest—tophats, one entirely black and one entirely white—and moves to his Dad, holding them up for approval.

“Which do you like best?” Dad prompts him.

Remus cannot help but feel like this is some kind of test.

“The white one,” he says.

His Dad shoots him a smile, quick and secretive, and takes it before schooling his face back into a businesslike, stern expression. “Me too.”

The sense of approval washes over Remus with the enormity of an ocean wave.

“Try this,” Dad says, doing some sort of magic to affix the veil to the hat and passing it to the model. “Yes, toss the veil straight back and turn, I want to make sure the detail comes through…”

And as the model turns, Remus suddenly understands why he went for a hat rather than a tiara or a headpiece: the hat’s taller than a tiara or a headpiece would be, making the veil a bit shorter, which means the detail on the back of the dress is much more obvious.

Dad steps back, too, out of path of the camera, as various assistants and the photographer and director make sounds of approval and ahhs.

“See that? Beautiful, how it falls just there,” Dad says, then, to the model, “Don’t worry about the bouquet as much, just remember to look happy, it is,” with a sarcastic smirk, “your wedding day. What number is it now, your fifty-seventh shoot you’ve done with us?”

That does make the model laugh, and the camera goes off with a great flashbulb pop, and Remus witnesses his first ever high-fashion photoshoot.

Dad is too cool.

⁂

There must be something in his face by the time they get to the chippy, because Dad calls the chauffeur to come meet them there and drive them the rest of the way home.

As they wait—for both the orders and the car—Remus takes his chance.

“Dad?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Doesn’t designing all these wedding gowns ever make you think about getting married again?”

There is something almost like panic in his Dad’s eyes. Interesting.

“Or at least,” Remus pushes, “make you think about the F-word?”

“The F-word!” Dad exclaims.

“My father,” Remus says, trying to look innocent and probably failing, but Dad is too preoccupied by letting out the relieved laugh of a parent who realizes they get to live another day without explaining profanity to a child.

“Oh, that F-word.”

Remus raises his eyebrows at him.

“Well—no, actually,” Dad says. “I’ve never worn a wedding gown, you see, much less when I married the F-word.”

Dad’s name is called; they shuffle forward to accept their boxes of greasy food, then back to their waiting place. Remus thinks it might be a little bit torturous to wait until they get all the way back before eating this.

“You can’t avoid the subject forever,” Remus says. “Can you tell me what he was like, at least?”

His Dad sighs, chewing the inside of his mouth, before:

“He was quite lovely, to tell you the truth,” he says, then, quieter, “when we met, he was actually entirely lovely. Lovelier than I thought I’d ever… well.”

That tracks well with Remus’ standing of Pa, but Roman doesn’t know that.

“Did you meet him here in London?” Remus pushes.

“No—we met on the QE2.”

“The what?”

“The Queen Elizabeth II. It’s an ocean liner, it sails from London to New York,” Dad says. “You know how I am about flying, and I suppose your father wasn’t too fond of it either, and the opportunity presented itself—he told me he’d always wanted to try a cruise.”

Remus waits, quiet.

“We met our first night on board the ship, we were seated next to each other at dinner, and I suppose that’s history. He’s an American, you know.”

Remus digs deep for an appropriately sappy, Roman-esque question.

“Was it love at first sight?”

Nailed it.

Dad simply laughs, cranes his neck, and says, “Oh, look, there’s the car!”

Remus lets out a little sigh to himself, but he lets the inquisition go as his Dad shuffles the boxes and opens an umbrella for them both on their mad dash to the car, trying their best to avoid any puddle splatterings.

It’s not like, Remus reflects gleefully, I don’t have loads of time to keep asking him all sorts of questions.

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

#my fic #my fanfic #tpt fic

14 notes · View notes

yuutsunaoi-writes · 7 months

Text

Kokichi Ouma is just some guy with pale skin, dark purple hair and purple eyes clad in a white-based uniform paired with a checkered white and black scarf. He's just some guy who is quite disliked among the characters in Danganronpa V3. He's also quite disliked by certain parts of the fandom. He's just kinda disliked in general. Even in his forged back story, he was leading a group of misfits that pull harmless pranks - which becomes one of the reason why he's disliked in the eyes of public.

In other words, he's disliked no matter where he went.

Yet, in the midst of it, we could know that he's also loved because of the same misfits that joined his DICE organisation. In the few pictures he took with them, we could see how they all wear the uniforms proudly.

And for them, I'm thankful that Kokichi at least have a few people to lean on - eventhough we all know he's selfless. Selfless in the way that he had sacrificed himself to beat the killing game.

What? You're gonna say he did that just to win and beat the killing game?

Well, isn't beating the killing game what everyone wants? Sure, his ways of doing things are disliked since he lies all the time, but who wouldn't when you have no one you could actually trust? He would want to make sure the mastermind does not catch up to his plans.

Kokichi Ouma, who lies all the time, jokingly worded things to piss people off all the time, has a big fear - fear of being boring. He hated being boring the most, since he hated boredom very much. Just not as much as Junko Enoshima who caused despair just to feel something and make things 'interesting'.

Perhaps it's because he got used to associating pissed and crossed expressions with his harmless questionably-funny pranks since he had been pulling pranks with his organisation (read: found family) for the longest time, he chose to lie and anger people because for him, that is what it means to not be boring. To be 'funny'.

The Ultimate Supreme Leader, although gives off the vibe of being just a pure menace, he is also smart; smart in the way he noticed peculiar things earlier than anyone else. He noted how it's weird to have an Ultimate Robot, when no one else bothered to care. And many other things, did he notice. But because he lies all the time, he didn't even care to share his findings with anyone else. After all, who can anyone exactly trust in a killing game?

Kokichi is careful despite his carefree facade. He went through every possible outcomes before doing anything. We could see this is proven when he just 'happened to know' how to benefit from him dying in the hands of Kaito Momota.

Trapped in a killing game, where he could trust no one, Kokichi relied on him and only himself. He tried approaching Shuichi Saihara, but he knew his efforts would be futile because he had personally engraved into everyone's head that he's a liar and an instigator - someone to not be trusted.

Perhaps, he had known that he would ended up alone all along - especially after Shuichi had implied so in his words when the Ultimate Supreme Leader tried to get in between Shuichi and Kaito.

After facing such rejection, Kokichi strengthened his resolve, and proceeded how he had planned.

Maybe, in his last dying breaths, as he laid down on the hydraulic press, he wondered if things would've been different had he been able to convince Shuichi to help him in his plans to beat the game.

No one would care if I die anyway.

He knew all along though - that he would be by himself even till the end as the hydraulic press descended on him.

In the end, he left while still being misunderstood. Even as he smiled a little bit, closed his eyes, and wished the best for his friends.

And for the person he fell for.

Kokichi Ouma is used to have one-sided feelings anyway.

He told himself that it didn't hurt.

Ah...

If the 10 people who had willingly joined my organization were real...

I wished I could've met them before dying.

#I don't know what posses me but I really like this guy 😭😭😭#he's so writing-material #I don't know what that means.#I just wish he... I don't know #😭😭😭#kokichi ouma #ouma kokichi #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 spoilers #danganronpa #danganronpa spoilers #yuutsunaoi writes

13 notes · View notes

happyshippingnoises · 1 year

Note

i want to hear those kokichi headcanons :0 my interest is piqued

Omg 😭😭😭 perfect time to rant...

Fanart and headcanons under the cut 💜

So, I like to think he grew up being MADE into pretending. His mother being a prime example, lying to her husband. They both sucked, and I like to believe Kokichi was malnourished and ignored AF. His father was frequently absent, and his mother frequently went out.

But to keep a fine image, his father made sure his emotions never came out and his mother's fake stories influenced it.

Hes still a cute lil boy, though.

In high school, he kind of hits an awkward phase because his parents become more controlling now that he's older.

That's kind of where he becomes rebellious, finding foliage in a circus.

He doesn't know who he is, and lies about his past. Eventually he runs away and joins them, helping out the dying circus. Once he finds out the cruelty they faced, he becomes the leader and it turns into a prank organization. To get money, and to have the fun he wasn't allowed.

Eventually they took in members who were orphans, homeless, etc.

There's also some small things. Like how middle school kokichi would brush his curly hair out, not wanting to be like his mom. But ofc, ingame Kokichi was kind of the last thing he wanted.

He actually dyed his highlights for Danganronpa after a few of his members suggested it, and he got an earful out of his father. That's when he decided to let his hair be its own thing, not all tidy and neat like his mother. And he started to change more about his experience and found himself.

Getting piercings, painting his nails, coloring his stripes black into checkered, like a chess peice. (Influenced by his father's games to make money)

And then IF, he ever does survive, I like to think he becomes more laid back with his lies and schemes. Of course still childlike but toned down, kind of tired of all the bullshit he dealt with.

He actually learned a lot of tricks from seeing his father drag him to casinos when he had custody, and caught onto his slight of the hand tricks.

In actuality, Kokichi doesn't know much about his past. He knows his goal to take over the world that screwed him over. But due to his own parents lying and mistreat, he never really knew if they were his real family or not. He also grew up covering his neck, so a lot of the time it's kind of his armor.

That's also why he doesn't want to be forgotten. To make a scene, never forget like he forgot himself.

Also, small Kokichi does not look good during photos. The one I drew was the only exception

#kokichi headcanons #kokichi ouma #drv3 kokichi #danganronpa kokichi #kokichi #danganronpa ouma #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa #danganronpa fanart #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #drv3 killing harmony #tw abuse #tw starving

30 notes · View notes

whitleyschn33 · 1 year

Text

RWBY Volume 9 Episode 3 Liveblog Thoughts

I know I didn’t do episode 2, but there wasn’t really anything about it that caught my attention enough to make a post about - save 2 things, but those are better left to their own posts.

I’ve just finally gotten home from work, had dinner, and washed up, so I’m feeling very sleepy. If I miss something you think is worth being commented on or further discussed, let me know!

- “The Red King helped Alyx” I saw KitKat say this earlier, and it’s something that’s been in the back of my mind for a while as well - I wish we knew the story of The Girl Who Fell Through the World ourselves rather than having elements of it introduced basically right before they happen. I know working in another campfire storytime without being boring would be difficult (actually, side note, notice that we haven’t seen night here yet? No moon...), but I feel like something could have been worked out. A scene where the girls talk about the versions of the story that they grew up with (since myths and fairy tales often have multiple versions), arguing about the details and giving us as the audience a clearer understand of how the full story goes and how each kingdom/family of RWBY interprets and tells the story. Would have been nice to know this story from more than a couple lines in volume 8 (that I had to be reminded of existing) before we start living it.

-I got to give props to the sound design on the Prince so far, I really like the clinking noises as he moves, really helping sell that he’s a living puppet.

-Uhhhh, insulting the guy you’re expecting to help you probably isn’t a great idea, even if he is a brat.

- “The king would still be here if it wasn’t for your kind” - so the guards do recognize human beings. Did Alyx kill the Red King? (Insert Wreck it Ralph “Things are finally getting interesting around here” screencap)

-Weiss being this overly expressive in her poses still isn’t funny, please stop.

-I’m really digging the score, very fun and bouncy.

-”How could you” best voice work I’ve heard from Lindsey in a while, very nice~ Also, uh, kinda to be expected, Ruby. If someone’s entire gimmick is the color red, makes sense green isn’t their thing.

-Well uh... that’s kinda dark, but... they’re toys. Can they even die like that? I was half expecting their heads to roll out and still be talking to each other.

-Not sure I’d be too eager to play games with someone that just said they found beheadings fun.

-I feel like the butterfly must be connected to either Alyx or the shadow boy in the painting.

-Soldier coughing up sawdust - not funny, but a nice touch

-Ruby, do not play a game you don’t know how to play, you are going to lose bad

-Okay, really liking the score, I’m very glad that it’s back after a noticeable abscene.

-Also, was this just... not in the story? Did Alyx not play checkers/chess with the King? Chess is a pretty big deal in Through the Looking Glass, so I would’ve assumed it would be part of Alyx’s story as well. Guess the Red Prince is more sadistic.

-Okay, this is Risk, not Checkers.

-Uhhh, the rules were to move a pawn one space each turn - why does Weiss charge ahead multiple spaces? Also, what constitutes a turn if Ruby is allowed to move 5 pawns in a row?

-Annnnnd Weiss hasn’t moved from her starting spot on the board.

-So “turns” are just whenever the Prince thinks the turns are. Fair enough, this is Not-Wonderland.

-Ruby, I wouldn’t be so cavalier about your species. We don’t know Alyx’s story that well, but we do know she started a war and “lied and cheated her way” through Ever After, so it’s not likely that the people would have a good impression of her or anyone like her.

- “You’re humans! You must have cheated!” Yep, something tells me if Alyx played a game, she cheated her way through it.

- And there’s our cat

- I like the cracks. Nothing else, just a sucker for it.

- Also, really digging the song. I’m going to actually look forward to hearing the full version.

- OH MY GOD, SOMEONE FINALLY RUN OUT OF AMMUNITION. Have we ever seen this happen in RWBY before?

- It’s nice to finally get some action. Not the best choreography, and some of the stunts have me cringing, but I appreciate the show of actually teamwork in the fights, combining semblances.

- I like the cat’s voice - still don’t like his design, even if I can appreciate it as meant to resemble a “texture not found” effect (I hope that’s what they were going for anyway, cause otherwise yikes), but I appreciate the smooth talking, soothing the prince to get his way.

- “The one thing you were put on this acre to do” Oh?

- “They might not come back” - implying that the soldiers do.

- Ohhhh, slick line from the cat~

- “We’re in it’s stupid sequel” - Weiss is honestly a mood. I would enjoy her attitude towards this a lot more without the attempts at comedy, as this is the first time I’ve smiled at one of these lines.

- I, uh, really hate these “Blake exposits the plot of TGWFTTW (i got tired of typing it out) to the team”, because this is something the girls *should* know. Even people that haven’t read or watched any adaptations of Alice in Wonderland know the Cheshire Cat, and I know they’ve mentioned him in the last episode, so all four of the girls should instantly realize who this must be, and anyone watching the show would know what this is meant to parallel. Otherwise, what was the point of making TGWFTTW a story that all the girls knew? If you were going to have Blake explain everything anyway, why not make it a more obscure story? Maybe even a fairy tale among the Faunus specifically?

-And there’s our dear Neo. Odd that she fell so long after the others when we saw her falling with Ruby, but whatever, they’ve already lampshaded that.

-A one woman army now. Not sure how this is a progression of her semblance, but it does make me think that all the figures we see behind her in the opening are just clones she’s made, which I am far happier with than the idea of even more characters to keep track of and worry about this volume.

Overall? I actually enjoyed this episode - some fun action, good music and score. While some of the lines are cringe and none of the comedy really lands like it’s supposed to (I have no idea why they’re writing Weiss as though she’s RWBY Chibi Weiss, but it’s annoying, please stop), but I’ll take it. Definitely the most I’ve enjoyed an episode since Dark.

#rwby #rwby9 #rwby 9 spoilers #rwby volume 9 #rwde

13 notes · View notes